and the figure of a young woman helping an old man to stand; it was all a part of the dark night and the sound of the muggers’ groans. He stood, and two pairs of startled eyes jerked to him when the chair thumped to the floor.
Hoarsely, he said, “You were at the concert.”
“The concert? Last Friday, you mean. I didn’t go. I stayed outside…”
She stopped.
“Huh. Strange that you show up here the next day…” His voice trailed off as her face turned hard. “What?”
“You. Didn’t. Do. Anything. You left. And that old man, you just left him there.”
Justus looked at her, surprised, and then he felt a burst of anger. He flicked a finger at the scratch on his cheek. “How do you think I got this? Playing shadow-puppets?”
Sable took a step closer and pulled her lips back from her clenched teeth. “You left,” she said again.
Justus barely managed to hold his place, his instincts screaming at him to step away. Inanely, he wondered briefly if he should be wearing a cup.
Man up, you coward, he thought as he stood firm.
In that instant, he felt the curling flutter of another mage close by. He reached out, took Sable’s hand, and felt the immediate flow of magic from his ward stone to her skin, protecting her before she jerked her hand away.
Magic crackled and her eyes were an inferno.
He gasped as his ward stone became as hot as a branding iron, searing his chest.
“You don’t touch me.” Her voice vibrated with anger, low and dangerous. She whirled and went out the door, Emmett in pursuit, nearly trotting to keep up. Justus could hear her low mutters as she ignored Emmett’s pleas to slow down.
Justus stepped out the door, rubbing his hand over his chest where her unintentional use of Fire-magic had touched him. In that instant, as he watched the fires swirl around her in agitated spirals, his heart seemed to stop.
Sable stalked down the sidewalk with Emmett in tow. Walking toward her were the two hunters, one gesturing and talking. The distance between them closed rapidly, and without thought, he prepared to gather the energies flickering around him.
To fight? To defend? Shit, he couldn’t do anything with his magic and remain anonymous to the Imperium. Gritting his teeth, his mind in a vapor-lock whirl, he readied himself for the coming battle with the two hunters. For now, he shoved the possible consequences aside.
Strangely, Sable continued to storm away from him, not hesitating. Emmett stopped to stare after her, shaking his head. She came even with the hunters, passed between them, and then she walked on, the anger surrounding her like a cloud.
Neither party took notice of the other.
The two hunters continued down the walk, passed Emmett, and ignored Justus as they stopped and stood looking in the shop.
“I think she bugged out,” one said to the other. They looked at each other, shrugged, and crossed the street, walking away.
Justus laughed without humor. Several things occurred to him. The hunters relied on their target’s personal “signature” of talent that every mage emitted, the feel of her magic to find her. Without the signature, the hunters were essentially blind.
His warding kept her invisible, enveloping her with the fixed magic. The effects seemed to last even after breaking physical contact with him.
Another thing that Justus realized: the misunderstanding about his role after the robbery gave him the perfect excuse to fix his dilemma with Sable. If she saw him as an ass and a coward, it fashioned a wall between them. He could keep his distance and let her have a small measure of peace while she lived with the McIntyres.
The other realization rocked Justus. His chest still burned from the ward stone. That small spark of Fire-magic that she had inadvertently expended was not a significant amount of magic. But the ward stone read it differently. It interpreted potential in disbursed magic and the potential talent. And the level of talent that Sable had was
Hoarsely, he said, “You were at the concert.”
“The concert? Last Friday, you mean. I didn’t go. I stayed outside…”
She stopped.
“Huh. Strange that you show up here the next day…” His voice trailed off as her face turned hard. “What?”
“You. Didn’t. Do. Anything. You left. And that old man, you just left him there.”
Justus looked at her, surprised, and then he felt a burst of anger. He flicked a finger at the scratch on his cheek. “How do you think I got this? Playing shadow-puppets?”
Sable took a step closer and pulled her lips back from her clenched teeth. “You left,” she said again.
Justus barely managed to hold his place, his instincts screaming at him to step away. Inanely, he wondered briefly if he should be wearing a cup.
Man up, you coward, he thought as he stood firm.
In that instant, he felt the curling flutter of another mage close by. He reached out, took Sable’s hand, and felt the immediate flow of magic from his ward stone to her skin, protecting her before she jerked her hand away.
Magic crackled and her eyes were an inferno.
He gasped as his ward stone became as hot as a branding iron, searing his chest.
“You don’t touch me.” Her voice vibrated with anger, low and dangerous. She whirled and went out the door, Emmett in pursuit, nearly trotting to keep up. Justus could hear her low mutters as she ignored Emmett’s pleas to slow down.
Justus stepped out the door, rubbing his hand over his chest where her unintentional use of Fire-magic had touched him. In that instant, as he watched the fires swirl around her in agitated spirals, his heart seemed to stop.
Sable stalked down the sidewalk with Emmett in tow. Walking toward her were the two hunters, one gesturing and talking. The distance between them closed rapidly, and without thought, he prepared to gather the energies flickering around him.
To fight? To defend? Shit, he couldn’t do anything with his magic and remain anonymous to the Imperium. Gritting his teeth, his mind in a vapor-lock whirl, he readied himself for the coming battle with the two hunters. For now, he shoved the possible consequences aside.
Strangely, Sable continued to storm away from him, not hesitating. Emmett stopped to stare after her, shaking his head. She came even with the hunters, passed between them, and then she walked on, the anger surrounding her like a cloud.
Neither party took notice of the other.
The two hunters continued down the walk, passed Emmett, and ignored Justus as they stopped and stood looking in the shop.
“I think she bugged out,” one said to the other. They looked at each other, shrugged, and crossed the street, walking away.
Justus laughed without humor. Several things occurred to him. The hunters relied on their target’s personal “signature” of talent that every mage emitted, the feel of her magic to find her. Without the signature, the hunters were essentially blind.
His warding kept her invisible, enveloping her with the fixed magic. The effects seemed to last even after breaking physical contact with him.
Another thing that Justus realized: the misunderstanding about his role after the robbery gave him the perfect excuse to fix his dilemma with Sable. If she saw him as an ass and a coward, it fashioned a wall between them. He could keep his distance and let her have a small measure of peace while she lived with the McIntyres.
The other realization rocked Justus. His chest still burned from the ward stone. That small spark of Fire-magic that she had inadvertently expended was not a significant amount of magic. But the ward stone read it differently. It interpreted potential in disbursed magic and the potential talent. And the level of talent that Sable had was
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