Wycke whipped around. Chynne sat on the bed, looking inordinately pleased with himself.
The memory of last night played through Wycke’s mind. The pleasure bordering on pain, the ecstasy of climax. Had fireworks really exploded when he came?
“It was… something,” he muttered. Damn. It would take a good deal of magic to repair the room, and expending too much power might act as a beacon to the other realm. Any mage with a watchful eye and nothing better to do than observe the human realm might see.
If Wycke even managed to put things to rights without compounding the problem.
“Normally, I’d threaten to cut your balls off if you so much as touched an innocent human, but I think he’s more than capable of taking care of himself under the circumstances.” Chynne licked a paw and swiped the feline version of a washing sponge across his face. “Apparently, your magics complement each other very well.”
Wycke swished a finger to right a chair. The chair sailed across the floor.Crash!Wood splintered against the wall, and a cloud of chair stuffing exploded. He glared at his finger, glared at the chair, then back at his finger. “How did…”
“Ah, I see your magic is growing. I expected an increase, based on what you told me.” Chynne sat erect, tail swishing to and fro.
“What? Why?” Wycke stared at his dangerous finger.
“For a supposedly learned man, you do ask a lot of questions.” No one did smug like this cat. Familiar. Whatever.
Chynne hopped off the bed, performing a stately prance around the room. Chairs righted, unidentified broken things resumed their former shapes, curtains rehung themselves. “There. Now the place is more worthy of my habitation.”
Wycke stared at the newly fixed chair he’d smashed into a pile of splinters, metal springs, and a bit of fluff. “How did I manage total destruction without realizing?”
“I told you. Compatible magic. You’re both strong magically, though I think he’s unaware of his powers. He couldn’t possibly have lived this long with no one sensing him without a suppression spell keeping him hidden. When the two of you joined?” Chynne paced to the bed and hopped back onto the mattress. “You’ve each amplified what the universe gave you. A spell kept his magic dormant, or at least somewhat contained. You just screamed it awake.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Wycke held out a hand. “He can’t possibly have magic. He’s from the human realm.” And yet, the literal sparks, the sense of rightness… The magic Wycke felt.
Chynne let out an inelegant snort. “For all your adventurous ways, you hold tightly to old stereotypes. Isn’t it obvious that he’s not of this realm? He’s no more of this realm than you or I.”
“How could he be not of this realm? Only a truly powerful sorcerer can move from one to the next.” Wycke should know. His first trip here required three days of recovery before he ventured out of bed. The kind of power the cat—no, Chynne—alluded to couldn’t have remained hidden from someone of Wycke’s abilities, untrained though they were.
“One powerful sorcerer, or a group of them, sharing magic. How do you think the ogres and other creatures from our realm escaped here? In this case, I think desperation led to self-preservation. The man you call Piers could only have been a child at the time, or he’d remember his magic. Someone could have knowingly or unknowingly used the untested magic for the child’s benefit. The power would allow its use as long as the spell helped the child and didn’t hurt. Ring any bells?”
“What are you blathering on about?”
Saris sent a baby here with a guardsman. Icy fingers trailed up Wycke’s spine. He sank down onto the bed. Time often worked differently in other realms, but what if the two worlds aligned? The child would be perhaps twelve seasons younger than Wyck.
“Because, my fool of a sorcerer-to-be, you have fumbled your way through completing your mission. I believe the man you met, or rather, were drawn to, is none other than Pieravor Gimitri, son of Lady Nyanda Gimitri.”
Pieravor.
Piers. But… “What? I found evidence of a magical battle where Sir Lyvianne lived. How could a child survive such?”
“Your lover appears to be my master and the single most powerful being in our two realms, completely ignorant of what he is. I felt his presence, though I couldn’t find him on my own. You’ve acted as a beacon. Protection spells could also be responsible for why he couldn’t know his own power. Now, close your eyes.”
“Why?”
Chynne snorted. “If there is a spell, I’m going to counter the effect.”
Wycke closed his eyes, then cracked one back open.
“All the way, please.”
Bracing for an attack, Wycke closed his eyes. A paw landed on his forehead. Flashing light, a cacophony of sound, spinning sensations making Wycke’s guts roil. He opened his eyes.
The night in the club, the date, last night. Well, damnation. All came to him with startling clarity. Dark hair, icy eyes, magic to spare. “Piers. Short for Pieravor. And he has magic. Lots of it.”
Chynne stared Wycke down. “Congratulations. You have just released what the humans call a time bomb.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE