Chapter One:
Why him?
My instincts had warned me against coming here, back to the hometown I had fled nearly a decade ago. After graduating high school, tired of facing censure from my peers, I had leaped into the world of outsiders—regular humans who knew nothing of the elemental mystics lurking in the shadows. Though I found it difficult to stifle my fire magic at first, now I hardly paid it any heed, presenting myself as a poised and respectable businesswoman, a financial auditor.
I had arrived at my parents’ house just before noon. After depositing my worldly goods into its empty halls—thanking my lucky stars that I managed to postpone the inevitable reunion scene—I hopped back on the bus en route to the city center. My interview was scheduled for four p.m., so that gave me several hours to putter around my hometown. I had escaped Erlangen in August 1994; now it was September 2003, the sky a vibrant autumn blue.
By the time I turned my steps toward Werndl Accounting, the sensations of home had put my mind and spirit at ease. The smooth dialect of my childhood flowed into my ears from store owners, from the waitress at the café, from pedestrians walking the streets. My fears of returning to a city infused with Teutonic magic began to dissipate. Erlangen was not a large metropolis and its Teuton community was even smaller. Just under three thousand magic-users called Erlangen their home.
When I stopped in at the Huguenot church around two-thirty, I murmured a quiet prayer for divine guidance and protection. If I was wrong to come back here, please make it obvious right away. Show me whether I can find a place for myself here, with or without my magic.
Now I had left the familiar streets behind, and the HR manager of Werndl Accounting guided me into a standard-issue conference room for my interview. Clad in a mauve blouse, black pencil skirt, and heels, with my brown hair tied up in a bun, I attempted to project a confident aura. My buoyancy had shot upward when I greeted the HR manager—a middle-aged woman with short red hair and freckles clustered upon her nose—and cast my gaze over the cubicles occupying the space between the lobby and the conference room. I sensed a busy yet positive vibe humming in the air, the marks of a business untainted by an overbearing boss.
If I nail this interview, I can definitely carve out a place for myself here, I decided as the HR manager paused outside a half-open doorway. With a friendly nod, she gestured for me to precede her. A smile worked its way across my lips as I stepped into the conference room. Just because I’m in Erlangen doesn’t mean I have to return to the prejudiced community that chased me away. I can be a regular human here, too.
I felt certain of that.
Until my eyes fell upon the man standing behind the oblong table at the center of the conference room, his strong fingers resting casually atop the back of a rolling chair. He stood about a head taller than me, his black hair buzzed on the sides and slicked on the top, an olive Tommy Hilfiger dress shirt hardly hiding his sculpted torso and arms. His hazel eyes were turned away from the doorway as he listened to the older man at his side. That one had a voice that lilted upward at the end of each phrase, reminding me of a yelping dog.
I hardly had the wherewithal to react to the older man’s unique voice. Heat rose deep in my veins as images from a far different time exploded in my mind. Although I kept my supernatural nature hidden these days, I had sensed hints of elemental manipulation while I passed through the city. Unusually vibrant mums in a window box here, a warm breeze hovering around the man at the bus stop there. My fire had taken note of it and shrugged it off.
But now its heat spread from my pounding heart outward to my limbs as I studied the younger of the two men waiting to interview me. Both diverted their attention to me the instant I stepped through the doorway. As the red-haired lady closed the door behind us, I realized that I needed to approach the table and return the greeting the older man offered, his right hand outstretched in welcome. Why had the air grown thin around me?
Forcing myself to take a deep breath, I ordered my emotions—and my fire—to settle down. No, I had not expected to find myself facing him mere hours after returning to my hometown. No, I would not permit this awful circumstance to ruin my chances for a job at Werndl Accounting.
I schooled my expression into one of professional courtesy and shook the older man’s hand. My voice sounded strained as I thanked him for having me, my panic-tainted thoughts whirling in an invisible hurricane. The man gave a squeaking chuckle and nodded at him, commenting that he had extracted my résumé from a thick pile and pointed out its striking qualities.
Shit. He remembers everything. And he brought me in here to shame me before these outsiders as a Teuton whose fire is slipping away. A failure.
A slight blush crept onto the young man’s cheeks, but he masked it quickly as we shook hands. His gaze locked with mine as he introduced himself and spoke his own welcome—unnecessary, since I knew what a wretch he was, but part of German professional culture. Personal matters were not meant for the office.
Lukas Felder.
His hazel eyes betrayed no sign of recognition.
Maybe his older peer was correct. Maybe his interest in me was professional only. Maybe he believed I could fit an unfilled niche here, a perfect addition to this small accounting firm. Maybe he could keep my Teuton blood out of it, adhere to cultural expectations. We were the only Teutons in this office . . . right?
Or maybe he doesn’t remember his history with Gabi Scholz.
That was a distinct possibility. After all, I was not the only student he and his high school buddies used to torment. I just happened to be lucky enough to be in most of his classes, hear him rattle off answers to questions like a modern-day Einstein, watch the sex-starved cheerleaders cast their bodies at him. I had spared those vamps many an eye roll, for it became clear early on that Lukas refused to entertain the longings of outsiders.
He wanted a Teuton woman with strong blood and magic. Not them.
Not me.
I crushed that notion the instant it sidled into my brain. This was not the time to consider how toned his body appeared beneath that pricey olive shirt, how firm his hand felt when it enclosed mine a moment before. My fire had sensed his mist in that fleeting second, swirling in his essence with the freshness of an early morning walk beside the Regnitz River. And it continued to smolder in my spirit as the interview commenced, prodding me to take primal notice of the man seated across from me, asking after my experience with financial auditing.
I fixed my gaze upon a poster on the wall behind him when I replied, hoping he might not judge my avoidance of direct eye contact. Silently chiding my magic, I endeavored to seal it back into my spirit, where it belonged. I know you’ve never gotten the ‘opportunity’ to bind with some other Teutonic element. But if we’re going to seize that opportunity while we’re here in Erlangen, that man won’t be the recipient. We’re not good enough for him, remember?
My magic seemed antsy, discarding my warnings like dirty socks. I did my best to respond respectfully to each question, meeting the eyes of the older man or the HR manager whenever they presented a query. But curiosity had tracked its way up my spine despite my restraint. Were Lukas and I the only Teutons in this office? If I allowed my magic to make a quick sweep of the surroundings, maybe it would quit fixating on Lukas’ mist.
As I answered a generic question about my schooling, I stretched my fiery spirit forth, touching each human who worked at Werndl Accounting. Neither of the outsiders in the conference room reacted to my intrusion. But when I gathered the courage to shoot a glance at Lukas, I saw his black eyebrows crimping upward, a trace of watery blue flecking his irises.
Great. He noticed.
And we were the only two Teutons in the building.
A short pause ensued after I finished describing my studies at the university in Freiburg, and then Lukas cleared his throat. “Is it your intention to remain here for a while, or do you plan on returning to Freiburg within a year or two?”
He lifted his gaze from the notepad before him to stare into my eyes, and my fire warmed my blood again as he pressed his lips into a thoughtful expression. Lukas had contained his mist with finesse; his irises were hazel again. His question prompted me to pause, because I had not yet figured out just how long I would stay in Erlangen. If things turned sour, I might try my luck elsewhere.
But not in Freiburg.
One thing had already turned sour. Lukas Felder, my high school bully, was interviewing me for a job.
Of course, neither he nor anyone else in this office would want an employee who planned to bolt within months or a year. I would have to lie, pretend I had reasons to stay in town. I parted my lips to speak.
“Zoubaraera Teutona.” Two words crept into my consciousness, a breath on the breeze, a phrase I had not heard in many years. Uttered in Teutonica, the forgotten dialect of my people, the phrase kindled a rush of childhood memories—autumn days when my best friend and I played together under the silver oak tree in my backyard, testing the limits of our magic. Only one being would speak those words to me.
A silver oak fairy, an Eihalbe.
Doubtless the silver oak fairy who revealed itself to me when I was a mere child, igniting broken sticks with my elemental magic. I considered that Eihalbe a friend, for it hid my secrets and offered wisdom from eons past. It allowed me to weave its fallen leaves into artwork and taught me how to make a healing salve. And it always referred to me as a Teuton witch, despite the diluted nature of my blood.
Why it saw fit to accost me here at my interview, when I usually met it amid the branches of its tree, I could hardly guess. Something must have turned sour, I realized, wondering whether this was heaven’s message that I should have stayed away from Erlangen. First I ran into Lukas Felder—who sat across from me, brow furrowed, awaiting my reply to his question. Had he heard the Eihalbe’s ethereal voice? The fairy may have whispered directly into my ear; none of the others in the room looked as though they had heard anything strange.
So much for my attempt to ignore Teutonic magic. Guess my days at being a regular human were numbered. I should have expected this.
“My family lives here in the city,” I finally managed to say, casting my gaze around the room and wishing I dared to invoke my fire to its fullest, so I could see where the Eihalbe skulked. But I did not need my irises to turn red in front of two outsiders. I still wanted this job.
I gave a faux cough and went on. “I think it’s about time I see what Erlangen has to offer, and help my parents prepare for retirement.” That lie rolled easily off my tongue. My father planned to continue working for at least another decade. He had only just turned fifty.
The older gentleman next to Lukas gave a bubbling laugh and remarked that the golf courses in this area could entertain a retiree for years on end. Lukas chuckled and shared his thoughts on the subject, while I continued to glance around the room, hardly hearing their banter. Of course Lukas played golf these days. He had been a jock in high school, a member of the rowing team. Maybe he still did that on weekends. That was likely why his dress shirt barely concealed what seemed to be a ripped torso and arms.
Warmth seeped into my cheeks at the direction of my thoughts, spurred on by my fire’s interest in Lukas’ mist. What was wrong with me? For all I knew, the man might already be married. He had no interest in me except for what I could bring to Werndl Accounting. Silently cursing myself, I shifted in my chair and clasped my hands together upon my skirt. Pay attention.
The red-haired lady posed a question about what I would do in a specific situation, one about diffusing tension between coworkers. Time for the part of the interview where the three before me would evaluate my character. Gathering my thoughts, I opened my mouth to reply right as the Eihalbe’s wispy voice eased its way into my left ear.
“You have forsaken those who count on you, and return to your roots solely to stock your financial coffer.”
What? No, no, that was not true at all! Why would the fairy accuse me of such selfishness? I blinked several times, clutching my hands tightly to quell my instinct to swat at the tiny spirit lurking near my ear. The HR manager began to unwrap a stick of gum, her fake nails crinkling the paper far too loudly. Her wide brown eyes watched me in obvious curiosity from beneath bushy false lashes. I needed to answer her question. I wished I had a piece of gum.
Somehow I managed to blather something—hopefully the right something—as irritation welled within me at the fairy’s intrusion. This was not the time for it to spout its ancient wisdom, not with two outsiders and one other Teuton in the room. Was there a shade of misty blue enhancing Lukas’ irises? Was he staring at my left shoulder?
Thankfully, the gentleman beside him chose that moment to question me on how I would handle uncovering illegal activity during an audit. I relaxed a tad and responded right away, ordering my brain to focus on what was most important. The men and woman before me must appreciate my skills and experience as an auditor, not criticize how long it took me to answer a question. If the Eihalbe spoke to me again, I determined to ignore it. I could visit its tree this evening if it wanted to debate my reasons for returning home.
The fairy held its peace, and the interview reached its conclusion. Lukas and his older counterpart rose from their seats as I did the same, each offering one final handshake. “You’ll hear from us within two weeks, once we’ve interviewed all qualified candidates, Frau Scholz,” Lukas said in a suave voice, his mist washing over my fire in the spiritual realm as he shook my hand firmly, twice.
“Thank you. I appreciate your consideration.” The words slipped formally from my lips while my fire flared inside, reacting hungrily to Lukas’ mist and the deep tone of his voice. I backed away and slung my purse over my shoulder, then spoke a polite farewell to the HR manager before speeding out of the conference room. On my way out, the fairy breathed one final phrase into my ear.
“Your family needs you.”
Once I made it to the street, I shielded my eyes behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses and invoked my fire to enhance my vision. Flickering red veiled my sight as I looked up, down, and all around me, searching for my silvery, winged companion. I had finally worked out why it chose to rebuke me. I had returned home when my parents and brother were away from the house at work or school, and then scurried off to the bus without paying a visit to my family’s silver oak.
Well, if the fairy wished to be elusive now, then it could wait until after dark to speak with me. I headed toward the bus stop at a brisk pace.
It was time to soothe my muddled emotions with dinner and a drink.