Arcane Heart (Talents Book 2)

by Angela Knight

  “What the fuck did you do that lion?” Dave called. “He’s been moaning for hours. There’s nothing sadder than six hundred pounds of depressed pussy.”

  Jake glanced over his shoulder. The tiger stood on the path outside the enclosure, staring at him through the fencing, eyes reflecting gold in the dark. “Long story. We managed to get ourselves in some trouble.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured that out when the moaning started.” Dave’s ears rotated forward in question. “You want to come by the tree house? I just got in a whole crate of those microbrews you like. You can tell me what’s going on.”

  Jake hesitated, absently scratching Clarence behind one fuzzy ear, digging for the itch he could feel through their bond.

  Talking to Dave wasn’t a bad idea. He could use a dose of his friend’s snark and common sense, though he had no intention of admitting as much. Dave would gloat. “Yeah, sure. Give me half an hour with the pride and I’ll come by.”

  “Great. It’s unlocked.” Dave sauntered off to his own enclosure.

  Jake watched him go. He never quite understood why living in a cage didn’t seem to bother Dave. His friend always swore the fencing was more for his protection than the public’s. “Otherwise I’d have to sign all those autographs.”

  The reality was that people tended to freak if they saw a tiger wandering around loose.

  Jake shook his head, thinking of everything Dave had lost when Bobby killed him. “Damn, I wish I hadn’t frozen when Bobby triggered that fuckin’ spell.”

  Unfortunately, just like his fight with Erica, it was too late now.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Jake climbed the stairs to the enormous tree house that dominated Dave’s enclosure, not far from the lake his friend treated as his own private tub. Tigers loved water, unlike other big cats, and Dave spent a lot of time swimming.

  The house was built of thick, heavy wooden beams, the better to support two tiger occupants. Since Kurt’s Familiar, Stoli, had been killed during one of the terrorist attacks the year before, Dave had it to himself now.

  Kurt and his father had spared no expense making the tree house as comfortable as possible for Dave. It had heating, air, electricity -- even Wi-Fi. The furniture consisted of a couch for human visitors and an enormous round tiger bed Kurt had built for the cat on a raised wooden platform. The mattress itself was made of thick rubber to withstand Dave’s claws, well-stuffed for comfort.

  There was also a fifty-inch flat screen television with a satellite connection, two gaming systems with controllers, and a refrigerator and microwave. There was even a small bathroom for human visitors. Dave made use of the bushes outside, since no toilet ever built could accommodate a six-hundred-pound tiger.

  Lounging on his giant cat bed, he looked around as Jake entered. “You get Clarence and the girls settled?” Manifesting a glowing arm, he picked up the remote and cut off the Hulk in mid-roar. “Get us some beers and tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Wordlessly, Jake pulled the refrigerator door open to discover it was filled with magical microbrews from Potions, along with several containers of Chinese take-out. Kurt must’ve picked it up for him. It was for damned sure China Garden didn’t deliver to the tree house.

  Snagging three longnecks, Jake poured two of them into one of the bowls Dave kept on a wooden cart beside the fridge, then carried the bowl and his own bottle over to his friend. He put the bowl down by the bed, then headed for the couch and fell onto it with a tired grunt.

  Dave lowered his head to lap thirstily. Though he could pick the bowl up, his mouth wasn’t designed to drink from it as a human would.

  Jake twisted off the cap on his own and took a long swig, then held it in his mouth to savor the taste of yeast, hops, and magic. His shoulders relaxed for the first time since he’d heard Erica’s radio call that she was in hot pursuit. He swallowed another mouthful as the buzz of magic made his situation seem less grim. Potion’s microbrews are worth every dime.

  Between sips, Jake told Dave what had happened. For once, his friend kept his mouth shut and let him tell the whole story without the usual jokes and sound effects.

  Finally Dave sat up from his empty bowl, his tail flipping in irritation. “Let me get this straight. You’ve been together one whole week and you’ve already broken up?” The tiger shook his great head. “God, what a pair of dumbasses.”

  Even through the beer’s spell, Jake felt a niggle of irritation. Under the circumstances, that probably illustrated just how potent the beer was. “Hey, it wasn’t my idea.”

  “Maybe not, but you didn’t exactly help.” Dave sighed. “Look, get your head out of your ass and think about it from Erica’s point of view for a couple of minutes. She came damn close to getting killed at least five times this afternoon.” Holding up a manifested fist, he raised fingers one by one. “Almost got hit by that truck; asshole shot at her twice; nearly T-boned a bus; almost ran head-on into a tree. As if that wasn’t enough, she wasn’t able to catch the people who tried to kill her before they got away, and she couldn’t sketch the killers.”

  “That wasn’t her fault. There wasn’t enough blood on the scene for her to work with.” The words rumbled.

  “Don’t growl at me, Jake,” Dave snapped back. “I’m not one of those Goddamn humans you terrorize.”

  Now his irritation was becoming a serious case of pissed off. “You…”

  “Shut. Up. My point is that she’d had a really fucking bad day, and she had to watch you almost get yourself shot because you can’t keep a leash on Clarence.”

  Jake’s face grew hot. “It wasn’t exactly a party for me either.”

  “Yeah, well, she’d just had two solid hours of adrenaline overdose. It’s not surprising she said shit she probably already regrets. You need to give her time to calm the fuck down.”

  A little spurt of hope zinged through Jake, but he forced himself to be realistic. “She sounded pretty damn definitive that we’re over.”

  “Let me ask you a question. Do you have four legs and a tail?”

  “Occasionally.”

  Dave lifted an enormous paw and spread his toes so that three-inch razor claws slid out. “I mean all the fucking time.”

  Jake sat back and eyed him. “No.”

  “Do people regularly tell you that you have too many legs for a sexual relationship?”

  Wincing, he realized that particular joke must have worn thinner than they’d realized. “No.”

  “Then it’s not too late. You can still get her back -- as long as you don’t give up.”

  “I think they call that stalking.”

  “Your other car is a lion. You’re good at that.”

  “That’s not fucking funny.”

  “Neither is…” Dave broke into a perfect imitation of Genevieve’s voice. “‘Ewwww! Too many legs.’”

  Yeah, definitely time to tell Gen and the volunteers to drop that joke.

  “I’ve seen you two together,” his friend continued. “There’s so much sexual tension between you, you make my fangs ache.”

  “There’s more to a relationship than sex.”

  “Yeah, but sex is the reward for getting through the other stuff. And right now, the other stuff includes demonstrating you can control Clarence. After that, you need to show her you know she’s capable of defending herself. Do you ever call her for backup?”

  Jake stared at him. “The last time I needed backup was a fight with a magic polar bear. Besides, I used her for backup all the time overseas. Erica knows I respect her Talent.”

  “Yeah, against Caliphuckers. The issue is now. You keep acting like she can’t handle herself. No wonder she’s pissed. You’ve got to prove you respect her. Lecturing her about not calling for backup was stupid, Jake. She already knew she screwed up -- the sheriff just told her so in front of the whole department. That was one of the reasons she got so mad.”

  “So I was supposed to let Bob Martin beat her head in to spare her ego?”<
br />
  “No, you were supposed to treat her the way you would a male cop in the same situation. Would you have said any of that if she’d been a guy?”

  “Yeah, because not calling for backup was dumb.”

  “Really? In the exact same words, in the exact same tone? Because I fucking don’t think so.”

  Jake started to open his mouth, then closed it again.

  “And the light dawns.” Dave sighed. “You’re going to have to repair the damage. Apologize for being an asshole. A little strategic groveling wouldn’t hurt. Then let her cool off for couple of days before you try to worm your way back into her good graces. Preferably on your belly.”

  “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “You’d better. Because I swear to God, if you don’t quit throwing away a good thing, I’m going to bite you right in the ass. And I promise you, it’ll leave a mark.” He shoved his bowl forward with a big paw. “In the meantime, use those opposable thumbs and refill this, would you?”

  Jake sighed and did as he was told.

  Maybe there was hope for his romance with Erica. Still, he didn’t fool himself. She wasn’t going to make it easy.

  “Easy” had never been in the woman’s vocabulary.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Erica woke the next morning with sore muscles and aching ribs from her fight with Hampton the night before. The only bright spot was that the deputy hadn’t managed to give her a black eye. She found herself hoping Hampton couldn’t say the same.

  With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and got ready for work.

  The problem with a twelve-hour shift was that sometimes it seemed to go on forever. Yes, the three- and four-day weekends were nice, but you had to get through the weekdays first.

  Elsewhere in the county, tensions were running high among both Humanists and Talents, in part thanks to those coming to town for the protests. The result was even more bar brawls, arguments, and general pissiness than usual. Her zone, however, remained stubbornly quiet, leaving Erica entirely too much time to second-guess her decision to break up with Jake.

  Her mind kept drifting back to making love to him in the shower. Those big hands caressing her wet skin, cupping her breasts, stroking her nipples. The way he’d loomed over her, his thick shaft pumping deep, their magic interacting in a swirl of energy and heat that made the pleasure that much greater.

  The glow of his eyes. The wink of that dimple in his smile. The deep male boom of his laughter. The way he’d stood at her back like a brick wall, hard and steady, a man she could absolutely count on whenever things went to hell.

  She had to keep reminding herself of the moment he’d stood there fully manifested, every cop in the room pointing a gun at him. Scaring the fuck out of a bunch of heavily-armed professional paranoids wasn’t good for your life expectancy. Which was why a relationship with Jake just wasn’t a good idea for either of them.

  And yet her mind kept drifting…

  Erica wrapped her legs around his broad back, digging her heels into the thick muscle as she reached for his head with both hands. The short, curling strands of his hair felt like raw silk, cool and tempting…

  Dragging her mind out of the delicious memory, she scanned the street ahead of her and listened to the radio, hoping for a call. This would be a good time for a good drunk-and-disorderly. Anything to get her mind off her failed love life.

  Right on cue, a Toyota ran a stop sign right in front of her. She hit her blue lights and accelerated after him, wondering if she should expect another murder attempt.

  The driver promptly pulled over, demure as an old lady headed to church.

  Erica got out of the car with her adrenaline pumping, one hand on her holstered weapon as she walked around to the passenger side. With every step, she kept expecting to hear the boom of a shotgun blast.

  Instead, the Toyota’s windows slid down to reveal a skinny sixteen-year-old African-American kid, wide eyes fixed on her weapon hand in stark terror. His license and registration shook as he held them out.

  Erica let him go with a verbal warning to pay more attention to stop signs. And yes, I do feel like an asshole, she thought, watching the Toyota drive slooooowly away.

  It was after dark before she finally got the call she was waiting for. “Laurel County, Alpha 25, requesting backup and the assistance of Alpha 22 on a Code 61, possible Code 76. 34 Edgefield Court, Colton.”

  Erica frowned. From the sound of the call, Katilia Sharp was dealing with a fight. A Code 76 meant a magical crime. She picked up her handset and keyed it. “Laurel County, Alpha 22 en route.”

  “10-4, Alpha 22.”

  “Laurel County, Alpha 23, en route,” Jake’s voice said crisply.

  Great. Just what I need -- another painful conversation. But she lost the snarl as it occurred to her that given the possible magical crime, having Tooth Tank backup could come in handy.

  She hit lights and sirens and floored it.

  Thirty-Four Edgefield Court was located in a middle-class subdivision in Colton, one of the unincorporated suburbs surrounding Laurelton. The house itself was a Cape Cod, with gray vinyl siding, white trim, and slate blue shutters. Two gabled windows that reminded her of wide eyes stared at the brick split-level across the street.

  Sharp’s patrol car sat in the driveway, but there was no sign of the deputy or anyone else. Judging by the line of cars parked in front of the split-level, it looked like someone was having a party.

  This could get ugly. Nothing gets a cop’s adrenaline pumping like a fight involving a dozen people and alcohol. That suspicion was reinforced by the sound of angry voices coming from behind the Cape Cod.

  Erica got out of her car and keyed her mic just as Jake pulled in behind her. “Alpha 25, what’s your 20?”

  “We’re around back at the gray house,” Sharp said, before adding to someone else, “If you don’t calm down, sir, you’re going to jail.” She sounded frustrated, but not as tense as she’d be if she were actively in danger.

  “On our way,” Erica said, glancing at Jake as he stalked toward her.

  He met her eyes, and for a moment his expression lost its stony cop professionalism to pain. Then his face hardened again. “What have we got?”

  “No idea. Let’s find out.” She unsnapped her retention holster as they both headed up the driveway and behind the house.

  Once again, they fell into the familiar rhythms established during a hundred patrols. Despite last night’s fight, Erica felt something inside her relax at his big, comforting presence.

  The house was surrounded by emerald grass and flowerbeds in a wild riot of brilliant blooms, looking like a rainbow brought to earth. Following a hunch, she scanned the yard, detecting a brighter than normal magical glow that suggested an Arcanist had used her Talent to encourage the lush springtime growth.

  Glancing back over her shoulder at the split-level next door, Erica saw no sign of magical gardening. There were just the standard daffodils and azaleas, no thicker or more profuse than usual. Bet it’s tough to win Yard of the Month when your neighbor’s an Arc.

  “My granddaughter loved that cat,” a man’s voice snarled. “She cried for days.”

  “I didn’t have a damn thing to do with Tinkerbell dying,” the woman snapped back. “I like cats.”

  “Yeah,” sneered another man. “Black ones!”

  A chorus of voices started yelling accusations and insults, most of them involving the word “witch.”

  “Terrific,” Jake rumbled.

  When they rounded the corner, Katilia stood between two groups of people in a pool of illumination from the floodlights around the house.

  On one side stood a ragged half circle of nine or ten people, all of them tense and smelling of beer and grilled meat. Seemed somebody had been having a cookout. Checking auras, Erica saw red swirls of aggression seemed with pockets of yellow fear. If any of the crowd had a magical Talent, it wasn’t much of one.

  Opposite them stood a harried blonde woman in
a T-shirt and jeans, flanked by a pair of teenagers, one a girl in a peach tunic, green leggings and boots, her face pale with anxiety under a fall of long red hair, her hands in fists. She looked maybe thirteen. The other was a lanky young man in a green polo shirt and chinos who seemed vaguely familiar.

  All three had power. Based on the pattern of the auras, Erica suspected the two kids were Bards, while the mother was probably an Arcanist.

  A handsome, graying man in a polo shirt and black slacks took a menacing step closer to the Arcanist. “Admit it -- you sacrificed Tinkerbell to fuel whatever spell that thing is.” He pointed at something in the grass a few feet away.

  It was a ring of flat, dark gray paving stones, the kind of semi-permanent arrangement some Arcs used for spell work. Sigils were drawn on the stones in chalk, then erased once the spell was done. Eying the circle, Erica saw the magic wasn’t active.

  “Terrific,” Jake said in a low voice. “Humanists living next to a witch. Because that always works out.” He gestured at the young male Bard. “Hey, isn’t that Shannon? The server from The Cauldron?”

  Erica shot a look at the boy and realized he was right. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Oh, great. Well, might as well get this shut down.” With that, he stepped into the light of the floods, big and dark in his uniform. “What’s going on?” His sudden alpha male bark shut everyone else up.

  Katilia turned toward them, her dark face lighting in relief before she hid her reaction behind a professional mask. “Good timing.” She turned back to the group and gestured at Erica. “This is deputy Erica Harris, the department’s Arcanist.”

  “Just what we need,” the graying man grumbled. “Another witch.”

  Katilia eyed him icily before indicating Jake. “And that is deputy Jake Nolan. You might remember him from the Faraday Square massacre, where he saved a lot of lives.”

  The whole crowd went dead still, staring at Jake’s gold eyes and Feral patch. To Erica’s satisfaction, the anger and aggression quickly bled away from their auras, replaced by the yellows of unease and alarm.