Mystics and Mental Blocks (Amplifier 3)

By Meghan Ciana Doidge

Three days. That was all the reprieve we got before one of the Five showed up, injured and on the run. The snowstorm that had encased the property, as well as stifled the town, hadn’t even melted away.

That wounded prey led our newest adversary directly to me, to Christopher. Inconvenient timing, but not unexpected.

It was the betrayal forcing me to stay my hand against that adversary that shocked me. Betrayal from the least likely of sources.

Or so I would have thought.

But that didn’t change who I was, and what I would do to preserve a life I loved, people I cherished.

I wasn’t so easily broken. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be hurt, couldn’t be pulled apart. Unraveled.

And if I managed to put the pieces back together? I wasn’t certain who I’d be on the other side of it all. Friend? Lover? Killer? Emma or Amp5?

Or was it possible to be all those things at once?

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Mystics and Mental Blocks by Meghan Ciana Doidge is the third book in the Amplifier series, which is set in the Adept Universe along with the Dowser, the Oracle, and the Reconstructionist series.

Reading order:
•The Amplifier Protocol (Amplifier 0)
•Close to Home (Amplifier 0.5)
•Demons and DNA (Amplifier 1)
•Bonds and Broken Dreams (Amplifier 2)
•Mystics and Mental Blocks (Amplifier 3)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Meghan Ciana Doidge
• Release date: Nov 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781989571095

Meghan Ciana Doidge

Meghan Ciana Doidge writes tales of true love conquering all, even death. Though sometimes the love is elusive, the vampires and werewolves come out to play in the daylight, and bloody mayhem ensues.

Book preview

Introduction

Three days. That was all the reprieve we got before one of the Five showed up, injured and on the run. The snowstorm that had encased the property, as well as stifled the town, hadn’t even melted away.

That wounded prey led our newest adversary directly to me, to Christopher. Inconvenient timing, but not unexpected.

It was the betrayal forcing me to stay my hand against that adversary that shocked me. Betrayal from the least likely of sources. Or so I would have thought.

But that didn’t change who I was, and what I would do to preserve a life I loved, people I cherished.

I wasn’t so easily broken. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be hurt, couldn’t be pulled apart. Unraveled.

And if I managed to put the pieces back together? I wasn’t certain who I’d be on the other side of it all. Friend? Lover? Killer? Emma or Amp5?

Or was it possible to be all those things at once?

Chapter 1

Magic whispered across my collarbone, exhaled by the sorcerer sleeping next to me. I snuggled underneath the quilt, willing myself back to sleep. The house was still, dawn edging the drawn curtains. It wasn’t time to wake up. I hadn’t had more than four hours of sleep in the previous three days. And even I needed to recharge.

Battles had been fought, Opal rescued twice, and an alliance fortified — a partnership of my choosing. With Aiden. And snuggled in bed, it felt as though months had passed. But it was still mid-February. Friday, if I was remembering correctly. I definitely needed more shut-eye.

Still in the depths of sleep, Aiden reached for me under the covers, resting his hand on my hip, fingers splayed. A possessive touch, perhaps. Or maybe just an involuntary need to assure himself that I was near, touchable.

Giving up on falling back to sleep, I gave in to my own possessive impulse, my own involuntary need — just to look at him. He was on his side, facing me, dark hair mushed against a white pillow, jaw shadowed with thick stubble. His deeply tanned skin was a sharp contrast to the white sheets pulled across his shoulders. A hint of the faded, black-inked runes decorating his neck and upper chest edged the collar of a white T-shirt.

My sheets.

My bed.

In my own home.

That I had chosen to share with Aiden.

I knew the spent runes covered almost every section of his body. That they’d been inked in a combination of his own blood and black marker. The sorcerer had drawn a second set on Christopher, so that they could both cross through a section of the demon dimension that Aiden’s brother, Isa, and cousin, Ruwa, had anchored to the Grant farm.

Less than seventy-two hours had passed since then. The pocket of the demon dimension had collapsed, nearly swallowing Christopher, Paisley, Opal, Jenni, and me. Ruwa was dead, as was the demon she’d bound to herself. Dead by my hand. Isa Azar had disappeared into the snowstorm that had all but swallowed the northwest coast of Canada and the US. Aiden was still healing.

And witches were on their way to take Opal back to the Academy.

As expected.

As it should be.

The witches in question had been delayed by the storm, though they’d both been in constant contact since Christopher had updated them about Opal and the situation at the Grant farm. Ember Pine, my lawyer, had already come up with an action plan, through conversation with me and Jenni Raymond. And Capri Pine, Opal’s foster mother, had called twice to check in. The conversations had seemed strained on Opal’s end, though I’d tried to not listen in. Just in case my presence was overly influencing the young witch.

I tamped down on the pinch of grief that accompanied the thought of Opal leaving, focusing on gazing at Aiden, breathing in that moment for just a while longer. I should have gotten up and let the sorcerer sleep. Even amplified by me, he needed sleep to heal, to let his magic recuperate.

Aiden had been obsessively working on the property wards since we’d found him in the empty cabin where his brother had left him, and he had managed to drain himself by each evening for the last three days. He was worried about Isa returning — with his father, Kader Azar. He was worried that he couldn’t hold the sorcerer Azar at bay, not even amplified by me. Not that he’d said anything outright. I only picked up his doubt, his frustration, through my empathy.

But I wasn’t worried about Kader Azar. Or Isa.

Because I had the present moment to savor.

I’d always been highly focused on the present. I had to be, since living in the past wasn’t an option. I didn’t dwell, wouldn’t dwell. I refused to dwell.

And I had never simply slept with anyone before. No sex, just comfort. Not overnight, not in my own space, and not by choice.

Aiden’s hand was still splayed heavily across my hip. I let my own hand settle gently on his arm where it stretched between us. His magic rose at my touch, but I let it abate without attempting to amplify it. I knew that he should have spent the night in his permanent pentagram in the barn loft, healing. Aiden had fortified it with copper piping after he’d tried to track Isa and failed.

Because I’d asked him to stay. And copper was more magically conductive than black marker or paint.

But after more than two days with little sleep for both of us, when I’d held my hand out to Aiden in the early-morning hours, he had followed me upstairs and into my bed. No more questions. No more discussions or plans.

I had checked on Opal, who I’d settled into the guest room across from Christopher’s bedroom a few hours earlier. Then Aiden and I had stripped off our outer layers of clothing and climbed under the covers. After a few gentle kisses, I’d fallen asleep, our toes and shoulders and fingertips touching.

There was a peacefulness to be found in utter exhaustion.

Though perhaps only when I got to choose who to invite into my bed.

Under the covers, I ran my hand up Aiden’s extended arm, visualizing the faded runes that were still etched across his skin. My fingers hit fabric around the middle of his bicep — the sleeve of a cotton T-shirt. The sorcerer was still partially clothed. As was I.

Fortunately, that could be easily rectified.

I smiled, promptly rejecting any notion of leaving him to sleep in peace, then running through all the possible ways I could wake the slumbering sorcerer. All the ways in which we could spend the last hour or so before dawn turned to day, and all our other obligations came —

A murmur laced with magic drew my attention to the vicinity of my feet. I propped myself up on my elbow.

A mound of fabric had appeared at the foot of the bed. In the low light, I could make out only a pile of blankets stretched across something. But the tenor of witch magic was unmistakable.

Opal.

The young witch had apparently ditched the large comfortable bed in the guest room to build herself a blanket fort at the end of my bed sometime in the middle of the night. It was slightly disconcerting that she’d been able to do so without waking me. But then, she was a dream walker. Perhaps that came with sneaky benefits.

It was odd timing, though. Opal had slept deeply, settled in the guest room, for the previous two nights. I had checked on her multiple times. So perhaps she was reacting to the witches’ pending arrival. As I was.

Aiden’s hand shifted from my hip, fingers trailing upward, across my waist and lower rib cage, teasing under my left breast.

Still partially propped up, I readied a cautionary whisper about the young witch’s presence in the room. But as I turned my head, I found myself immediately pinned into place by Aiden’s searing blue gaze.

My heart thumped.

The desire that had been slowly coming to a simmer as I visualized waking the sorcerer flooded through me.

A slow, sleepy smile softened Aiden’s gaze. Abandoning the lower curve of my breast, he slid his hand over my shoulder to the back of my neck, then gently tugged me forward into a lingering kiss.

I sighed into his mouth, pressing my free hand against his chest and feeling the steady beat of his heart.

He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into my mouth as he slid his hand down my back to cup my ass and pull me snugly against him. The hard length of him pressed against my lower stomach — he had woken ready to back up all the promises we’d made three days before. His eagerness to do so was effortlessly transmitted through the empathic connection made by our skin-to-skin contact.

My mind turned to mush. All my concerns were deliciously swamped by desire and need.

Opal murmured something in her sleep. Again.

Aiden’s head snapped back, all vestiges of sleep wiped away in a single blink. He rose on his elbow and winced, then noted the blanket fort that had appeared at the end of the bed.

He collapsed back with a silent sigh, his disappointment warring with residual pain. His right shoulder had been dislocated when he’d tried to escape Isa’s incarceration, and the left shoulder was badly sprained. Those lingering wounds and the fact that we’d both been exhausted were why we’d gone to bed mostly clothed.

I laughed quietly. Then, because I couldn’t help myself, I reached underneath the sheets tented between us and teasingly stroked the hard length of him through his boxers.

Just once.

I wasn’t a complete monster.

He groaned almost silently, then muttered quietly, Not helpful.

Magic shifted on my spine, concentrated on the blood tattoo anchored on my T3 vertebra. Aiden glanced toward the partially closed door behind me at the same time I did, presumably feeling the magic as it triggered the bond.

Christopher appeared at the door, wearing only boxers. His white blond hair was mussed. In the low light, the faded runes etched across his arms, torso, and legs were only slightly darker smudges against his golden skin. The white of the clairvoyant’s magic rimmed his pupils. Seeing we were awake, he pushed open the door, padding into the room.

Shove over, he grunted.

Aiden shifted to the far edge of the bed, tucking me against him.

Before I could offer any protest over having my bedroom further invaded, Christopher climbed under the covers, facing me but not touching.

I shimmied back against Aiden. He splayed his hand across my stomach. I noted, with some disappointment, that his erection had retreated, presumably due to our suddenly mixed company.

Christopher grinned at me, without a doubt reacting to some admonishment I’d voiced in whatever near future he was presently seeing unfold in his mind’s eye.

I shook my head at him, tugging up the sheets and the quilt so they covered all three of us up to our necks. All we needed was for Paisley to join us. But the demon dog was babysitting the newly hatched chicks in the barn, even though they were in a temperature-monitored, heated brooder. The chicks had hatched — with no help from anyone — while we’d all been rescuing each other at the Grant farm. Even after all of Christopher’s focus, it turned out that they hadn’t needed anyone to look after them.

You need a bigger bed, Socks, Christopher murmured, folding his arm under his head. Beneath the covers, he reached toward me, but then wrapped his fingers around Aiden’s wrist.

The sorcerer propped himself up so he could see the clairvoyant over my shoulder, hissing slightly with the movement. I guessed that he had tweaked his shoulder again. Magic shifted between Aiden and Christopher, humming against my stomach, but I kept my own power to myself. I didn’t want to inadvertently direct whatever had woken Christopher and brought him into my bedroom.

Isa? Aiden asked quietly. As soon as I finish fortifying the wards, I should go after him. And notify Ruwa’s parents of her … demise.

We had talked through how and when to execute both those plans, extensively. But Aiden had stayed. Because he was still hurt. And because I’d asked him to stay with me. With us. But once the incident at the Grant farm was covered up and Opal was safely back at the Academy, he was going to have to figure out what to do about his family.

We. We were going to have to figure it out.

Because the two of us were a ‘we’ now. Apparently that wasn’t as overwhelming as I might once have thought it was going to be. But I had always been good at sticking to decisions once made, no matter the consequences.

Christopher narrowed his softly glowing eyes, then shook his head slightly. He didn’t release his hold on the sorcerer though.

Kader Azar? I asked in a whisper, not wanting to wake the young witch slumbering at the bottom of the bed.

Not yet, the clairvoyant said, his voice thick with sleep.

But soon? Aiden asked.

I only see the witches right now. But it feels like something else is looming just outside my reach … Christopher released Aiden’s wrist, trailing his fingers up my arm, then settling them across all four of the blood tattoos on my upper spine, hidden under my tank top. I’m getting glimpses …

I narrowed my eyes at the unsanctioned touching, but didn’t admonish him. He appeared to be trying to use the blood bonds to sharpen what he was seeing of the future, not simply playing around with his magic.

Clairvoyants, along with oracles and harbingers, had a much higher mortality rate than other Adepts. Mostly from suicide, due to insanity. Such magic users rarely survived their thirties without a support network, which was why most seers aligned with a witch coven. But I was more sensitive to the possibility that Christopher using his magic might burn him out than he was. It was a long-standing point of contention between us, and not something I would ever take lightly.

Granted, Christopher wasn’t just a clairvoyant. Like me, he’d been artificially conceived from a mixture of magical DNA designed to make him more than simply a conduit for seeing the immediate future. The blood tattoos each of the Five wore grounded his power as well.

The witches? I asked. Ember and Capri Pine?

Yes. I see them. But … He pressed one finger to each tattoo on my spine. Magic gathered under his touch, spreading across my neck and shoulder blades. Still too far out, he finally said. Blood on the snow, words exchanged, a white-etched pentagram …

Tied to the Pine witches? Aiden asked.

No. To whatever else is coming. Christopher withdrew his hand. The power in his eyes dimmed into a sliver of white around his light-gray irises. The Pines are about an hour away. I just saw them drive over that silver bridge that leads into Duncan.

Aiden groaned lightly, pressing a kiss to the back of my head as he murmured, We’ll finish what you started later.

Christopher laughed quietly.

I should run by the Grant farm again before the witches arrive, the sorcerer continued, sliding out of bed. So I have an up-to-date assessment of the evaporation rate.

Using magic siphoned from Christopher, Opal, and Jenni, as well as Ruwa’s tie to the spell she’d used to open the demon dimension, I had prevented the pocket from swallowing us as it collapsed. Aiden had confirmed that the passage to the demon dimension was closed. But holding open that passage had created a swamp apparently composed of demon remains and magical residual — all of which looked as if it had been put through a massive blender.

A blender known as the Amplifier Protocol.

Specifically, me.

Not trusting the perimeter spells he’d set, Aiden had been checking the residual that remained at the Grant farm every few hours, documenting the rate of evaporation. With the dimensional pocket closed, anything tied to the demon realm couldn’t exist in our dimension for long. That was why demons turned to ash when they were killed — or, rather, when they were vanquished from our world.

Aiden had last checked the farm right before we’d climbed into bed. And Jenni Raymond’s patrol took her past the site multiple times a day, on and off duty.

Even though the swamp appeared to be shrinking on its own, the deaths of the Grants and the destruction of their house and barn unfortunately weren’t something we could completely cover up. Jenni had reported it as a massive house fire, and the snowstorm had slowed any immediate investigation. Ember Pine was already wrangling paperwork and legal documents to support Jenni’s story. The problem with a small town was that it was difficult to cover up something as large as a house fire that burned so hot it consumed two bodies. Especially given that the fire department hadn’t been called out.

Supposedly, Ember had all that covered as well. But that level of cover-up required more than just paperwork — which meant Lake Cowichan was about to be subjected to some precisely aimed witch spells accompanying that paperwork.

The magic ringing Christopher’s eyes had completely abated. So if he was seeing something more than the witches’ pending arrival and the aftermath of us all running around doing cleanup, that vision wasn’t clear enough to articulate yet.

Cards? I asked, concerned enough about the immediate future to push him. Just lightly, but more than I normally would have. Something about having Opal in the house made me tentative, when normally I would have been happy to simply confront what needed to be confronted when it arrived, and to not worry about it beforehand.

Though I still knew that having any control over the future was a ridiculous notion. The future was in constant motion, shifting from whim to whim, person to person, decision to decision. I would do what needed to be done when it needed doing. Whether it involved Opal or not.

Christopher nodded. Later.

Aiden, having tugged jeans on over his boxer shorts, carefully skirted the blanket fort and crossed into the bathroom. It was often difficult to tear my gaze away from the sorcerer, but a pending vision was a good distraction.

I slipped my hand over Christopher’s shoulder, pressing a fingertip to each of the blood tattoos on his spine — mimicking his own gesture from a few minutes before. The magic embedded in his T1 vertebra roiled at my touch — my magic, bound to my blood. It constantly shimmered underneath his skin, tied to nerves and muscle and bone. The other three tattoos were dormant, as were the corresponding tattoos on my own spine.

I’m glad you stayed, Fox in Socks. Christopher brushed a light, quick kiss against my forehead, then broke contact with me by rolling back off the bed. Somehow, he landed on his feet without getting tangled in the sheets.

Avoiding being touched by me, or having his sight amplified by me, was highly unusual for the clairvoyant. But as always, it was his choice, and I didn’t push any further.

Stepping into the doorway to the hall, Christopher threw back his head and bellowed, Rise and shine, little witch!

A series of curses unbefitting a thirteen-year-old emanated from the blanket fort at the base of the bed, each word laced with a spark of unfocused, involuntary magic.

Christopher chuckled, then said cajolingly, I’ll make breakfast.

The blankets were flung aside and Opal’s head, topped with wild, curly dark hair, appeared. Her thin shoulders were swamped in a gray hoodie that she must have stolen from Christopher’s closet. Pancakes?

Yes. He strode from the room.

Opal grinned at me, displaying her slightly crooked eye teeth. Yay!

And though my stomach was still soured from the thought of the inbound witches — one of whom was coming to take Opal away to the Academy — I grinned back at her. With butter and maple syrup.

Still grinning, Opal scrambled to her feet, making a hasty grab for all the blankets that had made up her fort. As it came apart, I could see that the cushions from the couch in my sitting room had formed the sides. Thus burdened, Opal hustled from the room.

I lay back in the bed, tucking my speckled rose quilt under my chin while listening to Opal clomping around tidying, and Aiden running the water in the bathroom. Dawn was slowly lightening the room. The gentle hum of Christopher’s magic followed him downstairs into the kitchen. Reaching farther, I could feel Paisley in the barn, watching over the newly hatched chicks.

Aiden opened the bathroom door. His gaze was glued to me as he crossed to retrieve his wool socks from the chair in the corner, tugging them on. He was moving easier. At a guess, one more session in the pentagram would ease the last of his residual soreness. And sleeping for a few hours beside me had presumably helped as well. My amplifying abilities leaked.

Lazy licks of magic and a comfortable silence shifted between us as the sorcerer pulled on a dark-gray henley and ran his hands through his slightly damp hair.

Closing the space between us, Aiden set one knee on the bed, placing a hand to either side of my head. Then he just stared down at me with a soft smile.

Curling my fingers into the bedding, I resisted the urge to tug him closer, to finish what I’d tried to start before I realized Opal was in the room.

Aiden’s smile grew. His dark hair fell over his high brow. His eyes were bright blue, his neglected stubble nearing short beard territory.

Not even seventy-two hours, I whispered.

For the world to come crashing back in?

I nodded.

His smile disappeared as he raked my face with his sharp gaze. Maybe it will snow again and keep the witches at bay.

No. It’ll be melting again soon. It had started melting the previous day, in fact, and the weather report was calling for sun. The roads had been cleared and had stayed that way. The major airports in the Pacific Northwest had reopened, though with limited service. But still, I had used the snowstorm as an excuse to not fully address the fact that Opal needed to leave. And that a decision needed to be made about Isa Azar and about the letter he’d delivered to Aiden from their father.

Aiden had kept the missive from Kader Azar out of sight. More accurately, he had tucked it away from the curious eyes of the thirteen-year-old witch currently residing with us. The letter was laden with magic, specifically around the seal. Between fortifying the property wards and the pentagram in the loft, Aiden hadn’t had the time to also set up the protections he wanted in place when he opened it.

Christopher hadn’t seen Kader Azar in our near future. Yet. But a member of the Collective would not be an easy opponent to vanquish. Yet another reason that Opal needed to be tucked away at the Academy — assuming they’d updated their security protocols since Ruwa had waltzed in disguised and snatched the young witch. I would have to double check that with Ember —

Stay with me a moment longer, Aiden whispered, calling my attention away from my previously ignored to-do list.

I pulled my arms free of the quilt, reaching up to lightly dig my short nails into his stubble. Even with less than three days of unhindered contact, I had already figured out that he liked that sensation.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to my palm. You’ll talk to Ember about Opal. You’ll figure out your options.

Our options? I’d intended the words as a statement and was peeved that they’d come out as a question.

Our options, he said, firmly in agreement. All of us.

I shifted onto my elbows, gently capturing his lower lip in my teeth. He kissed me, still grinning. I settled my hand at the back of his neck, relishing the contact as I darted my tongue into his mouth.

Pancakes! Opal shouted from the vicinity of the hall. Then her footsteps pounded down the stairs.

Aiden laughed huskily. Check the swamp. Breakfast. Witches. Cleaning up at the farm. Then I’ll meet you back here? I’ve got some runes to etch around your bedroom door.

I grinned. Soundproofing?

He wagged his eyebrows at me playfully. And maybe a little something to block the clairvoyant. Not enough to concern him, just something to … fuzzy his vision.

I like that you try, I said.

He laughed, a little sharply. But I’m doomed to fail?

I sighed. Sorry. It’s just that with any of the Five, magic is unpredictable around us. And the blood tattoos …

He shrugged. The audience doesn’t bother me. But … I think it might bother Christopher a bit.

I can’t not … love you, I said, carefully but deliberately using the ‘L’ word to indicate my seriousness. I can’t not be with you just because it bothers Christopher if he sees us having sex.

Aiden