In all the times I'd visited his office, I'd never seen any sign of other tenants. Just him, and on rare occasions, the receptionist I suspected was a mirage created by his magic. Granted, I usually arrived at night when most sane humans were home with their families, but there still should have been some sign of a normal's presence. Like a security guard standing sentinel in case anybody needed to check in, or the rare person working late—at least that's how the movies always portrayed it. I'd never worked an office job before, so I wouldn't know.
The sorcerer's office was on the top floor of the building, which meant I bypassed the elevators, not wanting to bother with them when the stairs were nearly as fast.
I was only breathing lightly once I reached the fifth floor, thankful for the increased stamina being a vampire gave me.
This time there was no receptionist waiting, no click-clacking of computer keys, or answering of phones. I paused on the threshold, glancing around the small welcome area before continuing through the double doors across the room. Unlike the first time, they didn't lead into a humongous room filled with a night sky as its ceiling. For a moment, I saw a mirage of the typical boardroom found in offices like this, a long table lined with chairs, a white board in the corner, and one of those starfish speakers for important meetings.
Beneath that image was an alchemist's dream—one that would have been at home in some medieval castle of old, complete with beakers of odd colored liquid on tables, and old leather-bound books on the tables and shelves. It was a room I'd been in twice before.
I blinked, and the boardroom disappeared, my magic-seeing eye breaking the illusion. Funny, I thought the alchemist room would be the one to disappear since it bent the laws of physics. Not the case.
The sorcerer wandered in from another door, giving a glimpse of stone steps spiraling down behind it. He was absorbed in the book he held and didn't immediately notice my presence. It gave me a rare chance to study him.
Peter Barrett, as I'd come to know him, looked like a teenager, although he asserted to anyone who’d listen that he was actually decades older. His exact age was a mystery, but I knew he was older than fifty. How much older was still the question. Tall and gangly, he had limbs that he'd yet to grow into. Given half the chance to mature, he'd be considered cute once he'd grown into the angles of his face. His green eyes were among the most vivid and beautiful that I'd ever seen. All this was ruined by the fact that he was a complete and utter asshole.
I'd never been one to condone violence against the young and innocent, but Peter had pushed me right over that line. It was a good thing he wasn't actually a teenager, or I'd feel like a monster in truth.
He shuffled over to one of the tables, his lips moving as he mouthed whatever he was reading. It would have been endearing if he wasn't a little ass prone to shitty behavior.
He reached up, pushing a lock of dark hair back from his face, copper flashing at his wrist.
That bastard.
"I see you found a use for the cuff, after all," I said, my eyes narrowed on him and my jaw tight. That was funny—and not in a ha-ha way—given the amount of grief he'd put me through after I'd stuck him with the copper genie cuff that cut him off from his powers. Given the torture he'd subjected me to because of it, I found it interesting he would be wearing it again.
He jerked back, the book falling from his hands with a thump, his eyes wide and startled. "Aileen, how did you get past my wards?"
My steps hesitated. What wards? I hadn't noticed anything on my way in here. I didn't want him to notice my confusion—information was a weapon best wielded carefully—so I shrugged. "Maybe they're not as good as you think they are."
He bent a displeased look on me, attitude oozing from him. "Not likely. You did something. I know it. What was it this time? A null bomb? A charm from the witches? Or maybe you got something from the same place you got this?" He raised the hand that was wearing the cuff.
"It's funny you mention that. Why are you wearing it?" I asked, tilting my head. "Given it cuts you off from your magic, wouldn’t you want that as far from your person as you could?"
He lifted his chin in a bullish manner and covered the cuff with one hand. "I'm running an experiment."
I arched an eyebrow. Right, and I had a unicorn stuffed in my pocket. I'd play along for now. "Oh? What kind?"
"I'm trying to create a spell to unlock something of this nature, so that the next time a presumptuous vampire tries sealing me away from my powers, I can open a can of whoop-ass on her fanged head that she will not soon forget." He gave me a meaningful look.
I returned it with a humorless smile and tapped the skin under my left eye. "Oh, I won't forget. Don't you worry about that."
He jerked slightly, covering the movement by raising his chin. If that thing got any higher, he'd be staring at the ceiling.
I stepped closer, trailing my hand along the wood of the table closest to me. I drew it back and rubbed my fingers together, grimacing at the dust clinging to them. This place would definitely never pass a white glove inspection. That was for sure.
"You need a maid. This place is disgusting," I told him, looking around in distaste. Now that I'd noticed the dust, I noticed other things, like empty McDonald's wrappers all over the place and a pile of dirty clothes in the corner.
"You volunteering?" he asked, the words not quite disguising the unease in his voice.
It was enough to pull my attention back to him. Behind his bravado, I thought I detected a trace of fear, which was laughable because I should be the last thing in the world he feared. Unless he lived in anticipation of my wicked zingers.
I stepped closer, noting how he edged back and looked away.
"You're afraid of me?" I asked, disbelief clear in my tone.
His bright green eyes came back to me and he scoffed, the sound making it clear what he thought of that sentiment. I straightened and looked him over. That's what I thought.
I drew closer, my eyes narrowed.
"If you didn't come here to clean up for me, I suggest you go," he said, bending to pick up the book that had fallen and placing it on the table.
I cocked my head. Something was different about him—I just couldn't put my finger on what. Something beyond the trepidation sticking to him like a coating of sweat. He had a thin five o'clock shadow along his jaw, much fuller than the last time I'd caught him trying to grow a beard, and he was taller than I remembered.
A grin stretched across my face as I figured out what it was. "You're trying to get older. That's why you put the genie cuff back on."
His eyes widened, even as his mouth dropped open in outrage. "I did no such thing! This is for experimental purposes only."
"Uh-huh," I said, not bothering to keep the smile from my face as my tone made it clear I didn't believe a word he was saying.
"Get to the reason you're here so you can leave me in peace," he snapped, power flickering around his fingertips in green arcs. My skin twitched in response, remembering how it felt to have that magic popping and crackling along my nerve endings—worse than electricity ever felt.
"I need a tracking spell," I said, losing interest in teasing him.
His laugh had little in common with humor and a lot of disbelief in it. His eyes hardened. "You couldn't afford it."