by Anna Abner
“Hello, Paul.” She smiled, ramping up the southern accent she knew he found charming. “I have a simply awful problem I was going to pester Simon in the permit office about, but he’s not there, and then I saw your light on. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He ushered her inside and pointed toward a chair. “Sit and tell me what’s bothering you.”
Though she’d rather stand, she accepted the seat as the mayor lounged behind a massive, wooden desk.
“You might have heard I’ve taken a sabbatical from real estate,” she began, flashing her sweetly professional smile, “and in the meantime I’ve decided to invest in a local business. The most promising one, in my opinion, being Sparky’s Diner.” She went on to explain how she and Holden had already purchased an empty commercial lot on the north side of town, and they were ready to break ground on a second location, except their building permits had been summarily rejected. All of them.
“That’s unusual.” He reached across the desk and snapped his fingers.
After a brief hesitation at the disrespectful gesture, she produced the permits and passed them to him.
“That doesn’t make any sense, does it?” he asked, scanning the pages. “If I know you, Ms. Powell, you’ve crossed every T and dotted every I. Hmm.”
She opened her mouth to respond when he slapped the papers onto the desk. “So, you want to open a restaurant.” He raised both eyebrows, prompting her to answer.
“It’s an excellent investment,” she assured.
“And the co-investor,” he added, “Holden Clark. How do you know each other?”
She tilted her head in mock exasperation. “Now, Paul, don’t go snooping into my personal life.”
“Ah, so it is personal.” He played with the papers, scattering them across his desk. “Didn’t you have an assistant—What was his name, Derek?—who took care of things like this for you?”
“Good memory,” she teased. “I had to let him go recently.” To put it mildly.
“I hope he found a new position,” the mayor prodded. “Here in town?”
Rebecca’s smile faltered. Paul had never been so curious about her relationships before. “I haven’t been in touch, sorry, but I heard he left the area.”
“Too bad. He had a lot of potential.” He collected her applications and sorted them into a neat pile. “Okay. I’ll look into this matter for you first thing Monday morning.”
Relieved, she stood to leave, a thank you on the tip of her tongue.
“But,” he interjected, “you’ll owe me one.”
For some reason, the tone of his voice sent a tiny chill crawling down her spine.
“You bet,” she said, just wanting to escape and get back to Holden. “I owe you one. See you later. And enjoy the rest of your weekend.” She clutched her bag and slipped out, looking back twice to see if he followed her or not.
* * *
The Couser house, just as spooky and decrepit as ever, loomed through the front windshield. The house Cole had been so proud to own, as if he’d accomplished something great by closing escrow. For the first time, he saw it through someone else’s eyes, and it looked awful.
Talia shifted the car in park, and immediately a furious face appeared above the steering wheel.
“Let me in,” the boy howled, his mouth getting bigger and bigger until it blocked out the car, the house in the distance, even the sun.
“Talia, get in the house,” Cole shouted over the racket.
She felt blindly for the door handle, but couldn’t find it.
The ghost’s roar went on, inhumanly long. Glass crackled. Veins appeared in the surface of the windshield.
Reaching around her, feeling her trembling against his chest, Cole unlocked the door, yanked on the handle, and she tumbled into a patch of moist grass. He followed right behind.
“Get in the house,” he said, urging her upright.
She didn’t hesitate, clawing through the grass until she got her feet under her.
The child’s hideous voice screamed right up until the moment they crossed the house’s threshold. He made a last, frustrated wail and then was quiet.
“Are you alright?” Cole asked.
“Not really, no.” Talia forced a laugh. When he tried to touch her, to comfort her, she waved him away and limped into the kitchen.
“There’s no ice,” she murmured. “No ankle wraps. No Tylenol. Nothing.”
Though her tough girl façade was still firmly in place, he sensed she was close to cracking. It had been a long day, she was hurt, and she was far from home.
“Sit here.” He guided her into a chair at the small dining table and then helped set her foot on the tabletop to hopefully ease the swelling and pain. The tender skin around the joint was already bruising and puffy.
“I’ll be alright,” she said, sniffing. “I just need to rest it.”
“Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He hurried through the rear hall to the back door, so warped from constant rain that he had to shoulder it open, and out into the yard. The tool shed was a piece of crap, wooden catastrophe, but that’s what he liked about it. People overlooked it.
He stepped over a shovel and a rancid bag of mulch. After the Dark Caster tried, and failed to open a Chaos Gate the first time, Cole had been anxious about the state of the magical community. He’d quietly dug a modified root cellar behind the Couser house, capped it with a fireproof hatch and then moved the tool shed on top of it.
Just in case things got bad and he needed to make a quick escape.
Cole lifted the false floor and unlocked the hatch. The interior was dark and quiet. He flipped a switch and dropped into the moldy smelling space. One large, heavy-duty trunk was the only furniture. In it he kept cash and credit cards, a burner cell phone, a hospital-grade emergency kit, and a few other supplies he thought would come in handy if ever forced out of his home.
But no weapons. He didn’t believe in them. The superheroes he read about used their special abilities and their wits to survive, not automatic weapons.
He collected assorted gear and returned to the house, carefully locking and concealing the underground room.
Talia hadn’t moved, but she glanced up as he appeared in the doorway.
“I should’ve thought of this sooner.” He set a laptop in front of her, plugged it into the wall, and set up a personal Wi-Fi hotspot. “It was reckless and stupid going shopping in public. From now on, if we need something, we’ll have it delivered.”
Her eyes lit up, and she straightened in her chair. “That is a much better idea.”
He got her online and then visited the homepage of a massive online retailer.
“I know you’re only here until four, but we might be able to have some of it delivered before you go.” He laid out the cash and cards and then dropped into a seat across from her. “Get whatever you want. It’s on me.”
“Are you serious?” She typed in a keyword, and her eyes widened at what must be exciting results.
“From the top down,” he assured. “Order a bed, if you want. Clothes. Food. Whatever will make you feel more at home.”
She finally dragged her gaze away from the site. “Do you don’t think we’ll make any progress by morning?”
He was afraid if he told her the truth she’d leave. But he didn’t know where her nephew was. He was no closer to finding the White Wraith, and Harvey was closing in. He had no intention of letting her leave before he could guarantee her safety.
“It’s not safe,” he began slowly. “But if we find your nephew and take out the wraith, I feel like we’ll be okay to go home.”
“I don’t love this plan,” she admitted, “but I don’t know what else to do.” She pulled her foot off the table and typed in another keyword.
“Oh, and don’t forget to ship everything overnight. And tonight you’re taking the bed.”
There was a long pause as she scrolled with her finger, and th
en she graced him with a tiny smile. “You’ll notice I’m not arguing.”
* * *
Talia didn’t plan to order quite so much, but once she set up an account for Cole it was too easy to click the buy button for everything that reminded her of home. Bedding, dishware, even a portable DVD player.
She cringed at the total as she selected overnight delivery, but she confirmed the order and then checked the time.
Almost five. Eleven hours left to find Sylvester and destroy the White Wraith.
With a grumble, she stood and tested her ankle. It was tender, but not broken.
While running through the store earlier, ducking flying merchandise, she’d been so afraid Harvey would hurt one of them. Or worse. But if all she suffered was a sore ankle, she considered herself lucky.
She limped into the foyer as Cole carried their personal luggage through the front door.
“You can’t convince me this is a purse,” he said, swinging her bag onto his shoulder. “It’s bigger than my gym bag.”
“Well, it is my purse.” She tried to take it off him, but he wouldn’t let her.
“How do you even carry it?” He gave her an appraising glance. “You’re tiny. It has to give you back pain.”
“Maybe I’m stronger than I look.”
He harrumphed. “I already knew that.”
“Can I have it please?”
He still wouldn’t hand it over. “I’ll put it next to the bed for you,” he said, veering around her.
“I was thinking,” she called after him. “If they came after us in public, then we must be pretty important targets. Maybe they’re willing to negotiate. Or at least communicate.”
Pausing at the top of the stairs, he asked, “You want to try another spell?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be right down.” He disappeared from sight, bags hit the floor, and then he returned, skipping downstairs. “Let’s do it now.”
“Sure.”
“We have to go outside,” Cole told her, sending her a telling look.
Right. The little boy’s spirit lived outside the front door. She’d almost forgotten he was lurking around the barrier spell, waiting for her to emerge so he could scream at her some more.
“I think I should try to talk to him before we cast,” she said. Though the prospect was terrifying, it was the right thing to do. “Besides, he’ll only get in the way once we start.”
“If you’re good with it, yeah, let’s try to talk to him.”
Talia exited first, eyes scanning for any sign of the little guy. Luckily, he wasn’t shy.
He appeared directly in front of her. “Let me in!”
She fought the urge to flinch away. “My name’s Talia. What’s yours?”
“Let me in!” He stretched his visage taller so they were eye to eye. “You can’t do this! You don’t belong here!”
“Zachary,” Cole said to her, safely invisible to the spirit. “His name is Zachary Dennis.”
“Zachary?” she asked, trying to smile even as his furious spirit darkened the sky and sucked all the light from her periphery. “Is that your name?”
The shouting ceased, the light returned, and the little boy stared with ever widening eyes at her. His mouth opened as if he was going to scream again.
He vanished.
“Not as successful as I would’ve hoped,” Talia declared.
“Excruciating,” Cole agreed, dropping a hand on her shoulder. His fingers were heavy on her skin, grounding her. Giving her confidence. “We’ll try again later. After he’s calmed down.”
“Let’s just do the spell we were talking about,” she said.
Cole withdrew his hand and sketched a circle in the dirt beside the front porch. “Remember, they won’t be able to see me. I’m not sure yet if that’s a good thing or not. But as far as they’ll know, you’re on your own.”
On her own. She was used to that.
Without further discussion he flipped open a pocketknife.
“Hold up.” Talia grabbed his wrist to get his attention, but got distracted by the solid strength in his body. Even thin and run down, he was impressively strong. She blinked, momentarily forgetting what she was going to say.
“The last time we tried this it didn’t work very well,” Cole said.
Understatement.
“Do you mind if we try casting together this time?” He studied her fingers around his wrist as if they were fascinating. “It’ll amplify your power.”
Talia had never cast with another necromancer. And Cole wasn’t any necromancer.
“Okay.” A tingle behind her belly button expanded like a firework in a hot July sky. “If you want.”
He smiled like she was adorable, and she positively overheated.
“Show me how,” she stuttered.
He stepped within the circle and held up a palm for her. She inhaled deeply and joined him in the circle. But space was limited and to keep from tumbling out and ruining everything she held on to him to steady herself. One hand gripped his shoulder and the other lay flat against his chest.
“Ready?” His mouth compressed. So serious.
Hugh was right on point, sending them a wave of spirit power. Talia had been channeling Hugh’s force nearly her entire life, but this was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It passed between her and Cole, mixing their energies, and combining them into something new. Fizzy champagne coursed under her skin.
“Wow,” she breathed. The rapid heartbeat under her palm mirrored her own. But she refocused on their task. “Summon Michael,” she said with authority.
Cole tilted his head at her, as if she were sweetly exasperating. “You don’t cast in Latin?”
“Never officially learned how to cast,” she confessed. “I just did what felt natural, and what Hugh told me to do.” She stood a little straighter, regrettably rubbing against his torso and igniting a mini forest fire in her chest. She cleared her throat loudly. “Summon Michael and Johanna.”
It was hard to say if it was working. Normally, she sensed when her spells were successful, but with her power all mixed up with Cole’s, she couldn’t tell.
“Hugh,” she said. “Can you turn it up?”
“Of course, miss.”
A rush of spirit energy blew through her, and with it a different kind of power, a darker sensation, swirled. Cole’s power. Her nerve endings exploded, and all the hair on her arms stood at attention.
“Oh, my God,” she exclaimed, clinging to him as her knees jellified. “Is this what you feel all the time?”
He squeezed her closer, and his erection pressed against her belly. He’d experienced the rush, too.
Talia panted, wiggling to get closer, thirty seconds from straddling him. Her skin was on fire. “I’ve never felt anything like this. I didn’t know…”
“I’ll finish it,” he grunted, the knife reappearing from his back pocket.
“No.” She pushed it away, brushing her core against the seam of his fly and stifling a pained moan. “No cutting. Use my power.”
“I’ve never done that before,” he confessed. “I can’t cast without blood.”
“Just try,” she said, desperate. “Please.”
He only hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Excieo, Michael,” from between tightly clenched jaws.
A jolt of power hit her, she cried out, and then all that whirling, buzzing energy faded away.
She stared at Cole, breathing through her mouth, her only desire to kick his legs out from under him and grind on him until completely exhausted and wrung out.
“Holy shit,” Talia exclaimed.
She pulled on his shirt at the same time he cupped her face.
“You’re in a shitload of trouble,” a vaguely familiar voice shouted from the driveway. It wasn’t Cole. And it wasn’t Hugh.
“Nice timing,” she growled, turning on the Dark Caster’s spirit companion, Michael. “And I’m not in trouble. I’m the victim here.” The only bright side
was knowing he couldn’t see Cole, or the way she’d nearly mounted him in the front yard in the middle of the day.
He stared at her with pure hatred behind his eyes. “The master does not appreciate being ignored. You were given an assignment.”
“I was abducted,” Talia said. “I just now broke the cloaking spell he was using on me.”
“Do you mean Burkov?” He looked mildly interested at the mention of the cabal’s most wanted. “You’ve been his prisoner?”
“Yes, dumb ass,” she shot back. “What did you think happened?”
He didn’t say, but it was clear he assumed she’d run off with Cole. Which was true, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Quick, before he comes back,” she said. “Tell the master I serve him and only him, but we must meet. I know who killed the Carver and what they have planned next.” Huge, huge bluff. She knew nothing, the same as always, but she had to say something to get their attention.
Michael narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “We found the person responsible,” he said. “A witch named Daniela Ferraro has targeted our organization.”
Talia closed her mouth with a click. That did not sound promising. “I can’t fight a witch.” She didn’t mention she’d met Dani the night before. “I’m not strong enough. But I want to apologize to the master in person. Will you tell him?”
“You are no longer a member of the master’s cabal,” Michael informed her, sneering.
“But my nephew—”
“You are an enemy of the master and every caster who serves him.”
Enough. His statement was tantamount to a death warrant.
Talia cranked up the acting skills. “Oh, no,” she said, craning her ear toward the silent house behind her. “He’s calling me. Go,” she hissed at Michael. “I’ll contact you again soon. Please tell the master of my continued loyalty.” She rushed inside the house, waited for Cole to follow her, and then slammed the door.
“I think he bought it,” she said. “But did you hear—”
Cole came up behind her, lifted her straight off her feet, and flattened her against the foyer wall.
Chapter Eleven
Cole’s heart pounded, sending pulses of tingly energy into his extremities. Every extremity. His mind was going in a million different directions, and yet in only one direction, all at the same time.