by Laura Hall
I’d never seen such a flagrant and excessive display of spellwork in one place. Uncle Mal would have called it gauche. I was maybe five minutes from throwing up my coffee and energy bar.
“Sometimes I forget you spent eight years in a basement,” murmured Katrina, eyeing me askance. I probably looked like a kid in her first candy shop. Or like I was on hallucinogens.
I focused on where I was walking before I ran into a wall. “It was only six, but I couldn't touch anyone except Mal until last year, which kind of limited my travel options.”
“That’s . . .” She shook her head. “I honestly can’t imagine how hard that must have been.”
I kept quiet. What was there to say? Those years had left a stain of darkness inside me no light would ever touch.
The bot led us around a few more turns and into a spacious kitchen-living room. In contrast to the medieval facade, the inside of the house was bright and inviting. At least it seemed so underneath the hundreds of spells of convenience.
In the kitchen, pots and pans filled a basin sink and a pile of mail sat on the granite countertop. Opposite, the living room looked comfortable and well used, dominated by a leather sectional strewn with throw pillows and blankets. Above a dark fireplace, a television took up most of the wall, presently tuned to a local news station with the sound muted. More spells ringed the coffee table and nearly every electronic.
Charlie was standing alone, looking as disoriented as I felt, before floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond him was a huge backyard, blessedly free of magic, lush with palm trees and artful landscaping. Immediately opposite the windows was an outdoor entertainment area, beyond it a huge lawn, and in the distance, a tennis court. The icing on the cake of wealth was to the right of the entertainment area—an Olympic-sized pool.
A row of lounge chairs sat facing the water, one of them occupied by a bikini-clad Daphne Banks. She was reading a magazine, feet swinging to whatever music was coming through glowing earbuds. For a person whose three best friends were missing, she seemed to be really enjoying the sunny day.
Then again, I couldn’t throw stones. I was a master at pretending nothing was wrong.
Marsha the Bot said, “Mr. Banks will be with you shortly. Thank you for waiting.”
With a spin and a whir, she disappeared down another hallway. Charlie watched the bot leave with a starstruck expression. I suddenly didn’t feel so bad.
“Good morning,” I said, stepping beside him. “Sorry we’re late.”
“Hardly matters,” he said, following my gaze to the pool. “Mr. Banks has been swimming laps for twenty minutes with no sign of slowing.”
Sure enough, a man was swimming in the nearest lane, his progress almost hidden by the lip of the pool. Katrina stepped forward on the other side of Charlie. She watched for a few moments, then said cheekily, “At least he has a nice breaststroke.”
Charlie scowled disapprovingly, but summoned enough professionalism to offer his hand. “You must be Inspector Accosi. Nice to meet you.” From his tone, it was obvious her abrupt arrival in the middle of his case wasn’t welcome. Or maybe it was a cats and dogs thing—he was a wolf and she was a lion.
“Katrina, please.” Unconcerned by his attitude, she shook his hand with a megawatt grin on her face. She nodded out the window. “Do you want me to fetch the billionaire and his daughter?”
Still gruff, but a tad less antagonistic, Charlie said, “Thanks, but I was thinking we should let Mr. Banks continue to believe he’s in control. I don’t mind waiting.” He looked at me. “Have you picked up on anything worth noting?”
“Just spells. A ridiculous amount of them.” I glanced toward the kitchen. “They’ve got spells on the fridge, coffee machine, water filtration system under the sink, and I’m guessing the pantry. There’s more over here—”
“Wait,” Charlie interjected, looking spooked. “Are you saying—that is, do you really—”
I took pity on him. “I see magic, yes. A part of my Ascension goodie bag.”
Katrina winked at the detective. “Pretty amazing, right?”
“Except for the headaches,” I remarked. “Mind if I go outside? It’s like a funhouse for me in here, and not in good way.”
Charlie moved back from the sliding door. I was shaking lightly by the time I stepped outside. Katrina followed me out and asked, “You okay?”
I swallowed fresh, unspelled air, turning my face toward a breeze. “I will be in a minute.” When my stomach stopped trying to crawl out my throat, I met her concerned gaze. “My, uh, second sight is a lot more intense lately.”
Since my forgotten Fae training, but I kept that nugget to myself. As far as I knew, everything I told her was going right back to Adam. Or Connor. I had no idea whether they cared enough to meddle in my newest problem, but old habits died hard.
Her gaze sharpened. “Anything useful from your other gift?”
She was talking about my Sibyllic abilities, which, as Lucian had reminded me, played second fiddle to my lightning. Not that I was complaining. Seeing the future wasn’t as fun as it sounded. Thankfully, I hadn’t done any future tripping since the night the ability first presented.
The other quirk of my mother’s genetic gift—that of tracking people in real time—I’d grown skilled at ignoring. So skilled, in fact, that I’d completely forgotten about the photograph from Tiffany’s apartment. It was sitting in the glove box of my car.
“Shit,” I said, glancing back at Charlie, who was leaning against the breakfast bar tapping on his phone. “I meant to see if I could pick something up from a photograph.”
“The one from Tiffany’s?”
I nodded. “I’ll ask Daphne if she has any other pictures of her friends.”
“You don’t sound very hopeful,” she said, gaze scanning my face.
“I’m not. Remember that bald Liberati alchemist?” She nodded, frowning. He’d been a violent piece of work. “I was face to face with him in Snoqualmie, but afterward I couldn’t See him. Rosie was only accessible to me because I’d spent time with her.”
“Have you ever tried to See me?” she asked curiously.
I wrinkled my nose. “No. It’s kind of invasive, don’t you think? I stopped spying on people after Adam—” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Let’s just say he was in a compromising situation.”
Katrina laughed. “Oh man, someday I need to know the story.”
There was a splash. We turned to see that Daphne’s lounge chair had emptied. Seconds later she surfaced and began to float, arms overhead and swinging lazily.
“Does she seem a bit . . .” Katrina trailed off, shaking her head as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing, “Buoyant?”
I squinted and sure enough, a pale green glow outlined Daphne’s limbs. “Mal would definitely disapprove,” I muttered, then looked at Katrina. “I think we just found who put the million spells in this house. Do you happen to know what rank she’s registered as?”
From behind us, Charlie answered, “Topaz. And Steven Banks is Emerald.”
“Impossible,” I murmured. “She’s at least an Emerald, maybe Sapphire. The spell she’s using right now is Emerald level. No tools, just gestures.” I watched her for a few more seconds before spotting her tell. “See her fingers? The way they curl in, then straighten every few seconds?”
“Yes,” said Katrina intently.
“Did Mal teach you this?” asked Charlie.
I shrugged. “Yes and no. You learn a lot bartending. Right, Kat?”
She murmured agreement and Charlie asked darkly, “You’re telling me she’s registered as Topaz but is at least an Emerald?” I nodded. “Then there’s a chance she might have planted that spell in Tiffany’s apartment.”
I glanced at the pool, then back at Charlie. “Theoretically. I’d say we’re a ways off from a motive, though.”
He dragged a hand through the sparse hair on his head. “I know. Working on it. I came out because I got a call.” Something in his vo
ice made Katrina and me give him our full attention. “A body was found this morning in the rooftop pool of a hotel downtown. Just IDed as our first missing woman, Gretchen Kline.”
Unreasonably, I felt a pang of guilt. Even knowing the probability of getting a read from a single photograph was dismal, I should have at least tried.
“COD?” asked Katrina.
“Appears to be drowning, but there’s a lot of bruising and lacerations.”
“Poor girl,” I whispered.
Katrina stared over the lawn toward the tennis court. “Gretchen was the cipher, right? Sabrina Davis is a vamp and Tiffany Manchester a shifter.” She glanced at the pool. “And Daphne is a mage. Kind of a big coincidence.”
I knew what she was thinking. What she wasn’t saying. Four women of similar physical appearance but completely different Ascensions sounded like a recipe for some freaky experiments. Experiments like those the Liberati were known for.
I cleared my throat. “I think it’s time to talk to Steven Banks. And by Steven, I mean his daughter.”
I had a headache thanks to spells in the house. I was emotionally drained thanks to the conversation in the car. And now I was annoyed thanks to the Banks duo and their obvious lack of common decency.
It didn’t take much effort at all—a focus of my will and a lift of my finger. A narrow streak of electricity sizzled through the air and grazed the water. There was a feminine yelp and a male curse. Lots of splashing.
Then Daphne screeched, “What the fuck was that? Daddy!”
I crossed my arms over my chest, ignored Charlie’s and Katrina’s stares, and watched Steven Banks lift himself out of the pool. He wasn’t a bad-looking man, of average height, tanned, with a chiseled physique and curly blond hair. His face was narrow and clever, likely prone to smiling. Right now, though, he looked murderous.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he roared. “Which one of you is the mage?”
Fingering Adam’s amulet, I murmured to Charlie, “Don’t say I never did anything for you.” I pulled the necklace off and watched Steven Banks’ comically fast transition from irate to apologetic.
He walked forward quickly. “Ms. Sullivan, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.” He went to shake my hand, had second thoughts, and continued yammering instead. “Such a pleasure to meet you. I had no idea you would actually be here.” His dark eyes veered momentarily to Charlie. “Honestly, I thought the LAPD was pulling one over on me.”
“Daddy? Who are these people? And who shocked us? We should have them arrested.”
Daphne Banks stepped up beside her father. She hadn’t bothered with a towel, knowing full well the impact of her perfect, magically enhanced body. What she didn’t know was neither Charlie, Katrina, nor I gave a shit how perky her breasts were.
It was unfortunate that a mage of her caliber would behave like a superficial brat. Ascension had been fifteen years ago, which meant Daphne was clocking thirty-six years. Time enough to grow up, I thought. But on the bright side, I was starting to feel less conflicted about lobbing figurative stones in her direction.
She finally registered my hair. “Oh! Are you the Elemental?”
Charlie cleared his throat. “Daphne, we’re here about the murder of your friend, Gretchen Kline. She was found this morning. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“What?” whispered Daphne, turning wide blue eyes on the detective. “That’s so sad.”
Steven Banks immediately put an arm around his daughter. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Daphne’s face crumpled and reddened, then burst into tears. She turned into her father’s chest and mumbled. None of us were surprised when he looked up and said, “Surely the questions can wait until tomorrow. I don’t mean to sound crass, but Gretchen isn’t going anywhere, is she?”
“Maybe so,” said Katrina, a rare thread of annoyance in her voice, “but we still have two missing women. Your friends, Daphne. Sabrina and Tiffany?”
Daphne wailed louder and harder.
“Go on inside, honey,” said Steven.
Daphne fled.
Nine
A robe-clad Steven Banks escorted us back into the house, served us coffee, gave vague answers to a series of questions from Charlie and Katrina, then showed us the door. On our way out, he did his best to charm me. A self-proclaimed connoisseur of all things odd, dangerous, or conspiracy theory related, apparently I was a goldmine. And he had no boundaries.
What was it like wielding lightning? Hot. Was I consulting for the FBI? No. How about the Prime, are you dating? No comment. Are the Liberati dangerous or are the news reports propaganda? Yes, they’re dangerous. Are you able to have sex with people? This conversation is over.
He wasn’t dissuaded and even slipped me his card with the parting words, “Let’s do lunch, talk scripts.”
Gross.
By the time we reached the 101 freeway to head back toward Silver Lake, my headache had earned the name Beast. Every beat of my heart chiseled another chunk of my skull off.
“You look like hell,” Katrina said worriedly. “Maybe I should take you home. I can let you know what the Medical Examiner says.”
“Yes, goods ideas,” I slurred.
“Have you had a migraine before?” she asked.
“Mmmpphhf.”
I awoke briefly as Mal carried me upstairs to my room. Katrina drew the blinds, darkening the space, and I heard her whisper a reply to a question from my uncle. Something about sleeping pills.
Too late, I remembered why they were important.
The landscape of domhan wasn't the library this time, but the place was no less familiar. Jagged, rocky coastline. Majestic, white-capped mountains in the distance. An ocean currently calm, but that I’d seen writhe with unnatural storms. Beneath my feet was soft, pale sand, an islet of serenity in an otherwise forbidding landscape.
I didn’t know if the beach existed outside Connor’s mind, but I hoped so. It would be nice to visit one day.
“It’s long been swept away by storm, changed by earthquakes.”
So much for that idea.
Connor stood opposite me on the sand, facing the water, his tall figure wreathed with the dense, living shadow of his aura. He wore his customary suit, charcoal gray and perfectly tailored. No tie. Crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Hands tucked in pockets. Bare feet.
A longing that had nothing to do with the compagno bond shivered through me.
He grunted.
I snapped out of it.
“It’s not my fault,” I said quickly, “I had a migraine—”
“I know,” he said. “You’ve been very diligent about taking the pills. You’re aware they can be addictive?”
For a second, I forgot my guilt. “I didn’t ask for this,” I snapped. “I’m sick of waking up nauseated from those stupid pills—”
“You can stop taking them.”
I swallowed the rest of my tirade. “What?”
He turned, his gaze tracing my features and bringing a flush wherever it touched. My heart beat faster, pushing blood lower. Though his expression remained impassive, the leafy green of his irises deepened to emerald.
He knew exactly the effect he had on me. Not only could he see it, he could smell it. And thanks to the compagno bond, he could feel it. Just like I could feel his want. No, his need.
Then it disappeared. A second later, his aura vanished. I reached instinctively for the compagno bond, but it was gone.
“There,” he said softly.
“You broke the bond?” I asked, hating the tremor in my voice. I’d never been good at masking my emotions in his presence. Besides, bond or no bond, he could still hear every one of my thoughts.
“Yes, I still can,” he said mutedly. “And no, the bond isn’t gone. I’ve merely discovered a way to mute it.” He stared at me another moment, then shifted to face the water. “As I said, you can stop taking the pills.”
“That’s good.” I cleared my throat. “That’s
good, right?”
For the first time, his composure shivered, jaw tightening as he clenched his teeth. The sight made my breath come faster. Adrenaline and desire surged in my veins.
God, I was twisted.
Connor huffed a caustic laugh. “You can’t help but provoke me, can you?”
A wave of emotion rose through me, tightening my throat. Choked by regret, I said, “Everything happened so fast last year. My dad went missing. You appeared and yanked me from my life. I’d never been so afraid.” I waved my hands helplessly. “And you’re . . . you. The Western Prime. You’re so powerful you have wings. Talk about overwhelming.”
“I didn’t offer you the vampire,” he said quietly. “I offered you the man.”
My sight blurred with tears.
As usual, Mal was right, and the truth was a bitter pill to swallow. I’d run from Connor because I didn’t believe happiness and love were in the cards for me. Delilah had given the middle finger to motherhood and walked away. My Ascension, which had killed my fiancé and best friends and isolated me for the better part of a decade, had driven the insecurity into the deepest part of me.
I couldn’t speak aloud what I was thinking, couldn’t articulate the vast sadness inside me. But I didn’t have to speak. Connor already knew it all.
“I’m a hot mess,” I whispered.
One second he was ten feet away and in the next, his strong fingers moved through my hair, kneading my scalp and neck. He drew me forward. I sagged against his chest with a half-sob, half-sigh.
“No one is without insecurities and fears,” he murmured. “And if we’re handing out fault, our demise is mine. I knew you weren’t ready. The bond blurred things for me, made me act rashly.”
So he regretted sleeping with me and telling me he loved me.