Risk (A Mageri World Novel) (2 page)

Kane was Sunny’s older brother. The two had fallen out of touch, but not long after the twins were born, she paid Simon to hunt down his address. As it turned out, the bloke had spent a year in Breed jail. When they reunited, he dropped a bomb and told Sunny they weren’t related by blood. Not only that, but Kane was a Sensor.

Sunny probably should have noticed something was different because of the way he always wore gloves and avoided touching people and objects, but his having magical powers wouldn’t exactly be the first assumption that came to her mind. Kane was protective of Sunny—always visiting the children, even if he didn’t approve of her living with Novis. Simon had hooked him up with a few jobs that were in need of an extraordinary talent such as his.

The “Happy Birthday” song began just as Simon rounded the table. He walked by Finn and Kane, taking the seat to the right of the twins. Novis sat across from him with Silver and Logan. There were empty chairs waiting to be filled by guests who were late to a party centered on two hyperactive toddlers.

Finn eyed the two round cakes, each decorated with three candles.

When Knox swiped his finger along the edge of the chocolate cake, his mother seized his wrist, but not before he collected a small dab of icing.

“John, you need to wait and blow out the candles first.”

“I’m Knox!” he protested, holding up his iced finger in victory before he stuck it in his mouth.

She hovered over them, giving each a kiss on the head as Silver snapped a picture.

Zoë blew out her candles. “I beat you!” she cried.

Simon snorted and leaned toward Silver. “She definitely takes after her Aunt Silver.”

Knox stuck out his tongue and gave his sister a raspberry.

Silver ruffled her cloth napkin and arched her brows. “He sure takes after his Uncle Simon.”

While Sunny sliced into the two cakes and the plates were passed around, Logan pinched a small crumb between his fingers and held it in front of Silver’s mouth.

Simon shook his head.
Chitahs and all their silly food rituals.
You’d never catch
him
fussing over a woman that way.

They made idle chitchat, and while Novis ate his cake, he occasionally glanced up at Simon with a pensive stare.

For pity’s sake
.

“Leo wants to hire some men to build another floor on our building,” Silver announced around a mouthful of cake. “Sadie wants her own space.”

“’Bout bloody time. I don’t think I could shack up with my brother for one night, let alone
years
.”

“They get along fine,” Silver countered. “She keeps odd hours playing her guitar and writing music. I think it wakes Leo up, so they want to work something out before—”

“They kill each other?” Simon finished. “How does he ever bring the ladies home?”

She snorted. “Leo’s old-fashioned.”

Chitah siblings often lived together in large homes. There weren’t enough floors in the Cross building to accommodate everyone, so Leo and Sadie had gotten the short end of the stick.

“It’s going to cost a lot, so we’re all pitching in, although there’s no way I can match what Justus is going to donate,” she ended with a grumble.

Clearly
. That man gave piggy banks orgasms.

Simon plucked a tiny candy flower off Zoë’s cake.

“No, Uncle Simon, that’s
my
cake,” she whined.

“You’ve got plenty more sweets to gobble up, love. I’m just taking the one.”

A small tear rolled down her cheek and gave him a stabbing pain in the chest. Simon didn’t know how to behave around children, and it seemed like the smallest things set off a torrent of emotions.

Knox stood up in his chair and pointed his finger at Simon. “Give it back.”

A smile ghosted Simon’s lips. “Attaboy. That’s exactly what your father would have done.” He placed the petal back on the cake and Knox sat down, playing with a candy car on his own slice.

Sunny smiled and relaxed in her seat. Time had eroded the anguish of her lover’s death, but she often talked about him as if he had just gone away on a holiday. The children knew his face from pictures, and perhaps those heroic stories explained why little Knox was always trying to be a
shoot ’em up
good guy.

Simon smeared icing on his nose and behaved as if nothing silly were occurring. The two little ones were giggling at him as he carried on a conversation with Finn about his new job.

“Two years immersed in Breed law for the higher authority,” Simon began. “Hasn’t that been enough to scare you off?”

Finn chuckled and shook some of his wavy hair out of his eyes. “Most of it’s paperwork, but that’ll be changing soon.”

“Making ripples in the murky pond of politics, one piece of paper at a time.”

Logan leaned forward and locked eyes with Simon. “Little Wolf makes an impression with everyone he meets. That kind of presence will take him places.”

“It’s not so bad,” Finn continued. “They have me organizing the rotation schedule for the hearings. It’s not as easy as it looks. They usually have them biweekly, and I have to check out their last rotation and everyone’s schedule to make sure one Councilman from each Breed is there to represent. Next week they’re going to show me the computer system so I can start sending out the invitations. It’s pretty coolio.”

“Sounds spectacular,” Simon remarked, his voice flat.

“I think it’s awesome,” Silver interjected, smiling proudly at her younger brother. “Remember how shy he used to be? My kid brother’s growing up.”

Finn lowered his head and smiled. “I’m no kid.”

It took a few years, but Finn had matured into a confident young man. He held eye contact longer than he used to and spoke in a self-assured voice, but Simon had doubts that Finn’s wolf was as amicable. He had the tenacity of a leader in the body of a young man. It would be interesting to see how things played out in another hundred years.

Novis set his fork down. He nodded toward the door and they stood up together.

Simon bowed at everyone before scooting his chair in. “Ladies, gents, a pleasure as always. Carry on with eating forty kilos of sugar until your teeth rot out.”

“
S
imon
, there are important matters I wish to discuss with you, and perhaps a favor to ask,” Novis began as he closed the door behind him.

“The Mageri asks for a lot of favors these days.” Simon looked about the room, one of many in the mansion. While the main entrance was lavish with expensive items, the kitchen looked like something out of Mayberry. Most of his guest rooms were quaint with subdued colors on the walls such as pale yellow or green. Novis’s house was like an interior decorator’s visual interpretation of multiple personality disorder.

This would be brilliant for shagging
, he thought, staring at the Oriental rug in front of the unlit fireplace. Novis filled his home with expensive artifacts, yet he walked around in a pair of jeans half the time. He was over a thousand years old, even if his ageless body looked no more than twenty-five. The fact that he styled his black hair in long chunks spiked every which way didn’t help matters, nor did the trainers he often wore. Despite Novis’s position on the Council, Simon respected him because he was more willing to bend the rules than most Councilmen.

Novis motioned toward the celery-green chairs on either side of a small table abutted against the window. “Please, have a seat.”

Simon made himself comfortable, then drummed his fingers on the etched wood. “I’m all ears.”

Novis pinched his lower lip before he began. “This is a personal favor—a job, actually. I’m asking on behalf of an individual you’re not on good terms with.”

Simon twirled the skull ring on his index finger. “Clearly a man without balls who can’t ask me the favor himself. I’ve lost respect already.”

“You are correct. This person does not have balls. It’s Hannah.”

Simon threw his hands up. “Whatever it is, the answer is an emphatic
no
.”

“She’ll pay.”

He stirred with laughter. “Of that I have no doubt. Her last favor almost got me killed when I was tossed off an eight-story building by a man she’d hired me to track. I thought I was apprehending a criminal. As it turned out, she was merely taking advantage of my services to track down an old lover. That woman has so many issues you need a subscription to deal with her.”

“As do we all. Look, I owe her a favor and she’s calling it in. This would be a favor to me, Simon, and I’d much rather be in your debt than in hers.” Novis laced his slender fingers together, giving Simon a pointed stare with his clear blue eyes.

Simon waggled a brow. “Are you sure about that? I might ask you to join me at a sex club next weekend in your finest leathers. Are you free?”

When Novis narrowed his eyes, Simon sputtered with laughter.

Favors were more valuable than gold because everyone honored them, regardless of how despicable the man. You didn’t want to be in someone’s debt, but it wasn’t a bad thing to have someone else be in yours. That could come in handy down the road, and someone like Novis could be an ace up his sleeve.

“So what’s the favor?”

Novis maintained eye contact. “Her progeny is in need of training.”

“Potty training?”

“Weaponry, tactical decision making, fighting techniques—the skills you excel at. The skills you have imparted to many Learners, including two of my most loyal guards.”

A Mage went by the title of Learner until their Creator granted them independence, and that didn’t happen until they learned Mage laws and how to protect their light.

“I thought Hannah did all her own training? I heard she can take down a man with two sharp hairpins and a smile.”

“From what little I know, this one has… special needs. As Creators, we must ensure our Learners remain on the right path so they don’t turn rogue. It’s unfortunate when that happens, and Hannah has expressed her concern. She thinks someone with your abilities would be able to help.”

Simon felt his cock thicken because, to be honest, stroking his ego was the best way to get him on board with even the most ludicrous plan ever conceived. “How much and for how long?”

Novis might have been a young man when he was changed over, but his eyes were steely and filled with ancient light. “Fifty thousand. She didn’t specify a time frame.”

“Well, that makes all the difference, now doesn’t it? Fifty thousand is quite nice for a week’s worth of work, but not so much if it’s five years. Come on now. Do you take me for a dolt?”

Novis ran his finger across his lower lip. “Please. I’ve carried a debt with Hannah for a century, and if I don’t settle it now, then she’ll ask me for something I’ll truly regret. She may not respect you as a man, but she respects your supreme talents as a Mage.”

Simon rolled his tongue around, the metal piercing rubbing against the roof of his mouth. He preferred training over most jobs, so long as they didn’t pair him up with a blighter too afraid to take a blade in the chest. Simon firmly believed training should be baptism by fire—you can’t learn to fight if you’re only going through the motions. A Mage has to know what it feels like to have a blade penetrate his chest, because that’s the fear he’ll have to overcome. Simon was a master with knives, and few could ever equal his talent.

The voices in the other room grew boisterous, and Novis cocked his head. “Ah, it sounds like Levi has arrived.”

“Sorry, I have to run,” Simon said, abruptly rising from his chair.

Novis looked up, light flickering in his eyes. “And my offer?”

“I need to speak to Hannah before I make a decision, but if I agree to this, then you, my friend, are going to owe me a tremendous favor.”

“I will be in your debt.” Novis rose to his feet and bowed. “Are you sure you won’t stay a while longer? The weather is agreeable, and I’m gifting the children a small playground. My men installed it this morning behind the house.”

The man spared no expense at spoiling children that weren’t his, but Simon came from a time when birthdays weren’t celebrated. You were lucky if bread was on the table and you even knew your age. Maybe Simon felt a little inferior, having purchased his gifts on the cheap, but what did they care? Children so young shouldn’t be taught to covet.

“Did you buy them a giraffe? I hear that’s the latest rage with tots these days.”

Novis looked at him with contempt. “No giraffes. That’s for Christmas.”

Simon clapped him on the shoulder. “Good to see your sense of humor is intact. Call Hannah and let her know I’ll be there on the morrow.”

“There’s no better man for this job than you, Simon. I hope you know how valued you are among the members of the Mageri, and that’s not as terrible as you make it out to be. A man has to earn a living in this world to secure his comfort during his immortal years. It may not always be an easy task, but that which does not… that which makes us stronger kills us. That which…”

“Bloody hell, mate. Don’t even try.” Simon swaggered toward the door and gripped the doorknob. “Why do I have the feeling I’m going to regret this?”

* * *

E
arly the next morning
, Simon piddled around his condo, sipping a cup of coffee mixed with a splash of something strong, stalling for as long as he could. He snatched a golden apple from a fruit bowl and swaggered to the living room window, peering down thirteen stories to the busy street below. He tried to conjure up an excuse to back out of the agreement, but in the end, a favor owed by Novis would be worth whatever demented job Hannah had in store for him.

He pulled on a black muscle shirt so threadbare that his nipple ring shone through the fabric. Maybe he didn’t sport the same muscular physique as Justus, but Simon’s version of exercise was riding
women
, not rowing machines. His black jeans didn’t have holes, but they were snug. There would be no distractions to keep Hannah’s beady little eyes from looking at his nipples. Not that he wanted anything to do with Hannah sexually, but ruffling her prudish feathers amused him.

When it came to sex, Simon’s standards were nonexistent. While he preferred tall, busty women, he’d always been an equal opportunity lover. Perhaps the way she conducted business had turned him off from the beginning, but nothing about that woman made his cock twitch with curiosity. In fact, it shriveled in fear.

Simon decided to leave the Maserati at home and take his tried-and-true classic GTO instead. It sounded like a beast when he turned the engine over. While the Maserati could tear up the road with incredible speed—not to mention wet a few panties—Simon loved the GTO because it suited his retro style. The 1968 model had an ebony finish and dark interior. The windows had to be hand cranked, but the car had an attitude that couldn’t be matched.

Quite like him.

The engine purred at the main gate as security waved him through. Hannah’s guards were twits who’d merely leaned in the window and asked a few inane questions. He was used to getting everything up to a cavity search with Novis’s guards, so her lack of security was striking.

Hannah greeted him at the door and soaked in his black outfit. “Well, well. If it isn’t grim death himself.”

He strode past her. “If it isn’t tyranny herself. How is the kingdom these days, Hannah? Still thriving beneath your cold wooden grip?”

The door slammed.

“Come with me.” Her voice reverberated off the walls.

“That’s what she said,” Simon quipped.

The remark earned him a scathing glance as they headed toward one of her private chambers.

He glanced at the silver pins impaling her brunette hair. It was baffling how she managed to tie it all up so that no hairs were floating free. She styled it differently depending on the event, but in casual moments, he’d seen it braided like a milkmaid’s. The mental image of her sitting on a stool, squeezing teats, entered his mind and would have made him laugh had it not been for another distraction.

Simon felt a bubble of vomit rise in the back of his throat when he looked at her ludicrous décor. Hannah possessed a strange fixation on snow. It was why he’d privately dubbed her the
Ice Queen
, aside from her cold heart and a sneaking suspicion that she was probably frigid in bed. Scenic paintings of snow hung in almost every room, Fabergé
eggs,
snow globes on the tables, and of all things—snowflake wallpaper. No doubt the most expensive wallpaper in all the land.

He stifled a shudder as she closed the door.

“Have a seat,” she said, motioning toward the red velvet chairs in front of her desk.

“Are we going riding in a one-horse open sleigh?” he asked, his shoes making a soft sound on the white carpet. Once seated in what looked more like a throne, he ran his fingers over the ornate armrests and crossed his legs. “Let’s get on with it. I know how you like to stall.”

Hannah’s clothes were pristine and bereft of color—a white jacket and pair of slacks that were crisp and unwrinkled. Her complexion was pale and lightly powdered, which made her red lipstick stand out like a wound. She took a seat behind the desk and slanted her wolfish brows.

“To begin, I’m rescinding my offer for a total of fifty thousand and instead offering you ten thousand a week for your services. The length of time this job will take will be up to you, but I will carefully evaluate your progress to be certain I am not being taken advantage of.”

“I have
no
desire to take advantage of you.”

Her gaze chilled him like glaciers. “I have a complicated situation with my latest progeny. This one came to me five years ago, and it’s imperative that all my Learners meet their full potential. I don’t see that happening with this one.” Hannah mashed her ruby-red lips together, as if the admission was causing her physical distress.

Simon mulled over the facts. Five years was a long time; it made him apprehensive that this might be a problem child. “Pardon me for saying so, but this is rubbish. Everyone knows you train your own Learners and employ the best to teach what you cannot.”

“Yes, and you
are
the best.”

Ego inflated.

“What’s wrong with him? Clearly you must be dealing with a wanker, and I don’t like wasting my time on Mageri rejects. Maybe it’s time you cut your losses and send him off to the Island of Misfit Toys.”

Her red nails looked like talons as she tapped them against the desk. “Let’s go to my training room and you can decide for yourself.”

He sighed dramatically and followed her lead.

Simon had learned a few things in his time, one of them being not to take jobs that would bleed his soul dry and ruin his reputation should he fail. Every so often, a Mage chose his or her progeny unwisely. The Mageri usually did the pairing, but sometimes a Mage selected someone on his own and presented them to the Mageri for approval. Because only a rare few were Creators, the Mageri rarely refused the request. Councilmen had influence and could do whatever they bloody well pleased.

Occasionally, new Learners defected in hopes of returning to their human lives. But everyone knew there was no going back. A few were incapable of overcoming their fears and learning weaponry, while others became so obsessed with violence that they had to be destroyed like a rabid dog. It wasn’t common, but Mage law decreed it was the humane thing to do after all avenues had been exhausted to rehabilitate these willful Learners from their baneful ways. In most cases, their inability to adjust was benign, but that meant living under the care of their Creator for life—never to be granted independence.