by Lauren Dane
“She can’t possibly be coming back early. William has to be more attractive than anything she could find here. William in swim trunks. Yum!”
He rolled his eyes. “I had to call her about this New Mexico stuff. I take it your mother spoke with you?”
“Yes, that’s why I’m here. It could have waited until Monday, you know. Nell’s only going to obsess about it now.”
“I know. But she made me promise to call if anything unusual came up. I found a way around it for the investigation at this club. That’s not new.” He shrugged and Meriel laughed, delighted.
“I love the way you two are together. You keep her in line.”
“William told me marrying Nell was like getting me too. But then he confessed that he was glad because it would take more than one person to keep her in line. He said as long as I had no designs on the parts he liked to keep in line we were good.”
Meriel always had wondered why Gage and Nell hadn’t hooked up. But she imagined it was one of those great, totally non-romantic partnerships. They teased, but there wasn’t an ounce of sexual tension between them.
“He’s a smart man.” She held up the file. “So what do you know about New Mexico?”
“I spoke with the person who called your mother. They don’t have a clan organization so no law enforcement to speak of. No investigative team. They’re not going to bring in anyone else. I did offer,” he added at her questioning look before continuing. “Missing witches. No real connection they know of. But there’s too much they don’t know for me to be really comfortable with the situation.”
“We need to be sure we’re keeping a good eye on everyone. Even the outclan.” This would make her mother insanely angry, but just because those witches didn’t want to join the clan didn’t mean the clan should simply leave them without any protection. They used the font. They obeyed the clan rules. They deserved some benefit.
“I agree. We have something in place, as you know. But I think it can be stepped up. I’m going to work with section five to see if we can’t monitor through the font. You know, see who is taking and filling. Look for gaps.”
The font was the collective energy bank for the clan. All witches within it were keyed in so that their magickal energy should be part of it, if not every day, at least several times a week. An absence could be detected; she just didn’t know how hard it would be to do it.
“Good. That’s a good idea. They’ll tell you if it can be done or not. Keep me apprised. I’ve been named the point person on this.”
Gage’s brows went up a bit.
“I know, I’m surprised too.” She couldn’t very well say she was shocked her mother had let go of the power. Her mother had a way of hearing lots of things. Most likely, her mother thought this was all bullshit so it was fine to give it to Meriel, who’d also end up with a reality check that would smack the notion of working with other witches and protecting against external threats by banding together right out of her head.
Ha. Edwina had no idea. None. Which bugged Meriel. For heaven’s sake, she was Edwina’s child—canny and strong willed, just like her mother. The future didn’t involve this continued self-segregation and her mother could pretend Meriel didn’t know any better or that she was naïve, but they both knew that wasn’t true.
“Totally hypothetical question here. Do you think this might be connected to the situation in Minnesota? With the mages?”
A witch had been found nearly dead and had recounted a horrifying tale of being kidnapped by a group of mages who’d spent days siphoning her power. She had only been able to escape when she’d managed to grab back enough of her magickal power to siphon the air from the room and the mages had passed out. She’d crawled nearly a mile before someone found her and took her to the hospital. By the time the police had arrived at the house, everyone had gone.
The human authorities were looking for human monsters. Human monsters could be taken down. But mages were not human, and they had no code of ethics like witches. No, they stole power and magick to twist it and use it like a drug.
And what if they’d decided to hunt witches for that drug?
BY the time she’d made ready to leave for the day, the sun was down. She’d had plans to duck out early but of course that hadn’t worked out. As it was, she still had the opportunity to stop at the little boutique just down the street from her apartment building. She wanted something new for that night. Wanted to find an outfit suitable for club wear.
Her phone was ringing when she came out from her bathroom and she ran to grab it. It had been Gage’s mother, Shelley, calling from his house where he was currently suffering the throes of food poisoning. She’d assured Meriel that Gage would be fine by morning, but there was no way he’d be accompanying her that evening.
Meriel had almost felt sorry for him as he’d attempted to order her to wait until the following night and she’d refused, promising to be safe and check in the following day before telling him to get well and hanging up.
She’d made the choice to go and, she thought as she put in her earrings, that was that. It hadn’t simply been a matter of their font being stolen from. It had been bigger.
No spiky-heeled sandals that night. She needed to be able to move easily and quickly. So she opted for her cowboy boots. Thankfully they went well with the outfit she’d picked up.
The skirt was a little shorter than she usually went for, but it wasn’t so short she’d be in danger of showing any of her bits. And the shirt was snug and a little stretchy; the sequins accenting it here and there would catch the light. Feminine. Sexy. And it all emphasized her best parts and hid her worst.
In the garage she looked at what she’d picked up two days before. Nell’s car. Nell’s beautiful, cherry-red classic 1967 Camaro. All shiny and powerful.
Her own car was nice enough and all, but this, well, this was part of the whole night. Unexpected like the short skirt and this mission she went on. Silly, but it was thrilling all the same.
She traveled across the lake toward Seattle, feeling as if there was a reason she felt nearly driven to do it. Though Meriel was as rational and logical as they came, she still believed in following her gut. Her gut was where her magick lived and it wanted her at that club tonight.
There were no reasons to expect a violent response from Bright. He’d been peaceable since he’d arrived in Owen territory, though still a thief. He had to quit that, of course. And the opportunity to do something so unexpected—to act on behalf of her clan with this witch to make him stop—well, that excited her.
It could wait, of course, for the next night, or the next week for that matter. Restlessness had settled into her bones over the last year. Before that she’d been pretty much single-minded with her studies and her job.
Ambition came to her naturally. Her foremothers had created Clan Owen from nothing and built it into one of the most powerful organizations in the world. Meriel accepted that the blood of these women ran in her veins for a reason and that she was supposed to use every gift she’d been given to protect and serve her people.
From infancy there had been one path and she greeted that with joy and a sense of duty. But things were changing. The older and more experienced she got, the more the witches in Clan Owen expected her to lead and many had begun to look to her first, before Edwina, and that had created a rift. Most though weren’t sure she could be as brutal and ruthless as Edwina. So she’d have to show them. But in her own way.
For the first time in her life it was hard to wait for what was next. She wanted to go out and greet it. Wanted to make things happen. Wanted to see what this heady sense of expectancy was all about.
She supposed at this point in a full-council witch’s life, it was about finding her bond-mate to finally ascend to her full power. She was in limbo until that happened. Until a full-council witch performed the ascension spell with her bond-mate, she wouldn’t achieve her full power and take her seat on the ruling council of the clan.
It wasn
’t so much that Meriel was aching to find her bond-mate. It was more than the magickal ascension, though she did want that very much, it was a lack of soul-connection. It had only gotten worse once she’d seen Nell with her new husband, had seen love in her best friend’s eyes.
Things were about to change. She could feel it.
DOMINIC tucked his shirt into his jeans and gave himself one last look in the mirror on the back of his office door. He had a to-do list as long as his arm and the sense of impending something lay heavily in his gut.
He hated that. He didn’t want this special-sense thing. He liked his gifts well enough, but it was just fine with him to be an ordinary guy with a little bit of magick. He didn’t want foresight. Tom, the closest thing Dominic had to a father and the man who deserved the credit as one, got on his case for being a slacker and not living up to his full potential. That’s what fathers did, Dominic knew. But he had a successful bar, didn’t he? Was he not giving a place to go to both Others and humans alike? It wasn’t like he was still living on the edge the way he had those years before. No probation officer. He was a businessman now. No more running from bill collectors. Hell, he even had employees. As far as Dominic was concerned, he was a useful member of society and Tom should be satisfied with that.
It wasn’t so much that he never used his magick. Just that he used it the way he wanted to. This whole clan business, having to be a member and obey rules, none of that was his scene. He didn’t need to be told what to do. Not by anyone.
After finally growing tired of the violence and hand-to-mouth nature of the lifestyle he’d lived for the early part of his twenties, he’d landed in New York City where he’d learned how to run a business. When he’d saved for a few years, he’d come back home to the Northwest.
He’d made something of all that energy and ambition. He took an empty space and with some magick, okay some borrowed energy too, had created Heart of Darkness. At first glance it was an industrial nightclub but through an arch, hidden to non-magickal eyes, was the spot for Others in Seattle. Part café, part bar.
The place was packed every night and as Simon pointed out just that day over lunch, they were bound to get a visit from some clan witches very soon. There was no way word of the place hadn’t reached them and there’d be a bill come due from using their precious font. Even an outclan witch like him knew he was breaking their laws by using their magick without being keyed in. Until then though, he’d continue to do so because he needed to and they couldn’t possibly have a use for all that spare power.
And because he still liked to play on the edge.
