Mage of Inconvenience

by Parker Foye

  Magic responded to need and succumbed to will. Like Julian stomping his protections into place for West or the question he’d put to his mother’s last spell, his hands trembling with longing and desperate hope. Like him, it seemed Emily had will enough for magic—whatever strange form it had taken.

  Queasiness rolled suddenly in Julian’s gut. He’d sent shadows after Lyle’s wolves, back in the foundry, hadn’t he? What if he had a darkness of his own? Julian locked his shoulders, not willing to check how many shadows waited at his heels. One panic at a time.

  Emily advanced in a curve around him. “We were checking the progress of your engagement, Jules. As we were when Meta Law found us at the scene of whatever crime they believed we enacted.” Each step sent a frisson of magic over Julian’s skin. “Since our success depends on your failure.”

  “You’re here for money? Jesus fucking shit, Emily.”

  “Julian—” West said, speaking low.

  Julian waved his hand. “In a second. If you want money that badly, I’ll write you a check. How much do you want?”

  “It’s not about money,” Emily said.

  “Though I could use a new car—” Philip said.

  “Julian!” West shouted, underscored with fear zinging along the bond.

  West’s alarm overriding his other feelings, Julian whirled around from where he’d been tracking Emily’s movements. Following West’s directions, he faced the pathway leading to the lake, where a figure had appeared while he’d been distracted. Julian had to squint to see, with the glare of the sun framing them. Recognition made his stomach drop.

  “Mr. Pimlicoe?”

  Mr. Pimlicoe from the hotel in Las Vegas, standing on Julian’s lawn. Instead of his usual impeccable suit, Mr. Pimlicoe wore red mage robes and a scowl, and his hair was slicked back, and the same tinted glasses as always hid his eyes. He held a cane in one hand like a wand. Julian wondered about evil twins for a moment before shaking his head.

  “You know him?” West asked, leaning close to Julian’s ear. His solid presence was a comfort.

  “He works at—I know him, yes.” Julian didn’t want to get into his vacation plans while magic crackled in the air.

  “Why’s he here?”

  Good fucking question.

  Raising his hands, magic twined around his fingers, Julian stepped between West and Mr. Pimlicoe. West tried to get in the way, eager to put himself in the line of fire, and warmth suffused Julian at the action. He elbowed West aside all the same; magic stood stronger against magic. And Mr. Pimlicoe had definitely brought magic to the table, his cane giving off sparks as he tapped it rhythmically against the lawn. Grass yellowed where the cane touched. Julian tried to remember if he knew a landscaper.

  “Stop ignoring me, you little shit!” Mr. Pimlicoe bellowed, smacking his cane on the grass.

  Flames tore across the grass in a flash of heat, and only West’s reflexes prevented Julian from becoming barbecue. Seemed like physical prowess could still be of use on occasion, as West had pulled Julian aside, shielding them both with his body. Julian wanted to kiss him.

  But he had to kick arse first.

  “Mr. Pimlicoe, you don’t have to do this.” Julian tapped his forefinger against his thumb in readiness. “Whatever it is you’re doing.”

  “Mage Pimlicoe, you little shit!” A fresh blast accompanied the shout, turning the lawn to ashes. Fire rose in a circle around Mr. Pimlicoe, bright and hot. He yanked off his glasses and gestured to his eyes as if wanting Julian to see the gold in them. “Mage! Pimlicoe!”

  Reasoning obviously isn’t gonna work.

  Shoving his spell book at West, thankful it was impervious to damage, Julian drew his left foot in an arc and reached out with his right hand. Magic rose at his command, creating a shield to block the stream of fire spitting from Mr. Pimlicoe’s cane. Heat simmered against Julian’s face, but his shield prevented anything more than a warm breeze from seeping through. Julian thanked the universe West was happy to stand at his shoulder.

  Thanks were all he had time for before he was knocked back by a second attack from Mr.—no, he was trying to set Julian alight; he didn’t get a title—Pimlicoe. The shield held, but the impact made Julian stagger backward. He heard a low rumble of sound from somewhere, but his attention was commanded by Pimlicoe’s increasingly powerful blasts of fire. Where was he pulling the magic from? Julian tried to understand the core of the spells, but he couldn’t focus while trying not to become one giant burn blister.

  West kept pace as he circled. “Julian, let me help.”

  “Just keep behind me, darling. Please,” Julian said, gritting his teeth. Magic fought against him as he reached toward the lake, because magic could be stubborn that way, and he executed a hurried jeté as he beckoned again to the water. He wanted to yank, but asking got more than demands. Pimlicoe aimed his cane at Julian again, a blast of flames following behind. Smoke billowed furiously and Julian’s shins seared with heat, but he didn’t break concentration. He couldn’t. Pimlicoe had obviously prepared his spells in advance, but Julian had to improvise, and he couldn’t afford a misstep. Not with West nearby.

  As for West, a glance showed Julian he’d used the cover of smoke to circle behind Pimlicoe, only to discover he couldn’t breach the circle of flames Pimlicoe had raised in defense. Irritation sang through their bond. Julian bit back his smirk and focused on Pimlicoe.

  “What do you want? Why are you—how are you here?”

  “I saw you at your worst, Colquhoun,” Pimlicoe said, his cultured tones out of place with his wild eyes. “And in your desperation for sympathy, you slurred your secrets to me. You created Rabid and let it go to waste. But I have gifts too. I found the meta and his pack. I made him an offer.”

  As he spoke, Pimlicoe advanced, fire and smoke growing in his footsteps. Feeling sick at the words, Julian stumbled backward, unable to raise an effective offense as he struggled against the heaviness of the reluctant lake. Placid under April skies, it resisted his call. Julian twisted his wrists like he’d been sitting at the keyboard too long, drawing his arms away from himself in a slow stretch.

  Of course, Pimlicoe used the moment to raise his fucking cane again, smashing Julian in the sternum with the base of it. Winded, Julian lost his threads of magic and fell back. Pimlicoe loomed over him, pinning Julian with the red-hot tip of the cane. The thin ring of magical color in his eyes was a sour yellow.

  “I’m tired of you shitty rich kids and your lack of respect,” Pimlicoe said, hitting Julian again until he fell. “Mage Pimlicoe, but my mother never sent me for registration. You’ve wasted Mage Matilda’s gifts, Colquhoun. You don’t deserve her name.”

  Julian knew that tone of voice. Mage Matilda had obsessive followers who tracked her career like they couldn’t decide if they loved her or hated her. It was one of the reasons she’d started working in isolated locations, like the place that became West’s cabin, and kept the locations secret even from him. Julian hadn’t realized Pimlicoe was one of her followers. He hadn’t realized he’d spilled his worst secret to a friendly pair of ears, only for the words to turn to poison. The pathetic wreck of his previous self had a terrible choice in friends.

  Yet even as regret tried to take hold of his heart, the bond thrummed with warmth. As if it called him, Julian glanced through the smoke and glimpsed West’s silhouette. Strength made his blood sing, and with a snarl, he knocked aside Pimlicoe’s cane and leaped to his feet. Abandoning attempts at finesse, Julian began yanking magic from the air, calling his favored sparks and sending them straight into Pimlicoe’s eyes. He hoped they burned. He hoped they burned like Pimlicoe would burn if Julian got his hands on him. Crying out in pain, Pimlicoe stumbled back into West’s waiting arms.

  “Not very nice, sir,” West said, pinning Pimlicoe’s arms behind his back. “Why don’t you calm down.”

  Pimlicoe reacted poorly to West’s suggestion. He headbutted West in the nose, taking West by surprise and managing to free him
self. Grabbing his cane, Pimlicoe directed fire full-force at West, a cloud of smoke erupting instantly at his command. West howled somewhere behind the dense smoke, and Julian saw a much darker red as shock spiked along their bond.

  Magic jumped from his fingers, and the stubborn lake finally bowed to Julian’s command. He yanked reams of water into motion, pulling hand over hand until his biceps burned. Screams scorched his throat as a stream slithered uphill to douse the fires spotting the lawns and obliterate Pimlicoe’s defenses. Steam hissed from the grass, coughing up yet more smoke. Though his eyes watered and his lungs stung, Julian kept pulling at the lake until Pimlicoe subsided beneath it, soaked and twitching. Julian heaved for breath, then flinched when a shadow slithered across Pimlicoe’s feet and coiled around him like a living rope. The magic felt strange where it brushed his own.

  Twisting to look over his shoulder, Julian saw Emily and Philip. He’d forgotten about them entirely, but he didn’t have energy to spare on guilt. Emily’s face was sharp with concentration, and the smug pride on Philip’s face couldn’t have been stronger if he’d been the one controlling the shadow.

  When Emily’s shadow had subdued Pimlicoe and Philip got a few kicks in, Julian rubbed his face with shaking hands. Taking a deep breath, he strode across the lawn to where he’d seen West disappear into smoke.

  Darkness had swallowed the grass. Julian’s heart beat sickly in his chest as he crossed the dark and sodden lawn, his bond the only assurance that West waited on the other side. What if he’d imagined the bond? Julian ached with worry. As the smoke cleared, a shape finally coalesced from shadow and light. Julian broke into a run as oil—or something that looked like it—dripped away and slithered across the grass, revealing West with his hands thrown in front of his face. Unharmed. As perfect as ever. He even held the spell book in his hand, the cover creased by the strength of his grip.

  Julian rushed to West’s side, dropped to his knees, and brushed West’s hair from his face with a shaky hand. “You about gave me a heart attack. Don’t do that again.”

  West coughed, rubbing his chest as he sat up. Julian helped him, supporting West’s lower back. His shirt had been torn at some point, and his skin was soft and warm with grass sticking to it.

  “Hadn’t planned on it.” West sneezed, his nose wrinkling. “What’s that smell? Like… I don’t know. What is it?” Hand darting out, he grabbed a tendril of Emily’s darkness. “It’s this… whatever this is.” Giving it a pat, West released the shadow. “Thanks, buddy.” From the wide-eyed expression Emily made over West’s shoulder, Julian suspected West shouldn’t have been able to touch the whatever-it-was. Or at least he shouldn’t have tried to high-five the… creature? Julian decided not to worry about it and to appreciate the unusual in West. When they got to their feet, he reached out. West tried to give Julian the book, but frowned when Julian refused.

  “Try again.” Julian waggled his fingers. “I don’t want to hold the book, darling.”

  West’s blush was truly a thing to behold. He went red to the tips of his ears as Julian interlaced their fingers, allowing himself to be dragged over to Emily and Philip. The bound figure at their feet writhed, but the darkness covering his mouth muffled his shouts. Julian felt exhausted just looking at him.

  “Lyle’s key investor,” West said. At Julian’s look, he shrugged. “Lyle said. I wouldn’t have known what to tell you, though. I thought it might be one of the pack.”

  “So Lyle and Mr. P—yes, Mr. P, you arse, taking advantage of a man in his cups is low as shit. Anyway. The two of them were dealing Rabid.” Julian raked his hair back from his face with his free hand. “I don’t know what to think. What a damn mess. At least they’re out of business, I suppose.”

  A sniffle from behind him. “There’s loads of dealers, Col-cock-hoon.”

  Julian closed his eyes briefly, offering a prayer to whatever listened. Opening them, he turned to glare at Philip, restrained from thumping him by the warmth of West’s hand. Already becoming a respectably engaged man. Are you proud, mother? Emily had wandered over by the cottage. Talking to her shadow, maybe.

  “Yes, I’m aware, thank you. But once I undo—Well. Once I do what I’m doing, any others will find themselves in a similar situation.”

  “What? Trussed up by Ems?”

  “Similar. Not the same. Shut up.”

  West’s shaking shoulders took the wind from Julian’s self-righteous sails, and he cut himself off from the diatribe he would’ve given Philip any other day. West pressed the spell book against his mouth, but Julian could still see his smirk. Much more pleasant to look at than Pimlicoe, who Julian couldn’t stand to see from more than the corner of his eye.

  “What should we do?” West asked when he’d got his smirk under control.

  Julian shrugged. “I suppose one of us should call Meta Law for this toerag.”

  Emily chose that moment to finish whatever she’d been doing by the cottage and join them. “I already did. Anonymously, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “Which gives us a few minutes to decide how you’re going to make it up to us,” Emily continued as smoothly as any negotiator.

  Julian raised his eyebrows. “Make what up to you? For what? What?”

  His voice reached a pitch probably only West could hear, which explained why West stepped forward and took over.

  “He means, I’m sure, to thank you for your assistance with—with the situation. How can we help?”

  “I want a new car,” Philip said, like he’d been waiting for the opportunity.

  Julian scoffed. “Sure. You’ll need it when you’re on the run, you fucking—”

  “And I want to be registered. I want to go to the academy.” Emily spoke over both of them, her voice deepening with authority. “Magic isn’t tolerated on our father’s side, and he holds the purse strings. They won’t support me. That’s why we want—wanted—your money.”

  “And for the car.”

  “And for my brother’s car,” Emily amended.

  Well, shit. Julian could hardly resent sending family to school. “You could’ve just asked, you know.”

  Philip’s eyes narrowed, more shrewd than Julian was used to seeing. “Could we?”

  Deciding silence was the better part of not being eaten by Emily’s darkness, Julian waved his free hand magnanimously. He’d have Mariko and Lauren confer on the contract—he didn’t want this shit haunting him—but he couldn’t refuse the pursuit of education. The idea appalled him, down deep where his soul might lurk.

  “Fine, fine. But you best scarper before Meta Law arrive. Fugitives, and all.”

  Emily grinned. She showed a lot of teeth. “We’re not fugitives. You’ll see, when the investigation comes to nothing.”

  Making a “come-hither” gesture, Emily stepped into the darkness that rose at her command to form a doorway. The last Julian saw of her was a flick of her hair, turning to smoke. Philip gave them one last glare as if for good measure, then scrunched his eyes closed before following her through. A beat later, the darkness twisted up in itself and disappeared.

  Julian finally released the shudder he’d been repressing. “Good God! What a creepy piece of magic that was. Jesus on a—Shit, West, grab Mr. P!”

  Without Emily to direct it, the shadow had released Pimlicoe. Fortunately, West’s reflexes were faster, and he managed to pin the would-be mage face-first to the ground, wrenching his arms behind his back. He’d even managed to press the spell book to the ground with his knee; a born multitasker.

  Julian wanted to run his fingers through West’s hair, to soothe the temper he could feel roiling beneath West’s skin, but he resisted the urge. They’d had a very long week and it wouldn’t be over until Meta Law relieved their watch. He needed West focused, not disassembled like he had been with soft words and touches as they lay in bed.

  Was he using West? Julian glanced sidelong at the two figures. He had used West, certainly. As West had used him. But going
forward, they’d walk side by side. Julian scratched his jaw, stubble rasping against his nails. Relationships were difficult.

  “That was kind of sweet,” West said, interrupting Julian’s thoughts. “With your cousins.”

  Julian snorted. “They blackmailed me, you realize.”

  “In a sweet way!”

  “We’ll have to agree to disagree, dearest. Besides, that shadow was terrifying. I think I might’ve agreed to anything.”

  Pimlicoe tried to say something, but West exerted pressure, biceps bulging, and Pimlicoe ate dirt. Julian curled his bare toes in the sodden grass. Tomorrow he’d call the landscaper. And the MAA—they’d been chasing him for years, so he could probably get them to agree to registering Emily in return for a favor.

  But first, Julian would cast the Spell of Undoing. Once he successfully performed the spell, all stocks of Rabid would return to their base components, and he could begin working with agencies to study the compound to conjure something to address the side effects. He’d need Lauren’s help, for her contacts in the community, and she’d probably curse him six ways to Sunday for his deception, but Julian could bear that.

  He smiled at West, who smiled back. Their bond hummed warmly in his chest.

  Julian thought he might be able to bear anything, if West would stay in his life.

  META Law arrived with mages to secure the scene, and Julian watched the mages with one eye while Agents Oliviera and Brent—scowling and snapping gum respectively—quickly spirited Pimlicoe away after Julian and West agreed to visit the Toronto headquarters to give statements. The mages didn’t stay much longer, though it took some firm repetitions that no, he didn’t need their help with security, and certainly not inside the cottage, until they finally left. Julian had expected more commotion over the whole business, and lingering nerves thrummed through him as he flopped onto the couch in the living room, propping his feet on the coffee table. A pile of paper wafted to the floor. He ignored it.

  West sat at the other end of the couch, stretching out his legs to prod Julian with his toes. Bits of grass and mud stuck to Julian’s sweatpants. He ignored that too.