by Ashley Meira
If he was referring to her as a child, she might not be his lover. I hoped not. That was just creepy. That aside, his words hit me hard. I remembered what I was like at seventeen. That was the year I’d set our hut in Wales on fire. Fiona and I had been as lost and scared as we’d been since escaping. Dangers lurked around every corner, and we had no idea when they would strike. We lived in fear for so long—
I squeezed my eyes shut and ran a hand through my hair. I was projecting. I couldn’t help it. I knew what prodigies were like. We’d had one in the Guild before. Some hotshot mage who thought his brains meant he could take on the world. He’d been nice, but arrogant and naive. Living in a bubble of excellence his whole life had given him a skewed notion of the real world. I remembered how confident he’d been going on his first job. I also remembered attending his funeral the following week.
When I looked back at Mr. Pierce, he was wearing an expectant and weary look. The faintest hint of sandalwood was floating around, so mild I wanted to take a loud sniff just to make sure I wasn’t imagining it. Deciding on an alternate approach, I took a deep breath and looked at his neck, letting my eyes blur a little. Focusing on someone’s eyes was too distracting, but I’d learned that if I kept calm and looked somewhere else, it’d be easier to see their magic.
Sure enough, thin, pale blue waves began streaming in front of his crisp burgundy tie. I blinked, bringing the world back into focus, and watched as the waves settled around him like a veil. I watched the rhythm, trying to get a read on him. Unlike what I’d been trained for, I wasn’t looking to break his magic. Nicholas had been brutal in his instruction, and while I couldn’t remember why he’d wanted me to learn this particular trick in my Fireborn arsenal, I knew it probably wasn’t to piss off an influential member of the Council.
My interruption earlier could have been enough ammunition for Mr. Pierce. His “just a child” comment could have been a ploy to garner my sympathy. Maybe he didn’t care about her at all, and he was simply manipulating me into doing his bidding. He was an established businessman and politician, after all. You didn’t get to the top of those fields without some lying and coercion.
But he’d let his magic slip from its tightly controlled weave when he’d mentioned her. That was enough to keep my attention. I watched the waves of his magic. A muted, almost defeated, droop in their movements told me something wasn’t right. I’d seen Adam and Damien’s magic — Pierce men did not have weak rhythms. I supposed their father could’ve been different, but our interactions didn’t tell that story. Something was wrong.
“Whether you believe she is in danger is irrelevant,” Mr. Pierce said after a long bout of silence. “This is a job, and Damien tells me you’re an even better tracker than he is.”
Before I could protest, he held up his hand to silence me and slid an envelope across the table.
“Find out where she is and bring her back here. Then, you can keep that.”
I reached for the envelope and pulled it open with trembling fingers. When I saw the check inside, my hands stopped working altogether.
Holy. Shit. I blinked a few times, then rubbed my eyes when the number didn’t change. After so many blinks that my eyes began to hurt, I looked up at him, expecting to hear this was all a joke. I wanted to ask if he’d given me the wrong check, but my name was written there in an elegant scrawl.
“I think you may have added an extra zero,” I said, handing him the check.
My fingers burned at the loss when he took it from me and scanned the slip of paper with a keen eye. “No, that’s correct.”
I took the check back, cradling it like a precious treasure. Which it was. There was enough here to pay Adam back in full and pay my bills for years. Hell, Fiona and I could buy a new home with this amount of money. Maybe even a cute apartment in Water Nymph Bay. Or possibly a small island off the coast of Fiji. Holy shit.
I slipped the check back in the envelope and pressed it shut, sliding it away before I could throw myself on it. My fingers burned with the desire to hold it again, so I clasped my hands together and said, “That is a lot of money.”
If he noticed how white my hands had become from clenching them, he didn’t comment. “I wouldn’t have summoned you here if I didn’t intend to make it worth your while.”
“Usually,” I continued slowly, trying to navigate a minefield where even the air was explosive, “this much money means a whole lot of secrets.”
Mr. Pierce’s lip curled up, a ghost of what I usually saw on Adam’s face when I sassed or amused him. “You’re the first person in a long time to be so candid with me.”
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” I said before I could help myself. I really needed to work on my mouth. “And I doubt Damien holds his tongue, either.”
“He doesn’t,” he said, hints of amusement coloring his tone. “But he’s my son. Other people are afraid. Regardless, I believe our arrangement was that you would hear me out and could refuse my request no questions asked. I expect you to extend me the same courtesy.”
For that price, I’d have given him my firstborn child — and the next two. But that was the old me. The one from two months ago who hadn’t been thrown from one upheaval to the next. I sagged into my seat. The one who’d been debt-free with a steady paycheck. Who’d had a spine and could’ve told her partner that she needed to go back to work. Who wouldn’t have had this issue in the first place, because she hadn’t met Adam Pierce and fallen head over heels.
“I don’t know exactly what you’ll be running into,” Mr. Pierce said. “But I want Charlotte found before she gets hurt.”
I shot up in my seat, my spine stiffer than the greetings Adam and his father had exchanged.
Charlotte.
Chapter Six
Adam, who’d been so good at comforting me since we met, continued his losing streak with a flicker of his magic. It had been harsher than his father’s slip, and I could feel the sharp crack of pine and vanilla beside me. My Fire had no qualms over his mood so long as it was fed, but I did, so the treacherous flame could starve for all I cared.
The petty thought might have helped satisfy my vengeful streak, but it did nothing to erase Adam’s reaction. Silly thoughts of TV shows Fiona and I watched flashed behind my eyes, where parents hated their child’s choice of partner and tried to set them up with a preferred ex. It sounded incredibly stupid, especially since I was sitting here and facing my second biggest fear in the world: a member of the Council of magic.
But Adam was important to me. Apparently, more than my personal safety. I wanted to demand they tell me who Charlotte was, but I didn’t think either man would react well to that. They didn’t seem inclined to tell me even if I asked nicely. But who was she? Mr. Pierce’s employee, his lover, his son’s lover? Was he actually senile, and she was just a beloved cat that ran away? What was the fucking deal?
Adam reached for the envelope with my— the check, but his father took it and slipped it back into his front pocket. “That’s not for you.”
Adam scowled. “I don’t know how much you promised her, but you can’t just buy her like that. Get Damien to do it or—”
“You?” his father asked in a cool voice. “Your brother has a job. One that keeps him busy. Yes, it’s true he could take some time off, but in case you’ve forgotten, dear boy, this is her job. Ms. Sinclair is a mercenary, is she not? Her boss mentioned she wasn’t a mage, which means unless she’s been working non-stop these past few years, she won’t have much left in savings with all your gallivanting about.”
I opened my mouth to ask how he’d known that, but his stern look shut me up.
“Apparently, you need a reminder that not everyone is as well-off as we are. Did you pay any consideration to Ms. Sinclair’s financial wellbeing before dragging her along on some trans-atlantic honeymoon? How much longer do you think she can support herself without working — or are you taking care of her financial needs as well?”
My face flushed as Mr.
Pierce laid into his son for third time today. Sure, I’d called us honeymooners, but hearing someone else say it was beyond embarrassing, especially since he was my partner’s father. Not to mention he seemed to have a pretty good idea about my financial situation. I wanted to attribute it to a keen intellect regarding money, but I couldn’t help wondering if he’d called my bank and they’d sold me out.
My embarrassment faded quickly at his last comment, however. Yes, Adam had been taking care of me, but the way he said it made it sound like I was a kept woman. It hit on what truly bothered me about Adam spending his money on me, and it was just plain rude. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind.
One look back at Liam Pierce’s face quelled my outrage. Yeah, no. He was still on the Council — and almost as intimidating as Nicholas. Let him think whatever he wants.
“That’s not—” Adam stuttered, the angry look tattooed on his face finally gone. Guilt replaced it, his magic roiling in sadness.
Damn it. This was not at all what I wanted. Clearly, his father’s words had opened his eyes to a truth he’d never even considered. And how could he? I had never mentioned it. I didn’t have to. It had been my choice to take time off work to practice my magic. Which, I noticed, Mr. Pierce did not comment on when he said Roger told him I wasn’t a mage. But I shoved that oddity aside for the moment. Our training was pretty much over, wasn’t it? Things were going to get back to normal — or as close to it as possible — soon. I’d go back to work and everything would be fine.
The anguish in Adam’s beautiful gray eyes told me he didn’t see it that way. He thought it was his fault my money was drying up. It wasn’t. Even with bills, food, and all the bare essentials, I had enough saved for another two months. Things would be fine by then.
I was only worried about unforeseen circumstances. The lesson that things could take a hard left off a high cliff at any moment had been drilled into me after what happened with Thomas. Like assassins destroying my home. Nicholas seemed to be more active, too, which meant a whole lot of bad stuff was going to happen. It was making me a paranoid mess. Which totally wasn’t clear through all my stupid high school girl insecurities. Not at all.
“It’s not that bad,” I said, trying to reassure Adam without spilling my private life all over his father’s desk. “I’m good for a few months.”
Though Charlotte might not be. Whoever she was. All I knew was her age and occupation, but that was enough. My macabre-tinged mind conjured images of a frightened girl bound in shackles and crying, of an archaeologist being taken prisoner by cutthroat treasure hunters lured by the promise of magical rewards, of a seventeen-year-old who could be all alone, hoping someone would save her.
It also summoned up the memory of Mr. Pierce’s magic and the way his voice changed when he spoke of her. He seemed adamant something was wrong. What if he was right? What could it hurt to check things out? If he was wrong, all I’d have to do was bring her back here to get paid. Really paid. Greed wasn’t driving me, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.
Voices drifted through the walls of my gray matter, and I became increasingly aware of an argument going on under my nose. Or by my elbow, in this case. I wasn’t sure what started it, but Adam’s face was flushed as he shook his head while his father was ripping him another new one.
“Okay,” I said, avoiding both their gazes. “I’ll look into it.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Pierce said. “At least someone cares—”
Adam slammed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Don’t you dare accuse me of not caring about someone who’s supposed to mean the world to me. Not you.”
You’d need the jaws of life to break through the silence that followed his statement. Means the world to him? Jealousy wormed its way into my heart. Who was this girl? I made a quick promise to try broaching the topic with Adam when we left before standing up and straightening my clothes.
“Do you have any insights on where to start?” I asked.
“Her home,” Mr. Pierce said, his face expressionless despite his son’s cutting words. “She works alone most of the time, so she keeps all her files there.” He pulled out a pad and pen and scribbled a quick note before placing a silver necklace on the table. “Her address and a replacement communication charm in case hers was lost.”
I took both items, raising a brow at the crisp handwriting. “Amatovci, Croatia?”
“She fell in love with Plitvice Lakes National Park the moment she set foot in it,” he said, his eyes tender for the briefest of moments. “Amatovci is a small village southeast of there. Her home is spacious enough to accommodate guests. Use it as a base if needed.”
“It won’t be,” Adam said firmly.
I didn’t disagree. Who offered up someone else’s place for use? Add that to the ever growing list of mysteries I was sick of having hover around me.
We said our goodbyes quickly and left the office. Mr. Pierce didn’t offer to walk us out, and I didn’t ask. Our trip back to the car was quiet. My tongue felt like it was glued to my mouth. I couldn’t bring myself to ask about Charlotte yet. Not that it would have done much good. Adam looked like he was torn between going on a war path or collapsing in defeat. It could have been exhaustion. This must have been incredibly draining for him. Even I felt tired, and I’d gotten some sleep on the plane.
Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage and reached forward. His normally warm hand felt icy in mine, but instead of pulling away like I expected, Adam relaxed, if only marginally. He returned my squeeze with one of his own, and I picked up my pace so we were walking side by side.
Despite holding hands and having barely two inches of space between us, I could still feel a rift. I told myself the growing distance was a figment of my imagination, that this was a hurdle we would conquer, but I couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to properly plead my case.
The chilly English air brushed against our faces as we stepped outside. I paused and took one last look at the giant estate, trying to see if I could figure out where Mr. Pierce’s office was from here. When I gave up, I saw Adam was waiting in the car, his eyes blank as he looked anywhere but at me.
The Council wanted all Fireborns dead or imprisoned. I could have never imagined meeting one of their most powerful members would be the least of my fears.
Chapter Seven
I watched the stars from my seat on the plane, trying to pick out constellations while Adam spoke with the pilot about our flight plans. During any other job, I’d be too distracted thinking about that check to even notice there was a sky outside. I’d have called Fiona and listened to her go on for the next hour about what we could spend that money on before reminding her that half the stuff she wanted was illegal — or at least implausible.
But this wasn’t any other other job. Hell, I hadn’t had “any other job” since I met Adam two months ago, so I should probably rearrange what I considered status quo, or at least focus on more important matters. Like trying to find a doctor capable of restoring my stomach to its original shape after all the twisting up it had been doing.
The flight to Croatia wouldn’t take more than an hour, one I refused to let be filled with silence. So, while Adam continued speaking to the pilot for longer than I thought necessary — it seemed speaking to me was what really posed a challenge for him — I tried to think of suitable conversation topics. Between my constantly niggling Fire and my fixation on the mystery that was Charlotte, however, I didn’t have much luck.
Still, let it never be said that I was a quitter… after procrastinating for most of the day. Adam had to face me eventually, though phrasing it like that felt like I was feeding my doubting, petty side. My Fire flickered, likely telling me I should have fed it instead. For once, doing so felt like the lesser of two evils, but there were no magical candy bars on this plane. Well, there were but only the commercial kind made by green witches. They weren’t what my Fire wanted.
“It’ll be about an hour,” Adam said, taking a seat o
n the opposite end of the plane. “You can take a nap if you want. I’ll wake you.”
I raised a brow. A nap now? I’d be up all night. “Trying to get rid of me?”
The corners of his lips tightened, and I could tell my comment hadn’t come out as jokingly as I intended. “You look tired.”
My brow stay raised at his deflection. “Maybe you should take a nap. You haven’t slept the entire trip.”
“It’s just an hour.”
Rolling my eyes at the hypocrisy, I stood and made my way over, taking the seat across from him. “The meeting wasn’t as bad as I expected.” At least not in the way I was expecting.
Adam didn’t take his eyes off the window. “He’s nicer when he wants something.”
“Aren’t most people?” I asked, trying to find the right words to ask what I wanted. It wasn’t working. This was why I left the talking to Fiona. “So, do you think this job is going to be as simple as it sounds?”
He shrugged.
“You gotta hand it to your father, he knows how to keep an interesting duality. Guess you get it from him.” Adam could be the perfect contradiction at times. Now I knew where it came from. I wondered if Damien was the same.
My comment got a reaction from him — if the quick pursing of his lips could be called such a thing.
Deciding the rock was already sliding downhill, I continued. “Do you know Charlotte? Does she work for him?”
He shook his head. Since it was clear he knew her, I assumed it meant she wasn’t an employee.
“Sister? Cousin? Lover?”
His expression pinched further with each guess, but he held his silence.
“Did she used to date you or Damien?” I asked, too tensed for his reply to be embarrassed about my social clumsiness.
“No.” He grimaced. “No.”
“Were either of you married to her?”
This time he turned to shoot me a dark look before shaking his head. I didn’t mind. He could glare all he wanted. I was too relieved over having one of my fears assuaged to care. Charlotte wasn’t an ex. But then who the hell was she? I voiced my question in a more polite way, but he’d gone back to ignoring me, his forehead pressed against the glass.
