Penny’s chin lifts and she gives me a resolute look. “It doesn’t matter how bad you are if you can teach me how to use magic. I’m tired of waiting for a chance. I want to learn.”
I nod and extend my hand over my desk, palm up. “Before we go any further, I’m going to need to see if we’re compatible or not.”
She glances down at my hand and then drags the heavy chair a little closer to the edge of the desk. My bulky square desk is intentionally enormous so the person on the opposite side feels intimidated, but I’m inwardly wincing at the scrapes on the flooring as she moves forward. She doesn’t seem intimidated, just inconvenienced. With a beaming smile, Penny practically smacks her hand into mine and gives me an expectant look.
I notice again how tiny she is. I’m tall and lean, my hands long fingered and pale thanks to my coloring. Penny’s fingers are short, and her palm small. It’s the first time I’ve held a woman’s hand and felt like she was fragile, and it’s surprising for me, considering I don’t have mitts like Magnus does. I notice a thick, unadorned cuff on her wrist—for the Society of Familiars. It looks like cheap garbage, if I’m honest with myself. No familiar of mine would wear such nonsense. I glance up at Penny and notice that she’s gotten out of her seat to lean over my desk so our palms can touch, and as she leans, she’s displaying a good amount of cleavage via the neckline of her dress. She closes her eyes, an intense expression on her round face, as if waiting for something.
I deliberately avoid looking and concentrate on the hand in mine, sending a tendril of arcane power into her, seeking out the well of her personal sanguis vitae. Every person has a well of power, and some have a deeper well than others. It’s what separates the good witches from the great ones, and even the most talented spellcaster needs a familiar with a deep well of power or their witch won’t be able to cast properly. Even before I tap at Penny’s well, I can feel the hum of it. I send my tendril of magic deeper, sinking into her essence. It’s a bit invasive, my method, and one I learned from Stoker. But since I can’t go to the Society of Familiars and demand rigorous testing until they find someone that meets my criteria, this will have to do.
Penny shivers, her hand in mine, her brow furrowing. Does she feel my magic? That’s unusual. I push deeper, trying to descend to the bottom of her magic pool to determine the size of it. As I continue prodding, I’m impressed by the size of her untapped power. I continue down. And down. And down. My eyebrows go up, and I give another shove of magic.
Her face contorts, her eyes still closed, and then I hit the bottom of her magic pool. For a moment, I revel in it. Jove’s bloody testicles, this woman has an immense reservoir of magic that can be drawn upon. Her sanguis vitae is far larger than mine, and I’m impressed . . . and slightly covetous. Even if she’s obnoxious and loud, I’m imagining all the spells I can cast utilizing her strength. She’s absolutely going to be my familiar, I decide. I’m surprised another warlock or witch hasn’t snapped her up already. I give one last push of magic into hers, as if staking a claim.
Stoker is so fucked. The thought fills me with glee.
She gasps, snatching her hand out of mine, and stumbles backward.
“Sorry,” I say, my tone implying that I’m anything but. I straighten my jacket and lean back in my chair again. “Did I frighten you?”
“Huh?” Penny blinks, her face flushed. “No. No, I’m fine.” She thumps into her seat, and the cage at her side rattles and something chitters inside it. “Quiet, Pip.”
I frown at her. She looks rattled, but it’s also clear she doesn’t want me to press her on it. “You seem to have a sufficient sanguis vitae.”
“A what?” She fans her face a little. “Is it warm in here?”
“It is not.” With a look of distaste, I explain, “Sanguis vitae. Blood of life. Your well of power.”
“You mean like my magic pool? Like in the card games?”
I shrug dismissively. “Whatever. I wouldn’t know. But yours is sufficient.”
She beams at me, tossing her hair back. “Well, of course it is. My parents are both familiars, too.”
“Yes, well, I’m not going to apprentice them, am I?” I give her a thin smile. “Which is why I checked you. All right. If we’re going to do this, I should like to lay a few ground rules.”
“Excuse me?” she asks. “Ground rules?”
“Yes.” I study her, crossing my arms over my chest. “While there isn’t an official dress code for familiars, I really do prefer somber shades in my surroundings. And no patterns. That thing you’re wearing? I never want to see it again.”
Penny looks down at her clothes. “I’m sorry, are you referring to my dress?” At my nod, her expression turns indignant. “I love this dress!”
“I don’t, and I’m going to be your employer. Also, the squirrel needs to go. I won’t have it around me. I abhor vermin. Also, I don’t want you to be loud when I’m trying to concentrate . . .” I trail off as she gets to her feet and smooths her skirts. “We’re talking here. Where do you think you’re going?”
“You’re talking,” she tells me with a sweet, sunny smile. “I’m done, though. You’re not going to tell me how to dress. And I’m keeping my squirrel.”
I sputter at her impudence. “Who is the employer here, chit?”
5
PENNY
So . . . this is awkward.
Mega, super awkward. I smooth my skirts again and pick up Pipstachio’s cage, calling his bluff. Willem Sauer may be a warlock, but he needs me and I’m not going to let him bully me. I’m not going to get rid of my squirrel or change how I dress. And I’m sure not going to tell him that I orgasmed the moment he “reached” into my magic.
Because that was incredibly weird and I’m not sure how I feel about that. Neither of my parents have ever said anything about a spell or a witch causing them to, like, come when their magic pool was accessed. I’m not sure if that’s supposed to happen. Then again, I’ve never asked my parents that. Crestfallen, I realize I still can’t ask them, since this is supposed to be a secret. Well, poop.
I cast a beaming smile over at Willem Sauer, the big jerk. “It was lovely meeting you.”
His handsome face contorts in surprise.