by A. L. Knorr
His feet hit the marble of the foyer and his eyes roamed for her blond curls. He spotted her by the biscuits, blowing absentmindedly on a steaming cup, the corners of her mouth turned down. It didn't look like her mission had been successful. He made his way across the foyer to her.
"No luck?"
She jumped, snapping out of her thoughts. "I couldn't find Basil. He said he was going to start with automobiles, so I went to the garage, but he wasn't there. I'll keep looking, but I didn't want to be late to meet you. How about you? Any luck?"
"In a manner of speaking." He was about to say they should find somewhere more private to talk when she put a hand on his arm. Her eyes were locked on a small cluster of people. Chad followed her gaze.
“If she does what I think she’s about to do…” Angelica whispered.
“Who?” Chad asked, following her gaze.
“That yellow paper on the floor? It’s a bidding card. Super confidential.”
Chad saw the bidding card, forgotten at the heels of a portly man in a suit. A woman in a fur collar had spotted it, too. She cast her eyes about and picked up the bidding card, pocketing it.
"That little," Angelica took a sharp breath. "Excuse me," she said sharply, and several heads in the foyer turned.
"Angelica," Chad whispered. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention, and time was ticking by.
Angelica ignored him, set her cup down on the table and clicked across the foyer toward the woman. The portly man had turned at the sound of Angelica's voice as well. The woman visibly lifted her chest in defense.
"I believe you have something of his," Angelica said, stopping in front of the woman.
"I beg your pardon," the woman blustered.
The portly man had taken a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and put them on the end of his nose, peering at Angelica and the other lady.
"His bidding card. If you'd be so kind as to return it." Angelica canted her head at the portly man, not taking her flashing eyes off the woman's face.
Chad's breath caught in his throat at Angelica's daring. What business was it of hers if this woman snatched someone's bidding card?
The portly man patted his pockets. "My—my bids," he said as he searched inside his jacket. He looked at the woman. "Did you find a bidding card on the floor?"
Chad was amazed at the lack of suspicion on his face—there was no way he wouldn't have known she'd taken it after Angelica singled the woman out. It was gracious of him to allow her a way out with minimum embarrassment.
The woman's face melted with false warmth. "Why yes, I was just about to submit it to security." She removed the folded card from her pocket, making a show of reading the handwriting along the top. "Are you from Weston Antiques?"
"Yes, that's me." He took the bidding card. "Thank you, much obliged. I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached."
"Quite alright, quite alright," the woman simpered. Her cheeks colored. "Happy to be of service." She turned her back on Angelica and moved away.
The portly man extended a chubby hand to Angelica. "Thank you, Miss..."
"Butterfield. And this is my partner, Chad Wendig."
Chad looked at her in surprise at the word 'partner' and a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire inside seeped into his bones. The three of them exchanged handshakes.
"Harvey Weston. Thank you for your assistance." The man looked over his shoulder at the back of the woman in the fur and lowered his voice. "She's a competitor."
Angelica's eyebrows shot up. "You know her?"
"She thinks I don't, but I do. We both deal in art, although my house is by far the larger and more successful. She thinks I'm a bumbling idiot." He chuckled and tucked his bidding card into his breast pocket. "And, perhaps I am. I haven't changed my ways in thirty five years of buying. I still handwrite my budgets on a bidding card. If she'd known my top bids, this auction would go very badly for me. I really ought to find a better way. I'm surprised you recognized the importance of such a simple-looking trifle."
"My father does...did the same thing when he attended auctions."
"Well. He's a man of my era then. At any rate, thank you, I'm very appreciative."
"You're very welcome. I despise a rat," she said stoutly. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the woman's back. "You wouldn't believe the depths to which people will sink just to get ahead. Just wait till the auction starts, I'll show you what I mean."
Chad's blood drained at the look of disgust on Angelica's face. What had he been thinking? Angelica wasn't like him. She wouldn't break the rules for her own gain. She was good and honest—something he didn't know how to be. If he told her what he'd done, she'd turn that look of disgust on him.
He had to return the items back to their place before they were discovered missing - and fast.
Chapter 8
"Will you excuse me, Angelica?" Chad said, trying not to dance in place in his eagerness to return his contraband. "Just need to find a loo."
"Of course. Did you have any luck by the way?" Her face brightened with hope.
He shook his head, and watching her face fall was like a dagger in his heart. The antique specs in his pocket suddenly felt like a stone.
"Bummer, but I'm not surprised. Okay, be quick," she said, pulling out her notebook and moving toward a chair. "We're already behind."
"Right." He shuffled off toward the bathroom, keeping an eye on her. When she dropped her gaze into her notebook, he barreled up the stairs. He made his way to the fourth floor and stood listening outside the door at the top of the stairs. A conversation was going on. The smell of smoke seeped through the cracks in the door.
"We 'ave to report it to Mr. Jacobs. It's not our fault. Someone lit these blasted candles."
"He's gonna lose the plot, Ian. We'll get the sack," the other man whispered fiercely. "I don't know 'bout you, but I need this pay."
"Well, we can't hide it, can we, Freddie. Look at this here curtain. It smells like Guy Fawkes day in here."
There was a pause. "Maybe...maybe Maggie could help. Knows this place like the back of her hand, she does. Works here dunn't she? She could find us another curtain, and no one would be the wiser."
"And the smoke?"
"Could just be from the candles, couldn't it?"
Chad couldn't wait any longer for the boys to sort out a way to save themselves. He pulled the vintage spectacles out of his pocket and put them on. He opened the door and both of them jumped about a mile in the air.
"Ian! Freddie!" Chad barked.
"Sir!" yelled one. They looked guilty, flustered, and completely terrified.
"Mrs. Knotts needs you both at the registration desk." He filled his voice with authority and drew himself up to his full six foot one. "Now, please. Mustn't keep her waiting." He prayed they were gobsmacked enough to get taken, even if it was just for a few minutes. A moment was all he needed.
"Yes, sir. Uh, who are you?" the pudgy one asked.
"George Larry Taite." He slapped a hand to his chest as though there was actually a security tag hanging there. "Immediately!"
"Taite..." The one with the moustache paled. He grabbed his mate's elbow and pulled him toward the stairwell.
"What about the valuables?" the other kid asked.
"I'll watch them,” Chad said. “Go!"
The boys disappeared down the stairs, but they would be back as soon as they figured out they'd been had.
Chad put the spectacles back in his pocket and ran to the storage room. He entered the dark room, not bothering to light a fire until he got close to his items’ storage boxes. He nested the antique specs into their former place, snuffed his little flame, and crossed over to the button boxes. He deposited the little bag of buttons back where he'd found them and turned toward the door.
"Looking for something?" said a deep voice with an aristocratic English accent.
It was Chad's turn to jump a mile in the air.
Basil Chaplin stood barring the door, leaning on h
is cane and rocking forward on his toes. "Hello, Mr. Wendig. I've been hoping for a moment alone with you."
Chad's eyes darted about the room. There was only one way out, and Basil was blocking it. "I didn't take nothing." The fire crackled to life in his belly, simmering with dislike.
"I didn't take anything, not I didn't take nothing," Basil corrected. "And I'm not concerned about that." He took a few graceful steps toward Chad. "You and I need to have an entirely different conversation."
"What are you going on about?" Chad bit out as the man drew closer.
Basil stopped a mere few feet away.
"Just curious," Basil said, scratching his cheek absently. "What would ever possess you to think that a woman such as Angelica would take up with a man like you?"
Chad's eyes widened and his jaw hung in shock. "What?" The heat in his belly intensified and blossomed in his chest. "What business of it of yours..."
"You must know how ridiculous you look, following her around..." he made a similar running motion with his fingers as he'd made earlier. "Like a puppy."
Basil's words hit so close to home that Chad didn't even think about how strange they were. His face grew hot and his eyes felt hard as obsidian. "You bastard."
Actual smoke blew from Chad's nostrils and curled in the air, but he was too angry to care that he'd just exposed himself...again.
"Yes, I knew you'd see the truth." Basil adjusted his glasses and dropped his arms to his side. "You're like a little experiment for her. An orphan who doesn't know what to do with himself and needs saving."
Chad didn't even register that Basil hadn't reacted to his glowing eyes or the smoke. The fire detonated in his shoulder and he swung a fist at the smug man's jaw. A pink-tinged flash of light from Chad's shoulder joint illuminated the dark room like a rosy supernova.
Basil caught Chad's loaded punch with his fist, his face completely impassive in the bright light. Chad stared at the fingers wrapped around his knuckles, and then into the eyes of the man who owned them. His jaw went slack.
"Tsk, tsk." Basil clucked his tongue and shook his head. His fist grew hot and his fingers glowed red. It didn't hurt Chad, but it shocked him to the root of his soul. "Sloppy. You've had no training whatsoever."
Chad yanked his fist back and watched as Basil's hand cooled back to normal. The fire roaring in Chad’s chest had rapidly cooled to almost nothing. Shock did that to a fire mage.
Basil lifted his hand and ignited a small white ball of fire in his palm. It lit the two men's faces—Basil's calm and impassive, Chad's white with shock.
Smiling benignly, Basil said, "Let's find somewhere else to talk, shall we? Before we cause a real ruckus?"
Chapter 9
Chad numbly followed Basil into one of the viewing rooms, which was not unlike a small parlor. High-powered moveable lights hung suspended over a table, ready to shine upon an item and reveal all its flaws. Four plush office chairs surrounded the table.
"Have a seat, Mr. Wendig," Basil said, spinning on his heel and holding out long fingers at one of the chairs.
Chad ignored the suggestion. He crossed his arms over his chest. He felt dizzy, vulnerable. "I thought—"
"That there were no others like you? That's common, and a problem I aim to rectify. Which side did you get it from?"
Chad knew what he meant instantly. "Mum's. Dad couldn't boil water to save his life."
"And what did she tell you?"
"Aside from telling me I was born a fire mage, almost nothing. She died when I was five. Car crash."
"Such a shame. Did your father know? About the fire?"
"If he did, he pretended not to." Chad raised his eyes to Basil's for the first time since they left the mirrored room. "All that bollocking about Angelica... You were just trying to call me out?" Chad felt his cheeks flush.
"Sorry about that, ol’ chap. I needed to see how advanced you were."
"And?"
Basil's mouth twitched. "Do you really want me to answer that?"
Chad rubbed his hand over his eyes. "No. But how did you know?"
"I've learned to look for certain markers. It's not as hard as you might think. It's mostly in the eyes. Unless they're unlucky enough to have an unfortunately placed mark. Where is yours, if I might ask?"
"Where is yours?" Chad snapped back. He was having a hard time figuring out how to react to Basil. Was he friend or foe?
Basil hooked the silver handle of his cane into his shirt collar and tugged it down. There it was. His mage mark. A tiny black fireball-shaped mark that could be mistaken for a tattoo, just above his collarbone. "Mine will be darker than yours."
"How do you know that?" But Basil was right. Chad's was a light brown, like a mole. It could be mistaken for a smudge of dirt, or an oddly shaped freckle.
"Because I'm more powerful than you," Basil said matter-of-factly.
Chad rolled up his sleeve to show his mark. It was on the outside edge of his left forearm.
"Oh dear," Basil said, peering at the mark.
"What, oh dear? What's wrong?"
"Well, it’s very pale, isn't it." It wasn't a question.
No one had ever made Chad feel inadequate about his ability. He'd always taken security from the fire, always felt empowered. He tried to summon feelings of righteous indignation but failed.
"Take heart, man." Basil gave him a resounding slap on the back that echoed in the room. "I'm here to help."
"Have you been following me? How did you know where to find me?" Chad's head spun with questions. He didn't want to trust this man, but he was having a hard time reading anything sinister or malicious in Basil. He felt a bond forming with Basil, even as he tried to resist it.
"I didn't know you'd be here, no. I came because I have items registered for auction, and I'm looking for a few choice pieces myself. But it's only a matter of time before we supernaturals cross paths. Ley lines, you know?"
"Ley...?" Chad blinked vacantly.
Basil sighed. "We have much to discuss. The first of which is that you need to stop externalizing your fire. You may as well put a billboard up announcing that you're a supernatural. Keep going this way and someone will find you who doesn't have good intentions."
"What do you suggest?" Chad said, gruffly. He crossed his arms. "You can keep the fire inside? Not let it show?"
"For starters," Basil nodded.
"How do you do that?"
"It's simply a matter of will and control. To externalize is to be a petulant child throwing a tantrum."
Chad raised his eyebrows.
Basil continued, "To internalize shows competence and a certain level of mastery. It's the first step, and a critical one for your own safety and the protection of our kind." Basil held up a palm. "A simple exercise. Hit my palm as hard as you can, and use the fire."
Chad dropped his arms, surprised. "I could really hurt you, man. Are you mad?"
Basil chuckled. "You won't, for I'll use the fire to stop you."
"Fine," Chad said with a smirk.
He threw a hard punch at Basil's palm, detonating in his shoulder and illuminating the room in a bright rosy light.
"Owwww!" Chad bent and held his wrist as pain shot up his arm. He looked at Basil through bleary vision and cradled his hand. "What happened? That was like hitting rock."
Basil dropped his hand, which hadn't moved an inch. He nodded. "Volcanic rock, to be specific. Notice that I gave no flash of light, or any evidence that I was using my power against you."
"How?" Chad stood, shaking out his fingers, knuckles and wrist still smarting.
"Simple. I did detonate, at the same moment when you made contact. Experience gives me the ability to calculate, using your size and what I know about your lack of mastery, how hard you were going to hit, and to counteract it. I also knew that you were going to detonate in one joint only, rather than the many that you should have utilized if you were going to beat me."
Chad's face grew long with amazement. "Many joints? At th
e same time?"
"Yes. And if you externalized that many explosions, you'd send out enough light to blind someone permanently." He waved a hand, "Just, obliterate their retinas completely. You can see why internal detonations are the first step." He cocked his head and added as an afterthought, "After staying hydrated, of course."
Chad nodded, but he could hardly feel proud of himself for figuring that one out on his own. Then he asked something that he never thought he'd ask anyone. "Can you teach me?"
Basil rocked on his heels and clapped his hands behind his back. "I am not set up at this time to take students, but believe me, I'm working on it. I have a location picked out already, and I shall notify you when it’s ready. The most important thing is that we don't part without you knowing how to internalize, so you can keep your powers hidden." Basil gave him a serious look. "We are not the only supernaturals in existence, you know, and we are nowhere near being the most powerful or the most dangerous."
Chad suddenly remembered Angelica and looked at his watch. "I have to go find Angelica." He rolled his sleeve down and headed for the door. "Can I find you afterwards?"
"Naturally," Basil said. "Why don't we chat over dinner? I'm here for the duration of the sale. I'll order in so we can meet in private."
"Can she come, too?"
"Of course not!" Basil spluttered, looking ruffled for the first time. "I need to teach you how to internalize before we part ways. She can't be party to that."
"She knows."
Basil gaped at him in a decidedly ungentlemanly fashion. "Well, that's a bloody cock-up, isn't it? Were you planning to show the entire world? Or were you just trying to impress the girl?" He sounded thoroughly disgusted.
Chad's cheeks colored. How was it that this stranger was able to make him feel so...small? So contrite? None of these feelings were familiar to Chad.
Basil sighed in exasperation and raked a frustrated hand through his curling brown hair. It flopped back down in a perfect wave. He took off his glasses and whipped a kerchief from his pocket. He cleaned his spectacles with sharp little movements. "Apologies for the language. I can see that I'm going to have a devil of a time teaching you how to be a proper mage." He replaced his glasses on his face and tucked the kerchief back in his pocket. "Do you trust her?"