Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series
Page 8
The food was excellent, and the all-you-can-eat aspect warmed my werewolf heart. But conversation was stilted. I was bursting with the news that I could transmute lead into gold. That was a magnificent accomplishment, but I couldn't share it with the magic-hating Logan sitting across from me. Discussion of pack business was also out of the question, as Naomi's loyalty was to her queen.
In addition, Alisha and Brita were here. Who knew what they would remember of overheard conversations? Most humans rearranged their memories to reject the supernatural. But these girls had spent some time around Logan. Even if they weren't related, continued exposure would make them more likely to notice magic.
Once our drinks arrived—a shared bottle of red wine for the adults, Cokes for the girls, and fruit juice for the pregnant werewolf—I started the conversation on a safe subject.
"Alisha, Brita, today you expressed an interest in one of Mason's charms. Your dad went to a lot of trouble to convince Mason to make them for you on short notice. Would you like to see them?"
"Make?" said Alisha to Mason. "You made them? I thought you were a stage magician. You make jewelry, too?"
"The best magicians always make their own tricks." Then he looked at me. "And I had Luna's help."
"Also," I added, "it's probably not legal for a jeweler to make charms with handcuff keys inside. Even if you could find a jeweler that would, he might talk and let your secret out. These are only effective if no one knows you have them."
"Okay, we understand. We won't tell anyone about the key."
Logan pulled out the two small boxes and handed one box to each girl.
Brita started tearing the paper off, then stopped at the look on Kuga's face. "Is something wrong, Kuga?"
Mason answered for her. "It's a cultural thing. Japanese people think it's poor manners to open a gift in front of the giver."
"It's fine," said Kuga. "I know your customs differ from ours. Please open your gifts."
The girls quickly tore open the packing and brought out their prizes. Mason had done a masterful job in shaping the platinum. Each charm was attached to a bracelet with thick links. Attached to the bracelet was a marble-sized globe. Instead of the craters of the moon like mine, these spheres were engraved with the Earth's continents. Around the equator was a smoothed-out section of metal where Mason had inscribed each girl's name.
"It's heavy," said Brita.
"I've never seen anything like this," said Alisha.
"I don't like the magician, but he does good work," said Logan.
The girls shared that sister-to-sister look, then turned to Logan and said in unison, "Thank you, Dad."
Alisha added, “At least we’ll finally have a keepsake from you.”
"Now just don’t lose these like you lost the last jewelry I gave you," said Logan.
Brita looked stricken, “We didn’t lose them, Mom p—"
"—packed them in a box when we moved and it got stolen," finished Alisha.
Alisha and Brita put the bracelets on, admiring the workmanship and quality. A tingle ran down my spine, along with the burnt-metal scent of powerful magic as each bracelet bonded with its new owner.
Logan let out a tiny growl, and I gave him a disapproving look. Turning to the girls, I said, "Mason believes that his artifacts convey good luck. You should always keep these nearby to enjoy the effects."
Brita noted Logan's disapproving look. "Why is Dad mad about that?"
"Your dad’s a hard-headed realist. He doesn't believe in magic or good-luck charms. But even without good luck, remember that these charms have practical applications."
I showed the girls how to trip the hidden catch to open the globe and reveal the key. Only Mason and I knew that the catch wouldn’t work for anyone except the true owner.
"These are pretty, but I want to see it open a set of handcuffs. Do you have any?"
"Not really," I said.
Then Naomi set a pair of chrome-plated standard-issue handcuffs on the table in front of Alisha. Both Logan and I sniffed discreetly to make sure there was no trace of magic on the cuffs. Naomi was perfectly capable of playing a joke by presenting a set of unbreakable handcuffs that no key on earth could open.
She looked at us in disapproval. "I don't play my tricks on children."
"You stole those from one of those cops," accused Brita.
"Yeah, she has quick fingers," muttered Alisha.
"Wherever they came from, they belong to you now," said Naomi.
The girls spent a few minutes working with the cuffs. Mason had to show them how to lock and unlock them using the hidden key.
"What if you get cuffed with your hands behind your back? Like they did with Dad today?"
"You can slip the cuffs under your butt and your feet to bring them to the front. Or, if you're good with the key, you can open the cuffs without looking."
"We'll have to practice," said Brita with a gleam in her eye as she looked at her older sister.
"Kids, these aren't toys. If you play tricks on each other with these, I'll take them back."
"Yes, Dad. No tricks. We'll be careful."
Alisha looked at Logan's drink. He had shifted to iced tea after one glass of wine.
"Dad, you've changed. You didn't fight the cops, you've been nice to us—you've even been nice to Mom. And you aren't drinking. Are you sick?"
Logan laughed. "No, I'm fine." He tilted his head at me. "I have a two-drink limit when I'm working with Luna."
"You were sober when you beat up that cop in Reno."
"I made Logan take anger-management classes. Plus, I keep him on a short leash."
Logan growled at the leash comment, but let it slide.
We finished with the meat courses and had coffee—decaf for me—and prepared for the rest of the evening.
"You guys ready for our next stop?"
"There's more?"
"Yes," answered Mason. "We're going to see a magic show."
"A magic show? Not Cirque Du Soleil?" Alisha seemed disappointed.
"Mason loves scoping out his competition. If we're lucky, we might get to go backstage and meet the performers."
"Luna, Mason, I don't think we can accompany you tonight," said Naomi in Fae.
"Why is that?"
"I have a duty to perform nearby. My queen has bargained for my services here before I can go with you. I believe you would call it a ‘side mission.’ The congruence is still days away and this should take only a day or so."
The kitsune queen was full of tricks, with dealings all around the world. Had she encouraged Naomi to volunteer to assist us so that Mason and I would be here to help? I shook off the thought. No sense in worrying about it now.
"Of course," I said. "Do you need our help?"
"Perhaps after this little trip is done. I promise we will be back before the congruence."
"Okay," I said, shifting back to English so Logan and his kids would understand. "Sorry you can't come with us tonight."
We dropped Naomi and Kuga off at the hotel and headed to the theater where the show was being held.
Mason had obtained front-row VIP seats for us and we waited eagerly for the show to start. A long sniff showed no supernaturals in the crowd of about two hundred people.
The lights dimmed, although to werewolf eyes it was still bright.
The music started, and the intro began, booming from hidden speakers. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Hapscomb Theater is proud to introduce Damian Spellbinder!"
A flash of light and the magician was standing center-stage. He wore tight pants, high leather boots, and an open-necked electric blue silk blouse. Some kind of fake amulet hung around his neck and he wore a headband with a matching design etched into the metal. He had long, long raven black hair and piercing hazel eyes.
On the stage behind him was a large screen to project his image larger-than-life, giving the audience a better look at his tricks.
His patter was good, a lot of stuff about studying magic for years in
Tibet. He started small, with some manual tricks, flipping coins, making them appear from thin air and then disappear again.
He did some card tricks and surprised Brita by calling her up to the stage to assist by selecting cards from his deck.
Brita came back to us full of excitement at her stage debut.
All in all, a comfortable show. I was holding Mason's hand as the show progressed, almost dozing. After you've seen real magic, card tricks incite little excitement.
"For my next trick, I will require the aid of my beautiful assistant, Zanna." He made a welcoming gesture, and a fanfare played while Zanna walked out on the stage. Blond curls framed her face below a white satin top hat. She was dressed in white: white tuxedo jacket with tails, a bustier that barely kept her breasts in check, white silk short-shorts, fishnet stockings, and white patent leather shoes with five-inch heels.
Mason's hand convulsed in mine, squeezing tightly as he said, "Oh, crap! I didn't know she was here."
"You know her?"
"She was my assistant when I did my show here." I sniffed him. Not a lie, but not the complete truth.
"Assistant, and…?"
"My ex," he said, followed by, "Ouch! You hurt my hand."
With an effort, I loosened my grip. "Sorry. I should have known we'd run into one of your exes eventually." I had a thousand questions, but fought my curiosity down. Damn. Why did his ex have to be so pretty?
Damian moved on to the next set, the highlight of his act, some kind of death-defying escape sequence. A large aquarium, shaped like a coffin standing on end and filled with water, was wheeled out to center stage. Damian called a member of the audience on stage to examine the chains, locks, and handcuffs and pronounce them to be solid and real.
Zanna spent some time chaining Damian up, tugging the chains to make him wince and making quips about this trick being the only time he bathed. When she had finished, a chain was used to hoist Damian up to the top of the cage and drop him in. Zanna slammed the metal lid down with a grin, turned to the audience, and brushed her hands together in a cleaning motion.
Damian was clearly visible through the glass, struggling with his chains, seemingly unable to squirm his way out of the restraints. My werewolf-sharp hearing showed that most of the audience—including Alisha and Brita—was holding their breath in sympathy with Damian.
Nearly two minutes passed, and the music reached a crescendo. Zanna stepped to the side of the stage and pulled a rope that dropped a small curtain in front of the tank, then she disappeared offstage.
The announcer upped the stakes by asking the audience to remain calm. One by one, each person who had been holding their breath let go with a gasp.
The music stopped and the curtain jerked up to show that Zanna was now in the tank. The chains and restraints had been carefully arranged to show off her breasts. She was completely submerged, her top hat floating forlornly above her head.
Damian stepped up from offstage. He had a towel around his neck and was rubbing his face to dry off. He waved at Zanna with a big smile on his face.
She glared daggers at Damian with her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.
"Zanna, dear," said Damian, "would you like me to throw in a bar of soap?"
The audience laughed and bubbles escaped from Zanna's lips as she struggled to escape the chains. Her efforts only served to expose more of her breasts.
I knew what was coming—the curtains would drop and Zanna would pop out onto the stage. But what if I used fire magic to put the tiniest weld on the metal cover of the tank? I was sitting far enough away from Logan that he shouldn't be able to detect my magic use.
Almost without my knowledge, I started gathering fire magic. It would feel so good to weld her trap door shut. Just a tiny tack weld—no one would ever know.
10
The tingle of magic gathering warned Mason. He took my hand gently and said, "Please don't. That's the kind of trick Naomi would pull. You're better than that. Jealousy looks bad on you."
My cheeks burned with shame and I let the magic dissipate. Maybe I could blame pregnancy hormones?
Damian pulled the rope that lowered the coffin's curtain in front of Zanna. Then he pulled a second rope with a grunt, and the sound of an enormous toilet flush came through the speakers, sparking relieved laughter from the audience.
Zanna stepped out from behind the curtains, dripping water. She slapped her soaking wet top hat against Damian's chest, and he handed her his towel. She wrung the towel into a short rope and stared at his neck like she wanted to use it as a noose against him. Rage contorted her features.
All fake. From the scent, it was all part of the act. She opened the towel and proceeded to dry off.
"That's why you don't insult magicians," laughed Damian.
There was a bit more comedy when Zanna removed her tuxedo jacket, wrung it out, and handed it to Damian, then reached for her blouse, apparently ready to do the same thing.
Damian stopped her with a laugh. "Save that for the next show, Zanna."
The curtain dropped and the show was over.
As the lights came up, I breathed a sigh of relief, eager to get away from Mason's ex. I took Mason's hand and started edging toward the exit.
"So can we go backstage now?" asked Brita, her eyes bright with excitement.
"Ouch, you're hurting my hand again."
Ten minutes later, we were all backstage. All the VIP guests lined up to meet the performers. Mason ensured we were at the end of the line. The sneaky bastard had erected one of his privacy screens to block him and me from being noticed.
"Drop the shield, magician. I really want to meet your ex."
Damian and Zanna had been working their way down the line, shaking hands and posing for selfies with the VIPs. They were right in front of us when Mason dropped the bubble.
Damian looked at Mason with curiosity. Close up, he was swarthy, muscular, and tall—almost as tall as Mason. He shook our hands, thanked us for participating, and headed backstage.
But Zanna's reaction to seeing Mason was to squeal, "Mason!" and jump into his arms. I gritted my lengthening teeth and smiled.
Zanna was much shorter than I had expected. The heels and top hat had made her seem taller, but even with the heels, she barely topped five feet.
"It's good to see you again, Zanna. How have you been?" He returned her hug without much enthusiasm—but he did hold her butt to keep her from slipping.
Heads turned our way as my subsonic growl spread. One of the stagehands muttered something about feedback in the audio system and hurried away to investigate. Mason moved his hands up to Zanna's back.
The tiny starfish finally unlatched from Mason. She was bubbling with energy, practically hopping up and down like a rabbit.
"Zanna, I'd like to introduce you to my wife, um, um—"
Pretending to forget my name in front of his ex? He had the gall to joke at a time like this? I reached out and shook Zanna's hand, resisting the urge to crush it.
"I'm Luna; Mason is an idiot. Very nice to meet you."
She released my hand and stepped back three feet to look me up and down. "Damn, Mason. You married a girl nearly as tall as you.”
I'm tall, but not abnormally so. She was going for a dig.
I reclaimed Mason by wrapping one arm around him. "And I didn't know Mason used to date Smurfette. We simply must invite her out to dinner with us, dear. Do you think the Brazilian place has highchairs?"
Two seconds of staring at each other brought my werewolf eyes out. Smurfette's face blanched when they changed; she turned away and I blinked my eyes back to normal.
"And this is our friend Logan, and his daughters Alisha and Brita," said Mason, eager to change the subject.
"We're not friends, Mason. I work for Luna."
"You work for Luna. How nice. And what does Luna do?"
"This and that."
Another top-to-bottom look at me. "You move like a dancer. Let me guess—Cirque du Soleil?"
Zanna pursed her lips, then smiled a smile that never reached her eyes. "Dear Mason does have a history with his assistants." Then she stared at my ringless hands. "Married? But no ring. Non-traditional?"
Werewolves don't wear rings. I unbuttoned the top button of my blouse and brought out Mason's masterpiece. Normally hidden by an invisibility spell, this amulet had been crafted by Mason to store lunar energy.
In my hand, the moonstone glowed with a pale light, highlighting the bas-relief magical symbols engraved around the stone. The chill of an autumn moon permeated the area. Zanna's nipples, barely concealed under the thin material of her bustier, popped erect at the cold. The fog of our breaths was suddenly apparent.
I heard Brita whisper, "That's a trick, right?"
Zanna opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She stared at the amulet as if hypnotized, then finally managed to ask, "Is that a prop?"
I rubbed the stone lovingly. "Not a prop. Solid platinum setting, with alternating white gold and platinum links for the chain. And this is a moonstone. My stone."
Zanna gritted her teeth and said, "I'm fairly certain I saw one like it in Pawn Plaza."
"Oh, you must be mistaken," I laughed. "Mason made this especially for me. There's nothing else like it in the world."
"I didn't know Mason made jewelry."
"Really? He's quite talented." I turned to Alisha and Brita. "Girls, please show Zanna the charm bracelets Mason made for you."
The girls proudly displayed their gifts. Zanna's bubbly personality slowly deflated as she eyed the workmanship of Mason's jewelry.
I couldn't resist a final dig. "Mason enjoys making these unique items for his dearest friends and family. I'm surprised you don't have—" I cut myself off as if I had spoken too hastily.
"Yes. Well, it was a long time ago." She turned the bubbly personality back on and turned to Alisha and Brita and handed them some passes. "Here's some VIP tickets for the show this weekend. You can bring some friends. We'd love to see you come back."