Wilder Mage (34 page)

“As a
tener unus
?” Dayne said.

Justus nodded. “Magic roars to life when a potential wizard is forced. It tears the mind to shreds as it manifests and leaves nothing of the person behind. Their morals, personality, values—all gone, devoured by the sentient magic.”

He ignored Dayne’s gasp and opened the car door when Macy stopped the car. He waved at her when she started to get out from behind the driver’s side. “Nah, go ahead and take me home, if you don’t mind.” He got into the back seat.

Dayne took the passenger side by Macy and turned to face Justus. “She was raped then.” His tone was flat. “Before she came into her magic.”

Macy jerked around to stare at her husband.

Justus didn’t answer for a while. He crossed his arms, putting his fisted hands on his sides. “You are right, Macy. She is insane, but she usually hides it well,” Justus said.

It was quiet in the car then, each concerned with their thoughts. Justus gripped his shirt in his fists.

“Let me off in front of the shop. I have another pickup if you want to take this back to wherever you are staying.”

Dayne cleared his throat. “Probably better find a different place now. At least until we can get a read on our position in this mess.”

“Maggie’s house. Go stay there. They won’t be back for a few weeks.”

Dayne looked at Macy, and she nodded. “Okay, that is where we will be.”

Justus stood on the curb in front of his shop and watched the car until it rounded the corner and was gone. Then he unlocked his front door, took two steps in, and closed it. That took every bit of strength he had left. As he leaned against the doorframe, his heart still pounded and the vestige of the terrible pain was in his head.

He lifted his fisted hands and mashed his mouth into a hard line at the sight of his still-trembling fingers. He fumbled for the ward stone around his neck, pulling the black chain out of his shirt.

The muddy-colored stone hadn’t changed in appearance, but the difference wasn’t the color or shape of the stone.

Like the scratches on his forearm from the Spirit element, the stone was ice cold.

Chapter Twenty-Five

J
ustus decided a bar was a hell of a place to plan strategy, especially with a teenager playing a video game on one of his units. Even the hunters were less than helpful.

His locating magic had failed him. It had not found Sable, and his frustration mounted with his gnawing fear.

Always before, his magic had complied with his wishes, and sometimes uniquely so. The soap-bubble magic was the result of a wish. It had surprised him when it formed the first time, a guardian made of Air and Water. After it shivered to life, it had appeared to his eyes as fragile as a bubble. But another mage moved through the invisible surface, and it burst without leaving a trace of magic.

Now the magic refused to follow his will, no matter how strong his desire to find Sable. He formed the need, sent a tendril of Air to search for her signature, and as always since the day Justus had lost Sable to Tiarra, the magic curled in confused spirals, then dispersed without seeking the one he wanted.

With the last snarky laugh of an electronic villain, Bert grumbled and turned from the game console. “So Wesley took Sable. Amazing, since he’s kind of a social fruitfly. He barely has enough skills to get by in the human world.”

Dayne threw a sour look at Justus. “This isn’t right, talking to this kid. He’s already too far into our business.”

“Too bad, so sad. You need to get over it.” Bert began spinning the barstool. “So, she’s got her. What’s the worst she can do? She won’t, like…hurt her, will she?”

Justus shifted his weight away from the bar and reached for a white towel to polish the bar. “No, I don’t think that’s her plan.” He nodded at Dayne and Macy. “They would know more.”

Dayne clenched his teeth, obviously refusing to answer the teen. Justus curled his mouth into a silent snarl as he noted the hunter’s stubbornness. He flipped a finger out and arrowed the water from a glass sitting on the bar toward Dayne. It splashed against the hunter’s face with a thunk.

Oh, right…ice cubes, oops
.

Dayne gasped and jumped up, shouting. The hunter’s eyes narrowed, his mouth set in an angry line. For a brief moment, Justus remained impassive, returning Dayne’s hard look. But a sudden flight of energy left a glittering trail between them, like a flock of hummingbirds.

Justus stood slowly.

“You need to man up, hunter.” Justus’s voice was low. “You need to drop the attitude and learn to control your emotions.”

Dayne took a step toward him, his face florid, Fire in his hand. Justus heard someone’s sharp gasp, but he couldn’t afford to look at Macy or Bert to see which one it was.

“Do you really believe you can take me, Hunter?” Justus asked, his voice still soft. “Are you stronger? Faster? Have all five elements that you can use?”

Dayne paused and his mouth tightened.

“Let me ask you something. What are you feeling right now? Is it frustration? Anger? What is it?”

The hunter licked his lips and then turned to his wife. Macy’s pale face contrasted oddly with her burgundy nail polish.

“Your emotions... You have heightened awareness of your emotions, right? They are stronger, more intense. Sharper. And difficult to control,” Justus said.

“This is what you feel? All the time?” Dayne’s voice was harsh. He kept his gaze on Macy.

She stood and held out her hand. The hunter slid his hand into hers and looked down at the twined fingers, keeping his attention on their hands instead of Justus.

“You learn to fight it, control it,” Justus said. “Bury the worst and use it. Magic is a part of it, maybe even the source of it, I don’t know.”

“Bonding with Tiarra has something to do with filtering the effect,” Macy said quietly. “Her influence shields us.”

“Or holds you back.”

The quiet voice from the area of the bar made him swivel to stare at the teen. Bert’s face was unusually somber. “Everything has to learn control, whether it’s a human, a wizard, or the animals. Humans and wizards because otherwise, it’d be wall-to-wall crazies on the streets. And animals because they gotta eat,” Bert said. He shrugged. “Ultimately, it grows character. Or so they say.” The teen’s snarky face returned. “At least, that’s what my mom tells me all the time.”

“But the bond keeps us from turning the world into chaos, this damping of emotions. You can’t have wizards popping off, blasting anything they want just because they’re pissed at something,” Dayne said. He still wouldn’t meet Justus’s eyes. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing,” he continued, but with less conviction.

“Hey, dude, that’s where the Imperium steps in, cuffs the wiz, and reads him the standard ops,” Bert said. He slid off the barstool.

Dayne gave Bert an even look, and Macy started laughing.

“Oh, Dayne, settle, please.” Macy couldn’t completely stifle the chuckles. “It doesn’t really matter. What’s done is done. Bert seems trustworthy enough.”

It was Bert’s turn to roll his eyes.

“And maybe he can help somehow,” she continued.

Dayne muttered. “Yeah, like two days after forever…”

Justus stirred. “I wanted to tell you about the emotional impact of magic without Tiarra’s bonding, but didn’t want to get you upset.”

“I am so glad you managed to almost do that,” the hunter half-growled.

“So okay, what’s the worst case ever?” Bert said.

“She turns Sable,” Dayne said reluctantly.

“And uses her against him,” Macy said, gesturing toward Justus. “Then it is—”

“Game over,” Bert said. He cupped his chin in one hand, tapping his long fingers on his jaw. “I betcha Sable keeps her head covered and doesn’t let her emotions get away from her. No way she lets this
biotch
change her. Turn her. Whatever. I bet Sable has her about ready to circle back and give it another try.”

Macy was nodding, but Dayne didn’t seem so sure. The hunter looked hard at Bert. “You know about the turning of her too, huh?” Dayne said, disgusted.

Bert shrugged. “Like I said before I was so rudely interrupted, I bet she’s being a total pain.”

Dayne barked a laugh. “I would not call Tiarra simply a ‘pain.’”

Bert was shaking his head. “Not talkin’ about the witch.”

She clenched her teeth into a silent sneer, but when Tiarra’s eyes glimmered with hope, Sable cooled her emotions, tamping them into submission again. Testing, always looking for the chink in her mental shield of will.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sable said. She lifted her chin. “Having this talent isn’t what I call a gift anyway. It’s crap. I never wanted it.”

“Magic has a mind of its own. One way or another, it will erupt,” Tiarra said mildly.

She brushed Sable’s cheek with the back of cool fingers before Sable could jerk away. The woman’s cheeks turned deep red, and her eyes hardened. Indecipherable emotions chased across her face before disappearing. Anger, Sable thought, but something else as well, chilling her senses. She fought to control her face. But most of the time, Tiarra read her expressions accurately. As she did now. The woman nodded with a sliver of a smile on her painted lips.

In a suite bigger than most houses, Sable sneered inwardly at the luxury of the furnishings, opulent to the point of vulgarity. The mauve room smelled of the perfect roses on the table by the foyer, the scent like that of a funeral and death. The polished surfaces of tabletops gleamed with the cold indifference of service staff paid to keep it that way.

Her captor ignored the soft knock on the door of the large apartment. Tiarra’s hooded eyes didn’t move from Sable’s face.

“It will take you, little one,” Tiarra whispered. “Eventually.”

Sable leveled an even look at her.

“Enter,” Tiarra said louder.

The door opened and the footsteps hesitated just inside the room. “Excuse me. Where would you like the refreshments?”

Tiarra shifted her gaze to the glass-topped coffee table between them and gestured with lithe fingers. “There.”

Experience told Sable that release from the predator’s stare gave no relief from the silent battle, not when Tiarra’s smile widened as it did now.

The assistant, Sable’s personal servant, slid the enameled tray across the table. The tray squealed across the polished glass surface, parting the unseen battlefield.

Tiarra’s smile tightened. Languidly, she sat back and extended her arm. In another tiny screech, the fluted crystal left the tray to glide into her open hand. Unlike the fears caroming around in her belly, Sable noted the effervescent liquid didn’t slosh against the sides of the glassware. Tiarra sipped from the thin crystal edge, her eyes on Sable.

“Taz tells me you can see the magic,” Tiarra said. The assistant started, but Sable didn’t look at her. “Is that not so? Very rare. Do you know, even I do not have that ability?”

Slit, predator eyes sought to trap Sable in their gaze. Peripherally, she was aware of Taz’s reaction, the small shake of her head.

Sable lifted her chin. “Is that so? Can’t see ’em, huh? I gotta say, sucks to be you, don’t it?”

The flash of anger across Tiarra’s face was her reward. Sable tipped her head. It was her turn to smile. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look all kinds of constipated right now. Maybe you need a dose of prune juice in that glass, do you think?”

Clinically, Sable watched for the woman’s reaction, anticipating she would snap the delicate crystal stem in stiffened fingers. But Tiarra didn’t break the stemware. Her reaction was at once more chilling, frightening to Sable when Tiarra’s face went blank, eyes unfocused. It was the look of an entity without a soul, alien.

The door to the suite opened, and a male adept entered. He did not look at Sable. “Ma’am? Three of the security team have reported and been interrogated as ordered. They sustained minor injuries, but nothing permanent.”

“Pity.” Tiarra sipped again from the crystal.

The assistant licked his lips and continued. “They all say the same thing: They were incapacitated by this rogue wizard, and the Imperator was gone when they came to. He was participating in the fight, giving as good as he got, but the wild mage took them all on, and they don’t know what happened to him, other than he disappeared.”

The assistant took a breath and waited. It was as if Tiarra was the only one in the room. He ignored Sable and Taz.

Tiarra pursed her mouth. “They will recover, you say?”

He nodded, and Sable saw he was beginning to sweat.

“My Imperator is missing. And his wife as well. There has been no word, no touch of their signature by anyone?”

“No, mistress,” he said and swallowed noisily. “We have other mages in the area now, but they feel nothing.”

Without speaking, Tiarra set the glass on the tray and stood to leave, motioning for the man to pass through the entrance before her. As Tiarra walked through the open door of the apartment, Sable saw mages pause in their duties like a strobe light freezing all movement into a single frame.

Tiarra turned with a smile that held no warmth. “Enjoy what is left of your day.”