Wings and Shadowthief by May Sage

Hot and Cold

The crowd assembled in the dark, sterile lab observed in complete silence as the tall, blond vampire listened to the kitten’s heartbeat for the third time.

The first time, he’d frowned. The second time, he’d cursed under his breath. Now, Alexius Helsing remained expressionless as he scribbled a note on a pad.

“It'll live," he finally concluded after his thorough examination.

Everyone exhaled in relief in the same breath. Greer had been assisting Alexius in an experiment when Gwen and Blair had burst inside the lab with the pitiful little kitten, all skin and bones. Alerted by the commotion, Cat and Diana joined them soon after, and all five women had remained in the room for the last three hours as Alexius worked on the animal.

He’d rubbed balms on his matted fur, fed him potions, pricked him with various needles, occasionally asking for a tool or ingredient Greer was quick to provide.

Watching Alexius heal was always a strange experience, because under any other circumstances, that vampire was the opposite of serious. He loved to joke around and piss off his friends, no matter how serious the situation. When he was presented with a patient in need of his care, he morphed into the most dedicated of caregivers, utterly focused on his task.

"It'd better," Blair all but threatened.

Now that he’d performed his office, Alexius was back to his usual self. “I’m not a vet, lady, and I can't perform miracles. I can't believe you had me use elixir on a damn cat.”

No one pointed out that he hadn’t been forced to use anything; he’d chosen what to administer.

“‘A damn cat?’" Greer echoed. "What's wrong with you?"

“I don’t like cats,” he stated.

Gwen might have believed him, had he not gone to so much effort to save one.

Diana sighed dramatically. "Don't judge him too harshly. He's a dog, remember?"

"Wolf," Alexius grumbled. "I am a damn wolf."

"Does that mean I should stop throwing you sticks?" his sister teased.

Alexius was notoriously playful in his wolf form.

Blair hopped on the examination table and ran a hand over the kitten’s fur. Alexius had performed wonders; considerably cleaner and less matted, the kitten now looked powder blue and soft. It slept rolled in a ball, never stirring at her slight touch.

“It’s going to need food, often. It’s just a few days old,” Alexius told her. “Milk from a bottle every few hours.”

Blair didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll do it.”

Alexius grimaced. “You won’t have a full night’s sleep for a while, then.”

Blair didn’t care. “My biggest problem is that pets are forbidden in the dorm—for good reason, since some people are allergic. Can I leave her here?”

“Him,” Alexius corrected. “And no, the lab’s too dangerous. There are poisons and spells that might make another head sprout out of his neck.”

“You can bring him to the hill,” Cat offered.

Alexius shook his head. “Not the best of ideas. Levi’s beast rules over Skyhall. I doubt she’d take kindly to sharing her kingdom.”

Levi had a notoriously evil cat who only accepted her master’s touch.

“I didn’t mean to Skyhall. My place is almost done. It’s not painted yet, and we don’t have any furniture, but I don’t believe the cat will mind.”

Blair accepted the offer gratefully. “I need supplies. Food, a bed, litter…do you know someone heading out of town today?”

Everyone shook their heads. It was the middle of the week; no one was likely to leave now unless there was an emergency.

Gwen felt her lips curve into a smile. “I know someone who is now.”

She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, unblocking Jack before pressing the call button.

He answered on the second ring. “If it isn’t my favorite witch.”

If she rolled her eyes harder, she might have stuck them at the back of their sockets. “You know that favor you owe me? I’m collecting.”

“I’m yours.”

Yeah, right.

Jack drove the sort of car Gwen had always drooled over: a dark green V8 Mustang that had either been cherished through the last hundred years or renovated with care. She couldn’t approve of its fuel consumption, but the car certainly made a statement.

He parked in front of the gates of the Institute and smiled at her. “Hop in!”

The first thing Gwen noticed was that he wore thin rectangular glasses that somehow made him look both older and considerably more attractive.

She dismissed the thought.

Gwen wasn’t eager to spend the next few hours locked in a small vehicle with him, but Blair wasn’t leaving the kitten’s side any time soon.

She slid on the leather interior, willing herself to ignore Jack’s familiar scent.

He was listening to classical music—an orchestra Gwen wasn’t familiar with—but as she put her seatbelt on, he lowered the volume.

Great. He wanted conversation. Her jaw tightened.

“I must admit, I didn’t expect you’d ask for a trip to town. When I owe people favors, I tend to end up stealing ancient artifacts, or raiding demon lairs.”

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t prefer that to shopping.”

He chuckled. “Touché, Gwen.”

The car’s engine purred contentedly as they crossed the borders of the territory.

“Don’t you feel awful for using so much carbon with this car?” she asked.

Most cars were electric or hybrids nowadays. For a price, they could still get their hands on vintage gasoline models, but Gwen would have felt guilty.

“I converted it. Rebuilt the engine from scratch. It’s entirely electric. I’ve even installed solar panels on the roof.”

She blinked in surprise. “How? Old cars aren’t made for it.”

He shrugged. “A bit of elbow grease, plenty of money, some magic. Nothing worth the effort is ever easy.”

It didn’t sound like he was talking about the car anymore.

“So, glasses?” she asked, changing the subject. “Aren’t Enlightened spawns supposed to be ridiculously perfect?”

“You think I’m perfect?” He flashed her his wicked grin.

Gwen rolled her eyes, looking out the window at the passing Scottish landscape.

“My vision’s fine, but I get headaches staring at the computer for too long.” He tapped the frames of his black glasses. “These are filters to counteract the effect of the blue screen.”

“You were working?” She felt guilty for disturbing him. If he’d been sparring with the huntsmen, she wouldn’t have minded as much.

Jack shrugged. “It’ll keep. I don’t sleep anymore. I have plenty of time for analyzing degenerative genomes.”

He’d managed to surprise her again. “That’s what you’re into?”

She had no idea about his field of study. She had no idea about anything when it came to Jack, really.

“I’m into many things,” he shot back with a suggestive wink. Then he chuckled. “Sorry, I couldn’t help. You jumped into that one.”

She was woman enough to admit that she had. At least to herself.

“My thesis is on the decline of preternatural energy through the ages. I’m presenting it next month.”

So much information all at once. He was done at the Institute in a month?

Gwen opted to concentrate on the first part of his revelation. “That sounds a lot more complicated than what I would have thought. I mean, aren’t huntsmen into murder, mostly?”

If he was insulted, he didn’t show it. “Mostly,” Jack admitted. “But to murder something, we have to understand how strong it is. That’s where papers like mine come in.”

“So, you think magic’s getting weaker?” she asked, trying to make sense of his research subject.

“I think it isn’t,” he countered. “The general consensus is that someone’s strength is defined by their ancestry—they only get as powerful as the strongest of the magic users in their line. I’m proof of the opposite, so the subject has always been of interest to me. I believe that by mixing certain lines, two individuals may create children more powerful than them—than any of their ancestors. Most of the time, the magic diminishes down the line because of the pairing of incompatible magics. Oil and water aren’t going to make for an interesting solution. But if, say, you’re oil and you add a spark of fire…”

She nodded, getting his point on a personal level.

“How’s your theory going?”

“I’ve proven it with plenty of examples and experiments. It’s all about writing the paper now.” He grimaced, clearly not fond of the prospect.

“It sounds interesting. And useful.”

“What’s useful is having that PhD next to my name. I’m running London, and the old-school members of my mother’s council don’t like it. Traditionally, local leaders are older, wiser, in order to be taken seriously when they have to sit down with ancient creatures. Being a doctor is supposed to help.”

Gwen nodded. She’d learned more about him in the last ten minutes than in the last year.

“How about you? You’re an undergrad.”

She sighed. “My mother didn’t want me to go to college. She didn’t see the point, given that I can’t be trusted out in the world. If I have to stay in the coven, I might as well concentrate on learning coven magic, you know?”

His head snapped left, and he frowned at her. “Why would you stay in your coven? I mean, you could, but why would you have to?”

“You don’t remember my first day?” He didn’t seem to get it, so she clarified, “When I froze Oldcrest?”

Jack was still frowning.

“Well, let’s just say that happened pretty often. When I was upset, worried, or too happy, I guess.”

“Magic is linked to emotion,” he replied. “So?”

“So, I lack control. I’m dangerous.” Well, she had been. The progress she’d made over the last few weeks gave her hope. “But I convinced my mother to let me go last year. I’d done some studies online, and some of my courses were validated here, so I started in second year. I failed practical elemental magic last year, but I think I’ll pass it this year.”

“Hold on. Backtrack a second.” He blinked slowly. “You were going to stay with your coven because you changed the weather sometimes?”

Jack sounded aghast.

“Well, would you have liked for some snow when you’re at the beach?” she pressed.

“No. But that’s no reason to lock yourself up. I hunt witches who lose control. Trust me, no one has ever been on my list for making a bit of rain.”

“Sure. And what if said rain causes a car to skid and people die?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

She could feel her magic start to stir. “Don’t.”

Her warning fell on deaf ears. “Maybe it didn’t occur to you, but you might have sucked at what you did because you stayed coddled by a clan who didn’t want their most powerful witch gone.”

“I said don’t,” she snapped, closing her eyes and grinding her teeth.

When she opened them again, the rearview mirror reflected bright blue eyes.

Dammit.

“Don’t piss me off,” Gwen told Jack. “I know that’s hard for you, but when I get pissed, my magic comes to me, and at the moment, it’s not just making snowflakes.”

Jack laughed, unconcerned. “I remember.”

“And what if I throw a spike at someone because I’m angry? Will you say I’m being ridiculous then?”

Jack was silent for a moment. Then he told her, “You’re hiding. I don’t know what from, I don’t know why, but from the moment I saw you, I knew you were keeping yourself in check, not letting the beast out—so to speak. Now, the beast’s angry. Trust me, that’s a dangerous path. I can guarantee that you would have ended up in the same situation if you’d remained stuck at home. The difference is, in Oldcrest, you’re among peers. We all have claws, fangs, and scars.”

She could only nod, though she would have liked to argue.

“Promise me one thing.”

“No,” she replied immediately.

Jack ignored her. “If you slip and hurt someone? Come to me. Immediately, before anyone else.”

“So you can kill me yourself?”

He shrugged. “So I can wipe the evidence.”

She didn’t make that promise.

Gwen was never going to rely on Jack. She didn’t believe him, and she sure as fuck didn’t trust him.