Crux

by Moira Rogers

  Nick came over with two beers, one of which she placed in front of Jackson. “What?”

  He arched an eyebrow at her. “You were sending people on Henry’s tour again.”

  “And why not?” Nick asked indignantly. “So he uses some magic, fakes a couple of ghosts. Big deal. It’s not his fault the real haunts are so damn few and far between.” She dropped the other pilsner glass in front of Alec with a thud and poked him expectantly, so he heaved a long-suffering sigh and slid over. Nick sat and held up two fingers. “People who come to New Orleans looking for supernatural crap want two things: vampires and ghosts.”

  Mackenzie looked from Nick to Jackson and back again. “So? If this place is crawling with shapeshifters and witches and psychics, why’s it so hard to find ghosts and vampires?”

  Jackson sipped his beer. “Vampires are easy. They don’t exist. Ghosts are… Well, let’s just say they’re a matter of some debate.”

  “No vampires?” She raised her eyebrows and laughed. “And this guy uses magic to fake ghosts so people will go on his tours?” The sheer absurdity of it made her suddenly certain that they were telling the truth. No crazy person worth a damn would dream up a delusional supernatural version of New Orleans and leave out the vampires.

  Jackson grinned at her shocked amusement. “Did you spend your morning ordering straitjackets in bulk?”

  “I thought about it. Nick wouldn’t let me, though.”

  “Too confining.” Nick cast a knowing look at Jackson. “Did you call Mahalia?”

  “I did. Had to leave a voicemail, though. She’s probably out playing shuffleboard or something.”

  “God help you if she ever finds out you say stuff like that about her. That woman will end you.”

  Their easy banter was surprisingly relaxing, and Mackenzie found herself leaning back against the padded booth as she glanced over at Jackson again. “Didn’t you say Mahalia was the one who taught you that…” She waved a hand. “That invisible thing?”

  “She taught me damn near everything I know, actually.” He shifted his beer glass from one hand to the other. “Then she retired to Florida and left me high and dry.”

  Nick rolled her eyes and elbowed Alec. “Should we order a violin to accompany his whining?” Jackson moved and she yelped, reaching under the table to rub her leg. “That hurt.”

  “Serves you right.” He turned back to Mackenzie. “Mahalia decided to retire, in more ways than one. She sold her bar to this reprobate here, and dropped out of the magic scene completely.”

  “There’s a scene?” she asked, wondering why she was surprised. “Are there meetings or clubs or something?”

  “It’s not that organized, really, but people tend to be aware of each other. It pays to know who can do what, and whether they’d ever want to do it to you.”

  The teasing look in his eyes made more than her face warm. She reached for her soda and tried to seem casual. “I bet it does, at that.”

  Nick elbowed Alec again. “Make them stop.”

  “Nothing stops Casanova,” Alec replied darkly, nudging Nick out of the booth so he could stand. “I’ve got to go get Kat. Have fun with the young and the restless, here.”

  Any self-consciousness Mackenzie might have felt seemed insignificant when compared to her sharp interest in Jackson. She didn’t take her eyes off him as she smiled slowly. “I think that might have been a hint of some sort.”

  “Oh God.” Nick groaned. “Jackson, it’s officially slowed down enough now for me to feel comfortable telling you to get her out of here.”

  Mackenzie opened her mouth to agree but snapped it shut again. Jesus, what is wrong with me? Jackson was plenty attractive, but she was acting like a teenager in the throes of her first hormonal crush. She wasn’t the type of woman to get stupid over pretty eyes and a handsome face.

  Until now. The thought was disturbing enough for her to make an effort to lock down the restless desire before turning to look at Nick. “Hey, I was just kidding around. I’m here to work.”

  Nick shook her head. “Go. Have fun. Perry and I can handle it, or I’ll call Allison to help.” She headed behind the bar without waiting for another protest.

  Jackson muttered under his breath, “Hey, look. My evil plan worked.”

  She tried to give him a quelling look, but she had the feeling it ended up more flirtatious than anything else. “I’m a responsible person. I don’t skip out on work to flirt with cute guys.”

  “Nick’ll get over it.” He eyed the abandoned tour brochures on the bar. “Want to go on Henry’s tour? I think he has one that leaves right around dusk.”

  There were a hundred things she needed to do that were more important. Maybe a thousand. She tried to concentrate on those things, but the restlessness rose in her again. The idea of spending the evening trapped in a bar—or inside any building, for that matter—was unbearable.

  The restlessness wasn’t the only thing she couldn’t suppress. She found herself shifting closer, letting her leg brush against Jackson’s. “Does he really use magic?”

  “Sure does.” The corner of Jackson’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Nothing too flashy. Just a little ooga booga here and there to keep the customers happy.”

  “Sounds fun.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Will you tell me when he’s doing it?”

  His brows drew together, but he only nodded. “Sure. Want to head out? We’ll have to hoof it over to Bourbon for the tour.”

  Stop it, damn it. Stop with the flirting. The stress was obviously getting to her, and she needed a release. Maybe walking would burn off some of her extra energy. “Let’s go.”

  Jackson took another bite of his frozen lemonade. “So, what did you think?”

  Mackenzie laughed and poked at her lemonade with a plastic spoon. “Henry seems fun. He’s a great performer.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty good.” He put a hand on her shoulder to guide her past a group of college kids. She seemed fairly relaxed at the moment, something for which he was grateful. All evening, she’d been wavering between tranquil and intense, almost uneasy, and it was starting to worry him. “Anything else you want to see, or do you want to go back to my place and watch some television?”

  “Hmm.” She seemed to consider it as she dropped her gaze to her cup again, and her shoulder tensed slightly under his hand. Her next step was too close, and she bumped into him. “Sorry. I think television would be good. I’m tired.”

  “You all right?” he asked, concerned. “You seem a little off.”

  “I’m not sure. I’ve been feeling…antsy. Maybe I’m not used to this much sleep.”

  His frown deepened, and he threw the rest of his melting lemonade in a nearby garbage can. “Come on. We won’t wait for the streetcar. We’ll take a cab.” He laid a hand on her elbow and stepped to the curb, raising an arm to signal a taxi.

  It was impossible not to hear the way her breathing hitched as his fingers brushed her skin. She shivered and dropped her cup in the can after his. “A taxi might be a good idea.”

  When a yellow cab slowed to a stop beside them, Jackson opened the door for Mackenzie. “Hop in, and we’ll get you home as fast as we can.”

  She was fidgeting when he slid in next to her, one leg bouncing restlessly as she drummed her fingers on her knee. “Maybe I had too much caffeine.” The light tone sounded false, and he could feel her vibrating with barely leashed energy next to him.

  “Maybe.” He found himself wishing Mahalia would call him back. He had the vague, uncomfortable sense that whatever was going on with Mackenzie wasn’t as mundane as a coffee overdose. He gave the cabbie his address and scooted farther from her, moving his leg away from hers. “It won’t be long.”

  “Okay.” She let her head fall back as she closed her eyes. After several deep breaths, her body began to relax. “God, I don’t know. May
be it’s just stress. There’s been so much going on…”

  “Don’t sweat it. Stress can do some crazy things.”

  “I suppose.” She kept her eyes closed, but her hand snuck across the seat until it found his. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome, Kenzie.”

  They reached his apartment quickly, and Jackson paid the driver while Mackenzie stood by the cab, still looking like she was going to jump out of her skin.

  “Come on.” He led her down the sidewalk. “You probably got overheated. We’ll get you a big glass of water and—” His words cut off as he touched his door, his hand flattening against the wood with a slap.

  Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.

  He cast a quick look around and shoved his cell phone into Mackenzie’s hand. “Here,” he said quietly. “Speed dial number two and tell Alec to get his ass here five minutes ago.”

  She flipped open the phone.

  Jackson only vaguely heard her speaking as he opened the door and walked in, surveying his living room. It looked the same as it had when they’d left that morning. He closed his eyes and focused, slowly turning toward the sofa. Mackenzie’s bag lay at one end, right where she’d left it, but Jackson could feel that it had been searched, rifled through. Violated.

  Mackenzie stepped up behind him and laid a hand on his arm. “Alec says he’s on his way.” Her fingers trembled where they rested on his arm, the nervous energy back and worse than before.

  “Check your bag.” His gaze darted around the room. “See if anything is missing.”

  She frowned in confusion, but obediently opened her bag. Her frown deepened as she sorted through her belongings. “A shirt’s missing.” She glanced up. “One of the ones I sleep in. Who would steal a tank top when there’s a few hundred dollars in cash sitting right next to it?”

  “Someone who isn’t after money.” He walked into the hallway and pulled his lockbox off the top shelf of his closet. He opened it quickly, removed the Beretta he kept there and performed a cursory check of its mechanisms.

  “What’s going on?” Mackenzie’s voice was frightened.

  He gave her a serious look. He didn’t want to scare her even more, but she deserved to know the truth about her own situation. “Whoever broke in is powerful. Insanely powerful. And that means that Marcus Foster has some terrifying connections.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jackson paced the office. “I’m telling you. It’s like the wards weren’t even there, Alec.”

  “Mahalia hasn’t called you back yet?” Alec asked, his voice tense.

  “Not a peep, but I’ll drive to Boca if I have to, because this shit isn’t funny.” He chewed on his thumbnail. “Dealing with someone who can walk right through Mrs. Morris’s most powerful magic isn’t the least bit amusing.”

  Mackenzie shifted restlessly in Kat’s chair, her right foot still tapping on the floor. “Do you think it’s Marcus? Or that guy from earlier?”

  Jackson stopped and looked at her, again torn between wanting to make her feel better and needing her to understand how much danger she was in. “Neither. That guy in the alley was small potatoes, and unless you neglected to mention that Foster is a wizard who’s about a hundred and fifty years old, there’s no way he could do something like this.”

  Alec’s voice broke in. “He wouldn’t have to be a hundred and fifty if he was a Seer.”

  Jackson fought a chill and pointed a finger at Alec. “That’s crazy talk, Jacobson. There’s one Seer out of how many thousands of wolves? The one cougar Seer I know of—” He broke off and glanced at Mackenzie. “Was the guy trying to romance you in his seventies?”

  For the first time since their arrival she stopped fidgeting. “Uh, no. No, he looked my age, maybe a little older. Couldn’t have been much past thirty.”

  Alec looked undaunted. “Well maybe there’s another one.”

  “What are the mathematical odds of that, Alec?”

  “Hell, Jackson. Who even knows? Who knows how many wolf Seers disappear every year because someone found out their precious blood had magic in it? Do you think Nick’s sister would have made it to adulthood if their dad wasn’t the Alpha? Besides, no one knows for sure how many cougars are out there. It’s not impossible.”

  Before Jackson could reply, Mackenzie spoke. “I don’t understand. What’s a Seer? A psychic?”

  Jackson held Alec’s gaze for a couple more seconds and turned to her. “Most shapeshifters can’t use other types of magic. Magic—the kind you’d think of—tends to override everything else. So when two shifters with a family history of magic have kids, sometimes there’s a kid who seems like a regular shapeshifter…until the magic ability manifests. And they’re…” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. “They’ve usually got more raw power in their pinkie toes than I’ve got in my whole damn body.”

  “People kill them?” she asked, her face horrified.

  “They’re scared of them,” Alec said softly. “Having that much power… There have been Seers in the past who’ve gone crazy from all that power, and done some horrific things.”

  Mackenzie’s eyes went from Alec to Jackson. “You said Nick’s got a sister who is one?”

  “A twin,” Jackson confirmed, hating the look on Mackenzie’s face. “Her name is Michelle, and Alec is right. They probably would have killed her already if John Peyton wasn’t so powerful.” He attempted a smile and failed miserably. “Just another of those injustices we were talking about yesterday.”

  “Michelle’s a good kid,” Alec said firmly. “Maybe we should have Nick call her, ask if there are other Seers around. You’d think there’d be rumors.”

  “No,” Jackson said, deep in thought. “Not yet. I need to get in touch with Mahalia. There’s a friend of hers, a cougar, named Steven Donovan. I don’t know how to contact him, but Mahalia would, and I…” He shrugged at Alec. “I don’t want to call Michelle unless—or until—we absolutely have to. There’s just too much political maneuvering going on with those damn wolves. No offense.”

  Alec just snorted. “Don’t forget that you can’t call her. Even if they let her talk to you, it could cause problems if spell casters from New Orleans started calling her. If they ever get even the slightest suspicion that she might not be loyal…”

  Mackenzie made a disbelieving noise. “Are you honestly saying they would kill Nick’s sister over a phone call?”

  “Probably not.” Alec didn’t take his eyes off Jackson’s face. “But it’s not worth the risk. Have Nick call her if you have to.”

  “I’m not stupid enough to call Michelle myself. I have half a brain in my head.”

  Alec’s blunt words were upsetting Mackenzie even more. She’d gone from bouncing her foot to twisting Kat’s chair back and forth, the movement bursting with nervous energy.

  Her face was flushed, and her eyes widened when they met his. “I’m not feeling better anymore. I—I’m feeling worse.”

  He lowered his hand to her shoulder. “Antsy?”

  “I can’t sit still.” The color in her cheeks deepened as she stared at her hands. “I feel—”

  The bell above the front door interrupted her, the sound barely fading before Kat exclaimed, “Holy shit.”

  Jackson groaned. “Kat, what the hell are you doing here?” He was disconcerted, Mackenzie had some freakish nervous condition, and the last thing they needed was an empath running around the office, soaking up their bad vibes.

  Alec was out of his chair before the door swung shut behind Kat. “C’mon, missy. You are getting out of here. Now.”

  Kat stared at Jackson, her eyes wide and face flushed, just like Mackenzie’s. “Oh, my. I, um—”

  Mackenzie hid her face with her hands as Alec bustled Kat out the front door. “Fuck, she could feel that?”

  Jackson stared at her, bewildered. �
�She’s an empath. She could feel pretty much anything that you—” His eyes narrowed as he took in her embarrassment and realization washed over him. “Oh. Oh.”

  “It started this afternoon,” she admitted in a hoarse whisper. “Maybe the stress is getting to me. Or maybe it’s sexual frustration. But I really didn’t want to share it with anyone else.”

  “Well…” He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and tried not to sound too flustered. “What the… I mean, why’re you…?”

  Before she could reply, the front door opened again and Alec stuck his head in. “I need to talk to you, Holt. Now.”

  Jackson held up a hand, stammered an unintelligible noise at Mackenzie and followed Alec outside. “Look, whatever she’s got going on, it isn’t—”

  Alec cut him off with an impatient gesture. “You can’t sit around waiting for Mahalia to call back. You need to get Mackenzie in a car and start driving, now.”

  “What is it?”

  His partner jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate Kat, who sat on a bench across the street, looking shaken. “If she’s feeling what Kat says she’s feeling, that girl is a ticking time bomb. I’d wager that whatever has been keeping her from shifting all these years is starting to fail.”

  Jackson stared at him, confused. “That would make her horny?”

  Alec returned his stare evenly. “You really want to waste time on the dirty details of shapeshifting and the adrenaline rush that comes with it, or do you want to get that girl some damn help? The longer you wait between changes, the harder it can be. Twenty-five years of it is something I don’t really want to imagine.”

  He had a point. “Oh, Alec. Man, I am not the person to be handling this, not alone. I…” The words died on his tongue. He was nearly thirty damn years old; was he really about to tell his partner he needed a chaperone in order to be able to keep his hands off Mackenzie? Instead, he swallowed. “Can I borrow your car?”

  “Sure.” Alec pulled the keys out of his pocket. “She’s hot and you’re interested, but this isn’t the time to indulge, Jackson. Sex isn’t going to make her feel better. In fact, it might make it a whole lot worse. If you have to, drug her ass or use magic or something. It’s for her own damn good.”