Renegade Magic (Legacy Series Book 3)

by McKenzie Hunter

  “No one will be hurt?”

  “Of course not.”

  It was the best option. If everyone was out, the Trackers couldn’t work in secrecy anymore. Trackers who killed would be handled within the system. Better-case scenario: they’d be handled by a Legacy, and it would be self-defense.

  CHAPTER 10

  I spent two days considering looking for the Legacy, and with access to a private plane and SG funds, my search for them had become more ambitious than was feasible. Gareth’s furrowed brow and constant questioning had quickly reminded me how unreasonable it was. The massive global search I’d planned had been reduced to the city next to us and its environs. Which was why I was sitting next to him in the passenger seat of his car as we made the three-hour drive to Indiana.

  I scrutinized the information in the Trackers’ dossier. My fingers slid over the paper as I inspected the details in it. The particulars: the family tree, last spotting, jobs, and even some details of the daily routine. All this information just so they could track us down and kill us. And I was driving down a winding road, looking at the passing poplar trees, appreciating the azure sky as it faded to an indigo blue as the sun set, sitting next to a Tracker. A former one, I had to keep reminding myself. I had to get past it, and most of the time I could, but the dossier in my hand was a reminder of his association with the Trackers. With effort I pushed the thoughts aside and considered the positive things that came out of it; between the dossier, which was a result of his affiliation with the Trackers, and my ability to locate my own kind through magic, we shouldn’t have any problems finding the other Legacy.

  The silence between us for most of the drive was comfortable, or at least I thought it was until after two hours of driving Gareth turned down the radio. “What’s the matter?” he asked, taking his eyes off the road to look at me.

  Shaking my head, I refocused on the dossier.

  “Do I have to go over the whole spiel about how I can detect changes in your vitals? I’ll remind you if you want me to, but it’s getting a little redundant.”

  I looked up to find his gaze attentively focused on my face. The humor in his voice wasn’t there—he was concerned about me.

  For several moments I chewed on my bottom lip. “I know I should let it go and I realize you aren’t the person you were when you joined them, but I can’t help but think that person is lingering in the shadows holding all of us accountable for something other people did. If I were old enough, I wouldn’t have had anything to do with it. And I’m sure that others wouldn’t have.”

  “I wish I could give you an answer that would make you feel better and able to drop the subject. We were taught you were monsters, cruel people who killed thousands. Make no mistake, the Cleanse killed a lot of people.” He turned into the parking lot of the hotel where we were staying. He parked and turned to face me. “I’m not proud of it. I assure you, as you know, I’m good at a lot of things”—a smile curled his lips—“but changing the past is beyond my control.”

  “Yes, you are good at everything, including humility. I’m in awe. You should write a book or something,” I said, getting out of the car.

  Shapeshifter speed was just as off-putting as a vampire’s and hiding it was hard to do when he met me at the trunk of the car and started taking out our bags.

  We were headed toward the hotel entrance when he cleared his throat.

  “The woman who has a problem with being damseled doesn’t seem to have a problem with someone carrying her oversized overnight bag.”

  I rolled my eyes and ignored his sardonic remark and the slanted look that he gave me while I waited for the doorman to open the door for us.

  “In the past four days I’ve been attacked, had my ribs broken, been accosted by one of Conner’s strange creatures, and had an uncomfortable meeting with the ex-mayor of the city, whom I suspect hates me. I need a break, don’t judge me.”

  His dark chuckle floated throughout the large lobby as he went to the desk to check in. I looked around the posh hotel. I definitely would have chosen something less extravagant since we were only using it to sleep for the night. While he checked in, I took a seat in one of the tan square-shaped leather seats and fought the urge to put my feet on a table that was made up of interlocking dark brown circles. Muted tan walls were decorated with similarly eclectic art in various hues of brown, cream, and green. The restaurant off to the right of me already had people sitting at the bar, drinks in hand, lilting music drifting out along with the scent of food. I wasn’t hungry, but a drink or maybe even two, three, or four would have been nice. I wished we had arrived early, and that I hadn’t practiced my speech over and over to the point that it didn’t sound authentic but as rehearsed as it was. It was compelling—or at least I thought it was. How did you tell someone they were probably going to be approached by a magical zealot who looked innocuous and like royalty and it would be hard to decline him because he seemed to have the extraordinary ability to charm people into doing ludicrous things and his goal was to do the Cleanse again?

  I winced, imagining if I’d been approached the same way. How would I have responded? How would I have responded to Conner before? Could I have been lured into following him blindly in hopes of a different future where I didn’t have to hide or fear for my life? I pushed it all aside, far out of my mind. Conner was a problem, a big problem, but HF was going to be a bigger one.

  “What’s with the face?” Gareth asked as he approached my chair. When I stood, I pasted on a placid smile, but it didn’t fool him: his unwavering frown remained. I stayed silent until we were in the elevator and the door was closed.

  “We tell them about Conner, then what?”

  Gareth’s tongue rolled over his lips as he considered the question, and I really tried to focus on the furrow of his brow, the dark cast that overshadowed his eyes despite the bright unforgiving lights, but my gaze kept slipping to the delineation of the muscles of his chest and arms as they stretched his t-shirt.

  “Focus,” he said in a low rumble.

  “What?”

  Fixing me with a miscreant grin, he shouldered my overnight bag. “Stop undressing me with your eyes and focus on the issue at hand.”

  Ugh, this guy.

  His deep throaty laugh filled the elevator, and I was happy when the doors opened and I could increase the distance between Mr. Arrogance and me.

  “I think you all should come out. Every one of you will be under the protection of the SG. Living in the shadows is what makes you vulnerable. You live in anonymity with fake names, identities, and very few ties to people. So, when the body of a Legacy is found, most of the time you are just Jane or John Doe. Very few of you have identification, and if you do, it doesn’t take a great deal of resources to discover you aren’t the person you say you are. Isn’t that right, Anya?”

  The same tightness that I got when I thought of my real name and my former life grabbed me. Anya Kismet was the name I’d been given at birth, and part of me wanted to take that name again and don my persimmon red hair with pride as opposed to shame.

  He continued, “If you’re not being hunted by everyone, Conner has no power over you all.”

  “With HF recruitment at an all-time high we still might be at risk—so might all supernaturals.”

  “Lands isn’t a zealot, he can be reasoned with.”

  I didn’t think he was a zealot, but he wasn’t totally innocuous, either. He had the charisma and magnetism of a politician. That type tends to be dangerous.

  Our spacious room had a large TV on the wall and rich mahogany furniture. Off to the right was a sitting area complete with desk and what I assumed was a sofa bed.

  Most of my attention stayed on the bed, or rather the beds: two queen-size beds.

  He sidled in close to me, his breath hot against my neck as he spoke. “You seem disappointed.”

  He stepped back, and I took my focus off the beds and turned it to the taunting expression on his face that made the ignominy of my
response even more humbling. Warmth crept up my cheeks.

  “I didn’t want to be presumptuous. That’s not my nature.” The smirk he gave me didn’t reflect those words.

  “You do realize we haven’t just met, right?”

  Again, I was treated to a laugh that started deep in his chest, very feline, nearly a purr. It drifted throughout the room as he took off his shirt and walked toward the bathroom, leaving me watching him as he walked away.

  His leaving to take a shower was a good distraction, but not enough of one so I turned on the TV to a comedy and tried to allow it to divert my thoughts. Gareth was right: if we came out of the closet it would remove Conner’s power. But there was too much history behind it, and I wondered if I could be convincing enough for the others to listen to me. I lay back on the bed, my hands clasped behind my head, and closed my eyes trying to think of the pros and cons of the situation.

  I thought I would drift off to sleep, but I didn’t. Instead, my mind became an erratic backdrop of images from over the past few days: the creatures, the fights, the blood, the murder of the Trackers, and what it must have looked like when Conner annihilated the other Trackers. Those weren’t productive thoughts. We needed to be out, living among the supernaturals, with the rules and restrictions that they lived by. I was comfortable with doing that. I felt pretty sure they were going to require that we wear something to limit our magic. Maybe a small iridium bracelet. Depending on the size, it would limit but not totally restrict it. It didn’t seem like a terrible trade-off. We had betrayed humanity. Well, our predecessors had betrayed humanity, but we had to live with the consequences.

  Once I gave in to the idea, sleep came easier than I expected. I was woken up by lips lightly brushing against my cheek. Gareth’s tongue slipped out, laving. I turned my head to meet his lips and our tongues entwined. He explored my lips, my neck, and my shoulder before abruptly pulling away, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. He stepped back, giving me a full view of him in just a towel: the well-defined muscles of his chest, the sculpted lines that ran along his abdominals and stopped at the crest of his hips.

  One tug and he would be naked. I considered doing just that. Instead, I jumped up from the bed, sliding past him, my fingers running along his stomach as I made my way to the bathroom. I returned his smile before slipping off my shirt and pants and allowing him to watch me as I went into the shower. I should’ve taken a cold one, because that’s exactly what I needed. I was petty enough not to want him to know how I responded to him. When I came out, Gareth was still in a towel, standing in front of a tray of food with a bottle of wine, and the smile from earlier hadn’t faltered.

  He handed me a glass of red wine. “I figured you could use this.” I took a couple of sips. I was a whisky type of gal, but I did enjoy a good wine. Gareth could pick the best. I took a long sip, enjoying the deep currant flavors.

  “Have you decided what you’re going to do?” he asked, his voice still low, a sultry, deep rumble. He stepped closer and brought his fingers up to trace along my cheek, down my jaw, along the curves of my neck, and over my collarbone. Gentle, languid movements.

  “I think you’re right. But meeting them and warning them about Conner is going to be easier than convincing them to come out.”

  Gareth was so close, I could feel the warmth of his body. Stepping closer, I put my hand on his side, my thumb resting on his stomach. He kissed me softly at first and then trailed kisses along my jaw until he got to my ear and whispered, “I wasn’t talking about that. Have you considered the sleeping arrangement?”

  “Is this a business trip?” I teased.

  He made another deep rumbling sound, and it made me laugh, remembering the first time he’d asked me if I wanted to hear him purr. I actually had, and it was a very sensual, throaty sound that I wanted to hear over and over again.

  His hands were gentle and commanding as they moved along my body caressing my curves, kneading into the towel. They moved down farther, slipping under the towel and running along my butt. Strong, expert fingers roved lightly over my body, and then he pulled off my towel. He took a step back, appreciating the form in front of him. He walked me back to the bed and I stretched out on it.

  He resumed the gentle travel along my body. His fingers ran along the top of my breast before cupping it and taking it into his mouth. The warmth of his lips and the softness of his touch made me shudder. Then he delivered the same treatment to the other breast. I tugged at his towel and tossed it aside. I pulled him closer to me and kissed him hungrily. His kisses became more fevered and ravenous before moving from my lips and exploring the rest of my body—down my breast, my stomach, and between my thighs before he nestled himself between them; tasting me. He began to make lazy circles with his tongue and then brought me to pleasure. I writhed, clawing at the sheets. It wasn’t enough to sate me, I wanted more—I wanted him, and it was obvious that he wanted me, too.

  He ran his hands along my legs before lifting them and securing them around his waist. Sheathing himself in me, he moved carefully, slowly, his hips setting a leisurely rhythm. I stroked his back, but as his movements became more rapacious my fingers dug in, pulling him closer to me, needing him to quench the desire that was burning in me. He moved harder, more aggressively, commanding my body and coaxing an erotic pleasure that caused me to wilt into the bed, my fingers still curled into his back, my legs wrapped around him. We stayed in that position for several moments and then untangled from it. He didn’t move far from my side. He pulled me into him and held me there, periodically pressing his lips against my neck and shoulders.

  Our amorous activities throughout the night didn’t allow for a lot of rest. It was nearly three o’clock before we finally went to sleep.

  I hated doing magic with an audience, especially locating spells, because it seemed so intimate. Even if this was the second time he’d seen me do it, I still felt like Gareth was encroaching on something that had been just mine for so many years. The blood welled once the knife cut across my hand. He stood across the room watching me with acute interest, occasionally looking as though he wanted to get closer, to feel it like everyone else— the thrum of magic, even if it was used against them. It was a peculiar curiosity that I didn’t understand.

  The magic blossomed, spreading in front of me: reds, orange, purples, and deep blues merged, coiled around each other before pulling away to form a unique tapestry of the city. I lifted my eyes to meet his and saw fascination there—an avid interest in magic that he wasn’t immune to, that was just as detrimental to him as anyone else.

  “This intrigues you, doesn’t it?” I asked softly.

  He shook his head. “We are able to track people when we have their blood, but it never looks like this. This is art, beautiful, making what others do seem so pedantic.”

  The smile on his face didn’t belie the slight edge to his voice and the look that flashed just for a moment, apprehension and concern. He quickly mastered them, sweeping the emotions away, but not before I saw them.

  The colors pranced around, swirls forming a whirling kaleidoscope. Speckles of color spread over the unique map that emerged. I stared at the map with the same intensity as Gareth, feeling that familiar bond, that connection that was specific to us and no other supernatural. The link allowed us to find one another.

  Gareth stepped closer, his narrowed eyes homing in on the map.

  The list wasn’t as long as I’d wished, just three Legacy in the area. The first one was about fifteen miles from the hotel.

  After we’d driven there, I hesitated before getting out of the car. The quaint home didn’t make me consider turning around, but it felt as if I was there to disrupt a piece of normalcy the owner had carved out. A soft yellow house with a white fence that enclosed it off from the world. The lawn was neatly trimmed and verdant. Strong magic strummed through the air, intense and bleak; it was foreign to me. I leaned in, getting a feel of it as it coiled around me.

  “Stop,” Gareth commanded
, taking hold of my arm. He went ahead of me and then leaned forward, inhaling the air, and his frown changed to a thin rigid line.

  “Blood,” he said.

  My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. I inhaled a breath knowing it wouldn’t be as relaxing as I needed it to be. I didn’t smell blood, but the magic rode the air hard, tickled my nose. Maybe it was from an injury.

  Optimism prevailed when I noticed that the locks were in place, but then I took one look at Gareth’s face. His expression faltered into a deep frown. We stood in a moment of frozen silence. His eyes burnished to a deeper shade, anguished and disconsolate. Had he smelled death or just the blood that told him that death was inevitable?

  He shoved into the door until it gave. Shards of wood splattered at the entrance. The body lay faceup on the kitchen floor, eyes open in shock, lips parted in dismay. Hair splayed in a halo around her. I knelt and reached out to her. The skin was pallid but still warm. The room was uninterrupted and everything seemed to be in place. It looked like the typical home, a few dishes in the sink, flowers I assumed were from her garden in a vase on the counter. In the next room, the television was on; the sofa, chairs, and knickknacks were all in place. There wasn’t a sign of a fight, or even a poorly executed struggle. How could there not have been a struggle? Even the most inept magic wielder could put up some sort of fight.

  I looked at her fingers: there wasn’t any bruising around them or blood where she’d attempted to claw her way to freedom. Nothing. There was more than nothing. There was the magic, an odd mélange that felt cold, strong, strident, and oddly venerable as if it predated anything I’d ever encountered. I feared it although I had no reason to. I didn’t like the feeling it invoked in me—fear verging on terror.

  Redirecting my attention, I refocused on the body. One mark through her chest. Not a bullet or a knife wound. I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Gareth examined it. It was pinky-sized in diameter and over her heart.