Page 3 of Wind and Water (Reign of the Witch Queen #2)

The din of London hums back to life. Cars speed by, and I pull back before we’re run over. The world is moving again.

“Did you pay the bill, baby girl?” My mother has been calling me that since I was a baby, and while I wish she’d use some other endearment in public, I can’t help feeling warmed by the sweetness of it.

Now that I think about it, I was too distracted by the near abduction. I point at him. “Stay back.”

He shimmers for a moment, and his ears disappear under his hair.

His weapons also vanish, and his uniform changes to plain white pants and a blue jacket.

Holding up his hands palms forward, he sighs.

“My portal is closed, Wren. We’ll have to find another way.

” He leans against the building next to Doctor Emmit’s door.

“I’ll just wait here with Liam while you pay.

” Momma stands on the other side of the door with her arms crossed and her expression determined.

Like me, she’s barely five feet, two inches tall.

She has her blond curls cut above her jawline.

If she narrowed her eyes at me like she looks at Liam, I’d be afraid.

Of course, he stares right back, as if he encounters a Texas momma every day.

For a moment, I feel sorry for him. “Don’t you dare hurt my mother. I’ll hunt you down, and there’ll be nothing you can say to make me help you.”

Raising his eyebrow, he softens his expression. “Noted. I’ll not harm Birdie, or you for that matter.”

Despite it sounding like a sacred vow the way he said it, I’m not leaving my mother with a man who recently tried to drag me through a vortex or portal or whatever that thing was. “No. Momma, you need to come inside with me.”

“She doesn’t trust you.”

He nods. “Trust must be earned, and I have not done so.”

Damn him for sounding contrite. I glare at the pair and hold the door open for my mother to precede me inside.

The office is in complete chaos, with employees and patients picking up papers and magazines. It feels as if I should apologize, but I didn’t make the mess.

At the administration desk, I force a smile. “I guess in all the fuss, I forgot to pay you.”

The young man gathers a stack of papers. “Oh, Miss Martin, we didn’t know what happened to you. Actually, we don’t know what happened at all. It was like a great wind blew through. Is it windy outside?”

“Not particularly.” I wait, and when he doesn’t give me a bill, I say, “I know you have a lot to clean up, but can you tell me how much I owe you?”

Putting the papers aside, he clicks on his keyboard and prints out a bill, which I pay by credit card.

In the waiting room, Momma and Liam are standing near the door, chatting like old friends. His expression remains serious, but she’s laughing.

This entire thing is too much. I storm forward. “Momma, we’re leaving.”

“I’ve invited Liam to join us for the tour of Westminster Abbey.” She says it as if we met him at a party.

As soon as we’re on the street, I face her. “You invited the man who tried to abduct me to go on a tour with us?”

“Don’t put it that way. His people are in real trouble. He was following orders, and you’re still here. No real harm was done.” She grins at me.

I’d like to say this lack of worry over the state of the world around us was unusual, but the truth is, my mother never worried a day in her life about the dangers around her. She has faith that she’ll always be safe.

I grew up in a different time, without her sense of peace and harmony.

Still, I can see how the gruff soldier is charming in his way.

If he’s lying about the plight of his world, he’s the best I’ve ever seen.

No. I think he’s telling the truth, but that doesn’t mean I’m getting involved with whatever insanity happened in the dental office.

I’m going to see London and Scotland as planned.

“Y’all do what you like.” I walk past them and head to the corner where I’ll cross to the park.

There’s plenty of time to get to the Abbey.

There’s no doubt in my mind that when the light turns, the two of them are striding behind me.

I keep going past the wrought iron gate and into the lush green park with its meandering paths.

I breathe in the bit of nature in the middle of the city and know I’ll remember the soft scent of roses and sweet magnolias with a hint of a mustier floral I don’t know, yet it’s familiar.

It might be zinnias or marigolds. The presence of city odors only makes the country air more remarkable.

Momma says, “We should find the statue of Peter Pan.”

Too annoyed to agree with her, I stride forward.

“Who is Peter Pan?” Liam’s voice is deep, and every word he says seems to vibrate along my skin.

I rub my arm, trying to banish the sensation. “He’s a character in a book. It’s fiction about a place where unwanted boys never grow up.”

“Unwanted?” He sounds incredulous.

Momma sighs. “Yes. Unfortunately, that part is not always fiction, Liam. However, in the book, the head boy, Peter, makes his way to London where he convinces three children to go on an adventure with him. It’s a darling story.”

“My people cherish their children,” he says flatly.

I round on him. “You have no orphans? This world you want me to save is perfect, other than it’s dying because of a witch?” I want to not care, but I was made very empathetic, and I can’t help feeling everyone’s concerns deeply. Sometimes, so much so that I ignore my own.

The only sign that he’s the least bit moved by my words is a slight tick in his jaw.

He blinks several times and pulls his shoulders back.

His voice is soft but full of gravity. “When an elven child is orphaned, another family usually raises them. Sometimes it’s family and sometimes friends.

In some cases, the royal family will adopt the child.

My parents did so when I was a baby, though Nainsi was nearly grown at the time.

She lives in your world now. To your other point, I’d be glad to tell you all about Domhan’s troubles if you would stop running away from me for five minutes together.

” There was more bite in that last part.

I can’t help the shimmer of satisfaction over making him angry. His cool exterior irritates the crap out of me. Staring back, I have a dozen questions about his world and his family, but in the end, one thing trumps them all. “Why is your adopted sister in my world?”

With a slight shake of his head, he bites his top lip.

It’s impossible not to watch his mouth. I force my gaze back to his eyes, which are just as pretty as those lips.

The sound of water fills the silence as we stare at each other.

There’s a subtle shift in his attitude, but I see the moment when he pushes aside his frustration and regains his soldierly composure. “My parents brought a party to this world ten of your years ago. Nainsi was with them. She met a man and fell in love. They live in someplace called Newfoundland.”

Before I can ask more questions, Momma grabs my hand and pulls me around the fountain.

She whips her London tour guidebook out of her purse and flips to one of the page tabs.

“This is the Italian Gardens. If we go this way, we should see the Peter Pan statue and eventually Diana’s memorial fountain. ”

I should stay silent and mind my own business. Liam is nothing to me. “If I had a sister I hadn’t seen in ten years, I wouldn’t be trying to abduct unsuspecting women in London. I’d be in Canada catching up with Nainsi.”

He’s a step or two behind me. “I was very young when she went to live with an aunt and uncle, though I would like to see her. However, my duty is to find one of the three human women from the prophecy and bring her to the Watcher’s Gate.

My brothers have been sent on the same task.

Each of us was sent to find one of you and ask you to help us. ”

Acting as if I ignored the part about taking me away, I ask, “How much older is your sister?”

“At least twelve suns.” He steps beside me and keeps pace with me while Momma rushes ahead of us.

When I stop, he faces me. “Your parents must have been very young when they took her in. Wait. How old are you?” I’m trying to be nonchalant, but my voice is incredulous as I attempt the math in my head.

A few strands of his dark-gold hair fall from the ribbon holding them back.

My hand itches to push them back. Liam tucks them behind his ear.

“I have lived only thirty-four suns. Elves live a great deal longer than humans. My parents were already married, and my mother was ruler of our people in all of Domhan when the witch queen started the war that left Nainsi orphaned at fifteen.” He cocks his head.

“I was little when she lived with us and remember her as a soldier and dear friend to my mother. She never came back to my world after falling in love here.”

Besides trying to kidnap me, it’s hard to find anything wrong with him, which is annoying. “How long will you live?”

He shrugs and turns to catch up with my mother.

I have to jog to keep up with his long strides.

Momma is staring at the bronze statue of Peter Pan playing his flute. His face is full of mischief, and on the stump beneath him are little animals and fairies. It’s quite beautiful and reminds me of Momma reading me the book as a child.

Liam turns his gaze from Pan and the crowd around him and whispers, “Elves can live over two hundred of your years, Wren.”

Two hundred. It’s inconceivable to imagine living so long. Shaking my head, I pull my sketchbook out of my backpack, take a pencil from the front pocket, and make a quick sketch of Peter Pan. I’m not missing my lovely England vacation because of Liam or anyone.

Looking over my shoulder, he asks, “You said you make jewelry?”

“That’s right. Not war.” I shade in the shadows cast by the trees and shrubs surrounding the statue.

“You draw very well.” He touches my bracelet. It’s a gold band with a green marcasite stone in the center. “Did you make this?”

I take a step forward. He’s too close, too warm, and smells too male. “Yes. Won’t you just go away?”

“I can’t do that.” There’s an apologetic quality to his voice, but I sense no wavering in his goal.

Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll get the hint eventually.

That is not what happens. We go to the Abbey, and he follows. We take a double-decker bus tour, and Liam sits behind us. When we exit the bus, I give our tour driver some money, and when I turn, I see Momma pointing to the sign over a pub door.

Liam looks and nods.

Without having to ask, I know that she’s invited him to eat dinner with us.

I’m too tired to argue, and something about him is hard to dislike.

It’s more than his good looks, which cannot be denied.

He’s easy and comforting. I have no doubt that in a tough spot, that he’d protect us or die trying.

Maybe it’s because I’ve never had that in my life, and I’m almost certain my mother hasn’t either, that I silently follow them into the English pub and sit opposite him at the booth as the waitress hands us menus.

If I can’t get rid of him, I may as well enjoy the sight of him.

The waitress blushes and says, “We have chicken pot pie and beef Wellington on special tonight. I’m sorry to say we’re out of the mutton already, but it’s popular with the local crowd and they’ve been here a while.” She points at a large, loud group watching the sports news about a soccer match.

“Thank you.” He looks at her name tag. “Mary. You’re very helpful.”

Even redder in the face, Mary giggles and steps away.

“Good lord. Have some pride, woman,” I mutter.

Momma elbows me in the ribs. “Don’t be ugly. She’s smitten, bless her heart.”

I close my eyes and remember myself. Forcing my smile into place, I say, “Sorry, Momma. I think the pot pie sounds good and a half pint of beer. I’ll sleep like a baby.”

“I agree.” Momma slaps her menu down with a flourish. “This is a good ol’ boy bar if I ever saw one.”

“I think all the cowboys are across the Atlantic, but I see what you mean. Local pub with lots of character.” It’s just the kind of place we like to find when we go on vacation or head to Houston for a weekend getaway.

Still giggling and now watched by two other waitresses, Mary returns. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Liam looks across at me, then at Momma, but Mary only has eyes for him. “I think we’re all decided on beer and pot pie.”

Mary shudders as she draws a deep breath. “Pints or halves, ale or lager?”

“Half pints and ale, please,” I say gently. My mother is right about Mary being smitten. If I don’t say something, she’ll pile all three meals on his side of the table.

As if out of a trance, she turns and gapes at me. “Of course. Yes, miss.” She rushes away and joins the other two for a good giggle.

“Maybe you shouldn’t speak to her so sweetly.” A tiny knot of jealousy curls into my belly.

Cocking his head, Liam stares at the women ogling him, then turns to me. “I didn’t say anything to lead her to believe I was looking for more than food and drink.”

“You don’t need to say it, Liam. You only need to smile.” Even I’m not immune to his good looks as much as I’d like to believe I am.

His smile is slow and full, and all of his attention is on me. “I will try to keep my smiles to myself, Wren.”

“You two, play nice now,” Momma whispers as Mary brings over the beers.