Witchlight

by Sonya Clark

  Lizzie remained in the same spot but he could feel her withdraw just as clearly as if it was physical. If something like that were to happen, she might be able to warn him. Even if it didn’t go directly through the city council, she might find out about it in time to let him know. He was about to broach the subject when she picked up the tablet and turned it over, showing him the display.

  “These were my parents.” A slim finger tapped the man’s image. “He took her last name, did you know that from your research?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Marsden Industries still existed then but just barely. I didn’t know it until after my parents died, but my grandfather was a terrible businessman. He all but ran the company into the ground. There was so little left by the time my mother took it over, the best she could do was sell off the pieces and hold on to the money.” She ran her thumb over her mother’s face and down the red hair they shared. “She told me once she wanted to be a doctor, but her father wouldn’t let her go to medical school and she didn’t have it in her to fight him then. So her big rebellion was falling in love with a veteran who worked as a test pilot.”

  She pressed the power button and got to her knees to place the tablet on a shelf. “My grandfather was not only a bad businessman, he was a bad father. He hated that the only child he could keep was a daughter.”

  Vadim drew in a long breath. “Your mother knew she had a Magic Born sibling?”

  “Of course. She remembered him. He was taken in the first round of DNA testing.” That would have been 2016.

  Fifty years of this. With the amount of damage the Magic Laws had done, it seemed longer. “How old was he?”

  “Nine. He’d never exhibited any signs of magical ability. I know his name was Greg and I know he was sent to the Denver zone. And that’s all I know about him.” She moved closer and faced Vadim with a level gaze. “He’s the reason my mother paid for my fake test. Losing Greg nearly destroyed my grandmother. My mother missed him for the rest of her life. She wanted a child but she wasn’t willing to chance losing me. Before she even got pregnant, she knew the names of several DMS doctors who could be bribed.”

  For years Vadim had had his suspicions about wealthy families losing fewer children to the Magic Laws than the lower income brackets did. But until Calla’s breakthrough, the only unregistered Magic Born he’d ever heard of were completely off the grid, hidden from birth. “Is it widely known? I mean, amongst people like yourself, your family? That bribery is an option.”

  “To be honest, I don’t really know. I think people don’t really talk about it with others unless they trust you completely and know you’d be interested. Some aren’t.”

  Another one of Vadim’s theories was about the doctor that had replaced the murdered Alan Forbes. He said, “In the past year or so, there’s been an uptick in Magic Born children in this region. The new doc not sympathetic?”

  Lizzie shifted to lie on the floor on her side. “No, she’s not. At all. There’s been a quiet push to get her replaced but so far it hasn’t worked.”

  Vadim studied her for a long moment, letting the music cover the silence. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but it wasn’t just his apology that had her talking to him. Trying to handle her didn’t seem to work, plus he didn’t feel as though he had the finesse for it at the moment, so he decided to take a straightforward route.

  “So what happened, Lizzie? Downstairs we were all but spitting at each other, now we’re telling each other secrets. What gives?”

  She sat up, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. “I despise the idea of being blackmailed. Of losing control of my life and my decisions. My mother used her money to insulate herself from that loss of control, including making sure she could keep me. It’s very important to me that I be in control of my life.”

  “If there was ever a time I might take a payoff rather than what I originally had in mind, now would be it. Then you’d have me out of your hair and you could go back to your nice life, doing whatever it is society types on the city council do.” He meant it too. He would take whatever she offered and use it to feed kids in FreakTown for however long he could. And he would do his very best not to think with regret that he could have had a night with her if only he’d kept his mouth shut.

  “That’s just it,” she said. “I don’t want to pay you to go away. I want you to teach me magic.”

  Excitement sizzled in his blood. “You’re serious? You actually want this?”

  “Do you really believe I can learn?”

  “I know you can. What I don’t know is why you’d want to at this point. You don’t need it and if you’re caught, you’ll lose everything.”

  She held her hands up. “Just...I don’t have those answers. And frankly, I don’t believe they’re any of your business.” Rising in a smooth motion, she tugged the bottom of her tank top to straighten it and brushed back her hair. A slight shift in her expression told him the rest. Councilwoman Ice Queen was back.

  “This will no longer be considered blackmail,” she said. “This is a business arrangement.”

  He almost laughed, but then thought better of it. There were any number of things in the room she could use as a weapon. “Oh, is it, now? A business arrangement?”

  “You’ll teach me magic and I’ll do my best to assist you when I can. We’ll start immediately. Another magic lesson tonight and first thing tomorrow I’ll see if there’s any way I can help you with the rations issue.”

  “You really are serious?” Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

  “Yes, Mr. Bazarov,” she seethed. “I am.”

  That was too much to ignore. “Okay, but you can’t call me that. You have to call me Vadim. Or Master’s good too. Or Great and Wonderful Magical Sex God.”

  She gave him a scorching look that would have terrified a lesser man, then turned to leave the room. “I’d prefer we do this in the solar.”

  He followed close behind. “We can do it anywhere you want, sweetheart.”

  “That’s right,” she purred. “What and where I want.”

  Vadim didn’t even try to keep the stupid grin off his face. A whole host of trouble waited for him back in FreakTown, but here, tonight—this was going to be fun.

  Chapter Eight

  The idea had been circling at the edge of her thoughts all day, but she’d made up her mind when he told her about the ration emergency. She’d always been careful about how strongly to show support for the Magic Born, leery of drawing attention to herself. Quiet support, or quiet lack of support depending on the circumstances, was more her style. Information was something she had access to, however, and that was a way she could help him. Help the Magic Born. So she made the decision in a split second and proposed the business arrangement.

  The rhythmic vibration of magic was an easy counterpoint to the lassitude in her veins. On. Breathe. Off. Breathe. On. Until it felt natural, commonplace, which didn’t take near as long as Lizzie had thought it would. Only the amount of time it took for her and Vadim to polish off two bottles of wine.

  “Try the room lights now.” His voice, smoky and sensual, reached her through a haze of chardonnay and pride. “Work them in sync for ten minutes and I’ll teach you how to make witchlight.”

  “What’s that?” She adjusted her focus from the small table lamp to all the lights in the room. It felt off and she knew they were blinking randomly. Lizzie still didn’t understand how she knew but for now she was willing to let instinct be her guide.

  “That pretty show at the club the other night that you liked so much.” Liquid poured into a glass. Hopefully his—she’d had enough. “We call it witchlight.” He paused, and she pictured his mouth on the edge of the glass as he sipped the wine. She licked her lips and pushed the image away. “Do I need to adjust the blindfold?”

 
; “No!” She cleared her throat. “No, thank you. It’s fine.” How the hell had she let him talk her into a blindfold? Oh, right, the first bottle of wine. Also the fact that she hadn’t been having any luck with the lamp and he had convinced her that sensory deprivation might help.

  Movement to her left and then the heat of his body next to hers. “Mmm. I think it needs adjusting.” His breath was a warm caress against the shell of her ear. He pulled at the knot keeping the black silk scarf in place then trailed his hand down the tail of it, catching his fingers in her hair. Then he gathered both the scarf and her hair in one hand and tugged, hard enough to make her scalp tingle, the sensation fanning out to the rest of her. “Just want to make sure it’s secure. Back to work.” He left her side, taking his hands and his heat with him. She tried not to miss both, but for just a second, she did.

  Lizzie redoubled her efforts. The rhythm of her breathing was off, as were her pulse and the gentle push of magic she used to manipulate the lights. The thought of him so close but out of sight and beyond her control left her scattered. Add that to the constant nibble of doubt working at her nerves and it was no wonder she couldn’t synchronize the lights.

  It was more than just doubt though. A lifetime of suppressing the magic within warred with an equally long-held desire to claim that magic. She’d been taught from birth to hide it, bury it deep inside and never let anyone know the truth. Her life, and that of her parents, had depended on secrecy. She would have been sent to a zone but her parents would have been sentenced to prison for breaking the Magic Laws. The penalties for any Magic Law infraction were swift and harsh. It would have consigned them to abject poverty if they had managed to survive the long prison sentence.

  Stabbing pain, sharp as an ice pick, drove into her skull. A lifetime of tension headaches had come with suppressing the magic. Pain pills usually did the trick but that’s not what Lizzie wanted now. Right at this moment, the thing Lizzie wanted most was to synchronize the lights in the room.

  She gritted her teeth and thought of the last time she’d had to whip someone in line with the razor edge of her tongue, remembering Vadim’s admonition to tell the magic who was boss. She could bend people to her will, especially men in the right circumstances. If she could do that, surely she could do this. Ignoring the pain slicing tunnels through her head, she brought her breathing under control first. A slow, measured inhale followed by an equally measured exhale. She repeated the pattern until she felt ready to move on to the next problem. By that time, bringing her heart rate under control took far less effort.

  Magic pulsed in a steady hum all through her awareness. Instinct told her all the lights in the room were falling into a pattern together. No, not instinct. That pulse of magic, like another heartbeat, told her the lights were doing as she willed.

  “Very nice.” Vadim moved again, this time settling behind her. “Now let’s see you keep it up while distracted.”

  “That’s not what you said earlier.”

  “Six minutes to go. Surely you can handle that.” He swept her hair and the scarf to her left shoulder, leaving bare skin and the strap of her tank top on the right side. His touch so light she barely felt it at first, he traced a finger around the edge of the strap.

  Her skin tingled at the contact but her concentration didn’t falter. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she murmured.

  “Oh, I will. Don’t you worry.”

  Warmth suffused both arms, beginning at the wrists and traveling up to her shoulders and neck. Vadim wasn’t touching her but she could feel his hands just above her skin. The warmth was more than body heat though. It was magic, as sensuous and alluring as the man casting the spell. The same voice in her head that had admonished her almost daily for years to keep her own magic buried as deep as possible shouted a warning. Lizzie ignored it, her control of the lights perfect.

  If only she could summon the same level of control over her hot-and-cold feelings for Vadim.

  “It’s like you’re not even trying to challenge me,” she said.

  The sound of movement announced his intentions as he edged closer, pulling her back against his chest. “You’re awfully new at this to be getting cocky.”

  “I’ve always been a quick study.”

  “Let’s see what I can do to provide enough challenge for you.”

  The warmth increased, a teasing flavor added to it that curled around her in a featherlight stroke. He walked his fingers up her spine. Slow. Deliberate. He reached her shoulders and spread his hands over them, squeezing once. “Carrying around rocks in there.”

  “Comes with the headaches.”

  Gently, he began to knead her muscles. “Tell me about them.”

  She faltered and hoped he wouldn’t notice the lights stutter. “Why?”

  “Magic comes with a price. Channeling that much energy can be hard on a body. You have to take care of yourself.”

  “Do you?” She stifled a sigh as he worked out a knot with hard pressure from his thumb. “Take care of yourself?”

  “Hell, no.” He laughed. “I get drunk and high and don’t sleep enough. So I get nosebleeds sometimes. Headaches too. It depends on the type of magic I’m working.”

  Types of magic... God, she had so many questions. But she swallowed them and asked something she probably shouldn’t have. “What happens if you don’t do magic? Do you get headaches then?”

  He moved his thumbs up the column of her neck in small, slow circles, the rest of his fingers fanned out to the sides. “I’m a witch, Lizzie. Why the hell would I not use magic?”

  She removed the blindfold, blinking against the still-flashing lights. If she could start this, she could finish it. She focused her will on a single word: stop. After a few wobbly moments the lights in the room winked out one by one, leaving them in darkness. She found herself bracketed by his legs and the wall of his chest, his hands resting on her shoulders. Still clutching the scarf, she half turned in the tight space, not sure how she felt about being so close to him. Hot and cold and every temperature in between.

  “I get tension headaches from suppressing the magic.”

  Vadim stared as if unbelieving.

  She tried to maneuver out of what felt too close to an embrace. “I may not know anything about witchcraft but I do have some self-awareness about my situation.”

  “How do you even do that? Controlling it, sure. That I get. But suppressing it?” He leaned back, hands on the floor behind him, moving his legs to allow her room.

  Grateful she hadn’t had to ask, Lizzie scooted a few feet over to sit with her back against the sofa. “How else can someone like me stay safe?”

  “Just hide it, for gods’ sake. I know it’s not easy but it can be done.”

  Lizzie bit her lip as she considered how best to respond. She didn’t want to incite an argument. “You grew up in a zone. There was never any need for you to hide.”

  “Everybody’s got something to hide.”

  “Not like this.” Her eyes now adjusted to the darkness, she studied him carefully. Undeniable power radiated from him even as he sat on her floor, seemingly at ease. Not just magic but force of will, or maybe it was the same thing.

  “Don’t you know others like you? What do they do? I know one. He hides it but he’s a practitioner.”

  “My parents didn’t think it was safe for me to know others like me. I don’t know if even they did.”

  Vadim reached for the wineglass and took a long drink. “Never shared secrets with friends at whatever private school you went to? Caught some other girl in the bathroom using glamour to make her breasts look bigger?”

  “I was homeschooled.”

  He winced. “My gods. They really did keep you on a leash, didn’t they?”

  “They wanted to protect me.” She put enough frost in her tone to hopefully war
n him off the subject of her parents. “What’s the point of a secret if you share it?”

  “The only thing more fun than having a secret is sharing it.” He held out the glass. “Want a drink?”

  “No, thank you. You have secrets?”

  “Some really good ones.” His lecherous grin matched the twinkle in his dark eyes.

  “It’s not fair for you to know my biggest secret and I know none of yours.”

  “Are you flirting with me, Councilwoman Marsden?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Bazarov.”

  “I thought we agreed you would address me as Most Magnificent Magical Sex God?”

  “I agreed to no such thing.”

  “You didn’t make it the ten minutes. If you want me to teach you witchlight, it’s gonna cost you.”

  “It’s already cost me two bottles of wine. Time to hold up your end.”

  He set the glass on the floor and crossed his legs. “I’d rather you hold up my end, but we’ll try that another night.” He held out his right hand with the palm facing up. “Tell me a favorite of yours.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A favorite flower. Favorite animal. Something you like that’s pretty and colorful and that moves so I can show off while I teach you this.”

  Lizzie could think of nothing that fit. “You pick something. I don’t need you to show off, I just want to learn.”

  Golden light dawned in the air above his hand. It shimmered and spread, growing rapidly into a form she recognized from attending Chinese New Year celebrations with her father—a dragon. Vadim sent it dancing through the room, the creature twisting and winding around the furniture in graceful arcs. Lizzie climbed to her feet to stare, transfixed. The dragon approached in a blaze of gold and red, curling around her and bringing a wave of Vadim’s energy with it. It lapped the ceiling once then came to a halt in the center, dissolving into tiny sparks that fell like rain.

  She knelt in front of him and picked up the glass, finishing off the last bit of wine. “How do I do that?”