Bonds and Broken Dreams (Amplifier 2)

by Meghan Ciana Doidge

  I hit send, then deleted Ember’s message. Christopher handled the extra security with anything having to do with our so-called digital footprint, and Daniel had added some extra precautions as well. Something about wiping messages from all servers every few days, and ghosting our email accounts.

  I carried my iPad with me, setting it on my bedside table as I burrowed under the sheets and quilt. I would have preferred to curl up with Aiden — or better yet, to haul him into bed with me. But no matter how annoying they were, boundaries were important guideposts. Especially for me.

  There was a shapeshifter in the house when I woke, which was becoming a far too frequent event for my liking. Happily, I could also feel Aiden’s magic in the kitchen. Reaching farther, I could sense Christopher and Paisley in the barn. I was getting the feeling the clairvoyant was avoiding the shifter in question. And while I wouldn’t have minded encouraging that distance, I thought it might be wearing on him.

  I checked my email, finding no new messages. Only a couple of hours had passed, but I hoped Ember would get back to me on my questions quickly.

  I tied up my hair, rinsed off in the shower, and layered a long navy sweater over a lighter-weight sleeveless cotton-blend dress, leaving my legs bare. The sweater was twined around with cables that Hannah Stewart had ecstatically declared to be curve enhancing. So I gathered that was a good thing, especially because the sweater itself was delightfully comfortable. And it had pockets.

  I picked up a murmur of conversation from the base of the stairs. Aiden was questioning Jenni, quietly but intently.

  “When did the feeling kick in?” he asked.

  “What?” the shifter said caustically. “The need to wander around after her like a lovesick puppy? You should know as well as I do, sorcerer.”

  Aiden laughed quietly. “I suspect my reasons for doing so are different than yours, Jenni.”

  The shifter huffed. I picked up the sound of a stool being shifted on the tile. “It’s better …” She faltered. “Or at least it eases if I don’t fight it. That’s weird, right? Even for magic?”

  Aiden hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not an expert on shifter magic, but I suspect that because you were suppressing your changes —”

  Jenni snarled. “I wasn’t … suppressing.”

  I stepped into the kitchen. Aiden had already turned to greet me, and Jenni did so as I appeared.

  The shifter sighed with relief. Which was the opposite of the reaction she usually had upon seeing me. “I thought I heard you.”

  “What you felt was my magic moving through the house. Then you heard my footsteps on the stairs.” I crossed toward the fridge. The kitchen smelled like coffee again. A stainless steel machine I’d never seen before was sitting on the corner of the island. It looked complicated, covered with dials and a number of arms and nozzles.

  Jenni set her mouth belligerently. She loathed being schooled about her magic, but I felt oddly responsible for the shifter now. That was a feeling I was hoping would wear off, for both our sakes.

  “Juice?” I asked Aiden as I pulled the apple juice from the fridge.

  He lifted his mug. “I’m fine with coffee, thank you.”

  Jenni groaned dramatically. “I wish you two would just get it over with. The tension is unbearable. Fuck, already.”

  I glanced at Aiden. He shook his head, reaching into the cupboard with his free hand for one of our tall crystal glasses.

  I frowned at Jenni as I poured the apple juice. She squirmed, then stopped herself, clenching her hands into fists before taking a swig of her coffee.

  “Sorry,” she said. “That was rude. I just don’t like …” She didn’t finish the thought.

  “Being able to feel magic isn’t going to go away,” Aiden said. “Though I don’t think it’s typical for all shapeshifters?” He glanced at me.

  “Smelling magic might be,” I said, leaning back against the counter. “But I’ve actually only worked with one shifter … closely.”

  Jenni glared at me. “Got her killed, did you?”

  “Yes.” I met her gaze unflinchingly. “You already knew the answer was yes. I already warned you to stay away from me. Did you?”

  “No.”

  “And now we’re dealing with the consequences of that choice. Both of us.”

  Jenni settled her gaze on the depths of her mug. “I wouldn’t have made any other choice.”

  “There you are, then.”

  She nodded.

  Aiden ignored the conversation, glancing back and forth between Jenni and me, eyes narrowed as if looking beyond us. “If you two share a bond, it’s invisible to me.”

  “Is your sight for magic fairly sharp?” I said.

  He nodded. “I rank the highest among the …” He glanced over at Jenni, amending what he’d been about to say. “Among my sorcerer kin. But I wouldn’t be considered a sensitive.”

  “You can see magic?” Jenni asked. “And you thought Emma and I were bonded, magically?”

  I gave her a look.

  “What? He asked me about magic first. It can’t be rude to question him when he started it.”

  She had me there.

  Aiden snorted. “Yes, I can see magic. Occasionally in color.” He slid his gaze my way with a slight smile. “If the Adept is particularly powerful. But doing so is usually a witch trait. And only a sensitive, occasionally called a dowser, can pick up the most minute traces.”

  “Like Daniel?” Jenni asked. “And, um … Christopher picks up magic too, right?”

  I automatically stiffened under Jenni’s barrage of questions.

  “I can’t speak to that,” Aiden said, smoothing over the situation. “But probably not to the same degree. I might be able to see more if I sealed you both in a pentagram, and —”

  “Nope,” Jenni interrupted. Then, just in case her protest hadn’t been strong enough, she shoved back her stool and stood up. “Nope. Nope. No. No.”

  Aiden eyed her dispassionately.

  As did I.

  She stood, resolute in her denial.

  I quashed a smile. The last thing I wanted was to start liking the shifter.

  Jenni’s gaze flicked between us, then her shoulders sagged. “Is it important?”

  I had to smile at that. More than anything, Jenni Raymond was a protector.

  “Probably not,” Aiden said. “Just a possible line of inquiry.”

  “Okay, then … well, let me know …” She turned toward the doorway, then shook her head. “I almost forgot why I actually came out. Peter Grant is demanding a restraining order.”

  “Against me?”

  “Yeah.” She snorted. “He’s not going to get it, of course. He’s got nothing tangible. But he’s pretty fixated on you, Emma.” She paused, presumably looking for some reaction.

  I shrugged.

  Aiden stepped forward, placing his mug into the coffee maker and fiddling with the dials. Something within the machine started grinding. The sorcerer looked unconcerned.

  Jenni eyed the machine. “Makes a damn fine cup of coffee.”

  Aiden grunted agreeably. “Christopher sourced the beans from a roaster in Vancouver.”

  An emotion I couldn’t read flashed across the shifter’s face, disappearing quickly as she leaned toward me. “You know who actually needs a restraining order.”

  She meant Hannah Stewart. “Have you seen Tyler?”

  “Nope. Tracked him to Nanaimo, after your, uh …” She glanced over at Aiden, who appeared focused on making a second cup of coffee. I knew better, of course. But I also had no issue with Aiden knowing about the Grants. “After your kerfuffle.”

  I waved my hand, prompting her to continue. But hopefully quickly. I wanted to talk to Aiden about Opal and her mother. “And he’s still there?”

  “I have a couple of friends I went to the academy with keeping tabs on the asshole.”

  Aiden lifted his head.

  “Different academy,” I said. “RCMP.”

  “Ah.”<
br />
  “But?” I said to Jenni.

  “But Hannah’s been getting threats. She’s been keeping them to herself. Except I found a note last week stuck onto the door of the thrift shop.”

  “Do the notes smell like Tyler? Or Peter Grant for that matter?”

  She shook her head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure. It’s hard to sniff them in front of Hannah. I had to pretty much force her to even admit that the one I found wasn’t the first.”

  “Did you smell it or not?”

  She sighed. “You’re such an asshole, Emma. Yeah, I smelled it. But I don’t have, like, a database in my head —”

  “You do, actually.”

  She growled under her breath. “It smelled like cigarettes. Menthol. And like … it had been there all night, sheltered from the rain.”

  Aiden glanced at me. “You need to start training with Jenni.”

  “No,” Jenni said.

  “She’s not my responsibility.”

  “She’s an asset,” Aiden said.

  “She is not an asset.”

  “She could be.”

  “For what, Aiden? Not for the life I want, not for what I want to build here.”

  Aiden smiled gently. “No, Emma. That’s true. But she’s an asset for the life you actually do lead.”

  Jenni glanced back and forth between us. “I’m my own fucking person. Not some fucking tool.”

  “All right,” I said, giving in to Aiden’s logic. “We’ll start training.”

  “So I get no say?” Jenni growled.

  “No. Do you want a cookie to take with you?” I reached back for the cookie jar.

  “No, I don’t want a goddamn cookie …” Jenni flushed, grumbling as she stomped toward the hall. She paused in the open doorway, clenching her fists, then stepped stiffly back toward me.

  I took the lid off, offering her the jar of ginger snaps.

  She plucked a cookie from its depths, the color in her face easing back to normal. “Thank you,” she murmured politely. “I’ll keep you posted about Hannah.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded, sending a glare Aiden’s way.

  The sorcerer sipped his coffee impassively.

  Jenni exited the kitchen, then the front door closed quietly behind her.

  “Interesting,” Aiden murmured. “The feeding soothes her.”

  “Yes.” I plucked two more cookies from the jar, offering one to him. He took it, then took the opportunity to skim his fingers across mine with a slight smile. “She needs a pack,” I said.

  Aiden hummed thoughtfully. “Looks like she’s found one.”

  I nibbled on my cookie and sipped my apple juice, hoping that the sorcerer was reading the situation wrong. “I heard from Ember. About Opal.”

  “Your lawyer? Tell me.”

  “Her mother showed up, pulled her out of the Academy.”

  He frowned. “Odd choice. Entry isn’t automatic, not even for established families. Opal would have had to prove herself to gain entry, even with tuition and housing covered by the Convocation.”

  I must have looked surprised, because he added, “To keep the playing field completely even.” He shrugged. “You know witches.”

  “Apparently not.”

  He laughed. “You do keep terrible company, Emma Johnson.”

  “Are you including yourself in that assessment, Aiden Myers?”

  “Most definitely.”

  I gazed at him. His stubble was longer, roughening his normally pristine exterior. I liked the look on him, because something about it meant that he was relaxed when he was with us on the property.

  “You’re making me forget what we were discussing,” he murmured, his gaze falling to my mouth.

  Desire fluttered in my belly. I forced myself to take a bite of my ginger snap, but somehow that didn’t help. Not with Aiden watching me so intently. “Opal,” I blurted.

  “Right. Right.” He shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee. “Possible dream walker. It’s too bad I can’t trust Isa. Chances are he’d be able to offer some clarification on a dream walker’s abilities. Any of the witches I know are going to be close-mouthed.”

  “What about Ruwa?” The question, once out of my mouth, felt oddly pointed.

  Aiden shook his head. “Her specialty is binding spells, trained by her grandfather. You actually have one of his spellbooks.”

  “Isa said it was a bad translation.”

  Aiden snorted. “I’m oddly peeved that he knew you had it before I did. How ridiculous is that?”

  I smiled at my cookie and didn’t comment on his possessive tendencies, however begrudgingly admitted.

  Aiden laughed quietly. “The translation is fine for your purposes. You aren’t trying to cast with it.”

  “You noticed, didn’t you? Last night. There’s something wrong with Ruwa’s magic.”

  He nodded. “I thought at first it was the binding spell between her and Isa.”

  “It isn’t?”

  He sipped his coffee thoughtfully, then shook his head. “I’m hoping it’s none of our business.”

  “You think they’ll leave? Now that the letter has been delivered to you?”

  “No,” he said grimly. “I don’t. And I’d like to start strengthening the property ward before it starts snowing again.”

  I groaned despite myself. “It’s going to continue snowing?”

  “Yes. Hopefully until we’re completely cut off from the world.”

  I smiled. “We’d eventually get hungry.”

  “Please. Have you seen Christopher’s pantry? You could survive a siege.” Aiden’s smile dimmed. “Sorry … maybe that’s the point.”

  He meant if the Collective ever came for us, but canned goods wouldn’t protect us from whatever they could throw our way. Assuming the Collective even existed in an organized form anymore. I’d had no confirmation either way. “No. Christopher just likes to cook.”

  Aiden rinsed out his mug, placing it in the dishwasher. Then he wiped down the coffee machine and tucked it into a lower cabinet in the island that I’d thought was empty. I hadn’t even known the machine existed.

  “I’ll miss you today.” The idiotic statement was out of my mouth before I could call it back.

  Aiden looked at me, smiling as if I wasn’t acting oddly at all. “I miss you when we aren’t in the same room.” He brushed his fingers against the back of my arm. “Will you let me know if you hear anything more from Ember?”

  “I will.”

  He nodded, then seemingly had to force himself to step away, crossing into the laundry room. He threw on his jacket and boots, then exited out onto the patio.

  The house felt empty with Aiden, Christopher, and Paisley gone.

  I gathered all the notes and books from the front sitting room, carrying them into the study on the other side of the hall, tucked underneath the stairs. The tiny room was filled with built-in shelves and a west-facing window seat currently occupied by Christopher’s plants and grow lights. Dark wood covered every surface of the room, except for the fir flooring.

  I systematically arranged the texts alphabetically on the lowest shelf over the built-in desk, intermixing my spellbooks and Aiden’s. I set the two notebooks on the desk, along with various pens and pencils.

  I sat down on the antique chair I’d purloined from the matching set in the front sitting room. Then I tried to make sense of over a year’s worth of notes, factoring in the new context of the dreams — and Opal’s possible connection with me through my amplification.

  Chapter 6

  Emma? Emma.

  Emma!

  I woke. Blinking, struggling to focus my eyes on … a pattern of lines … over dark wood. Then I realized that my head was cradled within my arms on the desk. It was the cabling on the sweater I couldn’t see clearly. I’d fallen asleep at the desk?

  Someone had been calling my name.

  I straightened. A piece of paper came with me, attached to my cheek with dried s
aliva.

  That was unexpectedly embarrassing.

  I gently pulled the paper away. It was covered in various inked runes. Aiden’s notes.

  The study was brightly lit by the grow lights Christopher had situated over the west-facing window seat. The built-in seat was occupied by a lemon tree, a lime, and a Lila avocado. I wasn’t certain if that was the type of avocado, or if Christopher had named it. The two-year-old plants were destined for the greenhouse Christopher had on order. Snow spread across the yard to the west, shrouding even the evergreens that bordered the Wilsons’ property. But it wasn’t currently snowing, the sun high in the clear sky.

  I twisted in the opposite direction. The door to the main hall stood open. I fixated on the fir flooring just beyond the doorjamb, reaching out with all my senses, waiting for the voice I’d heard to repeat.

  It didn’t.

  I also couldn’t feel any magic in the house.

  Another dream?

  Leaving the desk strewn with Aiden’s and my notes, I moved down the hall and into the kitchen, pulling on my boots and jacket in the laundry room, then stepping out onto the back patio. Christopher had shoveled and salted a path down the wooden stairs and across to the rear of the barn. For himself and Aiden.

  The chill sharpened my focus. Zipping up my plush jacket, I stepped into the yard, keeping to the path. I paused, scanning the snow-covered property with my eyes and other senses again.

  I was normally a close-contact sort of predator. But I tried now to reach across the whiteout expanse of the property, seeking the magic embedded into my third thoracic vertebra and finding it in the barn to my left — Christopher. Exactly where I expected him to be.

  I closed my eyes to the near-blinding white of the sun-kissed snowdrifts, reaching farther, seeking magic I’d once sensed among fire and chaos, magic I’d rescued the moment before braving the trial of my own rebirth. I found it prowling near the main road, slightly west of my current position — Paisley.

  Then I inhaled deeply, seeking magic that was still new to me, especially at its current level of intensity. Power that resonated at a purr, halfway between the dark shroud of the demon dog and the lighter tenor of the clairvoyant. Aiden’s essence drew my attention to my far right, to the southwest corner of the property.