by Jasmine Walt
The woman on the screen came flying down the stairs, no longer the picture of poise and elegance. “Where shall I go?” she howled as I snuggled against Luc, his arm wrapped around me. “What shall I do?”
The man in the movie turned, a smile playing across his face as he eyed her. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”
The words had struck a chord in me because I could see Luc doing the same thing to me. I could see him throwing me out and leaving me on my own. Why shouldn’t he? What did I have to offer him? What could I do to make him keep me? Nothing. I was existing solely because of his kindness. A shudder had run through me. I was depending on the kindness of a stranger.
Luc had gotten up then, leaning forward to grab the remote and move to the next movie like we’d done every night for the whole week. “Classic or action?” he asked, glancing at the half-empty popcorn bowl, probably trying to decide if he wanted to make another batch now or if he could wait for later.
“Um, is it okay if I go to bed?” I asked, extricating myself from the couch and leaping to my feet before he could respond. The sudden lack of his heat made me shiver, and I shut my eyes, making my way away from him. It was harder than it should have been. Damn.
“If you want,” he replied, sitting back down on the couch, and I could feel his gaze on me as I reached the little door that led to the only bedroom in the tiny apartment. His place really wasn’t very big, especially since the kitchen attached to the living room, and the bedroom was really little more than a closet.
He had given me his bed and slept on the couch despite my insistence that the couch was more than I’d ever had back home. It wasn’t true per se, but his couch was infinitely more comfortable than the hard as cement bunks back at base. According to the Dioscuri, soft beds made you, well, soft.
“Action it is,” he said to himself, and I spared a glance over my shoulder to see him settling against the couch to watch the television. His muscles stretched against the confines of his t-shirt as the lights from the parking lot outside shined through the blinds and illuminated him in gold so he looked like a well-muscled angel. My breath caught in my throat as I spun on my heel and flung myself inside the bedroom and slammed the door shut, chest hammering. What was wrong with me? What was I thinking?
I slumped to the ground with my back to the door as I sucked in a deep breath that smelled like pine trees and roses. It was his scent, and instead of comforting me like normal, it made my heart sink into my toes.
This was all going to go away and soon. Even if he didn’t leave me or kick me out, something was going to come and cause problems for us. This life, after all, was a lie. I mean, I was a Dioscuri, trained from birth to stop the preternatural forces of evil from taking over the planet. Every minute I spent with Luc was at best a lie and at worst the cause of untold deaths.
“So was it wrong of me for wanting to stay?” I asked the mirror, shaking away my memories. Everything about him was too good to be true, and as I turned toward the bathroom door, the smell of bacon wafted through the air, making my stomach rumble. He’d fed me, let me stay here, shielded me from the Dioscuri and hadn’t asked for anything in return.
Well… well, this might be wrong, but I had one thing I could give him in return, one thing I could share with him. I swallowed and dropped the towel as I reached out and gripped the door knob with one trembling hand. I stepped out into the cold air. My naked body reacted to the chill instantly. I looked out into the kitchen for him. Only he wasn’t there.
My gaze moved to the couch, but he wasn’t there either. He must be getting dressed. He must have put breakfast on the table and changed while I was showering. He had impeccable timing like that.
Good, that would be a better place anyway. I turned toward the bedroom and ran my fingers through my hair one last time. What if he didn’t like me? I swallowed, perishing the thought before more could spin up into my brain and make my resolve shatter. No, this was decided. I was going to go through with it… if he would have me.
I threw open the door to the bedroom.
He wasn’t there.
Panic leapt up inside me as I looked around furiously. He had to be here somewhere, but where? It wasn’t like this place was very big.
Maybe he stepped out to get the mail or something?
I moved out of the bedroom and ambled into the main room. The television was off and a plate sat on the tiny kitchen table. A single plate. Heaped with bacon and eggs. There was a note next to it. Relief started to wash through me. He’d just gone out. He’d left a note. He’d be back. A smile played across my lips as I sat down on the chair and grabbed the piece of paper. Well, I’d have time to set up a proper surprise then. A grin played at my lips.
“Dear Lillim,
I’m sorry. So very sorry. I can’t stay. I would love to stay with you, but it isn’t part of the plan. Something has come up that I must attend to. I’ll be back, but not for a while. I’m sorry. I should have said something, but you were sleeping so peacefully and then you were in the shower. I know this note is all sorts of cowardly.
Still, I want you to stay here. It’s protected. You’ll be safe. I’ve already shown you all my secret hiding places, where all my artifacts and weapons are hidden. The rent is paid up through the end of the year.
Love,
Luc
P.S. I want you to have my overcoat. I’ve modified it so it’s about your size. Its wards will keep you safe.”
Water spattered against the paper as I held it in my shaking hand. That was weird. I tried to wipe it away but more fell. It was then I realized I was crying. Tears ran down my cheeks and splattered across the page. A cry tore from my throat as I popped to my feet and moved toward the window, pushing the blinds apart. His truck was gone. An empty parking space stared back at me.
He’d left. He’d left me when all I wanted was for him to stay. How… how would I repay him now? No, no, how could he do this to me? Didn’t he realize… didn’t he realize what he’d meant to me?
“He knew,” the ethereal voice of my soulbound ghost, Mattoc said. “I overheard him talking on the phone to someone. If it makes you feel any better, Lillim. If it does, even though I know it doesn’t, he didn’t want to leave. Someone made him go. Someone he couldn’t refuse.”
“It doesn’t make me feel any better,” I said, turning toward the ghost who didn’t so much as look me up and down even though I made no effort to cover myself. What did it matter, he’d probably seen me naked lots of times. “Enjoying the show?” I snapped because I was hurt and angry. I walked through him toward the bedroom so I could grab my things and get the hell out of here.
I don’t know how I had missed it before, but his blue trench coat lay across the bed. It had been one of his most prized possessions, and he’d given it to me.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Mattoc asked as I grabbed my thrift store clothes off the floor and pulled them on.
“Leaving,” I snapped, tears still running down my face. “I can’t stay here.”
“Don’t,” he said, reaching out to me like he wanted to comfort me, but his ghostly fingers just passed through my cheek. “Or if you do, give it a few days to make sure you really want to leave.”
“Why would I even consider that?” I asked as I looked around at all Luc’s stuff. Just seeing it hurt in a way I had never expected. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment as I stared at my ghost, knowing he probably knew what I had been planning on doing with Jean Luc. Somehow, that made everything worse.
“Jean Luc wanted you to have this.” He gestured at the apartment. “It’s safe. It’s what you wanted. You can’t even ‘pay’ him for it.” His lips quirked upward for a second before he turned his back on me and made his way into the kitchen. He sat on the table. “We both know that if you leave this place, the Dioscuri will find you, and I know you don’t want that.” He pointed to the still warm food Luc had left for me. “Now eat, and we can spend the rest of the day eating ice cream and watc
hing cartoons. We can watch whatever you want as long as it’s the one with the sparkly ponies.”
I stared at him for a long time, and he kept smiling at me like a dumbass, and somehow, it made me relax. This could be my home, and it was safe… and maybe one day, Luc would come back… I didn’t have high hopes, and his betrayal hurt in a way I knew it’d take a long time to recover from, but well, thanks to him, I had time.
I had all the time in the world.
If I stayed.
The End
Continue the Lillim Callina Chronicles in Kill it With Magic.
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About the Author
J.A. Cipriano is not the Batman, but if he was, he'd totally lay down sick flows and fight crime. He is the author of the Lillim Callina Chronicles and the bestselling Thrice Cursed Mage urban fantasy series.
When he isn't out not fighting crime, he is spending time with his wife, three-year-old son, and his cat named Turtle. Oh, and writing. He does that occasionally too.
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The Sorcery Code
The Sorcery Code, Volume 1
Dima Zales & Anna Zaires
The Sorcery Code © copyright 2013 Dima Zales
All rights reserved.
Except for use in a review, no part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
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About the Book
The Sorcery Code
From a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author comes a captivating tale of intrigue, love, and danger in a world where sorcery is entwined with science . . .
Once a respected member of the Sorcerer Council and now an outcast, Blaise has spent the last year of his life working on a special magical object. The goal is to allow anyone to do magic, not just the sorcerer elite. The outcome of his quest is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined – because, instead of an object, he creates Her.
She is Gala, and she is anything but inanimate. Born in the Spell Realm, she is beautiful and highly intelligent – and nobody knows what she’s capable of. She will do anything to experience the world . . . even leave the man she is beginning to fall for.
Augusta, a powerful sorceress and Blaise’s former fiancée, sees Blaise’s deed as the ultimate hubris and Gala as an abomination that must be destroyed. In her quest to save the human race, Augusta will forge new alliances, becoming tangled in a web of intrigue that stretches further than any of them suspect. She may even have to turn to her new lover Barson, a ruthless warrior who might have an agenda of his own . . .
1
Blaise
There was a naked woman on the floor of Blaise’s study.
A beautiful naked woman.
Stunned, Blaise stared at the gorgeous creature who just appeared out of thin air. She was looking around with a bewildered expression on her face, apparently as shocked to be there as he was to be seeing her. Her wavy blond hair streamed down her back, partially covering a body that appeared to be perfection itself. Blaise tried not to think about that body and to focus on the situation instead.
A woman. A She, not an It. Blaise could hardly believe it. Could it be? Could this girl be the object?
She was sitting with her legs folded underneath her, propping herself up with one slim arm. There was something awkward about that pose, as though she didn’t know what to do with her own limbs. In general, despite the curves that marked her a fully grown woman, there was a child-like innocence in the way she sat there, completely unselfconscious and totally unaware of her own appeal.
Clearing his throat, Blaise tried to think of what to say. In his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined this kind of outcome to the project that had consumed his entire life for the past several months.
Hearing the sound, she turned her head to look at him, and Blaise found himself staring into a pair of unusually clear blue eyes.
She blinked, then cocked her head to the side, studying him with visible curiosity. Blaise wondered what she was seeing. He hadn’t seen the light of day in weeks, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he looked like a mad sorcerer at this point. There was probably a week’s worth of stubble covering his face, and he knew his dark hair was unbrushed and sticking out in every direction. If he’d known he would be facing a beautiful woman today, he would’ve done a grooming spell in the morning.
“Who am I?” she asked, startling Blaise. Her voice was soft and feminine, as alluring as the rest of her. “What is this place?”
“You don’t know?” Blaise was glad he finally managed to string together a semi-coherent sentence. “You don’t know who you are or where you are?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Blaise swallowed. “I see.”
“What am I?” she asked again, staring at him with those incredible eyes.
“Well,” Blaise said slowly, “if you’re not some cruel prankster or a figment of my imagination, then it’s somewhat difficult to explain . . .”
She was watching his mouth as he spoke, and when he stopped, she looked up again, meeting his gaze. “It’s strange,” she said, “hearing words this way. These are the first real words I’ve heard.”
Blaise felt a chill go down his spine. Getting up from his chair, he began to pace, trying to keep his eyes off her nude body. He had been expecting something to appear. A magical object, a thing. He just hadn’t known what form that thing would take. A mirror, perhaps, or a lamp. Maybe even something as unusual as the Life Capture Sphere that sat on his desk like a large round diamond.
But a person? A female person at that?
To be fair, he had been trying to make the object intelligent, to ensure it would have the ability to comprehend human language and convert it into the code. Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised that the intelligence he invoked took on a human shape.
A beautiful, feminine, sensual shape.
Focus, Blaise, focus.
“Why are you walking like that?” She slowly got to her feet, her movements uncertain and strangely clumsy. “Should I be walking too? Is that how people talk to each other?”
Blaise stopped in front of her, doing his best to keep his eyes above her neck. “I’m sorry. I’m not accustomed to naked women in my study.”
She ran her hands down her body, as though trying to feel it for the first time. Whatever her intent, Blaise found the gesture extremely erotic.
“Is something wrong with the way I look?” she asked. It was such a typical feminine concern that Blaise had to stifle a smile.
“Quite the opposite,” he assured her. “You look unimaginably good.” So good, in fact, that he was having trouble concentrating on anything but her delicate curves. She was of medium height, and so perfectly proportioned that she could’ve been used as a sculptor’s template.
“Why do I look this way?” A small frown creased her smooth forehead. “What am I?” That last part seemed to be puzzling her the most.
Blaise took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse. “I think I can try to venture a guess, but before I do, I want to give you some clothing. Please wait here—I’ll be right back.”
And without waiting for her ans
wer, he hurried out of the room.
Leaving his study, Blaise briskly walked to the other end of his house, to ‘her room’ as he still thought about the half-empty chamber. This was where Augusta used to keep her things when they were together—a time that now seemed like ages ago. Despite that, entering the dusty room was just as painful now as it had been two years ago. Parting with the woman he’d been with for eight years—the woman he’d been about to marry—had not been easy.
Trying to keep his mind on the task at hand, Blaise approached the closet and surveyed its contents. As he’d hoped, there were a few dozen dresses hanging there. Beautiful long dresses made of silk and velvet, Augusta’s favorite materials. Only sorcerers—the upper echelon of their society—could afford such luxury. The regular people were far too poor to wear anything but rough homespun cloth. It made Blaise sick when he thought about it, the terrible inequality that still permeated every aspect of life in Koldun.
He and Augusta had always argued about that, he remembered. She had never shared his concern about the commoners; instead, she enjoyed the status quo and all the privileges that came with being a respected sorcerer. If Blaise recalled correctly, she’d worn a different dress every day of her life, flaunting her wealth without shame.
Well, at least the dresses she left at his house would come in handy now. Grabbing one of them—a blue silk concoction that undoubtedly cost a fortune—and a pair of finely made black velvet slippers, Blaise exited the room, leaving behind layers of dust and bitter memories.