Erica woke the next morning with sore muscles and aching ribs from her fight with Hampton the night before. The only bright spot was that the deputy hadn’t managed to give her a black eye. She found herself hoping Hampton couldn’t say the same.
With a sigh, she rolled out of bed and got ready for work.
The problem with a twelve-hour shift was that sometimes it seemed to go on forever. Yes, the three- and four-day weekends were nice, but you had to get through the weekdays first.
Elsewhere in the county, tensions were running high among both Humanists and Talents, in part thanks to those coming to town for the protests. The result was even more bar brawls, arguments, and general pissiness than usual. Her zone, however, remained stubbornly quiet, leaving Erica entirely too much time to second-guess her decision to break up with Jake.
Her mind kept drifting back to making love to him in the shower. Those big hands caressing her wet skin, cupping her breasts, stroking her nipples. The way he’d loomed over her, his thick shaft pumping deep, their magic interacting in a swirl of energy and heat that made the pleasure that much greater.
The glow of his eyes. The wink of that dimple in his smile. The deep male boom of his laughter. The way he’d stood at her back like a brick wall, hard and steady, a man she could absolutely count on whenever things went to hell.
She had to keep reminding herself of the moment he’d stood there fully manifested, every cop in the room pointing a gun at him. Scaring the fuck out of a bunch of heavily-armed professional paranoids wasn’t good for your life expectancy. Which was why a relationship with Jake just wasn’t a good idea for either of them.
And yet her mind kept drifting…
Erica wrapped her legs around his broad back, digging her heels into the thick muscle as she reached for his head with both hands. The short, curling strands of his hair felt like raw silk, cool and tempting…
Dragging her mind out of the delicious memory, she scanned the street ahead of her and listened to the radio, hoping for a call. This would be a terrific time for a good drunk-and-disorderly. Anything to get her mind off her failed love life.
As if on cue, a Toyota ran a stop sign right in front of her. She hit her blue lights and accelerated after him, wondering if she should expect another murder attempt.
The driver promptly pulled over, demure as an old lady headed to church.
Erica got out of the car with her adrenaline pumping, one hand on her holstered weapon as she walked around to the passenger side. With every step, she kept expecting to hear the boom of a shotgun blast.
Instead, the Toyota’s windows hummed down to reveal a skinny sixteen-year-old African-American kid, wide eyes fixed on her weapon hand in stark terror. His license and registration shook as he held them out.
Erica let him go with a verbal warning to pay more attention to stop signs. And yes, I do feel like an asshole, she thought, watching the Toyota drive slooooowly away.
It was after dark before she finally got the call she was waiting for. “Laurel County, Alpha 25, requesting backup and the assistance of Alpha 22 on a Code 61, possible Code 76. 34 Edgefield Court, Colton.”
Erica frowned. From the sound of the call, Katilia Sharp was dealing with a fight. A Code 76 meant a magical crime. She picked up her handset and keyed it. “Laurel County, Alpha 22 en route.”
“10-4, Alpha 22.”
“Laurel County, Alpha 23, en route,” Jake’s voice said crisply.
Great. Just what I need -- another painful conversation. But she lost the snarl as it occurred to her that given the possible magical crime, having Tooth Tank backup could come in handy.
She hit lights and sirens and floored it.
Thirty-Four Edgefield Court was located in a middle-class subdivision in Colton, one of the unincorporated suburbs surrounding Laurelton. The house itself was a Cape Cod, with gray vinyl siding, white trim, and slate blue shutters. Two gabled windows that reminded her of wide eyes stared at the brick split-level across the street.
Sharp’s patrol car sat in the driveway, but there was no sign of the deputy or anyone else. Judging by the line of cars parked in front of the split-level, it looked like someone was having a party.
This could get ugly. Nothing gets a cop’s adrenaline pumping like a fight involving a dozen people and alcohol. That suspicion was reinforced by the sound of angry voices coming from behind the Cape Cod.
Erica got out of her car and keyed her mic just as Jake pulled in behind her. “Alpha 25, what’s your 20?”
“We’re around back at the gray house,” Sharp said, before adding to someone else, “If you don’t calm down, sir, you’re going to jail.” She sounded frustrated, but not as tense as she’d be if she were actively in danger.
“On our way,” Erica said, glancing at Jake as he stalked toward her.
He met her eyes, and for a moment his expression lost its stony cop professionalism to pain. Then his face hardened again. “What have we got?”
“No idea. Let’s find out.” She unsnapped her retention holster as they both headed up the driveway and behind the house.
Once again, they fell into the familiar rhythms established during a hundred patrols. Despite last night’s fight, Erica felt something inside her relax at his big, comforting presence.
The house was surrounded by emerald grass and flowerbeds in a wild riot of brilliant blooms, looking like a rainbow brought to earth. Following a hunch, she scanned the yard, detecting a brighter than normal magical glow that suggested an Arcanist had used her Talent to encourage the lush springtime growth.
Glancing back over her shoulder at the split-level next door, Erica saw no sign of magical gardening. There were just the standard daffodils and azaleas, no thicker or more profuse than usual. Bet it’s tough to win Yard of the Month when your neighbor’s an Arc.
“My granddaughter loved that cat,” a man’s voice snarled. “She cried for days.”
“I didn’t have a damn thing to do with Tinkerbell dying,” the woman snapped back. “I like cats.”
“Yeah,” sneered another man. “Black ones!”
A chorus of voices started yelling accusations and insults, most of them involving the word “witch.”
“Terrific,” Jake rumbled.
When they rounded the corner, Katilia stood between two groups of people in a pool of illumination from the floodlights around the house.
On one side stood a ragged half circle of nine or ten people, all of them tense and smelling of beer and grilled meat. Seemed somebody had been having a cookout. Checking auras, Erica saw red swirls of aggression seemed with pockets of yellow fear. If any of the crowd had a magical Talent, it wasn’t much of one.
Opposite them stood a harried blonde woman in a T-shirt and jeans, flanked by a pair of teenagers, one a girl in a peach tunic, green leggings and boots, her face pale with anxiety under a fall of long red hair, her hands in fists. She looked maybe thirteen. The other was a lanky young man in a green polo shirt and chinos who seemed vaguely familiar.
All three had power. Based on the pattern of the auras, Erica suspected the two kids were Bards, while the mother was probably an Arcanist.
A handsome, graying man in a polo shirt and black slacks took a menacing step closer to the Arcanist. “Admit it -- you sacrificed Tinkerbell to fuel whatever spell that thing is.” He pointed at something in the grass a few feet away.
It was a ring of flat, dark gray paving stones, the kind of semi-permanent arrangement some Arcs used for spell work. Sigils were drawn on the stones in chalk, then erased once the spell was done. Eying the circle, Erica saw the magic wasn’t active.
“Terrific,” Jake said in a low voice. “Humanists living next to a witch. Because that always works out.” He gestured at the young male Bard. “Hey, isn’t that Shannon? The server from The Cauldron?”
Erica shot a look at the boy and realized he was right. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Oh, great. Well, might as well get this shut down.” With that, he stepped into the light of the floods, big and dark in his uniform. “What’s going on?” His sudden alpha male bark shut everyone else up.
Katilia turned toward them, her dark face lighting in relief before she hid her reaction behind a professional mask. “Good timing.” She turned back to the group and gestured at Erica. “This is deputy Erica Harris, the department’s Arcanist.”
“Just what we need,” the graying man grumbled. “Another witch.”
Katilia eyed him icily before indicating Jake. “And that is deputy Jake Nolan. You might remember him from the Faraday Square massacre, where he saved a lot of lives.”
The whole crowd went dead still, staring at Jake’s gold eyes and Feral patch. To Erica’s satisfaction, the anger and aggression quickly bled away from their auras, replaced by the yellows of unease and alarm.
The three Talents, on the other hand, looked relieved.
The gray haired man squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I’m Dr. Henry Robertson, and I’m a dentist.” He indicated the slim, pretty woman at his side, who wore a long sleeveless maxi dress covered with sunflowers. “This is my wife, Barbara.” He rattled off the string of names belonging to his backup. Most of them seem to be brothers or sons of his, along with their wives.
Still with that self-important air he pointed at the Arcanist. “Kim Biggerstaff sacrificed my granddaughter’s cat to power a spell she used to call down a lightning strike on my house. It blew out my television. I want her charged with animal cruelty and vandalism.”
Erica stared at him in disbelief. “Say what?”
“That spell.” He jabbed a finger at the circle. “I told Ms. Biggerstaff I don’t like her practicing magic in our neighborhood. The next thing I know, I find my granddaughter’s cat with her belly ripped open. When I said something to Kim about it, lightning struck my house that night. It fried my seventy-inch 3D television. That was a three thousand dollar set! I’m suing and I want her charged with animal cruelty and destroying my property.”
Erica drew in a deep breath and counted to ten. “First off, that’s not possible.”
“The tree in front of my house has a lightning scar all the way down where the bolt hit. Take a look at it and you’ll see. It’s probably dead!” He gave the Arcanist a glower. “She killed it.”
Idiots. I hate idiots. “Then you need to have a word with God about that, because I can assure you no human is responsible.”
“This is why witches shouldn’t be cops,” someone growled. “They cover for each other.”
Erica’s ribs ached, and she was standing far too close to the man she could never have. She’d had had just about enough bullshit. “When was the last time you heard of a Caliphate sorcerer throwing lightning bolts around?”
The whole bunch stopped muttering, looking startled.
“Yeah, right: never. You know why? Because nobody can do that kind of magic. It’s impossible.”
Robertson thrust a finger in Jake’s direction. “He turns into a giant glowing lion.”
“Which is completely different than tossing lightning bolts. Why do you think the Caliphate used magically-amplified chemical explosives? If lightning bolts were possible, I assure you they would have hurled them.”
“They brought down the World Trade Center!” Robertson snapped.
“With MEEDs in backpacks planted all over the building.”
“The cat is dead!”
“Because, as I keep telling you,” Kim told him icily, “the neighbor’s dog got her. For God sake, you’re a dentist! Don’t you know bite marks when you see them?”
“Then what does that spell do?” Robertson shot back, pointing at the circle of stones, his face reddening. “I know it’s something. This neighborhood has gone to hell since you and those witch kids moved in…”
“You leave my kids out of this!” Her eyes flashing, Biggerstaff jolted past Katilia, fists clenched.
Robertson and his friends surged forward, eager anger burning in their auras as Erica and Jake exchanged an oh, fuck look. But before anyone could land a punch, a high, ethereal voice rang out in crystalline purity.
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…
They all froze. Kim’s daughter was singing, her eyes closed as she belted out the old hymn. Her brother joined in, his surprisingly deep voice winding around hers, adding strength and power to her angelic sweetness.
‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved,
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believed…
A wave of goosebumps rolled across Erica’s skin. During her childhood, her mother had dragged her to church every time the doors opened, yet she had never heard the old hymn sung with such conviction and beauty. Awe filled her, just as it shone so plainly on the faces of everyone around her.
It was a spell. She could see the magic pouring from the teens to engulf their listeners in a wave of tranquil turquoise blue. In that exquisite peace, it was suddenly possible to sense a vast presence surrounding them. It was not simply good, it was distilled love. Concentrated justice.
It felt like God.
When we’ve been there,
Ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days
To sing God’s praise,
Than when we’d first begun.
Amazing Grace…
Not even Erica was immune. As she listened to the Bards’ song, the anger and anxiety she’d carried since yesterday’s brush with death drained away, leaving a perfect, floating serenity.
When the last words of the chorus faded away, silence didn’t so much fall as ring like a bell.
People stirred and wiped their eyes. “My mother loved that song,” Robertson’s wife said in a ragged voice. “Maybe you can sing for my church sometime.” To Kim, she said, “I’m sorry about all this. It won’t happen again.” Wiping her eyes with the tips of her fingers, she added to her husband, “I’m done with this Humanist crap. You need to stay off WitchHunter.com. Nobody evil could sing a hymn like that.” She stalked past him, evidently headed for home.
“Barbara…” He turned and hurried after her. Looking shamefaced, his family members followed.
“Wow,” Katilia said to the two kids, who unsurprisingly looked exhausted. “Want a job? Also, you two seriously need a recording contract.”
Shannon gave her a shy smile. “Thanks.”
“She’s right. That was…” Erica had to stop the clear her throat. “… really impressive.” Which was something of an understatement. Her brain was still vibrating like a tuning fork.
“I’ve never heard anything like that,” Jake told the teens. “You’ve got real talent -- in both senses of the word.”
Shannon shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “We got lucky.”
“Yeah,” the girl agreed. “I tried that with the wrong song once and made the situation worse.” She frowned a little. “I just hope Mr. Robertson doesn’t come back tomorrow, mad because I used magic to calm them down.”
“He won’t.” Jake’s eyes glittered in a way that didn’t bode well for Robertson. “I’ll head over there and inform him that you saved him from going to jail for disorderly conduct and trespassing. Which was exactly where he was headed before you started to sing.”
“Thanks.” Kim said, before laying a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Sarah. But you have school in the morning. Better go study.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Trig. Ugh.” She gave the deputies a wave and headed up the steps into the house. “‘Night, everybody. It was nice meeting you.”
Shannon smiled at them as he followed. “Thanks, y’all. I was afraid we were toast.”
Kim watched her children vanish into the house before turning her attention to the three deputies. “My son’s right. If you hadn’t stepped in and made them back off long enough to give the kids a chance to sing, it would have turned out a lot worse.”
“Glad we could help.” Jake flashed both dimples full blast.
“But from now on, it’s probably best if you do any spell work inside the house,” Erica added.
Kim blew out a sigh of frustration. “It’s harder for me to draw on the earth’s magic through the floor. But I guess you’re right. Using any kind of magic these days is like waving a red flag in front of a bull.” She frowned. “And somehow I don’t think one song is really going to change Henry Robertson’s attitude.”
“We’ll talk to him,” Jake told her.
* * *
All three cops headed over to Robertson’s house to reinforce the point, where they found the party was already breaking up. Henry stopped trying to make up with his wife long enough to assure them he’d leave the neighbors alone.
Erica wasn’t sure she believed him, though his aura looked as if he meant it. Still, the kids had given him something to think about.
“That was entirely too close,” Katilia commented as they headed back to the cars. “There are way too many people in this town spraying gasoline everywhere and lighting matches. I am not looking forward to that protest.”
Jake grunted. “Neither is anyone else with any sense.”
“Thanks for the help. And watch your backs.” Sharp drove off, leaving the two of them alone.
Erica slanted a look at Jake they walked toward their cars. The light of the full moon outlined his profile in silver. Longing stabbed her. Don’t start. She groped for something to say. “That was one hell of a spell. Must be handy to be able to combine magic like that.”
“Yeah. Genevieve’s done it a couple times. Kurt even manifested his tiger around her during that last fight with the terrorists.”
Erica stared at him. “That sounds about as safe as sticking a fork in a wall socket.”
“Yep. But she managed to hold it long enough for him to take Indigo out.” Jake glanced at her, and his gold eyes flared, reflecting the moonlight. “It might be worth it to see if she can teach you the technique. I can think of all kinds of situations where it’d be handy if you could draw on my magic.”
Their joined magic spun around them like a whirlwind, a dozen shades of violet, rose and blue, his denser, brighter than hers, surging and tumbling together…
Erica swallowed. “I’ll give it some thought.” They’d reached her car, and she pulled out her key fob to unlock it. “Well, I’d better get back to my zone. Good night.”
“Erica.”
The rough note in his voice made her look back at him.
“I want to apologize for the way I acted. I shouldn’t have raked you over the coals.”
Eying his aura, she decided he meant it. She sighed and admitted, “Yeah, but you had a point.”
A flash of hope darted through his aura in shades of electric blue.
Erica winced. Better to be honest. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure it changes anything. Neither one of us can afford to get so emotionally involved that we get ourselves fired.” She made herself meet his gaze. “You’re a good cop, Jake. The department needs good cops.”
“We’re both good cops. And we’re even better together.”
Staring up into his glowing Feral eyes, she remembered the feel of his big hands riding her body. Maybe we could make it work…
But she knew better. She was too vulnerable to him. And Bobby had taught her just how high the cost of that vulnerability could be. “No. I can’t.” Before he could say anything more, she slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. As she drove away, she glanced into the rearview mirror to see his eyes glowing in the dark as he watched her go. Pain stabbed her.
Cut it out, she told herself brutally. It’s over. Get used to it.
To divert her mind from her bitter longing, she thought about Jake’s suggestion that she learn how to draw on his magic. Ferals did have a ridiculous amount of power, but they couldn’t direct it the way an Arcanist could.
Could I have saved Bobby if I’d known that trick? If she could’ve kept him from bleeding to death just a little longer, maybe he would’ve survived…
As a cop, Erica was first responder to all kinds of potentially lethal scenes, ranging from car accidents to attempted murder. If there was any way to keep someone alive long enough for EMS to arrive, that was an ability she desperately needed.
Erica pulled into the parking lot of a church -- closed at this hour -- and started searching her contacts for Genevieve’s number. As the phone dialed, she realized it might be too late to call.
Genevieve answered before she could hang up. “Erica! Is everything all right?”
“I hope I haven’t called a bad time.”
“Nope, your timing’s terrific. Kurt’s out of town picking up a new cat, and Dave and I are watching Netflix. What can I do you for?”
Erica related her conversation with Jake. “You think you could teach me that technique?”
“I don’t see why not. Would you like to come by after your shift?”
Go home to toss and turn all night thinking of Jake, or distract herself with magic lessons until she was tired enough to sleep? “I don’t get off until midnight. Is that too late?”
“Nope. Working a little magic is the only thing that wears me out enough to sleep when Kurt’s out of town.” Gen sounded as if she meant it. She probably did, considering Erica had just been thinking the same thing.
“Great! I’ll see you then.” She hung up.
The rest of her shift was so quiet it was all she could do to get through get through it without her mind drifting to memories of making love to Jake. The last thing she needed was another crying jag.
* * *
It wasn’t quite 1 a.m. when Erica found herself in the center of Gen’s backyard magic circle. The two women sat facing each other on a BFS blanket spread over the frosted grass, knee to knee.
Dave sprawled a few feet away, wearing a toothy tiger grin. “Oh, come on,” he coaxed. “You know it’s a witchy tradition.”
Genevieve gave him the side eye. “For the last time, we’re not going skyclad.”
“A guy can dream, can’t he?”
“Furvert,” Erica accused, smirking.
“Hey, I’m only human -- more or less.” He grinned back, thumping his tail on the grass.
“Ignore him,” Gen told her. “Concentrate on the magic.” She took Erica’s hands in hers and closed her eyes. Her aura suddenly blazed up like a campfire sprayed with gasoline.
Every hair on Erica’s body rose as the spell circle activated, the sigils rising from the earth in three concentric rings of color. Slowly, they began to orbit around the two women, casting a soft glow over the spring grass.
She glanced over at Dave -- and was startled to see a man standing half submerged in his body like a ghost. It was Dave’s human manifestation, the equivalent of the Clarence version Jake often summoned. The figure glowed so brightly it almost appeared solid. The magic circle must be boosting Dave’s power too.
“Reach for the magic,” Genevieve said softly. “Open yourself to it. Draw it in.”
Obediently, Erica concentrated, sending a curl of her aura toward the slowly rotating sigils. As she neared the closest glyph, it radiated warmth like a campfire. The instant she touched it, the heat blazed up, almost searing her fingers. She recoiled, jerking back her aural probe like someone who’d touched a stove.
“No, not like that,” Gen said patiently. “You don’t want to drink it directly into your mind. This spell amplifies it too much. You want to use your aura as a conduit -- like this.” Genevieve extended a hand, reaching toward the nearest sigil. The magic flowed through her aura and began to burn brighter. “You have to shield yourself with the innermost layer and use the outer to manipulate it.”
Examining her, Erica realized it was the outer shell of the Arcanist’s aura that shone the brightest, churning with furious color. The layer beneath it glowed more dimly and didn’t swirl as fast. “Like a magical oven mitt.”
Genevieve laughed. “Exactly.”
Nibbling her lower lip, Erica worked to separate her aura into two layers, one directly over her skin, the other an inch or so further out. It was similar to the glowing shell Ferals created when they generated a manifestation. The trouble was, the outer layer was so weak she wasn’t convinced she could do anything with it.
Still, it was with a try. She stretched out another tendril and touched it to the surrounding spell’s innermost ring. Heat flashed through her, and sweat broke out over her skin. For a moment Erica thought she was going to lose control, but she gritted her teeth and resisted the impulse to drop the probe.
It didn’t seem to help. The heat intensified.
“Use it,” Genevieve told her. “Burn some of it off and it won’t bleed through.”
Erica swirled a hand through the air, leaving a glowing trail of sparks behind. The burn backed off. Encouraged, she pulled in more magic and began to draw a serpentine shape in the air. Working fast, she started adding detail -- scales, wings --turning the snake into a dragon and sending it winging around them. Its long tail whipped as it flew, wings flapping, shedding a rain of sparks.
“Oh,” Genevieve breathed, “That’s nice.”
“Too bad I can’t do a damn thing with it. It’s just a light show.” Frowning, she added, “And I won’t have access to your spell circle in the field.”
“I can teach you how to draw the spell. Besides, the real idea is to be able to pull on a magical power source in an emergency. Like Jake.”
Erica snorted. “Jake would fry me like a mosquito in a bug zapper if I tried to manifest his power. You may have the juice to do that, but I don’t.”
“I don’t mean you should try to create a Feral manifestation. You’re right -- I damn near roasted my brain trying that trick. I wouldn’t even have tried it if Indigo Ford hadn’t been holding a blade to my throat. What I’m talking about is establishing a link with Jake, a conduit for his power. You could use it to reinforce a ward or…”
“Or heal?” Erica remembered Bobby’s eyes staring up into hers, wild and desperate as he died.
Genevieve hesitated a long moment before she shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t really know. God knows you have the control, but I’m not sure you’d have time in an emergency.”
“I’m not talking about working a healing spell. I just want to be able to keep somebody from bleeding to death long enough to get to the ER.”
Genevieve considered the idea a moment before nodding slowly. “Yeah, that’s possible. Let’s give it a shot.” She gestured Dave closer. “That’s your cue, fuzzy.”
“One striped Energizer Bunny coming up.” The tiger padded over to them, accompanied by a bass drum thump. His human manifestation knelt so that he and Erica were eye to eye. His long, angular face glowed so brightly it almost looked solid.
“You look like a bug zapper waiting for a mosquito,” Erica joked, to cover her unease.
Dave’s manifestation gave her a reassuring smile. “If I start smelling bacon, I’ll let go.”
Erica took a deep breath and reached out a hand. He wrapped glowing fingers around hers, and she inhaled sharply, smelling ozone. A psychic buzz vibrated through her, the same feeling she got whenever she touched Jake’s manifestation.
Concentrating, Erica worked to split her aura into two layers again before sending a tendril of energy to brush his mystical form. Even shielded, the burn was fierce and immediate. Though the circle’s magic was far greater -- drawing as it did on the power of the earth -- Dave’s was so much more concentrated.
Erica gestured, drawing another dragon, this one even bigger and brighter than the last, then sent it soaring around them. Drawing on Dave’s power as cold sweat rolled down her spine, she fed it more and more magic.
“Take more,” he murmured. “Don’t be afraid of it. I won’t let it hurt you.” He grinned. “Jake would never forgive me.”
Setting her jaw, ignoring the acid burn beginning to spread over her skin, she drew in more and more Feral magic, feeding it to her dragon. The magical construct began to radiate a rainbow of colors, growing as it flew, its wings beating faster as it circled them.
An image flashed through her mind -- Bobby staring up into her face, his eyes impossibly wide. His face shifted, taking on the sharper angles of his brother’s, until it was Jake staring up at her, begging her to save him. Pleading for forgiveness.
The magic shifted in her grip, escaping her control to plunge into Dave’s. Distantly she heard his startled gasp as pain screamed through her, searing the base of her brain in an explosion of light.
She screamed. Everything went black.