Page 5 of Stolen Magic
“You are absolutely sure that the flowers came from whoever owned this book before you took it and not from someone else?” Her question gave me a pause.
Rare were the kinds of friends who found out you were a thief and didn’t even look at you different, still trusting everything they owned and everything they were with you. With everything they own and everything they are. Rarer still are the ones like Char, who also knew you were a witch but would take that secret to their grave.
Shame flooded me.
“Well, no.” A frown wrinkled my forehead as I stared at my twisting fingers. “But what are the chances that someone would deliver a ton of white Kallas not even twelve hours after I left one on top of an empty safe?” The flower signature was Char’s genius idea because it reminded her of my last name. According to her, Kalla sounded similar to McCullough, and I just went along with it.
“Valid point, but we can’t be sure.”
“We?” I was too afraid to hope while the crumpled card burned my hip through the fabric of my jeans where it still sat in my pocket.
“Yes,we, you daft woman.” Char squared her shoulders and gave me a sly look. “You didn’t think I was going to take up knitting while you have all the fun, did you?”
The laugh that burst out of me held no humor or joy. It was full of relief and gratitude while I blinked back tears. The pesky things were trying to blind me. “Okay, we then.” My smile wobbled, but she was kind enough not to mention it.
“Okay, which place did you free of their burden last night, devil woman?”
A hard lurch had my heart trying to punch a hole through my chest. “Ice Matrix CO.”
Up to that point, Char had been fully relaxed while sipping on her cocktail. I had no doubt she’d already been deciding what type of memory altercation potion she would feed the poor soul. But the second I said the name of the company, a shower of the sparkling beverage she’d been swallowing sprayed from her mouth and dripped down my face, one drop stubbornly clinging to the tip of my nose.
“Well”—Primly picking the cloth napkin up, I dabbed it on my skin to clear the sticky liquid from my face—“that speaks volumes.”
“You know who the owner is, right?” Char croaked before guzzling whatever was left of the cocktail in one go so she could speak without coughing.
“The largest pack of shifters in North America.” My mouth twisted in a grimace. “I did my homework, Char. I’m not so dumb that I would go in blind.”
“Far be it for me to call you dumb. The smart woman that you are, you also know that Dimitri Bell, aka asshole Alpha of that very pack, was just voted—last week actually—as an exclusive member of the MPO.” Even though it was stupid, I muttered his name while Char arched an eyebrow at me, but then my brain caught up with what else she had said.
“What?” It came out as a shout, and I jerked upright, forgetting about the silence talisman we had sitting on the table while craning my neck to see if anyone had heard me. “What do you mean he is a member of MPO?” I hissed at my friend, doing my best to ignore the fear flickering in her irises.
Order of Magical Powers, or as it officially states, Magicas Potestates Ordinem, to that day, had stayed enemy number one to those like me. Only the strongest of magical beings were invited to undergo trials, and very few succeeded in passing them to become members. When witches were deemed too dangerous and unfit to blend with society, it was MPO that hunted them down and killed them all. They didn’t discriminate between men, women, or children. With uncanny precision, they exterminated my kind from the face of the earth. My own mother was among the deceased after she managed to hide me by the skin of her teeth.
And like an idiot, I walked into their hands of my own free will.
Chapter Four
Hands shaking, I squared my shoulders and tilted my face up until a kink developed at the back of my neck, but I still stared at the top of the tall building. I couldn’t see all the way to the roof because of the sun, which made my eyes water with its glare. After jumping at every sound for a full week and hoping if I pretended it didn’t happen it’d go away, I decided it was time to investigate. The fact that my client, who generously paid for the leather book that had doomed me was nowhere to be found and wouldn’t answer the phone only added to my torment. After our lunch the day I told my friend everything, Char dumped the bouquet of Kalla lilies in the outside dumpster, but not before she stomped on them while growling. I could still see them in my mind’s eye, although they were long gone.
“Just breathe.” Telling myself that never helped, yet I kept trying.
Two security guards manned the double glass doors that continued to slide open and closed in regular intervals. For the hundredth time, I wondered why I thought it was a good idea to come back to Ice Matrix CO. in the middle of the day, but the answer didn’t magically appear. Violence was written all over the tall, bulky men dressed in black tactical pants with their same-color t-shirts the while they eyed me up and down before dismissing me as if I was the dirt under their boots. Same thing I was doing to them, if I was being honest. Physically, I was no match for the two shifters who could squish me like a bug with their tree-trunk legs, but magic wise, they would be dead before they had time to blink.
My black tank top was stuck to my spine from the cold sweat I couldn’t stop from coating my skin no matter how hard I tried. Unfortunately for me, although the stain couldn’t be seen, the sensitive noses of the wolves manning the door could smell it from a mile away. Also, the longer I lingered in front of their building, the more suspicious they’d become. So, I plastered a forced smile on my face and hurried to enter, trusting that the glamour I placed over the two daggers strapped to my thighs would hold.
They gave me side-eyed glares as I darted through the glass double doors, but when the foyer opened in front of my eyes, I forgot all about them. Gleaming white floors stretched between me and the long, modern desk on the other side of the space. The marble was streaked with gray lines that spread through it like cobwebs, occasionally covered with thick rugs in black and white tones. Dark leather armchairs and sofas were clustered in a few places with low tables between them, and vases full of blooming flowers added a splash of color in the otherwise monochrome décor.
Above the shiny black desk covered in monitors across from me, Ice Matrix CO. was written in cursive, glaring red from the white wall like a warning. Sadly, apart from a dozen or so people walking around me with purposeful strides, the foyer of the business seemed abandoned. My hopes of going in and out without too many eyes noticing my presence died a certain death, even without the narrowed gaze aimed like a sniper at me from behind the reception desk. Reluctantly, I made eye contact with the woman, and with a fortifying sigh, I headed her way.
“Good morning.” The stern expression on her narrow face along with the unimpressed press of her mouth said that the morning was actually not good at all. “Do you have a scheduled appointment?”
“Umm, no?” My squeak turned into a question, and I wanted to punch myself for acting dumb. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I do not, but I was hoping I’d be able to talk to someone regarding the open position in your company.” Belatedly, I remembered that I should smile, so I had no doubt she thought I was slow or something when, for no reason at all, I beamed at her like a TV-show hostess.
The reason I gathered enough courage to enter the viper’s nest was the ad I found on their website. They were hiring a handful of people for entry-level positions, one of which was an assistant to the secretary. In what world did anyone hire an assistant for the assistant was beyond me. Ice Matrix CO. was the largest security firm that catered to the powerful and famous, from bodyguards to cyber-security systems. According to the almighty Google, I also knew that the company had been in the Bell family for generations. Nine, to be exact.
Must be nice to be rich.
“And which position might that be?” One thinly plucked eyebrow shot up like an arrow toward the gray hairline as the woman’s eyes twinkled mockingly at me. It wasn’t hard to tell she thought I didn’t belong in the place.
