Obsidian Magic (Legacy Series Book 2) Read online

  “Come in.”

  Gareth peeked his head in and then the rest of him. “My history with the Guardians of Order really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  I shook my head; he frowned and sighed. “Do we need to go over the whole ‘I can hear the changes in breathing, voice cadence, respiration, and heart rate’ thing again?”

  “Yeah. But it’s my issue, not yours.”

  “It’s mine. You want to know how I could do such a thing?”

  “No.” I lied.

  A look of disappointment settled on his face. He crossed his arms and rested back against the wall. His eyes went to my wet hair. “It really fits you.”

  “No, it doesn’t. You’re eroticizing the whole idea of a Tracker and Legacy together. It’s a forbidden fruit thing. Will they? Won’t they? A made-for-TV movie scenario.”

  He chuckled. “I think they will.”

  And if by chance I ever forget how arrogant you are—you remind me within seconds.

  Gareth’s moving with the grace of a skilled fighter and predator hadn’t bothered me as much when he was just the head of the SG and a member of the Magic Council. Now it did when I thought about him as a Tracker. I suspected he sensed it, too.

  He studied me for a long moment, and when he spoke, his tone was softer, regretful. “I was younger, self-involved and naïve, and I wanted to make a difference. I grew up hearing about the Cleanse and how it changed the world and that some still suspected there were more Legacy that existed. You weren’t faces, you were an ideology: good versus evil. But it’s never that simple, and when you’re young, discerning those things is difficult. My parents would have killed me if they knew, and I was there for two years.”

  “Is it set up the way I imagined, with complex computers and data, cross searches of information and sightings?” I’d always pictured it as just a bunch of overzealous fake army guys in someone’s bunker or basement.

  His lips contorted to the side as he considered my question in an uncomfortable silence. Was I making him relive a part of his past that he wasn’t particularly proud of? But he had an updated dossier, which meant he still had ties with them in some way.

  “Something like that. There is a database, along with the dossier I showed you. Computers can be hacked, so they keep paper copies as well.” Gareth pushed himself up from the wall and then took a seat next to me, holding my gaze, his shifter ring seeming to glint a little more than usual. “Ask your question, Anya.”

  “Don’t call me that.” I wasn’t sure why it was a problem. It had been my name until I was five and the first time a Tracker found us. We’d moved to a new city, changed our names, and continued donning the walnut coloring on all our heads. Being out wasn’t as freeing as it should have been. I jerked out of reach when he extended his hand to touch my hair. Quickly pulling his hand back, he stood, keeping his eyes on me the whole time as he made his way back to the wall to lean against it once again.

  “Tell me what’s bothering you. Do you not trust me?”

  “I trust—” I stopped abruptly. I didn’t need the whole “I can tell when you are lying” speech. “No. I don’t. I can’t stop thinking about what exactly drove you to join the Trackers.”

  Relaxing into the wall, he thought for a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was soft. “No one sees images of you or thinks of people like you when we think of your kind, especially shifters. It doesn’t sit well with us, immune to magic, to have someone who defies the laws of magic as we know it.”

  “Animancers can,” I offered.

  “I’ve never met one. I’m sure they exist, but I’ve never met one, and one hasn’t used his magic against me. And until the other day, I’ve never had magic used against me.” In weighted silence he began to walk the length of the room, looking around it. I wondered if he was comparing our modest space to his. My room was half the size of his guest room, and while he seemed to be drawn to neutral and darker colors, I assumed because it reminded him of the forest, my walls were a light yellow. The light beechwood furniture complemented it and made it a little brighter. I didn’t like the dark, so there was always a light or the TV on. Sometimes I would light a candle like the one that flickered now, filling the room with a light cucumber-melon scent.

  Gareth kept pacing. I waited patiently for him to continue speaking, but his attention had drifted off to the window behind me. “Legacy killed a lot of our family and friends. It’s hard to forget even when dealing with you. I know that you all aren’t like that, but I can’t help but wonder, where was the resistance when the idea was proposed? Why didn’t they warn us? They didn’t do anything until it was too late.”

  The guilt was always there; it wasn’t mine to bear and yet it weighed me down as though it was my burden. “I didn’t do it. Don’t try to make me feel guilty about it.”

  He inhaled and blew out a slow breath and shook off the morose mood that the topic had put him in. “We had a big win today, let’s celebrate. Let’s get a drink.”

  I nearly said yes until I glanced in the mirror. I needed to color my hair. “I can’t.” I pointed to the flame-colored tresses.

  “Wear a hat,” he suggested. He grabbed the one he’d loaned me that was on the dresser. He put it on my head and it dropped low, covering the top part of my face, looking as ridiculous as it had the other day when I’d worn it.

  “Maybe another time.”

  “Change it now, I’ll wait. I just need to get out.”

  Had I at any point asked him to stay? He was free to leave. I was confused.

  A lazy mischievous smile played at his lips. “We could do other things to distract us.” He glanced at my bed.

  “You can’t be proud of that one?” I scoffed, coming to my feet, and as I passed him, I jabbed my elbow into his side.

  “Actually, I am a little. Your face is now the same color as your hair,” he teased.

  I slammed that bathroom door. One look at my cheeks and I knew he was right. Why the hell do I keep letting him get to me like this?

  We went to a shifter bar, which was interesting. I’d only visited two. I liked vodka, usually straight. Until I saw the bottle my shot had come out of, I was convinced it was grain alcohol. Gareth laughed at my second attempt to take the shot and left the small booth we were sitting in. He returned with two more glasses and put them in front of me.

  “This should suit your delicate palate.”

  “I drink vodka straight—there isn’t anything delicate about my palate,” I said, grabbing a few fries off the large plate in front of me. In a vamp bar I was always leery that I was what was really on the menu, but in a shifter bar I had to figure out how to avoid getting alcohol poisoning. Shifters’ fast metabolisms meant two things: the alcohol would be strong, and there was always food available. No one wanted to be around a hungry shifter. You wanted to make sure they weren’t going to chase you down and make you food.

  Gareth leaned into me, his lips brushing against my ear. “Sorry we have to talk like this, but we are in a room full of shifters.” He kept his lips pressed against my ear too long and I could see the curve of his smile out of my peripheral vision.

  “I have just the thing.” I scooted over and dug in my purse, grabbed my phone, and then my fingers moved quickly over the keys. His phone buzzed and he looked me.

  “You can stop breathing that hot air on my ear and just text.”

  He grinned and slid his phone away from him. “I’m good.” He moved over, putting a few inches between us as he regarded me for a long time. I suspected he wanted me to get a look at what I was turning down. And it was something to look at, as much as I wanted to deny it. He had a masculine beauty that was hard to ignore, and the more I was around him, the more obvious it was. I so wanted to believe that the carnal energy that existed between us was purely because he was a shifter. Being around them awakened a primal urge that was otherwise dormant, right? And the reason my eyes were fixed on his lips was because his tongue kept running over them. Right?

>   He leaned in and spoke with the ever-present self-assured lilt in his voice. “Okay, no more flirting. When you try to seduce me, I think I will let you.”

  I sneered at him. “At any point before you speak, do you think about what you say?”

  With a mocking grin that make his eyes brighten with amusement, he said, “Alright, Levy, you win. All business.” He shifted into the table but kept the distance between us and spoke in a low voice. I had to really lean into the table but refused to move closer to him. “We have four daggers we need to find, do you have any idea how to do it?”

  Oh, we’re back to business. Rightfully so. We should have been back to business; we were just two people who had a common goal—mine was to restore the reputation of the Legacy and eventually be safe now that I’d been outed, and his was to protect the supernatural world and make sure the Cleanse didn’t happen again.

  I stayed stretched across the table. He could hear me, but he spoke lower and lower each time, and eventually he was just a murmur over the noise. I looked around; most people weren’t paying attention. As at the vamp bar, the shifter bar had its share of fangirls and boys, and they weren’t hiding behind the flimsy excuse that shapeshifters ignited something carnal and rapacious in them. They came to the bar with the fuse in hand and handed their desired shifter a match. On the dance floor, many of the people and shifters were distracting and possibly breaking some decency laws.

  At least Gareth attempted to control the grin when I slid closer to him. He took a sip from his glass. Bourbon was what he’d ordered, but it smelled just like the grainy alcohol I’d had earlier.

  “Now, how difficult was that?”

  Pride doesn’t taste like chicken, I can tell you that for damn sure.

  “I can try to find them. But if Conner keeps blocking them, I might not be able to.”

  “He’ll be distracted,” Gareth offered.

  He was probably right. Conner would be distracted trying to figure out how to get the others out. “We have people guarding the place we sealed his followers in at all times. He’ll show up, and the best thing will be to look for them then.”

  “We just wait?” I liked to be proactive. Waiting for a sociopath to strike and break out his sociopath friends didn’t seem like a good plan. “I would like to try at least once. If he blocks it, then fine, but at least let me try.”

  He nodded slowly and took another drink. He waved for the waitress and lifted my shot glass, letting her know he wanted to order two more shots. He drew attention to my peach glass, I assumed making sure she knew to bring alcohol acceptable for human consumption.

  “But tonight, we eat, drink, and see if Levy actually knows how to have a good time.”

  “Drinks and nothing else.”

  “Of course. With your attitude, I’m not going to let you see me naked. Now you’re going to have to work for it.”

  I laughed. “Or I could just drive past Forest Township on any given day, where I’m likely to see your ass or some other shifter’s.” If you hadn’t had lessons on general human anatomy, you could drive through that area anytime and were sure to get a crash course. “Why can’t shifters deal with clothes? It’s weird.”

  “Most people don’t have a problem with it, why do you? They’re just bodies. We see them all the time.”

  I wondered how long it had taken after the alliance for people to get used to seeing a naked shifter walking across the street as often as they saw a deer grazing on the side of the road. It had to be quite a sight at first, seeing one in human form, walking around naked without the good sense of shame afforded to others.

  After several more drinks, I had enough liquid courage in me to ask Gareth about Savannah. I suspected that a couple of the shots the server had brought weren’t human specialty drinks. I told him about Savannah being approached by the Councils, and he didn’t seem surprised by it at all. It was requesting that he discuss her being under the Shifter Council that seemed to shock him.

  “This is something she wants?” he asked, surprised.

  “We think it will be best.” I didn’t like debts, and this seemed like a hefty one I was incurring, requesting it. “Kalen and I were discussing you—”

  His brow rose and a half-grin played at his lips. “You were discussing me?”

  “Yes, I told him that you had to get your mommy to get you a reservation at Antonio’s, and he couldn’t believe that you didn’t have the clout to do it yourself. It was shocking.”

  Chuckling, he looked took another sip from his glass and sat back in his chair. “You and Kalen were discussing me and then …”

  This guy.

  I wasn’t going to take the bait. I ignored him and continued. “We figured it would be better coming from you. I don’t see why she has to be under any Council, but apparently she has to.”

  “Encountering someone like that is so rare, whether she can really be considered a supernatural is definitely a gray line. I do believe she has a case to be neutral.” Taking another long draw from his glass, he looked down at it once he set it on the table. “On second thought, I think her being under the Shapeshifter Council is a better idea. I think it will be the best case for Savannah.”

  “Thank you. I owe you one.”

  With a dismissive cast of his hand, he said, “You owe me nothing. I don’t mind doing this if it will ensure that Savannah is safe. We definitely owe her a thanks. That explains why you had that look on your face when we asked her to help. I should have considered that. I’m sorry.”

  It was nearly one in the morning when Gareth dropped me off at home. When I opened the door, all I could think was Yeah, this is about how my life is right now. Lucas was shirtless in our kitchen, his blond hair disheveled. His lips kinked into a devious smile as I stared at him. He probably thought I was taking in his sinewy, sleek frame, the lean striations of muscle that ran along his chest, arms, and abs, which I was. Besides wondering if vamps spent the day doing crunches, I couldn’t take my eyes off the glass in his hands. Seeing a half-naked vampire in my kitchen, drinking my orange juice may have been one of the strangest things I’d seen, and my life was a string of strange things. He relaxed back against the counter, easing into his smile, as if he was doing me a favor by giving me a full view of himself. He put the glass down.

  Before I could speak, he brought his fingers to his lips. “She’s sleeping. She’s had a trying night.”

  I really didn’t need to know that. He responded to the confused look on my face. “She met with the Councils a couple of hours ago.”

  Why had she done that without me? What had happened? Why had she had a trying night?

  Before I could pepper him with the many questions going through my head, he went to the fridge and placed the juice back in. Momentarily distracted, I just couldn’t leave it unasked. “How are you drinking juice?”

  “Levy, with my mouth of course.” He shot a grin in my direction.

  Now the hot zombie is a comedian, too.

  “I know with your mouth. But I didn’t think you could drink or eat.”

  He pulled back his lips, exposing fangs. “I have these, so of course I can eat. We can’t survive on human food, and most things taste funny to us, so we don’t bother, but I like juice.”

  I laughed. I didn’t know what about the most powerful vampire in the city, maybe even the country, expounding upon his love for juice tickled me—but it did. And that coaxed a weird look from him.

  “You are quite peculiar, aren’t you?”

  Any other time I would have pointed out that most people would have considered him far more peculiar than I was. Even though most of his mannerisms and speech were modern, certain things he did dated him, like the fact that him being shirtless in my kitchen was the only time I’d seen him out of a suit. Which reminded me again that I was in my kitchen with a half-naked vampire.

  Several minutes had passed and I still couldn’t find the right way to ask why he didn’t have a shirt on.

  “Why did
Savannah meet with the Councils tonight?”

  “She was quite distracted,” he offered.

  That didn’t answer the question. It was then that I remembered that he was the Master of the city and probably unaccustomed to being questioned and definitely not used to follow-up questions from us mere mortals. But I couldn’t make sense out of “she was distracted.” He’d most likely never seen her with a book—the world ceased to exist to her. I was used to Savannah being distracted.

  “She was distracted, and …?”

  He shrugged. “She seemed worried and distracted by meeting with them. I sought to ease her discomfort and requested that the meeting occur sooner rather than later. They met with her; some were curious about her skill and she exhibited it. It was tiring for her because she is still a novice at it.” Calling her holding someone’s hand a skill was really taking creative license, but once again I kept my mouth shut. I focused instead on the most important part of the information: she’d met with them, and I was sure it had gone better with Lucas there than it would have with me accompanying her. Hot zombie was slowly moving up the list toward being one of my favorite people. Now if I could figure out where his shirt was and why he wasn’t making an effort to go find it and put it on….

  “Why don’t the vampires have a Council?”

  He scoffed and frowned as the word council rolled over his tongue with exceptional disdain. “We existed before trivial things like ‘organizations’ and ‘councils’ came into being, and I refuse to reduce myself to it. I have chosen for the vampires to be excluded from such frivolity—we remain a Seethe. They believe it to be equivalent to what they refer to as a council.”

  “You get to circumvent the rules of having a Council because you’re old. I think skirting rules and expectations with excuses like that only works for grandmas and grandpas.”

  He laughed. “You are indeed a delight, Ms. Olivia Michaels. A true delight. I see why Gareth is so taken by you.” Then he leaned in and inhaled.

  That’s not creepy and weird at all, Lucas.