by Cherie Marks
“Come on!” There was no end to the Sunday driving in sight, and Gemma was getting away.
He was a freaking warlock, wasn’t he? What was the good in having magic if you never used it? He’d just lift all the vehicles slightly, drive under them, and set them all down gently behind him. They’d never even know it was happening because he’d weave an illusion of the road rising as well. Sure, it would be a complicated use of magic, but with the right calculations and intense concentration, he was confident that he could do it.
With a deep breath, he began the spell, speaking the magical words aloud in the car. The car in front of him easily lifted about twenty feet in the air, and he passed swiftly beneath it before lifting the next car. He could feel sweat beginning to coat his forehead. It was a strain, but he knew he could do it if he just kept his focus on the task.
There were three more cars, and he raised the next one, pulling his car underneath and finally setting down the last car in line. He felt his heart rate speed up and his muscles began to shake as if he were literally trying to lift the cars with his own bare hands, but he persevered. There was no turning back now. He sucked in a heavy breath and held it as he lifted the next car in line and accelerated under it, setting down the second car he’d raised with just a slightly rough bump. A quick look in his rearview mirror showed the driver surprised but steady.
He only had one more to raise, and he was actually thankful they were all moving so slowly. It made the process easier somehow. Yet, just as he prepared to lift the final car, he felt a tug on his right-side pants pocket. A quick glance downward gave a most unexpected shock to his system. As he lifted his gaze back to the road in front of him, he cleared his head with a shake. Maybe he had worked his own illusionary magic on himself.
Yet, as he looked back down, his vision was confirmed. He had seen it correctly. There was a mouse, yanking the folded deed to Kylie’s grandmother’s house out of his pocket. He pulled a hand off the steering wheel to shove the mouse away, but as he did, the car hovering above him touched the roof for just a second before he lifted it back up. He hoped the driver didn’t try to brake to see what he or she had just hit. He didn’t think he could handle that right now. Fortunately, they didn’t seem fazed at all and kept driving without issue.
“Gaston! There’s a mouse in here. Don’t cats live for this shit?”
“Maybe later. Still trying to get back to JLo.”
The mouse returned, but he needed to concentrate on what he was doing or this whole juggling act was about to become a magical fiasco. Sweat beads were now sliding down his face as he lifted the final car and pushed the pedal to get underneath. He set down the middle car and began to pull out in front of the pack. Feeling some relief, he didn’t even care that the mouse now had the paper and had scurried down under the passenger seat with it. He’d deal with that in a minute.
He eased the car second in line back to the physical road and pushed the pedal to pick up his pace. As he cleared the front car, he began to set it down as gently as the others, but accidentally let it slam to the ground as he saw a gray sedan parked at a produce stand on the side of the road. A quick look in the rearview mirror showed the whole line of cars braking as the lead car swerved back and forth a few times before getting the car back under control.
With a few more utterances, the spell was broken, and Mav put on his turn signal to pull off at the next possible place. A long, dirt driveway beckoned, and he turned into it, watching as the slow progression of cars made their way past him, undoing all his hard work. He cursed at the injustice of it all.
He turned the car around and drove back toward the produce stand. As he pulled into the gravel parking lot, he saw her light-brown braid swinging as she picked over the corn and tomatoes.
Tired of playing games, he announced to seemingly no one, “Alright, Kylie. The deed is yours. You can come out. I might even buy you some homemade cheese to make up for dragging you all this way.”
Slowly, the mouse eased out and clambered into the passenger seat. In an instant, his captive was sitting in the seat in place of the mouse. Her hands were free now, but she still couldn’t talk.
A few muttered words freed her vocal cords, and she railed at him, “How dare you! You son of a bitch. You dragged me all the way down here like some psycho, dangling a deed that I was beginning to doubt was even real. What are you, some weirdo?”
“If you could shift all along, why did you wait until now?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to find Gemma as much as you did. And you know why? To warn her about you.”
Her hand flew to the door handle, but he quickly made it impossible to open. She shoved at the door, anyway, slamming her hand against the interior panel. “Open the damn door!”
“On one condition.”
“No condition! You can’t be trusted.”
“You have the deed, don’t you?”
“Because I stole it from you!”
He shrugged. “Minor detail. I could take it back if I wanted to.”
Everything in her face tightened, and he realized he’d used the wrong tactic.
“But I don’t want to. We’re on the same side.” At her reddening face, he held up his hand before she could go on the wild tirade he knew was coming. “I mean it. I’ve been following Gemma for a while now, and I’m beginning to doubt that she is a murderer. However, if she isn’t the one who killed the King, then that means someone else is trying to frame her. I need your and her help to straighten this whole thing out.”
As much as he would like to think he was telling Kylie this just to get Gemma into custody, he had to admit it wasn’t as far-fetched as he would have once thought. There were unanswered questions about the whole situation, and he had to wonder if he didn’t need to hear Gemma’s side of the story. Of course, if he suspected for a moment that she had been involved in her father’s death, he would turn her in, walk away, and dust his hands of her forever.
Kylie’s breathing was heavy, but she no longer looked like she wanted to punch his face in. “Just what are you asking me to do?”
“I need you to convince her to trust me.”
Her scoffing laughter was not unexpected. “Are you serious? Why would I ever convince her to trust a psychopath like you?”
“Because I can protect her.”
“She doesn’t need your protection. I’ve seen what she can do. She’d kick your ass in a heartbeat.”
He wasn’t entirely certain he could deny that statement, but he could do something that she couldn’t do for herself.
“I can get her an audience with the Protectorate to let her plead her case, and if things turn sour, I can get her out.”
“What if she doesn’t want to speak to the Protectorator or whoever?”
“Don’t you think she should have a chance to choose one way or the other?”
She shook her head back and forth slowly. “How do I know this isn’t just a trick to get her into the castle dungeon or whatever?”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “First of all, there isn’t a dungeon in the castle. Second, I made a promise to her father, and I never break my promises, especially not to King Zolunder.”
“Okay. I’ll at least get her to talk to you, but you’re on your own to convince her. You’re done using me to do your dirty work.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything different.”
The game was on.
Chapter 7
“What are you doing here, Kylie?” Gemma hugged her best friend in reaction before pulling back, uncomfortable with the sudden urge to show affection that had come over her. Maybe she’d been living with the humans for too long.
Yet, when Kylie only looked at her, eyebrows tightened together and forehead wrinkling in worry, Gemma understood what was going on. She swiveled quickly, reaching for her dagger, but patted her side a few times before glancing down to see her dagger missing from its sheath. She looked up into the smug face of the hunter as he steppe
d toward her.
“Give me my dagger back.”
“Why should I?”
“So, I can gut you from chin to...lower.” Her gaze dipped to his groin, completing her meaning.
“Hmmm. I’ll pass.”
Just as she tensed to throw her first blow, he uncrossed his hands and held them high in front of him, as if to show he meant no harm. “I’m not here to fight. I just want to talk.”
“Bullshit! You’re here to charge me with a crime I didn’t commit. You’ll return me to Linwyn. There’ll be a dummy trial, at the conclusion of which I’ll be executed. No, thank you.”
“What if I said I would get you an audience in front of the Protectorate, and if I think for a minute that they’re pushing an unfair verdict, I’ll get you out of Linwyn and protect you for as long as you need?”
“I’d say, you can suck my big toe if you think I would stand in front of the Protectorate and trust you to ensure my freedom. Someone is trying to wipe out the royal family, and it could be you or a member of the Protectorate themselves. I’m not taking that chance. So, if you’ll just return my dagger to me, I’ve got some tomatoes to purchase, and then I’ve got something to find...without your help.”
She put her right hand out, palm up and slammed her left hand onto her hip, staring him down, but clearly, he wasn’t done with her yet.
“There’s something else I should tell you.”
“I don’t want anything else from you except my weapon.”
He palmed her curved dagger, admiring it for a moment before laying it into her outstretched hand. She turned it over a few times inspecting it for damage before, satisfied, she sheathed it at her side once more. More than anything, she wanted to put it to use, but this wasn’t the time or place. If he kept pressing his luck though...
“I think we’re done here. See you around, hunter.”
As she turned, dismissing him instantly, out of the corner of her eye she saw him cross his arms once more as he said, “Princess Gemma, despite what you think, you’re not the last of the royal line.”
She paused briefly, looking at him over her shoulder. He was just trying to manipulate her, but she wasn’t anyone’s fool. With a shrug, she said, “My mother disappeared. No one’s heard from her in almost seven years. She gave us all up for freedom, I guess.” The pain of her absence was still strong, and Gemma often questioned if she’d done something wrong or, at least, hadn’t done something right to cause her mother to flee.
“Do you really believe your mother left for her freedom? Do you think she would ever leave your father or you without good reason?”
Now, he had her curiosity piqued. Her father never wanted to discuss her mother’s absence. She assumed it was because he was angry at her, but even if the hunter were just lying to get her to go with him, she wanted to believe there might be another reason her mother left Linwyn, and especially her daughter, behind.
“Well? Why else would she have left?”
“To protect your unborn brother.”
It was like every ounce of blood in her body came to a standstill in that moment. Even her lungs seemed to stop working as her brain tried to process what he was saying. Her mother had just disappeared without a trace, and this man who had been searching for her for who knows how long was going to tell her that she was pregnant with another child who was in danger. She didn’t want to admit it, but she needed to hear what he had to say.
“What is your name, hunter?”
“Maverick Waraxe.”
She sucked in a low breath at the realization. He had been orphaned and taken in by the state. The last name Waraxe was a generic name given to those with no parentage trained to be a warrior for the kingdom. He lived by a code of honor that few could achieve. Maybe it was time to listen to him.
With a quick glance to a shady area under a nearby tree, Gemma started toward the spot and said, “Come on. Let’s talk. But I better like what you have to say.”
Once they were both settled beside each other, Gemma leaned her back against the trunk of the tree and looked at him expectantly. He sprawled out beside her, leaning onto his right elbow.
“A prophecy was given before you ever came to be born that two royal children born years apart would bring unrest to the land. To keep the world at peace the two must be separated, never in the same world together. If this wasn’t heeded, the consequences would mean one would die unnaturally.”
“So, you mean to tell me that my mother went away because of this prophecy. That’s a load of bullshit if I ever smelled it.”
He ran his free hand down his face. “So much of it has come true though. Your mother got pregnant many years after you were born. You were around twenty. And...well...there’s more.”
“Of course, there is. Okay. Lay it on me.”
“When the time comes that one will ascend, the two will return to battle once more.”
“What? Wait, let me get this straight. I’m supposed to battle my what? Six-year-old brother for the throne. Not buying it. And not doing it. Even if it is true, I didn’t kill my father, and I won’t kill a child.” Memories of when she’d been asked to do once before came flooding back. Never again would she be someone else’s puppet.
Having heard enough, she stood and dusted her hands clean, and he quickly got to his feet, too. “You can’t deny that your father was assassinated, and that means it is time for you to ascend to the throne. If he wasn’t assassinated by you, then who? Don’t you want answers? Don’t you want to make the real killer pay?”
“You of all people know that you have no control over the actions of your parents. My parents chose to believe in superstition and let it control the choices in their lives. I am not my parents. I’ll be seeing you...mmm...never.”
She started to step away, but his hand gently wrapped around her upper arm, halting her. He leaned in until there wasn’t more than two inches between them. His masculine scent of spice and musk hit her nose, and without thought, she pulled in more. She noticed the flecks of gold in his eyes, and the light dusting of stubble covering his angular cheeks. He was too attractive for her peace of mind.
“I’m accountable every day for my parents’ actions. I wouldn’t be who I am without them and the choices they made, for better or for worse. And, for the record, you aren’t running away from this because of some higher moral principle. You’re running away because that’s what you do. If you don’t want to deal with something, it’s obvious that your only course of action is to run as fast and as far as you can.”
With a jerk, she pulled her arm from his grip. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do choose to run away usually, but I’m not this time. I have a plan, and it’s a damn good one, so if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to work.”
“Not without me.”
“What?”
“Where you go, I go.”
“No. Actually, let me put it this way. Fuck, no!”
She walked away without even looking back.
“Where will you go, Gemma, that I won’t find you? You know I’ll always be right there the minute you turn around. Wouldn’t you rather have me where you can keep an eye on me?”
Dammit! He was probably right. For the first time, his words made sense. “Why, Maverick? Why are you doing this?”
“You can call me Mav, and to answer your question, because I made a promise to your father that I would bring you home where you belong. That’s what he asked me to do well before he was assassinated.”
Her chest tightened at the thought of her father and never seeing him again. They were close once, when she was much younger, but disillusionment had pushed her further away. She hadn’t been able to reconcile the man she’d called father with the man who would order her to kill a child. The paradox of her father had never become clear for her, and if she hadn’t run, there might have been a chance that she would have understood. Maybe Mav could help her get the answers she needed. “Okay, I’ll go with you. And, then we’re good, right?”
/>
“Yes. Then we’re good.”
“You’ll leave me alone?”
He seemed a little shifty, but he nodded. “I’ll leave you alone...if you want me to.”
Ooooooh! He really knew how to make her blood boil. “Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
“Good. This serves my purposes well. I just happen to need to go back to Linwyn. There is something there I need for my plan.”
His forehead did that confused wrinkle again. “You mean, you were going back to Linwyn anyway?”
She nodded, the edges of her smile lifting ever so slightly. She could get used to this smiling stuff.
“But let’s take your car. I think it’s a bit roomier...for, you know, weapons, tomatoes, and shit.”
“Sure. And for an apparently growing wackadoo crew.” He pointed toward a waving Kylie, who was now holding a very grumpy looking feline.
“Oh, of course, room for the crew.”
Chapter 8
As they rolled back into Assjacket, Gemma woke and stretched in the backseat. Maverick noticed how soft she looked for just the slightest of moments. Her lips looked supple and eyes, dreamy. He could almost believe in her self-proclaimed innocence. It had lasted for just a second, but it was long enough that Mav saw the uncensored, unpretentious version of Gemma he had admired in her father’s office. However, the instant she came fully awake, her whole demeanor hardened. The question was, which version of Gemma was authentically her?
Kylie woke up in the seat directly behind Mav and yawned loudly. He sighed inwardly. She had talked his ear off before finally drifting off to sleep, and he wasn’t too interested in picking up where she’d left off. It had been so many ridiculous stories of the people and places of Assjacket, and he’d only half-listened. It was only when she mentioned Gemma that he perked up and heard every word she said. From Kylie’s stories, it was clear that Gemma was looking for a book, and Kylie also revealed that Gemma wasn’t aware that Kylie knew she was removing cursed objects, especially books, from the stores where she encountered them.
