Authors: Ann Macela
Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Paranormal, #Romance, #Suspense
Wild Magic (19 page)
The last he found particularly difficult at first, but Irenee assured him it was necessary, as level modulation conserved energy. He had already showed he could when he cast
flamma
—full power at the candle in his first attempt and much less by the third.
flamma
—full power at the candle in his first attempt and much less by the third.
Once he got the hang of it, starting his light at red, bringing it up through the rainbow to blue, and taking it back down was easy—well, if not totally easy, at least easier.
Also exhausting.
“Resigno.”
Jim cancelled his spell and stretched in his chair. “Can we take a break? I’m starving.”
Jim cancelled his spell and stretched in his chair. “Can we take a break? I’m starving.”
“I’m not surprised,” Whipple said. “We’ve put you through a lot. Most new practitioners don’t make it through half as much and remain conscious. Look, it’s getting late. I have a call to make to a couple of people from the Defender Council. As you can imagine, they want updates on our efforts toward finding the rest of the Cataclysm Stone. Why don’t you two get some dinner? Irenee, you can tell Jim more about practitioner life while you eat.”
Whipple looked innocent, but Jim heard an undercurrent in his words. Irenee must have also because she said with a set jaw, “I’ll take care of it, Fergus.”
“How about Italian?” Jim said, more to get them moving than a desire for spaghetti.
Irenee stood and started removing her robe. When she finally turned to him, she had a smile on her face. “That sounds good. Let’s get out of the Center, too. I know a good place on Golf Road that makes the best tiramisu. I’ll run over to my condo to get my purse, you hand in your robe, and I’ll meet you in the lobby”
After her fast exit, Jim looked at Whipple with his eyebrows raised. “Something you’d like to tell me?”
“No, it needs to come from her. Don’t worry, it’s good, not bad.”
Although Jim wasn’t so sure about that, he’d be patient—up to a point. Probably about the time he brought her back from dinner. Then he’d get her by herself if it killed him.
His center gave him a jolt while he took off his robe, picked up his weapon and jacket, and followed Whipple out the door of the practice room. His idiotic irritating magic center was also on the discussion list. If it drove every practitioner as crazy as it was doing him, they could have their damn magic.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
In a corner of the cozy restaurant, Irenee studied the menu. The smells of good Italian cooking permeated the room, and she knew she’d smell like tomato sauce and Italian herbs when she left. No matter. She was ravenous.
“What’ll we have for an appetizer?” Jim asked.
“Calamari. They really know how to fix it here.”
The waiter came over with bread, and they discussed their menu selections versus the specials and ordered. Jim picked a wine—he was evidently off duty, and she needed to relax, if possible—and the waiter left.
Jim poured olive oil into a shallow dish, soaked a piece of bread in it, and took a big bite. “Mmmmm. I needed this,” he said between more bites.
“Wait,” she said, “you’re doing it wrong. Here is the Chicago way” She picked up the Parmesan cheese shaker and shook it into the dish, added more olive oil, and mushed the mixture together with her fork. After sprinkling on some pepper, she dipped a piece of bread in the paste, held it out to him, and said, “Try this.”
He looked at the dish, then her, and took the bread. One bite, and he was nodding his head. Two, and he was dipping a bigger piece into the oil-cheese mixture.
“Okay?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah.” He nodded and reached for another piece of bread. “Chicago, huh?”
“Wait till you taste it with roasted garlic.” She pulled the bread basket closer. She wasn’t going to let him have it all.
They’d hardly said a word to each other on the trip there, and Irenee could almost feel his curiosity and determination growing. Before he could ask any questions she didn’t want to answer, therefore, she’d see if she could lead the discussion where she wanted it to go. “If you feel light-headed, it’s normal, and food will help. You did really well. Young practitioners, even knowing what to expect, don’t come as far in a week as you did in a few hours.”
“I’m surprised how ...
depleted
is the best word, I guess, how
completely depleted
I feel. Like all my energy has been sucked out of me.”
depleted
is the best word, I guess, how
completely depleted
I feel. Like all my energy has been sucked out of me.”
She glanced around. There was enough ambient noise to cover their conversation, they were sitting side by side, not across the table from each other, and nobody would overhear them if they kept their voices low. “Some call their center a ‘power or energy well.’ Since you haven’t truly been using your abilities, you haven’t been exercising or practicing to build stamina and automatically replace the energy as you use it ”
“I thought you said my color meant I have lots of energy,” he said around another bite, but in the same tone, so he evidently understood the need to keep their discussion private.
“The color indicates your
potential,
not what you can use this minute or without work. Reaching your potential takes a lot of practice, and there are tests involved along the way. For example, from my present color, I seem to have increased in potential in the fight with Alton’s Stone. To be ‘officially’ listed at a new level, I must learn the spells and be tested on them. Unofficially, I can cast lower spells to greater effect with the new power.”
potential,
not what you can use this minute or without work. Reaching your potential takes a lot of practice, and there are tests involved along the way. For example, from my present color, I seem to have increased in potential in the fight with Alton’s Stone. To be ‘officially’ listed at a new level, I must learn the spells and be tested on them. Unofficially, I can cast lower spells to greater effect with the new power.”
He was silent while the waiter returned with the wine and went through the opening ceremony.
When the waiter left, Irenee raised her glass and said, “Here’s to our newest practitioner.”
“Thank you,” Jim answered, looking both pleased and dubious at the same time. He clinked his glass with hers and took a sip. “How do you go up a level, and how long does it take to learn spells? I don’t think you explained that.”
She ate a piece of bread to gain time to think. His questions worked to her advantage. She could discuss the specifics of her own situation without treading into dangerous soul-mate territory. “I’m some kind of special case nobody completely understands. I was a level five until I turned eighteen, and all of a sudden, my potential, energy, and talents increased.”
Over the appetizer and dinner, Irenee told him what had happened to her, how long it had taken to learn all the new Sword and Defender spells, how difficult it had been getting through college and starting her business while dealing with the change. As she expected, he asked lots of questions.
They were eating the famed tiramisu of sponge cake, liqueur, and chocolate, when she said, “Nobody from Fergus on down, including master teachers and our scientists who study our abilities, has any idea what caused my change. I’m not the only practitioner such a transformation ever happened to, but I’m the first one in this country since 1850. Except for other wild talents, I’m probably the only person alive who can begin to understand what you’re going through.”
“Yeah, I can see that. I can also see I have a hell of a lot to learn.” He didn’t look overjoyed at the prospect. He finished his coffee and said, “Let’s go back to the HeatherRidge. I have some more questions about practitioner life.”
Was it her imagination, or did he emphasize those last two words? Was she going to have to tell him about soul mates tonight? Was she ready? Nooooo, not if she could put it off. Maybe some excuse would come to her on the way home.
When the check came, she offered to pay her half, and he gave her a part-insulted, part-incredulous look. The man was definitely “old school” at times. He paid the bill, and they walked out of the restaurant.
It was a lovely summer evening, and something of a shock to come out of a dimly lit restaurant to daylight. The sun was still up at seven thirty, of course, but it was rapidly setting.
Saying he always prepared for a fast getaway, Jim had parked his car—a nondescript dull brown-and-rust sedan where she had been expecting something sportier—by itself and facing outward three rows from the building in the strip shopping mall. Now, however, the lot had filled in, thanks to the two other restaurants there.
As she preceded him between cars, she saw his lights flash to show he’d unlocked it. He was reaching to open the door for her when two men appeared, one at each end of his car, blocking them in. Two large men—with guns.
“You’re coming with us,” the one behind Jim said. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Irenee turned to the man at the back of the car and glared at him when anger replaced the shock of their threat. Of all the nerve! Who did these guys think they were, fooling with a Sword? After half a day dealing with puny lightballs, she was itching to cast something of substance. Here was her chance. She shot a glance at Jim, who was facing the other thug, then brought her eyes back to her opponent.
“No,” she said.
“Irenee ...” Jim sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth.
“No, we won’t go with you,” she continued, “however, I will keep my hands up.” She extended both hands, palms facing the thug, and cast “puff of wind” at hurricane force. She pushed her hands forward.
“Flabra!”
“Flabra!”
“Aaaahhhhh!” the would-be kidnapper yelled as he flew through the air, landed with a thump, and slid into a car in the next row.
Irenee turned, ready to stun the other guy, but Jim had taken advantage of her diversion and slugged him. He dragged the groaning man to the side and ordered, “Get in the car. There are more of them.”
Only when she looked to her left did she notice two similar men running toward them from the edge of the lot. She quickly climbed in and buckled up.
Jim got in, started the car, and roared out of the parking lot.
“Head for home,” she told him.
“Right.” He had to wait precious seconds to get across Golf Road, and he made the turn across the east-bound lanes and the left-turn-lane median with a squeal of tires.
Irenee squirmed around to her left to see out the back. “There are two cars coming out of the parking lot—two black SUVs.”
Jim must have glanced in his rearview mirror because he said, “I see them. When we left the HeatherRidge, a vehicle like that was pulling out of the road across from the entrance. I waved for him to go ahead of us, and he waved back, so I went. He must have tailed us.”
Still sitting halfway backward, she dug in her purse for her cell phone with one hand while she braced herself with the other. He zigged and zagged through the traffic until there were several cars between them and the thugs.
“I’ll get us some help.” She opened her phone and hit the speed dial for Defender emergencies. When the dispatcher answered, she set the phone on speaker so Jim could hear. “This is Irenee Sabel. I’m with Jim Tylan in a car traveling west on Golf Road between Higgins and Barrington. A couple of men tried to kidnap us, and two black SUVs are following us. We’re heading for the HeatherRidge Center.”
“Understood,” came the answer. “Stay on Golf and turn north on Bartlett. We’re sending people to meet you.”
“Roger that,” Jim said when they had to stop for a light. He used the pause to click his seat belt together. “I bet Ubell sent these guys.”
“I don’t think they’re practitioners, though.” Irenee said, craning her neck to see around cars. “They were totally surprised when I hit the one with the puff-of-wind spell.”
“Defenders are coming to meet you on Bartlett Road,” the dispatcher announced. “Don’t stop for them. Come straight to the Center, no matter what happens. We have your phone on the GPS tracking program, so we know right where you are.”
“Roger,” Jim said. The light turned green, and the cars in front of them began to move.
“The passenger in the closest one opened the door and stood on the door frame to look at us for a couple of seconds,” Irenee said. “The nearest SUV is four cars back. I can’t see the other.”
“Let’s hear it for Chicagoland traffic. They won’t be able to gang up on us easily. If the truck behind me will just let me in ...” He maneuvered the car into the left lane. “There. We have some cover between us and them. What did you say you hit the goon with? A puff of wind?”
“Swords have an arsenal of offensive and defensive spells,” Irenee explained, rather proud of herself for being able to act in the face of such a threat. “I cast
flabra ”
flabra ”
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