Arcane Heart (Talents Book 2)

by Angela Knight

  Next, he headed for Garrison’s restaurant. Located in a long brick building with a sign out front that read VITTLES, it was an old-fashioned Southern meat-and-three. Ten bucks got you an entrée, usually fried, with three vegetables, at least one of them covered with gravy or cheese. Still, Garrison’s wife was such a good cook Adrian had fallen into the habit of eating there a couple times a week.

  With closing time in fifteen minutes, the dining room was empty except for a lone husband and wife dawdling over a meal. One of Garrison’s daughters ran a carpet sweeper over the floor, while a son-in-law bussed booths covered with red vinyl tablecloths. Adrian gave both a friendly wave and headed for the swinging door into the kitchen.

  Garrison’s wife, in the middle of mopping, gave Adrian a cool nod. He nodded back. Cindy didn’t like him much. He suspected she considered him a bad influence on her husband. She was, of course, right.

  Garrison looked up from the prep counter he was wiping down. “Hey, Andy.” The HHers knew Adrian as Andy Jones.

  “Bill. Need to have a word.”

  The Norm tilted his head at back door. “Let’s step outside. Need to smoke anyway. Cindy hates it when I do it in here.”

  It always amused Adrian that restaurant Bill was so different from HHer Bill. Made him wonder which Bill was the mask, and which the real man. Maybe they were both were, and Garrison just kept them ruthlessly compartmentalized.

  They stepped outside Vittles into the cold night air. Bill sighed in relief as he reached into a pocket of his stained white apron for his cigarettes and lighter. “Jesus, it gets hot in there.”

  “Busy night?” Adrian watched him pull a cig out of the pack and light it, then tuck pack and lighter away again.

  “Pretty good. I think our message is finally getting out. Traffic’s gone up here, and it’s down some at the Cauldron.” The Cauldron, owned and operated by a Talent who used magic in her cooking, had been his biggest competition for years. Good as his wife was, Cindy wasn’t a witch. Adrian suspected that forcing the Cauldron out of business was Garrison’s main motivation for his Humanist activism.

  “What’s wrong?” Garrison asked, exhaling smoke off to the side. “Because I can tell there’s something.”

  “Tattooed a cop today,” Adrian lied. “You know the bitch that arrested Carson?”

  Garrison’s lip curled. “The one the news is calling a hero?”

  “This cop says she’s a witch.”

  The glowing tip bobbed as he stared, then jerked the cigarette from his mouth in outrage. “You’re shitting me. Gable hired a witch?”

  “Yeah. Cop said she made Carson confess.” He shrugged. “Witches, they can do all kinds of shit.”

  Garrison put the cig back in his mouth and puffed. “You think she had something to do with his heart attack?”

  Adrian shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe she figured she needed to get rid of him before he got out and tried again.”

  “That fucking bitch.”

  “I’m thinking she’s a problem, especially with the march coming up. You’ve gotta figure some of us are going to get arrested. If that witch started questioning people, casting spells…”

  “That is a problem.” He exhaled twin plumes of smoke from his nose.

  Adrian brushed a tendril of aura over the sigil tattooed on Bill’s head. As the spell activated, he said, “I think maybe we better do something about her.”

  Garrison’s pupils expanded under the dragon’s tattooed glare, signaling his receptiveness. “What do you want me to do?”

  Chapter Ten

  It was past one in the morning when Erica walked out of the sheriff’s department feeling fried. Twelve-hour shifts were a bitch, though there was something to be said for the longer weekends. Given that she’d caught a killer -- and spent most of the day ass-deep in paperwork -- today had been particularly exhausting.

  So she was less than thrilled to see the four deputies gathered around her patrol car where it was parked in solitary splendor at the other end of the lot. She was even less pleased when she recognized them: Tom Green, Scott Clary, Mary Hampton, and Bob Martin.

  The four Talent-hating cops Jake had warned her about.

  The hair rose on the back of her neck. For a moment she was ten years old again, back home in Screamer Mountain, North Carolina.

  The gang of kids surrounded her on the playground. “Witch! Witch!” They knocked her down, kicked her, punched her, despite her desperate fists and feet. The sharp, bright pain in her broken nose, the taste of blood from her cut lip, pain jolting her dislocated jaw every time she screamed defiance…

  It hadn’t been the first time. It wouldn’t be the last.

  The muscles of her shoulders tightened, but she forced herself to walk toward the four cops as if she felt no fear at all. I’m not that kid anymore. I’m an Arcane Corps veteran. If they fuck with me, I can fuck back.

  Besides, if her childhood had taught her anything, it was that you didn’t back down from a bully. They loved a sense of power like Clarence loved catnip, and they’d go after her even harder if she showed weakness. She didn’t let her steps falter, drawing on her Talent to study them as she approached.

  The blend of colors floating around them suggested Clary felt cruelly amused, Hampton resentful, and Green nervous. But the one who worried her was Martin, a big man with so much crimson in his aura, he obviously balanced on the blade-edge of violence.

  Despite the cold evening air, sweat rolled down her back. The deputies of Charlie shift were already on the road, while their lieutenant was at his desk in the depths of the building. If the situation went sideways, she wouldn’t have backup.

  Don’t be ridiculous. They won’t do a damn thing. There are cameras mounted all around the parking lot.

  Assuming I didn’t park in an area the cameras don’t pick up… She kept the thought off her face and gave them her best good ol’ girl drawl. “You folks need something?”

  Clary’s easy smile might have seemed comforting, if not for the vicious amusement in his aura. He was a tall, lean man with the build of a marathon runner, thick, dark hair, and a mustache that reminded her of a 1970s porn star. “We just wanted to congratulate you on catching that killer.”

  “Bet you think you’re some kind of hot shit hero like your freak boyfriend.” The red roiling Martin’s aura made it difficult to see his features clearly. He was a head taller than she was, with a broad, square face that looked even broader and squarer thanks to his auburn brush cut. He carried enough muscle for an NFL lineman; rumor said he liked to use it.

  Erica looked at him and slowly lifted a brow. “Jealous?” If he took a swing at her and the cameras caught it, he’d hand the sheriff that firing offense Gable wanted.

  “I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

  “I’m crushed.”

  “If you think they’ll make you a detective ‘cause of those busts, think again.” Mary Hampton was a beefy blonde woman an inch or so taller than Erica. She had the kind of snub features and round face often described as cute in children and pleasant in adults, but the look in her narrow eyes was neither. “There’s no way the sheriff is going to promote a freak.”

  She didn’t look away from Martin and his psycho’s aura. “I’m just happy the killer’s in jail.”

  Resentment tightened Clary’s mouth. “That case could’ve been solved just as well with normal police work. Ormond had multiple domestic violence charges. We’d have caught him regardless.”

  Erica lifted a brow. “We? Don’t you mean Sawyer? Because you were running your usual speed trap over by the women’s college. I understand you get a lot of dates that way.”

  Clary stiffened, sullen red anger sparking in his aura.

  “I’ll bet the witch just saw a picture of this boyfriend at the vic’s house,” Hampton announced. “That’s how she drew that sketch. Then she pretends to be a ‘psychic.’” Her fingers sketched air quotes.

  “Either I’m a witch or I’m a fake
. Make up your mind, Deputy.”

  Hampton jolted forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. “You’d better watch your mouth.”

  “And what if I don’t?” Erica smiled slowly, seriously tempted to give her an aural zap to teach her to keep her distance.

  Maybe something of what she was thinking showed in her face, because Hampton’s eyes flickered. “We’ll shut it for you.”

  “You sure you want to try that? Because it looks to me like you’re scared. There’s fear in your aura. Lots of pretty yellow.” As all four of them stared at her, Erica bared her teeth. “I’m an Arc, remember? I see auras. I see what you’re feeling.”

  “Auras?” Martin rumbled, and the red blazed brighter in his. Shouldering Hampton aside, he lifted one bunched fist. “I’ll make you see stars.”

  The nice thing about people who hated witches was that they were easy to bluff. “You’d better worry about what I can make you see.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Clary demanded, looking uneasy.

  “Why, nothing, Deputy. Nothing whatsoever.”

  Now yellow forked like lightning across all their auras.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  All five of them jerked around, even Erica.

  Jake stood glaring at them. They’d been so focused on each other, they hadn’t even noticed him walk up.

  “Just congratulating Harris on her excellent police work,” Clary said with a completely unconvincing smile.

  “Yeah?” Jake’s nostrils flared. “So why do I smell bullying asshole?”

  Hampton looked considerably less intimidated than her male coworkers. She probably figured -- correctly -- that Jake’s sense of chivalry would protect her. “Why do we have K-9s when we could put a leash on Nolan?” She turned her sneer on Erica. “Some cop you are. Always hiding behind your fuzzy boyfriend. How many times has he saved your ass in the past week? You must give really good head.”

  Jake’s eyes narrowed and took on a menacing glow. “I seem to remember an asshole with a tire iron swinging at your head last week. He’d have knocked a homer if I hadn’t stopped him.” They all shifted under his stare. “Yeah, think about it. Next time you need backup, maybe I’ll just let you tough guys handle it.”

  “I think this has gotten a little out of hand.” Clary gave Erica an apologetic smile belied by the swirl of enraged crimson orbiting his head. “Sorry about that, Harris. Tensions are high, what with all the Talent violence. You know how it is.” He gave his gang a significant glance, and they all turned away.

  Hampton gave Erica another dose of sneer. “See you later, Harris. We’ll have to have a little girl talk sometime.”

  “Looking forward to it, cupcake.”

  “Come on, Hampton,” Clary snapped.

  Erica stood there, the March chill biting her cheeks as she and Jake watched the four get into their patrol cars and drive away. Clenching her fists, she breathed in, working to control the tremor she could feel building in her muscles. “What the hell, Nolan?”

  Jake rocked back on his heels in surprise. “What are you mad at me for?”

  “I had it handled until you undercut me. Now they think I’m a pussy.”

  “What do you care what they think? They’re bullying assholes.”

  “Exactly. And next time they’ll escalate, because that’s what bullying assholes do.”

  He hooked his thumbs in his duty belt and glowered. “You were outnumbered, Erica.”

  “They weren’t going to touch me. It’s the damn parking lot. There are cameras. They’d be fired. They were just mouthing off.”

  “Yeah, that’s why Martin smelled like bloodlust.”

  “Maybe, but he wasn’t doing anything. And he wasn’t going to do anything. Now I’m going to have to teach the bastards a lesson all over again, and the next time it may be somewhere there aren’t any cameras.”

  As they glared at each other, the softly glowing figure of Clarence wandered out of Jake like a cat door. The lion began to circle, scrubbing his jaw against her hip as he rumbled a low, soothing croon.

  Despite her temper, the contact with the Familiar’s magic was as comforting as the sensation of fur rubbing over her skin. Knowing she was being played, Erica eyed him. “Quit that.”

  Clarence chuffed and gave her a head butt that would probably have knocked her on her ass had he been physical. With a disgusted huff of her own, she surrendered, reaching down to dig her fingers in the thick mane behind his ears.

  Jake watched her, tapping his fingers on the plastic buckle of his duty belt. “Why did they take that risk? Why start something in front of the cameras to begin with?”

  Erica looked up from Clarence’s insubstantial ears. “It’s a power play. Nothing gives assholes at the bottom of the pecking order a buzz like bullying somebody.” Her jaw tightened as her temper heated again. “Which is why you should have let me handle it.”

  * * *

  Jake stared at her in frustration. She was wearing that stubborn expression he’d come to know so well when they’d served together. “If you think I’m going to stand back and watch four assholes jump you when I could stop it, you’re out of your mind.”

  “Then they’ll never learn to respect me. And that’s not doing me any favors.” Her gaze met his, eyes big and dark as a moonlit lake as a fine muscle flexed in her jaw.

  Deciding to take a chance on getting his head bitten off, Jake reached out and cupped her cheek. Her skin felt like silk under his fingertips, tempting, soft, warm. “This isn’t Screamer Mountain, Erica. You’re not alone this time.” He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “You’ve got me now. And I’m not going to fail you.”

  He thought he saw longing flash in the depth of her big dark eyes. Then her gaze cooled. “Not willingly, but things happen.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “You could at least try trusting me.”

  “That hasn’t really worked out in the past.”

  Damn it, Bobby. “You haven’t tried it with me.” He stroked her lower lip. It felt soft against the pad of his thumb, warm and tempting. He wanted to kiss her so badly he could taste it. “I don’t play by anybody else’s rules.”

  “I have noticed.” Her voice sounded dry.

  “So notice this.” He lowered his head…

  For a moment Jake thought she was going to let him kiss her, but at the last moment, she swallowed and stepped back. “Don’t you think we’ve caused enough gossip for one day?”

  He paused, reluctantly realizing she had a point. “Then let’s go to my place and talk about it.” He wanted to touch her so badly his back teeth ached. But then, he’d been battling various impulses since the moment he’d walked up to see those four dickheads surrounding her, violence reeking in the air. It had been all he could do not to manifest Clarence and roar.

  Erica’s chin took on that jut, and for a moment he thought she was going to refuse. Damn it, Erica, I need you…

  As if she read his mind, something in her eyes softened into yearning. “All right. I’ll see you at your house.”

  “Do you know where it is?”

  Her smile was a little dry. “Yeah, I know. See you in twenty.” Turning away, she unlocked her patrol car, got in, and drove away.

  Some of the tension drained out of his muscles, replaced by anticipation as Jake headed for his own vehicle. He was a bit surprised she’d agreed, considering how pissed she’d been. But maybe she felt the same need to burn off a little steam that he did. The memory of those bastards standing around her…

  Clarence growled, a low rumble in the depths of his brain accompanied by a complex wave of emotion: anger that anyone had dared to threaten her, pure leonine territoriality, the need to make sure none of those bastards dared touch her. Ever. Again.

  And the cat had some definite ideas on how to ensure that last one. “Sorry, Clar, the brass frowns on that kind of thing.” His voice dropped to a mutter. “Though God knows I’m tempted.”

  The idea of Eri
ca in danger made him want to hurt somebody. Badly.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Jake pulled into the carport with his heart pounding.

  Erica had parked under the oak out front. As he got out, she did the same, looking tall and slim and a bit tense with anticipation.

  And she wasn’t the only one.

  The need he felt was ferocious, a hot craving to taste her again, feel her silken body under his hands. He felt acutely conscious of Clarence’s low rumble in the back of his mind. Reacting to his emotion, his need.

  Jake remembered the way it felt making love to her, the stroke of her power along his own, so delicious and so alien. Maddening, beautiful, proud Erica, too courageous for her own good.

  He tried to remember if he’d made the bed.

  She moved toward him, tension in the line of her body, a certain heat lingering in her eyes. He thought it was anger, but there was need too. The same craving he felt.

  He met her halfway with no memory of closing the distance. It was one of those clear, brilliant March nights, and moonlight silvered the soft curves of her features and glittered in her eyes.

  For a moment she just stood there looking up at him, hands down by her sides. Something in her stance suggested she felt conflicted, as if she was second-guessing her decision to come back here with him. “I…” she began.

  In the depths of his mind, Clarence growled. Jake agreed. Before she could get the rest of her objection out of her mouth, he covered her lips in a kiss infused with all the seduction he could pump into it. The taste of her made him want to moan, though his conscience muttered. I’ll let her go in a minute, he told it. Now I need this.

  If that made him a selfish son of a bitch, so be it. He had to taste her.

  To his relief, Erica moaned softly and leaned into him, slimly muscled arms wrapping around his waist just over his duty belt. Equipment rattled and plastic clicked, their gear a frustrating barrier.

  Erica opened to him, and Jake angled his head to suckle her tongue with teasing sips. As they kissed, his hands slid up to cradle her face. She made a soft, needy sound against his mouth, and he drank in the sound.