Beholden

by Kris T. Bethke

  I shook my head. His eyes narrowed to a glare, and I stopped to really think about it. “No. I don’t think you did. Your magic resonates with mine and it was an awesome boost, but I don’t think you made this happen.”

  He stayed quiet a few long seconds. Then he nodded. “Okay. Come here.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  He chuckled and wrapped his fingers around my bicep. He gave a gentle tug. “Come here.”

  I went. He pulled me into his lap so I straddled his thighs, his big, warm hands smoothing up and down my bare back. His touch felt comforting, not meant to arouse, and I sank into his slightly larger body, my forehead tucking into the crook of his neck. We sat there, just breathing, for a long time.

  “Better?” Wes asked eventually. “Feel more centered and focused now?”

  I nodded. Then I sat back a little so I could see his face. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and tucked my fingers down the collar of his dress shirt, not wanting to lose too much contact with his skin. “Yes, thank you.”

  “First things first,” Wes said, his voice all business and his face serious. “Are we bonded?”

  I sucked in a breath, surprised he’d made that leap. But he had to know that we weren’t. If we’d made a bond, even an unintentional one, he would feel the pull as much as I did. “Of course not.”

  He nodded, like that was the answer he expected. “But you feel better when you’re touching me? When you can pull on my magic to augment your own?”

  I released a sigh, and couldn’t quite stop myself from snuggling a tiny bit closer. I shrugged one shoulder. “Yes. Like I said, your magic fits with mine. So it’s easy and natural to use you as a source. I’m sorry about that.”

  He glared at me like I’d said something stupid. “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing to apologize for. It’s not like you did it on purpose. Right?”

  That last bit sounded a tad accusatory. I tried not to be offended. “No, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  Wes squinted at me. “So then, we have to figure out what’s going on with you, what’s pulling on your power. Until then, you just need to stick close to me so I can keep you stable.”

  I gave an indignant huff. “That’s hardly practical. We’ve both got jobs to do. You seriously can’t expect us to stay in each other’s pockets because I have a little fatigue. You’re getting a little extreme there, buddy.” I tried to pull away, but he held me fast and gave me a look I couldn’t quite interpret.

  “You’ve got someone else who can keep your magic and energy up?”

  “Well, no,” I answered honestly. I’d never met anyone whose magic fit so well with mine. “But that doesn’t mean you can just drop everything and keep me stable. That thought is—” I cast about for a suitable word and finally settled on, “preposterous.”

  Wes gave a snort, sounding amused. “I can do whatever I want. And I don’t want you lying in bed barely able to function. That serves no one. So you’ll have to be ‘in my pocket’ until we can figure it out and fix you. There has to be some magical means at work here. And I am an Investigations Agent. I’ll investigate.”

  I wanted to smile at his playful, cajoling tone, but this was too serious. We barely knew each other and, my crush notwithstanding, he couldn’t just drop everything to take care of me. He wasn’t making any sense.

  “Wes,” I began but stopped short when I felt vibrations against my right knee. I frowned at the spot, wondering what it could be.

  Wes shifted me to the side so he could pull his cell phone out of the front pocket of his pants. He started tapping at the screen, his look going dark at whatever he read.

  I gasped, shock and surprise coursing through me, making me forget everything we had been talking about. “How is that even working? I didn’t feel its electrical energy. And if it’s on, I should have zapped all the memory from it.”

  “I had Miss Lavinia work a ward that would keep it from effecting you but let the cell service through. I can’t be without my phone. She put on the ward this morning. I’m glad to know it works.”

  Wes said the whole thing dismissively, like it was no big deal, but I knew the truth. Miss Lavinia was a for-profit practitioner who had immense magical skill. She could do just about anything, and charged heftily for her services. She was renowned throughout the entire East Coast. Practitioners traveled from far and wide just to avail themselves of her talent. I knew this particular piece of spellwork had to have been difficult and incredibly costly. I was actually touched Wes had thought to do it. It meant that he’d planned on spending a great deal of time with me.

  “Wes—” I began, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

  “Get dressed.”

  I frowned. “What?”

  He looked at me for a long moment before he gave me an indulgent smile. “Something is going down, and I’ve been called into the office. You have to go with me because there is no way I’m leaving you alone. So grab a quick shower and get dressed.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said quickly. He really was going too far. He needed to step back and realize that this wasn’t the best course of action. Something was obviously wrong with me, and I knew it would take time to figure it out. But he didn’t have to make it his mission to find out what it was.

  “No, you won’t. You’ve been MIA for almost a week, Julian. That’s obviously not fine.” Wes stood, then hauled me to my feet. I gasped when he leaned forward and gave me a small peck on the lips. He pulled away before I had a chance to respond, turned me around, and nudged me toward the bedroom. “Go on, now. We’ll start working on this thing with your magic as soon as I find out what’s happening.”

  I did as he asked because he obviously wasn’t taking “no” for an answer, and he needed to get to the office. I would go along with him because it would get him moving. But once we got back to DEMA, I’d head to my office and lock myself in. He couldn’t enter without my express permission. And when I wouldn’t grant it, he’d be forced to go about his business and forget about me.

  I made my shower quick and perfunctory, but I couldn’t help but think about the man waiting patiently in my living room. I wanted him. And a part of me really loved that he wanted to take care of me and help me. But it wasn’t practical, and I had to get that through my head. I only hoped that once I convinced him to give up on me, I’d be able to get him out of my head. And my heart.

  * * * *

  My brilliant plan failed spectacularly as soon as we set foot in HQ. Wes stuck to my side like a barnacle, and he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He even followed me into the bathroom when I told him I needed to pee. Afterward, I gave a resigned sigh and followed him toward the meeting room.

  The conference room was packed to the gills. It was one of the larger rooms on the fourteenth floor of the main building, designed to hold large meetings with a lot of staff. It reminded me of a lecture hall, actually, with tiered rows of seats and long tables. Nearly every seat was taken, with other attendees standing along the back and side walls. I hardly recognized anyone, but that didn’t surprise me. This sort of thing was above my pay grade. I could tell by the badges that most everyone was either with the Investigations Unit or the Magical Police Force.

  Wes gave me a nudge, but still I hesitated. He quirked a questioning brow at me. I shrugged. “I don’t want to go in there. All those cell phones…” I trailed off with another shrug. It was the truth, and the perfect opportunity for me to make my escape. “I’ll fry ‘em all. And the electrical energy they give off makes my skin crawl.”

  Wes smiled with amusement. “Everyone will have left their phones in their office or have them turned off. At a meeting like this, you don’t want to risk an interruption like that, or incur the wrath of many pissed-off practitioners.”

  Dammit. I knew he was right, so I had no choice but to follow him through the door. He grabbed my wrist as he wended his way through the crowd to the middle of the room and down the row of seats toward three available chairs.
He nodded his thanks to a man before he took the middle one and pulled me into a chair next to him. Max sat on his other side. Wes draped his arm along the back of my chair, his forearm a warm pressure on my shoulder blades.

  Loud conversation buzzed around us. Our nearest neighbors speculated as to why they’d been assembled. Wes and Max sat in stony silence. Earlier, when we’d first shown up at the office that Wes and Max shared, the other agent had given me a speculative glare before turning his attention to Wes. They’d stared at each other, as though having a silent conversation with their eyes, then Max nodded once. He told me to call him Max, then acted like it was perfectly normal for me to be there. I thought it odd that he’d taken my presence as a given, but I hadn’t had time to question Wes about it.

  But now as we waited for the meeting to start, they remained silent. Wes’s shrewd gaze took in his surroundings, but both agents seemed perfectly at ease. I wished I could channel their emotions because I was anything but. I’d never been to a meeting like this. Most of the time, I stayed tucked away in my office, doing the work assigned to me. I’d been a part of some large and complex operations, but never directly. To say it was disconcerting would be an understatement.

  Suddenly, a side door opened and conversation immediately stopped. I recognized the man walking in as Assistant Director Courtenay Stephens. He was a short, rotund man with beady eyes and a balding head. He’d made few friends since taking the assistant directorship ten years ago. I’d never dealt with him directly, but what I knew of him left me thinking he was a competent if unpopular man. It was my impression from the few conversations I’d had about him with other employees of DEMA that he was either loved or hated, with no in between.

  AD Stephens stepped up to a small table and proceeded to unpack his briefcase as if the unnatural silence wasn’t unnerving. He took his time, was methodical, and only when he seemed satisfied did he look up at the crowd. His small eyes narrowed further.

  “There are people in this room who do not need to be here,” he stated with a quiet yet firm confidence. There came a nervous shifting, but no one left. He let out a displeased noise. “If you haven’t been summoned, you need to go. Now.”

  Quickly, several people moved toward the exits. I hadn’t gotten a summons, so I started to rise, too, glad for the perfect excuse to escape. Wes clamped a hand on my shoulder. I got the message.

  Stephens let out an impatient sigh. “Cora, Mr. Montgomery, James Planter, get out,” he said sternly.

  The people he’d mentioned grumbled and stood.

  Stephens’s gaze kept sweeping the room. “Lionel, seriously, go. What is wrong with you people? Mr. Taber, I told you personally your presence was not required. Move. And—” He stopped short, his gaze meeting mine. “Julian Thomas? I have to say, I’m surprised you’d try to weasel your way in here. You sure as hell don’t need to be here.”

  I blinked, surprised. I had no idea he even knew my name. Once again, I made to stand, and once again, Wes stopped me.

  “Yes, he does,” Wes said, his voice firm.

  A silent battle of wills transpired between my agent and the AD. Wes must have won because Stephens raised his hand in defeat. “Fine. We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s get on with it.”

  People who had been lining the walls moved to take the empty seats. Once everyone settled, the AD leaned a hip against the edge of the table. He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “It has come to our attention that there is a considerable increase in magical power. We have new practitioners popping up all over the place, some who are long past the age when they should have transitioned. We have established practitioners whose power is increasing substantially. We have no explanation for either occurrence.”

  My gasp sounded loud in the otherwise quiet room. Seasoned professionals surrounded me; if they were equally as shocked, they knew better than to show it. I dropped my gaze and tried to stifle the blush sweeping up my neck. Wes gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

  “Explains Mason,” Max murmured. Wes nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the front of the room.

  “Is it isolated to just our area?” a deep voice asked from somewhere behind us.

  “At first, we thought it was,” the AD answered. “But we’ve gotten reports from the Chicago, Atlanta, Seattle, and L.A. offices of the same thing. We’re checking with our counterparts abroad.”

  That announcement caused a murmur to spread through the room. I leaned closer to Wes. To me, this sounded bad. Magic was actually predictable. It ran in family lines, practitioners transitioned right around puberty or slightly thereafter, and, after an initial powering-up phase, magical abilities plateaued. A bit of work and practice could cause a practitioner’s abilities to increase, but only by small increments. To hear that not only was there a sudden influx of new practitioners, but that others were growing significantly in strength was unsettling, to say the least. And scary.

  “And there are no environmental triggers that could explain these influxes in power?” another voice queried.

  “It’s too widespread for that,” Stephens responded. “Though we will look into that as a part of our investigation.”

  With a wave of the AD’s hand, manila folders appeared before almost everyone in the room. Max immediately opened his. Wes didn’t even acknowledge its appearance. Of course, I didn’t get one, but I was suddenly terribly curious as to what was inside.

  “Your assignments,” the AD announced. “We have to figure out what’s going on. This is top priority. Anything else you’ve got on your desk can go on the backburner. In the thousand or more years that magic has been documented, we’ve never seen anything like this.”

  The pronouncement made fear clench in my gut. Everyone else seemed to take it as their dismissal because they started leaving. I just sat there, stunned. What the hell was going on with the magical world? I jumped when Wes gave my shoulder a nudge.

  He peered down at me with an indulgent smile. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 6

  We walked in silence back to the agents’ office, my head reeling from the news. I wasn’t used to that kind of information, and I had no idea what it meant or how to process it. But it seemed the perfect excuse to cut ties with Wes. He needed to focus. He had a particular and important job to do, and wasting his time with me would be impractical.

  “Yes, I know,” Wes said.

  I sucked in a breath, thinking I had actually spoken out loud. A part of me was glad he agreed, even though a slightly louder part felt sad. I turned to him, trying to keep my expression neutral, only to realize he stared at Max, and looked pissed.

  “And I really wish you’d stop talking in my head,” Wes growled.

  Confused, I frowned. I took a step back from the obviously tense agents. Max gave an unrepentant grin and a slight shrug.

  “I like pushing thoughts into your brain,” Max said, his grin growing wider. “It’s easier. And habit. You have to admit it’s come in handy when we’re out on a mission.”

  Wes’s grunt could be of agreement. I didn’t know him well enough to be sure. Max seemed to think it so, though.

  “I have to get back to Mason. He’s probably freaking the fuck out. And this—” he waved his manila folder “—is the same as yours. It’s nothing that I need to help you with. Not to get started. Right?”

  Wes stared at him for a long time. I watched Max, though, and his eyes appeared unfocused. My gaze snapped back to Wes’s face in time to see him frown, then grimace.

  “Fine. Go. I’ll get started,” Wes said with a grumble. Max started to smile, and he opened his mouth, but Wes held up a hand, cutting him off. “As long as you stop the ‘talking in my head’ shit. You know I hate it.”

  Max considered him for a moment, then nodded. He clapped Wes on the shoulder, and headed in the opposite direction, calling over his shoulder, “Thanks, man.”

  Wes snorted, shook his head, and grabbed my elbow. With a not-so-gentle tug, he pulled me along. He
walked so fast I had to jog to keep up. When I tried to pull away, his fingers tightened almost to the point of pain. I decided it would be better to go along until he calmed down.

  We made it to his office before Wes finally let go of my elbow. But he only moved his hand to the small of my back to give me a nudge inside. He shut the door behind us, flipped the lock, then set his hand against the door. He didn’t even need to speak words to set his ward. For a split second, I felt a flash of jealousy at how easily he could work magic. It was irrational, though, and I shoved it aside.

  He didn’t say a word as he sat at one of the desks, immaculately clean, each piece of paper, pen, and paperclip in a precise place. I slid my gaze to the other desk—obviously Max’s—and saw a much more “lived in” space. I fought a smile. I sort of loved Wes’s organization. I shook my head. I shouldn’t be loving anything about him. I needed to make him realize that he couldn’t waste his time on me. Especially not with this new and unknown threat to the magical world.

  “Wes,” I said, trying to get his attention. He appeared lost in thought, a “V” above his brows belying his consternation. His head jerked up, and he fixed his ice blue gaze on me. I had to swallow hard at the intensity in his stare.

  “Yes, Julian?”

  I fought the shiver that hearing my name in his deep voice caused. I mentally chastised myself to focus. “Listen, I appreciate that you want to help me. I really do. But with this other thing going on, don’t you think it would be more practical to let me figure out my problem on my own? You don’t need to be burdened with it.”

  That crease appeared above his brows again. Then he squinted at me. His leather chair squeaked as he leaned forward. His penetrating gaze made me want to look away, but I couldn’t.

  “Tell me something,” he began, his tone almost conversational and not matching the intensity on his face. “Why are you so determined to get away from me?”

  I started at the question, my body jerking. “I don’t—I mean, that’s not what I meant. I just—with everything going on, I thought it would be better if—”