by Amy Boyles
“He insulted me,” Thorne growled.
“That doesn’t mean you attack him.”
Thorne pointed toward the door. Axel was downstairs resting. “He insulted me in front of you, told you information that I hadn’t had a chance to reveal myself.”
“It wouldn’t have been an issue if you’d told me,” I yelled.
Thorne snarled. “No one dictates to me if and when I divulge information. In case you’ve forgotten, I am the law around here.”
“Just because you’re the law doesn’t mean you’re smart.”
Thorne opened his mouth to say something and shut it. His eyes burned like hot coals as he glared at me. “This is why I didn’t tell you anything about it. It would become an issue—I knew it would.”
I threw my hands in the air. “What would become an issue?”
“That Blake Calhoun told my father that he has the council in his back pocket,” he snapped.
His words wound down my spine like a jolt of electricity. “What?” I whispered. “Blake has them in his control?”
Thorne’s gaze cut to the floor. He exhaled and his shoulders slumped. He crossed to my bed and sat. The springs screamed in protest. I was surprised the house didn’t vomit out a new, harder mattress for him to sit on.
Thorne sighed and raked his fingers through his wavy brown hair. When his gaze landed on mine, I realized Thorne’s face held a world of sorrow.
He opened his arms. “Come here.”
My body stiffened. As angry as I was at him, his touch always melted my frustration. I wanted to be angry, there was no doubt about that, but I also didn’t want to be. There was something else I realized—Thorne wasn’t hugging me to soothe my own frustrations; he wanted to embrace me for himself. He needed the comfort.
I stepped into his arms and shivered as they folded around me. I drank in the smell of him—spice and earth, two things that grounded me. I pressed my nose into his shirt and inhaled more, wanting his scent to seep into my skin. As his arms tightened, I felt something loosen from my heart—a stone of anger dislodged and fell away.
My fingers curled into his shirt, and the tension in my shoulders melted into oblivion, as if it hadn’t existed to begin with.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” The words came out muffled since my face was planted into Thorne’s chest, but I knew he could understand me.
He stroked my hair and whispered in my ear, “What would you have me say? Tell you that your plans to confront Blake by using my father were over? He arrived at my father’s door with an army backing him. Blake demanded an audience, told my father to stay out of his way, and if he didn’t, Blake would send every clan on the council to Leopold’s house to destroy him. My father has to protect his own people first; you know that.”
I closed my eyes. The news was worse than my worst fears. Leopold wouldn’t just find himself facing a war if he went after Blake; he’d find himself on the losing end. He and everyone he loved would suffer because of me and my cause.
I couldn’t ask Leopold to do that, not for me. My initial anger with Thorne melted away. I understood why he hadn’t told me. There wasn’t anything Leopold could do now. My quest would put Thorne’s family in danger. It would be impossible to forgive myself if any of his family were killed because of me.
This was my deal, my search. I didn’t want anyone to suffer because of my wants.
I pulled away and ran my palm over the scruff on Thorne’s face. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling like wings. “I would be horrified if anything happened to your father. I understand why you didn’t tell me immediately.”
He took my hand, turned it over and pressed his lips to the hollow of my palm. A shiver snaked down my spine. When he pulled his mouth away, the heat of his kiss remained. I closed my hand, wanting to feel the imprint forever.
“I was going to tell you, to let you know, but we were interrupted last time, when we were at the carnival.”
I nodded. “You could have said something in the bar instead of letting me walk out.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t beg.”
I stiffened. “No one was asking you to. All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t have been that hard to tell me to stop and then explain what was going on.”
“It wasn’t for others to hear,” he said gruffly.
My hackles rose. “And we’re right back where we started.”
“The werewolf baited me into a fight. It’s what he wanted. Serves him right for getting bitten.”
“Take it back,” I said stiffly.
Thorne glowered.
I yanked down my collar, revealing the two puncture wounds scarred into my flesh. “Take it back. No one deserves to be bitten, not like that, not without permission.”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes, obviously regretting what he’d said. “Charming, I’m sorry, but he was asking for a fight. You’re right, I shouldn’t have bitten him, but I got pulled into it.”
I stepped out of his arm’s reach. “You didn’t have to fight!”
Thorne’s face turned deep crimson. “And he didn’t have to push me into it! Look, I’ll apologize. Is that what you want? Will that make this better? Then will you forgive me?”
My chest tightened, and I felt my heart constrict so hard I thought it would crack. I didn’t want to be like this—angry and steely to Thorne. We had spent so much of our relationship sparring that I wanted to know the soft parts of him, and I wanted him to know those parts of me, too.
I pressed a finger to a line that wormed its way between my eyes. “You fought our guest. There is no going back; now all we can do is move forward.” I lifted my gaze from the floor to study Thorne. Hope and sadness, both in one, mingled in his eyes. “I don’t hold anything against you for not telling me about your father sooner. I know this information must have been hard for you to keep from me. I understand that. But for now, let’s focus on the future and how maybe we can work with Axel and the witches to find Blake, and put our past anger behind us.”
Thorne growled in reply.
“That’s not the answer I was looking for.”
He shot me a scathing look before shaking his head and sighing. “For you, I’ll put it behind me. It will be hard to forget how I was insulted. Vampires don’t take kindly to being insulted on their own territory.”
I shrugged. “I’m sure werewolves don’t, either, but for now can you just let it go?”
He nodded reluctantly. “Yes.”
I smiled brightly. “Was that so hard?”
“Yes,” he said gruffly.
I scowled.
Thorne rose from the bed. Once again, the springs screeched. He bent down and kissed me. The heat from his mouth crawled over my flesh, and I found myself smiling while his lips brushed mine.
“Is something funny?” he murmured, his lips tickling mine.
“No, nothing’s funny. Nothing at all.”
“Good.” He straightened. “Now, let’s go down and talk to the witches and wizard. See what they like to do for fun. Maybe they’ll want to go to the carnival.”
I nearly swatted at him, annoyed by his sarcasm, but the word carnival sent a memory dashing to my brain. “What time is it?” I said in a panicked, whiny voice.
Thorne glanced at his watch.
I smirked. “You were about to fight a man to the death, and you didn’t even take off your watch to do it?”
“I had other, more pressing matters to be concerned with,” he pointed out.
I hiked both shoulders to my ears. “Anyway, the time?”
“Two fifty.”
I snatched my purse from the dresser and slipped my shoes back on. “I’m going to be late.”
“For what?”
“Never mind about what.” I yanked Thorne’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “But you know that comment you made about our guests liking the carnival?”
He quirked a brow in a way that could have been interest or could have been sheer annoyance. It was hard t
o tell. “I’m aware of what I just said three seconds ago.”
“Well, let’s see if it’s true.” Without another word I headed out the door and stormed down the stairs, calling to see if anyone wanted to join me at the carnival.
Charming
Turned out, Pepper, Betty and Rose were interested in going to the carnival. Everyone else wanted to stay behind. It was easy to understand why—Leopold had arrived. Thorne wanted to catch up with his father, and Mama had Leopold tied up explaining to her and Axel what had happened when Blake Calhoun had arrived at his house.
Thinking Thorne would want to contribute to that conversation, I pushed him into the living and reminded him that he hadn’t seen his father in a couple of months.
That was all it took—one simple suggestion and Thorne was happy to stay.
“I haven’t been to a carnival like this in ages,” Betty said, chewing on a strand of cotton candy.
Rose fingered off a tuft of the pink cloud and placed it on her tongue. “It matches our hair, too.”
It did match their hair. Rose’s entire head looked like a wad of cotton candy, while Betty’s looked like Cruella de Vil had run off and joined the circus.
“Something strange about it,” Pepper said, rubbing her arms.
I whispered loudly enough for her to hear me. “They’re all magical—all the people working here.”
A light blinked on in her head, and her eyelids flared with interest. “That’s it. I couldn’t quite place it.”
Her lips dipped into a frown. It was a sudden movement, and I didn’t see the connection between realizing the folks were magical and the sudden sadness until Betty patted Pepper’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it. That has nothing to do with losing the heart.”
Pepper forced a smile at Betty, and my own heart cracked. How awful it must be to feel like you might lose your magic. Up until a few months ago I had the opposite problem—I wasn’t very powerful at all and my talents were limited. But then I gained my powers and now am able to wield all four elements—air, water, earth and fire. It was strange enough to be in my position—having gone from powerless to powerful. I couldn’t imagine what experiencing the opposite would be like.
My gut told me that it couldn’t be good.
Pepper suddenly smiled brightly at me. “So, where are we headed?”
I scanned the tents and performances until I saw a clapboard that read SAMSON THE MYSTERIOUS. I pointed to a red tent. “There. That’s where we’re heading.”
The four of us entered the darkly lit tent. We quickly found an empty bench near the back and filled it. We had about two minutes until the show started.
Pepper turned to me. “I hope you don’t hold any ill feelings toward Axel about today. He means well, but this whole thing has made his feral side even more pronounced.”
“It’s okay,” I said, trying to comfort her. “Those two were born enemies because of what they are. I’m just sorry it had to come to blows and that Thorne bit him.”
Pepper pulled her gorgeous hair over one shoulder and started twisting it. Her strands were silky and strong, and I would nearly kill to have had hair like that. I don’t know who I would have killed, but I would have made sure they were insignificant.
“Men are such morons,” Pepper said. “Always fighting to see who’s the most alpha. If they just talked about their crap, their issues with one another, a whole lot more could be solved than trying to see who’s got the most testosterone running through their veins.”
I scoffed. “That would be too easy.”
Pepper laughed. “You’re right about that.” More people spilled into the tent, filling the empty holes. “Thorne’s crazy about you, you know.”
Her comment took me by surprise. My jaw unhinged, and it took a moment before I could figure out what to say. “Oh?”
She smiled coyly. “You can’t tell?”
“We argue like cats and dogs fight; does that count for anything?”
She laughed again. “It should count for a lot.” Pepper paused. “How long have y’all been dating?”
“A few months, not very long.”
“Do you think he’s your soul mate?”
I sucked air, and dirt from the ground must’ve found its way into my lungs because a coughing fit claimed me. I hacked and wheezed, being sure to cover my mouth with the crook of my arms so as not to spread any germs.
Pepper rubbed my back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“It’s not that—it’s just, that’s what I do. I tell people who their soul mates are.”
Her brow quirked with interest. “You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m serious. That’s why we’re here.” I nodded to the stage. “Because I matched these two in my head but didn’t tell them. They still found each other, but…”
Her eyes narrowed. “But what?”
I dropped my voice. “I’m not confident about him.”
“Oh.” Pepper stared at the stage as if unsure how to respond. “I guess you have to trust your instincts. You’ve been doing this a long time, right?”
My stomach knotted uneasily. I simply couldn’t shake the fact that there was something off about Samson Magnum, something that tugged at me.
“I’ve been doing it for a while, yes,” I replied. “It’s just that this whole situation”—I gestured toward the stage—“has me questioning my very abilities.”
Pepper touched my arm in a soothing gesture. She smiled warmly, and I immediately knew that Pepper had a world of friends, a circle of people who loved her not only for her warmth and the comfort she gave, but for the fierceness with which she would protect her family.
The stage lights dimmed, and Betty jutted her head around my shoulder. “The show’s starting, y’all. Keep it down.”
Pepper squeezed my forearm. “We’ll talk more about this later.”
As she finished talking, Samson Magnum stepped out onto the wooden platform. He wore a dark suit, and his hair was slicked back, the top of it shining in the lights.
“Welcome one, welcome all. I thank you for coming to witness my magic show.” He smiled widely in a way that reminded me of a tiger about to claim its prey. “Let us begin.”
Hypnotic, trancelike music trickled from the speakers. Samson did not speak as he began pulling cards from thin air and throwing them into a hat sitting on a chair. He pulled card after card, so many that I started to wonder not only how many he had hidden up his sleeves, but if someone was feeding them up his shirt from behind the curtain.
When he finished, the audience clapped. He moved silently into the next part of the show. Kimberly stepped out and smiled to him.
“Is that her?” Pepper asked.
I nodded and watched as Samson took Kimberly’s hand, directing her to stand just off-center. The lights dimmed more, and fog filled the tent.
Samson took a large Chinese linking ring from a case and twirled it. He then removed his hand, and the ring hovered, still spinning. He plucked the ring from the air, lifted Kimberly’s arm and settled the ring on it. He gave it one good spin, and the ring started rotating.
Samson plucked ring after ring from the case, spun them and then placed them on Kimberly’s arms until she had three rings spinning on each.
The last ring he placed around her neck. Samson set it to spinning and stepped back. Every ring rotated as if by magic, of course, and the crowd erupted into applause.
Samson clapped toward Kimberly in thanks, and she gave a little curtsy before exiting the stage. Was that it, I wondered? Was that the extent of her helping him?
If that was it, then I had nothing to worry about, surely. But a few minutes later Kimberly was back onstage, this time for the disappearing act.
Samson revealed a human-sized upright box that sat upstage. He extended his hand toward Kimberly, and without a word, she sashayed inside the box.
Samson demonstrated the box’s three doors. One covered the head, another covered the torso
and the bottom one covered the legs. Samson closed the middle door, and we could very clearly still see Kimberly’s head and feet. She smiled and wiggled her toes.
Samson then closed the door at the bottom and only Kimberly’s head showed. She still grinned widely, beaming at the audience.
She nodded at Samson, and he shut the last door. Samson waved his hands over the box and spun it around one time. When it stopped, he pretended to consider something and then swung the box around again. The audience laughed, and when he pulled the box to a stop, Samson made a big show about knocking on the doors.
No knock came in reply, and he thumbed one latch and all three doors opened at once, revealing that, of course, Kimberly was gone.
There was no surprise there, as that was part of magic shows that were performed over one hundred years ago. Samson closed the box back up and gave it a good spin.
I found myself tapping my foot impatiently, wondering when Kimberly would return. There was no logical reason why I felt this way; after all, Kimberly wasn’t going somewhere—it wasn’t like she was really going to disappear.
But as Samson swung the box around, brought it to a stop and then scratched his head as he thought about something again—which made the audience laugh—I found myself tensing, my muscles coiling as I worried that when he opened those doors, Kimberly would not come out.
There was no rational explanation for how I felt, I was working on pure intuition but a grave feeling blanketed me as I watched Samson bring the coffin—I mean, box—to a stop and knock.
There was no reply.
He rubbed his chin as if wondering if he’d done something wrong. The magician waved his hands over the box and knocked again. Still no answer.
My heart fluttered into my throat. Sweat trickled down my temple and sprouted on my palms. I wiped my hands on my thighs, doing my best to dry them.
I held my breath as Samson thumbed the latch and all three doors opened at once. My fear evaporated as my sights landed on Kimberly, standing in the box, snacking on a chicken leg.
