Wilder Mage (10 page)

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I mean, you are nothing like a china doll. Breakable. Fragile.”

She shrugged, but he could tell she liked his words. “How about a blue-eyed cougar?” she said.

“Oh, honey, you’re not that old.”

He laughed and dodged the first swipe of her hand, but her Air element tangled his hair gently and pulled him down to her for a sweet kiss. A moment later, he sighed and straightened.

“I have got to go,” Dayne said firmly, but more reluctant than ever to leave.

She nodded.

He turned without speaking and quickly walked to the door leading to the hallway.

“Love you.”

Her simple words followed him to the front door and then to his Vulcan. He put his arms into his black leather jacket as he held the words close, those words spoken so softly, and put his own with them, his feelings of love. Into a mental box, he put them with all the memories of their days together and turned the imagined key to lock them in place.

And keep them safe.

He gunned the engine and arrowed the motorcycle to the highway. Now the mask was in place and his thoughts became his own. In essence, Dayne divorced himself from the life he cherished and became the “other” person, the mage who was the Imperator of the Imperium, the one who wielded the element of Fire, his only talent, but enough latent energy to lay waste to a building. Or a continent.

Or to warm his lady on a cold night.

Viciously, Dayne slammed the mental door again, his lockbox of thoughts and memories. He felt the cold, emotionless mask return and settle onto his face and into his bones.

Fire was a much-envied talent in magic. Nearly every mage had it, but few with his strength. And the head of the Imperium fostered him, allowed his potential and skill to grow before she brought him into her herd. Like a prize bull in a bunch of cattle, and treated with the same fondness.

He had brought his ability to work fire to the Imperium. And Macy, regretfully, he had brought her to Tiarra as well. The delicate girl, no longer a
tener unus
, was barely out of her teens and now into the Imperium, by way of Dayne. She brought her powerful talents in Air and Earth to them, controlled by Tiarra at her convenience.

Macy had refused the suitor assigned by Tiarra and laughed at his crude attentions and his undisguised lust and ego. Volker was persistent, but Macy had scorned him at every turn. If not for the serious nature of the cretin’s goal—her submission and an awakening of her magic potential—it would have been entertaining for Dayne to watch her flay Volker’s pride with nothing but words.

Dayne was supposed to guard the young one. He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with his charge.

Damn it…focus, idiot.

He dug his fingers into his thigh as he maneuvered through traffic with one hand on the bars. Focus. He needed to focus and have no more thoughts of the best part of his life. Of the girl who had given herself to him and their life together.

He growled.

By drawing his Fire element and sending it into his flesh, he bypassed the material of his jeans. He directed a flicker of heat into his thigh, a sizzle of pain answering his will as he used it to focus his mind on the business with Tiarra.

Nothing else mattered, nothing except his report and her reaction to his words.

They had lost her, the
tener unus
Tiarra had wanted guarded and watched. Those two idiots, cassette-tape-minds in a terabyte world, were useless with anything more complex than a cell phone. Both had limited abilities in magic. They were better than nothing, but just barely.

Now it was his job to tell Tiarra about their failure to keep the powerful young woman under surveillance.

Dayne pulled up to his parking spot and shut the engine off. For a while, he stood beside the bike and watched the passing humans, so content in their thoughtless lives and freedoms.

What lucky jerks they were.

And he laughed without humor as Fire scorched his leg again to remind him.

He was not free.

“So they lost her because they were looking for the taste of her magic. They had no picture or description. Right?” Tiarra said.

He was surprised when Tiarra only drummed her fingertips on the desk, coolly accepting the results without the fierce rage Dayne expected.

The heavy gold ring on her left index finger caught his eye. It had an ebony-colored stone, smooth with no facets. Now she was turning the ring, a man’s ring, around on her finger, her face thoughtful.

Tiarra sat across from him in her large office behind an L-shaped desk, looking like the competent, successful businesswoman that she was. Her maroon dress was so deeply colored that is was nearly black, and he idly wondered if she had conjured the colors from her Earth element. The fabric whispered as she moved, like raw silk, and clung to her figure from her neckline to her waist, where it flared into a knee-length skirt.

He tamped down his relief when the assistant had shown him to this room. A Spirit-adept was rare, and Dayne didn’t have much knowledge of their talents, but he knew they felt the surrounding emotions. And Tiarra was very talented in all five elements. Dayne held himself under control and willed his thoughts into some semblance of composure. Tiarra gave an amused laugh.

“Yes, they relied on the
tener unus’s
signature only, no photos or descriptions.”

He hesitated, but she didn’t look up. She continued to turn the heavy gold ring, her face emotionless. Tension pulled his muscles into a knot, and he shifted his weight to relax. He froze when her eyes flicked to him.

She shrugged, seemed to lose interest in whatever information was on her monitor, and turned her office chair to the wall-sized window. Through the tinted glass, Dayne could see the birds as they wheeled in the strong, midday sun, and in the distance, a glint of light reflected off the bay.

“Replace them with two new tails and provide them with photos. When the
tener unus
lights up or we run across her signature, direct them to her location. Until then, sit tight and monitor the crystal board,” she said. Tiarra sat back in her chair and played with the heavy gold band.

“The crystal…I’m sorry, the what?”

“Crystal board,” she said. “I keep forgetting. You are essentially new to this type of surveillance.” Tiarra’s eyes closed. “It is a map of the continent and is infused with the essence of all five elements in a clear board made of crystal. When a bonded adept is close to becoming a full wizard, the location lights up on the board.”

He hesitated and rose from the chair.

Her eyes opened and flicked to him.

“You have questions?” she asked.

Dayne paused. Too much information might be a bad thing, inviting her displeasure. The results of annoying Tiarra were well known. But still…

“The men. They bungled their assignment. Lost her.” He stopped as she continued to look at him without emotion, turning the heavy gold ring on her finger. I thought you would be…very pissed.”

Tiarra looked away with a small smile, and he relaxed the hard fist he had made.

“It isn’t that I forgive them,” she said. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him again. “Or you, for that matter.”

His nails dug into his palm.

Her eyes released him as she shrugged, leaned back in her chair, and looked at the ceiling. “I understand. That is all. We sometimes rely on our abilities too much and not enough on common sense.” She laughed a short, ugly sound and looked at him again.

“You see, I did the same thing once, a long time ago...relied on my magic more than I should have, and it cost me a very talented young man.”

Dayne stared at her, his brows lifted to his hairline in surprise. A mage had escaped her and slipped through her talented fingers?

“Uh…did he…die?”

Tiarra laughed again, this time low and throaty. “No, my Imperator, he didn’t die. In fact, he was quite happy. For a while.” She laughed again and stood. “Then we, shall I say, ‘noticed’ what each of us was, and it was…interesting.”

“He escaped then.” Dayne froze when the eyes that turned to him held a flash of anger.

“Oh, yes, my Imperator, he escaped. Skipped right out on me. A one-night stand, I believe. And I was most upset. Not only because he managed to evade me, but because he was one of the most powerful mages I have ever touched.”

Her thoughts seemed to turn inward, and Dayne nearly missed her next words. “But I pinked him. Oh, yes, I hurt him.”

She idly traced one finger along the desk, following one of the patterns in the wood with her nail.

“He was strong, you say,” Dayne said.

She nodded. Her eyes were on the desktop.

“What elements did he have?”

Tiarra smiled, and he felt the magic gather around her. He heard a harsh scraping noise and felt the element of Earth as she dug furrows into the wooden desk.

“All of them,” she said, still following the wood grains. “He was exceedingly powerful in all of them. Especially Spirit.”

“Spirit? That isn’t so important, is it?”

Tiarra stopped her destruction of the desktop and looked up. Immediately, Dayne felt an overwhelming need, a physical craving to push her to the floor and take her now. In his mind, as he took that first step to her, her body was already his, her dress ripped away from her. He was fumbling at his clothes.

In a blink of the eye, the need died, drowned in her delighted laugh and his embarrassment. Dayne stood with his eyes tightly closed, trying to collect himself.

“That, my dear Imperator, is the Spirit element. And I don’t have a tenth of the talent that little youngling had. With his abilities, he could change history, turn minds into mush, cause people to lie, abandon their children, or leap to their deaths. He could invoke all people to speak the truth or come to him as he wished.” She laughed harshly, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. “No, my dear Imperator, Spirit can be very useful. Very useful.”

She turned the ring on her finger, around and around.

He turned to the door, humiliated more than any time he could remember in his life.

“Get the photos of the young one from my assistant.”

Dayne turned back to Tiarra. She had one eye open, looking at him.

“After this, keep twenty-four-hour surveillance on the crystal board.”

She closed her eyes again and leaned back in her chair, putting one shapely leg on the desk and then the other. The silk whispered.

“Sooner or later, she will extend her magic and we will have her. Keep someone at the board at all times, and ensure that we will be notified if the
tener unus
lights up.”

Dayne felt his muscles quiver as he hardened his jaw and turned to leave.

Chapter Eight

T
he office assistant checked his watch for the third time in ten minutes and swore under his breath, wondering if the day would ever end. He looked at the closed door leading to his boss’s inner office, sighed, and fiddled with the contents of his desk drawer, tidily rearranging them. Again. Loyalty to his country and his status as a government employee had its limits.

He emptied one desk tray and moistened a paper napkin left over from his late supper. He cleaned the tray of eraser crumbs and bits of paper and then replaced the paper clips. He looked at the desk clock and groaned.

A sound from behind the door made him look up and pause, a fax firing up and the murmur of a low voice. Good, the assistant thought, he could go home soon.

He closed the desk drawer, brushed off his trousers, and straightened his government ID, ensuring his picture and name faced outward. At this time of night, Security would know which employees were still onsite. Presenting his insignia correctly would expedite his departure. It was a good thing to know during these hyper-vigilant days.

People were so touchy about security lately.

He jumped when the door snapped open and his boss stepped out and locked his door. He carried a legal-sized manila envelope sealed with security tape.

“Here, Phil,” his boss said. “Take it to him, and then you can go home. And don’t stop for anything. Or,” he added, “anyone.”

Phil took the envelope, heavy with tape, but light in contents, and nodded. Without speaking, he walked to the hallway door leading to the elevator, ready to complete his task and leave for home.

“And Phil, one more thing.”

Phil turned back and noticed his supervisor’s creased and worn expression for the first time. He had the appearance of a man suffering through many sleepless nights or recovering from a lengthy illness. Phil opened his mouth to express concern, but the words died. His supervisor’s pallid face held an expression unlike anything he had ever seen. Briefly, he thought about offering to call medical. But with his boss’s next words, he realized his mistake.

His boss swallowed noisily. “And Phil…run,” he said quietly, the fear snaking from his face into his voice.

Phil froze, aware of his heart now pounding with the knowledge his boss’s face conveyed to him. He licked his suddenly dry lips as he glanced at the emblem on the envelope, a symbol not a name. When he recognized it, sickness started into his mouth. Mouth agape, his eyes slid back to his boss’s face.