“I understand, but they don’t. They want to lock us all away—”
“They’re not going to do that.”
“But they have done it,” he insisted. “They’re still doing it! There were lots of necromancers at school—”
“Lots? I was always told it was a rare gift.”
He shook his head. “Not really. But those who aren’t that strong, who don’t have accidents that keep happening, they try to hide it. The Circle lets almost anyone out before us. They think we’re evil—”
“But you’re not,” I said firmly.
“No, we’re not,” he said, looking at me. And then he hugged me, spontaneously, as the sound of arguing came from outside.
I hung my head. “Stay here,” I told him.
“But—”
“Right. Here. Okay?”
He sighed. “Right here,” he said, and slumped back against the cabinets.
And I went out to see what fresh hell had just descended on us, only to discover—it was the same old crap.
But it seemed there was a new twist this time.
Tami was standing in between a war mage in full battle kit, and a hard-nosed coven witch in . . . Well, I wasn’t sure. Unlike the Circle, the covens didn’t appear to have a dress code. Or if they did, it might be summed up as “Come at me, bro.”
Two full sleeves of tats, some of them magical, crawled over arms almost as muscular as a man’s. They were visible because of the sleeveless T-shirt she was wearing, over a pair of old jeans. More were visible on her neck, disappearing into her short, dark hair. And her piercings ran the gamut from eyebrow, to multiple earlobe, to nose, to a barbell through her bottom lip.
If I’d been trying to find someone less spit-and-polished than the Circle’s crew, I couldn’t have done any better. But looks didn’t equate to power, and there was enough leaking off her that I was surprised it wasn’t sparking off the fridge. Because she was furious.
I didn’t know what the war mage had said, but the tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. At least, it was for a second. Until they found out exactly what a pissed-off null could do.
Before I could say anything, the two combatants staggered and the mage went to one knee. The woman remained standing but looked like she’d just been hit by a Mack truck. Her face turned white, which was pretty impressive, considering her natural skin tone was a deep olive, and her wand fell from her hand.
Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t have been able to use it anyway. I doubted either of them could have thrown a spell to save their lives, and might not for days. A null was to magic what a vamp was to blood.
And they’d just been exsanguinated.
“A little lesson, boys and girls,” Tami said as they tried to breathe. “My house. My rules.”
“I thought it was the Pythia’s house,” Pink Hair said, sidling closer to her friend.
“Who put it under my management, making it my house. And in my house, you pull a weapon—any weapon—and that’s a paddlin’. Unless there’s a Black Circle army busting down the door, your weapons stay secured. This is a suite full of children, something you’re gonna know, something you’re gonna remember, every time you get that urge. ’Cause if you don’t—”
The two former combatants groaned, and the witch finally did go to her knees, mouth open, eyes wide.
“—I will drop you,” Tami told them. “You get me?”
“I . . . think they get you,” Pink Hair said, grabbing her friend, while Jug Ears pulled away the dazed-looking mage.
“Would someone explain what just happened?” I asked.
Tami opened her mouth, but the grizzled mage beat her to it. “The witch provoked him, but he was out of line,” he admitted. “We’re on edge—all of us. We missed the battle this morning—”
“Damn right, you did,” Pink Hair muttered, until I looked at her.
“—and another this afternoon. We want to be there.” He gestured back at the living room. “At HQ, where we’re needed. Not here on babysitting duty—”