Bonds and Broken Dreams (Amplifier 2) Page 9

  The snow fell in thick flakes beyond the windows behind the sorcerer, but the room was pleasantly warm from the crackling fire.

  “Emma?” Christopher asked. His tone suggested he had already called my name, more than once.

  “Yes?”

  “Shall I top the teapot?”

  “Oh? Aiden?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Aiden raised his mug slightly, then leaned forward to pluck a ginger snap from the plate on the tray. His skin was deeply, evenly tanned. He was still wearing the copper rings that he had shaped and carved while he was recovering — but not the platinum band Silver Pine had stripped from him and then tauntingly returned. The eight rune-carved copper rings glinted with magic on each of his long, dexterous fingers. He was a sorcerer, after all.

  Such hands would be extremely expressive in many different situations. I smiled into my mug at the thought.

  Christopher lifted the plate of cookies from the tray, setting it onto the coffee table. Then he picked up the tray with the empty teapot and exited back toward the kitchen.

  Aiden tracked him, then settled his gaze on me with a twist of a smile. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding.”

  “You aren’t.”

  He nodded, then set his mug down on the side table. He scrubbed a hand across his face as if he was weary. “Tell me of my brother.”

  “He’s wearing your rings on a chain around his neck.”

  Aiden stilled, then shook his head. His disbelief faded into a grim realization. “Silver Pine.”

  “I believe so.”

  The sorcerer laughed harshly then leaned back, gazing up at the ceiling. “So much makes sense.”

  “Almost eight years ago, I rescued your father from a pack of shapeshifters. The Five … of us.” I stumbled over actually giving voice to my past, acknowledging it out loud. Aiden and I had slowly been sharing parts of our lives with each other, and I had mentioned the Five. Not in detail, of course. But in connection to Daniel, whom Aiden had met. “I got your father into the evacuation vehicle, but we were hit hard.”

  “Silver’s greater demon.”

  “Yes. But before that, she … at least I believe it was her … she compromised Christopher and Bee. Amanda.”

  Aiden’s gaze sharpened. “The telepath?”

  I nodded. Then for another brief moment, I struggled to fight through the feeling of being exposed, of being raw. Aiden wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t connected to the Collective, nor was he going to use any information he might gather from me against me — or against the Five.

  “Powerful witch,” Aiden murmured, filling the awkward pause. “Even then.”

  “Or one who knew us well enough to prepare a strike against us.”

  “Except she couldn’t get past you.”

  “Oh, she got past me,” I said wryly. “I thought at the time that I’d gotten caught up in an internal schism.”

  “A schism in the Collective.”

  I met his gaze. “Yes.”

  “And now? You think Isa was involved.”

  “I don’t think Silver Pine could have compromised your father so thoroughly without an insider.”

  Aiden rubbed his thumb and fingers together thoughtfully. His magic stirred, then settled back into its regular hum. “So … the question is … does my father know?”

  I sipped my cooling tea, debating whether to mention the idea, the notion that I’d been forming since my conversation with Isa.

  One side of Aiden’s mouth curled into a smile. “Yes?”

  I shook my head. “It’s just a conjecture.”

  “I imagine your conjecture could practically be taken as fact, Emma.”

  “I don’t want to confuse the situation with suppositions.”

  “The situation really couldn’t get any more muddy.”

  I sighed, forcing myself to share my thoughts without worrying that they were flawed. “When you tried to usurp your brother, did you do so with your father’s permission?”

  Aiden’s expression blanked, as it did whenever he was assessing a situation. “Damn it.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Damn it. Yes. Not expressly, but … and then he banished me, which was … confusing.”

  “When you wouldn’t kill Isa.”

  Christopher wandered into the room, setting the tray and the teapot on the coffee table. “Well, this is an interesting conversation.”

  Aiden laughed harshly.

  Christopher topped up my tea, then filled Aiden’s mug.

  Aiden shook his head and laughed a second time. The sound, the expression of emotion, was more pained than amused. “The asshole knew.”

  “Apparently,” Christopher said drily, settling back on his seat.

  I checked his eyes for magic, seeing none. The clairvoyant smiled at me, sipping tea that I knew would have been too hot for me to consume. He liked his hot beverages practically boiling.

  I turned my attention to Aiden. He was rubbing one thumb over the copper ring on his forefinger. “That’s not all,” I said.

  “I didn’t imagine it was,” Aiden growled.

  “Your brother didn’t come alone.”

  Aiden frowned.

  “Ruwa.”

  “Gorgeous,” Christopher drawled, reaching for a ginger snap. “If you like that type.”

  “Lani said the same thing,” I said, watching Aiden’s reaction.

  The sorcerer’s expression had blanked — again — at the mention of Ruwa’s name.

  “I’m not surprised.” Christopher took a bite of his cookie, chewing while he also watched the sorcerer.

  Aiden grimaced, baring his teeth.

  “Did you think she was dead?” I asked, not quite sure what the sorcerer was thinking or feeling.

  “I did.”

  Christopher glanced at me, then back at Aiden.

  “Does that change things?” I asked. “Between you and your brother?”

  “No.” Aiden pinned his gaze to me. “And not between us either.”

  A warmth that had nothing to do with the fireplace bloomed across my chest. “I didn’t think it did.”

  “Should I leave the room?” Christopher asked teasingly.

  Then his magic welled up so suddenly that it blotted out his eyes.

  Christopher sloshed his tea, hissing as he burned himself. Aiden plucked the mug out of his hands as the clairvoyant struggled to relax into whatever he was seeing, whatever his magic was showing him.

  I waited, keeping my own mind as quiet as possible so as to not inadvertently influence the future unfolding in Christopher’s mind. We were tied so tightly through the blood tattoos drilled into our spines that I could shift the future unintentionally even without actively amplifying his power.

  We had used that bond to our advantage when we rescued Hannah Stewart from the forest, but Christopher had paid the price. Allowing magic to have its way — as the clairvoyant would say, personifying magic and mixing it up with the notions of fate and destiny at the same time — was always the most prudent course. And the most efficient.

  “Isa Azar,” Christopher murmured. “Looking for Aiden.”

  I glanced at Aiden, tipping my chin to indicate that he could question the clairvoyant, but not speaking out loud so I didn’t pull the focus my way.

  “I hear you, oh clairvoyant,” Aiden said, gently setting Christopher’s mug at the end of the coffee table.

  Christopher settled his hands on his knees, inhaling deeply. “Snow. More snow. Difficult to get a sense of time and place. Ah … the farm stand.” He blinked rapidly, his magic compressed into tight rings around his irises. Then he tilted his head, regarding Aiden. “Do you plan to stay clean shaven?”

  Aiden huffed a breathy laugh. “I hope not. I’m pleased to be here …” He glanced at me. “For as long as I’m welcome. And I find that I’m perfectly happy without the suit and everything it implies. Expectations … a way of life.”

  Christopher grunted, nodding. “Then your brother is waiti
ng for you at the gate.”

  Aiden’s gaze snapped to Christopher. “Now?”

  “If not, then soon.”

  “The ward you ignited?” I asked. “It’s drawn his attention?”

  Aiden shook his head. “A simple perimeter spell. A warning more than a barrier.”

  “But Isa is sensitive to magic?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Isa Azar picked up magic easily.

  Aiden sighed. “It’s possible he felt the casting, yes.”

  “You were trained by the same masters?” Christopher said. “If so, fighting your brother will be like fighting yourself.”

  “We were, but …” Aiden’s gaze swept over me. “I’ve leveled up since we last faced each other. Multiple times.”

  “So has he,” I said. “And he is the elder. By a decade?”

  The sorcerer nodded, though Isa Azar’s magical prowess obviously wasn’t news to him. For most Adepts, magic triggered around puberty, growing steadily in strength throughout their lives. Unless a large-scale event occurred, such as coming back from near death. Or — in the case of the Five — being drained by a protocol that could potentially destroy the center of a small city.

  The protocol that was me.

  I hadn’t mentioned that protocol, that incident, to Aiden yet. And honestly, I hoped I would never have to do so. No one sane wanted to know that their potential lover could do what I could do under a specific set of circumstances.

  Aiden was frowning slightly, watching me.

  I had inadvertently dropped the conversation. The sorcerer had once told me that all my light drained away when I allowed my past to occupy my thoughts. I hadn’t really understood what he meant, but he was looking at me in the same way now as he had been when he said it.

  Christopher reached for his mug of tea. His eyes were still a lighter shade of gray, as if his magic was lingering. The glimpse of the future might not be cemented. That did occasionally happen, though when it did, it was usually due to some action I took.

  “Your brother?” Christopher asked Aiden. “Will you go out to talk to Isa?”

  Aiden curled his fingers into a fist, dark-blue magic running over and through the runes carved into his copper rings. “Talk? No. The next time we meet one-on-one will mean the death of one of us.” He lifted his gaze to me. “And I quite suddenly find I don’t wish to die.”

  “Found something to live for, sorcerer?” Christopher whispered, a brush of his magic sprinkled through his words.

  Aiden grinned. “You already know the answer to that, clairvoyant.”

  Christopher laughed. “I do.”

  They both glanced at me. I wasn’t completely following the conversation, but I couldn’t bring myself to demand clarification. Especially when a sorcerer was apparently about to be hanging around my gate and farm stand. “I’ll step out, then.”

  “Isa won’t cross the perimeter spell,” Aiden said confidently. “He’s just here to verify my presence. He isn’t stupid enough to attack the house of two Adepts as powerful as you. He would definitely see you as assets.” His gaze became suddenly weighted, but with what, I didn’t know. “Worth the effort of wooing.”

  “As you are wooing us?” I asked, my tone thankfully neutral.

  “It could certainly be perceived that way.”

  Christopher settled back in his chair. “As a game, you mean? Isa might view us as assets to be wooed away from his brother?”

  “Indeed,” Aiden said smugly. “And even more so if Ruwa is involved.”

  “She was dismissive,” I said. “Then Isa made her wait in the vehicle.”

  Aiden frowned. “Made?”

  “They’re magically bound. She obeys him.”

  He huffed a laugh. “Of course they are. Saved her own neck. Smart. Devious. As expected. As is her dismissal of you. Calculated.”

  “To confuse me?”

  Aiden inclined his head.

  “I don’t play games.”

  A smile spread slowly over the dark-haired sorcerer’s face. “I know you don’t.”

  Paisley padded into the sitting room, bumping the back of Christopher’s chair as she passed. She was carrying a large bone sideways in her mouth. It looked like a femur. Bleached white, scoured of muscle and tissue. And possibly human.

  Paisley paused before Aiden, blinking her red-hued eyes at him.

  Inexplicably, he started to laugh.

  Christopher glanced at me. “Most people would find a demon dog gnawing on a bone disconcerting.”

  “I’m already trying to figure out which neighbor she slaughtered,” I said. “And if we’re about to be run out of town.”

  Aiden’s laughter faded. “Been going through my bag, have you?” he asked Paisley.

  Three tentacles snapped out from her mane. Two grabbed the bone, holding it over the demon dog’s head. The third held the envelope addressed to Aiden that she’d stolen from me at the mailbox.

  “You carry around human remains, sorcerer?” Christopher asked, amused. “No wonder you needed magic to get through customs.”

  Aiden laughed. “It’s bovine. Sourced from a witch skilled in herbology. In India.”

  “Cows are sacred in India,” I said, peering at the bone and trying to see if it was coated in magic.

  “In some areas, yes.” Paisley flicked the envelope in Aiden’s face, and he took it without looking at it. “The witch attested that this particular bull lived for over a hundred years. The primogenitor of her small herd.”

  “Magical.”

  He nodded. Then his gaze dropped to the envelope, and his grin slid from his face. He glanced at Paisley. “Did this just arrive?”

  She shoved the bone back into her mouth, ignoring Aiden as her tentacles disappeared and she settled down to chew on the femur with a single-minded intensity.

  “Earlier,” I said. “Paisley took possession.”

  Aiden hummed thoughtfully, running his fingers across the edges of the envelope. “Isa.”

  “Spelled?”

  “He’ll know when I open it. And I assume the text will appear only to me. He likes to embed a bit of flash in his magical missives.”

  Christopher suddenly leaned forward, snagging the sorcerer’s wrist so swiftly that I doubted whether Aiden saw him move. The sorcerer’s magic spiked, but he held still within the clairvoyant’s grasp.

  “The bone,” Christopher barked.

  “A gift,” Aiden said. His tone was casual, though he held himself tensely. “For one who consumes magic.”

  Silence fell between us. It was quiet enough that I realized my heart was beating quicker than normal. Even Paisley had paused her chewing, blinking up at Christopher.

  “Feeding magic to a demon isn’t to be done lightly, sorcerer,” Christopher whispered, aggression laced through his words. “You have no idea what the consumption will provoke.”

  “I do nothing lightly when it comes to Emma, you, or Paisley. I brought it because the witch suggested the bone would provide extra fortification to a blood ward. As well as strengthening the breed lines of any livestock on the land on which it’s buried. But if Paisley wishes to claim it, I have no objection.”

  “A ward,” I said, carefully keeping my tone steady and even. “Like the one you want to place around the property.”

  Aiden nodded stiffly, but he didn’t take his gaze from Christopher. “Yes. Two hectares is … a stretch. Needing months, years of fortification. Any boost would be welcomed. Assuming Paisley doesn’t consume the bone.”

  “You might have tamed Fox in Socks, sorcerer.” Christopher’s tone remained grim. “An impossible feat, some would have said.”

  “But you see through me?” Aiden asked coolly.

  “If there is anything to see. Yes. I will.”

  “There isn’t anything to see. Nothing nefarious lies underneath. I am here in truth, hoping that it’s fate that led me this way. And I am acting accordingly.”

  Tension stretched between the two men.

  My ja
w started aching.

  “I don’t believe I’ve tamed Emma at all, clairvoyant.” Aiden spoke again quietly, though his tone was strong, stiff. “I don’t believe she needed taming.”

  Christopher didn’t respond to the sorcerer’s subtle correction. I could feel the tension rolling from the clairvoyant, violence ready to explode. The sorcerer wouldn’t survive it. And perhaps that was the point.

  Paisley straightened, placing the bone across Christopher’s knee. Then she gently wrapped a single tentacle around the wrist of the arm he still held Aiden with. The clairvoyant shook his head, just once, releasing the sorcerer.

  “It’s yours,” Christopher said, addressing Paisley. His voice was rough, still edged with emotion. “You’ve claimed it. I won’t take it from you.”

  Aiden settled back on the couch. The letter from Isa was momentarily forgotten as he cut his gaze my way, then back to the unsettled clairvoyant.

  Christopher picked up the bone, offering it to Paisley. “I’m sorry. I trust you.”

  Paisley gently took the bone from Christopher, but didn’t settle down to chew it.

  He glanced over at me, magic ringing his eyes again. “I’m sorry.”

  “The bone triggered something?” I asked, though I hated questioning him if he didn’t want to elaborate.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Something instinctual, protective.” He laughed harshly. “Channeling you for a moment, Socks.”

  I didn’t answer.

  He shook his head again. “I’m sorry. Again and again. ‘My tongue isn’t quick or slick.’ ”

  It was a quote from a children’s book. The picture book from which Christopher had taken the name Knox and dubbed me Fox in Socks. I couldn’t tell if he was using it deliberately, trying to communicate something to me. Or whether he was simply slipping back into the patterns he’d originally used to navigate his magic, before it had settled. Before we’d gotten the blood tattoos.