example.
Didn’t matter if she hated him. At the moment, he was beyond caring.
She stepped out of the way for him to enter. “Welcome to Dolan House.”
He stayed put, but remembered his manners. A stray mage without a House, or worse, a human , always had to remember his manners. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man and a brilliant mage.”
Every word was true. The Dolans were well-known for their facility with umbras, which was probably why they had always been able to make discerning decisions regarding staff and allies. But Caspar Dolan’s power had gone beyond that. Mason had tried many times to understand the source of his strength, but had gotten nowhere. Caspar was an enigma.
“Thank you,” she said. His courtesy had bounced right off her armor. “Are you coming in?”
“No.” Like her, he didn’t have it in him to make small talk. What was Fletcher doing now? “Have you been back to the site of your father’s attack?”
Cari frowned. Her stance shifted to one hip, arms crossed. Less formal, even more tense. “I was waiting for you. I thought we’d discuss how we were going to proceed, as well as what you and Kaye Brand think you can contribute while I’m searching for my father’s killer.”
This was going to go just swell.
“I’d rather do this on my own, too.” Mason looked beyond her into the house. The foyer was bigger than the total square footage of any of his places. And if he let his eyes lose focus, just for a second, he could sense movement in the Shadow. He’d been inside a mage House two times in his life: when he’d pled his case to Livia Walker’s father, and just now, when he’d left Fletcher with Webb. Both Houses had ripped him apart.
Cari made a self-satisfied line out of her lips. “But you can’t track umbras.”
He gave her a failed smile of his own. “You don’t have the Council’s information.”
“With a call, I could get it. Your services aren’t necessary.”
The head of her House. Good for her. She did the job charmingly.
“Why don’t you do that then?” He turned to go back down the walkway toward his car. He had to keep moving or he was going to go insane. Why had he bothered parking in the first place?
He had no patience for playing power games with Cari. The girl he remembered hadn’t been interested in games; seemed like she was all grown up now. He was here for one purpose only—to make good on his side of the bargain for Fletcher. He would find the perpetrator, and after that . . . ? He had no idea. The course of his life was now plunged into darkness. Human?
One thing at a time.
The engine had been idling ten minutes when Cari deigned to open the passenger side door. Instead of getting in, she leaned down to make eye contact. The shift revealed the scorch of a plague wound at her neck. “My car has an integrated computer with wireless and is stocked with provisions for just about anything we might need.”
Cari had obviously made her call, but the Council belonged to Brand and Brand was siding with him.
“My car doesn’t need gas.” It ran on Shadow. What human could do that? “Have a seat.”
“I require my guards”—she looked back to the rear bucket seats—“and you don’t have enough room.”
He ground his teeth into a smile. “No guards necessary. I’ll protect you.” Him and his Shadow-tricked Glock.
She stood her ground, which he respected, so he made a concession so he could let his engine have its way with the road. “Okay, how about I meet you there and I’ll fill you in on everything the Council has learned about your father’s killer . . . later.”
She straightened. All he could see was her body and her uptight clothes—gray dress to her knees, fitted but plain, shiny slender black belt. Her figure more than compensated for the serious packaging. Cari had never realized her own impact. He’d liked that about her. Simple. Direct.
A century passed while she was making up
Didn’t matter if she hated him. At the moment, he was beyond caring.
She stepped out of the way for him to enter. “Welcome to Dolan House.”
He stayed put, but remembered his manners. A stray mage without a House, or worse, a human , always had to remember his manners. “I’m very sorry for your loss. Your father was a great man and a brilliant mage.”
Every word was true. The Dolans were well-known for their facility with umbras, which was probably why they had always been able to make discerning decisions regarding staff and allies. But Caspar Dolan’s power had gone beyond that. Mason had tried many times to understand the source of his strength, but had gotten nowhere. Caspar was an enigma.
“Thank you,” she said. His courtesy had bounced right off her armor. “Are you coming in?”
“No.” Like her, he didn’t have it in him to make small talk. What was Fletcher doing now? “Have you been back to the site of your father’s attack?”
Cari frowned. Her stance shifted to one hip, arms crossed. Less formal, even more tense. “I was waiting for you. I thought we’d discuss how we were going to proceed, as well as what you and Kaye Brand think you can contribute while I’m searching for my father’s killer.”
This was going to go just swell.
“I’d rather do this on my own, too.” Mason looked beyond her into the house. The foyer was bigger than the total square footage of any of his places. And if he let his eyes lose focus, just for a second, he could sense movement in the Shadow. He’d been inside a mage House two times in his life: when he’d pled his case to Livia Walker’s father, and just now, when he’d left Fletcher with Webb. Both Houses had ripped him apart.
Cari made a self-satisfied line out of her lips. “But you can’t track umbras.”
He gave her a failed smile of his own. “You don’t have the Council’s information.”
“With a call, I could get it. Your services aren’t necessary.”
The head of her House. Good for her. She did the job charmingly.
“Why don’t you do that then?” He turned to go back down the walkway toward his car. He had to keep moving or he was going to go insane. Why had he bothered parking in the first place?
He had no patience for playing power games with Cari. The girl he remembered hadn’t been interested in games; seemed like she was all grown up now. He was here for one purpose only—to make good on his side of the bargain for Fletcher. He would find the perpetrator, and after that . . . ? He had no idea. The course of his life was now plunged into darkness. Human?
One thing at a time.
The engine had been idling ten minutes when Cari deigned to open the passenger side door. Instead of getting in, she leaned down to make eye contact. The shift revealed the scorch of a plague wound at her neck. “My car has an integrated computer with wireless and is stocked with provisions for just about anything we might need.”
Cari had obviously made her call, but the Council belonged to Brand and Brand was siding with him.
“My car doesn’t need gas.” It ran on Shadow. What human could do that? “Have a seat.”
“I require my guards”—she looked back to the rear bucket seats—“and you don’t have enough room.”
He ground his teeth into a smile. “No guards necessary. I’ll protect you.” Him and his Shadow-tricked Glock.
She stood her ground, which he respected, so he made a concession so he could let his engine have its way with the road. “Okay, how about I meet you there and I’ll fill you in on everything the Council has learned about your father’s killer . . . later.”
She straightened. All he could see was her body and her uptight clothes—gray dress to her knees, fitted but plain, shiny slender black belt. Her figure more than compensated for the serious packaging. Cari had never realized her own impact. He’d liked that about her. Simple. Direct.
A century passed while she was making up
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