by Cherry Adair
She closed her eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. Damn it, Duncan, you bring out the absolute worst in me, you know that? It wasn’t the way Moira was dressed, or her fault that some idiot grabbed her. That was just stupid of me to say.” She pressed coral-tipped fingers against her temples.
“Having said that, you were at fault for getting into a one-sided fight with a drunk. And all—the other times—” Serena’s voice trailed off as she suddenly found herself in a new, albeit familiar, location.
The Council Chambers.
She felt exactly the same dizzy disorientation she’d experienced the first time she’d been summoned here, the day after her parents died. She’d been eight. Petrified. Lost. Confused.
She’d been to the Council on several occasions since. And every time her palms sweated, her heart thudded, and she was suddenly a terrified child again. It didn’t matter that she’d seen Henry in his ratty bathrobe and slippers at home; here he’d been Head of Council, and a force to be reckoned with. Here there were no favorites, no favors, no second chances.
With an aching heart, Serena wished that Henry was sitting in that seat behind the big table where he belonged. It was inconceivable to be here and not see him in his black-and-silver robe, his silvered hair brushed back, his blue eyes serious.
Why had they summoned her?
“You rang?” Duncan stood tall and straight beside her. He must be totally freaking fearless to joke with the Council. She desperately wanted to grab his hand and hold on tightly. She didn’t, of course; he’d probably flick her off like he’d done on the playground when they’d been ten or so, as if she had cooties.
“Please be seated, Serena. Duncan. We are awaiting our third contestant.”
Serena sank into a hard leather chair fifteen feet from the table. Contestant? Since she wasn’t running for Head of Council, she hadn’t a clue what she was doing here.
Once in a while they asked her to arbitrate a conflict. Perhaps that was it. She shot Duncan, seated a few feet away, a worried glance. God. Had he beaten up a fellow wizard? Or worse?
He didn’t look in the least bit concerned. Leaning back, wrists dangling off the arms of his chair, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, he looked the picture of patience and calm. Maybe an ad for some kind of expensive whiskey. All he needed was a blonde draped over him and a bright red convertible.
Lord, her mouth was dry. Silence throbbed in the vast room. The light was always so damned bright in here, she thought. Would it be considered bad form to materialize sunglasses? Probably. She crossed her legs, and tried not to jiggle her foot.
The Council Chambers looked like the offices of a prosperous law firm. Plush burgundy carpeting, mahogany paneling, lots of leather furniture, and a desk the size of her bed. No one was sitting behind the desk. But in a semicircle behind it, on a raised dais, sat seven men and women all but hidden in shadow. Seeing them shrouded in darkness, while she was in a spotlight, always made Serena shiver. Of course there was nothing the least bit scary about the individuals who ran the Council. They were mostly married, with children and grandchildren. Having spent time with many of them socially, Serena knew that off the dais they appeared to be nothing more than regular business people.
On the platform, and collectively, they just happened to be powerful enough to control most of the world’s wizards. Getting the Head of Council position wasn’t easy. The Tests were secret and many contenders had failed over the years. Not that that mattered to her.
She wanted to teleport to Germany to see Henry, then she was due in Schpotistan to see what progress Joanna was making. The thought made her heart leap with excitement. They were getting very close to putting this project into operation.
A slight squeak indicated that someone was now seated in the chair to her left. Duncan’s latest victim, she presumed. Serena cast a sideways glance at the man seated beside her, and smiled.
Ah. Trey Culver.
She, Duncan, and Trey had been classmates.
Trey was almost as tall as Duncan, his hair was a well-groomed, dark, ashy blonde, his bedroom eyes a sleepy brown. He always dressed beautifully, and was sexy in his own right. She and Trey had had some fun times together over the years.
“Please rise,” a deep voice intoned.
Allen McKenna, Serena recognized his voice. She stood.
“You came here today to receive instructions for your first Test. On the desk are three envelopes. Please take the one with your name on it.”
A second earlier there’d been nothing on the desk but a high sheen. Test? Oh, Lord no. Serena rose with Duncan and Trey, but hung back as they picked up their envelopes. “Excuse me, but I’m not running for Head of Council.”
“You withdraw your application?”
“I never put in an application.”
“Two people nominated you,” the voice said mildly.
She frowned, flattered, but totally bewildered. “Who? Oh, right. You can’t say. I—”
“Serena’s humanitarian work is too important to be put on hold for seven years,” Duncan inserted smoothly. “It would be unconscionable to take her away from the important strides she’s making feeding the world. I’m sure we have a third—”
“Excuse me?” Serena turned to glare at him. What right did he have to jump in and make her excuses? What right did he have to do whatever sneaky thing he was trying to do? Why couldn’t she do both? The Foundation was a well-oiled machine. If she wanted to, she could do both jobs. Henry had.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’d be honored to run for the position. Not only do I have the experience to run the Council, but I also have leadership experience. And while the seven-year term is quite a commitment, I’m adept at delegating. And, unlike some people,” she paused significantly, “I have a level head, and the patience to arbitrate anything brought before me.”
Duncan sent her a warning look, his dark blue eyes glittering under the brilliant overhead lights. “You’ll lose your temper—”
“At least I don’t use my fists…”
Trey laughed, grabbing Duncan around the neck and slinging his other arm around Serena’s shoulders. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “Just like old times. Trey, Fury, and Duncan. Let the good times roll.”
Serena shifted out of his hold. For whatever reason, the combination of Duncan, Trey, and herself had never turned out well. She hoped the Council knew what they were doing pitting the three of them against each other.
He shouldn’t have goaded her, Duncan thought, returning to his seat with the envelope. The paper-like material glowed, felt warm to the touch, and pulsed in his hand like a faint heartbeat.
He squinted against the bright, white light of the Council Chambers, not able to make out the features of the shadowy forms behind the empty table. Where Henry usually sat.
He sensed no danger here, despite the power. Their collective strength was tempered with benevolence and profound wisdom. The smell of beeswax candles and some sort of herb lightly perfumed the air, but he saw no candles burning anywhere.
The room was preternaturally quiet, though he was acutely aware of each breath Serena took. The rhythm was uneven and a little rapid. Was she excited by the prospect of running the Council? Or was it the challenge of besting him?
He’d always known that provoking Serena was a way to keep her close, without revealing his attraction to her. An attraction that was completely out of the question. So he’d challenged her to best him at tennis, or levitation, or any number of skills they both excelled at. Sometimes he’d won, and sometimes she’d won. He’d enjoyed the interaction with her more than he’d ever let on. It had become a habit. They’d become friends.
Friends in combat for most of their formative years, Duncan thought with amusement.
Hell, he’d rather spar with Serena than make love to any other woman.
What was Serena’s reason for always rising to his bait? A habit after all this time? Absently, he touched the small scar and felt a certain co
mfort as he struggled not to smile. He could still see Serena’s face, bleached white, when she realized that the pencil was imbedded so close to his eye.
That was the first time he’d experienced her unguarded power unleashed along with her temper. While the other students were horrified as blood trickled down his face, Duncan had been…impressed. And amused as hell.
Over time, she’d sent other things flying in his direction, only now he knew enough to duck, roll, or shimmer out of the way.
Surely she wasn’t still pissed over the prom thing? Yes, they’d been in an exclusive, private school for wizards only. They were intelligent and quick. But they were still teenagers and prone to small blips of stupidity and large doses of hormones. Three days before the prom, when he’d spotted her in the quad chatting with Trey, he’d seen it as the perfect opportunity to ask her to the annual event.
A: He’d forgotten that girls took last-minute invites as an insult. B: He didn’t know Trey had already asked her. And C: He had no clue that her response would be to send him flying across the grassy courtyard, slamming him into the brick wall.
Duncan had taken someone else, and watched the blossoming of Serena’s relationship with Trey. He felt a stab of discomfort in his gut as he remembered that shortly after that, Trey and Serena had become an item, which totally screwed up the triangle of their friendship. Their whole history was a succession of competitions. Serena besting Trey and Duncan on an essay; Duncan kicking ass in levitating inanimate objects—he still held the school record; and Trey? He had to be the only guy in the upper grades to never get a demerit.
Wizards could do some crazy stuff. Pranks could be anything from moving a teacher’s books off their desk while their backs were turned to shimmering to the top of the flagpole.
They each had a different style when challenged. Serena used nonconfrontational methods, logic. Duncan tended to use force, fists, and brute strength, and Trey oozed, and used, charm.
Duncan knew that he and Trey were physically fairly evenly matched. Their powers were on a par as well, and sometimes the two would just spar for the hell of it. Trey, like Duncan, never seemed to take the black eye or bloody nose personally.
Serena was a whole different story. She was always willing to forgive Trey any transgression, but not him. No, Duncan was usually held accountable for any behavior she deemed inappropriate and/or violent.
So, setting her hair on fire hadn’t been his finest moment. But all that was years ago and they were adults now. Surely it was time for them to bury the hatchet. Preferably not in the center of his head, he thought with an inner grin.
Something told him that a truce between them was unlikely to happen. Especially if they were now going to compete for Head of Council.
It would be interesting, given their differing views of the world. She’d probably keel over if she had even an inkling of what he did now. There was evil in the world. Evil that needed to be eradicated—expediently. T-FLAC was the perfect place for him. He liked meting out the kind of justice that courts and international tribunals were unable or prohibited from so much as considering. Terrorists didn’t care who or how many innocents they killed or maimed.
But Serena wouldn’t understand their myopic disregard for human life. No, she’d probably suggest he sit them all down at the table and try to reason with them. Like you could reason with terrorists.
A heavily carved wooden chest materialized suddenly and soundlessly in the center of the desk. Pulled from the past, Duncan’s mouth went dry. Although he couldn’t see beneath the heavy lid, although he’d never laid eyes on the ancient wooden box before now, he knew with every hard beat of his heart what was inside: the ancient Wizard Medallion.
Passed down from Council Head to Council Head for centuries.
He barely heard Serena’s faint gasp beside him. His entire focus was glued to the box as if drawn by a powerful magnet. He wanted to be seated behind that dais wearing the antique Medallion of Office, the head of those shadowy forms lined up behind him.
He wanted it more than his next heartbeat.
He’d waited his entire life for this. He’d wanted to be Master Wizard since he was twelve and been summoned here for the first time over some minor infraction.
The minute he’d materialized in this chamber, Duncan had known that this was his destiny. Not the pomp and ceremony. But the quiet certainty of his place in the world. Because of the Curse, he’d never have love. Marriage. Family. Or a woman to share his life with. But this, this had become his El Dorado.
He wanted this. And by God he was going to get it.
It seemed fitting that Serena be here participating, too.
Actually, Serena would make an excellent Head of Council. She was intelligent, compassionate, and logical, and Duncan could easily see her sitting behind the big table, wearing the black-and-silver robes. The heavy silver chain draped around her slender neck, the Medallion between her breasts.
Still, he believed that his strength, ability to deal with the scum of the earth, and his instincts would serve the Council better. And if the strength of sheer desire would cause him to win—he had that in spades.
Duncan couldn’t imagine Trey in the position. As likable as he was, Trey wasn’t a team player.
The only time Duncan had felt less than affable toward Trey was a few years ago, when Henry had told him Serena was dating him again. The knowledge had filled Duncan with intense something. He didn’t like himself for being such a dog in the manger and begrudging Serena and Trey the very thing he couldn’t have.
Which was why, when he’d seen the intimate smile she’d bestowed on Culver when he’d shimmered in, Duncan had spoken without his usual filter. Ridiculous really. He’d never dated Serena, and hadn’t sought out either Trey or Serena since they’d all graduated from high school some fifteen years ago, other than a few brief, enjoyable conversations with Trey at various social events over the years.
Serena was a whole other story. Every time they crossed paths, he experienced more pull, more attraction, more desire, more.
Hell, didn’t matter. Even without factoring in the family Curse, he’d sabotaged himself with his thoughtless words.
Fury had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and she was almost as competitive as he and Trey were. Damn stupid of him. She didn’t want the job, he knew that instinctively. If she had, she would have jumped at the chance instead of refusing initially. Now, she’d go through the vigorous testing process, just to show him she could.
The irony was that they were both hot-tempered. Always had been. The difference was, Duncan easily controlled his emotions. Serena had a hard time harnessing that power. She was glorious in a temper.
“If we may have your attention?”
Duncan recognized Lark’s husky voice with surprise. If she was here, then she was a member of the Council. But she’d never given any indication that she was part of the governing body of wizards. He’d taken meetings here several times over the years, arbitrated a couple of disputes, but her name had never been mentioned. And she certainly never mentioned it in any T-FLAC/psi briefings. Interesting.
Still, Lark was one of the smartest, most intuitive women Duncan knew. If anyone could talk sense and logic into Serena, Lark would be the one.
“You will be summoned without notice,” she told them, shrouded in darkness. “There will be four Tests to perform within the next ten days. You will be permitted to use only the powers allocated to you. No one is permitted to assist you, and you are not allowed to aid each other. Doing so will cause you to forfeit that Test. Due to the nature of the Tests, there is the possibility of death or grave injury. Be sure to put your affairs in order before you begin. The first individual to pass two challenges wins. Good luck.”
Serena rose from her chair. “Could we just discu—Crud, I hate when they do that.”
The three of them had been summarily dismissed, and returned to Duncan’s London flat before she’d finished the sentence. In fact, he and Serena
were standing in exactly the same positions they’d been in before they’d been teleported. But this time Trey was standing between them.
“Hello, my darling Fury. Beautiful as ever.” Trey pulled her close. At the last minute Serena turned her head so his lips kissed her cheek.
She spread her palm on his chest and gave him a little shove. “Behave yourself, Trey Culver. That ship sailed a long time ago.”
Good to know, Duncan thought with surprising savagery. “Drinks?” he asked, pushing between them to get to the bar at the end of the kitchen. He could conjure the drinks, but there were some mundane civilities he liked to uphold.
“I’ll have a beer,” Trey answered with his eyes still fixed on Serena. Unapologetically, he added, “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“You’re both very trying,” she said sweetly, materializing what looked like a cola in a short squat glass. She took a large sip.
“Shit,” Trey muttered. “Lost my—do you guys have your envelopes?”
“We’ll get them back when we’re called for the first challenge,” Serena told him, clearly still mulling over how she’d been nominated for a position she didn’t want.
Trey took the beer stein from Duncan with an easy smile. “This should be an interesting race.” He raised his foaming glass.
“Interesting as in death or dismemberment?” Serena asked dryly. “That possibility certainly puts an interesting spin on things.”
“Scared?” Duncan asked.
She gave him a steady look. “I’d be a fool not to be.”
“So you’re in?”
“I’m in.”
“May the best man,” Trey shot Serena a grin, “or woman win.”
“We haven’t had a female Master Wizard in several hundred years, have we?” Serena’s eyes sparkled over the rim of her glass. “I’m so going to enjoy arbitrating your cases.”
Duncan set his glass on the countertop, then rubbed his scarred brow. “Would that be before or after you dig all the writing implements out of the walls and ceiling the first time someone pisses you off?”
