Lady Sass(Witches and Werewolves Book 1)(11)By: Jen Talty
She screamed in unison with the loud, long horn from the truck barreling down the road.
Jackson growled as his muscles flexed, but the steering wheel didn’t budge. “Hold on,” he yelled, trying to shimmy the wheel right and left, but nothing.
“Out of the cauldron, into the light, send this vehicle to the right,” she waved her hands over and just as the truck whizzed by, the Jeep jerked back into the proper lane.
“What the fuck was that?” Jackson slammed on the brakes, pulling off to the side, glaring at her with a snarl. “I hate magic. Don’t ever use it again.”
“If I hadn’t, we would have hit that truck head-on.” Her voice trembled, weakened from the quick spell that almost hadn’t worked.
“I had it handled.”
“Right, because your brawn is stronger than black magic.”
He lowered his chin, raising his eyelids. “Excuse me?”
“I felt it just as your car veered to the left.”
He ran a hand down his face, letting his index finger and thumb come together at the base of his chin. “You think some witch tried to kill us both with black magic.”
“Not sure it was meant for me because I didn’t feel it until it was almost too late. This is why you should let my father, or me, cast a protection spell, though his will be stronger.”
“Maybe I should just pack it in and forget about this film all together,” he muttered, dropping his head back. “I wasn’t even given the chance to sleep on the idea of working with you and regardless of your father’s kind spirit, your family, and their witch supporters, have had it in for me from the day my father pulled the trigger. I wouldn’t put it past any of them to have a voodoo doll, and right now they are getting ready to carve out my kidneys for fun.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
He let out a long breath. “Really? Then why do I need a protection spell?”
Jackson tossed a couple of logs into the fire pit, over the flame he’d created with kindling and a brick fire starter. Half the sun still peeked out over the mountains in the park. Soon it would be dark, and the temperature would drop, but he didn’t want to be locked inside with Amanda, especially when she was looking through some book while talking with her father about this stupid protection spell that, like an idiot, he agreed to let her cast.
Witches had always made Jackson nervous. When he was in grade school, the girl that sat next to him had been a witch. She had been his first crush with her strawberry-blond hair, generally worn in pigtails and a freckled face with big, bright-blue eyes that always drew him in like a rabbit to a carrot. But being around her family, when they performed witchcraft, even though they seemed like decent people with good intentions, the actual rituals made him wonder if she’d put a spell on him to like her to begin with.
As an adult, Jackson knew his paranoia stemmed from his abusive father, who always told him no one ever likes anyone for no reason. Everyone has a hidden agenda, and everyone would want something from Jackson. His father also constantly told him what a loser he’d been. Even today, from prison, his father would send him letters telling Jackson what a horrible actor he was and how rotten his films were. He knew he shouldn’t even bother opening the letters, but something inside him made him keep them. His mother had been supportive but believed his inability to truly believe in himself was because he didn’t burn the letters and cut his father completely out of his life.
His mother was probably right.
He was the idiot that got hit with a baseball bat every time he opened the door, but kept opening it anyway, expecting different results.
He knew the results he wanted and that was to hear the killing had been some sort of accident. That there was no way his father could have killed a man in cold blood.
But Jackson knew the answer, he just wouldn’t face it.
The fire crackled as sparks flickered toward the sky. He sat in the plastic Adirondack chair, nursing a beer. He wanted to shift into his wolf form and run in the woods, letting all the tension from the day’s events evaporate into the night air. More than anything, he wanted to get Amanda out from under his skin. He had never expected to see her vulnerable. She exuded confidence in the way she moved across the room. Her words always articulated with the right vocal inflection that commanded everyone to listen.
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