Wild Magic (20 page)

Read Wild Magic Online

Authors: Ann Macela

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Paranormal, #Romance, #Suspense

BOOK: Wild Magic
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“You scared the hell out of me when you threw that thing.” He sounded angry.
“It didn’t stop you from decking the other man.” Why was he angry? She’d helped them both.
“Of course not. What’s the traffic like on Bartlett this time of night?”
So, he could hit someone but she couldn’t? She’d have to make some things about Swords clear to him. First, they had to deal with the jackasses in the SUVs. “There’s hardly any, and we’ll go from two lanes to four. They’ll have lots of room to maneuver in the middle of the forest reserve.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said with another glance at the mirror when they crossed Barrington and the road through the Poplar Creek Forest Reserve narrowed to one lane in each direction. “Damn. One of them is closer. Once we make the turn, I’m going to hit the gas, so hold on. I can outrun them. My car has more under the hood than meets the eye.”
“A team is on its way to you,” the dispatcher said.
“If they get too close,” Irenee told Jim, “I’m going to hit their car with a
fulmen
—alightning bolt.” She loosened her seat belt and squirmed to face totally backward, kneeling on the seat with the shoulder belt across her back for support. Even if she couldn’t direct the spell from a point inside the car without risking a ricochet off the metal or glass, she could aim by sticking her left hand out the passenger-side window and directing the energy out through it.
“What? No! Sit straight. Here comes the turn.” He twisted the wheel and accelerated. The car fishtailed a little when it came around. He corrected and floored the gas pedal as the road rose slightly before them.
Irenee paid him no attention, only held on until they were straight again. They were in the right-hand lane. She hit the window button to roll it down, and the resulting rush of wind blew her hair around. She could still see, so she ignored it to hang on to the seat with her right hand and brace her body against the seat belts. The thugs’ cars made the turn, shifted to the left lane, and roared up after them, but didn’t gain much.
She held her fire. They weren’t quite close enough yet.
“Oh, shit!” Jim snarled and slowed the car as they came to the top of the rise.
“What?” she asked without turning to see.
“The light up ahead is red, and there are cars in each through lane on both sides. The left turn lanes are open, so I’m going to go through them and hope the others don’t start fast when the light changes.”
“Okay,” Irenee said when Jim moved their car to the left lane, “Stay straight in this lane for a second.”
She stuck her left hand out the window and pointed at the fast-gaining pursuer.
Dial down the power. You don’t want to blow them up
. She waited a few seconds until the SUV came a little bit closer ...
“Fulmen!”
CRACK!
BOOM!
Smoke began to pour out of the car behind them, and it swerved from side to side.
“Hot damn!” she yelled. Her bolt had hit the front tires as well as the engine.
Sparks flying from the tire rims, front bumper scraping the road surface, the damaged SUV slowed abruptly—too quickly for its partner immediately behind to dodge, and the second one hit the first on its left rear bumper. The impact stopped the second and threw the first to the right, over the short grass next to the road, and into a wetland full of water and cattails. After a huge splash, the vehicle came to a stop, smoke still pouring from under the hood while it settled into the mud. The second SUV sat in the middle of the road not moving.
Jim had pulled back into the right lane and slammed on the brakes after she cast the spell. He turned in his seat in time to see the SUV hit the water, and he stared at it through the passenger window. “Holy shit! What about the guys in there?”
The men in question climbed out of their sinking vehicle. One of them fell on his face into the muck, and the other one fished him out.
“It looks like they’re okay” Irenee knew she was grinning like a loon and wished she had room to dance. Her spell had worked perfectly! Being a Sword was so much
fun!
Take that, you scumbags!
The two staggered out of the water and across the road to the other vehicle. Just as they clambered into it, two white Hummers passed Jim’s car headed at the thugs. Its front fender somewhat bashed in, the remaining black SUV lurched into a U-turn and headed south.
“The Swords are in the Hummers,” she said and wriggled around to face Jim again. He gave her one of his trademark scowls. Still grinning, she leaned forward, touched the tip of his nose with her finger, and said, “Zap!”
He jerked backward far enough to grab her hand in his and shake it. “Are you crazy, woman? What if you had missed their car? What about innocent bystanders?”
“I knew what I was doing, and I wasn’t going to let them catch us. Nobody else was in my line of fire. My lightning bolt worked, didn’t it?” She glared back at him.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he snarled, and then he kissed her.
She hardly had the chance to register the feel of his lips on hers, his tongue demanding entry and sweeping inside her mouth, before heat and his scent and a glorious sense of belonging flooded over her. She was reaching for him when a loud horn blast caused him to break the kiss, abruptly swing his head around, and stare out his driver’s side window.
One of the white Hummers was alongside, and John Baldwin leaned out the window and pointed toward the HeatherRidge.
Jim cursed, let go of her—when had he grasped her shoulders?—and put the car in gear. They headed for the Center at a sedate pace. Jim didn’t say a word.
Irenee worked on slowing her fast-beating heart and gaining some control over the sparks shooting through her nervous system. Those fireworks weren’t the result of her spell. They came directly from that kiss.
Take it easy. It’s only the imperative pushing you. His kiss meant nothing. Probably his way of working off the adrenaline rush from the chase. He didn’t feel a thing.
The conclusions—or were they hopes?—didn’t help calm her nerves. All she seemed to know with a certainty was that she wanted another kiss. She did wonder, however, what would have happened next if they hadn’t been interrupted.
She sat straight and studied him. He had both hands on the wheel and wore a grim expression. Nothing indicated to her he had been affected at all by their oh-so-brief kiss. Until she noticed how flushed his skin was, how set his jaw, and how tight his grip. How he took a long, deep breath and let it out too slowly. He seemed to be simmering.
They pulled up to the HeatherRidge gate, and Gary, the guard, told them to go straight to the Defenders’ building. Jim asked how to get there, and Gary gave him the directions—turn left before going into the underground parking, follow the road, he couldn’t miss it. Jim nodded and stepped on the gas without giving her so much as a glance.
Yep, he was definitely on a slow boil. She’d wait until they got inside before saying a single word. Then she’d use more than a couple of words to tell him about Swords in general and herself in particular. Didn’t he have any confidence in her?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
 
Jim followed the drive around and pulled into one of the parking slots on the back side of the Defenders’ building. Avoiding even a glance at the woman next to him, he carefully took his hands from the wheel and exited the car. He honestly didn’t know whether he wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled or kiss her senseless.
What a fool stunt! What if she had missed? What if the spell had backfired? Would they have been fried? She didn’t ask permission or even discuss it before she threw those spells—either time. She shouldn’t act like such a loose cannon. She could get hurt. He certainly had a couple of things to tell her about letting him, the one with experience against bad guys, take the lead. Didn’t she have any confidence in him?
Irenee had already climbed out when he went around to open her door, so he stalked to the building and held that door for her. Nose in the air and gaze straight ahead, she sailed through. She wouldn’t even look at him. He hoped she was sorry about her impulsiveness, although deep down he knew she wasn’t. What was he going to do with her?
The kiss had shaken him to his toes. What the hell was going on with him? He’d never had the reactions to a woman like he was having to her. He realized he was still standing there holding the door when the man and the woman from the Hummer came up the walk. He let them precede him inside the building and into a conference room. At least they smiled at him.
Whipple and Sable were seated at the table waiting for them.
“Nothing like a little unexpected excitement to get the blood flowing, is there?” Whipple said, grinning and rubbing his hands briskly together. “Tylan, these two are John Baldwin, Sword and member of the Defender Council from New York, and Johanna Mahler, Sword and teacher of our young Defenders here at the Center.”
Before taking a seat, Jim shook hands with both of them. Short, sturdy Baldwin had an air of command reminding him of one of his best captains in the San Diego PD. Mahler, a pretty dark-blonde in her early- to midthirties, projected both calm and confidence.
Irenee sat next to her father and directly across the table from him. Good. He could keep an eye on her. He could almost laugh at the way she was pretending he didn’t exist—except he was still strung so tight, his face would probably crack if he tried to.
“Okay, what exactly happened?” Whipple, asked.
Jim spoke before she could—he’d tell it his way, objectively. “We came out of the restaurant, and two men jumped us and trapped us between cars. They had guns. One told us to come with them, but he didn’t say where. I could see two similar men heading our way. Irenee hit the guy on her end with a puff of wind, and I slugged the one on mine. We jumped in the car and took off.”
He stopped to take a breath, shoot a glance her way. She said nothing, so he continued, “She called here, and we were given directions to take Bartlett Road. Thanks to the traffic, we were able to maintain some distance between us and the two SUVs—Suburbans by the look of them—coming after us. When we turned on Bartlett, they followed. We had a good lead before I had to slow down when I saw cars in the through lanes ahead at the light. I moved to the left to pull into the left-turn lane and run the red light.”
He looked straight at her and worked hard to keep the anger out of his voice. “That’s when Irenee threw a lightning bolt at the first SUV. It swerved and slowed, was hit by the second, and ended up in a swamp off to the right side the road. The two men in it got out and climbed into the second vehicle. The Swords showed up, and the other guys beat it. Have we heard from them?”
“Our people in the other Hummer called and said they lost them when they turned east on Golf and crossed Barrington,” Baldwin answered. “Once the lanes expanded from two to four, they sped off, and we didn’t try to keep up—too dangerous for other motorists. We’ve alerted the people we have watching the Finster mansion to see if they show up there.”
“I figure Ubell sent them,” Jim said. “When we left here, I noticed a black Suburban in the road to the subdivision across from the Center’s entrance, and I think it was the same people. Ubell wouldn’t have any reason to know who I am, so they must have been after Irenee. They were probably going to bring me along as a possible bargaining chip.”
His last words brought her gaze back to him. Looking genuinely puzzled, she said, “I thought they were after both of us. Why only me?”
He refrained from pointing out she couldn’t think of everything and didn’t have the experience to think like a bad guy. If it was up to him, she’d never have that kind of knowledge. Instead, he explained, “Our investigations have shown Finster—and we must assume Ubell also—are really sick puppies. In their various criminal activities, nobody crosses them and lives long. I think he’s connected you to the theft of Alton’s piece of the Stone.”
“I concur with your conclusions,” Baldwin said. “The Finsters in general are very difficult to do even legitimate business with. Most practitioners avoid it if possible. How did Ubell find out about Irenee? It was a clean confiscation.”
Jim’s hunch antennae quivered. “You remember the dream I had last night where something was attacking Irenee? She said my description matched the actual fight with Alton’s piece.”
“Yes,” Baldwin nodded. “Fergus told us about your dream. Pity nobody else caught it.”
“Well,” Jim continued, “what if Ubell cast some kind of spell with his Stone, and the spell revealed something about the destruction, and the revelation involved Irenee?”
Irenee picked up his idea. “What if his Stone told Ubell I was the one it was fighting?”
“Wait a minute,” Jim interjected. “Told him? I thought you said you used crystals and stuff to focus, sort of like a telescope or a magnifying glass. What are you telling me? Are these things able to think? They actually communicate with you?”
“The best answer is that we’re not totally certain.” Whipple shook his head unhappily. “Here’s the difficulty. Very few of the really powerful items exist because they are extremely difficult to make in the first place and for a variety of other reasons—necessary size, strength, composition of the item itself, among others. A practitioner must also be a very high level to create one like the Cataclysm Stone. Ninety-nine percent of spell-enhancing instruments of any level are neutral, and only two or three truly good items have come to us through the centuries—probably because there are so few truly good people to make them.”

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