Spiritbound Page 5

  Grace checked the classroom, restoring order so the next teacher could start afresh. Papers and pens aligned themselves on the desks. Rubbish popped into bins. Chairs tucked themselves under desks. With a smile, she quelled her magic and went to see how the children were faring outside.

  When she got outdoors, the children were nowhere to be seen. Slightly startled, she scanned the field and listened hard. It didn’t take long for her to locate the children who were all crowded into the arena, a small area set aside for people to watch games of basketball or handball. As she walked up she had an uncomfortable churning in her stomach, because the new teacher looked remarkably like Declan Mallory. In the shadow of the tiered seating, she chewed her lips. It was Declan, and he was teaching the children a targeting game.

  As the school had a privacy ward none of the neighbours would be able to see exactly what the children were doing, which was good. Precautions like that kept the coven invisible to non-folk, kept the peace.

  At first she was annoyed that Declan was teaching them battle skills. She didn’t think it was really necessary. They had lived in peace for so long; why incite the folk to violence?

  Yet as she watched on she changed her mind. The intermediate class was using magic to thrust little pellets through a target hole. The children watching roared with laughter as some of the pellets went wide and hit Declan in the butt. Other misguided pellets pinged the top of people’s heads, or stung their arms and legs.

  Declan appeared to be shielding most of the children so that none were harmed. She was quite impressed by that feat because it required a lot of concentration to use magic in a number of ways simultaneously. There were about fifteen rowdy students he was supervising too.

  Grace could see that the target practice was helping the young witches and warlocks to hone their skills. It was rather an innocent game, but not all folk could manipulate matter so she looked around, seeing what he had those students doing. Declan had the students tossing pellets with their hands and then others guiding the missiles into the target with their talent. That way everyone was equal whether they were propelling the missile with their magic or guiding it.

  Guiding took a lot less work because the throw gave the pellet its momentum. Grace looked around at her class sitting on the tiered seats and wondered at how engrossed they were in the proceedings before them. She knew they enjoyed her cooking classes but she could see that they really got something worthwhile from his game tactics.

  While she didn’t agree with Declan’s view on battle readiness, she could definitely learn from his approach, and she began thinking of ways to make some of her classes more fun by using games.

  ‘Grace?’

  Grace straightened her posture, doing her best not to blush at being caught out watching him. ‘Er…hi.’

  ‘Okay everyone, lesson’s over. Go take a break,’ Declan called out to his class and then navigated through the swarm of children who were making their way to hand toss the missiles or run around the field. Grace watched as her class climbed down and ran off to play with the others, leaving her alone to face Declan.

  ‘I didn’t realise you were teaching today,’ Declan said as he came up to her, smiling, the sunlight twinkling in his eyes.

  ‘It wasn’t a secret. I didn’t realise you’d be teaching here. I thought you were setting up your own school.’ Grace hadn’t forgiven him for the other day, but she was polite. Having been snubbed so often, she couldn’t bring herself to do it to others.

  ‘I have to begin somewhere. The coven school was the natural place to start.’

  She nodded. ‘I see.’ She made her comment sound bored.

  Declan stood with his feet apart and rubbed a hand through his hair. He squinted into the afternoon sun. ‘I guess I deserved that.’

  She jolted. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  He shook his head. ‘Can’t we call it a truce? I mean, I realise I upset you the other day in Balmain, but I wasn’t trying to.’

  Grace glowered. ‘Well, I’d hate to see you trying to upset me then.’ She resisted rolling her eyes. That sounded so churlish.

  He grimaced. ‘I said I deserve a second chance—’

  ‘Actually, demanded was the word that stuck in my mind.’ He was trying hard, and she wasn’t as nearly upset with him as she’d thought she’d be. Perhaps all those tears had been therapeutic.

  Declan winced as he studied her face. ‘Look, how about after we finish up here, we go and have a picnic.’

  ‘A picnic?’ Her eyes narrowed.

  He smiled wider. ‘I know a nice place.’

  ‘I don’t think—’ She could think of no reason, other than she’d hate people talking about her, linking her name with his.

  ‘Come on. What do you have to lose? Some time?’

  ‘Er…I have…’ She had nothing else on.

  ‘Please, Grace.’

  She rolled her eyes. It was very hard to ignore him, with that sparkling gaze and that smile. Her resistance crumbled. What did she have to lose? Her heart was armoured up. All she needed to do was enjoy the view. Maybe having people talk about them would give her some revenge, scatter the feed among the chickens. The bitch-witches would go wild. Her mouth curled up in a smile and she broke eye contact. ‘Well…okay.’

  ‘You mind riding pillion on a motorbike?’

  ‘A motorbike?’ A thrill rushed through her. ‘A ride on a bike. How exciting!’

  ‘It’s new.’ He studied her face.

  ‘Awesome. I’ve never been on one, new or old.’

  Declan grinned and put his hands on his hips, his gaze ranging out over the children. ‘You finish up now, don’t you? Preschool usually finishes early.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Shouldn’t be too long now before the parents arrive to collect your little darlings.’

  ‘You forget. You were once a little darling.’

  He winked at her. ‘I still am. I’m due to hand over to the next teacher after the break, so we can set off then.’

  Grace walked over to the target with Declan following behind. ‘Do you mind if I have a go at this?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t approve of battle training.’

  She grinned. ‘I don’t. But this is useful for honing skills, no matter what you’re aiming for. I don’t think I’ve tried a game like this before. You’ll have to be kind.’

  Declan chuckled. ‘Sure, I can do that. Shall we compete or keep it friendly?’

  Grace took in the scatter of plastic pellets on the ground, noticing that there were two different colours. ‘Definitely competitive.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘You bet. You’re on.’

  With a click of his fingers, the pellets ordered themselves into two piles. ‘The object is to get as many pellets through the target hole as you can in the shortest space of time. They have to pass through the hole in the target, not around. The first one to get all of their coloured pellets through wins.’

  Grace nodded and folded her arms. ‘That sounds simple enough. Ready?’

  Her pile of pallets rose into the air, all neatly ordered in a line. Declan did a double take upon seeing it.

  ‘I thought you said—’

  Grace’s pellets began to move. Declan quickly gathered his and formed them into a swarm, all circling, ready to thrust themselves through the small target hole.

  Grace tilted her head to the side. Without looking at the target, her missiles shot through one by one. Declan’s pellets couldn’t compete, being knocked out of the way by the speed of hers. With a grunt, she felt a shift in his power and he aimed his pellets at hers, knocking them from their path. Pellets began flying in all directions as they shot through the air, ricocheting off one another.

  It became a battle between them rather than a battle to get the missiles through the target. The sounds of laughter reached their ears. Grace realised they had an audience as their pellets continued dancing in a halo, surrounding them from the ground to well a
bove their heads. With a lift of her eyebrow, Grace channelled her pellets into the target opening using about ten to protect her line. He was good, but Grace was better. She was sending his pellets further afield on different trajectories and he had to use more magic to bring them back. His pellets raced back with speed and force that would hurt if they impacted on skin.

  A glance at his face, and she could see that it was a strain for him. Sweat beaded on his brow and he chewed his lip. He had underestimated her. She grinned and then her smile froze. His gaze was not centred on her but he had a faraway look as he stretched his senses out across the field, propelling his pellets as he did.

  The cheering grew louder. ‘Come on, Miss Riordon,’ shouted the children from her class.

  ‘Come on, Mr Mallory. Squash her!’ came the chant from his students.

  Grace only had a few pellets left and was set to win. Her smile was wide and then suddenly dropped when Declan grabbed her to him. Not quite registering what he was about, she was stunned when he tilted her backward and kissed her. His hot mouth captured hers and he went for it, sending his tongue to tease her own. Her mind went blank but her mouth was on automatic, responding to the kiss. Totally distracted, her pellets fell to the ground, while his rammed through the hole, ripping the target in the process. The cheers turned to yells and catcalls. Declan had won.

  He lifted his head away, yet kept his arms around her. She pushed her hands against his chest, and then wiped his kiss from her mouth. ‘Of all the mean tricks…that’s cheating.’ She was appalled at his tactics. How could he kiss her like that and still concentrate on his pellets? It was downright insulting.

  Declan grinned from ear to ear. ‘Fair is fair. I underestimated you but I found a way to even the score.’

  Grace tossed her head back. ‘That won’t happen again,’ she said and then stormed off, highly outraged. The children were still cheering. She shook her head. That piece of gossip would be all over the coven in a couple of hours.

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ Declan called after her. Grace wanted to flip him the bird, but didn’t as the parents had started to arrive to pick up their children. Esme’s mother waved to her. ‘How was the scone making?’ she called.

  Grace put a smile on her face. ‘They did well. Let me unlock the classroom and you can see for yourself.’

  After tramping back to the classroom she opened the door, letting the children fetch their cloth-wrapped parcels, and she cheerfully chatted to the parents while they waited. As she took her time with each parent, she secretly hoped that Declan would have left already and she would be saved the embarrassment of telling him to bugger off. She had no intention of riding pillion and heading off on a picnic with Declan I-always-have-to-win Mallory.

  It was hard to keep smiling when her teeth grated. The nerve of him, to use that tactic…and she’d fallen for it, like one of his bitch-witches would. What she couldn’t figure out was whether she was more injured by him beating her or by the fact that he could kiss her and still concentrate on other things. Her fist clenched and then Earl came up to her. ‘Here is a scone for you, Miss.’

  Grace’s heart softened. Earl was so cute with his mop of curls and dark brown eyes. ‘That’s so nice of you.’ She took the proffered scone. ‘Thank you.’

  Thinking that enough time had elapsed for Declan to have taken off, Grace chased up the remaining children, who were telling their parents how they made the scones and what so-and-so had done.

  The last child left. With a sigh, Grace surveyed the empty classroom. Everything was in its proper place. She could no longer stall by lingering there. She had to go outside and either hope he was gone or deal with him being there.

  Only her car remained in the car park. The sun had dropped lower in the sky so that dappled light fell across her car, a little red VW Golf. It was a lovely spring day in Sydney. The crunch of gravel behind her made her spin round. Declan loomed there in a black leather jacket, holding a spare helmet in one hand. ‘Here you go,’ he said, passing it to her.

  ‘Do you expect me to go with you after what you just did?’

  ‘Of course. You aren’t a spoilt sport, are you?’

  Grace sucked in an indignant breath. ‘You cheated.’

  ‘No, I didn’t. In battle you must expect the unexpected.’

  Grace spluttered. She hadn’t thought of that. ‘You can go jump—’

  ‘I’m parked near the entrance.’ He jerked his head to one side, indicating the front of the school.

  He was being so polite and ignoring her outrage. Grace chewed her lip. He’d been reasonable when pointing out her failure. It was true. She’d lost because he’d managed to distract her. She lifted her chin, not liking that he might be right.

  There had been no expectation that she’d had a chance to beat him at his own game. She wasn’t a sore loser; that wasn’t it. It was because he’d kissed her and totally drew her into his moment and away from hers. That was what annoyed her, the fact that he had power over her. She did not want that. Right then, she didn’t want to fight anymore. She had to relax and let all that tension go. Declan was back in her world and she had to deal with it as best she could.

  Declan held the helmet out to her again. Casting her doubts away, she took it and put it on her head. ‘Right then, let’s test out this bike of yours.’

  Declan grinned and then turned away, leaving her to follow. She didn’t mind so much. There was something to be said about not fighting it, as she could enjoy the man Declan had become. It was only a picnic. The view was rather good. As he walked, his leather jacket hung from his wide shoulders and his dark blue denim hugged his butt cheeks. They were very squeezable. That made her grin to herself. I bet he would find that disconcerting. She filed that one away for later use.

  The bike came into view. It was retro looking, with a curvy red petrol tank and cool spoke wheels. Its chrome exhaust pipe caught the light. ‘Wow.’

  He chuckled at her reaction. ‘Mmm, exactly. It’s a Triumph Speedmaster. All the elegance of an earlier period, but with modern features that make for a great ride. I prefer the upright position; helps with being tall.’

  Grace was impressed. The motorbike looked hot. Her attention moved to him. He looked hot in that get-up. Talk about bad-arse hunk status.

  Don’t go there. Remember the bitch-witches. She repressed a sigh and decided to change the topic.

  ‘You drive that?’

  ‘Sure I do.’ He pulled a small jacket out of one of his panniers, holding it up to her. ‘That should fit.’ He took her handbag and placed it inside.

  Grace took the brown leather garment and sniffed it. It smelled new to her. Did he buy it especially? While she did up the jacket, Declan went over his bike. ‘I did a lot of touring when I was in Britain,’ he said as he squatted down to inspect the engine. ‘Lots of narrow roads with hedgerows and tunnels made out of trees, and out-of-the-way woods where you could stretch out and feel the earth beneath you, and hear the birds in the trees and the wind caressing branches and leaves.’

  Grace lifted her eyebrows. Declan Mallory was a little bit more earthy than she’d expected. She finished buttoning up her jacket. ‘So where are we going on this little picnic?’

  Declan straddled the bike, holding the handlebars so that the bike was fully upright and released the kickstand. ‘Come on, get on. Hold onto my shoulders and lift your leg over.’ Grace did as instructed. He pulled his helmet on. ‘Hold me around the waist.’

  Grace did up the strap on her helmet. She thumped him lightly on the shoulder and yelled into his ear. ‘I said where are we going?’

  ‘The Blue Mountains.’ He started the bike, with the noise reaching her through the helmet.

  ‘The Blue Mountains? That’s no little picnic. It’s too late to go there now.’

  Declan revved the motor, giving no indication that he’d heard a word she’d said. She didn’t attempt to mind speak him. That door had closed a long time ago. The bike lurched forward. Grace hel
d on for dear life. She managed to hail her mother and Elena to say she’d be late for dinner and for them not to worry. Her mother sent back a distracted ‘okay’. Grace shrugged and held on, resting her face on Declan’s broad leather-clad back to hide from the wind.

  The journey on the bike exposed her to the elements. Her face was buffeted by hard wind, her body stroked by powerful gusts. She’d never ridden on a bike before and she loved it. Declan’s strong body controlled the bike, expertly navigating the traffic along the Great Western Highway that led them up to the mountains. She’d been to Leura before, as a number of the coven lived that far out. They liked the bush setting, the mountain climate, and the small little wooden houses that reeked of old-world charm. It was an easy distance for key festivals and the mountains had their own magical allure. Grace had visited a family there during a series of thunderstorms. Energy had crackled and sizzled around them. She remembered that feeling of being so energised and close to nature, and the raw power that existed in the earth.

  By the time they reached Springwood, hunger gained Grace’s attention. She hadn’t eaten since the morning. She’d left Earl’s scone behind. It was then she noticed that Declan didn’t appear to have any food with him. She remembered the panniers and if he had food in them, it was very modest indeed. Grace could have eaten several servings of turkey with all the trimmings, her hunger was that bad.

  Finally, after zipping through a number of other mountain suburbs, Declan pulled over onto a grass-covered area. ‘He we are.’ He tugged off his helmet and gestured to a small cottage, obscured by shrubs and a riotous cottage garden.

  Grace took off her own helmet and shook out her hair. Using her fingers, she tried to arrange it to get rid of the flattened hair she’d acquired from a couple of hours riding pillion while Declan held the bike for her.

  ‘Where is here?’ She lifted her leg off the bike, her muscles stiff.

  Opening the pannier, he pulled out her handbag, passing it to her.

  She stretched and shook out her legs. The sun had dropped lower on the horizon. They would have to travel at night to get back home to Balmain. She kept her mouth shut, although she was dying to make a snarky comment about the so-called ‘picnic’.