Page 7 of Discovered Magic
“I’ll do my best,” he lied.
If Abbie weren’t with him, he wouldn’t be coming back.
3
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the branches of the massive pecan trees lining the Monroe property. It cast dappled shadows across the fluted columns and the lightly swaying porch swing. The place hadn’t changed much since Alex saw it last. It sported a fresh coat of paint and new flower baskets with a fern or two, making the overall look homey and inviting.
Like Beth.
Alex stared at her house from the edge of the gravel drive. Although his feet felt rooted in the red Carolina clay, like an anchor to the earth, he swayed. He’d been off-kilter since learning of his daughter. How the hell had he never known about Abbie? Beth had his number and should’ve called. And how was he supposed to casually stroll onto that wraparound porch and knock as if he had the right after forty-plus years?
He stepped forward, hesitated to gather his courage, then closed the distance to the porch. When he reached the base of the wide steps, the door swung open, and there she stood—dark hair and heartbreakingly haunted eyes.
“I was hoping you’d eventually come,” she said in that soft Southern drawl of hers.
Jaw tight and throat thick, Alex dragged a hand down his face. “I only found out I had a daughter three hours ago, or I’d have been here sooner.”
Beth’s pale face crumpled, and tears welled in her large blue eyes. “Oh, Alex.”
He bounded up the steps, catching her in his arms as she sank to her knees.
“I’m going to save her, Beth. Count on it.”
She drew back to meet his eyes, and he hoped like hell they reflected the promise in his heart.
“I’m not doubting you, but how do you plan to do it? She’s been dead for two years.”
“I’m formulating a plan. Will you tell me about her?” he asked as he guided her to the swing.
“She was so much like you. Quick with a quip, adventurous, never encountered a challenge she wasn’t going to meet head-on.” Beth smiled, and the bittersweet sight tightened his stomach. “I looked for you when I discovered I was pregnant, but every source said the same thing. Alex Collins didn’t exist.”
“I was on the run, but if I had known…”
Her hollow expression said she didn’t believe him.
“Do you know what I am?” he asked.
“I suspect I do.” She trailed her fingers over his cheekbone. “You haven’t aged a day in forty-two years, and even for a warlock, that’s odd.”
“I’m a Traveler, Beth. My birth name was Anton O’Connor?—”
Her face froze, and wariness entered her eyes. Rightfully so. The surname carried a lot of baggage. “O’Connor? From the Irish O’Connors?”
“Yes. Loman was my brother and was put down like the feral beast he was. He’s who I was running from, along with the Désorceler Society, which he worked for.” There wasn’t anyone in the witch community unfamiliar with the name of the organization intent on murdering them.
Alex touched her hand, and when she flinched, he said, “I’m nothing like him. No more than Abbie was like him. When I was a teenager, I ran away from home. It was good fortune Alastair Thorne and Damian Dethridge found me first.”
“But there’s only one Traveler—Oh! Ohmygod! Alexander Castor!” She covered her mouth as she shook her head. “I’m so stupid!”
“No. You’re not. You saw what I wanted you to.”
“You’re a legend.” Beth fingered a strand of his hair. “The white-blond hair and the icy-blue eyes are a dead giveaway. We’ve all heard talk of you, but I still didn’t piece it together. It’s a wonder no one did after Abbie was born.”
“From the picture, it seems her eyes are darker than mine, and being female, no one would make the leap.”
“I suppose not,” she said in a soft voice. “I can hardly manage it, and I knew you. But how did you avoid everyone you know?”
“Glamouring, teleporting, and time jumping throughout the world. It was a helluva lot easier after staging my death.”
