RISING SHADOWS (Shadows Book 2)

Chapter 26

I left Pendle's home with my head reeling. So much so, that all I could do was return to the treeline and slump down against a thick tree trunk.

How the hell was I related to Toby? We shared no physical features that I was aware of. He couldn't be a sibling, Gran would have told me.

I hoped Gran would have told me.

"Ugh!" I cried out, kicking out and digging into the hard ground with the heel of my boot.

It was dark now, and as I sat on the forest floor, my back against the tree, I sent small sparks up into the air. The rounded blobs of fire lit up the forest like fireflies. They swirled and leapt in between budding branches and towering trunks.

"You're far from home, Little Witch."

I leapt out of my skin, and sent hundreds of my sparks flying towards the familiar voice. They cast him in a warm glow, his dark eyes igniting with fire.

"So are you, Tall Angel."

Rafe laughed, deep and husky and in a way that made my fire magic roar. Mentally, I drenched it with a cool tidal wave. He pushed away from the tree he'd been leaning on to come my way.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to see you seek revenge on the ground for whatever it did, and to see you light up the forest like a Midwinter celebration." Rafe raised a hand to the sparks dancing around his head like a crown. The sparks responded to him, as if they had a life of their own. Playfully, they weaved in and out of his fingers.

"Would you like to get something to eat? With me, I mean." He was still focused on the sparks dancing through his fingers.

I raised an eyebrow.

"That's what people do, isn't it? And I know-" he pointed down the shiny tarmaced lane. "About two miles walk down there is a little place that serves good food."

"If you're expecting me to walk two miles anywhere then I'm going to need food at the end of it." I looked down at myself. Loose vintage jeans and a wool-lined retro patchwork coat. "I'm not sure if I'm dressed for going out and I also smell like mud."

Lowering his hand, Rafe stopped playing with my faux-fireflies. Heat scorched my face as his eyes roamed over me from head to toe. His throat bobbed. "You look great and you smell like flowers to me. You always smell like flowers."

As we walked side by side, I continued to light the darkened path with my fireflies. Even if we came across others, they wouldn't be able to tell I was doing it.

Rafe explained that The Sunken Mill Inn had changed little over the years. That his feet had scuffed over the same worn threads for centuries. The owners updated the rug about once a decade, this last one in the late eighties, but the bones of the place remained. Mined stone lay underfoot, a high apex of medieval beams loomed overhead, a tired but charming interior all around.

We settled into a dark corner. It felt strangely intimate, though not as intimate as we had been the other night.

"Is it warm in here?" I blew out a breath and used a laminated menu to fan my face.

The inn's only other occupants, a spotty youth behind the bar with a tea-towel slung over one shoulder, and two flat-cap wearing aged men who kept glancing nervously at us. It probably didn't help that I'd waltzed in with my broomstick, not bothering to glamour it.

Rafe grinned and my knees went weak. "I'm the one making them nervous when really it's you they should be afraid of."

I clicked my tongue at him. "How dare you? I'm not frightening in the least."