Obsidian Magic (Legacy Series Book 2) Page 4

  “Okay, is that a real thing or did you just not want to call them the Terrible Triplets, because I think it has a nice ring to it.”

  His mood was too dour to be lifted with my lame attempt at a joke. “They are very real. As real as the Legacy and the Vertu. Mages—stronger than even high-level mages. It’s not them performing dark magic—they are it. There are a few of them; most chose not to do magic and made an agreement with the Council to be ironed so that they couldn’t. They weren’t forced to do it, they agreed on their own. I can’t perform magic, I know very little about the need to use it all the time, but apparently, that is true for some.”

  “Not really. I can and I don’t have a desire.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can die if I do.” It felt odd to admit it to him. Gareth moved his hand closest to me off the console of the car and then rested it on my leg. I didn’t ask him to move it but I was very aware of it.

  “I think that something can be worked out for you. I need to discuss it with the Magic Council.”

  “Don’t do that!” I blurted.

  He looked surprised. “Why?”

  I just couldn’t explain why. My kind were responsible for the Cleanse, how could they trust me? It didn’t help my case that when I’d had the chance to disclose it and possibly work out an arrangement, I hadn’t. I wasn’t in a good position to expect them to trust me.

  “Just not now.”

  “If it’s a trust issue, just agree to be braced with iron for a while. We can make it as small as we need to and nearly undetectable.”

  “Iron doesn’t affect my magic.”

  “I know. We need iridium. We don’t need to totally disable your magic, just weaken it enough so that if things get out of hand, we have a fighting chance of subduing you if we need to.”

  Subdue. I really hated that word. And the amount of iridium they would need me to wear to subdue me would leave me unable to function in general. I didn’t tell him that. I just didn’t want him to know everything about me if he didn’t already know it.

  “For now, will you just keep this between us?”

  Moments stretched, he spent more time glancing at me than looking at the road. The indigo shifter ring seemed darker and more defined as his eyes constricted to look at me. The tension and concern he’d had about the Maxwells seemed to now be directed at me. I’d never doubted that Gareth had gotten his position because he was as assiduous as he was dangerous, and at the moment, those qualities weren’t in my favor.

  “I’m not hiding anything,” I offered.

  “I didn’t say you were” was his terse response as we pulled up in front of the Guild. I kept my sai in hand. I wasn’t sure why it comforted me more to have them with me with Gareth, but it did.

  “This requires my attention. We can finish our conversation later. I will pick you up at eight.”

  He said it with such command that for a brief moment I felt like I couldn’t say no, and I didn’t. It wasn’t until I was several feet from my car that I stopped. Wait a minute. He didn’t even ask?

  “I have plans tonight. I can meet with you tomorrow in the morning.”

  He stopped, amused. “Plans? Well, you’ll have to change them. Tell him?” He waited for me to confirm—I didn’t. He relaxed into his smile; swathed in arrogance that seemed to be uniquely his, he chuckled. “Well, I’m confident that you will make the right choice about who you’d rather spend time with. Me, the head of the Supernatural Guild and member of the Magic Council who really has a lot of important things he needs to discuss with you, or some random.”

  “That sounds a lot like blackmail.”

  The devilish grin didn’t falter as he turned and headed toward the door. “It’s not blackmail, it’s just strategic bargaining.”

  Hmm. Strategic bargaining sounds a lot like blackmail.

  CHAPTER 2

  When I arrived at work Kalen’s face contorted into a look of utter derision and disgust as he gave me an assessing look. We didn’t look like we were going to the same job. He was dressed in a pair of blue slacks, a white shirt, and a dark gray jacket that contrasted with his blond hair. The look of derision made his exceptionally regal demeanor haughtier as he turned his hooked nose on me.

  “I really must implement a dress code. Maybe that will stop you from coming to work like this.” He made a dramatic openhanded gesture over my attire.

  “Maybe, I’ll stop coming period if the work environment keeps being so hostile. It’s work, not a runway,” I responded, mocking his look of disdain. I turned my lips up at him. “Perhaps I don’t want to work with such a snob.”

  He scoffed. “Snob. I don’t think so.” I was about to get the mantra. The long soliloquy about him denying his inheritance in favor of the struggle of the common man starting up a business. He didn’t seem to grasp the concept that the “common man” never used that term. And when I pointed that out, I had to listen to his perceived struggle that was nothing more than the out-of-touch rantings of a trust fund kid. But I listened, with a placid smile, keeping one-fifth of my opinions to myself while I attempted to keep my eyes from rolling out of my head.

  In the middle of his monologue, someone knocked on the door. The first thing we saw was thick coils of blue and black ombré hair and then a familiar face peeked in.

  “Hi,” Blu said as she entered the room.

  “Wow, now that’s what I’m talking about.” And once again I was treated to another one of Kalen’s looks as his gaze rolled over my pink Converses and up to my dark blue jeans that had a few rips at the thigh but actually looked more on trend as opposed to jeans that were on their last legs. Then it darted to my plaid button-down that was rolled up to midforearm. He even glanced at my neck and ears, which were jewelry-less, in his eyes the ultimate fashion sin. Last year for Christmas he’d given me a pair of earrings and a locket, which I’d worn for a couple of weeks but eventually stopped. If he’d noticed, he hadn’t commented.

  Blu, on the other hand, looked like she was late for the catwalk. “Her jeans are ripped, too,” I pointed out with a smirk. And they were. Fitted black jeans hugged her curves. White tank top, adorned by a long multicolored necklace that had a hint of color that matched her burgundy and black jacket. And even I had to admire her boots. Each time I’d met her, she was dressed in a unique and fashionable outfit. I was mostly indifferent to it, but Kalen was clearly impressed with her. His smile widened as she stepped closer.

  “Ah,” he said as he brushed his hand over the jacket and then tapped on her bracelets. “I do believe we have a fan of Betsey Johnson.”

  She looked down at his hand, seemingly unaffected by his invasion of her personal space, something about Kalen that most people found off-putting. The sharply defined features, wide supple looks, and gentle silver eyes that accompanied his aristocratic appearance afforded him more leniency than the average person Blu seemed flattered by his appreciation.

  “No, a local designer. A friend that I went to high school with. He’s having a show next week, you should go.” And as Kalen took lithe, measured steps around her, taking in her whole appearance, he nodded at her suggestion. I ignored the conversation as they began to speak a language that I didn’t understand—fashionista. A language I adamantly refused to learn despite Kalen’s constant insistence.

  I’d zoned out, focusing on the terrible triplets and the destruction that lay in their wake. Everything that had happened lately I linked to the Vertu—to Conner. If the wind felt a little coarse, I attributed it to him even though I wasn’t sure whether he could control the weather. Most of my life I’d lived thinking that the Legacy had this omnipotent power—that we were all-powerful—but the fabric of that reality had been torn so easily once I’d found out about the existence of the Vertu. Legacy paled in comparison to them. And Conner wanted to do the Cleanse over, to get rid of all the other supernaturals and have a world of just humans, Vertu, and Legacy. There were a few humans that agreed with his draconian views—I bel
ieved they were victims of blissful ignorance. And some of them were part of Humans First.

  Blu obviously didn’t have the undying love for fashion that would lead her to discuss it for hours on end. Eventually she redirected him back to the purpose of the visit.

  “The Hearth Stone, what is your asking price?” She hadn’t wasted any time coming to purchase it once I’d told her that we had acquired one. It was a powerful stone giving witches the ability to use ancestral magic.

  Kalen went to one of the storage cabinets and pulled it out and extended it to her. She examined it, and the wistful look and desire she evidenced weren’t going to work to her advantage if she planned to negotiate. She wanted it and there wasn’t any doubt. Of the various stones that we’d encountered in our job, this one was a deep granite color, purer than the others, which were often a muted gray. And it was noticeably heavier. Something Blu seemed to notice as well, which only seemed to spur her desire. It shadowed her pleasant features and I saw something in her that I hadn’t before—a lust for power. It was the first time that I’d questioned Blu and her intentions, but I always questioned the motives behind enhanced power. Some people believed that increased power led to the desire for more of it. It was the undoing of my kind.

  I marked my concerns as paranoia because Kalen didn’t seem to possess any, and he was often just as cautious as I was.

  “How much?” she asked, her deep brown eyes fixed on the stone. She pulled them away to meet our gazes for a moment before directing her attention back to it. The stone looked innocuous, but I’d learned over the years that sometimes those were the most dangerous things. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how strong she was. I’d first met her in the company of Gareth, and perhaps his intensity had masked her power. I should have expected her to be a force to be reckoned with—after all, Gareth had trusted her to retrieve memories that were magically stolen when I was set up for murder. And now with the magic wafting off Blu joining that which Kalen gave off, I found myself feeling stifled by the strong waves of it that inundated the room.

  I had a moment of pause as I considered how dangerous the Hearth Stone could be in the hands of someone as powerful as Blu.

  Kalen handed her an invoice.

  She frowned. “I didn’t expect it to be that much,” she admitted in a low voice.

  “I’m sorry.” I inched toward her, ready to take the stone back. Before I could, Kalen stepped closer to her.

  “How about we make a deal?” He suggested an amount a third less than the asking price. “In addition, you’ll have to get me into that designer’s show, and I would like you to make us ten protection amulets.” Protection amulets were little crystals of unimpressive magic that the witches sold to humans for an exorbitant price. They were more flash and lovely impressive colors than anything else. But they sold well. They weren’t something we typically carried, but I doubted we’d have any problem selling them.

  She quickly accepted the offer, handing over the money and agreeing to bring the amulets in a week. She thanked him, taking his hand in one of hers and covering it with the other. It lasted longer than I expected and seemed to cross the line of professionalism rather quickly.

  “I still want the agreed-upon thirty percent of the initial value of the stone. I didn’t agree to give her the ‘pretty fashionista’ discount,” I said as the door closed behind her.

  “You’re awfully young to be so cantankerous.”

  “Cantankerous. What happened to tenacious? Assertive? Snarky? Those are all the things you said you loved about me.” I flashed him a coy grin.

  “That was the honeymoon period. Now you’re just my cantankerous employee with horrible taste in clothing.” He grinned and his silver eyes brightened, sparkling with a hint of mischief before he lifted his finger.

  “You can change my clothes but then you can be the one going through”—I stopped, trying to remember the client’s name—“Ms. Neal’s barn and I’ll just stand back and be delicate and pretty in my new fancy clothes.”

  His smile flicked into a taut line. “I remember when you were fun and not so mouthy.”

  “That was the honeymoon,” I shot back.

  He grabbed his keys and headed out the door, leaving me to lock up. I did it quickly and followed him out. He went to the Infiniti QX80 parked in front of the shop. Nothing about the luxury SUV indicated that we were glorified junk collectors.

  Ms. Neal’s home, or rather her late grandfather’s, was like most of the farmhouses we were invited to. Big white ranch homes. Wide porch with stairs that were a couple of inches higher than average and two rocking chairs in the front. A long stretch of dirt and gravel that led to two locked barns. One I assumed was for farmwork and the other for storage. Ms. Neal met us at the top of the long driveway. Her reddish-brown hair entwined into a braid that draped over her shoulder, and her glasses overpowered her narrow face. As she walked up to the SUV, her petite frame seemed smaller.

  When she spoke, it was a direct contrast to her appearance: deep and forceful. “I’m glad to meet you two.” She extended her hand. “I don’t have much time as I indicated over the phone. You are free to have anything in there, I just ask for three items.”

  “Yes, about that,” Kalen said, pulling out his tablet, “I need you to be specific about the items. When we have exemptions, I like it to be specific. I wouldn’t want you to think we were taking advantage of you, so everything needs to be aboveboard and spelled out.”

  I doubted if anyone had ever gotten anything over on her, but it was the same spiel that he gave to everyone. We’d learned from experience that we’d do all the dirty work—or rather I would—pulling out all their crap, and when they saw something they thought was valuable, it always seemed to be one of the unspecified items they wanted to keep. It might have started off as a weathered book that had sentimental value or an antique ring but quickly turned into a large list of must-haves.

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” But it took her a while to answer. Each time I tried to hold her gaze, she’d glance away after only a minute. Something lurked behind her eyes. I couldn’t figure out if it was the behavior of a grieving grandchild or something more ominous.

  “What are the items?” Kalen pushed, because she’d started walking toward the barn without giving an answer.

  Nice try. We’ve done this before.

  “A knife—it’s an antique and has been in the family for a long time. There should be a saddle in there I would like to keep, and a stone.”

  Kalen sensed it before I did. She was being intentionally vague. “What type of stone?”

  “Just a gray-white one.”

  Seriously lady, that’s what you’re going with? A gray stone. No specifics. Fine, I’ll bring you a gray stone. I had every intention of picking up a rock in the gravel and handing it to her.

  “Gray and white stone. Anything more specific?” Kalen asked, his eyes narrowed on her, and I could feel the prick of magic coming off him. He wanted to compel her to truth, but it was against the law without her permission. It was really hard to get consent for something like that. Essentially you’re telling a person: Hey, I suspect you’re lying your ass off—and wouldn’t know the truth if it throat punched you—can I do a spell on you to fix that?

  Kalen’s face relaxed, the gentle smile bloomed, and when he spoke it was silky and melodious. He couldn’t use magic, but he had a few tricks that didn’t have anything to do with it. He was charming—very charming when he needed to be, but unfortunately, he felt it was a waste of good talent to use it on me. I got eight-a.m. before-his-coffee-and-bagel Kalen. Except he was eight-a.m. Kalen all day with me.

  He stepped closer. “Sometimes our memories fail us—especially at times like this. I can help you give a better description.”

  Liar, liar. Now let him do magic to get it out of you.

  She pulled off her glasses, her eyes narrowed on him. “What are you?”

  Giving her a clipped half-smile, he said, “Fae.”
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br />   “You’re not going to do any magic on me. Either you just mark on your little computer there that’s it’s a gray and white stone, or leave.”

  You are so getting a rock. But curiosity had us both planted there. We’d done this long enough and I suspected the stone was probably one of the few things that needed to be confiscated. The Magic Council, the group who had judiciary power over the supernaturals and whom I’d met a couple of weeks ago during the time I was framed for murder, didn’t allow certain magical objects to be in the possession of anyone in the human or magical community. I was pretty sure this was one of them. And no one could pretend they didn’t know what they were because they were listed on the Magic Council’s website and that of each governmental department in all states. Humans and supernaturals were expected to follow the rules.

  Since the Cleanse, the world and magic were different. The supernaturals had been forced out of the closet, and to maintain an alliance with the humans, they safeguarded them against anything that could be considered dangerous to humans and supernaturals alike. There were few things on the list—but I bet “gray and white stone” was on it.

  Kalen scribbled something on the tablet and had her sign it. While they were doing that, I grabbed my sai out of the SUV. We could never be too cautious. We walked toward the barn, and I scanned the area looking for a pretty rock, which I planned to give to Ms. Neal. In his hand, Kalen dangled the keys that she had given up a little too easily. As we continued up the long path to the barn nearly thirty feet away, Kalen cursed at the gravel that scuffed up his shoes and dust that kicked up on his pant legs. Magic—potent and noxious—wafted out of the barn. He stopped midstep.