Demons and DNA (Amplifier 1)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  I pulled through the open doors into the barn, parking the car. We’d painted the exterior siding white to match the house in the spring, but the interior was still all aged wood and thick posts and beams.

  Paisley climbed over the trunk before I’d even turned the key in the ignition, slipping into the deepening shadows toward the back door and heading off in search of Christopher. Or the chickens. I never could tell.

  The light in the barn was muted, though the day was still sunny behind us. The car engine murmured as it cooled. Aiden didn’t move from his seat, and neither did I.

  “So …” he said. “White Owl Farm?”

  He’d seen the sign, though I’d spun onto the drive and through the gate pretty quickly. “Yes.”

  He craned his head back, sweeping his gaze overhead to take in the wooden stairs that led upward into the hayloft, which the former owners had converted into a caretaker suite. It was a deliberate move. I’d already seen the sorcerer take in every detail of the barn as we’d pulled in. As I would have, had it been my first time seeing it. “And this is the aforementioned barn? With the suite?”

  “Yes.”

  Silence settled between us again. He placed his hands, fingers relaxed, on his knees, waiting for something.

  I could have reached over and wrapped my fingers around his wrist. I could have felt the warmth of his skin, then amplified his magic. Filling him up, making him as powerful as he was obviously meant to be.

  And that might have been the exact reason someone had set him on me. Because as drained as he was, he’d be irresistible to an amplifier.

  I curled my fingers into my palm.

  He noticed. “Why am I here, Emma?” he asked quietly.

  My name, carefully and deliberately articulated by him, was a slow caress across my heart. I refused to acknowledge the feeling.

  I reached for him, slowly, deliberately.

  He rotated his hand, palm up, fingers still relaxed and inviting my touch. I hesitated, wanting to press my fingertips to his, lining each finger up so that they perfectly mirrored each other. But there was something desperately intimate in that thought, in that gesture, that desire.

  He murmured something in a language that I didn’t recognize. Arabic, maybe. Possibly even an arcane version, if there was such a thing. It sounded apologetic. Then he turned his hand so that his palm once again rested on his knee.

  I placed my forefinger and middle finger on the back of his hand, gazing at the inked runes that were already smudging on his fingers.

  “Why are you here?”

  He shook his head sharply, just once. Tension ran through his jaw. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Which is why you got in the car?”

  “Among other reasons.” His lips curled into a smile.

  I kept my gaze on my fingers, lightly pressing on the back of his hand, and my focus on the feel of his magic, of his currently nebulous emotions. He was tired. That exhaustion was overriding everything else he was feeling. I was actually surprised he hadn’t passed out again.

  I could boost his magic, just enough to jar him, to get him talking. It would be invasive, though, and would reveal way too much about me. Too much that I was still hoping to keep hidden. If Bee were present, she could have plucked the answers out of his head without even asking the questions.

  He cleared his throat. “As best I’ve figured out, I’ve lost three days, along with most of my magic.” He waved his free hand. “And I’m apparently somewhere in an English-speaking country, surrounded by mountains. But not the United States. The road signs are in metric.”

  Temporary amnesia wasn’t uncommon when paired with severe trauma, such as having one’s magic swiftly drained. Though that didn’t mean he hadn’t been sent by the Collective to draw me out. “Do you know me?” I asked quietly.

  He didn’t answer.

  I lifted my gaze to meet his, ignoring the way the light blue of his eyes made them seem piercing, soul penetrating. Such concepts didn’t exist. It was simply my mind’s interpretation of the way the light played with the color.

  “Do you know me, Aiden?” I asked again, firmer this time.

  A smile slipped across his face. “Telepath?”

  “No.”

  “True seeker?”

  “No.”

  His smile widened. “I don’t know you, Emma. You would be impossible to forget. And apparently impossible to deny, even when I already know that the safest course of action has to be getting out of this town. Quickly.”

  My empathy immediately picked up his sincerity, backed by a lingering frustration — along with the ever-present overwhelming weariness. He needed to sleep, to heal. I broke contact with his skin before I could pick up anything else. The quicker he healed and regained the memory of his missing three days, the quicker I would get the answers I needed.

  “So am I telling the truth?”

  “So far.”

  “Then I ask again, why am I here?”

  “So I can keep an eye on you, sorcerer.”

  “In case I do what? If you thought I could hurt you in any way, why bring me to your home?”

  “Perhaps you’re more of a threat if I let you go.”

  He laughed quietly. “Am I to be under house arrest?”

  He didn’t sound displeased at the notion, which was confusing enough that I opened my door and stepped out of the car instead of answering. I crossed out of the barn, not waiting for him. But he didn’t hesitate to follow.

  He was right, of course. Inviting him to the property was absurd, ridiculously ill-conceived. And now I knew why Christopher had said he would set a fourth plate for dinner.

  Christopher wandered around the side of the barn, Paisley at his heels. Her presence was easily explained by the blue strainer and the five multicolored chicken eggs that Christopher was carrying.

  “Christopher, this is —”

  “Aiden Myers.” He said it even before he’d settled his light-gray-eyed gaze on the sorcerer, who was a few steps behind me.

  “Yes.”

  “Why is your magic all curled up and hiding, Aiden?”

  The sorcerer hesitated, glancing between me and Christopher. “It will come back.”

  Christopher nodded. “As it always does, I suspect. But you do like to play.” The white of his magic flitted across his eyes so quickly that I hoped Aiden hadn’t seen it. Though hoping to hide what magic either of us wielded for long was an idiotic notion. “It wasn’t a good game, I’ll bet.”

  I frowned at Christopher, catching his slip. He was quoting from the books he’d learned to read from — that he’d named all the Five from — which was unusual. That hadn’t been an issue since the blood tattoos had been inked on all our spines, grounding all of our magic and helping Christopher stay rooted in the present.

  He smiled at me, sedate but pleased.

  The moment passed.

  “Nice to meet you, Christopher.” Aiden glanced over at the gardens. “You have a wonderful property. I’m honored that —”

  “Brother and sister,” Christopher said, randomly answering some unasked question likely plucked from a glimpse of our immediate future. “But we’re not genetically related.” He laughed. “Funny that was your first concern. But then, Emma is compelling. We’re not related to Paisley either, so don’t let her tell you differently.”

  Aiden frowned.

  “Nope. Not a telepath.” Christopher spun away, striding toward the house.

  The stress of having Aiden on the property, even magically drained, was obviously triggering him.

  I turned to Aiden, ready to tell him that I could ask our neighbors to the west, the Wilsons, if they’d open their cottage for him. They ran a bed and breakfast in the summer season, and I didn’t think they’d turn me away.

  “No, Emma,” Christopher said, pausing at the base of the front porch.

  I didn’t voice the thought.

  Aiden was watching both of us intently, most likely rea
ssessing his earlier choice to climb into the Mustang and accompany me home.

  “At least let the sorcerer sleep for a bit,” Christopher said. “Before you kick him out. I made up the suite.” He jogged up the steps and into the house.

  Aiden settled his sharp gaze on me.

  I felt an overwhelming impulse to explain everything — every last detail of our magic, our pasts, what we were running from, my concerns over who Aiden was and what he was doing in Lake Cowichan. I quashed it. “The loft is separated from the garage section of the barn. Though you can access it through there as well.”

  “Up the interior stairs?”

  I nodded. The sorcerer was observant.

  “And the other entrance?”

  I crossed around the barn. He followed. A set of wooden stairs at the back postdated the construction of the barn, and had been freshly painted white along with the exterior.

  I climbed the stairs, hyperaware of the sorcerer behind me. I paused at the top landing, which overlooked the fenced vegetable garden. Christopher had placed a long rough-hewn wooden box filled with strawberry plants on the railing, and something about that tugged at my memory. There was some significance to the plants that I couldn’t immediately recall.

  I reached for the door handle, glancing back at Aiden, who had paused on the top stair to give me space.

  From this vantage point, the eastern window of my bedroom was directly behind the sorcerer’s shoulder. Which meant I’d be able to see into the suite if Aiden didn’t lower the blinds. I’d never stood at that window for long enough to notice.

  “Emma?” Aiden asked.

  I shook my head, not certain how to otherwise cover my hesitation. I opened the door, formally gesturing for Aiden to enter. He stepped in, scanning the large room. Like the house, it was painted white, floorboards and all. A cream-colored quilt I didn’t recognize had been tucked over the double bed.

  Christopher had retrieved an old brass bed frame from the attic, pairing it with one of the extra mattresses he’d insisted on ordering months before. The clairvoyant didn’t usually get glimpses of the future that far ahead, but perhaps tying his magic to the witch’s oracle cards that I commissioned for him had lengthened his view. Granted, we hadn’t fully tested his sight since his magic had returned after being drained by me during our escape from the compound. But by its tenor, I knew it was more powerful than before, and I had worried that testing it, amplifying it, would be detrimental to Christopher’s daily life.

  Suddenly, I remembered the significance of the strawberries.

  Seven months ago, Christopher had pulled three cards from his oracle deck — three separate shuffles that had yielded the same three cards. Ginger, strawberry, and rose. Manifestation. Movement. Partnership.

  The clairvoyant had caught a glimpse of the future then. Our present now. But he’d kept quiet about it.

  Aiden stepped through into the bathroom, glancing around. His movement recalled my attention to the room.

  Clothing was neatly folded on one of the two chairs in the small seating area to the right. Jeans, a T-shirt, a thin henley sweater in charcoal, a pair of shorts, and black boxers still in the package. The closet was partially open. A fleece jacket and a Gore-Tex hung within, along with an extra blanket and pillow on the upper shelf.

  Aiden stepped back into the main room, pinning me into place with his blue-eyed gaze. Not that I’d been in a hurry to leave. “I thank you, Emma, for your and Christopher’s … and Paisley’s hospitality.” A hum of magic whispered through his words. “I will bring no harm to you or yours as long as I rest my head here by your leave.”

  The magic he’d called forth effortlessly faded.

  “That’s very specific wording, sorcerer.”

  He smiled. “Well, if you try to kill me, I must have some leeway to react.”

  “If I try to kill you, Aiden, you will have deserved nothing less.”

  “That goes without saying. I always reap everything I’ve sown.”

  “Everything? Or only the murderous repercussions?”

  He tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “I find I’m suddenly open to other possibilities.”

  I didn’t know what he meant. The moment stretched between us unresolved. “Dinner is at seven.” I turned away.

  “Clairvoyant.”

  I almost said no. Almost tried to pretend he meant me, not Christopher. But he was smiling, pleased with himself. As if he’d won some game we’d been playing.

  Except I didn’t play games. And I definitely didn’t play with anything that impacted Christopher’s safety.

  The sorcerer’s smile slipped from his face. “I apologize. That was rude. Uncouth. If I claim exhaustion, can we move beyond my transgression?”

  I almost voiced the threat that I’d been formulating — but then I realized he’d already seen it in me. Seen that I’d do anything to protect what was mine to protect. I tried smiling instead. “Have you ever gone up against a clairvoyant?”

  He raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I’ve never met one. But I can’t imagine why I would ever jeopardize such a valuable relationship.”

  There it was.

  As expected.

  Apparently, sorcerers were all the same.

  For some reason, I’d hoped Aiden was different, even though everything about him — or at least my sense of what had been stripped from him — had pointed to a predilection for collecting power.

  “You were saying?” he prompted.

  I turned away, heading toward the stairs.

  He closed his eyes, swearing softly under his breath as if pained.

  I kept moving.

  I wandered around the back of the house, finding Christopher in the kitchen as expected. The scents of roasting tomatoes, garlic, basil, and oregano wafted through the open French-paned patio doors. The mason jar of dahlias that I’d left on the railing had been moved to the center of the kitchen table.

  The kettle whistled. Christopher had already set the stoneware teapot and two of our four mugs on the island.

  He removed the stainless steel kettle from the stove, clicking the gas burner off. Then he glanced over at me.

  I hadn’t moved from the door, as if stepping into the house would allow the future to continue moving forward. The future I’d somehow triggered by bringing Aiden home. It felt as though stepping onto the white tile would acknowledge that future, unraveling our shared life — assuming I wasn’t reading too deeply into what Christopher had seen when he’d tied his magic to the oracle cards.

  “The Collective?” I finally asked.

  “Not that I see. And if they come, they come.” Christopher poured water through the strainer set over the teapot. Usually I selected and steeped the tea. “We’ll fight. We’re stronger now, even just the two of us. Not even factoring in the sorcerer you’ve collected and Paisley. And the others are only ever a day away.”

  “You think they’d come?”

  He set the timer on the oven. “Without question.”

  “Tell me you haven’t seen it.” I never asked for visions he didn’t voluntarily share. I didn’t want him to ever feel the need to lie to me.

  “I’d always tell you, Socks.”

  “Even if I was going to die?” I asked, somehow finding it within me to tease.

  He laughed. “Especially then. And you know it wouldn’t be the first time. How many times have we avoided each other’s death?”

  I laughed, weary and keyed up at the same time. “I never counted.”

  I also didn’t know how many Adepts I’d amplified or drained of magic, whether on command or in self-preservation. I didn’t know how many beings I’d slaughtered either, on demand or when thwarting one of the many attempts on my life or the lives of one of the other four.

  I only knew who I cared for, and who cared for me. All two of them. And I had put both Christopher and Paisley in jeopardy with my actions, with my infatuation with the sorcerer.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d
stood in silence before I noticed Christopher leaning against the white-speckled quartz counter, his gaze on me. No hint of his magic traced his eyes now. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Conflicted. What is it about the sorcerer that bothers you? He’s no match for any of us.”

  I strode through the kitchen instead of answering, pulling the strainer out of the teapot a moment before the timer went off.

  Christopher snorted.

  I poured, relishing the scent of the tea. I enjoyed smelling tea even more than I liked the taste. “Darjeeling?”

  “Mim. Your second flush.”

  I set the first mug in front of Christopher. He added a teaspoon of sugar, stirring. He took his tea differently every time, even the same brew.

  I always drank mine the same way, with a splash of milk if hot brewed, or a teaspoon of sugar if it was cold brewed, unless it was fruit based.

  “Is he going to stay?” I asked without looking at the clairvoyant.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “He’s that hard to read?”

  “No. But apparently you are.”

  I frowned. Christopher didn’t usually have a difficult time reading me.

  “Shall I get out the cards?”

  “No.” I didn’t like deliberately tuning Christopher’s magic to me. Occasionally it got stuck, and then he would suffer through seeing five or ten minutes into my future for days. “I’ll be in my sitting room, if you need me.”

  “As always.”

  After taking over the front sitting room and the TV with so many gaming units that I had no idea how he remembered what controller went with which, Christopher had dragged furniture down from the attic to set up a sitting room for me in the spare room across the hall from my bedroom. He’d painted an old armoire sky blue, distressing the edges and installing a flat-screen TV within. A cream love seat with a faded floral pattern and wooden arms, plus a low wooden coffee table, completed the decor.

  Neither of us had gotten around to putting up pictures or even purchasing artwork, though I knew that was something people were supposed to do.