Bound (2 page)
Authors: Erica O'Rourke
C
HAPTER
2
HAPTER
2
A
n hour later, there was still a knot of well-wishers surrounding my father, but my own goodwill was used up. I sat down at the bar, accepted a Diet Coke from Charlie, and poked at the maraschino cherries he’d garnished it with. Colin leaned against the railing, scrutinizing every face despite his casual stance.
n hour later, there was still a knot of well-wishers surrounding my father, but my own goodwill was used up. I sat down at the bar, accepted a Diet Coke from Charlie, and poked at the maraschino cherries he’d garnished it with. Colin leaned against the railing, scrutinizing every face despite his casual stance.
“See anyone?” I asked.
“Nobody that shouldn’t be here,” he said, and laced his fingers with mine. “You look beat.”
“I thought he’d be nicer,” I said without thinking.
Colin’s mouth twitched. “He probably thought the same thing about you. The guy’s been in prison for twelve years, Mo. Nice doesn’t last long there.”
“He went to prison for Billy. Added an extra seven years to his sentence to keep us safe. That’s nice, right?”
“Not nice. Desperate. He’d do whatever was necessary to protect his family.” He finished the beer he’d nursed all night, set it back on the bar with a crack. “Don’t confuse nice with good.”
“You think he’s a good guy?” Colin saw my family a lot more clearly than I did. If he thought my dad deserved another chance, maybe I could bend a little.
“I think he’s on his way over.”
The crowd had thinned out, but my dad took his time crossing the room, his attention riveted on us. Colin started to draw away, but I held fast.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me, Mo?” my father asked. Without waiting for my response, he said, “You’re Colin Donnelly.”
“It’s good to meet you, sir.”
“Annie’s told me a lot about you. Says you’ve done a good job keeping my daughter out of trouble.”
I bristled at the words, but Colin’s voice was cool. “I try my best. You know Mo.”
My father’s jaw clenched as he caught the implication—he didn’t know me at all. “The good news is, now that I’m home, things will settle down. I don’t think we’ll need your help for much longer. Annie says you’re a carpenter?”
He was getting rid of Colin? “But ...” I started to protest, but Colin’s hand brushed mine, reassuring.
“With all due respect, sir, I work for Billy.” Now the words held an edge.
My dad looked disappointed. “I figured you’d say that.”
My mom joined us, worry creasing her brow, and my dad settled an arm around her waist. She brightened instantly. “It’s a nice party, don’t you think? Everyone’s so happy to see you.”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “You did great. Never saw it coming.”
Looked like I wasn’t the only liar in the family. I coughed, and he frowned at me. “Don’t spoil her fun,” his look telegraphed. “Can I bail, please?” I asked. “I’m wiped out.”
“Honey, it’s your dad’s party!”
“Yeah, with your friends. Not mine.” Like I would have invited any of my friends to this. “Look, I helped set up, and I did the big welcome. Why do I have to stay?”
“Oh, Annie, let her go.” Billy approached us, a tumbler of whiskey in hand, doing his best impression of the doting uncle. “What fun is she going to have with a bunch of old people? Besides, we’ve things to discuss.”
Her mouth thinned, and she glanced at my father, who shrugged. “It’s fine. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up.”
“I suppose.” She gave me a quick hug. “We’ll be home in a bit.”
While Colin went to warm up the truck, I popped into the back room and clocked out. The sudden quiet was a relief, and I took a minute to steady myself. I’d survived. While I was still reeling from my dad’s greeting, the other guests had swarmed in to welcome him, and I’d slipped off to the side. Other than the brief exchange between my dad and Colin, I’d managed to steer clear of my family for the night. It could have been worse.
It could have been much worse. It could have been Anton on that barstool instead of a random stranger.
I’d worked so hard to keep my real life separate from my magical one. If Anton had shown up, it would have meant only one thing: He and the Seraphim, his genocidal cult, were back. Anton and his followers wanted to release the magic from the ley lines that carried it safely through the world. But doing so would be lethal to weaker Arcs and any Flats—ordinary people—who came in contact with untempered magic. They called it The Ascendency, when members of the Seraphim would destroy the Arcs’ society and rise to their rightful place. They’d been the ones to order Verity’s death last summer, and they’d been after me ever since. We’d defeated them a few months ago, but I knew they would regroup. I just didn’t know when.
But Anton never passed up an opportunity to attack me. I’d had no word from the Arcs that I was in danger. The ley lines around Morgan’s had been quiet all night. For now, at least, I was safe.
I bent over, trying to untie my apron.
The string was so badly knotted, I was going to have to cut it off or try to wriggle out. Behind me, the door opened and the noise from the party swelled, grating on my nerves.
“The stupid string won’t come undone,” I told Colin. “Can you help me get this off?” I turned, tugging at the white canvas hem.
It wasn’t Colin.
“Nothing I’d like better,” said Luc, stepping inside and shutting the door with a wave.
I gaped at him. He looked ordinary—or at least, as ordinary as it was possible for Luc to appear. Dark jeans, dark green shirt, black leather coat, cut close to display his lean swimmer’s build. It wasn’t his clothing that set him apart. It was the eyes, the smirk, the way he walked into a room and instantly, effortlessly took command, like it was his due.
Which he probably figured it was.
“What are you—” I sighed as the pieces fell into place. “Some people actually say hello, you know. They don’t lurk in corners.”
He looked offended. “Neither do I.”
“You’ve been watching me all night. It’s a little creepy.”
“Just walked in the front door.” He crossed the room, took my hands in his ice-cold ones. Up close, I could see water beading on the surface of his coat. “City’s a hell of a lot less charming in the winter, by the way.”
I pulled away, crossed my arms over my chest. “I felt you. Earlier tonight. The magic knew you were here.”
“Magic doesn’t know anything.” He blew on his hands, enveloping them in a red-tinged glow. Show-off. As my words sank in, his brow furrowed. “Wasn’t me. What happened?”
I hadn’t seen Luc for months—since our last run-in with the Seraphim; since I had once again fixed the Arcs’ magic; since he’d left me for dead, then risked his own life to save me. All winter, he’d left me in peace, our only contact the small gifts he left in my locker or my coat pocket. Messages without words. A clutch of sweet olive blossoms, a single praline in a white cardboard box, a tiny silver fleur de lis, a glass vial of brick red dust. Each time, my heart stuttered, simultaneously pleased and nervous. I’d try to put him out of my mind, tuck the reminders of him away in a dresser drawer, but every so often he would slip back into my thoughts, and I’d study the odd little collection. And then I’d put them back, annoyed with myself all over again.
Luc had made no secret of the fact he was going to pursue me, but so far he’d given me space and freedom. The two things I could never get in Chicago. Telling him about what I’d seen—or thought I’d seen—would change everything between us. Again.
I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
I wasn’t sure I was strong enough.
Waving a hand like it was nothing, I said, “I thought I felt something, and I assumed it was you.”
“Someone worked a spell? Here?”
“I don’t think so.” I chose my words carefully, not wanting to give too much away. There was power in a secret. I might not want it, but I wasn’t going to hand it over unthinkingly, either. “I can feel it in the lines when someone does magic. I can see it, if I try hard enough. Like now, when you warmed up your hands. There’s a ley line on the west side of the building. I sensed it responding when you drew on it to cast the spell. But this was different. It was inside me, like it came from the source of the magic, not the lines.” I tugged at my apron again, regretting I’d ever brought it up. “It was nothing, Luc. Probably just stress.”
“You’re positive?” He searched my expression, and at the same time I felt the connection between us strengthen, as if he were trying to get a magical read on me.
The familiar contact jolted me, a reminder of how we’d once been, and I responded without thinking. “I’m not sure. I’m not sure about anything.”
“That so?” His eyes glinted.
I couldn’t change the subject fast enough. “Why are you here, anyway? Did the Quartoren send you?”
God, that was the last thing I needed tonight. A summons from the Quartoren, leaders of the Arcs. Unlike the Seraphim, they didn’t want me dead—but they weren’t my biggest fans, either.
“This is all me,” he said with a shrug. “Big night, with your daddy coming home. Figured I’d check in, see if you needed a hand. Or a fast getaway.”
“You’re sweet.” I’d forgotten how kind he could be, small acts that revealed more about him than he liked to admit.
“That’s the last thing I am.” There were circles under his eyes, worry lines etched into his forehead, and he turned away, tracing a rectangle in the air. A door of flame, open to nothingness, took shape. “If the magic acts up again, call for me. You remember how?”
“Like I could forget?” Reflexively, I touched my wrist, felt the connection that bound me to Luc, a magical reminder that my life and his would always be intertwined. “There’s more, isn’t there? This wasn’t just a social visit.”
“There’s always more. But tonight was about me missing you. Even if the feeling ain’t mutual.”
As he stepped closer, our connection began to hum. I held perfectly still as he brushed a finger over the snarled mass of apron strings at my waist. The air quivered as the spell curled around the knot, and he caught the apron midfall.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the fabric from him and crumpling it in my hands.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmured, and vanished through the door.
C
HAPTER
3
HAPTER
3
O
utside, the air was clear and biting, the sky tinted with the orange glow of the city lights. I buried my nose in my scarf and ran for the truck.
utside, the air was clear and biting, the sky tinted with the orange glow of the city lights. I buried my nose in my scarf and ran for the truck.
“Everything okay?” Colin asked as I climbed in. “You look rattled.”
I took a deep breath, bracing myself. For an instant, I considered not telling him, but dismissed the idea. Bad enough there was already one huge secret between us. Two seemed like a habit.
“Luc stopped by,” I said, and watched for his reaction.
There. A quick curling of his fingers, a muscle tightening in his jaw. When he spoke, though, his voice was unchanged. “Problem?”
“He knew about the party. I think he was offering moral support.”
Colin made a skeptical noise. “What did he say about Anton?”
“I didn’t mention it. Once I tell him, he’s got an excuse to come back whenever he wants.” I curled up against him, relaxing for the first time that night. His canvas coat was rough against my cheek. “We survived the party. That’s something.”
“You’re going to have to talk to your dad eventually,” Colin said. “You’ve got six months before you leave for New York. That’s a long time to avoid someone who lives in the same house.”
“He’s up to something,” I said, trying to shift his attention from my college plans. “Did you hear Billy? They have to talk business? The man’s been out of prison for less than a day, and he’s already back working for the Mob.”
“Maybe it’s about reopening The Slice,” he said. I wanted to believe him, but he didn’t sound like he believed it himself.
The yellow beams of the headlights illuminated the half-finished shell of my mom’s restaurant. The framing was in place, plywood covering where the windows would be installed soon. A tattered sheet of weatherproofing twisted like a wraith in the night air.
“How much longer till it’s open again?”
“Depends on the weather. Couple months, we hope.”
“It means a lot to my mom that you’re helping with the rebuilding. She’s kind of crazy about you.”
“Yeah?” His eyes crinkled with amusement.
“It might be the only thing we agree on.”
He dipped his head, his mouth finding mine. I curled my fingers around his shoulders, pulling him closer, crowding out thoughts of my family and unexpected faces.
Eventually he eased back, voice husky. “Time to get you home.”
As we drove, he said, “Do you think it was Anton?”
“I barely saw him. But if he was there, he wasn’t using magic, and that’s not really his style.”
Inside me, the magic had settled into a soothing, pleasant hum. Whatever had riled it earlier was gone. The magic wasn’t centered in me, but I was perfectly attuned to it—every cell in my body picked up on its movements and inclinations, the way it flowed to and from the lines. Sometimes it focused its attention elsewhere, and sometimes it zeroed in on me, reacting to my experiences like they were its own, like a willful shadow. Gradually, I was refining my understanding of its feelings, like a child learning the nuances of emotions. Not just happiness, but delight or quiet pleasure. Not just sadness, but grief or annoyance.
The one thing I didn’t need to be told was that the true nature of the magic was a secret.
If the Quartoren were to find out—or worse, the Seraphim—it would be a disaster. They’d try to take control, to grab as much power for themselves as they could. They’d be completely indifferent to the fact that the magic was a living being, only see it as a tool to be bent to their will. Even Luc was dangerous. As the Heir, his obligation was to his House. The magic and I weren’t even a close second. The only person I’d trusted enough to tell was Colin, whose only concern was whether the bond was dangerous to me.
I couldn’t keep the truth about the magic hidden forever. Someone—Luc, or one of the Quartoren’s scholar-scientists—would figure it out. But for now, it wasn’t my secret to tell, and it was safer to stay quiet. I’d learned too well the dangers of acting on impulse.
“Do you want to come in?” I asked when we’d pulled up in front of my family’s orange brick bungalow. “They won’t be home for a while longer.”
He pointed to the car across the street. One of my uncle’s men, there for protection. Ironic, since Billy was the greatest threat facing me right now. “I don’t like an audience.”
“I don’t care what they think. Or what my family says.”
“We have six months before you leave, Mo. Do you really want to have a knock-down, drag-out with your family over this?”
“Absolutely.” We had a lot longer than he realized, because I wasn’t going to New York. I just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet. “We never talk about it. My leaving.”
“What’s to talk about? You’re going to New York. I’m staying here.” He touched my cheek. “Six months. Don’t wish them away, Mo.”
I didn’t believe in wishes, but I didn’t need to. I’d fix this myself.
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