Arcane Kiss (Talents Book 1)

by Knight, Angela

  “Yep. Stands for Pure Fucking Magic.” He grinned at her, displaying a truly appalling number of teeth.

  “Dave’s an artist of geekery,” Kurt told her. “He thinks he’s funny.”

  “I am funny.”

  “What you are is a pain in the ass.”

  Dave lifted his head with a regal sniff and turned to Gen. “You were saying?”

  She shrugged. “Not everyone’s field is so compatible with mine that I can use it to induce healing. Hopefully I can work with your tiger’s.”

  Fred rejoined them, tension visible in the set of his still-broad shoulders. “That was Senator Rich,” he told his son. “He wants me to make calls to a list of his fellow senators. Evidently they’ve forgotten a lot of us ‘sinister magic users’ are military veterans.”

  Dave curled a lip to reveal one fang. “And NTRA is a giant ‘Fuck-you-very-much-for-your-service.’”

  “Jerks,” Gen muttered. She and her friends had been bitching about the proposed National Talent Registration Act for months. Unfortunately, NTRA was a major plank in the Humanist Party platform. Since the Humanists now held both the White House and a majority in both houses of Congress, they were charging ahead on the bill. “I hate opportunistic bigots.”

  “You and me both.” Fred grimaced, looking like a man who’d rather be doing anything but the job he faced. “I don’t think listening to me argue with those guys would help your concentration. Kurt, would you mind escorting Genevieve to the Cat Clinic and staying with her until I can finish these calls?”

  “Be glad to.” His son hesitated, rubbing his thumb over that square jaw of his. He had big, calloused hands striped with intriguing scars. “I was supposed to go out for a beer with Jake tonight. You want me to call and cancel?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. I should be done by then, assuming the healing even takes that long…”

  Fred lifted a graying brow at Genevieve.

  “I’ve never done a healing on a tiger. But from what you’ve said about her condition, it’ll probably take several hours to lay down all the layers of the spell. Unless you’d rather I came back tomorrow?”

  “God, no. There’s no reason whatsoever for that cat to be in pain any longer than necessary. We’ll be happy to stay with you as long as necessary.”

  “That goes without saying.” Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.

  His father growled, the sound a warning subsonic rumble no ordinary human could have produced. “Do not call Jake, at least not yet. I owe you a night off, damn it. I can knock this out in a couple of hours, tops.”

  “Do what you need to do, Dad. I’ll take care of our guest.”

  “Okay, fine.” Fred nodded at Genevieve. “Thank you for doing this. I know how much effort it’s going to take. Means a lot.”

  “It’s my pleasure. Good luck with the senators.” She watched him hurry off, thumbing his phone as he went.

  Kurt and the cats had reached the gate. He unlocked the padlock that held the guillotine style door closed, pulled the chain to raise it, and stepped into the gap between the enclosure and the shorter fence that bordered the gravel path.

  “What’s with the two fences?”

  “The inner fence is to keep the cats in,” he explained, re-locking the gate. “The outer fence is to keep the humans out. Otherwise some dumbass would stick a hand into the enclosure and get it bitten off.”

  “Dave would bite somebody’s hand off?”

  “No, but Stoli might. When I’m around, I keep him in line, but if not… He may be a Familiar, but he’s also a tiger. If some idiot antagonized him when our spirit link wasn’t active, I might not realize what was happening in time.”

  “Okay, but Dave’s human.”

  Dave spoke up, tail flipping back and forth the way a man might talk with his hands. “Norms tend to freak when they see a tiger wandering around loose -- not that you can blame ‘em. Besides, I could open that gate in less time than you could.” A glowing human arm thrust out of the cat’s shoulder and waved. The tip of one finger extruded, shaping itself into a key. “For one thing, I wouldn’t have to look for my keys.”

  “I know, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

  “What, no applause?” Dave gazed at her mournfully. “The least you could do is give me a hand.” A snare drum clashed.

  Gen groaned. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Dave is a man of many talents. Shame is not one of them.”

  “Nice rimshot, though. My Dad’s in the Arcane Corps, so I grew up around Ferals, but I never saw any of them do sound effects.” Though she supposed that trick was less impressive than creating animal manifestations from solidified magic.

  “You’re an Arcane Corps kid?” Kurt eyed her with interest. “Is your dad a Feral or an Arcanist?”

  “Both my parents are Arcanists. Dad’s Colonel Martin Reyes; he commands a Corps base in Germany. Mom’s Major Diane Reyes, a magical demolitions expert.” She frowned at a painful childhood memory. “When I was a kid, Dad’s Feral teammates were like family. One of them was killed and trapped in his Familiar, and it really bugged the hell out of me. Especially after he was sent to the Corps retirement sanctuary. Didn’t seem fair.”

  “Yeah, that place is a disgrace. BFS is a hell of a lot nicer.” Dave waved his hand manifestation at the towering oak that dominated his enclosure. A ramp led up to a tree house constructed around the massive trunk, its log walls inset with long, low windows. “Hell, I’ve got a house and everything.”

  Gen studied it. “Must have a hell of a view.”

  “Yep. Fred and Kurt built it for me, complete with electricity, plumbing, and an HVAC system.” He bared his teeth in a wicked tiger smile. “And best of all, WiFi. Not being a biped anymore sucks, but considering my human body’s six feet under, I consider it a win.”

  Kurt gave him a wry smile. “Nice speech. Wish I’d thought to record it so I could play it back to you when you whine.”

  The glowing hand shot him the finger.

  “Sorry, Dave, I just don’t like you like that.” They could have been any pair of good friends giving each other hell.

  “Nobody likes you like that, asshole.” The hand disappeared as Dave turned back toward Gen. “Take care of Parvati, Ms. Reyes. She’s suffered enough.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  He gave her a long, thoughtful look. “Yeah, I believe you will.”

  Kurt gestured her to precede him, adding over his shoulder, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Going to Potions?”

  He shrugged. “Depends on how long it takes Dad to talk sense into those senate weasels.”

  “Well, if you drop by, bring me back a couple of bottles of Mellow Micro.”

  “You got it.”

  Gen fell silent as they walked through the sanctuary along a gravel path. Long, narrow enclosures snaked along on either side, big cats sprawled asleep under the trees or wending their way through the thick brush.

  “Are all these cats Familiars?”

  Kurt shook his head. “No, actually. BFS might have started as a Feral retirement home, but now all but five of our animals are rescues from backyard breeders and roadside zoos. We’ve even got one who used to belong to a drug dealer.”

  “Why would a drug dealer want a tiger?”

  “Actually, it was a jaguar. And he figured it would keep the cops away.”

  “I gather it didn’t work.”

  “Nope. The cops called us to come get the cat. One of the bennies of being a Feral. We’re better than a tranq gun when it comes to calming down pissed-off animals.”

  “Handy talent.” Genevieve hesitated a moment, then decided to just ask. “Playing devil’s advocate here… why don’t you just ship ‘em back to Africa or India or wherever? Set them free?”

  “If I could, I would. These animals were raised in captivity. If we tried to turn them loose in the wild, they’d either starve to death
or poachers would shoot them because they don’t fear humans.”

  She eyed him, wondering if he was as unfazed by her questions as he looked. “I hope I didn’t offend you. I just…”

  “I’m not offended.” He shrugged impressive shoulders. “It’s a question we get a lot. All we can do is make sure we provide our cats with as rich an environment as possible. Plenty of room to run around, a lot of trees and ground cover, and we provide toys they can play with and tear up.” He paused to watch a jaguar rub her big spotted head against her enclosure fence. “But you’re right, they’re still locked up. It bothers the hell out of me, but we do the best we can.”

  “At least you’re doing something about the problem.”

  He looked up at her and smiled. “So are you.”

  Genevieve found herself returning his warm smile -- and feeling a delicious little tingle when his eyes took on a sensual heat. God, I really want to paint his eyes…

  Among other things.

  Chapter Two

  The one-story cinderblock building was covered with an elaborate mural of the BFS logo -- a lion’s head, its eyes glowing Feral gold, mane flowing across the building in shades of sable, ocher and umber. A sign out front read BFS Cat Clinic.

  “Here we are.” Pulling out a ring of keys, Kurt unlocked the door. “This place is my dad’s pride and joy. Before we built it, we had to transport the sickest cats to a facility in Charlotte, which was the closest clinic that could treat animals the size of ours. It’s a two-hour trip, so we’d have to sedate the cat. That’s stressful even for healthy animals.”

  Genevieve followed him into a short hallway with doors marked “OR,” “Lab,” “Treatment 1,” “Treatment 2,” and “Equipment.” Huge color photos of exotic cats hung on the walls, obviously taken on the BFS grounds. “Nice place.”

  “Thanks. There’s an operating room with a table that can support up to a thousand pound cat, portable x-ray and sonogram equipment -- pretty much anything we need this side of a CT scanner.”

  “Who does the actual treatment?”

  “Vet from the North Carolina animal hospital drives down and donates his services. If not for him and the other volunteers, God knows how we’d keep this place afloat. Dad and I are salaried, but neither of us is going to get rich. We plow every dime we get back into BFS.”

  Genevieve smiled at him. “I’d be willing to pitch in too.”

  His handsome face lit. “Really? That’d be great. Most of the animals we get here have suffered some kind of abuse or neglect, so we need all the help we can get.”

  “My priority’s always going to be the kids, but I’ll do what I can for your cats. Healing tends to take a lot out of me, so it all depends on how much magic I’ve been doing.”

  “Anything you can do would be welcome.” He unlocked the door at the end of the hall and opened it for her.

  The smell of sick tiger was pungent in the enclosed space. The animal didn’t even stir as they entered. She lay curled in a wheeled cage big enough to accommodate an even larger animal.

  Genevieve knelt on the floor as close to the cage as she dared.

  Dull yellow eyes opened and met hers. Parvati’s hipbones jutted under thinning fur. But though her coat lacked the healthy, glorious sheen the other tigers had, at least she was clean.

  “Do you think you’re going to be able to help her?” There was a note of worry in Kurt’s voice. He cared about this animal. Cared a great deal.

  “Not sure yet. Let me take a look.” She reached out, but a big male hand closed around her wrist.

  “That isn’t a good idea.”

  She slanted him a look, all too aware of the heat of his skin, the long fingers encircling her arm. “I wasn’t going to stick my hand in the cage. I’m just trying to sense her magic.”

  “Sorry.” Looking chagrined, Kurt released her. “It’s just that sick animals can be more dangerous than healthy ones. And Parvati tends toward grumpy at the best of times.”

  “No, if you think I’m about to do something stupid, please let me know. Right now, I need to find out if her magic’s compatible with mine.” Keeping her hand where it was, Genevieve spread her fingers and closed her eyes, the better to see the cat.

  A faintly glowing tiger lay in the darkness behind her lids in the same position as the physical animal. Her aura was so dim, it was barely visible. If I’d waited even one more day, she’d have been too far gone to save. Genevieve could do a lot, but her patient had to have enough strength to work with.

  As she examined the tiger’s aura, she realized something blazed at her elbow. Eyes still closed, Gen pivoted -- and froze, staring through her closed lids. Where Kurt should be, a tiger sat on his haunches.

  Her eyes flew open to see the man watching at her, his expression puzzled. “What?”

  She shook her head and closed her eyes again to study him. “Nothing.”

  Kurt’s got a lot of power. And God, he’s beautiful. Genevieve could have happily spent the next hour with her eyes closed, just watching the leap and play of his magic.

  Which is not why you’re here. Get your mind on the job and quit ogling the man.

  Turning back to Parvati, she extended her hand again, and reached. A glowing tendril of magic extruded from her palm and slipped through the cage’s thick steel mesh to touch the tiger’s nose

  The great head lifted, dim eyes widening. The animal growled feebly, but Gen stroked it with the tendril of magic, exploring. A large bright knot of painful red lay over the tiger’s emaciated belly, which she recognized as the mammary tumor. More sparks of scarlet burned throughout Parvati’s aura.

  The vet was right. The cancer had spread. Gen thrust her magic into it and concentrated. The crimson obediently paled into orange as the pain dulled, responding to her magic.

  The tiger made a soft, huffing sound, almost a sigh.

  Gen opened her eyes and sat back on her heels in relief. If she could affect the pain, she could also do something about the cancer. “It’s going to work. I can do this.”

  Kurt smiled brilliantly, his teeth a flash of white. “Good. That’s really good.”

  She withdrew the tendril and the tiger moaned. “Shhhh. I’ll make the pain go away again in just a minute.”

  Shrugging the messenger bag off her shoulder, she pulled out a pad of thick textured pastel paper, along with a pouch of pencils and her wooden box of pastels.

  Kurt stood. “Let me get you a chair. If you sit on this floor for long, you’re not going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

  “Hey, thank you. That’d be a big help.” Focusing her attention on the cat again, she started roughing in the contours of Parvati’s head and chest.

  It was crucial to make the animal’s likeness as accurate as possible. Every stripe and whisker had to be correct. Stylized or abstract work wasn’t good enough when it came to healing magic.

  Besides, the concentration of trying to capture the likeness as exactly as possible would help Gen focus her magic more effectively.

  Wheels rattled over tile as Kurt pushed an office chair into the room. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” Gen told him absently, sinking into it.

  A moment later he wheeled a small table in front of her. “Figured this way you wouldn’t have to hunch over that pad. Would you like something to drink? The vending machine’s got Coke products.”

  “Water would be great.” While he ducked out again, she put the pad on the table and started working in quick, sweeping strokes.

  The trick was to capture the likeness while making the animal look as healthy as Dave or Stoli. She had to imagine Parvati healed, concentrate on that mental image, believe in it utterly as she laid down the layers of her magic.

  Time seemed to fall away, until at last she sat back, eyes flicking from the sketch to the cat. Yeah, that’s pretty good. Now it’s time for the magic.

  Gen reached for her box of pastels. Even before she flipped up the lid, she could feel their power as little e
lectric tingles dancing over her skin. The colored sticks smelled of chalk and ozone, and ever so slightly of her own blood.

  It had taken Genevieve the better part of a week to make the pastels in a ritual that stored her magic in each piece. She’d slept for a full day afterward, a heavy slumber born of pure exhaustion.

  Taking a deep, slow breath, Gen gathered her magic, chose a white stick and began to lay down the highlights on the cat’s fur.

  Drawing deep from her well of magic, she sent power down her arm and through the pastel stick, magic building on magic with every stroke. She focused on the reality she wanted, believed in it with all her soul and power: cancer cells withering away, Parvati growing stronger. Becoming healthy and well until the tigress moved with the same fluid ease as Dave and Stoli.

  Next came strokes of gold, ocher, and bronze to capture the contours of the animal’s regal head. Between strokes, she used her pinkie to blend the color.

  Slowly, layer by layer, she built up the image, fingers working power-infused chalk, each touch a part of the spell. That was the reason she worked in pastels rather than oils or watercolor -- paint would require the use of a brush. Greater physical contact strengthened the magic.

  And with every stroke, she built a connection with Parvati’s aura. Until she knew she could reinforce the animal’s life force and eliminate each knot of lethal red energy.

  Parvati became the axis of her world, the pivot point, the single focus.

  Nothing else mattered.

  * * *

  Kurt watched Genevieve in fascination. Magic rolled off her in waves that swirled across his skin and filled the air with the clean ozone scent of magic. He’d worked with a lot of Arcanists in the Corps, but none of them had possessed so much raw power.

  Gen rocked back to look down at her work, then back at the cat before bending over the drawing again.

  Parvati had drifted into a deep sleep shortly after Genevieve began casting. The cat might not be Kurt’s Familiar, but if he concentrated… He reached out with his Feral senses.

  And smiled.

  Genevieve’s magic had indeed relieved the grinding pain of the cancer. Better yet, it was a natural sleep, not the sedation that could be dangerous for an animal already so weak.