Though I stood just meters away from her with only double-paned glass between us, Samantha didn’t look up. Likewise, the blood tattoo that tied the telekinetic to me didn’t shift or even prickle at her close proximity. Something was seriously wrong with her magic. And I didn’t doubt that she’d drained herself even further by trying to teleport with Paisley in tow.
I really didn’t like feeling bad about, or even regretting, my threat response. But there was a chance I might have overreacted.
Not to Samantha trying to kidnap Paisley. That was unforgivable — another in a long list of things I held against the telekinetic, going all the way back to her almost killing Bee when we were children. But I could have been more levelheaded about Samantha showing up uninvited, especially given that she had reasons to do so clandestinely.
The presence of the so-called mystic in Lake Cowichan meant she’d failed in covering her tracks. Failed miserably, in fact. No matter how powerful Samantha might be, operating stealthily had never been the telekinetic’s forte.
How powerful she usually was, at least.
I shifted my attention to the rest of the occupants of the diner, spotting Brian Martin through the pass-through window opening up to the kitchen. The slightly balding, barrel-chested man moved around with a contained efficiency and a large smile. His wife and co-owner of the diner, Melissa Wilson, had just dropped burgers in front of two people I didn’t recognize seated at the far end of the long laminate counter that bisected the cafe.
Midway down the counter, Jenni Raymond and Lani Zachary were perched on red vinyl-topped metal stools. Their backs were to the windows as they chatted over their half-eaten lunches.
The shifter RCMP officer wore jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her jacket was presumably hanging on the overloaded coat rack that stood near the front door. The ex-air-force-tech turned small-town-mechanic was similarly attired, but in short sleeves that revealed the edge of a tattoo on her upper left arm that I hadn’t seen before. It must have been newly inked since summer. The two of them had dark hair almost the same shade, Lani’s falling forward over a wide brow to brush her cheekbones, and Jenni’s pulled back in a messy bun. But the shifter was the taller of the two, and her tanned skin was the product of her genetic mix, rather than fading from summer sun exposure.
Having apparently negotiated a deal with Paisley, Opal shoved ahead of me, exuberantly pushing her way through the door. The young witch hustled inside, crossing toward the shifter and mechanic.
Both greeted her with smiles and quiet chatter.
Through the window, Jenni met my gaze over Opal’s head with a nod, then answered some query from the young witch.
Lani Zachary twisted around on her stool.
I smiled.
Lani did as well — but only after she’d hesitated. Then she rejoined the conversation with Jenni and Opal.
I had amplified the mechanic’s dormant witch magic — twice — only a few days before. Once without permission, however unwittingly, to save myself. And once with coerced permission — to save Christopher, Paisley, Opal, and Jenni. I didn’t regret it. I still believed it had been necessary. But I understood that I might have destroyed our burgeoning friendship in the process. And I would miss that connection.
Lani Zachary was a survivor. Focused and diligent. Brave, though usually I didn’t put much stock in that. She had treated me — at least previously — like a regular person, not someone to be wary of. Even when I didn’t keep up my end of the conversation or got confused by her phrasing.
I crouched next to Paisley, drawing her attention away from playing at being a dog. “Do you have a scent?” I didn’t really want to leave her alone without knowing she could pick up the approach of the so-called mystic, or at least sense the magic Chenda had been cloaked with.
Paisley flashed her teeth at me, grumbling. Apparently, I was an idiot for needing to ask for confirmation.
“Fine. I’ll order you a burger. Thank you for guarding the diner for us.”
More grumbling followed me inside. I either had the order wrong, or the demon dog didn’t like being thanked for doing her duty.
“Hello, Emma,” Melissa cried cheerily, blond curls bouncing as she stepped by me with her arms full of dirty dishes. “Sorry, I don’t have a table.”
“I’m … we’re joining someone.”
“Oh, good then, dear.” She hustled around the counter and back into the kitchen, distracted.
“Hi!” Opal’s bright voice called my attention to the opposite end of the diner. She’d moved on from Jenni and Lani and was now standing by the booth occupied by Samantha.
The telekinetic met my gaze across all the booths between us, lips twisted. Then she sighed. “Hey, kid.”
Opal slipped into the booth across from Samantha without further encouragement, continuing to pepper her with questions. The one-sided conversation was quiet enough that I picked up only a few words as I tugged off my coat, crossing toward Jenni and Lani.
The shifter, who’d been watching Opal and Samantha’s interaction with narrowed eyes, turned to me as I approached. “Emma.”
I nodded to Jenni, glancing at the mechanic seated beside her. “Lani.”
Lani nodded, once. Her gaze lingered on Opal. “Everyone is okay, then?”
“Yes, thank you.” I hesitated.
Jenni cleared her throat pointedly, then somehow started choking. She grabbed for her water, and Lani pounded her on the back.
“I’m fine, fine!” Jenni gasped.
Melissa, laden with food, bustled out from the kitchen. I could hear Brian humming to himself in the back as the door swung open. The co-owner of the diner flashed a smile at me across the counter. “I’ll be right over.”
“Thank you.”
Melissa set one plate in front of Donnie, the owner and operator of the gas station, two stools to Lani’s left. Then she skirted the counter to deposit the rest among the first couple of booths, which were also filled with locals.
“Lani.” I pitched my voice low. “You wanted to talk. And we have a couple of witches … visiting. You might prefer to talk to one of them. Ember Pine is a lawyer, and I’m … I presume you could hire her, so the conversation would be confidential.”
I actually wasn’t at all certain how much the former air force tech wanted to know about her background. She had obviously inherited the magic she’d long been wielding instinctively, as if it was just a well-honed intuition, but she’d shared with me once that she’d been adopted. Happily, I had assumed.
I also had no idea if she actually wanted to learn anything about the Adept world. Or at least anything more than the brief overview I’d given her when amplifying her latent magic.
Lani nodded stiffly. “Jenni mentioned it. Also that the timing might not be right … and …” She fiddled with her fork. “I’d rather we talk first. You and me. Okay?”
Feeling relieved, I smiled at her. “I’d like that. Over dinner, maybe?”
“Is Christopher cooking?” Jenni asked.
“Unless you want soup out of a can and toast, then yes,” I said.
“Then name the date and time, and we will be there.” The shifter ate one of her fries, grinning at her lunch companion. “Eh, Lani?”
“Yes.”
I glanced over at Opal and Samantha. The telekinetic was watching me. The witch had her face buried in the menu and appeared to be keeping up the one-sided conversation. Either that or she was reading the menu out loud.
Lani brushed her fingers against my forearm, and I flinched at the unexpected contact. The mechanic ignored my response, her gaze on Samantha. “Trouble, Emma?”
“Always. But probably not from Samantha. We … grew up together. Her and Christopher and me.” I hated the way my voice sometimes hitched when I broached the subject of my past. Like it was an open wound. It wasn’t. But it definitely wasn’t easy to explain.
Jenni snorted. “Emma already kicked her ass once today.”
Lani blinked, s
urprised. “Literally?”
“Yeah.” Jenni laughed.
I gave the shifter a quelling look. “Just wait until it’s you on that lawn.”
Jenni’s grin widened. “Bring it.”
I shook my head, stepping away. Then I reminded myself that I was supposed to be honing Jenni Raymond into a useful resource, for the benefit of both of us. “Oh, there’s a visitor in town.”
Jenni’s back stiffened as she snarled, “Another one? What? Two witches and whatever she is wasn’t enough for you?” She nodded toward Samantha. “You’re going to run out of bedrooms.”
“This one’s uninvited.”
“Dangerous?”
“Always.”
She laughed darkly, shaking her head. “Actual details would be helpful, Emma.”
I glanced at Lani. She smiled tightly. But she didn’t look away or indicate that she didn’t want to be included in the conversation, so I continued. “Blond. Small framed. Appears to be in her midforties. Calls herself a mystic. Though I doubt you’ll see her unless she wants to be seen.”
Jenni hissed quietly, then whispered, “Like cloaked in magic?”
“Yes, but I have no idea what kind.”
“You?” she said mockingly. “You don’t know?”
I caught her light-brown-eyed gaze, holding it for only seconds before she glanced away to the side, then grimaced — hating that she deferred to me on an instinctual level. I might have been trying to be … well, not friendly, but at least more inclusive. But I wasn’t going to put up with Jenni Raymond’s default sardonic attitude. The mystic’s presence in town had a chance of spilling over, notwithstanding that most of the Adept were careful to not draw too much unwanted attention from the mundanes. And a former member of the Collective would no doubt be especially careful.
The kind of attention the Collective’s activities had the possibility of provoking was one of the reasons they’d created the Five. The reason I was capable of destroying a small city center under the right circumstances. Of course, the Five’s survival was never the primary intent of the Collective’s breeding program. But the Amplifier Protocol certainly would have — could have — given the Collective a chance to flee whatever greater force appeared to pass bloody judgement on their clandestine undertakings.
“What’s going on?” Lani asked quietly, responding to Jenni’s averted gaze.
“I’m alpha,” I said.
Jenni’s shoulders stiffened. Perhaps she hadn’t shared her own magical abilities with Lani? I had assumed they were closer than that. Melissa, who adored gossiping, had mentioned that they attended school together in the area, and Jenni had mentioned university as well. Plus, Lani helping pull Jenni from the swamp on the Grant property had to have evoked some questions between the friends?
I quashed another annoying pinch of regret. Honestly, I found navigating relationships — mine or other people’s — irksome, and quite possibly not worth the trouble.
“Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll have more information about the mystic for you.” Without waiting for a response, I strode down the aisle. Skirting around Melissa, who was taking an order at the neighboring booth, I slid in beside Opal.
I locked my gaze to Samantha’s, taking a moment to really look at her without being distracted by anger or frustration. The telekinetic stared back unflinchingly. She looked tired, older than she should have, and verging on being too thin for her frame.
“Man,” Opal said, dropping the menu on the laminate-topped table with a slap. “I’m really glad you don’t look at me like that, Emma.”
Samantha smirked. A glint of her normal chaotic energy filled her eyes. “I know, right? You really don’t want to piss off Socks.”
I snorted.
Opal tilted her head, fingers playing with the edge of the menu. “Christopher uses that nickname as well. Fox in Socks.”
“From children’s books,” Samantha said, perfectly pleasantly. “Christopher is Knox and I’m Zans.” She kept her gaze locked to mine, murmuring, “ ‘At our house we open cans. We have to open many cans.’ ”
Opal glanced at me, then back at Samantha, lowering her voice. “So you’re Zans because … you can tear through metal?”
The telekinetic exhaled harshly, rubbing her hand over her face and slumping back in the booth. Her gaze was on the table, her expression remote. “I always hated that fucking nickname. But the rest of you never gave a shit.”
Christopher had named us all, mostly before our third birthdays. And even as children, we had known to trust the declaration of a clairvoyant. But Samantha’s nickname hadn’t been cemented until after she’d almost killed Bee during a temper tantrum over a last serving of macaroni and cheese. She’d shredded a metal tray in the cafeteria, slicing shards into the telepath’s face, neck, and hands.
I hadn’t thought about that incident in years. Though Bee had immediately forgiven the telekinetic, the other three of us had never let Zans forget it — not simply her lack of control, but also that she’d used her magic against one of us, unprovoked. It had taken her years to regain our trust. And it might only have been the blood tattoos and everything they entailed that finally cemented it.
Opal shifted uncomfortably, drawing the menu from the table, opening it in her lap, and bowing her head.
Regret flickered across Samantha’s face. “Damn it,” she muttered, tired.
Melissa stepped up to the table, smiling at each of us in turn.
“Melissa,” I said, leaning back and indicating the young witch perched on the booth seat next to me. “You haven’t met Opal yet.”
“Hey,” Opal said, grinning. “Christopher says the food is great here.”
Melissa grinned. “High praise. I’m flattered.”
“And this is my … sister, Samantha.”
Melissa thrust her hand toward the telekinetic. “Lovely to meet you.”
Samantha shook off a flash of surprise, presumably at my declaration of familial ties, because she shook Melissa’s hand without hesitation. “Nice to meet you.”
“Are you staying in Lake Cowichan for long?”
Samantha smiled tightly. “Well … I don’t like to be away from work.”
“I hear you.” Melissa laughed quietly, then leaned in close, conspiratorially. “Though it’s really Brian who hates vacations.” She straightened, glancing around as if making sure no one had overheard her, then said, “The special is wild mushroom risotto, heavy on the parmesan.”
“Sounds perfect,” I said. “But I believe Samantha will have the macaroni and cheese. It’s great. Cottage cheese, cheddar, and parmesan topped with roasted tomatoes.”
Samantha grimaced at my dig, but then forced a smile. “Yes, thank you. With water for the table?”
“Um,” Opal said quietly, as if not really certain it was okay to order for herself. “The chicken strips and fries? Gravy? And, um, a strawberry milkshake? Emma?”
I smiled. “Sounds like a great combination. And a burger with double cheese to go, please.”
“Of course, dear.” Melissa reached for the menu that Opal held out for her. “Christopher needs to eat.”
Opal grinned. “Thanks!”
Melissa smiled at the young witch, then winked at me before hustling away.
“The mundane is a friend? Of yours?” Samantha said caustically.
“Yes.”
That brought her up short, and she seemed uncertain how to continue.
Opal tugged her phone out of her pocket. “Can I download games on this?” she asked, frowning thoughtfully as she swiped the screen.
“Yes.”
“I might need a credit card.”
“That will be fine.”
“Yeah? Okay.”
Samantha was watching our exchange with narrowed eyes, but she blanked her expression as she met my gaze again.
“What’s wrong with your magic?” I asked.
The telekinetic sighed, growling under her breath. “I was stupid.”
>
“Let’s presume that goes without saying. Otherwise you’re about to be repeating it a lot.”
She flashed her teeth at me aggressively. Then her gaze flicked to Opal, and she moderated whatever she’d been about to say. “We’re going to need Fish and Bee. Especially Bee.”
“That isn’t an option.” I glanced at Opal. The young witch appeared to have found a game that had something to do with breeding dragons.
“No credit card needed,” she said without looking at me.
“We’ve just had some trouble with some sorcerers.” I met Samantha’s dark-eyed gaze again. “We’re in the middle of cleaning it up.”
“Knox mentioned it,” she said. “To explain why there were witches at the house. And your shitty attitude. But I never expect anything more from you.”
“You expected me to just watch you kidnap Paisley?” I asked coolly. “Possibly killing her in the process?”
Samantha hissed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I didn’t think that part through.”
“You’re being tracked by a member of the Collective,” I said. “I’m guessing you attacked her, destroying some property, rampaging around without thinking. I did expect more. I expected you to keep Christopher’s well-being separate from your idiotic desire for revenge.”
Samantha’s mouth dropped open, then snapped closed. “I tried.”
“Not hard enough.”
Pressing her hands to the top of the table, she curled her fingers into fists. But her magic remained almost dormant. She had drained whatever portion she still had access to trying to kidnap Paisley. Served her right.
“I shouldn’t have come,” she muttered. “I should have known you wouldn’t give a sh … crap. Typical Amp5. Stuck up and —”
“We don’t use that name in our house.” Opal spoke without looking up from her game. “Christopher already told you.”
Samantha blinked at the young witch’s bowed head. Then something clicked into place. “You met Chenda.”
“Just now. She asked me to mediate a cease fire.”
Samantha snorted, but her typical scorn was missing. “You. Mediate.”
I didn’t respond.
Mystics and Mental Blocks (Amplifier 3) Page 10