Jessica Andersen - Magic Unchained

The sturdy base of the elegant wood-grained stand was bolted to the floor, and a see-through dome shaped like a step-sided pyramid covered the top and was locked into place. Within that fairly formidable vault—well, formidable to anybody but a translocator—a velvet-covered stand shaped like a human hand held a gleaming black stone as if preparing to hurl it, sinkerlike. Only this was no game ball; it was carved into the shape of a human skull, with its mouth agape in a terrible scream. The screaming skull, which represented the Nightkeepers and their duty to save mankind from the end-time war, had been found in only a very few Mayan sites and on only a handful of artifacts. Of the artifacts, most—including this one—had been dismissed as modern-made fakes, when, really, they had been made using magic, not machines.

Cara’s skin prickled to goose bumps and she had to fight a shiver, though the ballroom had been too warm only seconds earlier.

“Cold?” he asked with a sidelong look.

“No, it’s just… Never mind,” she decided. There was no point in letting him know she was more nervous than she’d expected to be. Even though they would be magically swapping the statue for a good fake and making an anonymous donation that would more than cover the theft, it was still stealing. The knowledge had her on edge, as did the heat that pulsed beneath her skin, a whole-body awareness that she couldn’t afford to feel. She shook her head, trying to clear the wayward thoughts. “Let’s do this.”

She started to move off toward the farthest guard, but Sven reached out and snagged her hand. When she turned back, startled, he tugged her closer, then leaned in to say with quiet firmness: “You don’t have anything to worry about, Cara. I’ve got your back. I swear.”

Another shiver worked its way across her skin, because she didn’t think he’d ever promised her anything before. That he was doing so now meant something. She didn’t ask what or why, though. She just squeezed his hand. “Same goes. I’ve got your back—promise.”

She would have tugged free and turned to go, but a strange warmth suddenly rose up inside her, stealing her will to move. Her feet grew roots, her fingers curled around his, and for a second it was like they were connected, not just physically, but mentally as well. She could feel the pulse of his heartbeat alongside her own and could faintly sense the humming magic within him, throbbing just beyond the threshold of her understanding. Heat kindled in her core, a potent mix of awe and excitement that urged her to go to him, be with him, bind herself to him, and give him—

No! Wrenching herself out of that litany, she tugged away, breaking the palm-to-palm contact with a sharp jerk that drew too many eyes.

Aware that they couldn’t cause a scene, she made herself smile, made herself reach up and cup his cheek, which was smooth beneath her overheated palm.

His eyes were hard and hot, churning with the magic she had felt within him. “What just happened?” he grated, voice low. But his expression said that he knew. They both knew.

She said it anyway. “I think it was the First Father’s magic acknowledging a winikin swearing to protect her Nightkeeper charge.” Damn it all. She glanced at her wrist and exhaled a small, relieved breath to find that she still lacked the aj winikin mark.

“That promise goes both ways,” he said quietly.

Maybe so, but the magical bond put on the winikin was a one-way street, and it wasn’t one she wanted to travel.

Making herself move by force of will, she took a big step back, smiling brightly and pitching her voice to carry. “No, you go ahead and look around, and I’ll get the drinks. I’ll be back in just a second.”

The last few people who had been paying attention to them—mostly bored spouses looking to liven up the evening with a good fight—went back to their own business.

Sven gave her an intense look of we’ll talk about this later, but nodded and stuck to their roughed-out plan. “No ice in mine.”

She rolled her eyes like she’d heard that a thousand times, and with that little exchange, they fell entirely off the radar screens of the humans surrounding them.

Cara headed for the bar area, slipping easily through the crowd. She didn’t draw nearly the amount of attention he did, though a few male heads turned as she approached, then pivoted back when she was gone. One of the guards gave her a once-over and a small smirk that she didn’t want to think about, while two of the others looked through her as she passed where they were stationed near the premier pieces of the showing.

A set of low, wide stairs fanned out from the two exits nearby; from there, she had a clear view of the ballroom and was close enough to three of the four guards to keep a close eye on them. Sven would have to watch out for the fourth himself. Not that the Nightkeepers couldn’t get them out of trouble if things went wrong, but it was better to keep things as quiet as possible.

Right now, things were looking nice and quiet. The crowd was starting to thin as couples headed for the dining room, the guards were vigilant but relaxed, and Sven was alone by the display case that held the screaming skull. From there, he could use low-level magic to make the switch, and then they would find a private spot on deck for the higher-level magic he needed to send the thing back to Skywatch.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he glanced up, found her, and sent her a where is my drink? gesture. They were on plan, on point, and good to go.

So why was her pulse pounding? More, why did it feel like she was still down there on the floor, surrounded by people while she stood in front of a display case?

You’re talking yourself into this. There’s nothing to be worried about. Just breathe. Everything will be fine.

“How’s it look?” his voice murmured in her earpiece, creating an odd disconnect from the scene because she couldn’t see his lips moving.

Far less adept with the communication device, she pretended to look out the door while she answered, “Seems clear.”

“Seems clear or is clear?”

She took a deep breath. “You’re good to go.” Please, gods.

Turning back, she kept an eye on the guards, the crowd, and Sven himself as he lingered a moment longer in front of the screaming skull, leaning over the step-sided display case as if studying the piece in detail. Sudden heat flared through her body, wringing a gasp that caught the nearest guard’s attention at the very moment that her oversize evening bag suddenly bulged and grew heavy. Then the heat was everywhere—inside her, all around her, not burning her but instead making her head spin. Her vision blurred and she wobbled.

“Ma’am?” The nearest guard took a step in her direction. “Are you okay?”

No! She couldn’t screw this up, not now. Fighting through the haze, she clutched the bag to her chest when it threatened to slip from her fingers. “Seasick!” she blurted. Then she hunched over, channeled all of the oh, crap, I’m going to puke faces she’d seen on the whale-watch boat, and bolted out the door.

She hurried along the railing and then up the first set of stairs she came to, then another, heading higher and higher until she reached an open observation deck that was mercifully deserted. Sinking back against the nearest wall, she concentrated on breathing.

Holy shit. What just happened there?

Pull it together. Breathe. Focus.

Footsteps rang on the stairs coming up, but her instincts—or rather, the bond created by the coyote glyph she wore on her wrist—told her it was Sven. This time the burn was one of unease.

“Sorry,” she said when he joined her in the small niche, crowding her back against the door with a broad-shouldered body that all but blocked the light. His protective stance settled her, smoothing out the edges. But at the same time it made her more aware of her screwup. “I didn’t mean to draw attention like that.”