Moist air slid against Emery’s skin as he stood behind a great boulder, feeling the sharp edges catch his badly worn clothes. The cold day bit deeply into his bones, sapping his energy as a chill shook his limbs. Dark clouds rolled overhead, the rain never far away in the Emerald Isle.

A human shape hugged the end of a rock wall some hundred yards away. A few more crouched ahead of him, hidden poorly within the crumbling ruins atop the green bluff overlooking the tumultuous ocean. Still more waited farther down the meadow, having ducked behind a different wall. His pursuers had plenty of choice in this part of the country, where low rock walls lined the countryside.

He turned and looked back the way he’d come.

A narrow road led down to this sorrowful strip of lonely land. A worn-in bicycle leaned on its kickstand, waiting for him.

He’d come to Ireland for the beauty. For the sweeping views and fields of green. For the pints, the laughter, and the merriment. He’d come to forget the grave he couldn’t bring himself to visit, and the woman he’d left behind.

Instead, he’d found himself wandering away from the tourists and the pubs to this bit of untamed land. The rain battered him and the chill soaked through him, but his thoughts weren’t dark. No, he found himself thinking of the jokes and laughter he’d shared with his brother before their lives had fallen apart. Penny’s warm embraces, and how she’d grabbed hold of his heart.

How it had felt when the two of them worked together in her magic bubble.

All the while, he’d been followed by mages with seemingly one task—watch and report.

The spies were tenacious. The first time he’d noticed them, at a magical street fair in France, there’d only been two. He’d given them the slip easily.

They’d found him again at a bar in Brussels, and that time, it had been harder to get away without notice.

But here they were again. More this time. The Guild was getting serious. They’d make a move soon. He needed to get back to the Realm, where his magic was the strongest and there were better places to hide.

First, though…

He peered around the large boulder to the reason he’d stopped his bike.

Amidst a circle of smallish, plain gray stones throbbed a deep pulse of power. Raw and wild, the stone promised reserves of power for the weary magic user. It was exactly the kind of thing Penny would fawn over, with some sort of personality only she’d be able to read. It was like the others he’d gathered for her.

He clenched his jaw.

The problem was its proximity to the mages’ crumbling hideout. They’d clearly stationed themselves there in anticipation of his riding past on his bicycle. They’d probably had no idea he would stop near such a desolate, ravaged, old structure with no tourism merits.

Unless their previous directive of “watch and report” had changed to “take him down at all costs,” and this was a good location to wait until he was close before springing into action.

Though…given that he was close, and they hadn’t sprung…

No, they must’ve thought he would ride by. They probably had a car on the other side and intended to inconspicuously follow him. Like they had inconspicuously followed him all those other times, sticking out like sore thumbs.

The Mages’ Guild employed idiots.

What to do…

If he ran at the stone in an attempt to snatch it on the fly, they’d probably assume it was an attack and reciprocate.

A battle would ensue.

But if he nonchalantly wandered that direction, his hands in his pockets and whistling, like anyone out for a stroll through the wet fields on a cold, miserable day, they might assume he was vulnerable and attack.

A battle would ensue.

The alternative was to turn around, get on his bike, and go back to the mindless pedaling. They’d continue to watch, and he’d continue to mind his own business until he could get out of here and do a better job of losing them this time. He didn’t need that power stone—Penny had plenty, was surely over him, and likely wanted him to leave her the hell alone—and he didn’t need to further blacken his already corrupted heart by going on a killing spree.

Leaving was the smart thing.

He slapped the rock he stood behind in frustration. Smart or not, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The feel of that stone was special. It called to him. Whispered to him of the woman who plagued his dreams. Begged him to grab it, package it up, and send it to her.

He blew out a breath, the memory of her sweet smile drifting through his thoughts.

It was probably harassment at this point, but he had to send her one more. Just one more to let her know he was thinking of her. That he’d never forget her. After that, he’d leave her alone and let her move on.

Boy, would this whole scheme crumble if the source of power wasn’t actually a stone, but some item that couldn’t be removed.

“So what do I do?” he whispered softly. “Run at it, or meander toward it?”

A cold wind swept along the ground, scraping his cheeks with icy claws.

Whatever he did, he needed to do it soon, or he’d turn into a magical popsicle.

“Meander. Meandering is the safest approach.” He stepped out from behind the boulder, his head pointed toward the ocean beyond, and his eyes cut to the various figures hunkered around the stone like ill-fitting goobers.

As expected, most of them jolted. Then shifted. Two heads came together in an impromptu meeting.

“Nothing to see here, folks,” he murmured without moving his lips. Little translucent tags waved from the various elements around him, offering themselves up for use in his quick-fire spells. “Mind your business.”

The soggy earth squished beneath his feet. A light drizzle shifted down, layering his skin. Still, the frigid air scraped across his face.

The shapes within the ruins stilled as he came within a hundred feet of the circle of stones. Those near the end of the rock wall crouched, their focus acute.

Did they think they were hiding? They couldn’t. Which meant they were more confident than the last pursuers he’d encountered. And why wouldn’t they be? They had more magical workers fanned out around the area. If they worked together even the slightest bit, they’d easily elevate their might and pose a real threat to him.

But they weren’t natural witches like Penny. They wouldn’t give him any surprises. They’d been brainlessly trained in the same lessons he’d learned: learn your spells, guard your secrets, and, above all, power is king.

In the world of mages, he was a king.

As he came closer, he could feel the hard thrum of power from within that plain circle of rocks. It pulsed in time with his heart before quickening just a bit, infusing him with energy. Closer still and his adrenaline surged higher. Energy spread through his limbs and tingled in his fingertips and toes.

An arm moved sideways by the end of the rock wall, and magic rose around him, rolling and boiling, shifting and spinning, practically churning in anticipation.

Ready to kill.

It was what he excelled at. What he could do with barely a thought.

It was why he’d walked away from Penny, lest his blackness of character corrupt her goodness.

A sad smile graced his lips as the magic around him darkened, his survival magic infusing it.

The person by the rock wall stilled again, probably bracing for his attack.

One footfall at a time, Emery made his way more carefully toward the circle, weaving together the first spell as slowly as he possibly could. His hands were low, his waggling fingers hopefully blending in with the darkness of his pants. The mages were still too far away to see clear detail.

Ten feet to the circle and the power throb ramped up again. Blackness crowded his vision for a second and an image of him standing with his back to a blast of magic took over his sight. It disappeared the next second.

He dove to the ground and rolled, finishing the weave and seeing two mages behind him with their hands full of ingredients. If not for his ability to foresee mortal danger to himself, he would’ve been dead ten times over.

Their spell was already airborne, rushing at him in a sloppy, loose weave that wouldn’t do much more than stun him.

They were trying to capture him. What fools.

As soon as he zipped off his spell, he immediately worked on another one. He sent it off to the people at the ruined castle as he called up yet another one.

A blast of magic sped toward him from the group of mages gathered at the end of the rock wall. He caught it with a shield built of his survival magic, which encompassed the spell and then ate through it.

He hopped up and weaved familiar spells together as he jogged toward that circle of rocks. He sent another spell at the ruins, one at the rock wall, and then turned to hit two mages behind him, standing much too closely together.

“Thanks for making my job easy,” he said. He’d reached the rock circle now and glanced down to the middle.

His heart fell.

It was a stone, all right. A gray, ordinary stone that blended in with the other mundane, easy-to-look-past stones around it. There was nothing exciting or unique about it. Nothing that drew and kept the eye, making a person want to look at it for hours on end.

Basically, it was more like him than her. He should probably just leave it there and make the last stone he sent to her something truly exceptional.

He fired off one more spell into the ruins. A scream rose before cutting off. Someone stood up from behind the rock wall forty feet in front of him. A jet of blue raced toward him.

He rolled, annoyed that he was nearly soaked now, and felt a surge from the power stone. If he were a betting man, he’d say the stone was desperate to be used.

Is this what Penny feels when she’s around the stones?

Pulling on it, he amped up the spell he was weaving, adding a touch more energy to the effort and spicing it up with a little extra nastiness. There was that lack of moral character he was talking about. Let Penny try to tell him he wasn’t evil now.

The spell plunged through the mage’s chest, then ballooned out, ripping his body apart. He barely had time to scream.

“I really should just leave you here,” Emery said to the power stone, still using the extra boost to form a spear to send through the air at the last mage he could see. She took a big step forward and shoved her hands in front of her, trying to use her body for an extra push or something. Emery hadn’t seen it done before. Maybe it worked, but it sure looked stupid.

He added an acidic component to his spell and sent it off before she could fire hers. Rather than watch the spell’s trajectory, he snatched the power stone off the ground in all its humdrum, dull glory, and turned in a circle, seeing if anyone else planned to pop up like a jack-in-the-box.

The mage near the ruins was working on something else, but she didn’t get a chance to fire it off. Emery’s spell had torn her initial spell apart without dissipating, and was carrying on toward her.

Smarter than the average bear, the mage turned to run. But too late.

Emery’s spell smacked into her back. The scream sailed across the green fields before ending in a ragged gurgle.

Back at his bike, Emery tucked his stone away, still looking for anyone hiding among the rocks. No one had made a move.

“I should’ve gone for a truck or something,” Emery said to the stone, then laughed. He was talking to rocks now. Penny had turned him into a weirdo like her.

His thoughts drifted back to her. He hadn’t had any communication with Darius for weeks. Last he’d heard, Penny was safe and sound, living and training with the Bankses, a mostly calm dual-mage pair with decades of experience.

She had the life she deserved. Balanced, just like she was.