Hidden Magic

by Amy Patrick

  I turned to Anders again. “He’s one of you.” It wasn’t a question because I already knew the answer. Now that I realized Elves existed in our world and often in the public eye, it was so obvious. Anders nodded and raised his hands in front of him, clapping in appreciation for his friend.

  Judging from the crowd’s reaction, if fan pods still existed in America, this guy would have had a busy one. I enjoyed the show as well, settling in and relaxing as it went on, my heart lightening song-by-song. How could I not feel better? It was full immersion this close to the lights and music. About twenty minutes into the show, I was nearly in a trance of happiness and well-being. Then Derrick began singing a familiar tune, a love ballad, one of my favorites.

  I reached up to Anders neck and pulled him down to my level so he could hear me. “I love this song,” I gushed.

  Realizing my lips had grazed his ear, I jerked back abruptly, but Anders shifted and caught me against the front of his body. He hesitated only a second, his gaze penetrating mine, then he slid his hands around my jaw—and kissed me.

  Whoa

  I hadn’t been expecting it. Hadn’t even been thinking about it. But now that it was happening, I wasn’t stopping it, either. It felt… nice… his hands on me, his lips moving gently over mine. He felt nice, and he smelled really, really good. It had been so long since I’d been kissed and held and—

  A wild, internal panic enveloped me as my mind went back to the last time I’d kissed someone. Nic. That kiss had been born of true love and desperate hope. It had happened the night I’d lost him forever. I pulled away, staring up at Anders with wide eyes.

  His lids opened languidly, as if he was emerging from a pleasant dream. As they roved over my face, the blue eyes were warm and appreciative and… happy.

  I make him happy.

  That thought gave me some satisfaction. Anders had been so good to me these past couple of months. He’d been patient and kind and self-sacrificing. He’d been a steady, cheerful presence just when I’d needed exactly that. He always knew how to pull me out of a blue mood. And he’d asked for nothing in return. Until last night.

  That conversation came back to me in full detail. He’d suggested taking our friendship to the next level—upgrading—and bonding. Was it really such a crazy idea? Was a little affection too much to ask for in this life—especially when love was no longer an option?

  Physically, kissing him had been good. Emotionally, mentally, it had been nothing like what I’d shared with Nic. But then, nothing ever could be. That ship had sailed, caught on fire, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

  Who knew—maybe the mental part would come sometime later? Finally, I let myself smile back at him. I nodded, haltingly at first and then with more conviction.

  “Okay.”

  His brows quirked. “Okay?”

  I nodded again. “Okay. Let’s… upgrade.”

  Finally getting my meaning, Anders gave me a huge, ecstatic smile. He lifted me off my feet as he kissed me again, harder and deeper this time.

  From the stage I heard an amused voice speaking into the mic and broadcasting throughout the arena. “Well, it is a love song. Guess it worked, didn’t it?”

  I broke the kiss to see Derrick laughing and looking at me and Anders. Then my eyes traveled to one of the big screens overhanging the stage. They faced out in a large circle, so that spectators from every angle had a great view. And there in the center of each one of them was my blushing face close to Anders’ smiling one.

  “Looks like we’re on kiss-cam,” he said.

  “Oh my gosh.” I ducked and covered my eyes, mortified.

  “Glad you could make it tonight, buddy,” Derrick said to Anders with a friendly wink and a long-distance fist-bump in the air before he began the next song.

  I sat down in my chair for the first time tonight. My legs felt shaky, and my breathing was uncertain. Was it excitement over my decision? Fear? I couldn’t be sure.

  Anders leaned down to speak into my ear. “You want to go?”

  I looked up and nodded. Anders took my hand and ducked, walking hunched over until we cleared the crowd seated on the arena floor. We walked in the darkness toward the arena exit, and Anders pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “I’ll check the shuttle schedule—see when the next one’s leaving,” he said. But then he stopped walking.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Staring at his phone, he said, “Nox has called several times. And there’s a text.”

  “What does it say? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure it’s fine.” He didn’t sound as convinced as his words indicated. “It’s just… in his text he said it was urgent. I’ll call him when we get outside where it’s quieter.”

  Picking up the pace, we resumed our path to the main exit. Suddenly, without warning, Anders yanked me close to him and changed directions, ducking to the side and nearly flattening me against the base of one of the stadium seating risers.

  “What—what’s going on?” I stammered.

  “Shhhh.” He hissed into my ear. Lifting his head he surveyed the area then whispered, “Come on. Follow me and stay close to the wall.”

  My pulse pounding in my temples, I obeyed, staying right behind him as he crept along the base of the risers then ducked into an opening—it looked like one of the chutes the bulls and bucking broncos came out of during the riding events. I wasn’t sure what was happening, but Anders was not joking, so I tried my best to match his breath-stealing pace and didn’t ask questions.

  We moved down the dark corridor, which came out into a wide space that seemed to be a holding area for the animals. Rows of horse stalls lined the aisle where Anders led, moving us steadily away from the main arena area.

  Most of the stalls were occupied and bore nameplates—Whiskey Fire, Kinky Boots, Uncle Rio. Some of the horses were sleeping. Others munched quietly on hay. As we passed, several of them lifted their heads to investigate. One of them, a gigantic black horse whose name plate read El Diablo, stamped a powerful hoof and snorted at the late-night intrusion.

  “Sorry,” I whispered, unable to help myself. To Anders I said, “I don’t think this is the way out.”

  “There are lots of ways out,” Anders replied and kept moving.

  Finally we reached a back exit. Anders pushed open one of the heavy metal doors and peeked outside, checking one direction then the other. He glanced back at me, his face tense with determination and readiness.

  “When we clear the building, we’re going to run until we’re back in the carnival crowd. We’ll make our way to the edge of the grounds. There’s an apartment complex on the perimeter. I saw it on our way in. We’ll go there and call a cab.”

  “Not the shuttle?”

  “No. They might be checking those. Oh—wait a minute.” He looked down at the phone in his hand, scowling at it as if it had sprouted teeth and bitten him.

  Dropping my hand, he ran over to the stall housing the monstrous black horse and deposited his phone inside, alarming the already-agitated animal and causing it to rear and stomp. He gave one tight nod then jogged back to me. “Okay—let’s go.”

  Before I had time to think about it or argue, Anders had pulled me from the building and we were running hand-in-hand for the crowded midway. We slowed our pace once we were camouflaged by the thick crowd again but kept moving steadily toward the rodeo grounds exit gate. Reaching it, we exited and ran across the street then ducked in between the buildings of the apartment complex, staying in the shadows.

  Only then did Anders allow us to stop. He propped one forearm on the brick surface of the building and leaned over, breathing heavily. I sank to the warm concrete beside him, trying to catch my own breath.

  I looked up at his sweat-soaked face. It was hot out, but we’d been in lots of hot places, and I’d never seen him perspire before—he'd only been joking about it in New Orleans. This was no joke. Oh God. What was happening?

  “Anders—what’s g
oing on? What did you see?”

  He let out a growl that turned into a near-roar. I jumped and scooted back from him, shocked at his outburst.

  “I am so stupid,” he said, adding a few swear words in a self-loathing tone.

  “What? Why? What happened?”

  He shook his head and kicked the wall. “I can’t believe I did that. I got so carried away—being at the concert with you, getting to kiss you finally—and you telling me what you did about upgrading. I can’t believe I put you at risk like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “The big screen,” he said in a guttural voice. “Your face was up there for everyone to see. I got careless. We haven’t seen anyone all this time, going city to city. I let my guard down and got careless, and they saw you. I had one job, and I screwed it up.”

  “Who saw me? The agents from the Ancient Court? How do you know?”

  “When we were back there, heading for the exit, I saw them—two of them. I recognized them from the castle on Corsica. They were walking toward the stage—if we’d been in the lights, they would have seen us. They must have been in the arena. They must have seen us on the screens.”

  “But how did they know we were at the rodeo? I haven’t been on social media at all. I haven’t emailed anyone or called anyone. We make day-to-day decisions about where to go. How could they have found me?”

  He stared at me, a stoic look of regret on his face.

  “They found you by finding me. They must have figured out I’m traveling with you and tracked us using my phone.”

  “Oh.” I nodded in understanding. “That’s why you left your phone in the safekeeping of El Diablo back there.”

  He snorted. “Yeah—good luck to the guy trying to retrieve that thing. May he carry the hoof prints on his face forever.” He left the wall and started pacing. “That must have been what Nox was calling and texting about—to tell me they were onto us and right here in the city with us. They must have used GPS tracking to figure out our exact location.” He shuddered. “That was close. My heart nearly stopped when I spotted them.”

  I blew out a breath. “Oh, Anders. Now you’re in danger, too.”

  “No—that’s not what I mean. I don’t care about me. I just—when I saw them and thought they might have seen us—I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to take them both out on my own, you know? Maybe you need more protection than I can give you. I’m no soldier. And I was careless.”

  He looked so distraught, beating himself up over a lapse in judgment, a momentary loss of control. I got to my feet and closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his middle. He was trembling. Oh my. That did something to my heart.

  “It’s okay. I’m okay. No soldier could have done a better job than you because no one cares as much as you do. You’ve been an amazing friend and a great protector. And neither of us will be careless anymore. Now we know they’re after us both. So we’ll both be more careful. We’ll look after each other. And there’s no more phone, so there’s no way for them to track us now. We can disappear, and this time, they won’t find us.”

  He nodded, relaxing by slow increments, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head. “Okay,” he breathed, sounding drained. “But I don’t think we can take trains or buses anymore. They’ll double down on watching those after losing us tonight. Definitely no airplanes. I can’t use my credit card anymore, either—we’re operating on a cash-only basis from here on out.”

  “I don’t have too much left. What should we do—hitchhike?”

  “For God’s sake no. We’ll buy a car. I’ve still got some cash. We’ll find a payphone, call a cab, and go to some shady dealer who doesn’t require any I.D. I don’t want there to be any record left behind.”

  “Okay,” I nodded. “That sounds like a good plan. Where should we go when we get a car?”

  Now Anders pulled back a bit so I could see his face clearly. He gave me a small grin, a mischievous light entering his eyes. “I think we should go somewhere my glamour can actually do us some good. And where we can replenish the cash supply.”

  “Okay…” I said, my tone of voice leading. “And where’s that?”

  “Where else?” He grinned. “Vegas, baby. Vegas.”

  9

  Nic

  I stood outside the stadium, scanning the crowd leaving the concert. I’d covered the entire rodeo grounds several times over, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet. She was here somewhere—I felt it. I hadn’t been able to get into the music venue because the show had already started, so now I was perched atop a souvenir truck, watching and waiting. It was late, but there were plenty of artificial lights to see by. There were so many people, though. Too many people.

  I was at the point of desperation. Standing up and bellowing “Macy” over and over was starting to seem like a solid plan. And that’s when I saw them.

  Moving in unison, the towering Elven hunters emerged from the concert venue. They also scanned the crowd, their heads shifting side-to-side. Damn it! How had they found her? Had they followed me here? The thought made my blood run cold. I wanted to protect Macy, not endanger her further.

  Whatever they were doing here, these guys were going down. They obviously hadn’t captured her yet. I wasn’t simply going to leave them be and give them any more opportunity to do that. Waiting until the men passed, I dropped quietly from the roof of the truck and followed them.

  They moved through the carnival and the wine garden, surveying all the humans in their path and every once in a while looking at each other, communicating mind-to-mind, coordinating their hunt.

  My blood simmered as I followed a few yards behind. Alessia was going to pay for this—having my bond-mate stalked and hunted as if she were an animal, some prize to hang on the wall to prove her own prowess and superiority.

  As we reached Rodeo Plaza, the crowd thinned out. The food vendors were shutting down for the night, and rodeo fans were making their way toward the nearby tram stop. It was time to make my move.

  We were near the NRG Center. Earlier in the day I’d discovered that’s where the cattle were housed, displayed, judged, and auctioned as part of the livestock show. Something I’d seen there during my search earlier today gave me an idea of how to best deal with these two.

  Slipping between two of the food trucks, I ran ahead of the agents and toward the building. I noted with satisfaction the doors were still open as the last of the cattle owners were packing up and leaving for the night. I waited until the hunters had nearly pulled even with my location then purposely stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of them.

  Feigning shock, I stopped then rotated and ran, yelling, “Macy, run! They’re right behind us.”

  Naturally they chased me. I sprinted into the building. One of the cowboys leaving the place called out, “Hey—they’re turning off the lights buddy.” Then, “Whoa—where’s the fire?” as my two pursuers burst past him.

  Taking advantage of my natural speed and agility, I stayed a few steps ahead of the men as they chased me into one of the building’s conference halls and down the aisles of metal-gated animal pens. The overhead lights clicked off row by row, turning our chase into a dim obstacle course, illuminated only by the emergency lights spaced intermittently on the outer walls.

  It didn’t matter. I knew where I was going, and if they continued to follow, Macy’s hunters were going to end up somewhere they definitely did not want to be.

  Eschewing the aisles, I leapt over a metal railing into a pen full of drowsing cows, then over another one into an adjoining pen where a champion steer rested alone. I’d seen this guy several hours ago, winning a ribbon. His name was Peaches. He was docile and clearly accustomed to being handled by humans.

  His neighbor housed a couple pens over—was not. I couldn’t help but notice “Big Boy” today as I wandered the aisles of the place. A monstrous reddish-brown bull, he was two thousand pounds of muscle and bad temper. He had furious eyes and black-tipped
horns that must have been thirty inches long each. He’d stomped and snorted any time someone had dared to come within five feet of his enclosure.

  I stopped one pen away and waited for my pursuers to catch up. For guys who’d grown up on a European island estate, they were doing an admirable job of jumping fences and maneuvering around farm animals.

  When they were just behind me, I climbed the extra-high fence and dropped into Big Boy’s pen—right onto his sleeping back—using it as a sort of stepping stone to vault over the fence on the other side and safely out of the pen again.

  Before I trampled on his spine, the tremendous beast had been sleeping. Now he was awake. Very awake. And that was unfortunate for the hunters who’d followed me right into the devil’s den. As they landed in the dark pen, Big Boy bolted to his feet, which were now pawing the hay and bedding underneath him in preparation for his attack.

  Both men let out cries of alarm and started scrambling up the fence. The fence where I waited at the top to block their exit.

  “Ah ah ah—I don’t think so gentlemen,” I said.

  “Let us out,” one of the men cried in Italian.

  My reply was calm and unhurried. “Certainly. As soon as you tell me how you caught up with Macy. Were you following me?”

  “No,” the man yelped, scrambling to the side as Big Boy charged and struck the fence directly beneath his feet. His hands were jarred loose by the impact, and he grappled frantically to re-secure them. “Please let us out, your highness—we’ll explain. Don't let the beast kill us.”

  The other man offered a frantic, explanation. “She was spotted with one of the American musicians—the blond one—a few days ago. We started tracking him, since her digital signals all went dark. Now please let us out.”