Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Caden
I ’m not certain who Sydney is talking to, and at the moment, I don’t much care. Everything about this situation is wrong. I have no idea how to fix it, and Sydney is on the bloody phone with god knows who, discussing god knows what. For all I know, she’s making a date.
On second thought, I do care who she’s talking to; I need to know the name of the man I’ll kill.
Quickly, Sydney covers her mouthpiece. “A moment, please.”
With an angry pivot, I leave. But I can’t make myself walk away. If Sydney is already replacing me in her bed… Well, I’m not a masochist by nature, but I have to know. Though I can’t keep her, I can’t stand the thought of losing her, either.
With a distracted shove, Sydney pushes the door until it’s nearly shut. I lean closer, ear to the crack, and listen.
“I’m here,” she says. “Lunch sounds great. Can you meet me at eleven thirty at that um…Blue whatever the name was?” She pauses. “Perfect. I’ll see both of you then.”
Both? Is she dating more than one man?
“Work is fine. I know you’re supposed to be on holiday, and I don’t want to bog you down, but I need help with this week’s story. It’s still developing. I also need to ask you about that magical diary you gave me for my birthday.”
She’s talking to Aquarius. Tension melts from my body. Not only because the woman is back in town but because Sydney is still single. I can’t stomach the thought of her with another man, and it would be wise to refrain from violence.
“What can you tell me about that book? Its origins? Does it have any ties to the magical world I’ve been writing about?”
She’s speaking in low tones, so I close my eyes and concentrate. Aquarius loudly answers yes to Sydney’s question. Then her voice drops again. I pick up a word or two about someone named Emma, whoever the bloody hell that is.
“Perfect,” Sydney replies. “I’m still working on the ongoing war angle of this story, but I’m thinking of writing this week’s article about the book.”
Her words jolt me as if someone rammed ten thousand volts through my body.
I can’t let Sydney write about the Doomsday Diary. The danger to her if Mathias reads the article… My blood chills, and my breath stops as I imagine everything the terrible wizard would force her to endure. Haven’t I convinced her yet that this angle is dangerous? That she could be a target?
Hand on the knob to her door, I prepare to charge in and do whatever it takes to change her mind. She can’t write about that bloody book. Not this week, not ever.
Someone taps my shoulder. I whirl to see Holly, Sydney’s editor.
Damn it all. This looks bad.
“Morning, Holly. I was just waiting to ask Sydney a question.”
“And it’s taken the last two minutes of intense eavesdropping to decide what to say?”
Fuck. “No. Well, she… I wasn’t sure if?—”
Holly holds up a hand to stop me. “Come with me.”
I look back at Sydney’s door. I don’t have much choice. Later, before Sydney leaves for lunch, I’ll talk to her, make her see reason, and convince her not to run that story.
With a sigh, I follow Holly.
“Do you have anything personal in your cubicle?”
“Just my camera. Why?”
“Get it.” She walks me to my desk, where I retrieve my camera and keys. Other than that, I’ve brought nothing.
“That’s all, then? I’ll walk you to the door.”
A chill zips up my spine. “The door?”
Holly sends me a glare that says the jig is up as she escorts me to the lobby. “C’mon, MacTavish. You’ve used every angle to learn her source. Hitting on her, going to her apartment, eavesdropping. It’s clear you want to scoop her and?—”
“No! God, no. I swear. Holly?—”
“Save it. You’re sacked.” Holly opens the front door. Weak morning sun glares in my eyes, blinding me. “Get out. Now.”
I make it back to Lucan’s place, rage barely in check. The minute the door slams behind me, I shout a string of curses. I’ve been given the boot, and I have no idea where to find the mysterious “Blue” restaurant at which Sydney, Aquarius, and another someone—the source?—will have lunch. Translation: Mission failed.
Bollocks! I never learned if Anka was Sydney’s informant. So I’m no closer to locating her and returning my brother to sanity than I was two weeks ago. Lucan is inching ever closer to death’s door. And I’m stuck here, surrounded by magic indefinitely.
Part of me is glad I no longer have to work at Out of this Realm and engage in subterfuge. But Sydney will continue to recklessly pursue this dangerous story, and I’m no longer there to protect her. That’s not acceptable, and Bram will have to assign the mission to someone else.
I’ll continue searching for Anka. I don’t recall any magical detectives, and I know from my own mother that seers can be notoriously unreliable. I need another plan, one that removes Sydney from harm’s way.
I reach into my pocket and pick out one of the white summoning rocks Bram gave me, then shove it back in place. Like anything magical, I came to hate these after Westin’s death. By the time I was old enough to learn how to bewitch one, I was totally against it, despite Lucan offering to teach me. And now that I’ve lived among humankind for so long, tossing a pebble in the air, calling someone’s name, and having them appear moments later seems wonky and wrong.
My magic is coming, I know. Today, after shagging Sydney all night, I woke energized and refreshed for the first time in weeks. But within hours, the shakes, the sweats, and my never-ending sex drive kicked in again—all signs of my coming changes. Until magic forces unwanted powers upon me, though, I’m still a man. And I’ll communicate like one.
Grabbing my mobile phone, I punch in Bram’s number, ready to tell the sod he needs to assign someone else to this errand. But losing my job also means I have no more reason to see Sydney.
God help me, that’s a stab in the heart. Worse, I left her angry and hurt. I can’t let whatever we had—however brief—end this way. I don’t want her regretting me.
Unless…Sydney was furious enough to sabotage my job? She’s been convinced for weeks that I mean to scoop her story. Holly reiterated the same suspicion, and I’ve seen precious little of the editor. The woman couldn’t have fabricated that worry by herself, so Sydney must have fed her that suspicion. Because of my abrupt departure this morning?
“MacTavish?” Bram answers, sounding irritable. “It’s before nine a.m. on a Tuesday, and you’re ringing me? Tell me?—”
“I’ve been sacked.”
“What?!”
I reiterate the morning’s events, leaving out the fact I spent last night with Sydney.
Once I’m finished, Bram sighs. “Fuck. We didn’t need this setback.”
“As my American friends might say, I screwed the pooch. Damage done. Now you’re free to send someone else in to snuff the stories. Whomever you send must protect Sydney.”
“We’ve discussed this. There is no one else.”
“Send Sabelle. She and Sydney would get on well.”
“Impossible. My sister is tied up with Council business, god help me.”
I frown. “She’s not a member.”
“But she does have a certain charm for the old codgers who sit beside me that I apparently lack.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, I smile at the image. “She is far prettier.”
“Indeed. She flatters and coos and makes them feel young again. It’s a necessary skill. Word of all the Anarki attacks is leaking out, and the rest of the Council is demanding I stop them.”
“The rumors or the attacks?”
“The former, but I know that can’t happen until I stop the latter, which they’re still refusing to publicly acknowledge.”
“And you’re trying to persuade the Council to make a statement to magickind at large, explaining the real danger, I take it.” I scoff. “Good luck.”
The group of elders has never moved quickly or advocated for a less-than-traditional path. It could take them months, even years or decades, to reach a consensus on a public statement about Mathias’s return. By then, the madman will likely have already taken over magickind. Stupid sods.
“I need it. And Sabelle.” Bram sighs. “I could send Shock, I suppose. He can skim Sydney’s thoughts?—”
“Absolutely not! How do I know he won’t deliver her straight to Mathias? I will not have that turncoat anywhere near my…” Mate . The word nearly rolls off my tongue. “Former coworker.”
There, that sounds better.
Even if it’s a pitiful lie.
Though Shock is bound to Anka—despite the fact she rejected his Call, and he cannot, therefore, touch Sydney sexually—the thought of him in the same postcode as my fiery redhead makes me murderous.
“Is Sydney your mate?” Bram asks pointedly.
I should have guessed that I can’t fool him. “I haven’t tasted her.”
Bram grunts. “For everyone’s sake, I hope she isn’t. You’re preparing for transition. I sense it. You’re irritable and tense. You’ve been tired a great deal, haven’t you? And the urge for sex is overwhelming, right?”
I don’t answer. Why tell Bram he’s hit a bull’s-eye? He likely knows it anyway.
“You’ll need a witch to transition with, who will power your coming magic.”
Grinding my teeth, I turn away. Yes, I know I need sex—and a lot of it—to create the energy necessary to transition. If I had issued the Call to Sydney, only she would do. But I haven’t.
Even so, I don’t want some nameless witch. I can’t imagine touching anyone else.
“I have not issued the Call,” I reiterate.
“Unless that changes, you should have no problem.”
Wrong. “Except she believes in this story and is suspicious of everyone. No one is more suspect than Shock. You come,” I suggest.
The thought of Bram charming Sydney makes me want to grind my teeth into powder, but the wizard is newly mated. He can’t woo Sydney, either. And he won’t turn her over to Mathias.
“I told you, I can’t, not until I manage to abide by the Council’s demand for magickind to stop spreading rumors—even if they’re the truth.” Bram snorts. “This assignment allows me to quietly warn Privileged families that Mathias is likely to target them to demonstrate to his Deprived followers that he embraces their bid for equality.”
“It’s shit.”
“But I cannot defer this duty. There have been four Anarki attacks in the last three weeks. If the Council won’t send a transcast, I must warn people unofficially. I am spending what little free time I have trying to locate my errant mate.”
After everything these past few weeks, I empathize. In Bram's shoes, I’d be doing the same. “Keep Shock away from Sydney.”
“Then stop her from writing articles.”
“I’ve been given the bloody chop. How do you propose I do that? Sydney may very well write a story about the Doomsday Diary.”
“For the last bloody time, charm the woman!”
“I tried. It’s…complicated.”
“Uncomplicate it,” Bram snaps.
“This was your fucking mission to start with. I did my best, and as much as I hate failure, I admit to it. This morning, I tried to steal the Doomsday Diary from Sydney, but when I attempted to leave with it, the book dissolved in my hands. Twice.”
“Dissolved?”
“Disappeared. Poofed. Completely. Moments later, it appeared again on the table from which I took it.”
“It would not leave Sydney’s space with you. Interesting… I might know why. You’ve heard me say the book is an object of feminine reverence? That means it responds only to women.”
“And I’m male. But I didn’t try to use it to grant a wish.”
Bram hesitates. “Stealing it may work the same way. We’re learning as we go, but it makes sense. Eons ago, Marrok paid a woman to steal it from Morgana. After she did, she gave it to him. Marrok kept it in the same cottage for centuries. Then came Olivia. She brought the book to my estate and hid it. I assumed at the time that anyone could transport the book, but given your experience, clearly not. Neither Marrok nor I could write in it when Mathias abducted Olivia. Sabelle, however, could. A wish to fix a button was granted instantly. Her wish to save Olivia was not, and we discerned that whoever uses the book must have both great power and great desire to fulfill the wish. My mate stole it from me. Somehow, it fell into this Aquarius’s hands, and she gave it to Sydney. Female to female to female. When you tried to steal it from Sydney?—”
“It reverted to where she last set it.”
“Exactly.”
That’s interesting, but… “I’ve barely met Aquarius, so I don’t know about her, but Sydney is definitely human, not magical.”
“Apparently having two X chromosomes is more important than having a magical one.”
“Even more reason you should send someone else in my place—Olivia, perhaps—and let me look for Anka elsewhere.”
Bram huffs. “Is giving up what the Marines taught you? Last I heard, failure wasn’t an option.”
Blast it, the wizard is right. I didn’t ask for this mission, but guilt and worry eat at me. I can’t leave Sydney unprotected. But how do I work my way back into her life?
“I may have some information about the book and how Aquarius acquired it.”
“I’m listening.”
I grip the phone. “I don’t know how she fits into the equation, but Aquarius mentioned someone named Emma.”
“What did you say?”
The violence of Bram’s question stuns me. “Emma?”
“You’re certain?”
“I overheard a telephone conversation, but reasonably so, yes.”
“Then you have a new mission. Besides getting that book away from Sydney, make her tell you more about Emma. Immediately.”
“You don’t have time to help me when you’re throwing me to the wolves, but when I mention some woman?—”
A loud chirp, a flap of wings, followed by a woman’s panicked voice interrupt the beginnings of my tirade. Some witch has compelled a bird to deliver a message to Bram. And from the sound of it, the message is urgent.
“I must go. I’ll send you help to obtain the book since you’re not female. But get all the information you can about Emma, then call me.”
“Damn it, I’m not your errand boy. Who is Emma?”
“My mate. This is the first clue I’ve had of her since she disappeared. And I’m going to find that woman if it’s the last bloody thing I do.”