Witchlight

by Sonya Clark

The walk to the Administration building only took a few minutes, far less time than he spent waiting in the cramped lobby where Magic Born hoping to see the administrator were herded. Most were shunted off to flunkies after a good long wait, but Vadim had enough clout and cash to get past the gatekeeper assistant and in to talk to Lewis. After nearly two hours of cooling his heels, that is.

  Donald Lewis looked exactly like what he was, a career bureaucrat on the take. He wore a tailored suit and shiny gold watch that had likely been paid for with bribes from either Vadim or the nightshade dealers.

  Vadim was in no mood to play games. “What are you doing, trying to starve people’s children?”

  “An unfortunate accident—”

  “Grant’s face is an unfortunate accident. You let him bring in rotten food. You let him destroy the fucking baby formula!” He made an effort to bring his temper under control, not wanting to spend the rest of the week in lockup. “Look, you want something, you come to me. That’s how we do things and it works pretty well. What happened here?”

  “You arrogant son of a bitch,” Lewis said. “Talking to me like we’re equals. What do you think this is? You think because they come to you for handouts, that it makes you important?”

  Vadim squirmed in the chair, biting back a response that would only make matters worse. This was not what he was used to from Lewis and he didn’t know how to handle it. The whole situation was a totally unexpected escalation.

  Lewis continued. “You’ve been playing lord of the manor in that club of yours and it’s gone to your head. The only reason I agreed to see you is to make one thing clear.” He stabbed the air with his index finger. “You are not in charge. I am.”

  Clenching his jaw, Vadim counted to ten before responding. “Whatever is going on, taking it out on babies is hardly—”

  “It’s hardly my fault if you people aren’t responsible enough with your finances that you can’t afford to feed yourselves for a mere two weeks. Maybe a restricted diet for a short time will encourage better behavior from some of the younger citizens of this zone.”

  Citizens. Magic Born weren’t citizens. They were anything but, both under the law and in the way they were treated. Red swam in Vadim’s vision as magic that tasted of the rage in his gut tried to claw its way out. He couldn’t afford to let it loose, no matter how tempting. He swallowed the rage and the magic and his pride and spoke in his calmest voice.

  “Is there anything I can do to alleviate this situation?”

  Smug, complacent, Lewis didn’t even bother to meet his eyes. “I believe Agent Grant made that clear.” He stood, straightening his silk tie. “We’re done here, Bazarov.”

  Vadim got to his feet, fingertips itching with electricity. “Lewis—”

  “I said we’re done. Be grateful I don’t shut down that cesspool club of yours. Now get out.”

  No good options in front of him, Vadim turned away from the administrator. Before opening the door he squared his shoulders and put on his game face, knowing he would be watched by Magic Born and DMS agents alike as he left the building. He ignored the stares and comments, heading straight for his office without stopping. The only thing on his mind was a bottle of homemade absinthe waiting for him in the liquor cabinet.

  Unfortunately it wasn’t the only thing waiting for him. The hallway leading to his office was lined with scared, angry parents, at least one from every family in the zone with a baby. A jumble of pleas and shouts assailed him. He hustled to the door, saying nothing.

  Finally safe on the other side, he leaned his head against the door and swore with relief.

  “What’s the plan, Vadim?”

  He shouted, whirling to find an angry face topped with purple hair staring at him from the chair behind his desk.

  “What are you doing here, Calla? And get outta my chair.” He removed his coat and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. Humiliation itched under his skin, something he wasn’t used to. It wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted to share with Calla or anyone else, especially as flimsy as his control felt.

  She jumped up and came around to the front of the desk. “We can’t let them get away with this. We have to do something!”

  Vadim sighed. “We will. Get a list of families with kids, the ages of the kids. We’ll start getting them money to go buy what they need. If we have to, we’ll send people to buy food off zone for anyone who can’t go themselves. We’ll stretch our cash as best we can.” He walked behind his desk and sank into the chair.

  “The railroad needs that money.”

  “Limited resources, kiddo.” He swiveled the chair to open the liquor cabinet, searching for the absinthe. “We’ll do the best we can.”

  “And when this happens again in two weeks? What then? We turn over Tyler and his friends?”

  Scotch, brandy, cognac, saki—everything but the damned absinthe. “I’m not turning the kids over.”

  “Then what are you going to do?”

  Sheer desperation led him to open the brandy. “I don’t know.” He took a drink straight from the bottle, barely tasting the stuff. The sound of the club guards arguing with the irate parents in the hall reached him. The brandy might have been shit but he drank it anyway.

  “Vadim.” Calla sounded as young as she’d been when they’d first met. “What are we going to do?”

  He replaced the cap on the bottle and shoved it back in the cabinet, closing the door. “I don’t know. Just give me a little time, okay? Get to work on that list. People ask questions, just tell them we’re working on it.”

  She nodded. “I’ll put Zinnia on the list. I’m going to work on getting some cash together, go see what I can pick up in the grocery stores in Rock.” Few businesses in the Fort Rockenbach area bore the No Magic Born signs. “I already called Nate. He’s going to bring some formula and baby food when he comes home tonight.”

  “When he comes home,” Vadim said. “How very sweet.”

  Calla narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean? I thought you were past all that bullshit.”

  “His home is in an apartment in Midtown. Your home is above a clothing store in FreakTown. You two can play house all you want but wishing’s not going to change reality. When are you going to get that through your head?”

  “He’s your friend and the man I love. Don’t talk about Nate like he’s the same as Grant or Lewis or whoever’s making you act this way. Pull your head out of your ass before somebody decides to give it some company.” She stalked from the room, slamming the door behind her.

  The itch in his fingertips finally exploded, taking the contents of the liquor cabinet with it. The door kept glass from flying out but liquid ran down the wall and all over the floor. Swearing viciously, he punched the top of his desk, cursing again at the pain. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost control of his magic, or the last time he’d felt so fucking helpless.

  * * *

  Magic pushed against Lizzie’s awareness, bringing her to a standstill in the hall. She’d brought supplies, food and even extra clothes from her apartment to the old house and busied herself with putting everything away since arriving. Both the locks and the alarm were set but from what she’d seen so far, it was doubtful that would keep Vadim out. She had no expectations of him knocking on the door and asking permission to enter like a civilized person. Not that any perceived lack of civility had bothered her the first time they met. Quite the opposite.

  She pushed the traitorous thought away and continued on her way to the solar. He would find her or not. She wasn’t going to chase after him.

  Vadim was waiting for her, stretched out with his feet on the sofa and drinking her wine. He raised the glass in the air. “This tastes like shit. Got anything better?”

  She snatched the half-empty glass and hefted the bottle from the end table. “This
is a three-hundred-dollar bottle of chardonnay. You don’t swill it like cheap booze.”

  The smile that split his face unnerved her. It didn’t reach his eyes and there was a coldness to it she hadn’t seen in him previously. He drawled, “Hello, Lizzie. How was your day?”

  “Unpleasant and tedious. Something tells me the evening won’t be much better.”

  “Come now. And here I thought you’d be looking forward to tonight’s lesson.”

  She was loathe to admit it to him, but the truth was part of her had been looking forward to it all day long. “When do you plan on telling me exactly what it is you want from me?”

  “One thing at a time.” He leaned his head back on the armrest and closed his eyes. “Learn anything interesting today?”

  She sat in the wing chair, refilling the glass and placing the bottle on the floor. “A few things. How did you know?”

  “You’re not stupid. Though I may have been when I gave you my real name.” He laughed softly, the sound bearing no relationship to amusement. “So tell me about myself, sweetheart.”

  She didn’t like the ugly undercurrent to the playfulness in his voice. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

  With frightening speed he sat up and swung around to face her. “Do you need a reminder of who’s in charge here?”

  “My, my. Aren’t you in a mood? What’s the matter, Vadim? Been a while since your last hit? The wine not strong enough to take the edge off?” She stood, leaving the glass on the end table. “If you need to get high, go home. I have no use for addicts.” Lizzie turned and headed straight for the door.

  “Maybe not drugs and booze,” he said. “But sex is another story. There’s an addiction you’ve got some use for.”

  She came to a halt, turning to see him climb to his feet with lazy grace. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You did a little research on me today. Found out I own Sinsuality.” His mouth caressed the name in a way that sent heat to parts of her she’d rather he’d never go near. “Found out I used to be a dealer. Had a little trouble with the sweet stuff. That’s all true. It’s also in the past.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you don’t use nightshade?”

  A low chuckle tumbled out. “Oh, I use nightshade all the time. No, that’s not the sweet stuff I had trouble with. What I am trying to tell you is, my addictions are in the past. Whereas yours...” He cocked his head to one side then back, shrugging.

  “I don’t have any addictions. Whatever you’re trying to imply, you can shove it.” Meeting him was a mistake she was going to rectify.

  The door slammed almost instantly after a rush of magic flew past her. “I’m curious, Councilwoman Marsden. What personal demon are you feeding with your predilection for anonymous sex on the weekends? Did mommy and daddy not love you enough? Being defective too much of a burden on family life?”

  “What is this?” Because for all his wanting to blackmail her, he hadn’t been cruel until now. Not really. Sarcastic, obnoxious, a little rough, but never truly mean. He wouldn’t have any idea what it had been like for her after he left that first night. Her facade was that good; she knew it was because she’d spent a lifetime perfecting it. She also knew a play for dominance when she saw one, and that’s what that night had been about—an extortionist establishing control over the target. Tonight was different. Something was eating at him and it had nothing to do with her.

  “How do you think I found you the other night? I did my homework too. Sweetheart. And sure enough, you took one look at me and came running. So what was it you found so appealing? Or was the fact that you didn’t know me enough?” As he spoke he closed the distance between them.

  “I like sex and I don’t like relationships. If you have a problem with that, you can go straight to hell.” The lights flickered and something electronic began to hum. She knew she was doing it, even though she didn’t mean to, but for once she didn’t care. “You need to leave. Don’t come back until you’ve dealt with whatever’s making you act like a son of a bitch.” Turning her back to him was a risk but he needed to see she wouldn’t be cowed by him. She turned, placed her hand on the doorknob very deliberately and left the solar.

  Vadim was silent but she could feel his eyes on her shoulder blades as she walked away.

  Chapter Seven

  Vadim knew he should leave. Not just leave, but forget all about using Lizzie Marsden for anything. He had the means to find someone else. Someone who wouldn’t get under his skin and make him act like an ass.

  He stood in the solar doorway for several minutes, alternately trying to talk himself into either leaving or apologizing. Plenty of work waited for him at the club, in the underground office. The ration problem needed a solution sooner rather than later. He honestly wasn’t sure which would be the more cowardly act, staying or leaving.

  In the end, he stayed. Following the soft sound of Debussy, he found her in a bedroom on the second floor. Seated on the floor with an older model tablet in one hand, she’d changed from her business-skirt suit into black exercise pants and a black tank top. With her face scrubbed of makeup and red hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders, she looked softer, more vulnerable. Intensely desirable. Even more dangerous than with her claws out.

  The moment he decided to leave, she looked up. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

  He tapped the doorframe with a fist, feeling unmoored and not liking it at all. “I should have brought that expensive chardonnay. We could commiserate together.”

  “What do you want?” She placed the tablet upside down on the thick carpet.

  “To apologize, for starters. You were right, down there. My bad mood’s got nothing to do with you and I should not have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

  She said nothing, looking at him as if she couldn’t make up her mind about something.

  He knew how that felt. “For the record, I apologize to someone about once a decade. So you should mark this day on your calendar.”

  The hard line of her mouth eased. “Apology accepted.”

  He nodded once and stepped into the room. “May I sit with you?”

  She didn’t give permission but she didn’t deny it, either. “Is this how blackmail usually works?”

  The floor, the bed and an overstuffed chair were his seating options. The bed needed to be avoided. The chair looked marvelously comfortable but it would put her at his feet. After the way he’d treated her downstairs, he didn’t want that. So he sank to the floor, his back against the front of the chair, careful not to get too close to her. “Not in my experience, no. I think it’s fair to say I’ve made a hash of this.”

  “That’s not normal for you, is it? I mean, I read your DMS file. There’s a lot in it but it seemed like there’s a lot left out too. Like how you managed to get a business license with your arrest record.”

  “What can I say? I’m usually much better at blackmail. Bribery too. I’m used to things going my way.”

  “And they’re not now? Why? What happened?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m curious. Indulge me.”

  If there had been even the barest hint of flirtation in her voice, Vadim would have been all over it. But he kept himself in check and gave her a straight answer. “We get rations twice a month in FreakTown. They were bad today. The food was rotten, stuff destroyed. The baby formula was messed up. So we’ve got to get the cash together to make sure people who don’t have jobs or just don’t have enough money get fed the next two weeks. Formula’s expensive. Gods, it’s fucking expensive. I’ve got people prioritizing lists of names. You know, babies and children first. Pregnant women. Sick, elderly. This is going to be a logistical clusterfuck but we can manage it. The real nightmare is in two weeks, when it happens again.”

  Lizzie stared at him
as if he’d grown another head. “You were a drug dealer?”

  “I have excellent organizational skills,” he deadpanned.

  She shook her head. “I just mean, you were a dealer and you own that nightclub and now you’re talking about baby formula and making sure people are fed.”

  “Don’t forget I’m also a high-functioning addict, or at least that’s what people tell me. Me, personally, I don’t think I have a problem with nightshade. I think we get along quite well.”

  She laughed. The sound traveled straight to a poorly lit part of him he liked to pretend didn’t exist. The moment passed quickly when she asked, “Why does it happen again in two weeks? Are you saying the rations were deliberately ruined?”

  Vadim nodded. “They want the kids using magic off zone. The ones sneaking around putting on displays in front of adoring Normal crowds who think it’s—what was the word you used? Oh, right—amazing.”

  “They want the kids turned in? How can they get away with threatening to starve people?”

  He spoke with a vehemence directed at the situation, not at her. “Because we’re not people. We’re not citizens, we don’t have rights. They don’t care about our kids. Hell, plenty of the kids aren’t even ours. They were taken away from Normal families because of the test, the laws. You think people who are willing to throw away their own children care about somebody else’s?”

  She flinched, a darkness he couldn’t explain crossing her face. “What are you going to do?”

  “I have no fucking clue.” He drew his legs up and rested his hands on his knees. “I don’t want to turn those kids in but we’ve got other kids, younger kids, that need to eat. This is the nightmare, you know. Right here. We didn’t think they could take anything else away from us but they can.”

  “How long can you hold out?”

  “Money’s gonna be an issue. Until they decide to start limiting what we can buy in grocery stores outside the zone.” He covered his face with his hands for a moment. “Shit. I just now thought of that. I can see them doing it too.”