by Tara Lain
Kitty nodded. “We’d be honored.”
He smiled. Knowing he could talk made him feel a little better, but he’d have to be careful.
An hour and a half later, after learning how to combine elements to make various kinds of concealing and summoning smoke, Dash walked to the social hall with Kitty and Anastasia. To his previous brain whirlwind, he’d now added the best way to find out how much they knew and where they stood on the whole deal. Kitty had called the Olympus Club fishy, but she’d never said what she meant by that. Okay, that was a good enough place to begin.
They all got tea or coffee and then grabbed a back table by the windows. Dash waited for the two women to sit and then pulled out his chair, glancing at the view. “Gotta admit, knowing that view’s phony always freaks me out.”
Anastasia snorted. “Same here. I’m always staring at it wondering where we really are.”
Kitty stared out the window. “Do you think it is the Himalayas like people always whispered?”
Opening. Dash leaned in. “To tell you the truth, this morning I overheard a bit of a conversation from some guy I’d never seen before that kind of made me think we aren’t as far away from home as they want us to believe.”
Kitty’s face brightened. “Really? What did he say?”
Dash looked back and forth between them. He really liked them. “He was talking about, uh, spending time with a guy and girl, and I think I know who he was referring to. They’re friends of mine.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “One of them’s supposed to be in Cambridge and one in New Haven, but I got a feeling he’d spoken to them in New York.”
“Oh.” They looked interested but neither seemed to get it.
“I think he was talking to them last night, and I saw him this morning before class. If he can teleport, then maybe he got to the Himalayas really fast, but otherwise, we’re not too far away from New York.”
“Is that what you wanted to talk to us about?” Kitty smiled.
“No.” He took a breath. “Remember when you said you thought the Olympus Club was fishy?”
Her dimples popped. “Yes.”
“Would you explain what you mean by that?”
She spread her hands. “Probably nothing. It’s just that it seems to me we’re being set up to perform some task, and yet they aren’t telling us what. All that secrecy and the vague oaths.” She shrugged. “It’s rather manipulative, don’t you think?”
Okay, if he agreed, would mages come out of the woodwork and put him in the Matrix dungeon?
Before he could say anything, Anastasia said, “I’m usually the cynical one, but don’t you think the dogma and hush-hush of the club could be a bunch of overzealous, egotistical mages wanting to seem more important? Secret societies have always been pretty weird.”
“No, it’s more than that.” Kitty hissed the words.
Anastasia clutched Kitty’s arm. “Why do you think that? Tell me.”
She glanced around, then back at them. “Professor Sharpei has me working with him on developing a potion that will alter the consciousness of mages, causing them to see things differently than they actually are and then be unable to remember the truth.”
Dash asked, “Why did he say he’s doing this?”
“He didn’t, and I haven’t told anyone because A, I’m not sure we’re doing anything wrong, and B, I’m not sure who I’d tell.”
Dash nodded. “Hillebrand has me doing some sketchy stuff too. Plus the guy I told you I overheard? He’s actually spying on my friends.”
“Oh my gods, why?” Anastasia looked freaked.
Kitty hissed, “Shh.”
Dash looked up and saw Hillebrand walking toward them. Dash smiled and held up the tea. “It took more than one cup to return me to consciousness.”
“Good, good.” He leaned over the table. “I wanted to tell you all that we’ll be doing round tables at meeting tonight where we’ll be collecting the best ideas in each category.”
“What kind of ideas?” Kitty was making an effort to act excited, but her voice sounded strained.
“Anything, anything. Just come prepared to share. The more innovative the better. See you tonight.” He hurried to another table of Olympus Club members.
Anastasia stared after him. “What do you think the Olympus Club considers innovative?”
Chapter Twenty-One
JAZZ GOT out of the cab in front of one of the nicer gay clubs in Manhattan. He’d heard of it but never been there before. Odan paid the driver and stepped beside Jazz.
Talk about feeling weird. Jazz had finished a really good dinner where he and Odan had smiled and laughed a lot, but he’d gotten nothing useful in terms of new information. Odan was cagey. He acted interested in Jazz and his life while offering very little information about himself. Jazz looked up at Odan. “Thank you again for dinner. You really didn’t have to do that. I’m happy with carryout pizza.”
Odan smiled. Man, he was so much like Dash he made Jazz shiver. Odan said, “While I realize you’re not exactly the typical starving college student, I guessed you don’t have time to take good care of yourself, so I thought I’d spoil you a little.”
“Much appreciated.” He’d enjoyed it, but the evening still made Jazz feel guilty.
Odan put a warm hand in the small of Jazz’s back and guided him toward the door of the club, where a doorman gave them a big smile. Inside, they were greeted in a small reception area by a gorgeous, young blond man who opened the door to the club and handed them off to the maître d’. Both the host and the maître d’ received discreet tips from Odan, and that got them an excellent small table, close to the dance floor but away from the band. While there were a few women in the club, nearly all the couples were male, and most, like Odan and Jazz, wore suits or jackets and jeans. There wasn’t a lot of flashy club wear.
The dance floor was already crowded. Jazz had to admit it looked like fun. It had been a while since he got to dance.
The waiter came and took their drink orders. Jazz opted for cola. He didn’t have the nerve to ask them to add a splash of vanilla.
When the waiter left, Odan extended a hand. “Shall we?”
Jazz inhaled, smiled, and nodded as he stood from the table. The music made his feet want to move, but he really felt strange about touching Odan. Not that the guy’s tall, lean form was a hardship to touch—but that’s what made it weird.
Fortunately, the first song was upbeat, so they both bobbed and weaved a couple of feet apart. It only took a second to get back into everything he loved about dancing, and Jazz closed his eyes and pretended it was Dash across from him. Of course he’d never danced with Dash. Hell, they’d really only known each other a few weeks before Dash got dragged off to wizard school.
The music changed, and Odan stepped closer and put his left hand at Jazz’s waist. After a little thrashing about to see who would lead, Jazz wound up following. For a minute, Odan kept a proper high-school-dance distance between them, but then he pulled Jazz closer. Jazz stumbled over his own feet, and Odan had to catch him, which was embarrassing, but finally they were gliding around with some style. Jazz would have pretended it was Dash, except Odan didn’t smell like Dash. Dash was all lemon and ginger. This guy registered muskier on Jazz’s werewolf nose.
Odan asked, “How long has it been since you danced?”
“At least half a year. That bad, huh?” He chuckled self-consciously.
“Not at all. I was thinking the opposite. You’re a very good dancer for someone who doesn’t get a lot of practice.”
“Thanks.”
For a minute, there was a silence. Make that tense silence. Then Odan said, “So what secrets would you like to tell me?”
Jazz snorted and stepped back to look at that handsome face. “A, what makes you think I have secrets, and B, why would I tell them to you if I did?”
Odan smiled and pulled Jazz back in tighter. “I’m sure we both have secrets we guard.”
/> “Okay, you first.” Jazz gave that a hint of snark.
Odan leaned in close to Jazz’s ear. “All right. Believe me when I say that I could make your life a lot more magic.”
Jazz jumped. Damn, should have controlled that. “Uh, sorry. I kind of have a boyfriend, so I’m not really looking for magic.” Hopefully that explained his reaction.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know. Where is he?”
“Away at school.”
“So you don’t see him often?”
“No.”
“That must be hard, especially when so many young romances die due to distance.” He sighed.
Jazz opened his mouth to answer when someone said, “May I cut in?”
Jazz looked behind Odan at a tall, good-looking if slightly cool blond man.
Odan turned, tensed, and pulled Jazz a little closer. “Good evening, Micel.”
“What a lovely new friend you have.”
“Yes, he’s my friend.”
Jazz pulled back from Odan and planted his hands on his hips. “The friend is standing right here.” He stuck out his hand to the iceberg. “Jazz Vanessen.”
“Oh my, I’ve heard of that name. I seem to recall it’s on one of the tallest buildings in New York.” He took Jazz’s hand. “Micel Podorovsky.”
“Pleasure.” Jazz shielded his power like mad while still keeping enough sensitivity to be able to read the newcomer. Interesting. Podorovsky was clearly a mage, but not of particular ability. Jazz glanced at both Odan and the newcomer. It looked like both had been chosen for their looks and orientation that might make them appealing to a gay werewolf. But who were they chosen by? And did the same power choose both of them? Did whoever sent Odan see him falling down on the job, so they sent a replacement? What the hell?
Micel said, “So may I have a dance?”
The expression on Odan’s face said he really wanted to say no but couldn’t think of a good reason. Jazz could refuse, but….
“Sure. Why not?”
Micel smiled and admittedly those even white teeth and icy eyes did create an uncomfortable shiver, but Jazz forced a return smile. I’m here for information. I need to get as much as I can.
Odan actually gave a little bow, which smacked of a different era, then he walked off.
As Jazz turned, Micel said, “How very Mr. Darcy of him.”
Jazz barked out a laugh loud enough to make Odan turn around and look.
Micel said, “Do you prefer to lead or follow?”
“Nice to be asked, but honestly it’s been a while since I danced, so following’s fine.”
Micel assumed the lead position and started guiding Jazz around the floor. He didn’t dance as well as Odan—too stiff—but he wasn’t bad. He also had an odd smell. If Odan was musky, this dude was… the word decadent came to mind. Jazz asked, “So, Micel, what do you do?”
“I’m a wizard.”
This time Jazz managed to control his reaction, but barely. “Oh?”
Micel grinned wolfishly. “Of Wall Street.”
Jazz laughed, though he had to force it past his frozen chest. “So you’re a stockbroker?”
“Commodities.”
“Oh, interesting. That must require a lot of knowledge.”
“Yes. It’s much harder than stocks. I have to know what people want and need and be able to get it for them.” Those white teeth gleamed again. “So are you and Odan an item?”
“No. Just neighbors and mutual lovers of dancing.”
“I’m sure Odan wishes you were mutual lovers.” He laughed at his own joke, and his scent took on an even heavier sexual overtone.
“We barely know each other.” Jazz let a little frown show.
“An infirmity remedied by time.”
“Maybe, but I already have a boyfriend.”
“Another infirmity that can be remedied by time.” He laughed again, and Jazz forced himself not to shudder.
For a couple of minutes, they danced in silence, and about the time Jazz was ready to call it quits, the song ended.
Jazz stepped back. “Thanks.”
“Are you up for another?”
“No. I need to get back. Thanks, though.” He turned and made a direct line back to Odan, who stood as Jazz approached.
Jazz gave him a smile for his efforts, slid into his chair, and took a big drink of his cola, now diluted from the melted ice. “So how do you know Micel?”
Odan got a crease between his arched brows. “Mostly from here. Occasionally I encounter him professionally.”
Jazz stirred the drink with his straw. “Bit of a horndog.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” He clasped a hand on Jazz’s arm, and Jazz had to shield fast. “I didn’t feel it was my place to refuse him the right to dance with you. I had no way to warn you.”
“Nah, my fault. I could have said no. No harm done.” He smiled warmly and took another sip. He’d promised Carla he’d text her and let her know he was okay. “Will you excuse me? I need the men’s room.”
Odan half stood as Jazz left, which made Jazz feel weird since it was usually something a man did for a woman, but it was still kind of nice.
He cut through the crowd and, following the signs, headed for the men’s room down a side corridor. It was empty—amazing considering the crush outside—so he slipped into a stall to send his text.
Checking in. Not learning much. Met another supe. Will come home soon.
He started to hit Send when he heard the door open and men’s voices drift in. One of them might be Micel. Weirdly, he jumped up on the toilet seat and squatted down. Not sure why except that he didn’t much feel like meeting that dude again.
“Don’t see anyone.” That was a voice Jazz didn’t recognize. The man must be holding the door open, because the music and rumble of conversations and laughter sounded behind his voice.
“He’s not at his table, but his drink’s still there. He must be around here.” Jazz full-on shuddered. That voice belonged to Micel, and the subject of his conversation was sure as hell Jazz. What does he want with me? Sexual intent came to mind, but would he really bring another guy?
A third voice said, “Come on, Odan says he’s a regular kid with a little power who’s going to college and inheriting money. No big.”
“Will you shut the fuck up?”
“Hell, Micel, the kid’s family is big-time connected. He suddenly disappears and they’ll turn the world inside out looking for him.”
There was a snort. “But then he won’t be in their world, will he?”
There was a silence; then the voices faded as the door closed.
Jazz let out his breath. Sweet gods, who’s after me and what do they want? Not having a clue was dangerous since it gave him no place to start, no one to look out for. Well, except for Odan and now this dude Micel. Micel seemed more threatening, but the two appeared to be linked.
Yeah, and I’m standing on a toilet seat with no clue what to do next.
Quietly, he stepped down, tucked his phone in his pocket, and opened the door to the stall, only to stare at Micel leaning against the wall with a leer on his face.
Well crap! I am the world’s lamest werewolf! Those thoughts crowded Jazz’s head as his hands came up of their own and a bolt of power that would have made Thor jealous poured out of his fingers and smashed into the shocked mage’s face.
Micel was no more shocked than Jazz. Where the hell did that come from?
Micel crumpled to the floor, bleeding from the nose, and Jazz took off like a wolf in a sports jacket out the door of the bathroom. Ahead of him was a man he’d never seen before but who had that slightly too shiny look of a wizard. The dude was walking down the hall toward the bathroom with purpose. When he spied Jazz, his steps slowed, and he glanced behind Jazz, definitely looking for Micel.
Keep looking, asswipe. Hell, I already blew my cover. Jazz raised a hand and flicked a minibolt toward the guy. Just enough to knock him off his feet. Whew, who knew I could do that wheneve
r I want?
As the mage fell to the floor, Jazz ran past him and back into the clubroom. Across the dance floor, a stranger was standing at the table talking to Odan. Yeah, I’ll bet an extra lightning bolt, that’s dude number three. Out of here.
Jazz began to skirt the dance floor, staying behind the crowd as much as possible. One drunk tried to back him into a corner, but Jazz kept moving. About halfway to the entrance, Jazz looked up, and through a break in the crowd, his eyes met Odan’s. The guy frowned and said something to somebody else. Probably dude three. As Odan stood, Jazz started shouldering his way through the crush with real purpose, and he stopped dampening his werewolf strength. A couple of guys went flying, but aside from a quick “Sorry,” Jazz didn’t stop for anything.
He pushed past the gorgeous blond host, ran out the door into the night air, and took off at more than human speed down the sidewalk. A couple of guys walking toward the club stared but quickly lost interest. At the third alley he came to, Jazz dodged in and hid behind a pile of crates. Hopefully, he was still close enough to hear them with wolf ears.
Sure enough, a minute later Odan’s usually silky voice snarled, “You idiots. He wasn’t even suspicious of me. Who knows what I would have been able to discover if you’d just left it alone?”
Micel replied although his voice sounded nasal. And really pissed. “The only thing you were going to discover was the length of his dick. At least I know he’s got major power and he’s willing to use it.”
“And he knows you’re after him, asshole.”
“He might think I was trying to take him away from you.”
“Yeah, right. That’s why he broke your face. Give it up. You let all the cats out of the bags. Even if he was only planning on going to college like he said he was, now we don’t know what he’ll do. If he holes up in Connecticut with that pack of wolves, we’ll never get him out.”
One of the other guys said, “Bullshit. If the boss wants him, he’ll get him and serve wolfmeat for dinner.”
Somebody chuckled, and the others joined in while Jazz broke out in allover goose bumps. No way he was getting his family involved in his weird magic crap again.
