Spellbound (Otherworld 12)

But my powers had temporarily returned. I'd knocked three people to the floor. I'd killed a man with an energy bolt.

After two hours of fruitless casting, I tried a new tactic, clearing my mind and reaching deeper into myself, blocking everything out until I felt the faintest twitch of power.

That twitch spoiled my concentration--I got excited, then anxious when I couldn't find it again. More resting. More relaxing. More focusing.

We were on our descent before I felt another flicker of power. I forced myself to relax, then thought of the easiest spell I knew.

The pen rose an inch, then dropped.

"Very good," Cassandra said. "With practice, you might be able to poke someone in the eye with it."

I glowered at her.

"I'm not saying it isn't an accomplishment," she said. "Only that you may wish to ask Jeremy for marksmanship lessons in between your spellcasting practice sessions. That earlier show of power was remarkable, but you can't count on it."

She had a point, of course. It was a start, but at this rate, not very helpful. Even if I did get my spells back, I needed to know other ways to defend myself.

I think that's what the guy in the alley meant--the same message I'd been hearing from others for years. Being a supercharged spellcaster hadn't made me invincible. It'd made me complacent. Take away those spells, and I'd felt weak and helpless. Only I wasn't weak and helpless. I needed to remember that.

I'd insisted Lucas not tell anyone we were coming, so the only person who met us at the airport was the driver. We were walking through the parking lot at Cortez headquarters, when someone snuck up behind me and tickled my ribs. I yelped and spun to see Adam, grinning. Just grinning, like nothing had happened between us. He looked tired--face drawn and clothes rumpled--but very happy. And very pleased with himself.

"Hey there," he said.

"Hey yourself. You look like shit."

He laughed. "Thank you. Been up half the night, but I finally found what I'd been looking for."

I glanced over my shoulder to see that Cassandra had continued on.

"What were you looking for?" I asked.

"Later. First, we need breakfast. I'm starving."

"I ate on the plane."

"Too bad. You're eating again. Or watching me eat."

We headed for the elevator.

"And you'll tell me about this amazing

discovery over breakfast?"

"Nope."

"What?"

"I need to get stuff ready first."

"Ready for what?"

"You'll see."

I looked at him, at his grin and his glowing face, and I felt . . . guilt. I'd hurt him and it shouldn't be this easy to fix that.

I stopped walking. "About the other day--"

He clapped a hand over my mouth. "Uh-uh. I'm in a good mood. Let's leave the angst for later, okay?"