by Ella M. Lee
Nicolas paused and then said, “Did hitting her make you feel better?”
Daniel didn’t quite smile, but he came pretty close. “A little, yeah.”
I glared at him. So much for jumping to his defense.
“Get up,” Nicolas ordered, his voice harsher than I had ever heard it before.
Daniel rose to his feet, surprisingly graceful. This one was definitely a fighter. Every movement he made was deliberate and careful and well trained. But he also had a startling amount of raw magical power in him; I had seen it come undone from his bindings when he shielded. I was interested to find he wasn’t even remotely afraid of Nicolas. If Nicolas’s painful lesson or commanding tone affected him, he wasn’t showing it.
There was a reason he was Nicolas’s lieutenant, I just didn’t know what it was yet. It was also clear that although Daniel pushed at Nicolas’s boundaries, he was also fiercely obedient. He had the good manners to look somewhat contrite right now. He didn’t even seem upset at Nicolas’s treatment of him.
“I expect to see you at dinner in an hour,” Nicolas said to Daniel. “Fiona will be there, so use this time to figure out how to survive without taking your anger out on her again. I need all of this to go smoothly, Dan. Perhaps remembering your own beginnings here would help you dredge up some compassion.”
Daniel opened his mouth, but Nicolas cut him off—this time in Chinese. His tone was mild and lazy. I watched, wary and uncomprehending.
Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, clearly frustrated, and rattled off several unintelligible sentences in return. His tone was far more expressive in Chinese than in his rather careful English. I glanced at Nicolas. Whatever the sentiment was, it didn’t seem to have a significant impact on him. He replied with only a curt half sentence.
Daniel’s dark eyes then fell on me. I met them, feeling unsure. I hadn’t meant to put myself between them. It had actually been a supremely stupid move, getting between a commander and his lieutenant, when I didn’t know them well. I was lucky that hadn’t gone worse for me.
Daniel’s gaze was thoughtful and assessing. He looked like he might speak, then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he shook his head and stalked out of the apartment with a tiny frustrated wave.
Chapter 7
When the door had shut, Nicolas turned to look at me. Any annoyance he may have felt toward Daniel had disappeared. When he addressed me, his tone was even once again.
“Are you all right? Nothing broken?”
“No, nothing’s broken,” I said, annoyed. “Are you going to let everyone take a first swipe at me before intervening? It wasn’t fair to give him all that rope to hang himself with, you know.”
“Do I have to explain everything to you?” he asked, exasperated. “Daniel is a little stubborn, but he’s the best lieutenant I’ve ever had. You may have your doubts about that, looking at him, but he excels at everything he does. There is a reason I chose him.
“My subordinates respect Daniel as much as they respect me, and he knows that. He has more freedom than the others and doesn’t always listen to me. I had to let him get his anger out, and I had to show him there were consequences for going against me on this particular point. He won’t touch you again, and he won’t let anyone else touch you, either. He’s exceptionally obedient when necessary. You seem to have figured out that you’ll want Daniel on your side. That is very true.”
Nicolas’s eyes softened slightly. “I told you I sometimes have to improvise. I’m sorry if that means it gets taken out on you. I’m trying to keep you safe, but I’m not perfect.”
“What did you do to him?” I asked, recalling the anguish on Daniel’s face.
“Nothing he won’t immediately recover from. He’s picked enough fights with me to be thoroughly acquainted with my methods. I trained him, after all.”
“Can you do it to me?” I asked.
“No. It only works on magic users within Water Clan,” he said. “It’s a type of magical reverberation, very difficult and finicky, and it only works on magicians whose magic I understand very well.”
Nicolas paused and studied me. I looked away, feeling vulnerable. He had a rather piercing stare, and it seemed like every time he looked at me he was picking me apart, getting down to some more essential piece of me.
“Why did you jump to his defense?” he asked.
“What?” I said, startled, looking at him.
“Why did you implore me to stop?” he asked. “There was no good reason for you to interfere. If anything, I thought you might have enjoyed the show. He had just hit you in the face, after all. Isn’t revenge a little fun? But no—you asked me to stop. A gesture, by the way, for which Daniel will not thank you. Why?”
“I don’t need his thanks, and you already know why I did that.”
“Because you didn’t want him tortured on your behalf.” Nicolas seemed amused.
“You were hurting him. I wanted you to stop. Isn’t that enough?” I asked.
“And you thought I would stop because you asked?”
“You did, didn’t you?” I said, shrugging.
“I did,” he agreed. “By the way, don’t worry too much about Daniel. He’s stronger than he looks by far, and he’s been with me for a long time. He and I are very close. These sorts of interactions are how we communicate sometimes. I’m sorry you got in the way.”
I shrugged again. “I’m getting used to it now.”
“I’m sorry for that too,” he said, frowning. “Thank you, though, for the way you handled him afterwards. I appreciate your compassion. Even though Daniel won’t thank you, he also won’t forget what you did for him. Dan never forgets anything.”
I looked away, still annoyed. I really didn’t want to get hit again—by Nicolas or his temperamental lieutenant or anyone else. In this case, I had asked for it, but I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Pushing Daniel was clearly different than pushing Nicolas.
“Your best lieutenant?” I said. “Why wasn’t he with you in Vienna?”
Nicolas looked surprised by the question. I thought he might not respond to my prying, but he said carefully, “Daniel runs a different set of operations within my group than I do and manages a different set of people. I needed him here to take care of things in my absence, and the work I was doing in Vienna wasn’t suited to him.”
“What were you doing in Vienna?” I asked, although I didn’t expect him to tell me.
“Classified, sorry,” he said, shrugging.
Nicolas’s phone, which he had left on the table, buzzed several times in a row. He glared at it, closing his eyes briefly, but eventually retrieved it and sat back down. I turned away from him, burying my face between my arm and the couch, trying to calm my anger and banish my tears.
This situation sucked. I wished I were home. I wished I had somehow talked Lars out of taking the Vienna mission. In some ways, I wished I was still in that cell downstairs awaiting execution. I hated all the confusion I felt about Water Clan and Nicolas and his enigmatic plans. If he heard my griping, he didn’t give any indication or words of encouragement.
I touched my face gingerly, eliciting a flash of sharp pain. I likely had another bruise to show off from Daniel.
“Can I stay here and not go to dinner? Please?” I asked, hating myself for begging. “I promise I’ll be good.”
“No,” Nicolas said without looking up. “Not tonight.”
I frowned, taking a deep breath and shivering into his sweatshirt. It was so cold in his apartment, although I doubt he noticed. I doubt I would have noticed if I still had magic, but now I was just a fragile mortal. One of my many new problems.
After another couple of minutes, Nicolas stood, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket.
“If I leave you here for ten minutes, will you be all right? No trouble?” he asked.
“No trouble,” I agreed.
“The windows and walls are shielded and warded.” He indicated the glimmering magic with a graceful sweep of hi
s hand. “I’m also shielding the door behind me. Be good, lamb.”
He watched me for a moment longer, but I didn’t move or say anything. When he had shut the door behind him, I felt his pulse of magic locking me in.
Hesitantly, I picked myself up off the couch and looked around. The windows, walls, and front door were indeed shielded. There was nothing I could do to them. I peeked under the cover of the piano. It was a shiny black Steinway. The living room itself was open and spacious and uncluttered, the furniture arranged perfectly. I inspected the antique vases on the other side of the room, then the wall covered in a huge Chinese print behind lit glass. It was of the countryside, with elegant calligraphy covering it.
Nicolas’s bedroom had the same tall windows as the living room. The bed was huge and covered in plush ivory linens. The walk-in closet held nothing but clothes—lots of them, more than I would have thought. There was modern art on the walls that I didn’t recognize. A shiny silver MacBook rested on his cluttered desk, but it was password-protected.
The kitchen had expensive appliances and fixtures but looked hardly used. There was barely any food in the cabinets—mostly just bags of rice and boxes of Chinese and Japanese snacks—and the fridge only held bottles of water and lemon tea. I took one and drank the whole thing at once, dumping the bottle in the trash bin unceremoniously.
Nicolas had an extensive wine collection in a special temperature-controlled case that spanned a thin column from floor to ceiling. It was color coded, with whites near the top and the darkest reds at the bottom. Everything seemed extremely expensive, and most of the labels were in French or Italian.
I returned to the bathroom, retying my hair and rinsing my face. I leaned close to the mirror. My nose and cheeks were still purple and swollen from the broken nose, and now there was a red welt appearing from Daniel’s strike.
Just awesome.
I dumped the contents of my bag on the floor, sorting through them. My dirty, bloody clothes and sneakers from earlier. Some additional clean clothes. A couple of paperback novels. A bottle of aspirin. My toiletry kit. Half a dozen granola bars.
My knives, wallet, phone, passport, and apartment keys had been confiscated. My jacket, handmade for me by Violet, had been torn off during the raid and left behind.
I hurried out of the bathroom when I heard the apartment door open. Nicolas surveyed me wordlessly. I clasped my hands together, the picture of good behavior. In his right hand were several large shopping bags bearing designer names.
He handed them to me. “For you.”
He continued past me into the bathroom and shut the door. I took the bags with me to the couch. One of them contained only two items: a midnight-blue hoodie with a high cowl neck and an amazingly soft, black hoodie. I shrugged off Nicolas’s sweatshirt and eagerly donned the blue one, removing the tags carefully. It was fleece-lined, thick, and warm, hanging past my hips.
The other bags held an assortment of items: jeans, leggings, T-shirts, undergarments, skincare, shampoo, conditioner. Everything was new and expensive. I would have been more grateful if it hadn’t been such a sharp reminder that I was stuck here.
“You went shopping for all this in ten minutes?” I asked Nicolas when he emerged from the bathroom.
He laughed. “No. There are limits to even what my magic can do. I sent Keisha out earlier to get some things for you.”
“Your assistant?” I asked.
His eyes widened. “I don’t have an assistant. Keisha is merely one of my group members. She has many duties, but I also trust her to shop for me.”
“Style is important to you, then?” I said.
“However did you guess?” he asked, but the words were playful rather than biting.
He came up behind me, examining me. I instinctively shied away. Please don’t touch me, I thought nervously. His brows drew together, but he didn’t come any closer.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
He continued into the bedroom with hardly a second glance at me. I heard the closet door open and close and heard him typing on his laptop. When he came back to the living room, he had changed clothes. His black blazer was gone, replaced by a black T-shirt and understated black zip hoodie, casually left open with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“You remember the rules for dinner?” he asked, sitting on the couch near me.
I nodded.
“Daniel won’t fuck with you again,” Nicolas said. “He will likely ignore you for now, but I know he’ll come around. He’s spirited, and he likes spirit in others too. You two are similar in many ways. Be good tonight, lamb, but also watch and listen to our interactions with everyone.”
“Will there be a quiz?” I let out a harsh laugh.
He smiled. “You may think it’s a joke, but I want you to understand how things work here. I don’t know exactly who will be at dinner, either from my group or otherwise. I’m not sure which way things will go. I will do my very best to keep you out of it.”
“Why bring me at all?” I asked. “I could stay here, locked up.”
“Most of the clan house knows what happened to me in Vienna. They also know I have you, between bringing you in after the raid last night and bringing you to lunch today. It will be expected that my new pet will be there, showing off her bruises,” he said and then grimaced. “Does that still hurt much?”
“Why, yes. Yes, it does,” I said brightly.
“Go take some painkillers. There are plenty in that upper cabinet.” He pointed above the stove.
I reluctantly followed his instructions, pawing through the bottles. Several little plastic containers with only Chinese on the label. Aspirin. Ibuprofen. Vicodin. Tempting, but no. I took four ibuprofen and a bottle of water from the fridge.
Behind me, Nicolas turned on the television. I spun to face it, startled. It was the news, in Chinese. Unfamiliar characters scrolled across the bottom of the screen. The images were of police on darkened streets, hauling boxes from buildings marked with yellow Caution! tape.
“You speak Chinese,” I said. Not really a question, since he had already spoken it several times in my presence.
“Yes, Cantonese,” he replied absently, his eyes still on the screen. “These are police raids on Triad safehouses. Hong Kong mafia stuff. Nothing to do with us.”
I was just trying to figure out if it would be rude to ask about his ethnicity when he took pity on me and said, “I’m only half Chinese, but I was born and raised in Hong Kong.”
My sponsor into Flame had been half Chinese, and she had griped continuously about the hardships and prejudices it caused her in life.
“Is it difficult being half Chinese here?” I asked Nicolas.
He looked pretty Chinese to me. From a distance, I wouldn’t be able to tell there was anything different about him. He had hooded, almond-shaped eyes, coarse, dark hair, and warm undertones to his flawless skin. He honestly looked like a god-damn Korean pop star, which was probably helpful to him when it came to smashing other people’s self-confidence or making them swoon irresponsibly in his presence.
He shrugged and gave me an amused smile. “I have never been bothered by other people’s assessments. I am very confident in my ‘Korean pop star’ looks.”
I averted my eyes, embarrassed, and returned to the couch. He hadn’t answered my question, not really, but I wasn’t about to pry further. He was very good at avoiding giving out information, and it seemed like he had no desire to share anything personal about himself.
He flipped channels through a few other Chinese options before settling on a European news station in German. He paid attention for a few minutes as though he understood.
English, Cantonese, French… and German? I thought. Of course he was multilingual. Just another laurel to add to his résumé.
In a wholly normal gesture, he put his head in his hands and rubbed his face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked reflexively, forgetting that I wasn’t supposed t
o care.
Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing to show concern and humanity. He had managed it all day toward me, after all.
“Nothing in particular,” he said, the words muffled. He looked up. “I’m merely tired. I’ve barely slept more than a few hours in the last three days. I’m running on my magic alone at this point, and that is never pleasant.”
My instinct was to comfort him, but I didn’t know if I could bring myself to do that. Instead I asked, with the whisper of a laugh, “Is that why you’re so grumpy?”
“You are incorrigible,” he said, but the words were teasing.
I studied him. He did look tired and a little undone. Much different from the commander who had stood in front of my cell and offered me the chance to live. This Nicolas was almost human.
He turned off the television after another minute and stood, stretching his arms over his head briefly. “Time to go,” he said.
I followed him to the door. Before opening it, he paused, took a deep breath, and drew himself up. In an instant, his magical net was around him like armor, his pose relaxed and confident, his expression inscrutable. He looked like the Auspex again.
Who needed sleep when you had raw power at your disposal?
Remembering my own place, I looked down and away, praying against all odds that dinner wouldn’t be as exciting as lunch.
Chapter 8
I thought we would return to the large café where we had eaten lunch, but instead we took a left out of the apartment and continued down the hall before taking the stairs up one floor.
A left out of the stairwell put us in front of a set of large black doors with dragons carved into them. Nicolas opened one and put a hand on the small of my back to guide me in before him. I stiffened at his touch. If he noticed, he didn’t react. Nor did he speak to me mind to mind, making me believe he needed skin contact for that to work.
The inside was a gorgeous and ornate restaurant with red lacquered panels dividing the room into small cubby spaces. A hostess bowed to Nicolas and guided us past a central marble table with huge bird of paradise flowers on it in a tall vase. She led us beyond several cubbies filled with groups enjoying dinner and drinks, many of whom stared at us as we passed. I tried not to look too interested, but it looked like other commanders and lieutenants having dinner with their groups. The room was filled with the sounds of talking and clinking glasses and silverware—as well as a great deal of overwhelming magical power.
