Tempting Fate: Guardians, Inc: Wychward, #1

By Esther Mitchell

A House Master with a mysterious and dangerous charge, and a woman without any knowledge of her origins. Has Gavin MacCorran agreed to take on a task meant to rescue a damsel in distress, or made a deal meant to seal his fate forever? Addie Loughlin appears to be a waitress with no past and a dismal present. But as her origins and her obliviousness to the world into which she was born come to light, Gavin will have to ask himself two very important questions...

 

Can he believe anything Addie is telling him?

​

And is saving her life more of a risk to everything he has, or a necessity he can't bear to consider not risking?

 

** THIS BOOK CONTAINS REFERENCES AND SCENES INVOLVING HUMAN TRAFFICKING. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.**

 

** Every book in this series is a stand-alone story, with its own central characters. While other underlying plots may run for several books, everything is explained in a way that means the books can be read independently of each other. ***

• Language: English
• Publisher: FyrRose Productions
• Release date: Jan 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781955301138

Book preview

Other Books by ESTHER MITCHELL

GUARDIANS, INC: WYCHWARD

Book One: Tempting Fate

COMING SOON

Book Two: Pyramora

GUARDIANS, INC: WITCH HOLLOW

Book One: Sight Unseen

Book Two: Up In Flames

COMING SOON

Book Three: Nick of Time

PROJECT PROMETHEUS

Book One: In Her Name

Book Two: Hope of Heaven

Book Three: Shadow Walker

Book Four: Blood Debt

Book Five: Between Worlds

COMING SOON

Book Six: Crimson Rose

HANOVER INVESTIGATIONS

Book One: Burden of Proof

COMING SOON

Book Two: Silent Night

UNDERGROUND: MOLE

Book One: Tamia

Book Two: Mind Killer

Book Three: Terminal Hunter

COMING SOON

Book Four: Hero's Hope

LEGENDS OF TIRUM

Book One: Daughter of Ashes

Book Two: Phoenix Rising

Book Three: Spirit Mage

Book Four: Mistress of Cats

COMING SOON

Book Five: Sister of Dragons

FyrRose Productions

637 S. Cynthia Avenue

Tucson AZ 85710

http://www.esthermitchell.com

Copyright © 2004 by ESTHER MITCHELL

EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-955301-13-8

PRINT ISBN: 978-1-955301-14-5

Published in the United States of America

Publication Date: January 5, 2022

Editor: Gail R. Delaney

Cover Artist: FyrRose Productions

Cover Art Copyright by FyrRose Productions © 2020

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information retrieval and storage system without permission of the publisher.

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Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination, or are used in a fictitious situation. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, organizations, incidents or persons – living or dead – are coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

Dedication and Acknowledgment

To my best friend, soul mate, and love of my life, for believing in me when no one else did, and continuing to inspire me, all these years later. I wouldn't be able to do this without you, and I miss you every day. I love you.

To my friend, critique partner, and editor, Gail, for your invaluable feedback and insights.

In the Sixth Circle,

Born of Conflict,

Raised against the Order to which she is bound,

Will arise One to Protect those whose duty is to Protect us all.

Prophecy of Trestanes, Fae Oracle

1854 C.E.

Prologue

Atrium Lunae -- Mount Parnassus, Greece

October 30, 1988

Feet pounded along the marble corridor floors, and the woman's head jerked up as a teenage girl caught herself in the doorway, breathing heavy from her urgent race.

What news brings you at such haste?

The girl, Anna, drew in gulping breaths as she glanced toward the baby resting peacefully in its cradle. The sadness on the girl's face gripped the woman's heart, and she knew. Half-rising from her seat, her breath caught.

You have seen him.

Anna shook her head. No, Mistress. But he has been spotted. Some claim he is only a shade, but he still comes closer. The baby... she's no longer safe here, Mistress.

Pain ripped through Erinyes' soul as her gaze fell to her precious daughter. A dark shadow had followed the baby since the day of her birth two months ago -- the shade of a curse they were still unable to ascertain the source of. Her much-adored baby girl had yet to be named, for a Para child named while a curse hung over its head was doomed to terrible fates, and she would not -- could not -- doom the only child she might ever have. The child of her heart.

Quickly, she instructed Anna -- a blessedly human girl with no Para or Legacy to track -- as she went into a protective flurry of motion, lifting the child from her cradle. The baby, jostled awake by her mother's swift actions and radiating fear, loosed a wail, which Erinyes quickly shushed with soft murmurs.

There, there, love. You're going to be safe. I promise you.

What do you wish, Mistress?

Her attention dragged back to her maidservant. She nodded toward extra blankets and a carrying sling on a nearby table. Bring those.

Anna's eyes went wide in denial. Mistress, you cannot...

I am well-aware of what I cannot do, Anna. My presence with her will only draw the curse wherever we would go. No, I must ask you to do something terribly difficult, which will require all of your courage.

Anna swallowed hard, but nodded. For you, Mistress, I will do anything.

Come, Erinyes gestured for her to bring the items, and when Anna came to stand before her with them, Erinyes laid the baby back in her cradle for a moment, to slide the carrying sling over Anna's head and under her one arm so it rested across her chest. Then, taking the blankets, Erinyes securely swaddled the baby and settled her into the sling, pleased when Anna's arms instinctively curved to protect the child.

You must take her and leave this place. Go far from here, find her a new home, and safeguard her there. Whatever you do, never come back here, and never allow her to know where she came from or who she is.

Anna's eyes filled with tears, matching the opening chasm of pain in Erinyes' chest. Today, she would lose a piece of her heart, and though she would live an eternity, she would never be able to touch her only child again. She would not even be able to watch over her. Any contact could draw the curse straight to the child.

Live well, my beautiful daughter, she whispered, bending to plant a final kiss on the baby's forehead. Live well, and know you take half of my heart with you, always.

Then, lifting her chin to meet Anna's gaze, she jerked her head in instruction, unable to force any more words past her throat for fear she would break completely. In a flash, Anna was off, her echoing footfalls disappearing back down the corridor, spiriting away Erinyes' precious baby, and possibly the last hope of the Para.

Chapter One

Hole In the Wall Coffee Shop, Seattle, Washington

February 8, 2014 -- 2:10 PM

The last place he needed to be was in the city, waiting on someone he wasn't even sure would show up. With a disgusted sigh, Gavin MacCorran -- Will, to his friends -- leaned back into the darkened corner of the coffee shop booth and watched the snow outside drifting toward the ground, where people in far too much hurry to do absolutely nothing important would trample it.

Gods of old, he was a morbid bastard.

His eyes traveled the interior of the coffee shop, and he suppressed another sigh. Hole in the Wall, whimsically named by its original owner for the since-patched holes in the brick exterior, was a small, secluded hangout for Seattle's more offbeat crowd. The last place anyone would ever expect to find Gavin Uilleam MacCorran, Master of Gloria House and descendant of the Naomh Draoidh -- the Holy Druid -- of the Sgàil Taighean Fae.

He came from one of the oldest and most prestigious Para lines in all existence. He was Master of one of the thirteen Traveling Houses capable of hiding Para and Legacy from those who meant them harm. His family always ran a Traveling House, since the earliest days of the Covenant.

Not that he gave a damn, he decided with a disdainful snort. He didn't go into this for the prestige or because it was expected of him. He ran Gloria House because he believed in the Covenant and what it represented, and because too many innocent Para and Legacy were disappearing every day, because of the Crucibani and other evil elements in the world. However, his Legacy was as a Wychward -- a Para bodyguard of sorts. Being Master of a Traveling House was just an extension of his first and deepest calling.

Will? Hel's teats, man, snap out of it!

Roused from his musings, Gavin quirked a dark brow at his companion. He and Geoff were probably as different as any two friends could be.

Gavin bore all the hereditary traits of his Celtic ancestors -- he had their wiry, athletic build, skin of a smooth olive tone, hair darker than midnight, and eyes of a pure, deep bronze. Only when he used his Para abilities did his Fae lineage bleed through, making his eyes shine like new pennies.

Geoff Grayson -- Geoffrey Grayson IV, Archivist and Master Skald of the Thorolfkin, to be proper -- was Norse from the roots of his moon-blond hair to the toes of his fur-lined biker boots. Geoff's imposing six-foot, six-inch muscular frame might look intimidating, but anyone who approached him soon learned the massive lycanthrope was really a huge, playful puppy, underneath.

Gavin was the darker side of their duo, and had been since they were children. Geoff was usually the very definition of affable, with a gentle disposition. Now, though, he sounded more like the Thorolfkind -- the dark wolf -- of his ancestry. He was miffed about something.

What? Gavin enquired blandly as he leaned back in the booth, twisted a strand of shadow around his finger, and pulled it around to mask his expression.

Geoff shoved a large hand through his long, blond hair in a frustrated gesture, his sharp, canine teeth flashing in the light as he grated out, I swear by the All Father, Will, you take the secrecy part of your job too seriously. Who are we supposed to be looking for?

Who? Gavin bit out a sharp laugh. He rarely had any idea what was coming. Most Para or Legacy who needed sanctuary just found their way to his front door. Unlike most of the other Traveling Houses, Gloria House held a Sanctuary Beacon, allowing any Para or Legacy in distress to find their way to its safety. Others were spirited in at all hours of the day or night by other Wychwards or Guardians agents. This was the first time he'd ever had to personally collect one since he took over stewardship of Gloria House.

She must be very important to someone, whoever she was.

Not a clue.

Geoff, in the process of taking a drink of his coffee, nearly spit the contents of his mug across the booth. Choking, he finally spluttered, What do you mean, you don't know? Where did the request come from?

Gavin shrugged. Does it matter? It wasn't exactly a request.

Geoff sat back, frowning. Would to me.

Gods and demons, lycanthropes could be thick at times! Gavin rolled his eyes. Which is why you're not a Wychward. I was told to be here to collect a charge. I don't get the luxury of questioning on whose orders.

Geoff's keen azure eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. Bullshit. You're not exactly a rebel, but nor are you the type to blindly follow orders you don't know the source of.

Gavin sighed, leaning further into the shadows, wishing he could just make himself disappear into them. He could, of course, but it wouldn't get him out of this. Geoff already knew that juvenile trick. Finally, he faced his friend. "Jason Guardian contacted me. He told me there's a woman in trouble, who doesn't even know she's in trouble. He believes the Crucibani have been following her for some time, and he's worried she'll end up walking into her own death."

Geoff's frown deepened. So, who is she?

Gavin bit out a sharp laugh. I have no idea.

"Excuse me? Geoff blinked hard. You came to Seattle, to this coffee shop, without even a clue who you're looking for? How will you know her?"

Geoff, Gavin leaned forward, watching wary surprise flicker through his friend's eyes. Shadow magic tended to have that effect, even on other Para. She's Para. I'm sure there'll be signs. There are always signs.

There was silence from the other side of the table for a full minute before Geoff loosed a low, disbelieving groan and slumped back in his seat. "Tell me I'm not hearing this. Will, please tell me you thought this one through. If they called you to come get her, she's not just another one of your usual strays. She has to be too dangerous for any of the other Wychwards to be seen with."

Gavin nodded glumly, sinking back into the shadows again. I already thought of that. But what choice is there? She's obviously in trouble, whoever she is. I have to help her.

I still don't think it's a good idea, buddy.

Tough, Gavin returned in dark humor. I'm going to help her. If I can find her.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Gavin waved away Geoff's concern. He knew from the moment he was old enough to understand what the Houses were for, danger was going to be a part of his life. He lived in the shadows, both literally and figuratively, for a reason. He had charges to keep safe, and he wasn't about to start questioning the worth of one charge over another, now. Noted. Now, back off.

The blond shrugged and held up his hands in mock surrender. Okay, you're in charge.

A disdainful snort pushed from Gavin. As if he believed for an instant that the stubborn lycanthrope seated across from him was about to give up. He knew his friend too well for that. Right.

I just don't get how they expect you to know who you're looking for, without some kind of identifying information. You know what that smells like to me? Geoff muttered with shake of his blond head. A trap, man. That's what. Have you even stopped to consider the safety of your family in this? What about your parents? What about Ysabet, Will?

Gavin straightened, his bronze eyes blazing. Leave Ys out of this.

Geoff snorted derisively. "I didn't bring her into it. You did, you dumb bastard. Put her in danger, and Ysabet won't have a snowball's chance in Muspelheim of ever getting into a Bardic school, no matter who sponsors her. You know how they are about security."

Gavin groaned, slumping back into the comforting embrace of the shadows. Geoff was right. He was a self-centered ass. Ysabet was barely sixteen -- their parents' late-life surprise and joy -- and the only light to enter Gavin's dark existence in thirty years. He'd sworn an oath the day she was born that he would protect her from ever having to suffer the same shame and darkness he did. He couldn't let his sister pay for his choices.

How do I get myself into these messes?

Geoff shrugged nonchalantly. Hey, like you said, it's your job, Will. But I'd suggest you find your girl, and quick.

Gavin snorted. Yeah. Like it's that easy. I haven't felt so much as a brush of anything Para other than the two of us since we arrived. Jason didn't seem to know anything helpful, either, other than 'in danger'.

You could always just announce you're here looking for a woman and see who bites.

Gavin rolled his eyes. Fat lot of help you are.

Fine. Geoff leaned forward, suddenly all hunter. You get off your ass and find this charge of yours however you usually do it, so we can get out of here, and I'll personally browbeat Kyna Ravensfall into slating your sister for the next entry sitting at Dalamor.

Gavin's brows shot up as his eyes widened. Ysabet would give her right eye to get into Dalamor Bardic Academy. It was the most prestigious Bardic school in the world, and entry sittings were impossible to get without the approval of the highly critical Headmistress. Ysabet would be ecstatic, and really, how hard could it be to find one woman who should already be here?

Hole in the Wall was a meeting place for Seattle's Pagan types. It made sense for a Para on the Crucibani kill list to be hiding here, where she could blend in more easily. Maybe that was why his Wychward senses weren't working. He wasn't actively searching for her... He'd just expected to instantly know.

A slow, confident smirk sliding over his face, Gavin met his friend's challenging gaze.

You're on, Grayson.

Geoff looked up, and grinned wolfishly. Good. Why don't you ask her?

Gavin blinked and looked around, but there was no one there -- no one except a harried-looking and unkempt waitress, her dark hair working loose from her braid in flyaway strands of curly frizz as she cleaned tables and muttered to herself.

Where?

Geoff tipped his head back and laughed as the waitress passed their table, scowling. I dare you -- ask her. The waitress.

Gavin's eyes landed on the waitress, and disbelief settled. No way. She's a waitress. She's probably worked here for years.

And that means she can't have seen something she wasn't supposed to? Man, you need to watch more true crime TV.

His attention fixed on the woman's stormy scowl and flyaway hair, Gavin bit back a disbelieving groan. Geoff was right. He was going to have to ask her. He couldn't take the chance she really was his charge.

Great. Time to look like a lunatic.

She was out of her mind. Had to be. Only certifiable insanity could explain why she actually volunteered for this assignment.

Clearly, the Universe at large had some kind of vendetta against her. There was no other reason she could find for why everything kept going sideways. First, her best friend and partner was murdered by his prime suspect in a human trafficking case. Then, some pervert starts following her around a couple of months back, and she still didn't have a better description than some old white guy dressed in black, who drove a white van with no plates.

Now, her undercover assignment went from frustrating to dead end.

FBI Agent Adrasteia Loughlin slapped her damp cleaning rag down on the sticky surface of the window table where someone's kid decided to use the honey dispenser as a source of finger paint, and swore beneath her breath.

What possessed me to take the undercover part of this operation, again? She spoke in a hushed mutter so none of the nearby customers could hear, but her team would.

Because you're a control freak with more backups than a military counterintelligence operation, came the amused reply of her tech wizard, FBI Agent Lydia Brown, through the earwig in her right ear.

Addie rolled her eyes, and flexed her shoulders with a wince. After this, she was going to start tipping waitresses double -- no one should have to put up with this crap for minimum wage.

Looks like our boy's planning to make a day of it, she mumbled into the microphone pin on her uniform lapel as she scrubbed the honey from the Formica tabletop.

Patience, Addie. The soothing baritone of her mentor and joint operation leader, Special Agent Bernard Weiss, rumbled in her ear.

Gimme a break, Bern. Bernie Weiss was part of the FBI's old vanguard -- her mentor ever since she graduated from Quantico, and her new partner, since she transferred to the Seattle field office four years ago. Our Intel must have been crap. They said he was going to be here to pick up new inventory. I haven't seen him talk to anyone since he got here, except the giant with him.

She kept scrubbing, her frustration growing.

His chuckle filled her ear. The way any operation around this guy's gone, I'm not surprised. Murphy's Law.

I'll show you Murphy's Law, she hissed. If I ever find Murphy, he's a dead man.

A throat cleared, somewhere near her, startling Addie. She turned from her furious scrubbing, and the air froze in her lungs. God. Let her die, now. Anything had to be better than embarrassing herself in front of this man.

He was six-foot-two, towering over her five-foot-six and a half inches and making her feel positively diminutive. His olive complexion was deeper than her own lighter olive skin tone, and his eyes gleamed like pennies in the dim lighting of the coffee house. Molasses-brown hair curled against his collar, and the arrogant tilt of his head declared him unimpressed by her appearance. His was a face she studied obsessively for the past five years. Damned shame she couldn't decide if he was just a slick conman, or a complete monster.

Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes, and Addie's heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it. His gaze skimmed over her, and his lips twisted. He was looking at her like a panther eyeing prey. The look instantly raised her hackles. She lifted her chin belligerently. Seen enough? Maybe you can tell me what you want, now?

One ebony brow quirked, but Addie refused to back down even as humor flashed in his gaze. He'd be laughing out of the other end once she got through with him. She just needed one piece of solid evidence...

He must have read her desire to do bodily harm in her expression, because he took a step backward as he chuckled. The deep, mysterious sound quaked along her tautly strung nerve endings, sending unwelcome heat lightning ricocheting through Addie. She shivered, and tried to tell herself there was a chill in the coffee shop. She wasn't going to let any man see her react.

Especially not this one.

He had dangerous written all over him. From his severe, exotic features to his tight black jeans and gray silk shirt, he was the stuff dark fantasies were made of. Too bad he was a scumbag who profited off the pain and suffering of other people. He was also at the top of her personal Most Wanted list. She had to bring him down -- she owed it to Dylan.

A shadowy, powerful presence surrounded him. He drew her to him, despite her certainty he was the man responsible for one of the most prolific human trafficking and smuggling operations in the Pacific Northwest, and suspected in the murder of FBI Agent Dylan Beaumont, five years ago and about two thousand miles away. Yet, for the first time ever, she sensed she could trust someone -- could trust him. Crazy, given what she suspected him of.

When you're finished...

His husky brogue rolled over her, taking Addie's breath away. It took her a moment to register what he actually said. When she did, she blinked hard.

Finished what?

He chuckled again, his eyes sparkling with cynical mirth. Stripping me with your eyes.

Of all the arrogant, conceited... I was not.

He leaned closer, until she felt surrounded by him, a mysterious, strangely comforting shadow.

No sense lying to me, lass. Your eyes give you away. He reached out and tilted her chin up until she was forced to meet his bronze gaze. A spark kindled there, followed by surprise and shock. Such lovely eyes. So pure, so without artifice...

Addie swallowed hard, and yanked her face from his light grasp. She felt too raw, too exposed, under that piercing gaze of his. Her hackles rose, and she welcomed the return of her control.

What do you want? She went back to her task as if nothing was amiss. She couldn't afford to tip her hand -- not until she had evidence of the whole ring, and they could round up all the players. Not until she had the solid evidence she needed to put Gavin MacCorran away for the murder of a federal agent, and her best friend.

Your name.

Can't have it, she replied flippantly. I already own it, and it's not for sale.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand move, and gasped when she felt a light tug as he wrapped one dark, unruly strand of her hair around his index finger. Sarcasm, my pet, doesn't become you.

At the moment, it's the only thing standing between you and a mouth full of broken teeth, so don't knock it, buster. Addie barely resisted the urge to bring him down with a well-placed gut-check. His pet? How obnoxious could a man possibly get? According to what little background she was able to dig up on MacCorran, he was single. Not exactly a surprise, since most human traffickers didn't see women as anything more than playthings or property. "And I'm not your anything."

A brief smile flickered at his lips as she shot him a glare. "Have it your way, leannan. But right now, it is vitally important you come with me."

Her gaze narrowed as she assessed his request. Was this how he convinced the women who disappeared to go with him? At first, given his arrogance, she assumed it was a brute force grab. No woman in her right mind would go anywhere with someone so conceited. Now, the steely determination in his eyes almost had her convinced he spoke the truth, and only he could protect her. Except she was more than capable of protecting herself.

Adrenaline pulsed through her. This was it. If she could play it cool, this could be her way in.

She slapped the rag down on the table and turned to face him, planting her fists on her hips as she glared up at him, and gave him her undercover alias. Meg, okay? My name's Meg Tempest. Now, leave me alone, or tell me what you want. I'm busy.

He reached to remove one fist from her hip, never knowing how close he was to a punch in the throat, and raised it to his lips in a smooth European fashion she imagined melted other women. Not her.

She snatched her hand away. Who are you?

Gavin MacCorran, Master of Gloria House. I was asked to collect you. He quirked a smile full of wry, self-mocking humor her way, and Addie barely bit back her desire to cheer. They had him! She was about to get the inside look at the operation they needed -- something she'd been unable to get in the past five years of surveillance and undercover operations. Something Dylan gave his life for, without success.

I see.

A small frown furrowed his brow as he studied her. Then, his brow smoothed, and he smiled. I doubt you do. However, I do have a proposition for you.

Those words stabbed Addie with surprise. She wouldn't have pegged him as so blatant. Still, she had a role to play, and she knew she couldn't come off as too easy, or she'd rouse his suspicions.

Okay, that's my cue. This conversation is over, Mr. MacCorran, or whoever the hell you really are. She snatched up her rag and turned away.

Wait. His hand closed around her arm, and Addie spun around in automatic reaction, her hands balling into fists. Just listen--

No. She shook off his grip on her arm, glaring at him, even as she cautioned herself to calm down. It didn't work. No one manhandled her. "You listen to me. I'm sick and tired of being pestered by men like you, who think the only way to get to know a woman is to flatter her with a bunch of syrupy endearments and crawl inside her pants. Newsflash, buster: I don't want you, I don't plan on sleeping with you, or with your friend over there..."

Easy, Bernie's calm, measured voice murmured in her ear, reminding her she wasn't actually alone. She had backup.

Addie forced herself to draw a breath, get her anger under control, and continue in an icy voice, I certainly don't need your kind of trouble in my life. Just take your noble ass back over to your booth and--

Miss Tempest! A nasal, grating voice screeched from behind her, making Addie wince. Great. Phil the Pill, owner of Hole in the Wall, finally puts in an appearance and, of course, it would be just in time to hear her get in the face of his potential business partner. They hadn't told the annoying little man they were using his location for a sting -- mostly because they had solid evidence he was involved. Now, thanks to MacCorran, the whole operation could go all to hell. What do you think you're doing?

Nothing, she muttered, glaring up at Gavin MacCorran. Daring him to contradict her. She swore she saw concern in his bronze gaze, which confused her. Why would a sociopath show concern for a potential victim?

She shook it off as a product of too many hours of attempting to get inside this man's head, to profile the man Dylan named, with his dying breath, as the head of the smuggling ring. She was probably ascribing sympathies where none existed. She needed to remember this man was a stone cold sociopath, who stole young women off the street for disgusting purposes, and already killed at least one federal agent to protect his enterprise.

"Well, you can take your nothing right out that door and down the street to the unemployment office, Phil huffed, dragging her attention back to him, only to find him puffed up like an overstuffed penguin. You're fired."

Chapter Two

A look of stunned disbelief crossed Meg Tempest's intriguing honey-brown eyes, and Gavin wondered whether she was more surprised she'd been fired so easily and publicly, or that she let her temper get the best of her. He sensed her ironclad control the moment he got close, and knew Geoff unwittingly pointed him directly at his charge. Only fear inspired that kind of unbending control over one's environment.

As fury whipped to life in her eyes again, Gavin decided she must have been stunned by the suddenness of her firing. He sighed in resignation. He had no idea if he'd be able to even convince her how important it was she do as he requested, let alone if he'd be able to keep her hidden from whoever was after her. He'd be lucky if he could teach her to control the storm brewing in her eyes long enough to get her to Gloria House without giving away their position.

Without a word, Meg whipped off the apron around her waist and threw it straight into the face of the pompous little ass who just fired her. Shooting Gavin a glare that told him she reserved the top slot on her shit list for him alone, Meg rounded the counter, grabbed her shoulder bag and a pale blue sweater nowhere near adequate for the freezing temperatures, and stormed toward the front door.

Rather than the fury he supposed he should rightly be terrified of, the flicker of raw vulnerability in her eyes twisted Gavin's insides. There were layers to Meg he didn't understand, but they intrigued him. Then, just as she disappeared down the snowy Seattle street, there was a hiss and a pop, and the entire interior of the coffee shop plunged into darkness.

Damn it! The short, balding proprietor of Hole In the Wall was behind the store's wide counter before Gavin could blink, getting in another waitress' face.

Gavin winced at the other man's shrill, nasal tone. It was enough to annoy the dead to rising, even from across the small building. Instant pity for the young woman on the receiving end of that up-close verbal assault flashed through him.

"What's happened now?"

S-sorry, Mr. Blackman, the pale-faced girl behind the counter quaked in the dim light filtering in from the street. The new espresso machine just… it just blew up! I guess it blew a fuse, or something.

It's that damned Tempest woman, again! Blackman seethed, heedless of the busy shop as he slapped the counter with one hand. That woman's a menace!

Gavin's brows shot up and his attention jerked toward the door Meg Tempest stormed out as Blackman's words rang in his ears. Again? Did that mean Meg, of the sharp tongue and gorgeous eyes, was responsible for more than one disaster around here?

Gavin frowned. The energy he sensed coming off her as her anger grew bothered him. She didn't have the usual self-awareness of a Para. If she was Legacy, with that kind of energy-based power, they were all in a lot of trouble.

This is getting better by the minute.

Gavin's attention snapped to his right at the sound of his friend's voice. He forgot Geoff was there. He was too busy getting lost in a pair of world-weary honey-brown eyes, and a wit as enchanting as it was contrary. Meg Tempest was far too fascinating for comfort.

This is big trouble, that's what it is, he muttered with a shake of his head.

What are you, now? A Doomsayer? Geoff scoffed. C'mon. She's obviously the one you're here for. She blacked out the whole building, Will. The big man gave him a hardy slap on the shoulder. Even I can tell she's in danger. She smells of pursuit. I bet she comes back any second, asking you to protect her.

You might want to watch your tendency to make wagers, Gavin returned dryly. It's already got you, and me, into enough trouble.

Geoff scowled. Quit stalling, Will. I'm not sure how much more time you've got.

"I'm not sure she wants my help," Gavin hedged with a doubtful frown, his concerned gaze trained on the gusting snow outside. Where did Meg go? He hoped somewhere warm. She only had that ridiculously thin sweater when she disappeared out the door. His concern startled him. Since when did he care what happened to a random stranger?

It was his conversation with Jason Guardian, he told himself. Jason was a man of few words, but there was no misinterpreting what the man meant when he did speak. His words, in this case, sat uneasy in Gavin's mind and heart. He felt responsible, after approaching her the way he had. Her reaction flashed through him again, and he winced.

"Geoff, I'm not even sure she knows she's in danger, but she's holding onto something very tightly. Too tightly. I'm not sure I can convince her to let me help. If I can even find her, now."

Geoff shrugged, and chuckled. You'll find a way, Will. You always do.

Not this time. Gavin stifled the unwelcome feeling his world was about to be upended without his permission. With a glance at his friend, he sighed. You're serious about this.

A strange, somber light flared in Geoff's keen, lupine eyes. Never more. A deal's a deal, MacCorran. You found your girl. Now go get her, and let's get out of here.

Gavin narrowed his eyes. Whatever he might claim, Geoff had a very personal reason to offer that deal. Gavin could see it; he read it in the shadows on his friend's face. With another sigh -- this one of resignation -- Gavin grabbed his leather motorcycle jacket from the booth and headed for the door.

He had no idea what he let himself in for this time, but the tightening knot in his stomach indicated trouble. Whatever it turned out to be, he knew the tranquility of Gloria House was about to become a thing of the past.

Following Meg was child's play for a man of his abilities. The shadow imprints of her passage glowed like flaming beacons on the astral plane, stronger than any Legacy he ever encountered. No wonder Jason wanted her protected and out of harm's way until they could determine her Legacy and its manifestation.

By the Ancients, it was amazing the Crucibani -- or, even worse, some faction of the Dark Court -- hadn't found her yet. Between her natural energy levels and her temperamental personality, it wasn't hard to imagine how easily she could be manipulated by the Crucibani, or corrupted by the Dark Court.

He frowned, concern washing through him. Geoff was right. This woman needed protecting. At least until her Legacy fully manifested and she could be trained to defend herself. He just wasn't sure he was the one to do it.

Not like anyone was giving him a choice.

He found her seated in a city bus shelter, her elbows propped on her knees and her face buried in her hands. She was shivering like a reed in high winds, and her slumped shoulders trembled. No surprise there. It had to be below freezing out here, and she'd stormed out of the coffee shop with just that damned sweater, which offered no protection against the icy Seattle weather.

As Gavin approached, he realized she wasn't just trying to stay warm. Meg was whispering to herself. He couldn't make out what she was saying, with the words muffled by the hands covering her face, but apprehension arrowed through him anyway.

Legacy manifestation had an unfortunate side effect. It could drive a Legacy mad, depending on the type of Legacy and whether or not the situation was handled appropriately. Was he already too late?

In that moment, she didn't look furious or fearless. She looked small, lost, and vulnerable. Gavin's chest tightened with empathy, surprising him.

He wasn't, by nature, a highly empathetic person. It came with the territory for Wychwards. Wychwards saw the worst of what humanity often did to anyone deemed different enough -- like Paras and Legacies. Gloria House protected a great many fragile souls forever ostracized by both human and Para societies. If he empathized with every one of them, he would go mad himself, and be incapable of helping them. So, when his Calling as House Master manifested, he was certain it drained away whatever was left of the tenderness in his heart and soul.

The only person he was able to feel any real tenderness for was Ysabet, who wrapped him around her tiny finger the day she was born. He never felt any emotional connection to his charges, outside of the desire to keep them safe from whatever might be trying to hurt them. Yet, he only just met Meg, and already she stirred a desire to protect her from more than just any physical threat. He wanted to shield her from experiencing any kind of pain. He couldn't explain it -- especially when she made it so clear she could defend herself just fine. At least from humans.

He didn't want to think about all the Para threats she would never see coming. Every time he did, something primal inside of him growled two words he knew were nothing more than a bedtime story. Anam Teine. Soul fire.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at such foolish thoughts, Gavin sat beside her on the bench and slipped off his leather jacket, draping it over her hunched, trembling shoulders.

Meg jumped, her head jerking up and her stance tensing as if anticipating attack.

You'll freeze sitting here like that.

A scowl covered her face, and she pushed the jacket away. "You, again. Getting me