Chapter Seven

NASH

I hadn’t known Erin long, but I could tell something was off. She’d spent a few minutes talking to Madden and the guests, then hurried back to the balloon with a pale hue to her deeply tanned skin. Normally, her focus on the details of the rig was laser-sharp, but today, her eyes kept flitting to the guests.

“Don’t make her madder,” Chico whispered, as if I hadn’t figured that out for myself. “She’s already pissed off about not being able to copilot.”

Whoosh! Erin let the burner blast, creating a long, angry lick of fire.

She’d make a great dragon , my inner beast decided.

She would, and woe be the man — or beast — who crossed her.

I could picture it now — the flashing eyes, the hard set of her jaw. Then I sighed, because that anger would probably be aimed at me.

“Load tapes. Cables. Pilot light.” She grunted her way through the preflight checklist in staccato, machine-gun bursts. “Fuel pressure…”

“Check,” Chico murmured in his usual calm, steady manner.

Most days, guests would cluster around us, fascinated by the spectacle of a launch. But this gang was more self-absorbed than the giggly newlyweds we got from time to time.

Or rather, totally fixated on their leader, a tall, fit, silver-haired man. All five women hung on his every word like repentant sinners at a sermon. They did a lot of touching too, touching him as well as hip-butting one another out of the way as they vied for pole position closest to his side.

The second guy — some kind of businessman with a briefcase — wasn’t much better, imitating the leader’s gestures and laughing too loudly at his own jokes, then cutting himself off self-consciously when they fell flat. If that was a bromance, it was one-way at best.

I was too busy with the balloon to study the guy, and Madden blocked my view the few times I peeked.

What was with that mystery man? And what had he said or done to put Erin off?

Maybe he warned her away from her father, my dragon grumbled.

I jutted my jaw. Do you have to rub that in?

When the balloon was ready, Erin signaled, then called to Madden several times. Nothing. No response. Finally, she stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled, making the whole group turn.

“All aboard.”

Madden didn’t lead the group over. The head honcho did. The rising sun was high enough now to backlight them all, so I couldn’t make out his face. I was more interested in the space around his shoulders anyway.

I held my breath, wondering. Worrying.

Then my body went stiff. There it was — the telltale shimmer hanging over the man’s shoulders like a fur coat.

No wonder his guests seemed so enthralled. They were — literally. Because that was another warlock. The second one I’d spotted in three days.

More like the tenth, my dragon muttered.

I snorted. Those other ones don’t count.

Third-rate witches and warlocks were a dime a dozen in Sedona, but they were mere minnows to this Great White Shark.

My jaw hardened as I wondered what he was after in Sedona. I doubted it was the views.

“Move it,” Erin hissed, getting me in motion again.

We ground crew each took hold of a corner of the basket, steadying it while the guests climbed in. I kept my eyes down and away from the warlock. His kind didn’t have the nose to ferret out a shifter like me, but if he gazed deep enough into my eyes, he’d get a glimpse of the beast within.

“Help me, Harlon,” one of the women squeaked.

Then a pudgy hand holding a clipboard — the businessman’s — slapped the basket an inch from my ear. I glanced up, annoyed.

Robert Hardy. Red Rock Vistas Real Estate, read the embossed letters at the top of the custom clipboard.

A moment later, the real estate guy — Hardy himself? — tipped me off to his boss’s last name. “Can I hand you my briefcase, Mr. Greene?”

I made a mental note to call in to HQ to pull up some research on Harlon Greene.

Then I cursed, because those resources were no longer available to me.

Whoosh! Madden pulled the burner cord a minute later, and the balloon slowly lifted off.

“Oh! We’re in the air!” one of the women squealed.

Erin stalked to the van. I paused with John and Chico, watching the balloon rise.

“Now, that’s a man with a lot of money and power,” John sighed.

“And women,” Chico added.

They cackled all the way over to the van. We packed up the remaining equipment, then slid into our seats. Erin took off, her hands tight on the wheel.

“Oh! It’s so pretty!” A woman’s voice came over the radio.

John crossed his arms, pulled his baseball cap over his eyes, and settled in for his usual nap.

Chico stuck on his headphones, slipping into his own private world.

That left Erin and me listening in to the usual commentary from the balloon. At least, it started out in the usual way. Lots of oohs, aahs, and rediscoveries of familiar places from their bird’s-eye view.

Dragon’s eye view, my inner beast growled.

But then things started veering away from the normal, and I found myself tuning in instead of out.

“Bob, where’s this Painted Rock Creek we were discussing?” Harlon Greene asked.

Erin’s sharp intake of air made me look over. Her lips were a tight line, and the groove between her brows deepened.

“I’ll just open the map…” Bob replied — the Robert Hardy of Red Rock Vistas Real Estate, I assumed.

Erin swung around a turn, looking up. When we hit a bump, her right hand popped off the steering wheel, and her fingers flicked.

“Oh! Grab it! Grab it!” Hardy cried.

Scuffling sounds ensued, and something white fluttered overhead.

One of the women laughed. “So much for your map. That gust of wind is taking it in for a landing on that bush.”

It was almost comical, but Erin didn’t seem amused.

“Shoot. Let me just pull it up on my phone…” Hardy tried next.

“Painted Rock Creek? It’s over there,” Madden replied.

“Shut it, Madden,” Erin cursed under her breath.

“Fly us over it,” Harlon ordered.

“Sorry, no can do,” Madden said. “Not unless the wind shifts.”

Harlon Greene was clearly a man used to getting what he wanted, and in the dead silence that ensued, I pictured Madden wincing and looking away.

“What a pity,” Harlon grunted in a low, dangerous voice.

“I mean, I’ll do my best,” Madden added quickly. “But in a balloon, you can’t pick your direction. You can only control up and down. The wind does the rest.”

“I see,” Harlon muttered, not at all pleased.

I held my breath, half expecting a roar of wind to come sluicing out of the mountains. It didn’t, but the coordinates Madden read off did start to veer north.

“Three-forty degrees at four-point-two knots… Three-forty-two… Three-forty-five… Well, you might be in luck, Mr. Greene,” Madden exclaimed.

Erin stared at the radio, then at the balloon.

I stared too. Only the rarest, most powerful warlocks could force natural phenomena as powerful as earth, wind, water, or fire to do their bidding. If I were still with the agency, I would definitely flag Harlon Greene, big-time. But I’d left, and now, I was on my own.

Not your problem , a little voice said in my head.

No, it wasn’t. But it sure seemed to be a problem for Erin, who grew more agitated as the conversation continued.

“That’s Painted Rock, and that green line there is the creek,” Madden explained. “They say there’s a fifth, hidden vortex out there.”

If looks could kill, the radio would have imploded, given the glare Erin leveled at it, then at the balloon.

“You don’t say,” Harlon replied in an extra-smooth tone.

“The property we discussed is nestled against the rocks, right back there,” Hardy threw in.

Erin’s cheeks paled from the red of anger to the white of fear. Well, unease, maybe. Erin didn’t seem the type to fear much.

Not even a warlock? a little voice whispered in my mind.

I frowned, remembering her father. Did she think she could handle others of his kind?

But Erin’s father had left as quickly as he’d come. Harlon was snooping around. Why?

“Oh, Harlon, you must buy it,” one of the women cooed over the radio. “It looks so pretty back there. You could knock down those shacks and put up a mansion!”

My eyes slid over to find Erin fuming. Was one of those cabins up at Painted Rock Creek her home?

“You could do more than that,” Hardy chuckled. “It’s outside the national forest, so it’s just a matter of paperwork to get zoning for an entire resort.”

Erin didn’t actually growl, but I swore, she came close.

“Of course, you’d have to talk the owner into selling,” Hardy went on.

“It’s not for sale,” Erin muttered, almost too quietly to catch. “It never will be.”

Harlon chuckled. “I’m a very persuasive man.”

The women giggled, and one chirped, “He really is. He even talked me into this balloon ride!”

And probably into his bed, my dragon grumbled.

That was the thing with warlocks. No one seduced as effortlessly as they did. I doubted he was even aware of it.

Like Top Dog, my dragon muttered. Erin’s father.

I glanced over. She had to know about her father, right? And did she share his powers, or was she a mere relic?

She’s not a mere anything, my dragon growled. And even a relic’s ancestral powers can stir to life.

So I’d been told, but confirmed cases only came about once every hundred years.

“They say there’s a whole hidden canyon farther back against the rocks,” Madden went on.

Erin was already so tense, it was hard to judge what her reaction to that was.

“Tell me more about this vortex,” Harlon said.

Hardy chuckled. “Well, that depends on who you ask.”

Harlon cut in, unamused. “Not vortexes in general. This particular one.”

Hardy didn’t seem to have an answer, but Madden did. Was he bullshitting — as usual — or did he actually know the facts?

“Everyone talks about the Big Four vortexes, but I’ve heard folks say there’s a fifth, more powerful one. It comes and goes, though. For long enough that people forget about it. Of course, that could all just be a story.”

I sure hoped so. Because a powerful warlock building a private complex atop a secret vortex was the kind of scenario that made folks at the agency blanch.

Erin looked like she was ready to bang her head against the steering wheel. And that was before Hardy chimed in.

“Even if it isn’t, it’s a hell of a location. Big enough to build your own personal golf course on too.”

Erin glared upward.

Just a relic, my dragon murmured a little mournfully. If she had any powers, they would be obvious about now.

True. Most of the relics I’d heard about had discovered their supernatural abilities at extreme moments when emotions ran high.

A little like now, and the balloon didn’t sprout a leak or crash spectacularly to the earth.

Too bad, my dragon grumbled.

“Well, we’re sliding away from it now. New heading, Three-thirty-six degrees,” Madden said. “Three-thirty-three…Three-thirty. Next wind shift.”

I glanced over at Erin, then quietly shook my head. If she could control the wind, she would have done so by now… Wouldn’t she?

Minutes ticked by with the balloon steady on its new course, and the guests’ conversation turned back to the usual things. The beauty of the mesas, the sighting of a javelina, then the oohs, aahs, and pictures snapped when someone spotted the balloon’s shadow on the ground.

“Oh! Everyone wave,” one of the women squeaked. “Look! Our shadows are waving back to us! Did you see that, Harlon?”

I didn’t catch his answer, but I’d bet he didn’t wave. Instead, I pictured him staring back at the lush green line of Painted Rock Creek.

“We’ll be heading for a landing over there, past the wetlands,” Madden said as the balloon slowly descended.

“Oh! I need a group picture first,” one of the women cried. “Can you take it, Bob?”

I snorted as they shuffled around. Poor Hardy was definitely not in with the cool kids.

“Say cheese,” he said.

The women whooped and cheered. Close enough?

Then Harlon spoke, and the chitchat stopped instantly. “What a wonderful flight this has been. Thank you, Madden.”

Now that they’d been cued, the women echoed the sentiment. Would they have bothered otherwise?

“Yes, we’ll all remember it for a long, long time.” Harlon’s voice grew slower, almost singsongy. “We’ll remember the incredible views. The javelinas. How peaceful it all feels. Very, very peaceful…”

Harlon droned on, slowly and softly, like a parent reading a bedtime story at that tipping point when the child gradually fell asleep.

“The way the wind snatched Bob’s hat and blew it away…” he said next.

I frowned. It wasn’t a hat that had blown away. It was a map.

“We’ll remember how beautiful Oak Creek looks, and the property Hardy told me about there…”

Not Oak Creek, I nearly said. Painted Rock Creek. You’re mixing everything up .

Then it hit me. Harlon was purposely mixing everything up — and planting new memories in his audiences’ heads in the process.

Mindspell, my dragon whispered.

There were hundreds of magic spells, though not every witch or warlock mastered every type. A damn good thing. But, hell. Harlon had two hugely powerful spells if he’d mastered mindspells and wind whispering.

Then I looked at the radio. Most shifters were resistant to magic spells, but humans — and most relics — weren’t.

I glanced back. Chico was bopping his head to the tune on his headphones, so he hadn’t heard a word. John was sound asleep. And as for Erin…

I peeked at her from the corner of my eye. As before, though, it was hard to tell.

I burned to know. So much, I couldn’t help asking as casually as I could.

“I’m still learning the lay of the land here,” I said. “Which creek was that they flew over?”

Erin pulled the van into a big clearing where the balloon would land. Then she looked over at me and blinked a few times.

“Didn’t you hear? Oak Creek.”

I schooled my features into an expressionless mask, making sure not to give anything away. But my heart sank. I’d wanted her to be immune to Harlon’s magic, or to possess magic of her own.

But she was just a minor relic, it seemed. Clueless. Harmless. Like every other human.

Still, my dragon grumbled. She’s special. Someday, you’ll see. And I’d bet she can cause a lot of harm…to foolish hearts, at least.

I made a face, vowing that fool would never be me.