The Enchanter Heir thc-4 Read online

  “I’m Ellen Stephenson, and the man with the fine leg is Jack Swift.”

  Now that she heard the names, Emma recognized the two of them from the photographs Rowan had shown her of suspects in the murders at Tyler’s house. As warriors, they definitely seemed capable of causing mayhem. If they recognized Emma, they showed no signs of it.

  “I’m Emma Lee. I’m a new student at the Anchorage.”

  She had that story down, at least.

  “Really? I didn’t know you were accepting new students,” Jack said to Jonah.

  “We needed a new guitar player,” Jonah said, his voice cool and businesslike. “So we made an exception.”

  Jack got the message. “Look, Jonah, on behalf of nearly everyone, I’d like to apologize for those idiots at the council meeting. They were not the sharpest knives in the drawer to begin with, and having their children kidnapped adds that extra layer of—I don’t know—hysteria.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jonah said. “Savants are used to that kind of talk from mainliners. Where do you want us to set up?”

  “In the conservatory,” Jack said. “Here, I’ll show you.” Picking up an amplifier like it was made of Styrofoam, he led them to the rear of the house, to a stone-floored room with two stories of windows overlooking the lake. “We’re expecting several hundred people, and this is the only room that might begin to hold them.” He pointed up at a balcony overlooking the space. “The bar and the food will be set up on the balcony. We’ve got heaters out on the terrace, and we’re hoping they will keep it warm enough that people will dance out there.”

  Ellen pointed them to a spot on the opposite wall from the massive hearth. “We were thinking this might be a good place for you. You’re out of the line of traffic, and away from the draft from the doors, but you won’t get overheated either. But if someplace else works better, let us know.”

  “This works,” Rudy said, dropping his load of sound equipment in the corner, along an inside wall. He and Alison set to work, plugging in and testing the sound system.

  Jack nudged a power strip along the wall with the toe of his boot. “You’ve got plenty of power here, but let me know if you need any extension cords or anything. We were thinking you could start the first set an hour after people begin arriving, play an hour, break for an hour, and then play a second hour-long set. We’ll use a playlist in between. That way, most everyone coming and going during the evening will get to hear you, and you’ll have time to party, too. Or . . . ah . . . not,” he added, seeing Jonah’s expression.

  “That sounds good,” Emma said. “You’re warriors, right? Do you ever get to fight these days?” Well, she thought, that was about as subtle as a brick to the head.

  “We get in a lot of sparring,” Jack said. “We work out regularly with a diverse group of . . . of fighters.” He nodded toward Jonah. “Didn’t Jonah tell you? We had a great bout with him. We’ve been trying to get him to come out and spar with us again.”

  “What?” Emma swung around to face Jonah. “You never told me you were a fighter!”

  “He’s an amazing fighter,” Ellen said, with frank admiration. “It took me and Jack both to beat him.”

  “Are you talking about martial arts, or—or—”

  “With swords,” Ellen said, looking from Emma to Jonah, as if puzzled by the questions.

  Jonah rubbed the back of his neck. “Fencing is one of the phys ed options at school,” he said, not meeting Emma’s eyes. “You can sign up if you want. I’ll go collect more of our gear.” Turning on his heel, he walked out of the conservatory.

  Troubled, Emma watched him go. She’d known he was athletically gifted . . . she’d seen him in action that night in Bratenahl . . . how strong he was, how easily he scaled the cliff face. It was one more indication of how little she knew about him . . . how little they knew about each other.

  Once they got set up, they did a sound check. Emma had chosen her amplified SG, Jonah the Stratocaster, the guitar he felt most comfortable with. The acoustics weren’t optimal, what with the stone floor and glass wall. They never were, for this kind of gig.

  Natalie went over the set list on her tablet. “If we’re doing two hour-long sets, we’ll plan on about forty-five minutes of actual music for each, and fifteen minutes for chitchat and equipment changes.”

  “Do we have forty-five minutes of actual music?” Emma asked. “Let alone two sets?”

  “We’ll just have to play the same set twice,” Natalie said. “We’ll do the tribute to Mose at the end of the first set. If we run short on the second, we can fill in with some of our older tunes, even some covers. You and Jonah can sit out.” She mounted the tablet on a music stand, setting it within reach of her throne. “People are supposed to start coming about eight. We’ll come back together about eight forty-five and begin the set at about nine. Sound good? Okay, we’re done for now,” she said. “Oh, wait a minute.” She dug into her gear bag and pulled out strips of black cloth, passing out one to each person. “Black armbands, in memory of Mose.”

  Emma discovered that it was pretty much impossible to tie a black armband on your own arm. Jonah helped her with it, his fingers quick and sure. She reciprocated, feeling clumsy by comparison.

  “I think the bar is open,” Jonah said while she fussed with his armband. “I’m going up to get something to drink. Do you want anything?”

  “Anything orange or lemon-lime, if they have it,” Emma said, sliding the armband over his hard bicep onto his upper arm. “You must be really good with a sword, if those two are inviting you to spar with them.”

  Jonah cleared his throat. “They’re just being polite,” he said. “I don’t think they were serious.”

  “Really? They don’t seem like the type to say something they don’t mean. Do you still get in a lot of practice?”

  “It’s something I used to do a lot of,” Jonah said. “Not so much anymore.”

  She watched him walk away, increasing his speed as he loped up the stairs.

  Chapter Forty-four

  Mingling

  The party guests were a feast for the eyes, dressed in some of the most fantastic costumes Emma had ever seen: dragons and exotic birds and vampires and werewolves and knights and warriors from every possible era. It was all she could do to resist the temptation to get her phone out and start taking pictures. At least, she began to feel a little better about her own garb. Her plumage was subdued compared to some she saw, though some wore scarcely any plumage at all.

  Jack and Ellen were helping with the new arrivals, taking coats and directing guests to food and drink, alongside another young couple, so brilliantly lit they were hard on the eyes. The tall boy had dark curls, an angular face, and thick dark brows. He wore several belts with large buckles, tall boots, and a handsome velvet and brocade coat. The girl wore her blond-streaked brown hair tied back with a bandanna, large hoop earrings, a hand-knit sweater, and a multicolored skirt, with tooled and painted cowboy boots. Emma guessed they were pirates. The boy, at least, looked ruthless enough to be one.

  The boy looked up suddenly and caught Emma staring.

  He smiled at her. The smile made him look a lot less ruthless. “Here’s your drink,” Jonah said, just behind her, startling her. He handed her a tall glass.

  “Kinlock!” the pirate said. “We’re so glad you could come.” He turned to his companion. “Maddie—you remember Jonah Kinlock, who came to the council meeting with Gabriel Mandrake?”

  “Oh! Jonah! I’m so sorry,” Maddie said, spots of color rouging her cheeks. “I have never been so embarrassed in my life. Those people were totally out of control. I’m surprised you’re willing to set foot in this town again.”

  “Yeah, well,” Jonah said, rubbing the side of his nose, making it pretty clear that he was less than thrilled to be in Trinity.

  “I don’t blame you for being angry,” Maddie said. Impulsively, she reached for Jonah’s gloved hands. He flinched back, and then, after a moment’s hesitati
on, he let her take them. She stared down at their joined hands for a moment, then looked up at his face, frowning as if puzzled. Gently, he extricated his hands and turned to Emma.

  “Emma, this is Madison Moss, chair of the Interguild Council, and Seph McCauley . . . you’re the secretary, I guess?”

  Seph nodded, heaving a sigh. “Nobody else will take the job.”

  “Seph, Madison, this is Emma Lee. She’s lead guitarist in the band, and a new student at the Anchorage.”

  “Good to meet you, Emma,” Seph said, extending his hand. It delivered the sting that Emma was beginning to associate with wizards. His eyes reminded her of Jonah’s, though, the way their color shifted. “I know what it’s like to start fresh at a new school. I hope you like it here.”

  “I love your outfit,” Madison put in. “It’s perfect. And I can’t wait to hear the band. Ellen has been raving about you.”

  “Well,” Emma said, feeling a twinge of nervousness. “I’m new to the band, so she hasn’t actually heard me.”

  “We lost our lead guitarist and vocalist,” Jonah explained, putting his hand on Emma’s shoulder, no doubt sensing her nerves. Which made her even more nervous. “Emma and I are doing our best to replace him.” He paused. “Are your parents going to be here?”

  Seph nodded. “They’ll make a brief appearance. It’s going to be a younger crowd, though. It’s our party, not theirs.” His eyes fixed on the door. “Here they are now.”

  “Linda Downey and Leander Hastings,” Jonah murmured into Emma’s ear, like an announcer at the ball. “An enchanter and a wizard. The ultimate power couple.”

  Linda Downey drew everyone’s eyes to her, like a diamond in a coal bin. She was small but finely made, with exquisite features. Her pale blond hair was threaded through with silver—not the natural silver of middle age, but a glittery, metallic kind. She wore a formfitting, strapless black dress and impossibly high silver sandals. Her nearly transparent shawl was inscribed with dragons. She gripped the arm of a tall, lean wizard with dark brows and a raptor’s features. As Emma watched, Hastings leaned down and said something to Downey, and she shook her head, laughing. It seemed to take them forever to cross the room. People kept stopping them, greeting them, exchanging kisses or handshakes, look ing after them when they had moved on.

  Downey displayed something of the same charisma as Jonah. People just wanted to be near her.

  “What’s she dressed as?” Emma whispered to Jonah. He shrugged. “An enchanter, I guess.”

  People were beginning to line up to greet Seph and Madison, so Emma and Jonah excused themselves. “Make sure you get something to eat before your set starts,” Seph called after them.

  They returned to the bar area and filled their plates.

  Rudy, Natalie, and Alison had disappeared.

  “Let’s go out on the terrace,” Emma said impulsively.

  “Unless it’s too cold.”

  Jonah seemed more than willing to walk away from the growing crowd of mainliners inside.

  They threaded their way through the crush of partygoers and out onto the patio, where they found Rudy and Natalie in a full-body clinch against the terrace wall. Emma and Jonah looked at each other and, by mutual, if silent, agreement, moved to the other end and stared out toward the lake.

  The grounds sloped downward in a series of terraced gardens to the lake. Small lights had come on, lighting the walkways to a small gazebo near the water’s edge. Here, there were no rugged cliffs, only a rock-strewn beach. Lighted jack-o’-lanterns hung from the trees.

  To the west, the sun was setting through a scrim of cloud, gilding the water’s surface with gold. To the east, a hunter’s moon was rising. The breeze stirred the trees overhead, carrying the scent of burning leaves, causing the jack-o’-lanterns to pitch and twist. But Emma was learning how quickly the weather could change. The soft laughter and murmured endearments going on behind them made conversation intensely awkward.

  “So,” Emma said. “Any idea where Alison went?”

  Jonah shook his head. Pulling out his phone, he pretended to check messages while Emma ate quesadillas.

  “Isn’t that hard to do?” she asked. “Using your phone with gloves on?”

  “I’m used to it,” Jonah said, without looking up. “These gloves are made for this. Gabriel orders them from a special tech supplier.”

  “Why do you wear gloves all the time?”

  Now Jonah looked up. “Why so many questions tonight?”

  “I’m just beginning to realize how much I don’t know about you,” Emma said.

  It was two heartbeats before he answered. “My hands were badly damaged at Thorn Hill. I’m self-conscious about them, so I keep them covered.”

  Just then, the music started up, the sound blasting through speakers set strategically around the grounds. Ellen’s playlist. The crowd moved out onto the terrace, turning it into a makeshift dance floor.

  A lovely, plush girl with a head of black curls made a beeline straight for them. “Jonah?” she said. “It’s Jonah, isn’t it? Remember me? Leesha Middleton? We met at the Medieval Faire.”

  Jonah’s look of puzzlement cleared, leaving no expression behind. “Right. Good to see you again.”

  Leesha Middleton wore a black mask and black lipstick over very pale makeup, and a red-and-black satin gown with cobweb-lace sleeves that trailed nearly to her knees. A cutaway bodice displayed her considerable physical gifts. A black choker and leather goggles completed the look. Emma crossed her arms, wondering if anybody wore hobo costumes anymore.

  “Where’s your costume?” Leesha said to Jonah. Where’s the rest of yours? Emma thought.

  “I’m with the band,” Jonah said.

  “I am, too,” Emma said, figuring that if Jonah wasn’t going to introduce her, she’d introduce herself. “I’m Emma Lee.”

  “Ah,” Leesha said, her kohled eyes narrowing. “So you’re not . . . actually . . . together?”

  Emma and Jonah looked at each other. “No,” they said simultaneously.

  “Wow,” Leesha said. “I can sure tell you’re used to harmonizing.”

  “How about you?” Emma asked. “What are you supposed to be?” Thinking, Dominatrix, perhaps?

  Hearing the snark in her voice, Leesha pursed her black lips. “I’m a Victorian steampunk vampire, of course. Some people don’t approve of cross-dressing, but—”

  “Cross-dressing?” Emma took another look. No way. No fricking way.

  “You know . . . wizards cross-dressing as vampires. Some people think it’s really kinky.” Leesha grinned at Emma, and Emma found herself grinning back in spite of herself.

  Until Leesha zeroed in on Jonah again. “Let’s dance.”

  “No, thanks. Like I said, I’m working.”

  “You’re not working now,” Leesha pointed out.

  “I’m not dancing either.” Jonah turned his back and looked out at the lake, which hadn’t changed much in the past five minutes. Leesha stared at his back for a moment, then said, “Fine. No problem,” and turned and walked away.

  Incredibly, Emma found herself feeling bad for Leesha. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one to feel this way, because Natalie and Rudy had drifted over during the conversation.

  Natalie hissed, “It wouldn’t kill you to dance with somebody.”

  Jonah looked her straight in the eyes. “You’re right. It wouldn’t kill me.”

  “You might find you liked it,” Natalie said.

  “You dance with her, then,” Jonah snarled. And returned to his phone.

  Natalie rolled her eyes, glanced at Emma, and went silent.

  Natalie and Rudy returned to the dance floor. Emma might as well have been sitting by herself, for all the attention she was getting from Jonah.

  “So,” Emma said, “are you going out with somebody? Or don’t you like girls?”

  Gaah! Shut up, Emma. Shut up shut up.

  Jonah focused back on Emma. “I do like girls,” he said. “I’m ju
st not much for dancing. Or dating.”

  “Well, then.” Emma raised her glass. “Sucks to be you.”

  Jonah stared at her, brows drawn together. Then the corners of his mouth quirked up and he grinned, and Emma realized then how rare it was to see him smile. Then he was actually laughing.

  “Sucks to be me,” Jonah said, nodding, and they clanked glasses. “How did you know?” He sat, turning the glass between his hands, momentarily lost in thought.

  “Actually, I like the music,” he said, looking up at Emma.

  “Obviously. And I do like girls. And if I danced with anyone, it would be with you. . . .” His voice trailed off and that familiar sadness came up in his eyes.

  Once more, the music throbbed through Emma’s veins. She just couldn’t sit still any longer. She turned and gripped Jonah’s arms at the elbows. “Come on, then. Dance with me.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You dance. I’ll watch.”

  “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but nobody’s lining up to dance with me,” Emma said. “And they won’t, long as I’m with you.”

  Jonah cocked his head. “Do you want me to move?”

  “I want you to dance.”

  “I don’t know how,” he said, tilting his head back, scanning the couples on the dance floor. He was grasping at straws, and they both knew it.

  “No worries,” Emma said, tasting victory. “Dance with me, honey, and I’ll make you look good.”

  “All right,” Jonah said. He rested a gloved hand on her bare back, and every nerve in her body went on high alert. What will happen if the man ever kisses me? Emma thought. I’ll probably die of joy.

  Natalie was coming toward them, carrying a plate of jack-o’-lantern cookies. “Where are you two going?” she called after them. “Don’t you want cookies?”

  “We’re dancing,” Jonah said, over his shoulder. “Apparently.”

  It turned out Jonah Kinlock didn’t need any help from Emma . . . in looking good, or dancing either. He was lithe and graceful, amazingly quick on his feet, and had no trouble mirroring every move she made. He seemed to be able to read where she would go next and be there waiting.