Wilder Mage (3 page)

“All the work done, then?” she asked. “Did I get back in time?”

“Just finishing up here,” Justus said with a low chuckle. He wiped up the last of the fragments with a damp paper towel and threw it away with the trash. “There, that’s it. Time to get cookin’.”

He brushed his black jeans to ensure nothing glimmered there and clenched his teeth at the sting in his palm. Nothing seemed attached to the dark blue material of his shirt, at least.

Before long, the odor of meat grilled in Emmett’s outdoor cooker filtered not only into the shop, but out to the street as well. After eleven o’clock, the sweaty utility workers began filing in, hoping for a plain sandwich. The fragrant slabs of steak and pulled meat surprised them. With plenty of buns to go around and the seemingly endless supply of Justus’s microbrew beer, it was enough to put even the weariest in a cheerful mood.

With no refrigeration, vegetables weren’t on the menu, and the beefy workers sighed dramatically and called for more beer to alleviate their feigned disappointment. More than one commented to Justus on his microbrew and asked for the name of his supplier, but he simply smiled and served them another glass of the warm beer. He wondered what their response would be if they discovered his main ingredient in the foamy beverage.

Magic was one of the ingredients, enhancing the hops, water, and malted grains. Wild yeast, pulled from the surrounding area of apple orchards, clover fields, and sun-baked sweet corn made each brew unique. Some amber-colored batches smelled of butterscotch. Other bottles tasted like Emmett’s apple wood, earthy and flavorful. His preference had the spicy flavor of cloves and ginger. All filled the senses with the aromas of the woods, an orchard, or a flower garden.

He devoted one section of the cellar to his practice of micro brewing, but fixed magic hid the rest of the cellar, the place where he held the parts of his life separate from his human friends—and the Imperium.

Word soon spread and a line formed on the street. The hungry workers cheerfully took turns eating at the six mahogany tables, some electing to take a plate and sit on the wooden benches on the sidewalk.

Emmett cooked the meat, and Justus served, threading his body between tables and the masses. Maggie stayed at the register.

The crowd dwindled, and by the time the sun was down to the tree line, the freezer was empty. Alone with his friends, Justus leaned back in one of the large chairs set in the corner of the bar, his long legs stretched in front of him. He interlaced his fingers behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.

The lights suddenly flared, went out, and then came on again to stay.

“Oh, yeah. Ain’t that timin’,” Emmett said, laughing. “Just after we empty the freezer, the power comes back on.”

Justus got to his feet and went to look again at the antique wing with the broken china and figurines. Grimly, he took the angled broom and began sweeping the bits of broken china.

It wouldn’t clean itself. At least not with witnesses.

Buying antiques, then reselling them to happy collectors was only profitable on a cyclical basis. What he really needed was a web site. And how many times had he come up with this grand solution and not acted on it?

“Hey, I’ll do that,” Emmett said, coming up behind him. “You need to call your mom anyway.”

“She called?”

“Yeah, sorry, I forgot. It was in the middle of the rush and you were in the cellar.”

Emmett began sweeping the piles together. Justus pulled his cell phone from behind the bar and hit the familiar numbers.

“Hello,” an aged, female voice answered.

“What the hell you doing inside on a beautiful day like this?”

She laughed, and Justus heard the familiar click of her dentures. “Answering the damn phone, that’s what,” she said.

Justus snickered. “Geez. For an old woman, you sure cuss a lot.”

“Yeah, well, for a young brat, you sure are opinionated.”

Shattering glass caught his attention. Emmett uttered an oath under his breath, then glanced at him and rolled his eyes. “It was broken already, I think,” he said.

Justus shrugged and gave him a half-smile. “Lookit, Mom, I don’t think I’m gonna make it over there tonight. Will you be okay?”

A short hesitation, and then she said, “Of course. I don’t have anything going on here. Nothing broken or wrecked. Not like at the shop. So don’t worry. Just stay safe.”

“You always say that.” He shook his head. “Take care, then, and I’ll see you sometime. Call if there’s a problem.”

“Okay, bye.”

He hung up and heard a footstep, crunching through the broken glass on the sidewalk. A lanky teenage boy stood in the doorway and gave a low whistle. The teenager’s honey-blond hair stuck in damp strands to his forehead from a half-ass shower. He wore a shirt that was growing tight over his shoulders and chest, touting a faded red Huskers logo. He was at that age between a kid and an adult—too old to be called a boy, and too self-aware to be a man.

He was a splendid example of a seventeen-year-old stud muffin who didn’t yet know he was one and wouldn’t care when he did.

“Holy crap, what a mess,” he said. The boy craned his head and whistled again as he looked at the destruction.

“Wow, Bertie, nothing gets by you. It’s scary how fast you pick up on the smallest detail,” Justus said.

“Yeah, well, it’s a gift. And quit calling me ‘Bertie.’”

“Okay. Bertram.”

The boy narrowed his eyes at Justus and stepped into the shop.

“Speaking of ‘picking up...’ Here you go, Bert.” Emmett tossed a roll of heavy-duty black garbage bags at him.

Bert caught it against his chest and grinned at Emmett. He shook a bag out, opened it, and nodded at Justus. “Heard what you said to your mom. We’ll look in on her,” he said.

“Thanks, Bert. Appreciate it.”

“We could have used you earlier,” Emmett said. “What were you doing? Not homework?”

Bert grinned briefly. “Nah. We had practice at school for the track tournament. Can you believe it? Even with the quake and crap, the coach said we still needed to run.”

His eyes flicked to Justus, then away.

“How did you do?” Maggie said.

Bert glanced at Maggie’s hands and frowned. She was rubbing her knuckles gingerly. “I came in third, but it was my personal best at the five-mile run.” He shrugged. “I was happy with it anyway.”

“Well, kid, you got the legs for it, skinny and all,” Emmett said.

Bert snorted and held the bag open for Justus to dump a dustpan full of broken glass and dust, but his attention stayed on Maggie. He looked at Justus and subtly rolled his eyes toward the older woman. Justus nodded slightly and tied the bag off. Air and Fire. He began to formulate the need and gather the elements.

Just as he took a step toward her, he felt the familiar creepy-crawly sensation on his forearms. In the same motion, he reached for the broom instead and began sweeping with a purpose. Bert frowned, confused. Justus nodded meaningfully to the front entrance. The teenager turned, at once eager and expectant.

That kid will never learn to avoid magic,
Justus thought.

The front door opened and the footsteps stopped just inside the entrance. Out of the corner of his eye, Justus saw Emmett look up, smile, and cock his head slightly, as if puzzled. He kept his head down and worked the broom, but caught Bert’s wide-eyed expression as he looked at the newcomer. More than curious now. More like heightened interest. A purely male reaction.

“Yes? Can we help you?” Emmett asked, brushing his hands together.

Justus gave in to his curiosity and turned his head. The adept, a young woman, had stopped just inside the door and looked around the shop with dismay.

Wisps of her brown hair escaped the long braid hanging down her slim back, and a rumpled, well-used denim bag hung over one shoulder. On her wrist, a metal bracelet made of many trinkets and loops chimed in silvery tones. She looked at the piles of broken glass and muttered, “Crap.”

Her eyes came back to Emmett.

“Oh, sorry. I saw your sign outside there, the ‘Help Wanted’ sign, and…”

She stopped and her shoulders slumped. Tired or miserable, he thought.

It didn’t take a magician to read her body language. But then she straightened and her jaw tightened.

“Your sign says you need help,” she said firmly, almost defiantly.

Emmett glanced at Maggie, then both turned to Justus with the same question in their eyes. Bert stared with appreciation at the girl, and Justus half expected him to whistle again.

The girl turned to him; he met her eyes and felt his breath catch. Her eyes, dove-gray and lined in black lashes, were steady, determined, and not as defeated as he’d thought.

Damn it.

Three pairs of eyes waited, two with great expectations. The third went hard, her face wiped clean of emotion as he hesitated. She shrugged and began to turn away.

Emmett stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Hey, boss, we could use some help, don’t ya think? I mean book work, cleaning, organizing. Maybe even serving when we get real busy like today,” Emmett said. “We could manage minimum wage at least for now. And ah, maybe she could help out at home…” His voice got smaller as Justus remained quiet.

Justus felt his mouth tighten as the impossible situation began to gather around him like the tangles of a rough net, ending every opportunity for escape. He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth as they waited. The girl’s shoulders straightened and she jerked her chin. He felt a subtle touch of anger run through him.

He nodded once.

For a moment, he thought she would refuse and leave, rather than accept the job, her pride wounded. She lowered her eyes and relented. “I don’t mind. I’ll do anything. Sweeping, cleaning, organizing, filing. I don’t mind,” she said. She jerked her chin again, and then she smiled.

She had turned to face him fully, and her smile knocked him back a step. Her face became a brilliant galaxy of light.

Maggie stepped up to her and began patting her arm, asking her name and if she had eaten.

“Sable,” she said softly. “My name is Sable Rounds, and no, I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Do you have a place to stay?” Emmett asked, his smile as warm and welcoming as a cup of brewed tea.

“Um, no,” Sable said.

Emmett looked at Maggie, a question in his eyes. When she smiled and nodded, he grinned wider, as if satisfied, and turned to the young woman.

“We got a place for you, over our garage. It’s been vacant for several years, but it’s in good shape, private-like and cheap.” He laughed. “Real cheap, maybe.”

“See, we could use some help, like kind of a live-in helper, someone to do some light cleaning and such,” Maggie said, smiling and holding out her knobby hands. “I just can’t get things done like I used to, you see, with this arthritis, and if you could help out here and at our house…” She trailed off.

Emmett gave his wife a fond smile. “Yeah, she can’t do the hoochie coochie dance like she used to.”

“Emmett,” Maggie said, looking appalled.

Her husband feigned chagrin.

Sable grinned and added a laugh that was like the musical chimes of her bracelet. “Oh, of course, of course. That’d be great.” And then something seemed to break inside her, and she blinked and her voice sounded like her throat was tight. “That would…that sounds wonderful.”

Her eyes dropped to Maggie’s twisted hands and narrowed in concentration. Justus felt the heat of the ward stone on his chest and saw the faint swirl of several elements woven onto her palm. Fire and Air.

She laid her hand on Maggie’s arm, and the older woman sighed as the pain in her hands vanished.

His head on his hand, elbow on table, looking at nothing—that was Justus’s last fifteen minutes while he tried to figure out why he had hired a mage. She would be a disruption, a complication. Was he crazy, with an adept here, so close, and the Imperium probably not far behind? Eventually, he’d slip and this gal would call her friends.

What the hell kind of idiot was he?

As if in answer, Bert looked up from the noisy video game he was playing and hit the off switch. The techno music died, along with the meaty crunches of dying aliens.

“You okay?” Bert said, then grinned when Justus looked at him sourly. “Guess not. I take it that was another mage, what with the attitude you got there and all.”

Justus growled. “Can’t fire her either, not now. Not unless she’s a total screwup or a thief.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you’re gonna be that lucky,” Bert said cheerfully. “Emmett was holding the door open, calling them his ‘ladies,’ and Maggie was talking girl-talk when they left, something about curtains, candles, and potpourri.”

Justus remembered that moment when Sable looked over her shoulder as the McIntyres were leaving with her, flashing him another smile. It transformed her face. It was as though she had saved up all the happiness her life should have held until this moment and expended it in her smile as she looked back at him. The McIntyres hustled her out to “get settled” Emmett said, winking at Justus. And probably to feed her and give her the usual mothering routine they gave to waifs in need.