In the Dark (Cavaldi Birthright Book 3)

by Brea Viragh

  Karsia quirked an eyebrow before speaking. “I hear you’re the man in charge of the mythology department. Specifically, a stone tablet from the Dark Ages. Found near the Baltic Sea?”

  She puffed up her chest, a woman used to being obeyed and who refused to be intimidated. At the sight of her, Morgan pushed down the brief spark of laughter itching to get out. This was a person who took what she wanted. Like a tiny kitten puffing up and hissing at a play toy. He’d come across thousands of men and women like her in his existence. He knew what to say to appease them, what to do to antagonize.

  On this occasion, he preferred to go with the latter.

  “The man in charge, eh?” Morgan pushed his newly polished lenses back on his face and blinked. “I like the sound of that. Although I’m not sure it’s particularly true in this instance.”

  “I read an article of yours detailing an obscure script from the Dark Ages. War and chaos and—dare I say—magic.”

  “Did you? And I suppose you enjoyed it?” Morgan studied her. “No, perhaps not. Not the type of woman to sit down and discuss a carefully crafted research paper. You should be out with friends somewhere, dressing skimpily and enticing unsuspecting college seniors into buying you a shot.”

  “For your information, I have no friends and I rarely dress skimpily. Are you done being snide?” Karsia asked. “Because I don’t have a lot of time to waste. There’s an eclipse coming, and I’m not sure if you know it, but it heralds the final tearing of a thinning veil keeping this world and the world of ancient magicks separated.”

  “I wonder—”

  She snapped her fingers. “Keep up, big boy. I need to know more about the script. Was there anything else on the stone pertaining to a veil?” She drummed her nails on the arm of the chair and regarded him with the zeal of a woman who meant business. “A wall or barrier of any kind?”

  “Anything else?” he asked slowly. To torment her.

  “Any mention of a reversal?”

  Morgan leaned back in his chair, springs creaking under the transferred weight. Oh yes, definitely an interesting distraction. Better than any he would have conjured for himself.

  He took the time to tighten the lid on his flask a final time and return it to the desk drawer before speaking. “Why are you interested? It’s only a story. A legend. And my paper on it wasn’t exactly light reading.”

  The look in her eyes told him they both knew better. “Humor me, okay?”

  He knew the details of the tablet better than anyone. After all, he’d been the first documented philologist to set eyes on it. The first to translate the lines of script and copy it to paper for the first time, to translate it to Greek and then back to English.

  He remembered the day he’d first sat down with the archeologists, the ancient chiseled stone exciting him and enticing him to explore it.

  “There was nothing more,” he told her. “A tale about good and evil, life and death, accompanied by what seemed to be a crude location spell in ancient Cyrillic script. It’s very simple.”

  “Very simple?” Karsia’s voice swelled with anger and a shadow passed over her face. “Are you blind, or stupid? There’s nothing simple about what they found.”

  Morgan took it in and filed it for later. Curiouser and curioser, he mused. “You’ve read my essay. At least, I’m going to assume you’ve read my essay. My notations and thoughts are outlined there. I held nothing back.” He settled himself in and maneuvered until his arms were folded across his chest. “What I don’t understand is how someone like you can find the tale so interesting you’d break into my office to question me about it. Like I said before, you really don’t seem the type of person bent on entering private property like a burglar in the night.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He scratched his head. “Or have I gotten so old I’ve forgotten one of my students and you’re simply one of the herd in my classes?” Fighting the urge to check his records, Morgan asked her, “Do I have you in my student files? Did I give you a bad grade and you’re trying to intimidate me?”

  Karsia clenched her fists. “I’m not one of your damn students, man. I’m here because things are never as simple as people assume. The stories about the man and woman who made a choice to become the veil are true. I need a way to reverse whatever they did, and right now, sweetheart, you’re the only one on my radar who knows what the fuck I’m talking about.”

  “Reverse what? I’m afraid I’m not following you. In fact, none of this is making sense to me at all,” he said. Perhaps a bit too much of the good stuff? He would have to examine the contents of the flask later. Tampering may be involved. Morgan grimaced. One of his brothers must have found him. “Who are you, again? I don’t believe you told me your name.”

  “I’m a person who needs help!” Karsia almost shouted at him. “I’m a person who needs you to tell me what you know about the story on the tablet and how to get this…this thing out of me.”

  Morgan stood and placed his hands in front of him on the desk. “Please, calm down, Miss.” Maybe he’d baited her too much. Taken the idea of cute but ferocious little kitten for granted.

  “I’m perfectly fucking calm!” Karsia got to her feet, with raw power flowing through her arms. She could not stop herself. Wouldn’t if she wanted to. “And don’t call me miss. Do you understand what it’s like to live with this? To have Darkness in your veins and no way to stop it? This wasn’t my choice! Not really. I-I-I…I didn’t understand. I just wanted to save my sister. I didn’t know I’d be a walking advertisement for rogue magic!”

  She raised her hands and shot a bolt of pure energy at the ceiling. It was a testament to the gifts she hadn’t wanted and didn’t ask for. Plaster crumbled and cracks spread out from the point of entry. She tethered the magic to her like a lasso of rope around her wrist, ready to call it out again. Something bigger, more intimidating.

  “I need help immediately,” she demanded.

  Morgan watched pure energy crackle along her skin. She was something else, all right. A vision. A warrior goddess. Or perhaps the manifestation of Kali herself. A vengeful and destructive spirit.

  When he scowled, Karsia’s face split open in a fearsome grin. “What? Did I do something you don’t like? What are you going to do about it?”

  In spite of his sudden arousal from watching her, a flush of frustration took him at the destruction of his office. “That is quite enough.”

  Morgan retaliated swiftly and without thought, his own magic quieting hers. For a moment his true form shone through, complete with a flash of horns. A wave of power assaulted her and Karsia took an involuntary step in the opposite direction.

  “Kindly control yourself or I will be forced to take more drastic measures,” he bit out.

  Her magic ceased and extinguished with a puff of smoke. Karsia stumbled back to her seat. “What are you, mister?”

  Morgan took the time to smooth his hair, run a hand over his cardigan to brush away the bits of crumbled sheetrock and plaster. “Nothing to concern yourself about. If you’re done with the hysterics, we have not been properly introduced. I am Morgan Gauthier. At least, this form of me is Morgan Gauthier.” He held out his open hand. “And you are?”

  His interest had been piqued the instant she showed up at the door, an elemental awareness connecting the separate sparks of their essences. He knew this woman, he thought with some surprise. Somehow, someway, maybe from a different life.

  That aside, the rawness of whatever she held inside drew on his kinder instincts. This was, indeed, a woman who needed help. Who found herself in the middle of something she was clearly unprepared to wield. He related to the sentiment. One day in the distant past he’d engaged in those same feelings.

  And the magic simmering under the surface? Whatever unnatural source it sprang from, Morgan knew it was not hers. This was a young woman in trouble.

  How could he turn her away?

  Scholarly interest, he told himself with his hand still flounderi
ng in the open air while it waited for a partner. As a researcher, he was fascinated by anything out of the ordinary. As a man, her eyes captured his. Her face beckoned him forward. His heart clanked against his ribcage in a single pounding thud.

  She took her time before answering, still staring at the offered appendage. Almost as though she’d forgotten what to do.

  At last she took it in her own for a quick shake. “Karsia Cavaldi. I need your help.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Karsia refused to admit the spark of electricity she’d felt the instant her skin touched his. Her old self—from before—believed in fairy tales and improbable miracles like love at first sight. She’d even believed in the instant recognition of one’s soul mate. In another life, she might have seen Morgan for the man, the god, he truly was. She might have recognized his place in her life and his position in her future.

  She stared at the man holding her hand, his smoky-gray eyes crinkled in a smile and his mouth plump and pert. Inviting. He was attractive…in a scholarly way. His hair was sun-streaked brown and shot through with silver. A handsome man. An intelligent one, who saw through her charade.

  “You know, you still haven’t offered me a seat,” she told Morgan, and wiped her suddenly sweaty palm on the leg of her jeans. “Or have your manners flown the coop with your collagen production?”

  “Ah, a joke about my age. Very nice.” If only she knew the half of it. He shot her a smile and gestured. “And absolutely. Please, Miss Cavaldi, choose a chair and let’s talk.”

  “It took you long enough.”

  She couldn’t help the jab, making herself comfortable and tamping down the last embers of her temper. He can help you, she chastised. Play nice. Unfortunately, playing nice was no longer her forte. “You know, sir, you have a rusty sense of social graces.”

  “Spoken by a woman who nearly blew a hole through my ceiling without the pleasure of a first date.”

  Morgan and Karsia held eye contact and seconds passed in silence, each appraising the other and storing the information away for later inspection. He missed nothing. Duly noted. Karsia saw the instant he dropped his guard and drove in for the kill.

  He shouldn’t have.

  “I see what you’re trying to do.”

  “What?” he asked innocently.

  “Getting a read on me without really reading my mind. I feel you in there.” She clucked her tongue at him. “Tread carefully. You have no clue what I’m capable of doing.”

  The appreciative glint in those eyes had Karsia putting her back up. There was no use for a man in her current situation. Not that Morgan Gauthier lacked good looks. He certainly turned a few heads in a nerdy, slightly awkward way.

  “I’m serious,” she said. “Stop looking at me like you’re ready to gobble me whole. There are things about me that would make you cry like a little girl. And that’s why I need to know more about the script you helped translate.”

  “We’re back to the tablet? Fine.” Morgan drew in a long breath and sat. “It was a historical recounting, by accounts, carbon-dated back to the end of the Dark Ages around 1200 AD. Much of the language on the tablet isn’t spoken anymore.” Which wasn’t to say he couldn’t figure it out if he wanted. With his parentage, he had only to say the word and the translation was clear.

  Unfortunately, Morgan was stubborn. He preferred to do things the hard way. The old-fashioned way. The human way.

  “Some of the scripts can’t be recovered without more research. I can’t be sure of anything, let alone how it will help you, although I do consider my own documentations some of the best available.”

  Karsia sighed and roughly pushed her hair away from her face. “It doesn’t matter how it will help me. That’s none of your business. Tell me everything you know and try not to toot your own horn while you’re at it.”

  Morgan drummed his fingers on the desk, unconsciously echoing her earlier melody. “Toot my own horn. Nice.” He’d rather she do it for him. Would it be rude to tell her that? “I’ll give you access to my considerable knowledge on the subject—”

  “Finally.”

  “—on one condition.”

  Karsia scowled at him. “I don’t appreciate blackmail. And you’re not getting a bribe out of me.”

  This meeting wasn’t going the way she’d anticipated. During the very long drive from Miami to Lake Michigan, she’d considered every possible way for getting him to talk. While Chinese water torture appealed greatly to her sadistic side, she decided to go with reason, determining it to be the better method. Or attempt to, at any rate. At the moment, despite her threats, she felt the balance of power shift slightly away from her.

  It was enough to have her appraising Morgan a second time.

  “I don’t consider this blackmail.” He chuckled. “Let’s talk over dinner sometime. Perhaps tomorrow? Are you free?”

  Karsia started at the request. She should have seen it coming. There was heat in his gaze when he looked at her. Then he smiled, one of those smiles that reeked of eternal understanding. It spoke to something deep inside of her, buried so deep it was near nonexistent. His smile said he understood her the way she wanted to be understood. Believed in her when she couldn’t believe in herself anymore. And reassured her that she was in precisely the right place. Damn if she could hold out against it.

  Her gut lurched.

  No, there could be no dating. What was she thinking?

  “Do you make a habit of asking out every random woman who barges into your office at night?” she asked.

  First, he shook his head politely, and then his face broke into that sunny and understanding smile. As if they’d been on the same page the entire time. “Nope. Just you.”

  The wrinkles around his eyes gave him a distinguished look, something lacking in men of her generation. Okay, she should have gone the torture route. Then he wouldn’t tempt her.

  “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You’re refusing to give me the information I need to save my life because you want to see if you can get me between the sheets? Nice. Real nice.”

  “I wouldn’t put it that way…”

  Karsia lifted a hand and sparks flew around the air above her fingertips. An unnatural wind picked up to ruffle the papers on his desk.

  “I can make you talk, you know. It would be so much fun to see the blood rise to your face while I strangle you from the inside.” She bared her teeth in a gruesome parody of a grin. “Don’t underestimate me.”

  Morgan quirked an eyebrow at her and casually snapped his fingers. At once the wind swirled back to her and Karsia’s breath caught in her throat. Strands of hair whipped at her face, leaving red marks in their wake.

  Her power clicked off.

  “I thought you’d have learned by now. You got a good read on me before. Know I’m not easily swayed by those displays.” He reached out and touched her, his hand resting on her arm in a warm, reassuring connection. Just there. For her. She couldn’t pull away, only absorb the heat from his skin. “Do I hear a yes to our date? I would enjoy the opportunity to get to know you a little better. In fact, I think there are a great many things we can find to speak about.”

  Karsia exhaled loudly. “Who the fuck are you, mister?” she asked again, though she didn’t expect an answer.

  “I’m a man, Miss Cavaldi.”

  She hated giving in, more than ever before. Something about the darkness twisted what was already inside of her, an inherent stubbornness, and amplified the characteristic. How she would love to make good on her threat and follow through with the evil suggestions whispering in her subconscious. She wanted to tell him to fuck off on principle. Just to see his face drop and the remains of his grin disintegrate into dust.

  But this man had power. And information. And she needed him if she ever wanted to be free.

  “Sure. I guess.” She offered the answer like she didn’t care about the outcome either way and chewed on her lower lip. “One date couldn’t hurt.” She hoped.

&nb
sp; Morgan made little indication of his happiness, nodding to her. “Good. I’m glad we could come to an understanding. I think you’ll find the opportunity a lot more pleasurable than you imagine. How about I meet you tomorrow at a small bistro downtown. I assume you don’t know the area?”

  “You assume correctly.” Like a petulant child, Karsia glowered at the wall with a pout marring her features while she waited for Morgan to scribble an address on a small piece of scrap paper.

  He dotted the I with a flourish and held it out to her. “Here. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place where I know we won’t be disturbed. I’ll tell you about my research then. Does seven o’clock work for you?”

  “It doesn’t matter what time. All I need is the information,” she repeated, staring down at the paper with the scrawled handwriting, her thumb lingering.

  “Well then, at least we can both have a nice meal while we talk.”

  “Whatever.” Karsia folded the slip. “I’ll be there.”

  “I can’t wait,” Morgan replied. The odd thing was, he sounded sincere.

  She shoved the scrap deep into her pocket and sent him a final sour look. She’d give him this one opportunity to hand over the information freely. If nothing turned up—or if Morgan tried to turn it around and flirt her to death—then she would make good on her threat. Simple. She didn’t have the time for second chances.

  Abruptly she got to her feet and strode from the room without a second look. She missed Morgan’s smirk completely.

  **

  The car had made it to Wisconsin in one piece, which was a surprise. She hadn’t expected it to push through to the bitter end or survive the entire fourteen-hundred-mile-long journey, but it did. And with only the slightest shuddering and smoke rising from the engine. There were a few touch and go moments around those identical middle states, but both she and the car managed to come through unscathed.

  Go figure. The damn thing cost her as much as a designer purse and proved to be much more worthwhile in the end.