Hot Magic (20 page)

They were going to get killed.

“Grandma! Run!” Tasha screamed out the words.

Jean hurried to the circle surrounding Tasha, breathing heavily. “Nice idea, sweetheart, but a brisk walk is all I can manage these days.” She turned to the man whose grin had been wiped off his face. “Frank, I’m getting very angry. I thought we banished you.”

“This is your granddaughter?” Frank looked at Tasha, a gleam in his too-blue eyes.

Jean didn’t even glance at Tasha. She held out her arms. “Gigis, form your Threes and send Frank and his fellows back to their dark alleys.”

The women moved quickly, each holding out a hand, forming groups of three. As their fingers connected, a surge of energy coursed through Tasha’s body, like a sharp, biting wind.

Frank tensed, and then laughed as his shoulders relaxed. “You are still weak from banishing the demons in Lincoln Park. Victory will be ours.”

“Stuff it.” Grandma didn’t look impressed. “We may not be at full strength, but we still have enough power to send dirty Skaven back to their nests.” Grandma stood up straighter. “Ladies, again!”

Luc spoke. “These really are Skaven?” He looked fascinated, like he wanted to interview the scum.
 

Frank ignored Luc. His face wrinkled in concentration, and the muscles in his arms bulged. He appeared to be battling an invisible foe. Four of the Skaven suddenly disappeared, and four large rats appeared in their place. One of the women limped toward them, swishing her cane with terrifying force. The rats scattered.
 

“A prize so precious as your granddaughter cannot be lost.” Frank gasped the words, his teeth clenched. He jerked his head toward the remaining man—Skaven, rat, whatever—beside him. The man’s eyes widened, but he pulled out a small flat silver rectangle from his pocket. Frank took it from him and nodded toward Jean. “For emergency use only,” he wheezed. He flipped open the lid of the rectangle with a shaking hand and pressed a button.

Tasha groaned, hit by the immediate wave of pure, sharp power. She heard Luc swear and felt him turn her into his chest, both arms wrapped tight around her. Night shredded into a million silver molten drops that pierced her skin. Her bones began to melt. Grandma yelled her name and then there was nothing. Nothing but endless pain and the insistent sanity of Luc’s strong grasp.

Chapter Eleven

S
un tinted the horizon when Julie finally fell asleep on the couch. Harry took a folded wheat-colored afghan off the back of a chair and shook it out. A single kernel of popcorn skittered across the floor. This must be Julie’s movie-watching afghan. He tucked it around her, arranged a throw pillow under her head and gently removed the phone from her fingers. He went into the kitchen and plugged it into a charger. Then he returned to the living room and sat in the chair across from her.

Even in sleep, a worried furrow marked her brow. He stared at the wrinkle and willed himself to stay in his chair. He wanted to rub his thumb over the small crease to smooth it out. He wanted to comfort her. Hell, he wanted to get naked with her and pump himself into her body.
 

It wasn’t like him to want what he couldn’t have.

Harrison leaned his head back and closed his eyes to shut out the image of Julie. He’d avoided sleep for much of the three weeks that Marguerite had been in his head. When external activity ceased, her presence inside him seemed to grow to boulder size, a dead weight dragging at his consciousness. And this was nothing compared to what would happen if she succeeded with the second tie. She wouldn’t be merely an irritation; she’d know his thoughts, and he’d know hers.
 

The thought of such forced intimacy repelled him.

His eyes opened, and he stared at the woman lying on the couch. How would he feel if Julie were in his head? He waited for the sour curdle of distaste. Instead, warmth grew, hard and solid, in his chest.
 

Being close to this woman didn’t repel him, not in the least. He was drawn to her, to the circle of light that she broadcast, not through her power, but through her personality. She brightened his world and drew feelings to the surface that he’d long ago buried. Feelings like that ridiculous thing he’d do when he was four years old. As soon as the nanny would shut off his bedroom light, he’d dive under the covers and pretend that she had stayed in the room and he wasn’t alone. He’d imagine he could feel her weight as she sat on the side of the bed and he’d hum himself to sleep, pretending it was her. The fantasy game had stopped when he moved to boarding school at age five and began to fully understand his role and his duty.

Now here were those feelings of not wanting to be alone again. He wanted Julie in his bed at night. He wanted to delve into both her mind and her body. He wanted to belong to her, be part of her golden circle.

She scared the hell out of him.

A quiet knock sounded on the door. Bascule stood on the porch when Harry opened it.

“You don’t knock on doors.” Harrison stood back to let him in.

“Julie doesn’t like it when I just pop into a room.” Bas shrugged and handed Harrison a leather-bound book. “You left your copy of the
Mots de Sagesse
in Australia.”

Harrison frowned at the book. “So I did. Thank you for bringing it to me. How did your trip go?”

“Well enough, though I cut it short when news reached me of what is happening here. How’s our Jewel doing?” Bas lowered his voice when he saw the sleeping Julie.

“She’s worried about Natasha.”

Bas nodded, his expression grim. “And so she should be.”

“What do you know, Bas?”

Bas walked quietly through the living room to the kitchen and began gathering what he needed to put on a pot of coffee. He wore a pair of khakis this morning, and an untucked button-down shirt decorated with koala bears. His bare feet were stuck into a pair of leather loafers. “I know that change is painful.” The scent of ground coffee filled the kitchen as Bas took a foil bag out of the cabinet and opened it. “I know that the chrysalis becomes nothing more than a coffin if the butterfly doesn’t have the strength and courage to struggle free.”

“Jesus Christ, Bas.” The soft words exploded from Harrison. He didn’t have patience for obscure analogies.

Bas put the empty carafe under the faucet and filled it with water. He turned and stared calmly at Harrison. Bas didn’t hold with taking God’s name in vain, any god’s name for that matter.
 

Harrison took a deep breath and tried not to feel like a chastised nine-year-old. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Let me rephrase that. What the fuck are you talking about?”

 
Bas didn’t say anything until he’d pressed the button that started the coffee maker. Then he leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his chest. “You must know she’s special.”

“Of course she’s special. She’s a Dancer from a powerful family.”

“Untrained Dancers don’t wield energy without intending to. They can never change a person’s luck or their destiny. It takes Triad children years of practice and concentration to effectively wield energy.”

      “Is she a wild power?” Harrison forced himself to ask. He would be required to banish Julie if she were.
 

“Understanding Julie’s heritage is only the beginning,” Bas responded, not answering the question.

Harrison didn’t push, but changed the subject. “Why did you say the chrysalis could become a coffin? Is Julie in danger?”
 

Bas turned and jiggled the coffee pot, as if that would speed the rate of dark liquid dripping into it. Harrison curbed his impatience, having learned the futility of trying to rush Bas.

When Bas finally looked at Harrison, his lips had curved into a small, sad smile. “Why do you assume I was referring to Julie? She is not the only one who faces darkness if she doesn’t have the courage to change.”

J
ulie heard muted voices in the kitchen. Pushing herself up, she swung her feet to the floor. What was she doing on the couch? Who was in her kitchen? With a rush, the past evening came back to her. Tasha had gone missing with a Shadow Walker.

Julie jumped to her feet and ran into the kitchen. Both Harry and Bas turned to look at her.

“Is there any news from Tasha?” She propped herself against the doorjamb, still not entirely awake.

Bas poured her a cup of coffee and brought it to her while Harry shook his head. “I’ve been calling Tasha’s cell every hour.”

“We need to call the police.”

“No.” Both Bas and Harry spoke the word together.

Julie straightened. “My daughter is missing and in the company of a potentially dangerous man.”

“In spite of what Marguerite has done, I don’t believe Luc Deschamps is a danger to your daughter.” Harry’s jaw set in an implacable line. “The Guardians are searching for Tasha as we speak.”

“Don’t call the police?” Julie walked slowly into the kitchen and set her cup down on the maple kitchen table. She sat in one of the chairs. Her mind wasn’t functioning yet, but not calling the police seemed wrong. Having a lot of Linda-type people looking for her daughter seemed wrong. Harry seemed to read her mind.

“The Guardians aren’t all like Linda. Most of them blend well with the human population. You can’t tell them from anybody else.”

“And I was just lucky to get assigned a six-foot Wonder Woman?”

Harrison’s serious expression shifted with the hint of a smile. “I thought a visible reminder that you’re protected by the Penumbrae might act as a deterrent to Marguerite.”

“That didn’t work.”

Harrison’s face lost the smile. “No. That didn’t work.”

Julie sighed. Accepting the reality of the Triad when it meant taking classes from Bas and jumping around through space with Harry was easier than when it meant placing Tash’s safety in their hands.

Harry suddenly stood in front of her. He reached out as if to tuck one of the wayward strands of her hair behind her ear. His hand dropped to his side before he touched her. “Trust me, Julie. I will do everything in my power to find your daughter.”

Julie looked up and met his eyes. She nodded her assent slowly. He nodded back a thank you. A promise.

His hand reached out again, this time briefly touching her cheek. “Marguerite will know where her brother is. I’ll go to her first. I’ll keep you updated.” He paused as if he wanted to say more. He looked over at Bas, who nodded at him. Then he was gone.

For a brief instant, a well of emptiness so vast it seemed to suck her into its hole filled the kitchen. Bas’s voice snaked into the loneliness.

“Do you want pancakes or eggs for breakfast?”

Julie blinked and gripped her coffee cup. “Cinnamon toast would be great. I’ve been eating a lot of it lately.”

Bas reached down into a cupboard and pulled out a yellow ceramic bowl. “Then you’ll love my apple-cinnamon French toast.”

Julie leaned her tired head on her hand and watched the lithe, graceful figure bustle around her kitchen. Bas was the type of man who would fit comfortably into any environment. She had a brief vision of him controlling a prancing horse, exhorting his battalion of troops to fight, Gladiator style. She had a feeling she’d go to battle for him, just as easily as she’d eat his apple cinnamon French toast. There was just something about him. She trusted him.

Just like she trusted Harry.

More than anything, she believed in Harry’s integrity. He would do everything within the rules of the Triad to find her daughter and keep her safe.

The only problem was, Julie would do anything, rules of the Triad be damned, to find her daughter and keep her safe.

She sat up straighter. “I’m going to call my mom again and Jack, Tasha’s dad, to see if they’ve heard from her.”

H
arrison stood on the graveled drive of the ancient chateau nestled in the foothills of the Montagne Noire, the Black Mountain range, in Southern France. The scent of pine blew off the wooded slopes of the mountains. Cheerful chirping filled the air as birds fluttered to and fro in the early afternoon sunlight.

Marguerite would be sleeping at this time of day, gathering strength to place the second tie. The next new moon rose on Thursday, tomorrow.
 

He controlled the anger that threatened to roar free at her audacity. For now, he needed information. He would wake her from her sleep and question her before she had her defenses fully in place.

Still, he stood on the drive. Ahead of him, the warm sun barely penetrated the dark gloom of Les Quatre Horizons, the massive stone residence that had belonged to the Deschamps family for countless generations. The earth wards placed around the home, guarding the occupants, nudged him. He owned both sun and earth energy. They held no power over him.
 

For a moment, he thought he felt Julie’s desperation touch his mind. Impossible, but enough to push him off the drive and into Marguerite’s bedroom.

The Moonflower did not sleep easily. She tossed and turned in her plain white cotton sheets, wrapping them tightly around her like an Egyptian mummy. Large tears of sweat beaded her brow and dampened the silver strands of her hair. Her lip trickled a thin line of blood where her teeth had clamped it. She twisted again, muttering “Belle, Belle.”