Icing the Puck (New York Empires Book 2) Page 3

“So you and your brother are here coincidentally?”

  “Mostly. He could move if he wanted to, but he likes me too much.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He laughed, loudly. Again. The sound attracted the attention of other passengers, but Brody didn’t seem to notice.

  “He has to,” he said. “He’s my twin. But you need to stop talking about him now. Get back to talking about me.”

  She was close enough to laughing at his over-the-top arrogance, she did change the subject. “Where are we going to eat?” she asked.

  “Steak house in midtown. Fantastic food. You’ll love it. You do like steak, right?”

  “I like all food.” It was one of the few indulgences she could manage without risking the fire, which meant she didn’t deny herself the pleasures of good food often. Fortunately, her metabolism was high. She was curvy but managed to maintain her weight without extreme dieting.

  Which was good because she wasn’t sure she could face denying herself anything else that was supposed to be natural and enjoyable to humans.

  She’d already had to shut off too much.

  Chapter Four

  The ride into Grand Central Station went a lot quicker than Ann expected. Brody kept up a steady conversation that, while it knocked her off balance, never seemed awkward or forced. She really envied his easygoing nature.

  Once on the street, he hailed a taxi. They reached the restaurant in only ten minutes, and when she offered to pay for the ride, Brody refused her money.

  “I’m old fashioned. The man pays when he takes a woman out. Besides, I’m trying to impress you.” He got out of the taxi and then reached back, offering his hand to help her out.

  She risked touching him because she wanted to more than she needed help.

  “I’m still not entirely sure why you’d want to impress me,” she said as the taxi eased back into traffic.

  He tilted his head and gave her a quizzical look.

  The Midtown sidewalk was crowded with people rushing about, women and men in suits hurrying to some business, tourists in their casual clothes stopping in the middle of the pedestrian traffic to stare at a building, a few extremely well-dressed and tall women Ann assumed were models, delivery workers pushing carts piled with boxes. The area smelled like New York to Ann, from the nearby cart selling kebabs, to the scent of exhaust from heavy traffic, a few undercurrents of things less pleasant, and a faint hint of heated concrete, despite the cool, late afternoon air.

  She knew she and Brody were causing a block in the flow of pedestrian movement, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just stared at her as the crowd parted around them, the noise of car horns and people talking wafting past.

  “You don’t have any idea how attractive you are, do you?” he asked quietly, and more seriously than almost anything else he’d said to this point.

  She glanced away, making a study of the front of the restaurant. His attention, his stare left her uncomfortable on levels she didn’t care to think about.

  She nodded at the restaurant and forced a casual smile, but couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Shall we go in?”

  Lunch was delicious and, to her surprise, a lot of fun. True to his word, he was never awkward and because of that she managed to relax, too. The staff at the restaurant knew him and treated him like an honored guest, but he took it so easily and with such good humor, it didn’t come across as obnoxious.

  She wasn’t sure what to think of the looks she got from the staff, or the wink from the head chef when he’d come out to say hi to Brody. She spent so much of her time trying to avoid attention, it was more than a little disconcerting to have so much focused on them.

  Yet Brody managed to spin it all into a fun and casual atmosphere.

  By the time he forced a dessert on her—which didn’t take a lot of convincing—she’d forgotten to worry about her emotions, or the fire, or much of anything else. She lost herself in the moment, smiling more than she could remember ever doing in her life.

  She was so caught up in his charm and humor, so distracted by the sexy tug at one corner of his mouth when he watched her eat, and the way he filled out his long sleeved shirt, giving her a spectacular view of thick, tempting muscles, she didn’t notice the warmth in her palms or the tingling along her fingers. She didn’t feel the subtle heat building, or the warning flutter of sensation down her arms.

  Until she glanced at the water glass she held in one hand. The water was just starting to boil.

  Gasping, Ann pushed back from the table.

  “I…I’m sorry.”

  She darted out of the restaurant so fast, she forgot her coat and purse. In her panic, she didn’t even care. She had to get outside, into the cool October air, away from Brody’s scent and presence. She had to get herself under control.

  He joined her on the sidewalk, where she stood with her hands fisted, taking long, slow breaths. It was early evening now and lights were winking on along the street and in the nearby buildings. She focused on the cold air, the approaching night, the sounds of people and cars. She tried not to feel Brody step up close behind her.

  “What happened?” he asked. “Are you OK?”

  He settled one of his large hands on her shoulder and she flinched, then shifted away.

  “Please. I need just a few minutes. I can’t…”

  She felt like a fool. How could she explain? She knew her departure from the restaurant made no sense. But she could still feel the heat in her palms, the pulse of the fire in her fingertips. Her skin was so warm, even the sharp bite of the evening wind didn’t touch her.

  She’d spent her entire life suppressing emotion to keep her fire under control. Why had she dropped her guard? She knew better. She had to get away from Brody Evans.

  Before she killed someone.

  Without really paying attention to where she was going, she turned down the street. Foot traffic was still heavy as business people hurrying home flooded the sidewalks. She wove through the crowds, working hard to avoid touching anyone. Something in her expression must have given warning, because most people moved out of her way.

  She was aware of Brody following her, but she didn’t turn to look at him.

  “We didn’t dine and dash just now, did we?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “I paid before I followed you. Can we talk about what happened?”

  “No.”

  When she felt his fingers brush her arm, she jerked away again. “Please, don’t touch me right now.”

  “Ann. Damn it, stop walking and talk to me. I thought we were having a nice time.”

  “We were. Too nice. I need to go.” She reached for a purse that wasn’t there and finally stopped. When she faced him, he was holding her bag and coat out to her, a little crease between his brows.

  She was sure she’d ruined whatever good feelings he had for her, and she regretted that. She’d never met a man who made her feel so at ease and charmed all at once. But better he think her a bitch than she hurt him with the flames.

  She took her bag from him, careful not to touch him.

  “Aren’t you cold?” he asked.

  “No.” She couldn’t bring herself to be completely rude. “I am sorry. I had a very nice lunch. I just have to go.”

  He held up her coat then and she acquiesced, turning so he could help her into it. The gesture put him too close, his hands brushing her shoulders as she shrugged into her coat. She stepped away quickly so he wouldn’t notice how warm she was.

  “Did I do something wrong?” he asked. “Say something to insult you?”

  “Of course not. You’re perfect. But I’m…” Damaged. Dangerous. Broken.

  The Devil’s spawn.

  She forced that last label from her head. That was her parents talking, and she refused to let their fanaticism define her. But she was damaged. And she was very dangerous.

  He took a step closer, too close again, and yet somehow still not crowding her. “I really had a good time today. I’d like to
see you again.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She had to crane her neck back to look him in the eyes. The angle made her feel vulnerable because all she could think was how easy it would be to kiss him. He’d just have to lean down a little bit, she could ease up onto her toes…

  She realized she was staring at his mouth when one corner quirked up a little in a half-smile.

  “I think seeing you again would be an excellent idea,” he said.

  He leaned down, and she did go up onto her toes, until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. The faintest touch of his mouth to hers, a brief brush of temptation…

  And the heat in her palms intensified.

  She hurried back a step. “I need to go. Thank you for lunch.” She spun and flagged an approaching taxi before he could object.

  Maybe it was her desperation, or maybe she just got lucky, but the cab stopped. She climbed in, leaving Brody staring after her, that little crease between his brows deep.

  Her guilt and fear settled like a hard ball in her gut all the way to Forest Hills, ruining what had been an excellent meal. She had to talk to Nathalie. She was too early for their appointment, but Ann would wait as long as necessary.

  She couldn’t go on like this anymore.

  Chapter Five

  At exactly eight o’clock, Ann went up to Nathalie’s apartment. She hadn’t seen Nathalie enter the building, but she knew from her own building there could be another entrance. She’d waited until the appointed time on a low brick wall across the street from the main door. The night was chilly so she’d huddled in her coat, her skin finally cool enough she felt the autumn weather, but she hadn’t dare go anywhere more pubic.

  She could still feel the warning tingles in her palms.

  As she knocked on Nathalie’s door, she tried not to let worry overtake her. Worry was as bad as any other emotion. She focused on her breathing, counting slowly each time she breathed in, then reversing the order as she breathed out.

  When the door opened, she released a relieved sigh.

  “Thank you for meeting me,” she said to the stranger who was her sister.

  Nathalie nodded and motioned her inside. She gestured to a small, comfortable couch, waited for Ann to sit, then settled in a beautiful wooden rocking chair.

  Ann took a moment to study the apartment. It wasn’t very big, but it was cozy and neat, with clean wooden floors, a few rugs scattered around the living room, and a very interesting set up of candles and incense holders on a low table against one wall. From the couch, Ann couldn’t see into the kitchen, except that a door near the table with the candles led into one, but from this angle it looked like a reasonable sized space for New York. Everything looked so homey and lived in. It was nice.

  “So,” Nathalie said without preamble. “I assume you’re a firestarter.”

  Ann blinked a few times, her mouth dropping open as she stared at Nathalie.

  “Pyrokinesis. Am I wrong? That reference to fire was pretty pointed. You know that’s the reason our mother left my father.”

  “What? No. What?”

  Nathalie frowned. “OK, maybe we need to backtrack a little. Did I guess right about the pyrokinesis, or is this a more mundane problem?”

  Very slowly, Ann said, “You guessed right. But how…?”

  “You came to me because you assumed I’d understand, because of things your mother has said.”

  “She called you and your father Devil’s spawn.”

  Nathalie snorted. “Yeah, heard that before. But she didn’t tell you why exactly she called us that?”

  “She said you and your father were devil worshiping pagans.”

  Nathalie rolled her eyes. “What a load of crap. I am a solitary green witch. I don’t even believe in her devil.”

  The admission took Ann by surprise. “You think you’re a witch?”

  Nathalie dropped her chin and gave Ann a deadpan stare. “You’ve heard of the Wiccan religion, right?”

  “Well, yes, but…”

  “Like that only a little different. It’s my religion. A type of philosophy, if that helps.”

  “But you knew what a firestarter was? You believe in…”

  Nathalie stared at Ann a moment, then raised her hand. A ball of blue fire burst into life in the center of Nathalie’s palm. She glanced at it a moment, then closed her fist and the fire vanished.

  When she meet Ann’s gaze again, she raised a brow. “I understand that particular gift. Though, I’d always assumed it came from my dad’s side of the family. He’s going to get a kick out of knowing it came from my mother.”

  “Why do you say that it came from our mother?”

  “How else? That’s our only blood tie.”

  Ann closed her eyes and shook her head. She felt like an idiot. She was the geneticist. Of course if they shared this trait, it must be inherited from their linked genetics. Ann had gone into the field specifically to look for a genetic cause for her curse…

  She paused at that word and looked up at Nathalie again. “You called it a gift. I’ve always considered it a curse.”

  “You said you’re in trouble. No one has taught you how to control the fire, have they? That’s why you came to me.”

  “You’re very astute.”

  Nathalie ignored the compliment. “My grandmother trained me. I was four the first time fire sparked out of my hands. It’s the reason your mother finally abandoned us, why she calls us what she does. She saw the fire and saw Satan and Hell. My grandmother, though Catholic, was a pagan at her core, and saw the fire as just another skill.”

  “Did she have it?” Ann was genuinely curious. For the first time in her life, she felt free to discuss things she’d never dared talk about openly before for fear someone would stick her in a psychiatric hospital—or worse, her family would bring in some weird fanatic preacher to try and “beat or burn” the demon out of her. She shivered.

  “You OK?” Nathalie asked.

  “Yes. Sorry. I’ve just never been able to discuss this without worrying about the reaction. My family… Well, you know. The reaction would have been bad.”

  Nathalie snorted a laugh. “Yes. How did you manage to keep it from them?”

  “The first time it happened, I was alone. I was almost four and had snuck out of church to play with rocks in the parking lot. I accidentally incinerated a section of dry grass at the edge of the lot. The whole thing scared me so much I ran back into church thinking I was possessed. But crossing into the sacred space didn’t change anything.”

  “You’re not possessed. Or cursed. Or any of the other stupid things your mother might have put into your head. It’s just a skill. Like any other skill. Less typical, obviously, but just a talent.”

  “A biological impossibility according to all known science.”

  “And science knows everything right now? You know as well as I do that a hundred years from now everything we take as fact at the moment will be wrong.”

  Ann smiled a little. “You sound more the scientist right now than I do.”

  “What science?”

  “Genetics.”

  “Apropos.”

  “Is that why your grandmother could train you? Why you thought the…skill came from your father’s side?”

  “No, Yaya wasn’t a firestarter. She was just old enough to have learned a lot. And her mind was wide open to a very grand world, so nothing really surprised her. Plus, she has visions like I do, so there’s that.”

  “Wait, you have visions, too?” Ann felt a little lightheaded. She leaned back in the couch. This couldn’t be a real conversation. And yet this was exactly why she’d come to Nathalie.

  Nathalie waved that away. “Off topic. Sorry. Back to the fire. Does yours get harder to control when your emotions swing?”

  “Yes,” Ann breathed. “A lot worse. I shut down emotions not long after discovering what I could do. I was afraid.”

  “Of course you were. Shutting down your emot
ions won’t help long term, though.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “Starting to slip already? Not surprised. OK, let’s start.”

  “Wait.” Ann slid to the edge of the couch. “What do you mean, let’s start?”

  “You need to learn control. I can teach you. Then everyone will be safe, and you can start feeling things again.”

  “Do we need to go somewhere special?”

  “We’ll start with the basics here, then I’ll take you to my father’s house for the real control tests. He’s got a cement basement, designed for me, so I wouldn’t burn his house down.”

  “He won’t mind? I’m his ex-wife’s child from another man.”

  Nathalie rocked gently in her chair. “He’ll see what I see. A young woman in a lot of trouble who needs our help. He’s big on helping those in need.”

  “He sounds like a good man. Not what I expected.”

  “Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “You need to talk more or do you want to learn how to keep the fire under your control?”

  “Control. We can talk later.”

  Nathalie smiled. “Good. Let’s go sit on the floor.” She motioned to the low table with candles on it, set against the wall, and with a simple rug on the floor in front of it. “That particular rug is fire proof.”

  Ann followed, a strange combination of confusion and relief making her knees wobble. As they settled on the floor for her first lessons, she acknowledged how very grateful she was to have a “Devil’s spawn” half sister. It seemed she didn’t have to hide from every member of her family after all.

  Chapter Six

  Brody wasted no time finding Nathalie the next day after his date with Ann. He had morning practice to get through first, and ended up with his face in the ice a few times because he was distracted—Jahr, Karpov, and Sandberg would never let him live that down. As soon as practice ended, he went right to the physical therapy center.

  He had no idea what had happened with Ann, why she’d run away from what he’d thought was a really good date. He’d gone over the conversation again and again. He hadn’t said anything offensive—in fact, there’d been a lull in the conversation just before she’d bolted.