He kissed me gently, murmuring, “That was a first.”
“Which part?”
“The part where I’m going to need to change my jeans.”
“You sound awfully smug about it.”
He chuckled into my neck, kissing me again. An emotion flittered through our empathic connection along with his lingering desire — an emotion I couldn’t quite figure out.
“I absolutely adore you,” he whispered, nipping at my lower lip. “Everything about you.”
I reached up, tracing his eyebrow, then his cheekbone, his jawline with my fingers. I could feel his magic dancing under his skin. I’d amplified him again, even without full skin contact. Three orgasms’ worth of amplification.
“Emma? Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“Should I have … done —”
I pressed my fingers to his lips. “No. It’s not you. I just … I think this is just one of those things I don’t know how to do.”
He raised both eyebrows, speaking against my fingers. “I can attest to the fact that you know how to do this very well.”
I laughed involuntarily. “No. I mean talking. After. Actually, any intimate exchange of words.”
He smiled, setting his head on his hand, elbow bent.
“You don’t have to laugh at me,” I said.
“I’m not laughing. I’m most definitely not laughing. I’m just thinking that I don’t know how to do this either. I’m just allowing it to unfold. Which has apparently brought me to the tiled floor of a laundry room with you in my arms and in dire need of a change of clothing.” He kissed me. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I can’t get pregnant,” I blurted.
He eased back from me, expression blanking. But even through our clothing, I could feel a cool emotion flowing through him.
“I … the Collective …” Tears welled, and I struggled to understand why I was so suddenly overreacting.
“Emma.” Aiden’s tone was dark. That cool shimmer of emotion resolved into a biting anger, even though his expression remained neutral. “This isn’t a conversation we need to have now.”
“And if I want to have it?” I wiped my errant tears away, gazing at him steadily, emotions back in check.
“Then let’s have it.”
I waited for him to continue.
He laughed ruefully. “I’ve never wanted, never needed children.”
“You’re only thirty-one.”
He snorted. “What right do I have to parent? What role model have I had? I’d sooner kill my father than speak to him. What sort of grandfather would he be? I know where I stand on this, Emma.”
I nodded.
Aiden’s expression softened. “And you?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never thought about it. I mean, they … the Collective didn’t just sterilize us …” Tears spiked at the edges of my eyes again. “But … why am I crying about it?”
Aiden kissed my forehead, then my temple, then my cheek, lingering to press a kiss to my mouth. I offered him my tongue and he smiled, pressing the tip with his own.
“Let’s talk about it later?” I whispered, reaching for the button on his jeans.
He made a deep noise in the back of his throat, agreeing. Then he slipped his hand all the way up my dress, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
I gasped, momentarily losing track of what I was doing.
Magic shifted across the blood tattoo on my T3 vertebra. Aiden sucked in a breath, presumably feeling the energy swell.
Then Christopher deliberately banged on the door, calling through it, “I really don’t need to suffer through another round right now, thanks. Brother to confront and so on.”
He stepped away from the door.
Aiden groaned.
“Sorry,” I whispered, kissing him.
Christopher spoke through the door again, laughter laced through his words. “Feel free to borrow some clean jeans, Aiden. I’m pretty certain there’s a pair under Emma’s ass.”
Aiden closed his eyes, dropping his head onto my shoulder.
“Sorry,” I repeated. “But … it’s kind of a package deal. Me, Christopher, Paisley.”
Aiden looked up, pressing a fierce kiss to my lips. “Worth it.” Then he reached down and tugged the pair of jeans out from under me.
After checking the chains on the tires and brushing off the deep layer of snow that had accumulated on the SUV, Aiden and Christopher climbed into the vehicle. The sorcerer rolled down the driver’s-side window, glancing back to where I stood under the cover of the front patio.
I couldn’t read his expression. But when I lifted my hand, he nodded, then churned thick tracks through the snow as he drove steadily away down the driveway. Paisley skulked behind the SUV, though the demon dog had chosen to remain on the property with Opal and me for some reason. Her dark-blue fur stood out starkly against the winter-encased landscape.
The snow had started falling in earnest again in large flakes that were quickly accumulating on all the shoveled pathways. I stepped back into the house, crossing through to the kitchen and feeling oddly out of sorts about being left behind. Though rationally, logically, that was the best strategic decision.
I placed the cellphone that Christopher had insisted I carry on the corner of the kitchen island counter, then started pulling out ingredients to bake more ginger snaps. I opted for the hand-rolled recipe over the one that needed to be chilled before baking.
I wanted the house to smell homey when Opal woke up. Or at least my own version of homey.
Christopher had given me a small ice cream scoop that cut perfectly matching rounds out of the dough. I rolled those rounds in sugar before carefully placing them two inches apart on a parchment-covered cookie sheet for baking. Not needing to hand-roll each cookie was a time saver, and usually the uniform rounds pleased me.
But not today.
Today, I was hyperaware of the young witch sleeping in my room upstairs. And of all the magic missing from the house, and the property.
I checked on Opal. Still sleeping.
I baked another batch of ginger snaps.
I checked my email, finding a short message from Ember Pine.
My sorcerers League contact has confirmed that Isa Azar and his companion, Ruwa (no last name), are both under investigation. As is Kadar Azar. Aiden Myers aka Aiden Azar is not.
No news on Opal. I’ve engaged the services of a former Convocation investigator who is an excellent electronic tracker. She’s currently working on tracing the vehicle that Tandy Sherwood was driving, and has found footage from her purchasing gas at two separate gas stations, heading northwest. The investigator is working on obtaining the credit card used to purchase the fuel.
The Academy would have filed a report with the Convocation. I would estimate I have approximately thirty-six more hours until a formal investigation is opened, and a Convocation team is assigned. Then questions I can’t easily dodge will be directed my way. But if I can’t find Opal on my own before then, it would be best to get the witches involved anyway. I won’t be compelled to divulge your name, but if you do wish to be included in a formal investigation, please let me know.
I hesitated, my finger hovering over the Reply button. Though Aiden and I had decided differently, leaving Ember in the dark regarding Opal’s whereabouts seemed cruel, even if it was only for another couple of hours.
Tires crunched through the snow on the driveway. I set the iPad down, stepping out of the study and into the hall. I had assumed that Aiden and Christopher’s chat with Isa Azar would take longer. Perhaps the sorcerer had already left town.
An RCMP SUV cruiser was slowly rolling past the barn, on the way to the house.
I frowned. I wasn’t expecting Jenni Raymond.
The oven timer went off. I stepped back into the kitchen, pulled the cookies, and grabbed my black Gore-Tex jacket from the laundry room. Opal hadn’t yet removed my puffy ski jacket while she napped.
I paused at the front door, gazing out through its inset window. Why would I need to blend into my surroundings on my own property?
Because the second-to-last time Jenni Raymond had showed up at the house, she wasn’t actually herself?
I laughed quietly, reaching for the door handle. Apparently, there had been a reason to stay behind, other than to bake cookies and babysit a sleeping witch.
Jenni, in full uniform, was already climbing out of the vehicle, casting a superior, sneering gaze around her.
I stepped out on the patio, carefully shutting the door behind me. The shifter did sneer, often. But there was never anything particularly superior about her outward demeanor. Perhaps I was getting better at reading people. Perhaps cultivating friendships wasn’t always a potential liability.
I was barefoot. My boots would have hindered me too much in the snow.
Someone was sitting in the back seat of the cruiser. I took one step down from the patio to gain a clear line of sight on them.
Brown, mussed hair. Sallow skin. Nasty, baleful expression.
Tyler Grant.
Hannah Stewart’s abusive ex-boyfriend.
That gave me pause. And made me look at Jenni a bit closer. Was I jumping to conclusions? Following instincts based on the fact that I was already feeling unsettled, rather than acting on factually based conclusions?
“Emma.” The shifter — or the person wearing Jenni’s face — stepped toward me.
The muted tenor of her magic felt exactly as I expected it to feel. I couldn’t see any hint of an aura, either around her or in her light-brown eyes. But then, if the mask wasn’t perfect, she wouldn’t have been able to fool Christopher the previous night.
“Little asshole was hanging around the thrift store,” Jenni said, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder as she closed the space between us.
I stepped down into the snow, which came up over my toes. The previously cleared front walk was rapidly filling in.
Jenni glanced down at my feet, then up to meet my gaze. “Little cold, isn’t it?”
Her voice was perfect — intonation, accent, and everything. The hair, the uniform were as expected as well. But there was something off about the situation. Something more than just my misfiring instincts.
Something like … where was Paisley?
“Emma?” Jenni asked, cocking her hip and sneering at me. “Cat got your tongue?”
She was holding my gaze.
Still holding my gaze.
Jenni Raymond couldn’t hold my gaze.
I was her alpha.
I reached out, grabbing the impostor by the throat. She shrieked, just a little later than she should have. Magic shifted under my palm. But it wasn’t shapeshifter magic.
I gave the creature wearing Jenni’s face a harsh shake.
She started to laugh, gurgling against my tight grip. “God, you’re quick. I thought the clairvoyant had figured me out too, but apparently, a great set of tits can distract even someone of his power.”
I tightened my grip on her throat, noting the moment she realized she couldn’t breathe. She wrapped both hands around my wrist, trying to break my hold.
Unable to do so, her eyes widened with the first glimmer of disconcertion. “What the hell … are … you?”
I pulled her closer, trying to get a better look at the magic simmering in her eyes. I needed to figure out what sort of power I was dealing with — before absorbing it for myself and incapacitating the shapeshifter. I could kill the creature wearing Jenni’s face outright, of course. But getting some answers first would be prudent. Especially if there were more players involved, including Kadar Azar.
She puckered her lips, laughing and choking at the same time. She did nothing else. Not calling forth any defensive magic. Not utilizing Jenni’s shapeshifting power, or whatever magic allowed her to take another person’s form. Perhaps shapeshifting was the extent of her abilities? But that didn’t explain how she’d managed to spell Christopher or block his sight.
A pained snarl sounded from behind me.
Recognizing a trap being triggered when I heard it, I reached out with my senses instead of turning my attention from the woman in my grasp.
I picked up the tenor of Paisley’s magic, then the sound of panting and snarling. The demon dog was near the barn.
Dragging the fake Jenni Raymond with me, I spun around. Paisley stumbled around the north side of the barn, heading toward me. She was wearing her large blue-nosed pit bull form.
“Poor puppy.” The impostor giggled. Her magic writhed under my grip, and for the briefest moment, a hint of red washed over her pupils.
I laughed. I still didn’t know what kind of magic she was wielding. But I now knew the wielder.
“Does Isa know you’ve wandered off?” I murmured.
The impostor giggled again, weirdly delighted. “Aiden has him distracted. He was always good at that.”
Well, that confirmed three things. First, I was currently throttling Ruwa. Second, she was capable of changing forms, which explained the odd tenor of her sorcerer magic. And third, Isa might have been in the dark about it all.
The back door of the cruiser opened and Tyler Grant stepped out. Which was odd, because I’d always thought that the back doors of mundane police vehicles could be opened only from the outside.
I glanced his way. His gaze was fixated on me, his expression ugly. I hadn’t seen him since I’d broken his wrist and ankle in the middle of the night outside Hannah’s apartment. His complexion was splotchy, hair oily. A red light was ringing his eyes, but it had nothing to do with any natural magic. Tyler was a mundane, through and through. I had no idea what he was doing with Ruwa. But he was carrying a long steel object, lowered at his side.
An unnatural puff of air drew my attention to the right. Paisley, only three meters away from me, shrieked, then started thrashing. A silver dart was sticking out of her neck.
She stumbled, chest crashing into the snow-covered ground. Then she dragged herself back to her feet.
I moved.
Throwing Ruwa — still in her Jenni Raymond guise — at Tyler, I spun toward Paisley. The demon dog gathered her legs, leaping for me at the same time.
Ruwa hit Tyler. Then the two of them slammed against the cruiser, dropping in a tangle of limbs. Whatever Tyler had been carrying fell into the snow.
I met Paisley halfway, plucking the dart from her neck. Now I had a weapon. But Paisley landed heavily, sliding past me.
I heard another puff of air, spinning away from it on instinct. Another dart sped past me, catching in my hair as it fanned out behind me. By the angle of attack, the shooter was situated by the barn. But I couldn’t feel any foreign magic — not from the dart in my hand or anywhere else in the immediate vicinity.
Ruwa, still wearing Jenni’s face, gained her footing. I hurled the dart her way, embedding it in her neck before she even saw me flick my wrist. She shrieked, yanking it free, then plastered her hand over the spurt of blood it left behind. Tyler was still down.
I picked up the sound of the person by the barn reloading a weapon. An airgun of some sort. I quickly scanned Paisley, who was still prone in the snow beside me. She had another dart under her front leg, half hidden. I removed it, rolling her over as I kept an eye on Ruwa.
The sorcerer was muttering under her breath, speaking in an unknown language that sounded strangely similar to the one I often heard Aiden use. Her hand was still clamped to her neck.
The door to the house banged open, bringing with it the muted tenor of witch magic.
Opal.
“Stay inside!” I yelled, plucking a third dart from Paisley’s neck. She had crushed it under her as she fell.
Magic welled up behind me. Opal was trying to cast something.
The airgun sounded. I straightened, letting my magic loose. The mundane projectile hit about a hand’s width from my chest, falling harmlessly to the ground.
A muffled curse from the barn informed me that a follow-up shot had jammed or backfired.
Guns of any kind normally weren’t terribly effective against Adepts of a certain power level. But the first dart must have been potent enough to stop Paisley from transforming. Otherwise, the shooter wouldn’t have gotten a second and third dart into the demon dog.
Opal stumbled down the front patio stairs, the blue of her witch magic streaming from her eyes. Her expression was intensely distressed.
“Get back in the house,” I snarled at her.
She hesitated.
Paisley raised her head out of the snow, shaking it, then snarling. But she still didn’t transform, which told me everything I needed to know about whatever sedative they’d hit her with. The sedative they intended to use against me.
I stalked forward.
Ruwa, still wearing Jenni’s face, rose to meet me. Tyler scrambled away from us, blood pouring down his face from a scalp wound.
“Just as magnificent as I remember, amplifier,” Ruwa said.
I snorted. “Right.”
“I never did find out what spell you used, though. What dropped my master and his companions so easily. After the clairvoyant had distracted them, of course.”
I hesitated. She was suggesting that she’d been present in the warehouse in San Francisco — which was the only way that kidnapping Opal made any sense. “What’s the long play, Ruwa?” I asked.
She grinned. And finally, her magic shifted, writhing under her skin as her eyes blazed red.
Red.
Sorcerers’ magic manifested in shades of blue. Demons — including Paisley — had red eyes. And it was reported that vampire magic often appeared red as well, though I’d never met a vampire.
Tyler lunged toward me.
I didn’t bother to look at him. I simply raised my hand to slap him back, making contact with his cheek.
Something hit my lower rib cage, and pain streaked through me. I clenched my teeth, knocking the idiot away. The long, cylindrical steel weapon he’d managed to press against me fell in the snow again, as first his head, then his entire body tumbled to the side and back.
Bonds and Broken Dreams (Amplifier 2) Page 21