Bound in Amber

By Anne McKinley

Arribel "Bel" Devlin has an exciting job at a respected advertising agency in New York City, a great apartment, a handsome boyfriend. And a life without the magic she feels inadequate to wield.

Everything is working out just the way she wants.

Until she meets her newest client, an author with an enchanted book, and she is drawn back into the world of her powerful witch family, bound by honor to keep anyone who reads the book from being spell-bound to a dark mage and used as a source of energy in his quest for power.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Guthrie Press
• Release date: Nov 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502221469

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

It's not easy being the runt in a family of powerful witches.

That’s not to say I don’t have any magical abilities. I do, and to the outside world it would seem like a lot. But in my family, I just don’t measure up, though I’d spent my childhood trying to, and failing. As I got older, I learned to accept that I wouldn’t ever have the level of magic that others had, and turned my focus to other things, like college and a career somewhere no one knew who I was.

That’s why I live in New York City, working in a mid-sized advertising agency and ignoring my parent’s unspoken belief that I would soon get the rebellion out of my system and come work in the family business.

One thing magical I was blessed with in abundance, though, is the ability to sense magic in others. And today I was feeling the presence of an extremely powerful witch in the building—someone other than the ones I already knew worked here—and it had my witchy senses blasting warnings in my head like a bad migraine. Not to mention how the protective wards sewn into my clothes tingled against my skin every time the witch tried to get past them.

With all that going on, I was far more nervous than I'd expected to be as I stopped outside the firm's conference room in the early afternoon. This would my first time leading the team meeting alone since my promotion, rather than following along after Parker Hines, whose abrupt rise to the upper levels had gotten me his old job.

Ms. Devlin, is anything wrong?

The question broke me out of my reverie, and I turned to find my assistant, Melody huffing gently, out of breath from her trek down the hall. She had a cautious, curious look on her face as she looked at me.

No, I'm fine. After working for Parker for nine years, I don’t think Melody knew how to take my more laid-back management style, which made me an unknown quality in the firm as I took my first management position. And please, call me Bel.

Melody nodded vigorously. Right. Bel. Sorry, sorry.

I ignored the apology—Melody’s default response to almost everything I said—and reached for the day planner and smart phone she was holding, which I had forgotten in my rush to make a good impression at the meeting. I wasn't exactly off to a great start on that front, but I hoped things would improve as I went along.

I got the refreshments set up, Melody said, reaching to open the door for me. And the agendas were laid out for everybody. I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything.

I’m sure it’s fine. I took a deep breath and went in. My team was seated at the large oval table that filled most of the room, sipping at various beverages and chatting in low voices.

Every eye turned to stare at me, and my knees started to shake a little. This was going to be worse than I thought. Center and focus, Bel.

Nervous was not exactly the word I would use to describe how I felt. Petrified came closer. After only three years with the agency, I had been dropped into my new role barely two weeks ago, when an unexpected shake up in company hierarchy left heads spinning and senior partners scrambling to put bodies into empty positions.

Since then I spent long days following Parker around like a faithful dog, nodding and smiling and taking note of everything he said and did, trying to act like I was totally capable of leading his team.

Now I was on my own, as of this morning officially the newest junior advertising executive at Gardner and Wells. I knew the way I handled this meeting would determine how my coworkers accepted me as their boss. So, no pressure, right?

I took another deep breath and stepped through the conference room’s door, forcing myself to stride across the room with a confidence I didn’t feel and take Parker's former seat.

An insulated mug was waiting for me at Parker’s old place at the table, steaming gently. I breathed in the smell of my special tea blend, soothing herbs brewed for the most nerve-wracking day of my career.

I dumped my day planner on the table and slipped the phone into my jacket pocket before taking a cautious sip of the hot tea. Just what I needed, something to calm my nerves. Bless Melody for remembering I didn’t drink coffee, because I’d forgotten to mention it. The caffeine on top of everything else probably would have sent me through the roof.

This was going to be a short meeting, being my first solo appearance—and because it was Friday afternoon—so I didn’t waste any time and just jumped in.

Good afternoon, everybody. We don't have much to cover today, as you can see. I gestured at the single printed sheet of the agendas laid out in front of them. The main subject is the conclusion of the Heiress Stocking account, which goes to Parker for final approval on Monday. I’ve looked over the proposed work, and it’s got my okay. Good job, everyone.

I had been closely involved with the account for the company that produced high-end hosiery for exclusive retail stores, and had done most of the artwork and slogans myself while in my former position. I knew it was good, but as I had to remind myself, I was on the other end of the table now. I was in charge. The person behind the the buck stops here sign.

I glanced around the table to see how I was doing on the being in charge thing. Most of them had their heads down, looking at the final details of the account. I fiddled with the pages of my planner and let my mind wander while they went over the material they already knew in every detail.

After a few moments, I felt someone’s gaze resting on me, and looked up. The team’s art director, Jack Creedmoor, was watching me, a faint frown creasing his forehead between straight, dark brows.

When I raised my own eyebrows in counterpoint to his, I got a slight shake of the head and a smile that barely appeared before it was gone.

You're forgetting the new client, he said.

Ah, yes. The new client, the first one I would handle on my own as head of the team, and the source of most of my anxiety. Not to mention the subject of the nerve-wracking meeting I’d had with Parker before lunch. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t been able to actually eat any lunch after leaving my boss’s office with a shiny new thing to worry about.

Only saving the best for last, I quipped. The others laughed, and turned their attention back to me. I relaxed a little. Things seemed to be going okay. Maybe I could pull this thing off.

As Jack pointed out, we have a new client, an author whose publisher has hired us to do publicity for his new book. Parker impressed on me earlier how important this new client is to our firm, and to him personally. I assured him we would do our best, of course.

That got another brief laugh.

We’ve worked with New Paths Publishing before, so you all know what they expect from us. We'll do the usual things, television appearances in the appropriate venues, book signings, blog tours, print ads, and so on.

I turned to Mary Timmons, who handled the publicity arm of the team. She turned an elegant head on a slim, long neck and spared me a smile and a nod.

A former highly-in-demand fashion model, Mary had begun handling her own publicity a few years before she stepped away from the camera, so she knew from experience what worked when getting a name out where it would do the most good. I expect I wouldn't be giving her much more than symbolic approval for whatever she came up with. She was that good, and I wasn’t so inexperienced that I didn’t know when to let someone do their job.

The others chimed in with brief comments about the client and what they expected to do, going by the information Melody had provided on the sheets in front of them. I leaned back in the chair and let the brain storming session go on for a few minutes, until it seemed everyone had worked through the first flush of ideas and opinions. We’d take more time and get more detailed once we had all the material from the publishing house.

Okay, if there isn’t anything else, then I guess we covered the essentials for today, I was saying when the door opened. Everyone turned to see who was coming in. My voice trailed off as Parker Hines put a foot inside the room, leaning in while still holding onto the door knob.

My stomach muscles quivered as my wardings tingled in a sudden, strong warning. The magical aura I’d felt all day increased, though I couldn’t see any reason why, since I already knew Parker wasn’t the least bit magical.

Ms. Devlin. Parker greeted me with his usual reserved manner, then gave a nod around the table to the others, who greeted him with returned nods or low-voiced hellos. I wondered if he was going to take over the meeting after all, though he had cast me out into the wilds of middle management in order to focus on his own newly elevated career.

Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to stop in and introduce the team to your new client. He stopped by my office, and asked if he could meet with you all.

It was unusual to meet with an author before we had their promotional schedule ironed out, and we often never saw them at all, but I was willing to break tradition, especially since the writer in question was a close personal friend of Parker’s and someone he’d looked forward to working with.

Parker stepped all the way into the conference room and turned to usher in someone who had been standing out in the hall. A man walked a few steps into the room, coming to a stop beside Parker. Parker's assistant, Bartholomew Ridley, stepped just inside the doorway and stood with his arms folded.

As the man came into the room, I felt another push of magic, and knew he was at least a part of whatever was setting off my protective spells. It was all I could do not to show any sign of what I was feeling.

Parker put a hand on the man’s shoulder, giving him a wide smile, and turned back to face us.

Everyone, this is Harry Philpott. It's his book you’ll be handling, and I know you will all give your very best effort on his behalf.

My coworkers were greeting Philpott, exchanging pleasantries. As I rose to meet him, my attention was caught by Ridley's expression. He looked directly at me, smiling, his eyes glowing with a curious light. My skin crawled, and I got the sudden feeling I was a mouse being toyed with by a cat.

What could that be about? I hardly knew the man, other than what I’d heard through the company rumor circuit. He'd barely spoken more than a dozen sentences to me in the three years I'd worked here. But Ridley had Parker’s ear, and if he had an issue with me, I wanted to know before it turned into something I couldn’t handle.

I would have to worry about that later. Right now, I had more important things to deal with, the most pressing one being Harry Philpott. I suppressed a shiver and went to shake Philpott's hand, putting my best professional smile on.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Philpott. I'm sure you'll be pleased with how we handle your book. We've had many authors for clients, so you can rest assured the firm understands your needs. I gestured and offered him the only empty seat, opposite my place at the head of the oval table. We were actually wrapping up the meeting, but you're welcome to ask us any questions or voice any concerns you may have.

Thank you. As I've told Parker, I'm sure the firm will do an outstanding job. I just wanted to speak with you all briefly. This is my first book, and as you can imagine, I'm a bit nervous about the reaction it will receive once it's available.

I wouldn't have pegged him for the nervous type. In fact, he seemed supremely confident and in total control. The magical aura that extended from his body was powerful and I’m not too proud to admit, very intimidating. The charms sewn into my clothing were tingling again, sending me a strong warning. I didn’t need a magical charm to tell me I was in trouble. Something was pushing my defenses, harder than had been done all day, and the source was Harry Philpott.

And as much as I was pretending everything was perfectly normal, he was showing no outward sign of his continual attack on me.

He took the seat I indicated, settling into the expensive leather chair. The smile that curled his lips when he looked at me didn't quite make it to his eyes. Between him and Ridley’s odd behavior, I was beginning to feel as if I’d dropped into a house of mirrors where nothing looked right.

Philpott’s gaze sharpened, his eyes locking on mine. I felt his psychic power testing my mental guards even more. What was he playing at? It’s not like we were going to have a magical smack-down in the middle of all these mundanes. I pushed back firmly, ignoring the sizzle as the wards woven into my clothes came to full alert.

We were still smiling at each other, fighting a silent battle of magical wills, one I hoped I was strong enough to win. My stomach clenched, and a trickle of sweat began working its way down my spine. The harder he pushed at my defenses, the more I tried to reinforce the barriers against him.

I couldn’t help but notice that his physical presence was as imposing as his psychic presence was. The man was about forty, tall and with the well-muscled physique of a former football player who hadn’t let himself go slack. He had thick, dark blond hair going attractively gray at the temples. Bright blue eyes framed by a few crow’s feet were deep-set under a strong brow.

It felt like long minutes passed as we examined each other, testing each other, everything else in the room fading from view and leaving the two of us alone in our contest, but I knew only seconds passed before Parker cleared his throat, breaking my concentration on Mr. Philpott.

I'll leave you all to get acquainted, then. Parker turned to leave, tapping Bartholomew Ridley on the arm as he went by. Ridley gave me a triumphant smile as he followed his boss. What was up with this guy, anyway? I was already on edge, and his behavior added a level of strange I really didn't want to deal with today.

Harry Philpott returned Parker's courtesies, giving a little wave to Ridley as the two men left, before turning to chat with the others at the table. I pasted on a smile as I followed Parker to the door. I was beginning to really dislike smiling.

Thanks for coming down and bringing Mr. Philpott, I murmured. Should I bring him back to your office after we’re done here?

No, I’m sure Harry has more to do this afternoon than waste time with me. See that he gets whatever he needs from you, and then get him a cab. If Harry has any concerns, he’ll let me know.

I had the feeling that Harry Philpott could handle his own concerns without running to Parker for help, and a low-level witch like me wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

If Philpott upped his game, I’d be the one running for help.

CHAPTER TWO

I closed the door behind Parker and Ridley, and returned to my seat. I took a large sip of tea, needing its calming power more than ever now. I was tempted to add a little magical kick to the tea, but I didn’t want Philpott to know he’d rattled me that badly.

So, Mr. Philpott. Before you arrived, we had discussed the various venues we'd be looking into for publicizing your book. The usual ads, online and off, personal appearances, and so on. Mary Timmons will handle that sort of thing for you. I tipped my head towards her, and he gave her a polite nod, before turning back to me. If there's anything you don't feel comfortable with, I'm sure she can make mutually agreeable changes.

Thank you again, Ms. Devlin. I’ll try not to be a burden on Ms. Timmons. I only wanted to meet you all, as I've said, and talk a little about my book.

He smiled, a little twitch of the lips that failed to migrate to his eyes. He leaned back in the high-backed leather chair, totally at ease.

And call me Harry, please.

I nodded at him, and smiled. Very well, Harry. I'm Bel. One el, no e.

Of course, Bel. What a charming name. It matches your delightful accent.

I'd worked hard to tone down my Southern drawl, and most people didn't notice the little that remained. I heard