Chapter 6 Malrik
MALRIK
The connection snapped tight again, flooding me with embarrassment so acute I actually winced. Followed by anger. Directed squarely at me.
Somewhere across Mystic Ridge, Charlie Davenport was discovering exactly what I'd done to her.
I set down the contract I'd been pretending to read for the past hour and crossed to the window. The manor stretched out below, grounds perfectly maintained, cliffs dramatic against the churning sea. Everything in its place. Everything under control.
Except for the mortal woman who now carried a piece of me and was, apparently, having the worst morning of her life.
Another pulse hit me. Frustration this time, sharp as broken glass.
I'd been sensing her emotions since dawn. Not thoughts, thankfully. Just feelings, raw and unfiltered. Every spike of frustration, every flash of embarrassment. It was intrusive. Distracting. And far more intimate than I'd anticipated when I'd assured her the transfer was "harmless."
I should have been concerned. Should have been devising ways to help her manage until the effects faded.
Instead, I found myself wondering what had set her off this time. Malfunctioning coffee maker? Rogue electronics?
The irony was exquisite. I, who had orchestrated wars with nothing more than whispered temptation, was undone by the temper of a mortal woman and her malfunctioning electronics.
The Fates, it seemed, had developed a sense of humor.
A familiar rumble of an engine cut through my thoughts. Heavy boots on gravel. The manor door slammed hard enough to shake dust from the rafters.
Only one person would dare enter uninvited and live.
Toren filled my study doorway, seven-foot of orc muscle in faded jeans and a Mystic Ridge Police Athletic League t-shirt. He dropped into the chair opposite my desk, tusks flashing in a grin that promised trouble.
"You look like hell," he said.
"Startling observation."
"No, this is different." He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "This is your 'I did something monumentally stupid' face. So. What did you do?"
I stared at him, weighing whether to admit it. Toren was my closest friend, which meant he'd enjoy this far too much.
"There was an accident," I said finally. "With a mortal."
His eyebrows shot up. "You don't have accidents."
"I was demonstrating a performance element," I said. "She... reacted."
"Reacted?" His grin widened. "What, fainted? Screamed? Offered you her soul?"
"She absorbed it."
The grin collapsed into stunned silence. Then, slowly, gloriously, it returned twice as wide. "No. Way. You gave a mortal your power?"
"Not gave. Transferred. Accidentally."
"Oh, this is rich." Toren slapped his knee, laughing. "Malrik, Tempter of Souls, accidentally juiced a human. Who?"
I hesitated. That was all the confirmation he needed.
"Oh, you like her," he crowed. "I can see it in your face. Who is she?"
"Charlie, my new coordinator for Scorched."
"No shit." He broke off, staring at me.
My glare would have melted stone. Toren only laughed harder.
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"Damn right I am." He sobered, though, leaning back. Toren whistled low. "Hell. That explains the recent chatter."
"What chatter?"
"Word on the street is there's been a shift in power. Now I know why."
I stilled. "They think it's my power?"
"Some do," he said carefully. "And you know your rivals. If they sniff..."
"They'll regret it."
"No doubt." Toren leaned back, chair creaking under his bulk. "Scorched is right around the corner. Big names, big egos. If you're not careful, someone's going to test you."
I studied him for a long moment. He was right. "Then you'll handle it."
"Mal, your team is quite competent."
"Yes, of course but you and your undercover division run in different crowds. Work the Gala this year. Run the perimeter, the entry, the crowd. I want no distractions when I perform."
He chuckled, folding his massive arms. "Done. My team will cover the walls so you can light up the sky. Consider it handled." Toren pushed to his feet and stretched. "I'll keep an ear to the ground in case anyone's dumb enough to start circling."
"Try not to scare them too badly," I muttered.
He grinned, tusks flashing. "No promises."
When the door closed behind him, silence filled the study again. Except for the steady tug of the connection, sharpening with every breath.
Another wave of fury pulsed. Stronger this time. She was getting closer.
The doorbell rang.