by Jess Haines
At this point, she was beyond caring if she wooed a dragon to be her familiar or not. A dragon may have solved a great many of her problems, but that dream went up in smoke when she saw just how dangerous it was to announce her intentions. The bad juju vibes she was picking up from Viper and Cormac’s warnings meant she’d just stepped into a big pile of trouble. If Rieva’s reaction and that of the patrons of her café were anything to go by, she’d made a grievous error in etiquette and put herself in a position that gave Cormac the excuse he needed to watch her every move.
If he cared about her, then he would understand why she needed to avoid him until after she graduated. She wanted to believe he liked her, but she had no way of trusting that he meant it until whatever reason he had for hiding his nature from her was moot.
She could grit her teeth and plow through her final exams in a few short weeks. She’d take some time after work tomorrow to go somewhere open and public, neutral ground for those Others who had been sniffing around to come talk to her. With the kind of interest Cormac had helped her generate, there had to be at least one who wasn’t a danger to her that she could convince to help her for a day or two. Whatever Professor Reed might have thought, Kimberly now believed it would be far safer to select a familiar who couldn’t turn her into magic flambé.
Once she had her exams behind her, then she might have the time to go on an actual date with Cormac and get to know the real him.
Assuming he still wanted her.
While relieved to have a plan, she was still terribly nervous that some Other with an axe to grind—Viper, perhaps—might come into the café to harass her. That, or do something to her mother. The sooner she convinced an Other to be her familiar so she could slip back under the radar, the better. She was beginning to think the fast-paced life of the Other community outside the school was better left out of her reach. Schoolyard pranks and a few bad luck charms on her locker were nothing in comparison to the nightmarish threat of becoming a familiar herself. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for The Circle if this was the kind of pressure that came with the job.
As the evening wound down and Don started preparations for closing up for the night, she realized Cormac would be waiting outside to escort her home. He would find out where she lived. She wasn’t ready for him to know that much about her yet. Whatever was going on between them was going far too fast in the wrong direction for her peace of mind.
“Hey, Don? Can I ask a favor?”
He looked up from the register.
“If that guy who came in with me shows up—”
“Dude with the funny clothes?”
She laughed and nodded. “That’s the one. If he shows up looking for me, let him know I’ll be back on shift tomorrow?” At the beginnings of an angry gleam coming to light in his eye, she was quick to continue. “He’s not a bad guy. He’s just being overprotective and wants to walk me home.”
Don shook his head. “You barely know that jamoke and he’s already trying to find out where you live? Trust your gut, doll. I knew he was bad news from the minute I first saw him.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“They got specials about girls like you on those cop shows and Law & Order marathons. What do they call it? Special Victims Unit? Don’t fall for his tricks.”
“He’s not that kind of guy,” Kimberly said, exasperated. “Trust me, he’s trouble, but in a totally different way.”
“Yeah, that’s what all those girls say. I’ve seen enough TV. You watch yourself. Need me to drop you home tonight?”
“Don. I’m fine. I just don’t want him finding out where I live until I’ve known him a bit longer, that’s all.”
He snorted, shoving the register drawer closed and folding his arms as he turned to regard her. “When the police come canvassing for suspects, I’ll know just who to point them to. You need someone to kick his ass for you, you tell me first.”
She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but smiled anyway. “You got it. Thank you for your concern.”
“No worries, kiddo. I’ve got your back.”
They got back to business; Don counting out the register and Kimberly doing clean-up. When it was time for her to go home, she waited until Don had his back turned, doing something behind the counter, to wrap herself in illusion and rush out the door.
Cormac, five stories above, was instantly alerted by the disappearance of her aura.
Kimberly did not hear his snarl or see the great, dark beast that exploded out of the form of the man who had been crouched in his place.
She used the full of her concentration to move unnoticed. At least the illusion kept her safe from being seen or tracked by anyone. Every time a smidge of doubt or worry wormed its way into her consciousness, she compartmented it away for later. Never mind that Cormac would be ticked at her for ditching him. She’d have plenty of time to think of a convincing reason to tell him why she’d split and continue worrying and planning after she got home.
Despite how draining it was to maintain the illusion for so long, the brisk walk did her good. By the time she got to her building, she was breathing easier, even though a pang of guilt for leaving Cormac in the lurch made her shoulders hunch. Then, as the realization hit that she had also forgotten to do as her mom had asked and see about extending her hours, her eyes burned with unshed tears and stomach twisted with guilt. Work was the last thing she wanted to think about when she had to worry about crazy Others following her trail, possibly discovering where she lived, and harming her mom or her neighbors.
She could always check with Don during her next shift, though she would put off taking any extra shifts for the week until after her study date with Xander. She didn’t want to be studying or taking tests while completely exhausted from working her tail off, then staying up late to cram in last minute review and memorization anyway.
Once she was inside the foyer, she dropped the illusion. As she dashed up the stairs, in the process of pulling out her keys, a wave of elemental energy slammed into her.
Her keys flew out of her hands and she barked her shins on the stairwell. Crying out, she breathed deep, forcing herself to focus so she could figure out what the hell that was and where it had come from.
Her Sight showed the next pulse of the radar-like combined tracking and stun spell coming her way, homing in on her location. Bracing herself, she flung up a hand and closed her eyes tight, putting all her will into creating a curved mirror to bounce the beacon back at the caster.
See how the asshole liked being knocked on their own ass by an unexpected curveball.
Panting, she scrambled to find her keys and pull her version of illusory invisibility back into place. Once the illusion hid her aura, the tracking spell would pass through her, not seeing anything to report back to the caster. She hadn’t noticed someone was trying to find her until she’d dropped her own spell. The next pulse of power was delayed, but whoever was looking for her had to know that they were onto something. As soon as they recovered, they would know the area to aim the next strike even if they hadn’t quite caught on to her specific location yet. If she could maintain her concentration long enough to get to her apartment, the wards would prevent anyone from pulling a stunt like that again.
Until she left for her Saturday morning shift tomorrow, but she’d burn that bridge when she crossed it.
As another jolt of power knocked the air out of her lungs, she stopped hunting for the keys, going still, and put every ounce of concentration into making herself invisible again.
Now that she was on the alert for it and had the invisibility spell locked into place, she noticed the whisper of magic that brushed over and passed through her altered “not-there” aura. She stayed where she was for a long moment, not moving, catching her breath and making sure her spell was holding.
Seeing as the caster wasn’t teleporting into the stairwell or sending some other nastiness her way, she had to hope the bastard hadn’t gotten enough information to pinpoint her locati
on. Whoever it was had a tremendous amount of power and was spreading it out over a wide area. Chances were good that the most the caster had gleaned about her position was the general neighborhood. Maybe to within a few block radius. Worst case scenario, they might know which building she was in.
Deflecting whatever that spell had been with the mirror-like reflective aura had been pure instinct. She’d called on that part of her that relied on something other than elemental power and it had worked. Professor Winter never taught her anything about that kind of counterspell in his class on defensive magic.
She had never counted herself so lucky to be versed in illusion before.
Once she had her breath back, she resumed her search for her keys. They had slid down to the landing below her. Though she limped a bit, wincing with every step, she retrieved them and headed back up, this time maintaining her invisibility until she was inside her apartment and well past the wards.
She dropped her backpack in the hallway and went back to bolt every single lock on the door. Monster was growling at her—nothing new there—but she ignored the grumpy cat and marched straight into her bedroom. She then kicked off her shoes, climbed into bed, wrapped a blanket around herself, and hugged a pillow tight to her chest as she set her back against the wall.
If that spell had been Cormac’s doing, maybe Don was right about him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Exhaustion set in long before Kimberly’s mother got home. She found her daughter like that, head tilted back against the wall, snoring away. She eased her down and tucked her in. That done, she set the alarm for Kimberly’s morning shift and then went to sleep on the couch in the living room since she didn’t have to work until the afternoon on Saturday.
When the alarm went off, Kimberly jerked awake with a short-lived scream. Slapping the clock to turn it off, she groaned and thumped the back of her head against the wall.
She’d meant to take some time to plan, but the lack of sleep from the night before combined with maintaining the invisibility spell for so long had wiped her out. There was a touch of a headache pulsing behind her eyes, and she had less than an hour to get ready for work and figure out what the heck she was going to do to go unnoticed until she got there.
Whoever was looking for her would likely figure out where she worked. That is, if they didn’t know already. They wouldn’t make a scene in front of mundanes—no Other in their right mind would—so as long as she could keep up the invisibility spell for a few blocks to keep the location of her home a secret, she could deal with a confrontation on the street.
She didn’t have to hide when she wasn’t worried about anyone’s safety but her own. Illusion could be just as dangerous as a true elemental spell in the right hands.
Once she was ready, she took one last glimpse of her reflection in the mirror to remind herself that she could deal with this. Setting her shoulders, she grabbed her purse, cloaked herself with invisibility, and tiptoed out of the apartment, locking it quietly behind her so she wouldn’t wake her mother.
Though fatigue set in before she even made it all the way down the stairs, she clung to the spell like a lifeline.
She’d barely made it a block before her muscles burned with strain. The headache pulsing behind her eyes gained in tempo and strength, her vision wavering a bit more with each stabbing pain. She blindly trudged forward, focusing on nothing but maintaining the spell to keep herself out of sight for as long as possible.
She wasn’t sure how far she’d gone when someone cried out and flailed when she brushed too close. A random blow connected with her temple, knocking her aside. Her invisibility spell fell.
And she was hit seconds later with the tracking spell, sending her stumbling to a knee and clutching for a nearby stairwell railing for balance.
“Holy shit! Did you see that?”
“Dude, that chick just bamfed like Nightcrawler!”
Kimberly didn’t wait around to see how many witnesses caught sight of her. Sure, Others may have made their presence known to mundanes, but she’d committed a tremendous faux pas by letting herself be seen actively casting in public without a permit.
On the bright side, without the overstrain of pulling too much magic again too soon blinding her, she could now see that she’d gone about six blocks, nearly seven, from her apartment before the spell fell. Far enough away that the caster was unlikely to have figured out where she lived. It was also a great deal easier to bat back the stunning aspect of the spell when she didn’t have to pour so much concentration into making herself match the environment, chameleon-like, constantly shifting her image.
It took three more pulses of energy before the source of the spell stopped hurling it at her. They either knew where she was, or were getting tired of being bitch-slapped with their own stun being thrown right back at them.
Pleased with herself, she kept on the alert and maintained her Sight, and never mind that it was making her dizzy. There were Others on the street. A few that glanced her way as she passed, but she didn’t see any sparking with recent signs of casting elemental magic. Her tormentor couldn’t be too close—or perhaps she was looking in the wrong places.
The notion that the thing she’d seen on the rooftop last night wouldn’t be found at street-level skittered through her thoughts, and she glanced up.
All she caught was a glimpse. A monster easily the size of a two-seater plane, but with an unmistakably serpentine form. Wide, sickle-like wings were limned with sunlight and lightning-like flickers of energy that traveled over the outline of the massive beast in the air above her.
Dragon, her mind gibbered.
It flew against the sun, and she had to look away, blinded.
With a sound very much like a sob, she made a mad dash for the café. Though she had no way of knowing for sure, she thought she felt its gaze on her, and that it might dive down and destroy her by flame or claw if she dared look at it directly again. It might have been her imagination, but she could swear the pressure of the wind whipped up by its passing brushed against her skin with every steady wingbeat.
The temerity—the sheer gall of her—to think she could tame a force of nature like that. She’d had no idea it would be so large. Such a perfect, primal predator. Panic beat in her breast and drove her to run, to be anywhere but caught in its shadow like a mouse being hunted by a hawk.
Don was putting out the first round of freshly baked loaves of bread and a tray of cinnamon rolls when she staggered against the door, thumping against it so hard she nearly cracked the glass. He straightened, putting the trays down and hurrying to unlock it and let her inside.
“What the hell’s wrong, kid? Somebody chasing you?” He was already pushing past her, trying to peer outside.
“N-n-no,” she stammered, grabbing his arm so tight he winced as she urged him to go back inside. It did stop him from stepping foot beyond the threshold of the store. “It’s gone. It’s—never mind. I’m okay.”
A thundercloud of rage started building behind his eyes. He tugged up his sleeve on the arm she wasn’t holding, baring a thick, tattoo-covered forearm. “It’s that fancy-pants guy, isn’t it? I need to go kick some wholesale ass for you?”
“No! Don, don’t. I… I thought a mugger was following me. They’re probably gone now.”
He frowned at her. She met his gaze unflinching, feeling about two inches tall for lying to him so blatantly.
Still, being chased by a mugger sounded a heck of a lot more believable than saying she thought she had a dragon tailing her to work.
Even now, with vampires owning night clubs in all the major cities in the U.S. and werewolves volunteering with rescue teams and magi putting on shows at Vegas to rival Siegfried and Roy, some types of magical creatures were just a little too extraordinary to believe. Aside from that, Don and the rest of the staff at the café didn’t know she was a mage or that she had any involvement in supernatural business, and she planned on keeping it that way. She had to if she wanted to keep her j
ob, equal rights measures or no.
Swiping sweat off her brow with her forearm, she ducked past Don and headed behind the counter. He still peered out the door, checking both ways, probably looking for Cormac. If only she knew for sure he wouldn’t find him.
As he locked up behind her, she hid the shaking of her hands by pretending to busy herself with hunting for something in her purse before putting it down in the storage spot below the register. She held her breath until her lungs were on the verge of bursting, then let it out slow. Some of the involuntary trembles eased.
Don watched her closely, but didn’t ask her anything more about the supposed mugger who had been following her. He must have known she was full of it, because he didn’t bother asking for a description or suggest she call the cops. Awkward as it was, they still finished opening preparations in good time. Most of it went without a hitch, save for the first batch of morning buns coming out with burnt bottoms, filling the kitchen with the acrid scent of charred bread and sugar. She frantically worked the espresso machine to make a couple batches of their most pungent dark roast, and then mixed cloves and cinnamon into one of the coffee pots they always kept filled with hot water for tea to cover up the smell. Don propped open the back door and ran the industrial fans they usually only used in the summer to blow the worst of it outside and into the alley behind the shop. Once it smelled more like a bakery than leavings from Powdered Toast Man’s old underwear, he didn’t let her open for the first customers of the day who were lined up outside, insisting on doing it himself.
Cormac wasn’t among the people gathered out front waiting to get in—but Viper was.
