by Jory Strong
She shared a glance with Taine. His slight nod said he’d also made the possible connection.
“What kind of spells were typical for Elon?” Saffron asked.
“I wasn’t around him much and we went to different high schools. But he became homecoming king four straight years.” Shanna pretended to stick her first two fingers down her throat. “If there’s one person my brother is in love with, it’s himself. When he finally got some power, he went after adoration. There is no way he became part of the homecoming court without using magic.”
Saffron had never been able to figure out why anyone would actually want to become homecoming king or queen, or part of the court though Analia had been nominated in their senior year and had let her name stay on the ballot. “Did he ever attempt to use magic on you?”
“No. But… No. He never tried casting any spells on me, at least as far as I know.”
“What other magic has he worked?”
Shanna shook her head. “Like I said, we weren’t close, ever. I wasn’t around him much when we were growing up.”
“Does Elon have any friends?”
“I can’t think of any.”
“Do you know where to find him?”
“He’s a ranger at Cleveland National Forest, but you guys already know that. And I already told the guy who called earlier that I don’t have an address or a phone number. Not that I have any reason to get in touch with Elon, but if I did, I’d call our father and he’d contact Elon.”
“Have you ever heard the name Nelson Arrington?” Saffron asked.
“No.”
Unable to think of anything else, she glanced at Taine. He asked Shanna, “Do you have anything that belongs to your brother?”
Shanna shoved her hands into her front pockets. “What did he do anyway?”
Recognizing the deflection and going with the feeling that an honest answer was the right answer, Saffron said, “A major spell working. We don’t know what his end goal is but he’s responsible for two major fires, including the one in the Cleveland National Forest.”
“If he did what you’re claiming, then he screwed something up. Elon might not love any person other than himself, but he does love nature. He’s always hiked and camped and surfed.”
“There’s no doubt about his being responsible,” Saffron said. “And I’m willing to believe this is a case of magic getting away from him. That doesn’t mean he’s going to stop on his own. So far there’s been a lot of damage but no one has been injured or killed. That can’t last.”
She leaned toward Shanna, intense and earnest. “Look, I’m a firefighter. I’ve experienced the horror of not being able to get to people in time. There’s probably going to be another fire, and the next one will leave a lot of casualties, not because Elon means for it to happen but because he believes he’s in control of the situation. Are you sure you don’t have anything that belongs to your brother?”
Shanna swallowed hard. “My father gave me a charm, to protect me against Elon’s magic. It was made with a lock of my brother’s hair.”
She pulled her hands from her pockets. Undid her necklace and tugged it from beneath her shirt.
At the end of the silver chain was a red, teardrop-shaped pendant. In the center, like something trapped in amber, was a lock of hair tied into a knot.
Saffron took the offered charm. Taine said, “We’ll need to keep this for now but it will be returned.”
Shanna crossed her arms, hugging herself. “We’re done?”
A glance at Taine and Saffron said, “Yes.”
Shanna went back inside. Taine said, “Put the charm on for safe-keeping.”
Saffron did and Shanna’s charm settled next to the one given to her by Sabra.
They returned to the sedan.
Taine called Crew. He hit speaker and updated Crew on what they’d learned. Crew said, “One way or another, the father will tell us what he knows. We’re minutes away. You’re taking the charm to Genevieve’s?”
“That’s our next stop.”
* * * *
Elon Moates rose from a crouch, stretched his back before walking the short distance to the phoenix egg. To human eyes, his included, it looked like a spherical volcanic rock. It was gray and pitted, could well have been described as clumped, hardened ash, which was probably what had given birth to the myth that phoenixes rose from their own ashes.
To the touch it was now unbearably hot. And though it was roughly two feet long and a foot and a half in diameter, it weighed next to nothing—but then fire was weightless despite its power and its enormous capacity for destruction.
His chest tightened with thoughts of that destruction. For hours after escaping with the egg, he’d watched news updates. Cried at seeing trees going up in flames and at picturing the birds and animals that wouldn’t be able to race ahead of the fire.
The forest had burned in the past and would burn in the future. Fire was part of the natural cycle, a necessary cleansing. But knowing that didn’t reduce his pain or guilt.
The deaths of birds and animals and reptiles that he’d watched hunt and mate and produce young were his fault. He’d misjudged, hadn’t understood how close the egg was to hatching—though hatching didn’t accurately define what would happen when the phoenix emerged as raw power that was the essence of fire.
Flexing hands that ached, he turned away from the egg. Studied the complicated spell pieces he’d already inked onto the stone floor.
He could hear visitors to the gardens but didn’t bother looking in their direction. Along with containment spells around the egg, he’d set spells that would dampen curiosity and heighten courtesy.
Anyone who wandered by, if they noticed him at all, would think him a janitor hard at work. They’d detour rather than walk through the area he appeared to be cleaning.
He flexed his hands again. He’d been working on theory when it came to the phoenix egg and that theory hadn’t originated with him.
Nelson Arrington would have hated the destruction of the forest. He’d intended the egg to power a different spell. And by his calculations, there would have been weeks to get everything in place before the phoenix emerged, not days—
Elon’s heart sped and he fought a wave of panic. Not days now. Hours.
But how many? A dozen? A half-dozen?
Kneeling, he reached for the old-fashioned fountain pen, the ink in it altered to readily conduct magic.
His cellphone rang, further speeding his pulse and dampening his underarms. “What?” he barked, unwilling to let the man at the other end think things weren’t going exactly as planned.
“They’ve identified you.”
He tightened his grip on the phone, felt more sweat gather in his armpits. “That was inevitable.” He managed to sound confident. “What’s the status of their hunt?”
“Agents are talking to your father, mother and sister.”
Elon’s stomach fisted. His father knew where he lived. There’d been no keeping it from him if he wanted to maintain the facade of a good relationship, the facade that had started as a way to divert suspicion and keep his father from finding out the truth that summer before high school.
His father—the man who’d barely acknowledged having a son until that son was suddenly a powerful sorcerer—would give his address to IRE agents the instant they asked. They, in turn, would be aware of the protective spells set in the doors and windows within seconds of arriving at his house, and when they attempted to defuse those spells, he’d lose all his possessions.
He’d had no choice but to go to extreme measures. It was the only way he could be sure that nothing in the house would lead IRE to this location in time to prevent him from succeeding.
Once the phoenix emerged and powered the spell, he’d be untouchable. He’d never have to worry about having enough magic again. He’d be surrounded by it, and it would all be his for the taking—
No. It’d be his on demand. All he’d need to do was make his desires k
nown and they would be satisfied.
A sliver of uneasiness crept in. His sister and mother had always been immune to his magical workings—his father’s doing no doubt. What he didn’t know, couldn’t know without making contact, and that was too risky, was whether that protection was in the form of a spell tied to them, or a charm tied to him. If a charm existed…
A charm had the potential to derail his plan.
He couldn’t worry about it now. Couldn’t let on that he was concerned about IRE. “They won’t gain anything by going to my house. They won’t find me in time to stop this from happening.”
“Nelson Arrington’s name has come up.”
Elon felt suddenly clammy. “Am I supposed to know who he is?”
It seemed like a lifetime ago when he’d stumbled upon a body while hiking. A half-hour sooner and he might have been able to save the man. Fifteen minutes later and a Boy Scout troop out with their leader would have made the discovery instead—and he wouldn’t be in this place right now, close to having it all.
He wouldn’t have been able to take possession of the charm that Nelson Arrington had been funneling magic into, probably in anticipation of using it when he went after the phoenix egg. He wouldn’t have had a chance to go through the dead man’s wallet and find out where he lived, then get there before relatives descended and carted away spell journals and plans.
“Is there anything else?” Elon asked, putting impatience into his voice.
“Maksim has everyone, myself included, either following leads or searching the city for shields or signature magic.”
Still on his knees, Elon twisted to see the egg, now drawing some shielding from the realm that touched this one at exactly these coordinates.
“They won’t sense the shields or the magic.” Not unless he was very, very unlucky. In which case, having leverage or being able to delay those hunting him with a distraction might make all the difference. “You said one of the dragons was in the process of claiming a human mate. Is it done?”
“The dragon who knows Taine best added another half-million to a betting pool. He wagered that before today’s sunrise Taine would have bound himself to her.”
“Find out if it happened. And keep me informed about where the investigation stands if you expect to reap the rewards you’ve been promised.”
Elon hung up and went back to transferring the spell that’d been twelve years in the making onto the floor.
Chapter 11
This is our destination? Saffron thought, though as soon as she did, she realized how ridiculous skepticism was at this point, and changed her reaction to, “So Genevieve is a palm reader?”
“Among other things.”
They were parked in front of a beige adobe end-unit in a strip shopping center. A red neon outline of a hand decorated the window. Beneath it was the word Readings, also in red.
Saffron got out of the car and didn’t bother protesting when Taine took her hand. Bells tinkled as they went inside and fresh air diluted the heavy scent of incense, for which she was grateful.
A couch and two chairs done in royal blue were positioned around a glass display case the height and size of a coffee table. Inside the case were runes, a deck of tarot cards, tea leaves, polished bones and stones, along with some things she didn’t recognize though she guessed they were used in divining.
A beaded curtain separated the small waiting room from the one behind it. Taine pulled her onto the couch rather than let her drop into one of the chairs.
He leaned in, nuzzled the spot where her shirt hid the passion mark he’d left on her skin. Heat shivered straight to her nipples. He kissed his way to her ear. “Should we get a more personal reading while we’re here?”
About us, the life we’d have together he meant, and her traitorous heart provided images of the two of them walking on the beach hand-in-hand at sunset, followed by the two of them making love beneath the moon.
“Let’s keep this visit professional,” she said, her pulse quickening because days ago, her immediate response would have been something like, Friends with benefits. Remember? Though mentally, physically she’d already be easing away, heading toward relationship end.
I am not falling for him, she told herself, her mental voice not holding nearly enough conviction. She tried again with, Everything feels more intense because the clock is ticking. When this is behind us…
The beaded curtain parted and Genevieve emerged, derailing Saffron’s thoughts completely because Genevieve was not at all what she’d expected.
Forget old and gray-haired or middle-aged and plump. Genevieve had a willowy figure encased in a dark green dress that stopped at mid-calf.
Matching pumps encased large feet and added several inches of height along with a bit of femininity to muscled calves. Deep red, shoulder length hair framed blue eyes and freshly-shaven cheeks.
“Taine,” Genevieve said. “I’d heard rumors that you’d found your—”
“We’re here on business.”
Perfectly plucked eyebrows lifted. Genevieve’s gaze went to their joined hands.
Damn it! Saffron thought. How did her hand keep ending up in his?
She left her hand in Taine’s because jerking it away would be worse. It’d be shades of elementary school all over again.
Juan and Saffron sitting in a tree.
K-i-s-s-i-n-g!
First comes love.
Then comes marriage.
Then comes Saffron with a baby carriage.
And why the hell was she remembering that! She hadn’t wanted marriage or kids since—
She tried to block the answer. It came anyway, with the memory of two men wearing USMC full dress uniforms getting out of their car to deliver the kind of crushing pain she’d never wanted to experience again, or be the source of.
She tried to casually extricate her hand from Taine’s. He tightened his grip.
Genevieve sat rather than usher them through the beaded curtain. “What can I do for you?”
“We’d like you to read a charm,” Taine answered but didn’t free Saffron’s hand to unclasp Shanna’s necklace. She pulled the charm from beneath her shirt instead.
“Don’t take it off,” Genevieve said, leaning forward, her hair swinging and shimmering. “Enclose it in a fist.”
Saffron did as instructed.
Genevieve cupped Saffron’s fist between large hands with French-manicured nails. She closed her eyes.
A minute passed, then three more, long and slow.
Genevieve opened her eyes. “The charm was made by one sorcerer to protect against the workings of another. A father to protect against a son’s spells.”
“That’s what we were told,” Taine said, his thigh warm against Saffron’s. “Can the charm be used to track the son?”
Genevieve’s hair swung with the shake of her head. “No. It can’t be used against him in that manner. But, it will protect your—”
“Saffron.”
The speed in which he’d supplied her name rather than have Genevieve say girlfriend had Saffron biting her lip to hide a smile. Knowing Taine, he was hoping to avoid her getting serious about keeping things strictly and absolutely professional from now on while they were on the job.
“Saffron,” Genevieve said, tilting her head. “It suits you. Did you know you’ve got sorcerer’s blood?”
“What! Me? No way.” Except, maybe that explained why she’d glimpsed scales and a trident at The Deep.
Genevieve’s laugh was throaty, masculine channeled into feminine. “Yes. Way. If you’re ever interested in determining how much inherent ability to conduct magic you possess, come back. It requires a more involved reading. Now, returning to the charm. The person it was meant to protect handed it directly to you?”
Saffron nodded. “Yes.”
“I thought so. The charm is now attached to you. It might, under dire circumstances protect Taine if the two of you were separated and the charm was in his possession, but I’d advise
you not to allow anyone else to hold it. Doing so might break the spell’s attachment to you.”
Genevieve glanced at the hand still in Taine’s. “Casual contact shouldn’t be a problem.”
Her smile translated casual into carnal. And Saffron quickly doused sexual thoughts before they flamed into full blown fantasies.
“Will the charm protect Saffron against any spell Elon casts?” Taine asked.
“It should protect her against both offensive and defensive spells, whether they’re directed specifically at Saffron or not. Should—but I’m not making a guarantee.”
Genevieve’s hands dropped away from Saffron’s fist. “Elon. Not a common name. The Reader I apprenticed with assessed a boy named Elon Moates. I remember him because I remember his father’s power is everything attitude. I felt sorry for the boy.”
“The boy is now twenty-seven and the subject of an IRE manhunt,” Taine said.
Genevieve’s lips pursed. “Surprising. He didn’t Read as having a deep well of potential.”
“There was a change when he was fourteen or fifteen,” Saffron said. And thinking about the man who’d once rented the house from the Leons, and who’d died in Cleveland National Forest twelve years ago, she asked, “Can one sorcerer take another sorcerer’s power?”
Genevieve handed off the question to Taine with a glance. He said, “The ability to channel power can’t be taken, but there are spells that allow magic to be banked. It’s not uncommon for elderly sorcerers to collect magic toward the end of their lives with the intention of passing it on.”
“So the magic would be stored in a charm?”
“Charm suggests something wearable,” Taine said. “The spell banking the magic could be tied to a larger object.”
“Or you could have both,” Genevieve said. “A wearable charm that can draw power stored elsewhere.”
“But eventually that stored magic could be used up, right?” Saffron asked.
Genevieve nodded. Taine said, “That’d explain why Elon wasn’t on the IRE radar. If he’s using someone else’s hoarded magic, he wouldn’t waste it selling charms. He might have been saving the majority of it for this, whatever this is, though at its core it’s got to be about gaining more power.”
