“Do you work here?” Jamie asked. His gaze slid to Will, then dismissed him.
“Yep.” Sam puffed out his chest.
“Wicked cool. You want a smoothie?” Jamie offered up the tray.
While Sam dithered over the choices, I slipped around to the other side of the cubicles to whisper to Will. “Why is Sam here?”
“I’m weaning him.” Will watched Sam and Jamie with narrowed eyes.
“From what?” Breaking into cars? I’d tried that, too, but an Illuminea stood a better chance of having a long-term influence.
“From the lux lucis you’ve been feeding him.”
My stomach dropped. “Is it bad?”
“He should be fine in a week or two.”
I slumped against the cubicle. Weaning implied an addiction. My well-meaning attempts to straighten up Sam’s choices by cleansing his soul had done more damage than good. Will’s voice and expression contained no censure for my ignorant actions, making my guilt thicken.
“Madison was swaggy, like, bam, bam, BAM!” Sam did some impressive karate moves against the cubicle wall. “I thought I was merked, but she’s, like, one of my mains now.”
Jamie ate up Sam’s gibberish, eyes alight. Smothering a groan, I hurried back to Jamie’s side. The last thing I needed was a slang-spewing pooka.
“We’ve got to go, Jamie. Mr. Pitt is waiting.”
“Aww,” Sam said, and Jamie echoed him. I urged the pooka down the hallway, tossing a wave to Will. He smiled, but his expression turned downright frosty when he looked at Jamie. Shivering, I hurried the pooka along. I’d never seen the Illuminea look anything but pleasant. Will’s cold expression was as shocking as seeing hatred on the face of a beloved uncle. Jamie let me dictate his speed, but his head swiveled to keep the Illuminea in sight, all easygoing cheer from his conversation with Sam gone. In the flat fluorescent lights, Jamie’s youthful face looked broad. My coat creaked on his shoulders, stretched at the seams.
“Relax.” Before you rip my coat or, you know, start a battle with my coworker. The Illuminea didn’t fight evil. They concentrated their efforts on influencing people toward good choices and enhancing lux lucis where it already existed. I hoped their policy extended to pookas.
“What was that?” Jamie asked.
“Sam? A teenager.” As foreign as a person from another planet.
“No. The other one.”
“Will’s an Illuminea.”
“He’s a half person.”
“Pretty sure he’s whole.”
“He’s unbalanced.”
Like me? I wanted to ask, but we’d reached Mr. Pitt’s office. I released my tension on a long breath. I hadn’t been prepared for the office to feel like a gauntlet with Jamie at my side. Behind us, Sharon glared from her receptionist chair, and Sam waved over the wall of Will’s cubicle. I gave them both weak smiles and knocked on Mr. Pitt’s door frame.
Distracted as I was, I didn’t notice Mr. Pitt’s off-tune humming until he stopped.
“Come in, come in.”
He greeted us smiling. With teeth. Not his familiar thin-lipped “I’m smiling because otherwise I’d be banging my head on my desk” smile. This was genuine happiness, something I’d never before seen on my boss.
“Jamie, this is my warden, Brad Pitt.”
“We met last night.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Pitt waved us to the leather chairs across from his desk, then perched a hip on the corner of his desk. “You’ve made a good choice in Madison,” he said to the pooka as if I weren’t sitting right there. “Let me know if there’s anything you need.”
“Thank you.”
“Um, why did you choose me?” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t asked Jamie earlier.
“I like you.”
I waited for him to elaborate. He sucked up the last of a pink smoothie, then moved to a purple one.
“You didn’t know me,” I prompted.
“I could feel your soul.”
“And I didn’t feel like a half person?”
Mr. Pitt raised his eyebrows but didn’t interrupt.
“You have potential.”
Coming from the pooka, that was no compliment. He thought I had potential to balance the lux lucis of my soul with an equal amount of atrum. Seeing the scowl on Mr. Pitt’s face, I realized I should have waited to have this conversation in private.
Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered.
Jamie glanced up, noticing my silence. I smoothed my features and reassured him. “I’m glad you picked me. Do you mind throwing this away for me?” I handed him my empty cup and gave him directions to the break room. He went, clearly more eager to explore than to do my bidding since I had to remind him to take my cup.
“What are we supposed to do all day?” I asked the moment he moved out of earshot. It was a genuine concern and a diversionary tactic all rolled into one. I didn’t need Mr. Pitt fixating on Jamie’s belief he could turn me—halfway—to the dark side.
“Your job. Take Jamie with you. Show it how to do good.” Mr. Pitt resumed his seat behind his desk.
“Him.” I wasn’t going to convince Jamie he wanted to be more like me and all the people on my side if they continued to refer to him as an it.
Mr. Pitt gave me a concessionary shrug. “Him.”
“And if he doesn’t want to stay with me?”
“He will, for now. I checked a few records, called a few old enforcers who imprinted. In the early days, they always stay close.”
“When he grows up?”
“We’ll deal with that later.”
I would have pressed for specifics, but Jamie returned, so I asked, “How’s the region look?”
“Good.” Mr. Pitt leaned back in his chair and smiled, eyes half lidded with satisfaction. On the wall, the laminate map of our region had been replaced with one showing our expanded territory. Several points were marked with red circles. “We weren’t sure how long you’d be out, so Summer and Rafi are continuing to work our region, directed by Liam.” His familiar scowl returned. “Since you’re here, I’ll let Liam know Summer can focus on Jacob’s region.”
“How is he?”
“In the hospital still.”
“I hope there’s no permanent damage.”
Mr. Pitt eyed Jamie. “He’ll recover. Madison?”
The pooka scowled, fingers tight on the armrests. I blinked to Primordium. Jamie’s soul boiled with atrum, leaking onto the leather chair.
“Hey, there. No one’s saying Jacob was right to attack you,” I said. Jamie turned glowing whirlpool eyes to me. “I think he’s suffering an appropriate retribution, don’t you?” Jacob would likely be stuck in a cast for weeks, while Jamie hadn’t exhibited a wound since he shifted to Great Dane form. I felt like a heel for not asking the pooka about his injury earlier, but expressing concern now would seem contrived and emphasize my thoughtlessness.
“He deserved more.”
“His actions weren’t malicious. He didn’t know better and didn’t understand.”
“He hurt me. What else matters?”
“His intent matters. He thought you were going to harm us all. He thought he was saving us.”
“So you think it’s okay he shot me?”
I shook my head. “He got what he deserved.” I’d missed a prime opportunity to explain forgiveness and being the better person, and I hoped I didn’t regret it. I didn’t condone an-eye-for-an-eye mentality, but I couldn’t make myself lie to Jamie, either. As much as I’d prefer otherwise, I wasn’t sorry Jamie had impaled Jacob. I didn’t want to see him do it again, though.
“Help me clean this up, would you? Mr. Pitt likes a tidy office.” I rolled lux lucis off my fingertips and across the arm of his chair, countering a swath of atrum as if removing the stain of evil from our headquarters was the most natural activity in the world.
Jamie looked down, surprised. Without needing a second demonstration, he repeated my maneuver, setting the chair awash with lux lucis
. He beamed at me, and I at him. I hoped he couldn’t see the trepidation in my eyes. The pooka was a fast learner and immeasurably powerful. It wouldn’t take him long to figure out that what he could do with lux lucis, he could do with atrum.
Mr. Pitt cleared his throat. “Going forward, a good rule of thumb is to not hurt enforcers.”
Jamie cocked his head and contemplated Mr. Pitt. The warden turned to me.
“We’re spread too thin and we’re not sure about citos around Jamie, so you’re off cito duty.”
Hallelujah. It was good to have confirmation. “Out of curiosity . . .”
“Sheila and Dominic have taken over.”
“Liam’s apprentice wardens?”
Mr. Pitt nodded.
“You mean they could have been doing it all along!” I shot from my chair. “Why did Liam insist I needed to work the mall? It was all part of his plan to kick you out, wasn’t it? He wanted to make you look weak, so he stuck me in the mall when I could have been doing actual helpful work.” I’d been a pawn. I’d known it all along, but to have confirmation made me want to hit something. Or someone. “The man’s diabolical.”
Mr. Pitt gave me one of his rare, true smiles. “It worked out in our favor.”
I threw myself back into my seat, arms crossed. “Well, yeah, but . . .” Had Mr. Pitt known about the pooka? Had he gone along with Liam’s plans in the hopes of having me imprint Jamie? Wardens could feel the movement of lux lucis and atrum in their regions. It was part of the job description. But how far beyond his region could Mr. Pitt feel? The mall garage where Jamie had incubated was less than a mile from our region’s border. Had that been close enough for Mr. Pitt to feel the massive energy of a pooka coming to the surface? It didn’t seem like a stretch.
If so, Mr. Pitt had taken a huge gamble. If I hadn’t imprinted the pooka, it wouldn’t have taken much more than a nudge after the holidays for Liam to push my warden out and assume his territory. Or if the other wardens had suspected Mr. Pitt had gone along with their plans just to get me closer to the pooka, he would have lost his region even faster. But with the pooka, we’d gained a swath of Liam’s territory and a great deal more power. Mr. Pitt was either devious or lucky.
My boss steepled his fingers and watched me with a smaller smile. I’d put my money on devious. Which meant he’d used me. I waited to be offended. I was irritated I’d had to work the mall and swallow the insult of others assuming I wasn’t enforcer enough for my region, but Mr. Pitt had taken worse insults and had reported to Liam the whole time. Maybe we were even.
It still didn’t explain the uptick of evil.
“If all the evil lately isn’t Jamie’s doing . . .”
“It’s not,” Mr. Pitt said, giving me the assurance I needed.
“Then we still don’t know what the culprit is?”
“That’s for us to figure out.”
I liked that Mr. Pitt included me. Unfortunately, the events of the last few days had proved to me what Mr. Pitt’s repeated declarations hadn’t: I knew next to nothing about the world of Primordium. I wasn’t sure I could be of any help to my boss. The best I could do was hope I stumbled onto the problem using my usual bumbling, trouble-magnet method. It wasn’t a comforting thought.
19
Only You Can Prevent Wildfires
Mr. Pitt sent me to explore our new territory, warning me to stick close to my phone. “I’ll try to go easy on you, but the more you handle, the less ammo Liam has against us.”
I tried to get myself psyched. I was reinstated in my territory, far away from citos and crazed shoppers, and doing the work I’d been born to do. I was literally going to make the world a better place. I might not know what the root of the problem was, but I could handle cleaning up individual evils. And along the way, I’d teach Jamie how to love lux lucis. Somehow.
My phone rang before I’d latched my seat belt.
“Salamander at Maidu Park,” Mr. Pitt said. “Do you have a yogurt and water?”
“Not yet.” It appeared my boss was familiar with Val’s do-it-yourself salamander-extermination cocktail.
“Get on it.”
I tossed Medusa back in my purse and threw the car in reverse. Jamie lurched against his seat belt, laughing when I plastered him back into the seat as I peeled out of the parking lot.
Sunrise Natural Foods, a local all-natural food store, was the closest grocer. I flew through the aisles, dumping yogurt into my handbasket, circling back for probiotics in capsules, just in case. Jamie added two snack-size bags of organic chips and chocolate Annie’s Bunny Grahams while I scooped up two gallons of water. We dashed out of the store, not waiting for the cashier to hand over the receipt.
Jamie poured an entire bag of chips into his mouth before we were clear of the parking lot. The second bag disappeared on the short drive down Rocky Ridge Drive. A thin stream of light gray smoke on the eastern horizon pinpointed the newest fire. I cut left down McLaren Drive, checking my rearview mirror for fire engines or police. Sirens wailed, faint but approaching. There was a chance I’d beat the firefighters to the scene, and I couldn’t decide if that was a good thing. If I could get to the salamander before there were witnesses, it’d probably be easier, but the thought of racing into a blazing, unchecked fire made my palms sweat.
I barreled past the park’s main lot, barely slowing for stop signs. Sprawling over one hundred fifty acres, Maidu Park could devour three normal city parks whole and have room for dessert. The sports side, with four baseball diamonds, a similar expansion of soccer fields, a skate park, batting cages, and two children’s playgrounds, covered only half the park. The other half was open space, with a paved bike trail winding through native terrain that included a stream surrounded by enormous oaks and rolling valleys blanketed with dead brown grass. The smoke rose from the middle of that tinderbox landscape. My heart rate kicked up.
I swerved to park at the curb several blocks from the plume. As tempted as I was to drive closer, a siren’s screech beyond the bend in the road convinced me to stop. I may never have fought a salamander before, but if firefighters saw me dashing toward the flames, I’d be tackled. I needed to utilize stealth.
Jamie leapt from the car, tore off his jacket and shirt, and ducked down, morphing into a sleek Great Dane. I closed my mouth. No matter how many times I witnessed his transformations, it was never going to seem natural.
He shook, and the jeans clinging to his hips dropped to the ground. With a happy wag, he trotted out of his shoes. By the time I recovered and got out of the car, Jamie had circled to my side to frolic around me. I shooed him out of the empty street, checking the house windows to see if anyone had witnessed Jamie’s transformation.
Maybe the pooka in dog form would work in my favor, mainly because Jamie couldn’t say the wrong thing at the wrong time.
I shoved his borrowed clothes into the car, then popped the trunk and wiped my palms on my pants. My salamander-extinguishing ingredients waited.
Loosing Val from his strap, I asked, “You ready to hunt a salamander?”
I could watch from the car.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Crispy edges only work for old treasure maps. On me, it would look trashy.
“I promise, you won’t get burned. I got the supplies like you said. Any idea how much I should mix in a gallon? How much does it take to kill a salamander?”
How should I know? Tell you what, you go ahead, and I’ll stay here and do some research.
“Research? Val, I need an answer now.”
More is better than less.
Good enough for me. I shoved Val back into his strap and opened the top of both gallons of water. After dumping out some water to make room, I poured two yogurts and ten capsules of probiotics into each jug, capped them, and shook them. It formed a pink-tinged sludge, but when I checked the jugs in Primordium, they glowed faintly of lux lucis. We were in business.
With Jamie at my side and a gallon straining each arm, I race
d across the street and down a packed dirt trail into a valley of dry weeds. Nature swallowed us. In a dozen strides, the houses and road disappeared, blocked from sight by a steep hill and a dense canopy of barren oak limbs. Pain jolted through my injured ankle when I slid on loose scree and caught my balance, and every step after pinched. I slowed, but the distant shouts of firefighters soon spurred my steps. A fire truck roared by out of sight, joining the cacophony of sirens closer to the blaze. My winding path next to the park’s stream wasn’t as direct, but I stuck to the trail and didn’t blink to Primordium. Even on the uneven dirt, I was afraid I’d catch a toe and finish off my ankle.
I didn’t have the strength to run with my arms bent, so I bounced between straight arms, smacking my thighs repeatedly with the jugs, my shoulders aching from the ungainly weight of the gallons. My lungs burned from the smoke thickening the air, and my brain jarred against my skull with each step, hammering through the ibuprofen relief. Jamie loped in expanding circles around me, pausing to investigate the scents on downed logs, a muddy hole, a fork in the trail before galloping back to my side, tongue flapping. I stifled irritation as the jug smacked a new bruise in my thigh. It wouldn’t have helped if Jamie were miserable, too, but did he have to look so happy?
I rounded a curve in the hillside and spotted flames. Wheezing, I collapsed against a tree trunk and dropped the gallons.
“Stick”—pant—“close.”
Jamie glanced up the hill toward the bulk of the park, ears perked.
“Jamie.” I drew his name out in warning. His head jerked toward me. Golden eyes met mine. He barked, then galloped up the hillside and disappeared. “Jamie!”
Damn it! I didn’t have time—or lung power—to chase after him. Flames licked up an oak a dozen yards away and advanced along the dry grass. The fire burned through the shallow gorge, clogging it with smoke and obscuring my view beyond. Somewhere in the inferno was a salamander that needed to be killed. I stared at the ridge, willing Jamie to return.
He didn’t.
A Fistful of Fire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Madison Fox, Illuminant Enforcer Book 2) Page 29