Page 10 of Dream Weaver (Spellbound in Sedona #3)

ABBY

Over the next two days, Cooper and I churned out five axes. The details still needed work, but we were on such a roll, we didn’t want to stop. We worked all day Friday and Saturday, then dug right back in on the following Monday. A good thing, too, because at ten in the morning, Cooper’s phone rang.

“Lundsven here,” he said, wiping his brow.

His eyes brightened as he listened, and his whole face lit up.

“I’m on my way.”

There was a wildfire, so he was off. And I swear, a kid wouldn’t have run faster to an ice cream truck.

“Wait. Take this.” I found myself handing him the ax we’d just completed. It wasn’t polished, but it was sturdy, and something in me insisted he take it.

He stared, then slowly accepted it.

“Call it a test run. If you have a chance, I mean.” I twisted my hands nervously.

Nervous because I was dying to know if the ax had that…er, special something the original did.

Nervous because every fire was dangerous, and I wanted Cooper to come home safe.

Well, I wanted that for every fire crew, every time. But him, especially.

He nodded, and our eyes met for what seemed like a lifetime. Emotions bottled up in my throat, forming a lump there.

Cooper’s deep, brown eyes swirled and sparkled. “See you soon,” he finally whispered.

It took everything I had not to touch him.

“See you soon,” I whispered.

And then he was gone.

He stayed away two days. Enough time for me to finish the decorative details of our first few axes, but too long in every other way.

“I miss Cooper,” Claire sighed on his second afternoon away.

Yeah, I did too. And not just for his prowess with a sledgehammer.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Claire asked.

My heart twinged. “I’m sure he is.”

But what if he wasn’t?

I stared into the forge’s fire, picturing him laboring away in Crow Canyon on the Arizona/Nevada border, where a midsize fire raged.

Yes, I’d been following it on the state tracker. No, I wasn’t about to admit that to anyone.

I imagined the roar of the fire, the steady scrape of axes, the crackle of radios. Then I whirled away from the forge and threw myself back into fine-tuning the axes we’d made so far. They had to be perfect. They had to keep the crew safe.

Those particular axes wouldn’t impact the current fire, but I worked as feverishly as if I were out in the forest with Cooper. Sweat dripped down my face, stinging my eyes as I poured all my knowledge of blacksmithing and fires into my work. I’d worked with Pippa’s father, a pyromancer, for three firefighting seasons. I knew firsthand about wildfires and how they moved over a landscape. And I knew about the tools at our disposal to fight them — human tools and…er, special tools , as Greg liked to call them.

I didn’t dare try replicating his spells. But I could let his tips, tricks, and knowledge seep into the metal I worked.

And when I really got in the zone, I could feel magic trickling from my fingers. Flowing, even. My own magic — not Greg’s, not from my vortex. My own magic. And for once, I didn’t try to halt or question it.

The only other time that had happened was three years earlier, when I’d worked on the original ax in a fit of emotion. This was just like that, but now, the magic was clearer and more powerful.

Keep Cooper safe. Keep them all safe. The mantra echoed in my mind, over and over. All the firefighters, all those acres of forest, all the creatures inhabiting them.

The fire in the forge flared, and my hammer sang. The metal sang too, humming at times, roaring at others. My surroundings melted away until it was just me, metal, and fire.

“Abby!”

I snapped my head up, nearly growling at the intrusion.

A real intrusion, judging by Louie’s incessant barking.

It was only then that I noticed he’d been locked into Walt’s office. And, oops. Walt had to have been hollering for my attention for a while now. A trim brunette stood beside him, dressed to the nines. Her hair was done up in a sleek ballerina bun, and her huge, glittery handbag flashed under the shop lights. Hermès? Gucci? Not my area. I was better acquainted with brands of horse feed.

A man in a dark suit and sunglasses stood beside a classy beige SUV parked outside the rear doors in a spot marked Employees Only . Her chauffeur or her bodyguard?

I wondered if time and space had warped, allowing this woman to take a wrong turn off Fifth Avenue and appear in Sedona. Or maybe she’d gotten lost on her way to Serenity Canyon, the thousand-dollars-a-day yoga retreat on the edge of town?

I rested my hammer on the anvil, barely changing a growled What? to a more polite “Yes?”

“Ms. Steinmeier here wanted to discuss a project.” Walt flashed the woman a warm smile.

His eyes were a little glazed, as if Jacqueline Kennedy had just wandered into his shop. They only cleared long enough to pin me with a hard look that said, Be nice. This is a customer with deep pockets and rich friends. We want this business.

I shot a pointed look at Bob, then Pablo. We all had our deadlines, but mine was as tight as a corset on the nineteenth-century lady I was glad not to be. Couldn’t one of the other guys humor Glamour Girl?

Walt gave a tiny shake of the head that signaled, You humor her .

I stared. What happened to These axes are important? Our top priority?

She switched her handbag to the left to shake my hand. The sparkles caught the light, making the space around her shimmer.

“Call me Liselle.” She flashed a smile, showing off teeth as polished as her shoes.

“Liselle,” I said obligingly.

Matt snickered. Walt glared.

“I’m Abby,” I added quickly.

Liselle was about my age, but taller, more groomed, and supermodel-thin. Her blue eyes were so luminous, they bordered on purple. Colored contacts, I figured. Her beige-on-beige outfit would have fit in at a British country manor.

“I was told to ask for you. I have a special project I haven’t been able to find anyone to help me with.” She lowered her voice and winked. “I find that men don’t really listen.”

Amen, I nearly said, warming to her.

I set down my hammer. “What kind of project?”

She drew a round shape in the air at about the height of her knees. “A brazier, so I can enjoy a fire on my patio.”

A patio as big as a tennis court, I’d bet, with million-dollar views of Sedona.

I tugged on the straps of my overalls as she described what she had in mind. It didn’t sound complicated, but I wasn’t fooled. Women like this always wanted — no, expected — special treatment. I’d once labored for weeks on a gate for one of those fancy new ranches — the kind with more bathrooms than livestock. The client wanted the outline of her beloved Yorkie worked into the middle of the gate, complete with the ridiculous little topknot on its furry head. It was some of my best work, but the client was disappointed that I’d chosen Pookie’s bad side.

I’d barely refrained from suggesting what side that was and where the client could shove it.

So, I doubled my estimate for the time required to whip out a brazier for little Miss Vanderbilt.

“I would need about a week to do it, but I’m booked solid through the end of the month.”

“Oh, that’s disappointing,” she sighed.

Yeah, well. So was life sometimes.

She stood there, lips pursed, waiting.

I waited too.

“I’d hoped to have it done this week…” Her eyes locked on mine.

Hope was good. Hope was comforting. But it wouldn’t get her a brazier any faster.

I scratched an itch on my ear. No, the side of my head.

The coals in the forge crackled in warning. I frowned. Warning of what?

“Walt says you’re the best…” Liselle went on.

Ha. Walt passed that title from employee to employee any way he found convenient.

“—and frankly, I love the idea of a female blacksmith. It can’t be easy.” She gave me a knowing look.

I had the feeling she knew more about boardrooms than metal shops, but hey. I could relate…sort of.

“Surely there’s a way to squeeze it in…” she said, then went full steam ahead as if I’d agreed. “I’ll send you some sketches. You know, to give you time to mull over the concept.”

A concept, like a real artist. Cool.

Walt grinned at me from behind her in a way that said, Good job, kid.

I couldn’t help glowing a little. This customer wanted me — me, specifically — to work on her project. Rich had also insisted on me. My boss was happy with me.

I took a deep breath. What a long way I’d come from desperate runaway to today.

On the other hand, yikes. That itch was in my head now.

Surely there’s a way to squeeze it in…

Walt says you’re the best…

Mull over the concept…

The words windmilled through my mind, and I found myself picturing how I might fit it in, what concepts I could develop, and what an amazing artisan I would prove myself to be. Maybe I could work on it after hours. Maybe with the time Cooper had helped me save, I could fit in one little brazier. Maybe—

Realization struck me, and I went cold all over. I barely reached for my water bottle in time to hide my shock.

Because suddenly, it all made sense. Walt’s dazed expression. The shimmer around Liselle’s shoulders. The soothing voice in my mind. Surely there’s a way to squeeze it in…

Liselle Vanderbilt — er, Steinmeier — wasn’t just persuasive. She was a witch. A mind-bender. Not a very good one, now that I was onto her, but still. How dare she?

The old me would have blurted that out point-blank. But the new me had learned to think before I acted, so that was what I did.

If I called her bluff, she would realize I wasn’t entirely human, which might prove disadvantageous to me. I had no idea how or why, but life had taught me to keep my cards close to my vest…or my leather work apron.

But I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her skip the line like a Lightning Lane guest at Disneyland — a policy that had really, really irked me the one time I’d taken Claire there after months of scrimping and saving.

“Sure. Go ahead and send some sketches,” I finally replied. “I’ll mull over the concept.”

I would mull all the way into next month, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Let me get back to you about it soon,” I finished.

The dent between her eyebrows deepened, and the itch in my mind intensified. Still, she faked a bright smile.

“Wonderful. I’ll give you my card…”

A card, huh? If I needed to share my details, I scribbled them on one of those free notepads handed out by real estate agents and drug stores. This lady had her own card — embossed and everything.

I glanced at the flowery logo, then tried a little mind-bending of my own.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I said, turning back to my project.

You can go now, I pushed the thought toward her mind. No need to waste time here.

I nearly cheered when she took a step toward the door. But then she caught sight of my forge and chirped, “Oh, how interesting! What are you working on?”

Up to that point, a few alarms had buzzed in the back of my mind. Now, they deafened me.

Someone had stolen the original ax. Someone could be just as interested in the new ones I was forging.

Someone like her?

I couldn’t imagine why, but it seemed prudent not to share any details.

My thoughts drifted to Cooper, and my frown deepened.

Definitely prudent, because those axes could protect members of a fire crew…especially one who’d been growing on me.

Luckily, the axes we’d crafted were hidden by a pile of scrap metal. The parts in view around my anvil — the ones that held the ax head to the wooden handle — could have been anything.

“Uh…” Shit. What to tell her?

My mind came up blank, though an unconscious something ticked away in one back corner, and my fingers jerked.

Bang! An earsplitting clatter came from across the workshop.

“ Pendejo! ” Pablo cursed at the scrap metal he’d knocked off a shelf, then looked around in chagrin. “Sorry.”

I glanced down at my hands, then hastily curled in the fingers that had been pointing in his direction. That little accident couldn’t have come at a better time…but what if it wasn’t an accident?

Liselle’s phone rang, and she reached into her purse for it.

“Sorry. I’ll be in touch later,” she murmured, backing away.

Yeah — much later, preferably.

Still, my mind raced. I would have to talk to my sisters about this — and mention this out-of-town witch to Ingo, who worked in supernatural law enforcement. What if Liselle wasn’t on his radar?

I found myself wishing for Cooper, too. He had quickly figured out I wasn’t entirely human. What insights would he have gleaned from this woman?

And that was just one of many reasons I missed him.

I brought the steel back to my anvil and started whacking, willing my unwelcome visitor out the door and onto the street.

Who was Liselle Steinmeier? Was a brazier all she wanted, or did she have other plans? Could I — should I? — attempt to do something about that?

And what about Cooper? Was he all right? And when was he coming home? Er — I meant, when was he coming back?

Funny how I found myself hoping, the sooner, the better.