She sought out the staff and other members of her family, constellations of starry magic in the varied field of Shadow.
But where was Mason? Could she see him, too? The human who wielded magic?
She sought him throughout her property. She knew he had a soul, but figured that she’d be able to pinpoint his concentration of Shadow. She searched for him, but discovered that her House had many random concentrations of Shadow—the stuff pooled in corners and sucked into closets. And within the wooded area along the boundary of her wards? Magic black as pitch.
But no Mason.
She pulled gently for more power—not so much that she might hurt herself again or that Maeve might stir—but just enough to discover whether or not her sight could perceive a soul. It was an interesting question. She turned her sight to her property again.
Nothing. She released the Shadow, irritated.
Someone knocked at her door. Ugh. She became more so to be interrupted right now.
Then she stood, abruptly. And smiled triumph.
Someone was at her door, and she couldn’t see who it was. But she knew anyway. “Yes?”
The door opened. Mason stepped over the threshold. “What the hell are you doing now?”
Funny he should ask. “I was looking for you.”
As soon as she’d answered, he wanted to step right back outside Cari’s bedroom and close the door. He should respect her privacy and ignore his awareness of magic condensing into frightening potency.
He wanted to step back out, but he’d frozen, dumbfounded.
It was pure idiocy for him to come here. A stray had to be smarter, more mindful of self preservation.
Cari Dolan, pretty Cari Dolan, stood before him like a goddess. There was none of the girl he remembered, only woman. In the mid-morning of her room, she gleamed with a heart-breaking radiance. She wore a silver silk robe, which plunged into a long skinny vee, stopped at the loose tie of her belt. Obviously naked underneath, her skin was dewy from a recent shower—the fragrant humidity still hung in the air—and her hair was slicked back. Her huge black eyes were smug and smiling.
He shook his head. Dropped his gaze to the wood floor. Climbed his thoughts over his suddenly raging reaction. “What did you want?”
What he wanted went against the most bitter lesson he’d ever learned in his life. And he’d learned more than a few. He wanted Cari. He wanted to touch her, to breathe her in, to fill her up with himself. When had the house gotten so damn hot?
“Mason?”
Why couldn’t he move? Was she working her magic on him?
Stupid question from a stupid man. Cari didn’t need magic to work him over.
“Mason.”
He dragged his gaze back up to answer whatever question she had. And then he’d get out of here. Fast and far. House women, and she was the worst.
He’d sworn to himself never again.
But she saw what she wanted in his expression. Her eyes widened, just a little bit. Her head tilted slightly, so that a wet curl slipped down to her forehead. Her smile morphed from smug to . . . shy? happy? sweet? and sexy all at once.
He might as well be nineteen again.
If she’d realized her power over him, acted the seductress, he could’ve easily left her alone. He’d had enough of that. But she was Cari. It took every iota of will to back the hell out the way he’d come, into the hallway. He sent Shadow reaching through her doorknob to turn the bolt mechanism. Not that he couldn’t open it again, but at least it was one more deterrent in his way. When the lock snicked into place, he stepped back. But not before he heard her low, throaty laugh. It was her secret laugh, the same she’d had years ago when she used to make wry observations under her breath to him about this or that mage. But he didn’t think she was making fun of him right now. More like sharing the joke, which made his arousal worse, but he couldn’t help joining her with a smile at the closed door.
“Did you need something?”
He startled and turned to find the redhead, Stacia, arms crossed and hating him. Her flirtatious simper from yesterday was so far gone, he couldn’t even believe it’d ever happened.
He lifted his hands in surrender. “Nope. Just checking on her.”
“FYI, she’s fine.”
FYI, she’s more than fine. Dangerously, so. But Mason just nodded and walked away.
Takum Blake walked out into the dusty farm fields of his property. He crushed crickets with every step. Drying husks let up gasps of dust as they crackled under his boots. The dust had gotten into his lungs and left him with a hacking cough. The farmhouse behind him screeched with its impeding fall. He held it upright with the Shadow in the ward stones.
Lorelei, his firstborn, turned her head toward him at his approach, but she didn’t turn around. She’d been almost completely silent in the year since Ferrol Grey’s defeat by Kaye Brand and the subsequent shift of the Council. Lori had been bold and brave, which had gone against her usually quiet nature. The failure to capture Brand wasn’t hers. Grey had made mistakes, in spite of his careful planning, and Brand had had secret, powerful friends. Angels.
But for Lori’s part in the debacle, she’d been shunned by magekind. Even her husband had left her, left the children behind. No one liked a Lure, and the Blakes understood why. With a touch, they could override any mage’s will and supplant it with their own. Lori had touched Brand, had forced the fire mage back into Ferrol Grey’s grasp. Few Houses had called them friend, until Grey. And now, only the one . . . A single friendly House remained.
Who had called with this terrible idea. A last chance.
Farm life suited the Blakes, suited Takum anyway. He found the land’s restless quiet a reprieve from the suspicious looks other mages sent toward his family. But his home wouldn’t last. It was dying with him, and he knew it. His heart had slowly turned to stone. It was used up.
“Comandra is driving me crazy.” Lori put her hand to her skull as if to dispel the effects.
He remembered when he was a parent of teenagers. “Sixteen is a difficult age.”
Lori swatted at a bug near her ear. “She says she has no life.”
“I heard.” The whole house had rattled with the girl’s shouts and slams.
“She’s right, though. There’s no life for her. No life for her brother either, when he gets old enough to think about it.”
Takum closed his eyes. His daughter was unknowingly arguing in favor of the plan, though she didn’t know it would cost her life.
Lori was as good as dead to Kaye Brand, and therefore the Council. No, Lori was as good as dead to magekind. She’d done the worst: she’d betrayed one of her own kind. If the Blakes had had any honor, she’d spent it.
Takum put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out and stroking her hair, his errant girl. “I’ve had word about the plague.”
Her shoulders turned, eyes wide for news.
“The Council has asked Cari Dolan and Mason Stray to discover the House that initiated the sickness.”
“They don’t think it was us!”
“That would be convenient for them, but no. Salem and Erom Vauclain died and they went to Vauclain House to investigate.”
Lori’s gaze didn’t waver. “Did they find out who?”
Takum reported what he’d been told. “Apparently Francis had cleaned up the bodies, fearing further contagion for his household.”
“Oh.” She waited again. It seemed like she’d been waiting all this last year. He’d been waiting with her, patient.
And here they were at the end. It had come with an opportunity, which had not been expected.