Hollywood Demon (The Collegium Book 6)

by Schwartz, Jenny

  “Oh rats.” The mild swearword couldn’t express the extent of Clancy’s irritation when she saw her brother’s car parked just inside the Yarren Estate’s gate. Then again, even the worst swearword in the world couldn’t express her annoyance. She jumped out of the SUV to confront Jeremy. “If this is about the earth tremor a couple of hours ago,” she began.

  “Good afternoon, Mark,” Jeremy said.

  That he ignored her, only stoked her temper. She folded her arms.

  Mark muttered “hi” and glanced at Clancy. His look was a question.

  She sighed, and unfolded her arms. No, she didn’t need Jeremy to be run off or for Mark to hear this conversation. “Jeremy—”

  “Walk with me,” he said.

  She checked the sky. The clouds were gray, but it wasn’t actually raining and on the estate, buildings and trees broke the force of the wind. “All right.” They needed to talk away from Doris—and Neville. “Why did you let Neville think you quieted the geo-forces yesterday?”

  “Did you want Neville investigating the chamber?” Jeremy countered.

  Mark strode off toward the house.

  Clancy turned up the collar of her leather jacket, shoved her hands in her pockets, and walked with Jeremy on the trail that ran the perimeter of the fenced area of the estate. “No,” she conceded. “I remember Kennett’s encounter with the chamber.” Kennett had been Jeremy’s predecessor as the Collegium-approved geomage for California. The chamber beneath Doris’s cottage had clanged with violent energy after two minutes of his presence in it. Clancy had been only nine at the time, but it was the sort of event one remembered. “Neville would have tried to impose his will on the energies in it, and there’d have been chaos.”

  “More chaos,” Jeremy stressed. “You started plenty.” And before she could defend herself. “I’ve been thinking of your lack of control—of your magic,” but the way he said it, he meant her lack of control in general.

  Her lack of focus, lack of ambition, or as her parents said, “Clancy, you can’t just wander through life. Look at Jeremy. He’s found his vocation and he’s pursuing it one hundred percent.”

  “Neville and I discussed your situation.”

  She felt her shoulders edge up toward her ears in a defensive hunch. “I don’t work for Neville anymore.”

  Jeremy shot her a quick look before focusing on a pine branch that straggled over the path. He lifted it out of his way, the raindrops that clung to it coalescing and falling in a swift cascade. Like tears. “You needn’t have any more contact with Neville. But talking with him did start me thinking. Your unstable magic is partly my fault.”

  She forgot her annoyance at having her magic described as unstable—she could feel the solid flow of it connecting with the energy in the Earth—in sheer shock. “How can it be your fault?” She tripped on a tree root and pulled a hand out of a pocket to steady herself against the perimeter fence.

  Jeremy stared at her broodingly. He looked very urban-sophisticate in a dark gray wool coat over even darker brown trousers and unscuffed boots. His scarf was an artful lift of color in cream and streaky green. “Partly my fault.” He sighed and resumed walking. “Mom and Dad, everyone, were so invested in helping me master my magic to defeat the leukemia that your developmental needs were overlooked. All the more so when it became obvious that I had so much ability. The effort went into accelerating and refining my magical capabilities. You were forgotten.”

  A cold shiver ran down Clancy’s spine, and it wasn’t from the rain. Hadn’t Doris said much the same? Jeremy had gotten the family’s and the Collegium’s attention. He’d worked hard for his magic and that had been respected. Whereas she’d just drifted.

  “I regret it, Clancy.” He paced along, turning the corner where a bay laurel tree marked the boundary. “When your magic never really blossomed at puberty, everyone left you to stumble on alone.”

  It hadn’t felt like stumbling at the time, not during high school. She’d been content to know that the earth magic flowing beneath the cottage would respond to her. It had been a reassuring constant through teenage dramas. But her non-magical life had been far more interesting. She’d liked being ordinary with mundane, non-magical friends.

  All that had changed when her parents decided she ought to do something with her magic. Jeremy was already at the Collegium, casually reporting back impressive magical and academic achievements. Clancy had known she’d never measure up to his standard, but she had appreciated that the Collegium would cover the costs of her college tuition, so she’d gone east to New York. To graduate from college without student debt was important. So she’d left behind the glorious, seething power of the San Andreas Fault, and then, lied to herself that she didn’t miss it all that much.

  “I did go to the Collegium,” she reminded Jeremy. She had received training. She’d been an average student. It wasn’t as if she’d failed.

  “Yes, you did, and again, you didn’t do so well. No, that’s not a criticism of you.” He held up a—was it manicured?—hand before she could verbalize a protest. “I should have tutored you. You’re my little sister. Instead, I was so busy getting my degree, then post-graduate studies, becoming caught up in the Middle Eastern dramas.”

  His excuses only made her feel worse. He’d been busy, successful and respected. She’d been a disappointment. Morosely, she kicked at a stone. The pebble rattled away, colliding with a water feature tucked behind the gazebo. Water no longer ran in the marble fountain. Leaves and dirt had collected at its base.

  It began to rain, again. A soft, thin rain. Mizzling.

  Clancy felt like the weather: grumpy and dispirited. Jeremy was apologizing, yet his every word made her feel worse.

  He glanced at the sky, held out a hand to the rain, and led the way to the gazebo. Evidently, he wasn’t finished talking, and so, wasn’t ready to hurry back to the shelter of the cottage.

  She dragged her feet to the gazebo. Its wooden floor echoed hollowly under her boots. From here there was a stunning view not only of the house, but of Los Angeles. She ignored the view to stare at Jeremy, willing him to say whatever he had to say, and then let her go so she could crawl under a rock.

  He brushed a hand over his neatly cut black hair and shook off the sprinkling of raindrops. “Clancy, I could have been a better brother. Should have been. I’ve just been so busy. Yvonne.” And at her questioning look. “My partner. She’s a lawyer at an environmental law firm and a botanical mage. She’s always telling me to take more time for me. What with teaching and research and my responsibilities to the Collegium, she and I barely have time for the odd weekend away.”

  “That’s sad,” Clancy said unconvincingly. She leaned back against a post of the gazebo. Professionally and personally, her brother had everything. She was glad for him—truly—but it only underlined all that was missing from her life.

  He slanted her a look, before shrugging his shoulders in a gesture of assurance. “Never mind my full schedule. I intend to make time to train you, to help you control your magic.”

  Ugh. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Of course it is.” Jeremy was confident. He glanced at the sky. “I don’t think this rain intends to let up. We should hurry back to the house. I’ll call you when I’ve had a chance to re-arrange my schedule.”

  “Really, it’s not necessary.”

  But he was bounding down the two steps of the gazebo and cutting across the yard in the direction of the main house.

  Frustrated and depressed, Clancy trailed after him, only for him to stop abruptly. She wondered what he was staring at, then saw Mark at his bedroom window.

  Mark moved away, out of sight, and Jeremy turned to her. “Mark has his problems, Clancy, but don’t underestimate his power and connections. He mightn’t have much magic, but that doesn’t make him any less desirable to most women. Even Yvonne says he’s delish.” Jeremy laughed confidently, before sobering and staring at her with disconcerting, big brother concern. “
Getting involved with Mark would be dangerous for you.”

  Then the back door of the house opened and Mark walked out onto the veranda.

  Jeremy waved to him. “I have to go.” He patted Clancy’s shoulder. “I’ll call you. Remember, I’m here to help. Bye, Mark!”

  Mark raised a hand in farewell and Jeremy hurried through the rain, around the garage, obviously headed for his eco-conscious car.

  The pool dimpled with the strike of thousands of raindrops.

  Clancy crossed to where Mark waited.

  The jersey still stretched across his wide, swimmer’s shoulders. Worn jeans were faded at the crotch and knees, and fraying at his ankles. His feet were bare.

  “You’ll catch a cold,” she said inanely.

  “You’re the one who’s wet.” He reached out and pulled her in, under the shelter of the roof.

  She felt like crying. Jeremy had warned her against Mark, but her brother hadn’t asked about, hadn’t even mentioned, the demon’s attack. She felt lonely and defeated. Lost.

  “Are you okay?” Mark asked quietly.

  Rain drummed on the veranda roof. “I want to go down into the chamber. Come with me?”

  Mark had never entered the chamber before. The entrance to it might be inside the Yarren Estate, but the chamber was the Ramirez family’s responsibility. He followed Clancy into the cottage. He would have followed her anywhere.

  He’d been in his room, unsettled in himself, and unsure what to do. All of his old fears and unreasonable guilt regarding Phoebe had swirled around and through him. He needed to go back down to his study, sit there, and not leave until he had some sort of plan for dealing with Faust and freeing Phoebe’s soul.

  Instead, he’d seen Clancy walking beside Jeremy, tripping and steadying herself, before she walked on and the trees hid them. He’d kicked off his ocean-soaked boots, stripped off his socks, and kept watch. He’d seen them reappear, the rain re-start, and their walk adjourn to the gazebo. He’d noted with a punch to his gut Clancy’s slumped shoulders and the slow, reluctant way she joined Jeremy in the shelter offered by the gazebo.

  He’d forgotten to put on other shoes.

  Clancy hadn’t broken when facing Faust, but something Jeremy said to her left her defeated. Had Jeremy invoked his position as the Collegium-appointed geomage for California to tell her to leave? Doris wouldn’t stand for it!

  As he and Clancy entered the cottage, they found Doris seated at the kitchen table, flicking through a magazine. The oven was on and there was a smell of baking. A mixing bowl stood in the sink and wire racks waited on the counter for cookies or cake.

  Whatever was baking smelled good, but he wasn’t hungry.

  Nor did Clancy stop. She nodded to Doris and walked on into the laundry.

  Doris carefully closed her magazine. For a normally chatty woman, her silence suggested she’d seen Jeremy with Clancy. Whatever had happened between the brother and sister, even their grandmother was treading cautiously.

  The trapdoor thudded to the tiled floor of the laundry. Clancy straightened. “The ladder goes down about thirty feet.” She started down it.

  Standing in the laundry room, he couldn’t see Doris. And he didn’t hear an objection from her. He waited till Clancy would have had time to descend some way down the ladder, then started after her. The rungs of the steel ladder were cold under his bare feet.

  He had no idea what to expect. He was entering Clancy’s world in utter trust.

  A glow of blue-tinged light grew stronger the deeper he descended into the chamber. It let him see the space that he felt around him. They weren’t descending via a tunnel. Although it started narrow, the entrance soon opened to a large cavern. The light seemed to come from every direction and none, and he realized that the very walls of the cavern were its source.

  He reached the bottom of the ladder and found not rock but dirt beneath his feet. Warm dirt—or was that only the contrast to the chill of the steel ladder?

  Clancy sat on a rock and unlaced her boots. “In here, I prefer to feel the ground.”

  He could understand why. “I’m not a geomage and even I can feel the energy in it.” He looked around. Stalactites and stalagmites and jumbled rock created paths and an entire subterranean landscape around a central cleared space.

  Clancy stuffed her socks into her boots and stood. She shrugged out of her jacket. Her hair was already dry. This was the environment that nurtured her magical talent, and she instinctively adjusted it for her comfort.

  “Is Jeremy going to make you leave?” he asked abruptly.

  “No.” A small unhappy smile. “He’s offered—told me—he’s going to help me to control my magic.”

  Mark swore. “Arrogant idiot. You control your magic just fine. You made a demon flee.”

  “I operate on emotion, but never mind.” She shrugged off the topic. “I didn’t come in here to worry about things.” Her fingers caressed a stalagmite beside her.

  He had a sudden, inappropriate sexual image of her caressing him when he was hard. “I’ve never been here before.” He turned away, trying to focus on the sense of power in the chamber and the flow of it. He could sense the geo-energies as a shadowy, amorphous cloud stream.

  “I always feel better in the chamber,” she said. “I thought it might help you, too.”

  “It does.” It—or she, herself—certainly distracted him from his problems. He walked around an outcrop of rock that resembled an over-turned tortoise, and clutched one of the tortoise’s feet.

  Clancy stood at the edge of the clearing, her hair stirring in an impossible breeze, her lips parted, her whole stance signaling sensual arousal. Her eyes were closed as she smiled. Her breasts pushed against the soft fabric of a long-sleeve t-shirt that was tucked into her jeans before her hips flared out gently. They tipped forward as she arched and stretched.

  He could have sworn he made no sound, but her eyes snapped open.

  He walked forward. If she’d said “no” or “stop” or “we can’t”, he’d have climbed the ladder and gone.

  But she waited for him.

  “Have you ever brought anyone else here?” he asked.

  “Only you.”

  “Good.” He kissed her, and her taste was everything he remembered, but more. Her mouth was hot and eager, and her body…she undulated against him. “You’re turned on. Is it the chamber?”

  “Never…like this…before.” She kissed him between each word.

  He didn’t have a condom and her grandmother was upstairs. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

  She sealed his mouth with a scorching kiss.

  Guess that answers that. And he was properly grateful. She’d burrowed her hands under his shirt and was lightly scratching his chest with her nails. He pulled at her t-shirt and she helpfully wriggled out of it, reaching behind her back to undo her bra and shrug it off, too. He stripped off his shirt so that her breasts could squash against his bare skin.

  They both groaned.

  She was shorter than him, their hips wouldn’t align and he needed to rub against her. He looked around for a rock the right height to lean against or to lay her flat and—

  “On your back,” she said, pushing at him.

  He lay down on the thin covering of dirt over the rock floor, and the rock was as soft as a pillow. “What did you do?”

  She laughed. Her hair fell down to feather caresses over his chest as her lips found his flat nipples. She sucked one, and he forgot about the cushioned softness of the rock he lay on. She straddled his hips and he gripped her butt to keep her there. She rubbed against him and he played with her breasts, went lower, undoing the button on her jeans, unzipping them. The denim gaped, but her wide-straddled legs pulled it too tight for him to insert his hand.

  He swore in frustration.

  Clancy stared into Mark’s eyes. She’d never felt so wild with arousal, her pulse beating want-want-want. If she got her jeans off, Mark would touch her there where she ached.

&
nbsp; She rolled off him, bucked her hips up, and slid down her jeans. He was on his knees and pulled her jeans and panties all the way off. She was naked on the sand and it felt like floating in the sea.

  He came up her body, kissed her mouth while his chest brushed hers and one muscled thigh inserted itself between her legs. She rubbed herself against his thigh and his breath hissed. He pulled back, readjusting, and his mouth clamped over her left breast, sucking hard while his hand traced down from her stomach and began teasing.

  Tiny detonations of pleasure bloomed. She lost all awareness of anything beyond her body and how Mark owned it. She cried out when he abandoned her breasts, but his mouth swallowed her protest and she had the flavor of him as he finally stopped teasing. Two fingers pushed slowly inside her, turned and pressed that g-spot just there.

  His tongue mimicked his fingers’ penetration, filling her as completely as he could when neither had a condom with them. She shuddered and shook beneath him, tremors going on and on as he either kept her orgasm rolling or triggered another. She didn’t care which.

  “Mark.” She caressed his bare back, feeling the heat and power of his muscles. He was rigid over her, against her.

  He groaned. “I’m going to break the damn zipper, I’m that hard.” He rolled, panting, onto his back.

  She leaned up on one elbow. The chamber glowed brightly, red-tinged, passion-saturated. She wasn’t embarrassed at how her magic had escaped her control this time. She barely noticed it. “Undo your zipper.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. “First time, I want to come inside you.”

  Her womb clenched at the sexual promise, and at the intensity in his voice and look. “Then what can I do for you?”

  “Cuddle up.” He wrapped her against him, her bare legs tangling with his jeans-clad ones.

  She rested her head on his shoulder. Heaven was real. All this and a cuddler, too! She stroked his chest.