Three Mages and a Margarita (The Guild Codex: Spellbound Book 1)

  On the sofa, Ezra was sprawled on his back, one arm hanging off the cushions. His ability to turn rooms ice-cold didn’t appear to help him with the heat—his lightweight blanket was mostly on the floor, exposing his chest and the waistband of his dark boxer briefs.

  I froze in place, staring. Illuminated by the dim glow of a streetlamp outside the window, his physique alone would’ve been enough to stop me—hot damn, the man was movie-star fit—but that wasn’t what halted me in my tracks.

  Long, thick scars raked across his side.

  Scarcely believing my eyes, I stepped into the living room, my body cold all over. When I’d asked Ezra how he’d gotten the scar on his face, the guys had joked about a shark attack, but if they’d told me these scars had been inflicted by a nightmarish monster, I wouldn’t have doubted them. The white lines started by his right hip and swept diagonally up his abs, stopping just shy of his sternum. The wounds ran parallel as though giant claws had ripped up his side.

  Like the scar on his face, the edges were jagged and showed no sign of having been stitched closed. But cuts deep enough to leave scars like that should have required hundreds of stitches, right?

  Moving closer, I picked out fainter lines on his bronze skin. None were as terrible as the three long scars on his side, but he’d suffered other injuries. What the hell had happened to him? I didn’t know what life was like for a typical mythic, but this couldn’t possibly be normal.

  Don’t ask Ezra why he joined the guild. Aaron’s warning. He’d told me not to ask about Ezra’s family either. Could those things be related to his scars, to his blinded eye? Were they related to the photo hidden in his bottom dresser drawer?

  Ezra’s head turned and I froze all over again when his eyes opened. He glanced across me like he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see me standing there, then scanned the room behind me. I tensed, expecting him to demand why I was standing over him in the dead of night.

  Instead, he gestured for me to come closer. Confused, I took two more steps. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me down, still surveying the room. I dropped into a crouch beside him.

  “Someone is in the house,” he breathed. “They just went up the stairs.”

  “What?” I whispered, fear rippling through me. “How do you know?”

  “Air currents.” He pushed up on one elbow, all those lovely muscles of his tensing and the exposed scars pulling taut. “When people move, the air shifts.”

  Whoa. I’d had no clue being an aeromage gave him that kind of extrasensory perception. No wonder it was so difficult to sneak up on him. He rolled off the sofa and onto his feet without making a sound. His head turned, his pale eye looking at me without seeing me.

  “Tori, will you watch my blind side?”

  Caught off guard, I whispered a hesitant affirmation. He started toward the stairs and I followed right behind him, scrutinizing everything on our left. Stopping beside the landing, he angled his head upward.

  “He just came out of my room.” Ezra raised one hand and made a small gesture.

  Wind whipped down the stairs with howling force. Frenzied scuffling erupted, like someone trying to catch their balance, then came the crashing sound of a falling body. Thump, crash, thump, BAM. A man landed at the bottom of the stairs in a crumpled heap.

  As Ezra lunged for him, the intruder lurched up, his face covered by a ski mask—real inconspicuous in this heat—but I could identify him by the bone-chilling cold and sparkling mist surrounding him. Ice Guy.

  Arm snapping back, Ezra threw a lightning-fast punch. Ice Guy ducked and Ezra’s fist went right through the drywall. The mage cast a wave of glittering ice chips but a swirl of wind deflected them. Spinning, Ezra decked the guy in the jaw. They grappled in the tiny landing, and I hung back helplessly. How was I supposed to watch Ezra’s blind side while he was pummeling someone?

  Gleaming steel flashed and Ezra leaped clear in another freakishly rapid movement. Ice Guy brandished his dagger, then thrust it. Foot-long shards of ice formed out of the snowy cloud clinging to the mage and the sparkling projectiles shot for Ezra.

  He cast his arms wide and a gust of wind flung the shards away from him. Lunging in, he slammed into the mage, his physical fighting style a stark contrast to Aaron’s fire-wielding approach—and Ice Guy wasn’t prepared for it. His head smacked into the wall, and he whipped his dagger out, using the deadly edge to force Ezra to retreat. Teeth bared, the mage conjured another array of ice shards—but this time, they didn’t shoot at Ezra.

  They shot at me.

  Ezra whirled around and flung a hand toward me. Wind hit me as it rushed toward the shards, countering their momentum. They tumbled out of the air, but now Ezra’s back was to the other mage—and ice sprouted from his dagger, tripling its length as he swung it at Ezra’s unprotected spine.

  Ezra ducked and the ice blade swept over his head. Pivoting, he planted his feet, balled his hand, and hammered his fist into Ice Guy’s stomach. Air boomed and the mage sailed the length of the entryway before ripping the screen door off its hinges. He tumbled right out of the house.

  As Ezra shot after Ice Guy, I followed on his heels, resuming my blind-spot-watching duty. Ezra reached the threshold, then skidded to a stop. I ran into him. He spun, grabbed me, and threw us both to the floor.

  An instant later, a barrage of glowing darts flashed through the air. The orange spikes peppered the walls at chest height, flashing with sparks before dissolving into nothing. Outside, an engine revved and tires squealed on the pavement. The roar of the escaping car shattered the quiet night and the tires screeched again as the vehicle took a corner on two wheels.

  Ezra sat up, kneeling over my legs. I lay where I’d fallen, blinking dazedly but unharmed. In the instant before we hit the floor, the air had thickened under me like an invisible balloon, cushioning our fall.

  “They got away, huh?”

  Aaron stood halfway up the stairs, as casual as could be for having woken up to the sounds of battle. Kai waited a few steps above him.

  Gulping, I whipped my gaze away. Yeah, so, Aaron and Kai were in their boxers too, and they were as deliciously toned as Ezra. Speaking of Ezra, guess where my stare ended up? Yeah, the hot aeromage sitting on my knees, shirtless and covered in a fine layer of moisture from Ice Guy’s snowy aura.

  Goddamn it. There was nowhere safe to look.

  Aaron trotted down the stairs and hopped over the broken screen door onto the porch. Finally getting off my legs, Ezra offered me a hand up. My borrowed t-shirt was bunched at my waist and I hurriedly pulled it over my butt, but not before Aaron waltzed back inside. Fair’s fair, I supposed. I’d seen their undies, and now they’d seen mine.

  “They’re gone,” Aaron confirmed as he shut the heavy front door and locked the bolt, not showing the slightest concern for their demolished screen door.

  “That was Ice Guy,” I said. “The mage who attacked you last weekend.”

  “That was my guess too.” Aaron rubbed his scruffy jaw. “Seems like these assholes aren’t ready to quit.”

  “The big question,” Kai murmured, descending to the bottom step, “is who they came for? You—or Tori?”

  Aaron frowned, contemplating me like he couldn’t imagine why someone would hunt me down. Then his frown deepened and his gaze jumped to Ezra. “Actually, I think the big question is … what were you two doing down here together?”

  “I came down to get a glass of water,” I answered promptly. “Then I planned to jump Ezra’s bones while he was sleeping.”

  Ezra blinked repeatedly. Aaron glanced rapidly between us like he was trying to catch me in a lie, but Kai smirked. At least one of them was awake enough to recognize a joke when he heard it.

  “Back to bed, then?” he suggested.

  “That’s it?” I demanded incredulously. “A mythic home invader and a deathmatch in the entryway, and you’re just going back to bed?”

  Kai looked at Ezra. “You good?”

  Ezra held out his hands
and I was surprised to see his knuckles undamaged despite punching a hole in the wall. “I’m good.”

  “’Kay. Night.” Kai ascended the stairs and, a moment later, a door clacked shut.

  “He doesn’t like his beauty sleep disturbed,” Aaron remarked. “Tori, you all right?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “I’m going to get that glass of water.”

  When I returned from the kitchen with my water in hand, Ezra was sitting on the sofa and Aaron was scrolling through movie listings on the TV. “Since we’re wide awake, we’re going to watch something. Want to join us?”

  I could have kissed them both from relief. I’d already been having trouble sleeping, and going back to the quiet bedroom would’ve meant spending the rest of the night straining my ears for sounds of a second invasion.

  As Aaron curled up in the armchair, I plopped on the sofa beside Ezra and pulled his discarded blanket over my legs. Opening credits began to play, but I had no idea what movie Aaron had picked and I never found out. The moment I nestled into the cushions, with Ezra and Aaron nearby and the quiet sound of the TV filling the silence, I fell asleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stifling a yawn, I slid my laptop into my purse—oversized purses are a lifesaver—and shoved a notebook and pen in after it. I’d had to get up earlier than usual so we could swing by my apartment and pick up my school stuff—plus a change of clothes—before class, and I was painfully exhausted. Easing out from behind the long table, I followed my fellow Small Business students out of the classroom.

  Hot irritation spiraled through me as chattering people clogged the doorway. My temper wasn’t the best on a good day, and I was way too many hours short of a full night’s sleep. I shoved my way through, elbowing a girl in the back.

  As students streamed down the wide halls, I headed for a study nook with two sofas and a few chairs arranged around a low table. Approaching cautiously, I eyed its occupants. Kai had his boots propped on the table, his laptop resting on his legs, and a black motorcycle helmet sat near his feet—my helmet, since I’d accidentally worn it inside.

  When I’d left him a few hours ago, the study nook had been empty. Now it was full of women. Two had crammed themselves onto the sofa with him, and five more were arranged across the remaining seats.

  My eyebrows climbed toward my hairline. Ah. Kai’s playboy status had baffled me—he wasn’t outgoing or even flirtatious—but now I got it. He attracted women with the oldest trick in the book: disinterest. He was hot, and he was ignoring them. That combination seemed to trigger some bizarre mate-hunting instinct in women, driving them to throw themselves at the man until he acknowledged them as worthy.

  At least, that was my working theory as I stopped by the table and received no less than three icy warning glares.

  “Hey,” I said. “Ready to go?”

  He snapped his laptop shut and rose, grabbing the sleek black helmet. As he joined me, passing over the helmet, I counted the disappointed sighs. We walked away side by side, and feeling the belligerent stares on my back, I gave in to my evil urges and slid an arm around his waist.

  His arm wrapped around me in response, but his look was questioning.

  I nodded at his fan club. “I couldn’t resist crushing their souls.”

  Amusement flashed in his dark eyes and he pulled me closer. I could almost hear the dismayed growls echoing from the study nook. Swinging the helmet in my free hand, I grinned the whole way through the building.

  “How many phone numbers did those girls offer you while you waited?” I asked teasingly as we exited the building, an unpleasantly muggy breeze greeting us. A solid blanket of gray clouds loomed above the skyscrapers.

  “Five,” he replied seriously.

  I almost missed a step. I’d been kidding … “Planning to call any?”

  “Maybe one. She was cute.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Not my type.”

  “What’s your type?” I asked as we stopped beside his motorcycle.

  “Well.” He pondered the question as he stashed his laptop in the saddlebag and unhooked his helmet. “I don’t know.”

  I caught his arm before he could put on his helmet. “You were going to say something there. What was it?”

  He grimaced. “The other four handed me their numbers like I should be flattered.”

  “Yuck.” I pulled a face. “Yeah, don’t call them.”

  His expression vanished behind his helmet’s visor. “Happens a lot.”

  We climbed onto his bike and once my arms were safely locked around his waist, he took off, speeding into the beginnings of the Monday evening rush hour. At a red light, I leaned into his back so he could hear me over the bike’s engine.

  “I’ve heard you date a lot of women,” I said baldly. “Are you waiting to find the right girl, or just not into long-term relationships?”

  “Bit of both.”

  An illuminating response. Most people would have quit prying, but the mystery he presented had me intrigued. “What do you do when you’re not on dates?”

  His head turned as he tried to see my face—not that he could see anything through my helmet’s visor. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious.”

  “Do you date much, Tori?”

  “Nuh-uh. I’m asking the questions. We can talk about my non-love life later.”

  The light turned green and the bike zoomed into motion. Unlucky for me, we got all greens the rest of the way to the Crow and Hammer. Kai pulled the bike into the back parking lot. Hopping to the pavement, I pulled off my helmet.

  “So?” I prompted. “Interests? Hobbies? Pastimes?”

  Swinging off the bike, he removed his helmet and gave me a sidelong glance. “You’re not planning to set me up with your friends, are you?”

  I snorted. “What friends?”

  His hands paused in the middle of unzipping a saddlebag.

  “Ah,” I muttered awkwardly. “That came out way more pathetic sounding than I intended. It’s been hard making friends in a new city, that’s all.”

  Nodding, he tucked his laptop under his arm. “Aaron was the first friend I made here. Well, ‘friend’ is a stretch. We hated each other at first. We were thirteen and insanely competitive.”

  “How did you meet?” I asked as we circled around the building to the guild’s front door.

  “I enrolled in the Sinclair Academy. Aaron and I were in the same year so we went through all our training together.”

  “Whoa, hold up.” I pushed the door open, ignoring the surge of panicky revulsion the entrance triggered—what I now knew was a spell to repel humans. “The Sinclair Academy?”

  “Aaron’s family runs the most exclusive mage-training academy on the West coast.” He led the way across the pub, to where Cooper the sometimes-cook was manning the bar. “It’s both a school and a guild, and they’re extremely selective about who they admit. Underage mythics train there starting at thirteen, and when they turn eighteen, they can join the guild and continue training.”

  But he and Aaron hadn’t joined the Sinclair guild. They’d left a fancy private academy to join the disreputable Crow and Hammer instead.

  “Hey Tori,” Cooper called, giving me a sloppy grin. “Looking smokin’ as usual. Visiting on your night off?”

  “Are you drunk?” I asked.

  “Nooo. Definitely not.”

  I followed Kai to the stairs in the corner. “Dunk your head in the ice machine before Clara catches you.”

  Kai headed up the staircase. Was I allowed up there? I hesitated, then hastened after him. Guild rule number two: Don’t get caught. Can’t get in trouble if you don’t get caught.

  The second level, which I’d only glimpsed once, was a combination of study hall, library, and computer lab. Whiteboards, corkboards, and a city map with pins and sticky notes marking different locations filled the walls. A dozen guild members were scattered around, some at the computers, some browsing the bookshelves a
t the back, some sitting at the worktables.

  At the farthest table, Aaron was bent over a laptop and Ezra was perusing a stack of printed papers. Kai sat beside Ezra and I dropped into the seat beside Aaron.

  “How was class?” Aaron asked.

  “Success,” I declared. “Kai broke at least eight hearts without speaking a single word.”

  Ignoring that, Kai asked, “Find anything?”

  “Dirk Peters, the sorcerer, was easy since we had his name,” Aaron told us. “As for the kryomage …”

  He clicked a tab open and turned his laptop toward me. A photo popped up—a man in his thirties with buzzed hair and a narrow face dominated by a square jaw. A name was displayed underneath: Sergei Durov.

  “Looks like Ice Guy,” I confirmed.

  “I thought so too.” He spun the laptop to show Kai. “Good news is we’ve identified them. Bad news is they’re both rogue. Since they aren’t working alone, I’d say they’re part of the same guild, but figuring out which one will be tricky.”

  Kai studied the kryomage’s profile, then flipped his own laptop open. “I’ll see what I can find.”

  Aaron slouched back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. “Excellent. I can relax now.”

  “Lazy ass,” Kai commented, his attention fixed on his screen.

  “You’re way better at this detective shit than me.”

  I stifled another yawn, drained after my bad night. “How’s this all work? How did you pull up a photo like that?”

  “The MagiPol database,” Aaron explained. “They have an online network called the MPD Archives that contains all their information about everything. Different mythics have different levels of access, but you can look up almost any mythic or guild. It’s also where jobs, bounties, and bonuses are posted. The two guys we need to find are unguilded, meaning they’re rogues with bounties for their capture.”

  “Unguilded? But didn’t you just say you think they’re part of a guild?”