CHAPTER 154

The owl's feathers rippled, sending a couple onto the ground. They were larger than her bird forms, and he wondered if her current size dictated how large they were when they fell off.

"I am poor at adaptation," she replied. "When it comes to the hunt itself, I am fine. But that is instinct and planning. My spells take time to weave, for that is the cost of my magic." She shuddered again, sending more feathers to the ground. It seemed to be the equivalent of losing hair when stressed. "I suspect yours is your unpredictability."

"How do you figure?" he asked.

"When last we spoke, you did not carry such an earthen aura. You smelled of storms and lust, but now carry a certain heaviness. It is very much like the fae, but also the magic of the forest. Magic was never meant to be mixed in such a manner, for it generates chaos."

"Story of my life," he muttered. "So that's what I have? Chaos magic?"

"Caretaker." She clicked her beak for a few moments as if deep in thought. "The name itself isn't important, but appropriate. You should know that magic like yours can be quite powerful, but only if it can be controlled. Be warned that it has a life of its own, very much like a roaring fire. If you aren't careful, it will consume you."

"Metaphorically?' he asked, thinking of Emily.

"No. Literally. In its haste to help you, your magic could tear your body apart. And when you die, the magic doesn't simply vanish. It will be let loose in the world in ways we cannot predict. Never start a fire that you cannot put out." She flapped her wings a couple of times and transformed back into bird form. With a cautionary hoot, she flew away.

"Thanks for the advice, Hedwig," he muttered. He watched until she disappeared into the trees and then continued toward the cabin, his hands in his pocket. Finding out that he was potentially a magic bomb had dulled his enthusiasm, so he took his time walking.

As he was passing the barn, he saw movement within. Dana was still there, and she had taken apart most of the jeep. She stood in the middle of a mess as if contemplating her next move.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked.

"Hmm?" She regarded him coolly, then stared at the disassembled jeep. "What time is it?"

"Don't know. My phone was my watch." He knelt down to examine what might have been a carburetor. His knowledge was hardly extensive, so this was mostly a guess.

"I must have lost track of time." She wiped some grease off her face, only to smear some more from her hands onto her cheek. "I do that when I'm working on stuff."

"But why dismantle the whole thing?" He moved over to the body of the jeep and realized that she had pulled out most of the engine.

"It started as an oil change and I got carried away." She pulled a spark plug out of her pocket. "Found a box of these and wanted to put some new ones in. Figured I would change the air filter, and it kind of snowballed."

Mike kicked a tire. They had been stacked in the corner. "You don't say."

"Figured I would rotate them. Don't move those, I need to put them back on in a certain order."

"If you say so." He sat down in the passenger seat, which was on the floor next to the body. "Velvet is going to freak when she sees her dad's car like this."

Dana's face darkened. "Shit, you're right." She looked around her feet. "Don't suppose you want to help me?"

"Reassemble a car? Not really." He picked up a ratchet. "I don't know where most of this stuff goes. Didn't have a garage growing up or anyone willing to teach me about it."

Dana snorted. "It's not that different from your usual approach to things. Tab A in Slot B, you know what I mean."

Mike looked up at Dana. Even though she was looking away from him, he could see the small grin on her face. It had been hours since she had fed, so he was surprised to see her so...lively.

"My dad restored an old car when I was seven," she told him as she started putting stuff back under the hood of the jeep. He couldn't see what she was doing because she was moving too fast. Between her memory and the fact that she didn't tire, it was like watching a one-woman pit crew. "It seems dumb, but I don't remember much about it now. He would only work on it on the weekends, and my mom let me stay up late to spend time with him. He was always working long hours, so weekends were our only time together. There was one Sunday night that my mom went to bed early, so he let me stay up until almost three on a school night. Mom gave him hell for that."

Mike chuckled but said nothing. He didn't have a story of his own to add and was too busy watching Dana's facial expressions. He had spent so many months seeing Dana devoid of almost all emotion, and he was now seeing tiny bursts of it. It was almost like watching an actor in a play break character. Was Dana even aware she was doing it?

"So what has your panties in a bunch?" she asked him.

"Who told you that I'm wearing panties?" he asked.

Dana snorted. "Are they mine or Quetzalli's? I don't think you'd fit in mine, and if you stretch them out, I'll eat your hands. Don't dodge the question."

"I had an experience with Abella in the woods," he replied. "My magic did something weird, and now the owl has me all paranoid I'm going to explode."

She stopped what she was doing and stared at him. "I'm going to need you to run all of that by me again. More details this time."

Except for the sexual details of his interlude with Abella, he told her everything. How the magic had connected him to the land, how Abella had started breathing fire. She listened without a single word until he had finished.

"So what do you think?" he asked. "And before you answer, we both know that you're acting differently than you usually do. Something has changed, and you were affected, too."