Smoke and Mirrors (9 page)

Cormac took one of her shaking hands in both of his, stilling her nervous fidgeting. “Not a damned thing. Am I right? Because I was intending to ask you about that very thing from the moment you told me what you were looking for. That’s what the glyph was for.”

“I can’t do this,” she said, voice gone dull. “I need to, but I can’t. I can’t think of anything I could offer a rational, thinking being to convince them I would never treat them like I saw James treat Sam today.”

CHAPTER TEN

“I don’t think things are quite as dire as you believe,” Cormac said. “Though I certainly won’t lie. Dragons are proud, fickle beasts. A mountain of jewels would never be enough to buy their servitude. Though some may be more inclined to help a person in need than you might think.”

She gave a weary nod, but it was clear by her slumped shoulders and dull, reddened gaze that it was all she could do to keep from further disgracing herself in front of him by bursting into tears.

Cormac had been out of the loop for some time, but even he had heard about the young naga tricked into servitude by some upstart mage looking for a way to fast track himself to the top of a major coven. The mage’s single-minded greed was too much of a turn-off to the magi who might have helped him realize his ambitions. Thus far, even the good luck granted him by the serpent hadn’t led James beyond his own small slice of land bordering the Everglades. Though he had done exceptionally well at the casinos.

Sam, the naga, was naïve and too sheltered in his temple to know how cutthroat some magi had become in their efforts to secure a powerful, intelligent Other as their familiar. Considering his background and his kind’s proclivity toward setting themselves up as minor deities in their remote riverside and jungle temples, it was no wonder he had fallen for the offerings and praise. Sequestered from the world as he was, any Other raised in a tradition of being worshipped as that naga had been would have found the mage’s flattery disarming. His folly had become something of a cautionary tale to the rest of the Other community; a reminder that letting yourself be shackled into servitude to a mage wasn’t a guarantee of mutual respect, admiration, and assistance like it had been in the past.

Cormac still thought both Kimberly and Eleanor were a few beers short of a six-pack if they thought he was going to do anything other than keep the girl off the scent of any true dragons.

Yet her despair was genuine, as was her distress about what she had seen the other mage do to the naga. He tasted no deception whatsoever in her scent or words thus far. The shimmer of the luck charm the naga had bestowed on her didn’t have the power to alter his perceptions, but he could readily tell that it was making him more inclined to be helpful. Had he minded or thought she was deliberately using the charm to get what she wanted, he could have twisted that aura of good luck into its polar opposite.

As it was, he didn’t think she had grasped what kind of gift Sam had given her or how to use it. Most magi he knew would have wielded the luck like a weapon, aimed straight at their heart’s desire. Kimberly gave no sign of being aware of the subtle shifts it was causing in the ley lines around her, tiny gold threads twining through the natural blue, white and green streams of power only visible to those with Sight to see it. It was something like moving chess pieces in place to improve her chances of success. He also considered the naga might have had the right idea and used his grip on her hand to buffer the charm with some of his own magic, strengthening the spell.

He was starting to rethink his original plan, too. Rather than keeping her off the trail of any Other who might be persuaded to accept her, perhaps a pseudo-dragon like a wyrm, wyvern, or maybe even another naga (if he could find one as foolish and naïve as Sam) might suit her. If only he didn’t dislike the idea of letting someone else do something so intimate as bond with her. His possessive streak was the damnedest thing; he couldn’t put his finger on what was drawing him to her, but his instincts rarely lied.

Regardless, he still had questions that needed answers. First and foremost, he wanted to know more about her and the path that had brought her to him. His efforts to delve into the magical side of her parentage through skrying and divination had turned up nothing, and he wasn’t about to ask Eleanor. Distasteful as he found it to be so blunt, he supposed if she could be brave enough to sit here and bear his scrutiny despite her discomfort, he could do her the courtesy of being as direct as his nature allowed.

“I would like to help you, but I need to ask you a few personal questions. As much as I trust Eleanor’s judgment, not every Other in town thinks the same, and I need to be prepared with ready answers if I’m going to convince anyone else to meet with you.” Not exactly the truth, but it was close enough to it that she probably wouldn’t detect his little deception. The only convincing he would have to do would be to demand it be so, and most any Other in town would bend to his wishes—but he didn’t think she knew that. “That is, if you want to continue to pursue this quest of yours.”

She didn’t answer right away, staring down at his hands wrapped around her own. Then she took a breath and straightened her spine, using her free hand to swipe a palm under her eyes and then sweep her hair back before focusing on his face instead. He was pleased to see the flicker of resolve returning, bolstered by the threads of luck reweaving her destiny.

“Okay. Yes. If you think there’s a chance, maybe I can do this.”

He did his best to ignore the pang of guilt that statement caused him. He just had to keep telling himself that keeping her off the scent of any true dragons was more important than his desire to help the less fortunate.

Maybe if he repeated it to himself enough, he’d eventually believe it.

“First, I would like to know about your family. I understand you live with your mother. She’s human, yes?”

Kimberly’s eyes widened, and she pulled away just a bit in surprise. “How did you know that? Have you been checking up on me?”

He gave her a smile with a few too many teeth showing. “You asked for a shot at wooing one of the rarest and most powerful Others to walk this world. They don’t usually accept an audience without knowing beforehand that the intentions of their visitors are pure.”

She didn’t flinch from his posturing, giving him a wry look. “Melodrama suits you. You could have done things the easy way and just asked me. But to answer your question, yes.”

That startled him into dropping the fierce look in favor of a bit of laughter. “I suppose I do tend to the overly dramatic now and then, don’t I? Yes, I’d like to know a bit more. Who your father is, for starters. Any magical connections in your bloodline you’re aware of. What can you tell me about yourself and your family?”

“I don’t know who my father is. My mom said she had a one night stand back in her clubbing days and the guy must have been a mage. Her parents kicked her out when she got pregnant, so she’s raised me by herself. I’ve been helping her pay the rent doing odd-jobs and babysitting since I was eleven. We didn’t even know I could cast until I was sixteen and started summoning illusions every time I got stressed.” She coughed and blushed, giving him a sheepish smile. “She didn’t believe it until we had a screaming match about a guy I was seeing and it looked like I turned her into a giant shrew. As soon as it wore off, we looked into how I could get some formal training to get it under control. That’s how I got into Blackhollow.”

He gave a snort, amusement curving his lips. “I see. Well, your lineage isn’t quite as important as your circumstances or your intentions. Tell me a bit more about what you’re doing now and your plans for yourself and your familiar.”

She pulled her hand out of his grip, grasping the hem of her shirt to pull it out and brush at the patch of powdered sugar against the dark green button-down. He couldn’t help but notice that the third button from the bottom was missing. To keep from staring at that enticing hint of flesh visible between the gap in her shirt, he focused his gaze on her face instead. That’s when he noted the dark circles under her eyes for the first time and just how prominent her cheekbones were.

Exhausted and probably hungry, it was no wonder she’d had such a difficult time finding her composure. He would get his answers, then send her home—and think of some way to help her. He didn’t want to keep her too late waiting for takeout and wasn’t prepared to feed her, which bothered him far more than it should have. He would remedy that tomorrow.

“Well, I was really hoping to get a job in the entertainment unit at The Circle after I graduate, but I’ll take anything I can find as long as it pays better than what I’m doing now and I actually get to use my skill set. I’m working at a café—”

“Which one?”

“Allegretto’s. Anyway, I take as many hours as I can to help Mom pay the rent. I go every day after school, and I usually work a shift on Saturday and most Sundays, too. The rest of the time I’m in school or studying.”

That explained the smear of sugar on her shirt. He waited to see if she had anything to add. Maybe discuss spending time with friends or greater ambitions than a job designing themed illusions for parties hosted by those rich enough to afford such extravagance. Which still didn’t explain what she wanted the dragon for. He would have assumed a walk-on position in management, or maybe doing some flashy sub-contracting work for the Department of Defense. Considering Eleanor’s involvement, it was the most logical assumption.

As the silence stretched between them, he frowned and tilted his head as he studied her, taking a surreptitious sniff to see if he might have missed a scent cue.

Nothing.

“Are you honestly telling me you want a dragon familiar, but have no intention of using its power?”

She swept a hand through her hair and gave an impatient huff before answering him. “Of course not. I need to graduate, don’t I?”

“Yes, yes,” he replied, impatient, “but once that’s done and you have your dream job—then what?”

She shrugged. “I guess I’d let it go. I don’t need a familiar to cast my illusions, and I wouldn’t be any use to anybody anywhere else in the coven. It would be nice if I could borrow from its hoard to get a nicer place—maybe some new clothes, too—but I’d pay it back as soon as I could.”

She believed every word that came out of her mouth. There was not the slightest hint of a lie in her scent, no taste of deception from her. He was utterly baffled by her lack of greed and ambition. What she’d said was true—all she wanted was to improve her lot. After seeing her wardrobe, he supposed he could understand why.

That sent the very last of his doubts and assumptions about her out the window. The situation was not what he had assumed at all—though Eleanor had a hand in it, which meant he still had reason to be wary.

“Very well. I can see you’re tired. Why don’t you go home and get some rest. Tomorrow night, I’ll meet you at your café and we can get started.”

His heart gave a lurch at the surge of hope shining in her eyes. “You’ll introduce me to a dragon?”

“Not yet. But,” he hastened to add, hoping to alieve that crushing disappointment killing the hope in her eyes before it had chance to take root, “you’ll be taking a big step in the right direction.”

Now if only he could find a way to give her what she needed without destroying her—or her building trust in him—in the process.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next day, Kimberly breezed through her classes, for once looking forward to heading to work. Having learned her lesson about relying on her illusions, she had picked her best clothes out of her closet and talked her mom into helping her put her hair into a neat French braid before they both rushed out the door that morning.

Most of the other students gave her a wide berth throughout the day. There was new graffiti on her locker, and a wooden coin on a string which had a repel evil glyph etched into it, which was insulting but harmless. Compared to Aiden’s prank with the fire, Kimberly counted herself lucky there wasn’t something dangerous or obnoxious waiting for her in the halls beyond some dirty looks and dispel glyphs being air drawn in her direction. She ignored the spattered insults on the industrial gray paint, untied the charm from the latch, and tucked it away in her locker. They weren’t cheap, after all. Maybe she could pawn or reuse it.

In both her Understanding and Applying Counterspells and her Advanced Casting Circles: Group Circles and Related Spells classes, no one wanted her as a lab partner. She overheard a few of them whispering about Aidan and the naga a few times. Aidan wasn’t around and no one knew if Dean Morrell had expelled or just suspended him.

The only student brave enough to ask her about what had happened the day before was a boy named Xander. Though she’d seen him around—he was a 4th year like her, and they had a few of the same classes—they had never spoken before until they were assigned as lab partners in the counterspell class. He was a lot more popular than she was and, truth be told, she’d had something of a crush on him from afar. He had a kind, charmingly crooked smile that always made the corners crinkle up around his eyes, but considering the company he usually kept, she had never felt comfortable approaching him.

They worked together to draw the intricate runic circle designed to dispel electrical energy. He kept sneaking looks at her from across the table until she got sick of it and asked him what was on his mind. They both kept their voices low so as not to draw the Professor’s attention.