Magical Gains Read online

  “Did you check with the government in other countries?” Mr. Quillian asked excitedly.

  “No, I didn’t think it right to abuse my position.”

  “More so than you already have?” Mr. Quillian chuckled.

  Ian blushed red. “I’m so sorry, sir.”

  “Thank you for telling me the truth, Mr. Beckwith. I will send some men from Magical Investigations to question your fiancée, I think. Now tell me more about this Imran character.”

  “Well, there isn’t much to say, really. About two months ago I came home and there he was. Primrose said he was a friend from Uni who needed to stay until he sorted himself out. I guess he just hasn’t sorted himself out. I guess they don’t want me to know what’s going on either.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think they are having an affair,” he whispered so quietly Quillian could barely hear.

  “I am indeed sorry to hear that, my boy.”

  “I accused her, last night. I don’t remember what happened though. I remember saying it, and then…nothing.”

  Mr. Quillian’s strange eyes lit up and he looked delighted.

  “I think there is more to your unusual evening than you suspect. You may go. We will give you another RMIT test tomorrow to see if your levels are decreasing.”

  “Okay,” Ian said. “You’re not going to detain me in Cerebral Care to discover why? You’re not putting me on leave?”

  “No. I don’t think that is necessary. You are excused, Mr. Beckwith. I will let you know how our investigations progress.” Mr. Quillian looked away, and Ian was duly dismissed.

  As Ian left the office, he felt a little concerned about the implications for Primrose, but he really didn’t know what happened. If he was drinking, which according to his brother, he had been, it was his entire fault. It was confusing because Ian didn’t feel he had a real hangover, just a dry throat, itchy eyes, and a dull inconsequential earache. Ian frowned and walked back into his office. What if Primrose put a spell on him? She wasn’t a magical being, was she? Ian dismissed the thought. It had to be Imran, who was always so quiet, abrupt, and now that he thought about it, deeply suspicious. Ian scowled at the thought of Imran’s smirking handsome face. Without speaking to any of his colleagues about what just happened, Ian sat at his desk. He saw a number of files. Kay must have delivered them in his absence. Involuntarily, his mind was drawn back to Primrose and Imran, and hot flushes of rage surrounded him afresh.

  * * * *

  Several blocks away from Ian, Primrose sat in her office. Something felt wrong, and she knew it had something to do with Imran’s attack on Ian. Although she couldn’t criticize Imran for attacking him in her defense, the chance of Imran’s unregistered magical traces being detected was high, and it would send Magical Investigators swarming all over them.

  “You okay, Miss Brasco?” Melody, Primrose’s secretary, asked as she set down a cup of mint tea for Primrose.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine, Melody,” she said, taking a glance out the window. Was she mistaken, or could she see a gaggle of black-suited government officials walking hurriedly toward her building?

  “Now, how far have we got with Rockingham Council in developing land for the Tengu Cultural Center?” Primrose asked, pulling her eyes from the procession in the street.

  As Melody recited information from her notepad, Primrose became distracted and again her attention was drawn to the men striding closer to her building. They looked like Magical Investigators, dressed the same, everything the same, even hair color. Was she being overly suspicious?

  “Melody, look out the window. Do you think those men are a Magical Investigation Team?”

  Melody maneuvered her substantial bulk to the window.

  “Definitely. I wonder who they’re after? Oh, wow, they’re coming into our building!” There was a trill of excitement in Melody’s squeaky voice.

  Panic rushed through Primrose like a flood of ice. “Um, Melody, would you excuse me a moment?” Primrose tried not to let the tremor betray her nervousness.

  “Oh? Okay.” Melody looked perplexed, but she knew better than to question her boss.

  As Melody’s rounded derriere exited the office, Primrose stood and locked the door. She pressed her ear to the door and could hear Melody chatting to her fellow secretaries.

  “There’s a team of Magical Investigators in the building!” she crowed excitedly. “I wonder who…” Melody didn’t finish her sentence before Primrose heard the elevator open, and the secretaries around the reception desk all fell silent.

  “We need to see Miss Brasco,” a man spoke softly, but with confidence.

  Primrose’s heart started pounding wildly. Would she have magical traces?

  “Imran!” she whispered furiously into the air. “Come here!”

  There was slightly heated conversation going on at reception.

  “You don’t have an appointment!” Melody squeaked at the man. “You can’t just barge in here without an appointment!” Primrose felt a small swell of warmth grow for her loyal secretary.

  The man countered with some excuse Primrose couldn’t hear, and Imran appeared in a haze of black smoke.

  “You called? Is it lunch already?” He smiled wolfishly, but the smile fell when he discerned the look of panic on Primrose’s face.

  “Last night, would I be contaminated with magical ion traces? I was holding you while you performed the magic, does that contaminate me?”

  Imran paused a moment before answering. Just as he replied “yes,” a black arm of dissipating smoke caressed a smoke alarm, and suddenly sirens began wailing.

  “Warning unregistered magical being located floor three. Warning unregistered magical being located floor three.”

  “Imran!” Primrose cried in dismay.

  Imran shrugged his shoulders, looking only marginally disturbed by this new development.

  “You’ve got to get me out of here!” Primrose called over the deafening alarm.

  “Is that your first wish?” Imran asked steadily, his black eyes unreadable.

  “Ms. Brasco, open this door immediately!” one of the MIT men growled through the door.

  “Yes,” Primrose breathed. “Yes, just hurry!”

  “Where?” Imran asked.

  “Somewhere safe, away from the DMC,” she cried as a loud banging sounded on the locked door. “Hurry!”

  “You are ordered by the government of Western Australia to open this door!”

  “As you wish, Mistress.” Imran wrapped his warm arms around her and pulled her tightly to his chest. The pounding on the door turned into a cracking sound as the thin wood began to give way under the onslaught. The Magical Investigations Team was creating chaos in the reception, yelling at Primrose to give herself up. Almost imperceptibly, Imran’s black smoke shrouded them. Primrose fought the urge to cough and it felt as though millions of tiny butterflies were fluttering inside her body, struggling to get out. She closed her eyes.

  “Relax,” Imran breathed.

  The frantic fluttering intensified in her throat, and she coughed and pressed herself to Imran’s chest even tighter.

  Within seconds the cracking door and angry men’s voices were gone, and replacing them were the sounds of a bustling street and strange exotic smells.

  Reluctantly, Primrose pushed herself away from Imran’s intoxicating embrace.

  “What is the meaning of this, Genie?” a mildly irritated musical voice called. “You cannot just appear within my shop without invitation!” Leucosia scolded tunefully.

  “A thousand apologies, Leucosia,” Imran began, maneuvering himself in front of Primrose to protect her from Leucosia’s view.

  “You can stop trying to shield that human. I can sense humanity.”

  Primrose stepped out of
Imran’s shadow, curious to get a glance of this being with such a beautiful voice.

  “She’s very pretty, such a smooth complexion,” Leucosia sang. “You will want to keep a close eye on her in the Free Zone, Imran. We have many here who desire the taste of sweet human flesh.”

  Primrose stood in wide-mouthed horror at the desiccated creature. How was it possible to have such a glorious voice, yet look so horrific?

  Leucosia smiled, revealing her pointed teeth.

  “I sincerely hope you don’t intend on a taste of her flesh, Leucosia,” Imran quipped, seemingly unperturbed by her announcement.

  “Oh, no! Not me.” Leucosia smiled again. “I gave up human when they made it illegal. Though, I will admit, I do miss it.”

  “What is…Is she a…” Primrose stuttered.

  “A Siren, and a rude one at that. You should not say these things in front of my mistress, Leucosia,” Imran chided.

  “Indeed, Imran, I beg your forgiveness. Mistress of the Genie.” Leucosia turned her pearl-globe eyes on Primrose. “I am Leucosia and as your Genie revealed, I am a Siren.”

  “I…I…am…” Primrose stuttered again, totally entranced by Leucosia’s melodic voice. “Primrose…Brasco.”

  Leucosia smiled again, and it was creepy. “Then, Imran and Primrose, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

  “We had to leave Perth in something of a hurry,” Imran began. “We need somewhere to stay and bide our time, until the problem blows over.”

  “If it ever does…” Primrose muttered.

  “Somewhere to stay? In the Free Zone? Imran! This isn’t a safe place for a human,” Leucosia sang sternly.

  “I feared nowhere else would be safe either. At least here they will not find us,” Imran replied.

  “Imran. The Free Zones of the world are filling with the beings the humans loathe the most! This very Free Zone is filled with those of us who once feasted on their flesh and took pleasures ungiven from their bodies! All these creatures are effectively imprisoned here. Should they discover she is here…I could not stop them.”

  Primrose stood aghast listening to the Siren’s symphonic warning.

  “I shall keep my mistress safe,” Imran retorted, sounding quite offended.

  “Against raging Manticores? Against a band of lustful Satyrs?” Leucosia laughed.

  “Against anything.”

  “Well, in that case, knowing full well the jeopardy you place her in by her presence here, there is little else I can do but offer you lodgings,” Leucosia replied.

  “Where?” Primrose whispered, thinking perhaps she’d be better off investigated by Cerebral Care than here.

  “I have a loft converted into an apartment above this very shop. I used to stay there, until I found accommodation more suited to my cultural preferences.”

  Imran raised an eyebrow, but Leucosia did not elaborate.

  “Well, thank you, Leucosia. That is most kind,” he replied.

  “Well then, let me show you the way.”

  Imran clasped Primrose’s hand, which was cold despite the hot, humid temperature.

  Leucosia led the way through the shop, past the snake on the branch, and the shipwreck door. Her footsteps clicked on the hard wooden stairs until they reached the top.

  “I don’t have a key. I simply lock the shop, and no one would rob me anyway.” Leucosia laughed beautifully, displaying her pointed teeth, and then opened the door.

  What lay behind surprised both Imran and Primrose. A long room, decorated in a decidedly maritime theme, spread out before them. At the far end, above the shop door, was a massive window with a small balcony, overlooking the street and the brown, calm waters of the Sarawak River.

  “Wow. It’s lovely, Leucosia,” Primrose said, looking around. There was a small kitchenette along one side, a large bookshelf on the other, and directly to their left was a large bed, draped with mosquito netting. The bed was dressed in a very romantic fashion, with lots of pale blue pillows and a pure white bed spread. It seemed out of place in the studiously tidy loft. As her gaze lingered on the romantically netted bed, Primrose became aware that Imran and Leucosia ceased talking and were gazing at her curiously.

  Primrose felt a furious blush explode and burn on her cheeks. “Um, Leucosia, do you have an extra bed?”

  Leucosia stared at Primrose a moment, her opaque pearl eyes wide with shock. “What do you mean?” she asked, her expression turning sly.

  “Err, is there an extra bed for Imran? Um, he and I…don’t…aren’t…We don’t sleep together,” Primrose finally managed to say, though the words seemed to choke her.

  Leucosia looked incredulously from Primrose to Imran. “Why ever not?” Leucosia sounded aghast. Her gaze settled hungrily on Imran. “There must be something wrong with you, girl, if you refuse such bounty.” She paused a moment, and then added, “Well, you’ll have to sort it out between yourselves. I am putting myself into trouble just by assisting you, so you ought to be grateful!” Leucosia’s voice was still melodic, but held a note of annoyance.

  “Oh, no! Really, I am very grateful. Thank you, Leucosia,” Primrose blurted awkwardly, no longer able to hold the Siren’s gaze.

  Imran watched Primrose struggle with her embarrassment with a wry smile.

  “Many thanks, Leucosia. I do realize the position we have put you in,” he said courteously, his heavy-lidded eyes slowly moving away from the bed to Primrose.

  “I don’t think you do,” the Siren sang in reply. “Anyway, I will bid you good day. I will be in the shop until quite late, and will bring you an evening meal. Please, I warn you again, Primrose, do not let yourself be seen. I guarantee if you do, you will see and experience much more than you bargained for.”

  With that, Leucosia turned in a swish of black skirts and retreated downstairs, leaving Imran and Primrose alone.

  “I wish she wouldn’t say things like that,” Primrose murmured and walked toward the balcony.

  “She’s right,” Imran replied sternly, clasping her arm and pulling her back. “Primrose, don’t go near the balcony. Don’t let anyone or anything see you here. As Leucosia said, there are…beings who will not take favorably to a human being in their Free Zone.”

  Primrose frowned and shook off his warm hand. “Well, what am I going to do here? What am I going to do, period? I must be riddled with magical traces now. I’m going to lose my job. God, I’ve made a mess of this.”

  “Yes, you have,” Imran agreed, his voice heated mildly with annoyance. “I thought it peculiar you commanded me to take you away at all. You probably should have stayed to sort it all out.”

  Primrose felt hot with anger.

  “Now you tell me!” she snapped. “That morsel of advice would have been more welcome an hour ago!”

  “You didn’t give me a chance to offer my advice, if I recall correctly,” Imran countered, his voice now well modulated and impassive, which actually meant he was getting quite annoyed. His achingly handsome face stared into hers unflinching.

  “Why did you bring me here? Why not Barbados or some other nice place?”

  “Well, if you must know, it was the first place I could think of, and one of the few I knew the government wouldn’t be able to find you in. You did ask me to take you somewhere they couldn’t find you,” Imran reminded, his black eyes hardening. “You were the one worrying about what would happen if they traced Ian’s attack to you…which they obviously have.”

  “How did they trace it to me though?” Primrose groaned, and lifted up the mosquito net on the bed and lay down. “It was only 11:00 a.m. It was too quick. Something else has got to be going on.”

  “My guess is Ian was suspicious, or perhaps they were watching you before. I do not know, but I do know you will be in trouble having an unregistered magical being in your car
e…especially as you are a government employee. That aside, we have a more pressing problem.”

  “What on Earth could be worse than this?” Primrose wailed, flopping her hands over her face, not even daring to glance at him.

  She heard him step closer to the bed, and felt his weight settle down on the side.

  “I do not have my lamp,” Imran said, close to her ear. Goose bumps erupted over her arms and her heart began hammering. “It is sitting in your living room, awaiting a Magical Investigator to find it. They can seriously damage me by damaging my lamp. I have to go and get it.” Although his voice was quiet, almost seductive, there was accusation and anger in it.

  “You sound like you are blaming me for this mess!” Primrose snapped, sitting up straight on the bed and glaring at him, rubbing her hands down her arms. “I didn’t magically attack Ian.”

  “No, but you are my mistress and should have taken care of my lamp.”

  Primrose paled then reddened. “You are attributing this entire disaster to me?”

  “No, I am not attributing this entire disaster to you, but I am directly attributing this portion of the disaster to you, yes,” Imran snarled.

  Chapter Six

  While Primrose and Imran argued in the sultry heat of Kuching, Quillian sent a Magical Investigations Team to Primrose’s small suburban home. He was enraged she had escaped his jurisdiction.

  The MIT stormed up the front path. They looked formidable in their crisp black suits, and caused significant alarm to Primrose’s elderly neighbor Mrs. Michaels.

  “Oi!” she called. “Oi, you lot!”

  The identically dressed men ignored Mrs. Michaels’ irate warbles and proceeded to use a lock picker to open the door.

  “You can’t just go breaking into innocent people’s homes!” Mrs. Michaels barked in her cockney accent. “I’m going t’ call the police!”

  “We are a Magical Investigations Team, madam,” one of the men to the rear of the group yelled back, flashing a badge and card. “Please return to your home.”