The Wizard Heir (The Heir Chronicles #2)

The Wizard Heir (The Heir Chronicles #2) Page 2

“Just take it, okay? As … as a friend. No strings.”

He couldn't refuse. “Well, thank you. It's brilliant.” He embraced her carefully. All arms and no body, elbows down to keep a little distance. But she burrowed into him, winding her fingers into his curls, pressing her face against his shirt as if to breathe him in. Seph patted her back, soothing her with his touch. Spilling a whisper of power, but not too much.

“Here she comes!” Carson said, all excited, at his elbow. “That's Alicia.”

Seph looked up to see a girl making her way across the crowded floor, dancers parting to let her through. She was small, but somehow lush, like an exotic tropical flower. She wore tight black jeans and a lace blouse that slid off her shoulders. Her blue-black curls were streaked with purple and loosely bound with a flowered scarf. She carried a gypsy bag over her shoulder. Her eyes were cat yellow.

“You must be the famous Seph McCauley.” She looked him up and down like she was used to being disappointed, then extended her ringed fingers. “I'm Alicia.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he said, letting go of Maia and gripping her hand.

Seph felt like he had stuck his hand into an electrical outlet. For a long moment they stood frozen, the current flowing between them. Then they both dropped their hands, took a step back, and stood staring at one another. All his life, people had reacted to his touch. Now he knew what it was like.

She recovered first. “Well, well,” she said, studying him with new interest, running her tongue over red-stained lips. “You are the powerful one, aren't you?”

“I get by,” Seph said, massaging his tingling fingers, fighting down a rush of hope. Power. She had power, too. “You…you're…Where'd you say you're from again?”

“Here and there. I was just in the States, but I had to leave.”

He rose to the bait. “Why did you…?”

“I was totally bored.” She squinted at him. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Eighteen,” he said, automatically adding two years to his age. “Listen, can I … can I buy you a drink?” Lame. That was lame. “Maybe we could go somewhere and talk?”

“Well.” Alicia surveyed Seph's friends, who were pressed around them in a tight circle. Maia scowled, swiping back her ragged fringe of hair, biting her lip and looking from Seph to Alicia.

“You.” Alicia pointed at Carson. “Be a sweetheart and get us something to drink. Absolut and lime for me.” She looked inquiringly at Seph.

“I don't…” he began, raising his hands.

“And a soda for Seph, who doesn't,” she said, shaking her head.

Seph rolled his eyes at Carson, but he was already gone, hurrying to comply.

“Listen, I'll catch you all later.” Seph gripped Alicia's elbow, half expecting another spasm of power, and guided her toward a table along the wall, leaving Maia and the others by the stage. “Who do you think you are, ordering my friends around?”

“And you don't?” She laughed softly. “You should. Who do you think you are?”

He'd never had a good answer to that question.

Seph chose a table in the corner between the speakers, where the din retreated enough so that they could actually hold a conversation. Carson brought their drinks and departed, giving Seph a wink.

“So why are you hanging out with them?” Alicia asked, reaching across the table and running her finger along the rim of his glass.

“Who?”

“Your friends. The Anaweir. It must get boring, I mean, aside from being lead dog, and all.”

He risked a question. “Anaweir? I'm not sure I …”

“The ungifted. The powerless. Even less relevant to a wizard than the servant guilds.”

Seph bit back a response. They were all talented, but none of them were wizards. Nor even members of the other magical Weirguilds: the sorcerers, the seers, or the rare enchanters and warriors.

Wizards were different from the other magical guilds, because they required charms, words to shape the magic. His foster mother, Genevieve, had told him that much.

“I've been trying to make contact,” he said. “It's hard to find other people…like us.” There, he'd said it. “I mean, I'd like to learn more, to get some more…training.” Implying that he'd already had some.

Alicia lifted an eyebrow. “Training comes through the Houses. What's your affiliation?”

“Affiliation?”

“Your Wizard House.”

He just blinked at her, then focused on rolling up his sleeves, carefully creasing the rough-woven cotton fabric. It seemed to be getting hotter.

Alicia leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Look, I realize you can't be too careful these days. No one knows what the rules are anymore.” She shook back her mane of curls. “I was at Raven's Ghyll, you know.”

“Where?”

“Raven's Ghyll. The tournament where the rules were changed. I mean, I used to go out with Jack Swift. I can't help thinking that if I hadn't broken up with him, none of this would have happened.”

She looked to him for a reaction, but he just stared at her, groping for a response that wouldn't give away his ignorance. He felt stupid, something he wasn't used to, and which he did not like.

He reached for his glass. The soda ran down his throat and exploded somewhere beneath his breastbone, leaving him breathless and dizzy. What was the matter with him? He had to keep his head.

He smiled and looked her in the eyes, a technique that had always been successful in the past. “I was hoping we could work together. You know—collaborate.” Usually all he had to do was ask.

Alicia studied his face as if it were a book in a foreign language. She reached out and ran her thumb along his jawline, as if fascinated by his bone structure, then tilted his face into the light and brushed back his curls. Her touch was like tiny explosions against his skin.

“Do you know your eyes change color? Green and brown and blue.”

“So I've been told.” Seph shifted uneasily under her scrutiny.

She seemed to reach a decision. “Fine. I'll tell you what House I'm in. I wouldn't bother, except it's so hard to meet interesting people, and I think you're … you know … interesting.” She untucked her blouse, exposing a tantalizing strip of skin, a pierced navel. There, above the waistline of her jeans, was a tattoo of a white rose. “All right,” she said, rearranging her clothes, as if that explained everything. “Now you.” She looked at him expectantly. “Red Rose or White?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Seph admitted, feeling like he was playing a rigged game of Truth or Dare. He slid his hand under his collar, pulling it away from his hot skin."

Alicia looked annoyed. “Trust me, I don't care what House you're in. I leave politics to the Wizard Council. I'm a trader. I sell what people want to buy. I have to deal with everyone.”

“Look, I can't tell you what I don't know.” He drained his glass and slammed it down on the table. “I know I'm a wizard. I know I have power, but I don't know how to use it. I know there are others like me, but the ones I've been able to find don't know any more than I do.”

He grabbed her hand and pinned it to the table. “Like I said. I need training. I have questions.” He knew he was giving away too much, that it was a bad idea to let a powerful stranger know how desperate he was.

Alicia tried unsuccessfully to withdraw her hand, embarrassed by his neediness. “What about your family? What about your Weirbook? That should give you a start, at least.”

Seph swallowed hard. He felt like his head was going to explode. “I don't have any family. That I know of. I don't have a Weirbook, whatever that is. My foster mother told me a little, but now she's dead. And things … they're out of control. If you're a trader, then find me a teacher. Find me a Weirbook, if that's what it takes. I have plenty of money. I'll pay whatever you ask.”

Alicia looked across the table at him and began to laugh. “I can't believe it. You're sort of a magical virgin. You should see your expression. So serious.” She brushed his cheekbone with the back of her knuckles. “You're gorgeous, you know. You have a face like a god. An angry god. And so … powerful,” she whispered.

Seph's skin prickled and burned. Something like a heat rash spread upward from his collarbone. His lips were numb and his tongue felt thick in his mouth. He could not speak. Something sinister rippled under his skin, seeking an outlet. He felt too big for his body, as though he might split along his backbone and spill onto the floor like a snake shedding its skin.

“What…what's going on?” he muttered. The music clamored in his ears, and the lights intruded into their dim corner. He threw up an arm to shade his face.

She gave his hand a pat. “Believe me, it's great stuff. Like nothing you've ever had.”

He gripped her hand tighter, helplessly spilling power. "What did you do to me? Is it some kind of a spell, or … or …

Alicia fished in her gypsy bag and retrieved an iridescent glass bottle, stoppered with a crystal. “Will you relax? It's called wizard flame. The street name is 'Mind-Burner.' Sorcerers make it for the trade. Let's call this my special introductory offer.”

Panic fluttered at the edge of his consciousness. “You drugged me?”

“It's an accelerator for the gifted. It strips away all the barriers and lets the power flow. You'll love it. After this, everyday life will seem like black and white.”

He shook his head. “No. You don't understand. I can't control my power when I'm sober. Things happen.”

She smiled at his distress. “Don't worry, it'll wear off in an hour or so. Here, let me show you something else.” She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. Then flinched back, fingering her seared lips. “Hey!”