Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series

by Veronica Singer

  "I'll be ready for the gold soon."

  "The girls are afraid that a gold charm might get stolen. We were thinking of white gold or platinum."

  "Platinum would be best. White gold is an alloy, so it takes longer to create. Do you want to do the transmutation?"

  "You think I'm ready for that?" Transmuting base metals to gold was one of Mason's most impressive spells, and one of the first tricks he had shown me. Even now, after many months of study with him, I barely understood how he did it.

  "Yes. Platinum is one step down from gold on the periodic table, so the energy requirement for transmutation is much lower. What do you need to do first?" He was in full teacher mode.

  I considered the challenge. I could use magic to focus on the gold bar's inner structure, then balance the equations to begin the transmutation. I started to move my fingers, then stopped. No, that wasn't right.

  "Set up a circle to contain the energies," I said. "And the gold bar isn't one hundred percent pure. It needs to have all other elements removed. Then the spell should work."

  Mason smiled. "Perfect! Not setting a circle screwed up King Midas."

  "That was real?"

  "Yes, he was a magician who liked to take shortcuts. Ended up with a curse no one could cure."

  I opened my mouth to ask more questions, then shut it. We needed to get these charms made, not gossip about dead magicians. "Any other precautions I should take?"

  "Your protective circle is good. Remember to avoid converting the gold to any of the unstable isotopes."

  "How do I do that?"

  "The equations don't balance—well, no, they balance differently for stable isotopes. What else do you need for the transmutation?"

  I thought over my lessons and said, "There's a lot of energy involved in the conversion. Going down the table will release energy, going up requires energy." I shook my head. "I can't do it, Mason. I can't handle the amount of energy involved."

  "Unless?"

  Mason had given me a lot of clues about how his version of magic worked. He was always talking about balancing the equation. "I need to transmute another element up the table to balance the amount of energy released by the down-conversion from gold to platinum."

  "Brilliant!" Mason produced a piece of pure lead. "You can use this lead to balance the energy consumption." He placed the lead next to the gold bars inside the protective circle I had engraved on my sheet of vellum.

  "So you want me to take the energy released by transmuting the gold to platinum and use it to transmute lead into what? Bismuth?" Lessons with Mason ensured I had memorized the periodic table. My old physics teacher would have been proud.

  "Exactly."

  "But I've seen you transmute without a counterbalancing element or a circle."

  "You didn't see a counterbalancing element or a circle."

  He had that grin that showed I had figured out one of his tricks. Once again, I shook off the urge to question him about his methods. We had to finish this task. When would we have time to explore magic? Time to spend enjoying each other's company? There was always a new crisis on the horizon. And our lives would get even more hectic once the cubs were born.

  "So, you need to visualize the equation that represents each of the elements, combine them, and then will the conversions." He made it sound easy.

  "More math? Okay, I can do that."

  But it didn't come naturally to me. Wolves only had a hazy concept of numbers, and that bled over to our human sides. Still, I had other ways of visualizing magic. I concentrated on the gold bar, focusing on its internal structure.

  Looking at the gold with magical senses was like watching two or three movies projected on a screen at once. By concentrating, I could bring each into focus, one at a time.

  The first, simplest movie showed the gold atoms looking like tiny solar systems, with electrons zipping around each nucleus. I pushed at the electrons, trying to knock out the correct number to drop the gold down to the next element in the periodic table. After several minutes of concentration, I converted one atom of gold into platinum, balanced out by the conversion of one atom of lead into bismuth.

  I took a deep breath and smiled at my success. Then I realized that, at this rate, it would be eons before the conversion was done. Mason had done a much more difficult transformation, from the cheap metal alloy of a five-hundred-yen coin to gold, in the time it took to spin the coin on a tabletop.

  Mason was zenned out next to me, concentrating on his part of creating the enchantment for the lockets. I didn't want to ask him for help. I'm kind of stubborn that way.

  Maybe if I looked at the movie a little differently? I focused on the next level. The tiny solar systems faded away, replaced by atoms composed of a nucleus composed of braided attractions and repulsions held in balance by a sphere of potential. Each time the nucleus threatened to unravel, a potential appeared above that spot, tugging the nucleus to bring it back into position.

  The way the atoms danced seemed more natural. Equations were cold and static, while the dance of the elements was mesmerizing. It was like watching a perfectly choreographed dance. Expanding my vision to encompass the other atoms showed a way to have the gold atoms spin off dance partners to the lead atoms and end up with each in a stable spin.

  It started slowly—a few atoms swapped, then a few thousand, then a few million. In an incredibly short time all the gold had been converted to platinum and the lead bar was now a mixture of lead and bismuth.

  I blinked back to reality and checked my internal clock. Over an hour had passed. Better than eons, but far short of Mason's speed. Still, the thrill of imposing my will on the universe and forcing it to change was exhilarating.

  I clapped my hands together and said, "Mason, I'm done."

  He turned from his preparations and matched my huge grin with one of his own.

  "Congratulations. Very few magicians can perform transmutation. I'm very proud of you."

  The formerly gold bars were now a bright silver color, although the engraving was unchanged. Then the implication hit me.

  "I'm rich! I can make all the gold I need for the pack's finances."

  For a minute, just a minute, I dreamed of a rich life surrounded by luxury: a nice car, a lot of clothes, expensive shoes and handbags. I felt a nip on my butt from my wolf side. She projected a few simple pleasures: the tingle of raw moonlight on fur, Mason's hugs, my packmates, adorable cubs. She was right; there were more important things in life than fancy clothes and cars.

  "And you still have the money from the government grants."

  "Yeah, but I trust the government less than Logan trusts magicians. That money is worse than a leash. They can cut us off any time. This transmutation is something that no one can take away."

  "Not just gold. There are other elements much more valuable per gram than gold." He pulled two drinks from the minifridge, a Coke and a Sprite, and handed the Sprite to me. After taking a sip, he continued, "I'd avoid any of the elements higher than uranium. Keeping them from fissioning requires careful spell-work."

  I shuddered at the thought of using my new talent to create a weapon of mass destruction. Werewolves are vicious killers one-on-one, but indiscriminate murder of innocents made me sick.

  "Now I know why magicians are feared. This transmutation knowledge is dangerous."

  "It's also difficult. Aside from demigod-level entities, almost no one can pull it off." Mason tilted his head and looked at me. "How would you manage it?"

  "I could never do it."

  "Not that you would—just as an exercise in using magic to create plutonium. How would you do it?"

  I gave it some thought, while Mason continued working on the charm bracelets. At his urging, the platinum ingots melted down like mercury and reformed into tiny globes attached to a chain-link bracelet.

  I was jealous of the way he could pursue two trains of thought at once. I was more of a one-track-mind kind of girl.

  "I can't handle the amount of
energy involved in jumping elements up to that level and dropping an equal distance for another element. It would burn out almost anybody."

  "Good answer. It's almost impossible to—"

  "—unless I jump up in two or more steps." Thinking about the problem brought an image of heavy lead atoms dancing a frantic jitterbug. One atom bounced off the back of another, jumping to a new level, creating thorium. Then another atom jumped to the same level as the first, then jumped again to create plutonium. Each jump up was accompanied by an equivalent jump down of other elements.

  "Jump in two or more steps? What do you mean?"

  I explained my reasoning. "It's like a gymnastics or dance routine. Take four dancing atoms of lead, and bounce two more lead atoms on their backs. That jumps the two atoms of lead up to thorium; then use two thorium atoms to jump another thorium atom up to plutonium. Each jump takes less energy than a straight jump to plutonium."

  "But the equations don't balance…" Mason got that faraway look so common to magicians or mathematicians. It took four or five minutes, but he finally blinked back to reality.

  "Where did you get the idea to do it that way?" he asked.

  "From a cheerleading routine we did in high school. Would it work?"

  "Yes, it would work. It's still dangerous. Keeping control of the radiation and preventing the plutonium from fissioning would require careful planning. Please never try that without me around to help."

  "I have no intention of creating nuclear weapons, with or without your help. I'll be happy with a few tons of gold."

  9

  I could have talked about magic with Mason all night, but people were waiting on us. I boxed up the charm bracelets and put them in my purse.

  We met up in the hotel's lobby. Alisha and Brita were wearing their new clothes, Naomi was wearing a slightly different goth outfit, and Kuga was wearing her standard skirt/blazer combo.

  Even Logan had dressed up. He was wearing tan slacks, well-polished black loafers, and a dress shirt. It was even tucked in. I ignored the fact that the shirt was straining over his potbelly and said, "You look nice, Logan."

  "Thanks, Luna." He looked over at his girls. "I appreciate you taking the girls shopping."

  My ears perked up, sensing the attention of an antagonist. Twenty feet away, a mousy woman in a hotel uniform halted at my stare. Her name tag read "Linda Valentine – Guest Relations." Her scent wafted our way, that combination of burnt spices that proved she was a witch.

  Through a witch's eyes, werewolves appear as normal humans with a ghost-like apparition of our wolves standing beside us. What they see when they view someone like Naomi the kitsune, or Kuga, our packmate, was a mystery. It wasn’t like I could trust what they said they saw. But whatever she saw, it was enough to terrify her.

  She gritted her teeth and approached, skirting Logan and me to stop before Mason.

  With trembling hands, she handed an envelope to Mason. "We have a message for you, Mr. Carter."

  Mason took the envelope and rubbed his fingers along the seams. The scent of magic wafted from the paper. Through our pack link, I felt a rush of anger from Logan. My inner wolf screamed "Trap!" and I reached out to take the nasty thing from Mason.

  But Mason was quicker than me. He proffered the envelope to the witch and said, "Sorry, I left my reading glasses in the room. Why don't you read it to me?"

  She reacted as if Mason had tried to hand her a king cobra. Her hands jerked away, and she took a step back.

  Mason laughed and held the envelope up in his right hand while snapping the fingers of his left hand. The envelope burst into flames, quickly turning to ash which was then swept away by a breeze.

  "Cool trick," said Brita.

  Mason looked at the two innocent humans, then at Logan. "Logan, why don't you show the girls to the limo I reserved? It's right outside. We'll be along in a moment."

  As Logan and the girls left, Mason erected a soundproof bubble around us.

  "Now I have a message for you and your coven," said Mason. "If they leave me, my family, and my friends alone, I won't destroy them."

  At mention of her coven, the witch seemed to gain courage. "No single magician can stand against our coven."

  Was this little scavenger trying to threaten my mate? My claws were out in an instant and I slashed her from neck to navel. Her clothes parted like tissue paper, but the flesh underneath was undamaged.

  The mousy girl smirked at me, ignoring the tatters of her jacket and blouse that left her breasts free.

  "A mystical forcefield? I haven't broken one of those in months."

  "It's unbreakable."

  Mason held up a hand to stop me before I could gut the witch. He snapped his fingers again and there was a faint pop sound as the ‘unbreakable’ force field disappeared. The touch of the chilled air in the lobby made the witch's nipples harden. She shivered and gathered the tatters of her clothes together with one hand. The sweet scent of fear spurted from her pores.

  "Not 'unbreakable,’" said Mason. He tilted his head at me. "Nor am I a 'single magician.'"

  "Just because you've leashed a werewolf to your will doesn't mean you can resist our coven."

  Mason stroked my arm and I willed my claws to retract. "Sometimes it's hard to tell which end of the leash is which. I have no more control over my mate than she has over me. Now run along and give my message to your coven."

  The witch backed up slowly, hesitant to turn her back on us. She stopped when Mason said, "Linda."

  "Yes?"

  "Think about why they chose you to send this message. To face a magician, two werewolves, and their friends. I wouldn't want to work for a coven that considers me expendable."

  Linda continued backing up until she crossed the threshold of Mason's bubble. Then she turned and scurried away.

  "Why did you stop me from attacking her? I've broken those shields before."

  "I don't want them to know about your extra talents."

  In the limo, we climbed into the spacious interior. There were polished leather seats, thick carpeting, and a fully stocked minibar. Mason offered drinks to everyone. Brita and Alisha took Cokes, Naomi and Kuga took water. Logan and I had fruit juice.

  Mason cracked open one of those small bottles of Johnnie Walker, his favorite drink, and poured it over a single cube of ice. I inhaled wistfully, a motion duplicated by Logan.

  Alisha stared at Logan. "You're not drinking, dad?" she asked in a surprised tone.

  "I had a beer in the bar earlier. I'm holding off for now."

  The sisters exchanged a look, and Alisha tilted her head toward me in that "You ask her" gesture.

  "You don't drink?" asked Brita. I shook my head, and she continued, "Never?"

  "Not tonight."

  "You're a drinker, but not tonight. You picked a drink without caffeine. You ate a lot at lunch. Are you pregnant?"

  Damn perceptive kid—she had figured out my condition even without a wolf's nose. I had wanted to keep my pregnancy secret from them. Who knew what rumors would start once Stefania found out?

  Both girls were staring at Logan. Then it hit me: They thought he was the father of my cubs. They had seen me hug Logan and stroke his arm to calm his wolf, not realizing that werewolves are more touchy-feely than humans. Time to dissuade them of that notion.

  I reached across and took Mason's hand. "We're looking forward to greeting our children."

  After a bit of chatter about due dates, Logan stepped in to change the subject. "What was up with that woman in the lobby?"

  "She had a message for Mason," I said. Then I continued, "Remember when we had to go around Tokyo and make our introductions? This was just like that."

  "At least she wasn't a sumo wrestler," said Logan with a laugh.

  "Oh, yes! That guy was surprised when you picked his three-hundred-pound ass up and threw him over the bar. They're probably still sweeping up the glass."

  Even staid Kuga giggled at the memory, although she had been terrified.


  "And that other guy hit you over the head with that bottle! Was he surprised when it didn't faze you."

  "He messed up my hair and paid the price."

  Logan laughed, then cut himself off when he realized he was speaking in front of his kids.

  "Daddy! You're still getting into fights!"

  "It's okay," I said. "He was doing his job as my bodyguard. These were Yakuza gangsters who started a fight they couldn't handle."

  "I thought the Yakuza was just on TV or movies," said Alisha.

  "No," said Naomi, "they're real. Not like in your movies, but they exist. Sometimes I wish we could get rid of them, but they are part of our society. If you wish to do business in Tokyo, you must deal with the criminals."

  Conversation ceased as we pulled into the parking lot of the Foga de Chao Brazilian steakhouse.

  As the group headed toward the door, I held Logan back. I pulled the good-luck charms from my bag and tried to hand them to Logan. He pulled away as if burnt.

  "I hate magic. You give those to the girls."

  I stared him down. "It's important that you be the one who gives them these gifts. It won't mean the same coming from me."

  "They already know Mason whipped them up."

  "They know that you purchased these gifts for them from Mason. Purchased with your gold and service. You have to present them."

  He reluctantly took the two boxes and stuffed them in his pants pocket. "Yes, alpha."

  As soon as we walked through the door, the scent of grilling meats made my mouth water. Logan and I stopped a few feet inside the door, heads tilted back, eyes closed and inhaled deeply. A werewolf's way of scouting out a new area for dangers, and a way to enjoy the smell of meat.

  All humans here, except for our little group. We found our way to the table Mason had reserved.

  As we sat, Mason erected one of his soundproof bubbles.

  "Wow, it sure got quiet suddenly," said Brita.

  "Curtains and sound absorbent wall tiles," I said. Like most humans, any explanation would do to cover up the use of magic.