He put the magazine on the table by his elbow. “Well, I always like to look my best. Apparently, it’s all about which conditioner you use.”
We fell silent. Kincaid sat there studying me, and I did the same to him. Instead of his usual suit, he’d dressed down today in a pair of black jeans, boots, and an expensive gray polo shirt that stretched across his shoulders.
“Welcome back,” he said, for once without a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
“I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
He nodded. “I saw you take off into the woods after Salina so I chased after you while Owen stayed with Cooper. I had an idea of where she would go.”
“The creek.”
He nodded again. “The creek. Salina used to spend hours there sitting by the water when we were younger and Owen was busy working with Cooper. She saw me coming and took off through the trees, and I realized you were in the bottom of the creek. I’d just started to wade in to try and get you out when this silver light erupted out of the water, and the whole creek froze over, like it was the dead of winter instead of early May.”
Kincaid gave me a calculating look, and I knew he was thinking about my magic and what he’d seen me do with it. But I didn’t volunteer any more information about my power. That was my business, not his. Especially when I still wasn’t sure whether or not I could trust him. Kincaid might have saved my life, but he had his own reasons for doing so—like me killing Salina for him.
“Then what?”
He shrugged. “I saw you there under all that elemental Ice, and I saw you blasting it again and again with your magic, trying to break free. I thought you were going to make it on your own. You got one hand loose and up into the air, but then it just sort of flopped there on top of the Ice. So I fished you out, dragged you up the bank, and did CPR.”
I looked at his shoulders and at the muscles in his arms. “Guess that extra strength you have came in handy.”
He shrugged. “You were right before. I don’t know who or what my parents were. Maybe dwarves, maybe giants, maybe one of each. But I’m strong, and I use it to my advantage.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You saved my life.”
He shifted in his chair, seeming uncomfortable with my thanks. “Just returning the favor you did me a few nights ago.”
“I guess that makes us even then.”
He didn’t say anything, but for the first time, a hint of a real smile softened his face.
Below us, the voices kept arguing.
I jerked my head at the bedroom door. “What’s all that about?”
Kincaid sighed. “Just Owen being Owen.”
“Is he still defending Salina?”
“No. He’s finally seen her for what she really is. But he doesn’t want to cut off her head, mount it on a pike, and dance around with it like your pal Finn does.”
I grinned. “Well, Finn can be just as violent as me. Sometimes even more so.”
As if to prove my point, downstairs, Finn let loose with a very long, very imaginative string of words describing exactly what he thought should be done to Salina.
“You know, I’m actually starting to like him,” Kincaid said. “He certainly has the right idea as far as Salina’s concerned.”
“Well, that will certainly warm the cold cockles of Finn’s heart,” I said, swinging my feet over the side of the bed. “Now, come on. Let’s go before it escalates into fisticuffs.”
I got up, and immediately had to lean against the nightstand for support. Despite the fact that Jo-Jo had healed me, I still felt weak and light-headed. I knew it was because I’d been so close to dying. Hell, maybe I’d even been dead for a minute or two there before Kincaid had revived me. Either way, it would take some time for my mind to figure out that I was still in one piece and not drowning one slow, agonizing breath at a time in that creek.
I managed to walk down the stairs without Kincaid’s help. He seemed amused by my attempts to keep my legs under me, but he didn’t make any move to help me either. I didn’t want him to. The time for being weak was past.
I reached the salon that took up the back of Jo-Jo’s house, and my eyes swept over the familiar furnishings. Cherry-red salon chairs. Stacks of magazines everywhere. Combs, scissors, curlers, and dozens of other beauty tools on the counters. Bottles of pink nail polish and matching lipsticks cluttered together. It was all as familiar to me as my own face, and I drank in the scene, grateful I’d survived another battle I shouldn’t have.
Then I focused on the two men in the middle of the room. Finn and Owen stood toe-to-toe, their eyes bright, their bodies tense, and their faces flushed with anger, while Eva, Cooper, and Bria sat in the chairs behind them. The men’s shouts had woken Rosco, Jo-Jo’s tubby basset hound, who eyed them with lazy disinterest from his wicker basket in the corner.
Footsteps padded in the hallway behind me, and Jo-Jo came to stand beside me in the doorway, her perfume filling my nose with its soft scent.
Salina might pretend to be a genteel Southern lady, but Jolene “Jo-Jo” Deveraux was the real deal. She wore one of her many pink flowered dresses topped off by her usual string of pearls. Everything about her whispered of feminine poise, from the white-blond hair that was artfully curled over her forehead to the perfect makeup that softened the lines of her face to the effortless way she seemed to glide as she walked. Jo-Jo might have recently turned two hundred fifty-seven, but she was aging gracefully.
“How long have they been like this?” I asked her.
Jo-Jo glanced at a clock that was shaped like her puffy cloud rune, mounted on the back wall. “Ten minutes now. Apparently, Finn wants to kill Salina as soon as he can find her, while Owen at least wants to see if she’ll surrender peaceably.”
I was of the same mind Finn was, but I could understand where Owen was coming from. He’d once loved Salina, had wanted to marry her. It was hard to let go of those feelings, even now, when he knew exactly what she’d become—or maybe what she’d always been.
I might understand, yes, but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t seriously pissed about it. The bitch had tried to kill me—Cooper too—and yet here Owen was, still trying to protect her. What was wrong with him? Anger surged through me, along with doubt, worry, and fear. Not so much that Salina might kill me, but that she was going to be the death of me and Owen—of us. Try as I might, I just couldn’t shake the feeling that Owen and I were headed for disaster, courtesy of Salina—and what I was planning to do to her.
At the sound of Jo-Jo’s footsteps, Rosco peered in our direction, hoping she had a treat for him. The basset hound gave a happy woof at the sight of me, and his tail thumped against the side of his basket. Then he turned in Finn and Owen’s direction and let out a low whine. Their argument had interrupted Rosco’s nap, and it was obvious he wanted them to shut up so he could get back to it, pronto. Couldn’t blame him for that. I’d only been in the room a minute, and their sharp voices had already given me a headache.
“Enough,” I said.
Finn and Owen kept arguing, with Eva occasionally putting in her two cents for good measure. Cooper sat silent. I looked at him, and he shrugged his shoulders.
“Enough!” I repeated, raising my voice.
Finn and Owen were too intent on yelling at each other to hear me, so I did something Sophia had taught me—I put my fingers between my lips and let out a loud, earsplitting whistle. That got them to shut up and look at me in surprise.
“Morning, boys,” I drawled.
For a moment, the two of them just stared at me. Finn recovered first. He usually did.
“I’m not sure how much of that you heard, but he”—Finn stabbed his finger at Owen—“actually wants to give that water elemental bitch a chance to explain herself. Apparently, he wants to know exactly why she tried to kill you, other than the fact that she’s just mean as a snake and bat-shit crazy to boot.”