Page 4 of Magic Forsaken
“Will Draven be there?” Faris was glowering disapprovingly, but without any real heat behind it.
“Sorry, but it’s a bit too late to pretend that you hate my fiancé,” Kira retorted, hands on her hips. “He might get here in time, he might not. They’ve been having a few issues with vetting the attendees for the Symposium, and he wanted to make sure things were settled before he came home. But he’s going to try.”
The giant bearded elemental made an exaggerated huffing sound that carried no actual threat or frustration. “Then I’ll see how she’s feeling, but no promises.”
There was clearly a lot going on here, and all of it suggested that most of his grumpiness was intended to hide a heart full of total squish. But I doubted he would want a stranger to know that, so I pretended not to notice and dropped my gaze to Waffles, who was now laying on his back, wriggling happily withhis tongue dangling out the side of his mouth. Living his best life.
This place was weird. But maybe a good weird?
“Probationary basis,” Faris said.
My eyes jerked to his, my heart lurching oddly with a feeling I hadn’t experienced since… maybe forever.
“Does that mean…”
“I’ve got a big event coming up and I need the extra help, so I’m giving you a chance. But you screw up in even the smallest way or give me a reason to distrust you…”
I wouldn’t just be fired, I would be dead. Possibly eaten by wolves or swallowed up by a highly localized sinkhole.
“Understood.” I nodded. “When do I start?”
“Tomorrow.” Faris eyed me from head to toe. “Be here by two. I’ll have a uniform for you. And,”—his face went carefully expressionless—“meals are provided during working hours.”
So much for trying to hide the true desperation of my circumstances. I didn’t want anyone to know how relieved I was, so I just nodded again with a polite smile. “Thank you. I’m grateful for the opportunity. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
Now, of course, I just had to live up to that promise. Keep my head down, stay out of trouble, and not screw anything up.
Because that feeling in my chest? That was hope. Hope that we would have a place to live and enough to eat and never need to be on the run again. All I had to do to keep my people safe was continue to protect my secrets and stay in control of my magic while I was at work.
I could do this. I’d been doing it for a long time now, and under far worse circumstances, so after six months of being on the run, it was hard to feel anything other than optimism.
As I stepped out the front door of The Portal and stood on the sidewalk, I could feel the relieved smile tugging at my lips. I hada job now. How hard could it be to fly under the radar for a few months?
It might take a bit to get my first paycheck, but the run-down hostel where we were staying offered a small selection of complimentary breakfast items, along with fruit and cup ramen. I’d paid for our room with almost the last of my stolen cash, but it had bought us two weeks without worrying about where we were going to sleep. Things were looking up, and I couldn’t wait to tell everyone.
Just a quick word of advice? Never let the universe hear you say things like, “How hard can it be?” The universe is clearly fond of answering rhetorical questions, and usually with something along the lines of “Hold my beer.”
I was just about to head back down Sheridan Avenue when a pair of custom black SUVs pulled up to the curb, almost in unison. It appeared to be some sort of official entourage, and from the look of them, whoever was riding in the back seat had money. I was no expert, but I’d been in similar vehicles before, and they were typically constructed to withstand anything you could throw at them. Machine gun fire? No problem. Roll them off a cliff? Like going on a ride at the carnival. Don’t ask me how I know.
A man and a woman in nondescript dark clothing got out of the lead vehicle, followed by a tall, elegant woman in a pantsuit. All three approached the second SUV, but the door popped open before they could reach it. They stopped in their tracks, clearly waiting for the man who stepped out of the back seat.
I say a man, but really he was more like an explosion of power and frustration that happened to be localized within a single man-like shape.
There was no wind, and it was a fairly mild October day, but suddenly it felt as if a storm had descended onto Sheridan Avenue… if storms came in six foot four, with auburn hair, apowerfully muscled torso, and stunningly gorgeous features. He was built for destruction—with broad shoulders and arms that probably required a custom fit shirt to go with his custom SUV—and yet was still perfectly balanced. Graceful and utterly in control of his strength. His clothing was probably supposed to be formal, but his tie was gone and his jacket was in his hand, leaving only dark slacks and a dark button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. To complement that slightly unbuttoned look, his auburn hair was vaguely mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it in frustration, and his amber eyes…
Amber. Shapeshifter.
And not just any shapeshifter. Considering his entourage, this man was likely wealthy or influential, or both, which made him wildly dangerous.
I needed himnotto notice me.
Thankfully, I had a lot of practice at making myself small and unobtrusive. I wouldn’t have wished that “practice” on anyone else, but from time to time, it definitely came in handy.
And yet, somehow when I started to shrink into my “don’t notice me” pose and began to back away…
He saw me anyway. I wasn’t even looking at him, and I felt it—the burning pressure of that amber gaze as it sliced through my layers of camouflage like a scalpel.
I didn’t intend to look up. Didn’t intend to offer any sign that I’d noticed him, or that his presence meant any more to me than that of the woman in bright pink leggings jogging down the other side of the street, or the bike messenger pedaling furiously in the opposite direction.