Power Mage

by Hondo Jinx

  Hours later, as the pale light of early dawn broke faintly through the windows, they came together for what seemed to Brawley the millionth time. For the last couple of hours, they had been trying to sleep, cuddled together in Nina’s loft mattress. But then one of them would shift his or her weight or brush up against the other, and they’d be at it again.

  To hell with it. Both of them were too wired and too happy to sleep. All they wanted to do was talk and fuck and cuddle.

  Nina kissed him deeply and flopped back with a sigh. Her body glistened with perspiration, and her hair had collapsed into a lavender tangle.

  Brawley stood. Or stooped, anyway. There wasn’t enough clearance in the loft for him to straighten all the way.

  Parting with Nina’s flesh, losing the touch of her skin against his, was almost painful. He considered that for a moment.

  It had something to do with the crazy ring of psionic power that had skewered them the first time they’d done it. Though that force had whipped away deep into their minds, ethereal tendrils of mystic energy still bound them.

  Nina stared up at him with a knowing smile.

  He gazed down into her mismatched eyes and felt a fresh surge of overwhelming affection. With it came a wave of protectiveness so fierce that territorial hackles rose along his consciousness.

  He had never been a possessive or jealous man. But in this moment, he understood one thing above all others.

  Nina was his woman now.

  His and his alone. He would protect and care for her and make her life better. And if anyone tried to harm her…

  Where were these crazy-ass thoughts coming from?

  “All right,” he said, pulling up his jeans. “Breakfast. I mean it this time. No more of your tricks.”

  Nina sat up, grinning slyly. She stretched, arching her back, and twisted at the waist, making her sweaty breasts wobble irresistibly. “What do you mean, tricks?”

  “You know what I mean, you little temptress,” he said, buckling his belt. Damned if he wasn’t getting hard again. “Now come on. I need bacon like a spider needs a fly.”

  “That’s a big buckle,” Nina said, unhooking his belt. “Where do you even buy one that size?”

  Brawley laughed, staring not at the buckle but at her unbelievable breasts, which pressed hypnotically together, wiggling between her arms as she worked with his belt.

  “You can’t buy that buckle,” he said. “You gotta earn it.”

  Tilting the buckle, she read, “World champion? Wait… is this real?”

  He nodded.

  Studying the buckle, she said, “So you’re a world champion what… bull rider?”

  He nodded again.

  She filled the room with her beautiful, unbridled laughter. “That’s crazy. I mean, I don’t know whether that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard or the corniest.”

  “It’s the coolest,” he said with a grin. “Now put on some damned clothes, or I’m going to bend you over and do you again.”

  She smirked. “Big talker. You have another round in you, champ?”

  He gestured toward the erection jutting from his waistband. “What’s it look like to you?”

  “Looks like I hit the jackpot.” She rolled onto her stomach, lifted her perfect ass into the air, and grinned over one shoulder. “You going to ride me like a bull this time?”

  He shucked his jeans and jockeys and gave her ass a light smack. “I’ll hold on for eight seconds.”

  She twitched her ass back and forth. “You’d better hold on for a lot longer than that, cowboy.”

  Lining himself up with her swollen sex, he said, “Be careful what you wish for, darlin,” and plunged deep inside her.

  Later, Brawley pulled on his jockey shorts and started hunting his socks.

  Nina, watching with an amused expression, said, “I can’t believe I just slept with a man who wears tighty whiteys.”

  “I don’t recall much sleeping.”

  “You know what I mean. And tall white socks?”

  “White socks is all I wear. Same goes for jockey shorts. We gonna eat or what?”

  She rose and crossed the loft to a small dresser, rifled through the drawers, and came back with shorts, a t-shirt, and fishnet stockings, which he paused to watch her pull over her shapely legs.

  “Truth be told,” she said, fastening one of the garters, “your power doesn’t make sense. It’s too much. Honestly, I can’t even begin to wrap my head around it. I mean, I thought you’d give me a little boost, but… wow. What are you doing later?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Eating breakfast. After that, I’m open. What do got in mind?”

  “More of this,” she said, gesturing toward the bed and the tangled sheets soaked in their juices.

  “That’s a plan I can get behind.”

  “And on top of, I hope,” Nina said with another sly grin. “Then I’m taking you to meet my Seeker friend, Sage. If anybody can figure out how it’s possible for you to be packing all that power in your mind, it’s her. I can’t wait to hear your psi score and what she says about your aura.”

  6

  Other than a couple of hours of shocking unconsciousness back at Eden House, Brawley hadn’t slept a wink, but he felt great. Energized, optimistic, relaxed. And unbelievably horny, despite a night of ceaseless and torrid sex. Part of this was the psionic boost, of course. But part of it was Nina.

  She looked hot sitting there across the small metal table of the cafe, sipping black coffee from the big, white, ceramic mug and reading the local paper with one leg crossed over the other, rocking her fingerless gloves, fishnet stockings, and combat boots for all the world to see.

  Yonder sits my heart, he thought, surprising himself with the notion. But it was true. Rather than receding over the hours, the powerful affection and possessiveness he felt toward Nina had only continued to grow stronger.

  The morning was warm and sunny with a pleasant breeze, perfect for eating outside. The restaurant was packed, and several couples stood in line by the hostess’s podium.

  Brawley liked that some of the people had dogs with them. He also liked that the place, much like Blue Heaven, had a sizeable population of resident cats and chickens.

  At the curb near his boot, a mourning dove pecked a shred of croissant. There was very little vehicular traffic. People strolled past or rolled by on old-school bicycles painted in pastel shades. In the distance, a rooster crowed.

  “This is a nice town,” he said.

  Nina nodded, sipping her coffee. “It is. So when are you moving here?”

  He smiled but shook his head. “Not me, darlin. I wouldn’t mind spending a week or two here now and then. Hell, maybe even a month or two in the winter. But I’ll never leave God’s country.”

  “What’s so great about Texas?”

  “It’s Texas.”

  “Very funny, cowboy. Could you humor me and be a little more specific?”

  “Brisket, for starters. Family. The ranch. Hell, everything. Life’s different there. Slower. You got enough space to stretch your legs and catch your breath. People are laid back. Hospitable, too.”

  “Hospitable?” She arched a dubious eyebrow. “You were my guest last night. You don’t call that hospitable?”

  He laughed. “Good point. I’d have to say you’re the most hospitable person I’ve ever met. You’ll fit right in when you move to Texas.”

  Nina laughed. “Not me, cowboy.”

  “So you say now.” His feelings toward her were bold and energized, confident and dominant, yet tender. He did the emotional math and surprised himself.

  “What are you grinning at?” she asked.

  “I just realized something. I love you.”

  Nina beamed, then tried to cover it by rolling her eyes. “You don’t even know my last name.”

  “That doesn’t matter. What is it, anyway?”

  “What’s yours?”

  “Hayes.”

  “Brawley Hayes?”

&n
bsp; “Brawley Peckinpah Hayes, if you please.”

  She laughed but it was faint and distracted. “What kind of a name is Peckinpah?”

  “My grandma was a big fan of The Wild Bunch.”

  “You lost me. Is that a movie?”

  Brawley stared at her for a second without speaking. “What’s yours?”

  “Mack.”

  “Nina Mack.”

  She nodded. “Nina Anastasia Mack… if you please.”

  “Well then, Nina Anastasia Mack, I reckon I love you.”

  Again, she rolled her eyes. And again, it was less than convincing. “Go lay down and rest a while, and you’ll come to your senses.”

  “No I won’t, not if you mean I’ll change my mind. I love you, plain and simple. And you love me.”

  Her laughter was incredulous. “Now you’re really talking crazy.”

  “No I’m not, and you know it. But I won’t badger you.”

  “Good,” she said, and made a show of picking up the newspaper. “Drink your coffee and the feeling will pass.”

  “No, it won’t. Not ever.”

  “Oh shit,” Nina said with a smile. “I knew you were too good to be true. You’re one of those creepy stalker types, aren’t you?”

  “You’d be heartbroken if I wasn’t.”

  “Yeah right.”

  “Don’t you worry, darlin. That’s a line you’ll never have to toe. I won’t break your heart, and I sure as hell won’t walk out on you. Ever.”

  Nina stared into his eyes and smiled. Really smiled. It was a small smile, tight with sudden hope.

  But then a cloud of some conflicting emotion drifted over her features. Her eyes lost focus for a second, staring out into the reaches of some painful memory, and the smile faded.

  And Brawley understood that she had been hurt in the past. Deeply.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Well don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

  “I keep my promises,” Brawley said. “Always.”

  They were silent for a time, Nina reading the paper, Brawley watching the world go by and wondering if anyone could hear his stomach growl every time a server walked past with a tray of steaming food.

  Nina turned the paper in his direction. “Look. You’re famous.”

  “Huh?”

  She had it open to the police log. She pointed to a specific section and shoved the paper into his hands with a smirk.

  Motorcyclist Leads Police on High-speed Chase.

  Brawley glanced up from the headline. “I’m missing the joke, darlin.”

  “There is no joke,” she said. “Look again, noob. Harder.”

  He humored her, looked again, and still saw three paragraphs about some jackass flying down Route 1 on a Kawasaki.

  “Concentrate,” Nina said. “You’re looking at the article. Look through it.”

  He stared for a second longer. Then, just as he was about to hand back the paper and call her crazy, the ink wavered. All at once, it was too blurry to read. A second later, the letters cleared again… in a completely different arrangement.

  Psi Display Disturbs Mallory Square Sunset Celebration.

  “What the hell?”

  Officials are investigating reports of psionic activity at last night’s sunset celebration. According to social media posts by dozens of Normal eyewitnesses, a cat owned by Charles “The Cat Wizard” McDonough, a registered Bestial originally from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, flew suddenly into the ocean by means of what appeared to be supernatural levitation.

  An unknown man, described by the Normals as a tall, white male in his mid-twenties, allegedly intervened and rescued the cat by telekinetic means, lifting the animal from the water and drawing it one hundred feet to safety. Dozens of Normals reported the supernatural occurrence via social media, where the claims appear to be generating what local authorities are deeming “potentially unfortunate” interest. McDonough was not available for questioning.

  If you have any information concerning Mr. McDonough or the incident, please contact your local Order authorities.

  “What is this?” he asked, dumbfounded.

  Nina leaned forward, whispering. “Psi writing. Our news beneath theirs. You’ll see psi script on papers, magazines, and signs in every decent-sized town in America.”

  He flipped through the pages, pausing to let each page beneath the page come clear. He saw global, national, state, and local headlines. Editorials, ads, classifieds, all the things you would expect from a newspaper.

  It was mind-boggling. And yet… shockingly, even disappointingly, normal.

  “Female telepath, 36, ISO male telepath, 25-35,” he read aloud.

  Nina shrugged. “Dating can be a bitch for psi mages. Especially for telepaths.”

  He turned his attention to the advertisements.

  Psi Pet Trainers.

  Psi-D Identity Protection.

  Elemental Excavation.

  “It’s all so… real,” he said. “So normal.”

  “Normal is a loaded word in our community,” Nina said. “Better to say it’s all so mundane. But yeah, at the end of the day, we’re still just people, I’m afraid. We can do some incredible shit, but our lives still revolve around weddings and funerals like everybody else.”

  Turning back to the crime log, he said, “Is this going to be a problem?”

  “We’ll see. If you turned yourself in and explained what happened, the Order would probably just read you the riot act, register you, and offer support via the local Unbound post over on Flagler.”

  Reading her voice, he said, “But…”

  “But the less those fuckers know about you, the better. When you register, you don’t want an asterisk by your name.”

  He nodded. “What if I don’t want to register at all?”

  “Bold move. It’s one thing, being a clueless orphan sucker punched by the whole thing. It’s quite another to reject the community altogether.”

  Brawley leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want people in my business.”

  “You don’t want to register, don’t register.” She sipped her coffee. “But don’t get caught up in anything, or they’ll hang you out to dry.”

  “I have a bad habit of getting caught up in stuff. This guy Junior and his buddies, how come they aren’t in trouble? They weren’t exactly subtle, throwing the cat in the ocean like that.”

  “Audacity beats alibi. One shocking, abrupt event.” She snapped her fingers. “Then the cat’s in the water, and that’s what people are worried about. No one suspected them, and even if the story hit social media—and that’s what the Order really cares about—it’s too short and weird to gain traction. A cat flies in the water. There’s no narrative. But if you add some heroic Texan to the mix, have him waving his arms like a madman, and then have the cat float from the water straight to him…”

  Brawley nodded. “So I drew attention to the psi mafia.”

  “Like a champ,” she said. “If they were on official orders, you just pissed off an international organization that hates making the headlines.”

  “And if they weren’t on official orders?”

  “Side jobs are a big no-no in the psi mob. Those three would do anything to keep from getting in trouble with their boss. And since we’re talking about Junior Dutchman, that boss also happens to be his father, so double-whammy. Meanwhile, I don’t know whether the Bestial is ‘unavailable for questioning’ because he’s skipped town or because the psi mob whacked him. The only thing I really know for sure is that those assholes saw me with you.”

  “Oh shit,” he said, and something dark and fierce rose within him. “If they try to—”

  “Pie?” a cheery voice asked behind him.

  Nina lit up like a six-year-old on Christmas morning. “Right here.”

  The waitress set a slice of key lime pie in front of Nina. Balancing her tray on the edge of the small table, she turned to Brawley. “Well, somebody’s hungry this morning.”
r />   “Yes, ma’am.”

  Setting the plates before him, she said, “Western omelet with extra jalapenos. A double order of bacon. Home fries with sausage gravy. White toast with butter. Jam and ketchup are on the table. Can I get you folks anything else?”

  “More coffee for me, please,” Nina said, and shoved a forkful of pie into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut in apparent ecstasy.

  “Y’all have any hot sauce?” Brawley asked.

  “Tabasco all right?”

  Brawley wasn’t a big fan of Tabasco. He liked taste or heat. Often times, you had to surrender one for the other. Tabasco dwelled in a weird twilight zone that didn’t deliver much of either.

  But it was better than no hot sauce at all. “That’d be great. Thank you, ma’am.”

  After the waitress left, Brawley said, “If those assholes—”

  “Please don’t,” Nina said. “I’ll be fine, and if you insist, we can talk about them later. Right now, I just want to enjoy my pie.” She took another bite and sat there with her eyes shut, grinning like a little girl dreaming of unicorns and lollipops.

  They set to eating. The food was amazing, and Brawley was hungry. Typically, he ate like a dog. Once or twice a day, ravenously, as much as you put before him.

  Nina watched him, looking amused. “All that bacon and gravy can’t be good for you.”

  He chuckled, sopping up gravy with his toast. “I don’t take health tips from girls who only eat pie for breakfast.”

  She gave him a smart-ass grin. “Not just pie. Pie and coffee.”

  When they finished, Brawley leaned back, feeling good.

  “All right,” Nina said. “Now that you’ve eaten, it’s time to train.”

  “Train?”

  “First things first. You need to learn to locate your power.”

  “What, here?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  He gestured to the busy café porch. “Wouldn’t your place be better?”

  “Sure, if we were a pair of hermits. But we don’t live our lives shut away from the world. You might as well get used to locating your energy with distractions.”

  He nodded. It made sense, when she put it that way.