Wilder Mage

by CD Coffelt

  It was enough to frighten the little man. He turned and fled.

  Sable released the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  His black, unreadable eyes turned on her, and she shivered at the fury she saw there. He turned his back to her.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Justus asked the woman.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  The child patted his mother’s arm as if to comfort her and not the other way around. While they waited for a friend to pick them up, she informed them that the man was not the child’s father, but a recent acquaintance. They had dated a few times, but now that was over.

  “No more,” the woman said, her chin raised and eyes hard.

  While they waited for the woman’s friend, Sable saw another side of her taciturn boss, the one who enjoyed a child’s laughter and seemed to delight in the boy’s antics with a box of old—and valuable—antique toy cars. As they left, the boy clutched a blue racecar in one chubby hand and the other waved goodbye over his mother’s shoulder.

  Emmett’s cell beeped and he answered. After the initial greeting, he didn’t speak for a moment, just listening.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll be right home. Don’t worry till I get there,” Emmett said. He snapped his cell phone shut.

  Justus stood in the doorway. “Anything wrong?” he asked.

  Emmett brushed his hands together, his face creased into worry. “No, nothing, just…I gotta get home. I mean, right now.” He looked at Sable and hesitated. To Justus, he said, “Look, can you get Sable home? I gotta go, stop and feed the horses, and then drive back to the house right away.”

  He seemed unusually rattled, as if his mind was in a computer loop, the information going nowhere.

  Justus frowned, laid an arm over Emmett’s shoulder. “Something happen to Maggie? Something at the house?’

  Emmett shook his head emphatically. “No, nothing like that. Just…we got a phone call, and…I gotta go. Can you get Sable home, then?”

  “Take off, Emmett. I’ll get her home. And don’t worry about the horses. I’ll take care of them, too.”

  Emmett nodded, scrubbed one hand over his face, and headed to the door.

  Justus took a step, as if to follow. “Emmett, let me know if you need anything. Okay?”

  Emmett stopped and looked back, hesitating.

  Sable joined Justus, standing at his side. “Same here, Emmett. Anything I can do or—”

  “No.” Emmett said firmly. “Not right now, but thanks.” He smiled briefly, turned, and left without speaking again.

  Sable watched the concern on Justus’s face as he stood still in thought. When he turned, she tried to interpret his expression, but there was nothing in his face for her to see. Except his mouth. His lips mashed into a hard line.

  His eyes came up to hers, and his face smoothed of emotion. Justus half-smiled and nodded to the office. “Did you have anything to shut down or put away?” he asked mildly.

  “The computer and printer, I need to shut them down. And I’d like to take my magic crystal ball home,” she said.

  His face lost all expression.

  “I guess that’s all,” she finished in a low voice.

  “Okay, well, I’ll bring the car up.”

  After turning off the lights, Sable met him at the entrance, the orb under her arm. The thrum of the car motor sounded loud in her ears as she hesitated on the sidewalk.

  “I got the door,” he said. Justus fumbled briefly with the inside lock, and she heard him utter a low curse.

  She grinned briefly and slid into the car as he locked the front door. He strode to his side of the car and put it into gear without speaking.

  She looked down at her lap and the heavy crystal, her stomach fluttering almost as much as her thoughts. He had almost kissed her in the office. And she was disappointed at the interruption.

  And that was nuts.

  The connection she felt developing between them could not continue. It was on a road that would lead to the destination she had avoided since becoming aware of her talents. It was intolerable. So why was she upset? She clutched her hands around the box. The darkened car simmered with tension.

  Sable threw a quick look at his profile. Highlighted by the passing cars and streetlights, his rippling cheek muscles accentuated his straight nose. He flicked his eyes at her and then back to the road. She sucked in a breath at his eyes. They were as black as the night. Something curled inside her, fighting her for release. She struggled silently to bring the magic under control.

  Justus stirred. “Do you mind if we stop to check the horses first? I can park on the street, close to the path, and you can stay in the car.” His voice was rusty again, a disembodied sound from the darkness.

  She willed her fingers to relax. “Sure. That works for me,” she said, forcing a light tone.

  He nodded, but didn’t answer, and the night passed by her window.

  Silence held the occupants of the car in an iron grip; it was like a sentient entity. She continued to wage a soundless battle, but couldn’t keep her eyes from his large hand. It gripped the steering wheel so hard, she marveled that the plastic didn’t crack.

  She wondered if the journey would ever end. A portion of her wished it never would.

  Justus glanced down at her twisting fingers, then back at the road. She plucked a speck of lint off her jeans, then commanded her hands to still.

  He slowed and stopped on the dark street, pointing to a line of trees along the edge of the roadway. An opening in the trees showed a darkened path running into the shadows. The streetlights shone on the roads, but in the trees, the night ruled.

  “There,” he said. “The path leads to the back pasture. Their house is straight on.”

  She nodded, avoided looking at him, and opened her door.

  “Here, wait. I’ll feed the horses. You stay here.”

  “No, I’ll walk to the house from there. I’ve done it many times.”

  He started to protest, but Sable ignored him, tucked the ball under one arm, and bumped the door shut with her hip. She started up the path with him now trailing her. The crystal was awkward and heavy in her arms.

  “Let me carry it,” he said.

  “No, I’m okay.”

  She heard him mutter irritably under his breath.

  Sable shifted the ball into one arm and stepped off the path.

  “Here, I’ll do it.” Justus’s voice was rough.

  He brushed past her in a rustle of spent seed heads from the tall grass of the pasture. She heard the soft whicker of one of the horses as she stepped toward the fence. A small shed sat to one side with bales of brome and alfalfa hay, the aromas still of warm sun and summer. One of the horses snorted softly, but Justus spoke soothingly, and the other horse nickered, shouldering the other one aside to get to the fence first. Justus stretched one long arm into the mound of bales, curled his fingers around the twine, and yanked it to him. In one swift movement, he raised his knee and hefted the bale lightly over the fence. He climbed the rails and jumped in with the horses.

  “Hey, now. None of that,” he said, shoving the pushy horse to the side. He broke the bale, jerking the twine off each end and scattered the hay into a round, knee-high bin. Two long strides, and he popped over the fence with a one-handed jump on the top rail.

  “You’ve fed them before,” she said quietly.

  “Yeah, why?”

  Her soft laugh barely made a sound. “You ignored the bossy one and gave her a shove. First time I did it, I thought she was going to run over me.”

  “She would too if you didn’t stand your ground.”

  “Just goes to show, you’ve got to be firm sometimes.”

  She could barely see his face in the dark, but she was sure he was glaring at her.

  He pointed at the path to the house. “Come on.”

  “What?” she said startled. He had started down the dark trail. “But, but…”

 
He turned back, his face lost in the shadows.

  “Your car is back there, you’ll have to walk back by yourself,” she said.

  Justus shrugged and turned back to the path. “So, I go the long way around this time. At least I’ll get you home safe. Like I told Emmett I would.” His voice was rough again, uncaring.

  She followed him to the edge of the clearing, where he held back the branches of a low-hanging tree, bemused with his brusque voice. It made no sense.

  Why offer to get her home, help her with the horses, and then act as if he was angry again? She did not understand men.

  They left the sounds and aromas of the squabbling horses behind them as the night crowded down. Here, the stars ruled the night and their magnificence paled any feeble attempt of man. The brilliant span of the Milky Way hung over their path, and Sable found the few constellations she knew; Pisces, Cassiopeia, and the Hunter Orion and its stars, Rigel, Bellatrix, and Saiph. The fourth star made her smile, bringing back memories of a friend who laughingly told her of Betelgeuse or ‘beetle juice.’ It brought back those days in junior high before she learned the truth about her future. A long time ago—eons, it seemed.

  “You can almost touch them,” Justus said, his voice low.

  His words covered her abrasive memories in a bath of warm honey, excluding them from this moment. She could see the shadow he made against the stars, looking up at the same starry carpet overhead.

  “You’re a stargazer?” Sable asked.

  He nodded without speaking. The stars continued their extravagant show as they walked under them in silence.

  A gentle breeze swirled around them as the trees thinned and they walked into the pasture that bordered the McIntyres’ yard. A gust of wind caught her hair, sweeping it into wild tangles around her face.

  “Ah, wait,” she said. Sable stopped and tried to use her shoulder to brush the strands out of her mouth, the crystal rocking. She steadied the ball and started to tuck it under her arm.

  “Here,” Justus said. He stood in front of her, standing with the starlight on him. His face shone pale in the dim light and his hair moved in the breeze as if alive. He lifted his hand to her face and slid gentle fingers between the hair and her cheekbone, combing the locks away as he did, leaving a trail of fire on her face. Sable heard his breath catch. She looked up at the starlight reflected in his eyes as his hand settled behind her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. But then, without speaking, he released her neck, and she felt a sense of loss and then confusion when he took the crystal from her hand and set it on the ground.

  He returned to stand over her.

  In slow motion, as if nothing remained of the real world, Sable watched as his eyes dropped to her lips and his mouth parted as he bent down to her. The hand on the back of her neck pulled her gently to him. Softly, softly he touched her lips with his and then drew back. Still so close she could feel his breath on her face, she felt his hand tremble, and again, his mouth touched hers. He drew away again and exhaled sharply.

  One arm snaked around her waist, the other to the familiar spot behind her head, and he bent to her again, a low groan in the back of his throat when his mouth found hers again.

  Pulling her into him, angling her head to nestle into the hollow of his shoulder, his mouth parted her lips gently but with authority.

  For a while, her mind was in shock, his sudden change in personality causing her to feel nothing but confusion as she passively submitted. But when he gently parted her lips and kissed her so deeply, her mind and body responded, joining seamlessly against him. Time seemed to stop. His mouth moved against hers, and she responded, causing his arms to tighten around her as her fingers dug into his back. All her vows to avoid times like this fled her mind.

  For Sable, her only reality was his hard body, mouth and the low sounds he made as he held her so close. She felt nothing else, was conscious of no other truth but his mouth on hers.

  So at first, she didn’t notice the curl of energy gathering in her, just at the edge of her senses. It was alive with power, mounting in ever-increasing surges, tingling in electric surges, whipping into a corporeal animal. Gathering, swirling into life, it spun around her, crackling with fire.

  He suddenly broke free and pushed her back, staring at her from arm’s length, his panting in time with hers. She tried to suck in enough air, her mind in jumbled disarray, dimly aware of the collapse of the energies that had gathered around her, leaving only the remembered tingle in her fingertips. As she watched, she saw his face tighten, and he shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

  Sable felt the sickness begin in the pit of her stomach and the regret of her unwanted, undesired talent. Something from her stupid, stupid powers had touched him, probably burning or shocking him, and now he probably thought she had a taser on her. She felt her eyes sting with tears, but in the next moment, steeled herself to face him.

  Justus stood looking around her, his expression hard. He stared, his eyes roving wildly, as if unable to look at her. Angry and annoyed that she had dropped into his life probably, complicating his set routine.

  “Don’t worry,” Sable said in a flat voice. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  He jerked away from her. “Why? Are you taking the blame?” he asked gruffly. The sound of his voice mixed with the dark shadows of the night. “I have as much to do with this as you do.”

  She shrugged and looked down for the box. “You should stay away from me,” she said without looking at him. “I’m already broken.”

  Her voice sounded hoarse, even to her.

  He bent to pick up the box, and the black chain he always wore around his neck slipped free. At the end of the chain, a small object dangled, and as he straightened, the oval disc settled on his chest. The dark medallion was the size of a quarter, with a hole punched in it for the chain, and had no set or design she could see. Oval-shaped, it was a mud-colored stone with a rounded edge.

  Without thought, she reached out and took the stone into her fingers, rubbing it. Justus froze, staring down at her, his body tense. He held the box and waited.

  “What is this?” she murmured softly. “You always wear it, so it must mean something, come from someone special.”

  Idly, she noted the smooth surface of the stone as she rubbed it.

  “My father, before he died. He gave it to me.”

  “Hmmm, it’s very warm,” she said thoughtfully and released the stone. She turned in the direction of the house.

  Talk. Say anything, but talk, she thought.

  “How did he die?”

  “He was a structural engineer. He designed bridges and the supports for them,” Justus said.

  He followed behind her as she made her way down the trail. She could see the house and the backyard lights shining through the bushes and was grateful the humiliating journey was almost over. When he stopped speaking, Sable wondered if anything could make him talk to her again. The curt, brusque tone did not brook mutual conversation, so she was surprised when he continued in a normal voice.

  “He was inspecting a partially completed bridge designed by another engineer, slipped, and fell into the river.” He shrugged when she turned to look at him and stopped. “It was twelve years ago. ‘Time heals all wounds…’ Well, you know the saying. Anyway, they never found his body and he died there. End of story.”

  He started to brush past her, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. For a moment, he looked down at her with veiled eyes. Then he broke free and strode to the house, brushing through the bushes on the edge of the property.

  His next words were very low, nearly inaudible.

  “You’re not the only one broken.”

  Sable hesitated, then followed him through the bushes.

  From the back yard, she heard Emmett in the house. “It’s just a phone call. It’s not like we weren’t expecting him to call some day.” His voice was gruff.

  “Yes, well, ‘expecting’ something doesn’t make it easier. And how are we
going to tell him?”

  “We can’t tell him. Not yet. It might mean trouble later on. We just have to…go with the flow for now and let him come here.”

  “I wish he hadn’t called,” Maggie said.

  “Yeah,” said Emmett. “Me too. More problems for us.”

  Justus stopped at the edge of the patio. “Hello the house,” he called out.

  Sable heard Emmett grunt. “Guess they came in the back way.” Emmett was there at the back door, peering into the night.

  Justus held back for a moment, his eyes still hard as Sable brushed past him and into the kitchen. She sniffed.

  This was for the best anyway—his snippy attitude, that is. Probably regretting the kiss and wishing it had never happened, and even now, the anger she saw in his face made her emotions churn. No more weakness. No more stupid hormones that threatened to pull her into the iron grip of the Imperium.

  No more, she thought viciously. Never again.

  “There,” Dayne yelled again as he slapped his thigh. “She’s right there. That’s her signature, exactly where she was before. The tener unus never left the area.”

  The spot of iridescent light on the upright crystal board glimmered fitfully and, even as he watched, slowly dimmed. The board, marked with maps and the region’s geography, stood in the darkened control room. The assistant twitched nervously as Tiarra stood over his shoulder, silently staring at the board.

  She nodded and tapped one long red-polished nail on her cheek. “Both of you. I want to see both of you tomorrow,” she said ignoring the assistant’s loud swallow. She looked at Dayne. “You and your woman.”

  His assistant relaxed, but Dayne’s jaw clenched.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Both of us?” Macy squeaked.

  Dayne nodded and stirred the instant coffee into his cup. With the focused energy of his Fire element, he warmed the water and then dumped creamer into the now-steaming cup.