by K. F. Breene
Mail, probably. This was the sort of thing that had always spooked our old mail lady.
That had nothing to do with Reagan leaving, though (I didn’t think), so I tried to home in on this particular situation. Her walking out the door to go into some sort of battle—
The desire to jump at her, wrap my arms around her legs, and stop her accosted me. But why? Was she in danger?
I should call my mother.
“All ri— What are you doing, sleeping standing up?”
I peeled my eyes opened, seeing her standing in the archway with her leather pants and tank top, her fanny pack, and her hair in a ponytail. Her stern face and kickass vibe.
“I want to go with you,” I blurted.
Wariness crossed her features. “I’m going to go into the thick of things. The MLE office hasn’t been able to bring this thing down. It’s a surly one. This is no place for a newbie.”
Pressure made it hard to breathe. “I know. I get that. And I’m a fu—I’m an idiot for trying.”
A grin twisted her lips. “You’re trying to swear your way into my heart, aren’t you.”
I totally was. “But you and Darius and the Bankses brought me into the thing in Seattle for a reason,” I went on, talking quickly now. “You called me to help. And I did. I pulled through. In the Guild compound, I pulled through. I can see my way out of a pinch, I know I can.”
She shifted, her eyes clouding over, and I could tell she wanted to say no.
I rushed on before she could get the words out. “I feel like I’m finally in the right headspace. Now I just need experience. Real experience, not torturing a put-upon rubber dummy in a magically closed-off backyard.”
Her grin was back, but her brows were still pinched tight.
“Look, worst case, I can run,” I said, knowing I needed to go with her. Somehow, it felt like she was in danger. Maybe it was my imagination, but… “I am extremely good at knowing when to run. I’ve been practicing that my whole life. Or I can fight. I’m not great, but I can pack a mean kick.”
“Yes, you can. Your kick is fantastic. I have three intense bruises from it.”
“And I won’t tell Darius…and you won’t tell Callie and Dizzy. We’ll keep each other’s secrets.”
“I love the attempt at blackmail, but it’ll be a hard secret to keep if you die.”
“I won’t die.”
“How do I know?”
“Because…I won’t, that’s how.” Of all the weak arguments…but I doubted she’d believe me if I told her she was the one I was worried about.
“Look.” She spread her hands, and my heart sank. She had a fast car and I had none. If she planned to leave me behind, there was nothing I could do about it. “It’s not my place to tell you how to live.”
I opened my mouth for a hotheaded and extremely swear-y rebuttal, but paused when her words finally registered. “Huh?” I managed.
“We’re working side by side. I’m learning as much as you are. You’re making me stronger at understanding spell work and unraveling it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a peer. I have no more power over you than you have over me. Beyond that, I’m the absolute last person on this green earth who’s in a position to tell anyone the best approach for sticking to a low-key life. But you need to understand what you’re getting into. I’ll be working with other mages. Well”—she waggled her hand back and forth in a so-so gesture—“I’m supposed to work with them. They usually just slow me down. But they’ll be there. And we’ll be combating an extremely dangerous magical creature that you don’t know the first thing about. There are worse things than vampires and shifters that go bump in the night.”
“Smokey said as much.”
She nodded. “He should know. He nearly got his soul stolen by a doozie of a creature.”
I squeezed the edges of the counter to keep from grimacing.
“You’re also going to leave yourself wide open for the Guild,” she continued. “I’ll be busy. So will the other mages. You will be completely on your own. If they spot you, you’ll be ripe for the plucking.”
I blew out a breath. Even one of these risk factors should’ve been enough to keep me home. I turned my head to the side and closed my eyes on the sly, listening to my intuition.
“God, you’re weird,” I heard her say.
Not so sly, then.
Her boot scraped against the ground, shifting. She was probably anxious to get to the door. To leave.
“Let me get my stuff,” I said, hurrying to my bedroom.
“This is probably a terrible idea,” Reagan muttered as I passed.
I had to agree, but I was doing it anyway. Hopefully, this wasn’t one of the times my temperamental third eye led me into troubled waters.
23
“Let a vamp suck on your neck and get paid like a painted lady, is that it?” A pointy-faced man with a huge Adam’s apple and receding hairline stood off to the side as Reagan got out of the dented, recently scratched Lamborghini. She’d tried to slide across the hood like in a cop movie, without remembering the buckle on her fanny pack and her lack of finesse. She’d ended up scratching the car then tumbling onto her head.
Reagan shut the door, exuding a rough-and-tumble malevolence that had my stomach fluttering. She was smack dab in her element.
We were at an old-timey plantation, about an hour outside of New Orleans. From what little Reagan had heard (she apparently wasn’t overly concerned about details), a banshee gone rogue was plaguing the tourist attraction, making people drop dead with very little warning. So far, four people had suffered an untimely fate at the plantation, starting a rumor that the place was cursed, since humans didn’t believe in banshees, and hadn’t been told about this one.
“Painted lady…that’s a whore of some sort, isn’t it?” she asked, not at all bothered. “My, my, Garret, your insecurity is showing. Or are you speaking from a place of experience?”
His beady gaze shifted to me as I got out of the car. “Who’s this?”
“My work associate.”
He centered his weight, using a wide stance that spoke of authority. “Your work associate?”
“Yes, Garret, I know words are hard. I’ll give you a second to think through that sentence.”
She stalked straight past him, moving toward a group of five people gathered around a huge tree with sprawling branches that seemed to weep from it. A great house crouched in the distance, with large pillars all the way around. Manicured grass, mostly dark at this time of evening, stretched across the property with more of the large trees dotting the way.
Garret, unfortunately, caught up. “She doesn’t have associates, except for that vampire she sold herself to,” he said, eyeing me.
I pulled my sweater—some fashionably bright red affair that Marie had bought for me—tighter across my chest and hurried after Reagan. I might have more confidence now, but I’d never been the type for hostility among perfect strangers. Besides, this guy reminded me of my nemesis, stupid Billy Timmons. I didn’t intend to find a new bully in New Orleans.
Reagan stopped just outside of the circle of hard-faced men and women. One of the men, a dark-skinned man sporting a decent-sized belly, stopped what he was saying and turned toward Reagan.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said as the circle shifted, creating a hole for her to step into if she so chose. She didn’t. “My plus one decided to come.”
The potbellied man frowned before looking at me. “I didn’t authorize that. Only you are on the contract.”
“It’s fine, captain.” Reagan waved the thought away. “She knows she won’t get paid.”
“But what happens when she’s killed on the job?” Garret said, joining the circle.
“Melodramatic much?” Reagan asked. The captain shifted and put his hands to his hips, ready to object. “She’ll be fine. I vouch for her.”
“How do we know she won’t be in the way?” Garret asked.
“Because I just vouched for her. Also
because she’s twice the man you are, without having a pair of dangling balls. Chew on that. You know, it really does suck to be you, Garret. I can’t think of anyone I would less like to be.”
“Big words from someone who’d be dead if it weren’t for me.” Garret gave her a smug look.
I assumed Reagan would quickly retort that such a thing was impossible. Instead, her face closed down into anger, and even in the darkness of the evening, I could see her cheeks turn red.
“What did he save you from?” I murmured, unable to help it. The guy seemed like a boob. I couldn’t imagine him saving anyone from anything, and Reagan seemed basically immortal.
“He saved me from the glory of being the best in the office. But we’ll see what’s up tonight.” Reagan adjusted her fanny pack.
“We already saw what’s up,” Garret said. “You just don’t want to admit you were a damsel in distress. Nice fanny pack, by the way. Did your new undead boyfriend buy you that?”
“For the last time, it is a pouch! Why can’t you people get names right?” Reagan said.
“Enough,” the captain said, still eyeing me. “What’s the nature of her magic?”
Reagan, clearly still mad at Garret, half turned so that the captain could see me better. I hunched under the full blast of his assessing gaze.
Silence drifted over us, and I realized that Reagan hadn’t planned to answer for me.
“She doesn’t even know her own magic—how could she possibly help us kill a banshee?” Garret asked, too loudly.
“It is a wonder you are standing so close to me, Garret,” Reagan said in a low tone. “It’s almost as if you are daring me to punch you.”
Garret’s teeth clicked shut. A moment later, he slowly edged sideways. To avoid being stuck between the two of them, the frizzy-haired woman on his other side edged away as well.
“What is your name?” the captain asked me.
“Penny,” I said quietly, still clutching my sweater. “And I’m a mage. Kind of.”
“She’s untrained. Mostly,” Reagan added.
“A kind of mage? What is that, a witch?” Garret asked.
“Keep it up, Garret. Keep it up.” Reagan rolled her neck, and a shock of intense, sharp magic rolled over me. I’d never seen someone get her dander up like this. Usually she laughed or shrugged off any sort of aggression or tomfoolery, but each of Garret’s jabs seemed to hit home.
“I operate more like a witch, yes,” I squeaked out, wishing I could embody the confidence I’d thought I’d gained.
“You operate—”
“Garret, enough.” The captain held up his hand with a whip crack of command. “I’m not sure what you mean. You are a mage, but you operate like a witch?”
“Look, you’re probably going to figure it out sooner or later, so I’ll just tell you.” Reagan hooked a thumb at me. “She’s the natural the Guild is trying to get its hands on. She has a unique magical style because she wasn’t trained from a young age. Or ever. I’m training her, in a way. Her style works very well for her. She’s not someone to underestimate, trust me. She looks all trembly and vulnerable, but if that banshee tries to throw magic her way, Penny will react in ways that will suck your balls back into your body, I kid you not.”
“Graphic,” one of the circle members, a guy in his forties with wispy hair, said.
I dropped my hands and clenched my fists. I most certainly was not all “trembly.” I was (almost) ready for action.
“So…she’s not even trained?” The captain shook his head. “Reagan, you’ve had a lot of bad ideas in your day, but this might take the cake. We can’t have an untrained mage on our team.”
“She’s not on your team. She’s on my team. You all can chill here as far as I’m concerned.” Reagan dug through her fanny pack. As much as I wanted to call it a pouch just to oppose Garret, he was right. It was most definitely a fanny pack. She was fooling herself. “Right, let’s get to it. When was she last seen, and what form was she in?”
“Captain, you’re not seriously considering going along with this, are you?” Garret pointed at me. “Look at her. I could break her in half. Call her whatever you want, but she’s not cut out for this line of work.”
“She’s a natural, you nitwit,” Reagan spat. “You could only wish you had her power. She’s perfectly cut out for this role.”
“How do we know?” Garret said. The captain was not great at keeping order where it concerned those two. “She could be your hairdresser, for all we know. We’ve seen no proof.”
“Penny, prove it so we can get the show on the road,” Reagan said. She didn’t look Garret’s way, but she didn’t have to. I knew she was telling me to make an example out of him.
Gladly.
I pulled magic from around me, elements I’d used for the explosions in Darius’s house, but much more subdued, because I didn’t want to maim him. Through that, I braided in the intent to push him back a few steps, along with the feeling of a sweet summer’s night to balance out the spell’s intentions. I still didn’t have much experience with that kind of technique, but my intuition told me it was a building block to better outcomes.
All of that took about two seconds, the fastest spell creation yet. Proud of myself, I grinned a little as I shoved it into the world, drifting toward Garret at a turtle’s pace.
“Wow.” Reagan grinned. “You don’t pull any punches, huh? I like it.”
“Wait, what?” I said, and worry bled through me.
Too late.
The spell hit his chest and exploded. Instead of knocking him back a few steps, it launched him into the air, throwing him ten feet.
He fell with a loud grunt and a belated yelp before rolling through the dew-soaked grass. The scent of burned hair drifted toward me, and I realized I’d accidentally woven a thread of fire through it. Thank God my fire was still weak.
“Oops,” I said, shifting back and forth, ready to run if someone came at me in retaliation. “Balancing the spell really amps the power. I need to practice that a little more.”
“A little more?” Reagan said, a lopsided grin on her face as she watched Garret jerkily get to his feet. “If that was supposed to be a tiny, weak spell, yes, I’d say you need more practice. Just a little more.” Her sarcasm rang through.
“Did she say the incantation?” a slight woman with a dagger belted on her side, opposite her satchel, asked.
“She didn’t use any herbs,” the frizzy-haired woman said. The others in the circle shifted and looked at my belt, which I hadn’t reached for once.
“Yeah. Natural. Keep up, people.” Reagan clapped. Three of the five circle members jumped. “And it should be noted that if any of you are friendly with the Guild, and I find out you flapped your gums, she or I will kill you. I mean…” She shrugged. “That should be a given, but with this crew, I feel like I need to call it out.”
“All right, that’s enough,” the captain said, his eyes on me. “I am not giving my permission for her to tag along.”
“Cool,” Reagan said, not bothered.
“But—”
Reagan held up her hand to stop me. “You’re not supposed to be here. You’re loitering. And now we know where we stand. Though this situation poses extreme danger to you, there is no liability for the MLE office. That’s fair. Now, what have we got?”
24
Wary but freshened up, anxious and a little fearful, Emery stepped out of a Lincoln Town Car down the street from the Bankses’ house in the Garden District. He’d jogged through the Realm to a gate that would dump him out on the West Coast near Los Angeles, a place with mild weather where he’d experience no flying delays.
At the nearest coffee shop he’d charged his phone and called Darius, somewhat surprised that the vampire had used a lower-level assistant (not even Moss) to deal with the travel arrangements. Usually Darius treated Emery like an honored guest, or one of his prized assets. This break from normality was unsettling.
Not for the first time
, Emery wondered if the situation with the Guild had already ramped up into a fever pitch. Something was surely going on, and if not that, Emery couldn’t begin to guess.
He smoothed his freshly pressed pants before slapping the roof of the car twice. The driver pulled away from the curb and continued down the street, leaving Emery behind.
Nervousness turned his stomach.
He’d originally planned to meet her face to face to assess the situation. That was what he owed her. But as he stood there, so close to the house where she was staying, he couldn’t stop thinking of what Darius’s assistant had mentioned in passing. Penny was heralded as a catch, and she’d caught the eye of a higher-level mage that had been hanging around her trainer’s house. Darius was subtle. He was probably warning Emery against any romantic expectations.
A surge of white-hot jealousy came out of nowhere from imagining her with someone else. His stomach curdled, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to handle it. He’d had no experience with this. No other woman had ever tickled his possessive side. Had ever made him want to turn around and take off with the fear she’d chosen someone else.
He ran his fingers through his hair.
Could he blame her? He’d told her to move on. He’d left her for good. A goddess like her, gorgeous and talented and kindhearted, would have no trouble getting any guy she wanted.
Of course she’d moved on.
He clenched and unclenched his fists.
He had to keep his head. Above all, he wanted her to be safe and happy. So no matter how much it twisted his heart, he would bear the situation with a smile. But maybe he needed a little longer to prepare…
He felt the tingle of watchful eyes dig into his back. Having recently been actively hunted, he knew better than to slow down or look around. He didn’t let on that he felt the presences tucked into the shadows, watching his progress.
