His eyes scanned the meat in front of him. And then swept the ground for the bottle of spicy BBQ sauce. The cooks were getting the hang of BBQ, but they still shied toward bland. He had to up the ante with sauce that would curl his hair.
“Where am I?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
Oh yeah.
Orange flame grew along her palm, rising six inches into the sky. He felt his own power stir. She had this awesome ability to coax another person to draw more magic. At least, she could with him. It was excellent and really helpful.
“Orange. Good job.”
Her breath came in fast pants. “It’s trying…to…force me…”
Charles reached forward to shake her shoulders, but he still had the ribs. Dang it! Orange started to morph toward gold. Her eyebrows dipped low over her eyes. If he wasn’t careful, soon he’d get a hairless fog!
Thinking fast, he leaned forward and slapped her across the face. Her eyes snapped open and the glow winked out. BBQ sauce smeared her cheek.
“It helped, didn’t it?” Charles said with a haughty air before she had time to berate him. “And it worked way faster. I think we have a winner. No need for thanks.”
Sasha leaned forward very slowly, anger burning in her eyes. She put her little hand in his palm, the heat making his dick stand on end. Suddenly his body zinged with a shock so strong his teeth clamped shut and his eyes bulged. The only sound he could make was, “Ahhhhhhhhheeeeeee.”
She took back her hand as her smile turned smug. “Well, it helped, didn’t it?”
Rubbing one palm against the other, his ribs laying on the ground, he said, “How could that have possibly helped me? And how did you do that? And look at my ribs! They have dirt and grass stuck to them.”
“I wasn’t trying to help you. I was helping me. And it worked—I no longer feel extremely pissed off that you slapped me, you donkey. Although, I did waste a bunch of money on a Taser I no longer need.”
“You reached gold this time,” he said with approval.
“Stefan’s gold?”
Was it just him, or were her eyes twinkling with something like a challenge? Her goal seemed aimed toward topping the Boss. Huh.
Too bad she hadn’t. “It was a lighter gold. But if you kept going…”
Her sigh deflated her chest. “I don’t know—it gets too…slippery or something. Too hard to control. It’s like the elements all try to rush me. Like I’m walking on a knife blade while juggling fire. I don’t want to get magic shock…”
Good point. Charles hadn’t thought about that. Usually a person only got magic shock when teamed with two or more other people for a large spell or incantation. The group had to be careful to centralize the flow so no one individual got a larger dump of magic. Since the Boss took power of the clan, though, he usually joined those circles and balanced everything out. It was one of his special, natural abilities that proved advantageous to the clan—they could form larger circles and construct more advanced spells with him involved. Rarely anyone got magic shock anymore.
Only, Sasha could apparently get it on her own. Charles couldn’t even imagine how frustrating that must be. To constantly have to watch your own back from pulling in too much. Also, that it was possible.
Once again, Charles couldn’t help but wonder what the Boss had found.
Nor could he salvage his dinner.
He chose to worry about his stomach for the moment. Let the Boss handle the prickly human.
Grumbling, he went back inside to refill his plate.
*****
“That is your dagger. Your dagger is your best friend. You take your dagger everywhere with you. You sleep with your dagger. You know your dagger like the back of your hand. When you are in trouble, your dagger will save you. Do I make myself understood?”
I raised my hand slowly from the back of the large, bare room in the basement of the mansion. Weapons of all kinds glittered on the walls in the dim light, screaming violence. A cluster of tall students stood in front of me holding their daggers, gripping them with assurance. With a speech like that, not having a dagger or knife would present a serious problem.
I had a serious problem.
“Yes, the human in the back.” James was a robust man with salt and pepper hair and a grim face. He stood on a platform, his thick arms wound around his back in faux patience as he looked over his troops.
“Umm,” I froze as the students, older than the elements class but still not quite my age, gawked. More than one snickered. “I haven’t been issued a dagger.”
“Oops.” Charles scratched his nose.
James stared for a moment, his deep brown eyes flat. Finally, he tweaked his head toward the wall o’ death. “Get one.”