Wilder Mage (23 page)

After he left…

His stomach dropped again.

Maybe they could let his rooms over the shop to someone trustworthy. Or use them for storage. He looked around at the sparse accumulation of his years living over the shop, the austere furnishings of his life. He met his basic needs with the small kitchenette, a bed big enough so his feet didn’t hang off the edge, and the old oak kitchen table. The books caught his eye as the one thing he would miss, the titles of the classics and modern ones as well. Some of the covers were tattered with age and the love of many hands. All were valuable—not necessarily in money, but in the journeys traveled by the reader. Life was between those pages, and he would miss them.

He touched a finger to a drop of condensation as it trailed down the mug holding his special brew. He caught the moisture before it joined the ring of water on the table. Lifting his finger, he considered the drop, letting it catch the late afternoon sun streaming in his windows. The beer wouldn’t last. Justus lifted the mug and took another deep swallow. Especially if he kept drinking it like he had for the past few days. There was one crate of bottles left in the cellar, and after it was gone, the McIntyres would need to find another source of microbrew.

He drained the mug and took it to his sink, washed it, and set it in the drainer.

Bert needed to know his reasons for leaving. But tell his mom? No, never. He would call her and try to explain after he left. Today, after he closed the shop, he would see her and smile his way through a last hug.

Tell the McIntyres? Nope. That would lead to difficulties he was unprepared to face. The “sale” of the shop to them would have to do. Explanations would not make it easier for them.

The papers were stacked neatly on the table. An extra set of keys for the front door, office, the safe, and his apartment were beside them, with nametags for each key. Two unsealed, legal-sized envelopes were waiting for him to sign, one for Bert and one for Sable. He started to seal the one addressed to Sable, but he hesitated, drawing one finger slowly across her name. A caress, his mind told him, but this time, his resolve failed him and he allowed the simple touch of her written name under his hand. For that moment, he allowed free rein to his feelings.

Justus quickly sealed the envelope and placed both of them on the stacked papers with the keys on top of them. He touched the chain around his neck and pulled the ward stone from his shirt. A turquoise stone hung from the chain alongside the slightly smaller muddy-colored pendant. After he worked the elements into the stone, it would act as a shield to deflect the energies of the Imperium’s locating devices. He would not go through the agony of Tiarra’s tools again. Before long, he would gather the magic and fix it to the blue stone, but not with so many adepts roaming the area, circling their focus point, like vultures around a fresh kill. He could not pull the elements from around him until he was far from his home, from Sable.

Justus looked around his rooms. Everything was ready.

He would leave tomorrow.

The door to his rooms closed behind him, and he heard the satisfying snick of the lock. The sound of a masculine chuckle from the shop was less pleasing. Justus unclenched his teeth and tried to rearrange his expression as he went down the steps to the shop door.

He heard Wesley laugh again and Sable answering from the office. She faced the monitor, tapping the keyboard, her eyes on the screen. Wesley had one hand on the back of her chair and leaned over her to look at the monitor. His mouth was a couple of inches from her ear, and his attention wasn’t on the screen. As Justus watched, he saw the man’s eyes drop to Sable’s gaping blouse.

He smothered the flare of anger as quickly as it erupted.

Wesley had the usual smarmy expression on his chiseled face that he saved for Justus. He turned and grimaced as Justus entered the office. Wesley dropped his arm and straightened from Sable’s chair, irritated at the interruption.

Justus ignored him. “I’m closing up soon. Is there anything you need to do before I lock up?”

She searched his face for a moment before answering, and he wondered what she saw.

“No, I’m done here,” she said.

The front door opened and he heard the excited voice of a kid.

He shared a short laugh with Sable, whose wide grin matched his. “Never fails,” he said. “I say ‘time to close up,’ and we get customers.”

“Tell ’em we’re closed and then shut the door,” Wesley said. He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, and Justus hid his grin when she pulled back, avoiding the caress with a scowl on her face.

“No,” Sable said to Wesley. She smiled at Justus. “I’ll take care of the floor. Go ahead and get ready to close up if you want.”

He stood back as she moved through the doorway. A couple and a young boy were looking at the model trains set in a display in one corner. Trains chugged around a track that ran the length of the wall. The kid made a happy sound. The father laughed with him.

The sound of the family exclaiming over the old train, the minuscule buildings, and the landscaping built around the tracks depressed him. Maybe it was because the father and his towheaded son made identical sounds as they turned to follow the train with their eyes. Or maybe it was the sight of the mother looking at the two of them fondly. A family.

Justus turned his back on them and his eyes met Sable’s. She had seen the same thing he saw. He wondered if his face appeared the same as hers, drawn and tense. His longing returned and he wanted to touch her, to hold her and comfort her.

No. Rehashing those feelings has to stop.

Wesley came through the office door and Sable locked it behind him. His eyes were on the family also, but it was more speculative. Like a sale was in the offing.

Sable walked to the family, her smile genuine, and asked if she could help. The father grinned at her and asked her about the history of the locomotive on display. Sable launched into the story of its manufacturer. It had been her idea to set up the train tracks and models, following examples she’d found online. She immersed herself into the trains and all the facts surrounding the making of them. The father seemed enthralled. The boy couldn’t take his eyes off the tiny town, touching the granary with a careful finger.

“She’s got quite the touch there, don’t she?” Wesley said.

Justus had almost forgotten the other man was there, and he stirred irritably at the intrusion. He’d rather listen to Sable talk about trains.

“Yep, quite a gal, that lady of mine.”

Justus turned to Wesley’s keen eyes and didn’t speak.

The man smirked and flashed a satisfied smile. “Look, you two never dated, right?” Wesley said.

“She is my employee,” Justus said, annoyed. “I didn’t want to pressure her.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

Justus unclenched his teeth. Talking to a fool was such a waste of time. “No, we never dated.”

Wesley chuckled. “Yep, quite a gal. My woman.”

“Is that so? Sounds like you’re overly certain about that. Maybe you need to check that leash you’re holding for weak spots first.”

Crap, what happened to my resolve? Shot to hell, that’s what happened to it
.

Wesley leveled an evil look at him, and Justus felt the thrill of anger course through him again at the unspoken threat. What he wouldn’t give for a little morsel of Fire magic right now to burn that stupid snarl right off his smirking face. He was aware of the energies swirling around him. He could loop enough of the element to cause minimal damage if only he extended one finger.

A laugh from Sable saved him from the foolishness, and he turned away from Wesley to watch her pull a long storage box from under the display case. The father had his hand in his back pocket and flipped his billfold to thumb bills onto the counter.

Justus gave one quick nod at Sable. “Looks like she has everything under control. I’m going upstairs.” He started for the door leading to the back room and the stairs.

Sable’s voice stopped him.

“You’ll be at the McIntyres’ tonight, won’t you? Dinner, remember?”

“Of course,” Justus said lightly. “Right after I see my mom.”

A strange SUV was in his mother’s driveway, and automatically, Justus cast his senses into the house and surrounding area, feeling for the signature of other adepts. Nothing stroked his skin and warned him of magic. Good. Probably a friend, then, or a salesman.

Before he could knock, his mom opened the front door, smiling up at him and giving him a brief hug. “Oh, I am so glad you are here, Justus. I want you to meet someone.”

Warily, he stepped into her small, but neat little one-story house, smelling of rose perfume and furniture polish. As usual, the room was tidy, everything in its place, without a spot of dust on the smooth mahogany dining room table. A short, pudgy man was just straightening into a standing position from the stuffed chair by the lamp table. His eyes peered through wire rim glasses, curious and intent on him, waiting for a reaction. As if expecting Justus to say something clever or perform for him. Before Justus could determine the nature of the interest, the man’s face smoothed into an emotionless mask and waited.

“This is your father’s cousin, Paul Tourin, from Washington. He has business nearby and wanted to meet us,” she said, gesturing to the silent man.

Justus automatically held out his hand. The man clasped his palm after a brief moment.

“I’m glad to meet you,” the man said easily. “It’s good to know my relatives.”

Justus released the man’s hand and felt a gust of wind from the open window. It brushed by him, lifting the pages of a magazine lying on the coffee table. No one seemed to notice, and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence. His mother waited expectantly, and now was not the time to indulge his odd musings and confusion. Justus cleared his throat nervously. A small smile appeared on Tourin’s face and the moment passed.

“How long will you be here? In town, I mean,” Justus said.

The man shrugged, picked up the magazine, and sat down in the overstuffed chair again. “Not long. I am actually leaving tomorrow morning. Early.”

His waiting eyes were on Justus again.

Something peculiar crossed the man’s face, and Justus’s senses clamored with suspicion. Not a mage. No magic swirled around the man. The elements shimmered negligently about the room in carefree patterns. Nothing of gathered magic appeared to call them from their fanciful courses. This was not a wizard sitting in the living room of his mother.

Justus felt his mouth tighten. “Cousin, you say. Which of my father’s brothers is your dad?”

Tourin shook his heavy jowls. “Not brother. His sister, Helene, is actually my stepmother. Your father had no brothers.”

Did that gleam in Tourin’s eye mean something other than good humor?
Justus wondered.

His mother patted Justus’s knee and asked about the shop and Internet business, drawing his thoughts away from his “cousin” and the unspoken confrontation Justus knew was there. He kept his focus on his mother’s questions and comments, but Tourin’s silence kept drawing his attention away from her.

On the pretense of helping his mother, Justus followed her into the kitchen to get coffee.

“What do you know about this guy, Tourin?” he asked, his voice low.

She reached for a third coffee mug and pulled a red enameled tray from behind the coffee maker before turning to him. “Paul? I’ve known him since I married your dad, even before that. We used to double date.” Her smile turned inward, as if in memory.

“Your dad took us on some lovely outings, and Paul was right there with him, coming up with the most devilish antics. Paul had his girls du jour, I called them. He didn’t get very serious in the field of romance before we met.”

Justus began to ask her to elaborate, but a creak of a floorboard stopped him.

“Now, Raissa, are you being the school tattletale again, filling your son’s head with the indiscretions of my youth?” Tourin leaned against the doorframe leading to the kitchen. He didn’t look at Justus.

“Not at all,” Justus said lightly. “We were just getting the coffee.”

Their eyes met over his mother’s head, and the keen face of the pudgy man lifted slightly in a half-smile at Justus’s cool appraisal.

Justus had to be satisfied with his mother’s reassurance that Paul Tourin was who he said he was. Soon, it was time to go to the McIntyres’, and Justus stood to leave.

Quality time it was not,
he thought.

He wrapped his arms around his little mom one last time and kissed her soft, paper-thin cheek.

She stood back and smiled up at him again. “You be careful, then, Justus. Don’t be getting into too much trouble.”

“At the McIntyres’ house?” he scoffed. “Yeah, a lot of danger there.”

More than he wanted to think about.

His father’s cousin stood to one side, watched with sharp eyes, and nodded once at him in farewell. “I need to shove off too. Gotta get up early tomorrow to make my flight.”

With another wave to his mom, Justus felt his throat tighten as he looked at her small figure, smiling at him, with no awareness of his plans. He swallowed and turned away before she could see his face.