Midnight Mage

5

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I tried putting two and two together but kept coming up with five. No way. There was no way my dad had been flying to Seattle to meet with the Western Prime. Not without telling me.

My gaze jerked to Mal. He looked similarly shocked, his mouth hanging open.

With all the incredulity I felt, he barked, "He was meeting you?"

The Prime nodded distractedly as he once more gazed around the room. I had my first full look at his face without the filter of a magazine page or television screen. My thoughts scattered, my heart pumping a little faster.

Classic features à la ancient battlefields, midnight rituals, and dark, lush forests. Pale skin with an undertone of gold, dark hair with a hint of curl. A tapering jaw, chiseled cheekbones, wide eyes, and a smooth brow.

As if that wasn't enough, as a vampire he had that extra something that elevated him from handsome to beautiful. Something that made you look twice, then keep staring until he either passed out of sight or you drooled all over your shoes.

"This is Frank's daughter, I presume?"

The voice shocked me out of a daydream starring the Prime, a gladiator costume, and rivulets of sweat. My heart slammed against my ribs and I looked at Mal, who was glaring at me. I glared back. It wasn't my fault the Prime's glamour had bulldozed my natural defenses. He was freaking ancient.

"She's bleeding, Riven," said the Omega.

It sounded like a warning, though the Prime didn't heed it. He picked his way through the rubble until he stood before me. My eyes instinctively found his. At the contact, his power unfurled, dark and drugging, pulling air from my lungs in a gasp.

"Let her go, Adam."

"Riven-"

"Do it."

The invisible bindings dissolved, dropping my full weight onto the glass beneath my feet. I hissed in pain, the Prime recoiled, and Mal grabbed my arm as electricity surged. Apparently, the Omega's spell had been keeping my power at bay.

My uncle groaned as he took the first heavy pulse of energy.

"What-" began the Omega. "Riven, no!"

Cool fingers seized my other hand and my vision went dark.

AWARENESS RETURNED SLOWLY. I had to work for it, trudging up a subconscious stairwell with leaden limbs. My eyelids opened with effort, parting sticky eyelashes to present me with a coffered ceiling of pale taupe.

Directly above the bed in which I lay hung a tiered chandelier, its many bulbs radiating soft light through an ornate hotel bedroom. Heavy curtains blocked windows opposite the bed, but I had an indefinable sense that I was high up, closer than usual to the clouds.

My skin was itchy, uncomfortable. My arms felt numb. I clenched my fingers, which felt like limp noodles.

Something was seriously wrong. With the level of anxiety and gut-liquefying fear I felt, I should be throwing sparks like a firecracker.

"You're awake."

I jerked, whipping my head around on the pillow to see the Omega seated in a chair beside the bed. He watched me with narrowed eyes. They were currently brown, though the sight didn't comfort. Not when, like all Opals, he could kill with a thought.

Luckily for everyone on the planet, when it came to Opals, Nature made an effort to balance the scales. There were so few of them because they tended to kill themselves within a year of transition, sometimes taking small populations with them.

Another lesson hammered home by Ascension: too much power made people crazy. Especially power over life and death.

I ran a thick tongue along the back of my teeth. My mouth tasted like firewood. "Where am I?" I asked hoarsely. "Where's Mal?"

"He's with the Prime. I'm Adam Gibbs, by the way."

God, he looked young. Early twenties, maybe, at Ascension. Despite intellectually knowing he was pushing toward his forties, the baby face was throwing me for a loop.

"Don't hurt him," I said. "I'll do whatever you want."

The Omega blinked, lips pinching. "Why would we hurt Malcolm?"

I frowned, nonplussed, and finally shook my head. "Can I see my uncle? I won't do anything, I swear."

A small, tired smile lifted his mouth. "You've already done plenty." I tried to sit up, but found myself unable to move. Again. "Don't struggle. It will only agitate you."

I dropped my head back to the pillow. Squeezing my eyes shut, I asked, "What did I do? Did I hurt Mal?" Then I remembered who else had touched me mid-surge. "Oh God, is Prime Thorne okay?"

"He's fine," said a new voice, low and lightly ironic.

I opened my eyes to see the man himself standing behind Adam's chair and looking completely at ease, even humored. His eyes met mine and I glanced away before I could be sucked back into them.

Maybe, if I asked nicely, they'd let me see my dad and uncle a final time.

"You're not going to die," said the Prime, still in that vaguely amused tone. "Not by my hand, at least. And you certainly aren't going to be shipped off to a prison cell." He paused. "Really, Adam, we need to do something about those rumors. It was only the one facility years ago, and we shut it down."

Adam sighed, robes rustling as he stood. "We can't blame her for being afraid. Our nation doesn't have the strongest track record of tolerance."

The Prime made a noncommittal noise.

I tried to think of nothing, which only opened the door for a confusing jumble of images. Witches burning at the stake. Lab rats and the furry, mutilated body in that photograph.

The fact that the Prime had access to my every thought made me twitch with discomfort. Especially when the damned image of him in gladiator finery popped up. My mortification was complete when I heard his low chuckle.

Steeling myself, I dragged my gaze back to him. He'd taken the Omega's seat. The mage now paced near the bedroom doorway, fingers tapping on his cell phone.

"Hello, Alfea. I'm Riven."

My name in his mouth was unsettlingly intimate. Ignoring the reactionary heat in my face, I stared at his nose, which looked like it had been broken once or twice in his human years.

"Nice to meet you, Prime Thorne. How long are you going to keep me like this?"

He ignored my question, instead leaning forward to brace elbows on his knees. His gaze trailed down my arms, exposed without the light jacket I'd been wearing earlier.

"Fascinating," he murmured, a banked glow flashing in his eyes. He glanced up, focusing on the white streak in my otherwise dark hair. "Tell me of your Ascension."

There was no point in lying.

"I was struck by lightning."

He sat back, sending a quick glance across the room. Adam looked up from his phone and said, "There were several hundred reported cases of lightning striking people at midnight. None in which the affected survived, though."

The thought of Michael was instinctive. I couldn't stop it any more than I could will myself to stop breathing. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the Prime's expression as I thought of my dead fiancé.

There was a heavy moment of silence, then cool fingertips grazed my forehead.

"Sleep," said the Prime.

I did.

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