by Gail Dayton
“Jax? I think it’s too late to get off the train.” She pointed out the window where lights shone in the deep dark.
He blew out the lamp flame and the landscape outside the train became immediately more visible. Buildings. Large and close together. They had reached Budapest. He stood to look out the window, to see how much time they might still have, what they might be able to do.
The buildings they passed were great warehouses with dedicated rail sidings for freight, and rows of cheap, tightly packed houses. They were still on the outskirts of the city then, the visible lights shining outside taverns and along the street around the businesses. They had a little time. Perhaps they could—
Pain lashed through his whole body at once, sending him crashing to the floor. Above him, on the seat, Amanusa writhed. Did the same agony touch her?
Jax didn’t have breath for screams. He had to see what was wrong with his sorceress. God, he hurt. Worse than all the blows the captain had inflicted put together. He struggled to get his knees under him, to pull himself off the compartment floor.
Amanusa whimpered, the sound slicing through his physical pain. Jax caught her hand, by sheer luck, he was sure, since neither of them seemed to have control over their limbs.
“Are you all right?” Amanusa gasped out the question before he could.
“Are you?” He couldn’t answer for himself until he knew.
“It burns,” she whimpered.
Memory locked in, Yvaine feeding him the information instead of taking him over to give it directly to Amanusa, since Amanusa had forbidden that. Yvaine was nothing if not adaptable. “Magic assault,” he croaked. “It’s an attack on your magic. Take my other hand.”
“Why?” Always the questions, the resistance to touching him. But she did it, and the pain lessened a little more.
“Too much magic can do as much damage as too little. Push it into me.”
“Doesn’t it burn you?” Another argument.
“Just do it,” Jax snapped out. But still she held back. Stubborn woman. “I’m equipped to hold it, remember? I told you this. Now give me the damned magic!”
She did as she was told, finally, shoving the excess magic into him, layering it in the channels along his bones. It made him a little dizzy—he hadn’t held so much magic in more years than he wanted to remember—but it also eased the pain. Had they stripped him when they flooded her?
“It still hurts,” she whimpered when the magic stopped flowing. “Why does it still hurt? I got rid of all the extra.”
“Because the—the nerves, the vessels—whatever it is you use to hold the magic, were forced. Like wrenching a joint out of place. You can put it back, but it still hurts.”
“How could they do it? Not, ‘how could they be so cruel’ but how—each type of magic is different, right? I can’t use a spirit, or the elements or plants—”
“We’ll, you could, if you had the spells and materials. An ability to use magic is an ability to use magic, of any sort, though most magicians lean one direction or another. But—” Jax struggled for the words to explain what he meant. “In a magic assault, the damage is greater by forcing magic on you that is not your own inclination.”
The train jerked as it slowed. Amanusa startled, and hissed at the pain caused by the motion. Jax used her hands to pull himself off the floor, retaining possession of them as he sat beside her.
“What do we do now?” Amanusa’s forehead brought out its little worried crease. “How can we fight back if we don’t even know who they are?”
We. He liked the sound of that. “There is a warding magic, a strong protective magic that can hold almost any solitary attack at bay.” He was hesitant about mentioning it to her, however. Especially since he hadn’t mentioned it at the beginning, when he’d explained the truth about blood magic.
“What? What is it? How do I do it? How much blood does it take?”
“None.” Jax gave her a wary look. How would she react when he told her? “It’s sex magic.”
“What?” Amanusa recoiled, snatching her hands from his. “You’re lying. There’s no such thing as sex magic.”
Jax stood, backed to the door to give her the room she seemed to need. He wished now he hadn’t put out the lamp, so he could see her expression. So she could see his. “I’m not. Sex magic is part of blood magic. It’s another part of the reason blood magic has been so reviled, and it is very real. Ask Yvaine, if you don’t believe me.”
At his mention of her name, Jax became aware of moisture in his nose and reached for his handkerchief. The droplet of Yvaine’s blood that had held the information she’d given him about the magic assault was finding its way out.
“Why didn’t you say anything about this before? Why keep it a secret?”
“Because I’d barely got you to listen to the truth about blood magic, and because it was clear you were afraid of me, and of anything to do with men and sex. I didn’t want to frighten you any worse than you already were. I thought I could wait to tell you about sex magic until later, until you trusted me a bit.”
She frowned. “Why are you bleeding? I said I didn’t want to hear from Yvaine until we were safe.”
“You didn’t, did you?” He dabbed away the blood, folded the handkerchief, and put it carefully away to be properly disposed of later. “Yvaine slipped a bit of knowledge into my head for me to give you, that’s all. Not enough to cause a problem.”
“What kind of sex does this magic require?” Suspicion rode her words.
His fault. She had trusted him. Now she did not. He would have to start again from the beginning to rebuild her trust. If it were at all possible.
“Any kind,” he said. “Even a kiss will work magic if there’s true desire behind it.”
She bit her lip again. She would gnaw it away entirely if she kept it up, but Jax didn’t have the right to ask her to stop. “I don’t know if I can,” she said in a small voice.
“All right.” Jax nodded and regretted it immediately. The acute pain of the attack had faded, but it still hovered just behind his awareness, ready to pounce at any unwary motion, like a nod. “Here’s what we’ll—”
“Shouldn’t we at least try?” Her voice shrank even smaller, but it poured through Jax’s ears and reverberated inside his head. Could trust still linger?
What was she thinking? Hadn’t she been angry just a moment ago? Her about-face bewildered Jax. He kept very still, afraid to react in any way for fear of alarming her again. “Are you sure? We can find another way if you’d rather.”
“Will this other way protect us as well?”
He had to give her truth. Even if it weren’t part of the binding, he would not lie to this sorceress. “No. But it is your decision, not mine. I am only your servant.”
“No.” She started to shake her head, winced, and stopped. “You’re my—my liegeman. We are a team, you and I. Jax and Amanusa. And that is how we will win, because they think they face only one.”
A flood of astonished pleasure rushed through him. Jax could not hide his grin, one he was sure looked exceeding silly. She valued him that much. She trusted him that much. Still. He hadn’t destroyed it with his silence. “Amanusa and Jax,” he said, for something to say. “You are still the sorceress.”
“Yes, but Jax is short and simple and Amanusa is such a mouthful of sounds. Jax fits better in front, leaving my name to trail endlessly behind.” She winked at him. “Besides, isn’t that where a liege man belongs? In front with the shield for me to hide behind?”
Jax laid his hand over his heart and bowed low. “And that is where I shall always be. Shielding you from those who mean you harm, whether scouting ahead or watching your back.”
Amanusa cleared her throat, looking out the window at the passing city. The buildings were more imposing now and better lit as they neared the train station. “About that kiss…”
Now Jax had to clear his throat. “Are you sure?”
He’d never kissed anyone who didn
’t want him to kiss them. Not that he could remember at any rate. How did one manage it? Should they stand? Sit? Should he wait for her? If he did, he could be waiting all night. He knew fear motivated her reluctance, so what would frighten her least?
Jax sat. It made him closer to her size and hopefully less intimidating. “I am your loyal supporter,” he said quietly. “I will never, ever, ever do anything to harm you. Even if I could, I wouldn’t. But if I frighten you, remember, your blood flows in my veins. All you have to do is grasp hold of it and you can stop my heart.”
“I don’t want to stop your heart!” Amanusa sounded alarmed. “Can’t I just stop your muscles?”
“Yes, but it requires more control over the magic.” He smiled. “I suppose I’ll simply have to not frighten you. We don’t have to do this, you know.”
The train jerked and Amanusa lurched, almost falling to the floor. Jax caught her by the arms and she met his eyes, searching them through the darkness in the compartment.
“Yes,” she said, “we do. If I am going to be a blood sorceress, I can’t be afraid of half the magic I can do.”
That explained her quick turnaround, that and her trust in him. It humbled him. “We don’t have to do it now,” Jax amended. “You’ve only just learned that there is magic in sex. Take some time to swallow the concept.”
“I think I’ve got to gulp it down.” Her worry crease appeared in her forehead. “I’m afraid that if I don’t do it now, it will be harder to do the next time, and I will keep backing away from it until it’s too late, until I’m locked up tight in a cage of fear. And I won’t let those—those bastards do this to me. I won’t let them win.”
Chapter 11
How magnificent she was. How strong and courageous—everything a sorceress should be.
“All right, then.” Moving as slowly as the creeping of the train would let him—they had to be almost upon the station—Jax lifted his hand to her cheek, brushing her satin skin with his fingertips. Heart pounding, he lowered his face to hers, watching her eyes for the flare of panic.
As he neared, her face filling his vision, she squeezed her eyes shut. Out of fear? Or did she feel the same intensity that pounded through him? That this was almost too much to bear.
A breath away from her lips, he paused, wanting the final decision to be hers. He could smell woman, and soap, and the faint scent of forest. His heart pounded faster.
Her eyes flicked open and her bright sky-colored eyes gazed into his. “I’m not afraid,” she whispered in wonder. “But there’s no desire either. Didn’t you say there should be desire?”
Only one of them had to feel desire, and Jax felt enough to light all of Budapest into one great conflagration. His body hardened and burned to possess her. But if he told her, it would spoil her fragile trust in him, and he’d already come too near to destroying it.
He turned sideways on the seat, bringing a knee up between them to hide his aroused state and to maintain a safe distance between them. All the while, he kept his mouth hovering just above hers.
“Fondness,” he murmured, inspiration striking. “Fondness will do. We do at least like each other, do we not? God knows, I adore you for pulling me out of the hands of the Inquisition.”
A breath of silent laughter puffed across his lips. “And I am indeed fond of you for carrying me down the mountain away from Szabo’s camp.”
“I am cut to the quick,” Jax breathed. “See how my adoration is repaid with mere fondness.” If he kept things light, perhaps he could keep her fear at bay.
His whole body quivered with the effort of holding himself in place, a fraction from her lips, without touching them. The echo of the magic assault trembled just behind his weary muscles, threatening to return if he lost the least bit of control.
But Amanusa’s breathless giggle made it all worthwhile. She was not given to much laughter, and if he could grant it—especially in this moment, fraught with the weight of so much that had gone before—he would give her whatever he could.
“Hush your nonsense,” she whispered, “and kiss me.”
Her order released him from his self-imposed confinement, and he realized they were kissing. He hadn’t moved, or didn’t think he had, but his lips melted into hers, savoring their soft warmth, their sweet intoxicating taste. Wine that bypassed his head to shoot straight into his veins.
His fingertips slid along her cheek until he cupped her face in his hand, the touch of her skin filling his palm and all of his fingers, a complete handful of Amanusa. Then her fingers brushed his cheek, her hand cupped his face in an echo of his own touch, and Jax thought the top of his head would explode with joy.
“I feel it,” Amanusa whispered against his mouth. “I feel the magic gathering.”
Of course she did. He hadn’t touched a woman, much less kissed one in… far longer than he could, or wanted, to remember. His desire had no bounds. Only his actions were under his control.
“Collect it.” Jax wanted to kiss her again, kiss her more. Their lips still brushed as they spoke, and he wasn’t about to pull away before she did. “How much is there? Enough?”
“I don’t know. Some. How much is enough?” The sweep of her lips over his would drive him mad.
“More would be better.” He did not feel guilty at all. Yes, he wanted more kisses, but more magic would indeed be better.
“All right.” Amanusa’s easy acquiescence surprised him.
He thought it might perhaps have surprised her too, but he didn’t have time or sense for thinking just now. Amanusa was kissing him. She was curving her fingers around the top of his ears and playing with the dratted curls he could never keep cut. If Amanusa liked playing in them, he’d let them be.
Her mouth parted and Jax caught his breath as he let his own mouth open. Did she know what she did? Did she intend it? Jax sent his hand up into her hair. It was still braided, coiled and pinned to her head, and he wished he could take it down, run his fingers through it. But there wasn’t time, and who knew if she would ever let him kiss her again?
She might call him her liege man, but he was in truth her servant. She didn’t have to collect the sex magic herself. She could send him out to do it for her. And despite the wonder and joy spinning through him at the delight of kissing Amanusa, he would go and gladly, if a quick rutting in a back alley would keep her safe.
All on its own, Jax’s tongue crept past his teeth, heading for escape. He brought it back twice. Amanusa might have parted her lips, but she showed no signs of wanting more. Jax slanted his head, changing the angle of the kiss, drawing more sweetness from her, and his tongue took advantage of his distraction. Before he could stop it, it licked out of his mouth and across the plump fullness of Amanusa’s lower lip.
She jerked away to stare at him in shock as the train came to a complete halt and the conductor called their arrival in Budapest, only twelve hours and twenty-three minutes late.
“Are you all right?” He had to ask, to be sure he hadn’t frightened her, hadn’t put her completely off kissing forever after, whether she kissed him or someone else.
“Yes. Fine.” She paused, her eyes shifting to watch something Jax couldn’t see. “And you’re right. There’s more magic. More is better.”
“Good. Now gather it in. Take some of the magic you gave me from the attack, if you can make it mix properly.” He felt magic leave him, getting dizzy all over again. “Here are the words you need.”
Similar to the warding magic they’d laid around the tent in the outlaw camp, this spell carried protection against magic as well as physical harm, and could be laid around their persons. The power of the kiss should last through the rest of the night. Perhaps longer. It was only a kiss, but there had been a great hoard of desire behind it.
Outside, the station was waking to the bustle surrounding the late-night arrival of their train. Porters creaked their sleepy way toward the baggage cars and the first-class compartments. Folk in the second-and third-class cars were already
disembarking. Less comfort in their accommodations made them ready to get out and stretch.
Amanusa spoke the last of the words Jax gave her and felt the magic close around her like a comforting blanket. Did it cover Jax too? She reached for his arm, to check, and put her hand through the magic shield. As she touched him, she felt the magic soak in, settling into his skin. Another magician might be able to tell magic had been worked here, but she didn’t think he could know who had worked it, or what had been done.
She looked out the window at the sleepy activity and saw soldiers spread out along the edge of the station’s platform. Near the military officer stood a cluster of men yawning and knuckling sleep from their eyes.
“Look.” She pointed them out to Jax who was pulling the machine case from the overhead luggage rack.
“Inquisitors.” He sounded as grim as she felt.
Crow fluttered to the floor in front of the door to the train corridor and squawked at her, like a dog asking to be let out. With a mental shrug, and without moving from her seat, Amanusa leaned to open the compartment door and watched him walk out into the empty hallway. Everyone in the first-class compartments was using the doors on the other side to exit the train. Crow walked and hopped his way down the corridor, heading off to do who knew what.
“Amanusa.” Jax called her attention back to the view outside the window. “Look at that Inquisitor’s badge.”
She scooted along the seat, as much as her modest crinoline would allow, and looked. Terror yanked her away from the window, then made her feeble. Her hands had no strength to grab hold of Jax’s coat, or his sleeve, or anything to pull him into the compartment’s shadows, out of sight. Her voice stuck in her throat, unable to call out, to warn him.
“Do you see it?” He turned, and when he saw her terror, he dropped to one knee and caught hold of her hand, which hid him from view. “Amanusa, what’s wrong?”
“K-k—” She could only stutter as fear paralyzed her. Why was she so afraid? She’d beaten the fear once. Beaten him. But here he was again. She smothered the panic with sheer determination. “Kazaryk,” she whispered. “The Inquisitor Plenipotentiary. He’s here.”
