Running Wilde
Page 32
I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, no longer wearing my woman-on-the-run hoodie but a lightweight duster that rustled as I walked, the clicking of my expensive boots lost amid the bustle of the street. I could feel the long, slender wands in my pockets still, now wrapped in silk. I carried them with me with an almost reflexive need, though all the immediate danger was gone. In the absence of the energy of conflict, the wands had gone dormant, as I suspected they were supposed to do. I needed to return them to their cases, but…not yet, not yet.
Far at the end of the Strip, Prime Luxe rose high into the sky, a forest of glittering spires. I hadn’t sensed the Magician since he’d left Viktor’s tower, let alone seen him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t here, a whisper away from my side. As he’d always been, though I hadn’t realized it.
“Where are you, Armaeus?” I murmured into the night sky.
For a moment, there was no response. Then, suddenly, I was no longer alone, walking the Strip. A tall, lean figure walked next to me, his body draped in an ebony trench coat. He said nothing for a long time, and we let the sound of the city wash over us, the clattering of distant slot machines and canned music every time we passed a hotel, the chatter of the ever-moving streams of people, the strident barking of the shills advertising the newest shows.
It was Armaeus, and yet—not the Armaeus I knew so well, not the one I had met all those months ago. This Armaeus had an edge I didn’t know how to handle, exactly, an air of danger to him I couldn’t quite process.
“Are you ready?” I asked at last, and he chuckled, low and dark.
“I am ready, Miss Wilde. Because you are here to show me the way,” he said. “The way back to a person I thought I’d left beyond for good, someone I don’t have the luxury of ignoring anymore.”
I nodded, strangely sad but also happy…afraid, but excited. This was right, I thought. This was necessary, for all that I didn’t know what the future held for us anymore. “Because of the war?” I asked.
“No, Miss Wilde, not the war. Not the war, nor the Council, nor the gods who seek to reclaim their place among the peoples of this earth,” Armaeus said softly, shaking his head. “I must be my true self, own my true strength, for no other reason than that you demand it of me. To be by your side, to fight with and for you, I will do, and be, everything I have not been for centuries untold.” He paused, and I looked up. We’d stopped by a large, nondescript construction wall, featureless and bare.
“Here, I think,” he said.
“Here’s good,” I said quickly. Before I could lose my nerve, I slipped my hands into my pockets, pulling free the wands of life and darkness. My own blue-white fire arced and twisted around the stone rods, but no one seemed to notice us on the side of the boulevard. No one seemed to even look our way.
I lifted my hands and felt the zing of power course through me as Armaeus rested his own hand on one of my shoulders. He opened his mind to me fully, his thoughts becoming mine—all his thoughts, all his memories, every place he’d ever been to…even those he had forgotten.
Anything he had ever seen…I could see now. Though he’d buried the memory of the place where he’d stashed away his darkest self, with the wands in my hands, I could see it.
And what I could see, I could find again.
I lifted my hands and traced a doorway into the cold gray wall. It sparked with a burst of fire, a sudden gust of wind radiating outward toward us. Beside me, Armaeus gasped.
“Sara!” he cried. I turned and it was as if he was caught in a gale that disturbed no one but him—his trench coat whipped around him in a fury, his body bracing against the onslaught as if he was being battered by the direst storm.
But it was his face that chilled me to the bone. Armaeus’s eyes were peeled back wide and terrified, his mouth caught in a scream he could not release. The magic of his former self zipped and darted and raced around him, black and dire and deadly, and Armaeus followed the tracery of that terror with eyes gone fully black.
The wands in my hands practically vibrated out of my grip, so intense was the magic coursing through them—magic I had to direct into the heart and soul of the man I loved…the man I would always love. The man I would save, even when he no longer felt he could save himself.
“Go,” I commanded harshly, putting every ounce of my burgeoning abilities into that order. But the pulse of abject darkness that entered Armaeus did not enter alone. With it, I sent another skiff of magic, spun of gold and memories, of hopes and dreams and all their strength—a strength that would conquer even the most unholy of powers, the most wretched of agonies. A strength that would allow Armaeus to command the blackest magic the war required…without losing his grasp on the light.
“I seed you with the fell darkness of your deepest magic, my beautiful man,” I whispered into the maelstrom. “But I also give you love.”
***
It was a long, long time before Armaeus spoke again.
“Are you there?” he whispered, the sound a grating rumble. He seemed taller, rougher as he sagged against the wall, and his voice was different now, low and intense, malevolent and pure, filled with both wonder and pain. It struck at the very core of me with a visceral, terrifying intensity, though he spoke in barely a murmur. “My eyes are blinded by the seven suns that bear down—so close. They’re so close. But I…I can’t yet see you. Can’t see anything, but—”
“I’m here,” I said, before my own fear responded otherwise. I was ready for this Armaeus—for this Armaeus, and for the me I’d needed to be for so long, the me I had finally become in order to walk with him, strength for strength. “I’ll always be here, Armaeus.”
“May that truly be,” he gasped again. But his voice had softened the slightest bit, and he swayed away from the wall, while a corona of magic bloomed around him and went sailing into the neon-colored sky.
I reached out, and the Magician slipped his hand into mine.
~~~
Wilde Fire
Join Sara Wilde in Spring, 2018, as the war on magic explodes on the world stage. The prophesied seven suns threaten global devastation as governments and religious institutions take up arms against all things Connected. Psychic megalomaniacs are setting the earth on fire, while ancient gods cross the veil with a serious axe to grind. As she deals with the unexpected ramifications of her new, more intense alliance with the Magician, Sara rallies the House of Swords, the Arcana Council, and an army of loyal young Connecteds to stave off the End of Days.
When it comes to mixing magic and mayhem, where there’s smoke there’s always Wilde Fire.
***
Want to keep apprised of the latest news of Immortal Vegas, get sneak peaks and free books? Sign up for my newsletter at www.jennstark.com/newsletter!
A Note From Jenn
Sara’s reading in the opening chapter of Running Wilde features cards we’ve discussed before, so I selected a reading from deep in the book, where she, Nigel and Nikki are trying to find a fabled location. Those cards’ general interpretations are below, and they’re fitting for a book where Simon plays such a pivotal role!
Justice
Justice is the card of ultimate balance in the Tarot—balance, and fairness. That doesn’t necessarily mean kindness, of course. In the traditional Rider-Waite deck, Justice is at perfect rest, one hand holding a sword aloft and the other dangling a set of perfectly balanced scales. The inference is clear: justice will be decided calmly and rationally, and then will be enforced with the swiftness of a slashing blade. The individual sitting in judgment on the Justice card is completely symmetrical as well, flanked by enormous pillars. Steady on, is the message here, you’ll get what you deserve. When you draw the Justice card, be prepared for a loan coming due, or a long-awaited answer being provided, or the other shoe to fall. You will get what you deserve. It’s not a card that’s necessarily good or bad—it all depends on what has brought you to the point of asking the question.
***
The Fool
The Five of Pentacles
There’s no two ways about it. The Five of Pentacles is a difficult card to draw. As a Five, it means change above all—and as the imagery indicates, often this is not change for the better. The card depicts two sad characters, supplicants or beggars, huddled against the elements outside what appears to be a church with its brilliant stained glass windows. It’s a bleak image, and its message is equally challenging. At this time, you feel like you are receiving no support, no outside help, and are being dragged down by circumstances beyond your control. Sometimes, this feeling is unfounded, and you can turn yourself around with a positive attitude, but sometimes, you simply need to endure the difficult experience. However, as with most of the Tarot, there is a ray of hope: the beautiful stained glass indicates that assistance is available, if only you follow the light…in this case, the light of your spiritual practice, whatever that might be. So if you draw the Five of Pentacles, acknowledge the difficulty of your current situation, and then seek your path out of this challenge by opening your heart to receive abundance from a higher power…whether that power lies within you, or outside of you.
Acknowledgments
My sincerest thanks go to my readers, who have taken this journey with me all the way through Running Wilde. Without you, these books wouldn’t be possible! For this book in particular, I’d also like to mention with gratitude Dana Alma, whose support and bright spirit are a light to every person she touches. Armaeus passes along his deep gratitude for your insights as well. I remain indebted, as always, to Elizabeth Bemis for her beautiful work on my books and my site. Gene Mollica yet again delivered a blockbuster book cover, going above and beyond my expectations. My editorial team of Linda Ingmanson and Toni Lee proved to be champion editors as they are wont to do…as always, any mistakes in the manuscript are, of course, my own. My thanks to Edeena Cross for her beta read, and to Kristine Krantz, who had to work under extreme duress on this book (thank you!). And, of course, my sincere thanks go to Geoffrey—I didn’t capture your Arcania perfectly, but you helped bring it to life. It’s been a Wilde ride.
About Jenn Stark
Jenn Stark is an award-winning author of paranormal romance and urban fantasy. She lives and writes in Ohio. . . and she definitely loves to write. In addition to her "Immortal Vegas" urban fantasy series, she is also author Jennifer McGowan, whose Maids of Honor series of Young Adult Elizabethan spy romances are published by Simon & Schuster, and author Jennifer Chance, whose Rule Breakers series of New Adult contemporary romances are published by Random House/LoveSwept and whose modern royals series, Gowns & Crowns, is now available.
You can find her online at http://www.jennstark.com, follow her on Twitter @jennstark, and visit her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/authorjennstark.