Wildfire

“This will be very interesting,” Cornelius said.

“Do you want me to bring Bug in on this?” Bern asked.

“No.”

“Can I ask why not?”

“Because Rynda is working very hard on Rogan, and Bug resents her for it. If he thinks that Brian did cooperate, and we don’t know yet if he did or not, he may blurt it out at the point he thinks it will do the most damage.”

A chime sounded through the office. Someone was at the front door.

“That must be Scroll to pick up the ear.” I jumped up. “Hold on, I’ll just be a minute.”

I headed for the door.

“Nevada . . .” Bern called after me.

“One moment.” I checked the camera. A blond man in a dark suit stood with his back to me. I had expected Fullerton. Interesting.

I opened the door.

The man turned toward me. About thirty, he had a strong masculine face, so handsome it might as well have been chiseled out of stone. Square jaw, full lips, beautifully defined nose, and smart green eyes under the sweep of dark eyebrows. His blond hair, a few shades lighter than his eyebrows, and cut to a medium length, artfully framed his face, emphasizing its power. The effect was stunning. If I had seen him in a mall or on the street, I would’ve discreetly turned for a second look.

“Hello,” he said. “Are you Nevada Baylor?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, showing white teeth.

Wow.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’m Garen Shaffer.”

Oh crap.

I had to say something.

“What a surprise.” Oh great. That was brilliant. “Please come in.”

Before Rogan sees you and decides to squish you with a random tank he has lying around somewhere in his industrial garage.

I stepped aside to let him pass. Zeus seized this opportunity to thrust himself in the space I vacated and give Garen a once-over.

Garen froze in place.

“Ignore him.” I nudged Zeus with my hip. He refused to budge. “He’s a recent rescue. We haven’t had a chance to train him. He isn’t used to strangers.” What the hell was coming out of my mouth?

“Houston animal shelter?” Garen asked, a little spark in his eyes.

“No. A summoner House, actually. Go see Cornelius.”

The massive beast twitched his ears.

“Zeus,” Cornelius called.

The tiger-hound turned and hurried into the conference room with liquid grace.

Garen stepped inside. I shut the front door and led him to my office. Sooner or later someone would report to Rogan that a person from House Shaffer appeared on my doorstep. Most likely they reported it the moment he drove up to the checkpoint. The consequences would be interesting.

I sat behind my desk. Garen Shaffer sat in my client chair. I touched my laptop. It came on. A message window from Bern opened.

Garen Shaffer, heir to House Shaffer, truthseeker Prime.

Better and better.

I put on my professional smile and clicked the small icon in the corner of the laptop, enabling recording. We had a hidden camera positioned on the shelf behind me. We’d had some trouble with clients who displayed selective memory, and it was amazing how quickly threats of lawsuits faded once we presented a recording of them saying the words they claimed they couldn’t remember.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Shaffer?”

He leaned back, throwing one long leg over the other. “I’ve come to hire you.”

Lie. This was a test.

“That would be a lie, Mr. Shaffer. Care to try again?”

“Would you mind?”

“No.”

Magic accreted around him. “I’m thirty-one years old.”

My power pressed against the magic wall and slipped through. “True.”

The magic wall grew denser.

“I have three sisters.”

“Lie.”

Magic spilled out of him like water out of a geyser. It wrapped him in a cocoon of power. How the hell did he do that?

“I’m the only child.”

The cocoon looked impenetrable. My magic wrapped around it. The wall of power held tight. If I hammered against it with brute force, we’d be locked in a fight, his will against mine. He was strong. Very strong. Possibly stronger than I, although we wouldn’t figure it out until we clashed. A part of me really wanted to find out.

Ignore the wall. Imagine it’s porous. Imagine it’s not there.

He narrowed his eyes.

His wall was stone, but my magic was water. It slipped through the cracks. All I had to do was guide it and let it flow . . .

Lie.

“I think we should stop.” I leaned back.

The wall vanished. His magic wrapped around me. “Are you trying to appear stronger than you are or weaker?”

“Neither. I just don’t want you to know.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you.” I waved my hand in front of my face, as if clearing smoke. “Please keep your magic to yourself.”

He smiled. His power vanished.

“Why is there a cooler in the fridge?” Arabella called from the conference room.

When did she even get a chance to get in there? “Leave the cooler alone. Stay out of the fridge.”

“Sister?” he guessed.

I made a face at him.

“I have one myself. They are difficult at times.”

Arabella stuck her head into my office and showed me the Ziploc bag with the ear. “Why are you dressed like a soldier? Is that blood on your clothes? Also, why is there a human ear in the fridge?”

Argh. Just argh.

Garen’s eyebrows crept up.

“It’s evidence,” I ground out. “Put it back in the cooler.”

“Fine, fine.”

She went back into the conference room.

“I would very much like to take you to dinner.”

I made a show of looking down at my ACUs. “Today wouldn’t be a good day.”

“What about tomorrow?”

I raised my head and pretended to consider it. “Unfortunately, I’m in the middle of something, so I can’t promise I won’t stand you up.”

I felt something, a light click, like he’d flicked his fingers against my palm. Was it his magic working? Is that what it felt like?

“That’s okay. I’m a very patient man.”

True. He was flirting with me.

“Okay, I’ll go to dinner with you if you answer a question.”

He leaned forward, his green eyes fixed on me. “It’s a deal.”

“Do you feel a click when I spot-check your answers for truth, and if so, does everyone or is it a truthseeker thing?”

“That’s three questions.”

Two could play the flirting game. “Do you want me to come to dinner with you or not?”

He pretended to consider it. “You drive a hard bargain. Yes, no, and it is a truthseeker thing. We call it pinging. There is nothing like coming home late in a damaged car and having both parents ping you in stereo as you answer their questions. Tomorrow at six?”

“Where?”

“Bistro le Cep. They tell me that’s the best place in Houston for quiet conversation.”

I had no idea where that was. “Very well. Tomorrow at six.”

We both got up. He held the door of my office open for me. I walked him to the outside door and watched him get into a black Cadillac. The car reversed and rolled down the street, unmolested.

Arabella came up to stand next to me.

“He was pretty.”

“What was that all about? You never interrupt me while I’m with clients.”

“Bern texted me and told me to do it. He said you and he sat completely still, staring at each other for ten minutes. He thought something might have gone wrong and said I should check on you.”

Smart move. Garen would consider Bern with his wrestler build and judo shoulders a threat. But Arabella, barely five feet and maybe one hundred and ten pounds wet, would seem harmless. Garen had no idea how close he’d come to being crushed to death.

Ten minutes. Must’ve been when I was trying to find a way through his wall. Felt like a few seconds. I wonder if that’s what Augustine Montgomery felt like. Over a week ago I was trying to convince him to let me shield his mind from Victoria Tremaine, and I pulled some harmless but private information out of his mind. He never realized it happened until I told him. It was like a chunk of time simply disappeared from his memory.