Hot Magic (19 page)

“Bloody hell!” He groaned the words against her neck, his hands clenched beneath her bottom, shifting her angle. The piercing pleasure stole her breath. “Where are our clothes?”

“Hmmm?” She rubbed the tips of her breasts against him, feeling the soft scrape of his hair against her skin.

“Julie.” His teeth found her earlobe, and he nipped it gently, the tug sending a thick spiral of pure heat through her core. “We’re naked. Help me.”

Her hands moved between them. The air stilled in her lungs when her fingers wrapped around the hard length of him. He pulsed and his body jerked. With a smooth, swift motion, he pushed her back against the wall. Her hands came up and gripped his shoulders, hanging on tight. His hands slid beneath her thighs and a strong tug brought her legs around his waist. One slight shift of her pelvis and he’d be inside her.

“Not that kind of help.” His normally calm voice sounded desperate. He gritted out the words between clenched teeth. “We. Can’t.”

The cold wall against her heated back, the realization that he was actually lifting her and now knew how much she weighed and the fact that this was the first time she’d seen Harry out of control brought reality crashing back.
 

She squirmed.

“Don’t. Move.” Warm puffs of air brushed her nipple with each word.

Her body stilled. The tip of his penis slid smoothly against her dampness, feeling so damn good. Why couldn’t they make love? Was spending the rest of her life connected with this fascinating, complex man really such a nasty proposition? Was she really considering this?

Wait. The rules. Harry couldn’t have her and be the Balance. There were many things she didn’t know about him, but the one thing she was certain of was that Harry was the Balance. The two couldn’t be separated. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, holding her breath, willing herself not to shift forward and take him inside her. A sheen of sweat slicked Harry’s shoulders as he fought for control. Her fingers gripped the damp muscles. She didn’t want to let him go.

But above all, she didn’t want him to do something he would regret, something he would hate them both for later.
 

She kept her eyes closed and reached for her special sense. The power was there, surging inside her. What was she supposed to do with it? She felt something, a small tickle inside her. Then the soft weight of her clothes brushed her skin. The crisp cotton of Harry’s shirt appeared beneath her fingers, the rough chill of denim rubbed against the sensitive skin of her thighs.

Harry gently lowered her to the floor. She noticed then that the house was dark. Something crunched beneath Harry’s shoes as he backed away.

“Thank you.” His voice sounded different, more distant. “The light bulbs broke.”

“Did I do that?” She nervously brushed her palms against her jeans, trying to make out his expression.

“I don’t know. It might have been me.”

“Who got us naked?”

“That was you.” He sounded sure of that.

“I’m sorry.” She knew she was blushing. How positively crude can you get? She kept stripping the poor guy.

The phone in her pocket buzzed, startling her. Julie dug it out, still trying to see Harry’s face.

“Are you okay?” Dorie’s voice sounded blessedly normal.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Julie answered cautiously. Was Dorie psychic or something?

“The electricity is out.” Dorie announced. “I called the electric company. They expect to have power back within a few hours.”

“Oh. Thanks for the information.”

“Julie, are you all right? You sound funny.”

“No, I’m okay. Harry’s here.”

“Ahhhhhh. Harry’s there. Sorry if I interrupted anything. But use protection. I read there’s always a mini baby boom after a major blackout.”

“I don’t think it counts as a blackout if it’s in the afternoon. Anyway, we’re just talking.”

“Right. Details later, okay?”

Julie decided to move to safer subject. “Did the whole neighborhood lose power?”

“Yep. The guy said there was some big electrical surge that blew the circuits. They have no idea what caused it. Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’m on my way to the school to pick up the boys.”

 
“Drive carefully. The traffic lights will be out,” Julie cautioned, then disconnected the call and shoved her phone back in her pocket. She looked toward Harry, who now stood the length of the kitchen away. “One of us blew the local power grid.”

“I’m not surprised.” His voice still had that distant quality.
 

“Really?” She tried to remember recent power glitches. “Does this happen often when energy wielders kiss?”
 

“No.”

Then why wasn’t he surprised? She started to ask when the phone rang again. Hoping it was Tasha, Julie picked up.

“Mrs. Dancer?” Julie recognized the voice of Tasha’s roommate, Leslie.

“Leslie! Hi! Is electricity out at the dorm? Is everything okay? I’ve been trying to get in touch with Tasha.”

“Oh, that means she’s not with you.” Leslie hesitated. “Tash wasn’t in the history class we have together after lunch. I can’t reach her on her cell. I thought maybe she went to your place after meeting with that guy.”

“What guy?” Tasha didn’t currently have a boyfriend.

“She texted me earlier today that she was heading to the food court at the Union with someone.”
 

“Luc Deschamps.” Tasha wouldn’t be so stupid. Would Tasha be so stupid?

“That’s the name. Look, I’m sorry to bother you.” Leslie tried to backpedal, obviously realizing Tasha might not want to be found if she had her phone off and was with a guy. “Her phone battery is probably just dead. I’m sure she’s fine.”

T
asha finished retching into the tall weeds that sprouted around a fire hydrant and took the handkerchief Luc handed her. She wiped her mouth and crumpled the cloth in her hands. She straightened, embarrassed beyond words. “Thank you. American guys don’t carry handkerchiefs.”

“They’re all heathens,” he said mildly. “Are you okay now?”

“Yes, thanks. Next time I’ll take some Dramamine before we travel that way.”

He smiled. “Your system will become accustomed to it.”

Tasha gave him a doubtful look and tucked his handkerchief in her pocket. She finally took in her surroundings. The neighborhood they stood in looked familiar, and yet it didn’t.
 

Rows of gray stone buildings crowded the sidewalk. Trees grew in the tiny patches of grass tucked between the walk and the street. Cars hugged the curb, jammed fender to fender. Tasha frowned and looked down the block. A small park occupied the corner, currently deserted. “I think we’re on the wrong block. Grandma lives on the other side of that park.”
 

Sometime during the trip here, she’d heard Luc asking her for directions. How a mass of molecules—or whatever she’d been on the way over—could hear something was beyond her. Maybe it was more accurate to say she’d become aware that he wanted directions and somehow she’d relayed them to him. She looked around the neighborhood. She’d obviously been a bit off. Not like her usual precise self at all.
 

Luc took a step toward her and Tasha backed away. “Let’s just walk there.”

He nodded. “I’ll need time and food before we travel by energy stream again”

Good. Tasha started off a brisk pace toward her grandmother’s. Her steps slowed, however, as her she looked around. The afternoon was cloudy, the atmosphere somber.

Every house they passed had a bright light gleaming from the porch, even though there was still daylight. Shades were drawn tightly against windows. No toys or bikes littered the tiny lawns. Not a single person sat on their steps, or loitered on the sidewalk talking. “There’s nobody around. This feels a little creepy. Grandma talked about an increase in crime. I wonder if that’s why everyone is tucked in their houses.”

Luc took her arm. “There’s no need to worry. I won’t let harm come to you.”

The confidence in his voice was comforting. He might even be telling the truth. Maybe Luc could put a force field around them, or something.
 

Tasha slowed even more as they skirted the park. There was something sad about the empty playground. Young trees draped in shadow stood like sentinels on the far edge of the park. A swing set and slide rose from faded woodchips. Angled to the side was a picnic table, where parents would sit and chat while their children played. The faint, decaying scent of leaves, mixed with the bus fumes and sewer smells of a big city, brushed against her. Her neck tingled with an uncomfortable feeling she couldn’t ignore.

“Luc,” she whispered, tugging his arm when he came to a standstill in front of the park.
 

He scanned the grassy area, an intent look on his face. “I sense it, too.” He spoke more to himself than Tasha. “Not Penumbrae, Walker or Dancer.” He bent and scraped up a handful of dirt, cradling it in his palm. “Something more akin to earth energy, than light.” He blew gently on the dry scrabble in his palms.

The dirt suddenly burst forward out of his hand, billowing and growing into a large swirling cloud before transforming into soft crystals of light. The park lit up, as if the clouds had parted, letting through the rays of the setting sun. For a moment, Tasha didn’t see anything, dazzled by the spectacle, amazed by what Luc had been able to do. Then the tall shadows at the opposite end of the park began to move. Six men, dressed in black, walked slowly toward Luc and Tasha.

“Gang members!” Tasha tugged on his arm. “Run!”

He didn’t budge. “Go. Quickly. Find your grandmother. Tell her the Skaven are here.”

She tried to tug him with her but Luc removed her hand from his arm, put both hands on her shoulders and gave her a push in the direction of her grandmother’s. “Get Jean Dancer.”
 

Obediently, Tasha ran half a block before she stumbled to a stop. She couldn’t leave him to face six men alone. God knew if her grandmother was even at home. He could be dead by the time she found help.
 

She turned back toward the park. Luc stood where she’d left him. In the odd light, she could see that he watched the approaching men with an expression more curious than scared.
 

Knowing it was the height of stupidity, she ran back to his side and stood with him, shoulder to shoulder. She dug the cell phone out of her pocket and flicked it open. Damn, she had it off. She fumbled for the “on” button and waited impatiently as the face lit up and icons appeared on her screen.
 

“Get out of here, Natasha.” Luc’s voice held a firm command. “Now!”

“‘Come when they may, they shall not find us skulking and hiding.
’”
She apparently channeled Dickens in times of crisis.

“‘Be where your enemy is not,’” Luc shot back, adding “Sun Tzu,
Art of War
.”
 

Excellent advice. Tasha was definitely going to read that book when this was over. She dialed 9-1-1 and looked up as the men circled them. Luc put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.

The men appeared to be in their late twenties or early thirties—much too old to be strutting around Chicago streets dressed in black sleeveless T-shirts. Two were black, one was Asian, three were white. They all had different builds and yet there was something about them—besides the T-shirts—that marked them as similar.
 

Tasha gasped when she realized what it was. Their eyes were all ice blue, and they all held the same expression of cold malice.
 

The 9-1-1 operator’s voice squawked into the air between them. Eight pairs of eyes riveted on the phone in her hand.

“Excuse me.” Tasha held the phone to her ear and spoke calmly. “Officer down. Please send every available squad car to—” The phone flew out of her hand and crashed into the sidewalk, splintering into several pieces.

Tasha pressed herself against Luc. “Okay, now’s the time to do your energy thing. Beam us out of here.”
 

The circle of men closed on them as the six took a single step forward. A frown appeared on Luc’s face, and one of the men grinned.
 

She felt the movement of…something. A kind of hum in her bones that was there and gone. “Too soon,” he murmured, his quick glance at her calm and reassuring.

He turned his head and looked directly at each of the six men. “You cannot do this.” His voice roared out, forceful and commanding.
 

“Tell that to your Triad Council, because we don’t care.” One of the white men spoke. “One lone Walker boy against six Skaven.” He shook his head. “Destroying you will be a walk in the park.” He gestured to the park and all six of the strangers snickered, as if he’d said something really clever.

Skaven? Tasha tried to make her brain function through the fear. Was that the name of a multicultural street gang? And how did they know Luc was a Walker?

“Except it’s not just one lone Walker boy, Frankie. The Gigis are here.”
 

Tasha swung her head so hard she almost fell over. Grandma Jean strode quickly down the sidewalk toward them. A posse of about fifteen women, all wearing pink shirts with ‘Gigis’ written in script across a breast pocket, marched behind her. One pushed a walker and several carried canes.