Page 6 of Witch Moon

Tires squealed and Bella smelled burning rubber even before she turned to see the smoke rolling off the wheels as the truck came to a stop a block down, cockeyed in the road.

She got to her feet, helping the girl up as well. For the first time, she realized it was one of her own students. Rowan Hawthorne.

Often introspective and always questioning authority. Bella liked her. She brushed the dust from the girl's leather jacket and looked her up and down. "Are you all right, Rowan?"

Rowan nodded, looking dazedly at the truck, then back at Bella again. "That jerk almost killed me," she said, straightening her skirt with an angry tug. Then she glanced at Bella more closely, her eyes narrowing. "Your lip is bleeding, Miss Saint A. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She touched her lip, drew her fingers away, and looked at the blood.

But Rowan's eyes were even narrower now. "God, look at your head."

Bella touched the spot where her head hurt, sucked in a breath, and drew her fingers away. A lump seemed to be forming already, and it hurt like hell. People were coming toward them now from the shops on either side of the street.

"I didn't see that truck," Rowan said. "You yelled, and then he was just there. How did you know?"

"My God, my God, Rowan! Are you two all right?" The deep, male voice was accompanied by pounding footfalls as a man raced toward them.

Even as Rowan called, "I'm fine, Dad." Mirabella turned to look his way. And the moment she saw his face, her blood rushed to her feet so fast she felt dizzy. Her vision swam, and she pressed a hand to her forehead automatically and closed her eyes.

He was beside them in a heartbeat, grabbing hold of her shoulders. "Hold on. Easy now. I've got you."

Gentle hands eased her down onto the sidewalk. Tender fingers pushed her hair aside. "Ah, you've got a nasty bump here. Maybe a slight concussion."

"I'm sure it's nothing like that." She opened her eyes again, hoping with everything in her that it had been a trick or a hallucination-that he would look totally different now.

But her wish was not granted. He was hunkering near her, his hands on her face, his eyes filled with concern and questions, not hate and rage. But he was the same. Dark hair, dark eyes. A face as hard and square as if it were a bust caned in marble.

The man from her dream. And that meant the girl whose death Mirabella had somehow caused-had to be Rowan.

Bella looked at her. Young and stunningly beautiful, sitting beside her looking worried. Suicide. God, no. The very thought made Bella's eyes fill with tears.

"She saved my life, Dad. Did you see it?"

"I saw," he said, and he frowned just a little at his daughter and reached out to pick up the fallen headphones. "Maybe these ought to come off when you're crossing streets, hmm?"

She shrugged sheepishly, and he smiled, then pulled her close for a gentle hug. "Are you sure you're okay, hon? God, if anything ever happened to you, I think I'd lose my mind."

"Dad, you're so melodramatic." Rowan said, but she hugged him back.

When he released her, he turned to Bella again. "Let me take you to the clinic, have that bump looked at."

Several of Bella's colleagues were gathered around them now, and Gwen and Officer Billy Cantone were coming toward them. Almost all the teachers who lived in town walked this route to school. Often they would meet in Granny Kate's Coffee Shop, a few doors away from Gwen's place, for a fresh baked doughnut and a hot mug of brew before heading to work. No one in town was quite as well loved as Granny Kate.

"I'm fine, really," Bella said. She sought Gwen's eyes and repeated it. "Just a close call. I'm really okay." Gwen nodded, licking her lips and backing off. Bella knew she was trying to protect her. With so many colleagues around, she didn't want to publicize their friendship. Officer Billy was already heading away to talk to the truck driver.

Bella started to get up to prove she was okay, only to have the man clasp her shoulders in his big hands and help her to her feet. "That bump doesn't look like something to be ignored," he said. His voice did things to her. She felt its reverberations echoing in her belly and in her throat.

"I really have to get to school." Did she sound a little breathless? He was standing too close, and his hands were still on her shoulders, and his eyes were all over her.

"School?" His brows rose, thick dark arches. "You're one of Rowan's teachers, aren't you?"

She nodded. "Mirabella Saint Angeline, Freshman English." she said.

"It's Miss Saint A, Dad. I've told you about her before." Rowan looked curiously from one of them to the other.

He nodded, not taking his eyes off Mirabella. "Odd, I was just thinking of you this morning." And when she only frowned at him in confusion, he said. "I'm Jonathon," he said, "Jonathon Hawthorne. Rowan's father."

That much, she'd gathered on her own.

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