“I have not issued the Call to mate,” Caden reiterated.
“Unless that changes, you have no problem.”
Wrong. “She believes in this story and is suspicious of everyone. No one is more suspect than Shock. You come,” Caden suggested.
The thought of Bram charming Sydney made him want to grind his teeth into powder, but the wizard was newly mated. He couldn’t woo Sydney. And he wouldn’t turn her over to Mathias.
“I told you, I can’t, not until I complete the Council’s demand for magickind to stop spreading rumors—even if they’re the truth.” Bram snorted. “This assignment also allows me to quietly warn Privileged families that Mathias is likely to target them and demonstrate to his Deprived followers that he embraces their bid for equality.”
“It’s shit.”
“But I cannot defer this duty. There have been four Anarki attacks in the last three weeks. If the Council won’t send a transcast, I must warn people unofficially. I am spending what little free time I have trying to locate my errant mate.”
In Bram’s shoes, he’d be doing the same. “Keep Shock away from Sydney.”
“Then stop her from writing articles.”
“I’ve been sacked. How do you propose I do that? Sydney may very well write an article about the Doomsday Diary. Just this morning, she was inquiring about its origins.”
“For the last bloody time, charm the woman!”
“I tried. It’s . . . complicated.” And he wasn’t spilling a single detail.
“Uncomplicate it,” Bram snapped.
“This was your fucking mission to start with. I did my best and, as much as I hate failure, I admit to it. This morning, I tried to steal the Doomsday Diary from Sydney, but when I attempted to leave her flat with it, the book dissolved in my hands. Twice. Why?”
“Dissolved?”
“Completely. Moments later, it appeared again on the nightstand from which I took it.”
“In other words, it would not leave Sydney’s flat with you. Interesting . . . but I think I might know why. You’re male. You’ve heard me say the book is an object of feminine reverence? That means the book responds only to women.”
“I didn’t try to use it.”
Bram hesitated. “Stealing it may work the same way. We’re learning as we go, but it makes sense. Eons ago, Marrok paid a woman to steal it from Morganna. After she did, she gave it to him. Marrok kept it in the same cottage for centuries. Then came Olivia. She brought the book to my estate and hid it. I assumed at the time that anyone could transport the book, but, given your experience, clearly not. Neither Marrok nor I could write in it when Mathias abducted Olivia. Sabelle, however, could. A wish to fix a button was granted instantly. Her wish to save Olivia was not, and we discerned that whoever uses the book must have both great power and great desire to fulfill the wish. My mate stole it from me. Somehow, it fell into this Aquarius’s hands, and she gave it to Sydney. Female to female to female. When you tried to steal it from Sydney—”
“I’m not female.”
“Exactly.”
Caden sighed. Interesting, but . . . “I’ve barely met Aquarius, so I don’t know about her, but Sydney is definitely human, not magical.”
“Apparently having two X chromosomes is more important than having a magical one.”
“Even more reason you should send someone else in my place, Olivia, perhaps, and let me look for Anka elsewhere.”
Bram huffed. “Is giving up what the Marines taught you? Last I heard, failure wasn’t an option.”
Blast it, the wizard was right. Caden hadn’t asked for this mission, but the guilt of failure ate at him. Nor did he want to leave Sydney unprotected. But what else could he do? So, like any good tactician, he resorted to a diversionary tactic.
“I may have some information about the book and how Aquarius acquired it.”
“I’m listening.”
Caden gripped the phone. “I don’t know how she fits into the equation, but Aquarius mentioned someone named Emma.”
“What did you say?”
The violence of Bram’s question took him aback. “EEmma?”
“You’re certain?”
“I overheard a telephone conversation, but reasonably so, yes.”
The wizard didn’t hesitate. “You have a new mission: Besides getting that book away from Sydney, make her tell you more about Emma. Immediately.”
Bram’s sudden command was somewhere between stunning and what-the-hell?
“You don’t have time to help me when you’re throwing me to the wolves, but when I mention some woman—”
A loud chirp, a flap of wings, followed by a woman’s panicked voice interrupted the beginnings of Caden’s tirade. Some witch had compelled a bird to deliver a message to Bram. And from the sound of it, the message was urgent.
“I must go. I’ll send you help to obtain the book since you’re not female. But get all the information you can about Emma, then call me.”
“Damn it, I’m not your errand boy.” Caden shouted. “Who is Emma?”
“My mate. That’s the first clue I’ve had of her since she disappeared. And I’m going to find that woman if it’s the last bloody thing I do.”
After the worst Tuesday ever, Sydney was more than happy to escape back to her flat. She shed her clothes as she headed back to her bedroom. She shed tears just as easily.
Dear Lord, her careless words had gotten Caden sacked. Granted, he had been eavesdropping, and suspicion that he’d been trying to scoop her still lingered. She’d tried to talk Holly into taking him back. No luck. And Caden had likely assumed that she’d tattled to her editor because he’d hurt her by leaving her bed this morning. He’d think her spiteful and never want to see her again.
That possibility crushed her. She must find Caden, set matters straight. Already she missed him with a yearning she didn’t understand. It was impossible to fall in love in a few days with a man who had begrudgingly shared himself. Blast, he had never even kissed her.
Even if the man wanted nothing more to do with her, she couldn’t tolerate the thought that he might believe that she’d had him sacked in a scorned woman’s act of vengeance. Under normal circumstances, she would ring him up and explain and apologize. But she had no means of getting in touch with Caden—no idea where he lived, no mobile number . . . nothing.
Sydney bit her lip. Well, except that magical diary.
Had the fact she had written in it previously brought Caden to her door? Or had it been mere coincidence?
She couldn’t know for certain unless she experimented.
With a sigh, Sydney reached for her mobile and called Aquarius.
As soon as her friend and assistant picked up, Sydney blurted, “Did the book work for you?”
“Mellow, boss lady. Like I said at lunch, it works. From what you said, you discovered that yourself.”
“Maybe it was coincidence.”
Aquarius laughed. “Though I love magic, I was skeptical at first. I wrote about Alex a few times before I truly believed.”
This morning, she’d felt wretched and unintentionally manipulative. Had she made a man who didn’t truly want her come to her flat and have sex with her? She still winced at the possibility.
“It seems like such a pathetic thing to do, write a fantasy so it will come true, regardless of what he wants.”
“I understand being worried about bad karma.”
That wasn’t exactly her issue, but close enough. “But if I’m going to report about the book, I should test it again. Caden is the only man I fantasize about. I can’t move forward with the story about the identities of the bodies in the tunnel yet. I need to shore up a few facts. I didn’t have the heart to ask your cousin any more questions after she broke down at lunch today. She looked so pale and tired. Is she all right?”
“As well as can be expected, but she won’t talk anymore, Sydney. When she asked me if you were a journalist, I couldn’t lie. She knows she’s said too much,
and when I admitted you’d written stories based on her information, she became terrified that Mathias will find her.”
“I promise, I’ve never given details about her identity.”
“She says it’s too risky for her, for magickind, and for you. Mathias is ruthless.”
Damn it! Sydney gripped the phone. She needed that source . . . yet the witch’s fragile physical and mental state not only raised Sydney’s pity, but concern. Aquarius’s cousin was one shock away from a breakdown. Sydney would have to find another means of researching this magical war.
As soon as she made this week’s deadline—and got in touch with Caden.
Sydney and Aquarius rang off. She sank onto the edge of her bed, unstacked the books on her desk, and lifted the one at the bottom. The little red one. She turned to the page where she’d written her previous fantasy about Caden making love to her.
Last night when she’d arrived home from work, the words had been on the page, mocking her for her stupidity in believing that magic would ever fall into her lap. Tonight, the page was blank. The words were gone. Disappeared. She peered at the spine, but no signs of a ripped page. No erasure marks. Just one perfect, pristine page after another.
What did that mean? That her fantasy had come true so the words had . . . vanished?
No. There must be some logical explanation. The pages were stuck together or she wasn’t seeing the ink right in this light or, heaven forbid, Caden had found the page while he was here last night and carefully removed it.
Sydney bit her lip. Whatever was going on here, she wanted to talk to Caden, and hoped that he wanted her beyond what she’d written.
Before she could lose her nerve, Sydney grabbed a pen, then carefully crafted a “sexual fantasy.” That is, if a fantasy of Caden darkening her door to have an honest conversation with her counted as sexual. She couldn’t resist adding a line wishing that he’d make love to her if he genuinely desired and cared about her.
Sighing, Sydney put the pen down. Moments later, fresh ink appeared on the next page:
Sleep, dream, anticipate . . .
The fantasy you imagine will soon be
your fate.
Twice now, the book had responded. Sydney shivered. Apparently something paranormal had happened to her . . . and might happen again. As she closed the book, her thoughts spun.
What if the diary was unable to make emotional fantasies come true? What if it didn’t grant conversation, just sexual wishes? She had asked for honesty, not pillow talk.
Crap! She’d written in pen, and couldn’t erase the words. But honestly, she didn’t want to. If it brought Caden here so they could talk—and she could apologize—she’d put the brakes on anything else until she was certain it was truly mutual.
The question was, how long would she have to wait before she saw him? And what would happen once she did?
After a basically sleepless night, Sydney trudged into the office the following morning, lugging her briefcase in one hand and her extra enormous coffee in the other. Wednesday. Technically, only one more day before her next story was due to copy editing. Bloody hell, she hadn’t even started it. She was waiting. On Caden. Would the magical book work?
“Morning, Syd!” Holly popped her head in her office, blond curls framing her face in a way many women paid hundreds of pounds to reproduce, her cupid’s bow mouth painted an eye-catching red.
“Morning, Holly.”
Sydney wanted to be angry at Holly for Caden’s dismissal, but after her description of his eavesdropping, she understood Holly’s position. Even if Caden had done it because he wanted to protect her, it looked fishy.
“You look like shit. Sleep more. If you’re losing some over Caden’s sacking, problem solved. Meet Zain Denzell.”
As if Caden could be replaced with any warm body . . .
In the doorway, Holly stepped back. A man edged forward, tall, lanky, and scruffy. He sported inky black hair, a goatee, a crooked nose, and an office-inappropriate T-shirt that said “Wanted: Meaningful Overnight Relationship.” But the eyes . . . those were sharp, almost dissecting. Sydney had the immediate impression that Zain was used to people underestimating him, and he preferred it that way.
“Hello.” She walked around the desk and stuck out her hand.
Zain approached, something between a walk and a swagger, then took her hand. She had a brief impression of slightly damp palms. He didn’t give off the demeanor of someone with large stature, but still hit her square in the chest, as if he was important somehow.
“Nice to meet you,” he said with a nod, then backed away.
“Likewise.”
Biting her lip, Sydney studied him. Not as easy on the eyes as the last one, but he’d be less distracting. Zain’s deference seemed a bit practiced, but she supposed anyone young trying to succeed in the news business learned to bow and scrape in a hurry.
Suddenly, he smiled. “Too awkward? Sorry. I’m a loner and not used to mingling with others, especially before noon.”
“You’re fine.”
Holly clapped her hands. “Great, now that the introductions are over, why don’t you and Zain spend thirty seconds forming a meaningful work bond, then start making me money?”
With that cheerful demand, Holly left, shutting the door behind her. Sydney rolled her eyes, and Zain laughed.
“Is she always that . . .”
“Brash? Absolutely. If you hear people talk about Cruella, you know who they mean.”
Zain rubbed his hands together. “We still have a few moments; tell me about you.”
Sydney perched herself on the edge of her desk. “I’m a reporter with deadlines who doesn’t have time for crap. You may not believe my stories, but if so, I don’t want to hear it.”
“No. I believe. Especially the magical war story.”
“That’s right. You’re the one Holly told me had pictures of the bodies in the tunnel. How did you get them?”
Zain hesitated. “I have a source who claims to be involved. That’s why I wanted to work here. I think we can blow the doors off this story and make big names for ourselves.”
She stood up straight, her interest in Zain zooming. “A source involved in the magical war? And you don’t think he or she is mental? Tell me more.”
“Can’t, really. He didn’t meet with me. I got a note, you see, that basically said, ‘be here at this time.’ I was, and found the bodies just after the battle.” Zain shrugged.
Odd. “Was this note delivered to your home?”
He winced, looking a bit sheepish. “It just . . . appeared in my flat.”
Like poof, as in magic? “Has it happened again?”
Nodding, Zain explained, “The last one said something big was coming and he’d let me know.”
“Why you?” Sydney asked. “Why not someone already working on this story?”
Zain lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve always been interested in magic.”
Possible, but it sounded convenient. Sydney’s guess was that Zain wanted this job, and had invented a reclusive source to get it. The pictures in the tunnel? For all Sydney knew, he could have Photoshopped them. Time would tell.
Repressing a smile, she sank back to the edge of the desk. “I’m working on a new angle about the battle in the tunnel. You know, where you took the pictures of the bodies? I’m having some difficulty. The last article I wrote—”
“Was rubbish,” he blurted, then looked sheepish. “No disrespect intended. But you got it all wrong. Mathias is the good guy in the magical world. He wants to end oppression.”
Sydney slanted him a considering stare. “I have a source, too, who claims Mathias repeatedly raped her. He doesn’t sound like a great bloke.”
“Energy,” Zain said. “Powerful emotions, commonly sex, fuels their magic, or so I’ve been told. They must have it frequently. She may have called it rape to win sympathy, but these people shag like mad to keep themselves charged up.”
Talk
about rubbish. First, Aquarius’s cousin had an abused demeanor, not a satisfied one. She’d seen nothing to suggest the woman had engaged in mutually consensual sex. The rest sounded like a tall tale. If it was true, why would his source have confided this sort of information, when it had nothing to do with the war?
“Interesting.” She gave him a tight smile. “For my next story . . .”
The words I’ll just need a few pictures of this red book that grants sexual fantasies stuck in her throat. He might wonder how she’d acquired such a thing. And if he was the sort who would lie about his inside information, maybe he would try to steal the book from her. After Caden’s words of caution and everything that had befallen Aquarius’s cousin, it made sense to be cautious.
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