by CD Coffelt
He nuzzled the top of her head and ignored the bruise to pull her even closer.
“I tried to resist her, but it was like I was in slow motion, everything surreal. I couldn’t stop.”
“I know, I know. Look, don’t beat yourself up over this. She has control over the element of Spirit, and when she says move, you can do nothing else.” He shivered, and she pulled away to look into his face. “I’ve been there, love, and there is nothing you can do.”
She snuggled close again, and his soft groan caught her attention. Macy pushed away. “Oh, oh, I’m sorry. Stupid me. Here I am apologizing, and...” Her face crumpled as she led him to an easy chair in the living room, one that was deeply cushioned. He didn’t try to hide the sound of relief as he sank into it, but his eyes were on Macy. She sat near him, his hand in hers, her face still creased with worry, and it made him smile.
Relief from physical pain was one thing. But it was nowhere near the relief he felt as she looked at him with love. She wasn’t going to leave him; she wasn’t blaming him. She loved him still.
His sigh mingled with a groan as his sore ribs popped. She made an anxious sound, but he shook his head. He smiled. “I’m recovering. Just gotta remember not to breathe is all.”
She smiled a little in return and her eyes grew warm.
Time to rip the Band-Aid off and get it over with, he decided.
“You haven’t asked me about the other thing,” Dayne said quietly.
For a brief moment, Macy’s eyes were confused, but they cleared and she nodded. “Um, yes, that. Well, I suppose we should get that cleared up,” she said briskly. “I figured she sent Volker to nudge me into my full magic, so that wasn’t any revelation. And unless you tell me differently, I always assumed you weren’t a part of the plan. Or at least you didn’t know about that angle.”
She searched his face, nodded, and seemed happy with what she found there.
“No, love, I was privy to the guard detail only. Her subplots weren’t for my ears.” He thought for a moment, then breathed a soft laugh. “Just as well she kept her intentions to herself. I think I could have resisted your charm if I had only known…”
She laughed. “Oh, really, do you think?”
They laughed together, and the sound was a balm to his senses. He reached out and laid his hand on her cheek. She leaned into it and closed her eyes.
“Whatever her machinations, it doesn’t matter now. The result might be what she wanted, but it is mutual,” Dayne said.
Her eyes opened and Macy pulled herself closer, gently touching her mouth to his. “Very mutual,” she whispered against his lips.
She was careful not to press his chest, but his arms were insistent. With a squawk, she landed in his lap. It left his chest free of her weight, and he stroked the honey-blond hair from her face as he looked down at her. Her fingers traced his cheekbone and brow, and he started to lean down to kiss her again, but the sudden faraway expression on her face stopped him.
“What?” he said.
Macy grimaced. “Tiarra,” she said.
With an oath, Dayne started to lean in again. “Forget about her,” he said viciously.
“No, no, wait, it’s not that. It’s…” And she hesitated as Dayne leaned away again to look into her face. She licked her lips and shivered. “You know she is quite insane, don’t you?”
The biking trail through the park was not as crowded as usual. That pleased the gray-haired man. Witnesses were always a problem, especially when dealing with unknowns.
This case was interesting—and supremely providential to their operation. How lucky can a person get? If he believed in miracles, he would say it was meant to be.
But he didn’t believe in miracles or deities. His faith in religious myths had ended many years ago. Now coincidence played the part. Or serendipity, perhaps.
Destiny had nothing to do with it.
He heard trotting footsteps and glanced at his watch. Right on time. A woman with honey-blond hair jogged down the path, giving him no more than a glance as she started to pass him. He held out his hand, and she slowed. The gray-haired man smiled at the young woman as she stopped beside him.
“Excuse me,” he said.
She looked pointedly at his hand on her arm. “Yes. Can I help you?” Her voice was cautious, but he heard the threat in it.
“You are Macy Mathon? Married to Dayne Mathon, the Imperator of the Imperium?”
She gaped at him.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
He didn’t answer, but dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a black chain necklace with a muddy-colored pendant swinging from the end.
“This is for you.” He handed it to her. “Now, I have some things to tell you.”
After nearly an hour and many questions, she left with the black chain secure around her neck, her expression still dazed with the new knowledge.
The gray-haired man’s mouth quirked. Maybe there was something to the God-thing. Then he snorted. Well, for others, maybe.
Chapter Twelve
Justus slammed his fist on the counter, and a flare of sparks showered his hand when he released a mote of fire. The packs of chewing gum tumbled, joining the overturned cup of pens. Good thing the shop was empty of people.
“Dammit! I’m telling you, she kicked out a flare, something the Imperium will see,” Justus stormed.
Bert didn’t flinch when the golden sparks shimmered like fireworks. “That is so cool,” he said and grinned.
Justus glared and the teenager adjusted his expression.
“When are you going to figure it out? Magic is not cool. It isn’t neat. It isn’t awesome. It is like holding a wild cat in your hand and wondering how you’re going to let go, and knowing, no matter what, it is going to hurt. Really bad. Magic isn’t a game.”
The diatribe would have been better if Justus hadn’t slashed his hand through the magic in agitation, causing the magic to spiral.
“Dude, ‘awesome’ isn’t a word in my world.”
For the first time, Justus felt real anger toward Bert and his obstinacy. Until the boy saw the side of magic that wasn’t just pretty colors or met a mage who used the elements to hurt people, Justus decided to let it alone. Bert’s imagined world was better than Justus’s reality.
“This isn’t going to be ignored. She set off a flare that any adept with a sliver of talent could see. It was like a…” Justus gestured wildly with one hand. “Fireworks, Fourth of July. And if they were looking for her or, hell, even if they weren’t looking for her, Sable sent up the kind of signal no one could ignore. The magic will find a way to escape, become a part of a mage’s psyche, like an animal trying to escape a cage. This was its response to an emotional event.”
Fear still roiled his stomach from the memory of the gathered magic around her in the clearing. He could have followed her through a dark night and used the comet-trail of her ethereal phantasms to guide his way through a midday sun. It had flowed around her, swirled into forms, and re-formed again into an aura that had only begun to fade as they reached the McIntyres’ backyard. He had clenched his teeth and followed Emmett into the house, knowing his days with her and the life he had made for himself would end soon.
“Wow.” Bert said. “Why do they want her so bad? And how do they know she’s here?”
Justus scrubbed one hand over his face and eyes. He tried to plan, sort through his feelings and regrets, especially the big one, allowing the effects of a tener unus to overcome his magical talents. He still didn’t know how it happened. Sable had stood there in the clearing, her eyes came up to his, and then her cheek was so warm under his hand.
Justus growled. She wasn’t anywhere near, and still the pheromone affected him. He cleared his throat. “The hunters were onto her from the first moment she showed up here, so they must be keeping track of her location. And I think they want her because she has the potential to be a strong adept.”
“Whoa.”
For a smart
kid, Bert had a limited vocabulary. Justus gathered the scattered pens, replaced the chewing gum, and swept the top of the counter with his hand. “Hey, there’s something else I need to tell you about.” He artfully arranged the gum, each to its own kind and flavor while he picked his next words carefully. “These young ones, uh, they do something other than bits of magic.”
Justus kept his eyes on the gum. Bert’s tapping foot caught his attention.
“Yeah? And?” Bert said.
Justus sighed and looked at him. “You need to know this, so listen up.”
Bert rolled his eyes. “Drama queen,” he muttered and waited, pantomimed looking at his watch.
“Sex,” Justus said and, with grim satisfaction, saw he had Bert’s full attention. “The tener unus gives off a pheromone or something that attracts the opposite sex. Or hell, the same sex, I suppose. It, the magic, calls to people of a certain age, like a honey bee to a flower.”
Bert stared hard at Justus. “So. She becomes a sex object that makes men want to be with her. Geez, how original. I mean, who would have thought a young, good-looking hottie was able to do that? Good thing you told me. I mean, if you hadn’t, I might have, I don’t know, like drooled over her. Or any chick, for that matter.”
He rolled his eyes.
Justus growled. “Lookit, she’s got…more of it.”
“Whatever ‘it’ is,” Bert muttered. “Okay, I get it, Merlin. Just because she’s a cutie, built, and just the right age, I will resist the urge to ogle. She is safe around me.”
Bert smirked, his mouth pulled to one side. “So that’s why you cut in on me when I was dancing with her. You didn’t want to dance, but thought I was succumbing to the magic. Is that right?”
He nodded when the scowl Justus gave him was the answer. But in the next moment, the teen’s face sobered and he looked away.
“So you gotta leave, just take off without your mom or anything,” Bert said to the counter top.
Justus wanted to ask what the definition of “anything” was, but resisted. “Look, Bert, ever since you found out about me and my world…” Justus felt relieved by the return of Bert’s smug grin. “You’ve known I would have to move on someday. And that day is here.”
Bert shrugged and turned away. “Yeah, well, I didn’t think it would be so soon.”
“Well, I have to go. Soon. Bottom line,” Justus said.
“So like, forever?”
“No. I just need to get out for a while, until she turns or…leaves. Either way, she doesn’t know about me, so I won’t have to hide after it happens.”
“So what about Sable? Why can’t you take her with you?”
Justus shook his head without speaking.
“But won’t they take her off somewhere? Like jail or something?” Bert asked.
“No, they’ll probably give her a guard, though, someone who will eventually trigger her potential.”
Bert thought about that for a while, playing with a small figurine on a display shelf. With a start, Justus realized the small statue was a dragon that Sable liked. The colors of vivid blue and green had made her exclaim in delight. Maybe he could ensure she got that little dragon, a reminder of him after he was gone. He growled softly and turned away.
“Whatever happens, I can’t be here, and that’s a fact. If they find her, they’ll find me. And that little six point something quake we had last month will be nothing compared to that little meeting if the head of the Imperium finds me. We won’t be shaking hands and playing nice.” He stopped, his clenched teeth grinding together. “And no one will ever use me. No one.”
For a moment, memory pulled him back and the spot on his throat burned. Never again, he thought fiercely.
“Cool,” the boy said.
Bert was wide-eyed and his grin split his face. Justus looked around him, feeling the expenditure of magic. Surrounding him was a shimmering cloud of energy, all the elements mixed into one aura. With a harsh sound, he cut one hand through it and the show vanished. Sourly, he glared at Bert, who was clapping and beaming with pleasure.
“It is way cool having a wizard for a friend,” Bert said.
“Not a wizard,” Justus muttered. His teeth ground together.
“Don’t matter what you call yourself, dude,” Bert said and laughed. “It has got to be trippin’ to be able to do that.” He paused, as if hoping for an encore, and then sighed. “Look, there is one thing I’ve wanted to know.”
Justus shrugged and waited. For Bert to ask a question about his talent was like a fish swimming. He couldn’t help it.
“Couldn’t you like touch these hunters, or whoever they send, with your spirit mojo, jujitsu stuff? Make them forget or give up or something?” Bert asked.
“No,” Justus said shortly. “Spirit is a terrible element, something that shouldn’t be used at all.”
“But you used it on Maggie’s record thief.”
“Victrola,” Justus said.
“Whatever. That old stuff. Pre-tech.”
It wasn’t worth the effort it took to educate a kid born after the introduction of the Internet about the great inventions of the early twentieth century. A kid who had no knowledge of rotary phones and dollar gas would not understand room-sized computers and nine-inch screen TVs.
“Yeah, I did use Spirit. But that was the only time in years that I’ve used it at all. And it was only because they were so devastated when that kid took it. All I did to the kid was to give him the absolute knowledge of the hurt he’d caused in stealing. Spirit isn’t something to be used lightly.”
“What does it do?”
Justus took a breath to gather his thoughts. “Changes a mind, creates a riot, makes someone do something they had no intention of doing. Like apologize to an old couple. Or…” He grinned at Bert, who was beginning to look impressed. “Or make your folks vote the straight Republican ticket in the next election.”
Bert chuckled. “That would be something.” He tugged at his bottom lip with two fingers. “What with politics like it is, some of the crazy shi—”
Justus narrowed his eyes at him.
“—crap going on in the world,” Bert continued smoothly. It makes you wonder, don’t it, the politicians saying one thing and then doing another.”
Justus was silent. “Maybe,” he said thoughtfully. Then he shrugged. “And besides, I can’t use it without taking this off.” He tugged on the black chain around his neck.
“Spirit, you mean? You can’t use Spirit?”
“No,” Justus said. “The stone won’t let me touch it while I’m wearing it. I haven’t taken it off but a few times to use Spirit, and then only for small things like the McIntyres’ thief.”
“Why not use it? I mean, except for getting caught, why don’t you use Spirit more?”
Bert’s question stopped Justus and he paused. “It has a strange feel to it,” he said slowly, almost reluctantly. “It doesn’t feel like the other elements.”
“You mean all sparkly,” Bert said, a smile threatening to break out.
Justus smiled without answering.
Bert flipped his hand at the pendant. “Your dad gave that to you before he died, right? Reckon he knew about you then?”
Justus looked down at the pendant. “He must have,” he said softly. “Why else would he give me something specifically designed for my abilities?”
The teenager looked across the shop to the closed door leading to the sidewalk. Several people were laughing, strolling by the shop, and two had stopped to look at Sable’s display of crystal sun catchers in the window.
“Reckon your mom knows?” Bert said quietly.
Justus shook his head. “I don’t know. She never hinted one way or the other. And I like it that way.” He didn’t say the rest of his feelings, his desperate wish that the Imperium and their savage disciplines would never find her.
The couple gestured and marveled at the crystals.
“Hey, I got another question,” Bert said. “What set the g
irl off?”
“Huh?”
“I mean Sable. What set off the fireworks?”
Justus stirred uncomfortably. “I, uh, I kissed her.”
Bert whipped around to stare at him, his eyes as wide as his sudden grin.
“Dude!”
“Pipe down, idiot,” Justus said, his voice low.
“Impressive,” Bert said, still grinning. The couple moved from the window and opened the front door to the shop. “So how was it? Like I can’t guess, what with the bottle rockets going off and all.”
“It was, um, stimulating,” Justus said, and he walked forward to greet the couple.
He ignored Bert, who was chuckling behind him.
Bert went home soon after the shop closed for the day, but not before making pointed comments and laughing at extremely inappropriate times. “See ya later,” he said, blowing Justus a big kiss. “You big hunk of burning love, you.”
Then he ducked out hurriedly as Justus reared back to pitch a fist-sized ball of Fire at him. Justus could hear Bert chortling as he trotted away.
He sorted through some papers and antique magazines, shut off the computer, and straightened a display of doilies. His eye caught the small dragon figurine.
Really, he should give it to her soon, before things got too crazy and someone from the Imperium showed up. Life would not be the same for any of them if he had to face them. He should make plans to leave soon, go on a faraway buying trip. He remembered one magazine article, an announcement of an antique fair in a Washington county near Seattle, featuring furniture and enameled boxes, and a collection of copper, figurines, cooking utensils, and Early American wear. So that was it, his excuse to leave for a while. Go on a shopping trip, one that would take a long time.
He noticed the pain in his right hand and relaxed the hard fist he had made.
Tonight, he would go see them and begin his plausible story, his exit strategy. The phone was in his hand before he could change his mind.
“Hello. McIntyre residence.”
Justus forced his teeth to unclench. “Hey, Sable, are Maggie and Emmett home tonight?”
