“Gilda Ursu will be here in a few minutes,” Mark said. His voice held a warning.
No, not a warning. Clancy concentrated. Concern. She looked up from squeezing lemon over a pancake and saw him watching her. His blue eyes seemed darker, puzzled and unsure; worried for her. She managed a small smile. “I don’t mind talking with Gilda. I’ve not met her before.”
“I’ll bring her to the house.” His house, he meant. Not the cottage.
“You won’t need me.” Doris had two pancakes on her plate, but she was drinking coffee rather than eating.
Only Mark was doing the fluffy buttermilk pancakes justice. He looked better for his shower and clean blue t-shirt and faded jeans. “You’re welcome, Doris, if you want to sit in.”
“No. Thanks.”
Clancy forced down the last bite of her solitary pancake. “I need a shower.” She wanted to wash off the taint of demon and she needed some time alone. She also wanted to meet the Collegium’s chief demonologist wearing clothes she hadn’t chosen for their practicality for bookshelf wiping. Bad enough that Rivera had made her feel inferior. Clancy wanted to feel confident in herself—and already the Zen-like serenity of the chamber was gone.
Her legs felt heavy as she climbed the stairs. But it’s not really my legs, is it? It was her heart that was heavy with doubt. She recognized a feeling of resentment, too—against Doris. It was safer not to look at her relationship with her brother or the dynamics in their family. Doris had to know—
Clancy cut off that thought. But thoughts weren’t as easily shed as clothes. As she stepped under the shower, the thought circled back. If Clancy challenged her brother, their parents would side with him. What Jeremy wanted, he got. She’d always known it. She’d been part of ensuring it happened. But it wasn’t till Doris put it into those ugly words that Clancy was faced with the real question: was she willing to continue living that way?
She dressed swiftly in clothes she’d bought to wear to a job interview: a white shirt and a dark blue pencil skirt with a matching jacket. She wound her damp hair into a knot and pinned it securely before adding a minimum of make-up. She wasn’t beautiful like Rivera or thousands of women in LA, but she could look pretty and professional. She added a spritz of a natural oils perfume—rose, sandalwood and vanilla—for courage, and headed downstairs. Unaccustomed to wearing high heels, she wobbled just a little in the moderately high black pumps.
“You need some color,” Doris said. “I’ll lend you a scarf.” She was washing dishes. Mark had gone. “Gilda phoned and Mark went to let her in.”
“I don’t need a scarf. Thanks.” For the first time she could remember, Clancy felt awkward with her grandma. “Jeremy is a well-trained geomage. He can keep California safe.”
“I know.” Doris rested her wet hands on the edge of the sink. “If I didn’t think that, I’d have meddled earlier.” Regret weighted her voice. “Every family has troubles. Relationships change as we age. They have to be renegotiated. From carer to cared-for, for instance. You and your brother aren’t kids anymore.” She gripped the sink, knuckles tightening to white. “You’re changing the pattern of your life. Today, you saw how hard it will be to give up your magic. I just want you to think about your choices. Make them for you. Not for Jeremy or me. Don’t clip your own wings.” She picked up a frying pan and scrubbed it, loudly.
Clancy closed the back door gently behind her. The energy that flowed in the chamber beneath the cottage arched up like a cat to rub against her—which meant that she’d unconsciously reached for the comfort of it. She released her magic and the power settled back.
The high heels she wore clicked sharply on the path to the main house. She would tell Gilda, the chief demonologist, of her two encounters with Faust, and then, she’d change out of these interview clothes and go for a run.
She skirted the edge of the pool. Nope. Not even in sunny LA was she swimming in winter. She would run within the estate so that she wouldn’t be distracted thinking of a possible demonic attack. Even if she had to lap it a few times, the security was only sensible.
I can be sensible. She opened the door to the casual living and eating area of the main house without knocking, just stepping in as her eyes adjusted from the sparkle of the sunlight reflecting off the swimming pool to the relative dimness inside. Oh, hell.
Mark got up from the kitchen table and moved swiftly toward her. For a few vital seconds, his large body blocked the view of the other people at the table, shielding her. “I didn’t know they were coming,” he said urgently under his voice.
His hand at the small of her back as they walked toward the table was a barely noticed comfort. She guessed he was trying to signal support.
Jeremy’s eyes tracked the gesture.
Oh yeah. Her brother, whom she’d thought had left the estate, was at the table, and seated next to the Collegium’s chief geomage, Neville Schuster. Opposite them was Gilda Ursu, sturdy and square shouldered in a black pants suit. Mark had been sitting at the head of the table. He seated Clancy there, to his left, next to Gilda.
“Hi,” Clancy nodded at Gilda. “I’m Clancy Ramirez.” They shook hands while Clancy made an effort to ignore Jeremy and Neville—just for an instant, just while she caught her mental balance. She managed a tight, forced smile for Neville. “Hi, Neville. Jeremy.”
“They invited themselves along.” Gilda didn’t sound any happier than Clancy at the two men’s presence. But she definitely sounded more antagonistic.
Neville scowled at Gilda before transferring that scowl to Clancy. “I told you. Clancy’s been upsetting things. I’m here to hear her excuses.”
“Reasons,” Mark said. He had the least magic of anyone present, but it was his home. He wasn’t backing down. “Clancy fought a demon this morning, and that is what we’re discussing. You want to discuss geomage activities, you can do so later—and somewhere else.”
It was a firm statement. A minor smack down. Something Neville didn’t often experience. His face went red. He was an elderly man and likely had a blood pressure problem.
“Agreed,” Jeremy said. “We can talk at my place.”
Like hell. The words popped into Clancy’s mind so fast she reeled. Would it really be so bad to have a discussion at Jeremy’s townhouse, her brother’s home? Was it Doris’s challenge unsettling her, or had this level of unease with Jeremy existed for a long time, and she’d just avoided it? Shocked, she stared at her brother.
He stared back, and one dark eyebrow lifted fractionally in challenge.
Gilda wasn’t interested in sibling issues. “Mark has recounted a tale of this demon intending to establish a demonic tourism service to Earth.”
Startled, Clancy broke off her staring match with Jeremy. “You sound as if you don’t believe him! Faust said…okay, you can’t trust a demon, but—”
“Gilda thinks you might lie for me. She’s sent a demonologist to check on Rivera and her studio, the site of the summoning,” Mark said flatly.
All of Clancy’s confused, battered emotions found a target. She rounded on Gilda. “So you didn’t come here to help. You came to shut Mark down, again. If you’d listened to him, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Gilda remained calm. “Lots of things wouldn’t have happened if things had been handled differently. I know you’re aware we had a demon infiltrate the Collegium a few months ago, and that my predecessor as chief demonologist fought on the wrong side. What I’m here to discover is if a different demon took advantage of our distraction.”
“Distraction,” Clancy huffed.
“Tell me what happened this morning,” Gilda said steadily.
Clancy unfolded her arms and did so.
Neville’s scowl deepened as she recounted blasting open the circle of summoning, but after a glance at Gilda, he refrained from interrupting. However, the moment Clancy finished, he had a comment. “That was a reckless and inappropriate use of geomagic. I realize you were scared—”
“Really?” Th
e mockery came from Gilda. “Neville, do you ever listen to yourself? The girl was saving two lives and her own. That demon never meant to leave any of them alive. It was boasting because it expected to eat them.”
“So you believe us?” Mark had pushed back from the table while Clancy told her story. Now, he leaned forward. “Do you think Faust was lying?”
“I believe you, conditionally. I need to hear what my colleague finds at the site of the latest manifestation, Rivera Dryden’s studio. I believe something happened. Faust, or whatever its name is, was probably telling you just enough truth to harvest your fear.”
“I was terrified,” Clancy admitted.
Gilda nodded. “You did good.”
“I couldn’t let Faust drag Mark to Hell.” Clancy glanced at her brother. “I know I promised not to use my magic in California.”
“Why would you promise that?” The sharp question came not from Mark or even Gilda, but from Neville.
Clancy blinked. “Because it’s unstable. I didn’t want to cause trouble for Jeremy…like now.”
“A geomage has a responsibility to use his or her talent,” Neville said sternly.
Jeremy’s cheekbones had reddened, but his eyes were angry. He wasn’t embarrassed. “I didn’t ask Clancy to renounce her magic.”
Neville looked from brother to sister, then leaned back in his chair. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“You certainly shouldn’t give up your magic,” Gilda said. “This was a demon that was playing with a mid-level demonologist, yet it fled from the threat of your geomagic. That’s raw power you summoned.”
“Ordered, not summoned,” Neville corrected.
Gilda rolled her eyes.
“Sorry.” Neville apologized for his pedantic correction with a wave of his hand. “I still say that the forces you stirred up made your actions reckless. We detected the surge in New York. But I can’t deny that you exercised major talent. More than you’ve channeled at the Collegium.”
“Here, I’m home,” Clancy said simply.
Jeremy shifted minutely in his chair. The slight movement conveyed substantial anger.
Beside him, Neville was suddenly silent and thoughtful.
“What do we do about Faust?” Mark brought the discussion back on track.
“You? Nothing,” Gilda said.
Mark absorbed the dismissive, commanding tone without apparent offence. His voice became, if anything, more courteous. “What will you do?”
Gilda put both hands on the table and stood. “I shall confer with my colleague who is studying Rivera’s studio. Then we’ll identify Faust’s true identity, and banish it.”
Mark stood as she did, polite to the end. But his intensity broke through his courtesy. “The demon has been planning its strategy, testing and refining it for seven years—or more. Even if you banish Faust, the method of entry he has invented will remain a danger. Digital images and code. I’ve been working on a counterspell.”
The tiny shrug of Gilda’s shoulders silenced him. It was a shrug of disdain.
His mouth became a stern line of frustration. “I don’t need magic to construct a spell. I’ve been working on this for three years. At least consider—”
“Email it to me.”
She won’t look at it, Clancy thought.
“I’ll see you out.” Mark ground out the words. With his minor magic, existing on the fringes of the magical world, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d run headlong into the bland, unthinking arrogance of those with power.
Privilege. Those who had it, took it for granted. Worse, they tended to underestimate just how much Fate had granted them.
Mark frowned at Jeremy and Neville as they stayed in their seats, but he didn’t force the issue. He walked Gilda out.
Which left Clancy alone with her former boss and her brother.
Neville swallowed some coffee, then cradled the mug in two hands. “That was some disturbance you kicked up,” he said to her. “I wondered what trouble Jeremy had encountered when it was reported to me. Then I heard rumors of a demon in California.”
The Collegium grapevine! The puzzle was that a demon had been able to hide in the Collegium as long as it had. The way rumors and curiosity circled in Collegium headquarters made secrets hard to keep.
“I took the portal out here and phoned Jeremy to collect me, and to explain the disturbance. He told me that was you.” Neville stared at her for a long count of ten seconds, before he set his mug on the table. “What you did was risky, but since Jeremy calmed the geo-forces you stirred up, I’ll say no more about it.”
Clancy ignored Neville’s uncharacteristic magnanimity, her brain stuck on his earlier words. Jeremy calmed the geo-forces? Jeremy? She’d been the one in the chamber. She’d felt Jeremy arrive and leave. She hadn’t felt him as much as touch the geo-forces. They had flowed to her command.
Her brother met her indignant gaze and tipped his head in a silent challenge, daring her to say something.
“Neville,” she began.
“It’s time you left,” Mark said from the doorway. When he walked forward, his boots thudded on the hardwood floors. He was angry.
“No problem.” Jeremy bounded up from his chair. “We’ll talk later,” he said to Clancy.
“You bet,” she said tightly.
Unexpectedly, Neville extended his hand.
Shocked, she shook hands with the chief geomage, the man who’d demoted and chastised her. He held her hand an instant longer than necessary, looking into her eyes. She looked back into pale blue eyes, the skin creased and wrinkling at the corners, eyelids drooping, but extremely alert.
Neville searched for something. Perhaps he found it. He nodded and released her hand. “We’ll all talk, later. But for now, I’m returning to the Collegium. Jeremy?”
Her brother strode out with his boss and mentor.
Mark waited for the sound of the front door closing, then swore. Loudly. “Sorry,” he threw vaguely in her direction, and walked out.
She tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling. There was a cobweb in the corner that she’d need to sweep down since she was being paid to clean.
She wrenched her hair out of its prim knot, shed her jacket, kicked off her uncomfortable high heels, and ran after Mark.
Chapter 7
The books of magic were stacked on Mark’s desk where Clancy had left them that morning. So much had happened since then. To her, the demon seemed the least of it. She had quieted the geo-forces she’d stirred up, and Jeremy had let the chief geomage think that power was his! She was all messed up and unsure of herself. Did it matter that Jeremy had lied if she was going to keep to her renunciation of her geomagic? But was she really going to give up entering the chamber? Just the thought of never again entering its peace, to stand in the heart of those powerful geo-energies, made her mourn. If she hadn’t entered the chamber, hadn’t had the reminder of what it gave her, renouncing her magic would have been easier.
Would have been wrong?
Mark picked up three large books at once, climbed two steps on the library ladder, and shoved the books onto the shelf she’d emptied earlier. He moved with furiously controlled energy.
Clancy passed him two more books, then another two. Anything she said about Gilda looking into the situation with Faust would only underline the insult he’d received. The Collegium might be taking the demon more seriously, but they weren’t according Mark any more respect. He and his limited magic were sidelined.
He re-shelved the last book and jumped down from the ladder. “My counterspell would work.”
Evidently he’d been having this argument with Gilda in his head.
“I believe you,” Clancy said. “The Collegium can be stuck in its own importance. Neville, for instance—”
Mark’s scowl deepened. “I saw you enter the chamber beneath the cottage. You, not Jeremy. He seemed scared of it.”
Scared? She opened her mouth to question Mark’s observation, but the word
s never made it out. She was suddenly, overwhelmingly aware of how close he stood. Near enough that he’d reached out and clasped her shoulder in support. His hold was strong and gentle despite his anger.
“We’re both fools,” he said. “I keep chasing the Collegium’s help and respect. They’ll never count me as one of their own. Not with my minimal magic. No matter how much I study and learn, I have to do so alone.”
“I’m here,” she said quietly.
He clasped her other shoulder, drawing her in as his hold slid into a hug. “I don’t understand. Why would you want to surrender your magic? If that’s the price Jeremy has put on you staying in California, you should tell Doris. She wouldn’t let him get away with it.”
Clancy put her hands against his chest and pushed. That gained her a few inches, but didn’t break his hold. “It’s my fight, not something to go running to Grandma about.” Her words echoed. My fight. She stopped resisting Mark and leaned into his warmth. “I can’t fight my brother.”
He shifted his hold, hugging her comfortingly. “Sometimes we’re losing a fight that no one told us we were fighting.”
The confusing sentence made sense to her. Unpleasant sense. “Grandma said the same thing, not so gently. She said I’ve given Jeremy my power. Not in a transfer kind of way, but by not taking what is mine.” Mark smelled so good, a subtle scent of warm male and expensive cologne. She nestled into him, ignoring that his muscles were still tense with anger. The anger wasn’t directed at her, and she trusted he’d never use it abusively. He was too strong in himself to be that weak and vindictive.
“You should be everything you can be.” He tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes.
She fell into the intense blue of his eyes, and into the mesmerizing intimacy of being this close and open to another person. She trusted him, an emotion born of their shared childhood, her old crush, and her new knowledge of him as a man.
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