Beholden

by Kris T. Bethke

  Beholden

  By Kris T. Bethke

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2018 Kris T. Bethke

  ISBN 9781634866064

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  Beholden

  By Kris T. Bethke

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 1

  “Jules?”

  My head jerked up at the sound of my name, breaking my concentration and destroying the image in front of me. I scowled at the closed and locked door, willing the woman on the other side to just leave me alone.

  “Julian, come on. I know you’re in there,” Mara said pleadingly.

  I rolled my eyes, and turned back to my work. I summoned up the magic, ready to pour it back into the bowl of water in front of me. Water was my preferred medium when scrying. I could use any reflective surface, but still water in a dark bowl worked the best for me.

  Once again, sounds from outside my office interrupted me—a crinkling of a plastic bag, then Mara’s cajoling voice. “I brought peanuts.”

  My scowl grew deeper but I remained silent. She knew I was in here but I had the futile hope that, if I ignored her long enough, she would go away. She really knew better than to interrupt me while I was working.

  She rattled the can of peanuts like that would entice me. I wasn’t some animal who could be persuaded by treats, but it took all my willpower not to get up. Peanuts were my one great weakness. I loved them. But I could resist.

  Then, with another shake of the can, she said the magic words. “They’re honey-roasted.”

  Damn that woman. I stood and stomped to the door. A quick incantation, and the wards released. I twisted the lock and yanked open the door. She blinked—surprised, I think—at my sudden appearance, then her lips twisted into a smug, satisfied grin. I growled as I snatched the tin of peanuts from her hand.

  Mara pushed her way into my office. Although she was five-foot-nothing and barely a hundred pounds, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her dark hair was cut into a no-nonsense bob that accentuated her pixie-like face. She was gorgeous and she knew it, but she also had a fuckton of magical power and wasn’t afraid to use it. Especially not on me. I had felt the brunt of her displeasure too many times to count.

  She wrinkled her little ski-jump nose. “Good gods, Julian, when was the last time you went home?”

  I looked around my tiny office and tried to see it as she did. I had to admit, it looked worse for the wear. The rumpled blankets on the small, uncomfortable sofa in the corner clearly advertised I’d been sleeping there. The garbage can was overflowing with food wrappers and empty drink containers. Even the candles were burned down to nubs. I shrugged and opened the can of peanuts.

  “Thanks for these. They’re really good,” I said through a mouthful of peanuty goodness. Peanuts really were the perfect food—protein, sugar, fats, everything one needed to keep up their energy. Plus, they tasted amazing.

  She looked at me like I was an idiot. “You’re welcome. I got them from that whole-foods store you like.”

  I eyed her suspiciously and replaced the cover on the can before setting it carefully on the edge of my desk. That was an awfully nice thing for her to do. “Why are you being so nice?”

  Mara made a dismissive gesture with her hand, ignoring my question entirely, then eyed me critically. “Stop deflecting. When was the last time you went home?”

  I squinted and tried to remember. I’d been showering in the gym for the last three days. Or had it been four? I wasn’t exactly sure, but it didn’t matter. “I have a lot of work to do. I’ve been busy.”

  “Julian,” she admonished, exasperated.

  “There’s too much going on. A lot of it’s important. I need to be here. I’m the best, Mara. No one can do what I can,” I said without arrogance. I was simply stating a fact. I was the Department of Extranormal and Magical Affairs’ top scryer. I had worked hard to get here, and I took my responsibilities seriously.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Only because of what you did to yourself.”

  I sighed heavily and turned away. She was my sister and I adored her to pieces, but there was no way I was going to get into this argument with her again. We’d beaten that horse past death a hundred times. But I still couldn’t stop myself from saying for the thousandth time, “Becoming Beholden is not a crime. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “I know that,” Mara said, her voice softening. She let out a big sigh. “But why you would limit yourself like that, bind your magic to one discipline—” She stopped suddenly and took a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight about that. I wanted to check on you. No one has seen you for days.”

  “I’ve been working.”

  “And what’s so important that you have to put your own health at risk?”

  I spun around to face her, surprised by the vehemence in her tone. Her eyes—the same muddy hazel as mine—brimmed with tears. She cried only when she was well and truly pissed off. Well, she could be as angry as she wanted. It wasn’t going to change the facts. I was where I wanted to be, doing what I wanted to be doing. I sat at my desk again, pulling the bowl closer, then I looked up at her while I waited for the water to settle.

  “You know I can’t tell you that,” I said calmly.

  “More secrets,” she scoffed. “This place—gods, Julian, this place is going to end you! Secrets and lies and misdirection, that’s all DEMA is about. And they keep you here, locked in this cell of a room, working yourself to death after they forced you to become Beholden—”

  “Enough, Mara,” I snapped. Her eyes narrowed again and she opened her mouth to speak, but I steamrolled right over her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. These are my choices, no one is forcing me, and I don’t regret a single one. I think you need to leave.”

  She stared at me, her mouth agape. “What?”

  I nodded toward the door. “You need to go. I’m not going to listen to you belittle my choices. I have work to do, and you’re interrupting me.”

  “Julian, please just listen to me.”

  “No. If you need assistance, I will call security and have them escort you out.”

  Anger blazed in her eyes. “I’m your sister!”

  “And I love you very much. But that
doesn’t give you the right to talk to me this way. And that doesn’t mean I won’t call security to haul your ass out of here.” I took a deep, calming breath to force down my temper. I usually didn’t let it get this far with her, but I was just plain tired of the same argument. “Please, Mara, just leave.”

  She backed toward the door, her face hard, her mouth set in a grim line. Gone was the kind sister who had brought me peanuts and had come to check on me. In her place stood a woman pissed off beyond belief. I held her gaze, not wanting to show the slightest hint of weakness. Her hand on the knob, she fixed me with a hard stare.

  “Ever since you started working here, ever since you became Beholden—” her cold voice spat the word like a curse “—you’re not the same person I grew up with. You’ve changed, Julian. And not for the better.”

  She slammed the door behind her when she left.

  I released a breath, and after a moment, stood and crossed to the door. Laying my hand on the smooth wood, I reset the wards with a whispered incantation. I walked back to the desk and sat in the chair with a hard flump. I slouched until I could rest my head on the high back, and scrubbed my face with my hands.

  Mara was wrong. I hadn’t changed, not really. She just didn’t know me as well as she thought she did. And never really had. I had always hidden a part of myself from my sister. I kept my desires a secret because I knew she wouldn’t agree with the choices I wanted to make. And I wanted to keep her approval for as long as I could. If I were honest, I didn’t want her to talk me out of becoming Beholden.

  I was seventeen when my power had started to manifest. Magic usually made itself known around puberty and it wasn’t uncommon in my family for the boys to start a bit late. But the surge of magic in my body had triggered the onset of Mara’s power as well—also something that happened with siblings as close in age as Mara and I were. We went through Academy together. Mara had been a star pupil, excelling in all disciplines of magic. I, on the other hand, had shown a surprising and vast aptitude for the arcane art of scrying.

  More than just being adept at it, I absolutely loved it. That moment of stillness, of gathering the power and focusing it, the unqualified thrill of seeing things that were taking place hundreds of miles away—there was nothing about it that didn’t excite me. As I practiced and became more accurate, my advisor had suggested I make it my focus. I was able to see farther and more clearly than anyone he knew. By the time I finished the Academy, I had already been offered a position with DEMA, which I’d readily accepted.

  The first few years, I’d been one of many scryers employed by DEMA. I was also one of the best. I loved the work, and knew I was making a difference. The intelligence I’d gathered helped DEMA intercept dark practitioners before they could go too far; the missing people I’d found were reunited with loved ones; I’d foiled plots, assisted interrogations, made a difference. I’d known, without a doubt, this was my life’s work. After talking with the powers-that-be at DEMA, I’d decided the best application of my gift was to become Beholden.

  It was an ancient ritual and would, essentially, permanently bind my magic to the art of scrying. I’d be able to do very little else, but that didn’t matter. Scrying was the only thing I wanted to do. Even knowing my sister was vehemently against such a practice, I was going to do it, no matter her feelings.

  Mara, as well as many others in the magical community, looked down on the practice of Beholding. Some viewed it as a cop out, a way to boost magic for the practitioner who didn’t have much. Mara, I knew from our many discussions over the years, thought it a low-brow and “blue collar” way of doing magic. It was a snobbish view, and I disagreed. But I had still completed the ritual without telling her first. And once something like that was done, it couldn’t be undone.

  When I had finally admitted what I’d done, Mara was livid. She didn’t talk to me for three weeks. Eventually, she got over it and I’d thought she’d made peace with it. At least mostly. It wasn’t uncommon for her to throw in a jab at my Beholden status every once in a while. Occasionally we’d get into real arguments about it. But nothing like what happened today because I usually shut it down before it got that far.

  I hated fighting with her, but I wasn’t going to smooth things over. Not this time. Every time we got into one of these arguments, she made me feel about six inches tall. And always, eventually, I’d make peace with her, saying what she wanted to hear and fixing things between us. Today, I’d stood up for myself and it was about damn time. I was thirty-three years old, for gods’ sake! It was about time I stopped bending to my sister’s wishes and stopped apologizing for choices I didn’t regret.

  With a deep breath, I sat up straight and discontinued my trip down memory lane. I reached for the water bottle on the edge of the desk and downed half the contents before my thirst was quenched. Then, with another deep breath, I pulled the piece of paper outlining my latest assignment closer. I focused on the words, fixing them in my mind, then gathered my power and got back to work.

  * * * *

  Three hours later, I finally finished scribbling the last of my reports. I stood and stretched, my back popping after having been hunched over my desk for so long. Spending nights on the cramped sofa in the corner couldn’t have been very good for it either. I surveyed my desk and, seeing that I had finally cleared the most urgent requests, decided I could finally go home to my tiny apartment and get a good night’s rest.

  Since my use of magic was severely limited, I’d had to find ways to get tasks done that other practitioners took for granted. I sealed the completed report in a heavy parchment envelope, then placed it in a tube affixed to the wall by the door. Pressing my hand on the sigil etched into the PVC, I willed a bit of magic into it. With a whoosh, the paper moved up the tube. It would be delivered to Lena Rystrom’s desk. Lena was one of the secretaries for the administrators, and one of the few people I could trust and count as a friend. She would send the paper on to where it needed to go. I couldn’t magically send paper to whomever I wished, so I had to rely on Lena for assistance.

  The wards on my office door, and the ones I had at home, worked on the same principle. I wasn’t able to create that kind of magic on my own, but the sigils crafted by other talented practitioners and set to respond to my magic were nearly as effective.

  Only when I was this tired did I wish I hadn’t bound my magic to scrying. It would be so nice to whisper a few words and disappear, only to reappear in my apartment. But the fleeting thought never lasted, and I wearily shuffled around the room to snuff out the candles. Electronic devices and I didn’t get along very well—something about the way I had bound my magic liked to suck power and wipe memory from them—but light fixtures weren’t usually a problem. I just preferred the ambience of the candles when working. Besides, the only fixture in my office was an overhead fluorescent. Its buzzing gave me a headache, which the brightness compounded. I snapped on the switch anyway as I made my circuit. It would be only for a few minutes while I finished tidying up and preparing to leave.

  The loud knock on the door scared the crap out of me. I barely managed to stifle a little gasp of surprise. It was rare I got any visitors down here, but to have two in one day was unheard of. My heart pounding from the burst of adrenaline, I took the twelve steps necessary to reach the tiny mirror next to the door, gathered my magic, and poured it into the surface. Within a second, the image came into focus. At this distance, it was child’s play to scry and see who was on the other side of the door.

  Two men stood there. The one with dark hair and who was slightly smaller was dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit. But the larger of the two caught my attention. He was wearing jeans, a button-down shirt, and a jacket without a tie. His dark blond hair was cut close to his head, but I could see the way the strands wanted to curl. He had a strong square jaw, a somewhat large, straight nose, and a wide, generous mouth. His shoulders looked broad underneath the severe cut of his coat, and as I watched, he lifted one big hand to rub it o
ver the top of his head. He nudged his companion with an elbow.

  “Knock again. I heard movement in there,” he said.

  The other one frowned. “It’s pretty late, maybe he’s gone home.”

  The bigger man focused on the door, his blue eyes startling in their intensity. Then he shook his head. “I think he’s in there. Knock again.”

  Just as the other one lifted his hand to do so, I caught sight of the badge hanging around his neck. Quickly, I let the magic on the mirror go. Then I placed my hand on the door, released the wards, and pulled it open. I fixed my face in what I hoped was a pleasant expression and focused solely on the slightly smaller man. He didn’t make my heart pound and my blood rush to all points south. Judging by the badges, they were part of the Investigations Unit. Which meant they were here about work and not on a social visit.

  “How may I help you?” I asked, happy the sudden lust shooting through my veins hadn’t made my voice waver.

  “Julian Thomas?” the one in the suit queried. At my nod, he gave a small smile. “I’m Agent Dreswick. This is Agent Caldwell. May we come in?”

  I gave a tip of my head and stepped back to allow them entrance. Dreswick stopped a few feet into the room, but Caldwell walked in further, his gaze darting around and taking in everything. Perhaps assessing for threats?

  I tore my gaze away from him and focused on Dreswick. I would have probably thought he was attractive if Caldwell hadn’t been with him. But physically, Caldwell was everything that turned my key. He could have told me to bend over my desk and I would have. The thought sent a surge of lust to my cock. That would not do. I told my body this was official business and it was better to keep my attention focused on Dreswick.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked politely. Having them in my space was a little unnerving, but I was a professional. They were here for a reason and I was going to do my best to accommodate them.

  Dreswick handed me a piece of parchment and it took me a moment to realize what it was—a missive from DEMA Director herself stating that Agents Dreswick and Caldwell were to have complete access to any resource they deemed necessary. That apparently included me. I returned the paper to Dreswick, who folded it neatly and tucked it into his pocket.