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"What does this mean? Is the residual magic just incredibly strong on this thing?"
Andrea shook her head. "The magic waves have been really erratic lately."
We looked at each other. We both knew what rapid-fire waves meant: a flare. And I needed a flare like I needed a hole in the head.
"You have a petitioner," Maxine's voice said in my head.
I grabbed my m-scan and went into my office.
Chapter 2
I LANDED AT MY DESK. A FLARE WAS COMING. IF normal shifts were magic waves, a flare was a magic tsunami. It started as a series of shallow magic fluctuations, quickly falling and rising, but never leaving the world. During those short waves, the magic didn't completely fall, coming back stronger and stronger until it finally drowned us in an enormous surge.
Theory said that magic and tech used to coexist in a balance. Like the pendulum of a grandfather clock that barely moved, if at all. But then came the Age of Man, and men are made of progress. They overdeveloped magic, pushing the pendulum farther and farther to one side until it came crashing down and started swinging back and forth, bringing with it tech waves. And then in turn, technology oversaturated the world, helped once again by pesky Man, and the pendulum swung again, to the side of magic this time. The previous Shift from magic to tech took place somewhere around the start of the Iron Age. The current Shift officially dawned almost thirty years ago. It began with a flare, and with each subsequent flare, more of our world succumbed to magic.
Weird shit happened during the flares. The magic surge only lasted two to three days, but those days were killer. For a moment I wished I was still just a merc. I could go home and wait all the craziness out.
A woman appeared in the doorway - my petitioner. Slender and elegant in that willowy way of tall and naturally slim people, she wasn't simply attractive, she was gorgeous: beautifully cut Asian eyes, perfect skin, full mouth, and blue-black hair that spilled over her shoulders in a glossy straight wave. Her dress was black and clingy. Her shoes made my calves ache.
And she looked familiar, but for the life of me I couldn't recall where I had seen her before.
"Kate Daniels?"
That's me. "Yes?"
"My name is Myong Williams."
We shook hands awkwardly. "Please, sit down."
She sat in the client's chair and crossed one lean leg over the other in a whisper of fabric.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She hesitated, unconsciously repositioning her legs to better show them off. "I've come to ask you for a favor."
"Of what nature?"
"Personal."
She fell silent. We'd reached a standstill.
Something clicked in my brain. "I remember where I've seen you before. You're Curran's..." - lover, mistress, honey-bunny - "significant other." Dear God, what could the Beast Lord's concubine possibly want from me?
"We're no longer together," Myong said.
Her problem wasn't connected to Curran. Good. Great. Fantastic. The more distance that lay between me and the Beast Lord, the better it was for everybody involved. We had worked together during the Red Point Stalker case and almost killed each other.
Myong shifted in her chair, adjusted the hem of her dress with a casual swipe of her fingers, and furrowed her meticulously waxed eyebrows. "You and Maximillian..."
The mention of Max's name brought a bit of unease. I had thought I was over him. We had met during the investigation of Greg's death. He was handsome, smart, occasionally kind, and very interested in me. I had wanted...I was not sure what the hell I had wanted. Intimacy. Sex. Someone to come home to. It didn't end well. In fact, he probably hated me. "Max and I are also no longer together."
Myong nodded. "I know. We're engaged."
I didn't quite catch that. "Who?"
"Maximillian Crest and me. We're engaged to be married."
The world had just stood on its ears. "So let me get this straight. You and my - " Ex-boyfriend would be inaccurate since technically we were never a couple. "Could have been" boyfriend was plain stupid. "You and Max are an item?"
"Yes."
Awkward, to say the least. I felt no jealousy, but talking to her made me uncomfortable and I couldn't pinpoint why. I forced my lips into a smile and leaned back. "Congratulations. What do you want from me?"
Myong looked uncomfortable. "It's customary to ask Curran's permission."
"You mean he has to approve your marriage to Crest? Even though you and Curran are no longer together?"
"Yes. I'm a member of the Pack."
That explained things. Curran ruled the shapeshifter Pack with an iron fist. Every shapeshifter in the Southeast called him lord. Unless that shapeshifter was a loup, in which case he usually didn't have a chance to call Curran anything before the Beast Lord ripped him to pieces. I looked her over and arched my eyebrows. "Fox?"
She sighed. "Everybody thinks that. I turn into a mink."
I tried to imagine a weremink and failed. It would appeal to Crest, though. "You still haven't told me why you're here."
"I asked Curran," she said.
"And he said no?"
"No. He didn't say anything. It's been two months." Myong leaned forward, hands folded together. "My alpha refuses to broach the question to Curran. I was hoping you could ask my lord for me."
"Me?"
"You have a certain amount of influence with him. You saved his life."
You want me to ask your ex-lover/homicidal shapeshifter who scares me shitless to let you marry my "ex - could have been" boyfriend? You've got to be kidding. "I think you overestimate his opinion of me."
"Please." Myong bit her lip. The fingers of her left hand gripped and twisted the fingers of her right, exposing the small jagged white line of a scar on her wrist. Left-handed. She had slit her own wrist, probably with a silver blade - a dramatic gesture and completely futile. It took more than a three-inch cut to bleed a shapeshifter dry. She was looking at me, seemingly unaware of what her hands were doing. "Max said you would understand."
Oh, hell. He didn't come himself, though, did he?
I glanced at her. She looked off-balance, almost as if someone had knocked her legs out from under her, but she hadn't hit the ground yet. I had seen precisely the same look on her face before, three months ago. It had happened right after the Red Point Stalker called the Pack Keep. Curran and I had finally figured out who he was, and he wasn't happy about the situation. The Stalker had held a phone to a woman's mouth so Curran wouldn't miss a single whimper and tore her to pieces until she died. The woman had been one of Curran's former lovers. I had sat in on the call and as I was walking back to my room, trying not to cry, I saw Myong through an open doorway, hugging herself, that very look of utter helplessness contorting her face.
