Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
E dwina Cope was enchanted with Clio’s work, of course. Joss feared he was quickly becoming enchanted with the girl herself. Excitement heated the space between them. It was as if they were generating a new aura—one of hope and desire and possibility.
But he could not explore those possibilities. Not yet. There were questions that needed answers, still. He just wasn’t sure about how to go about getting them.
Perhaps she was right, and she would learn something if she held the bauble. They would persevere, then. And it couldn’t hurt to get her talking. After they had taken their basket and bid Edwina farewell, they set out—and he regarded her with interest.
“You asked about the magical oddities I’ve seen, but I would wager that you’ve seen some amazing things, traveling with the Night Market all of these years.”
“Amazing things, yes. The folk who travel with us are immensely talented and creative.” She lifted a shoulder. “But yes, we’ve seen some odd things, too.”
“Do tell.”
She cast a glance in his direction. “You mentioned your mermaid amulet. Have you ever seen one?”
“No.” He was instantly intrigued. “You have?”
“Yes. We have many applicants, magical folk who wish to become a part of the market. One was a man who had a mermaid trapped in a tank. He wanted to charge admission for people to see her.”
“Oh, no.”
“It was terrible. He was a crude and cruel man. The poor mermaid was more than half dead with heartbreak and longing for the sea. I refused him, of course, but I offered to purchase her—at a price he should not have been able to resist.”
“But he did?”
“He did. He had dreams of finding more creatures and creating a traveling show of his own. He didn’t want to give up the idea.”
“What did you do?”
“I tried to persuade him. He became . . . obnoxious.” She flushed a little. “So I turned him into a merman.”
Joss gaped. “You didn’t!”
“I did. I know I shouldn’t have, but he was so exasperating. I let him flop about a bit on the floor while I crafted a copy of his tank. Then I dumped him in and waited.”
“How long?”
“It took three days until he agreed to release her to me. I transformed him back, gave him half the price I had offered before and banished him from ever entering the Night Market again.”
“What of the poor mermaid?”
“Fortunately, the Market understood. We ended up in Penzance the next morning, and we were able to set her free.”
Joss nodded slowly. “That is no small thing. The general wisdom is that merfolk long remember such kindness.”
“Well, I hope I will never have to put the theory to the test.”
“So now I must add a touch of ruthlessness to the list of your fine qualities. I admit, I respect that.”
She made a face. “I wish everyone felt the same. It created quite a furor. I’m afraid I frightened a few of the vendors.”
“It’s a massively impressive bit of magic. Not many could have pulled it off. I suppose it might have given some of them pause.” He hesitated. “It might have been profitable to take the man on. It would have been easier to turn him away. But you used your power to do the right thing instead. If that bothers someone, it says more about them than it does you.”
She stopped walking. “No one speaks to me as you do.”
He stopped, too, and the bauble swerved, narrowly missing a collision with the back of his head. “I daresay they haven’t.” He shrugged. “I sometimes see things differently.”
Curiosity flashed in her eyes. “Because of your magic, you mean? You’ve said you possess but little.”
“It’s true.”
She persisted. “But is seeing things differently related to the magic which you do have? You can see ?” She tilted her head. “Tell me.”
Sighing, he rubbed a hand over his brow. “I can see a person’s magical aura. It tells me different things about a person. The sort of magic they have, levels of power, some personal traits.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you see when you look at me?” she said in a whisper.
He looked her over carefully. “Strength. Warmth.” He paused. “Potential almost without limits.” Giving her a small smile, he shrugged. “It’s little more than a parlor trick.”
“No. It’s not. It gives you insight. And from what I can tell, you use it wisely.” Looking away, she started moving again. They were nearing the village once more. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
He didn’t follow after her. “Hagans are?—”
She stopped again and turned to face him. “No. I’m not talking about your family. Nor about their siphoning magic.” She waved a hand. “I have met a man with such skills before, but his name was not Hagan. Or at least, that was not the one he gave.”
That caught his attention.
“He was very handsome,” she said, obviously reminiscing. “Flowing blond hair, bright blue eyes, a square face. He wanted to set up a kissing booth. He claimed he could boost any woman’s confidence with just a kiss.”
“But you said siphoning magic?”
“It was a lie, of course. He stole a bit of power with each kiss.”
Joss did not like anything about this story. “How did you find out?”
“Oh, not firsthand,” she said with a laugh. “But I saw it. He kissed Giosetta, and she said the cards would not speak to her for the rest of the day. It was the same with Droose. An entire batch of her ginger snaps said not a sharp word to anyone!”
The wash of relief he felt—oh, this was not wise. Not at all. Answers, he reminded himself. Patience .
But she was so distracting . So serious, though her eyes were bright, and he thought he detected a hint of playfulness behind her story. “I’ll wager a hundred pounds he tried like mad to kiss you ,” he said roughly.
“Oh, he tried. But I am not so much a fool. He was kissing everyone in the market, and I wasn’t going to let my first kiss?—”
She stopped. Flames of embarrassed color erupted across her face.
“Very wise of you.” Joss put the basket on the ground and stepped closer. His heart rate surged into a gallop. “Who had the honor, then? Of being first?”
He was an idiot. A fool. He should have stopped talking . . . but then he realized she had stopped talking.
They were alone on a shady lane with nobody to hear but the squirrels and the birds and the soft breeze—but she held silent. The riot of color had spread to her bosom, which rose and fell faster than it should. Heat built between them. He heard the whisper of her breath. Felt the chaos of want dancing, bouncing from him to her and back again.
“Your first kiss should be special,” he said. Quietly. Carefully. “It should be a pleasure. A fond memory you feel safe to take out and examine.”
Another step. She filled his senses. Golden magic and thrumming suspense. She was softness and kindness and power and the slightest scent of jam. He leaned in, and she held her ground. She didn’t shy away.
Closer.
He brushed her lips with a kiss. Soft as a butterfly’s passing. Gentle. Warm. A moment. Then another.
Her hand came up to rest upon his shoulder.
There was one answer he’d been looking for. His breath catching, he moved closer again. And she was in his arms, and abruptly she was kissing him back. He touched her cheek, her jaw. So sweetly, she yielded, and the kiss deepened. They were both exploring. Searching. Her tentative response turned to the delight of learning, to willingness to seek and ask for more.
And Joss was lost, reveling in the cool, sweet taste of her. He enfolded her in his arms, her breasts soft against him. So much life in her small form. He had the fleeting thought that he wanted to gather her up and keep her safe forever, but he knew she could manage it herself—and more besides. He traced the seam of her lips and she opened to him.
Pleasure stabbed through him. He felt the delicious weight of her trust and it made his heart ache, even as the sweep of her tongue set him afire.
More. He wanted more. Wanted closer. Wanted to feel her skin on his. He might have lost his head if she had decided to let him—and if it hadn’t been for the sudden silence that fell in the forest around them. Small feet scurried away through last year’s leaves. Birds stopped singing. A shadow passed over them and they fell apart as a large form swooped past, landing on a low branch nearby.
A long hiss and a great deal of clacking came from the owl that glared down at them. Clio’s eyes widened. “No, Athena. Of course, he did not!”
“Did not what?” He was fascinated that she seemed to understand the large bird.
The owl whistled.
“She wants to know if you offered me a dead mouse.” Clio pressed her lips together.
Joss grimaced.
Athena seemed to take offense. She clacked her beak again and moved restlessly on her branch.
Clio clapped her hand over her mouth.
“What?”
“She is not impressed with your courtship technique. She says the least you could do is to raise your wings and sway a little. Or sidle up to me along a branch.”
Her eyes sparkled as she fought to maintain her composure. Joss was struck again with the fierce longing to see her smile. To be the one who cracked that somber demeanor and dragged her along into some fun .
Would he sacrifice his dignity to do it?
Yes. Yes, he would.
“Like this?” He raised his arms up and down as if he was flapping wings. Holding them high, he swayed his shoulders and hips.
She bit her lip.
“I don’t have a branch, but . . .” Watching her face closely, he gave a couple of little hops in her direction.
Athena hooted her approval.
Clio made a sound that was halfway between a snort and a choke. And the dam broke. She coughed, gasped, then just dissolved into laughter. It erupted and bubbled out of her. Tears leaked from her eyes as she whooped with merriment.
Joss drank it all in, feeling enormously pleased and proud. The light she gave off . . . the wash of delicate color in her face . . . the narrowing crinkle of her eyes . . . the utter abandonment as she gave way and just laughed and laughed.
It made him want to do it again. Drink in her delight. Make her laugh again. Kiss her again. To have more. To make her feel more and watch her abandon herself to other emotions and delights.
At last, her shrieks of laughter settled into chuckling. And Joss abruptly realized he wasn’t the only one enchanted with her mirth. His bauble had eased near her. It circled slowly, drawing closer as it spiraled in.
Clio’s eyes grew wide and her laughter faded. The bauble drew closer and she slowly lifted a hand to touch it—but the orb jumped back, startling her, and she giggled again.
The bauble seemed to take this as an encouraging sign. It looped and danced around her, staying just out of her reach. She laughed, and when the orb zipped away and along the path to the village, she followed after it.
Shooting a conspiratorial glance at the owl, Joss took off after them.
The bauble was not afraid of her. Not like it had been. It still hovered just past her reach, but it was playing with her. Swirling and bobbing around her, almost dancing with her as she abandoned decorum and went leaping and twirling and chasing after it. It was a game, and it drew even nearer as they went on.
He step was as light as her heart. Joss had kissed her. Gloriously. She could still taste him on her lips. Feel the weight of his hands on her hips. And she wanted more.
Slow down . She must. She did. Both the fervent longing in her chest and the clip of her feet as the bauble led her into the village. She kept to a more sedate pace, although she still giggled when the orb strafed past her or teased her, hovering just over her head. But Joss had nearly caught up with them. She turned, walking backward and grinning as her heart lifted at the sight of him—tall and strong and formidable—but also willing to make himself foolish for her. For it had been for her, and his lightness had allowed her to loose the strictures and bindings that held her so tightly. She’d forgotten weights and responsibilities and appearances and just . . . felt.
He'd felt it too. She could see it in his face as he strode after her—and that lifted her spirits even further. Laughing, she spun around to follow the bauble as it headed for the marker at the center of the village?—
Oof!
She ran straight into someone.
“Well, well. And so we meet again.”
Clio shrank away from the young Promethean—the same one who had threatened Jarby and faced off against Joss, not so long ago.
The young man’s eyes darted between them, the smile on his face twisted and smug. “I was right, then. The Night Market did land somewhere near here.”
She didn’t answer, just watched him closely.
He leaned in. “I’ve heard a lot about you since last we met.”
She refused to back away again. Deliberately she did not say that she’d neither heard nor thought of him.
“You are a proficient witch, I heard. Powerful, even.”
“Many are,” she said without inflection. She looked him over. “Egan. Wasn’t that your name?”
“Egan Stoke ,” he said and gave her a nasty grin. “I’ve cracked your secret. The Night Market’s secret.”
She had the feeling she was supposed to recognize that surname, but it meant nothing to her. She lifted her chin. “There is no secret.”
He laughed. “All the mystery! No one knows where it will turn up next!” He stepped closer. “Well, I know. Perhaps I will show up at your next secret spot just to show you. And the next. Perhaps I will attend every Night Market.”
She shrugged. “Do you think you are the first? The first to threaten or bribe one of the market folk into sending word where and when we land in a new spot? Because I know they are not telling you ahead of time. There is no knowing ahead of time. And you can come to the market every day if you wish. All are welcome.”
“As long as you cause no trouble,” Joss interjected.
“You!” Young Egan sneered. “I heard about you, too. Hagan .” He spat out the word as if it tasted foul. “But you are lower than even the rest of your family, aren’t you? No siphoning power of your own, so you need a toy to do your dirty work.”
Clio cringed, but Joss just laughed. “You can rummage up neither an original threat nor an insult, can you?” He held out an arm. “Come along, Clio. Let us head back. I can see he’s in no mood to be polite.”
“I don’t think so.” The Promethean stepped between them, shoving Joss.
Clio’s eyes widened as Joss came back, grabbed the boy by his collar and swung him around with brute strength, sending him spinning away from her. But Egan merely regained his balance and pointed, murmuring under his breath. A cage made of flames erupted around Joss, halting his next charge.
Clio could only hope that Joss had that carved stone ring with him and could escape unscathed, but she had to keep the boy’s attention on her.
But Egan had already turned back to her. “I’m surprised to find you out here at all. The word is that you do not often leave the boundaries of the Night Market. It set me to wondering. Why is that, exactly? And I came up with an explanation. Perhaps the Night Market supplies your famous power? Perhaps you are not nearly so dangerous away from the place?”
“I can see that you would like to think so, but I’m afraid that is not true, either,” she told him.
“Why don’t I believe you?” he asked, scoffing.
“Because you are a fool, I expect,” she answered calmly.
Flames sprouted from both of his hands. “I am not the fool here.” He raised his arm.
And Joss, ring glowing on his finger, reached out to grab it. He twisted the boy’s arm and spun him around, right into a solid blow to his jaw. Egan staggered and fell to one knee. The cage of flames behind them dissolved as his gaze fixed upon the shining ring. He made a gesture and from the shrubbery before a nearby cottage came slithering a tangle of branches and vines. Joss tried to dodge them, but they tripped him and wrapped tight around him, pinning his limbs together and covering his mouth before dragging him back and holding him against the stone wall.
“I’m a Promethean,” the boy said with scorn. “But fire magic is not my only magic.” Dismissing Joss, he turned back to Clio, flames returning to both fists.
A screech sounded, and Egan ducked, just as Athena swept by, talons extended. He sent a fireball after her and it struck, sending her crashing into the stone column marking the village center.
“Now, if your defenders are all finished . . .” the boy said as he advanced upon her. “And why do you need them, if the rumors of your power are true?”
“I don’t need them,” she said tightly. “But I suppose you wouldn’t understand why they wish to help me.”
“I don’t believe you. It doesn’t make sense, you see. Your extreme talents must be limited to the Night Market. If you were so powerful, why then, would you stay within the confines of that tacky place? Why would you not be out here, bending the world to your will?”
“Perhaps because I am not the sort of unmitigated ass you continue to prove yourself to be,” she retorted.
“If I am wrong and you are so powerful, then prove it,” he said. Without any further movement or signal, he sent a ball of fire directly at her.
The swiftness of it surprised her. She hesitated a fatal second before flinching back—but even as the flames overtook her, the little golden bauble darted in front of her, meeting the fireball and absorbing it completely.
“Blister it!” The Promethean raised both flaming hands, but Clio made a gesture, and both hands were abruptly encased in blocks of ice. He bent over as they plummeted to the ground with the weight of it, but Egan cursed again and his face reddened with effort. The ice lit up from the inside for a moment before exploding outward. The boy staggered upright.
Clio stepped forward, but the bauble was not done. It came streaming back, moving fast and low and striking the Promethean at full speed, hitting him squarely on one shin. Egan shouted in pain and anger and limped back a step, but the orb swung around and hit him behind the knee of his other leg.
The boy went down, but he recovered quickly, leaping to his feet with a murderous look on his face. Clio had her wits about her by now, though. She raised a hand, and the Promethean shot up into the air.
He shouted in surprise but managed to shoot another fireball in her direction. Clio dodged, then lowered her hand. Egan slammed into the ground, and as he lay there, stunned, she weighted both his arms and legs with ice.
She walked over to stand over him as he struggled and cursed. “I changed my mind. You are not welcome in the Night Market ever again. You are banished. Forbidden. If you step over the borders into its territory, the Market will make you very, very sorry. And if I find you lurking about outside, I will freeze you entirely in a block of ice, and we will see how long it will take you to thaw.”
Turning away from the young thug, she gestured, and the vines holding Joss turned to dust.
He jumped to his feet and came right to her, concern in his face. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. Sadness welled as she looked back to watch the boy struggle. “I just don’t understand.”
Joss tossed the Promethean a scornful look. “Weak minds will always try to tear someone else down rather than work to strengthen themselves.”
She let him lead her away. Looking up, she noticed Athena following overhead, a couple of her tailfeathers drooping.
Clio’s heart began to pound as the realization dawned on her. When they reached the forest on the other side of the village, she stopped Joss, gripping his arm. “Joss, did you see? The bauble defended me!” She looked to where it hovered at his shoulder.
Holding her breath, she held out a hand and waited.
With a shudder of surrender, the golden orb drifted onto her palm.
She was instantly transported.
Sunshine on her shoulders as she gripped her prize and ran for the door, the bauble drifting alongside. Warmth as she entered the kitchen, her offering of rosemary sprigs clutched in a fist. Soft afternoon light. Comfort in her mother’s soft arms, the bauble in hers. A sweet lullaby. The excitement they all shared as the door opened once more and her father entered, his voice booming a greeting. Love. That is what she felt. Home.
It was a painful loss when the bauble lifted up and away. Clio almost sobbed out an objection, but she controlled herself. Shaking, she backed up to lean against a tree. “Oh, Joss, it’s true!” she said. “Just as I thought.” She met his gaze directly. “Your bauble is one of the two that my father created—for me.”