Master of Passion

by Angela Knight

  Her son’s cell phone stopped ringing at last. Cheryl tensed, but all she heard was a familiar recording. “This is Adam Parker. I can’t come to the phone right now, probably because someone’s shooting at me. You know what to do and when to do it.” Beeeeep!

  Cursing softly, Cheryl thumbed the red end call icon and tossed the phone onto the coffee table. It skidded off and tumbled to the floor. With a groan, she bent forward and buried her face in her hands. “Where the hell are you, Adam?”

  He’s all right, the voice of rationality told her. She wished like hell she could believe it. She’d spoken to Branwyn Donovan twice since the fight in the newsroom the night before. Adam’s boss had shared her personal contact numbers with Cheryl years ago. Evidently she understood a mother’s need to make sure her reckless only son wasn’t lying dead in some hellhole.

  Some of those bastards beheaded journalists, for Christ’s sweet sake! And of course, that was exactly where Adam felt driven to go. Just like his… Cheryl cut the thought off. If she didn’t end up making appeals to some dictator for the release of that boy, it would be proof of God’s existence.

  Branwyn had told her that Adam was on assignment but wouldn’t say where he was or when he’d be coming back. Which wasn’t at all like her. There’d been a certain tension in the reporter’s voice that suggested she was worried, too. “Damn it, Adam! Why won’t you answer your fucking phone!”

  Cheryl bolted to her feet and began to pace again. It had been almost forty-eight hours since they’d last spoken. “I should’ve told him I loved him. But no, I was too busy bitching about my car getting egged. Dumbass.”

  She cast an absent glance at her Fitbit and swore. She had to be a work in an hour. Her impulse was to take a sick day, but if she’d called in every time Adam went incommunicado, they’d have fired her years ago. Nothing for it but to get a shower and go to work. Never mind the utter lack of…

  She broke step, surprised. A tiny glowing spark floated in the air in front of her. It reminded her of a firefly. As she stared in confusion, it expanded into a wavering oval she’d seen too many times on looping video the past week.

  Oh shit! Cheryl whirled, bolting for the door. Her fingers were an inch from the knob when something grabbed her from behind, snatching her to a stop so fast her legs flew out from under her.

  She fell on her ass, only to be jerked to her feet again. Her shoulder howled in protest as the vicious pull almost wrenched it from the socket. She twisted, trying to pull free. Got a good look at the hand gripping her shoulder.

  And screamed.

  It had only two fingers.

  * * *

  Adam woke up with his body singing arias of well-being.

  Opal had vanished. He looked around in confusion, taking in the elegant bedroom. The bed he lay in was huge, the size of a California King, its head and footboards intricately carved with figures of horses. Swags of lace draped around the bed from a ring in the ceiling. What the hell? She was here a minute ago…

  He listened, but he didn’t hear her heartbeat. Or even his own, though Adam felt it beating away in his chest.

  Opal walked into the bedroom carrying a wine glass full of something dark red that definitely did not look like wine. The scent rolled over him and Adam’s fangs instantly lengthened, stinging his upper jaw.

  He stared at her, thoroughly disoriented in a way that reminded him of that roadside bomb. “I’m not hearing heartbeats anymore.”

  “You can if you concentrate. Your brain has gained the ability to turn the volume down. Davon thinks it rewires itself during the first Daysleep.” Opal’s tone was cool. “Now get up. We’ve got a lot to get done.”

  “What the fuck happened? We were talking and…”

  Shrugging, she held out the glass. “The sun came up.”

  “It knocked me out just like that? There’s no drifting off to sleep?”

  “And no insomnia, so count yourself fortunate.” Opal’s mouth flattened. “As long as no one tries to break into Avalon and kill every last Magus, anyway.” Opal extended the glass again. “Come on, drink your breakfast.”

  She looked a little -- funny. Distant. Nothing like the lover he’d known last night. Still, the scent coming from that glass was so seductive, Adam reached out to take it from her hand. As his fingers closed over the glass, it exploded. Blood flew as the fragments sliced his fingers.

  “Shit!” Adam looked down in horror at the scarlet drops staining the comforter and rolling down his bare chest. “What the hell was that glass made of?” It had popped like a soap bubble.

  “Glass.” Opal sighed, wiping the blood from her face. “Sorry, that was my fault. You’ll have to learn to moderate your strength. You’ll be tripping over your own feet and breaking things until you do.”

  She waved a hand, sending sparks dancing over herself, the comforter and his blood-splattered chest. Every drop of red disappeared. “Come on, we need to talk to your father. He’s going to want to give you some training in handling all that new vampire muscle.” The Maja paused, contemplating him. “You’ll need a shower and clean clothes.” Opal gestured again, conjuring a neat stack of clothing on the foot of the bed. Looked like jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Want to join me?” Adam gave her a seductive grin. “I still haven’t had breakfast.”

  Opal’s face froze.

  His head rocked back as realization hit. Now that I’ve turned, she doesn’t need to have sex with me anymore.

  Her smile looked forced. “Not… right now. Get that shower and get dressed. I need to make some calls. We’ve got a lot to do if Alys is right and all hell is about to break loose.” Opal turned and escaped from the room.

  And it was most definitely an escape.

  Adam stared after her, surprised at the pain stabbing into his chest. Oh, don’t be such a pussy, he thought, trying to fight off the wave of hurt. You barely know the woman. The only reason you’re obsessed with her is because she took your fangy virginity.

  That had to be it. He was, God knew, no stranger to women. But in the forty-eight hours since he’d met Opal, she’d come to mean a lot more to him than a one-night stand should. Which was ridiculous.

  Thoroughly disgusted with himself, he strode into the bathroom. And stopped short at the sight of the man who faced him. For a moment he thought Ulf had gated into Opal’s bathroom. Until he realized the figure had moved just as he had. Oh, hell, that’s a mirror.

  Except…

  Adam’s jaw dropped, and he moved closer, eyes widening. He looked about twenty-five, as if thirteen years had suddenly been erased from his face. Even his body looked harder, a little more muscular and cut. Which was a welcome change, considering he’d been considering a diet to lose the ten or so pounds that had sneaked up on him since his return to New York. Too many food truck hot dogs grabbed on the run.

  He flexed, rolling his shoulders up and back. Hesitated, waiting for his right shoulder to twinge as it had been doing for years.

  The arm moved smoothly for the first time since he’d gotten shot ten years ago. What’s more, the deep striation across his deltoids from the bullet’s passage was gone.

  Leaning closer to the mirror, Adam eyed his smooth face. “How the hell am I going to explain this to Mom?”

  Oh, shit! Mom! I haven’t called her. Which was a problem, because she’d probably seen the video he’d live-streamed of the newsroom attack. What’s more, she hadn’t called him either. That was unusual, because she always phoned on the way to work, making sure he hadn’t been sent off to cover something dangerous without her knowing about it. Where the hell had he left his cell? He owed her a call.

  How, asshole? You’re not going to get any bars in the Mageverse. He was going to have to borrow Opal’s phone again.

  Opal. The stab of pain sliced into his chest, and he forgot his new face, his new body, even his probably worried mother. Adam ground his teeth against the wave of anguish and stalked over to the deep garden tub. He bent to turn the tap wi
th a vicious twist of his wrist…

  And it snapped off in his hand.

  Water sprayed upward and hit the ceiling.

  * * *

  Opal cast a wary glance at Adam, who hunched over his cell phone at the kitchen table. She’d bespelled it to work in the Mageverse, and he’d promptly put it on speaker so he didn’t have to touch it, evidently afraid of breaking it. A metal goblet sat at his elbow, empty of the blood he’d drunk for breakfast.

  Adam looked up at her. “She’s not picking up. Must be at work. Can I text her on this thing?”

  “Sure. The spell…”

  “Don’t bother. I probably wouldn’t understand anyway.” There was a cool, distant note to Adam’s voice.

  Opal hid a wince, knowing she’d hurt him badly. Well, they say Latents get obsessed with the Majae who Gift them. You have to let them down gently. Trouble was, Adam wasn’t the only one who was obsessed.

  Her eyes lingered on his face as he looked down at his phone, murmuring text dictation to Siri. He looked so much like his father it was amazing, but the emotions he aroused in her were completely different. For one thing, he carried none of that sense of ancient power that clung to Ulf. Instead, there was only incredible male beauty, undimmed now by any hint of age.

  She still wanted him, even though she no longer had duty as a handy excuse. The thought sent a stab of guilt through her. Joaquin’s words in the dream floated through her mind: You have to let me go. Because, my love, I’m gone.

  Adam, on the other hand, was definitely here.

  Opal had the uncomfortable feeling she was falling for him. It was more than his looks -- it was the intelligence and stubborn courage. She even found something appealing about the cynicism that was an obvious product of seeing the very worst humans could do to each other. Because just beneath that world-weariness lurked an idealist driven to do the right thing.

  I could be happy with him. The thought slid through her mind, impossibly tempting. Opal was so fucking tired of being alone. But if Alys was right, the shit was about to hit the fan. Opal was going to have to take Adam with her on whatever mission they’d soon be assigned. She frowned, uneasy at the thought. This was a man who’d just broken the bathtub. The last place he needed to go was into combat. But if Alys said Adam had to go, he had to go.

  On the other hand, Alys was also fully capable of sending Adam into that fight knowing he was going to end up dead at the end of it, so long as more lives would be saved. Opal really needed to find her friend and shake the truth out of her. Even if Alys could turn her into a newt.

  A wave of power approached the house like a storm front. Glad for the interruption from her own dark thoughts, she rose from the table. “There’s your dad.” Opal headed to the front door and pulled it open.

  Ulf stood on the other side, his eyes alight, a grin on his face. “He did it?”

  The man’s joy was so intense, Opal couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, he did it.” God help me.

  Chapter Seven

  Ulf walked into the kitchen grinning like a pumpkin. “God, boy! I hoped one day you’d become one of us!” The delight in his father’s voice was unmistakable. And warming.

  Smiling, Adam rose from his chair as the big man strode over to give him a hug so powerful, it lifted him right off his feet. He laughed. “Oof! I’d hug you back, but I’m afraid of breaking something.”

  Dad’s grin was incandescent. “It’d be worth it.”

  For once there was no strain between them as they took their seats. “We’ve got a lot to get done,” Ulf said, and launched into a description of the initial training regime for new vampires.

  Opal poured three glasses of wine and handed each of them one before taking her own place at the table.

  As he sipped from his metal goblet -- and wished it were her blood -- Adam picked up his cell phone and glanced at the screen. It remained stubbornly blank.

  Ulf laughed. “You moderns really are addicted to those things.”

  “No, I’m waiting for a text from Mom,” Adam said absently. “She’s not answering her phone. I’ve got some old texts from her -- she really wasn’t happy with me going out of communication -- but that’s it.” Adam sighed and gestured to his face. “How am I going to explain this to her? She’s not going to believe I went to a plastic surgeon. I’ve sneered at too many guys for getting work done.”

  Ulf smiled and laid a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “We’ll just tell her the truth.”

  “We can do that?”

  “Sure. When a Latent gets the Gift, they’re allowed to tell their families, who can be bespelled not to tell anyone.”

  Adam frowned. “Then why couldn’t you tell us?”

  Ulf’s expression closed. “Orders.”

  Arthur. Yeah, he’d figured that bastard had had more to do with his father’s lying than Ulf had been willing to admit. “Mom wouldn’t tell anyone anyway.”

  “Even your mother wouldn’t be able to resist if the right pressure was applied.” Ulf’s expression lightened again. “At least I’ll finally be able to tell her the truth.” He laid a hand on Adam’s shoulder and squeezed. “But in the meantime, you need to practice controlling those vampire muscles.” His eyes fell on his own hand. “That reminds me…” Ulf reached for the ring adorning his right ring finger.

  Adam had noticed it before -- it was impossible not to. The thing reminded him of the Super Bowl ring he’d seen a former NFL quarterback wearing once. It was a massive piece of jewelry, intricately engraved, with a large smooth oval stone that resembled a very expensive opal.

  Layers of iridescent blue and violet swirled with red glinted in the light as Ulf tugged the ring off. “Merlin gave me this ring after I drank from the Grail,” Ulf told him, a smile of remembrance on his face. “The other knights were so bloody jealous…”

  “Merlin?” Opal breathed, staring at the ring in awe. “That thing belonged to Merlin? But it’s got about as much magic as a paperweight. Why didn’t you tell me it was Merlin’s ring before I put my communication spell on it?” She sounded horrified.

  Ulf laughed. “I always use it as a mission ring. But you’re absolutely right about the magic. It’s driven Morgana crazy for years. She couldn’t figure out why Merlin would have given me a rock like this without it being enchanted. Especially since he told me never to take it off.” His expression softened as he held the ring out to Adam. “He also told me I should give it to my son when he became a Magus.”

  Adam gaped at him and said the first thing that came into his head. “Not your daughter?”

  Ulf shrugged. “It was Merlin. Knowing him, he Saw you being born. Put it on.”

  The hair stood straight up on the back of Adam’s neck. He took the ring with clumsy fingers and promptly dropped it.

  Ulf caught it in midair, grabbed Adam’s right hand with his left, and slid the ring on his finger. “There.”

  It felt heavy and warm from his father’s skin, but also immensely old and somehow alien, paperweight or not. A truly unpleasant thought hit him. “Could this be what the Fomorians are after?”

  Ulf snorted. “No. They said whatever that was belong to their queen. I highly doubt Merlin stole that ring from the Fomorians. Besides, it’s just a pretty chunk of metal and stone.”

  “So are the crown jewels,” Adam muttered.

  Ulf rolled his eyes. “Well, if it is what they want, don’t give it to them.”

  “While we’re at it,” Opal said, “I think we all need mission rings.” She gestured. Light flared on Ulf’s right forefinger, and a thick gold band appeared, engraved with the red dragon’s head that was Arthur’s symbol.

  “What’s a mission ring?” Adam asked, staring at her creation in interest. Abruptly he realized a similar ring adorned her left hand. Like a wedding ring. He wondered if she wore it in memory of Joaquin. Probably. The thought carried a jolt of pain.

  “A mission ring carries a spell that allows agents on a team to communicate telepathically,” Ulf expla
ined.

  “What, you don’t have cell phones?”

  “Well, yeah, but sometimes you can’t use a phone -- or any other communication device -- in the middle of a fight. Half the time you can’t even hear in the middle of a fight. Telepathy gets around that. And since vampires can’t work magic, we need enchanted objects.” He clapped his hands together, grinning like a boy. “Speaking of fighting, it’s time to do some training.”

  * * *

  The training center lay on the outskirts of Avalon, a complex designed to allow Magi and Majae to practice their skills with edged weapons, magic and even firearms. Target ranges, combat circles, and magical mazes stood on the rolling landscape under a moon almost painfully bright to Adam’s vampire senses.

  Taking a deep breath, Adam crouched to grope beneath the SUV’s chassis between the driver’s door and the rear passenger door. Finding a handhold, Adam surged upward, driving with his thighs, as he’d once strained to lift a three hundred pound barbell. The Cadillac Escalade weighed more than five thousand pounds.

  The truck merely rocked.

  “Put your back into it!” Ulf called. “You can do it!”

  “Come on, Adam!” Opal shouted.

  He gritted his teeth and braced his feet, trying to ignore the small voice insisting This is insane! No way in hell…

  The Escalade tilted ponderously onto its left wheels, then proceeded to roll over onto its badly battered side with a crash.

  Adam stared at it in amazement. Damn, I’m Superman with fangs.

  “Nicely done,” Ulf said, sounding exactly as he had the first time Adam had knocked the T-ball for a homer when he was four. “Now…”

  The notes of Tiny Dancer rang across the field. Adam whipped around. “That’s Mom!” As Opal pulled the phone out of her pocket, he leaped into a run. Somehow that first stride became a bound that carried him a lot further than it should have. He came down hard, caught his foot on a dirt clod, and fell flat on his face.