Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem Book 2) Page 6

  “John, we should’ve warned you about her temper,” Dizzy said, still in his helmet, as Reagan motioned me forward. “She’s not one for talking things out.”

  “How could you talk things out with that numbskull?” Reagan said. “Honestly, why would they want to set you up with him?”

  “What questions do you have?” I finally asked as we left the warehouse. The night was windy yet quiet, peaceful compared to the last half-hour.

  “Well, for one…” She held the door for a moment, glancing back. Darius stood next to the dead vampire’s body, his gaze holding hers for a moment. After she closed the door, she asked, “First question: how did you make the air condense into a wall?”

  I thought back, trying to remember my head space before it happened. All I could properly recall, though, was blind panic. “I’m not sure.”

  “Two, how did you make that wall suddenly come alive and squeeze the vamp’s body to death?”

  I grimaced. That had been seriously gross. I definitely blamed Darius for making me do it. Which fit, because I kind of blamed Darius for everything horrible I’d done since meeting him. It was easy, particularly since he usually owned the questionable achievements with pride.

  “I’m not really sure,” I said.

  “And three, what did you do to keep the vampire from healing? The head is still attached and the heart appears to be intact, but he’s definitely dead.”

  “Oh. Huh. Is that how you kill a vampire? An old-fashioned staking or beheading?”

  “I can see you have no idea how you did the third one. That’ll make Darius relieved, wary, and extremely nervous.” She nodded with a smile. “Want to be my best friend?”

  “No,” I said without meaning to.

  She nudged me with her shoulder. “You’ll change your mind. I’m really fun.”

  “No,” I repeated, my politeness filter missing in action.

  She laughed, and I was glad her feelings were almost impossible to hurt.

  “We have a lot to unpack from this one failed practice session,” she said, leading me to Darius’s car and leaning back against it.

  I swallowed. Yes, we did. And when in doubt, shove it onto the ignore list and carry on with your day. “Can’t I go back to working with Callie and Dizzy?”

  “Not on your life. You’re a special sort of mage, and we need to figure out a special sort of training. Well…Darius does. It sounds like the Rogue Natural would’ve been your best bet, but he’s gone off-grid again.” She shook her head. “That Rogue Natural is wily. Anyone that can hide from Darius should get a medal. I want to meet him.”

  “Great,” I said dryly. Would no one let it go?

  “Anyway, I’m way out of my league with you. And a little weirded out, to be honest. It felt like we were connected for a moment. Like Darius and me, but without certain…intimate aspects.”

  “Ew.” My filter was still on hiatus.

  “No, I think tomorrow your training will go in an entirely new direction.”

  “Which direction is that?”

  “From what I know of Darius? The one you’re least expecting.”

  8

  The next evening, I stared down at the little cream card pinched between my dirt-stained fingers. A loud bang issued from Dizzy’s rebuilt shed a few feet away. The new shed had been extremely expensive because he’d insisted on using reclaimed wood so it would look old and decrepit. To get him out of her clean house, Callie hadn’t even batted an eye at the cost.

  I brought up the envelope, which looked fancy enough to hold a wedding invitation. White chalk had transferred from my hand to the clean paper.

  A little table stood in front of me, round and of a similar appearance to Dizzy’s shed. Just under the lip of the tabletop was a small drawer with a key sticking out of a keyhole.

  I’d walked this way ten minutes ago. The table and the note had appeared out of nowhere.

  Confused, I looked around the closed-off yard, the high wooden fence cutting off the views of the neighbors. Tree branches waved in the breeze and plants swayed. The two-person swing on the back porch drifted lazily from side to side. Nothing else moved.

  “Reagan—I mean, Penny, did you get the flower for the spell?” Dizzy poked his head out of the shed. “Oh. What have you got there?”

  I held up the card and envelope for his inspection, then looked down at the little table, directly on the route Dizzy always used to get to the house through the flowerbed. It had been placed in that location on purpose. The person (vampire?) who’d left it clearly knew Dizzy’s habits, and wanted him to find it quickly.

  He took the card. “You are cordially invited to…” His voice trailed away, but his lips kept moving as he read the artfully scripted cursive.

  His brow furrowed and he flipped the envelope over, showing my name. “Well…he has always done things the civilized way. No denying that.”

  “Who?” I asked, taking back the card. “It’s not signed.”

  “Darius, of course. That’s his address. One of them, at any rate.”

  After last night’s botched practice session, the Bankses had grudgingly agreed with Reagan that their version of training didn’t work with my strange brand of natural—they’d even said strange, as if I didn’t already have a complex. Without any other options, they’d agreed that Darius would find a suitable replacement.

  “Oh, look. A drawer. With an old-fashioned key!” Dizzy beamed and bent, pulling out the little drawer tucked under the lip of the table top. He extracted a similar card to the one I held. “‘Dear Mr. Banks’”—Dizzy leaned toward me—“he’s always so polite and formal.” He straightened back up. “‘Please accept this table as a small token of my gratitude. It can’t be easy to hand over a pupil as bright and with as much potential as Miss Bristol. I am honored you think I will manage her aptly. Sincerely, Darius Durant. PS.’” Dizzy chuckled. “How did he know I love PSs in letters? They’re like secret messages pinned to the bottom. It’s such a shame the practice is falling by the wayside. ‘PS This table was made of reclaimed wood from the Satisfaction, the flagship of Henry Morgan, circa 1670.’”

  Dizzy blew out a breath and took a step back. “Wow.” He bent to the card again, read it a second time, and leaned back with another sigh. “Henry Morgan! The famous pirate! This is really fantastic, Reagan—I mean, Penny. The stories that must be captured in this wood.”

  The pounding of feet signaled Callie was stalking our way. She appeared on the back deck across the lawn, her hands on her hips with a little card sticking out. “What is that vampire up to?” she hollered. She held out the card. “He’s trying to buy us.”

  “What did you get?” Dizzy replied, delight on his face. “I got a table made from—”

  “Don’t fall into his hands.” Callie stomped down the deck toward the stairs and around the covered patio set to reach us. I had to give it to Dizzy—despite the harm to the flowers, tramping across the yard to the house was much faster. “He knows very well this is a short-term situation.” She came to stand in front of his table. “We’re not handing her over for good. And she’ll still live here. I already lost one to their devious ways, I will not lose another.”

  “Now, hon,” Dizzy said, “Darius merely means to train her up. Then he said he’d let her go off on her own.”

  “You can never trust a vampire. Everyone knows that.”

  Dizzy’s face fell, because he’d said the same thing a few times over. “But Darius isn’t like normal vampires,” he said in a weak voice.

  “When it comes to something as rare and important to the magical world as Penny, or her Rogue Natural—”

  “He’s not mine,” I mumbled.

  “—you better believe he’ll try to get his hooks in any way he can.”

  After a beat, Dizzy quietly asked, “What’d you get?” almost as though he couldn’t help it.

  “Never mind what I got. It’s going back. As is your God-awful table. If we accept his gifts, we might as well
hand over our souls. He’s trying to buy our silence.”

  “But… Well, those aren’t even the same things.”

  “Don’t split hairs.” She eyed the card in my hand and her eyes narrowed. “What did you get, Penelope Bristol?”

  I wasted no time in handing it over. “A dinner invite.”

  “Ah ha!” She waved my card at Dizzy. “See? The seduction has already been scheduled.”

  “I very much doubt he will try to seduce Penny. Reagan would never go for it.”

  She paused, staring at him as if he’d sprouted a second set of legs. “I didn’t mean sexually, you donkey! He’ll charm her and offer her riches and lavish accommodations. He’ll fly her around the world, wine and dine her, all the while hooking her into his billion-dollar enterprise.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” I said just as Dizzy said, “I don’t think he has that much money, does he?”

  An incredulous expression crossed Callie’s face. “She’ll be another asset for him to exploit! Of course that sounds so bad, and how should I know how much money he has? He has a lot of it. He makes more every day. And do you know why?”

  “He’s really old and got into the stock market early?” Dizzy ventured.

  “He’s good at business?” I tried.

  Callie jabbed her finger at me. “He is good at business. He is good at maneuvering people and products.”

  Dizzy deflated and looked longingly at his table. “I love pirates.”

  “You wouldn’t love them right after they robbed you and killed all your crewmen.” Callie held out her hand for the card.

  “Does this mean I’m not going to the dinner?” I asked hopefully. Because a ride in a private jet was one thing, but dinner with a cultivated elder vampire sounded stressful. He’d probably have a bunch of forks and spoons set up, with a whole bunch of glasses and courses, and I wouldn’t know the right way to go about any of it.

  Callie stared at me with determination. “Yes, you’re going to that dinner.”

  “She gets to go, but we can’t keep the presents?” Dizzy whined.

  “Honestly,” Callie said, “when did you become such a big baby?”

  Dizzy flung his hand toward the table, straightening up. “Do you have any idea how rare that is? I don’t even know how he got it. It’s from a newly found pirate ship. A pirate ship!”

  I edged away. They were very good at working things out, either with civilized conversations, or full-out yelling at each other. It was best to steer clear and leave them to it.

  Callie shifted until her body squared off with his. She lowered her arms to her sides and leaned forward a little.

  I edged a little farther away.

  “He is managing her training,” she said with deliberate slowness. “He’ll need to speak with her to do that. His version of communicating often revolves around social norms. With humans, that usually means eating or drinking. We know this.”

  “Yes, but…” He went back to hunching and looking longingly at the table.

  Having won that (very short) battle, Callie turned her attention to me. “This is what you need to understand.” She held up a finger. “You are business partners. He has a lot of power in the vampire hierarchy, in business, in the Brink… You name it, he’s acquired power in it.” Her head tilted to the side and her finger stayed raised. “Except magic and spells.” She took down her hand. “He relies on high-powered mages and Reagan for magical know-how, spell research, and practical application. He has donated a lot of time and effort to acquiring knowledge about magic, yes, but that is because it is something he cannot properly master on his own. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  I bit my lip, thinking through all the possible things she could be saying. Dizzy’s blank stare wasn’t helping. “Not…really.”

  “In magic,” she went on with a patience I seldom saw in her. It meant this was important. “You are the one with the power. Even now, not knowing how to use your magic, you are still the one with the power. You can accidentally kill a vampire with nothing more than fear and two seconds of your time. If you start to feel bullied, or charmed, or things are going too easily or not easily enough, just remember that at the end of the day, you call the shots. His job is to help you. His purpose is to make you happy. You don’t owe him squat, and you don’t have to bend one bit if you don’t want to. Now do you get what I’m saying?”

  Dizzy smiled and nodded at me. He did, at any rate.

  “I’m not sure what you’ve noticed,” I said meekly, “but I’m not great with standing up for myself. I’m so used to being bullied that it doesn’t bother me half the time.”

  Callie shifted her weight and a frown creased her brow. “You’re too easygoing for your own good. But do you know what?”

  Dizzy’s face fell again. He didn’t know what, either.

  “Being easygoing and being a pushover are not the same things,” Callie said, and Dizzy nodded. “The Rogue Natural didn’t push you around, did he?”

  “Even now, when there is no real relevance, he’s brought up—”

  “When you took over, he stepped out of the way.” Callie nodded and resumed resting her fists on her hips. It was her default stance. “You’re easy to get along with, but you aren’t easy to push to the side.”

  I sucked in a breath to speak, because I was often pushed to the side, sometimes bodily. Emery had only stepped to the side because of mutual trust and respect. But I held my tongue. The last thing I felt like doing was arguing over a guy who thought a couple rocks every now and then would ease the sting of his abandonment.

  Great. I was officially a woman scorned. Perfect.

  “So when you sit at that vampire’s table tonight, you look him straight in the eye,” Callie said. She held her pointer finger between her eyes, and I ended up looking at her nose. “You discuss what comes next, and you remember that if he doesn’t work out as a business partner—because that’s what this is, a business relationship—you can get a different business partner. Got it?”

  Dizzy and I nodded together.

  “Now.” Callie glanced at the table before looking at the house. “Penny, Dizzy and I need your help constructing a better ward. One of those sneaky devils came into the house to leave my gift. No one picks my locks, magically or otherwise, without getting one hell of a shock for their efforts.”

  9

  At midnight, I stood in front of a massive house in the French Quarter, which all the ghost tours claimed, accurately, had once been owned by a vampire. It sat on a corner lot in a mostly quiet area, if any part of the French Quarter could be called quiet, and rose three stories into the sky.

  I smoothed my lilac dress down my stomach and contemplated walking away.

  As the power holder, that was in my power, right? I could turn around (hopefully not as stiffly as I was standing there) and trudge back the way I’d come.

  But that ultimately wouldn’t solve my problem of freezing up in battle. Whether I liked it or not, I needed someone other than the Bankses to teach me, and at the moment, everyone thought Darius had the answer. He was all I had.

  I took a deep breath and stepped forward to knock as a strange awareness washed over me. Goosebumps coated my body, hinting of a presence lurking close by. Not long after, an itch between my shoulder blades flared to life, my body’s way of telling me someone was watching.

  I spun, half expecting to find a vampire on the other side of the street, watching to see that I actually approached the house. Dark shadows coated the walls of the houses and spilled onto the sidewalk. The leaves of the few small trees rustled in the cool night air.

  The itch grew stronger and I took a step backward, toward the door. The soft scuff of a shoe on cement interrupted the still night. Another footfall, someone slowly sneaking my way from the other side of the street, obscured by the corner.

  Heart in my throat, my failure the night before rode heavy in my thoughts. Was a vampire about to attack me? Had the Mages’ Guild finally stepp
ed up their game?

  I turned quickly to knock, but the creator of the footfalls staggered into view before my fist could land.

  All the breath left my lungs as the man noticed me.

  “What’s up, pretty lady?” the trendy guy in his mid-twenties slurred from across the street. He held up a tall plastic cup, half-full, with a long bendy straw sticking out of it. Noticing that I didn’t immediately turn away, he staggered to a stop, his body tilted to the side.

  We stared at each other for a moment.

  He straightened, bent in an arc the other way, and leaned in the opposite direction again, fighting gravity.

  “It’s not a great idea to pass out on the street in this area,” I said. Delivering a fair warning seemed the neighborly thing to do. “Or…any area, I guess, but especially this one.”

  His lean came around to the front before he started—or burped, I couldn’t really tell. “You care about me?” He’d barely formed the words before bringing up the drink hand to tap himself in the chest. He snorted and bent backward, at odds with gravity no matter what position he was in, and staggered back. His head hit the wall of the house behind him and he ducked like the sky was falling.

  “What was that?” he muttered, looking upward at a very strange angle. A moment later, he finally lost the battle for balance. He staggered forward, but his feet couldn’t catch up with his increasing momentum and he fell, face first, onto the sidewalk. His hands caught up a moment later, and he scraped the edge of his cup against the cement.

  “Ugh,” I heard in a long moan, his cup dramatically tilted but not spilling. “Noooo,” he groaned, looking like a guy after a bad hit-and-run accident. “Didn’t spill.”

  Small miracles.

  I turned back to the door, finding a black maw in place of the wood. A shape loomed in the darkness, tall and wide and full of muscle.

  “Hah!” I flung out my hand, and a shot of red zapped from my palm. The ol’ zapper never let me down. Except when I was trying to kill rodents. Those buggers were fast.