by T. A. White
Before that, I needed to go on a little excursion to the north side of the city and see a sorcerer about a tracking spell. Destination decided, I retrieved my bike and climbed on, setting my feet on the pedals.
I really didn't want to go and see the sorcerer. Last time, he'd managed to force me to pull out my own eye. Not an experience I wanted to repeat, but for Caroline, I just might have to.
I set off on the bike, making my way to one of the numerous bike paths. Over the past few years, Columbus has made a serious effort to turn itself into the Seattle of the Midwest. In addition to an influx of hipster restaurants, it’s torn up many of the city's streets, remodeling them to make them friendlier to cyclists by installing bike lanes. It was safer for those of us who choose to travel by two wheels rather than four, and it also made it easier to bike from one end of the city to the other without having to worry about getting hit by a car on a busy road.
After a short ride that snaked through campus and then a longer jaunt along the bike lane on East Seventeenth Avenue, I turned onto the Alum Creek bike path, which would take me over to the eastern side of the city and let me out right next to Easton. It was only a short ride from there to the office building that I suspected the sorcerer owned.
In all the times I'd visited his office, I'd never seen any sign of other tenants. Just him, and on rare occasions, the receptionist I suspected was a mirage created by his magic. Granted, I usually arrived at night when most sane humans were home with their families, but there still should have been some sign of a normal's presence. Like a security guard standing sentinel in case anybody needed to check in, or the rare person working late—at least that's how the movies always portrayed it. I'd never worked an office job before, so I wouldn't know.
The sorcerer's office was on the top floor of the building, which meant I bypassed the elevators, not wanting to bother with them when the stairs were nearly as fast.
I was only breathing lightly once I reached the fifth floor, thankful for the increased stamina being a vampire gave me.
This time there was no receptionist waiting, no click-clacking of computer keys, or answering of phones. I paused on the threshold, glancing around the small welcome area before continuing through the double doors across the room. Unlike the first time, they didn't lead into a humongous room filled with a night sky as its ceiling. For a moment, I saw a mirage of the typical boardroom found in offices like this, a long table lined with chairs, a white board in the corner, and one of those starfish speakers for important meetings.
Beneath that image was an alchemist's dream—one that would have been at home in some medieval castle of old, complete with beakers of odd colored liquid on tables, and old leather-bound books on the tables and shelves. It was a room I'd been in twice before.
I blinked, and the boardroom disappeared, my magic-seeing eye breaking the illusion. Funny, I thought the alchemist room would be the one to disappear since it bent the laws of physics. Not the case.
The sorcerer wandered in from another door, giving a glimpse of stone steps spiraling down behind it. He was absorbed in the book he held and didn't immediately notice my presence. It gave me a rare chance to study him.
Peter Barrett, as I'd come to know him, looked like a teenager, although he asserted to anyone who’d listen that he was actually decades older. His exact age was a mystery, but I knew he was older than fifty. How much older was still the question. Tall and gangly, he had limbs that he'd yet to grow into. Given half the chance to mature, he'd be considered cute once he'd grown into the angles of his face. His green eyes were among the most vivid and beautiful that I'd ever seen. All this was ruined by the fact that he was a complete and utter asshole.
I'd never been one to condone violence against the young and innocent, but Peter had pushed me right over that line. It was a good thing he wasn't actually a teenager, or I'd feel like a monster in truth.
He shuffled over to one of the tables, his lips moving as he mouthed whatever he was reading. It would have been endearing if he wasn't a little ass prone to shitty behavior.
He reached up, pushing a lock of dark hair back from his face, copper flashing at his wrist.
That bastard.
"I see you found a use for the cuff, after all," I said, my eyes narrowed on him and my jaw tight. That was funny—and not in a ha-ha way—given the amount of grief he'd put me through after I'd stuck him with the copper genie cuff that cut him off from his powers. Given the torture he'd subjected me to because of it, I found it interesting he would be wearing it again.
He jerked back, the book falling from his hands with a thump, his eyes wide and startled. "Aileen, how did you get past my wards?"
My steps hesitated. What wards? I hadn't noticed anything on my way in here. I didn't want him to notice my confusion—information was a weapon best wielded carefully—so I shrugged. "Maybe they're not as good as you think they are."
He bent a displeased look on me, attitude oozing from him. "Not likely. You did something. I know it. What was it this time? A null bomb? A charm from the witches? Or maybe you got something from the same place you got this?" He raised the hand that was wearing the cuff.
"It's funny you mention that. Why are you wearing it?" I asked, tilting my head. "Given it cuts you off from your magic, wouldn’t you want that as far from your person as you could?"
He lifted his chin in a bullish manner and covered the cuff with one hand. "I'm running an experiment."
I arched an eyebrow. Right, and I had a unicorn stuffed in my pocket. I'd play along for now. "Oh? What kind?"
"I'm trying to create a spell to unlock something of this nature, so that the next time a presumptuous vampire tries sealing me away from my powers, I can open a can of whoop-ass on her fanged head that she will not soon forget." He gave me a meaningful look.
I returned it with a humorless smile and tapped the skin under my left eye. "Oh, I won't forget. Don't you worry about that."
He jerked slightly, covering the movement by raising his chin. If that thing got any higher, he'd be staring at the ceiling.
I stepped closer, trailing my hand along the wood of the table closest to me. I drew it back and rubbed my fingers together, grimacing at the dust clinging to them. This place would definitely never pass a white glove inspection. That was for sure.
"You need a maid. This place is disgusting," I told him, looking around in distaste. Now that I'd noticed the dust, I noticed other things, like empty McDonald's wrappers all over the place and a pile of dirty clothes in the corner.
"You volunteering?" he asked, the words not quite disguising the unease in his voice.
It was enough to pull my attention back to him. Behind his bravado, I thought I detected a trace of fear, which was laughable because I should be the last thing in the world he feared. Unless he lived in anticipation of my wicked zingers.
I stepped closer, noting how he edged back and looked away.
"You're afraid of me?" I asked, disbelief clear in my tone.
His bright green eyes came back to me and he scoffed, the sound making it clear what he thought of that sentiment. I straightened and looked him over. That's what I thought.
I drew closer, my eyes narrowed.
"If you didn't come here to clean up for me, I suggest you go," he said, bending to pick up the book that had fallen and placing it on the table.
I cocked my head. Something was different about him—I just couldn't put my finger on what. Something beyond the trepidation sticking to him like a coating of sweat. He had a thin five o'clock shadow along his jaw, much fuller than the last time I'd caught him trying to grow a beard, and he was taller than I remembered.
A grin stretched across my face as I figured out what it was. "You're trying to get older. That's why you put the genie cuff back on."
His eyes widened, even as his mouth dropped open in outrage. "I did no such thing! This is for experimental purposes only."
"Uh-huh," I said, not bothering to keep the sm
ile from my face as my tone made it clear I didn't believe a word he was saying.
"Get to the reason you're here so you can leave me in peace," he snapped, power flickering around his fingertips in green arcs. My skin twitched in response, remembering how it felt to have that magic popping and crackling along my nerve endings—worse than electricity ever felt.
"I need a tracking spell," I said, losing interest in teasing him.
His laugh had little in common with humor and a lot of disbelief in it. His eyes hardened. "You couldn't afford it."
"Look, it's a spell you've done for me before."
His brow furrowed in confusion. I sighed before leaning forward and tapping the skin under my eye again and gave him a meaningful look. The penny dropped and understanding dawned.
He shook his head. "She's with the wolves on their territory. I'm not risking a war with them just so you can check on her."
"You afraid of a few people with a serious moon allergy?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest.
He snorted. "Hardly, I could snap them in half with barely a thought. However, they outnumber me a hundred to one and fighting them off would take time and energy from other pursuits—ones that pay quite a bit better."
I wiggled my jaw as I considered how much to tell him.
He'd shown an attachment to Caroline in the past—enough that he put aside his hatred for me for the most part—to help me when the demon had her. It was an attachment that concerned me when she'd been human. As a wolf, she would have more protection should he try to practice any of his shenanigans on her, but did I really want to risk it?
Without his help, it would take me three times as long to track her on my own. Each night she spent on the run was another night for Brax to grow fed up with her stubbornness and give the kill order. So yes, it was worth it. I hoped.
"Caroline escaped from their little compound in Kentucky," I said, making my decision as I leaned against the table. "She's back in Columbus and on the run. From what Brax tells me, things might not go well for her if we don’t find her first."
Peter paused in rearranging his beakers and frowned. "That's not good. They don't like it when a pup bucks the system. They'll feel the need to hunt her down and make her a lesson, to prevent others from doing the same."
That did not fill me with confidence about turning Caroline back over to Brax. It put even more doubts in my head than had been there before.
"Brax said there were those in his pack who'd urged him to put her down because of the demon taint." I wouldn’t let them treat her like a rabid dog. I'd fight a second war, one with more at stake than the first one, to prevent any further harm from falling on Caroline.
His frown turned troubled, his gaze turning inward as he looked around the room with unseeing eyes.
I pressed my advantage. "You see why I'm eager to find her before Brax and his pack does."
"Yes, that would be in her best interests."
"So, you'll help me by putting together a tracking spell?" I asked.
His gaze focused on his hands, and he seemed lost in thought.
"Peter? You'll help me, right?"
He looked up at me, regret in his eyes. "I can't."
"Why not? Do you need more ingredients? Fine, I can give you my other eye." I wasn't happy about that, but it would grow back. Probably. It might be able to see the same shadow world that my left eye did, but at least I wouldn't be seeing two versions of the same thing all the time.
He flinched and shook his head—the movement frantic. "No, no. That won't be necessary."
I stared at him with narrowed eyes. Something was up. That was not the reaction of the sorcerer I remembered. "It's not a big deal. You know I'd do anything to help Caroline, and it'll grow back."
Faster if I sucked down some of Liam's super-charged blood.
"No, that won't work," he said, turning and busying himself with rearranging items on another desk.
"Why not? It worked the first time." Frustration crept into my tone. This was supposed to be an easy transaction. I told Peter what I needed. He'd hem and haw for a few minutes, maybe blather on about payment, before eventually giving in and helping me.
He slammed down a book. "First—it didn't work the first time. The spell didn't react the way it should have, and I refuse to chance a rebound with a spell I already know doesn't work properly."
I blinked at that, my mouth opening to ask what a 'rebound' was. He continued before I got the chance.
"Second—that spell only works once. Using it to track Caroline again would be pointless."
"What about another spell?" I asked, not wanting to give up. "There must be something in your bag of tricks."
"I'm not a magician," he snapped, power swirling around his hands. Seeing it, he flicked his hand and it disappeared. "I cannot just whip up a spell whenever it suits you."
I cocked my head. If he had the cuff on, he shouldn't be able to draw power or use it. The fact that he could meant he'd either been successful in his experiments, or that there was something more going on than he had chosen to share.
"Not even for Caroline?" I asked, watching him carefully.
He shook his head, avoiding my eyes. "Much as I'd like to help you, I can't."
I tapped my fingers on the table, giving him the stare I used to give Privates. The one that said I meant business.
"She said she was going to call in a favor," I said slowly, mulling over the information I'd spent the night uncovering. My neighbors had given me a couple of vague pieces, but that didn't mean they weren't relevant. "She didn't come to me for that favor, and you're the only other spook she knows."
Peter paused in rearranging his table, a guarded look on his face.
"Does the reason you won't help me have anything to do with that favor?" I asked.
"Don't be absurd. She wouldn't even know where to find me."
Hm. That was true. Although, he did spend several days with her after she was first turned, before Brax kicked him out. It was possible he'd told her how to contact him or given her one of those summoning charms he'd given me when we were hunting the draugr.
"Somehow, I just don't believe you," I told him.
"I don't care what you believe. I can't help you, and I'm asking you to leave."
The door I'd come through burst open with a crack and an invisible blast that felt like someone had punched me in the chest. I was guessing that blast was Peter's ward breaking. Liam, accompanied by Nathan and Eric, strode into the room.
"It seems you were wrong, Nathan. Our previous talk with the sorcerer did get through to him," Liam said, barely glancing at Peter before his eyes landed on me.
Peter flinched, and he drew his arms in to cross them over his chest, looking like he was almost hugging himself.
I looked between the two. So, it wasn't me he'd been afraid of. Rather, he feared what Liam would do when he found out about my little visit.
"Are they the reason you won't help me?" I asked, giving him a warning look. I hoped Liam had missed the question about the favor Caroline may have been after. It could be I was wrong, and she hadn't come to Peter, but if she had I didn't want to tip off my hand.
"Not the only reason," Peter mumbled, avoiding looking at the three vampires.
Nathan wandered through the room, shuffling through Peter's papers, moving his things. Peter made a sound of protest when Nathan picked up a beaker of oily liquid, but he didn't challenge him. Not like he would have before. It was out of character for the arrogant sorcerer to let me see just how much Liam and company scared him. Nathan's lips quirked at the sound, and he held the beaker a moment longer before setting it down and moving away from the table full of interesting liquids.
"What did you do to him?" I asked, tilting my head toward Peter.
Liam arched one eyebrow in a superior expression that had my fingers tingling with the need to smack it right off his face. "Nothing he didn't deserve."
That answered nothing. I let my frustration sho
w on my face.
"We simply had a little chat about what would happen the next time he decided to take his frustration out on you," Liam said, his voice soft and calm.
I bet that conversation had been one-sided and contained a physical expression of Liam's feelings. Whatever happened had left a big enough impression on the sorcerer for him to treat me with a level of caution approaching fear.
My lips tightened.
"You're angry. Why?" Liam asked.
Oh, I don't know. Perhaps because I suspected Liam and his minions had done something to the sorcerer—that something involving a closed fist. Something that instilled enough fear in the man that he was still affected. It had been two months since the eye incident. Human memories were short. Nothing less than a traumatic experience would have had such an effect.
"It's nothing he hasn’t done to others," Eric said from his post by the door. It was a surprising admission from a man who didn't speak much.
Peter made a sound of disbelief. He hunched in on himself when Eric turned cool eyes his way. Peter reminded me of a rabbit in the presence of a much larger, fearsome predator. It was not a visual I thought I'd ever associate with the man who had so casually tortured me on our second meeting.
Liam stepped closer, distracting me. His blue eyes pinned me in place. He was beside me before I could think to avoid him, his hand coming up to cup the back of my neck.
"I thought we had an understanding," he said, his breath whispering across my ear.
I pulled back slightly, putting pressure on his grip. It tightened, not hurting me, just letting me know I wasn't going anywhere just yet.
"You would stay in our care, and we would allow you to continue with the job you feel is so important."
I set one hand on his chest but didn't respond. There was an undertone of anger in his voice—one that sent shudders down my back, not all of them stemming from fear. A part of me found the danger radiating from him exciting. It was the same part that reveled in the taste of blood and screeched for the destruction of my enemies. It was the crazy, suicidal part that I'd gotten good at ignoring. Mainly because listening to it led me into dark waters that would pull me under given half a chance.