Ever Strange

by Alisa Woods

  “Okay. Done.” His own voice was rough. Sweet magick. He stepped back.

  “How will we know if it worked?” She frowned like she was disappointed he’d stopped. Or maybe she doubted his skills. He could never tell with her. He was too busy managing the torrent of desires—the normal kind and the deadly ones—she kept conjuring in him.

  “It’ll work.” At her skeptical look, he added, “You won’t see it, but Pennies and his crew will. Now that I have the spell in my head, I’ll cast it as soon as we’re close.”

  She frowned more. “Won’t they notice you casting?”

  “I’m not going to flick my fingers at them.” Field magick required at least finger-casting, if not larger motions of hands and body to direct the will that controlled the magick—at least for most witches and wizards. Stealth-casting was a very specific Art that required a lot of training; usually reserved for military types. “Mental magick is different—it’s already all in my head. I don’t need physical casting to make it happen.”

  She was nodding, taking it all in. “Like when you used your Talent on me. I never saw it coming.”

  “Exactly.” But he winced. He’d kind of hoped she’d forgotten about that… but of course she wouldn’t.

  She stood straighter. “Do it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Cast the glamour on me so I can see it.” She gave him a look like he was mentally slow.

  He scowled. “You want me fucking with your mind?”

  Her eyes brightened. “Well, when you put it that way… absolutely yes.”

  What? “Why?” What game was she playing?

  “I want to see what it’s like.”

  What the… what was wrong with this woman? There was something going on he couldn’t quite figure. “Why are you inviting me to mess with your head? Normal people don’t do that.”

  “I’m not normal. Thought you’d have figured that out by now.” She softened her voice and the teasing expression faded. “Besides, you’re one to talk. I’m not the one with whips on my wall.”

  “Seriously?” She was bringing that up now?

  “Are we going to talk about that?”

  “No. Obviously.”

  She seemed to fight a smile. And it was getting under his skin like crazy. She was making him crazy. “Why does it matter to you?” he demanded, leaning forward, not intending to make her back down with his looming presence but realizing he was doing it all the same. Not that it mattered. She didn’t move a muscle, didn’t answer him, just stared up at him with that raw determination—reckless determination, given what he was. Like she was daring him to do something… only she wasn’t. More like she was certain he wouldn’t.

  He blinked and leaned back again. “It’s not some kind of kink, all right? There’s nothing titillating about it. I’m not into being whipped, if that’s your thing. Or whipping anyone else. Can we let this rest now?”

  Her eyes had slowly gone wide while he spoke. “You use it for control.” She was back to that whispery-soft voice that burrowed deep in him. “It’s how you cage the power. Your Talent. The pain focuses your mind, helps you command it to do your bidding and not the other way around.”

  Everything about her made him itch like he was coming out of his skin. “I guess you’ve figured me out.” She already knew more about him than most people. He sure as hell wasn’t going to spill any more. He was doing good not to throw her out of his apartment. Or tell her fuck off. Or—and this was the worst part—kiss the pink off those pretty lips.

  The staring contest between them was getting uncomfortably long. And silent. And way too fucking close for Zane’s comfort.

  His phone pinged in his pocket. Thank magick.

  It was his partner, Arrow, with a brief text. Ready for final review. Videochat.

  “Is it time?” Ever asked, peering over the top of his phone.

  “Almost.” He pocketed his phone then strode back to the counter where he’d set up his laptop for communications about the operation. Of course, she followed him over. His apartment had never felt so tiny as when this high-powered witch had moved in. He tapped into the FBI secure channel.

  Arrow was waiting for them. “Okay, one last time.” He lifted his chin to Ever as she peered around Zane to get into view. “Ms. Strange, I’ve been instructed by SAIC Burrows to inform you that I’m a Level One healer with certifications in a wide range of triage med-magicks. I’ll be on standby should there be any trouble. You have nothing to worry about.”

  “Tell Agent Burrows I’m not worried.” Ever folded her arms and flicked a look at Zane.

  He scowled at her. To Arrow, he said, “What’d Burrows say about a gun for Ever?”

  Ever’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t mentioned it to her.

  “That’s a negative. No weapons—well, non-magickal ones, anyway—for civilians. Too much room for error.” Arrow checked a tablet one of the analysts brought him, tapped something on it, then sent them scurrying. “It’s all on you, Zane.”

  Shit. “Thanks.”

  “Hey.” Arrow’s gaze sharpened on him. “You know Burrows wouldn’t trust anyone else with this, right?”

  Zane frowned. “She’s all about the case.” And not about keeping one reckless, high-powered witch from getting murdered on his watch, apparently.

  “Exactly.” Arrow flicked a look to Ever. “Burrows is the only SAIC I know who would bring on someone with Zane’s Talent and shove them on the highest profile case we’ve had in a decade.” He looked to Zane. “And she does not like to lose, my friend. She wouldn’t like you for this op if she didn’t think you could deliver.”

  Zane nearly smiled. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  “I was mostly saying that for Ever.”

  Ever grinned. “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

  “Good.” Arrow picked up a tablet and swiped an image that appeared in a small window on their chat screen. It appeared to be a live cam feed of a railway yard at night. “Okay, one more time on the details. The meet is at Rockwell Street Yard, another rail yard drop, but this one is larger than the last with more traffic, 24/7. We’ve scrambled to put our people on the ground as rail yard workers, and I’ll be in the tower in case we need to shut things down. CTC—Centralized Traffic Control—is run from there, which gives us complete control of the yard. The wildcard is that we don’t have anyone on the incoming crews. Since Pennies hasn’t given you an exact location for the meet, we’re left to guess the most likely shipment he’ll be trying to hijack, and at which point in the yard. Unfortunately, we don’t have much to go on. The receiving yard seems unlikely, given there’s no way for a quick departure, not by train at least. The switchyard—where the detached freight cars are sorted—is one possibility. Depends on how big the shipment. Is he bringing in uncut drugs? Then maybe something as small as a backpack could be stashed in a rail car, and he’s just planning a smash and grab. If the drugs have been cut they might be distributed into smaller parcels, say hidden in a freight car of laundry soap. Given Pennies was talking big about this shipment, that might be the case, which means he’s somehow hijacking an entire car. Which is ambitious, but our boy doesn’t think small. Our best guess is he’ll stage the attack in the departure yard, once the cars are already assembled into a train. We’ve got a special team ready to mobilize there, but basically, but our plan is entirely reactive. You’re our ace in the hole, Zane, given you’ll be on scene and you’ve got your Talent. We’ll be following your lead, so don’t be shy about speaking up and letting us know what’s happening. You have your mics?”

  “Already taped up.” Zane raised his eyebrows to Ever. He’d explained how to secure the mic equipment with body tape, but there was no way in hell he was going to demonstrate how those went on—not on him and definitely not on her.

  “Mine’s done too,” she told Arrow. “Do we need to test it?” She looked to Zane.

  He turned back to his partner. “Do you have someone near my place for a check?”


  “Not for audio,” Arrow said. “We’ll have eyes on you all the way to the rail yard, but we won’t have comms until you’re crossing into the yard. Check in as soon as you get there.”

  “Copy that.” Zane glanced at the time. “We should roll. Pennies likes me early.”

  “All right.” Arrow glanced over his shoulder to the bullpen behind him. “Showtime, people!” Back to Zane and Ever, he said, “I’m going mobile as soon as you are. I’ll be in the tower, about the time you arrive, ready if you need me. Or if you put the hurt on Pennies and you want me to heal his sorry ass so he can live a long and painful life at Underwood Correctional. I wouldn’t mind that, Zane. I’ve got a birthday coming up.”

  Zane just shook his head. “If I have to drain Pennies, we’re in trouble. Get over there and pull Ever out.”

  “Copy that.” Arrow reached up to the video chat screen. “Check in when you’re entering the yard.” The screen went dark.

  “Let’s go.” Zane retrieved his service weapon from the kitchenette drawer under the laptop. Normally he wouldn’t bring a gun to anything with Pennies—his weapon was his Talent, and carrying a Glock would just cause unnecessary suspicion. But he wasn’t taking any chances with Ever there. She grabbed her phone as he held the door, waiting for her. “Leave it here,” he said. At her pinched look, he added, “You’re my victim, remember? You’re not going to have a phone, you’re not going to be peppy and alert—you’re going to be dragging your butt and nearly dead. Starting as soon as we’re within a mile of the yard.”

  She frowned but gave a short nod and tucked the phone into her backpack. They hustled down to his car. It was night, so the streets were lively with drug dealers and their customers. A couple blissed-out ones were already crashed in his complex entryway. He said nothing as Ever checked them out. It was such a bad idea bringing her into this.

  He held open the passenger side door of his beat-up Chevy, half rusted through on one side. Probably the shadiest car she’d ever been in. “It’s not too late to back out,” he said once she was seated.

  She just scowled, so he closed the door and jogged to the driver’s side. It wasn’t far to the rail yard, just a ten-minute drive on side streets, which were largely empty of traffic. This was solid Dziki territory, and Pennies’ peddlers were out in force. Most buyers came in on foot or train or bus. This was how the man built an empire—on the backs and addictions of a legion of junkies hoping to enhance what little magick they had or get high enough to forget they were on the ass-end of society. Zane had grown up on streets like these, albeit in another city on the other side of the country. He had more in common with these magick junkies than the witch sitting next to him, even if he had his addiction under control. Mostly.

  She was extra quiet on the ride there. He glanced at her only to find her staring at him. “What?” It was reflexive, but he was sure he’d regret asking.

  “You never cast the glamour spell on me.” Her soft brown eyes reflected the street lights trundling past. “Is it because it’s… difficult for you?”

  By which she clearly meant difficult to control his incubus urges. The woman had no idea. None. She was a 24/7 temptation—sizzling magick perpetually on display, and beautiful and sensual besides. Effortlessly sexy in a way he was hyper-attuned to. He could taste the electric crackle of her magick even now, just sitting in his car.

  “No, a simple glamour spell isn’t what’s difficult.” With a flick of his will, he mentally shoved the glamour her way. “Look in the mirror.”

  She frowned but leaned over to pull the rear view mirror her way. Her gasp was strangely satisfying. Her hand reflexively went to her cheek, and her mouth fell open. “I didn’t even feel you cast it.” She turned the mirror back. “How long does it last?”

  “Until I remove it.” Which he did, immediately. If something happened to him, he didn’t want her to forever see that in the mirror.

  She nodded but looked ahead and fell quiet. It really was too late to back out, or he’d offer it again. And her pensive expression worked with the glamour, so he said nothing to ease that, even though there was an odd tug inside him, telling him to reassure her. To say to her that everything would be fine. Which wasn’t true and wasn’t helpful—and baffling as hell. What would help would be extra clarity on the terms of engagement. Namely none.

  “Whatever Pennies has in mind for you, I’m not letting him get that far. He’s got some girl he wants to trade for you. I’m going to stall on that. At least until we’ve finished whatever this shipment transaction is about. Then I’m taking you out of there whether he likes it or not.”

  She frowned. “Won’t that blow your cover?”

  “Maybe. Probably. So let’s try to keep things cool so I can glean whatever information about the drugs and his plans—and maybe even the bodies and overdoses—that I can, all right? No busting out your field magick if things get tense.”

  “I’m bedraggled, half dead, and under your control.” She made an attempt at looking like it, too. Passable.

  “Good.” They were rolling up to the north end of the rail yard. A mist had settled, making everything seem slightly shrouded—the yard lights shone cones of illumination down on the trains, but deeps patches of shadow lay between. “Okay, time for a mic check,” Zane said for both Ever and the mics taped under their shirts. “I want to go on record as to what a terrible idea this is. MCD, text me if you’re hearing me loud and clear.” They were taped up with mics, but they couldn’t wear earbuds, for obvious reasons. They were patched into the field office where Burrows was no doubt listening in and coordinating everything, especially with Arrow in the field again.

  Zane’s phone buzzed. Hear you loud and clear. He gave a nod to Ever.

  “I’m not supposed to say much,” she said, loudly, not at all like a bedraggled victim. “I’ll cough every once in a while so you know I’m still alive.”

  He smirked. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “I have a few good ones.” She flashed him a smile then went back to looking haggard and staring out the window.

  His phone buzzed again. Ever Strange, loud and clear. Then a second message, but not from MCD. This one was from Pennies. Meet at the Tower.

  Zane turned down a rough road toward the tower at the center of the yard. Dammit. This was already fucked. “MCD, Pennies wants us to meet at the control tower. Is Arrow there? Do you have eyes on Pennies?”

  His phone buzzed again. Arrow still en route. No eyes on Pennies.

  “All right.” Zane grimaced. “Tell Arrow to hold back. I don’t want him stumbling into the meet.”

  He pulled into the parking lot—there were a half dozen other cars. Zane parked near the tower, which was short and blocky, just tall enough to see over the hundreds of clanking cars in the rail yard. The night was rich with the sounds of metal brakes screeching, signals dinging, and the mechanical shunting of one part against another. All the track switching was controlled from the tower, so if Pennies locked that down, he clearly gave no fucks about being stealthy. Which made an itch run up Zane’s back. Pennies was arrogant, like every asshole with power, but he wasn’t stupid—he’d only attempt something like this if he was certain he could pull it off.

  Zane stepped out of the car. Ever opened her door but was taking a long time about it. For a second, he was annoyed, then he remembered she was playing it up. He let his annoyance show up on his face—just in case Pennies was watching this little show from the tower. The parking lot had a single light, and Zane and Ever were right at the edge—but it was enough that Pennies could see if he cared to look.

  Zane reached into the car to grip Ever’s arm, making a show of dragging her out. His stomach knotted handling her this way—she was doing a better job acting the part than he was.

  “Come on! You can stand.” It was half hope that she wouldn’t play this up too much.

  She just nodded then held onto his arm like she was dizzy. Which was another punch to the gut because she knew
—she’d been under his influence once. She’d felt the dizzying after-effects of a mental assault. And this was exactly what it looked like. He gritted his teeth and spoke for the mics. “All right, we’re approaching to the tower.” They lumbered toward it, him half holding her up, her clutching at his arm and making these whimpering sounds that were going to make him insane. Just before they reached the ground-floor door of the tower, she coughed—a hacking asthmatic cough—and it was a balm on his nerves. She was okay. It was all an act. Somehow part of him had been sucked into it immediately. Which boded well for fooling Pennies, who wouldn’t be paying anywhere near as much attention to her as Zane.

  They shuffled through the door and laboriously up the grated-metal steps inside. At the top of the stairwell, the door to the control room was slightly open. Everything in Zane tensed. He pulled Ever back, behind the bulk of his body, and put a hand on the doorknob but didn’t move it, just mentally probed inside. Berzerker’s wild short-circuit energy rippled through the background magick, but that was it. Did train dispatchers use magick? He could imagine a Talent for electrical field magick coming in handy, or possibly magnetics or clairvoyants to predict collisions, but there was nothing like that here.

  With a flick of his will, he shoved the glamour spell into every mind in the room. Then he pulled the door open the rest of the way and stepped through, dragging Ever behind him… and saw why there was almost no magick in the room. Three bodies lay on the floor, neat bullet holes to the head and not-so-neat splatters of blood where they fell. They had simple work clothes on—plain jumpsuits, but with the train company logo—and dark pools of liquid soaking into the tightly-woven industrial carpeting.