Page 35 of Dream Weaver

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 fightthem — 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.

Arealintrusion, 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 markedEmployees 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 inSedona. 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 growledWhat?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 toThese 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.

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