Wildfire
Page 37
“Now that would be an interesting development.” He crossed his arms. “You have no place to go.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s hilarious. The stuff of romcoms. Disowned by her family, thrown into the arms of an obsessive, paranoid billionaire . . .”
I threw a pillow at him. It stopped three inches from his face. He pushed it aside with his fingers, leaned over, and kissed me. The pillow landed back on the bed.
“I’m your only hope. Face it. Your only chance to strike out on your own and take over your family business, eventually destroying your evil grandmother.”
“I already run my family’s business. And I don’t want to destroy Victoria. I just want her to leave us alone.” I climbed out of bed and realized he wasn’t wearing shoes. A piece of chalk lay on the table. The last time he was dressed like that and had chalk with him, he performed a ritual to recharge his magic. “The Key?”
He nodded. “I’ll need the power. The documents for a Verona Exception were filed with the DA this morning.”
The Verona Exception meant the State of Texas acknowledged the conflict between Houses and washed their hands of it. It would give Rogan free rein to attack the Harcourts on Rynda’s behalf.
“Was it granted?”
“We’ll find out in the next hour or so.”
“You didn’t go personally?” Lenora Jordan, Harris County District Attorney, wasn’t Rogan’s favorite person. He thought she was dangerous, which was why he preferred to deal with her directly.
“I told you I would stay with you.”
He did. If he promised, he would stay with me. It was as simple as that.
“Besides, if I went personally, Lenora would’ve spent some time explaining the folly of helping Olivia Charles’ daughter to me. I’m disinclined to tolerate a lecture. I sent a team of lawyers. I have things I need to do.”
“You don’t think House Harcourt would meet with us? Like House Rio?”
“House Rio are researchers and botanists. House Harcourt is a combat house. They think they can win this fight, but even if I rolled up to their doors with a thousand soldiers, they would still fight me. They can’t afford to appear weak.”
Yes, they couldn’t afford to appear weak, and Rogan couldn’t afford to not retaliate after Vincent’s attack, and I couldn’t take the chance that he would go after my mother, my sisters, or my cousins. Because none of us could afford any of that, we would all go to war. People would be injured. Some might die. If everyone just set aside their pride, none of this would be necessary.
“How well do you know Vincent?” I asked.
“Well enough. He was a couple of years behind me in high school. Had a reputation as a bully and a penchant for cruelty.”
“The timeline of this doesn’t make sense to me. Brian’s kidnappers called to negotiate. We’ve told them that we have every intention of cooperating. Usually there is a slow escalation of negotiations. Instead Vincent shows up and smashes the whole thing with a hammer.”
“He got impatient,” Rogan said. “As I said, Vincent isn’t much on waiting and planning. Rynda frustrated him, so he decided to apply his particular brand of pressure.”
“But why not just show up at their house and hold the kids hostage from the start? Brian and Rynda would’ve given him anything he asked for. Neither of them is a combat Prime. Why go through kidnapping Brian? It doesn’t seem like Vincent’s style.”
“That’s because it isn’t. Somebody has him on a tight leash for this particular operation.” A dangerous light crept into Rogan’s eyes. “He got loose last night.”
“Who has enough power to restrain Vincent Harcourt and make him stick to a plan?”
“That’s what we’ll have to find out.”
Rogan tilted his head, obviously thinking.
“Yes?”
“House Harcourt has one battle strategy: they summon a horde of monsters from the arcane realm and throw them at their opponents. It will be bloody and chaotic.”
“I haven’t changed my mind. Vincent threatened my family.”
“Will you let me put you in a ballistic vest?”
“Yes.” I eyed the chalk in his hand. “Do you have another piece?”
He smiled. Another piece of chalk streaked across the room and hovered in front of me. “What do I get if I give you this chalk?”
“Dinner. You and me tonight.” I deserved the nice dinner he promised me. I would wear nice clothes and pretty makeup. Also, I realized I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch. I’d have to see if Rogan stocked any supplies in his kitchen downstairs.
“Done.”
I kissed him and grabbed the chalk out of the empty air.
Arcane circles were used for everything, from fine-tuning a mage’s power to channeling magic into a particular spell. They had to be drawn by hand or they lost their power, which was why most Primes trained in circlework as soon as they could hold a piece of chalk in their fingers. I wasn’t most Primes. Drawing a circle on the floor was remarkably difficult. Drawing a charging circle was somewhere between the seventh and ninth levels of hell. It started as a large circle, with a smaller circle inside, three small circles inside that inner circle, drawn side by side so they formed a triangle, and then three outer circles exactly opposite of the inner circles. It took me twenty minutes and by the time I was done, my back hurt and I had said enough cuss words to make Bug, who came to hang out with me, raise his eyebrows. At least I got to raid Rogan’s kitchen counter and devour an apple bear claw before I started.
Finally, I stripped down to a sports bra and spandex shorts to maximize the charge, stepped into the circle, and sat. My power shot through the circle. The chalk lines pulsed with white and faded. Magic flowed to me, sluggish at first, then a steady current, slipping into my body. I relaxed and closed my eyes.
“This one is crooked,” Bug advised.
I opened my eyes and looked at the circle he was pointing at.
“It will be fine.”
“You could’ve just asked the Major.”
If Rogan had drawn the design, it would’ve taken him three minutes and all the circles would have been perfect. “I have to draw my own circles.”
I glanced to the left. The second floor had a wide industrial door, which opened onto a large square patio of sealed concrete, flooded with sunlight. The doors stood ajar and I could see Rogan. He’d drawn circles on the concrete and moved within them, lunging, kicking, and striking, his large muscular body graceful and flexible. His grace wasn’t that of a dancer but of an assassin trained to lock onto his target and pursue it at all costs. His feet were weapons; his hands cut like blades, then struck like hammers, breaking his invisible opponents. The Key of House Rogan was a warrior key, and when he moved through it, the savage, fierce thing that made him Mad Rogan surfaced and took over. It scared me and pulled me like a magnet, which is why I drew my charging circle here, so I could watch him.
“This isn’t funny.”
“It’s hilarious. The stuff of romcoms. Disowned by her family, thrown into the arms of an obsessive, paranoid billionaire . . .”
I threw a pillow at him. It stopped three inches from his face. He pushed it aside with his fingers, leaned over, and kissed me. The pillow landed back on the bed.
“I’m your only hope. Face it. Your only chance to strike out on your own and take over your family business, eventually destroying your evil grandmother.”
“I already run my family’s business. And I don’t want to destroy Victoria. I just want her to leave us alone.” I climbed out of bed and realized he wasn’t wearing shoes. A piece of chalk lay on the table. The last time he was dressed like that and had chalk with him, he performed a ritual to recharge his magic. “The Key?”
He nodded. “I’ll need the power. The documents for a Verona Exception were filed with the DA this morning.”
The Verona Exception meant the State of Texas acknowledged the conflict between Houses and washed their hands of it. It would give Rogan free rein to attack the Harcourts on Rynda’s behalf.
“Was it granted?”
“We’ll find out in the next hour or so.”
“You didn’t go personally?” Lenora Jordan, Harris County District Attorney, wasn’t Rogan’s favorite person. He thought she was dangerous, which was why he preferred to deal with her directly.
“I told you I would stay with you.”
He did. If he promised, he would stay with me. It was as simple as that.
“Besides, if I went personally, Lenora would’ve spent some time explaining the folly of helping Olivia Charles’ daughter to me. I’m disinclined to tolerate a lecture. I sent a team of lawyers. I have things I need to do.”
“You don’t think House Harcourt would meet with us? Like House Rio?”
“House Rio are researchers and botanists. House Harcourt is a combat house. They think they can win this fight, but even if I rolled up to their doors with a thousand soldiers, they would still fight me. They can’t afford to appear weak.”
Yes, they couldn’t afford to appear weak, and Rogan couldn’t afford to not retaliate after Vincent’s attack, and I couldn’t take the chance that he would go after my mother, my sisters, or my cousins. Because none of us could afford any of that, we would all go to war. People would be injured. Some might die. If everyone just set aside their pride, none of this would be necessary.
“How well do you know Vincent?” I asked.
“Well enough. He was a couple of years behind me in high school. Had a reputation as a bully and a penchant for cruelty.”
“The timeline of this doesn’t make sense to me. Brian’s kidnappers called to negotiate. We’ve told them that we have every intention of cooperating. Usually there is a slow escalation of negotiations. Instead Vincent shows up and smashes the whole thing with a hammer.”
“He got impatient,” Rogan said. “As I said, Vincent isn’t much on waiting and planning. Rynda frustrated him, so he decided to apply his particular brand of pressure.”
“But why not just show up at their house and hold the kids hostage from the start? Brian and Rynda would’ve given him anything he asked for. Neither of them is a combat Prime. Why go through kidnapping Brian? It doesn’t seem like Vincent’s style.”
“That’s because it isn’t. Somebody has him on a tight leash for this particular operation.” A dangerous light crept into Rogan’s eyes. “He got loose last night.”
“Who has enough power to restrain Vincent Harcourt and make him stick to a plan?”
“That’s what we’ll have to find out.”
Rogan tilted his head, obviously thinking.
“Yes?”
“House Harcourt has one battle strategy: they summon a horde of monsters from the arcane realm and throw them at their opponents. It will be bloody and chaotic.”
“I haven’t changed my mind. Vincent threatened my family.”
“Will you let me put you in a ballistic vest?”
“Yes.” I eyed the chalk in his hand. “Do you have another piece?”
He smiled. Another piece of chalk streaked across the room and hovered in front of me. “What do I get if I give you this chalk?”
“Dinner. You and me tonight.” I deserved the nice dinner he promised me. I would wear nice clothes and pretty makeup. Also, I realized I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch. I’d have to see if Rogan stocked any supplies in his kitchen downstairs.
“Done.”
I kissed him and grabbed the chalk out of the empty air.
Arcane circles were used for everything, from fine-tuning a mage’s power to channeling magic into a particular spell. They had to be drawn by hand or they lost their power, which was why most Primes trained in circlework as soon as they could hold a piece of chalk in their fingers. I wasn’t most Primes. Drawing a circle on the floor was remarkably difficult. Drawing a charging circle was somewhere between the seventh and ninth levels of hell. It started as a large circle, with a smaller circle inside, three small circles inside that inner circle, drawn side by side so they formed a triangle, and then three outer circles exactly opposite of the inner circles. It took me twenty minutes and by the time I was done, my back hurt and I had said enough cuss words to make Bug, who came to hang out with me, raise his eyebrows. At least I got to raid Rogan’s kitchen counter and devour an apple bear claw before I started.
Finally, I stripped down to a sports bra and spandex shorts to maximize the charge, stepped into the circle, and sat. My power shot through the circle. The chalk lines pulsed with white and faded. Magic flowed to me, sluggish at first, then a steady current, slipping into my body. I relaxed and closed my eyes.
“This one is crooked,” Bug advised.
I opened my eyes and looked at the circle he was pointing at.
“It will be fine.”
“You could’ve just asked the Major.”
If Rogan had drawn the design, it would’ve taken him three minutes and all the circles would have been perfect. “I have to draw my own circles.”
I glanced to the left. The second floor had a wide industrial door, which opened onto a large square patio of sealed concrete, flooded with sunlight. The doors stood ajar and I could see Rogan. He’d drawn circles on the concrete and moved within them, lunging, kicking, and striking, his large muscular body graceful and flexible. His grace wasn’t that of a dancer but of an assassin trained to lock onto his target and pursue it at all costs. His feet were weapons; his hands cut like blades, then struck like hammers, breaking his invisible opponents. The Key of House Rogan was a warrior key, and when he moved through it, the savage, fierce thing that made him Mad Rogan surfaced and took over. It scared me and pulled me like a magnet, which is why I drew my charging circle here, so I could watch him.
