Hot Spell

by Shiloh Walker

Moriah turned back to the men. “Please take a ten minute refreshment break while we complete the setup. Mr. Gerhard, did you bring the items we requested?”

  “Yes. I left them with the receptionist.”

  A smile blossomed. “Thank you.”

  She turned to the Senior Partners. “If I might, I need to speak to you privately, sirs.”

  As they stepped out into the hall, a tall black gangly man rushed up and passed Moriah the requested cup of coffee. She wrapped her hands around the steaming mug and took a tentative sip. “Ah! That’s the real thing! Thank you, Roddy.”

  “You are welcome, Mo.” He settled his thick-lensed glasses on his nose in a habitual move. “And we are set, whenever you give the word.”

  “Wonderful. Did you pick up the computers left with the receptionist?”

  The man slanted an admonitory look at her. “Didn’t I just say everything is ready?”

  She made an apologetic moue. “So you did. Thank you, again.”

  He flipped a jaunty salute before turning to make his way back down the hall.

  Reginald Jonathans, the most senior partner, cleared his throat. “What was it you needed to speak with us about, Miss Morris?”

  Moriah looked at him, smothering the desire to smirk. The pompous ass thought every word out of his mouth so important he had to introduce them with a throat clearance. She straightened her shoulders and renewed her resolve. Patricia had asked her to get them a raise. She planned to do better than that.

  “I want a partnership. And I want one of those four billion dollars Micronsoft and Norton are offering.”

  Chapter Four

  Tuesday, October 26, 12:47 p. m. (Northerlands time)

  Across the International date line.

  “Listen up, bone head! I’m not going to the Northwest Coast. There are three more Districts I have to check out here in the Northerlands.” Without giving the caller a chance to respond, Wylder flipped his cell phone closed, disconnecting the call. Picking up his fork, he recommenced his meal, groaning in epicurean delight as a bite of tender veal melted on his tongue. Cleansing his palate with a swallow of Vigne’s celebrated red wine, he speared a couple of braised mushrooms in butter sauce.

  Ah! Exquisite flavor.

  He didn’t give a damn about the Council’s public obligations. He only had seven days left to find his Lady. No way in hell was he interrupting his search just to pull their bacon out of the fire. If he hadn’t almost passed out from hunger earlier today, he wouldn’t have even stopped for this meal. Let someone else go. As soon as he finished eating, he would hit the streets again, checking a few spots he had overlooked the first time he searched.

  He cursed when his personal communicator rang again. He ignored it. The council had to learn that when he said no, he meant no.

  It rang again. He managed to ignore it.

  The next time it rang, he turned the phone off.

  When the damned phone rang again, glowing with the insignia of the Council’s Sigil, he blasted the thing with a bolt of hot energy and dropped it, smoking, into his water glass. Grinning as he did so, he mimicked the phone recording that he most hated hearing. “The mobile customer you are attempting to contact is not available. Please try your call again later.”

  Halfway through his meal, just as he lifted a forkful of penne pasta with pesto to his mouth, a form sparkled into being on the chair across from him. With an exasperated sigh, he shoved the bite in his mouth and chewed angrily, determined to finish this meal.

  “We’ve had a formal request from the San Francisco S.W.A.T. for an expert consultant to confer with them about an out-of-control Salamander.”

  “Well, hell!” Mouth twisting in a moue of disgust, Wylder threw down his utensils. “I am really trying not to give in to anger, here, Judith, but this is the first meal I’ve stopped for in two days. You’re ruining it.”

  Wiping his mouth on his napkin, he ignored his empty glass to reach for the nearly full wine bottle sitting on the table. Tipping the bottle back, he took several hefty swigs before slamming the bottle down. Settling back in his chair, he glared at the Council representative seated across from him. “How dare you hologram me?”

  “You hung up on us.”

  “Duh, Sherlock!”

  “You ignored our subsequent calls.”

  He widened his eyes. “No! Did I do that?”

  “Then something happened to your phone and we could not get through at all.”

  He pointed to his water glass, indicating the floating phone. “And that should have told you …?”

  “It told me you were being your normal, arrogant pain in the ass.” Her lips tightened and she turned her head to the side, addressing someone out of his range of vision. “He’s destroyed the phone. Wasn’t that Council property? I say fine his ass and take the actual cost out of his pay, as well.”

  He kissed the air. “I love you, too.”

  She turned back to him, a sober look on her face. “I no longer love you.”

  “Thank the goddess! Because, honestly, about that ‘I love you’…? I was joking, just so there is NO confusion.” Wylder saluted her with the bottle before taking another swig. “See, in the heat of the moment, back there at Council Headquarters, I forgot to qualify my boon. I’ve been terrified ever since that you’d demand I fuck you or something and I don’t do mated women.”

  Judith shook her head, a wry smile twisting her mouth. “There are two very good advantages to being married and mated with Lemuel. The first is that as a shifter, he can shift everything.” She leaned close, waggling her eyebrows. “I’m talking any size I want, here—impressive, fulfilling, satisfying size.” Sighing, she sat back. “The second thing is that Lemuel really, honest-to-the-goddess loves me. He knows all my faults, my past and my ego. And he doesn’t care about any of that. Well…” she glanced up at Wylder with a diffident expression, “he knows we’ve been lovers. He does care about that.”

  He straightened up in his chair. “No wonder the poor schmuck hates me. Damn it, Judith, we were together in the ancient past. Why did you go and tell him something like that?”

  “Because before we married, he came to me and promised to forgive everything I revealed to him at that time, to throw a blanket of pardon over all my sins.” Her lips turned up in a soft smile. “He offered me redemption when I needed it most, Wylder. I love him for that and a hundred other reasons. I even love that he acts jealous of you when there’s no reason. He honestly believes no man, having once had me, could endure not having me again. In his eyes, I am irresistible. Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Saccharine.” Wylder grimaced. “Listen, Judith, we committed no sin because neither of us were mated or promised when we fucked each other. So why in blue hells did you have to tell Little Mule anything about us? I’ve endured years of sniping because you bloody well couldn’t keep your trap shut.”

  “I don’t like you calling him that name,” she snapped, banging her fist on the table. “You better not do it again. And while we’re at it…the next time you manhandle my mate, I’m going to take a bloody chunk out of your raw hide, or die trying.”

  “Done! I shall never call him by that name again.” He laughed, thankful his impulsive promise had proven this easy to discharge. “Thanks for being your normal ditzy self and wasting your boon on such an asinine command.”

  “What? Wait! That’s not fair, Wylder! You can’t hold me to that. I demand another favor.” She pouted, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

  Wylder sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, looking up past the ceiling. “Lord? Lady? Help me out, here,” he pleaded, recalling why he had never been interested in more than a quick fling with Judith. She might burn up the sheets, but her wit had always left much to be desired. He needed more from a woman than good sex. He needed a woman who cared and thought about others, who reached out when she saw a need…

  “The ritual bath is really to ensure the candidate that the chosen male is clean. I do not doubt your
cleanliness, but offer my service as a thank you. I wish to soothe and pamper and relax the man who is kindly lending his body for the use of a woman he knows little of. Come, Ethan, and allow me to bathe you…”

  He glanced down in chagrin, unable to subdue his lusting cock. The hard, ready erection stood defiantly rampant, the broad, mushroom-head ruddy with blood, slippery with the first drops of pre-cum. “Your hands on me may prove too much for my self control.”

  “Let us prepare each other. I fear your sword is over-long for my sheath. I will need to be well lubricated if I am to impale myself on your blade, bold sir. We need to lesson your girth. Let me draw off some of this fullness.”

  Gods, the feel of her soft mouth encasing his hardness, of her fingers tenderly tracing the throbbing veins of his shaft, of her lips, wrapping around his sensitive head, scorching him with pressure and heat…

  “Did you hear me, Wylder?”

  He blinked. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he fought the anger welling in him, resenting her interference. He hated she snatched him away from his memories. They were all that he had left of his absent mate. “No, Judith, I didn’t hear you.”

  “I don’t see how you can claim a simple request for politeness as the usage of my boon. You have no business calling Lemuel by those horrid names, and you know it. I want my boon back. I shall never forgive you if you don’t give it back.”

  He sighed. “Judith, take your boon back, and be damned to you. My dinner is cold and inedible. My patience is worn thin. Just tell me what the Council wants and leave me the hell alone.”

  “Well!” she huffed. “Hologramming is not easy, you know. I am expending magick and energy to bring you an important message and this is the thanks I get!”

  “I’m sorry, all right? I am sorry you came. The sooner you report, the sooner you can leave. Now, spit it out.”

  “You need to go to San Francisco.”

  “No.” He picked up his fork and speared a chunk of meat.

  “Yes. Go right now, Wylder. In fact, leave immediately.”

  Huffing in exasperation, he flung the fork back down where it clattered dangerously against the costly porcelain plate. “Judith, I know you have difficulty understanding the simplest phrases so I want you to listen very carefully. When one puts ‘N’ and ‘O’ together, it means—”

  “It means you better hop your arrogant, insulting ass on the fastest transport headed to the West Coast because your busted-up magick will not let you teleport instantaneously.”

  Wylder blinked. He had never seen Judith so worked up. He eyed her warily; hoping someone on the other side monitored her status. It looked to him as if she might have a seizure of some type. “You don’t need to go there—”

  “Shut up. I’m not finished.” She ticked points off her fingers. “It means you leave today, right now, because it will take at least a day to arrive. It means you report to the San Francisco Police Department S.W.A.T. Division because they have identified the magick signature of that wild Salamander. And it is yours.” She leaned back in her chair and smirked at him. “It means we now have a location for your missing—!”

  Wylder burst through the doors of the restaurant. With a jubilant laugh, he ignored Judith’s projected sputtering, “Humph! Well, damn it! Go ahead, Wylder. Just run off and leave me with your friggin’ check! This restaurant had better take credit, cause a hologram sure the hell can’t hand over any money!”

  *****

  “Have you lost your damned mind, young woman?”

  “No, I don’t think so, Mr. Athencrombie.”

  “So you think you can swivel your sexy hips and we will just hand over a billion dollars?” The second senior partner of Jonathans, Athencrombie and Athemay: Superior Spells and Cogent Conjurations snarled at her, hands fisted, pumping the air, his normal aplomb shattered by her unexpected bombshell.

  “On the contrary, I think you will pay me a billion dollars because I am worth it, have earned it, and will take my invention elsewhere if you do not.”

  “Elsewhere…how dare you threaten us?” Jonathans and Athencrombie sputtered in unison. Behind their backs, gentle Mr. Athemay smiled fleetingly, averting his head.

  “No threat, gentlemen. My personal work does not belong to this firm. I am fully prepared and legally capable of taking it elsewhere.”

  “You have a contract, you sluttish industry pirate. If you attempt to break it, we will drag you through the courts for the rest of your life.”

  Moriah sucked in her bottom lip, trying and failing to hold back her anger. She raised a finger, wishing she were crass enough for it to be the middle one. “You know, I am getting tired of your insults. One more and I will increase my demand to two billion dollars.”

  “Two billion—! Why, that’s highway robbery. We won’t pay it.”

  She took a deep breath. “That will be your choice, sir. My loyalty to this firm is the only reason I offered you first refusal. I will take my invention to Micronsoft and Norton as a personal venture and sell them the process outright. I am sure they will be willing to pay me the four billion dollars on the table in negotiations right now.”

  “Some loyalty,” Jonathans huffed. “I repeat, you have a contract with our firm. We will hold you to it.”

  Moriah laughed. “You may certainly try. I don’t have a contract with this firm. There is nothing in print regarding any ideas or inventions I develop while working here. And the reason there is no contract, Mr. Jonathans and Mr. Athencrombie is because I was not hired by this firm as the head of R & D.”

  “What?”

  “Why, that is preposterous.”

  “I agree. Your chief developer quit when you wouldn’t allow him time off for his honeymoon, leaving his lowly assistant—me—to hold down the fort. I spoke with Mr. Athemay five months ago, telling him I had been covering the position for over a month and felt I deserved a raise.”

  The other two men turned to glare at Athemay.

  “William, don’t look at me like that! I came to both of you and told you the assistant had asked for a raise. You both voted to make her prove her right to hold the position.”

  “Athemay, you are a damn fool. Why didn’t you inform us the head of the department had quit?”

  “I did. At the same time, I told you Miss Morris was doing an excellent job and advised we confirm her in the position and draw up a new contract. Both of you vetoed that suggestion. You said having a woman in that position wouldn’t look good for the firm. I believe your final comment had something to do with making more profit by keeping her acting as head and paying her less. By our own folly, we left Miss Morris a free agent.”

  A sick expression contorted Athencrombie’s features as he recalled the conversation and he cleared his throat. Jonathans pursed his lip, obviously trying to think of a way around the situation.

  Moriah glanced at her watch. “In a moment, the representatives from Micronsoft and Norton are going to start getting antsy. At that point, I am going to rescind my offer to broker my invention through this firm. I have been patient and more than fair with you. What is your answer?”

  “There will be no partnership, Missy.”

  “Fine. I don’t really want to work with you, anyway. However, in lieu of the position, I will require an additional half billion dollars.”

  “Now see here—!”

  “No! You see here. No part of my request is open to negotiation. By the goddess! You guys are like Scrooge before the ghosts’ visit—stingy and crotchety and totally unaware of what is going on in the real world.” She smiled over at the most junior senior partner. “Mr. Athemay exempted, of course.”

  “That is a pretty speech, but it does not mean a hill of beans. We shall simply seize all the notes and information which rightly belongs to this firm. After all, you worked on this project on company time.”

  Moriah started shaking her head before he could finish. “Sorry, Mr. Jonathans, but that isn’t true. Mr. Athencrombie tabled this project before I
came on board, in favor of working on the problem of spell aphids in the Duchess of Chicago’s prized rose garden. I discovered the proposal in the archives and found it intriguing. Mr. Breen gave me permission to tinker with it, provided I did not waste company time on it.”

  The corner of Moriah’s lips twitched as she watched them struggle with the inevitable. Jonathans looked like he wanted to throttle her. Athencrombie’s face burned bright red with anger. Recalling how they had treated her, her lips tightened and she steadied her resolve. Giving in to the devilish imp riding her shoulder, she decided to twist the knife in their wounds.

  “The only part of this project your firm is entitled to is the information I have already shared in the conference room. My part of this project is already patented and held solely in my name. The magick twined throughout this software spell prevents even a knowledgeable practitioner from extrapolating by reverse process how the basic program is structured.”

  Hearing that bit of information, the two men’s shoulders slumped. Behind their backs, Athemay clapped silently and gave her the thumbs up sign for victory.

  The two senior-most partners did not know it, but they owed her offer to the kindness of the gentle Mr. Athemay. If not for his fairness and attempts at getting her the raise she deserved, she would have taken her discovery and sold it on the open market.

  Jonathans and Athencrombie looked so dejected she couldn’t stand it. Sighing in disgust, she wished she could be a total hard-ass and really make them suffer. Another look at their hangdog faces had her accepting she simply did not have it in her to be Super Bitch. Damn it, anyway.

  “Look, come watch the demonstration. At the end, you can inform the two companies that more money will be required. I promise you, they may howl, but they will come to the table.” She paused and then, after a moment’s thought added, “I will license the process to you for a certain amount of time, after which, it will revert back to me. You’ll have earned more money than the company ever has before, and Jonathans, Athencrombie and Athemay: Superior Spells and Cogent Conjurations will forever have the cachet of being the company that released the major industrial computing innovation of the twenty-first century.”