Smoke and Mirrors (8 page)

Mouth dry, she nodded again and stepped closer. His forked tongue flickered out, probably sensing her nervousness. Once she was within arm’s reach, he placed his right hand on her forehead, his claws lightly trailing through her hair until the very tips brushed her scalp. It didn’t hurt, but she still shivered at the touch.

A light tingle of some kind of foreign magic crept over her skin. If she hadn’t been hyped up from fear and so focused on what he was doing, she might not have noticed it.

Sam withdrew, and the tingle faded. He bowed his head, lightly touching the fingers of his right hand to his own brow.

“You have a kind heart. I do wish you luck.”

Kimberly mirrored his gesture, though she wished she could ask exactly what he had done. She didn’t remember reading about anything quite like this in her school books. By his formal tone, she thought the words might carry more significance than simple well-wishes, so she responded in kind.

“Thank you, wise one. I will honor the gift you have given me.”

She couldn’t be sure, but she thought by the tilt of his shoulders and the way he tipped up his chin that he might be pleased with her response. She had studied the chapter on proper comportment around dragons and their ilk before—and again that morning before class, brushing up her knowledge since she expected Cormac might introduce her to one soon.

“I thought he was resistant to fire! Look at him. He looks like one of the Draconis family!”

Aidan’s rising voice echoing in the auditorium cut through the pleasant buzz of the naga’s blessing. Kimberly and Sam exchanged a look before turning to the others. While she couldn’t be sure what Sam was thinking, Kimberly was mortified.

“Right family, wrong genus,” James said.

The professor wasn’t close to finished laying into Aidan. “He is a water-based elemental, you foolish child! Why do you think I instructed to use fire-based shields instead of projectiles if you needed to defend yourself? You could have killed him.”

“It was just a little prank. I’m sorry!”

“Not sorry enough. Get your things and report to the dean’s office. Now.”

Aidan shot Kimberly a venomous look before grabbing his backpack from between his feet and then stalking out of the classroom. Professor Reed snapped her fingers, and her hawk familiar roused itself from slumber, spreading its dark brown wings to follow Aidan and ensure he did as he was told. Once the boy was gone, the professor turned to James.

“Again, I am terribly sorry about this. If there is anything—”

“—you can do, I’ll call you. Don’t worry. Sam, let’s go.”

The naga took a deep breath, then appeared to shrink into himself. James didn’t wait for him to finish shifting, heading toward the exit. In the space of a few heartbeats, the dark-haired, dark-skinned man stood in the giant snake’s place. A muscle tic in his cheek jumped as he stared after James, jaw clenched.

He inclined his head in a brief nod to Professor Reed, then a deeper one to Kimberly before following at James’s heels.

The professor didn’t speak until she and Kimberly were alone.

“Did you receive your blessing?”

“Yes, professor.”

Though her posture remained ramrod straight, some of the tension in the professor’s shoulders eased. “Good. Do you remember what the school symbol stands for?”

Kimberly paused, her fingers involuntarily drifting to the bracelet she’d been wearing for the last four years. She had no clue what that had to do with what she’d just witnessed. “Um. Safe passage?”

“That is part of it, yes.” The professor’s gaze slid upward, eyes going distant. “The triskelion represents personal growth, development of power, and spiritual expansion. You know your runes. I’m sure you know that those three stand for travel, protection, and social order. And, of course, the ouroboros, which represents both wholeness and infinity.”

Kimberly nodded, her eyes wide. While she had known what the individual symbols meant, she had never put together the significance of their combined meaning before. She suspected the professor was trying to tell her something in a roundabout way, but whatever the lesson might be escaped her.

With a sharp exhalation, the professor turned to face Kimberly, giving her a piercing stare over the rims of her glasses. “While things didn’t go as I expected today, I hope you learned something from the experience.”

A test. All that mess, and the professor was still testing her knowledge.

Setting her jaw and meeting Professor Reed’s gaze, Kimberly took a deep breath through her nose, let it out, then launched into the impromptu dissertation she thought her teacher wanted.

“The naga was only here because Mr. Gardner made him come. He didn’t enjoy being on display, but I don’t think he was given a choice. He responded well to courtesy and I believe he was put at ease by ceremony.”

Professor Reed’s lips drew back in a thin smile. “Yes, but not what I’m looking for. I need to get to the dean’s office, so I’m going to be frank. Work with Cormac to get yourself a familiar, but don’t be another James. Once you seal a bond with a familiar, never forget that the creature who consented is a living, thinking being.”

Kimberly bit her lip, then nodded. “Mr. Gardner doesn’t respect his familiar.”

“Correct. Some day, I expect it may be his downfall. However, that’s neither here nor there—and I need to get going. Go join the other students in the library. And think long and hard about what you’ve seen today.”

Kimberly scooped up her bag and took off at a run, more than ready to escape the classroom—and to take some time to plan how to convince a dragon she would never treat it so cavalierly as James treated Sam.

CHAPTER NINE

Kimberly arrived at the Wild Hunt right on time. Cormac’s wards didn’t stop her when she opened the door and reached a tentative hand out to check for a barrier, so she wended her way through the maze of furniture until she reached the main portion of the floor.

As she made her way between the last pair of bookshelves that spat her out by the sales counter, her skin crawled with a strange sensation, like tiny insect feet marching in a steady wave all over her body. A brisk shiver dispelled the feeling.

Cormac sat on a thickly cushioned footstool and watched her progress toward him with interest. He snapped the book in his lap shut and set it aside as he eyed her, head to toe, his gaze coming to rest on her shirt. He was a bit surprised to note that while she did use her illusions to improve the apparent quality of her clothing, as he’d suspected, she had done nothing to alter her own appearance.

Oh, maybe smoothed her hair a bit and put a touch of color on her lips and cheeks, but she was the same green-eyed, russet-haired girl who had stood before him the night before. If anything, she was too thin, her bones a little too prominent under her smooth, pale skin.

Though he was finding himself surprisingly put out at the scent of some Other on her. Something draconic in nature, though not a true dragon. A male. If he had not been so intent on getting his questions answered, he might have growled his displeasure.

After seeing his expression, Kimberly wondered if she’d managed to spill coffee on herself again. She stopped in her tracks to peek down at her shirt and pants—and couldn’t hold back a sound of dismay.

She’d walked right through a dispelling glyph and hadn’t even noticed. Though her clothing was clean save for a small smear of powdered sugar by her hip, the frayed cuffs, faded material and poor fit previously hidden by illusion were now all too obvious. Not to mention that she’d barely bothered to run a brush through her hair after work, knowing it would be windblown after the walk to Cormac’s. She’d even added illusory makeup for once—not totally sure why—and now it was all gone.

Reddening with embarrassment, she rapidly backed into the shadows between the bookshelves, coffee spilling over her hand and dribbling on the floor.

“Stop. Kimberly, please, come here.”

She didn’t move. Cormac’s voice was a lot gentler than she remembered it, but she couldn’t seem to find her own to say anything in reply.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized…”

“Realized what?” she asked, her voice breaking. “That I might not want to know if you were planning on cutting me off from my magic so you could interrogate me? Christ, I could have at least worn a better shirt for this. Brushed my hair. Something. Oh, my God.”

He sighed deeply, rising from the stool. As he took a step closer, she took a few steps back. Sensing she was on the verge of bolting, he paused, then extended a hand instead.

“It was not my intention to upset you. I’m a very private man, Kimberly. I don’t have much occasion to have anyone, let alone someone who uses trickery as the foundation of their magic, ask me for favors. I didn’t do this with the intent to embarrass you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly dressed for an interview. I’ll come back later.”

“Don’t go,” he said, cursing himself for only thinking about getting what he wanted rather than considering her potential reaction or any other reasons for her to dress herself in illusion aside from making herself look more attractive. She didn’t know him well enough yet to realize just how much it had cost him to apologize or just how much he hated being wrong. “We both know once you walk out that door you won’t come back.”

He could hear the click in her too dry throat as she swallowed. Her low voice didn’t hide the waver. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

“You doubt I can help you?”

“No.”

“Why, then?”

She put the coffee cup down on the bookshelf and backed away. If he didn’t move fast, she’d have one foot out the door in moments. “What can I offer a dragon? Look at me. I’m a mess. I couldn’t even tell when you used a dispelling glyph. And after what I saw today, I can’t help but think it’ll hate me on sight. How am I ever going to do this?”

He wasn’t sure what to tell her. It was bothersome that he thought she had implied with her refusal that he didn’t have the power or connections to give her what she was looking for, only to find that he was—again—wrong in his assumptions. What was worse was the foreign sensation of… was that regret? Something he didn’t like, whatever it was.

The depth of his error was obvious. She was ready to give up what might be the only road she saw out of her problems all because he managed to yank off her mask. The deepening scent of her shame, like some sour fruit, was clinging to her even stronger than lingering scents from her job—sugar, coffee, and bread—and the cheap lavender detergent she used on her clothes. He was used to people fearing and sometimes even loathing him, but he had never so carelessly shredded someone’s pride before. It didn’t sit well with him.

“Please, don’t leave,” he said, thinking fast to come up with some excuse to make her stay. Why, why did he want her to stay? “Your company—and your honesty—is more important to me than the clothes you wear. And I still have questions for you.”

He took a slow, measured step closer. She stayed where she was instead of inching her way toward the exit. Progress.

Taking care not to startle her into flight, he tugged his neatly folded cream-colored handkerchief out of his breast pocket and held out his other hand. He waved off her weak protests about the inevitable stains, and she didn’t pull away as he dabbed at the mess. The Swiss cotton soaked up the coffee like a sponge. Once he sopped up as much of the spilled coffee as he could, he took her arm and led her back into his store.

Blood still running close to the surface of her skin from her blushing was hot against his fingertips, and that teasing scent of some Other leaving its mark on her was distracting him. Then she jerked and shivered as they moved back into range of the glyph he had installed late the night before. Her muscles tensed like she was getting ready to bolt again, so he slid his hand down to the small of her back to keep her moving, then urged her to take a seat on the footstool so he could settle into a crouch before her.

It took a little time before she stopped looking anywhere but at him, her wandering gaze eventually settling on her shoes. Her fingers kept fiddling with a loose string on one of her shirt cuffs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

She shook her head. “I overreacted. I’m never like this. I’ve just been so nervous all day. That spell—the naga—”

Cormac clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles cracked. That explained the Other scent. “What naga?”

She pulled back, just a little. He took a breath and let the tension ease out of his shoulders and arms, then another to ensure his tone stayed even. He repeated his question, this time without the possessive growl.

“What naga, Kimberly? Tell me what happened.”

“Professor Reed invited another mage to class today. We were supposed to practice comportment with his familiar—the naga—but one of my classmates hurt it during my turn and it would have killed me if I didn’t see it coming and use a simulacrum.” Cormac opened his mouth, but she held up a hand to forestall him. She bit her lip, then took a hitching breath and continued. “After what I saw today… After I saw how the mage treated Sam, I’ve been wracking my brains all day trying to think of any reason for a dragon to ever agree to let me put it in that position. You know what I came up with?”