I toed my tennis shoes off and pulled my sweater over my head as the answering machine beeped to the next message.
“Hey, honey, it’s me,” Mom said. “I wanted to remind you to bring potato salad and gravy tomorrow.”
Crap. In the excitement of the previous week, I’d forgotten that I’d promised to contribute to Mom’s Thanksgiving meal. I opened my pantry cupboard, but no potatoes had miraculously translocated to my bare shelf.
“Oh, and there were two fires this afternoon off Highway Sixty-Five,” she continued. “I’m sure it’ll all be cleared up tomorrow, but just in case, take the Lincoln Newcastle Highway. See you tomorrow. Watch out for the pyro.”
Was he going to jump out of the bushes at me? Even if he did, there wasn’t much I could do. Whoever the firebug was, his type of sickness was a problem for ordinary police.
Mom made some baby noises at Mr. Bond before hanging up. I eyed my cat. He was up to his eyebrows in his food bowl, oblivious to the world.
“I hope you got that the first time, because I’m not playing it again.” His tail twitched.
The third message was Dad, whispering. “I told your mom I’d go with her to the gym this morning, and I didn’t. Now she’s threatening to not make pumpkin pie. You’d better bring a backup one just in case.” I could hear Mom call to Dad in the background, then the sound of tools banging. “I’m in my office!” Dad yelled. Quieter, he said, “And bring extra whip cream.”
“Oscar, who are you on the phone with?” Mom asked, louder now. The message ended with a clatter.
I suspected I wasn’t going to make it through Thanksgiving with my sanity intact.
A shiver reminded me I stood in only a bra and pants, with Niko due to arrive any minute. Snatching up the phone, I headed for my closet. I might not be going on a date tonight, but I was going to meet other illuminant enforcers. I still wanted to dress to impress, or at least to make a good impression.
Halfway to my bedroom, my stomach growled. I turned back to the kitchen. The fridge contained exactly four things: a box of leftover pizza, a half-empty bottle of Gewürztraminer, a bag of salad mix, and strawberry jam. No yogurt.
In an effort to increase my strength as an enforcer, I’d been trying to eat food containing lux lucis. Recharging by absorbing energy from plants was convenient and necessary, but Niko had told me a few days ago that ingesting lux lucis would improve my base level of energy. I’d yet to see a difference. Plus, the options for lux lucis food were limited to fermented food with live bacteria or food freshly picked, such as fruits and vegetables. Cooking killed lux lucis. That left raw foods, and even salads took time to prepare. Which is why I’d eaten more yogurts in the last week than I had in the six months prior while the ingredients of the salad bag had rotted into slimy green soup.
I chewed methodically through one cold meat-and-vegetable-loaded slice of pizza, then washed my hands and dialed Bridget to deliver my bad news. I thumbed through my wardrobe while the phone rang. Everything I owned fell into two categories: comfortable and practical or impractical and sexy. The impractical clothes were all shoved to the back, virtually unworn. All except the orange and cream dress I had set aside for tonight’s thwarted date.
I sighed as Bridget picked up.
“Is this a prank call?” she demanded, though I knew she had caller ID. Traffic sounds hummed in the background.
“What are you wearing?” I panted into the phone.
“About five pounds too many. Some clients sent in chocolates today. Swiss chocolates.”
“I’m jealous.”
“I’ve gotta say, I expected a lot more squealing.”
“I would if I were still going on a date.”
“What!”
“I had to postpone. Something’s going on in the region, and there’s a big meeting tonight. Niko said I should attend.”
Bridget was the only person I’d ever told about my ability to see souls, and when I became an enforcer, she was the first to know. Despite my implausible explanations of Primordium and evil creatures invisible to her, she never once doubted me. Everyone needed a friend like Bridget.
“Ooooh, Niko said you should go, and poor Dr. Love gets tossed to the curb.”
“It wasn’t like that.” If my tone was a tad defensive, Bridget didn’t comment.
“Sure, sure. Will Mr. Dark and Deadly himself be there?”
“Yep.”
“Take a picture for me. I want to see what he looks like. Topless, preferably.”
“I’ll see what I can do, Digit.” Bridget had met Niko once, but she didn’t remember, and I wanted to keep it that way.
“Was Dr. Love okay with rescheduling?”
“Yeah. But I wanted a date tonight, not Sunday,” I whined.
“Oh, you poor thing. You have to wait a couple more days, and in the meantime, you get to hang out with a man who, and I’m quoting you, ‘can make a woman’s hoo-ha tingle just by thinking of her.’”
“I never said that!”
“It’s in the subtext every time you mention Niko. Seriously, though, what’s the meeting about? Who’s going to be there?”
“Other wardens, maybe a few enforcers.” Some of my thwarted-date blues eased at the thought of meeting some other people in my line of work.
“Sounds interesting. Take notes; I want to hear about everything tomorrow.”
We said good-bye so she could go into her yoga class and I could finish getting dressed. Mr. Bond darted through my closet, skidded across my bill-strewn desk, scattering papers to the floor, and sprinted back to the front room and his scratching post.
“You know you’re not a kitten, right?” I shouted after my tank-size beast. I picked up the papers without looking at them too closely. I didn’t want to get distracted by bills right now.
I burrowed to the back of my closet for my gray interview slacks and paired them with an emerald boat-neck sweater that complemented my eyes. The combination was professional and attractive, and hopefully dressy enough for the meeting. Just in case, I dabbed on some mascara, then checked myself in the mirror. There wasn’t time to do anything special with my hair other than brush it. I needed a trim.
Mr. Bond galloped by again, nearly knocking me down as we passed in the hall. This time he paused in the bedroom to sharpen his claws on my mattress. I raced after him to scold him, and he darted to the front room, instigating a game of chase. I obliged. The poor cat really needed more attention than I’d given him lately.
In between tossing tiny fake mice up and down the short hall, I scarfed down another slice of cold pizza. The microwave clock read 6:02 when it occurred to me Niko was actually going to see my apartment in all its mail-cluttered, shoe-scattered, plant-filled jungle glory. I raced to the middle of my front room and froze. Where to start?
A sharp three-beat knock rattled my door.
“One moment,” I called. I scooped two pairs of shoes and a pile of mail into my arms and ran them to my bedroom. Slipping into some short black kitten heels, I raced back to the front room, only to dart back to the bathroom mirror to fluff my hair and check my teeth. I gave Mr. Bond a rushed pet as I passed him in the hallway, shrugged on my coat, and snatched up my purse.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. Niko filled my doorway, and my heart pattered. The date-with-Niko fantasy I’d done such a good job of suppressing swamped my brain cells.
4
If You’re Not Outraged, You’re Not Paying Attention
My gaze dipped to Niko’s smooth lips. “Hello,” I croaked. I didn’t invite Niko in, but he stood too close for me to exit without stepping into his arms. “I’m ready to go.” I urged him back, intent on maintaining the illusion of being an organized, tidy individual.
Mr. Bond pushed between my legs, and I tightened my calves around my cat to prevent him from escaping. “Nope. You’re not going anywhere.” I bent and scooped Mr. Bond up. He meowed pitifully. I swung around to drop him back into the front room, thought better of a m
ove that would put my butt in Niko’s face, and backed up beside the open door.
Niko took the opening as an invitation and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. With a sigh, I set Mr. Bond down. He rushed Niko. The optivus aegis offered his hand to my curious beast. Mr. Bond sniffed his fingertips and allowed himself to be petted.
“This is Mr. Bond.”
Niko straightened, his vigilant gaze skimming over my dining room, which was lined with bookcases draped with a dozen golden pothos plants, their long strands half concealing the books on the shelves. The front room held sturdier plants stuffed in every nook available and lined up on either side of the TV. The flotsam of life and cat toys littered the floor. Niko looked amused, but I wasn’t sure if it was due to my messiness, the indoor jungle, or my cat, who had flopped across Niko’s right foot and was rubbing his face back and forth across the leather surface.
Way to play it cool, Mr. Bond.
“Nice cat. He’s rather large.”
“That’s how I like my men,” I quipped. Heat flooded my face. Mr. Bond shot me a look I swore told me I was an idiot. Then he swam his body across the floor to Niko’s other shoe.
Niko laughed and bent to gently extricate his foot. I glanced heavenward and asked for help to stop acting like a complete idiot around Niko. If this was how my ancestors responded to sexy men, it was a wonder we’d ever propagated.
I followed Niko outside and gently shut the door in Mr. Bond’s face, telling him to be good. I locked up while Niko blew fur off his hands. Clumps of fluffy dark hair floated away on the chilly breeze. I opened my mouth to apologize for my cat’s indiscriminate shedding, but Niko was already jogging down the stairs.
Shadows coated the apartment walkways and the children’s jungle gym squatting in front of my building. I blinked to Primordium for easier navigation and a better view. The moldy-smelling lawn dotted with dog-poop land mines transformed into undulating blades of light carpeting the hillside. Beyond the manicured landscape lay the reason I rented a third-floor apartment: Lining the protected wetland stream, majestic oak and cotton trees provided a year-round source of beauty. Right now, their long branches were bare of all but a few stubborn leaves, and in the daylight, they looked dormant, possibly dead. I knew better. In Primordium, they glowed a healthy, immutable white, their limbs a vast, intricate fractal against the dark sky.
Beyond the oaks, the marshland gleamed with lux lucis. Blackberry brambles, water grasses, cattails, and dense bushes overlapped white upon white. I’d toured a dozen apartment complexes in Roseville, and none came close to having to a view like this.
“I can see why you chose your place,” Niko said.
His words so closely mirrored my thoughts, my gut clenched in momentary panic that he could read my mind. A quick glance reassured me he was admiring the greenbelt.
“I think I have the best apartment in the complex.”
“I’ve always been fond of this region of California.”
For the first time, it occurred to me to wonder where Niko lived. Since his territory as optivus aegis included most of Northern California, did he live near its center in Redding, or somewhere more coveted like Napa Valley? I was trying to decide whether Niko would fit better in a tiny cabin in the woods or a sleek modern loft in Sacramento when the anomalous glowing interior of a car caught my eye. Cars were inanimate and therefore should be gray in Primordium.
I stepped closer. The driver’s seat and center console glistened with a soft layer of lux lucis, as did the steering wheel.
“It’s the leather,” Niko said, popping open the driver’s door. “I spend a lot of time driving.”
I blinked and straightened. In normal vision, Niko’s BMW was solid black, the interior a tanned leather. Right. Previously living materials held lux lucis better than any other medium. Niko used a lot of lux lucis, and his soul was one of the strongest I’d seen. It stood to reason some of his good energy would rub off on his environment.
It was unnerving how he’d known exactly what I was thinking. Again.
I slid into the passenger seat and thumped my ginormous purse onto the floorboard. Now would be a good time to give Niko back his dagger. Only, he turned the ignition over before I could speak, and the gentle wave of heat from the vents wafted his spicy cinnamon and coffee scent across my cold cheeks. The car’s interior lights dimmed. I pulled on my seat belt. Anything I said would turn awkward. It was the Law of Madison in Niko’s Presence. So I savored the soft hum and whine of the engine as he backed out of the parking spot and eased toward the exit across a gauntlet of speed bumps, waiting for Niko to speak first.
I lasted until we exited the complex and headed south on Sierra College Boulevard. I lived outside the southern border of my region, and we should have been driving in the opposite direction. “Where are we going?”
“Liam’s office. He’s got the largest region in the affected area.”
I waited for Niko to elaborate. The silence stretched, long and tense for those of us with unchecked curiosity and escalating anticipation. After a few miles, we left Roseville behind and entered Orangevale. No gap existed between the cities, but the farther we drove into Orangevale, the more obvious the change. Roseville had pockets of million-dollar homes and mini-malls with art galleries and wine bars; Orangevale had pockets of poverty-level apartments and run-down strip malls. The landscaped meridian shrank and disappeared. Homes crept closer to the road.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Madison.”
“I believe that’s been mentioned.”
Niko shot me a sharp glance. “About Brad. Many people in the CIA would like to see your warden removed from his position.”
I gaped at Niko. He wasn’t referring to the CIA most people knew. He was talking about the Collaborative Illumination Alliance, the organization we all worked for. I’d been ready for a lecture on my inexperience, or maybe instructions for whatever I’d be doing at the mall, not a statement of my boss’s unpopularity. The most intelligent response I could muster was, “Huh?”
“Brad made some bad decisions in the past.”
“What sort of bad decisions?” I braced myself as we took a sharp turn off Hazel, mentally bracing myself for Niko’s next words, too.
“The kind that brought him in front of a Triumvirate hearing.”
I’d never heard of a Triumvirate, but a hearing couldn’t have been a good thing.
“Afterward, Brad was demoted to this tiny region. There are those who believe he’s not fit to work as a warden at all. You’re not helping, either.”
“Excuse me?”
“You have next to no training, yet you’re the sole enforcer in his region. Since your job posting ran for months with no other takers, hiring you for the role of an enforcer despite your lack of experience isn’t the issue so much as Brad refusing all offers for you to train under local enforcers.”
There had been offers? I’d assumed when Mr. Pitt had said training with other enforcers was out of the question, he’d meant they hadn’t been open to the idea. “Why would he refuse?”
“Because the ranking enforcer’s warden calls the shots. Whoever you worked under would be following their warden’s orders, even if you guys were in your region. If Brad conceded control of his region to another warden, no matter how temporarily, it would be that much easier to convince the Triumvirate he was superfluous.”
“Hang on. People think Mr. Pitt is an unfit warden because he hired me, an untrained enforcer, but he can’t get me more training because if he does, he’ll be kicked out?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“That’s not fair.”
Niko didn’t respond.
“What about you? Could you train me?” I suspected he could teach me one thing a day for a year and still have unshared expertise leftover.
He shook his head. “It’s not a good use of my time.”
“Ouch.”
“The things I’m doing are well above your skill level.” His dark
gaze swept my face, then returned to the road. “You need someone to teach you the basics.”
“Sure. Of course.” It might have been true, but it didn’t give me the warm fuzzies to be dismissed as inferior. “That’s why Doris is training me. Or will be.”
“She didn’t give you a bad start. You survived a demon.”
“Good point.”
“If you hadn’t, Brad’s fate would already be sealed. For whatever reason, he’s investing heavily in you—it’s why he maxed himself out buying you the handbook.”
I slumped back in my seat, mind spinning. I had no idea why Mr. Pitt would put so much faith in me. If anyone had asked, I would have said Mr. Pitt would prefer anyone but me as his enforcer.
Maybe he was trying to force the CIA to fire him, but it didn’t make sense. If that was his strategy, why buy me the expensive handbook? I’d shoved the book into my purse earlier today and completely forgotten about it. Nothing about it made it look worth a penny, let alone the fortune Niko implied. Maybe every word was a gem of wisdom.
Which still didn’t explain Mr. Pitt’s action. Or why other people thought he shouldn’t be a warden.
“Is he a bad warden?” I’d met only one warden in my life. Maybe Mr. Pitt was awful. Maybe other wardens didn’t yell at their enforcers.
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you, Niko.” I let exasperation seep into my tone.
“And I’m telling you to make up your own mind.”
I crossed my arms. “Thanks. That’s helpful.” When Niko said nothing, and his serious profile gave even less away, I turned to face forward. I couldn’t tell if he was warning me to be wary of Mr. Pitt or of the people who disliked him. “What would happen to me if Mr. Pitt got booted?”
“His region’s so small, it’d be split between Liam, Isabel, and Margaret. You’d have to find a new region and work under another enforcer until you were more competent. There are a few openings in Southern California, a few more on the East Coast. You wouldn’t be without options.”
A Fistful of Fire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Madison Fox, Illuminant Enforcer Book 2) Page 4