Magical Midlife Madness (Leveling Up 1)
She sucked her teeth.
“Stop that, it’s disgusting,” he said, unable to help it. “When Austin Steele can’t protect this town, someone else will come through and try to claim it. That could be anyone. We might not like the new situation, but we’d be too old to run them out.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Do you play hide and seek with your mirrors? You’re so old, Father Time pities you. No, the only thing that gives this town a chance to thrive is Ivy House being restored to its former glory. And the only way it—”
“Yes, yes, I know, the girl has to resurrect the house. Don’t lecture me as if I were a child.”
“She is a woman, not a mere girl, and why shouldn’t I treat you like a child? You’re acting like a child.”
She scoffed at him and turned to go back into her house. “Keep me updated, Mr. Tom.”
“What do you think I’m”—the door slammed in his face—“doing.”
Shaking his head, he noticed three rocks next to her chair. He kicked them with his boot, scattering them across the porch.
“I saw that!” The door swung open.
Mr. Tom took off running, adrenaline making him feel like he was half his age. He heard shoes scuffing wood, Niamh going after the scattered rocks.
“Think you’re protected now that there’s a possible chosen?” she hollered. A rock pelted him in the center of his back. “Stop messing with—” Another clicked off the cement beside him and bounced away. He zig-zagged to make it harder for her. “—my rocks!” Another smacked him in the leg.
Breathing hard, he stopped on Ivy House’s porch and turned back.
Niamh leaned against the railing, her arms stringy and her short hair white. She lifted her hand and showed him a backward peace sign, Europe’s equivalent of a middle finger.
Age certainly had a hold of her. She was slow, creaky, and sat more than was probably healthy. She was in the twilight of her years. He understood why she might want to retire from this line of service. He’d had those thoughts, once or twice. But he’d worried lack of purpose would propel him into a decline that would slide into death, and he wasn’t ready for the big Goodnight.
He hoped Niamh realized she wasn’t, either. In her prime she’d had mighty magic. Battle lords had feared her joining the opposing side. Royalty had invited her to their gilded tables.
Ivy House would restore all that.
He let himself into the house quietly, feeling Jessie off to the right. She’d already been in that room, but she’d missed the secret passageway. Maybe now she was giving it a second chance.
He’d lied. He knew the location of every hidden entrance leading into the veins of the house. Every protector did. Ivy House did not keep secrets from those it trusted. He couldn’t tell her about them, though. She’d discovered a few when she was here last, but from what Niamh had said in her phone message, Jessie only remembered two. Which was why he’d only claimed to have knowledge of two. He couldn’t help her find the heart again. She had to do that on her own to be worthy of the magic. It was part of the trial.
He drifted to the door, soundless.
“Don’t you have something to do?” she said without turning around.
He jumped, just as he had in the council room earlier when she’d stood at the center of the Circle. The thirteenth piece, surrounded by her powerful twelve. Twelve she and the house would choose to serve.
His spot was secured, he knew. Lucky number nine. Niamh was three, the numbers assigned by the house in order of importance, he guessed. Edgar was twelve, if he made it that long—the old vampire was starting to go fruit loops.
“Sorry, miss.”
“Please, just call me Jessie.”
“Sorry, master.”
She turned back to him, her brown hair up in a pony tail with some frizz around her head. A sprinkle of freckles covered her nose and cheeks, and lines gently creased her forehead. A track suit covered her once athletic frame, currently host to a bit more girth from motherhood or inactivity.
The signs of age didn’t diminish the bright intelligence in her sunburst eyes, the hazel flaring between long black lashes. Nor could it diminish the easy confidence in her bearing. Jessie clearly knew who and what she was, and liked herself more for it. She must’ve been a beauty in her youth, and her loveliness had blossomed with age. She would be a good choice for Ivy House, and for the magical elite.
“Right, okay, miss will be fine, then.” She shook her hand in annoyance and touched the mantelpiece against the side wall. Her delicate fingers trailed across the marble in reverence. Her gaze skimmed the faces of masters past. Her eyes lingered on a few of the legends.