‘Places to go,’ he said, turning his attention to his guitar as if he didn’t care that I’d pulled my hand away. He was doing it again, leading me on, then becoming evasive.
Because I’d expected some contact from him?
Well, that wasn’t unreasonable, was it? My frustration grew – because I knew I hadn’t expected much, because I wanted him to be everything wonderful I believed him to be, and because I really really really didn’t want my dad to be right.
I needed to know for sure, no matter how much reality bit. ‘And you blew me off when I sent you that message in the summer.’
‘No, I told you the truth.’
This wasn’t going at all as I’d hoped. I’d secretly dreamed of a happy reunion – or at least another kiss. Right now, his guitar seemed to be more interesting than me.
I hugged myself a little tighter. ‘I owe you a ride. I thought that was what you wanted.’ Great. Now I sounded hurt.
Well, I was, but still.
Maybe that was why he didn’t answer me, just kept tuning the guitar.
Okay, I’m not stupid. ‘Have a good show,’ I said and started to turn away.
Jared froze in the act of plucking a chord, then laid his hand flat across the strings. I glanced back at him, ever (pathetically) hopeful. He put the guitar down, then looked up at me, the intensity of his expression taking my breath away. ‘Okay. Here’s the deal. I have had it explained to me by a certain individual that I need to stay in my place.’ He arched a brow, inviting me to figure out what he meant.
‘What place?’
‘Away. From you.’
‘Who?’
His gaze flickered and I knew. There was only one person whose advice he took.
‘Donovan,’ I guessed and Jared frowned. Donovan was Nick’s dad, Jared’s uncle, and the Pyr who had sold Jared that vintage Ducati motorcycle. ‘But why?’
‘Well, he has a good point.’ Jared folded his arms across his chest but leaned closer to me. Our arms brushed against each other as his gaze bored into mine. My mouth went dry and my heart did a cartwheel or two. My doubts faded big-time. ‘You’re not on the same timeline as I am, Zoë.’
It was disgusting that he would make the same argument as my dad.
‘A couple of years doesn’t make that much difference,’ I protested. ‘I mean, it’s a lot now, but eventually …’
‘And that’s just the thing.’ His voice dropped impossibly lower, so I was feeling it as much as I was hearing it. ‘You’re going to live for centuries, Zoë, maybe even more than that. It’s part of the dragon plan. Me, I’m in for maybe eighty years.’
‘But …’
He reached out and touched my cheek with one fingertip. I quivered, the touch of his finger making me feel hot and unsettled. ‘The thing is, it doesn’t matter how fascinated I am by you or how good I think it could be between us. I’ve read the book.’ He slid that fingertip down to my chin. My knees were dissolving. I could barely listen to what he was saying, especially with my heart pounding so loud. ‘You’re going to have a firestorm with some guy, and it’s going to be your duty to your kind to follow the heat of that firestorm.’
I parted my lips, but he touched his fingertip to them. Oh. Was there ever a better way to silence anyone? I could feel the callus on one side from him playing guitar. He watched his finger’s progress, his gaze heating exactly the way my blood did.
I wanted to protest. I wanted to argue with him, to defend the cause of true love and the power of choice, but I sensed that he was right.
Because the firestorms I’d witnessed had been overwhelmingly powerful forces, a tide of heat and desire that shorted the mental circuits of a Pyr. The firestorm heated to greater intensity the longer it was denied, and never sputtered until it was satisfied. None of the dragon dudes I knew had managed to step away, even if they had been dead set against satisfying the firestorm.
I didn’t know what I could say that wouldn’t be untrue or at best unreasonably optimistic. My chest was tight.
There was no air left in that club.
We stood there, his gaze boring into mine and my heart leaping all over my chest, and then he looked away, his expression grim. And when he did, something changed. The connection between us was severed, cut as cleanly as if it had never been. Or a door was closed. His interest in me was nonexistent.
I think he practically forgot I was standing there.
I felt forty-five thousand kinds of stupid. Even if I really wanted to have something with Jared, that wasn’t enough to ensure that he wanted something with me.
If he had really been interested, he would have contacted me. He wouldn’t have been able to not contact me. He wouldn’t have been able to leave me standing here, wanting something – anything – from him.
Maybe it was time I stopped liking guys who didn’t like me.
‘Too bad I wasted a birthday present,’ I said, turning away. There was no reason to prolong my humiliation. ‘See you around.’
‘Your birthday? When’s that?’ he asked, to my surprise.
I glanced back, wary. ‘Soon.’ I sighed. ‘I only wanted three things.’
His eyes glinted. ‘What else?’
That he’d guessed seeing him was one was mortifying, but I answered him anyway. ‘A grudge match with Kohana.’
‘Forget it.’ His protective determination made me smile. I was the dragon, after all.
And what difference did it make to him anyway?
‘What else?’ he demanded.
‘A tattoo.’
His surprise was clear. ‘No way.’
‘A dragon, here.’ I gestured to my left shoulder, my tone nearly daring him to question me. ‘On my back and upper arm. Watching out for me.’
‘Got an artist in mind?’
‘Me. I drew it. I love it.’
He watched me carefully. ‘But …?’
‘My mom says no ink before I’m legal.’
He smiled, as if he had a secret, and turned back to his guitar. You can believe I wanted to know what he was thinking. You can believe I knew he wouldn’t share.
I’d had enough. I turned away again. ‘Have a good show,’ I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. I felt the weight of his gaze on my back, and my feet dragged. I like to think Jared might have called me back – once a relentless optimist, always one – but Angie in the tight pants clapped her hands abruptly.
‘Let’s get it together, people!’ she said as she strode past. ‘We need to put some money in the jar.’
Jared tugged the guitar strap over his shoulders. He looked even more like a renegade with that electric guitar slung low over his hips than he did riding his Ducati. He saw me looking and after a long moment, he blew me a kiss. My heart leapt, which just made me feel even more stupid.
Then he was gone, striding to the stage.
I needed some air.
The first chords of ‘Snow Goddess’ rang out as I got to the door of the club. It was an anthem, a love song, a call to fight for justice and love. It made my blood simmer and my heart thump.
Just like Jared did. With the touch of one fingertip, he’d left me jangled, my lips burning. I wondered whether he was confusing me on purpose.
How could he blow me off, then play that song? He could read people’s thoughts. He knew what I was thinking. He knew what I wanted.
And he’d deliberately done the opposite.
I made the mistake of glancing toward the stage. Then I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he played and sang. He was really enjoying himself, totally into it, and I understood that making music was what he’d been born to do. I listened to him, savoring how his voice seemed to resonate in the deepest part of my heart. I felt the power of his song enthrall the audience.
It certainly enchanted me.
I’d seen Mage spells before and I’d known that the Mages had wanted to recruit Jared once upon a time. I’d assumed it was because of some raw talent he had, and on this night I saw that it was true.<
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I shoved my hands into my pockets and found the ring. I pulled it out, saw that it was twinkling again, and on impulse, shoved it onto my finger. It was mine now. Why shouldn’t I wear it? To tell the truth, I wasn’t in the mood to think about repercussions from anything.
Suddenly, the scene before me changed. I could see the vibrations of Jared’s songs spiral into the air. They weren’t orange and binding like Mage spells. They weren’t yellow bolts of lightning like the weapons Kohana and the Thunderbirds threw.
They were spirals, bouncing and frolicking through the air. Plus there were little explosions in between the dancing spirals, like sunbursts. They were all different colors of light, as joyous as a rainbow. They reminded me of confetti and streamers, the kind that people throw from the deck of a ship in old movies as the ship pulls out from the dock.
As the spell light emanated from Jared’s throat and his guitar, it was cast over the crowd. It infected the mood in the club. Instead of being pressed together to listen, or just marking the beat, people started to dance. The pulse of the music slipped into our veins and took us all to the same rocking place. Most people weren’t drunk. We were just lost in the joy of the music.
It was wonderful.
I wondered whether that was how he mixed me up and turned me inside out. I wondered whether he was casting a spell on me. I couldn’t see that any of his spells targeted me, though. They were dancing around the crowd, cajoling people into dancing along. The crowd swayed, a few people sang, and the mood became festive.
Because of Jared’s spell.
At that point I remembered I’d intended to ask him about the book.
A bit late.
Had he steered the conversation deliberately, setting me off balance so I didn’t ask for the book? I didn’t want to think about it, but once I had the thought, it stuck. Was Jared manipulating me?
I needed to think, and do it away from Jared’s spell. I told Meagan I’d be back, and waited for her nod. I strode across the club, shoved the door open, and stepped into the night.
The thing was, I had a hard time believing that anything anybody said to Jared would stop him from doing whatever he wanted to do. He said he didn’t answer to anybody. Even Donovan couldn’t have that power over him. Donovan’s argument was just a convenient excuse for blowing me off.
But why? What else didn’t I know?
In the end, I can only blame my complete fixation on the problem of Jared for the fact that I missed the obvious. I should have been paying attention. I should have been using the keen Pyr senses I’d been born with instead of trying to figure out Jared Madison.
That’s how Kohana surprised me. I wasn’t looking for trouble, and so it – or he – found me.
Maybe he even guessed that I would be under Jared’s spell.
Maybe he was counting on it.
I was surprised when I stepped outside the club. The cold air was bracing, but I’d expected that. What I hadn’t anticipated was that there would be no one on the street.
I mean, not one living soul.
It was really cold, the sky inky black and the windows on every side dark. The only motion was a fistful of dry leaves blowing down the gutter. The pulse of music behind me sounded as if it was coming from another world.
It had been snowing when we arrived, but there was no snow now. Where had it gone?
I looked harder. I could have stepped into a cemetery, or a dead zone, which made no sense. It wasn’t that late, and although the club wasn’t in a fabulous area of town, there had been some other businesses in the vicinity.
Now every shop window was boarded up. Not as if businesses were closed for the night – as if they were closed for the duration.
Abandoned.
But we’d been in the club for only an hour.
The hair stood up on the back of my neck. What was going on? I looked down at my hand and guessed.
I tugged the ring off and the street looked as I had expected it to. Quiet, but not deserted. Pretty much as it had been when we’d arrived. Snow falling thickly all around. I couldn’t see the spells from Jared, but I could hear the music.
I shoved the ring over my knuckle again. Instantly, the desolate scene appeared.
This was way better than the eye game.
But it must be happening for a reason.
I was reassured to see the happy confetti of sound generated by Jared traveling out into the night. It was brilliant against the shadows.
But I also noticed now that orange spears of light were emerging. I recognized them as Mage binding spells. They were spilling out of sewers and manholes, from basement windows and vents, spreading into the night like a net. There were zillions of them, more with every passing second, and I had the sense that they were breeding. They trussed up the confetti spells and tossed them into the gutter. They would imprison anyone trapped within them. I’d watched them do that in the spring.
But now they were coming for me.
Suddenly, a raven cried far overhead. At least I thought it was a raven until I saw Kohana leap from the roof of the building across the street and spread his arms wide. I knew it couldn’t be anyone else but him. My Pyr sense of smell gave me that clue.
He shifted shape in midair, becoming a dark Thunderbird. I’d seen him in this form before and I knew he was fast. He gave a cry as he targeted me, his claws outspread and his eyes gleaming.
‘I knew you would come to him,’ Kohana cried. ‘I knew when I heard his music that you’d be here.’
It wasn’t a crazy assumption. Kohana had seen us together at boot camp.
I pivoted and tugged on the door of the club, but it had locked.
I looked up and saw Kohana closing in fast. He didn’t want to chat. I pulled at the door again in desperation, then pounded on it. The music ensured that no one heard me.
I was tempted to defy my dad’s edict, but he’d know I shifted and then he’d know where I was, and then there would be hell to pay on a number of levels. Exile wasn’t a tempting possibility for my future. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, so I made a quick decision.
I closed my eyes, summoned every scrap of Wyvern within me, and wished with all my heart to be someplace else.
Someplace safe.
I was immediately engulfed in the blue shimmer I knew so well, its light skimming over my skin like an electrical tide. I closed my eyes tightly against its brilliance just as I heard Kohana shout.
He didn’t sound happy, which I took as a good sign.
It was dark. Fuzzy. A bit stuffy.
I could hear the music, but it was muffled. I was hyperventilating but not shredded.
I’d take good news as it came.
I smelled a chocolate bar and felt a lipstick under one foot. The scent of a familiar perfume gave me an idea of where I was, but it wasn’t until I felt the case for her contacts that I knew my precise location.
In Isabelle’s purse.
Which meant that I’d changed to salamander form en route.
This spontaneous manifestation stuff still had a whiff of the random about it. When I forgot to concentrate or was tired, odd things happened. I mostly went where I wanted and became what I wanted to be, but every once in a while, stuff happened.
Like ending up in salamander form in Isabelle’s purse.
Really, if I was going to be in salamander form anywhere, I would have voted for being in Jared’s pocket. Although, given that he was onstage and being watched by several hundred people, that probably wouldn’t have been very discreet.
‘Where did Zoë go?’ Isabelle shouted at Meagan.
‘She said she’d be back in a minute. I thought she’d gone to the bathroom.’
Isabelle swore with an earthiness that made me blink. It does sound better with her accent, but I recognized that she was worried about me.
Which meant I had to get out of her purse, and do it without freaking anybody out.
There was really only one place to go.
I gnawed on her chocolate bar, which was a British Mars bar. They are so much better than anything we get here that I can hardly believe it. I took a beat to deeply appreciate Isabelle’s tendency to carry such things, then summoned the shimmer again.
It was both easier and harder the second time. The shimmer tends to be more biddable the more I call it, but the shift does kick my butt. Which is a long way of saying that I manifested off balance in human form, then fell into a whole bunch of gear backstage and created an avalanche.
It must have made quite a noise, because when I opened my eyes, Rick and Angie were glaring at me and the music had stopped. Behind the band, I could see members of the audience who’d followed them. Jared winked and offered me his hand, and I was glad to accept his help. Isabelle was behind them, looking both exasperated and relieved. Meagan was swiveling her head between the club and the backstage area, clearly trying to calculate how I had managed to get backstage without her seeing me.
‘Do us a favor, Jared,’ Angie said, her tone impatient. ‘Keep your girls away from the gear. The insurance doesn’t cover whatever they break.’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Jared said, his hand tightening over mine for a second. It felt good to have someone know that I wasn’t just being a pain, that I hadn’t had a lot of choice. And how sad was it that this teeny bit of attention from him fed my relentless optimism all over again?
The thing was that once again, I had the fleeting – and tempting – sense that Jared and I could make a good team.
Then I was on my feet and Jared gave my fingers a last squeeze, then was gone.
As if he barely knew me.
Business as usual. This was a guy who could seriously deal in mixed messages. I wasn’t sure what to think and I was starting to believe he wanted it that way.
‘I hope she’s worth it,’ Angie muttered as they walked back to the stage. ‘We’d better do another short set, to keep the crowd happy.’
Isabelle took one look at me and saw a whole lot more than I probably should have let her see. ‘Let’s head home,’ she said, all bustling responsibility. ‘It’s getting a bit late and I don’t want Meagan’s mom to be worried.’
Winging It Page 9
