Trigger Magic

by Kim McDougall

  Again her aether surrounded them. Tentatively, he reached out with his magic and herded hers in a gentle nudge. She tensed. He pulled back, but she got the idea and narrowed her aether like an arrow pointing at the doors.

  “That’s right. Now let it fly.”

  Aether lashed from her. The doors exploded, spilling light into the cellar. Quinn shot up the stairs, knife poised for attack.

  He squinted into the late afternoon sun, turned and jumped at a shadow. Bobbi followed, and they checked the ruins.

  They were alone.

  Shards of a thick branch lay beside the crumpled doors. Someone had jammed it through the handles to lock them in the cellar.

  “We’re being watched,” Bobbi said quietly.

  Quinn nodded. “We’d better set wards around camp.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Scission

  THEY SET WARDS IN A FIFTY-FOOT CIRCLE AROUND THE TENT.

  Ward work came easily to Quinn, but his energy flagged and he let Bobbi make the last check of the perimeter.

  “You’re using too much magic.” She sat in a camp chair beside him.

  “I’m fine.”

  He wasn’t. He ran on borrowed aether, but he’d be damned if he’d let this illness beat him. Not today.

  They built a campfire, ate a simple dinner as the sun set, then listened to damp wood crack and pop as it burned. The flickering flames mesmerized Quinn, lulling him into a near doze.

  Bobbi fidgeted. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, fiddled with the metal tab on her can of cola and squirmed in her chair. She thrust a long stick into the heart of the coals and watched the tip turn bright orange.

  Something rustled in the underbrush and she jerked around. Her burning stick knocked another branch from the fire, and it fell with a shower of sparks. She stamped on the embers even after the sparks died.

  “Easy,” Quinn said. “You don’t get extra points for pounding it into oblivion.”

  “Am I the only one who feels a dozen pairs of eyes watching us from the shadows?”

  “Probably more. These woods are home to a lot of critters—raccoons, opossums, weasels. Maybe even a bear or two.”

  “Way to make me feel safe. Is this the part where you tell me they’re more afraid of me than I am of them?”

  “Except the bears. They don’t fear much but a shotgun.”

  “Terrific.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll lock all the food in the jeep. They won’t bother us tonight.”

  Neither of them mentioned the other things that could be watching from the shadows. A horde of minor demons had erupted from the rift. Paragon agents were tracking them down, but they had no idea how many escaped.

  And someone had locked them in the cellar. Only fatigue kept Quinn from jumping at shadows too.

  They listened to the crackle of fire again. Bobbi seemed to have overcome her earlier pique, though he still didn’t know what he’d done to anger her. Once they’d enjoyed an easy camaraderie. They could talk for hours about anything and nothing. Now they swayed between hot and cold. One minute he could almost imagine that William Fain never came between them. The next, Bobbi tucked her aether around her like a cocoon, shutting him out.

  Something moved beside the tent. Bobbi yelped and jumped up, knocking her chair into the fire. The stench of burned nylon filled the air and Quinn reached for the smoldering chair. The raccoon, who’d been boldly sniffing for crumbs from dinner, glared at her before stalking back into the trees.

  Quinn laughed. He couldn’t help it. Bobbi glared at him, one hand holding her stick like a weapon.

  “Scared of a little raccoon? He’s certainly not scared of you.”

  Bobbi’s eyes flashed. She threw down the stick.

  “Fine, I’m scared. Scared of a raccoon and shadows in the dark. Scared of going to sleep at night, of waking up in the morning. Scared that anyone I meet in the street could be working for Koro. I’m scared all the time and it’s exhausting. But you know what scares me the most? You.”

  Quinn’s grin died.

  “Me? Why? You still think I’ll soothe you when you’re not looking.” They would never move past that.

  “No. I’m afraid you can’t possibly want me now that you know who, or what, my father is. That’s why I never called you. So I wouldn’t have to see the look in your eye when you told me we’re over.”

  She stood defiantly before him, arms crossed to hold emotions in or to keep him out. It amounted to the same thing. He pulled her arms loose, leaned in and covered her lips with his. She wouldn’t relax under his touch, but she didn’t pull away. He parted her lips with his tongue, seeking the softness within. She trembled and he pulled her against him. His hands spanned the entire breadth of her back, as if trying to hold all the pieces of her together. Her shoulders unhitched, and she kissed him back. It wasn’t a simple kiss. It was a forging, a new road blazing over the old. Her fingers sought out familiar haunts on his body, the touch igniting passion, and he fought the urge to crush her against him. He pulled away and smoothed back her hair.

  “I don’t care about Koro.” His face lingered inches from hers. “At least not as he pertains to your lineage. And it’s not like I don’t come with baggage.”

  Bobbi shook her head, but he kept going.

  “Look, I’m not saying we jump into a relationship right now. I’m saying that when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

  She peered at him, her eyes eager, and nodded.

  The setting sun had taken what little warmth the day offered. He let Bobbi change first while he doused the embers and bear-proofed the remains of dinner. Away from the campfire, the cold and damp immediately settled on him. Inside the tent, he found her standing before their unrolled sleeping bags, wearing loose cotton pants and a long-sleeved shirt.

  “It’s so cold.” She rubbed her arms.

  “Get in, and I’ll put a warming spell on the bag.” She slid into her bed, and Quinn laid his hands flat on the nylon bag. Warming spells were simple and took little aether, but the edges of his vision darkened as he forced his magic into the threads.

  “That should help. Wake me in the night if it wears off.”

  Bobbi smiled and her shivering eased. He changed into similar loose clothes and slipped into his bag. He didn’t have the energy to warm it, but he tucked himself against Bobbi. He was almost asleep with the comforting pressure of her back against his when she spoke.

  “Are you still awake?”

  He mumbled a reply.

  “Do you think whoever is out there will attack tonight?”

  “No. They can’t get past the wards. They’ll wait for daylight when we’re moving around in the open.”

  “But why did they lock us in the cellar? It makes no sense.”

  It really didn’t, and Quinn had no answer.

  “I just want you to know that it was never about you. I mean, I trust you. I always did. The reason I never called…” Her voice fell away. He was wide awake now, waiting for her to speak her piece. Whatever words followed wouldn’t change anything. She was it, the one he waited for all his life. He’d known that for months. She might not want a relationship, but that didn’t change his feelings.

  “It was about me not trusting myself. I’ve always been the girl who got things done. Now I’m the one who fails, the bumbling idiot who blows things up and loses herself…” Her voice caught. He turned, pulled her close, and pressed his face into her hair.

  “You are none of those things. You’re the bravest person I know. And a strong witch. It will all come together. And I can’t wait to be there to see it.”

  She let out a small, stilted sob.

  Some time later, her breathing eased and he fell asleep surrounded by her aether.

  Chapter Twelve

  Passion

  SOMETHING WOKE ME.

  I lay in the dark listening for the scrape of a foot or scratch of a claw—something to let me know what disturbed my sleep. The night was eerily silent. No
frogs or crickets chirped this early in the year. No wind tousled the bare branches.

  My unzipped sleeping bag let my heat stash escape. I was cold to the bone. Quinn’s warming spell must have worn off. I didn’t want to wake him. He tried to hide it, but he was tired and over-extended in the aether department. And I didn’t dare try an unknown spell. My track record wasn’t stellar. I’d probably set the tent on fire.

  I re-zipped the bag and hunkered down inside, hoping to regain the lost warmth.

  A branch cracked outside.

  I sat up, staring at the tent wall glowing faintly in the dying moonlight.

  “Bobbi?” Quinn said groggily.

  “I heard something.”

  Another small sound came from outside. A shuffle of leaves? Or just my tense imagination? A rustle, this one closer, then the sound faded as if moving off.

  “Probably your raccoon friend,” Quinn said.

  I nodded and shivered.

  “You’re cold. Let me warm your sleeping bag again.”

  “No. You’ve done too much magic today.” I thought he’d protest or downplay his illness like he always did. Instead, he grinned.

  “I guess we’ll have to warm up the old-fashioned way.”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Sleeping next to him with wads of sleeping bag between us had been hard enough. I wasn’t sure what my treacherous hormones would do if we were trapped together in the same bag.

  “You wouldn’t deny a sick old man a bit of warmth on a cold night, would you? Strictly an energy-sharing arrangement.” He faked a cough. His eyebrow quirked up. Gods, I’d missed that look.

  “Of course.”

  In the tight space, we somehow reformatted the sleeping arrangements by zipping the two bags together into a double-sized bed. I snuggled into it, my back pressed against Quinn’s chest. His left arm draped across my hips. I squirmed to get comfortable, and his erection nudged my back. I tensed.

  “I’m sorry.” He scooted backward. “You just feel so good, and it’s been so long since I held you.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not made of glass.”

  “I don’t want you to think I would ever pressure you.”

  “I don’t know. Something is putting an awful lot of pressure on me.”

  He shifted and the pressure in question only slid across my butt.

  “You know what I mean. You have every reason to need your space. I won’t invade it. Not mentally, at least.”

  “Maybe I’d welcome a little invasion.” Suddenly I had no good reason to keep Quinn at arm’s length. The feel of his kiss lingered on my lips, and I couldn’t deny that I wanted more.

  I turned awkwardly in the confines of our bed.

  “I asked you for time and space to think. You gave me more than I needed really. I’ve come to terms…” My voice broke and I gave a shaky laugh. “Well, maybe not. I don’t know if I’ll ever accept what happened. But what William did to me—what he tried to do to me—had nothing to do with sex or romance. I don’t think he even liked me. He wanted power, and my blood was his key to it. When I look at you, I don’t see him. When you touch me,” I lifted his hand to rest it on my hip again, “I don’t think of him.”

  Our lips were a bare inch apart. Darkness cloaked us, boosting my courage. I leaned in and kissed him. He tasted of campfire smoke and a salty-sweetness that was all Quinn. His lips parted and his hand tightened on my hip. His tongue tasted mine, sending shots of desire through me. I felt myself warming, loosening, and I squirmed against him again.

  “We’re wearing too many clothes,” he said gruffly.

  “Mmm. But they’re terrifically loose.”

  His hand slipped under my shirt. With a light graze of his finger, he circled my nipple, then gently squeezed my breast. I sucked in my breath and his mouth crushed against mine again. Fingers worked down my stomach and under my waistband, trailing heat behind them.

  For a fleeting moment, panic flared in my chest. Quinn stopped. His gaze lingered on mine, looking for permission to go on.

  In the weeks we dated, we’d come to this point before, but never more. By some unspoken agreement, we decided to prolong our courtship, to enjoy the teasing foreplay of first dates. Then William Fain taught me to seize every moment because it might be my last. I wouldn’t let him destroy this now.

  I wriggled out of my sweatpants.

  “Your turn.” I tugged at the waistband of his pants, pulling them down. In the small space, the fabric snagged on his erection.

  “I think I’ve caught a big one. Should I throw it back?”

  He let out an animal groan. “Don’t you dare.”

  My hand gripped his cock, fingers barely circling its breadth.

  Lord and Lady, what glories you make.

  I freed him from the confines of his pants. In the cramped space we had little room to maneuver. He slid between my legs, not penetrating, but dragging his length against the swollen pressure there. I gasped, then stretched into the feeling, letting him stroke me, wetting us both. I rolled to straddle him. The blanket fell away and I tore off my shirt. I didn’t feel the cold, not with Quinn’s hands exploring my chest, stomach and hips.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered. His aether circled me, licking at the edges of my magic. I leaned down to kiss him, savoring the mix of our lips and tongues. Then I rose on my knees and let the tip of his cock nudge me, enjoying the exquisite tease. Quinn gripped my hips, spanning them with hands that shook with the need to pull me closer.

  “Are you ready for this?” He seemed to glow in the dim light and desire burned in his eyes.

  I nodded, unable to speak. And slowly—so achingly slow—I lowered myself, filling every sense with Quinn.

  Later, we had the presence of mind to dress quickly and conserve whatever heat our bodies produced. Tucked into the crook of his shoulder, I enjoyed the feel of his fingers running through my hair.

  “I hope that didn’t exhaust you too much,” I said.

  “It was exactly what I needed.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  I had so many things I wanted to tell him now that we’d broken our silence in the most spectacular way. I wanted to talk about William and ask how Quinn had known I was in danger. I wanted to talk about my family, Paragon and Koro. But now was not the time for any of that. Now was the time to connect on a primal level, letting our aether mingle and work out all the kinks.

  A shadow spread across the tent wall, the silhouette of a great winged beast about to pounce.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Detection

  QUINN ROLLED AND SAT UP.

  The shadow grew, filling the tent wall. Wings stretched from square shoulders topped by a bulbous head. The creature raised a long hand, fingers tipped in claws to rake the nylon.

  He grabbed his knife, never far from his side, slashed the wall and bolted outside. Crashing sounds followed a high scream as the attacker escaped into the woods. He ran after it. Dirt, sticks and leaves clung to his bare feet. He stopped when a rock lodged under his toe.

  Bobbi caught up to him as he limped and swore.

  “How did it get through the ward?”

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t human. I saw a long tail disappear into the trees. Really long.” He gripped her hand and they stood like two warriors facing an army in the darkness.

  They’d get no more sleep tonight.

  Morning greeted them with fog.

  “We might as well wait for the sun to burn that off.” Quinn poured them each a second cup of coffee. Bobbi clasped her mug, warming her face in the steam.

  “Is there anything better than coffee brewed in an old-fashioned percolator over a campfire?”

  She looked haggard, more so than one sleepless night could account for. The stress of the past few days—all hells, the past six months—wore on her, leaving dark circles under her eyes. Nothing could truly diminish her beauty though. It wasn’t a veneer laid over her skin but a light from within. Quinn wished he coul
d ease her somehow. They needed to hurry up an find the grimoire.

  Time to bring out the big guns.

  “Since we have time to kill, I could help you remember.”

  Bobbi lifted her eyes from the fire. “Remember?”

  “You had flashes of memory yesterday. It’s all there, locked in your head. I don’t know if someone blocked those memories on purpose or if time has simply faded them…”

  “Or maybe I blocked them myself because they’re too horrible to remember.”

  “Or there’s that.” He let her work through those options for a moment. “But we might need those memories to find the grimoire. I can help. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “With what, hypnosis?”

  “Sort of. More like a seeking spell, but I’d have to couple it with soother magic. It’s the only way I can guide you.”

  Bobbi sat back, shaking her head. It was too soon. He’d pushed too hard.

  “I’m sorry. I should have known that one night of sex wasn’t enough to ease your concerns—even life-altering, really great, getting-a-hard-on-just-thinking-about-it sex.” Quinn grinned and nudged her with his knee.

  Bobbi let out a harsh laugh.

  “Fine. Let’s do it.” Her mouth set in grim determination.

  “I know how you feel about soothing. We can find another way.”

  “This was your idea, and now you want to back out of it? Just do it.”

  “It’s not that easy. It’s not something I do to you. You have to be on board one-hundred percent. You have to trust me. I’ll be inside your head. I may see things you’d rather keep private.” Things he’d rather not see, like her memories of Fain.

  She reached for his hand and squeezed. “I trust you.” Their eyes met. Her smile trembled a bit.

  Quinn unpacked his weaver kit from the trunk.

  “You’ve probably been learning mostly connate magic.” He felt oddly reluctant to mention Henry. “But a finding spell is traditionally weaver magic.”