Wild Magic by Ann Macela Page A

she hadn’t minded. He was nice to look at, and his responses to their explanations had been fascinating—from disbelief to almost grudging acceptance.
    She’d almost fainted, however, when he had closed his eyes and put his hands on his head, and he glowed — blue! Whatever was going on was way beyond her experience. She’d told Fergus. Let him figure it out.
    She had enough on her mind in the person of Jim Tylan. Merely his nearness in these close confines was enough to tighten all her muscles and cause her center to jump around. Was her reaction fight-or-flight ... or something else?
    Once seated in a quiet and almost private corner of the restaurant, Irenee leaned back in her chair and tried to relax. Her growling stomach told her how right her father was: she wasn’t totally back to her normal energy levels. When the waiter came, she said, “My usual.”
    Jim looked up from his menu and asked, “What’s your usual?”
    “A filet mignon, rare, with baked potato, vegetable, salad, and dessert.”
    “Sounds good,” he said, handing the waiter his menu. “Make it two.”
    They both declined wine. She was not about to befuddle her mind while in his company, and he gave every indication of being “on duty.”
    “Oh, also, put our dinners on Fergus Whipple’s tab, please,” she added to the waiter. When Jim raised his eyebrows at her, she shrugged and grinned. “Dinner was his idea, after all.”
    “Okay,” he said, but she couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not.
    “You’re not a member, so your money’s no good here,” she added.
    “Okay,” he repeated, glanced around, leaned a little closer to her, and whispered, “So, everybody here is a ‘practitioner’? The diners? The waiters? They can all cast spells?”
    “Yes, everybody—to varying degrees of power.” She paused and studied him before saying, “You don’t completely believe our story, do you?”
    His expression—raised eyebrows, squinting eyes, cynical smile—proclaimed his skepticism. He played with his silverware before meeting her gaze.
    “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s so completely fantastic that a group of people like you exist.” He shrugged. “Believe or not, I’d be an idiot not to take advantage of every bit of info you have. Especially since you have sources I don’t. I’m for whatever will bring Finster and Ubell to justice. Let’s put it this way—I’m keeping an open mind.”
    It was clear he was holding something back—maybe what had caused him to glow. Short of showing him some “big proof,” like her sword and a fireball or two, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to convince him. Under the circumstances, she’d fall back on her curiosity. If he was going to work with them, she wanted to know more about him. “Well, let’s talk about something else. Where are you from, originally?”
    “California, San Diego. You?”
    “Here in the Chicago area. Both my mother’s and father’s families.”
    “Oh, yeah, you keep track of your genealogies.”
    “We have to, for the magic. All it takes is for one parent to be a practitioner, and the child will be one, too, with full powers.”
    “You marry ‘outside the faith,’ so to speak?”
    “Yes, although personally I’ve never met anyone with a non-practitioner parent or spouse. Fergus and my parents have, though.” He seemed interested, but practitioner life was really none of his business, and she wasn’t going to go into the more personal aspects. “Anyway, I was born to all this. What about you? Do you come from a long line of cops? Or should I call you ‘Special Agent Tylan’?”
    “Jim is fine.” He buttered a roll while he talked, and he didn’t meet her eyes. “My dad managed a grocery store, and my mom was a legal secretary. They were gunned down outside his store by a druggie trying to score for a fix. I wanted to be a cop all my life. That cinched it.”
    “Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” Irenee said. She couldn’t even imagine