Cloaked Campaign, page 10
Very blinked at her. She shrugged her shoulders. “A handsome warlock? Your ex? Someone who dumped you?” She shook her head, frowning at Reg as if she couldn’t believe that Corvin would ever have been interested in her in the first place. Clearly, Reg had been pursuing him, and not vice versa.
“He is a power drinker,” Reg said in a low voice, not wanting her voice to carry to anyone who might be close to the bathroom. The bathroom seemed to magnify her voice with the hard tiled surfaces. “Do you know what that is?” she whispered.
Verity shrugged. “A myth,” she said with certainty. “A cautionary tale told to young witches to keep them from getting themselves in trouble.”
“No!” Reg’s voice was harsher than she had intended. “It is not a myth! It’s a real thing. He is.”
“And how would you know that?” Verity challenged.
“Because he stole my powers.”
Verity stared at her, not believing it for a minute. “Do you think I am not aware of your abilities?” she demanded. “I can see that you have powers.”
“That’s because he gave them back—” Reg started to protest, ready to tell Verity the story.
“A power drinker does not give back the powers that he steals. Or so the myths say.”
“No, I know that, but this was different. I was being tortured, and Corvin—”
“Tortured?”
“Corvin knew that the only way for us to overcome the warlock who was torturing me was for him to give me back the stolen powers so that we could work together to defeat him.”
Verity’s eyes were cold. She didn’t believe a word that Reg was saying.
“It’s true,” Reg insisted, reaching out to touch the woman’s arm before she could join Corvin again. “He is very dangerous. You need to know that. You need to stay away from him, don’t let him charm you and ensorcel you. You won’t be able to get away from him.”
“I won’t be able to get away from him?” Verity laughed. “You have no idea how powerful I am. If there were such a thing as a power drinker, he would not be able to overcome me.”
“I know you are strong, but if you didn’t know what he was doing, you might let yourself be charmed…”
“I would not,” Verity disagreed, her mouth a straight line. “And now… I would ask you to mind your own business.”
She threw her paper towel in the garbage and strode past Reg.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Reg had done her best. She felt ill. She didn’t want another drink at the bar and didn’t feel like ordering anything to eat. She knew that Verity would probably point her out to Corvin when she left the bathroom and ask what kind of a lunatic she was. Corvin would know Reg had said something. Maybe there would be a confrontation, and… things would not end well. Reg could see that. She didn’t want a fight with Corvin. So she left as quickly as she could, paying her bar bill and retreating to the safety of the cottage.
All evening, she was sure that Corvin would show up to confront her about what she had done. He would be angry and demanding, maybe threaten her with a restraining order or whatever the magical equivalent was. Maybe he would know that not only had Reg warned Verity off, but she had also been talking to members of the coven, trying to get them to vote for Davyn rather than Corvin. He was not going to be happy about that, either. First trying to prevent him from satisfying his bottomless hunger and then trying to thwart his goal of becoming the leader of his coven.
No, he wouldn’t be happy.
Reg continually made mistakes during her sessions that night, calling clients by the wrong names, dropping things, and dealing tarot cards when someone had asked for a reading of tea leaves. No wonder they looked at her like she was a flake. It was hard enough getting any respect for being a psychic or medium when people were so wary of being conned. She didn’t need to act like an absolute ditz on top of it.
The seance, at least, went off smoothly and everyone seemed satisfied when she sent them home at the end of the night.
Reg found it hard to sleep after that, her brain running a million miles a minute, analyzing, repeating, and criticizing every mistake she had made throughout the evening, not just once but over and over again. She would drop off to sleep and then wake up what seemed like ten minutes later, reviewing a mistake she had made one more time. Or maybe two or three times. It was exhausting.
She hoped to stay home the next day and just take the time to recover from her disastrous evening. But she couldn’t help thinking about how the day of the coven’s election was drawing closer and closer. She really hadn’t gotten anywhere in dissuading them from voting for Corvin. She had talked to Wilf, who had sold her a car. Maybe a lemon and maybe not. And while John Saunders had strong opinions about Corvin running for office, he didn’t have a vote and probably didn’t hold much sway over the older and more experienced warlocks. Even if he did approach them about not electing Corvin, they weren’t likely to listen to him and wouldn’t be offering him the opportunity to throw his hat into the ring, which was what he really wanted.
She had other names on her list. She didn’t know how likely any of them was to listen to her, but it was at least worth a try, wasn’t it? She wasn’t going to convince anyone by just staying at home in bed all day.
Marshall Brown was one of the members of the coven that she hadn’t seen the day she had gone to them asking for help in finding Davyn and bringing him home. Since they had not met, maybe he would not have formed an opinion about Reg already and might listen to what she had to say. Sarah had given her some information on where to find Brown.
Maybe she could sway him, and then he could help her persuade the others. It would only take a few of them making the decision not to vote for Corvin. If she were lucky, just one or two votes could make all the difference. Reg knew Corvin and how dangerous he was better than anyone else. The warlocks in the coven might think that they knew what he was like but, if Corvin had not targeted them, then they really didn’t know everything there was to know about him. Reg was the one person who could explain it to them. She was the one person who had a real chance to change their minds.
That’s what she kept telling herself—trying to build herself up enough to go to it.
Brown was involved in something to do with stocks and bonds. Reg couldn’t claim to understand what he spent his day doing, but she didn’t need to. All she needed was a few minutes of his time, and she could convince him to vote against Corvin.
Reg introduced herself to the pretty young receptionist at Brown’s office and asked whether she could get in to see him, even though she didn’t have an appointment and was not a client. The receptionist was pleasant and said she would see, inviting Reg to sit down and relax for a few minutes in the comfortable-looking chairs in the lobby area. Reg was too anxious to sit down. She wouldn’t be able to stay in one place and the receptionist would be sure to think that she was high on something.
She waited for a while. Things were not moving along as quickly as Reg had hoped. Even if Brown wouldn’t see her, she had hoped to at least get a message to him. Maybe they would be able to get together in the evening or whenever he was off. But the clock was ticking, and she didn’t feel any closer to achieving her goal.
The door opened and a well-dressed warlock stepped in through the main doors. His back was to Reg, but she assumed he was a warlock, considering the cape-like cloak he wore in addition to the business suit. He headed toward the receptionist, then stopped and looked around. He turned all the way around and saw Reg sitting there waiting.
It was Corvin.
The last person Reg wanted to see there.
Corvin scowled. “What are you doing here?”
“I, uh… I was just going to meet with someone.”
“Really. Getting a start in investing, are you? Thought you’d try your hand at day trading?”
Reg cleared her throat and tried to think of a reasonable explanation. “It’s about a personal matter.”
He stared at her. Reg could feel him around the edges of her mind, poking around to see what he could pry loose. She tried to put up barriers to keep him back.
“Mind your own business,” she growled.
“You don’t have any personal business with Marshall.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
Corvin looked around the empty waiting area. He was clearly not happy. He probably had a pretty good idea of what Reg was doing there and, of course, he would not be pleased with her interfering with his election campaign.
“Why don’t you and I go somewhere private to discuss this?”
“No. I’m not going anywhere I’ll be alone with you.”
Not that being alone in the waiting area was exactly safe either. There was only one woman close at hand, and who knew how far away real help would be if things went awry? The receptionist seemed thoroughly nonmagical. It would probably be safer for her at The Crystal Bowl or Corvin’s private club. Or another restaurant where practitioners might be hanging out.
“I’m sure we can sort things out if we can just talk,” Corvin said. He smiled at her, pouring on the charm. Reg’s skin temperature went up several degrees. She was sitting down, so she couldn’t exactly back away from him. For a minute, she couldn’t remember why she would want to. Why wouldn’t she want to be closer to this attractive, warm, friendly warlock? What had he really ever done to hurt her? He had helped her out several times when she needed questions answered, needed his strength or powers, or for him to do something for her.
Why was she even there, trying to prevent him from being elected? She should be helping him instead. Align herself with him and encourage members of the coven to vote for him.
“Corvin…” Reg gritted her teeth and tried to keep him out of her head. She fought back against his influence, but he was pressing hard. It wasn’t just his interest in her this time. It wasn’t about stealing her powers. It was about stopping her from taking something away from him. But his weapons of choice were still the same. His roguish smile, the heady scent of roses that was thickening in the closed interior of the small room, filling her with warmth and good feelings.
Reg tried to build a shield around herself, establishing a bubble of space and breathable air. But she was fighting not only him, but herself. Her attraction toward him. Her brain telling her that what she really wanted was to go home with him. To climb into his arms. To give herself to him.
“No,” Reg told her brain, trying to make the word as big and confident as she could. “No, no, no!”
Corvin was close enough to touch her arm, and she was too much under his influence to stop him. An electrical current ran through the two of them, defeating her shield. “Come, Regina. Come with me. You know it’s what you want.”
“No, I don’t…”
“Yes. Let’s talk like two adults. We can work this out. You’ll see my side. Understand why what you are doing is so wrong. I know that you just want to do what is right for everyone. Let me explain it to you.”
That was reasonable, wasn’t it? It was only fair that Corvin be allowed to tell her his side of the story. They were both grown adults and could surely come to some kind of understanding or compromise.
Corvin gave her a little tug. “Come on, Reg.”
Reg stood. The receptionist watched them, but her eyes were cloudy and far away. She was obviously being affected by Corvin’s charms as well. She didn’t have the experience Reg had in resisting him and would probably do anything he said to. Not that he would want anything to do with her. She was attractive, but he was attracted to magic more than the package it was wrapped in. Reg didn’t need to feel jealous of her.
Corvin pulled her toward the door, and Reg went along with him. What could it hurt?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Outside the building, in the fresh air, Reg was able to clear her head a little. She shook free from Corvin’s hold and again tried to build a psychic shield between them. His influence was still strong, but the pheromones were not as thick and she could, she hoped, think clearly.
“Stop it,” she told Corvin crossly. “Stay out of my head.”
“I’ll stay out if you tell me what you’re thinking,” he said reasonably. “Then there is no reason for me to go any farther.”
“My thoughts are my own.”
“When you’re here?” Corvin gestured to the building they had just exited, “Trying to thwart me?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business,” Corvin insisted. “You are the one getting in my business, so don’t try to tell me that I don’t have anything to do with it.”
“I was just…” Reg looked back the way they had come, trying to come up with an explanation for her being there. An explanation that didn’t have anything to do with Corvin. But of course, nothing would come to her. She didn’t even understand what Marshall Brown did, so how could she come up with a reason she would be there?
“You are just interfering. Please explain to me why it offends you so much that I run for the leadership of my own coven. How does that hurt you? You are not in the coven. You don’t know anyone else who is, other than Davyn. You know that he supports my bid for election.”
Supported him? That might be slightly overstating it. Davyn was running against Corvin, so he was clearly opposed. He wasn’t just running for his own entertainment or to offer members of the coven another option. Davyn didn’t want to continue as the leader of the coven, but he didn’t support Corvin’s campaign. He opposed it.
“Davyn doesn’t—” Reg stopped herself. She didn’t know how much Davyn had said to Corvin about how he felt. Reg didn’t want to “out” him if he were keeping his opinions to himself and intentionally not letting Corvin know how he felt about it.
Corvin watched her with sharp eyes, waiting for her to finish her sentence. Reg didn’t. He put his hand on her again, trying to influence her. “Reg, you can talk to me. I’ll listen. You can explain your concerns, and we can talk about them.”
She highly doubted that. “Don’t touch me.”
He let go of her. “Reg. Come on. Let’s go for a drink. Hash this out like adults. If I haven’t changed your mind by the time we’re done, I won’t do anything to stop you from talking to Marshall or anyone else in the coven.”
It was tempting. It sounded so reasonable. Reg liked the idea that they could work it out just by confiding their thoughts and feelings to each other. Their psychic connection was so strong that there was not even the need for words. Reg could just open her mind to him, and he would see and understand her point of view. It was the epitome of communication. Mind to mind, so that there could be no misunderstanding.
Corvin motioned toward his car. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere.”
“No. I don’t want to go back to your club.” That was where she had seen him poisoned, and she didn’t know if she could stomach going back again so soon. Of course, everything had been cleaned up, every trace of the attack. But she still couldn’t face it. And she didn’t want to go back to The Crystal Bowl. She didn’t tell him why, but she couldn’t go there again so soon. Not after watching Corvin there with another woman, seducing her. Had they ended up together the night before? Had he feasted on her powers, and that was why he was having such an influence on her? Was the boost in his abilities due to Verity’s loss?
“We can go somewhere else,” Corvin said, studying Reg. “Maybe… there’s this new bistro that just opened. Have you been there yet? Jack’s Magikal Beans”
“No.”
“That’s what we’ll do, then. Hop into the car and I’ll take you over.”
“I’m not getting in your car.”
“Regina… I thought we were past this. You know you have nothing to fear from me.”
Reg shook her head. His assurances did not mean anything. She hoped that she would be able to withstand him, that she would always have the reserves she needed to fend off his attempts to overcome her. But as the last few minutes had demonstrated, she was still susceptible to him in an enclosed area where his glamour could quickly overwhelm her. In the smaller space of the car, it would be even faster.
“No way.”
“Will you meet me there if we go in separate cars?”
She caught him looking around for her car and remembered how he might have been the reason it had stalled. “Leave my car alone.”
Corvin smiled, a fan of wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. He looked pleasant and trustworthy. Not like someone who was trying to trap her. “Your car? I think you discovered last time I don’t really have any affinity for car engines.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“Will you meet me there?” he pressed.
“Fine, where is it?”
Corvin described the location, which was not far from Marian’s storefront. Reg could find her way there. Corvin held her gaze, which made Reg blush again. She shook her head.
“I’ll see you there.”
She was glad to walk away from him, to be able to drop her guard and get a breath of fresh, untainted air. It would be okay at the bistro. They could sit outside. Other people would be around. They wouldn’t let anything happen.
But would they know? Would there be magicals who understood what Corvin was doing, or would they be non-practitioners who thought the two of them were just flirting? Or, if Corvin took her away from there under his influence, maybe she’d just had a bit too much to drink.
Reg sat in her car for a few minutes with the air conditioner turned up, trying to clear her head completely. If she managed to shield herself before she was in his presence again, she should be perfectly safe. They could just enjoy a couple of cups of coffee al fresco and discuss things like two adults.
Though she was pretty sure that, despite his words, that wasn’t really what Corvin wanted to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
At Jack’s Magikal Beans, Corvin was already sitting outside at one of the small tables waiting for her. He had a cup in front of him and was scrolling through something on his phone. He tried not to act impatient when she got here.
