Masks and Mirrors: Book Two: The Weir Chronicles

by Sue Duff

  The animal shook its head, then jumped into Ian’s arms.

  He stroked the animal’s back and swayed, comforting it like a baby. He tossed an apologetic grimace at Rayne. “I’ll be right back.” Ian disappeared in a green puff.

  Rayne’s tension seeped out like water through a sieve. The bronze statue slipped out of her hand and bounced off her bare foot. “Ow!”

  The garage door motor hummed, muted and low.

  Zoe! Rayne’s heart jumped out of her chest and she whirled around with thoughts racing faster than her legs. Rayne limped across the room and opened the sliding glass doors. A gale swept in depositing leaves and pine needles in the room. When Zoe stepped inside, she pushed the button to close the garage door.

  “OMG, what the hell happened here?” Zoe cried. Her fuchsia pigtails danced as she took in the scene.

  “The wind woke me up. I went outside to see about securing the patio furniture and a squirrel ran inside. I’m sorry, I was half asleep. I shouldn’t have left the door open.”

  Zoe shook her head. “A squirrel did this? Is it still in the house?” She clutched her monstrous purse like a shield.

  “I cornered it, and it took off across the lawn.”

  “Let’s hope my aunt’s insurance covers vermin.” Zoe touched the dangling light fixture and it swayed.

  “Zoe, I’ll pay for it. I’m the one that screwed up.”

  “Hell, dents are a part of accidents. Get it, accidents?” Zoe chuckled.

  Rayne grinned. It was good to see the old Zoe peek out of the grumpy mood she’d wallowed in for the last few weeks.

  “I’ll get the broom.” Her friend disappeared into the garage. The spring-loaded door banged shut behind her.

  Emerald sparks formed next to the range top.

  Rayne raced to the door leading to the garage and flipped the deadbolt latch.

  Ian sat on the counter. “Don’t get me wrong, I love that you have a vortex stream in your house. I just hate the fact it’s in the middle of the kitchen.” He hopped off. “Of course, Milo is envious as hell. He’d be in heaven if he could stir his pots and retrieve messages at the same time.”

  “Zoe’s home,” she hissed.

  The door handle jiggled. Knocking followed. “Rayne?”

  He froze. “Has she seen this?”

  “You’ve been downgraded to a squirrel.” The knocks turned to banging. Rayne braced herself, then opened it. “Sorry, the lock must have slipped.”

  “Deadbolts don’t slip.” The creases in Zoe’s brow deepened the second she locked eyes on Ian. “Figures.” She pushed past Rayne and shoved the broom and dustpan at him.

  “A magic trick rehearsal gone sideways,” Ian said. “I didn’t take into account the wild animal variable.”

  “Zoe, I’m sorry,” Rayne said.

  “Zip it.” Zoe looked between them and sighed. “At least one of us is scoring tonight.” She pinched her nose and headed out of the kitchen. “I swear whenever you show up, it smells like a zoo.”

  Ian and Rayne poked their heads into the hall and watched Zoe make her way up the stairs. When she reached the topmost step, Ian turned back and extended his hand. Glass splinters scooted toward each other across the floor.

  “That’s what a broom is for,” Rayne snapped. “How would I explain everything being fixed in the morning?”

  The smirk she’d grown to love spread wide and the Pur Heir’s dark eyes glistened with amusement. “Twenty-four-hour handyman. I’m sure we can Google one that can be bribed.”

  “You have an answer for everything.” She couldn’t muzzle the smile in spite of her best efforts to cling to her anger.

  He approached, forcing her to back up and press against the wall oven. When he came to a halt, he was scant inches away.

  “I thought you weren’t coming back for another couple of days,” she said.

  “The Primary sent word to return as soon as possible.”

  “What does the head honcho of the Pur Syndrion want with you now?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t read the rest of the message.” Ian hovered over her. “I finished what I had to and shyfted out of there.”

  “You should have taken Tara.” The spark in his eyes vanished, and she regretted bringing up the painful topic.

  “I had it covered,” he mumbled.

  “Were you able to stop the poachers?”

  “You might say I solidified their belief in the supernatural.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “At eleven o’clock on a school night? Only my sleep.”

  His chest rose. Ian leaned in and blew his unique form of a kiss. It played across her lips. Rayne closed her eyes as nature’s perfume engulfed her. It was lilac, her favorite.

  “I’ve discovered a couple of rare African orchids I think you’re going to like,” he murmured. “God, I’ve missed you,” came out in a hushed voice.

  Rayne’s breaths grew shallow and her body tingled the longer Ian was near. The Pur leaders—the Syndrion— hadn’t bothered to hide their distain at Ian and Rayne’s relationship, but it was her Duach scientist father and his experiments when she was still in her mother’s womb that had created the chasm between her and the man she loved. Their inability to touch was torturous, yet exhilarating, like a forbidden, luscious fruit. What she would have given to feel his mouth pressed against hers, the stroke of his hand, the strength of his embrace.

  Ian’s breath warmed her cheek. “This world holds such beauty and wonders, Rayne. The sands of Qatar, Spotted Lake in Canada, the Perlemorskyer in the skies over Oslo. If only I could share them with you.”

  “Not everything you see is beautiful,” Rayne said. The horrors he encountered, the dangers, invaded her dreams whenever he was gone. She turned her face and twitched her nose. The odors of Africa had followed him home. “Zoe’s right, you smell like a zoo.”

  “You sound like Milo.” Ian pushed away from the wall. “I have a present for you, well, hopefully for us.” He spread into the killer smile that made her heart flutter, and grabbed something from his back pocket. “It was Dr. Mac’s idea.”

  He held up an ostrich feather. Its wispy tips swayed in the bright moonlight. Barely touching her skin, he stroked the delicate edge down her face, across her jaw line and didn’t stop until it reached the loose, top button of her nightshirt.

  Rayne’s toes curled. A stuttering shiver. His eyes didn’t reveal discomfort. “Any pain?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, his breaths quickening.

  She snatched it from him. “Then we test it further.” Rayne slipped out from beneath his arm and tossed him a sultry glance from over her shoulder.

  Ian growled, deep and throaty from behind a devilish grin.

  A burst of subtle light. A silhouette splashed on the wall behind Ian, then disappeared. She looked outside, but only caught gentle dancing branches of trees. Beyond the property, lights of distant homes flickered on the hills at the horizon.

  “What?” Ian said.

  The drumbeat in Rayne’s ears nearly swallowed his question. “You didn’t see it?”

  He followed her gaze out the sliding glass doors. “See what?”

  “Something, a figure.”

  “Wait here.” Ian stepped out onto the patio and gestured for her to close the door behind him, but Rayne followed. He gave her a disgruntled glance when she joined him at the edge of the back patio. He closed his eyes.

  A milky blur appeared between the trees, moving rapidly. The wolf emerged at the opposite boundary of the backyard. Ian opened his eyes and smiled. “Glad to see you, too.”

  “How long has Saxon been here?” Rayne asked.

  “You’re rarely alone,” Ian said, and stepped off the patio.

  He headed for the tree line. Rayne followed. Saxon closed ranks at her side. She stroked the wolf when he brushed up against her and nuzzled her hand with a cool, moist snout.

  They walked the perimeter of the backyard and the su
rrounding brush. Ian stopped now and then with a finger to his lips and cocked his head as if to listen. Saxon sniffed the air, wandered away for a few seconds, then returned. They found nothing out of the ordinary.

  She followed Ian back into the kitchen and waited for Saxon to join them, but the wolf slipped around the side of the house.

  “He’ll keep watch.” Ian leaned in and locked the door. “Did something happen while I was away?”

  His fear for her safety hung over them like an ominous cloud. “Sometimes the house just gets to me.”

  His mouth pressed into a crease. “What do you want to do?”

  The feather twisted between her fingers. What she wanted was to savor a few quiet hours exploring what intimacy they could before the Syndrion found another excuse to keep them apart. “Test this out.”

  Rayne exited the kitchen with the same unease that had brought her there in the first place.

  Rayne chose her bedroom balcony with the light of the constellations sparkling above, a favorite spot whenever Ian returned from missions. She lay naked under a blanket, gazing into the night’s sky while he shared his adventures with her the only way he could. The evening’s breath drifted cool and moist. Ian lay on his side next to her, propped up with pillows, the comforter from her bed beneath them.

  The recounting of his adventures came to an end, and he gazed at her with apprehension. The feather twitched between his fingers. She rolled over onto her stomach. If this didn’t work, she couldn’t bear to witness his pain. She closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the countless disappointments that came before. Would tonight hold the promise of something new?

  He pushed the blanket down to below her knees. A cool breeze swept across her back and buttocks. The soft, feathery tip carved a path down her spine leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. Rayne stiffened. Her breaths turned shallow. Her head tilted at the brush of the feather at the same time her back arched.

  Ian didn’t jerk the feather away. There was no pain, no ache? Her power drain wasn’t triggered by the feathery tips. He continued his strokes, and she allowed herself to savor the simple pleasure. Her body screamed for more than what he could give her, but this was a desirable start. “Ahh, that tickles.” A jerk sent her honey-colored hair across the pillow beneath her. She gave him a sideways glance.

  He grinned. “I won’t forget that spot.”

  “You will if you want this evening to remain painless,” she said.

  He caressed up her arm, along her neck all the way, ever so slowly down her back. The sounds that emitted from her parted lips had no words to describe them when the feather found her inner thighs. Her breaths deepened, interrupted by occasional subtle gasps.

  “What are the softest feathers?” she asked in a silky voice that drifted on the evening breeze.

  “Down,” he said.

  Salt-laden air filled her nostrils and a gust of wind raised goose bumps along her arm. The feather twirled its way between her legs on an upward migration toward her buttocks. When it stalled, her gasp was more intense than before. Her breaths quickened as the feather stroked up and down in a teasing dance.

  “Can we use the down feathers?” breeched her moan.

  “No,” Ian hushed, as if inviting her to remain quiet, no longer wanting words to pass between them, but something more.

  “Ian.”

  “Rayne.”

  “Another kiss,” she whispered.

  “Choose,” he murmured.

  “Surprise me,” faded into the night air as her sounds drifted to that place that only her dreams had ever taken her.

  Ian leaned in. The perfumed heat of his breath gave her what she desired.

  {3}

  Rayne pulled the car into the university parking lot, cut the engine and reached into the backseat to stroke Saxon. “Take Ian home. We didn’t get much sleep last night.” The wolf yawned as if to imply that Rayne and Ian weren’t the only ones.

  She slipped out of the car, then bent over and blew Ian a kiss through the car window. Rayne took off in the direction of the grounds with a carefree spring in her step, but a second later, stopped with a jolt. She turned and rushed back.

  Ian pulled her backpack from the floor of the backseat and tossed it toward her when she opened the door. She grabbed it and hurried off.

  He watched her walk across the lawn, wondering if memories of last night might distract her throughout the day. Ian lingered in the car and breathed deep. He swore her scent was more powerful, intoxicating than ever.

  Caution told him to shyft out of there before the lot filled up. He hesitated. The vast college campus made it difficult to keep watch over her without being recognized, but the crowd of students and professors was in Rayne’s favor. Weir law forbids Sars from using their powers where it might be witnessed by humans. But there were a growing number of Weir who scorned the old ways and thought themselves above all laws, human or Weir.

  Ian shyfted Saxon home to the eastern vortex. He dropped to one knee and gave his beloved companion a playful scratch around the ears. Saxon pawed at him and wagged his tail. With a snort, he leapt over a log and vanished in the thick brush. The wolf preferred prowling the estate’s grounds and forest to meandering inside the mansion now that spring had found its way to the Northern California coast.

  Birds took flight from nearby trees with a shrill squawk. Ian pressed his hand against the cool earth. A low rumble. Pebbles bounced along the ground. Dirt wafted into the air. Saxon appeared at the edge of the clearing with a whine. A few seconds later, the earth’s mantle settled. All grew still. The planet’s outburst was no more than a yawn.

  There had been too many outbursts of late. Several, too in-tense to ignore. When Ian had approached the Syndrion with his concerns, they reported that a large number of elderly Pur Sars had passed away in the last few weeks. The remaining Sars’ hold on the planet was weaker than ever.

  Ian had left the council meeting consumed with guilt. He was supposed to be Earth’s savior. The handful of powers he’d been able to develop was a far cry from what was prophesied. He wasn’t what the planet needed to survive. He’d never felt so helpless.

  A scraping sensation deep in Ian’s core confirmed that Milo had set the estate’s energy jam at moderate. He set out on foot, unable to use his powers beyond the open vortex field.

  He strolled along the path toward the mansion, but at the fork, turned onto the south path. The sun’s energy seeped into Ian’s shoulders, and he drew upon it. A soft breeze tickled the back of his neck. He paused in the small clearing and took stock of Mara and Galen’s grave site. He’d only been gone a week, yet the early spring rains and warmer-than-usual weather had brought an abundance of wild flowers that filled the area with flecks of tangerine, lemon, indigo and jade reminiscent of a Monet painting.

  It comforted him that the grave mounds, like his grief, were settling with time. Peace engulfed his soul whenever he visited. Not enough time had passed for their bodies to adequately decay and feed the earth, but their strength and wisdom had leached into the ground and enriched the soil. They spoke to him when he was near.

  “Why is this your first stop whenever you return from assignments?”

  Ian smiled. Tara’s ability to approach without giving herself away developed soon after losing Mara, her identical twin. “I made them a promise that I would give their sacrifice meaning,” he said. “I suppose it’s my way of filling them in on my progress.”

  “As long as it’s not to ask for forgiveness.”

  “I hope we are both beyond that.” Ian turned to find her huddled down in a gray sweat shirt with exercise shorts peeking out below. Perspiration dampened the strands of hair closest to her face. Tara tirelessly strived to turn her half-self into a whole. With each passing week, bits of Mara emerged.

  Eyes the color of fresh sage tinged in lavender came alive in greeting, and Tara’s arms and face extended from the sweat shirt like a turtle emerging from a shell. They hugged tight and he ki
ssed the crest of her snowy hair that trailed down her back in a loose braid.

  “Rayne is hurting,” Tara said softly.

  Three words, and his newfound peace shattered. Regret twisted his gut. “If I could take her, I would.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You couldn’t afford the distraction.” Tara swiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

  Ian turned onto the path with his arm around Tara’s shoulders, and they strolled toward the mansion. He attempted to channel with her, but emptiness filled his head. Their most crucial skill remained elusive. He missed having Tara’s thoughts blend with his and felt like a best friend had moved away, never to be heard from again.

  “Drion Marcus is pissed at you.”

  “What’d I do this time?” Ian said.

  “You can’t keep dismissing the Syndrion’s request.”

  “I have no intention of cooperating with new Channel trials. Mara can’t be replaced, and I won’t lose you, too.”

  “Your core strength isn’t strong and you know it. The second you run into a Duach Sar you’ll be incapacitated, without backup. Going solo on missions is insane. Last month proved it.”

  Ian’s mission to relocate a group of black alligators in central Brazil had not gone as planned. He’d barely made it home alive.

  Her voice lowered along with her face. “I should leave, Ian.”

  “Be patient, Tara. I still have faith we’ll reconnect.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze, but she pulled away and climbed the steps onto the back patio.

  Milo’s fresh-baked cinnamon rolls welcomed Ian as he stepped inside. The old grizzly caretaker stood at the kitchen counter, gave him a grunt in greeting, then topped off his mug of coffee. Any additional relief at Ian’s safe return was masked by his growling yawn. “Discard your clothes in the laundry room before you head upstairs.”

  “You’d have me walk naked through the house?” Ian peeked inside the oven and earned a slap on the hand.

  “I may not have diapered that bottom of yours,” Milo said, “but thanks to your fiasco in Pantanal last month, it’s nothing Tara and I haven’t seen plenty of.”