Magical Midlife Meeting: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Leveling Up Book 5)

by K. F. Breene

  “No, I’m good.”

  Ulric and Jasper came out right before Nathanial, their black suits similar to Brochan’s, but with white pocket squares.

  The other shifters weren’t long after, their pocket squares red. The basajaun had on a black bow tie and a bunch of hair, like yesterday, and Hollace wore a purple pocket square.

  Niamh finally straightened up, wearing a pantsuit like Cyra’s but with a holster for a flask. She had a pink pocket square.

  “Well, wait,” Mr. Tom said, looking around, his gaze finally landing on Edgar. “Even you, Edgar? Everyone has a pocket square but me?”

  “Well, if ye weren’t so busy hemming and hawing, about messing up the plane ride,” Niamh said, walking over to stand beside Brochan, “ye would’ve heard us plan it out, ye gobshite.”

  “Each species gets a color,” Brochan said. “Yours is white.”

  Mr. Tom straightened himself a little higher. “I’m no ordinary gargoyle. I am also the butler and personal assistant to the heir of Ivy House.”

  “Well now, personal assistant, is it?” Niamh asked, a twinkle in her eyes. “What, then, do ye personally assist? Her travel arrangements?”

  “Okay, okay, enough.” I rubbed my temples. “Mr. Tom, wear whatever color you want. Or none. It doesn’t matter. You have wings; they’ll get the idea.”

  He lifted his nose. “I will wear white in solidarity.”

  “Then why were ye on about yer extra failed tasks that ye do?” Niamh hollered at his retreating backside. “Jaysus, Mary, ’n’ Joseph, that gargoyle would drive ye to drink.”

  “That’s your gift, then?” I pointed at her holster and flask.

  “Aye.” She patted it. “The finescht whiskey that ever graced the land, kept nice and handy.”

  “Which whiskey is that?” Brochan asked.

  “No idea. I didn’t recognize the name and can’t taste the difference. But the note said it was the best, and so I’ll believe it. It sounds better than saying I got some eld slop he threw my way and don’t care regardless.”

  Austin emerged last, his suit molding to his perfect body, his swagger on point, and his face hard. The alpha was ready for a gentlemanly battle of wits.

  He looked around the room, checking out everyone’s clothes, before his gaze landed on me. His once-over lingered in a way Brochan’s hadn’t. He didn’t nod at the end, just took his place by my side and quietly waited for Mr. Tom to finish fiddling with his pocket square and join us.

  “What took you?” I asked him.

  “You won’t heal me. I’m still sore. I was stretching.”

  I could feel his humor filter through the link even though it didn’t show on his face. I hadn’t healed myself either, and I was still a little sore today despite my fast healing abilities. I liked it. I liked the reminder of what Austin had done to me last night, how often he’d done it, and how hard. We’d kept at it into the small hours of the morning, only stopping to eat and lay a tripwire spell. I’d decided it was too risky to use one of the warding spells.

  Even after all we’d done last night, I still craved Austin, the need for him unquenched, my desire still pulsing hot.

  “Okay. My apologies.” Mr. Tom filed in, holding a tray of shot glasses filled with the revealing potion I’d made at home and packed. It would hopefully help us see any mages using an invisibility spell.

  If we got out of this, I would set to work trying to figure out a potion that allowed me to see invisible people while being invisible myself. It didn’t make sense that that wasn’t a common thing. It had to be doable.

  Sebastian would have been able to help me with that, I suspected, a thought that steeled my resolve.

  “We all know our tasks?” I asked after everyone had drunk it, touching Austin’s pants pocket and feeling the crinkle of the map. Hollace had asked the service staff for more copies, and they’d complied without complaint, giving us a stack. We’d break off into teams of three or four, each of which would scout a specific section of the tunnels before reporting back and sharing notes.

  Everyone murmured their assent as Edgar drifted in closer.

  “I’m still unclear as to what to do about trouble,” Edgar said.

  “Try to avoid it, and if you can’t, fight back,” I said. “The Mages’ Guild can’t get in here, and Elliot Graves is on their list of top offenders—it doesn’t sound like he’ll report anyone. Don’t start anything, but go ahead and finish it.”

  I waited for nods from everyone before I turned and pulled down the tripwire spell. We marched down the hall to the main entrance, utterly silent but for the swish of our clothes and my footfalls. I still wasn’t very good at being quiet.

  A man sat in one of the blue velvet chairs, an open newspaper in front of him and his ankle over his knee. A steaming white mug sat on the table by his elbow. Service staff bustled around outside, sweeping up debris left over from my episode, or maybe someone else’s. The glass double door hadn’t been fixed.

  “Hello,” I said demurely as we crossed the entranceway to the other opening that would lead way back into the mountain, or so we figured based on the twisting length of the tunnels. I was in a wing of my own, it seemed. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

  The man pulled down a corner of his paper, and I realized belatedly that I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all. A lifetime of politeness with strangers had gotten the better of me.

  His cold blue eyes assessed me for a moment before flicking to those around me, lingering the longest on Austin. I continued my progress undaunted. Mostly. Staring like that was incredibly rude.

  “You’re the Jane, are you not?” he said as I entered the doorway.

  I paused and turned back. “Sure.” It was easier than explaining why he was an idiot or coming up with a scathing put-down.

  He folded his paper and placed it in his lap. His gaze went back to Austin. To his credit, he didn’t give any of his thoughts away. “And that’s your shifter?”

  Again, many possible answers came to mind, but I settled on: “Sure.”

  “And your crew.”

  “No. They just followed me in off the street.”

  Everyone had a breaking point.

  His lips tightened, his gaze mostly steady on me, but flicking to Austin every so often. The silence stretched. Was he waiting for something?

  As if reading my thoughts, Niamh said, “He’s waiting for ye to recognize him.”

  “Oh.” I squinted one eye and half smiled. “Right. Uhm…” Only Niamh hadn’t told me anything about the other guests. I belatedly realized I was flying blind.

  “Don’t bother,” Niamh said. “He’s nobody. Walk on.”

  I couldn’t stop my eyes from widening. Sarcasm was one thing, but blatant rudeness entirely another. It wasn’t something I was comfortable with.

  Austin applied pressure to the small of my back. Mr. Tom’s steady gaze on my face said to comply.

  I held my breath and turned away, burning with shame. This was not like my “training” at country clubs and work functions. Politeness had always been key in those situations. There were certain protocols to be followed whether you liked the person or not. Maybe especially when you didn’t like the person. This was worse than high school, and I hadn’t exactly been a mover and shaker.

  I followed the wishes of my team, though, and started walking. Many—some?—of them were experienced, if rusty. Besides, eccentricity! That had to count for something.

  “Your shifters tore up the front area,” the man called.

  I kept walking, separating from Austin’s touch, and alarm rang through the links I shared with the team. Hadn’t they wanted me to keep going? I stopped in confusion and turned around. These were very mixed signals.

  The man was leaning forward to see me around the doorframe.

  “Your shifters tore up the front area yesterday,” he said again, having dropped the paper between his spread knees so he could lean without looking too eager.

/>   “I mean…” I raised my hand in exasperation. “Sure, why not.”

  “How’d they beat Elliot Graves’s spell, though?”

  I squinted at him, then shot a confused look at Niamh. Why was he going through mental aerobics to assure himself that I had played no part in the destruction? What could I even say to him without it devolving into insults?

  “Yes, Miss Ironheart,” Mr. Tom said. “Sometimes dealing with mages of a lower thinking capacity can be a lesson in patience.”

  Hollace’s lips quivered as he tried to suppress a smile, and he half turned away to hide it. He wasn’t as good as the shifters at keeping a straight face.

  Edgar raised his hand. “If I may?”

  I lifted an eyebrow, not quite sure what Edgar was asking, but totally willing to let someone else take the lead.

  “Sir.” Edgar clasped his hands in front of him, bowed, and gave the man a comforting smile. With all that fang, though, I doubted he was comforting anyone. “Shifters are good at a great many things, like stalking you without your knowledge and snapping your neck when you least expect it. Or working together to close in on you, fighting through the pain of your spells so they can snap your neck. Or even— Well, you get the point. They are very good at killing people.” I was pretty sure I was watching a train wreck, one that would give us the reputation as the weirdest magical crew. Not that we had any competition. “But shifters are very cool and collected creatures, prone to rage but not panic. Miss Ironheart, on the other hand, is the only being in this underground complex capable of laying ruin to a powerful mage’s headquarters out of panic. Because she didn’t like being in the dark. You may not want to admit that a past Jane is more powerful than you, but…well, you’ll just look stupid if you don’t. Best board this train rather than rail against it—get it?” He paused to see if his joke had landed. The mage stared, and no one on earth was good enough to keep confusion from their expression after a talking-to from Edgar. The vampire continued, “Because when she’s not panicking, well…” He held up a shaky finger at Brochan.

  “I’m Brochan Sue,” he growled. “How do you do?”

  “Jaysus,” Niamh muttered.

  Without comment, I turned and started walking. Really, what else was there to say? That last bit had made zero sense. I’d be a laughing stock, if I wasn’t already.

  Austin lowered his hand on the small of my back in no time, and I could feel the mixed emotions through the link. Through my link to Hollace, all I could feel was his urge to laugh hysterically.

  “I’m not sure if I just created an enemy, or found someone who will take pity on me,” I murmured, walking stiffly.

  “He’s one of the highest-powered mages here besides Elliot,” Austin whispered. “Let’s hope it’s pity.”

  Sixteen

  A couple of hours later, Austin, Brochan, and I walked down a small tunnel with low ceilings, dim lighting, and rough, slightly damp walls. It was a far cry from the tunnel leading to our rooms. Light fixtures hung from the ceiling on chains, weak magical flames flickering within them. There was supposedly an exit at the end, but the tunnel was much longer than the map suggested.

  “Look at this,” Brochan whispered, always behind us but now slowing until he lagged.

  I looked up from the map and glanced back. Brochan was pointing to a strip of lettering above a row of men’s portraits, surprisingly clean in this dank place.

  “‘Wall of Death,’” he read.

  Austin looked both ways down the tunnel and then back at me before stepping closer to Brochan. I waited for a moment, not really wanting to look, but curiosity got the better of me.

  Shadows flickered across a dozen or so faces, all rendered in black-and-white photographs enclosed in cheap plastic frames. Each had a date below it, and I pushed in closer when I saw the last face.

  “Kinsella,” I breathed out, pointing. There wasn’t a date associated with this one.

  Austin pointed at others. “Frauchini. Cross. Stokes. All mages Elliot Graves killed in cold blood, or so I’ve heard.”

  “But Kinsella?” I pushed in even closer to make absolutely sure.

  “Yup—”

  “Hah!” I spun and flung out my hands, but instead of a karate chop, I slung a blistering spell that crackled the air and burned through a man’s middle.

  He flinched and looked down, but the spell had gone right through him—and kept right on going until it crashed against the tunnel’s soft turn and sent sparks into the air.

  The man shimmered, like a hologram, turning around to see the damage the spell had wrought.

  “I don’t smell or sense his presence,” Austin murmured, pushing away from me somewhat, eyes on the man and ready for action. He obviously didn’t want me to get hurt in the crossfire.

  The man, about mid-thirties, with slicked-back black hair and pale blue eyes, surveyed me with a little smile, his hands lodged in his pockets.

  “You don’t smell or sense me because”—he lowered to a whisper—“I’m not really here…” He smiled, smug and self-assured. His image flickered a little more, then wavered before mostly solidifying again. “I think I might like shifters best of all. I know, I know, it’s out of character for a mage.” He shrugged. “But you are correct, Sir Alpha. Nice watch, by the way.”

  “Yours as well,” Austin replied. “A vintage guy, I see. That is one of the rarest finds on the planet.”

  I glanced down at it, finding a vintage watch with a black leather band.

  “How kind of you to notice. I stole it, of course. From…” The man pointed at the row of faces. “The man in the middle, there. Jacobson. He didn’t deserve it, and the crows in his employ wouldn’t have appreciated it.”

  “You’re Elliot Graves,” I said, my anger bubbling up, hot and heady. Magic pulsed around me, eager to be used.

  His focus was acute and his smile disarming. “Hello, Jacinta. Lovely to finally make your acquaintance.”

  The slicked-back hair—I recognized it from the first time I’d seen him, the night I’d claimed Ivy House’s magic. He’d blown me a kiss that had turned into words. He’d had facial hair that night, but today he was clean-shaven. And the pale blue eyes—those belonged to a delivery guy about half this guy’s age. He’d delivered a note from Elliot Graves and then disappeared in his truck on the street. Clearly Elliot Graves could change his appearance at will.

  He’d also attacked me, tried to have me kidnapped, had his people spy on me, killed my—

  “No, no, no!” He bent and pushed out his hands, but my spell had already been let loose. It passed straight through him again, cracking into the wall on the other side of the tunnel. A deep rumble rolled beneath my feet. Elliot looked at the ceiling. “Keep doing that and you’ll bring this mountain down on top of us.”

  “Why does it go right through you?” I asked, taking a step forward. Could an illusion be this lifelike?

  Austin stepped with me, staying even.

  Elliot laughed softly, shaking his head. “You are something. You’ve grown in might since I last…” His speech hitched, but then he spread his hands wide. “Let’s just get it out there, shall we? Since I last spied on you.”

  A boot scraped the ground. Austin spread his fingers in a stop motion, keeping Brochan from doing whatever a moving boot indicated.

  “Ah yes, the new shifter. Broken Sue, wasn’t it? How do you like your Rolex?”

  “It’ll fit perfectly around my dick,” Brochan growled.

  I widened my eyes. That was unexpected. And strangely hilarious.

  Elliot took a step back and then shivered. “I’m not even there in the flesh and that freaked me out. You’re quite the power player. Austin Steele has found a protégé.”

  “Why aren’t you in the… How aren’t you in the flesh?” I asked.

  He winked at me. “It’s a pretty common practice for those of us in the know. And with enough power, of course. One of the mages at this party is too weak to manage it. I invited him to atte
nd so as to make a fool of him. It’s a personal grudge. Petty, some might say, but…” He shrugged. “And then there’s you—you have plenty of power but not enough experience.”

  “You aim to make a fool out of me, then?”

  “Hardly.” He chuckled. “I would like to inform you, however, that you will be the only female head mage at this gathering. That was an intentional decision. I fully intend to demean many of the mages here, one way or another. To taunt or condescend to them. Since female mages are routinely treated that way in the magical world, I didn’t want to add to their…misfortunes. They’re also better at ignoring such behavior, which makes them more dangerous. It’s also simply more fun to taunt those who are not used to being taunted. They get angry and flustered. It’s comical.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “Not because I thought I could get one over on you, that’s for sure.” He paused, and I just blinked at him, waiting for the answer. His smile told me he knew what I wanted and didn’t intend to offer it up. “All the other mages have only been granted one seat at the table. You get two, one for you and one for your shifter. This is because you treat him as your equal, do you not?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “It’ll raise contention with the others. Make you look weaker. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Yes. He’s my date.”

  “I thought as much. You don’t care how people perceive you…”

  I shifted from side to side, frustrated. After all these months, I’d actually gotten an audience with the guy who’d been plaguing me, and he wasn’t physically in front of me. Worse, he was one hundred percent leading this conversation. He held all the cards.

  I pointed at the wall. “Kinsella.”

  “Ah, yes.” He took a step closer. “He gave you some trouble, I believe.”

  “What is this wall?”

  “That wall represents my illustrious status as the Mage Most Wanted. I am claiming my kills to serve as proof that I have done what the Anal Repository Guild, as some call it, says I did. One of the mages that walks these halls is on the cusp of financial ruin. Given the repository has a huge price on my head, I suspect our greedy little mage will try to cash in.”