Arcane Kiss (Talents Book 1)

by Angela Knight

  He turned his attention to the Arcanist. Her blue eyes were narrow with concentration, but even as she worked, her lips curled in a smile. Curious, he brushed her aura with his.

  Kurt couldn’t always read human emotions as easily as those of animals -- he couldn’t read human thoughts at all -- but Gen’s came through loud and clear. She was lost in the joy of her magic, in the pleasure of touching Parvati’s aura and relieving her suffering. Her pleasure was intense, almost sensual. God, she’s sexy…

  And you’re being borderline creepy. Besides, she’s a witch. More Glenda the Good than Maleficent Mom, but still. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and started checking email. Unfortunately, the effort at distracting himself didn’t work. His gaze insisted on drifting her direction every time her magic flared and the hair on his arms rose.

  And the hair wasn’t the only thing, either. He could feel heat gathering in his groin, and his eyes flicked to the lush curve of her breasts. Realizing he was ogling her again, he forced his gaze away.

  When was the last time he’d found a woman so intriguing? Even given the magic that would normally make him feel more wary than anything else? Except Gen had volunteered her normally expensive services to help one of their cats. A sacrifice she’d probably pay for tomorrow with exhaustion and an ugly headache. Even if Mom hadn’t hated the cats, nobody would ever accuse her of random acts of self-sacrifice.

  I could ask her out…

  Except she’s a witch.

  Who heals cats. Besides, I want to get to know her better.

  His mouth opened, but before he could get the words out of his mouth, a deep voice interrupted. “Kurt.”

  His father was standing in the doorway, powerful arms crossed, an expression of disapproval on his face. Fred tilted his head toward the hallway.

  Kurt winced, but there was no getting around it, so he followed his father up the hall, and out of human earshot. “How’d the calls go?”

  Fred shrugged. “Hell, who knows? They seemed receptive, but politicians lie.” He studied Kurt, his Feral gaze luminous. “I’m more interested in the fact that I stood there for five minutes and you never even noticed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you react this way to a woman you’ve only known a couple of hours.” He paused and lifted a brow. “Though considering she’s a witch…”

  “So she volunteered to heal Parvati so she could cast a spell on me? Been drinking the Humanist Kool-Aid?”

  “Don’t be insulting.”

  “Okay, cheap shot. Sorry.”

  Fred considered him a long moment before sighing. “I know you’re lonely, Kurt…”

  “Not with Stoli in my head.”

  “Stoli’s not a woman. My point is that with the war ending, female Ferals will need a home for their retiring Familiars. BFS is the logical place for them to come. If you’re patient…”

  “For God’s sake, I’m not planning to propose. All I’m thinking of doing is asking her out for a cup of coffee.”

  “I asked a pretty Bard out for a beer, and look how that turned out.”

  Kurt spread his arms. “Taaa-daaah!”

  “Fair point, but… well, you need to think about the cats.”

  “What about the cats?”

  “If you start something that ends badly, you could cost us a healer.”

  “And if we have this argument out in the hallway, we won’t have to worry about any theoretical bad romance, because she’s going to hear us and never come back. Are you done with your calls?”

  Fred, who looked on the verge of trying a new argument, nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.”

  “Then I’m going out for that beer.” He gave his father a wave and headed off down the hall. “Night, Dad.”

  His father sighed. “Night, Kurt.”

  * * *

  Faraday Square was Laurelton’s funky heart, complete with a ten-foot bronze statue of Colton Faraday. The Arcanist millionaire stood hipshot and dapper on his granite pedestal, bronze eyes gazing up the brick walkway to a fountain spraying dancing water at the park’s other end. Antique streetlights lined the sidewalks on either side, hung with huge baskets filled with rainbow cascades of wisteria, geraniums and begonias.

  Shops and restaurants surrounded the park. A sign over one of them displayed a beer mug spilling sparkling neon foam that spelled the word Potions. Kurt parked and headed inside.

  Huge steel brewing kettles lined half the room, pouring the scent of yeast and magic into the air. Booths and tables filled the rest, while a gleaming bar and shelves of bottles occupied the pub’s rear. The usual crowd had gathered to enjoy the magical microbrews, just as they packed the place for the Saturday performances by local Bards.

  Kurt never went to Potions on Saturdays.

  He wound his way across the room to order an Arcane Ale at the bar. Accepting the icy bottle the bartender handed over, Kurt turned to find Jake Nolan watching him from one of the booths. When the other man tilted his own bottle in salute, he headed over.

  The Feral cop wasn’t a tall man, but he was built like a bull, with broad shoulders and powerful biceps. Jake wore his hair in a blond brush cut that made his broad features look even tougher and more uncompromising. His eyes glowed in the bar’s dim lighting, shining with his link to his lion Familiar, Clarence.

  “Yo.” Jake’s Mellow Microbrew was evidently doing its job -- he looked relaxed. Being off-duty, he’d changed out of his black uniform in favor of his usual geek gear: worn black jeans and a Deadpool T-shirt. It wasn’t at all surprising that Jake’s favorite superhero was basically a cross between Rambo and Bugs Bunny.

  So was Jake.

  Kurt slid into the booth. “So how was today’s fight for truth, justice and chimichangas?”

  “The usual. Encounters with assholes and idiots and idiotic assholes, and one or two hapless innocent bystanders.” Jake studied him shrewdly. “You ain’t happy.”

  “I did notice that.”

  “You want to tell me about it, or just glower?”

  Kurt shrugged, only to discover that he did indeed want to vent. “Oh, you know, the usual. I showed an interest in a woman who wasn’t a Feral…”

  “And your Dad lost his shit.”

  “Nah, just booked me a flight on Guilt Air.”

  “Travelocity’s got nothing on Fred. Who inspired this particular round trip?”

  “You know that Arc who volunteered to help Parvati?”

  At that, Jake straightened. “Wait, you’re interested in a witch? Shit, I’ll bet Fred did yark up a hairball.”

  “Actually, it was only about the size of a ping pong ball.”

  “As opposed to the Great Watermelon of 2015.”

  “He just warned me about ruining a good thing with somebody who could heal our cats.”

  Jake considered that, sipping his beer. “You do have a lot of old, sick kitties at BFS. What you don’t have is a great track record when it comes to women.”

  Kurt eyed his very single friend. “So why aren’t you home with your wife and kids?”

  Jake flipped him off. “About this witch Juliet of yours…”

  “Genevieve.”

  “Whatever. What’s she like?”

  “Well, she heals sick children and dying cats pro bono…”

  “Which is cool and all, but is she hot?”

  “She’s…” Kurt broke off, struggling to put his reaction into words.

  Jake sat back, impressed. “Sizzling, huh?”

  “Yeah, and I’m not even sure why.”

  “Nice rack maybe?”

  “Even you’re not that shallow.”

  “I certainly am -- I have a dick. And since you do too, you ain’t exactly a deep-sea diver yourself.”

  “You have a point.”

  “So? Give.”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Big blue eyes and an incredible amount of red hair all…” He made a gesture around his shoulders. “Curly.”

  “You’ve got my attention.”

  “And yeah,
nice rack. But what got me…” He fell silent for a moment, trying to puzzle it out. “While she was drawing Parvati, her magic… I never felt anything like it. It was intense.”

  Jake studied him. “We’ve worked with a lot of Arcs, but I don’t remember you reacting like this to any of them.”

  Kurt turned his beer bottle between his fingers, listening to it scrape over the tabletop. “The Arcs in the service -- their magic was about death, about booby traps and demolition spells. Her magic feels like life. Something about it just made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Even Stoli felt it. He was almost purring.”

  “Tigers don’t purr.”

  “Neither do people, but I was doing it too.” He paused, considering. “I’m going to ask her out.”

  “I see a watermelon in your future.”

  “Dad needs to remember he’s not me. And every woman I meet is definitely not Mom.”

  “Big talk, but I haven’t noticed you rushing to the altar.”

  Kurt shrugged. “None of them have been right.”

  “That why you haven’t even tried in the last six months?”

  “And when did you last get laid?”

  “Wednesday. Brunette. Great tits. Likes to be tied up and spanked. I’m planning to introduce her to nipple clamps next.”

  “Pervert.”

  “You’re one to talk.” Jake grinned, slow and nasty, a sure indicator he was about to give Kurt hell. “If you decide not to grow a pair, I think I’ll go make introductions with Witchy Woman myself. I don’t have anything against Arcs. Maybe I’ll even give her a spanking.”

  A surge of possessive anger took Kurt by surprise. As he wrestled it, a distinct scritch sounded over the laughter and chatter of the clientele. His fingertips vibrated. He looked down and saw glowing claws tipping his fingers, digging into the table. Startled, Kurt jerked his hand back and willed the claws away.

  When he looked up, Jake was sitting back in the booth, giving him a long, considering look. “She did get under your skin didn’t she? No wonder your dad freaked. How’d she get Stoli going so fast? It’s not as if she’s his type.”

  “That wasn’t him, Jake. That was me.” He tapped his now clawless fingertips on his beer bottle, frowning. “Maybe I should keep my distance. If she’s already making me pop claws when I haven’t even asked her out yet…”

  “Jesus, don’t give up before you even try.”

  “It can get ugly when Ferals lose control.”

  “Yeah.” Jake’s mouth took on a bitter twist. “Just look what happened to my brother.”

  “I wasn’t talking about that.”

  “It’s what you were thinking.”

  “You read minds now?”

  “No, but I do know there’s a difference between being careful and being in suspended animation. Risk the watermelon and ask the girl out.” Jake gave him a long, serious stare. “Otherwise, the only pussy you’re ever going to get is Stoli.”

  * * *

  Genevieve sat back, studying the portrait. She could feel the magic radiating from the spell she’d built from layers of pastel, imagination, magic and will.

  Fred Briggs moved to look over her shoulder. “Damn, that’s good. You even got the stripe pattern right. Think it’s going to work?”

  “Depends on how she does over the next couple of days.”

  Parvati was awake now, her yellow eyes alert and interested, where before she’d shown only apathy and suffering. She extended her big, regal head toward Gen and chuffed.

  “She looks the best I’ve seen her in weeks.” Fred stepped up to the cage and dropped easily down on his haunches. “She’s definitely not in any pain now -- I can feel that much.” He grimaced. “The last time I touched her aura, I seriously considered having her put down right then. This is a real improvement.”

  Gen smiled in weary pleasure, enjoying the floating sense of accomplishment she always got after a successful healing. “Let’s step out into the hall.” She reached into her bag to pull out a can of fixative and picked up the drawing. “I need to spray this, and I don’t want to do it around Parvati. She doesn’t need to breathe this stuff.”

  But when she started to rise, her knees gave out halfway up and she sagged back down. Fred caught her forearm, his expression alarmed. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Healing just takes a lot out of me.” She rubbed the back of her hand across her aching forehead. Probably just smudged pastel all over my face. Every time she did a piece, she ended up leaving chalk fingerprints on everything she touched. “I’ll be all right after a night’s sleep.”

  This time when she tried to rise, Fred half-lifted her to her feet.

  Damn, he’s strong.

  “Can I get you anything? Some more water, a candy bar?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got granola bars in my bag. My blood sugar gets a little low.”

  “I’m not surprised. You worked a hell of a lot of magic. Still feel it coming from that.” He nodded down at the drawing.

  Gen caught her balance and hobbled stiffly for the door, sketch and the spray can in either hand. “I’m used to it. I’ve been working spells like this for years.”

  He followed, obviously ready to catch her if she needed it. “So I gather. I checked you out -- I don’t let just anybody around my cats. You’ve got a damned good reputation. But even so, I didn’t expect you to pour this much power into Parvati. A child with cancer, yes, but most people wouldn’t have gone that far for an animal.”

  She smiled up at him tiredly. “Why not? You do.”

  Fred smiled back, and she saw where his son got all the charm. “That’s different. I’m a melded Feral -- I basically am a cat, biped or not.” Power blazed up in his eyes, and in that instant, she saw something in their glowing depths that wasn’t human. “I know what it’s like to be an animal at the mercy of humans. You don’t.”

  “No, but I am female. Us girls have to stick together.” Gen handed the sketch to Fred while she pulled the top off the can and shook it hard enough to make the metal bead inside rattle vigorously.

  Fred handed back the sketch, and she turned away from him. Holding her breath, Gen started coating the drawing with the plastic spray to prevent smudges that would destroy the spell. “We need to find a way to put this up. She has to stay close to it for at least a week while the cancer dies.”

  “I think I have something that will work.” Fred disappeared into an office up the hall, coming back with a plastic sleeve used for medical records. He slid the sketch inside, then taped it to the wall beside the cage. By then, Parvati was asleep, her breathing deep and even. “Will that work?”

  “Perfect.” Gen started gathering up her pastels and putting them away in their case.

  The big man watched her for a few minutes. “I can’t tell you how much we…”

  A roar rolled over the building, so loud Gen jumped. It wasn’t the first time one of the cats had roared while she’d been in the clinic, but this one sounded as if the animal was right outside the door. “One of your fuzzy friends is not happy.”

  He stiffened, his expression hardening. “That wasn’t a cat. That sounded more like a bear.”

  “I didn’t know you had any bears here.”

  “We don’t.” He started toward the door. “Stay here. I’m going to see what’s going on in my park.”

  Alarmed, she took a step after him. “You want me to call 911?”

  Fred looked back at her. Magic blazed out of his body, surrounding him with the glowing form of a lion. Its massive head was even with his chest, its mane streamers of gold energy that bled sparks into the air. It was so bright she could see it even with her eyes open in the well-lit corridor.

  “This is my park.” His voice emerged in a rumbling growl. “Nobody comes in my park and roars at me.” Whirling, Fred slammed out the door, adding over his shoulder, “Stay here. Do not set foot out of this building. I don’t know who that bastard is, but I don’t like the way he feels.”

&n
bsp; The door banged closed behind him.

  Crap. Genevieve opened her consciousness. Dark magic hit her senses, and every hair on her body stood up. She must have been concentrating so hard on her own spell that she hadn’t sensed it building.

  Something dark and evil hung over the sanctuary like a boiling funnel cloud. She knew the feel of Feral magic, and it didn’t feel like this.

  Arcanist magic. Incredibly strong, incredibly evil Arcanist magic.

  What the hell’s going on?

  Chapter Three

  Dave focused his magic to manifest a human hand. He used the power construct to pick up the remote control and point it at the flat screen television attached to the tree house wall.

  Fred and Kurt had gone out of their way to make sure his quarters were as comfortable as possible for someone who wasn’t physically human. As he’d told Gen, the house had air conditioning and central heat, not to mention electricity, a computer with voice recognition capability, an X-box, and a cable modem.

  Then of course, there was Stoli, his combination pet and roommate.

  The Briggs had offered to let Dave move in with them, but he’d drawn the line. He wanted a place of his own, somewhere he could kick back and be a tiger or a human, depending on his mood.

  Turning the set on, Dave started flipping channels. Spotting a narrow, self-righteous face he knew a little too well, he stopped channel surfing to sneer.

  “… We must be realists when it comes to these so-called Talents,” the senator proclaimed in ringing tones. “Too many use their unnatural abilities to victimize law abiding, normal Americans. We need to know who these crooks are, what they can do, and where to find them when they commit crimes. Otherwise we’re putting our children at…”

  Dave stabbed the channel button with a mystical finger. “Fuck off, you bigoted bastard.” He looked at Stoli, half-dozing in a huge padded cat bed that was the twin to his own. “We’re loyal Americans when they need us to fight their fucking wars, and criminals when they need a convenient scapegoat. Pisses me…”

  Something roared.