hands into his pockets and blinked in a slow, friendly way, apparently unfazed by Nick’s glare.
More than anything, Mae hated the way he taunted them by being polite. She hated that she kept almost believing in his act.
“Not at all,” Nick murmured. “Make yourself at home. Sorry for being such a shocking host—I can’t offer you any refreshments, and I’m probably about to stab you in the liver. What do you want?”
Gerald’s calm smile didn’t even flicker.
“Well, I want the Obsidian Circle ring back.”
Nick raised his eyebrows. “This ring?” He touched the back of his hand to his mouth, ring pressed to his lower lip as he smiled. “But I’ve just decided I like it.”
“I didn’t come for it today,” Gerald said mildly. “I came for Alan.”
Light broke apart the sky, a single brilliant ray of sunlight or summer lightning. Its reflection struck off the kitchen tap and spun through the air, a stark line of pure white light turning solid as a dream made steel.
A long bright knife landed in Nick’s hands and against Gerald’s throat.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Nick snarled. “I’m just looking for a reason to kill you. Stay
Gerald stepped forward, into the knife. Mae couldn’t see Nick’s face, but she guessed that Gerald’s move startled even him, because he took a step back.
“I didn’t come here to hurt him,” Gerald promised, and Nick’s tense shoulders relaxed just a little. He took another step back as Gerald stepped forward.
The knife disappeared like a light going out, leaving nothing but shadows in Nick’s hands. Gerald reached through the shadows and laid his hands against Nick’s chest. Between his fingers and Nick’s T-shirt there were sparks, as if someone had left a wire exposed and bursting into electric life in the space between them.
The flare of magic knocked Nick flat on his back on the kitchen counter, Gerald’s hands still pressed against his scorched gray shirt as he leaned over Nick and said, “But I have no problem with hurting you.”
Mae hadn’t been scared once she recognized Gerald. She was scared now.
What scared her even more was the fact that while she was quietly panicking and wondering whether she could possibly use a kettle as a weapon against a magician, Nick didn’t look scared at all. He lay there breathless and with his hair blown back, as if he’d been hit by a sudden blast of wind indoors, and said coolly, as if he was observing a fact that was only slightly interesting, “You shouldn’t be able to do that.”
Nick’s eyes were flat and dark as lakes at night. He didn’t look in the least alarmed, even as threads of fire crept over Gerald’s hands, flames licking at his wrists and wrapping around his fingers in bright lines. In fact, Mae realized, Nick’s lips were curling up in a smile.
Then she followed Nick’s calm gaze and understood why.
Behind Gerald stood Alan, with a gun pointed at the back of the magician’s head, face flushed from the outdoors or maybe because he’d seen the open door and come running.
“Let’s see if you have spells set against bullets,” Alan suggested, and fired.
The crack of the gun in the quiet kitchen was terrifyingly loud. Gerald flinched, but that was all. Mae had seen this happen once before, seen bullets bounce off a prowling wolf who’d later turned back into a magician.
Alan must have seen it a hundred times.
“I guess you do,” he said. “Too bad.”
“After you shot down members of our Circle in our home? I always have spells set,” Gerald informed him without turning. “What’s your plan now, Alan?”
“Improvise,” said Alan, and popped his left wrist sheath. A long blade glittered, sharp and wicked, between his fingers. Gerald spun around to deflect the knife blow, power shimmering in his palms, and magic caught Alan’s knife and held it still.
Nick rose from the counter already drawing his sword.
“Can I kill him now?” he demanded.
“No,” said Alan, popping his other wrist sheath. He got the point of his blade against Gerald’s stomach and they stood locked for a moment, magic against blade, looking into each other’s eyes.
“I came to talk to you,” Gerald whispered. “Just to talk.”
“Really,” Alan said. “So why were you trying to burn Nick’s heart in his chest?”
“He attacked me,” said Gerald.
“If I’d attacked you, you wouldn’t be whining about it,” Nick growled. “You’d be dead.”
“Besides,” Gerald continued, ignoring Nick completely, his eyes on Alan. “That’s not his body, is it? That’s not his heart.”
“That’s my brother,” Alan said, very soft.
The fire shining from Gerald’s palms shimmered a little, light faltering as if he’d been speaking and his voice had wavered. Mae narrowed her eyes and watched him closely.
“I’ll stand down if you will,” said Gerald.
Alan nodded slowly, and withdrew his knife as the magic ebbed away out of Gerald’s hands. He rolled up his sleeve and replaced the knife in his spring-loaded wrist sheath, not looking at it as he did so, the movements practiced and smooth. He held Gerald’s gaze the whole time.
