by Jasmine Walt
A wave of tiredness hit me, and I sat back against the foot of the bed, satisfied all had worked as expected. The protection spell would help keep Mina safe in the event of a magical attack, and to some extent even a physical one, though there were limitations to what it could do. Its protection would last for several weeks. Even if Gelisia weren’t meddling in Mina’s affairs, the spell was a good idea—her greedy relatives might well try to put Mina out of the picture permanently, especially if they had already spent a significant portion of her fortune.
Once my momentary fatigue had passed, I washed up, then slid into bed to try once again to get some sleep. But I tossed and turned, restless, and it took a moment for me to realize that my blood was still humming. Not with lust, as it had been earlier…but from the pull of the moon.
I got out of bed and pushed back the curtains enough to peek out. Sure enough, the moon was hanging bright and full in the sky, so large it felt like I could reach out and touch it. My fangs lengthened as the moon’s silent song pulled at me, and my blood surged in my veins, urging me to change.
I might be unlike normal shifters in some respects, but their innate urges still called to me. I had to get out and run, at least for a little while, or I would be on edge all day tomorrow. And with everything that was going on, I needed my wits about me.
Not bothering to get dressed, I cloaked myself in an illusion spell. Disguised as one of the hotel staff, I silently slipped out the back door and into the alley filled with dumpsters. In the quiet darkness, I allowed the change to take hold of me, enveloping me in a glowing white light as my body morphed into the wolf. I did not know how it felt to other shifters, but for me, the transformation was always quick and painless.
When it was done, I blinked to clear the light from my vision. Once the spots had faded away, my eyes focused easily in the darkness. The stench of the dumpster was nearly unbearable to my wolf’s nose—my senses were even stronger as a shifter, my hearing sharper, my night vision better. The sound of a raccoon slinking nearby caught my ears, and I surged forward, letting my wolf take over.
It might be a densely populated, large city, but there was no reason why I could not hunt. And that nearby beach, with its wide expanse of sand and surf, had looked like an excellent place for running.
13
Mina
The next morning, Fenris and I rose bright and early and enjoyed a light breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant. Even in his old-mage guise, he looked refreshed and energetic, I observed over my glass of orange juice as he dug into his giant plate of eggs and bacon with a fervor I could never hope to match. Much more relaxed than he had been yesterday.
Lovemaking will do that to a person, I reflected. Indeed, by the time I returned to my own room, I had been so relaxed and sated that I’d fallen asleep the instant my head had hit the pillow. It had been an effort to leave Fenris’s bed last night, but even though it was unlikely someone would barge into either of our rooms, we couldn’t risk being caught together.
My cheeks warmed as I remembered the way he’d worshipped my body, how he’d kissed and licked nearly every inch of me, places I had never thought I’d feel a man’s lips. My toes curled as heat flashed low in my belly, and I moistened my lips with my tongue.
“We are never going to get out of here if you keep thinking about sex,” Fenris murmured, raising his gaze to meet mine. His eyes gleamed with a hunger that had nothing to do with the food on his plate. “I can tell, you know.” His nostrils flared.
My ears reddened with embarrassment, and I resisted the urge to duck my head. “It isn’t my fault you’re so good in bed,” I said, cutting a piece of buttered toast and lifting it to my lips. “I was simply indulging in some pleasant memories to give myself a boost before our meeting with the lawyer.”
Fenris chuckled. “I am glad to be of service,” he said wryly, forking up the last of his eggs. “We should get going soon—our meeting is in half an hour.”
We paid the tab, then took a cab across town to where Mr. Ransome’s office was located. This part of Haralis was mostly filled with brick office buildings and storefronts—the business section of town where professionals rented office space or business owners sold supplies to other companies. The building in question was one of the nicer ones, a narrow, four-story granite structure that towered over the others and no doubt boasted a beautiful view of the city. After consulting the directory, we used the elevator.
“Good morning,” the receptionist said as we walked into the tastefully appointed lobby of Mr. Ransome’s third-floor office. She had been typing furiously, so I guessed she was also his secretary. “How can I help you?”
“I’m Garton Branis, here to see Mr. Ransome about an estate matter,” Fenris said, giving the assumed name he had used for their correspondence. He still wore the old-mage guise, which worked well enough—nobody here knew what Branis was actually supposed to look like.
“Very good. Please, take a seat. Mr. Ransome will be out to see you in a moment.”
Contrary to her words, we were kept waiting for nearly fifteen minutes, which was a little annoying. If the Chief Mage could see us within five, surely Mr. Ransome could be as punctual, especially when he thought he was about to make money. But Fenris merely leafed through the coffee-table magazines, looking unconcerned, so I forced myself to do the same.
A large part of my annoyance stemmed from the fact that I wanted to get this over with. But after thirteen years of running from my former life, I could hardly undo it all in one day. I would have to be patient.
“Mr. Ransome will see you now,” the secretary announced at last. We stood, and she led us into a larger office through a door behind her desk.
“Good afternoon—” Mr. Ransome began as he rose from his desk, then cut himself off. His eyes widened in astonishment as he took me in, and triumph rose in me as I caught the recognition in his gaze. “Miss…” He stopped himself, seeming to think better of calling me by my name, and I frowned.
“Miss Tamina Marton,” I finished for him. “Surely you recognize me still, Mr. Ransome?” He had not changed very much since I last saw him. Unlike most mages, he wore a business suit and tie, and the vest beneath stretched around his portly frame. His walrus mustache was a bit more silver, as was his thick crown of hair, but the spectacles and the keen blue eyes behind them were exactly as I remembered.
Fenris narrowed his eyes, looking as displeased with the lawyer’s reaction as I was. Was Mr. Ransome deliberately pretending not to recognize me?
“Yes, yes, of course!” His face brightened as he came around the desk to shake my hand. “You’ll have to forgive me, Miss Marton—I did not want to call you by your name in case I was mistaken.”
I laughed as I shook his hand. “And why would you think that you were mistaken?”
Mr. Ransome cleared his throat. “Well, you have been missing for nearly thirteen years—everyone said you had drowned in the ocean. You can understand why we would have concluded that, since you never did resurface.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, staring at him. “Drowned? Why would anyone assume that I’d drowned?” I said. “Nobody actually saw me go into the ocean, did they?” My aunt and uncle’s house was quite close to the shore, and I could have easily run for the water, but I hadn’t done any such thing.
An uncomfortable look crossed Mr. Ransome’s face. “Why don’t we sit down so we can talk about this properly?” he said, waving us toward the chairs. “Who is your associate?”
“Yoron ar’Tarnis,” Fenris said smoothly. He shook Mr. Ransome’s hand. “Miss Marton sought refuge with me in my home on the Central Continent, where she fled after escaping the terrors of her family’s household.”
“Terrors?” Mr. Ransome’s eyebrows winged up. “What in Recca are you talking about?”
“The night I disappeared, I was attacked by my cousin Vanley,” I said flatly. I held my emotions in an iron grip as I met Mr. Ransome’s gaze—I had no intention of falling to piece
s in front of him, even if the damsel-in-distress attitude might be a more effective strategy. I was the heiress of my grandmother’s estate, come back to claim what was rightfully mine—not a cowering victim. “He had been harassing me, both emotionally and sexually, since the day I moved in with his parents, and he was threatening to rape me that night. I managed to get away from him using my magic, but I knew I might not be so lucky the next time, so I ran and never looked back. At least until I found out that the bastard and his family were about to inherit my money,” I added with a frown.
“That’s terrible.” Mr. Ransome’s face softened into an expression of sympathy. “I had no idea you were suffering such abuse in the Cantorin household. Of course, I did not see you after the funeral…your aunt and uncle said you were still settling in when I asked after you.”
“He is telling the truth,” Fenris said in mindspeak. “He did not know what was happening in your house.”
My shoulders sagged a little in relief—so Mr. Ransome had not been involved. “What did my aunt and uncle tell you about that night?” I asked. “Surely Vanley suffered some sort of injury—I left him unconscious that night.” I’d been so angry and terrified that I hadn’t cared whether he lived or died, though I didn’t dare say so to the lawyer.
Mr. Ransome frowned. “They didn’t mention that part at all, actually. I presume they either called for a healer or took care of Vanley’s injuries themselves rather than risk being questioned about it. Or perhaps he was merely stunned and recovered on his own—you were only fifteen, and he’s always been a hardy young man.”
I nodded—that was true enough. I’d been so desperate to escape I hadn’t bothered to check on Vanley after he’d tumbled down the stairs—it was possible his injuries hadn’t been as great as I’d feared.
“Mrs. Cantorin told me you had been moody and depressed over the last few months, to the point they had to repeatedly postpone your apprenticeship. They had thought you were improving, especially since you were venturing out of the house more instead of holing yourself up in your room with grief over your grandmother’s death. According to them, you went swimming the night you went missing and never returned. They blamed themselves for not getting you professional help if you were self-destructive, though it was unclear if you had succumbed to an accident or tried to kill yourself.”
“I see,” I said tightly, anger simmering in my veins. “For the record, it was not my habit to go swimming alone at night, and I certainly never contemplated killing myself.” I would not have given Vanley the satisfaction. I had been depressed, certainly, but that had been because my aunt and uncle refused to allow me to start my apprenticeship and had kept me trapped in that horrid house instead. That, coupled with Vanley’s incessant abuse, was enough to drive anyone mad. “Was any effort made to recover my body?”
“Of course,” Mr. Ransome said. “A search was conducted. But as I recall, the enforcers mostly looked for washed-up bodies. They did not post any kind of alert across state lines, in part, I suspect, because your family was anxious to avoid scandal. In retrospect, had we known you did not go into the sea, we would have broadened our search. We were remiss in not doing so in the first place,” he admitted.
“Indeed,” Fenris said coldly, drawing Mr. Ransome’s gaze to him. “Was there no suspicion of foul play at all? Surely you or the enforcers should have at least considered the possibility, since the ‘witnesses’ to Miss Marton’s supposed drowning stood to benefit so greatly from this alleged tragedy.”
Mr. Ransome shrugged. “The Enforcers Guild did pursue that line of questioning at first, but the family appeared shocked and saddened by Miss Marton’s death, and there was no evidence regarding the abuse Miss Marton speaks of. Eventually, they must have believed them,” he speculated. “For my part, even had I felt the slightest suspicion, it would have been highly inappropriate to tarnish the reputation of such a respectable mage family without proof. Especially when their grief was so obvious.”
“If they truly were so saddened by my ‘passing,’” I said, “then they will be overjoyed once they learn of my return. It is a good thing I have come back—I hear that the statutory thirteen years are about to expire. Since my relatives have not moved into my grandmother’s house, I can only imagine they would either rent it out or try to sell it off.”
“Yes, we shall soon sort out the disposition of your estate,” Mr. Ransome said briskly. “Where exactly are you and your, ah, escort staying? I must inform your aunt and uncle of your whereabouts, since they are still your legal guardians.”
A chill shot down my spine, and I clamped down on the fear that tried to take over. You aren’t running anymore, I reminded myself firmly. “We are staying at the Black Horse.”
“Ah, a fine establishment.” Mr. Ransome nodded in approval. “I will contact your family today, and I will also advise them to stop the procedure to have you declared dead. It is fortunate you are here now, as it is nearly complete.”
“You should be aware that Miss Dorax, the Finance Secretary, is looking into the case,” I said. “She will probably stop by today or tomorrow to question you.”
Mr. Ransome grimaced, clearly displeased at this news. “She is probably hoping to squeeze more inheritance taxes out of the estate,” he grumbled. “But no matter, I will deal with her.”
He showed us out with the promise to be in touch as soon as he’d spoken to my family. And as we left, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.
14
Mina
Our next stop was the Haralis Monitor, the city’s local newspaper. Since it was only a few blocks away and a pleasant day, Fenris and I decided to walk rather than sit on our butts in a steamcab.
As we strolled through the neatly kept avenues shaded by chestnut trees, I found myself more pensive than I had expected to be. Though it had been nearly a decade since I’d left here, I had expected to feel some connection with the city of my birth, now that I was back. But nearly all the buildings and street names were foreign to me—I recognized a few landmarks, but they did not tug at me with recognition. They did not whisper to me of home.
You don’t belong here anymore, a voice in my head murmured. You’ve changed too much.
“Are you all right?” Fenris asked, glancing at me with concern. I wondered if my expression was that dour, or if he merely caught a change in my scent—he could read me so easily it was unnerving sometimes.
I sighed deeply. “I just…expected more.” I waved a hand to indicate the streets before us. “To be more excited to return. But somehow this feels like a letdown, which is silly.” I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “This is far more exciting than Abbsville, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” he said, “but if I were to return to my hometown after so many years of being away, and with bad memories so close to the surface, I, too, would feel uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable. Yes, that was the word to describe the prickling across my skin, the way my gut tightened and my hands grew cold when we’d entered the Mages Guild yesterday. The urgency of it all had kept me from dwelling on it too much, but I’d felt like an outsider, like I didn’t fit in. Which was silly, because I was a full-blooded mage, just like any of the others.
Most mages don’t become veterinarians. Or live for years disguised as a human in a small town.
Perhaps I’d spent so long in hiding that I’d forgotten what it was like to be a mage. I had still been a teenager when I’d left and hadn’t ever received the training that made most mages appear so rigid and controlled. Keeping a handle on one’s emotions was essential when wielding powerful magic—the consequences of an unexpected flash of anger could be devastating. Combine that trained reserve with the haughty attitude of the wealthy, and it was little wonder that I didn’t fit in.
“Wow,” I said as we turned onto another street. The headquarters of the Haralis Monitor stood just across from us on the corner, a tall, sparkling glass-and-s
tone building in green with the name of the paper in large letters above the doors. I’d never actually been here—there hadn’t been any reason for me to visit the newspaper. “It’s much more modern-looking than I expected.”
We stepped inside. A silver-haired woman in her fifties sat behind a reception desk. She wore a white skirt suit that flattered her willowy, elegant frame, and she sat in her chair with such poise and grace that for a moment, I felt a flash of envy. I hoped I looked half as good as that when I finally got old, even if that wasn’t for hundreds of years yet.
“Good morning,” she said pleasantly, flashing a perfect smile. “How can I help you?”
“My name is Tamina Marton,” I said, smiling back. “And this is Mr. ar’Tarnis. We would like to check on a story that would have appeared in your paper not quite thirteen years ago. Is that possible?”
“Yes, we do keep a complete collection of our editions,” she said. “Is this for research purposes?”
Fenris smiled at her, and she seemed to thaw a little. “You might say that—background research that is very important for a legal case. We’d appreciate the assistance.”
“You will have to sign here before you are admitted,” she said, pulling out a guestbook. “And write down where you’re staying.”
Fenris signed first, in large, round letters very unlike his usual script. As I put pen to paper, I nearly signed the book as Mina Hollin before I remembered I was operating under my birth name now. It was very strange to sign as Tamina Marton, and the resultant signature was a bit sloppy. I would have to practice signing with my legal name now—the sooner I got used to it, the better.