“Of course not. No breaks and I toss the bodies when I’ve milked every ounce of work out of them.”
A middle-aged man stuck his head out of his office door, his face suffused with relief. “Levi, thank you so much for getting Melinda in to see that cardiologist so fast. They told us it would be six months for an appointment.”
Levi clapped him on the shoulder. “She’ll beat this.”
The man lit up in fervent adoration. “Yeah, she will. Thanks to you.”
As we walked away, I gagged. “Levi Montefiore, the good and benevolent.”
“Don’t forget universally beloved.”
“Ever considered that there’s a fine line between ‘Levi’ and ‘evil’ and you’re trying too hard to prove otherwise?”
“At least I try.”
“Levi, hold up.” The same man jogged over to us. “Forgot to tell you that the Attorney General can’t meet later. I rescheduled us for tomorrow.”
The Honorable Troy Grant, of Musqueam heritage, was widely touted as the front runner to lead the Liberal Party in the next federal election. If he won, he’d be our first Nefesh Prime Minister, joining leaders like those in Britain, Japan, Mexico, and New Zealand, to name a few. Vancouver lay on the unceded territories of the Musqueam, Squamish, and Tsleil-Waututh First Nations and it made sense for Levi to strengthen ties with this influential politician, but I’d never been witness to him engaging in the same types of power schmoozing I associated with Talia.
How did Levi win people over? Did he lay out methodical and irrefutable arguments? Did he engage in a delicate dance of charm and negotiation? He didn’t have a reputation for bullying people to get his way, our contentious acquaintanceship notwithstanding.
My curiosity stemmed solely from having to work with him.
“Problem?” Levi said.
“Huh?” I said.
“You were frowning at me.”
I shook my head, motioning for him to continue.
Levi shot me a suspicious look before turning to his employee. “Make sure Troy’s been briefed on Mr. Abel’s upcoming parole hearing because his entire case was badly mishandled and he deserves to have the facts re-examined free from Mundane bias.”
“On it.” The man walked away.
Levi was righting an injustice, I was the reason his meeting got pushed, and I was bitching about him helping me. Way to look like an asshole, Cohen.
“Where are your workout clothes?” Levi pressed his hand to a scanner to unlatch a security door, then steered me inside to the private gym for him and the executives who worked on this floor.
“Do I look like I work out? Wait, don’t answer that. We’re only training my magic, which does not involve sweating.”
The room was the size of a small school gymnasium with basketball hoops and a number of stationary bikes set up in one corner. A set of open blue doors led to an equipment room. My stomach sank into my toes. It was high school Phys. Ed. class all over again.
Levi slapped a plastic package into my hands which contained a gray T-shirt and matching sweats, both with “House Pacifica” written in discreet script. I shook out the clothes and held them up. Exactly my size.
“Been perusing my measurements, have you?”
“Wishful thinking, sweetheart.” Levi’s voice was a rough purr that caressed my skin and curled inside me with a flutter. He raked a slow, lazy gaze over me that made my nipples tighten.
It was such blatant game playing that I rolled my eyes and told him a thing or two about the difference between selling it and slathering on the bullshit.
Or at least, that’s what I’d meant to do, but my lips parted with a breathy exhale. Fuck balls. I grimaced, intending to make a crack about dust in my throat but Levi’s eyes snapped to mine, blazing with a brilliant blue heat.
Big deal. We were having a moment of chemistry. As attractive breathing humans, it was hardly statistically surprising and should have only lasted a second before we looked away.
Except this was Levi and me. Neither of us was going to back down from a challenge, even if it involved the most unthinkable act imaginable. A coiled anticipation tugged between us, growing more and more loaded as both of us waited for the other to crack first and close the distance.
A door slammed out in the hallway and I stepped back as Levi jerked a thumb at the far side of the gym. “Get changed.”
Why was I even seeing him as a sexual possibility? I’d spent my life decidedly not seeing him that way and had been much happier. This better not be some cat-in-heat side effect of my magic because that would suck so hard.
I glanced at Levi’s lips again, then scowled. Tossing the sweats to one side, I fell down on some padded blue mats. “I’ve had a very trying day and I’m exhausted, so can we get on with this?”
“The old man kicked your ass, did he?”
“Get real. I handled Baldy fine. The golem took it out of me.”
Levi made an impatient noise. “You can’t be serious about anything, can you?”
Fuck it. I didn’t have the energy to convince him. “Let the torture begin. But first answer me this. What’s a House Cat?”
Levi released a rope hanging from the ceiling to let it dangle free. “Use your powers of deduction and extrapolate.”
“A tame pet.” With a longing glance at the mats, I pulled off my motorcycle boots and lined them up neatly.
“Think Internet.”
“A forum dedicated to the care and feeding of domestic felines.” I stood up.
Levi grinned wickedly. “Sure, that too.”
Ew. Please no. This man did not need any more ego stoking. “People having sex in cat onesies?”
“You would look ridiculous in cat ears,” Levi said.
“Not me, you jerk.” I rolled my shoulders back to stretch them out.
“Too repressed for anything other than lights out missionary style?” He nodded as if he’d always believed that about me.
“Anywhere, any way.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Less talking, more warming up. You’d do anything to get out of training, wouldn’t you?”
“I wouldn’t do you.” There was only one reason the guard would have mouthed those words at me. “It’s a House groupie, isn’t it?” I sighed. “As Head of a House, you have one of these forums devoted to your rather dubious charms?”
Levi jerked his finger upwards.
“Five?” I massaged a tight spot in my neck.
Many more insistent jerks upward.
“Fine. I get it.” I scowled.
“I’m a catch,” Levi said.
“Normal people would be embarrassed. Not brag about it.”
“My feelings on the matter exist in direct inversion to yours. On all matters, actually.”
“Is that what this is about?” I tugged on the rope. “You know I would never willingly try this and make a fool of myself, so of course it was all systems go?”
His expression softened in contrition. “I’m sorry I was an asshole to you about your physical limitations when we were younger. I wouldn’t do that now.”
Part of me believed him, but part of me clenched the rope like a noose, lost in memories of whispers about my freak status that had followed me for years after the crash. I rubbed my thigh with my free hand.
“Ash.” Levi pried my fingers loose from the rope. “When you manifested your magic, you were able to pin me down. You’re not weak. This training is as much about cataloguing all your new abilities as it is helping you control your magic, okay?”
“Then allow me to sum up. Enhanced strength, manifesting solid objects out of my blood, and creating this shield thing, though it’s still a little rough and not yet available for public viewing. Also destroying smudges. Magic catalogued. Next?”
“I’d like to see for myself. And since you could never do the ropes course at camp…” He handed me the rope.
Sighing, I stared up at the top. “I have to bleed to access my powers.”
“Want me to punch you in the nose?”
“Ha. Ha.” I pulled my switchblade out of my pocket, folding my jacket before placing it next to my boots.
Levi frowned at the knife. “You shouldn’t need to cut to call up your magic. It’s inefficient. Powers don’t work that way. Your magic is a part of you. Call on it.”
“It’s blood magic and I’ve only been able to use it when I was bleeding.”
“Did you try without it?”
“Give me my freaking training wheels, Levi.” But I hesitated. It was one thing to cut in the heat of danger but standing here in a gym and deciding where to wound myself made me feel oddly vulnerable.
“Allow me.”
I handed him the blade and he made a precise incision in the crook of my arm that I didn’t even feel.
“There. You’re bleeding.” He put the knife in his pocket. “Do you sense your magic now?”
“Yes.” It vibrated in a slightly ticklish way through my body like a light switch had been thrown. “I’m ready.”
“Finally.” Levi positioned me with my arms overhead and the rope falling down the center of my body. “Wrap and lock.” He made a few adjustments. “Use your feet.”
I climbed that rope like a boss–in my mind. The reality was less impressive. I did climb it, but I was a fumbling, grappling mess.
“That was not pretty,” I said, once I’d slid down.
“Again. And this time, don’t use your feet. Let’s test your upper body strength.”
“Not happening.”
“You’re right. You’re too feeble.”
“That’s the lamest reverse psychology ever.” It wasn’t easy, but I did it, for the first time ever. “Told you. I’m stronger.”
“Possibly. Or I pissed you off enough to get off your ass and climb, and you were being wimpy all those times at camp.”
Blue. That would be a nice color for his body bag.
He led me over to a wooden archery target and handed me four small throwing knives. “Next test. Fine motor skills and accuracy.”
Balancing them in my hand to test their weight, I planted myself in a solid stance and bullseyed all four.
“For the record,” I said, “that wasn’t magic. That was my ten thousand hours playing darts. How do you think I kicked your ass at the water ball toss that night?”
We butted heads over me running sprints.
“Put away your stopwatch,” I said. “I tested it earlier. I’m a slow runner but at least I can run. My leg doesn’t give out on me now. Are we done?”
“Not by a long shot. Time to test your control of that freaky blood magic.”
“If I was a guy, you’d think blood magic was cool. Dudes who bleed for a good cause are heroes. It’s only women’s blood that freaks people out. Deal with it.”
I’d gotten up in Levi’s space and he pushed me back a few steps. “I don’t give a shit what gender you are. Blood magic isn’t supposed to exist.”
He really couldn’t get over that. Then again, I was still struggling on the golem front. I’d half convinced myself I’d seen a basketball player with a growth disorder and a bad fake tan.
“Fair enough,” I said. “I’m sorry for the crack.”
“You are?”
“Yes, Levi. You’re right. My magic is highly unusual. Like, riddle me this. People don’t get multiple powers. So why did I? And how does strength fit in to blood magic?” There had to be a logical pattern here. “That first night it manifested, I called up a dagger–”
“Don’t forget the dildo,” he said.
“Wow. You’re really dwelling on that. Scroll through your little black book and hook yourself up, man, stat. Anyway, I also nuked that smudge that came out of Miles. What if my love of logic and reason and justice gave me magic to root out unnatural shit? Ooh. What if I’m a magic ronin here to save the world?”
“Technically, you’d be a samurai because Lord and Master standing right here.”
I made a big show of looking around.
“Not to mention, you’re hardly a Chosen One, Buffy.”
“Who said anything about being a Chosen One?” I said. “I don’t believe in destiny crap and I have no desire to have the fate of the world on my shoulders. That said, I do believe in my awesomeness that humanity is desperately in need of and could potentially join fellow ronin. We could have bowling shirts.”
“Your dubious fashion choices aside, you can manifest solid items out of your blood, which means you can manipulate it. How far can you go?”
He ran me through a number of tests. I couldn’t turn my blood poison or transform it into a gas or a bomb. “Solid matter,” I finally said. “That’s the extent of it.”
“What about on other people? Make my blood stop flowing.”
“Permission to kill you? Yes, please!”
Yeah, it didn’t happen. I failed to do anything to Levi’s blood.
He patted the top of my head. “It’s important to know your limits.”
“Sure.” I was exhausted from all these trials.
Levi took off his jacket and shirt, revealing a cream fitted tank top. Folding it carefully, he eased out of his Italian leather shoes and set everything neatly aside, our clothing habits identical. “Last test. Miles didn’t fight you when you destroyed the smudge, but the next person might and you could have to subdue them. Strength is vital to close contact fighting, however, even the strongest man can be taken down. Knowing how to use your strength and not have it used against you is imperative.”
We headed back to the mats. Oh, to have a nap.
The tests were a disaster. I could barely get a hold on Levi before he slipped free and tossed me down. Ten minutes in and I was sweating. Twenty and my back was bruised, every defeat a painful reminder of my own inadequacies.
Levi had hardly broken a sweat. “You’re giving up.”
“You’re too slippery.” I pressed my hands against my sides, heaving.
He flung me down again. “Quit making excuses. I always pegged you for a fighter.”
Wait, what?
He prodded me with a toe. “Get up.”
I dragged myself to my feet. This was useless. I was tired, sweaty, and I couldn’t do this. I’d always been a tactician, the brains behind the scenes. I just wasn’t built for combat.
“Snap out of whatever self-defeatist loop is playing in your head.” A smudgy shadow slowly uncoiled itself from Levi like a peacock’s tail.
My breath caught. If I didn’t get to kill Levi, this magic fuck certainly didn’t get the honors.
“What the–?” Levi yelped as I plowed him down.
“Stay still,” I growled, straddling him. I called up my blood magic and fired a silky ribbon into the smudge that forked into branches, anchoring it.
Levi grit his teeth together, his body taut. He was fighting me as much as the shadow, but I kept him pinned down, the forks growing denser and ropier until they bloomed into white clusters.
The smudge vanished in an instant and I frowned. That’s not what had happened last time. Nor was there any maggoty sensation, and come to think of it, the smudge had never uncoiled before either. It flowed out of people.
Why had it behaved this way? It was gone, which was good, but nothing about this situation made sense. Holy hell, was this a different type of smudge? Or was this what happened when it fed off a level five Nefesh like Levi? I patted Levi down, desperate to ensure I’d actually destroyed it.
Levi pushed me off of him. “Told you, you could do it.”
“Something is off.” I examined the mats for evidence of what had transpired.
“There was no smudge.” He pointed to himself. “Illusion magic, remember?”
I frowned, not computing.
“You needed something to jostle you out of your defeatist headspace, so I made you think you saw a smudge, knowing you’d fight it, and get a win. You pinned me and held me.” He looked pretty pleased with himself.
A buzzing noise filled m
y brain. My body tightened, a red wash rolling over my vision. “You played me?”
He blinked. “No. I was trying to help–”
I decked him, my fist connecting with his jaw so hard that his head snapped back. It was a terrible punch and I hurt my hand in the process, but thanks to my increased strength, it did the job. As I pulled my arm back, I realized there was no longer any cut on the inside of my elbow. “Another illusion?”
I slammed him against the floor.
“You don’t need to bleed for your magic,” he gasped. “You just need to believe in yourself.”
“Shut up.” I pressed my forearm across his throat. It felt like a shard of glass had slashed something soft and vital inside me. Oh right, that was Levi’s breathtaking betrayal.
“Ash,” he ground out, turning purple.
I wasn’t a mark.
His heartbeat pulsed through my fingertips and I itched to take it.
Not his heartbeat, his magic. It smelled of oaky aged amber scotch and chocolate, and my mouth literally watered at the thought of stripping it from him, my body clenching in yearning.
His magic was an inviting siren’s song.
Levi pressed my switchblade into my side. “Let go.”
The prick of pain brought me to my senses. I would never rob someone of their magic, so why did I want to?
Why did I know that I could?
Despite my horror, it took every ounce of willpower to release him. I grabbed my stuff and ran out of there without another word.
This was supposed to be a straightforward training session. Levi would be a hardass, I’d bitch, probably humiliate myself a few times, and then come out of it with a new practicable skill, like a solid right hook, not stealing magic.
Levi was right. I wasn’t a ronin.
I was a supervillain.
Chapter 9
“Pri?” I locked the front door behind me.
Voices and laughter floated out from the living room so I did what I did best, which was veer toward my bedroom hoping to evade them.
“Ash? That you?” Priya stepped into the hallway, her “two glasses of wine” flush in full force. “What happened to your neck?”
Blood & Ash: A Snarky Urban Fantasy Detective Series (The Jezebel Files Book 1) Page 10
