Since I wasn’t in the Betrayers Meeting, I’m not sure what he was promised, but I still couldn’t imagine it was good enough to warrant betrayal of the Council and the mages. He returned to the spell, but the words were different. He had to start over. Spells can’t be interrupted, which is why it’s hard to do them in less than optimal environments. I’d interrupted him. He would have to start over, and that was my plan until Gareth arrived.
Clive hadn’t relaxed his finger off the trigger and disregard for me cast a hard shadow on him as he scanned the area looking for his wounded team. “You are a very dangerous woman, Levy.” Intrigue and anger laced his words and I wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. And I wasn’t sure he was, either.
Jonathan must have had the same concern. “You can’t kill her.”
And that just ensured that he would. Clive’s head snapped around in Jonathan’s direction. “I do believe you have forgotten your role. I don’t answer to—”
I jumped to stand, kicking the arm holding the gun. It wasn’t enough to get him to release it, but he stumbled to the right. Before I could kick him again, a hammer-fisted punch landed on my temple. Pain blared and colors flickered before my eyes. When he attempted to aim the gun at me, I stayed close enough to hold it. He punched me in the ribs and swiped my leg, sending me crashing to the ground. I realized I had underestimated and disregarded him as a pretty boy Spy Guy. Without thinking I shoved a powerful thrust of magic into his chest, and he soared back, crashing into the wall across the room. The gun went off and a bullet sped past me as the weapon dropped a few feet from him.
Wide-eyed, Jonathan looked at me. “Conner was right, there are a few of you among us.”
“And no one will ever know,” I said lodging another ball of magic, strong and deadly, toward him. He put a ward up, strong, but not impenetrable. My magic destroyed the ward, sending him back several feet. I was about to pummel him with another when Conner flashed in, his eyes going to the Necro-spear. Before he could get to it, I snatched it up and took several steps back.
He popped up again, in front of me. I smiled. “It might be magical, but it’s still a dagger,” I said as I shoved it into his gut. He was silent until I ripped it out. He growled in pain. I wished it were a sword, because by the time it took for me to position for another assault, he had moved back. The wound and pool of blood that had spread over his peach shirt was gone. What was his deal with pastel colors?
He simply grinned as I readied myself to do another shot of magic, the strongest magic I’d lodged in his direction. He captured it, the way someone does a ball, holding it and admiring it like an adorable fluffy puppy, and then he sent it back at me. It barreled into my chest, knocking the wind out of me and sending me soaring through the air. I clung to the spear, refusing to lose it. I was flattened against the floor, gripping the Necro-spear so tight my fingers were numb. These magical butt-kickings were getting a little tiresome. It took a moment for me to climb to my feet. Seconds that cost me, because when I was up, both Conner and Jonathan were gone. I vowed that Conner was going to get more than his ass kicked the next time I saw him.
But I had bigger problems—five injured HF. Clive was unconscious. I could deal with him later but I had to erase the others’ memories.
I started toward one of the scattered wounded bodies when a crowd of armed people came careening through the door, led by Gareth. He’d brought a small army carrying everything from swords to rifles and all the variations in between. And they were followed by some of the most powerful mages, a witch, and Blu.
I looked at the cavalry and moved closer to Gareth, speaking softly and hoping only he could hear. “You do realize you were here to apprehend one person, right?”
His eyes narrowed, and a belligerent glare brushed over me. I’m probably not nearly as funny as I think I am.
He ordered them to take Clive and his crew out.
Clive was still unconscious when someone cuffed him and with a single hand lifted him up and draped him over his shoulder. Life was easier when you were a shifter.
Injured, the others were handled a little more gingerly, but not by much.
I was still holding the Necro-spear, the blood cleaned from it the way it had been from my sai after I stabbed Conner. I wished I knew how to do that spell. Seemed like a party trick that would come in handy often—blood had power and information.
Gareth was in a mood, a really crappy one. Extending his hands, he demanded, “Spear, Ms. Michaels.”
Don’t say anything smart. Don’t say anything smart. “Keep it safe, I don’t want to have to track it down again.” Dammit. I smiled, sweet and cloying. He turned, slowly scanning the area. A low sound emanated, a rumble so deep the hairs on my arm rose a little. Did he just roar? Kitty’s in a bad mood.
Another crew of people filed in. I assumed the supernaturals’ version of CSI. But instead of being equipped with cool bags and equipment, they had the super-senses of a shifter, cognitive powers of a fae, and magical ability of a witch or mage. Before I could grab my sai and leave, someone from supernatural CSI picked one up.
“Wait. You can’t keep that.”
“It has blood on it.”
“Of course it does, I stabbed a couple of people with it.”
“Then we’ll need to take it with us,” he asserted, dismissing me with an offhanded shrug.
Gareth was heading out the door, when I followed behind him and said, “I need my sai.”
His voice was cool, distant. He kept walking, an iceberg, as he continued toward his car. I repeated my request.
“You can retrieve them after our meeting, please be in my office in fifteen minutes.”
He incited a defiant nature in me that I hadn’t known existed. But he also had a lot a of power, and also my sai, which I really needed. “Can you make it an hour? I really need a shower. I’ve admitted to the stabbings.” I extended my hands to let him get a full view of my shirt. “It’s consistent with it.” I’d watched enough police procedurals to know that this probably wasn’t going to happen. The supernatural world rules were different, but I didn’t know by how much. The complexity of the situation made things different. He paused before he got in his car, looking in my direction, a disfiguring frown etched hard on his face.
He barely moved his head into the nod. “An hour, and don’t pull one of your acts of passive aggression by being late. It will not be met kindly.”
“That last part was just unnecessary,” I mumbled under my breath, stupidly forgetting who I was dealing with. I risked a glimpse in his direction. Yep, he definitely heard that.
I simply waved as I walked past the receptionist. I’d been here so much I felt guilty that I didn’t know her name. It seemed like I should start greeting her by it, since she always had that smile that really was infectious, so much that I’d felt a little calmer as I walked by. Midway through the hallway, I was actually relaxed. I was calm—too calm. I stopped and glared at her back. Goddamn faes. I wasn’t calm and shouldn’t be, but thanks to her fae mojo I was relaxed—too relaxed. I needed to be a little alert and sharp because I hadn’t come up with a reasonable story to explain most of everything that had happened. The moment Clive and his band of HF followers started talking, it would put holes in the flimsy story I had. I can imagine telling him: Jonathan planned to perform the Cleanse using the Necro-spear, which he used to hold a bunch of magic that allowed him to mimic Legacy magic. But don’t you worry your pretty little head about that because it would only be on a small scale. Not a pandemic. By the way, did I tell you there’s a couple of Legacy rolling around, and I think Conner is a Vertu? No, that’s not a Legacy. He’s just their badass daddy. Of course they want to have a Cleanse again, but they plan on rolling it out and beta testing it here. But don’t worry, Mr. Cave Lion, there aren’t enough to actually do a global spell, so they are outsourcing. Now all they have to do is find more people willing to betray their kind, like Jonathan, with the hope of more power.
I was so screwed.
When I walked into Gareth’s office he glanced up at the clock and so did I. I was just under the wire by about a minute. I reached for my sai, which were placed next to him. His hand shot out to stop me, then he directed me to the chair in front of his desk.
“You don’t trust that I will stay after I have my belongings?”
He chuckled, a roaring sound with haunting amusement. “Oh you’ll stay. But it is probably best that it’s on amicable terms.”
I inhaled, searching for a calm similar to the fake one Ms. Happy Fae had induced me into earlier. I didn’t need to fight with Gareth, nor did I want to. I decided to be the adult in the room.
“Ms. Michaels—”
“Levy.”
“Ms. Levy Michaels.”
He’s not making adulting easy at all.
He inhaled, a faint smile replacing the scowl. “You changed your shampoo. I like it better.”
Hmm. And we’re going to make it creepy, too. Great.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
I gave him a detailed and very edited version of what occurred, leaving out any magic involvement, although if they interviewed Clive and partners they would not collaborate it. But it would leave reasonable doubt, and that is exactly what I needed. I told him about Conner, but he was that guy we called a stranger who showed up and helped Jonathan escape.
“What happens to Clive and the others?” I asked, trying to redirect Gareth. He was deep in thought as though he was analyzing my story, assessing it for plot holes and inconsistencies. There were probably a ton of them.
He picked up one of the sai, twirling it with the graceful movements of his wrist. He handled it as if it wasn’t his first time. If it were, I was feeling like I needed to improve my skills.
“Because they didn’t attack a supernatural we don’t have a chance of keeping them here. They will be transferred to the pedestrian system with a full report of your statement.” He took his eyes off the swirling sai that was entertaining him and his gaze fell on me, where it stayed. “Unless you have information otherwise.”
I shook my head and stepped closer to the desk to retrieve my sai. I grabbed the one on the desk and reached for the one he had. My hand rested over his, waiting for him to transfer it to me. Instead of releasing it, he stepped closer. I inhaled his scent, a wispy earthy and oaky spice. Oh damn, I’m creepy, too.
We stood there for a few moments. Me ever aware of his presence as he towered over me. Mesmeric cool crystalline blue eyes fastened on mine. His other hand lightly brushed my hand, his thumb grazed mine. I couldn’t squash the desire to feel his lips on mine again. It was carnal, pure hedonism, born from animalistic urges that his shapeshifter magic ignited in me. A roiling attraction that transitioned into an undeniable spark. It was just that magic, his primordial beast connecting with me on a level that was different—inevitable. That was what was what I tried to convince myself. I pshawed the logic that pointed out that I had encountered several other shifters and hadn’t felt anything like this. Not one time did I envision them naked and wrapped around me, but that was all I could think about with Gareth.
He kissed me. Warm soft lips covered mine. Finally, he released the sai to me, fisting my shirt and pulling me closer. The kiss became more fervent and when it ended, I leaned into him wanting more.
It took a moment for my breathing to drop to normal. The sai in hand relaxed at my side. “What are you doing tonight?”
“I have plans,” I lied.
Nothing planned, although I knew I would spend most of it thinking about Jonathan and Conner. They didn’t have the Necro-spear anymore, so doing a micro-Cleanse was out of the question. And even if I didn’t have that to do, I wasn’t going to make plans with Gareth.
I didn’t say anything for a while, because if I’d opened my mouth I would have said that and agreed to anything he was offering. But I couldn’t because he was still Gareth, head of the Supernatural Guild and a member of the Magic Council. With the Vertu, possibly a cadre of Legacy, and a treacherous back-stabbing mage on the loose trying to do the Cleanse all over again, the last thing I needed to do was cozy up to Gareth.
I started to back out of the room, and I finally pulled my eyes from his.
As if he knew how much I didn’t want to decline, he grinned. “Fine. Maybe another time.”
I nodded, still refusing to speak because the lips that were planted on his just moments ago would surely betray me.
Just as I backed out of the door, he called, “Of course, you will not be dealing with this case anymore, right, Ms. Michaels?”
I beamed. “Of course, I wouldn’t think of it.”
Briskly I walked down the hall. It was hard to leave, but I needed to slow down enough to give the mojo fae a dirty “I know what you did to me” look. And I did, and she shot me a very pleasant smile that was punctuated with a look of “And?” Or it could have been, “My boss made me do it.” Who was I kidding? I don’t know what her looks said. I can’t read looks.
CHAPTER 15
Things were really terrible when you were happy that things were just less bad. And that pretty much was where I was. Gareth had the Necro-spear. I doubt it would be stolen again, but there were still people who wanted to do a Cleanse. I couldn’t help but wonder if they could have used the Necro-spear to do a Cleanse, how many more Legacy objects were out there. Instead of going home, I pulled over and made a call to Kalen. I needed my KUI. I guess I needed to change that nickname because he’d effectively no longer provided useless information. His information was quite useful.
Kalen was exceptionally self-satisfied when he answered the door, dressed more causally than I had ever seen him, in a dark t-shirt and jeans. When I walked in farther, I noticed four large boxes on the floor. He handed me a bottle of water and waved his hand near a spot on the floor. “We’ll work and talk.”
Starting on the box next to me, he asked, “What can the KUI do for you?” He shot me a dirty look and the heat of embarrassment rose over my cheeks. With a crooked grin, he teased, “Didn’t know I knew that, did you?”
I busied myself going through a box, pulling things out and separating them into categories as we always did. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” I said innocently.
“Of course,” he said, flicking water on me.
I laughed. “You know I’m only going to take so much of this mistreatment before I leave you. Maybe I’ll apply for a position at the Guild, they seem to pay okay. You should see Gareth’s home.”
“I don’t think they hire humans, even a cantankerous, smart-mouth malcontent like yourself.” He grinned. “So you’ve been over to Mr. Gareth’s house? Do tell.”
I brushed it off with a wave and a wry smile. “Nothing to tell. I was attacked by shifters, bloody, and I went to his house to shower.”
He gave me a doubtful side glance. “And?”
“And nothing. His home is gorgeous.”
“It should be. Do you know how much he’s worth?”
“Nope, but I know how arrogant, narcissistic, and officious he can be.”
I ignored the look of utter reproach that he gave me. “His mother is Jennifer Chase-Reynolds. You know, the woman who owns our cable company, three malls”—he gave me another one of his looks of reproach, appraising my outfit—“you might want to visit one and fix this.” His open palm did a dramatic wave over me from head to toe as his lips bent into a disappointed frown at my oversized button-down blue shirt, jeans that might have seen their last year of wear, and my favorite pair of blue Converses.
Jumping to my feet, I did a spin, cocking my head back and assuming my best model pose. “It’s retro chic. But I understand that your simple sensibilities can’t appreciate my avant-garde fashion,” I responded in a playful, haughty tone before plopping back on the floor next to the box. I didn’t want to talk about Gareth or my wardrobe. I needed answers.
He rolled his eyes. “And I will not even discuss her other rea
l estate.”
Then why did Gareth even work? Was he drawn to the danger? Was he that addicted to power? I didn’t have time to discuss Gareth. He wasn’t a priority. I needed to find Jonathan and Conner and not necessarily in that order.
“Mages, what do you know about them?” I asked, changing the topic.
He stopped poking around in another box and looked straight forward, his mouth twisted and his brow furrowed in thought. “What do you need to know? The history or their magical capabilities?”
“Gareth said it was rumored that mages have necromancer abilities, is it true? Can they control vampires?”
He nodded. “They can perform the dark arts, but most of them are afraid to.”
“Why, is it illegal?” I asked.
“It’s not if they aren’t using it for nefarious reasons, but if they are using it to control vampires, it is. And it is very draining on their powers and can take days to recover from. Most supernaturals do not like being weak, vulnerable. Why do you ask?” He went back to rifling through the box, pulling everything out of it. I was always amazed that people just shoved everything in a box and sold it. But it was our business and it worked out well. Some of it was junk, or so I considered it, like the Atari system he pulled out of the box. And some not, like a first edition of Keats. I couldn’t believe it came from the same household. And then he pulled out a large pewter-colored stone. I could feel the magic on it. We only got things like this from humans— they couldn’t sense the magic. It was a Calling Stone, one witches used to pull in magic from their ancestors. Very valuable. I would probably call Blu and offer it to her first. I felt like I owed her.
“Because I think it was a mage who was responsible for Savannah and I being attacked at Crimson. And that same mage tried to do his version of the Cleanse yesterday.”
Kalen’s eyes widened as he pushed his box aside and then moved mine. “Enough of work? What!”
So I had to give him the condensed modified version I gave Gareth, leaving out all the parts about me doing magic. I was looking forward to seeing Savannah so I could finally talk about the whole unedited version of this story.
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