edges, the shape reminiscent of another era. But it was the refrigerator that grabbed her attention. She pointed a finger it, her palm facing up to convey a bit more politeness, though nothing could soften her baffled curiosity. “Your refrigerator is pink.”
“Yeah.” Vincent shrugged. “Edmund’s idea of a joke.” His voice held weary acceptance. He set her bag on the bed and then came to stand behind her. “When this house was almost complete, I got called out on a mission. I came back to find the place all done. With a pink fridge. Stuffed with food, thanks to Cook. But the color is all thanks to Edmund.”
Her smile widened at the thought of Vincent returning to his brother’s surprise. It was apparent even to her that Edmund strived to anchor his brother to the lighter side of life. Vincent needed that…although Bronte hardly approved of Edmund working to keep her anchored to Vincent.
She resumed her exploration of the small house. Another doorway stood down from the refrigerator, but she couldn’t see where it led. Along the rest of the wall in the living area, books stood at attention on floor-to-ceiling shelves. A couch and a fat leather chair sat facing the back window.
The house was sparse. Lonely. She didn’t need to ask why he’d never gotten rid of the pink refrigerator. She drifted over to the books and scanned their titles.
Mages of the New World Colonies: Power and Partnership
Mage Settlement of New England 1641 - 1775
Women’s Mage Power and Life in Plymouth Colony
“Is this what you read for fun?” She reached for one, the impact of the title like a hot fist to her chest. “ Deadly Mages: Sirens, Syphons, and Necromancers ,” she read aloud. Her throat clogged up like it was stuffed with cotton. The binding creaked a warning as she opened it to its middle. She stared down at a rough illustration of a beautiful woman cradling a withered man in her lap. A syphon sucking a mage dry, Bronte guessed.
He took the book from her, folded it shut, and put it back. “That one’s not pleasant reading.”
She turned back toward his shelves to search out other gems. One book had no title. She slipped it from its spot on the shelf. It was heavy in her hands. The leather cover was plain on the front as well.
“What’s this?” She opened it and darted a glance at him, daring him to stop her.
He didn’t. “My dissertation.”
Surprise washed through her.
“There’s a lot of downtime when you’re a deflector. We have to do something while we’re waiting to heal from the big blasts.” Vincent shrugged. “General Wilen encourages everyone on his teams to keep their minds working. Even when they’ve blown their sixth senses. Long distance education is a lifeline.”
She squinted at the title page, her breath caught in her throat at the next shock.
THE IMPACT OF MAGE / SYPHON PARTNERSHIPS IN PRE-REPUBLIC COLONIES
A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the Requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in History
by
Vincent Bradford Rallis
Mage/syphon partnerships? She ran a hand over the words as they resounded through her. With this dissertation, he’d booted colonial syphons out of the closet. Why hadn’t this made the news? She snuck a peek back at him and clasped it to her chest. She wouldn’t give him a chance to take this book away from her. She made her way to the couch, took the corner nearest its companion chair, and sank deeply into the cushions. The warm light from the window glowed, perfect to read by.
“I never forgot you, even if I didn’t believe the memories. I wanted you to be real. I questioned Edmund over and over about a girl with long, dark hair and red lips until he thought I was crazy. No one I talked to saw you.” He stood at the bookshelf, his voice hard, a shell of anger and disappointment wrapped around it.
“I’m good at hiding.”
His jaw clenched. “If I’d believed what my heart was telling me, I would have
“Yeah.” Vincent shrugged. “Edmund’s idea of a joke.” His voice held weary acceptance. He set her bag on the bed and then came to stand behind her. “When this house was almost complete, I got called out on a mission. I came back to find the place all done. With a pink fridge. Stuffed with food, thanks to Cook. But the color is all thanks to Edmund.”
Her smile widened at the thought of Vincent returning to his brother’s surprise. It was apparent even to her that Edmund strived to anchor his brother to the lighter side of life. Vincent needed that…although Bronte hardly approved of Edmund working to keep her anchored to Vincent.
She resumed her exploration of the small house. Another doorway stood down from the refrigerator, but she couldn’t see where it led. Along the rest of the wall in the living area, books stood at attention on floor-to-ceiling shelves. A couch and a fat leather chair sat facing the back window.
The house was sparse. Lonely. She didn’t need to ask why he’d never gotten rid of the pink refrigerator. She drifted over to the books and scanned their titles.
Mages of the New World Colonies: Power and Partnership
Mage Settlement of New England 1641 - 1775
Women’s Mage Power and Life in Plymouth Colony
“Is this what you read for fun?” She reached for one, the impact of the title like a hot fist to her chest. “ Deadly Mages: Sirens, Syphons, and Necromancers ,” she read aloud. Her throat clogged up like it was stuffed with cotton. The binding creaked a warning as she opened it to its middle. She stared down at a rough illustration of a beautiful woman cradling a withered man in her lap. A syphon sucking a mage dry, Bronte guessed.
He took the book from her, folded it shut, and put it back. “That one’s not pleasant reading.”
She turned back toward his shelves to search out other gems. One book had no title. She slipped it from its spot on the shelf. It was heavy in her hands. The leather cover was plain on the front as well.
“What’s this?” She opened it and darted a glance at him, daring him to stop her.
He didn’t. “My dissertation.”
Surprise washed through her.
“There’s a lot of downtime when you’re a deflector. We have to do something while we’re waiting to heal from the big blasts.” Vincent shrugged. “General Wilen encourages everyone on his teams to keep their minds working. Even when they’ve blown their sixth senses. Long distance education is a lifeline.”
She squinted at the title page, her breath caught in her throat at the next shock.
THE IMPACT OF MAGE / SYPHON PARTNERSHIPS IN PRE-REPUBLIC COLONIES
A dissertation submitted in partial fulfillment of the Requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in History
by
Vincent Bradford Rallis
Mage/syphon partnerships? She ran a hand over the words as they resounded through her. With this dissertation, he’d booted colonial syphons out of the closet. Why hadn’t this made the news? She snuck a peek back at him and clasped it to her chest. She wouldn’t give him a chance to take this book away from her. She made her way to the couch, took the corner nearest its companion chair, and sank deeply into the cushions. The warm light from the window glowed, perfect to read by.
“I never forgot you, even if I didn’t believe the memories. I wanted you to be real. I questioned Edmund over and over about a girl with long, dark hair and red lips until he thought I was crazy. No one I talked to saw you.” He stood at the bookshelf, his voice hard, a shell of anger and disappointment wrapped around it.
“I’m good at hiding.”
His jaw clenched. “If I’d believed what my heart was telling me, I would have
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