Undercover Magic by Judy Teel Page A

moment, the guilt of giving in so easily managed to claw its way past all
     the yummy feelings and I jerked out of his arms. He gave me a triumphant grin and
     I gave him the finger.
    Muttering insults while he laughed, I yanked on the rest of my clothes, glaring at
     him here and there for good measure. "I was taking care of myself before you came
     along, you know. I can take care of myself after you're gone," I reminded him.
    Cooper swallowed down his amusement, though barely, and hunted down his pants. "There,
     you see? That's the flaw in your reasoning." He tugged on his jeans. "I'm not going
     anywhere."
    I strapped on my gun. "Maybe you'll get yourself killed. Maybe you just won't show
     up. It doesn't matter. The result's the same. Everyone leaves eventually. Life always
     plays out that way."
    Cooper's gaze hit me, his silver-green eyes intense. He seemed about to move toward
     me, but then he turned away and focused on finishing getting dressed.
    Grief flickered through me. Why did I always push him away?
    I bit down on my regret and finished securing my weapons. When I was sure everything
     was where it should be and in easy access, I headed for the window.
    "I'll see you in two days," I said, unable to look at him. I felt his gaze though,
     heating through my back and into my heart as I swung my legs over the sill and escaped.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER NINE
     
     
    Falcon and I crouched at the edge of the woods that had once been an upper middle
     class neighborhood.  Through a pair of night vision binoculars, I scanned the farmland
     sweeping from the forest to a wall that we knew would be buzzing with defensive magic.
     Beyond the wall, was the property once known as Duke Mansion, now the home of Jacob
     Laswell.
    Pristine white and classically majestic, the house was palatial in scope. I could
     see why Laswell had snapped it up while the fighting was still hot and heavy and Charlotte's
     frightened human leaders were desperate for funding. He'd then cleverly made sure
     that stealing a state treasure caused no bad feelings by setting the estate up as
     a practitioner garrison during the war. Once the unsavory paranormal elements were
     defeated, he renovated the property back to its original condition and made it his
     private residence.
    "It's too quiet," I said, lowering the binoculars.
    "I did a thorough investigation of Laswell's security," Falcon whispered. "There should
     be three guards patrolling outside the gate right now. Five more on the grounds. Four
     in the house—"
    "Feels wrong." I sniffed the air. There was a metallic sharpness to it. "Smells wrong,
     too."
    "Nothing weird about you doing that or anything."
    "I'm going in."
    "We should ditch the plan. What if you're walking into a trap?" he said, worry in
     his voice.
    "Traps don't smell like blood."
    "Depends on what you're trying to catch."
     
    *  *  *
     
    The Laswell palace had a gate that looked strong enough to withstand a siege. Good
     thing I'd left my catapult and battering ram at home.
    Singing off-key, I stumbled up to the wrought iron monstrosity like I was drunk. I
     careened to a stop, surreptitiously noting the ominous, looping designs running through
     the iron and their eerie similarity to the ones on the protective grates of Falcon's
     shop.
    "I need to pee," I said to the gate.
    I swayed there for a moment and then stared up at the wall. "Hello? Don't you have,
     like, forty bathrooms in there? I need to pee!"
    Not a twitch of movement from any direction. Maybe no one was home.
    Only one way to find out.
    "Let me in!" I kicked with drunken clumsiness at the seam of the gate. Giving a low
     creak, the two halves of the gate slowly swung open.
    I gave one of them a tentative jab with my hand and it opened wider. I waited for
     someone to call me on it. Nothing.
    Something was definitely up.
    Drawing my Browning, I inched forward and stopped inside the parameter. "Oh, crap."
    The