Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem #2)(18)

“No,” I said without meaning to.

She nudged me with her shoulder. “You’ll change your mind. I’m really fun.”

“No,” I repeated, my politeness filter missing in action.

She laughed, and I was glad her feelings were almost impossible to hurt.

“We have a lot to unpack from this one failed practice session,” she said, leading me to Darius’s car and leaning back against it.

I swallowed. Yes, we did. And when in doubt, shove it onto the ignore list and carry on with your day. “Can’t I go back to working with Callie and Dizzy?”

“Not on your life. You’re a special sort of mage, and we need to figure out a special sort of training. Well…Darius does. It sounds like the Rogue Natural would’ve been your best bet, but he’s gone off-grid again.” She shook her head. “That Rogue Natural is wily. Anyone that can hide from Darius should get a medal. I want to meet him.”

“Great,” I said dryly. Would no one let it go?

“Anyway, I’m way out of my league with you. And a little weirded out, to be honest. It felt like we were connected for a moment. Like Darius and me, but without certain…intimate aspects.”

“Ew.” My filter was still on hiatus.

“No, I think tomorrow your training will go in an entirely new direction.”

“Which direction is that?”

“From what I know of Darius? The one you’re least expecting.”





8





The next evening, I stared down at the little cream card pinched between my dirt-stained fingers. A loud bang issued from Dizzy’s rebuilt shed a few feet away. The new shed had been extremely expensive because he’d insisted on using reclaimed wood so it would look old and decrepit. To get him out of her clean house, Callie hadn’t even batted an eye at the cost.

I brought up the envelope, which looked fancy enough to hold a wedding invitation. White chalk had transferred from my hand to the clean paper.

A little table stood in front of me, round and of a similar appearance to Dizzy’s shed. Just under the lip of the tabletop was a small drawer with a key sticking out of a keyhole.

I’d walked this way ten minutes ago. The table and the note had appeared out of nowhere.

Confused, I looked around the closed-off yard, the high wooden fence cutting off the views of the neighbors. Tree branches waved in the breeze and plants swayed. The two-person swing on the back porch drifted lazily from side to side. Nothing else moved.

“Reagan—I mean, Penny, did you get the flower for the spell?” Dizzy poked his head out of the shed. “Oh. What have you got there?”

I held up the card and envelope for his inspection, then looked down at the little table, directly on the route Dizzy always used to get to the house through the flowerbed. It had been placed in that location on purpose. The person (vampire?) who’d left it clearly knew Dizzy’s habits, and wanted him to find it quickly.

He took the card. “You are cordially invited to…” His voice trailed away, but his lips kept moving as he read the artfully scripted cursive.

His brow furrowed and he flipped the envelope over, showing my name. “Well…he has always done things the civilized way. No denying that.”

“Who?” I asked, taking back the card. “It’s not signed.”

“Darius, of course. That’s his address. One of them, at any rate.”

After last night’s botched practice session, the Bankses had grudgingly agreed with Reagan that their version of training didn’t work with my strange brand of natural—they’d even said strange, as if I didn’t already have a complex. Without any other options, they’d agreed that Darius would find a suitable replacement.

“Oh, look. A drawer. With an old-fashioned key!” Dizzy beamed and bent, pulling out the little drawer tucked under the lip of the table top. He extracted a similar card to the one I held. “‘Dear Mr. Banks’”—Dizzy leaned toward me—“he’s always so polite and formal.” He straightened back up. “‘Please accept this table as a small token of my gratitude. It can’t be easy to hand over a pupil as bright and with as much potential as Miss Bristol. I am honored you think I will manage her aptly. Sincerely, Darius Durant. PS.’” Dizzy chuckled. “How did he know I love PSs in letters? They’re like secret messages pinned to the bottom. It’s such a shame the practice is falling by the wayside. ‘PS This table was made of reclaimed wood from the Satisfaction, the flagship of Henry Morgan, circa 1670.’”

Dizzy blew out a breath and took a step back. “Wow.” He bent to the card again, read it a second time, and leaned back with another sigh. “Henry Morgan! The famous pirate! This is really fantastic, Reagan—I mean, Penny. The stories that must be captured in this wood.”

The pounding of feet signaled Callie was stalking our way. She appeared on the back deck across the lawn, her hands on her hips with a little card sticking out. “What is that vampire up to?” she hollered. She held out the card. “He’s trying to buy us.”

“What did you get?” Dizzy replied, delight on his face. “I got a table made from—”

“Don’t fall into his hands.” Callie stomped down the deck toward the stairs and around the covered patio set to reach us. I had to give it to Dizzy—despite the harm to the flowers, tramping across the yard to the house was much faster. “He knows very well this is a short-term situation.” She came to stand in front of his table. “We’re not handing her over for good. And she’ll still live here. I already lost one to their devious ways, I will not lose another.”