The Age of Mages: Book I of the Mage Tales (7 page)

This meant that once inside the PIA, Titus and I would have to work particularly hard to cover up our special abilities. Abilities which we were sure to need one way or another to access information. It presented an enormous obstacle.

“Good evening, sirs.” A slim waiter with a tray, a pitcher of water, and two ice-filled glasses suddenly appeared, nodding to us. “Would you like to start off with an appetizer?” He set down the glasses and began pouring.

“Better get right to the main course,” Titus said. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

Now he’s in a hurry?
Had Titus changed his mind about the urgency of our mission, or was he trying to make up for lost time? I decided I didn’t care either way.

“Very good, sir,” replied the waiter. There was some talk of a wine list, which my father declined on our behalf, and a rattling off of the specials. I suppose since it was my father’s casino, he could have demanded the staff make anything he wished. But really, when one is a vampire, why bother?

“This week, the featured menu is Mexican,” the waiter continued. “Tonight we have a real treat—Tampiqueña. That’s filet mignon with the chef’s signature cheese enchilada, guacamole, and poblano chile potato gratin.”

“Is it spicy?” I asked.

“Oh yes, sir,” the waiter assured me. “Very spicy.”

I sucked air in through my teeth. I always burned easily. The sun, spicy food . . . heat and I didn’t get along. This was very unlike the ancient Romans, who liked spicy flavors so much they put pepper in their cakes. Just what I needed—indigestion for the dinner
and
dessert.

“I’m afraid that won’t do for this one,” my father said grimly. “He’s far too delicate.” The shake of his head could have been meant for the waiter, or it could have been meant for me.

“Perhaps just a salad?” I suggested. “Maybe with some chicken on it?”

The waiter looked at me, then at my father, then at me again. My father waved his hand.

“I’ll see what I can do,” the waiter said with a forced smile. He took my father’s order—some outrageously fine cut of beef—and left the table.

“I don’t understand why the PIA is so dangerous,” I said once the waiter was out of earshot. “I hate to sound elitist, but they are just mortals, aren’t they?” I drank most of my water in long, slow sips.

“The PIA is dangerous because of the
information
it seeks and possesses,” my father said, as if the answer were obvious. “And because some members will stop at nothing to find information, keep it a secret, kill whoever gets in their way, or all of the above.”

I picked up a knife and mindlessly turned it over and over, its mirror-shine reflected in the table’s candlelight. Titus had a point. One mortal . . . not so dangerous. A vampire or mage could easily dispense with a single troublesome person. Groups of frightened mortals with crucial information, on the other hand, could be a recipe for disaster.

“So do try to focus on not getting killed, if you’d be so kind,” he added.

“I will if you will,” I said.

“Oh, I won’t be joining you in London.”

My knife clattered on a side plate where I’d dropped it. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, there will be a lot of research and work to accomplish during the day. For me, that would cause a bit of a dilemma.” Titus folded his hands in front of him on the table.

It was true the ability to move freely in daylight gave me an advantage over my father. Titus’s inability to work anything other than night shifts would arouse suspicion. Although old, powerful, and partly witch, sunlight still weakened and exhausted Titus, the way it did all vampires. He could go out in it for a short time, but nothing close to the long hours that might be required for our research. Still . . .

“Although the thought of going alone had crossed my mind, I always imagined you and I would deal with the PIA together,” I said.

“It seems you’ve not stopped to consider how frustrating this limitation is for
me
.” Titus unfolded his hands and placed them on the armrests of his seat. “Can’t you conceive how difficult it makes even the simplest of matters? And it’s not just London that’s the problem. Let’s imagine you get as far as Rome.”

“Your confidence in me is overwhelming.”

“Italy has an unheard-of bureaucracy that will mean filling out forms, visiting government offices, meeting with clerks—all during the day. Where does that leave me?” Titus put his hands out to his sides. “Not to mention the fact that I have a business to run.” He motioned to the casino outside the window, spread before him like a kingdom.

Liar
. “The business seemed to be running just fine while you were in New York recently,” I grumbled. “And everywhere else we went, around the globe.”

“Nonsense,” Titus said. “The Roman doesn’t operate nearly as efficiently when I’m not here. Besides, who knows how long I’d have to be in Europe? No, it’s much better if you go.”

I set my mouth in a grim line. “My apologies. I didn’t realize finding your missing wife—and mother of your only child—came in second to effortlessly raking in piles of cash.”

These were fighting words, but I couldn’t help it. You see, when it came to this search, I wasn’t entirely certain my father’s motives were pure. Was his primary object of desire my mother or the crystal? If he had the crystal, it might possess some power that would help him bring back the glory days of Rome. Of course, that probably meant attempting to take over the world and trying to be the greatest conqueror since Julius Caesar. The last time anything like that happened, it resulted in a world war.

My father narrowed his eyes. “For the sake of our relationship, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that last bit. Anyway, whatever happens, remember this: the PIA
cannot
know who you are.”

I resisted a very strong urge to roll my eyes. “I
know
that,” I said. What kind of an idiot did Titus take me for? I went back to turning my knife over. “Of course, you’re assuming they don’t already. It’s entirely possible they already have a file on me the size of your head.”

“Your mother and I went through great lengths to keep your true identity away from prying eyes,” Titus replied. “Try not to undo all our hard work. It’s bad enough the
supernatural
world is aware of your existence. But as you know, it’s much harder to keep secrets from magical beings than mortals,” he muttered.

I wondered if there was another reason Titus declined accompanying me to London. It could be his inability to accomplish anything in daylight, or perhaps he wanted to avoid even the remote possibility of going to Rome. I knew my father traveled to Italy on occasion; my mother and I met with him there several times when I was young. Florence, Naples, Milan . . . just never
Rome
. I found it hard to believe the mere rumor of Callix Ferox could keep him away. As I mentioned, Titus was never one to eschew a fight.

As we waited for our dinners to arrive, I mused over how my entire life could easily be about pleasing my father. Trying to make him proud, to live up to his expectations. The trouble is, I’m never sure if they’re expectations I want to meet. I mean, I’m not the kind of person who goes around snapping people’s necks for the hell of it. I can only imagine what a disappointment I am to him—and an embarrassing one at that.

Finally, the food came, and I was presented with a salad decorated with hastily cut chicken strips. I detected a slight hint of cayenne pepper on them, so I couldn’t be sure they weren’t originally meant for someone’s fajita. Still, I hoped the spice wouldn’t be enough to grieve my stomach tonight.

The waiter poured me another glass of water. “Are you sure I can’t offer either of you a drink?” he asked. “No, thanks,” I replied. My father shook his head without looking at the waiter, who swept several crumbs off the table and left as swiftly as before.

I barely tasted my food as I chewed in silence, and my father cut up his and moved it around his plate to make it appear he was eating. Finally, he wiped invisible food off his fingers with his napkin and pushed his plate to one side. The waiter returned with the dessert menus and opened his mouth, but with a glance and a wave from my father, he disappeared again.

“While you were sleeping on the plane earlier, I procured a ticket to Heathrow Airport. You leave in a few hours.” Titus reached into his breast pocket and retrieved the ticket, which he handed to me. “I arranged for your luggage to meet you at the airport.”

I accepted the ticket reluctantly and placed it in my own pocket. “Getting rid of me already?” I asked. “Isn’t that convenient?”

“For you, yes,” he replied. “I spared you the trouble and expense of arranging airfare. You’re welcome.”

I sighed. It seemed my father had this all planned out long before we discussed it. “Fine, then.” I rose from the table. “I’ll let you know the moment I learn anything.”

“Yes, you will.”

***

“Yes, you will.” Trust Titus to make every statement sound like an order. I tried not to look back as I exited the dining room; I didn’t trust myself not to give Titus a dirty look. Instead, I forced my mind to concentrate on the five-thousand-mile journey ahead of me.

But first, I needed a trip to the men’s room. As I was finishing up, who should come in but Lousy Larry, the cigar-smoking, ass-grabbing cad? From the way he was walking, he seemed to have sobered up a bit. However, this did nothing to improve the overall quality of his character.

As I washed my hands, I saw him using the urinal, grunting and sighing the entire time. My first thought was to leave the restroom as quickly as possible. But when the louse came up beside me—not to wash up, but to light another cigar—it gave me an idea.

“Nice work there before, with the waitress,” I said dryly, wiping my hands on the towel the attendant handed me.

“What? Oh yeah—which one?” The louse grinned and blew a puff of smoke—not quite in my face, but not far enough away, either. “Eh, doesn’t matter. I try to get as much tail as I can. I make it a little game, you know? How much can I grab and how hard before they get away. And that’s just what happens outside the bedroom, if you know what I mean.” The louse chuckled.

A quick scan of his meager mind, and I knew the closest Larry came to having sex in months was visiting pornography websites. The stench of his cigar was even more revolting in such an enclosed space. I covered my mouth and tried not to choke.

“That’s . . . that’s great,” I coughed. I slipped a twenty out of my pocket and pressed it into the attendant’s palm. “Could you give us a minute?” Wordlessly, the attendant left the room.

“But you know, there’s one trick you can use to get women to do anything you want.” I swallowed and rubbed my throat, which was already starting to burn. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“Really?” Larry leaned forward, grinning widely.

“Oh yes,” I said. “One trick that never fails to have them eating out of the palm of your hand.”

“Well, what is it? Don’t hold back, son. Lay that shit on me!” he laughed, releasing a pungent wave that was half cigar smoke, half foul breath.

“The number one way to win over girls is . . .” I bent my head closer to his, trying not to inhale.

“Is . . .?” He put his face inches from mine, just where I wanted it.

“Is . . .” Before Larry could release the next cloudful of nicotine, I grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his face on the counter.

“Is
don’t act like a jackass
!” I snapped. Larry’s hands clutched his face and he dropped his cigar, which rolled a little ways into a small puddle and fizzled out. When he tried to stand, blood dripped down his chin. I dropped the towel I’d been using into the laundry bin and went to the door.

“My nose!” he cried. “You broke my nose!”

I had? This had gone better than expected.

“Never mind that. It may not be cheating at cards,” I called over his groans of pain, “but you really ought to treat the ladies more gently.” I gave a little smile and left.

What? Oh, come now. I know I’ve given the impression I’m not terribly violent, but there’s a time and place for everything, after all.

And I
am
Titus Aurelius’s son.

Chapter 6

It’s one of the first trips to the library that I can remember. I don’t know how old I am, but the library card is nearly as big as my hand. I look down at the laminated piece of plastic covering my entire palm. It has my name on it. My very own library card!

From somewhere above comes my mother’s voice
.

“Don’t lose it now, baby, you hear? Or do you want me to keep it for you?”

“No, I want to keep it
.
It’s
mine
!”
I clutch the card to my chest as if someone is going to snatch it away from me
.

My mother laughs, a sound like someone trying to catch their breath. I look up at her. She isn’t that tall, but she’s a giant to me. With curly, dark brown hair and matching eyes, her scent is a blend of wisteria and hyacinth. She smells like childhood and summer wind. And a little bit like soil—wild, like nature itself.