Mercy Strange

by Alisa Woods

  His eyes lit up. “Whisper magick—is that what you call it?”

  “Well, there’s another kind called shout magick.” It felt incredible to be talking about this out loud. “I have that too, but it’s different. It’s a class of field magick where you’re able to generate sound waves, simply by shouting, that are incapacitating in a physical sense. Although it’s really shutting down the brain by overloading the sound receptors in your ears, so it’s not that different. I think the two Talents are connected somehow, but whisper magick operates directly on the brain. Through the auditory nerve, still, but I think that’s just a conduit. For all practical purposes, it’s mental magick—and the worst kind. It exerts complete control over a person’s mental processes.” The scientific version sounded so much less heinous than the reality: she could control people with her words.

  “But you have to actually speak to activate it?” He had that look in his eyes again—some cross between admiration and attraction. It was heating her up inside.

  Shit, he could probably sense that, too. This whole thing was so awkward. She retreated into focusing on the magitek, and not the soft appeal of his lips, because that was a lot safer. “Yes, but it’s not like the magick is in the words themselves. Like today when I told those people to stop—I meant stop attacking me, stay where they were, shut everything down. The word was just a conduit for my intent, and they got the intent loud and clear. They stopped breathing. I should have been more careful, but I was kind of in a panic and…” She dropped her gaze to her hands, pulling them out of Swift’s grasp because it was just too much to be talking about it and touching him at the same time. “I never use it. I mean, I try to never use it. It’s so fucking dangerous. I try to pretend it doesn’t exist—it’s too much power, and I don’t trust myself to… to not…”

  “Hey.” His hand was on her cheek again. “You’re a good person. You wouldn’t hurt people.”

  She suddenly had to blink back tears. “I don’t mean to.”

  He frowned. “Have you hurt people?”

  “No.” She shook her head, too much, and pulled away from his touch again. “I mean, there was this one time, when I was just a kid, and I didn’t know what I could do…” She stopped and pressed her lips together. She felt the horror and embarrassment all over again—the memory was seared into her brain.

  Swift peered at her. “I told you what I’ve done, Mercy. There’s no way anything you’ve done compares to that.”

  She looked away, even more embarrassed. “No, it was just a stupid kid thing. I was thirteen, and some boy was harassing me about my flat chest, and I, well…” She cringed but met Swift’s curious gaze. “I told him to take down his pants in the middle of the lunchroom.”

  Swift’s expression was incredulous… then he grinned and half-laughed. “You’re kidding me.”

  She scowled. “It’s not funny.”

  “I’m sorry.” His hand went to her shoulder, but he was still fighting the laugh. “I mean, the kid did deserve it…”

  “That’s not the point.” It wasn’t that she’d done horrible things—it was that she’d thought about it. Many times. And knew she could make it happen.

  Swift sobered, and she could see it sweep across his face—his sense of her anger and horror and fear all wrapped up in that one stupid childhood incident. Because that’s when she realized what she was. Illegal. And that her life would never be the same.

  “You’ve never told anyone,” he said softly. “Because you knew it could have been so much worse.”

  “Exactly.” Then the agitation was too much. She stood up from the couch, getting some distance from Swift and his soft look of understanding. Because even knowing about her whisper magick was dangerous—for him and for her. She paced the room. “I’ve only used it a handful of times, including today. I thought for once, I could use it for something good… but no.” She stopped at the window and stared at the sunshine-drenched city. Normal adepts with normal Talents, going about their daily lives, with a monster somewhere in their midst, killing them and experimenting on them. She knew she wasn’t the most horrible thing out there—but she also knew her Talent could be, in the hands of someone else. Or her, if she weren’t eternally vigilant. “I want it gone.”

  Swift came up behind her. “Your Talent?”

  She gave him a sideways look—did he know what she meant? “I stole one of the pills.”

  He scowled and drew back. “The bio-weapon?”

  She looked back at the city. “Bio-weapon. Miracle cure. Depends on your perspective.”

  He was quiet, and she thought maybe she had finally, truly shocked him. “You don’t need to be cured.” A silent wrath had gathered on his face.

  She smiled, but it hurt. “I’ve spent my whole life being careful, Swift. I have a dragon inside me who can’t ever be let loose. And no one’s going to love a Dragon Girl who could eat them in their sleep.”

  “Okay, you need to listen to me very carefully.” Swift took hold of her shoulders, turning her to face him, then lifting her chin with one finger, so she had to peer up at him. “People will want to use you and your Talent. They will want the secret of it and try to wrench that out of you. But you have people who’ll protect you. A family that loves you—”

  “They don’t know who I really am—”

  “Yes, they do.” He was almost angry now. “Take it from someone whose family members think everyone’s a mark. My parents never met a person they wouldn’t con. Or abuse. Including their own kid. My family never cared about anything but what was in it for them. I read emotion, Mercy—I know what people truly feel, more than they do. And I can tell you, right now, you’ve got people who would love you even if you literally transformed into a dragon. Don’t throw that gift away.”

  Her mouth worked, but nothing was coming out. Did he mean… him? Or her family? Both? Her head was going sideways with this, and her chest literally hurt—not for her, but because he was so clearly telling the truth. “I’m so sorry, Swift. You have to think I’m some kind of spoiled rich girl.”

  “The things you’re rich in, you don’t even know.”

  She nodded, and that hit her harder than she expected. “I almost told my mom, once,” she said softly. “Just before she died, I thought, This will be it. I’ll finally tell someone. And then… I just couldn’t. Even the one person who had loved me all my life. I was afraid of losing that.” A tremble went through her so she looked away. “So, basically, I’m a coward.”

  “I’ve met a lot of cowards.” The light tone of his voice made her look back. “None of them were sexy witches with an incredibly powerful Talent they refused to use. I think the word you’re looking for is heroic.”

  She scowled. “I’m no hero.”

  “Now you sound like you’re in my head.” But he was teasing her. And it helped lift the burden—if nothing else, Swift was still here. He hadn’t run away or turned her into the FBI.

  Yet.

  She reached up on her tiptoes and slid her arms around his neck. The impromptu hug seemed to take him by surprise. She smiled into his shoulder as he fumbled to hug her back. There was something delightful about surprising him. He could read her every emotion, after all, but she could catch him off guard when she let her impulsive side win out—which was always with light emotions, not the darker, more dangerous ones. She could never afford that kind of impulsivity. People would die.

  Swift wasn’t letting her go, and she was very aware of the exact placement of his hands on her back. Their hug was quickly turning into something more heated. And that was the most surprising thing of all. Swift was like her—a mental magick criminal-by-birth—yet somehow their two dangerous Talents canceled out in a magickal stalemate that allowed them to be open and honest with each other. Both of them. She didn’t have to read emotions to know it wasn’t just her who wanted this hug to turn into something else.

  She pulled back, and the hungering look in Swift’s eyes perversely made her want to kiss hi
m sweetly and drag him back to the couch for cuddles. Because sex was easy—she could have that with just about anyone. It was relationships that were impossible for her… until now.

  “I like you, Agent Payne.” She barely kept her smile in check, her arms still loose around his neck, his hands having migrated to hold her waist.

  “Your Talent doesn’t come with an ability to read minds, does it?” He knew it didn’t.

  She gave him a playfully suspicious look. “Are you thinking something you don’t want me to know?”

  “Definitely.” His gaze dropped to her lips… and then further down… and the playfulness evaporated in the heat suddenly washing through her.

  “I thought we weren’t doing that now.” Her smile was a lot more tentative. Because she could very much see taking a break for that right now, regardless.

  He sucked a breath between his teeth. “We’re not.” He bit his lip. “Unless you keep feeling that way about it.” His gaze leaped back up to her eyes, and it blazed with sexy intent.

  Holy magick, what would it be like to take Agent Payne to bed? He would know everything. Feel everything. A sudden flight of nerves captured her, and she eased back out of that close embrace. “We really should, um…” She cleared her throat as she disentangled from him. “Focus on the case.”

  He nodded, but not like he was entirely convinced. “We need some kind of cover for what happened today.” His voice was much more serious than the lingering look in his eyes.

  She sauntered to the nearby couch, sat, and patted the seat next to her. He drew his phone out of his pocket and sat down, still giving her that flirtatious look. “Let’s see what’s on the news first.” She wasn’t sure if he meant first before they would have wild sex on her couch or first in a series of responsible planning events. She was honestly game for either.

  He smirked and swiped on his phone. He tapped at it, and she watched his face rather than the screen, savoring the idea that kissing this gorgeous hunk of a man next to her might be a regular feature in her future.

  A scowl took over his face.

  “What?” She peered at his phone screen. Oh, shit. Her face was large as life, overlaid on a horrific scene with four bodies on the pavement covered in cloth. “Oh my god.”

  “Dammit.” He swiped through the article, reading faster than she could track. “Holy shit.” He looked at her. “They’re calling the contestants’ deaths murder. And you’re a suspect.”

  “Me?” Her voice hiked up. “But… can’t we… we have to tell them—”

  “What? About your Talent?” He rose up quickly, leaving her on the couch, and ran a hand through his hair as he paced. “Oh, this is bad.”

  A chill trickled into her stomach. “But I didn’t do anything.”

  He gave her a look, and her stomach bunched up more. Because of course she did. She’d used mental magick on a half dozen people on her way to the edge of the contestants’ perch. Just before they leaped. That alone was felony assault. “Oh my God.”

  Swift rubbed his face with both hands then held them in front of his lips, thinking. “Okay, we can manage this. The news people are just running with it because you’re from a famous family—one that’s been all over the news, by the way—and that makes you front page tabloid news.” He scrolled rapidly through his phone again. “There’s nothing here about me. Just a blurry image of us leaving the staging area together. That’s good.”

  For him, maybe. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”

  “No. You are not going to jail.” He was angry, but not with her. He stepped over to her, took her hands, and pulled her up from the couch. “You need to figure out where our mad scientist is striking next.”

  That cleared the panicky fog a little. “The research report! It said this field test was just a precursor to some larger demonstration.”

  “Right?” He squeezed her hands then let her go. “You need to dig into that and figure out what the hell they have planned. And how we can stop it. Because we know—” He held up the phone to her. “We know they can do this. This damn switch of theirs works in the field and who knows what they’ll do with it next. You need to get back to your lab and use that brilliant mind of yours to figure it out.”

  “But how?” She gestured helplessly at the phone. “The police are looking for me! They know I have illegal magick!”

  “They don’t know anything,” he said tightly, stowing his phone and grabbing her hand. “They’re guessing based on video. Maybe some testimony. At some point, they might bring in a memory scry… you let me worry about that. I’ll work something out. But first, I’m getting you back to your lab. You stay put there and work the case. I’ll run interference with everyone else.”

  Everyone else? The FBI? The police? Her head went right back to that fierce kiss, the one Swift gave her then promised he wouldn’t let them lock her up for her Talent. That if she shared everything with him, bared it all, he would protect her.

  Could he protect her from this?

  She didn’t know, but for once in her life, she had trusted someone with the biggest secret she had—the secret dragon she had hidden from everyone—and two seconds later it was already an unmitigated disaster. That wasn’t Swift’s fault.

  But she didn’t know if he could save her from it, either.

  Chapter Twelve

  Swift managed to get Mercy back to the Strange Hospital and Research Institute without being intercepted by the police. But only by changing her clothes, dressing her as a simple, and sneaking her in the loading dock entrance with her employee keycard. But he didn’t use his Talent, which was critical. They’d be all over the security tapes if someone looked, but he couldn’t worry about that now.

  “Just sit tight once we get to your office.” He squeezed her hand, now that they were away from the cameras and whisking up in the elevator to the 20th floor. She had to be exhausted—she’d been up for nearly thirty hours—but her emotional state was strong. Resolute. And sharp, given the circumstances. Probably all that fear screeching steadily under her gritty determination. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She’d showered back at the apartment and put on fresh makeup—black all the way, this time. Thick cat-like eyeliner, super-dark razor-sharp eyebrows, and black lipstick. It made the purple in her hair stand out even more... and made him smile. He could take the witch out of the leather and lace, but he couldn’t take the witchiness out of the woman. Only a fool would mistake her for a simple.

  “You know, if you didn’t have lipstick on…”

  She flicked a look at him then stared straight ahead at the elevator doors. “Keep your hotness superpowers to yourself. Trying to focus here.” But he could hear the ache strumming through her, and damn, that stirred him around inside.

  All the chaos needed to go away so he could have Mercy to himself for a while. Just a little while… okay, maybe a long while. Then again, the case was the only excuse he had to be with her. The elevator dinged and the doors opened before that thought could get too carried away.

  They quickly strode through the hallways until they reached her research lab, but once inside, they had everyone’s attention. A couple lab techs whispered behind their hands as he hustled her toward her corner office, but it was the tall and striking Black woman filling Mercy’s office doorway who would be the problem. Her expression was stone-cold, but her dark eyes were on fire—Swift had seen her before and recognized that stiff military bearing, but he didn’t know her official capacity in Mercy’s life. Or what she knew. But she had tactical-strike levels of ire on her face, most of it directed at Swift.

  Great.

  “What. The. Hell—” The woman started as they approached.

  Mercy held up her hand. “It’s not what it looks like, Nia—”

  “This is all him, isn’t it?” Nia let Mercy breeze past into the office, but for Swift, she was suddenly a six-foot-one barricade of angry witch. Only her anger was a low-grade, carefully-controlled buzz under a mountain of carefully
-aimed aggression. Swift didn’t know her Talents, but he was certain they were military-grade and nothing he wanted to discover.

  He put up his hands and backed off, ready to slay her with a crippling bout of despair. Even that might backfire. He’d tested soldiers specifically trained to resist emotion-mancers like himself—they were walking landmines, ready to explode in the direction of anyone messing with their heads, more dangerous than a cobra ready to strike. At least with the snake, you knew which end would bite.

  “Nia!” Mercy was already seated at her computer. “Let him in.”

  Nia didn’t take her eyes off Swift. “I’m thinking no.”

  “Oh, for the love of magick.” Mercy climbed back out of her chair. “He’s helping me with the case—”

  “Or controlling you,” Nia said without looking at her. “Because if there’s one thing I’m certain of, it’s that no Strange is a murderer. This guy, I’m not so sure.”

  “Nia.” Mercy rubbed her temples. “I need you to trust me.”

  Swift braced himself because Nia was not in a trusting mood—the only thing holding him back was that if he used his Talent, Dalvi would be scrutinizing the hell out of this moment. And he needed her nowhere near it.

  “Or at least let me explain,” Mercy said more softly. She gestured Swift back with her head. Was she going to use her Talent on Nia? That… was a surprising option, but Swift acknowledged it by stepping back.

  “I’ll let you two sort this out,” he said then deliberately took another step back and lowered his hands. He was still fully within range if this went badly.

  But it was enough space that Nia hazarded a glance at Mercy. “I checked him out. He’s all over the map at the FBI. Literally. Boy never works in one place for long.”

  “That’s because he’s PsyOps,” Mercy said, planting her hands on her hips.

  Well, fuck.

  But it snagged Nia’s attention. “Which 100% corresponds to him controlling you into murdering four people today.”

  “We’re working the case, Nia.” Mercy spread her hands out like this was obvious. “We just didn’t get there in time. I didn’t get there in time. I’m the one who’s controlling people—the reports are right about that. But I was trying to save the contestants, not kill them.”