Wilder Mage (13 page)

“More stuff,” he said curtly. He laid the bundle on the table, hesitated, and then turned to her, his eyes black ebony, cool and unemotional. He gestured with one hand. “You might want to look at that.”

Sable shrugged and went to the table. He moved away, shying, as if she might touch him. She wanted to make a fist and slug him, if for no other reason than to see the frozen mask vanish into shock. Instead, she steeled herself and reached for the box, jerking it toward her. Justus took a sharp breath, then clamped his mouth shut. Eyeing his clear uneasiness made her stop and swallow her irritation. She carefully pulled the flaps out, smoothed them down the sides of the box, and peeked inside. Her breath stopped.

Her fit of temper had jostled the packing material to one side, revealing the contents, a large, clear sphere of crystal. She slipped her hands around the ball and tried to pull it from the box, but the bubblewrap was wedged against the sides holding the crystal. A quick shake rattled the box, but it didn’t release.

“Here.” Justus bent and held the bottom of the box still.

“Thanks,” she murmured. His breath brushed her face like a warm feather as she lifted the ball free. Then she was lost in wonder.

It was as big as a soccer ball and made of clear glass, its surface smooth and free of nicks. Not cold, but almost warm, it felt like wax under her fingertips and palms. Mesmerized, she found herself stroking it, caressing the crystal as if it were velvet.

“Neat, huh?” Justus said.

The easy smile he never had for her was on his face.

“I found it in one of the storage rooms in the basement, something I bought a while ago and forgot. You can have it.”

“Have it? Really? It’s mine?”

He nodded and shrugged, tried to regain his don’t-care attitude.

He failed and his grin widened.

She broke her eyes away from his fascinating mouth and that tiny curl at each side of his lips. “Yes, very neat,” she murmured. She stared into the depths of the ball and tried to think of something other than the scent of his body that was so close. “Too bad it doesn’t work.”

“Work? Oh, you mean the crystal ball.”

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging one shoulder, her eyes on the ball instead. It was safer than watching his mouth move.

“Too bad it doesn’t work,” she said again. To her ears, her laugh sounded strained, but he laughed with her. It was startling to hear him, and she concentrated harder on the crystal. “What a shame that magic is only in the mind,” she said lightly.

For a moment, Sable lost herself in that thought. If there were such a thing as crystals with preternatural powers, what she wouldn’t give to wish away her talent. To have no magic, then she could live a normal life. She gave a quick shake of her head and sighed.

When he didn’t reply to her flippant remark, Sable decided Justus was back to his crabby old self. She hazarded a glance, saw he had cocked his head, and knew she was right. He had lost his smile. But then her jaw dropped with his next words.

“Well, let’s see if it works.”

He slipped his hands under the ball and took it away from her. His black eyes narrowed as he held the ball to his face, bending at the waist.

“Stare deeply into the crystal, my child,” Justus said dramatically. “Tell me what you see, and I will interpret.” His voice fell into a sonorous, bass tone.

Sable snickered, her heart suddenly lightened with his strange mood. “Ah, now,” she said. “Surely you don’t believe in magic.”

His face stilled briefly. But in the next moment, she thought she had imagined it when his face changed and he said lightly, “All it takes is faith.”

“Or fate.”

“Fate ain’t got nuthin’ to do with it.”

His words seemed out of place. He nodded to the crystal again. “Look. Tell me what you see.”

“My child.”

“What?”

“You forgot to say ‘my child.’” Sable said.

He smirked as Sable bent closer to the surface of the crystal ball, again marveling at the nearly clear interior of the stone. The workmanship to produce such a thing was beyond her ken.

As she obeyed his command to look deep, she held back another snicker. Drama; she needed some drama here, and Sable reached for the crystal, placing her hands over his.

His hands were warm. She felt a tingle in her fingertips, almost as if she had expended gathered energy. She swallowed hard, but then felt a nervous snicker welling from her throat.

A spark of Fire element would be so inconvenient right now.

Focus, focus
.

In the depths of the crystal, she finally saw something, something black and looking back at her. She could see his eyes, filtered through the clear crystal, returning her gaze with something indecipherable, an emotion or passion she had never seen in his face. She dropped her hands, and he lowered the ball from between them. His eyes were brilliant made of ebony fire, and he was looking at her strangely.

“You should laugh more,” he said roughly. “It suits you.”

Sable opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out, her thoughts a jumbled heap at his words and the way he continued to look at her. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she forgot how to breathe as he leaned down to her, his lips slightly parted.

The high-pitched cry of a child made him jerk back. He sucked in a quick breath and shook his head, as if to clear it. Without looking at her again, he set the crystal ball in the box and turned away.

Her hand caught the edge of the table, gripping it hard to keep from falling.

Sable heard Emmett talking and a man answering from the front room, followed by the sound of a meaty slap.

“Hey now, none of that.” Emmett’s voice was uncharacteristically hard.

An incoherent sound came from Justus as he strode out of the office. She followed him into the front room.

A sour-faced man with skinny wrists held the arm of a small boy, the imprint of the slap just starting to color the child’s cheek. The mother was reaching for the child, her face a mixture of horror and outrage. The man jerked the small child out of her reach.

“He’s tired? All that whining because he’s tired?” he snarled. “I’ll give you tired.” His hand drew back and flattened.

That was all it took for Sable to decide. She reached for her magic, limited though it was. But Sable didn’t have a chance to follow through with her outrage. Faster than she thought possible, Justus’s tall form came between them, and in the next blink of her eyes, he stood with one large hand under the man’s chin, cupping his throat.

“Let him go.” Justus’s voice was soft, but violence was in his face.

The man gulped, opened the hand gripping the child’s arm, and the mother pulled the boy into her arms. The small boy made no sound, but turned to watch the two men. His eyes were huge.

Justus made a small movement, and the man stumbled back, almost falling as he tripped and bumped into display cabinets. He stopped just inside the entrance, turned, and began cursing. But he wasn’t looking at Justus, who stood with narrowed eyes, but at the woman holding the big-eyed child. Justus raised his hand, as if he held a rock, and his arm went back. He glanced at Sable and hesitated.

It was enough to frighten the little man. He turned and fled.

Sable released the breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Wow. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

His black, unreadable eyes turned on her, and she shivered at the fury she saw there. He turned his back to her.

“Are you going to be okay?” Justus asked the woman.

“Yes, thank you.”

The child patted his mother’s arm as if to comfort
her
and not the other way around. While they waited for a friend to pick them up, she informed them that the man was not the child’s father, but a recent acquaintance. They had dated a few times, but now that was over.

“No more,” the woman said, her chin raised and eyes hard.

While they waited for the woman’s friend, Sable saw another side of her taciturn boss, the one who enjoyed a child’s laughter and seemed to delight in the boy’s antics with a box of old—and valuable—antique toy cars. As they left, the boy clutched a blue racecar in one chubby hand and the other waved goodbye over his mother’s shoulder.

Emmett’s cell beeped and he answered. After the initial greeting, he didn’t speak for a moment, just listening.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be right home. Don’t worry till I get there,” Emmett said. He snapped his cell phone shut.

Justus stood in the doorway. “Anything wrong?” he asked.

Emmett brushed his hands together, his face creased into worry. “No, nothing, just…I gotta get home. I mean, right now.” He looked at Sable and hesitated. To Justus, he said, “Look, can you get Sable home? I gotta go, stop and feed the horses, and then drive back to the house right away.”

He seemed unusually rattled, as if his mind was in a computer loop, the information going nowhere.

Justus frowned, laid an arm over Emmett’s shoulder. “Something happen to Maggie? Something at the house?’

Emmett shook his head emphatically. “No, nothing like that. Just…we got a phone call, and…I gotta go. Can you get Sable home, then?”

“Take off, Emmett. I’ll get her home. And don’t worry about the horses. I’ll take care of them, too.”

Emmett nodded, scrubbed one hand over his face, and headed to the door.

Justus took a step, as if to follow. “Emmett, let me know if you need anything. Okay?”

Emmett stopped and looked back, hesitating.

Sable joined Justus, standing at his side. “Same here, Emmett. Anything I can do or—”

“No.” Emmett said firmly. “Not right now, but thanks.” He smiled briefly, turned, and left without speaking again.

Sable watched the concern on Justus’s face as he stood still in thought. When he turned, she tried to interpret his expression, but there was nothing in his face for her to see. Except his mouth. His lips mashed into a hard line.

His eyes came up to hers, and his face smoothed of emotion. Justus half-smiled and nodded to the office. “Did you have anything to shut down or put away?” he asked mildly.

“The computer and printer, I need to shut them down. And I’d like to take my magic crystal ball home,” she said.

His face lost all expression.

“I guess that’s all,” she finished in a low voice.

“Okay, well, I’ll bring the car up.”

After turning off the lights, Sable met him at the entrance, the orb under her arm. The thrum of the car motor sounded loud in her ears as she hesitated on the sidewalk.

“I got the door,” he said. Justus fumbled briefly with the inside lock, and she heard him utter a low curse.

She grinned briefly and slid into the car as he locked the front door. He strode to his side of the car and put it into gear without speaking.

She looked down at her lap and the heavy crystal, her stomach fluttering almost as much as her thoughts. He had almost kissed her in the office. And she was disappointed at the interruption.

And that was nuts.

The connection she felt developing between them could not continue. It was on a road that would lead to the destination she had avoided since becoming aware of her talents. It was intolerable. So why was she upset? She clutched her hands around the box. The darkened car simmered with tension.

Sable threw a quick look at his profile. Highlighted by the passing cars and streetlights, his rippling cheek muscles accentuated his straight nose. He flicked his eyes at her and then back to the road. She sucked in a breath at his eyes. They were as black as the night. Something curled inside her, fighting her for release. She struggled silently to bring the magic under control.

Justus stirred. “Do you mind if we stop to check the horses first? I can park on the street, close to the path, and you can stay in the car.” His voice was rusty again, a disembodied sound from the darkness.

She willed her fingers to relax. “Sure. That works for me,” she said, forcing a light tone.

He nodded, but didn’t answer, and the night passed by her window.

Silence held the occupants of the car in an iron grip; it was like a sentient entity. She continued to wage a soundless battle, but couldn’t keep her eyes from his large hand. It gripped the steering wheel so hard, she marveled that the plastic didn’t crack.

She wondered if the journey would ever end. A portion of her wished it never would.

Justus glanced down at her twisting fingers, then back at the road. She plucked a speck of lint off her jeans, then commanded her hands to still.

He slowed and stopped on the dark street, pointing to a line of trees along the edge of the roadway. An opening in the trees showed a darkened path running into the shadows. The streetlights shone on the roads, but in the trees, the night ruled.

“There,” he said. “The path leads to the back pasture. Their house is straight on.”

She nodded, avoided looking at him, and opened her door.

“Here, wait. I’ll feed the horses. You stay here.”

“No, I’ll walk to the house from there. I’ve done it many times.”

He started to protest, but Sable ignored him, tucked the ball under one arm, and bumped the door shut with her hip. She started up the path with him now trailing her. The crystal was awkward and heavy in her arms.

“Let me carry it,” he said.

“No, I’m okay.”

She heard him mutter irritably under his breath.

Sable shifted the ball into one arm and stepped off the path.

“Here, I’ll do it.” Justus’s voice was rough.

He brushed past her in a rustle of spent seed heads from the tall grass of the pasture. She heard the soft whicker of one of the horses as she stepped toward the fence. A small shed sat to one side with bales of brome and alfalfa hay, the aromas still of warm sun and summer. One of the horses snorted softly, but Justus spoke soothingly, and the other horse nickered, shouldering the other one aside to get to the fence first. Justus stretched one long arm into the mound of bales, curled his fingers around the twine, and yanked it to him. In one swift movement, he raised his knee and hefted the bale lightly over the fence. He climbed the rails and jumped in with the horses.