Forgotten Magic Read online

  Years ago, when I leveled one soul-rattling kiss at him, after nine solid months of his silent stares, Bane had managed a handful of words—small promises I knew he didn’t mean. I’d spent years unable to pull them from my thoughts. But I’d trained myself not to think fondly on those promises. They were pointless now and his just-uttered compliment didn’t mean anything to me. Especially since I was there to do a job, not stroll down memory lane with him.

  Still, I’d been a lying fool to deny what he already knew.

  “Mr. Iles, so do you.”

  Time kept him frozen in my mind. Over the years I recalled the quick glances he’d give me when Mr. Matthews would drone on too long in class. The glances became longer, slower until we spoke wordlessly. A flick of his lashes, the hooded cast of his eyelids, my breath fanning over my teeth, my lips barely touching as I watched him—those silent moments spoke volumes, and now, letting him take me in, I wondered if it was the same for him. I wondered if Bane remembered how we were back then, silent and curious, longing and eager but held up by the confines of the classroom and the lives we lived outside of it.

  “No one calls me Mr. Iles unless they’re trying to get me to unload my wallet.”

  “Technically, I am trying to get you to unload your wallet.”

  He let that almost smile return, and I got the feeling he was fighting his humor. “For a service.” That last word came out with the smallest hint of a growl, and I tried to ignore the sweet little ache in the pit of my stomach.

  “Well, yeah,” I said, standing straighter. The scent of his skin was thick, reminded me of the honeysuckle vines that lined the path around the town square. Blinking did not move my focus from that smell or what it did to my senses, so I concentrated instead on the small bruise under his left eye. It was crescent shaped and turning yellow. “That service.” My voice came out in a rasp despite the jar in my throat when I cleared it. “Let’s discuss that.” He turned away from my finger when I pointed at his face. The scrape was a dull purple but was turning lighter at the edge. “When were you attacked?”

  Bane let the humor leave his features and the frown he gave edged close to the scary side. “Two days ago.”

  “And you’re still busted up?”

  His cheeks pinkened, and I thought the temper that had always gotten Bane into trouble would surface, but he managed to keep himself in check. “I am not busted up.”

  Just like a wizard to get defensive. There was nothing worse than a man with a bruised ego along with a busted lip. Add that to a strong, connected wizard whose body should heal in hours, not days after an attack, and you’ve got the makings of some serious deflection and chest thumping.

  “Sorry,” I amended, ignoring the frown fracturing the beautiful contours of his face. “I just thought you would have healed by now.”

  “I know.” Bane left the mattress with an ease that seemed practiced. A performance that reminded me of a peacock stretching his feathers, but I doubted he was the sort to grand stand for a woman. Least of all me. Instead, he closed my suitcase, snapping the lock before he pulled it from the mattress. “You done?”

  “Yeah.”

  He watched me turn off my lights, that hard gaze following me as the apartment darkened and I tugged a scarf and my bag on. Bane stared at me, a bit longer than necessary, with his jaw working. “I suspect, as does the Oracle, that they used dark magic to inflict the injuries.”

  Dark magic to hurt him, blood magic to take the Elam. This sounded like someone who knew what they were doing—the spells and curses would have required more than what both the Oracle and the Crimson Cove covens allowed its practitioners to perform.

  That had me thinking of the theft again, and my gift inched back to the Cove and the stolen Elam. Even from here, something was unsettled, like a sting against my conscience, some unknowable thing that niggled at my awareness. Eyes closed tight, I inhaled, stretching my mind back to what I knew of the Elam, of all the times I’d passed by the town square yet ignored the talisman set there as something customary and usual. My gift took over, sliding my awareness beyond my apartment, through the busy street outside my building, from Brooklyn, Manhattan, through the park, until I could no longer make out the New York landscape, until land and rivers flew past me, dropping me into New Orleans, past the bayou, past the marsh and right into Crimson Cove with its lush pecan groves and the lands split between the higher and lower covens.

  In my mind I saw the Elam clearly—worn brass chains stretched out, imbedded into the wooden statue that made one column of the town square’s gazebo. The chains connected out, layered underneath the wood awning, right beneath the earth, straight into the hum of energy that ran directly through the town, right into the ley lines that weaved around it. In the center of the Elam, concealed as the single eye of the statue’s whittled, masculine face, was an amulet carved from turquoise, the color dulled by the decades, but power hummed from the center of its turtle-faced surface.

  The relic was as common to wizards as Founder’s Day was to the entire town. But as my mind prickled with the recall of the Elam’s surface, the beautiful craftsmanship and magical ability it took to fashion something that would veil us from the humans’ notice, that image became fractured. As I clamped my fingers into fists, trying to keep them from shaking, the Elam disappeared completely.

  “Damn. If the Elam is gone…”

  “You didn’t see it?” Bane asked, voice even but clipped.

  “I saw it, then didn’t. Then…then there was blood.”

  “We’ve established that.”

  A breath released in a long sigh from my mouth. “If that’s true, then whoever took the Elam used Grant blood to conceal the theft. The spell concealing it was formed by the founders. Since there were only Grant and Rivers kin left from those lines…well. It could only be someone from one of those two covens.” The tension along my skull eased as I blinked my eyes open. A thought occurred to me. “The Oracle couldn’t trace it?”

  Bane’s frown only deepened with my question, and I took his arched eyebrow as answer enough to know I shouldn’t question him. As we walked down the hall and waited for the elevator, I realized that with Bane, one of the last sons of one of the founding covens being the one attacked, there surely would have been a full inquiry. Not only would the Oracle and his team investigate—that was coven protocol—but I assumed the Grants, Bane’s family, would have spared no expense in finding out who’d bloodied his face and taken his blood.

  “And they found nothing?”

  He punched the Down button as though he had zero patience. There were several calluses across his knuckles, red with barely healed scabbing. “The nothing is why I’m fetching you, Janiver.”

  “Me?” A quick, humorless laugh lifted from my mouth when Bane didn’t explain himself. “Listen, I’ve been away from the Cove for a long time. I’m rusty. My nexus is twisted, blocked.”

  I didn’t like the way he watched me or how he kept his attention on me as I moved into the elevator. It wasn’t a lie; I was blocked, stunted from the lines by years of city life. Yes, I could still find things. That would never change, but being separated from my roots, from the lines that fed my nexus—the one source of energy that connected me to the ley lines—made my abilities harder to control. It was one of the main reasons Sam’s call had irritated me so much. I knew with that frantic call my family needed me, but I was completely out of balance, magically. And I hated the possibility of failing them because I had let myself go.

  “The Oracle can center you.” Bane sounded too confident, verging on smug. “Besides you don’t look so twisted to me.” The injected humor in his tone set me on edge. I’d never seen Bane laugh. Barely smile, in fact. But when that smirk reappeared and he stared down at me, his slow gaze whispering suggestions he should keep to himself, I got the distinct impression that he found me funny. He shrugged, bringing his gaze back to my face. “Sam told me about that little kidnapped girl you rescued in New Jersey, and the missi
ng guy you found in the desert last summer.”

  “You and my brother. That’s a dangerous partnership.”

  “Sam’s my friend. Especially since he helped me with a job two winters ago.” Bane rubbed his neck, the second nervous tick I’d seen from him. “This thing happened with the Elam, and Sam was at my door within the hour.” Bane sighed, scrubbing the back of his neck. “You know what will happen if we don’t find the Elam before the next full moon.”

  I hadn’t been gone that long. The Elam obscured magic from the mortals and magical creatures from their notice. It wasn’t foolproof, but it assured that most wouldn’t notice our world. If that Elam remained gone, the ley lines couldn’t be converged with the new moon and the town would be flooded with magic. There would be nothing channeling its power. Everything would be in plain view of the mortals.

  “Of course I know.”

  The lines stretched all over the region, down the gulf coast, up to Mississippi and splintered into various lines throughout the country. But it was our territory and those of our neighbors that would be exposed should the Elam remain unfound. Packs, clans, and covens in surrounding states would be at risk. They’d want to be involved in the search, to strengthen any locator charms we used to identify who had been involved in the theft. Bane would need to call them all.

  My chest was tight, and I moved against the back of the elevator, needing to keep space between us. Bane took up so much of it. Even his aura bubbled around the small confines of the car. I shook my head, still not convinced I was the right person for the job. “I’m not sure how I can help you.”

  “Your brother thought you’d be the best person for the job, and I wanted to help your family with a little cashflow since…”

  “Since Ronan screwed us?”

  A terse frown shadowed across his face and Bane shrugged, passing off my brazen description of my brother-in-law’s behavior. “Since your family has always been willing to help mine.”

  He didn’t seem to like the laugh I released or how I punched the Down button to make the car move faster.

  “I’m speaking the truth,” Bane said, his mouth tight.

  “My family is honor bound to yours, Mr. Iles. If we refuse to help, we will be cursed. Nothing we do is done willingly.”

  The tightness around his mouth hardened, and Bane moved his hand into his pocket, retrieving his cell like he decided against the bother of looking directly at me. “Your father suggested we try getting someone else to help,” he said, not looking up from his phone, “but I figure if anyone can find the Elam, it’s you.”

  Bane was the type who was stingy with his compliments. One coming from him was something special. I should have been flattered, especially since that compliment came after I insulted him. I should have at least nodded, managed even a small smile, but Bane had always made me nervous enough that I forgot all the things I should have done. He was like a shot of whiskey that burns all the way down, the one you know you shouldn’t take but can’t seem to keep away from.

  For a moment his flattery won me over. He even ignored his phone long enough to watch me again. I stared at him a little longer than I should have, brushing my hair off my shoulder to distract myself. “Yeah, Papa would resist coming to me.” No need to elaborate. Bane didn’t need to know what had kept me from the Cove all these years or why my father was fine with me staying away.

  The elevator stopped at the lobby, and he ushered me through the open doors with his hand on my lower back. The static of his fingers was electric, and I managed to cover the quick shudder that ran down my spine at that touch. It wasn’t the first time I’d caught this feeling or the first time the weight of his touch had me forgetting where and who I was.

  “Miss Benoit!”

  Damn. Not again. Two steps out of the elevator and old man Dinkens found me. That man was relentless, likely high, and had the worst timing in the world.

  “Mr. Dinkens. What can I do for you?”

  “The packages, Miss Benoit. There are three now. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to open them?” The old man moved his long nails through his gray and white whiskers and stopped at my side when Bane glared at him. He reeked of three-day-old tuna and two-dollar beer. “They are chocolates, and that whiskey I know you favor.”

  “Mr. Dinkens, you’re sweet, but I can’t take gifts from you.” Dinkens had been my downstairs neighbor for three years. You bring a lonely old man one Thanksgiving dinner from the shelter where you volunteer once and the attention doesn’t stop.

  “My dear, it’s just a trifle, nothing at all but the return of your kindness.”

  “And still not appropriate.” When the old man took hold of my hand, Bane stepped forward and the grip he held on my suitcase tightened. “Mr. Dinkens, this is a family friend from back home.” Stepping next to Bane may have deflated the old man’s gusto a bit, but Bane’s size and presence also tamped down his enthusiasm. “I’ll be going back to my hometown for a while. Would you mind telling the super to hold my mail until I can send him a forwarding address?”

  Dinkens had wrinkles under his eyes and a bunch of severe dents over his forehead. Slipping his gaze from me to Bane and back again exaggerated the lines and made him look much older than his sixty years. “Going back?” He shuffled toward me at my nod, stopping only when Bane moved a half step in front of me. “To Louisiana?”

  “Yes.” A quick elbow in Bane’s rib that Dinkens didn’t seem to notice and the wizard’s shoulders relaxed. “It's a family matter. Would you mind telling the super for me? It’s a little last minute.”

  “Of…of course, my dear.”

  The old man watched Bane closely, looking worried, maybe a bit nervous until I took his hand again. “Here.” He grabbed the card I’d slipped from my back pocket and offered to him. “This has my cell number on it.” When Dinkens’ eye lit up, excited, I pulled the card back. “It would be a hardship if my phone started ringing all the time. I’ll be busy with my family’s situation, so please only use this as a last resort if the super needs me. I’m trusting you to guard my privacy.” The whiskers twitched with the old man’s frown but then stilled as he nodded before I finally handed over the card. “Thank you. You…” I cleared my throat, not eager for Bane to overhear me. “You keep yourself fed and inside when the snow comes, okay?”

  “Of course, my dear. Of course,” he said, holding my card tight between his fingers. Mr. Dinkens watched us walk out of the lobby and remained there until I waved at him through the front doors.

  “Boyfriend?” Bane asked, handing over my suitcase to his guard when the trunk popped.

  “Yes, that’s my thing now. Old drunks who forget to shower.”

  He opened the door, waving me into the warmth of the Mercedes’ heated interior. October in New York was not cold by northern standards, but the Louisiana girl in me still caught a chill when temperatures dipped below fifty. It seemed Bane held the same cold-natured habits and had slipped on his jacket when he slid in next to me, folding his arms against the chill. The movement brought my attention back to the tempting scent of his skin and the warmth from his large frame that didn’t come from the seat warmers under my ass.

  “We have a plane ready at LaGuardia.”

  “Lovely.”

  That gaze was hot against my cheeks when he looked at me. “You’d rather deal with a commercial flight?”

  “I’m not complaining, Mr. Iles.”

  “Jani…”

  I jerked when he brushed his hand against my leg. It may have been accidental, but that didn’t keep me from an instinctual desire to get out of that car. Hera only knew how I’d survive the four-hour flight alone with him on his family’s plane.

  I bristled when he leaned over me, his hand reaching for my cheek, like he’d pull me toward him. I wondered, for half a second, why he got so close, why I let him. Then Bane gripped the seatbelt, his sweet, warm breath fanning over my mouth as he pulled the belt across my lap. “Safety first,” he said, gaze running all ov
er my face, stopping on my mouth like he couldn’t keep his attention clear of it.

  “I…can…do it myself,” I told him, my heartbeat thundering, my sinuses filled with his thick, rich scent. “It’s a boujie Benz. Not a rocket. Seatbelts can’t be that different than even middle-class rides.”

  His gaze lingered, but Bane shook his head, like he couldn’t quite understand me and hated that he couldn’t. “I forgot what a snob you were about money.”

  “I’m not a snob about money.” My leg squeaked against the leather seats when I moved closer to the window. “In fact, I’m a fan.”

  “Just not higher coven money.”

  “No.” The look I gave him likely wasn’t one an employee should shoot at her boss, not if she wanted to keep her job. But I’d spent ten long years away from the Cove, away from the by-your-leave attitude given to the likes of the higher, wealthier covens. I’d stopped reserving my contempt for them the day I left. “Not the higher covens.”

  I never much liked any higher coven witches, especially Bane Iles.

  But when we were ten, on the night of the biggest storm the Cove had ever seen, he’d saved me.

  He nodded, moving his lips together as though he needed a second to think of something diplomatic to say. “And what does that say about your opinion of me?”

  That was something I couldn’t answer. Not even when he looked at me as though my opinion mattered. As though I did.

  I can’t stop touching you, I heard, recalling what hearing that same line had done to me ten years ago, when I was eighteen. Remembering that I’d wanted to hear him say things like that to me forever.

  I don’t want to ever stop touching you.

  But he had stopped touching me, because I made him. And I had made him stop because it would not do to hold onto something I could never have. Not if he was going to lead his coven.

  Just then, as he sat next to me, leaning closer, his knee and elbow edging toward me, I doubted he was even aware of how he always seemed to gravitate toward me. Although I had closed my eyes and rested my head against the window, it did little to keep him away and me off his radar. Just as he had years ago, he sat too close, and I wondered why he always did that. Even in school when those looks lingered for months, when the others shied away from him and he didn’t notice, when I unconsciously leaned toward him, Bane would match me. He’d always invited himself into my personal space.