Page 53 of The Diamond in the Rough

He chuckled. “No. Well, okay,yes, but not in terms of mymagical abilities. He did start making me take better care of myself—eating better,eating, period, when I used to skip meals a lot. And then working on the Fitzwilliam case”—He grimaced again, and this time I knew it was because he hated talking about that particular case.—“I had to start practicing both summoning and self-protection. And I started getting better at both.”

“I thought Archie did something to you,” I said. I’d heard it mentioned often enough.

Ward nodded. “He did,” he replied. “And that sped things up alot. But we were already trying to work out how I could access that magic.” He smiled. “I’m pretty sure I would have gotten there eventually, just… maybe in another decade instead of it taking about a year.” He made another face. “Not that I’ve stopped working on it,” he admitted. “But it’s a lot less difficult than it used to be.”

I thought about this. “Do you think I should see if he can do the same thing for me?” I asked.

“Jesus, fuck, no,” came the immediate and horrified response. “First of all, it wasawful. I would not wish that on anyone. Second, Archie has the same kind of magic I do—which is not what you have.”

“I’m like Mason. And Jackson.” Witch magic, not warlock magic.

“Yes, but they don’t at all work the same way,” he said. “Or so Mason says.”

I wasn’t about to doubt anything Mason had to say about magic. “So you’re saying nobody is going to just be able to turn on my abilities.”

He shrugged. “Not as far as I know. Just hard work, I’m afraid.”

I nodded. “Probably better that way,” I observed.

Ward cocked his head to the side. “Not that I’m disagreeing,” he said. “But why do you say that?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Makes it easier to get used to,” I replied. “If it’s gradual and takes work. Less shocking.”

Ward let out a small snort. “It would definitely be that,” he muttered, then smiled. “But yeah, you’re right.” He studied me again for a moment, those grey eyes assessing. “You really are doing very well with it, you know that?”

I felt my cheeks flush. “I—I’m trying,” I mumbled.

Ward smiled. “It sucks,” he said. “Trying to figure out how to use magic—especially when you’ve got more than one thing to manage. But you are handling it. Just don’t stop taking care of your body and your mind just because you’re working on your magic. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

I was willing to try.

I just didn’t know how far that was going to get me.

10

She was exhausted.Her youngest had refused to eat her breakfast with silverware, picking up pieces of cut-up pancake and syrup with her fingers. Fingers that then gripped her hand as she’d pulled the protesting child to the minivan—running late, as usual, because it was so hard to get four kids up and dressed and ready to go—to drop off the other kids off at school.

And then they’d come to see the dark-haired man about her father’s will, since her step-mother was claiming that there wasn’t one.

Except she knew that her father wouldn’t have done that to her or her sister. And definitely not to his grandchildren, even if he hadn’t understood why she’d married Hiro—complaining that her great-grandfather had gone to war with Japan, so why would she want to marry someone from there. She’d tried ignoring the comments, but they’d gotten to her, even if Hiro pretended not to hear them.

Hiro loved her. And he was good to her. He wanted to hire someone to help her around the house—cleaning, taking the kids to school, that sort of thing—but she felt like it was her job at astay-at-home-mom to take care of those things. Besides, hiring help was expensive, and they were already trying to be careful about the budget.

That’s why she wanted to talk to this Campion person—if she was right, then her dad must have left them something. Maybe then she could actually get some of the projects around the house done.

She sat in the waiting area, trying to make a grocery list, grimacing a little as syrup from Kennedy’s hand made the pen sticky in her own. She’d borrowed it from the cup on the front desk and reminded herself to return it before she left.

I practically threwthe pen into the trash, frustrated. I’d been trying for the better part of the last week to get my abilities under control so that they would stop ambushing me—so that I could use them or not use them at will.

I wasn’t having very much luck.

The woman whose memory I’d triggered had spoken to Ward this morning—and seemed to have been satisfied with the outcome of the séance. I hoped her father hadn’t been as much of a bigot as she’d worried. I hoped she got the money she needed so that she could take care of her kids.

I was just finishing up the paperwork for her case, when a younger woman came in through the door, a bit windblown, her stylishly cut dark brown hair catching on the edges of a pale purple mask. She was younger than me, or looked it, anyway, although I could tell right away that there was power in her. Not as much as Ward or Mason, or even me, but it was there.

People with power make me nervous.