by K. F. Breene
The guy studied his shoes. “Don’t expect so. He’s pretty clean about taking out the trash. Austin Steele takes care of this stuff all the time.”
“Right.” I nodded, chewing my lip. “Sooo…”
“Jessie, wine’s getting old,” Niamh hollered from within. “It’s turning to sludge before me eyes.”
“Vinegar,” Austin said.
“Sludge, vinegar, whatever. Would ye come on, Jessie? You must be chokin’. Come and get a drink.”
I hooked a thumbs-up at the burly guy, which he probably didn’t see, given he’d returned to studying his shoes, contorted my face in an expression that would have loudly declared my social awkwardness had anyone been looking, and returned to my stool.
Austin waited in front of a thankfully empty seat devoid of a gin and tonic and a guy I hoped to never see again. My wine sat where I’d left it, as did all the abandoned drinks from the people in the pool room.
“Austin, I have to hand it to you,” I said as I hovered behind my stool. “You can really clear a room. You might give them the all-clear, though. They’re just waiting in the other room, not drinking.”
“Here. Jessie, sit next to me. Logan can move.” Niamh pushed the burly guy’s drink away.
“Oh no, I’ll just—”
“It’ll be grand,” Niamh said. “He won’t mind.”
Austin studied me as he switched the positions of my glass and Logan’s beer, again without looking.
“It’s not my all-clear to give,” Austin finally said as Niamh gulped down some cider.
I lifted my eyebrows as I switched seats. “Why? Does this fall on me because I invited Gary here? I said I was sorry when I went in the other room, but the guy—Logan—gave me a weird response.” When they both stayed silent, I put up my hands. “I’m going to be honest, I’m lost. Did I cross a line by inviting a Dick here? Because I figured anyone was allowed in, and I just wanted—”
“You need to allow everyone back in the room,” Austin said in a low, even voice.
“After that,” Niamh said, “let’s chat about exactly how utter shite you are about choosing dates online, because I have to hand it to ye—”
Austin held up his hand, and Niamh’s mouth clicked shut, which meant she must have gotten one of Austin’s whip cracks of power (I’d yet to find anything else that would silence her). Her expression crumpled into a scowl.
“Okay, I realize you mean magically,” I told Austin, “but for the record, I’m still not clear on what’s happening. I don’t know why it’s my job.”
He braced himself against the edge of the bar, his arms flaring with muscle and his eyes fixed on me. “A wave of power swept the bar, urging—no, commanding—everyone to scatter. A magic unlike any I have ever felt called me to arms beside you. Called Niamh. Why Mr. Tom— Damn it.” A vein in his jaw flared as he gritted his teeth. “Why Earl hasn’t come barging in, I don’t know—maybe you kept it localized. It didn’t seem to reach the people on the outskirts of the bar area. Whatever you did, Jess, you had everyone fleeing this space faster than I ever have in my life. They are waiting out there because that is where you put them—out of harm’s way. Out of the action. There they will probably stay until you release your hold.”
The world spun. My head felt light. I blinked into that steady cobalt gaze more than was natural. It was hard to believe him, because I hadn’t felt anything, not a single thing. If I’d used that much magic, wouldn’t I know? A strange pulse had come with the summons.
And then a memory surfaced of my fingers tingling. That was all I’d felt, just anger and tingling fingers. The implications were troubling—if I could pull off magic like that without even trying, without even knowing I was doing anything, what else could I do by mistake?
“Are you positive it was me?” I asked quietly.
“Yes,” he said, just as quietly, comforting. “We’re probably in the most dangerous time for you. I hope we are, at any rate. Unlike mages or shifters or most other magical beings, you didn’t have the benefit of growing slowly into your magic—of learning it by trial and error in relative safety. Instead, you were given a large dose of magic upfront, are steadily working into a huge dose that will possibly trump all other magics in the world, and have zero instruction.”
“She has plenty of instruction—we were talking about this earlier,” Niamh said. “She has a senile vampire who found a magical book among the petunias that he can barely decipher. I’d say that’s her sorted.”
“You are reacting to your surroundings, as you always have,” Austin said, “but now your feelings are manifesting magically. Thankfully, you have a shining character and a good heart, because you sent everyone to safety while you handled what you deemed a threat against you. It’s what I would’ve done. Actually, this situation provided you with some good, low-stakes practice. A greater threat would have yielded a stronger reaction, and given you are not in direct control…”
“Anything could have happened, and we might not have been enough to set it to rights,” Niamh finished.
“And here I was worried about dealing with annoying old dudes and wearing sexy disco-ball dresses,” I murmured.
“You shouldn’t worry about either of those things. One you handled just fine, and the other…” That vein flared again, and Austin pushed back from the bar, his eyes intense.
“Would look absolutely lovely on ye,” Niamh said. “That, or it’d look like a clown suit. But sure, I can see you pulling that off, too. Ye have the jokes for it, like.”
I gave her a flat look. “Thanks.”
“Let them back in, Jess, and we’ll talk about it.” Austin jerked his head at the pool room.
“Sure, yeah, except I have no idea how.”
“Remember how you call Earl when he’s in his stone form?” Austin said. “You just think about what you want from him, right?”
“Ye’ve gotten good at that one.” Niamh pushed her empty glass forward for a refill. “That gobshite is changing in and out all the time these days, wantin’ to fly for this and that. He’s a little too excited, if ye ask me. It’s gone straight to his head and corroded what’s left of his brain.”
“Give them the all-clear, Jess,” Austin said, magic riding his words, a command hidden in their depths.
Instead of wanting to resist, like earlier, I fell into his power and command, letting him guide me. He might not have officially signed up for the alpha role, but he was a master at leading the people in this town. He could curb their behavior or bolster them, depending on what was needed to create a thriving magical society. I could learn a great deal from him, even if I just applied it to the current protectors of Ivy House. Getting Niamh and Mr. Tom to stop bickering would take all of what Austin knew, I was pretty sure.
I was lucky to have him for leadership, Niamh for battle strategy, Edgar for hunting lessons (I’d insisted he stick to theory) and reading that book’s instructions, and Mr. Tom for managing the house (and me) and teaching me close combat. That was a great start, but I still needed someone who knew something, anything about the practical application of my magic. Someone who could guide me to use it in increments—like the people who’d grown up with magic had learned to use their abilities. And I needed a safe place in which to learn, away from a bar full of people I, thankfully, hadn’t harmed this time, because in the future I might not get so lucky.
I’d always been a quick study. I was confident that with a little more insight and hands-on instruction, I could really roll with this thing. I would really roll with it. I’d stomp on the Garys of the world, I’d wear disco dresses with confidence, and I’d handle my magic like a champ.
Like I said, goals.
A blast of magic concussed the air and flowed out of me like a wave, rolling out of the bar and across the town and beyond, spreading out like the magical force from earlier. This one felt a little different, but I knew it was doing the same as the last. Summoning aid.
“Ah, Christ, she’s after doin�
� it again.” Niamh shook her head. “Don’t tell Earl, or he’ll moan something awful.”
“He would’ve felt that,” Austin said, his expression grim.
Those in the pool room started returning to the bar. At least I’d managed that bit.
“Yeah, I s’pose,” Niamh replied. “Austin Steele, soon we’re going to get visitors. Lord only knows what kind.” She tapped her empty glass. “Get me a whiskey, will ya? I’m goin’ta get pissed. No need to face the future sober.”
6
Austin sat in his Jeep at the curb in front of Ivy House, staring straight ahead with his hands on the wheel, his knuckles white. He’d gotten as far as shutting off the engine.
He’d sworn he would never answer a magical summons from this house.
And there’d been many of them since the house had claimed him as one of its protectors. He’d ignored every single one. It didn’t matter how strong they were: if they were beating, or throbbing, or pulsing deeply within him, he’d shouldered his resolve and resisted the pull.
Until now, a week after Jess had shown up at his bar to meet the world’s worst online date.
He stared down the street as the sunlight seeped from the sky. No snow covered the ground, but the dropping temperatures suggested a light dusting wasn’t far off. No tourists sauntered down the sidewalk toward the old, Gothic-style house. Few people visited at this time of year, and those who did would prefer to drink inside than take walks in the cold.
Usually Niamh would still be manning her rocking chair on her porch, her pile of stones orderly and within arm’s reach. That woman had great aim and good distance. The police had shown up dozens, maybe hundreds, of times to warn her away from throwing rocks at people…
It was a wonder they never arrested her for it, although she typically only targeted curious tourists (Earl being the exception). Most of the trouble in this town came from visitors, or at least the trouble the human police were expected to fix, so maybe the officers were grateful to her for scaring off strangers. Hard to say.
Niamh’s absence meant she was otherwise occupied. Austin had come from the bar and her usual seat was empty. She didn’t shop, preferring to pay people to deliver groceries, therefore she must be at Ivy House.
Had she gotten the normal command, the one he was so good at ignoring, or had hers been a plea, too? A desperate need for help.
Begging.
He let out a breath, willing himself to start up his Jeep and head out. He was nearly positive the summons hadn’t come from Jess, but the change in potency, and the genuine worry he could feel riding the wave…
He let out an agonized breath.
It had sunk down deeply and grabbed the roots of him.
If Jess was in some kind of trouble, he wanted to help. She was fighting for her place in this life, and he’d be damned if he’d turn his back on her. He wanted her to succeed with everything in him. She’d been forced to start over, and instead of slinking away like he’d done, hiding in a small town that posed absolutely no challenge for his skill set and experience, she’d reached for the stars.
It was commendable. She was commendable. She’d shown him that life didn’t end in the middle—chances could still be taken, new opportunities embraced.
Seeing her accept her new role, and all the baggage that came with it, had inspired him to make changes of his own. Once she was squared away and safe, whether the house released him or not, he’d move on and finally become the alpha he was meant to be. He’d start again, and this time he’d do it right.
The huge house sat within its magical shroud of shadow, pushed back from the street and laughing at him. It had figured out the right tactic to get him to do its bidding.
He hated that damn house.
“Is this the way to madness?” he asked himself in the quiet Jeep. “Is pitting oneself against a magical but ultimately inanimate object what made the others crack?”
Because cracked they had. None of the other guardians could be mistaken for sane, and he might be well on his way to joining them.
Another throb of desperation rattled through him from the house, from Jessie—or at least about Jessie—breaking him down beat by excruciating beat.
“Fine.” He stepped out of the Jeep, still no doors or top regardless of the season. He never felt the cold. “You win this battle, but I will win the war.”
And now he was talking out loud to a house.
Shaking his head, he muttered, “So help me God, if I start asking people to randomly call me by a different name, that’s it. I’m out.” He walked up the drive, glancing around to make sure no one was around to witness his one-sided conversation.
Blooming flowers leading to the large front door saturated the air with a lovely fragrance. Edgar’s prowess as a vampire might’ve faded with time, but his green thumb surely hadn’t suffered. Austin didn’t think vampires had any magical growing power—if anything, it seemed like the opposite would be true—but no other flowers were blooming in town, it being winter. He must’ve done something to keep these in a constant state of springtime.
One foot on the tweed mat, he put his fist up to knock, ignoring the iron gargoyle-head knocker.
The knob turned, and the door slowly swung open. No one stood inside.
If tourists really knew what this house was capable of, no way would they come looking.
Fighting the heebie-jeebies, he stepped across the threshold and looked around the empty and silent space. Two doorways on either side led to front-facing sitting rooms, both empty. Beyond, two empty stairwells curved up to the second floor, forming an archway, through which an empty hallway led to the back of the house.
“Okay, then,” he said into the hush. “You’ve let me in—now tell me where to go.”
He waited a moment for something to happen. Regardless of the magic running through its veins, though, it was still just a house, not a person. It couldn’t talk. It couldn’t point.
“Thought so,” he said, about to go find Jess when a sound from the second floor caught his attention. It sounded like small feet shuffling against wood, then carpet—and it was moving closer.
Something unseen crept down the stairs.
Uncomfortable shivers skated across his skin. He remembered the sort of defenses this house had enacted when they’d gone to battle to take it back. Maybe it couldn’t talk and point, but it could certainly kill those who did.
He took another couple steps so the banister no longer obstructed his view.
“Fu—” He jumped and quickly scooted back when he saw what was hobbling down the stairs.
He hadn’t seen these when they were first unleashed, and they’d been hidden away by the time he returned to the house. Now he understood why Jess was afraid for her life.
“Okay, okay,” he said, backing up quickly. “You’ve proven yourself.”
A large doll, its exact height hard to judge but probably topping out at his thigh, worked its way down the stairs. The little girl’s face, made of a different material than the plastic of the limbs, had rosy cheeks and a pouting mouth, twisted up as if she were about to cry. It looked like someone had ripped a child out of the nineteenth century, shrunk her, and stuck her in a dreamscape.
Saying it was haunting did not do it justice.
He stood tall when it reached the bottom, showing no fear, as befitted someone of his rank. Its little face tilted up to him, and it was all he could do not to grimace and kick it away. The doll pointed down the hall.
“Overkill,” he muttered to himself.
He got it. The house could point.
He took a step in the way the doll indicated, but it toddled forward, like a two-year-old. He couldn’t hold back the grimace this time. This whole house needed to be set on fire.
Down the hall the doll hobbled, its little feet, stuffed in plastic white shoes, making soft clacking noises as it went. On the rugs he heard its pitter-patter and committed it to memory. He didn’t know what these monsters were capable of
, but if things ever turned, he wanted to be prepared.
Near the back of the house, he hesitated. He didn’t have a clear map of this place, but he did know a few of the prominent rooms, one of which was the Council Room, a space for the house’s heir to hold court, or so Earl had said. Jess would eventually lead her twelve chosen, the best and the brightest magical people in the world. Again, so Earl had said. Austin had no idea where she planned to lead them, or in what. The fact that Earl himself was part of the circle made the whole system suspect. Though Austin supposed only a person with a guaranteed spot would have been willing to loiter around the empty house for years, waiting for an heir who might or might not show up.
Austin had only glimpsed the room once, before Jess had come to town. He’d come over to check the place out, allowed in by Earl, but a terrible sickness had washed over him as soon as he crossed the threshold of this room. He’d barely made it outside to throw up. Earl hadn’t been long in shutting the door after him.
Only pleasant feelings radiated through Austin as he approached it now. Warmth, acceptance, and welcome.
Jaw aching from how tightly he was clenching it, he followed the doll until it stopped at the door. It bowed to him, of all things, before retreating from the door and scooting past him.
He gave it plenty of room.
Standing in the doorway, not wanting to cross the threshold in case the house got any more notions regarding his involvement, he looked inside and saw Jess standing in the center of a circle of ornate, high-backed wooden chairs. She stared at the wall opposite him, utterly still. Her hair was in a high ponytail that had let as much hair escape as it had kept contained. Her formfitting jeans hugged her curves, and her red hoodie collected just above her muscular butt.
“Hi,” she said without looking.
“Hey,” he answered, drawing her eyes as she turned around.
She gave him a once-over, her gaze lingering on his chest. “Nice shirt. That’s a good look for you.”