Devious Magic (3 page)

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Authors: Camilla Chafer

BOOK: Devious Magic
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I glanced around the diner, at the row of people who sat eating at the counter, talking amongst themselves; then at the table behind me where the family with the two little children, sucking their juice through straws sat giggling. Their little legs were kicking gleefully back and forth. As far as arguments went, he had a good one, and I wasn’t prepared to test it. I wasn’t even going to ask him how he could kill so many people without someone stopping him. It seemed wiser just to accept that he could, rather than encourage him into a demonstration. Instead, I just nodded, appearing somewhat defeated. “I thought that was for the minions.” Perhaps mocking him wasn’t the best idea, but it slipped out.

“Don’t look so cross. It doesn’t suit your pretty face.”

His hand rested on the coffee cup and my already nervous magic began to spiral. I channelled it into the coffee until it reached boiling point, with little bubbles teasing the surface. Jones, staring at me the whole time with his vacant eyes, put it to his lips and sipped, only to shudder when it scalded him.

“Cheap trick, Miss Mayweather,” he murmured, licking his lips, then dabbing them with a napkin. I didn’t feel bad, not one bit; I hoped it blistered his tongue.

I waited, expecting him to do something to chastise me but Jones just sat there, staring, and panic rose inside me. My magic bubbled, unbidden once again, to the surface and I felt it tickling my skin as I struggled to restrain it for the sake of every person who could be injured from the fallout.

Jones watched my inner conflict, his eyes boring into me as I tried to match his immovable demeanour despite the magic inside me looking for an outlet. I focused on my training, on neutralising my power. Whatever he had planned, I didn’t want to be a part of it but I was trapped. As time ticked past and I waited, I knew I needed to be ready to defend myself and anyone else I could.

Most of all, I knew I needed help before Annalise came back, stumbling onto us, As soon as she slid in next to me, she would completely block my exit and put herself within arm’s reach of Jones. Like hell would I put my friend in any danger of the witch hunter sitting in front of me. Especially if there were even the remotest possibility that he knew what she was.

On autopilot, I called silently, wordlessly yelling to my closest ally. Gage. I only wished he could hear me, as well as the desperation in my soundless plea. Mr. Jones waited, watching his coffee cup. I wished frantically that Gage would come back so I could get his attention somehow, so he could rescue me from the Brotherhood’s foot soldier. Jones’ gaze remained solid, his eyes threatening in a way that was so subtle, only I could see it. He was waiting to see what I would do.

Thoughts spiralled through my head, but there was only one obvious route I could take. If I couldn’t escape, I would have to play along for a while, draw him out, and find out what the witch hunters wanted. So I did nothing. “What do you want?” I asked, simply.

“That’s the right question, Miss Mayweather.” Jones’ thin lips curled at the edges into a smile but his body didn’t relax one bit. “My employer extends an invitation. He would like to meet with you at his home in England. He doesn’t travel much. The house is called Hawkscroft and is located in Yorkshire. Perhaps you’ve been there?”

I shook my head, no, saying, “I can’t.” I left England almost a year ago, when my friend, Étoile, rescued me from the Brotherhood. They chased me out, and I stayed out. I even had the idiotic notion that the Brotherhood couldn’t find me, even though the occasional news of a murder could be attributed to them on this side of the Atlantic. They had been strangely, ominously, quiet of late, not that I’d been complacent in any way. I couldn’t afford to be.

Mr. Jones arched an eyebrow at me again, his voice cajoling this time, “I’m sure you can. We’ve gone to a lot of trouble to find you.”

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“Let’s just say... a little birdie whispered your address in my employer’s ear.”

Fear rippled through me, first as raging hot anger, then clamouring cold. I’d been warned that the concentration of power created by the witches who came to Wilding months ago would bring unwelcome attention. I couldn’t fathom, however, who would be cruel enough to pass my address onto the Brotherhood. As far as I knew, only witches and wolves attended our gathering. Oh, and a ghost, I remembered. But she had been forcibly returned to where she belonged and thereby prevented from causing more damage. I glanced at Mr. Jones, hoping some trace on his face would declare his revelation as a lie. I saw nothing. Nothing to indicate if it were true and nothing to say it was false.

He pulled an envelope from his inside suit pocket and pushed it towards me where it rested in the middle of the table. Then he tapped it with his index finger. “Inside this envelope is a plane ticket and funds to cover any unexpected complications you might encounter. We will arrange for a driver to collect you from the airport and take you to Hawkscroft. You will stay as my employer’s guest.”

“Why does he want to meet me?”
“That’s not for me to know.”
With one finger, I pushed the envelope back. “I’m not coming.”

I almost laughed when Mr. Jones pushed it towards me again; it seemed so comical. “I don’t think you understand, Miss Mayweather. It’s not so much an invitation, as a... summons. You will attend.”

“And if I don’t?”

Mr. Jones looked around the diner, taking in the familiar faces of my adopted hometown’s residents. “Consequences,” he said in a low voice. “There will be consequences. I suggest you don’t test my employer. He’s not... pleasant when crossed.”

“You can’t hurt me,” I retorted. He could, though. I knew that. But this employer of his was perhaps the only reason I’d survived this conversation so far. I could feel the fear slicing through my bones as he laid his cold gaze on me. In my head, I yelled for Gage again, the fear emanating from me even as I sat still, tense enough to stop the shaking that followed in its tracks. Of all the people who could help me, Gage was the closest. I knew he would defend me, or at least, offer some kind of backup. That might make this man think twice about threatening me not to mention all the people in the diner. Even without his wolf heritage, Gage was a tall, imposing man, someone to be reckoned with.

“No?” Mr. Jones leant back in his seat, seemingly amused. “Are we negotiating? Or are we in denial?”

I kept my voice low. “Tell your employer that I don’t care to meet him or have anything to do with the Brotherhood. I want to be left alone.”

“Oh, Miss Mayweather.” Mr. Jones shook his head, doing his best to look sad. “You and I both know that’s never going to happen.” Standing up, he dabbed his mouth with a napkin, which he then laid over his plate. “Before I forget, happy birthday! I do apologise for not bringing a gift, but I hope you’ll think of me when you cut your cake.”

“Go to hell.”

The corners of his mouth flickered. “What makes you think we’re not already there?” He dropped enough bills on the table to cover his breakfast and mine and walked out. At the door, he turned and smiled, giving me a little salute. I thought about giving him a little salute of my own, but I resisted the urge.

I was frozen with fear for a moment at Mr. Jones’ summons and the damn envelope resting on the table in front of me. It was strange how menacing I found it, how repulsive it was to see my name written across the front in flowing black ink, all curls and flourishes. Before I could really think about it, I slipped out of the booth and raced outside.

For a moment, I stood on the sidewalk, right at the junction where I could see the whole intersection; but the man had gone, almost like he melted away, and was never here. A moment later, I felt strong hands grabbing me and I barely stifled the shriek rising in my throat as they spun me around.

Gage’s eyes searched mine as he held onto me, his hands clamped over my upper arms. “What happened?” he huffed, breathless, like he’d been running hard. “I heard you. I heard you in my head, calling me. What’s wrong?”

“I... I was calling you. He was here, he was...” I gasped back a relieved, but frightened sob, looking wildly around me, expecting the man to come back at any moment.

“Who, Stella?” Gage gripped me harder. “Did someone hurt you? Tell me!”

My hair fell over my face as I shook my head. I brushed it back roughly with my hands, tucking the stray strands behind my ears. “The Brotherhood,” I gasped, at last, continuing to turn in a circle, scanning the landscape for Mr. Jones. “The Brotherhood was here. He sat at my table and he...” The tears were running freely down my cheeks now and Gage pulled me into his chest. He held me close to him, vaporising my fear with his safe embrace. I could hear his heartbeat in my ear where my head was pressed against him. Circling my arms around him, I let him hold me. As I hugged him, I felt so grateful for the comfort of someone safe and familiar. I tried not to think about the last time he had his arms wrapped around me, and how that had been so very different to the comfort he offered me now.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, stroking my hair as I stiffened, momentarily feeling awkward in his arms. Gradually, he seemed to realise that, and reluctantly let me go, His hands were still wrapped around mine as he stared down at me. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe, sweetheart, you’re safe now,” he promised.

We stood there, side by side, hand in hand, for what felt like forever until Darla came outside carrying my jacket, the envelope and a small brown bag containing a box with Annalise’s uneaten lunch. Reluctantly, or with relief – I couldn’t tell – I detached my fingers from Gage’s to take them from her, muttering, “Thanks.”

“You okay, sugar?” Darla asked, her forehead puckering into a frown.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“That man bothering you?” she persisted.
I nodded, again.

“Hmm, well, don’t be a scaredy-cat. You call me over if he bothers you again,” said Darla. “You need a coffee to go? Warm you up?”

“I’m taking her home,” said Gage, slipping his arm around my shoulders, and giving me a reassuring squeeze. This time, it was less tender and more like being clamped by a vice.

“I’ve got my car,” I protested. “I can’t just leave it here. Plus, I’m waiting for Annalise.” I could just see her now, walking hurriedly towards us, her pace picking up when she saw Gage. She waved happily.

“Leave your keys with me. I’ll make sure it gets to your house,” offered Darla. “Look at you, shivering. You don’t look like you’re in any condition to drive.”

“She’s right, Stella. Annalise can drive your car home. I was leaving anyway and it’s not like you’re out of my way. Just let me take you home.”

“Lucky you,” I thought I heard Darla say under her breath as she turned away, heading back to her diner. Annalise took her place a moment later, searching my face then Gage’s, her happy demeanour faltering.

“I got caught up. Sorry. What happened?” she asked, looking puzzled.

Five minutes later, Annalise had the whole story, my keys and her lunch bag, and I was being bundled into Gage’s car. I was glad he wasn’t riding his motorcycle today because I wasn’t sure I could concentrate enough on balancing.

“You ever done that before?” Gage asked, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look me over. He hadn’t said anything for a few minutes after settling me into the passenger seat of his car. I was quiet, trying to remember everything so I could retell it later to Evan and our housemates. “That mind-transmitting thing?”

I shook my head. “No. I was just as surprised as you. I didn’t think you’d even hear me.”

“Loud and clear. Took me a minute to realise I wasn’t just hearing things, but, you know, actually
hearing
things.”

“Sorry about that. I really don’t know how I did it. I panicked and I’d just seen you so I... shouted.”

“No problem.” Gage took his hand off the wheel to pat my leg. “I’m probably receptive to it because of my blood anyway.”

“Do werewolves mind read?” I shuffled in my seat to face him, curious. Neither Gage nor Annalise talked much about the other part of their lives, though they had no problem with me seeing them in wolf form now. All my knowledge about werewolves came from myths or Evan and Étoile, so it was all second hand.

“Only in a limited sort of way when we’re in our wolf form. But most definitely, never with anyone out of the pack. Even then, it’s more a feeling than an actual conversation.” He thought for a moment. “We should try it again. It might turn out to be useful.”

“I guess.”
“There’s one thing I want to know.”
“What’s that?”

He braked for the stop sign and, after glancing in the mirror to see if Annalise was still behind us in my car – she was – he looked at me. His face had taken on a guarded look that I recognized when he was about to ask something that he wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. “Why did you call for me, and not Evan?”

I chewed my lip. “Because you were closer?” I said, my voice rising into question, not quite believing myself. That had been just part of it; it hadn’t occurred to me to call Evan, or even Annalise who must have been just as close to the diner.

“Evan would have been there in seconds, wherever he was, if he’d heard you.”

“Right.” I swallowed. Gage had been in my mind because I’d just seen him. I knew he was in town, and he was closer to the diner, I told myself. Nothing more.
Absolutely nothing more
.

Several times over the past few weeks, I had to remind myself not to think about Gage in a way that would leave me feeling compromised. I didn’t want to be the woman with one guy, one great guy I loved, knowing and enjoying him all the while another man carried a torch for me. I made a commitment to myself not to string Gage along, even if there were a definite spark there, once. I wasn’t going to be indecisive, flitting from one to the other, nor encouraging, when there was really nothing to offer. Gage was dating other people and that was a good thing. Gage was my friend. That was it. And if I could convince myself to believe that, I could make anyone.

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