Midnight Mage

7

***

The bed depressed by my hip and something cool and wet covered my forehead. It was such a relief that tears stung my eyes. “What’s happening to me?”

“You have a fever, but it’s passing. You did well. You held your own against two of the scariest fuckers out there. Proud of you.”

My chest squeezed with mingled pride and humiliation. “Couldn’t stop him.”

“Honey, there’s a good reason why you’ve been kept unconscious all day. Now, I need you to listen carefully. I’m going to find your father, but in order to do that, I need to know you’ll be safe. I made a deal with the Prime. My help for your safety.”

“No,” I breathed out. “Staying with you.”

Mal lifted the washcloth and gently wiped my face. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you, Alfea. This isn’t a negotiation. You’re leaving for Seattle with the Prime.”

My skin prickled all over. Fever or fear, it was hard to tell. “Not going.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Mal, and then more loudly, “Go ahead, Adam.” I jerked, but Mal’s hand pressed against my chest, holding me down. “It’s for the flight, kiddo. Just relax.”

“Wha—”

Something sharp pierced my arm.

Darkness.

CROSSING the bridge from sleep to waking, I first noticed the scent of flowers. Gardenia, if I wasn’t mistaken. Another minute and my heavy eyelids parted on a new ceiling, this one white and vaulted with a thick, rustic beam down its center. A cool breeze caressed my face, diluting the sweet floral with air that smelled of rain and earth.

Definitely not Los Angeles.

“You’re awake,” said the Omega.

I turned my head on the pillow, blinking groggily. “Déjà vu.”

Adam looked every inch an All-American college boy in jeans and a dark, hooded sweatshirt. His eyes, however, showed his age, and more than that, his deep fatigue. Thinking of the needle he’d stabbed me in the arm with, I hoped he was tired because of me.

“How are you feeling, Alfea?”

I sat up carefully but to my surprise, I felt fine, if hungry and weak. “Okay, I guess.”

The newest bedroom in my twisted game of musical beds was by far the largest. Done in tones of pale blue, dove gray, and white, it was hands down the most beautiful living space I’d ever seen, and easily the square footage of my entire apartment.

Before an elegant stone fireplace was a cozy seating area that begged for lazy afternoons reading and drinking tea. Plush cream rugs were strewn in intervals  over dark, rustic wood floors, and huge bay windows displayed a dim, overcast sky with a canopy of green forest in the distance.

“Is it morning or evening?” I asked, turning back to the Omega.

“Evening,” he said haltingly.

Now fully awake, my mind churned. “Is it still Saturday?”

“No, Sunday.”

Which meant I’d been unconscious for the better part of two days.

“Wow,” I whispered, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes to subdue a sudden urge to cry. Or scream. Potentially both. But since neither was an option, I used the classic standby, “I need to use the bathroom.”

Adam stood immediately and gestured to an open doorway not far from the bed. “Of course. It’s through there.  You’ll find the bag your uncle packed for you inside.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“You might feel a little light-headed, perhaps experience some blurred vision. It will fade as your body acclimates to my spell, but you should take it easy for a few hours.”

I swallowed the sudden pulse in my throat. At the sight of my face, Adam’s eyes narrowed.

“Your uncle didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

His gaze flickered to my arms, and mine followed. At first, I didn’t see anything amiss. Glistening, narrow ribbons of scarring—Check. Then it hit me. No longer did black script obscure the scars. Mal’s spells were gone. Instead, encircling my wrists were delicate woven bracelets. Tight enough to not slip off, and with no visible catches for removal. One was white, the other black.

Breathing a little faster, I lifted my hands and clenched them. Nothing. No electricity at all.

“The bracelets are positive and negative,” said the Omega. “To equalize your charge.”

I took a deep, slow breath. Logically, I should be relieved, even grateful. Shouldn’t I be grateful? It was extraordinary magic, a true testament to Adam’s skill.

But I wasn’t relieved. I felt like the most vital piece of me had been sawed off, the wound cauterized. “You neutered me,” I said through numb lips.

“For your protection,” he countered firmly.

I touched the bracelet on my left wrist, the black one, then looked up at him. I was suddenly, immensely angry.

“Don’t you mean his protection?”

Adam stared at me for a considering beat, then nodded sharply. Gone was the unassuming youth—here was the Opal Mage. Sparkling power formed a pale corona around his shoulders and head. The sight of it was actually comforting; at least I hadn’t lost the ability to see magic.

“I don’t know you, Alfea Sullivan,” he said flatly. “You have a tremendous and dangerous power, and very little discipline. Must I remind you that in a fit of temper you threw a lightning bolt at the Western Prime?”

I bristled further, teeth clenching around the words, “I only did what he wanted! And what about him? He almost bit me. You want to tell me that was part of the test?”

Brown irises bled to white and I recoiled against the headboard. “That is exactly the problem,” he said darkly. “The Prime has not drunk from a human vein in more than a hundred years. Because of you, he nearly broke his most sacred vow.”

I almost bit my tongue in half. “Wait—he was going to bite me for real? Not in a dream but in real life?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “And I wouldn’t have been able to stop him. You have zero understanding of your own power. Are you even aware of the physics of a lightning strike? The massive particle disruption that occurs prior to and because of it?”

A soft voice spoke from the doorway, “Leave her be, Adam.”

The Omega glared at me another moment, grunted in disgust, then stalked across the room. He brushed past the Prime like the vampire, too, was intolerable.

“Don’t take his words too much to heart. He’s worried.”

I looked anywhere but at the man leaning in the doorway. Possibly the oldest vamp in the world, who’d almost broken a century-long fast on my jugular.

“It’s not a fast so much as a test of endurance.”

I shook my head helplessly. “How do you sound so amused? This isn’t funny. Any of it.”

“No, it’s not,” said the Prime in a grave tone, for once devoid of humor. “I would like to try teaching you discipline, Alfea, if you’ll let me.”

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I hope you guys like it. And thanks for reading.