That means he has magic of his own.
Without slowing, I take his measure, Evram’s wand at the ready. From across the room I don’t sense any magic, which means he isn’t actively using any, though he may have passive defenses deployed.
He’s also one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in the flesh, like he belongs on one of the art prints here. Charcoal-black hair artfully tousled like an anime character against a perfect bronze skin tone—not something you see a lot of in Seattle, even in August. Despite the crowd he’s casually leaning against the doorway like he knows no one will walk through it, his Henley, jacket, and dark jeans still somehow revealing a slim but muscled form.
I’m not wearing more color than he is, honestly—dark skinny jeans and comfortable boots, a black unzipped hoodie over a t-shirt my sister got me that says “the softest paw can be a claw”with a little cat on it—and my brown hair in its ponytail contrasts my Seattle-pale skin tone.
But I blend into the background here, and he emphatically does not.
When I get close, he straightens up, liquid black eyes focused on me.
My grip on Evram’s wand is firm. Magic crackles between me and the wand as I close in, our meeting growing inevitable. Fraught, a thousand possibilities in the air zeroing in on this moment—
But I don’t slow down, walking right past him.
The man is like sex on a stick, but if he expects that to make me more amenable to giving him my time he’s going to be disappointed.
The timer for keeping this stolen magic is ticking, and I won’t slow down for anyone.
But rather than a pause for surprise, an attack from behind, anything I might have expected, sex-on-a-stick falls into step with me as if we’d planned it, keeping pace with me at my side without missing a beat.
A man who can keep up with me without me slowing down for him? I’m a dreamer, but really.
We’ll see how this goes.
“I couldn’t help but notice you getting the better of a grand magus,” my mystery man begins conversationally, his voice like fucking velvet. Jesus. “I’m curious what you’re planning to do with that wand.”
I don’t even look at him. “I’m sure you are.”
“Ah, you don’t know you can trust me. Sensible, as I haven’t yet introduced myself. Nathaniel.”
He holds out a hand without breaking stride.
Nathaniel, huh. Given the timing, Nathaniel almost can’t be a Low Earth wizard—no one in this world has access to enoughmagic to be aware of what just happened, let alone get here so quickly. He’d have to have coincidentally already have been nearby, which is not impossible, but vanishingly unlikely.
So he’s either from another world, or he’s not human.
Or both.
I take his hand and ignore that the act of doing so makes us suddenly look like a matched set, combined darkness and stillness in a flurry of color. I’ve been looking at art prints too long.
“Sierra. I hope you’ll excuse my lack of manners, Nathaniel, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“So you do have a plan, then, or are you simply running? The grand magus may need a little while to regroup, without his wand, but you must realize he’ll be coming back for it.”
That’s why I have a narrow window. “Back with actually competent backup this time, yes, I did not manage to steal his wand by being stupid.”
Nathaniel grins. I barely even see it, and it still zings across my senses. Wow.
“Then far be it from me to slow you down,” he murmurs. “Might I instead offer my assistance?”
My instinct is to turn him down flat. I’m not good with people, and I can’t afford the complication of an unknown agenda. But since I don’t know who he represents, that rudeness might bring me more trouble than I can afford right now. “What’s your interest?”
“What’s your plan?” he returns smoothly.
I huff. Fair enough. I unfortunately like that whoever this man is, he clearly isn’t stupid. “Then what help do you think you can offer?”
“I have a very fast car with easy access to the freeway.”
