Pyromancist SECOND EDITION: Art of Fire (7 Forbidden Arts Book 1)

by Charmaine Pauls

  She glanced back at the men, who watched her with expressionless faces. What would they make of her now that her art was no longer regressed? Would Cain still regard her as a potential enemy? Joss gave her a faint smile, motioning with his head toward the door, and she quickly left the room.

  Izabell was fussing over lobsters grilling on the fire. From her short but friendly greeting, Clelia gathered she didn’t know anything about the events that had played off. Cain and Joss probably wanted to keep it quiet. How were they going to explain the explosion that leveled Joss’s house? Maybe Joss could say he wanted it demolished. With Joss and Cain’s powerful connections, they could get around the red tape and make everyone believe it was an approved and controlled explosion. Given the house’s history, everyone would understand why Joss would’ve wanted something like that.

  “Food’s ready,” Izabell announced.

  Clelia took one of the serving platters. “I’ll give you a hand.”

  When the two women entered with platters of stir-fried vegetables, grilled lobster basted with garlic butter, and sautéed potatoes, the men got to their feet again, their faces tight. Clelia looked sideways at Joss. His brow was furrowed and his shoulders tense. Wariness weighted her down. What was in store for their future? Did Joss throw it all away because of her?

  When Izabell left the room, Joss said, “I think we should get to the point. Dragging it out isn’t going to make it easier.”

  With mounting anxiety, she looked between the two men.

  Cain addressed Clelia. “The fact that you’re Lupien’s daughter changes everything.”

  Fear twisted around her insides. Would the fact that she’d inherited bad genes warrant her elimination, regardless of whether she was trying to do what was right? Did Cain worry she’d turn dark at some stage, simply because of who’d fathered her?

  She squared her shoulders, her defensive side taking over. “How does it change matters?”

  “It means you’re more powerful than what we thought,” Cain said.

  “I didn’t know he was my father,” she said. “I didn’t put two and two together.”

  “Neither did we,” Cain said, his voice strangely reassuring. “It means you’re a very valuable asset.”

  She glanced at Joss again, who gave her a tense smile.

  “I don’t follow,” she said.

  Cain leaned closer. “I’d like to invite you to join the team.”

  Her lips parted. She stared at him for a second before managing to say, “You mean Joss’s team? The task force?”

  Joss studied her quietly, seeming conflicted.

  “You’re not firing Joss?” she asked, needing reassurance that she understood correctly.

  “It was never my intention,” Cain said.

  “Bringing me on board was?”

  Cain inclined his head. “Absolutely.”

  “Why didn’t you say so from the beginning?” she asked.

  “As I mentioned,” Cain said, “I first had to see which way you were going to turn.”

  Clelia turned in her chair to face her husband. “What do you want?”

  He considered the question for a moment. “I’m not happy about putting you in danger.”

  There was more behind his words. “But?”

  He took a breath. “I’ll support whatever you decide.”

  Being as overprotective as he was, she understood how much such an offer cost Joss. Could she even do it? Did she have the capacity to work in such a field?

  “What does being part of the team entail?” she asked.

  “It varies between missions.” Cain crossed his legs. “You’d take an oath to protect good against evil. I could lie and tell you some fairytale about the honor and glory, but as Joss is well aware, it’s a dangerous job. The truth is you’ll put your life on the line and use a forbidden art to fight for a greater cause. Ours is a secret organization. We don’t follow rules or laws. The financial compensation is good, of course. But when you take the oath, your time—at least the time you’re required to work—belongs to me.”

  She rubbed her palms on her thighs. “I need to discuss it with Joss. Can I think about it?”

  “I’m leaving after dinner,” Cain said. “I’m afraid time is a luxury I can’t afford to give you. I have a meeting with the sponsors of the organization in a few hours and they want your answer.”

  Joss took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her palm. There was sympathy in his gaze, and regret, as if he was to blame.

  “How would I enhance your team?” Clelia asked.

  “In any way you can,” Cain said. “Maya uses water when she must. Lann manipulates air. Your specialty will be fire. I understand how frustrating this must be for you, but I can’t give you more information without compromising the organization. I’m afraid if you come on board, it’s in good faith. You’ll have to embark on the journey blindfolded. All you have to believe is what we stand and fight for.”

  Her gaze was drawn to the fire. The new power she’d first felt on the yacht had grown inside her over the months and bloomed today. After how far she’d come, her old life seemed purposeless. She could never go back to booking sightseeing tours, and killing the hours, days, and years.

  “I’ll do it,” she said.

  Joss closed his eyes briefly as if he regretted her answer.

  “Good.” Cain turned to Joss. “We look after our own. She’ll have protection.”

  “I know,” Joss said tightly.

  “Your conflict is normal,” Cain said, “but maybe you’re still underestimating your wife’s strength.”

  The deep line running between Joss’s eyebrows told her he was concerned. She said quickly, “Our dinner is getting cold. Shall I serve?”

  “Thank you.” Cain smoothed down his waistcoat. “We should talk about the logistics.”

  “We’re relocating to New York as soon as possible,” Joss said as she dished up for their guest.

  “How do you feel about moving to America?” Cain asked, taking the plate she offered.

  “Joss said we could take my animals and Erwan could join us, if he wished.”

  “How would you like to stay in France?”

  She glanced at Joss. “Is that even an option?”

  Joss crossed his arms. “What are you suggesting, Cain?”

  “The team is growing. Our missions are sporadic. I, myself, have decided it’s time to soak up some sun at my villa in Morocco, and Lann has just bought an old monastery in South America that he plans to renovate. I was wondering if you’d prefer staying in France. We could do with a base here.”

  Hope expanded in her chest, but it wasn’t a decision to be made in a haste, or alone. “That’s something Joss and I would have to discuss first.”

  “Of course.” Cain gave a nod. “You can let me know what you’ve decided later.”

  They talked about Cain’s villa in Morocco and his love for the desert as they ate, avoiding any subjects related to forbidden arts.

  After dinner, Cain excused himself. As soon as Joss had closed the door, he turned her to him.

  “There’s a lot to talk about, but let me take you to Erwan first.”

  She could hardly wait.

  He took her hand and led her upstairs to a guest bedroom on the first floor. Erwan sat up in the bed, a tray with soup and lobster balanced on his lap.

  She hurried across the room to hug her grandfather, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “There now,” Erwan said, hugging her with one arm while holding the tray stable with a hand. “All is well.”

  She pulled away. “I’m so sorry for everything.”

  Erwan chuckled. “No need to waste good energy on regrets. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  “There’s so much to tell and so much to hear.”

  Erwan smiled. “We have all the time in the world.”

  “Are you tired? We can talk tomorrow if you wish.”

  “A little,” Erwan said with a smile. �
��We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  She kissed his forehead. “I’m not far,” she whispered, the words laced with a deeper meaning. She’d never want to be too far away again, but the job she accepted came with frequent traveling.

  When she walked back to Joss, peace dawned. The smile on her face was meant for him alone.

  He drew her into the hallway and closed the door. “I want to show you something.”

  She shot him a questioning look as he pulled her back downstairs and outside.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, but he only smiled at her.

  He led her through the neglected garden onto the jetty. Hugging her from behind, he rested his chin on the crown of her head. “If I weren’t so sure you’d say no, I would’ve asked you to marry me.” He added in a soft tone, “The proper way.”

  “It’s never too late.”

  “If I were to ask now, what would you say?” His chest expanded against her back with the breath he held.

  “Yes.” Always yes.

  He tightened his arms around her. “I’ll make you happy.” His words were urgent, the promise thick in his voice. “I swear it.”

  She blew out a happy sigh. “I already am.”

  “Good. I’ll make sure to keep it that way.”

  She smiled. “You wanted to show me something?”

  Turning her around, he placed something in her palm. His mother’s necklace. “It’s not a ring, but it’s the most precious thing I own.”

  She rubbed a thumb over the sharp edges of the crystal. “Are you sure?”

  “She would’ve wanted you to have it, as do I.” He fastened the necklace around her neck and traced the chain with a finger. “It’s perfect on you.”

  She cupped the pendant where it rested, close to her heart. “Now it’s my most precious belonging.”

  The sky rumbled, announcing a storm. Dead leaves spiralled in the wind. She took his hand to lead him back inside.

  “Wait.” He hesitated. “Imagine how this place looked before it became ruined.” He gave her a moment for the words to sink in before saying, “We don’t have to leave France.”

  Excitement sparked in her chest. “What about your home in New York?”

  He kissed her lips. “This is home.”

  Those words had never felt so right. She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I guess you came home after all.”

  “To you,” he pressed against her ear.

  Closing her eyes, she inhaled his scent, the smell of man and happiness. She didn’t have to look to know behind them the lake shone in the light of the moon, reflecting the castle that was his past and their future.

  “I love you, little witch. I might not have said it the way you wanted to hear it, but I felt it all the same. I don’t want you to ever doubt that.”

  She burrowed deeper against his chest. “Then I won’t.”

  He’d shown it in all the ways that matter.

  Epilogue

  The small party that was made up of Bono, Lann, Maya, Erwan, Cain, Joss, and Clelia were gathered in the dining hall of the castle. Clelia was facing Cain at the far end of the hall.

  “Do you promise to uphold our beliefs, to protect our own, and to fight for what we represent?” Cain asked.

  Clelia glanced over her shoulder at her audience. Joss stared at her with so much heat her cheeks turned hot. She wore the dress he’d bought for the celebration, a red silk gown with a low neckline and back, narrow over her hips, and flaring out around her feet. He wore a black suit with a silver tie that highlighted the color of his eyes. Support and something deeper, something that looked a lot like love, shone in those eyes as he gave her an encouraging nod.

  Erwan stood to her left. She’d never seen him in a suit before. Strangely, the navy double-breasted jacket and tailored pants suited him. He stood tall and proudly, his smile unwavering.

  Bono stared straight ahead, his cream linen jacket making a striking contrast against his dark skin. When she caught his eye, he winked.

  Lann looked indifferent, as usual, but he’d offered her a priceless gift—an antique handwritten book on the magic of firestarting from his private collection. The Russian had chosen a pinstriped suit and open-neck shirt for the occasion, looking like a walking advertisement for a men’s fashion magazine with his hair braided down his back.

  Clelia’s gaze jumped to Maya. Blue organza crossed over her breasts and tied at her waist. Horizontal layers formed a body-hugging skirt. With one hip cocked, her stance was one of sexual allure. Clelia couldn’t help the thought that formed in her mind. It was a harmless thought, with no real damage intended, so the flame that set the hem of the blue dress alight was a small one. It scorched the fabric only minimally, just enough to ruin the creation.

  Jumping, Maya raised her skirt, but the flames were already dead.

  “Clelia,” Cain said, “what is your answer?”

  As she turned back to Cain, Joss’s fingers brushed over hers. “I do.”

  “Do you swear not to use your art, except for the good of mankind?”

  Joss traced her knuckles with a finger. The touch held both a gentle and heated promise.

  “I do,” she said again, a little breathless.

  Cain smiled. “Welcome to our team.”

  He kissed her cheek, and then she was surrounded by everyone who wanted to congratulate her.

  Joss was last. He hugged her tight, whispering in her ear, “I’m proud of you.”

  Her heart warmed. She parted her lips to tell him he’d always be her family when a rivulet of cold liquid ran down her spine. Gasping, she arched her back.

  “What’s wrong?” Joss asked.

  She searched the room. Maya stood next to the drinks table, her hand hovering over a jug of water.

  “Need to cool down?” Maya asked with a wink.

  “You won’t,” Clelia said.

  “Maya,” Cain said. “Remember your oath.”

  Maya pouted. “She started it.” She took a glass of champagne from the table and lifted it to Clelia. “To mixed breeds.”

  Clelia smiled.

  She’d found her place in the world.

  She’d found her love. It was no longer one-sided. She was no longer a spectator, looking through a window.

  She belonged.

  ~ THE END ~

  Excerpt from Aeromancist, The Beginning

  Order Aeromancist, The Beginning

  Aeromancist, The Beginning (7 Forbidden Arts, Book 2)

  All that Russian aeromancist Lann Dréan wants is to enjoy a month of peace in the privately owned monastery in Santiago he is turning into a home. When an American literature student walks into his library of antique books, his holiday intentions change. The untouchable Lann is inexplicably enraptured. For all his famed control, he can’t stay away from Katherine White.

  Gifted with a hunted talent and a price on his head, the best Lann can offer Kat are thirty days of unrivalled passion before returning to his paranormal crime task force in New York. If Kat consents to his terms, she will agree to walk away on Day Thirty. Forever. But his uncontainable desire comes with an unforeseen and devastating price.

  Excerpt from Aeromancist, The Beginning (7 Forbidden Arts, Book 2)

  Kat knew where this was going and she couldn’t do it. Lann was a keeper, but he didn’t keep. She knew it from the gossip snippets, but also from intuition. She got up abruptly. “It’s getting late.”

  “Of course.”

  He immediately pushed back his chair. His compliance both surprised and disappointed her, and the latter sentiment scared her. But Lann acted oblivious to her turmoil. He took her hand and led her down the dimly lit hallway past the garden that was dark now, except for two spotlights that cast the trees and shrubs in a veil of green light. Every part of her body was aware of his strong fingers folding around hers. Her nerve endings came alive, making her skin tingle with an electric crackle. Even if she wanted nothing more than to escape the disturbing sensations, pulling awa
y would only demonstrate that she was affected, so she did nothing but to experience it in silence.

  At the library door he stopped, took a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I want to show you my library.”

  “I’ve had the tour.”

  “Not by me,” he said, ushering her inside.

  During the day, the broad windows let in plenty of natural light, but now they were dark, and the dim ceiling spots cast the wood in a warm glow that washed over her with the welcome scent of the ink and leather. Lann flicked on the light, and, as always, she looked at the spines with the embossed gold titles in awe.

  Taking her elbow, he led her to the back of the room where the most fragile books were displayed in a glass cabinet, and surprised her by unlocking the door with a cylinder key from his keychain.

  “Would you like to touch them?” he asked in a soft voice close to her ear.

  She put a bit of distance between them and dared to glance at him. “You’d let me?”

  He opened a drawer under the cabinet and pulled out a box of white gloves.

  “Here.” He handed her a pair.

  She tried to pull them on, but her hands were shaking, making it difficult to fit her fingers. Taking her hands in his, he finished the task with the utmost gentleness.

  For a moment, she was too shaken to speak. When she finally found her voice again, she only managed a breathless, “Thank you.”

  His eyes sparked with warmth, that strange golden color almost glowing as he held her gaze a fraction too long. “You’re welcome.”

  She cleared her throat and quickly turned back to the books. “Which titles are these?”

  “Old verses about magic. Some of my favorites.” He placed her palm on the page, his big hand covering her gloved one.

  Her heart and breath started to do funny things. She should’ve only wanted to lift the book from the padded interior, to turn the pages, to hear the crackling of the paper, but all she could focus on was the tall Russian who manipulated her hand, working her fingers to turn the pages. Her body felt hot and her mind fuzzy.