by Ann Macela
Hy God. What if I can’t do what they want? I’m going to fail her.
He rubbed his aching center and watched the group in the pentagon. He could almost feel the enormous amount of energy pouring into the ring and from it to the Swords.
Another wild exchange on the arena floor brought his attention back to Irenee, and he watched the battle with much more trepidation than a few minutes ago.
Kendra changed missiles to throw rainbow-hued energy beams with both hands. When the multicolored lances hit Irenee’s walls, her indigo and violet barriers flared. When the torrent increased in number and intensity, her magical fortification bent under the pressure, flexing like the tight skin of a drum. Irenee’s defenses held firm under the onslaught, and she appeared unaffected as her walls deepened in color and she returned fire.
Each of the blows, however, hit Jim like a sledgehammer. He couldn’t sit still, but dodged and flinched with each strike. With every cell in his body demanding he go help her, his magic center urging him on to do something, he tried to rise from his seat. Whipple grabbed his arm and held him down.
“She’s all right, Jim,” he stated firmly. “You know it, you can feel it. Relax.”
Jim stared at the big mage, then abruptly sat back in his chair. Whipple was right. He could feel Irenee’s power and confidence, her strength and excitement. His center seemed to take a deep breath and calm down, and hoping it knew more than he did, he followed its lead.
He glanced over at her parents, who were watching the battle closely. Hugh was almost glowing with pride, but the tension in both showed in the way they clasped hands tightly. While the brother appeared relaxed on the surface, he, too, was closely following every move in the arena.
The team had reached twelfth level in their bolts, according to Whipple’s commentary.
“What about their swords?” Jim asked. “I only had a glimpse of Irenee’s, and I thought they’d be using them.”
“A blade is pure magic energy, formed into a column in the shape of a sword. Think of it like a handheld laser,” Whipple, answered. “They’re extremely powerful, but energy eaters. We don’t use the Swords’ blades in tests—too exhausting, and entirely too dangerous. With enough power from the wielder or against a very weak opponent, the sword beam can cut right through a lesser pentagon’s walls. A successful attack on a fortress by a strong enough beam can injure, even kill, the Sword and Defenders inside.”
So, from what Whipple, was saying, the Swords needed more energy than they could produce individually to destroy an item. Irenee would need her team’s—and his, if he could work the transfer. She couldn’t do it alone. Okay, those facts perversely gave him cause for optimism. He simply had to make sure she didn’t go after Ubell or his Stone by herself, and she’d be safe.
Yeah, simply. He’d stop her reckless actions, even if it took a fight. He could probably depend on Whipple’s help in that endeavor, too. Jim relaxed a tiny bit and felt his center do the same.
Suddenly, the battle intensified, and the change brought him upright. The three Swords within the pentagon each began to hurl separate spells at Irenee instead of only one through Kendra.
“Hey!” Jim yelled.
“Take it easy,” Whipple admonished, putting his hand on Jim’s shoulder again. “Look, she’s fine.”
And she was. Previously, Irenee had been standing still while she cast. Now she was moving within her pentagon, almost dancing, hands held up and weaving patterns in the air as if to halt the spell missiles physically and to dodge particularly potent blasts. The glyphs on her robe rippled with colors as the spells swirled around her.
The bombardment seemed to go on for hours, and when Jim looked at his watch, he saw they were indeed into the second hour of the test. He also realized he had been moving in his chair, as though he was evading the bolts. At last he thought he could see her tiring, her energy depleting, her walls weakening ever so slightly. If only he could send her some of his power.
A movement where there had been none drew his gaze. Baldwin. The presiding Sword had been standing immobile inside his own pentagon throughout the battle, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his gown. Without warning he threw up his hands and brought them together in front of his chest. Out of his fingers flew a huge silver energy bolt, straight at Irenee. Her walls shivered, bent inward almost to the point of touching her slight body, and appeared to be on the verge of collapse.
The son of a bitch!
Jim surged out of the chair. He threw something—energy, fire, he didn’t know what or how—at Baldwin just as he saw Irenee rally her defenses, deflect the bolt, and send it careening at the other pentagon where Kendra had to move quickly to parry the blow.
On the balcony, all hell broke loose. Jim’s blast bounced off the glass, almost hit him in the head, and ricocheted around the room. He turned in time to see Catherine and Hugh Sabel duck it and Dietrich hit the floor. Whipple grabbed the missile somehow in a spell and dissipated it before it did real damage.
On the arena floor, Baldwin cried, “Enough!”
Irenee dropped her protective walls and swayed, but remained upright. She looked up at Jim, frowned, and, her voice completely audible in the silence, said, “I’m fine. Really” Then she turned to accept the accolades of the testers.
Jim stood rigid for a moment until he satisfied himself Irenee was, in truth, all right—exhausted, but all right. He relaxed with a huge sigh. Relaxation turned to chagrin, however, when he watched the others restore themselves to order after his spell-casting attempt. “Uh, I’m sorry. I guess I lost my head.”
“Perfectly understandable, my boy,” Whipple chuckled. “You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last to react when your soul mate’s being threatened.”
“The most interesting part is, Jim,” Hugh interjected, “that you could throw anything at all. What did he cast, Fergus? Could you tell?”
“Sheer energy, spontaneous combustion?” Whipple shrugged. “Jim, we don’t know what you are yet, but you pack a hell of a wallop.”
Jim didn’t care about that. He looked back at Irenee. “Is she really okay?”
“She’s fine, and she was spectacular.” Whipple smiled like a white-haired bear who had discovered a big pot of honey. “We have a lot of work to do with the both of you in the future.”
Fine for Whipple to say. Jim had another take on the performances—both his and hers. They showed Jim exactly how helpless he was here. In his new world, if he didn’t do everything exactly right, he wouldn’t protect himself and, worse, her.
God, was he doomed to another loss of the person most important to him?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Irenee emerged from the arena into the hallway to find her family and Jim waiting.
Her mother reached her first and gave her a big hug. “Irenee, we are so proud of you!”
Her father and even Dietrich followed suit, with her brother, the tease, whispering in her ear, “I’m still a higher level than you.” She punched him in the arm, and they grinned at each other.
She was seriously considering fussing at Jim for causing the disruption that almost distracted her at the wrong moment, but he took her in his arms like she was the most precious thing on earth. All the fight went out of her when she felt the anxiety in his hold and he muttered in her ear, “Damn, woman, you scared me half to death.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered and leaned back to see his face. “Really”
“Let’s have a celebratory drink,” her father said. “You should be hungry”
“Famished.” She kept hold of Jim’s hand all the way to the restaurant.
During dinner in the restaurant, her mother quizzed poor Jim up one side and down the other—in a very polite way, of course. He did a good job of telling her enough to satisfy, without divulging what was only between the two of them.
Irenee didn’t find out anything new about him from the conversation, but she didn’t expect to. He knew how to handle interrogation
s. She did, however, learn she was even more conscious of his presence next to her than she had been at lunch. If it hadn’t been for the need to replenish her energy from the test, she’d have thought seriously about skipping the meal, taking him upstairs, and getting to know him better.
By talking, of course. About their goals, their families, their approaches to life, their likes and dislikes.
With maybe a few of his glorious, exciting, totally arousing kisses thrown in for good measure.
What was to stop her from doing the very thing before they finished eating? Simply get up and go? They were soul mates, after all. Who was going to object?
Jim nudged her with his elbow. When she turned to him, he gave her a look that could have set an iceberg on fire and murmured, “Let’s get out of here as soon as we can, okay?”
“I’ve been thinking along those very same lines,” she whispered back.
He raised his eyebrows at her.
She could feel her face heat and quickly turned her attention back to her plate.
Sitting on her other side, Fergus leaned forward and nodded at both of them. “I need a private word with you two when we’re done here, okay?”
Irenee nodded, and Jim said, “Fine.”
What now? Or rather, what else? She didn’t have a clue what Fergus’s “private word” might be, so she applied herself to her fresh strawberry and hot fudge sundae.
“You two must mate tonight,” Fergus stated bluntly, when he had them seated next to each other in a small conference room on the first floor of the residence building.
Irenee opened her mouth to refute his statement and closed it again abruptly. Yes, she wanted to make love with Jim, but not be pressured into it. Soul mate or not, she couldn’t shake the feeling they were being forced into it and entirely too fast.
Fergus, however, was using his implacable “I am in charge” voice—he would accept no arguments.
Jim obviously didn’t realize it—or maybe he didn’t care—because he said, “Wait a damn minute, Whipple. Who are you to decide that for us?”
“I’m the leader of Irenee’s team, for one. For another, I’m the one who caught the bolt of energy you let loose in the arena.” Fergus held up both hands. “Hear me out.”
Irenee grimaced. Here came the need for teamwork again, and this time it was infringing on what was supposed to be between her and Jim. She resented Fergus’s intrusion—although he did bear the final responsibility for the success of their mission. She put her hand on Jim’s arm and sighed. “I think we need to listen to him, Jim.”
Jim clasped her hand and sat back with a squinty stare at Fergus. “Okay, but I’m not agreeing to anything in advance.”
“You first, Irenee,” Fergus said. “The way you’ve been going up in levels—spontaneously—is spectacular and unprecedented.”
He pointed to Jim. “We still don’t know what you can do. Johanna said it looks like you can’t transfer energy the way Defenders do, with other Defenders. On the other hand, Irenee says you can share with her. You have some firepower, as shown by your demonstration in the arena. What kind or how you can control it is a mystery. Do you agree so far?”
Irenee looked at Jim. “I can’t disagree with Fergus’s assessment. Can you?”
Jim paused, looked like he wanted to object, but said only, “So what?”
“It’s inevitable,” Fergus continued. “We’re going to fight Ubell’s bigger, stronger Stone. It’s going to throw everything at us, whether Ubell is directing the action or not. Furthermore, we have to assume you’ll be its target again, Irenee.”
“I think so, too,” Irenee said. “What does it have to do with our mating?”
“When you two make love, the soul-mate phenomenon will, most probably, increase the energy and potential in both of you,” Fergus stated. “We’re going to need every ounce of power in the coming fight. We need both of you at full strength, with Jim pouring power into you. I think he’ll be able to share at will after you bond. Jim once said Ubell would think of the most evil way he could to get back at you. I agree. We’re meeting with the man tomorrow. We have to be ready for any and all reactions from him.”
“Yeah, but what good will it do us to have more energy?” Jim asked. “I don’t know how to use mine, and Irenee hasn’t practiced the higher spells for her new level. Johanna and I tried to share power, and nothing worked.”
“Think of the larger picture. Irenee proved today she can pour more into the spells she has. You’re already linked to each other. Soul mates always are. If you can feed her power, that’s more for her to use. Once you experience the bonding, where you will share energy, you’ll have a better idea what I mean.”
Jim slumped back in his chair, looking disgruntled and obstinate.
“Irenee, you’ll be able to fight longer and stronger,” Fergus continued. “Your energy well will increase in size and amount. With more firepower, we’ll be able to destroy the thing faster and stop its attacks on Jim or you.”
Irenee turned to Jim and shrugged. “He makes a lot of sense. Where going up a level is concerned, I’ve been explaining it to you mostly in terms of new spells I need to learn, not my overall power increase. Using my increased capacity is what today was all about.”
He stared into her eyes with an expression she could only interpret as extremely worried—almost agonized. “Yeah, but...”
“Look at it another way,” Fergus interrupted with a big smile. “You two are soul mates. You both know it, don’t you? Why not capitalize on the connection? Trust me, you won’t regret it.”
Jim didn’t say anything to that.
Irenee studied the man sitting next to her. Something else was bothering Jim, and she ... , well, she hadn’t had time to process her own feelings, much less understand his. They were back to the “I’m not ready” state.
Then she noticed he had a faint blue aura. Whatever was going on in his head, she suddenly, simply knew they needed to be alone to work this situation out. The revelation was an interesting sensation, sort of an itching along the scalp. Was Jim’s hunch ability transferring to her?
She rose and put a hand on Jim’s shoulder. “Thanks for the advice, Fergus. We’ll see you tomorrow. Let’s go upstairs, Jim. We need to talk—again.”
Fergus looked from her to him and back. He offered no argument, only nodded and said, “Have a good evening.”
On the way up in the elevator, when Jim didn’t say a word, Irenee reviewed her options. Mate or not? The way Fergus laid out the situation, they had no alternative.
She almost snorted in derision at her circumstances. Since when had she had a true choice about anything?
Zip, and her levels increased and she was a Sword.
Zing, and she had met her soul mate—a wild talent, no less.
Zap, and she had an evil item out for her blood, and probably her mate’s, too.
Her soul mate. Yes, she’d imagined what would happen when she met him. Days of happiness, nights of rapture. None of it had come true. Where was the time to enjoy the experience, to take pleasure in each other’s company, and, yes, to wallow in the sheer romance of it all?
What did she get instead?
Zoom! Get in there and mate!
She certainly couldn’t deny that every single indication and every individual cell in her body screamed that Jim was her mate. The few kisses and embraces they’d shared had lived up to all of the phenomenon’s legends. A little shiver of expectation and excitement had been running up and down her backbone since Fergus had told them to get on with it.
She almost laughed. If theirs was a “shotgun mating,” an “arranged marriage,” at least she didn’t have to do like women of old—lie there and think of the empire while the man did his thing. No, their actual mating was bound to be stupendous for both of them.
She had to trust in her heritage and her liking and admiration for this man. Love would surely follow—if it wasn’t here already.
Was she in love with him
? She didn’t know, and once again, didn’t have the time to think about it. Anyway, not to worry—the phenomenon guaranteed love and a happily-ever-after.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
When they finally made it to Irenee’s, Jim stalked across the living room and stood staring out the window, his arms crossed over his chest. His focus, however, was not on the landscape outside, but inward, on his reaction to Whipple’s commands.
What was the matter with him? Why was he suddenly so irritated by the idea of making love with her? Why was he fighting the Sword leader’s directive? He’d already decided he would be with her forever.
Wishing he could scratch his hunch antennae wiggling in the recesses of his brain or yank the irritation out by the roots, he rubbed the back of his neck instead. Why couldn’t the damn things make up their minds? What the hell was going on?
One hunch was saying he ought to take her straight to bed. A very important body part agreed. Yet, here he was, unsure and angry. He didn’t like the idea of “performing” on command—although he certainly didn’t doubt his ability. Around her, he had an almost constant hard-on.
So why wasn’t he listening to—and acting upon—what his hunch was telling him?
Because Irenee’s test had scared the shit out of him. Because Whipple’s predictions for the coming fight were awful to even consider. Because now he understood the absolute need for him to transfer power from himself to her—if he didn’t, the Stone could destroy her. Because he couldn’t. He didn’t have the ability to share.
Because another hunch had coalesced with Whipple’s orders and was beating on the inside of his skull. This one was telling him her Defender team wouldn’t be enough. He and only he was absolutely crucial to her survival.
