ENTANGLED (37 page)

Rubbing his hands together, he paused behind the podium, imagining himself addressing the mass of reporters who would be arriving in a couple of hours when he and Donaldson announced the results of turning Jessica Mansfield into a cat.

Shit. A cat of all things. What the hell was Jenna thinking? Still, if that crackpot insisted she should be a cat, then a cat she would be. Transforming a woman into a man was far simpler and probably something he could have assigned to Thomas. The man was capable enough. But when it came to changing a species, Jenna Carmichael was the woman to do it. Her Talent level reached a near seven and with this job, would rise to a probable eight or nine. Way too close to the level where she could test for her next step towards Master.

Desmond grimaced. Jenna Carmichael was his star Practitioner. If she gained her Master level, he’d lose her and he couldn’t have that.

No, the spell of this magnitude would most likely knock her out for a few days. During that time, he had every intention of finding a way to grab most of the credit. Wouldn’t be the first time. Once the press had the story of how he’d spearheaded the transformation, it would be too late for Jenna to have it retracted. The only worrisome factor in that plan was the video tape. Something had to be done about that. He had no intention of Jenna taking all the glory. He’d have to get Donaldson to do something about it.

Between District Attorney Donaldson and himself, they’d make sure they both looked like heroes. It would take a few days for Jessica Mansfield to acclimate herself to her new form, so she won’t make a fuss. Judge Warren, on the other hand, might be a bit of a problem. Just in case, Desmond had a spell that would make her fuzzy on certain facts and agreeable to simple suggestions. Illegal to do, but who was going to report him? Not Donaldson. The D.A. had his own agenda.

Placing his hands on either side of the podium, Desmond leaned forward, mentally rehearsing what he would say and practicing expressions of concern, pleasure and triumph. Damn, maybe he should have written things down on note cards, but in his opinion, that always looked unprofessional. No, he’d speak from the heart.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” he began as he practiced a smile that he knew was both confident and reassuring. No, he should appear victorious. “It gives me great pleasure to announce that the transformation was a success—”

“Dessie?”

The quivering feminine voice came from directly behind him, making him jump, the smile freezing on his face. Damn, that woman had bad timing. Forming a scowl of displeasure, Desmond turned, the vicious words on his tongue forgotten as he saw the man standing just behind his assistant. Despite her four inch heels, Candy was diminished by the tall, stocky man who had one arm around her throat and a gun pointed at her head. His dirty blond hair was long enough to fall to his shoulders, as unkempt as the rest of him. A flannel shirt hung open over a black t-shirt and faded jeans hung low on his lean hips. Desmond noticed that he was powerfully built, wide at the shoulders, the muscles in his arms pressing against the flannel material where he held Candy.

“Dessie. Please. Help me. Use your magic.”

“Shut up, bitch,” the man’s voice was a low growl as he tightened his hold. Candy grasped his arm, struggling for breath. Her carefully arranged blond curls cascaded down either side of her reddened face, her low cut shirt pulled askew to show a good portion of her breast. The short red skirt nearly rode up past her privates.

With an effort, Desmond began to build his meager Talent. Maybe he could distract the guy into looking the other way while he made a break for it.

“Look, mister. I don’t know what this is all about...”

“Cut the shit. Where’s Jessie?”

“Jessie?”

“My girl, Jessie Jewels.”

“I beg your pardon? I don’t believe I know...”

“I think he means Jessica Mansfield, Dessie,” Candy choked out, the tears streaming down her face, her mascara creating a ghoulish mask around her eyes and down her cheeks.

“Whatever she’s calling herself. She’s one of my best girls and there ain’t no way in hell she’s gonna become a fuckin’ cat. I own her ass.”

“One of your girls?”

“She works for me. Does the Mason Avenue stretch. Best bitch I got.”

It slowly began to dawn on Desmond what the man was talking about. Jessica Mansfield was a call girl? A prostitute? Shit! If the press got wind of that...oh, Christ, that would destroy the firm. They’d be the laughing stock of the Practitioner world. His reputation would be shredded and coughed up like a...a hairball!

For a moment, Desmond couldn’t think straight. All else—the weeping Candy, the crazy guy waving a gun—everything faded as he watched his business crumble to dust. By a prostitute of all things.

“No,” he whispered. “No. She cannot be transformed.”

That was it. If Jessica Mansfield was never transformed into a cat, then there was no reflection on him or his firm. If Jenna was unable to do it, then it was no real loss. The whole process was iffy to begin with. The woman would vanish into the underworld she emerged from and the press would be given a statement that the transformation was unsuccessful and Jessica Mansfield was returning to her mundane little life.

Yeah, that would work.

“That’s what I been sayin’, asshole.”

Desmond looked at him. As a precaution, he used his meager Talent to assess the man’s aura. A null. Completely without Talent. No danger to him. Other than the gun, of course.

“Who are you?”

“Just call me Floyd. That’s all you need to know.”

“Come with me, Floyd. We can still stop this.”

“Don’t you pull no shit on me, asshole.”

“No shit, Floyd. Let Candy go. I’m just as interested as keeping Jessica from becoming a cat as you are.”

The big man eyed Desmond for several long moments, his dark eyes assessing. He must have seen something in his face, because he released Candy, giving her a rough shove toward Desmond. Stumbling, Candy gave a cry and threw herself into Desmond’s arms. He thrust her to one side without taking his gaze from Floyd.

“Go home, Candy.” He didn’t want her around as a witness. This way she couldn’t repeat anything to the press. She wasn’t smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

“But, baby...”

“Get out of here, Candy,” he gave her firm push. Christ, she looked like shit. She wasn’t an attractive crier. Her face was a mottled red, her mascara streaked down her face and snot ran from her nose.

Candy stumbled back a couple of feet, swiping her nose with the back of her hand. She stared at him for a second, swung her glance toward Floyd and then turned and tottered off on her high heels. She made amazing speed considering the height of those heels. She vanished around the corner without a backward glance.

Perhaps she wasn’t as clueless as he thought.

“Come with me, Floyd. This is what you’re going to do.”

Sharpening her focus, Jenna harnessed the magic, feeding it with the extra power that the full moon provided by All Hallow’s Night. The degree of Talent she wielded made her feel powerful and humble at the same time. In that instant, she understood why Practitioners of the past felt so superior to the magicless nulls who ruled this world. Without this power, they were nothing. Mere insects before the superior Talent of the Practitioner. Hardly worthy of notice.

Horrified at where her thoughts were taking her, Jenna had to shake off the sense of superiority. It was wrong. It was the seductive whisper of black magic, of the power it could give her that led her in that dark direction. It wasn’t who and what she was.

Firmly grounding herself, she wrestled the magic into line, molding it as she prepared to release it into Jessica Mansfield. With care, she pictured a sleek black cat in her mind. An image that fit the woman before her. Green eyes, midnight black fur, a sinuous body.

Taking a deep breath, Jenna began releasing the magic, directing it into the woman seated before her. Big green eyes widened as the first streams wove around Jessica. A light appeared around the smaller woman, growing brighter and brighter until, to Jenna’s eyes she lit up with the power of a thousand incandescent bulbs. The streams moved, revolving around Jessica with ever increasing speed.

Jenna didn’t know what Jessica was feeling, but the woman abruptly stood and threw her head back with a gasp, her body going taut in either pain or ecstasy. Jenna kept a firm grip on her hands, standing with her as she poured more and more power into her, never breaking eye contact.

The swirling lights flared brighter, new colors appearing, spinning around her body before diving into Jessica’s flesh. Jenna squinted against its illumination, her world narrowing, her entire concentration on the transformation. It was working. Jessica’s form began shrinking, her clothes going loose and falling away. Her face narrowed, pushed outward into a muzzle, her eyes slanting upward...

Then the unthinkable happened. There were shouts from the direction of the door, a gunshot. Jessica jerked violently, her hands (paws?) breaking contact with Jenna. The carefully harnessed power was snatched from Jenna’s grasp and flared out of control. The streams of lights began shooting around the room, searching for a target, the magic growing to incredible proportions. Beyond anything she’d seen before.

God, what would it do?

Frantically, Jenna tried to recapture the power, throwing her arms wide in an effort to make herself the target. A portal to absorb the magic. An unseen wind sprang up, causing her hair to fly across her face, blinding her for endless seconds before she was flung off her feet. She hit the floor with a force that left her gasping, but she continued her efforts to channel the magic back into her body. The strands of light resisted her efforts, flowing in all directions, brighter and brighter. Files scattered, sheets of paper snatched up on the unseen power to whirl around in a tornado spiral.

Struggling to her feet, Jenna turned to see what had caused the disruption. She had to sweep her hand across her face to push her hair out of her eyes. A huge man stood inside the doorway, dark hair slicked back, eyes dilated and wild. He was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt and carried a deadly accessory. A gun, pointed upward before he swung it around the room.

Stopping when he spied Jessica.

The magic chose that instant to buffet Jenna, the light blinding her and throwing her to the ground.

“You fucking bitch!” His roar nearing Jessica, his heavy feet thudding on the carpet toward Jenna. “You’re one of my girls. I own your fuckin’ ass and damn if you’re gonna get away this easily.”

“Floyd.” The word came out almost incoherent, a high-pitched mew of sound.

The words didn’t make sense to Jenna. Not at first, but then they began to sink in. Still on her knees, she glanced toward Jessica, but all she could see were the lights. Then the magic abruptly swelled. Whipping out of her control, it crackled with power, eager to engulf something. Anything. The magnitude of the power was incredible, searing her nerve endings, threatening to scour her clean.

She heard Jessica scream. A yowl of pain and fear.

Jenna again fought for control, wrestling with the magic as if it were a live entity. Every time she thought she caught it, it slipped from her grasp. Building. Building until she should burst with the magnitude of power she wrestled. Never had she felt such strength. The sensation was a sword’s edge between pain and ecstasy.

Then, suddenly it was gone. Vanished.

Jenna reeled. It felt like a snapped rubber band, only a million times worse. The backlash caught her and again flung her to the ground. She hit the carpet with a force that knocked all the air out of her. Colors of blue, red and purple flashed across her vision before she blacked out.

When she came to, she was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Spots with the residue of the last colors she’d seen danced in front of her eyes, fading in and out as her body decided whether to stay conscious or not. Breathing was an effort, and her stomach wanted to empty itself. All in all, she felt like shit.

It took several long minutes before her brain began to function beyond the pain that flayed every inch of her skin. Riding a fuzzy stream of events, she tried to reconstruct her last few minutes of consciousness. She remembered carefully building the power, shaping and controlling the magic as she constructed the spell. She remembered slowly releasing it into Jessica. She remembered the look of happy anticipation in Jessica’s green eyes as she began the transformation, her body shrinking, her face reshaping itself.

Then someone came bursting into the judge’s chambers, shouting, threatening, the sound of a gunshot.

Full consciousness crashed down on her and she gasped, panic threatening to close her throat. The magic! It had vanished.

“Where did it go?” she demanded, her voice a wheeze of sound. “Where did the magic go?”

It had to have gone somewhere. That much magic didn’t just peacefully dissipate. It had to have a target, something that would absorb it, use it.