by Shona Husk
“Can you guess what I’m about to do?” She walked toward him.
“Um.” No, but he could think of a few things he wouldn’t mind happening. He shifted his weight and remembered that pretty much everything hurt and the doctors were still concerned about the swelling around his spine even though it had vanished. The ability to heal was useful, and he’d used it several times when doing stunt training. Hell, he’d used magic too, being able to control air was very handy. Of all the elements, it had to be the most useful. In his magic, he was the same as his father. They both used air. That was the only thing they had in common. “No. What about you? Are you able to guess the future?”
Would she admit to being Albah? He could almost feel the magic between them, a certain static, or a sizzle on his skin that made it hard to look away from her. Or had it been that long since he’d actually felt real lust, not something manufactured for the media, that he couldn’t tell the difference between desire and magic?
The corner of her lips quirked up. “I have pretty good gut instinct.” She pulled out a marker. “I think you know what to do with this.”
“You want me to sign your cast?” Or she wanted his number. He glanced at her arm and smiled, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to give her his number. He didn’t need this and didn’t have time for it, but that didn’t stop him from wanting.
“Yeah. Otherwise no one will believe I met you in hospital.”
“There’s pictures to prove it happened.” And they would end up everywhere.
She held his gaze. “I don’t care about the pictures.”
He was stalling. He’d sent her flowers and come down hoping to see her again before she made her escape. Either he wanted to see her again or he didn’t. He shouldn’t. That had never stopped him. “You might when they come out.”
His life was far more exciting on paper than it was in real life. These days any woman he touched was his new lover. If he was really lucky, they were secretly engaged.
“You care about what is written about you,” she said with just a little too much certainty.
He tried not to care, but some of the lies cut.
“I care about the lack of privacy.” He had to be careful. It was lucky that air magic was largely invisible. If he’d had earth like his youngest half brother it would’ve been tough to explain the rupturing of the track or the collapse of the wall so that he survived. It was lucky that most people didn’t search for magic when they tried to explain away something odd happening.
The Guardians of Adam did, and they hadn’t vanished over the last two hundred years. They were still hunting Albah. He hoped living in the spotlight was enough to keep him safe. His stomach turned as that weightless sensation returned.
“Are you all right? You went a bit pale.” Alina was next to him as though she expected him to topple over.
“Fine, pain spasm.” He leaned against the wall.
“Have a seat.”
“No, I just stopped by to make sure you weren’t freaking out and to apologize.” That was all. He didn’t want her number. If a Guardian had tampered with his car somehow—and they loved to tamper with cars and set homes on fire so Albah deaths looked like accidents—he didn’t want to be getting other people tangled up in his problem.
She held out her cast. “Sign it and we’re even.”
He smiled. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. He liked that. Alina would be fun to be seen with. She’d be fun to be with. “Do you live in L.A.?”
He knew almost nothing about her, but wasn’t that the point of dating?
“Yeah…hoping to look me up when you get out?” The silver in her eyes gleamed.
There shouldn’t be silver in her eyes. Beneath the red hair dye maybe she was actually blond, but that didn’t explain the lack of curl in her ears. If she knew what he was, she hadn’t brought it up, and he couldn’t bring it up in case she wasn’t. This was already too hard, but he wanted to know. Needed to know. His curiosity was going to get the better of him. He didn’t need to see the future to know that. He smiled. “And if I was?”
She held out her other hand, palm up. “Then you should write your number down.”
Chapter 4
Alina’s mother was well into her rant. “What do you mean you just ran into him? You were supposed to be resting, not running around the hospital chasing after men. A man with a reputation of an alley cat. And he’s nearly ten years older than you.” Nothing short of rear-ending the car in front would stop it now.
Alina stared out the car window and tuned out. It was nothing new, just recycled bits of previous lectures reformatted and spat out as something new. It had been personalized a little, after all her mother had made the effort to learn who Finley Ryder was. Alina tugged her sleeve down to hide his signature on her cast. She wouldn’t be able to keep that hidden for long. His number had already been added to her phone, but she kept her palm with the faded numbers turned away from her mother.
“If you’re well enough to run around the hospital, you’re well enough to skate.”
“No. I can’t risk falling and dislodging the pins.” Or something like that. She was sure the doctor had said she needed a few weeks’ rest before even doing some basic conditioning work. She didn’t want to get back on the ice. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted back on the ice. She certainly didn’t want the increased training load in the lead up to the next championships. Then there would be the selections for the nationals. Did she really want to represent the country again? Compete again?
If the doctor had said she could never skate again she wouldn’t have shed a tear. The decision would’ve been made for her and she would’ve been grateful that her mother would be able to berate someone else. Which she would. Alina couldn’t face that conversation. What she had once loved had become a thorn in her foot. Every step hurt, but her mother wouldn’t let her stop and pick it out.
So she had to keep going even though she wanted to stop, sit and try to figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life. It wasn’t going to be competitive skating, that much she knew. How did she tell her mother that, when her mother would launch into track two, don’t you know how much I’ve sacrificed for you?
Her mother was still talking. Now she was on to skating and how they had to start thinking of the nationals and that Alina really needed to get on the podium because it had been too long. And if she didn’t make it this year then it was going to be even harder next year. She wasn’t getting any younger. Her mother’s voice had become animated, almost frantic, as if she could see all medals being snatched out of her hands by younger, better skaters.
“Mom, just stop!”
Silence swallowed the car.
Alina breathed out carefully. “You’re right. It has been too long and I am getting older. Maybe I’m done.”
“Done? After all the time and energy we’ve put in?” Her mother took her eyes off the road for a moment. Her roots needed touching up as the blond was starting to show beneath the brown.
Before her mother could get going on the new topic Alina cut her off. “Yeah, done.”
“You aren’t quitting just because you’ve fallen over some slutty soapie star.”
Count to three. Breathe. “It has nothing to do with him. I was thinking about quitting before the accident.”
“You created the accident out of negative thoughts.”
If her mother knew she’d been trying out tricks on a skateboard there would be hell to pay. Her mother thought it was a skating accident, it was lie that Alina was happy to keep in place. Skateboarding was fun, and while she didn’t have the same affinity on four wheels as she did on two blades it was hers. She could try and fail or succeed with no pressure. No one cared and as long as she was having fun that was all that mattered. She was allowed to have fun, wasn’t she?
More importantly skateboarding was somethin
g her mother couldn’t interfere with or take over. It was hers and hers alone.
“Pretty sure Finley didn’t drive the car into the wall because he was having bad thoughts.” She didn’t share her mother’s belief about negative, or positive, thinking.
“Finley was probably going too fast and not giving a damn about anyone else. He’ll spit you out when he’s done. I’ve read about him and I know his type.”
“You’re assuming that something is happening.” Alina was going to call him as soon as they got home. Well, maybe tomorrow. She didn’t want to seem too desperate. But a fling with Finley while she wasn’t skating seemed the perfect way to have fun and piss her mother off at the same time.
“You seemed very friendly in the photos.” There was that wounded and left-out tone. Her mother hated to be in the dark.
“Next you’ll be believing that we’re secretly engaged.” Alina returned to staring out the window.
Her mother was silent for a few heartbeats. “Just how long have you been seeing him?”
Alina snapped her attention back to her mother. Was she really believing the headlines? “Seriously? We just met. Literally ran into each other and had coffee. I’m not a kid. You can’t run my life.”
“I’m your manager.”
Alina pressed her lips together. Her blood was simmering. She picked up her water bottle to have a sip only to find that it was boiling, not cool. It had obviously been sitting in the sun in the car. She winced and put her bottle down.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She didn’t want a lecture about not controlling her emotions. “If I quit, then I don’t need a manager.” She glanced at her mother.
Her mother gasped. “But we’re a team. I have dedicated my life to making sure you succeed.”
For me or for you?
She’d seen the pictures of her mother as a kid skating, but she also knew that her mother’s parents hadn’t had the money for her to progress. How much of her life was her mother’s dream and how much was hers? She didn’t know because for so long she’d believed that all she’d wanted was medals and glory. She had the medals, but success hadn’t filled her. Something was missing from her life.
She was sure it wasn’t Finley, but she wouldn’t mind messing around to be certain.
* * * *
Finley got out of the town car that had been sent to collect him. The producer must still be feeling a little bad about almost having their star die. Finley hadn’t realized that the man had a heart. He made his way up to his apartment, his muscles now only tired from lack of use, instead of aching from the accident. He was weak from doing nothing for too long. He’d have to ease back into his workout routine and pray there were no shirtless scenes coming up.
If not for magic, he’d still be in a hospital bed. He was going to have to thank Julian for talking him through the best way to heal his back. This whole thing had also made him realize how little he worked on his magic these days. He didn’t practice enough to do anything more than basics. If he’d been more skilled, he might’ve been able to make it look like the car lost control for a moment, instead of crashing. He could’ve stopped the crash from happening at all and saved himself the hospital visit.
Bright orange flowers and a white stuffed bear were propped against his door. The hallway was empty. With a sweep of his hand and a push of air the unwanted presents went tumbling down the corridor. It took more effort than it should have. Before he opened his apartment door, he checked to make sure that the wards that protected his place were still intact.
No one had gotten in, but someone had still found out where he lived. His super fan had stepped it up a level. This was now stalking. The skin on the back of his neck prickled and a shiver ran down his spine. He glanced over his shoulder even though he knew he was alone. The other side of his floor was taken up by an apartment that belonged to a retired couple who lived there about six months out of the year. The building had a doorman and security. No one should’ve been able to get in this far, and he couldn’t ward the whole building.
He didn’t really want to move.
He didn’t want the hassle of having a house instead of an apartment, even though he could ward a house better. Houses required more attention and maintenance than he was willing to put in. He liked this apartment building. It had a good feel. However, now that he was finally home and he could relax, he didn’t want to be here.
What had started as gifts being left on location for him had escalated. He’d received messages through his social media, all of which he’d taken screen shots of. Some had been nice, if a little weird in asking how he got so many women. Others had been a little more troubling, suggesting that he was being greedy and should die.
He still had to talk to his father about that one, but he was sure that his dad would tell him to report it to the cops over here, as there was nothing he could do from Australia. He and his father spoke only when they had to. He didn’t want to get sucked back into Albah drama.
He couldn’t leave the gifts there. He walked down the hallway to pick them up and toss them, but stopped with his hand only inches from the bear. A note was pinned to the bear. He used the toe of his trainer to flip over the note. He hoped it was blank.
You should be dead.
The bold black words stared at him. This wasn’t from a fan.
Cold sweat formed and trickled down his ribs, while his heartbeat raced.
He took a step back.
The stalker knew where he lived, not just the building but the floor and number. He stared at the words. Did they also know what he was? Or were they simply stating what every media outlet had also said?
He should be dead. A human would be dead.
He swallowed. Julian and his girlfriend had almost been killed by a Guardian of Adam, but he’d thought he’d be safe. He was always in public. His death would be noted.
Unless his car hit a wall and he died in a horrible accident.
Guardians loved car accidents and fires.
He turned on his heel and went into his apartment. After he’d sent the air currents through every room and hiding place and he was sure he was alone, he locked the door and leaned against it.
Using too much magic drained him. He really needed to practice more. He needed to stop his stalker before something happened and he was dead.
Thing was, it could be anyone. Even Alina.
Chapter 5
Tomorrow Finley had to be back on set. No doubt the writers were happy they didn’t have to work in a short-notice injury or death. TV shows ran to tight deadlines and he’d already screwed them up. Not that anyone was telling him that directly. However, he’d been told there would be no more driving in his near future. The driving was the fun part.
Some days he regretted taking the leap from stuntman to actor. Sure, it had been nice to get noticed at first. Now, he was getting too much attention. The pay was better, but that didn’t always make up for the lack of fun.
Now there would be no fun.
Maybe he’d been having too much fun, and it was time to slow down and be more careful. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he was ready to get back on the track anyway. The first time he’d driven his car he’d sat for a moment before being able to start it. He’d stuck a few miles below the speed limit for the first time in his life.
He’d been assured some kind of mechanical failure had caused the crash. Finley wanted to believe that. That was the easy option, the most likely option. But it didn’t quell the lingering doubt that someone had messed with the car and wanted him dead.
Would a stalker who hated him go that far? His father would say talk to the cops, but he doubted the cops would do anything. Fans sending presents weren’t a high priority.
He was still going to have to call his father. He had nearly died, and while things were tense between them, a phone call was t
he least he could do. And maybe Dad would have some other ideas about what to do. What he needed was an Albah cop who would take him seriously. What if it wasn’t a regular stalker, but a Guardian? Guardians didn’t tend to send hate mail before attempting murder.
Nah, it had to be some jealous twit. He was not going to start worrying. After all, if the Guardians wanted him, there was nothing he could do to stop them. All he could do was fight back when the time came. And be more careful with his car. He needed to take the time to ward it to prevent tampering.
His apartment was empty, just him, the furniture and the pile of dirty laundry turning into a sentient creature after being there since before the accident. Maybe it would take itself to the laundry.
Yeah, he was living the high life all right. Life of the goddamn party.
Finley opened his second beer for the night and tried to psych himself up to call his father. It would be morning for his father. If Finley stalled for too long, his father would’ve left for work. He watched the clock as he drank. He made his way through half the bottle before he was ready to even try. Part of him hoped that his father was already at work, and that he’d stalled too long. Then he could brush this aside and move on until the next thing happened.
He checked the time difference again and then made the call.
His luck ran out and his father answered. “Fin!”
“Dad.” They spoke on birthdays and Christmas or when there was an emergency. He couldn’t be what his father wanted, so it was easier to not speak to him and hear the disappointment.
“How are you feeling? After Jules told me, I watched the news online. You were so lucky,” his father said in a wounded tone.
Finley winced. He should’ve called him instead of leaving it up to Julian, or hoping Julian would say nothing. Of course Julian had told. He was such a do-gooder. He’d be a great leader when their father stepped down.
