A couple of minutes later, she heard the shower run.
She exhaled a long, shaky breath. “Oh Morag, the things I do for you.”
Lewis left the shower water cold and let it blast away some of the tiredness in him and the unwanted rightness of seeing Gina in his home. She mightn’t like his apartment, but her vivid personality had shattered its usual quiet in a very satisfying way.
He was so accustomed to loneliness.
He tipped his face to the stinging cold of the spray. Once, with a thought, his magic could have warmed the water instantly. He had lost so much to serving the Collegium. It—his life—had disappeared unnoticed. Now, the needs of the Collegium were his needs. Its problems, his to solve. Its complexities, his maze to tread. Thinking of trying for anything more was futile.
If I get the Group of Five that will be enough.
It would be vengeance and justice. If he did nothing else, it would be enough.
He dressed swiftly in the guardians’ de facto uniform: tough hiking gear with hidden pockets, sturdy boots and no discernable style. After the suits he’d been wearing for nearly a year now, confined as he was by his burned out magic to desk jobs, wearing the outdoor gear had a bitter edge.
Was he playing dress up?
He shook his head sharply. No. This was who he was, magic or no magic. He was a guardian. He wouldn’t let anyone, not even his own frustration, take his identity from him.
He walked into the living area.
Gina still sat on the sofa. She was staring at the floor, her face in this moment when she thought herself unobserved had a pensive expression. Unhappy thoughts absorbed her.
“I’m ready,” he said. An overnight bag dangled from his left, non-dominant hand.
She glanced up, jolted from her preoccupation, her expression unguarded. She scanned him.
He felt her gaze. It skimmed from his wet hair, touched his mouth, encompassed his shoulders and chest, lingered, went lower, and returned. His body hardened.
“Okay.” She jumped up, heading for the door.
Irresistibly, his gaze went to her hips. High heels did things to a woman’s body. He wrenched his gaze up, beat her to the door, and opened it. Then locked it behind them.
For an instant, he hesitated.
He could be wrong. She could be spinning him a successful con. But she exhibited none of the signs of a liar—and she was Asey’s niece.
Lewis shook his head in disbelief. Life was crazy. Here he was, off to meet a dragon. If that happened to be true, if there really was a dragon…then apparently he’d be learning alien magic.
It couldn’t be true; yet he couldn’t bring himself to believe that Gina was conning him or delusional.
As the elevator doors opened, he clasped her hand. After a moment of startled rigidity, her fingers curled around his. His hold tightened. She had started this game, but he would finish it. One way or another.
The sidewalk was crowded, but not yet dense with people as it would be when the workday ended. He’d chosen his apartment for its location near the Collegium, but also because it was midway between the Collegium and the official, Collegium-registered New York portal. He was curious if that was the portal Gina intended to use or if she knew of New York’s other, unregistered portal. He’d only learned of it a month ago.
Portals were the entrance to the in-between. Through them, a person could travel in mere seconds to emerge on the other side of the world. Of course, that efficient, safe travel required a porter to hand you into the in-between and off to another porter who’d haul you out at your destination portal.
Porters owned their portals and could draw on the magic of them. They were also unique among magic users in that they could navigate the chaos of the in-between. Not all porters secured their own portal. Generally portals were handed down in a family. Those porters without a portal tended to roam the in-between, sometimes offering their services, at a steep price, to retrieve people who’d strayed.
On a personal level, Lewis didn’t like the official New York porter, Paul O’Halloran, but the man had always served the Collegium well. Paul owned the small apartment building built over his portal. He let the efficiency apartments on a twenty four hour basis and made a killing. A lot of those who used the portal to reach New York had crises to handle, crises that they were desperate to bring to the Collegium’s attention, and being too busy to care where they stayed, they took the first accommodation available to them. In effect, Paul took advantage of them.
Paul had black hair too long and in need of a wash, bulging eyes and a weight problem. His eyes bulged even more than normal when he saw Lewis holding Gina’s hand. A whistle of incredulity started and was cut off when he caught Lewis’s glare.
“Emmaline booked me a return trip to Cape Cod.” Gina was an elegant, feminine incongruity in the man den that Paul had made of his front room. A baseball game played on the television and two discarded beer cans lay on the floor by his recliner. “She’s aware that Lewis will be returning with me.”
Lewis noted her confidence that he’d agree to go with her. Confidence, hope or simply being prepared? To Paul, as the man hauled himself out of his recliner, he said, “My travel is to go on my personal account.” One he hadn’t used in over four months, not since that trip to Vladivostok to visit an old friend.
“Whatever you say, boss. Go on down.”
Like all of Paul’s clients, Lewis and Gina took the steep stairs down to the basement, while Paul squashed into the small elevator he’d had installed. They reached the roughly sealed basement with its stuffy smell of mildew at the same time.
In the middle of the concrete floor, the portal shimmered. It resembled a midnight sky in which the stars had died. Other portals Lewis had used sparkled or shone a light silver. It made him question whether Paul had grown morose because of his portal’s nature or if the portal had dimmed because of its owner. Around the perimeter of it Paul had set his collection of miniature toy cars. Lewis assumed they were some private joke about travel.
“Emmaline?” Paul called into the portal. “Gina’s bringing the president of the old Collegium with her. You got the red carpet rolled out?” He winked at Gina and Lewis, but that didn’t make him less offensive.
“Send them through.” The female voice had a no nonsense brusqueness.
Paul’s palm was sweaty as he handed first Gina, and then, Lewis through to Cape Cod.
Lewis emerged to find Gina scrubbing at her hand with an antiseptic wipe and an elderly woman offering him one, too.
“Paul always makes people feel dirty,” Emmaline said.
Instinctively, he glanced back at the portal.
“Paul can’t hear me. I made sure of that.” Emmaline was tall and thin, wearing a white cardigan over a blue summer dress, and old lady sandals. “So you’re Gina’s new beau?”
“Ask no secrets and you’ll be told no lies, Auntie,” Gina responded. She dropped her wipe in a trashcan and linked arms with Lewis.
“You’re up to something,” Emmaline said.
Lewis dropped his wipe in the trashcan. He was not getting involved in a family squabble.
“When aren’t I up to something?” Gina countered, smiling. “Lewis will need to return to New York, tomorrow morning. Early. He has a busy day lined up.”
“Hmph.”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Lewis found himself apologizing. On the other hand, it was only smart to appease the woman. He might need Emmaline’s assistance to travel secretly to other portals.
The frail elderly woman had a schoolteacher’s accusatory glare. “I’m here all the time and if I’m not, I’m training Riaz. He’ll know to pass you through.”
“Thanks, Auntie.” Gina hauled Lewis towards wide stone stairs. They climbed up to emerge into a sunroom that overlooked a sheltered back garden. “My house is three miles. I left my car here.”
Her car was a nondescript white compact. Lewis could have done with more legroom. He pushed the pass
enger’s seat back as far as it would go, while Gina buckled up and switched on the engine.
She drove with élan, darting out into the slow-moving summer traffic, and taking backroads the short distance to her home. “By road, it’s more like five miles.”
They were beautiful miles. The land was green, filled with summer life. Gardens rioted with color. The sky was blue and the ocean even bluer. Yachts were out on it, and a ferry plowed between islands in the distance.
Lewis concentrated on business. A porter in a family of house witches was an unusual outshoot of magic. “Is Emmaline from your mother’s or father’s family?”
“She’s not blood,” Gina said, picking up on his real question. “She married my mom’s mom’s brother. Riaz is her brother’s grandson. He’s inherited the Bowen family’s portal affinity and he’s learning a porter’s role this summer. He’s still in college, but for the summer, nominally he’ll be working in my uncle’s bed and breakfast. In reality, he’ll be helping Emmaline and learning from her. So if you encounter a goofy basketballer at the portal, that’s Riaz.”
She braked as a car with a Nebraska license plate slowed abruptly for a right turn to a sign-posted lighthouse. “Tourists,” she said tolerantly.
They drove another mile before she turned into a smooth driveway that suddenly vanished behind a clump of trees. Rounding those trees revealed the house.
“How old is it?” he asked involuntarily.
“It was built in 1803.”
It was like something cut and pasted from a glossy magazine. He’d underestimated her house witchery magic. The house was perfection. White guttering trimmed a dark gray, high-pitched roof above white walls with unexpected blue window frames. The window glass sparkled. Plants grew in ordered profusion. Trees and large shrubs sheltered flowers and herbs with wide swathes of green lawn.
Without his magic, he couldn’t sense the privacy wards Gina had mentioned, but they had to be strong or this place would be on every tourist brochure for Cape Cod. It was the sort of home you imagined, but seldom found in reality. It had a permanency Lewis had never known.
The approach was to the back of the house with graveled parking beside a white-painted timber garage, the doors of which swung open at their approach. Not a spider web marred the tidy interior, with garden implements hung neatly on hooks along the side walls. Cupboards and shelving lined the back wall.
Gina slipped off her shoes and walked barefoot across the pebbled gravel. The red door opened to a sunny kitchen with a big oak table in the center of a tiled floor and timber cupboards and substantial bench space around the walls. The deep windowsill over the sink held potted herbs. It was an old-fashioned kitchen, suited to the house, but subtly modernized.
He paused in the doorway, struck not simply by the beauty and perfection of the home, but its sense of welcome.
Gina took it for granted. “Once we reach Morag’s, she won’t remember to offer us something to eat, so we’d better have something before travelling on.” She opened the fridge and pulled out a bowl of pasta salad, three different cheeses and ham. “Plates. And crackers. Help yourself. Excuse me a moment.” She pushed the button on the coffeemaker as she walked out.
Slowly, he sat at the table and reached for the food. Lunch had been a chicken salad sandwich eaten at his desk. The pasta salad was rich with seafood and tasted of fresh herbs. Gina returned as he started on a second helping.
She’d changed into a green t-shirt and faded jeans, but was still barefoot. Her toenail polish was sky blue. “How do you like your coffee?”
“Black.”
She added milk and a spoonful of sugar to hers. “I’ve got cake somewhere. No, pie, I think.” She put his mug of coffee beside his plate and investigated the fridge, again. “Blueberry pie. My cousin Angela said she’d drop something in on her way home from her morning at the bakery.” She cut herself a generous slice of pie and ate it unhurriedly, cutting him a slice as he finished the pasta salad.
Her hospitality was as easy as breathing. House witchery or a lifetime in the hospitality industry? He realized he didn’t know what she actually did? He asked.
“No, I don’t work in a hotel. I like computers. I redesigned the registration system the family’s hotels use and I keep their websites secure. I freelance as a software consultant. Businesses hire me to check for security weaknesses in their systems.”
“You’re a nerd?” Looking at her casual beauty, it seemed improbable.
“I’m sure I have my nerd ID card somewhere.” Her smile enjoyed his disbelief.
Huh. “This is good.” He concentrated on the pie.
“Fresh berries.” She confided the secret. “And lemon zest.”
She tidied up in the same effortless manner she’d laid out the food, but an increasing tension vibrated in the atmosphere. She wasn’t as relaxed as she pretended.
He was. After weeks concentrating on the Collegium’s future, to be thinking only of himself and a potential meeting with an alien felt like a holiday. Or maybe it was being with Gina in her home? He filed that thought under Don’t go there. “Is there anything I should know about meeting a dragon?”
“Nope. Morag’s just like you or me, only bigger and scalier, and infinitely more powerful.”
“Benign?” He finished his coffee and rinsed the mug.
Gina moved fractionally aside from the sink. “Morag is bound by her own people’s laws. She can do nothing to alter the reality of the Earth, her guest accommodation.”
“She’s been here over three centuries and she’s a guest?”
A small, unsmiling look at him. “Dragons live a long time.”
Something to remember if he was, indeed, to meet a dragon. To this Morag, he and Gina had mayfly lives. Were they as inconsequential to a dragon as mayflies were to a human?
“You can leave your overnight bag here,” Gina said. “Morag and I worked out a means of translocation that I can trigger. It’s a cliché, but you need to follow me into the closet under the stairs.”
The staircase was substantial, suited to a house that was the sort of grand home a successful sea captain might have built. Lewis didn’t even have to duck his head to enter the closet doorway.
Gina went first.
The door closed itself behind him and the closet fell away. Between one heartbeat and the next, a new locale created itself around them.
The dragon’s den was vast. It had walls of white opal that seemed to provide their own light. They also moved, not obviously, but when he squinted, one second they were close and the next, they were far, far away. There were no windows and no obvious walls. Only the floor was distinct, a different, darker opal color, with more red than the blue and green that predominated on the walls and ceiling. Cathedrals weren’t so vast or so belittling.
“Overwhelming, isn’t it?” Gina touched his arm. “This way. You need something to serve as a reference point. It’ll steady you.”
He followed her direction and saw an island of human habitation in the alien chamber. A low bookcase and table were arranged in an L-shape with a kitchen chair tucked into the table, and in the rectangular empty space, an armchair stood on a dark brown and forest-green rug. His senses, which had been reaching for and failing to find reliable markers, focused on the ordinariness of that tiny patch of human habitation.
“Come on.” Gina urged him forward.
The chairs seemed a football field away. Yet three steps brought him and Gina to the edge of the rug.
“Good afternoon.” The unfamiliar voice sounded human.
Lewis whirled around, reaching instinctively for his magic, and finding the emptiness at his center. His gaze found the dragon.
Imagine a slender gecko grown to the size of a giraffe. Now, color it a shiny iridescent black with its skin reflecting palely the white opal colors of the chamber. Around its neck are fist-wide tentacles, slightly swaying, seemingly of their own accord, and as long as a man’s arm. There’s an impression that the tentacles
move independently. Prehensile tentacles?
“Morag, Lewis Bennett, president of the Collegium, as requested. Lewis, Morag.” Gina’s introductions were brief, reasonably enough: who else could they be?
“Good afternoon, Morag,” Lewis said.
Abruptly, the dragon was in front of him as the floor did that weird trick of swallowing space. Warm, pale orange smoke issued from the dragon’s nostrils and momentarily obscured his vision. He breathed some in, and it was pumpkin spice in both scent and taste.
“There, now,” Morag said. “That dispenses with those latent spells.”
“You carried spells to my home and here?” Gina scowled an accusation at him.
“No.” Betrayal had a metallic coldness, one that froze his relaxed mood of wonder. Curiosity shriveled under the frost of rage. Kora had done this. Possibly with the connivance of other senior mages. The new commander of the guardians would not accept that whilst he lacked magic, Lewis still had the right to decide which magics touched him. “I carried no spells of my own volition. Some among the Collegium think that my lack of magic entitles them to ‘protect’ me with spells of their own.”
“Spells that they can trigger to track him, among other things,” Morag said.
Anger beat a heavy pulse in his blood. “What other things?”
“There was a compulsion spell on you that could be triggered so you couldn’t answer questions. Another would lock you in a bubble of air and push poison out around you. Lethal poison.”
He swore.
“It seems, Lewis, that you need the power I can show you to protect yourself from those who claim to be allies.”
He fought down his anger to stare at the dragon. He had only this alien creature’s word that he’d been bespelled, but the knowledge rang true. His instincts and quiet investigation had warned him that others in the Collegium were playing at the borders of ethical magical. The demon’s infiltration had tarnished many things. Fay might have banished it, but its stench remained. Panicked people didn’t always behave nobly.
He looked up into the dragon’s large circular eyes with pupils like starbursts in the midnight blue. “I’m listening. Teach me.”
Dragon Knight (The Collegium Book 3) Page 3