Hectic (Arcane Mage Series Book 2)

by T. S. Snow

  Well, shit.

  I guess I should've expected that but I really hadn't. I was usually fine with staying at HQ overnight or even for a couple nights. But the idea of actually living at a safe house for the foreseeable future... Fuck, I kind of wished Blaze had let me stay with him now.

  And as for the fact I was presumed dead and staying that way… well, it was a good thing my denial box worked.

  Instead of saying anything, I just nodded.

  There really wasn't anything I could say. I'd have to go shopping, though. Thank the Goddess that Blaze at least had the forethought to get me a new phone. Online shopping for the win.

  I carefully turned around and started getting rid of the stupid hospital gown, and Blaze took that as his cue. Instead of continuing the conversation, the minute I was naked, he helped me into my clothes, not once making any kind of comment or even looking too closely at me, which helped me feel less uncomfortable.

  "Thanks," I mumbled, flushing as he finished helping me into my jeans.

  Blaze just straightened and kissed me lightly on the lips. "You're welcome, Little Spitfire. Now let's go, before that bastard storms in here and tries to kill me again."

  Wait. Again?

  Memories slammed into me of what had happened before I'd passed out, and my steps faltered.

  "Theodore Louis Soulbinder, how dare you?" I yelled, opening the door and storming right into Theo's face.

  I raised my hand and pointed my finger right at his chest. "You are not my keeper and you do not attack my friends in a fucking hospital, for crying out loud! What were you thinking? Losing control like that! We could've all gotten seriously hurt!" I spat the words at him and with every statement I poked him to emphasize my point.

  "But, Char, he'd—"

  "Don't you 'but, Char' me. You'll apologize to Blaze. Right now. If you hadn’t acted like a child, none of this would’ve happened. Apologize."

  Theo looked like he'd eaten something sour when he looked away from me, over my shoulder, and said "Sorry" through gritted teeth.

  I didn't miss the way his fists were coiled or how his entire body was tense. But he'd done what I'd asked like I knew he would. Theo and I may have changed a hell of a lot over the years, but some things were the same.

  "Thank you," I told him, and his expression softened when he looked back at me.

  Uh oh. An alert started blaring inside my head. It flashed the word “trouble” in neon red.

  But before I made a run for it, there was something else I had to do.

  "Thank you, by the way. For watching over me in here. I may not remember much over the last two weeks, but I do remember you were always there when I woke up. So, I may not know why the hell you were here, but I appreciate it all the same."

  "I'll always be here for you, Char."

  His words cut me to the core. They hurt more than the electric shock from Blaze's power as they pierced through me, forcing me to see all the possibilities of what could've been, if only.

  If only my power had been strong enough.

  If only he'd stayed with me.

  If only he'd loved me more than his family.

  If only he'd fought for me.

  I hardened my resolve, and I knew my demeanor had changed when Theo looked at me warily.

  "Don't. We both know that's not true."

  I turned and left, ignoring Theo when he started calling my name.

  He didn't have the right to say shit like that to me, not after everything that had happened, not after what he'd done.

  He didn't have the right to pretend the last five years of our lives hadn't happened.

  He didn't have the right to pretend he still cared.

  13

  Charisma

  Blaze was quiet as he drove us to the safe house. He'd been quiet while I spoke to Christian on the phone, too, even though he could probably hear me being scolded. Again.

  The Director was loud. Although I knew all his bluster had been just because he worried about me. He'd also spent a long time grumbling and complaining about incompetent tech people and how apparently nobody had been able to run my program on the rebellion while I'd been gone. I’d conveniently left out the fact that when we’d found out that there was a mole at the Agency, I’d tweaked the code a bit so only I’d be able to access it… from anywhere.

  So yeah, Christian had totally missed me, and that had been his way of showing it. Once he'd gotten confirmation that I was headed straight to the safe house, he’d hung up without saying goodbye. Like always.

  Then I proceeded to mess around with the new phone Blaze had given me, thankful that I'd managed to restore most of my contacts and stuff from the cloud, even though I wasn’t technically allowed to contact anyone due to the whole me being allegedly dead thing. Christian had made that abundantly clear.

  And still, Blaze had been silent.

  My phone started vibrating in my hand over and over again, to the point where I thought someone was calling me—probably Christian ready to yell at me some more. I checked the screen, taking a deep breath to brace myself for the scolding, but it wasn’t a call that awaited me.

  Oh, no.

  Instead, there were notifications, dozens of notifications. Text messages, missed calls, voice mail recordings. My phone was going crazy trying to catch up to it all.

  And most of them were from Bastille.

  I wanted nothing more than to reach out to him, to answer his texts. Hell, call him and hear his voice. Surround myself in the familiarity of it, in the security it would provide. But I couldn’t. Christian had made it very clear that I was not to call anyone, and as much as I hated to have him think I was dead, it was better this way.

  He’d be safe.

  I couldn’t be selfish and put him in danger just because I missed him.

  I knew, if the situations were reversed, he’d put my safety first, too. Even if it hurt, even if it felt like a big piece of my soul was missing, I couldn’t contact him. Not yet.

  Glutton for punishment that I was, I read every single one of his texts, my heart breaking over and over again.

  I didn’t even realize I was crying until a teardrop fell on the screen.

  Bastille: Char?

  Bastille: Charisma, please. Answer me.

  Bastille: Please, I saw the news. I need to know you’re okay.

  Bastille: Please, you can’t be dead. I won’t accept it. I refuse to accept it.

  Bastille: Char, please. If you’re alive, talk to me. Text me. Do something, anything.

  Bastille: I need you to be alive, I need you to be okay.

  Bastille: Char… please. Please be alive.

  Every text that I read was a dagger to my heart. Except, the dagger was on fire, and it kept stabbing me again, over, and over, and over.

  I almost broke down and texted him, reached out. Said fuck the consequences.

  But suddenly, the tone of the texts changed, and they made me hold my breath.

  Bastille: Char, I know you’re alive. Thank fuck! I’m so relieved. I don’t know what’s going on, but I understand you might be unable to reach out just yet. If you’re okay, if you need someplace to stay, text me. I know you’re in danger. I can help.

  Bastille: Char, I mean it. I can help. I can keep you safe for as long as you need. You can stay with me.

  How did he know? How had Bast found out I was alive?

  Had he hacked into something? No, there weren’t supposed to be any records of me being alive anywhere. Was he a Spirit Caster? That could explain how he’d found out so fast.

  Part of me was relieved he wouldn’t think I was dead, but another part of me was worried about what he’d do to try to find me and make sure I was okay.

  It made me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, even if my brain was torn.

  I didn’t dare listen to the voice messages, though. I may be a glutton for punishment but I wasn’t quite that far gone.

  I needed a distraction, I needed to stop thinking about
Bast and his pain and my pain and our separation and the fact I was about to lose my best friend and gaming partner for the foreseeable future.

  I wouldn’t even be able to log into any of my online accounts! If I wanted to play anything, I’d have to start over like a damn noob.

  Either that or I’d have to find a new game to play. Temporarily, of course. Something I’d never played before, something no one would think I’d ever play.

  That was the only way I’d be able to maintain my cover.

  This fucking sucked zombie balls.

  I went into the App Store, hunting for a new game to call my own.

  I wasn’t usually a phone gamer but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  Still, Blaze said nothing.

  It was starting to drive me crazy. I never thought I would be an anti-silence person, but jeez. After everything that had happened and what he'd witnessed... I'd kind of expected a comment or two from him.

  Instead, I got zilch.

  Nada.

  I really wished I had my magic right now, I would've totally warmed his seat up until it burned his squeezable butt so I could get him to talk to me.

  But nooo, I couldn't even burn him to get his attention. I'd have to do shit the old fashioned way.

  So I turned in my seat and started staring at him while he drove, hoping I'd make him uncomfortable enough that he'd have to talk to me. It was a way better distraction than trying and failing to find a game I’d want to play but nobody would expect me to play.

  Not that I was actually sure I even wanted to talk about any of it, but I needed to be distracted from my own thoughts, dammit. And I didn't know if the new phone had a good enough data package for me to download some good First Person Shooter games that would distract me the rest of the way.

  So stare I did.

  I stared, and stared, and stared.

  But Fucktard didn't crack. He didn't even twitch.

  I wanted to kick him.

  How dare he not be affected by my mental game?

  Sighing, I conceded.

  "You're no fun, you know?"

  The fucker smirked.

  "You knew! You knew I was trying to get you to say something, and you didn't!" I poked his arm, but not too forcefully because he was still driving. I had no idea where this safe house was located, but I very much doubted Blaze would tell me if I asked. I hoped to fuck it had internet.

  Blaze shrugged. "You looked like you were having fun."

  "Urgh."

  His smile faded. "Listen, Char, I want to apologize, for before.” His hands tensed on the steering wheel. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I acted without thinking, I just wanted the Soulbinder to get his hands off me. Instead, you got hurt. And I’m so sorry. I swear I never meant to hurt you. I would never… I could never… I’m sorry. It will never happen again.”

  His pain touched a piece of me I always tried to keep hidden, a place very few people had managed to reach in a very long time.

  I extended my hand and lightly touched his face, being careful not to startle him or distract him from driving.

  “It was an accident, Blaze. I get it. It’s okay. Just… maybe let’s try not to use that power around me anytime soon, yeah?”

  He gave me a weak smile before he nodded.

  “There's something else you should know. The Director doesn't want me to tell you, but I figured you should know. Your entire apartment didn't blow up. There was a part of it that stayed standing. You must've had some pretty fucking strong wards in your office because it survived the blast even when nothing else did. I also think you might be able to salvage some things from your bedroom since it was one of the furthest points from where the explosion happened.”

  My heart pitter-pattered inside my chest.

  My office. My work. It survived.

  I wouldn't have to completely start over. I'd still have my tech.

  Even if I couldn't access or activate it just yet.

  Tears I didn't even know I'd been holding back fell as sheer relief washed over me.

  "Can... can we go there? Not right now, I don't think I'm ready yet, but… can you drive me there later? I want to see what survived the blast."

  Blaze frowned. “I don’t know if I can promise you that, Little Spitfire. I think you’ll have to clear that with the Director first. Right now, your safety is our top priority and we don’t want to risk exposing the truth of your situation by accident. We need to act smart."

  I pouted but didn’t argue. He did have a point, and besides, Blaze may be a walking wet dream, but when it came to AMIA hierarchy, he wasn’t high enough up there to make me any kind of promise.

  Although I was pretty confident I could sweet talk Christian into letting me go check my apartment, if for no other reason than to at least save my tech.

  Blaze had given me back some hope, just a smidge of it.

  But it was enough.

  Besides, we both knew that it wasn't just my tech that would've survived inside my office. No, if he was right, if the inside had stayed untouched, there was a very good chance that my program to track the resistance was up and running. Or had been up and running for at least a little while after the explosion, which would allow me to access its log and see where rebels had activated the METs that my virus had managed to infect.

  I might finally be able to catch whoever the spy was. Whoever had cost Annie her life and almost cost me mine.

  Fire filled my veins as I thought about all the ways I could make them pay.

  I was going to catch those fuckers even if it was the last thing I did.

  Magic or no magic.

  My phone vibrated in my hand once more, and I saw yet another text from Bast.

  Bastille: Char, you better be staying safe or I swear to the Goddess next time I see you I will tie you to me and never let you out of my sight again.

  "What has you smiling down at your phone so much? You’re not supposed to talk to anyone!" Blaze accused, making me blush.

  What exactly was the procedure when you were caught by the guy you were kind-of-seeing-but-not-really reacting to a text from the guy you had a crush on for years?

  I needed to find a damn manual somewhere.

  If Annie were still alive I could’ve...

  Nope, not going there. Not thinking about it.

  Big nope.

  I couldn't allow myself to mourn her, not yet. Now more than ever, I needed my head in the game. I'd allow myself to fall apart later. Much, much later, when I got my revenge.

  "Oh, it's nothing. A friend of mine must’ve been blowing up my phone the whole time I was in the hospital, and the notifications of his texts are finally catching up to me.”

  Just thinking about Bast had me smiling a little. That warm, fuzzy feeling returning. How had I gotten so lucky to find someone who understood me so well and who cared so much about me?

  "His?" Was it just me or had Blaze just made that one word sound like the most disgusting thing on earth? “Charisma, you’re not supposed to talk to anyone. You’re dead, remember?”

  “I didn’t text him, I swear. I’m just reading the ones he sent over the last two weeks. There were a lot of them.”

  Blaze’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

  And then I realized...

  Oh my. Fuck me. Was... was Blaze jealous?

  No, that made no sense.

  We weren't together together.

  Right?

  Fuck my life, I really needed that dating for dummies manual asap.

  Instead of continuing the conversation—because, really, how the hell was I supposed to—I put my phone away and looked out of the window. I noticed Blaze had pulled over in front of an ugly ass house that had seen better days. It was the definition of unremarkable, really. The whole neighborhood was. The row houses were so close to each other, you’d probably be able to hear anything that the neighbors said. Oh, Goddess, I hoped they weren’t loud during sex. That would get awkward fast. The front walls mi
ght have once been white, but now it was a weird mix of gray and beige, with peeling paint all over the place. Though the lawns around were mostly tended—or tended just enough, like someone cut the grass at least once every few months—the house right in front of my window was overtaken with weeds and the grass would probably reach a little over my ankles. The windows had big duct tape X’s on them as if someone had gotten them up and then forgotten the house even existed.

  I had a bad feeling there would be no WiFi waiting to connect with my phone inside.

  Somehow, that was a million times worse than the creepy haunted house appearance. I’d take a million Halloween monster houses if I could just have a good WiFi connection.

  But, right now, no WiFi and weird-ass creepy house were better than having the talk with Blaze Futhark.

  "Oh look, we're here. Shit. We should've stopped somewhere for food, I'm starving. Also, I'll probably need to buy new clothes, because you only gave me a couple of other shirts. I should probably make a list, just in case."

  Blaze didn't bother answering my rambling, and I really hadn't expected him to.

  By the time he turned off the engine, I was ready to spring out of it and make a blood oath to never enter a car with Blaze ever again.

  It wasn't drama, it was self-preservation.

  I should've just let him be silent the entire drive over.

  Before I could unlatch my seatbelt and flee, Blaze turned in his seat and put a hand on top of mine to stop me from springing like a rocket being launched.

  "Charisma, We need to talk about us."

  Us? Us? There was no us!

  There was just me and my mailbox.

  I didn't do us. I'd given that pronoun one try what felt like a million years ago with my childhood best friend and it had backfired more than a pile of shit set ablaze.

  And for all my bravado and flailing through life, I was terrified of going through that again, of having my heart broken so hard, so effectively, that I became the shell of who I used to be. It took me years to get over Theo. Actually, if I was honest with myself, I still wasn't over him, no matter how much I could wish and pretend otherwise. And there was something about Blaze that called me to him, like a moth to the flame. Except, I was all too familiar with how the flame would burn the moth to ashes the minute they touched.