by Mary Hughes
Sparks filled the air around the wizards, the roiling fury of a mage-battle with heavy magic. Shadows shifted and foreboding filled Sophia. Even though this was a memory, she mentally urged Hayley to go faster.
A cawing cut the air. Flying through the cloud of battle magic was a black bird.
“Raven!” Noah struggled in his mother’s grasp.
Sophia thought at first it was Simon’s familiar. But no, a cat bounded out of the house with Simon’s wand.
A fourth enemy wizard appeared, following the raven, clad in a shimmering pale robe with a thick white collar. The wizard didn’t join the battle but stood apart from the rest, his collar undulating around his neck…not a collar. It was a ferret familiar.
The pale-robed wizard pointed. The raven cawed—and flew where the finger pointed, back-beating its wings as if appalled, but at the same time irresistibly compelled.
The bird had been magically bound by the enemy wizard.
Simon’s face froze in an expression of despair so profound Sophia understood the truth.
The raven was in the power of the enemy wizard, and was the boy’s familiar.
Noah’s familiar.
“Raven!” Noah saw the bird and struggled free from his mother’s arms to run toward it. “Beloved pet,” was the subtitle. Even now, Noah didn’t know.
“No!” Simon’s arm shot out. The boy ran into a wall of air.
Simon swept his wand to point at the raven. A burst of magic pushed the bird up into the air, farther, farther, until it was a black speck in the sky. After Simon’s own bodily transport, Sophia knew it was a suicidal use of power. He wouldn’t have enough left to keep his family safe and his own life intact and still fight the remaining wizards and their familiars.
There’d be no happy ending here.
Simon’s familiar joined him, fighting back to back. The remaining black-robed mages circled them, wands pointed. The ivory ferret and his master watched with unholy glee.
Noah’s mother caught Noah, wrapped arms around him and ran. Simon slashed at the enemy mages with wand and hand, covering their escape.
But as they ran, a ruby red beam of magic shot straight from Simon’s heart. It bathed Noah and his mother as they ran toward the woods.
He’d unleashed his life magic to protect them.
Simon died.
The last black-robed man pointed his wand at the still-standing corpse and hit it with a blast of fire. The corpse fell.
Slowly, the adult Noah’s mind captioned the frozen scene.
“Hard man/Simon/wizard,” it started. Then it erased, replaced it with one word.
“Father.”
Her heart contracted.
A couple coughs and it started beating smoothly.
Sophia opened her physical eyes. She was alive.
A wizard prince’s life magic, sent straight from the heart, had kept Noah safe. In turn Noah, wizard prince and alpha wolf, had given it freely to his mate. To her. It had burned away her death magic and kept her alive.
The ring of pack was blinking, blinded by Noah’s mage light ripping free. She gathered hands and legs under her.
Ivan stumbled around snapping air.
A dark, horrible growl turned all their heads.
A huge black wolf, bigger and badder than anything, stood where only moments before the rat dog had been. His eyes were a brilliant gold, his body armored in a golden aura of magic.
Noah, finally made whole.
He stood there, their king, while their sight cleared. One by one they saw him. Awe filled their faces.
Hesitantly, one by one, they knelt.
Ivan was the last to see the haloed black wolf. In shock he whimpered and pressed his body close to the ground. He scuttled forward nearly on his belly and pawed entreatingly at Noah’s foreleg.
Noah snarled. Ivan cringed and groveled. Noah barked. Ivan rolled onto his back, baring his belly and throat to Noah’s huge tearing teeth.
Sophia couldn’t watch; she couldn’t look away.
Noah snuffled Ivan’s throat…then nodded. He shifted, fluid and perfect, into a man.
Mason stepped into the ring. “This Challenge is over. The loser’s penalty is death, but the winner may have mercy. What is your will for the challenger, my king?”
“Ivan.” Even Noah’s voice was golden, more resonant. “For your part in this, you are exiled from this pack for the rest of your natural life. You four.” He pointed at Bonnie, Clyde, Killer and Attila. “Wait for me in the store. Marlowe, with them. We’ll discuss your roles in this later.”
As they slunk away, the rest of the pack slowly came to their feet. Howls rose from the circle, even the humans eerily wolf-like. Noah nodded once.
He nodded a second time to Mason. Mason came to his side.
Then Noah nodded to Sophia.
The ring of pack turned outward, toward her, and again knelt.
Noah opened his arms wide.
She should have hesitated. Thought it over. Wolves took their ceremony seriously, and her actions would have grave consequences. But she was too glad to have him whole.
She ran to him. He enfolded her in his arms and she clung to him in her relief that he’d survived. That she’d survived.
A sharp caw cut through her relief. Overhead. It was an echo of Noah’s childhood memory.
A black bird. A raven.
This was not memory.
The raven landed despondently on a tree branch. He’d searched for days, starting at the first touch of dawn and not stopping until the last echoes of sunlight died from the sky.
This morning was the fifth since feeling his master’s power flare. The pressure on his skull was unbearable. His brain was nearly exploding out his ears.
This was the day he’d go insane.
Regret tightened his chest. He thought he’d have longer.
He looked at the ground, so far below. Calling to him. Cool, damp with dew. He’d go insane, then die. No one would know.
Or care.
No. He had to believe, somewhere, his master would care. His master would feel it.
He sucked in a hard breath. He couldn’t die. He was a familiar, damn it. Reservoir of magical wisdom. His master needed him.
He would not give up. Pain nearly killing him, he hefted himself from the branch and flapped awkwardly into the rising sun. He flapped without direction for what seemed like an eternity. Gradually the sun rose. His pain rose with it. Determination waned.
His wings were so heavy. So very heavy. He sank toward the ground. He’d rest, only a moment. Only a moment and he’d be on his way…so very heavy.
Golden power slashed through the morning. His master’s magic flared bright in his eyes, startling a caw from him.
A wave of pure white light rushed toward him, over him. Heart’s magic. It wasn’t for him so didn’t cure the pain, but the sheer joy lifted his agony somewhat.
His master was nearby.
The raven gathered himself. It took every bit of strength and will he possessed, but he floundered east, his wings beating erratically.
His shoulders itched with the sensation of being followed. But there was no bitter taste, and the tympani pounding in his head drummed away caution. Pain nearly blinding him, the hope of meeting his master spurring him, he flew on.
The woods opened to a field. And there he was—tall, dark-haired, the grass waving like a green halo around him. The raven’s master.
The wizard’s arms were wrapped around a woman. She was crying, hugging him like she’d never let go. The raven sensed magic in her too, not so surprisingly because magic called to magic. But his master’s magical scent entwined with the witch’s—as if they were mated shifters rather than witch and wizard.
If the raven hadn’t been half crazy with pain, he would have paused.<
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Need made him spiral down.
As the raven landed, the change came. First his intermediate form, his body enlarging, arms emerging, wings shifting to his back. Feathers spreading, becoming short silky body hair everywhere except his huge black wings. He stood at the edge of the field looking in amazement at his hands. His fingers were long, strong, bronzed.
One thing broke clear through the pain. He had thumbs. Oh, fucking finally.
His master caught sight of him. A strange look came over the wizard’s face. His master’s witch caught his master’s expression, then looked toward him too.
“An angel,” she said. He could hear her despite the length of the field, as if his ears were attuned to her voice as well as his master’s.
“Not an angel.” His master’s brow was furrowed in puzzlement. “Someone…connected to me. R-Raven? No wait. Your name…I name you Bram.”
Bram. The familiar’s body convulsed again as his wings receded and disappeared. This time the healing magic was for him. His headache receded to a dull throb as his brain damage reversed.
He glanced down at himself. Black jeans topped solid, well-made boots. A plain tan T-shirt lay under a leather jacket. He was now a normal man in jeans and jacket, stylish without being fussy. He approved.
Bram went to greet his master, a fully functioning familiar at last. Automatically he said the words he’d been rehearsing since that first flare of magic a week ago.
“Master. Good to meet you. I will fetch you a wand, when you’re ready… Oh, and an evil wizard was following me. He wants to kill you.”
Feelings hit Noah, fast, hard, unsettling.
Love for Raven.
Hate of his father for killing Raven…who wasn’t dead.
Understanding that Raven wasn’t his pet—wasn’t even a raven at all. This was Bram, his familiar. Proof positive that Noah was the hard man’s son. His father’s son.
Disbelief. Love. Anger. And finally a trembling acceptance of the truth. He clutched Sophia, his only anchor.
He was a wizard.
Sophia held him steady through the swirl of emotions. She hugged him and for a moment he believed everything would be all right.
Slow, sarcastic clapping broke that hope.
Noah whirled.
Sauntering toward them was a man, his aristocratic nose and noble brow almost a caricature of grandeur. His long flowing golden robe, topped by a necklace that would have looked good on Henry VIII, trailed through the grass. Perched on his shoulder was a big brown bird, its wings slightly extended in the classic eagle pose. Pretense—it was a buzzard.
The last time Noah had seen this wizard, he’d worn a hoodie and jeans.
Rodolphe.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sophia had thought it was finally over. Naturally that was when the overdressed asshole showed up. “Hello, Rodolphe. Why the hell are you still here?”
He laughed. “Stupid little witch. My dear, I’m behind everything. You didn’t know? Ah, well, I’m not surprised. You always were a bit slow.”
“What do you mean, behind everything?”
He laughed, mellifluous but with an artificial, practiced edge. “The break-in and theft at the bookstore that got you here? My doing. I was here for another shall we say project, and imagine my delight when I discovered Linda Blue was your aunt. After you were here, I started slow. I wanted you humiliated before I killed you. When you went to interrogate Marlowe, I rousted Killer from his whore and drove him to the trailer to accost you, to harass and manhandle you and maybe even break a few bones. Although he failed to get the job done.” Rodolphe sniffed. “Killer and Attila’s attack at the bookstore was also me, and their attacking you and your alpha at the wolf couple’s house. Too bad your shifter friends showed up at the same time, or you’d have been comfortably dead.”
She rolled her eyes. The ass was monologing. Well, he always did love hearing himself talk—the last made her blink. He’d said her alpha, not her dual. If he was following the raven, how could he not know? She only said, “You want me dead? But why?”
His lip raised in a snarl. “You ignorant slut. You thought you could send the human police after me and not pay the price? Of course I want you dead. Piddling-in-your-shoes scared and totally humiliated first, then very, very dead.”
Noah stepped between them. “You’ll have to go through me.”
“So be it.” Rodolphe bowed mockingly, then swept out a theatrical hand, palm up.
He had good fingers for it, long and artistic, but Sophia was no longer buying based on image alone.
The buzzard materialized a jewel-encrusted wand in its beak and dropped it into Rodolphe’s waiting hand.
“A battle? You’re kidding, right?” Sophia edged out from Noah’s shadow. “I’m a multi-element witch. You’re just a water wizard. You’ll run out of power long before I do.”
“Not anymore.” Rodolphe flicked imagined dust off one sleeve with the tip of the wand. “I can get more magic.”
“You mean power.”
He slashed the wand in frustration. Bits of glitter flew off. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Magic isn’t the problem. There’s an abundance of possibility. It’s the power to use it that’s the issue. I have more power.” And far better control of her temper.
“Semantics.” He eyed her with distaste. “You university-trained witches are such pains. Fine. I can get all the power I want.”
It wasn’t the university that set her apart, but she only said, “How?”
“Ah. I’m glad you asked.” With his free hand he reached into the breast of the robe, and slid out a long rod.
It was maybe ten or twelve inches, and a rosy pink. Talk about phallic substitutes. She wondered if it vibrated too.
Rodolphe dealt her a smug smile. “This sucks magic—pardon me, Miss Valedictorian, power—from shifters. Life energy. I have as much as I want to drain.” He thumbed the rod and it started glowing. “Let me show you how this works.” He pointed at the rod at Noah. “On him.”
“The hell you will.” She leaped in front of her mate. Immediately the rod started beeping.
“Get out of the way. You’re fucking up the readings.” Rodolphe jabbed his wand at her. “I said, get out of the way. Or I’ll hurt you.”
Growling, Noah pushed her behind him. “Don’t you dare threaten her.”
The rod, now pointing at Noah, kept beeping. Rodolphe glanced down, then frowned. “Damn foreign crap.” He shook the rod.
Noah stalked wolf-silent toward him.
Rodolphe’s gaze rose. He went sheet white and snapped the rod up again.
Noah stopped, palms up, though his posture was easy, ready.
Rodolphe said, “Screwed readings don’t matter. I can drain any shifter, even an alpha.”
Synapses fired in her brain. Again he’d said alpha, not dual. Misreading his instrument.
Rodolphe didn’t know Noah was a wizard.
She sucked in a breath. That meant Rodolphe wasn’t the evil wizard who’d tagged the raven Bram. But then who…?
“You so sure you can drain me?” Noah deliberately took another step toward Rodolphe. “Before I can reach you?” Another. “Before I tear you to shreds?”
“Y-yes.” Sweat broke out on Rodolphe’s forehead, glinting in the light of the sun. His hand, holding the rod, shook slightly. He glanced at his quaking hand and paled. “I could, but I won’t. Because I don’t want you.” He tucked the rod away, then jabbed his jewel-encrusted wand at Noah. “I want her. Stand aside.”
Noah stood his ground, arms crossed. “You’ll have to get past me.”
Sophia’s heart filled with pride even as she clenched her fists to keep from smacking him upside the head. Her mate was no coward, but that bravery could get him killed.
Rodolp
he’s eyes narrowed. “You’d oppose a wizard of the Council? You, a mere shifter? You’re insane.”
“Not insane,” Noah said. “In love.”
Her jaw dropped. The hex talking?
Except the hex was broken. The false mating bond, then? Except Noah’s mother and father proved that a shifter could mate a mage.
Not the hex talking, not the bond. Noah had said the words. He truly was in love with her.
Her heart soared. Noah and her and true love, the kind with a future. Loving together, living together, making a home together…having children…puppies…what the hell would they have?
“Isn’t that cute.” Scorn dripped in Rodolphe’s well-heeled voice. “I’m in luuurve.” He started circling his wand, a tighter and tighter spiral aimed at Noah. When it pointed directly at him he’d release the spell. “That’ll make it even more fun to kill you.”
Didn’t matter right at this moment whether Noah’s love was true or a trick of magic. Sophia had to stop Rodolphe.
“Wait.” She stepped to the side, out of Noah’s cover—and incidentally closer to her own wand where it lay in the grass after piercing Noah’s spells. “It’s me you want. Fight me.”
Rodolphe’s arm hesitated, putting a hold on the spell. Then he grinned.
Noah, with a short growl, stalked back between them. Sophia used the moment to snatch up her wand.
Rodolphe slid sideways to see her. “Are you challenging me to a duel, little witch? You know I’ll win, even without draining fur-face there.”
“You?” She matched him, again sliding out from behind Noah. “Puh-leeze. I could beat you with my learner’s wand. A baby is stronger than you.”
“Puh-leeze.” Rodolphe mocked, still grinning, damn him. “You’re an academic. All theory, no bite.”
“Oh?” She motioned behind her back to Mason, to gather the pack and get them out of there, out of harm’s way. Magical duels could get messy. “Let’s find out.”
Rodolphe was right—she’d never fought a duel for real. And right again, Beginning Magical Warfare (known familiarly as Spell Slinging 101) was her main experience with the subject.
But she wasn’t all theory, no bite. Her brother had tutored her.
