Chaos Burning (11 page)

“Yes, there are. Unfortunately for you I’m averse to rules and you’re not covered by those rules anyway. You’re not a witch. You’re not a human. You’re a mage. Your actions were not covered by the covenant either. Which means you’re mine. However I want you.”

She sat back, crossing her legs and slowly kicking her foot back and forth.

It could have been the steely gaze,
ha
, or the big man videotaping, or the giant at the door. Probably partly all three.
But just as she leaned forward to speak, the prisoner did instead.

“My name is Andrew McCay.”

She didn’t take notes. They’d go over the videotape later on.

“All right, Andrew. My name is Lark Jaansen. Why did you attack me?”

He clammed up and she was done. “I’m going in, Andrew.”

“You can’t do anything near what he can.”

She rolled her eyes before she closed them and began to spool up her magick. It came easily, readily, warm and pliant. Good signs. If it had been recalcitrant, she may have doubted this path.

So Lark followed her gut and slashed through his paltry mental shields and found herself in his head. Not bothering with finesse, she boldly riffled through his memories until she froze at the sight of something very, very scary. Uh-oh.

Though she was in, totally immersed in Andrew McCay’s head, she felt the heat of a hand on her shoulder. Simon. Did her panic show to them? It must have if he was at her side. She needed to rein in her fear and keep going. For the moment though she took what he offered.

The magick he’d shared with her flared in recognition. Helped her fight past the fear and get back to work.

When she finally surfaced some minutes later she got to shaky feet. “Got what I needed.” She turned and left the room without another word.

“What the fuck did you see in there?” Gage locked the door as they all left.

“In a minute. Let’s get you away from this fool.” Simon handed her a bottle of water and she drank deeply. Using that much magick would leave a mark on her system.

A guard came in and took over for Gage as they headed just a few doors down to a small conference space.

“He’s small potatoes, is Andrew McCay. He’s a low-level Enforcer. Finds their prey and reports back. They have teams of snatchers now.”

“Teams?”

“This isn’t as low rent as it was even a year ago, Gage. Something else is going on. I’ve been thinking this
myself. The patterns were pointing at more organization with someone at the top calling the shots.” She shrugged. “His orders were to grab me and bring me to Cyrus.”

Up until just a few minutes before they’d all believed that Cyrus Pasqual, a turned witch and a former compatriot of Gloria Ochoa’s, had been in charge of the mages who’d been targeting the witches for kidnapping. He’d been injured in the showdown at the warehouse a few months before, but he’d managed to escape and had remained on the loose, a thorn in their side.

“We know about Cyrus and that’s not what made you so pale in there. One moment you had this expression of total concentration. The next you stopped, bolt still and went very, very pale. You panicked, I saw it.
What were they going to do to you?
” Simon’s expression was so intent, it startled her.

“There’s more. Something more than Cyrus. Andrew came with Cyrus, but Cyrus isn’t in charge. Not anymore.”

“Another turned witch?”

“No. Gage… when we were attacked earlier one of them kept talking about how I’d be afraid when I met
him.
The usual sort of spooky taunt they use, you know. So I figured he meant Cyrus.”

She gulped the rest of the water in the bottle.

“Stay.” Simon stood and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get you water.”

“Thanks.”

He left quickly and she turned back to Gage. “Gimme a sec.” She opened her othersight and wove a protection spell, one that would scramble anything they said in that room.

“What the hell? Lark, you’re freaking me out now. This building is warded. The walls, the floors. Nothing we say can be heard by anyone outside.”

Simon came back in with two bottles of water and a few other bags. “Water. Jerky and trail mix too.”

She took them with thanks and after some water and a bit of protein, she was ready to finish. “I think… I think it’s the Magister.”

“Nuh-uh. That’s boogeyman stuff.” Gage shook his head.

“Most of those stories come from somewhere, Gage. When
I was young, very young, one of my grandmothers used to scare us with stories about the storm that came to take bad children away. She always lowered her voice when she talked about it, about the Magister. Whether what was in Andrew McCay’s head is really the Magister I don’t know. But if it is…” Simon didn’t really need to finish the sentence.

“I’m afraid so, Gage. Cyrus is pissed off and freaked out. But there’s something above him, pulling the strings and Andrew there is so frightened he couldn’t have told us anything anyway. But I saw it.”

“What could the Magister possibly want from a bunch of witches? Does it need to steal magick?” Gage pushed from his chair and began to pace.

“I don’t know. I don’t know much about the Magister at all other than that it used to be a scary story way back in the day. Neither of the mages we have in custody will know either. Andrew is scared, but he gets extra hits of magick from those he captures so he doesn’t ask questions.”

“I think we need to bring Nell and Meriel in on this.”

“I agree.”

“You’ve just performed some complicated magick. You need to sleep, at least for a few hours. I’ll set up a meeting with them both for this morning. Go home and rest for a while. I’ll call you and let you know the details.”

“Don’t let anyone see either prisoner, Gage. They don’t want us to know about the Magister. At least not yet. They’ll try to get at them to erase any threat they pose.”

Gage nodded. “I’ve already got that handled. No access but by you, me, Nell or Meriel.”

Chapter 9

“I
can get home all right. You must be tired yourself.”

Simon glared down at her for even imagining he’d tip his hat and walk away, leaving her to the fates. The Magister. What the fuck. “I’m sleeping in the guest room.”

“You are? Oh. Okay.”

“Is that a problem?” He wanted to be near her. Purely to keep an eye on her. She was new in town, after all. What was wrong with wanting to protect her?

“Why are you so pissy?” She got in without his opening her door. Which granted she did frequently, but suddenly he found himself bothered by.

“I’m not pissy.”

“You totally are. Did I take you away from a lady friend?”

He drove the short distance to the building she was staying in without comment. A fully grown Lycian male did not get
pissy
.

Inside the apartment she turned to him. “I’m nearly dead on my feet. I’m going to sleep awhile. There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry.”

And she flounced off. Well, not flounced, which made him
frown. She usually flounced. Now she sort of slumped. He didn’t like seeing her so tired.

“Do all spells make you this depleted?”

She turned at the doorway. “No. But this one requires my pushing past someone else’s magick and protections. It requires a whole different level of concentration and energy.”

“Can I help?”

Her grin came, quicksilver. His heart lightened at the sight.

“I’ll be better after I sleep. You can make breakfast when we get up if you like. I’m really all right. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I don’t have to. I want to.” What if something happened while she was deeply sleeping? He’d be there just in case and that was that.

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

He showered, grateful for the clothes Dominic had left there so he had something to change into. Sleep came fast, as it usually did. He’d hear anything unusual and wake up if he had to. It was enough. He’d figure out the rest another time.

BLEARY-EYED
but feeling far better, she rolled from bed and headed toward the bathroom to deal with her knuckles. There’d be some bruises on her side. Oh novel, a boot-shaped one on her hip.

Savagely, she shrugged with a grin. She gave that fucker a black eye and broke his nose so in the end, a kick wasn’t as good.

Some of the tea her mother sent along with her daughters wherever they went would help with the general aches and pains and coffee would take care of the rest.

Coffee. Yes. She downed some pain reliever and headed back out to the fridge for orange juice. A decent breakfast and she’d head back in to the office to see what was what with the prisoners. The scent of the freshly ground beans helped perk her up as she measured and started the machine to brew.

It wasn’t until the other bedroom door opened and Simon lumbered out that she remembered he’d stayed over. Of course he looked stupidly gorgeous. His hair a tousle, big brown
eyes already alert. Tall. Imposingly large and yet, it wasn’t alarm that warmed her insides.

He blinked and took a long look from her toes up to her head, and back down to her boobs. And then she remembered she was wearing a tank top and panties and nothing else.

“Um, oops.” She blushed and headed past him. “Sorry, I forgot you were here.”

But all that mellow on the outside hid the predator within and before she realized it, he’d pulled her close to examine. “You wear bruises.” His mouth was set in a hard line as he held her fists in his own gentle hands. “Abrasions. Do you hurt?”

“Not my first time with bloody knuckles.” She shrugged, suddenly flustered by the tower of maleness impeding her progress into the bedroom.

The line of his mouth softened into a smile that sent a shiver up her spine. “I keep forgetting that about you. Until you move, or I catch you sizing up a room. Woman warrior.”

And then, astonishingly, he bent and pressed a kiss to each hand.

“Still doesn’t mean I won’t get some payback for that boot mark on your side.”

What could she say to that? Even if his nearness hadn’t turned her words all inside out and upside down, she wouldn’t have known how to respond because things felt different all the sudden.

“I broke his nose.” She blushed then, but she knew he’d think it was as awesome as she did.

The slight smile widened. “You did.”

They stood there awhile, nearly touching, her fists still in his hands. The whistle on the teakettle sounded, startling her. “Tea. My mom makes it for me and my sister. I… it helps with the bruising and muscle aches.”

He let go but looked her over again, his gaze on her nipples, which had no problem with his perusal.

She scampered past and poured the water over the herbs into the pot to steep. “Be right back. I’ll get some clothes on.”

“Don’t hurry on my account.”

She faced him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Apparently you have.”

Her heart sped and she licked her lips, really, really glad she brushed her teeth before coming out to the kitchen.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She did. Or she
thought
she did. But if she was wrong? If she was reading his signals and misinterpreting she’d die from embarrassment. Which was rare since it was nearly impossible to embarrass her to start with.

“YES,
you do. You’re a savvy woman, you can feel how things have changed between us.”

She gulped and his smile changed. He took a step closer and then another and then he was right up against her, stealing her breath, muddling her wits and sending all sorts of zings and tingles through her system.

He saved her from further embarrassment as he touched her chin to close her mouth. “I don’t know how you did it. But it’s done.”

Well, what the hell did that mean?

“That doesn’t sound like a compliment.” She frowned.

“Did you know you get a line between your brows when you get agitated?” He drew the tip of his finger over the furrow and made her shiver. She’d known he was sexy before. Charming. Attractive even as she knew he and she wouldn’t fit romantically.

But the force of all that sexuality and charm focused
at
her? He played her senses, pushing every single button, rendering her to near purring.

Wouldn’t do at all, though, to let the man know what power he had. It was hard enough not to rub up against him as it was. Simon knew his attractiveness, was aware of the effects as women and men right and left stopped to simply stare at him.

Okay, some of her previous suspicion cut through the haze lust had cast over her brain.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

He laughed. “An observation. I seem to like observing you.” He paused and then shook his head. “As for compliments?” He shrugged. “I’m here, drawn to you. I didn’t see it until it was right under my nose.” He bent and breathed in deep in the
crook of her neck. She was a little ashamed to admit she thought she might have whimpered. “Damn, you smell good.”

“I feel like I’m only hearing one side of a phone call.” He made her dizzy and silly and agitated all at once. She was having distinctly more-than-friend feelings about Simon, which was stupid. Stupid! He was all suave and stylish. Handsome. Ridiculously sexy and she was… not. She liked boys who smelled like the inside of stores that sold tea and candles along with vinyl singles and bongs. He was luxury cars and cashmere throws on the back of a couch that cost more than all her possessions combined most likely.

He brushed his lips across her forehead and stepped back. “Get some clothes on or I won’t be able to finish a sentence. All that exposed skin makes me want to take a bite.”

Her breath caught. “That’s supposed to get me to put clothes on?”

He made a sound. A snarly sort of moan. It snagged her attention, held her in place. And then he smiled. Oh goddess, that smile. It made her legs go to rubber.

“You’re playing with fire, pixie. Go on and dress. When I take that first taste, I want it to be when we don’t have anything else but that on our schedule.”

“What if I
want
you to take a bite? You can’t just offer to take one and get me all sweaty and tingly and stuff and then dismiss me! What sort of evil, villainous tease are you?”