by Nicole Hall
Dax dropped his head to her shoulder and removed his hand from under her skirt. “I swear I’m cursed,” he mumbled.
Lindsey snickered, but she was as out of breath as he was. “If all you wanted to do was make out, we could have stayed at home.”
“That’s not all I wanted to do.”
The kids dared each other to go into the shadowy woods looking for their ball, effectively destroying any hope he had of picking up again right away. He lifted his head, and Lindsey patted his chest.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be alone all night.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.”
She pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth, and Dax breathed in her coconut scent. Before he was ready, she slipped away to retrieve the kids’ ball. She had to high step through some weeds to reach it, but it wasn’t too far away.
Dax leaned against the tree he’d just had her pinned against and acknowledged that everything she did made him want to know more about her, spend more time with her. Lindsey heaved the ball back toward the park, to the triumphant shouts of at least a dozen kids. She shook her head and started making her way back to him, and declarations of love flitted through Dax’s mind.
Lindsey claimed to only want a summer fling, but Dax had no intention of letting her go at the end of the summer.
She’d almost made it back to their make-out spot when she stopped, frowned, and stared off in the direction of the park. Dax straightened from his slouch and scanned the area. Nothing triggered any alarms, but Lindsey’s senses were tuned differently than his.
He grabbed the duck and approached her quietly, but even when he put his hand on her arm, she didn’t lose the far-away look in her eyes.
“Lindsey?”
A few seconds went by—causing his anxiety to skyrocket—before she blinked and focused on his face. “I felt it. The same magic from in the woods behind the house. It brushed by me then disappeared. I was trying to figure out which direction it might have been moving.”
Dax glanced around again. Her spot, only a few feet away from where they’d been fooling around, offered a good vantage point of the entire park. A stunted pine tree grew to her right, within easy reach, and Dax wished he had the ability to feel magic as well. He hated being relegated to observer status.
“You did this by touch last time, right? What about that tree in front of you?”
Lindsey placed her hand on the bark and her lips curled in a half-smile. “You nailed it. The god was standing here, touching this tree, at some point.”
“Is there any way to tell how much time has passed since then?”
She shook her head and crossed into the manicured grass of the park. “Not that I can tell. And before you ask, Calliope can’t help with this. She experiences the magic differently.”
Dax kept pace with her as she walked slowly toward the tents, zig-zagging to touch things and adjust her direction. “Can you feel Calliope’s magic?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know that’s what I was experiencing until after the tracking incident. The house is more or less coated in her magic at all times. Sabine’s too. It feels…” She trailed off then took a ninety-degree turn toward the walkway behind the booths. “It feels reassuring—safe and comfortable, like I’ve known it my whole life. Which is ridiculous because pretty much nothing I’ve known my whole life is safe or comfortable.”
They’d talked before—briefly—about Lindsey’s past, but she never wanted to go into detail. She claimed she moved beyond it, and she’d rather forget. Dax wasn’t so sure, but he wouldn’t push her to talk about something that upset her.
On the way past the back of the Soul Exchange booth, Dax dropped the duck next to Kora’s extra supplies. She’d know what to do with it until they could circle back. He wanted to have both hands free while they tracked a potentially invisible murderous god.
Lindsey meticulously followed the trail the four blocks into the downtown area. Lots of people milled around, enjoying the holiday in the relative coolness of the awnings, but none of them paid any extra attention to Lindsey.
He followed her into an alley between the buildings that he hadn’t noticed before. The stench of open dumpsters roasting in the midday sun made his stomach turn, but Lindsey didn’t seem to notice. Or she was so engrossed in her task that she’d blocked it out. Lucky her.
“Here.” She stopped in front of the back entrance for a business. “The magic goes into this building.”
Dax inspected the sign on the door for The Soul Exchange and forced himself to ask the next question. “Are you sure it went in?”
“Yes. The trace is on the handle but nowhere else on the door.”
“Why would a non-corporeal god need to use the handle?”
She shot him an impatient look. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s corporeal now. Maybe it’s habit. Maybe I suck at this particular skill and we’re tracking a pigeon.”
He grinned. “Honestly, I hope it’s the pigeon. Could you imagine what that would mean for bird-life if it turned out pigeons were magical?”
Lindsey shook her head and tried the door. It swung silently open into a dark storage room. Dax grabbed her arm before she could move forward and sidled past her. She sighed behind him, but didn’t object. It wouldn’t have mattered if she had. He wasn’t about to let her take point into unknown danger.
Neatly arranged stacks of boxes—most taller than him—created dead end lanes to either side of the main pathway. Lindsey eased the door closed behind them, trapping them in near-complete darkness. A sliver of light shone across the room where another door must lead into the employee area. Dax reached back to grip Lindsey’s hand and waited until he’d adjusted to the shadows before moving.
Their feet shuffled quietly as they moved across the concrete floor, and the lack of other such sounds suggested either they were alone in the room or any other parties had chosen to stay hidden. But as they got closer to the door, Dax could make out voices. He glanced back at Lindsey, but he could only see a vague outline of her face in the shadows.
Dax reached the second door and pulled Lindsey right next to him to whisper in her ear. “That sounds like Kora and David.”
She nodded and leaned over to whisper back. “There’s magic on this door too. Should we come back later?”
“It’s too much coincidence that your magic trail led here. I’m going to crack the door open. If they’re discussing inventory or something, we close the door and sneak back out.”
Lindsey’s fingers tightened on his. “What if they’re not discussing inventory?”
“Then we find out how much they’ve been lying to us. No matter what happens, we’re in this together.”
She hesitated, then nodded again. Dax kissed her hand then shifted them to the left so they wouldn’t be visible from inside. He hoped Kora and David weren’t paying much attention to the storage room door, but just in case, he prepped a story that didn’t involve following a magical trail to their business.
The door pushed inward a few inches, and another swath of light illuminated the boxes next to where they’d been crouched.
“Kora, you can’t keep doing this. We agreed not to interfere.” The voice definitely belonged to David, and he didn’t sound pleased.
“I’m not interfering. I’m helping.”
“You’re courting disaster.”
Clothing rustled, probably Kora stubbornly crossing her arms. “And you’re paranoid. A little nudge here and there won’t harm anything.”
“Are you sure? Calliope has been hanging around a lot lately.”
Kora scoffed. “Calliope doesn’t scare me.”
“She doesn’t, but the others should.” David moved across the room, and his voice lowered. “I know your heart is in the right place, but it’s not worth the risk. Let them sort it out themselves.”
Kora sighed. “What’s the point of magic if I can’t use it to do good in the world?”
David chuckled. “I know. We should get back. You promised Ana
we wouldn’t be gone long.”
Dax met Lindsey’s surprised glance and shook his head. He hadn’t known about Kora’s connection to Calliope or her magic, but now wasn’t the time to discuss it. The light disappeared as the door closed, and Dax hoped the couple went out through the bookstore instead of the back. He also hoped the magic Lindsey felt hadn’t been Kora’s.
12
Lindsey
A cold anger filled her, but Dax’s hand warmed hers. She focused on that touch and pushed aside the betrayal to sort through the possibilities.
Kora had magic that she clearly knew how to use. Calliope had said Lindsey might feel a connection to other demigods, which would explain their instant friendship, but it seemed like Calliope didn’t know about Kora and David.
Or Calliope had even more secrets than they’d realized.
Questions circled her mind and fought for dominance. What others? Who had Kora and David made an agreement with? How had Kora been interfering? And the worst of all, why was the same magic from the woods in their storeroom?
Lindsey flattened her hand against the wall next to her, and a slight buzz tickled her palm. Now that she knew to look, a subtle undertone of power flowed through the bookstore. Even knowing the magic was there, Lindsey couldn’t quite get a lock on the signature. Kora didn’t leave magic tingles behind like the ones in the woods.
Kora may not have tried to kill Lindsey, but they’d still followed the trail of dangerous magic to Kora’s storeroom.
Dax rose from his crouch and tugged her back into the main walkway, but Lindsey wasn’t ready to leave yet. That magic hadn’t just stopped at the door. She pulled him to a halt.
“We have to go inside.”
The shadow of his head swiveled toward her. “What? No. They’re probably still in there. Possibly naked.”
Her jaw firmed. “You’re welcome to stay here, but I’m following that magic trail.”
Dax sighed, and his clothes rustled. “Well, you’re sure as hell not going without me.”
Relief washed over her, and Lindsey tucked the warm, little feeling of partnership away to examine later. “Then use all that special training you keep talking about and get us in the bookstore undetected.”
“Do I look like I have x-ray vision or the ability to see in the dark? You’re the one with magic powers. Maybe if I had some duct tape and a paperclip…” Despite his grumbling, Dax moved at a steady pace back the direction they’d come. She imagined the sassy look on his face when challenged and doubled down.
“I’m happy to do the breaking and entering if you can’t handle it. Do you want me to walk you through it step by step?”
“I want you to be still and quiet so I can listen.” They’d reached the door again, so Dax released her hand to lay with his head tilted to the crack that provided the only real illumination in the room.
She didn’t hear voices like the last time, and the light seemed weaker than before. Dax rose and peeked inside before opening the door wide. Kora and David had turned off all the lights as they’d left. A skylight kept the office from being a repeat of the storeroom. At least Lindsey could see clearly in the dim interior.
Dax walked directly to the retail door and checked the store. When he closed it again and shook his head, Lindsey relaxed. She wasn’t sure how long it would take to find the trail, but she knew it had to be there somewhere.
An open plastic tub of junk—books, author swag, loose papers—sat next to her feet, so Lindsey started there. She checked all the contents and moved on to the armoire taking up a good portion of the wall. After running her hands over everything top to bottom, she realized she hadn’t heard any movement from the other part of the room.
Still bent over the bottom drawer, Lindsey glanced back, and Dax belatedly raised his eyes. She glared at him. “Would you stop staring at my ass and help?”
“I can do both.”
“Why don’t you search the room for anything suspicious while I look for magic fingerprints?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “What are we categorizing as suspicious?”
Lindsey shrugged and stood to check the mini-fridge. “Lists of other demigods. Ancient artifacts of great power. A journal detailing her magical journey with a convenient index in the back.”
He sent her a bland look. “A journal. In the office of a bookstore, full of book-like products.”
“I have faith in you.”
“I don’t,” he muttered.
Not her problem. She had a different concern in mind.
Nothing close to the back door felt like magic, but several handles on the desk and a gold-rimmed hand mirror she found in a drawer all tingled in that particular way when she touched them.
“Lindsey.” Dax’s voice lost its playfulness.
She carefully replaced the items she’d been rifling through, then turned toward him expecting another joke. He held up a metal helm that could have been stolen from a gladiator movie, and Lindsey swallowed the rebuke on her tongue.
“Do not tell me you actually found an ancient artifact of great power.”
Dax jiggled the helm. “How am I supposed to know? But it doesn’t look like it belongs in a bookstore. At least, not this one.”
In the weak light, the brownish-silver helm didn’t seem intimidating enough to be an ancient artifact like the seal. The design appeared fairly simple—two sideburn-like pieces came down from the top along with another piece over the nose—but she could barely make out faint engravings around the edges.
Something about it stopped her from reaching out to touch it though. A repulsion that felt like it came from the metal itself.
“I can’t believe you forgot the cash box twice in one day.”
Lindsey’s head shot up at Kora’s voice in the bookstore proper. She met Dax’s eyes, and he nodded toward the storeroom door before replacing the helm where he’d found it.
David answered her. “If you’ll remember correctly, I was decidedly distracted both times we were back here today.”
Kora giggled, much closer. Keys jingled as Lindsey yanked open the back door and squeezed through. When she turned in the darkness, Dax had caught the edge of the door so it didn’t slam. A faint light shone on his face, and he lifted his finger to his lips for silence.
Lindsey pursed her lips. She knew how to hide.
The light disappeared as he eased the door closed for a second time. His form approached her in the dark and pulled her close. Lindsey’s pulse took off, but Dax wasn’t trying to be handsy this time.
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Can we go now?”
Lindsey nodded. She’d gotten what she needed from the office space. More, even.
They’d walked halfway down the main aisle when a scraping sound from their left made her pause. She peered into the darkness, trying to spot movement. When she finally placed the noise, she gasped as the tall stack of boxes next to her swayed perilously in her direction.
“Lindsey!” Dax swung her out of the way, then pushed her toward the outer door. “Go. I’ll meet you at Reggie’s.”
She flinched at the thunderous crash of boxes onto concrete. Books burst out of the broken cardboard and skidded across the floor. If Kora and David were still here, they’d be along any moment.
Lindsey had mixed feelings about the destruction, but she’d deal with them later. Dax had placed himself between her and the now-horizontal stack of boxes. The damn man was going to get himself killed. She picked her way to him and laid her hand on his back.
“Don’t be stupid. I’m not leaving you here to fight a god by yourself.”
He growled over his shoulder. “I’m not planning to fight him. I want to see if I can get more information. Can you listen for once and let me protect you?”
“No. I’m not leaving unless you are.”
She couldn’t see the details of his face, but the quiet growl told her he wasn’t happy about her ultimatum. Another stack toppled toward them from the other side, an
d Lindsey gasped. Dax spun at her indrawn breath, but for once, he wasn’t fast enough.
Acting purely on instinct, she raised her hands to protect them, willing the boxes to fall elsewhere. A surge of power swelled inside her, painfully filling her chest, then broke through, appearing in the world as a spear of flame.
The room lit up orange for a brief moment, and the boxes changed trajectory to fall harmlessly closer to the office door. Lindsey slowly lowered her hands as she stared unblinking at the smoldering cardboard.
Dax grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. “Lindsey, you need to put the rest of the flames out.”
She blinked and nodded, suddenly terrified at the prospect of failure. Dax shifted behind her, keeping his hands on her shoulders, a warm, reassuring weight. “Just like you practiced. Call the magic back and let it settle inside you.”
Dax repeated Calliope’s words again, and Lindsey focused on the texture of her magic—like heated silk sliding between her fingers. She tugged on the nebulous tendrils that connected her to the fire, expecting resistance. To her shock, the magic returned to her, lining her hands with the little flames she recognized.
Intellectually, she knew she had to hurry because the god was still in the storeroom with them and the two in the office would surely have heard the commotion, but the sheer joy in her magic responding as asked nearly brought her to her knees. She closed her fists over the tiny blaze in her palm, and the magic retreated inside her, crackling and warm.
Dax kissed her temple and whispered, “Good girl.” Then he picked her up and carried her out of the storeroom.
They made it home in record time, and Lindsey spent the entire drive staring at the blurred trees beside the road. Magic simmered inside her, moving and spreading as she breathed. After so much time spent working for this exact moment, the aftermath felt anti-climactic.
Guilt wormed in past the shock and the thrill. Controlling the flames had been laughably easy, and calling them? She’d done that without thinking. Was she done? Ready to face off against an angry, murderous god who liked hiding and pushing things over?
