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Ride the Storm (Cassandra Palmer 8)

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“She isn’t my acolyte. She’s Agnes’ acolyte, and she’s about to be the dark mages’ acolyte if I don’t find her!”

“That’s a leap—”

“I don’t think so.” I put the plate down, both because I’d finished inhaling the contents and because Caleb was too far away. I wanted to see his eyes. I climbed onto the sofa again and leaned over the counter. He shied back slightly. I inched forward, and his back hit the fridge. It should have been funny, the big, bad war mage running from the skinny little blonde, only neither of us was laughing.

“This morning, if I hadn’t had help, I would have died,” I said quietly. “I wouldn’t have Ramboed my way out of it; I would have died. And if Rambo had been there, so would he. I can’t fight this war alone.”

“No one’s asking you to.”

“Aren’t they?”

Caleb crossed his arms and shifted position slightly, putting his eyes in shadow again. “Jonas has to work with you. You’re the Pythia. He doesn’t have a choice.”

“Well, he’s been acting a lot lately like a guy who thinks he does. He’s been acting like a guy who thinks he can run things on his own, can run this war on his

own, and that isn’t going to work. Not for any of us,” I added when he opened his mouth to object. “We work together or we die together, Caleb. This morning showed that if anything ever did. But Jonas can’t or won’t see it, so I’m asking you—”

“Cassie—”

“—I’m asking you, as Pythia, for two things: Lizzie’s location and the recipe. Can you get them?”

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“I can’t afford to. Can you get them?”

He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It didn’t seem to help. “Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t know where your potion is any more than I know where they have the girl.”

“But you can find out?”

Dark eyes finally met mine, lit up by a stray beam when he raised his head, but I couldn’t read them. Caleb was usually more emotional than some of his war mage buddies, more human, more willing to think for himself instead of blindly following orders. But tonight he was as stoical as I’d ever seen him. And as closed off.

“I suppose you’re planning to shift back six months if I do, and find a maker? It takes that long to brew.”

“I know. That’s not a problem.”

“But something else might be.”

He stopped with just that, so I knew this wasn’t going to be good. “Such as?”

“That potion. I know you think you need it, and I know it doesn’t actually feed you any magic itself.”

“But?”

“But it allows you to access an almost unlimited stream, doesn’t it? The Pythian power is about the most potent source of magical power around, and the Tears let you basically mainline the stuff—”

I blinked at him. “You’re afraid I’ll get addicted?”

“I’ve seen how fast it gets someone. Half those guys you fought today probably didn’t start out thinking, when I grow up, I want to be a dark mage—”

“Caleb.”

“Some of them started with illegal skills from birth, and didn’t like the restrictions we put on them. Some made bad choices when they were young, and just kept falling further and further behind. And some—”

“Caleb.”

“—started out thinking they’d just take a hit or two, no big deal, just a little to help them heal faster, or study better, or impress a girl—”

“Caleb! I’m not a junkie!”



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