Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(57)

“Houston animal shelter?” Garen asked, a little spark in his eyes.

“No. A summoner House, actually. Go see Cornelius.”

The massive beast twitched his ears.

“Zeus,” Cornelius called.

The tiger-hound turned and hurried into the conference room with liquid grace.

Garen stepped inside. I shut the front door and led him to my office. Sooner or later someone would report to Rogan that a person from House Shaffer appeared on my doorstep. Most likely they reported it the moment he drove up to the checkpoint. The consequences would be interesting.

I sat behind my desk. Garen Shaffer sat in my client chair. I touched my laptop. It came on. A message window from Bern opened.

Garen Shaffer, heir to House Shaffer, truthseeker Prime.



Better and better.

I put on my professional smile and clicked the small icon in the corner of the laptop, enabling recording. We had a hidden camera positioned on the shelf behind me. We’d had some trouble with clients who displayed selective memory, and it was amazing how quickly threats of lawsuits faded once we presented a recording of them saying the words they claimed they couldn’t remember.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Shaffer?”

He leaned back, throwing one long leg over the other. “I’ve come to hire you.”

Lie. This was a test.

“That would be a lie, Mr. Shaffer. Care to try again?”

“Would you mind?”

“No.”

Magic accreted around him. “I’m thirty-one years old.”

My power pressed against the magic wall and slipped through. “True.”

The magic wall grew denser.

“I have three sisters.”

“Lie.”

Magic spilled out of him like water out of a geyser. It wrapped him in a cocoon of power. How the hell did he do that?

“I’m the only child.”

The cocoon looked impenetrable. My magic wrapped around it. The wall of power held tight. If I hammered against it with brute force, we’d be locked in a fight, his will against mine. He was strong. Very strong. Possibly stronger than I, although we wouldn’t figure it out until we clashed. A part of me really wanted to find out.

Ignore the wall. Imagine it’s porous. Imagine it’s not there.

He narrowed his eyes.

His wall was stone, but my magic was water. It slipped through the cracks. All I had to do was guide it and let it flow . . .

Lie.

“I think we should stop.” I leaned back.

The wall vanished. His magic wrapped around me. “Are you trying to appear stronger than you are or weaker?”

“Neither. I just don’t want you to know.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you.” I waved my hand in front of my face, as if clearing smoke. “Please keep your magic to yourself.”

He smiled. His power vanished.

“Why is there a cooler in the fridge?” Arabella called from the conference room.

When did she even get a chance to get in there? “Leave the cooler alone. Stay out of the fridge.”

“Sister?” he guessed.

I made a face at him.

“I have one myself. They are difficult at times.”

Arabella stuck her head into my office and showed me the Ziploc bag with the ear. “Why are you dressed like a soldier? Is that blood on your clothes? Also, why is there a human ear in the fridge?”

Argh. Just argh.

Garen’s eyebrows crept up.

“It’s evidence,” I ground out. “Put it back in the cooler.”

“Fine, fine.”

She went back into the conference room.

“I would very much like to take you to dinner.”

I made a show of looking down at my ACUs. “Today wouldn’t be a good day.”

“What about tomorrow?”

I raised my head and pretended to consider it. “Unfortunately, I’m in the middle of something, so I can’t promise I won’t stand you up.”

I felt something, a light click, like he’d flicked his fingers against my palm. Was it his magic working? Is that what it felt like?

“That’s okay. I’m a very patient man.”

True. He was flirting with me.

“Okay, I’ll go to dinner with you if you answer a question.”

He leaned forward, his green eyes fixed on me. “It’s a deal.”

“Do you feel a click when I spot-check your answers for truth, and if so, does everyone or is it a truthseeker thing?”

“That’s three questions.”

Two could play the flirting game. “Do you want me to come to dinner with you or not?”

He pretended to consider it. “You drive a hard bargain. Yes, no, and it is a truthseeker thing. We call it pinging. There is nothing like coming home late in a damaged car and having both parents ping you in stereo as you answer their questions. Tomorrow at six?”

“Where?”

“Bistro le Cep. They tell me that’s the best place in Houston for quiet conversation.”

I had no idea where that was. “Very well. Tomorrow at six.”

We both got up. He held the door of my office open for me. I walked him to the outside door and watched him get into a black Cadillac. The car reversed and rolled down the street, unmolested.