Stolen Magic

by May Dawney

  She reveled in Gigi’s fear for a few moments longer, then unclenched her hand. It had gone pale with the force she’d put on it. Her skin pricked as blood flowed back into it.

  Gigi sank down to his knees, then rolled onto his side. He gasped for air and his body writhed like the maggot he was.

  When she realized Tempest’s hand was still on her neck, she pushed it off and stepped aside. “I’m calm.” She wasn’t, but she wasn’t killing a man anymore. “You.”

  She jerked her hand and his head lolled back, then froze in place so he was looking at her. “Get your beer. Get all the beer you need to recover and keep your mouth shut the rest of the time we are together. If you call her ‘negro’ or ‘nigger’ or anything derogatory like that ever again, I will kill you, and Tempest won’t be able to stop me. Do you understand?”

  He swallowed and nodded. His bloodshot eyes had gone watery. “I understand.” His voice was raspy and it obviously hurt him to talk.

  “Good. Get your beer, we start as soon as you’ve recovered.” She let go of her control of him and his head dropped to the cobblestones. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Viktoria—?”

  “Stay with him.”

  Tempest’s eyes drilled into her back as she passed Gigi.

  “If he even thinks about running, break his legs.” She knew he never would, but Gigi didn’t, and he’d gotten the warning that she was dangerous, at least. She didn’t doubt that he would extend the fear of dying to Tempest.

  Tempest let her go, which was good because she was boiling with rage and magic. At Gigi, but also at herself. Three times now, she’d used her magic when she’d vowed to herself she never would again. Three times, and it had all been so easy. It was like riding a bike—once you had the hang of it, the first time after not doing it for a while was rocky, but then…then it just felt like freedom.

  She glanced down at her hands. Both had balled to fists at her sides. She unclenched them with great difficulty. They looked so normal, so average—white collar hands, well-manicured nails, clear nail polish just to give them a shine, long fingers. Nothing special, and yet, they’d almost killed a man.

  Why did she feel so strongly about protecting Noah’s honor? Was it just because she was still reeling from the discovery of Noah’s involvement with the wild mage? Did she still have feelings for her after all those years?

  She shouldn’t have, it had always been a doomed relationship, but Noah had made her feel more alive than anyone else in the world ever had. She’d offered her a reprieve from an overbearing and demanding father, she had turned everything Viktoria had ever thought she knew about the world up-side down, she’d introduced her to mage and Otherkin societies, and perhaps most important of all: for the first time in her life, Viktoria had felt accepted for who she was—all of who she was, including her magic. Noah had gone to bat for her, but when push had come to shove…

  She swallowed down the bitterness in her throat. It hadn’t been just Noah. Viktoria had had her own part to play. Noah had offered to stay with her, hadn’t she? To leave the Society, to go rogue with her? But Viktoria couldn’t stand the thought of rejection, of being without a solid home beyond the arms of a woman nearly twice her age. She’d chosen to go back, and it had taken months until she didn’t have to force the idea out of her mind that she’d made the biggest mistake of her life that day.

  Her nose had gone runny. She sniffed, but then had to resort to wiping it on her sleeve. God, what a day. She glanced around to orientate herself, but realized she had no idea where she was. She’d wandered off into a random direction and now she was lost.

  Great.

  Now even more annoyed with herself, she fished her phone out of her coat pocket and flicked the screen on to Google Map her way back.

  She didn’t have time for this kind of juvenile behavior; she had a wild mage to find. Too much was on the line for her to let Noah’s presence get in the way of that mission. She would have to give some serious thought to what she was going to say to Noah once she caught up with her. With all the history between them, Viktoria knew she wouldn’t be able to kill her outright or take her in to stand trial.

  She would also have to give thought to how she was going to spin this with the Inquisitio, because as soon as the House Heads found out her mage ex-girlfriend was in possession of the Zaleska girl, they’d yank her off the hunt.

  They might be all right with Viktoria running Lucerne House as long as she behaved and got results, but with the amount of magic she’d used and the mistakes Anderson had made, there was no way they would continue to entrust her with something this important, and Viktoria needed something of this magnitude to cement her position.

  There was another reason for her determination. If a woman like Reisch took over, Noah would spend the rest of her life in a coma cocoon in the Penitentiary, that much was certain. For a long time, Viktoria had thought she didn’t owe Noah a thing, but now, as he made her way back to the Zaleska house, she realized she at least owed her a chance to hand the wild mage over and live.

  * * *

  Viktoria kicked off her shoes the second she entered the hotel room.

  “I’m going to shower.” Tempest didn’t even bother asking if she wanted to go first.

  She didn’t mind; he was sweaty, and when he was sweaty, he smelled like wet bull. Not to mention that if he took off his shoes without washing his feet right away, they would be sleeping with the windows open all night.

  While Tempest retreated into the bathroom, Viktoria allowed herself to fall down face first on the bed she’d chosen for herself. Five hours of walking around in circles with a whining, drunk seer and nothing to show for it but blisters. It was close to two a.m. and Viktoria was tired down to her bones. And ravenous. She’d used so much magic today that her energy stores were depleted.

  Would a hotel like the Royal serve food after midnight? Her stomach growled, so she forced herself to get up and get the room service menu. It didn’t look like it did, but a quick call to the reception desk and a hefty tip promised later, and the Royal agreed to find someone to cook them something.

  On aching feet, Viktoria walked to the bathroom door and opened it without knocking. “Tempest? Burgers?”

  His happy huff was all she needed to confirm.

  Twenty minutes later, she sat on the bed, her own shower postponed to chew her way through an extra-large chickenburger and fries meal while Tempest—now in a shirt and jogging pants, hair still wet, feet happily fresh-smelling—sat at the table and ate while he checked the searches that had been running all day. He hadn’t mentioned the inevitable, but she knew it was only a matter of time.

  “So.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “No hits on any of the transport trackers.”

  “Not surprising.” She dipped a fry in curry sauce and bit off the top. Half her meal down and her belly had finally stopped growling. Why had she even considered ordering something vegetarian or vegan? Blood red beef was what she’d needed.

  “Not surprising at all, no.” He clicked on something. “What did the House Heads say?”

  Viktoria glanced at the desktop of the laptop that sat beside her. “I’d know if I’d opened the chat.”

  He looked up and arched an eyebrow.

  “What? I was hungry, and I’m tired as well. I’ll log in before bed, I just… I needed to think. A lot has happened and not much of it was progress.”

  “You found a seer, discovered that the wild mage was taken out of her house by a known Society member, and you’ve made it your mission to find out where they went, isn’t that enough progress?”

  Her heart shot up into her throat. There it was. ‘A know society member’ could only allude to Noah. She decided to take the wind out of his sails. “Not when I have to tell them about Noah as well.”

  He leaned back and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Hm. Yes.”

  She couldn’t help a chuckle of relief. “That’s it? That’s your response?”
>
  “I don’t judge.” Tempest’s expression remained almost entirely blank, but she could hear the care in his voice. “I’m not paid to judge I’m paid to keep you from choking our seer, and perhaps to keep you from having your judgement clouded by the woman who broke your heart.”

  She huffed, but she had to fight a blush. “Another thing I probably should leave out of the report.”

  “That might be smart.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not letting her get in my head. She’s in the past.”

  “You did almost kill Gigi over something he said about her.” He arched a brow. “Could have fooled me.”

  “Shut up. You shouldn’t have asked me to magic Gigi over the wall, now it’s…” She looked at her hands again, and at her glistening fingertips. “Now it’s easy again. It’s right there for the using.”

  “So?”

  “Hey!” She shot him a glare. “You were initially hired to stop me from ever using magic again, remember? Or to control me if I did.”

  “I did control you. You didn’t kill him, did you?” He sucked his thumb clean.

  “No, but—”

  “Viktoria.” He put his burger down and wiped his fingers on a napkin. “Remember what I said in Lucerne? That you would be tempted, and that this was a bad idea?”

  She hummed a non-comitial hum but didn’t meet his gaze.

  “This is exactly why I said it. You’re a mage. Magic and the desire to use it are always going to be part of your life.”

  She pondered that as she stirred the sauce with a fry. “Perhaps, but I can’t, and you know that.”

  He was silent for so long that he looked up. “Your father is dead. You have a difficult mission and the last thing you needed was for our intoxicated seer to fall down and crack open his skull. You did what you had to do.”

  “There were other ways.”

  “They would have taken longer.”

  “Maybe, but they would have worked.”

  Tempest stared at her, then turned in his chair to face her. He rested his elbows on his knees and clamped his hands together. “I’ve seen you grow from an angry and heartbroken teenager into an angry and unhappy woman, Viktoria.”

  She opened her mouth to object to both accusations, but he held up a hand.

  “Let me just speak my piece and I’ll go back to brooding.” He glanced at her to see if she would try to interrupt again, but she waved her hand for him to go on. “You’re a Wagner. We’ve talked about what I think that means, why I think your bloodline tapped into mesmer magic.”

  She returned to distracting herself with a fry and the small sauce container.

  “I don’t think that applies to you.”

  Confused, Viktoria looked up from her plate. “Why not?”

  He watched her for a few seconds before he rose up to his impressive height and walked over.

  She moved her legs aside for him and he sat.

  “Because I think you’re not looking for power. I think you’re looking for control. That’s in the same vein, but also entirely different. You’ve lost a lot in life, and you’re clinging to what you have.” He squeezed his fist to empower his words.

  Viktoria watched his knuckles turn white and allowed herself to entertain the words, as well as sit with the panic they brought out in her.

  Her heart throbbed in her chest, and she wasn’t sure why, but she felt like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Like he’d unmasked her as a fraud. She drew her gaze up to his and held it.

  There was no judgement in his eyes.

  “Perhaps.” Just the partial admittance lifted a boulder off her chest. “But I am still a mesmer, and I am still a Wagner. Power is what I can get, so I’ll get it.”

  He nodded slowly. “Hm.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She pushed herself up so she sat straighter—and a few centimeters farther away from him. “Hm?”

  “Yes, hm.” He turned his body more toward her. “Tell me this: what you told the women in the brewery, was that true?”

  Her cheeks flared; she knew exactly what he was talking about. “Women? What are you talking about?” She hoped her biting tone would throw him off, but she knew better.

  “You told them you were looking for the wild mage so she could cut your magic. Was that true?”

  Her heartrate spiked, she huffed at his suggestion. “Why would it matter?” She could and would lie to anyone else, but when he tried so hard to be her friend, it was easier to skate around the truth instead.

  “Maybe it doesn’t, but it’s an option.” He finally laid his hand on her leg.

  She stared at the point where their bodies connected. “If you’re being nice to me in the hopes we’ll fuck again, then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

  He didn’t recoil like she’d hoped. “As I said: angry and unhappy.” He gave her leg a gentle squeeze. “All I’m saying is that if you choose to leave the Inquisitio, I’ll leave with you.”

  As if slapped, her body went rigid. She’d known he would, but they’d never once discussed leaving. When had he started considering it an option?

  Was it an option?

  The addition of Noah to the equation muddied the waters even more.

  She swallowed down a lump of nervous energy and shook her head. Her heart hurt inside her chest, as if an old wound had been torn open again. It had been, of course. The moment Noah had entered the Zaleska girl’s apartment and back into Viktoria’s life, Viktoria had come undone.

  She pressed her lips together and looked at her burger—now no longer appetizing—just so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I made my choice twenty-two years ago, Tempest. If I wanted a life between the Inquisitio and the Society, I would have taken Noah up on her offer back then.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out again after a few seconds. “Well, you know where I stand now.” He got up, but didn’t move away from the bed. “Also about Noah. If you need to talk about seeing her again, I’m here.”

  She refused to look up from the puddle of slowly setting grease on her plate.

  “Talk to the Heads of House, then go to bed. It’s 3 a.m. and tomorrow will be a long day.” He lingered a few more seconds, but then moved back to the table, his computer, and his half-eaten meal.

  She finally dared to glance up again, but she didn’t have the vocabulary to put the flurry of emotions inside her into words, so she didn’t try.

  That was another thing Noah had taught her: when to speak, and when to be silent. Of all the wisdom Noah had imparted, that was perhaps the one piece that had left the most lasting impression.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Have faith in the Lord, for He is mighty. Upon hearing His name, witches tremble. Under his protection, all Inquisitio thrive. Spread the teachings of the Lord and have faith: one day, we will all be liberated from the Lord’s enemies.

  – Rudolf Wagner, ‘A Guide for the Death of Witches’

  KRAKÓW MORNINGS, EVEN in late July, were chilly. Viktoria huddled in her coat in a spot of sunlight while Tempest walked the stumbling drunk around. With his arm around Gigi’s back and their bodies pressed close together, they looked like new lovers. The thought was amusing enough to break her out of her gloom at least temporarily.

  In reality, Tempest was probably plotting murder—Gigi’s and hers—for having to endure Gigi’s complaints and stench for hours on end. If she remembered right, minotaur Otherkin had a stronger sense of smell than humans.

  She checked her watch: eleven thirty-five. Almost half the day gone already. They should have made more progress than this. Without knowing where Noah had taken the girl, it was almost impossible to predict where they’d ended up.

  A tourist walked past them and Viktoria watched him turn his head to take the two men in.

  They did look like quite the odd couple. Gigi barely reached Tempest’s armpit and Gigi wasn’t a short man by any stretch of the word. The intimate hold most likely didn’t help either.


  She smiled at the stranger as he passed, which he seemed to consider equally confusing.

  “Stop. Stop, stop, stop!” Gigi tried to wrestle free, but the second Tempest let go, Gigi stumbled, so Tempest renewed his hold.

  “Stop squirming.”

  “What is it?” Viktoria crossed the divide between them. “Did you find something?”

  Gigi waved his hand as if to shush her. “Maybe. I saw… What is the word? Glimpse?” He stared at a spot on the ground dead ahead.

  She could picture him rewinding time in his head, as if getting an old VCR cassette to play the right piece of film—back and forth, back and forth, until he had it just right.

  “There! Yes, they were here, the n—the woman and the girl.”

  She resisted the urge to strangle him again; he’d corrected himself and besides, he’d come through for them. “Show me.” Her heart pumped blood through her body with such force that she got lightheaded by anticipation alone.

  “Yes, yes, come.” He waved her over.

  She paced herself in complying and stepped in front of him with her chin up. “All right, show me.”

  He cupped her ears and once more, his belly pressed against her back. “One second. I have to find…”

  She blinked and the vision of the alley overlay with a vision of that same alley, but with Noah and the Zaleska girl there, on the ground, talking.

  “What happened to me?” Zaleska’s eyes were wide. She’d huddled up against the side of the house, as if Noah would harm her.

  Noah inspected the girl, then nodded slowly. “That is a long story. It is not a good one to tell on the street. I will tell you everything I know when we get to the safehouse. Is that all right?”

  “No!” The Zaleska girl shook her head. She squeezed her eyes shut. “No…I need answers. Please.”

  “It is not safe, Ania. There are people who can see us, hear us, even when they are not physically with us.” Noah motioned to the air.

  “H-How? Who’s watching us? Why did no one see us when we left?” Zaleska seemed on the verge of tears.