Read Online Charmed and Dangerous: An Appalachian Magic Novel (Appalachian Magic Series Book 1) by Debbie Herbert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Debbie Herbert
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psychic eye zoomed out to take in the surrounding landscape for exact location clues. He lay near a meadow about a hundred yards from Devil’s Bend, a sharp curve on the main road.
She would find him. Quickly, she closed the magic circle and asked for help.
“Be with me as I make haste.
Do not let me arrive too late.
Help him, heal him, and breathe him life.
Guide me in whatever’s right.”
Callie snuffed the candle and grabbed what she might need: keys, cell phone, bandages, blanket. She ran out to the Dixie doodlebug and threw all but her keys in the backseat. She pressed the ever-present amber tightly in her palm the entire drive up Booze Mountain.
“Please don’t let me be late,” she said repeatedly, driving as fast as she dared.
At Devil’s Bend, she pulled off the side of the road and got out to check the sky. The storm clouds hovered just beyond the field to her left.
Callie grabbed the supplies and ran toward the thunder. The sound of the wind, rain, and thunder roared in a dark patch of sky.
She had no idea how to find him from this point. She ran and screamed his name into the darkness. It was like being in a black and white nightmare with no ending.
Against the stark backdrop, she spotted an irregularity—a slight patch of blue on the ground near a ridge. She ran toward the only color in the terrifying landscape. With each step, the blue object came closer . . . It was a wool jacket laying on the ground next to . . . a motionless body.
James. Dead or alive?
----
C onsciousness returned in degrees . At first, he could only hear the wind. The world was black at the edge of his senses. He awoke for a bit, felt the cold on his skin, and then slipped back into nothingness. Time and reality were meaningless; only the need to rest and sink into oblivion mattered. His vision returned last. He opened his eyes and saw treetops and open sky. Not normal . He wiggled his fingers, and mud oozed through them. Okay, he was lying in the woods on his back. What in the hell was going on?
A voice called, so faint James wasn’t sure he could trust his hearing. It sounded as if he were beckoned from a great distance. Against the whirling siren of the wind, he strained his senses. This time he was sure. Someone was calling him. Though he was too weak to answer, the voice kept getting closer. Beneath him, the earth vibrated with approaching footsteps. He tensed and hoped whoever was coming was friend, not foe. He was too drained to defend himself.
“James? Are you okay?”
The face of an angel appeared. No, it was better than an angel. It was Callie. Her eyes were enormous, her hair plastered in thick, honeyed ringlets over her face.
“Callie,” he said weakly.
Her face crumpled as rain ran down her face. He must look as bad as he felt.
James gave his best attempt at a smile. “Do you always bring the rain with you? It’s like the day we met.”
“I think you’re the one causing the rain. We really need to talk about that. Not now though.” She reached behind her and picked up a blanket. “Cold?”
“Freezing.”
Callie bent, about to pull the blanket on him, when she suddenly stilled, and her eyes widened.
“You’re bleeding! There’s so much blood, it soaked through your jacket and spilled on the ground. What happened?”
It all came back to him. The fight with the immortal and the energy transferred from the sword. Andrew’s weapon must have packed extra power because he used it so many years in battle.
Callie lifted the side of his jacket and then his shirt. “I don’t see a wound. Where did the blood come from?” She sounded puzzled and relieved at the same time.
Uh, oh. This would take some explaining. He couldn’t tell her the truth—that he was an immortal, and all injuries quickly self-healed. But his brain was too tired to come up with a rational explanation, so he kept silent.
“What’s this?” She lifted the fallen broadsword by his feet and examined its bloody blade.
She would find him. Quickly, she closed the magic circle and asked for help.
“Be with me as I make haste.
Do not let me arrive too late.
Help him, heal him, and breathe him life.
Guide me in whatever’s right.”
Callie snuffed the candle and grabbed what she might need: keys, cell phone, bandages, blanket. She ran out to the Dixie doodlebug and threw all but her keys in the backseat. She pressed the ever-present amber tightly in her palm the entire drive up Booze Mountain.
“Please don’t let me be late,” she said repeatedly, driving as fast as she dared.
At Devil’s Bend, she pulled off the side of the road and got out to check the sky. The storm clouds hovered just beyond the field to her left.
Callie grabbed the supplies and ran toward the thunder. The sound of the wind, rain, and thunder roared in a dark patch of sky.
She had no idea how to find him from this point. She ran and screamed his name into the darkness. It was like being in a black and white nightmare with no ending.
Against the stark backdrop, she spotted an irregularity—a slight patch of blue on the ground near a ridge. She ran toward the only color in the terrifying landscape. With each step, the blue object came closer . . . It was a wool jacket laying on the ground next to . . . a motionless body.
James. Dead or alive?
----
C onsciousness returned in degrees . At first, he could only hear the wind. The world was black at the edge of his senses. He awoke for a bit, felt the cold on his skin, and then slipped back into nothingness. Time and reality were meaningless; only the need to rest and sink into oblivion mattered. His vision returned last. He opened his eyes and saw treetops and open sky. Not normal . He wiggled his fingers, and mud oozed through them. Okay, he was lying in the woods on his back. What in the hell was going on?
A voice called, so faint James wasn’t sure he could trust his hearing. It sounded as if he were beckoned from a great distance. Against the whirling siren of the wind, he strained his senses. This time he was sure. Someone was calling him. Though he was too weak to answer, the voice kept getting closer. Beneath him, the earth vibrated with approaching footsteps. He tensed and hoped whoever was coming was friend, not foe. He was too drained to defend himself.
“James? Are you okay?”
The face of an angel appeared. No, it was better than an angel. It was Callie. Her eyes were enormous, her hair plastered in thick, honeyed ringlets over her face.
“Callie,” he said weakly.
Her face crumpled as rain ran down her face. He must look as bad as he felt.
James gave his best attempt at a smile. “Do you always bring the rain with you? It’s like the day we met.”
“I think you’re the one causing the rain. We really need to talk about that. Not now though.” She reached behind her and picked up a blanket. “Cold?”
“Freezing.”
Callie bent, about to pull the blanket on him, when she suddenly stilled, and her eyes widened.
“You’re bleeding! There’s so much blood, it soaked through your jacket and spilled on the ground. What happened?”
It all came back to him. The fight with the immortal and the energy transferred from the sword. Andrew’s weapon must have packed extra power because he used it so many years in battle.
Callie lifted the side of his jacket and then his shirt. “I don’t see a wound. Where did the blood come from?” She sounded puzzled and relieved at the same time.
Uh, oh. This would take some explaining. He couldn’t tell her the truth—that he was an immortal, and all injuries quickly self-healed. But his brain was too tired to come up with a rational explanation, so he kept silent.
“What’s this?” She lifted the fallen broadsword by his feet and examined its bloody blade.
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