Calculated Magic Read online

  Do the universe a favor; don’t hide your magic.

  Chapter Six

  HOW could someone not believe in magic? The concept was so foreign to Tikron. Even if he hadn’t grown up in the coven and practiced the craft, he’d still have believed in it. One only had to watch a sunset or a baby take its first breath to know that magic happened every second of every day. It was in the wind, the trees, the ground, the very breath taken.

  “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

  Tikron stared at his best friend, dumbfounded for a moment. He’d been so consumed with his thoughts he didn’t even remember walking home from the bakery.

  “Dude!” Ry snapped his fingers in front of Tikron’s face. “Earth to Tikron.”

  Tikron ran his hands through his hair and blew out a pent-up breath. “It’s worse than I thought.”

  “What happened?” Ry asked, sounding alarmed.

  “Richard doesn’t believe in magic.”

  Ry didn’t say anything for a second, his expression blank.

  “Did you hear me? He doesn’t believe in magic! I need a drink.” He pushed past Ry, heading straight to the minibar. He grabbed a glass, added a couple cubes of ice and a good measure of bourbon.

  “I don’t see the big deal here, Tikron.” Ry moved up next to Tikron and took the glass from him. “And you don’t need this. You need a clear head for research.”

  Tikron narrowed his eyes. His nerves were frayed, and one drink wasn’t going to affect his thought process. He didn’t tell Ry that; he wouldn’t listen. Instead, Tikron snatched his drink back, careful not to spill it, and turned away before Ry could take it again.

  “Dammit, Tikron,” Ry grumbled, rushing to catch up.

  Tikron moved out of his way. “Knock it off. It’s one drink.” He put the table between him and Ry, then took a seat. He took a sip of his bourbon, the rich earthy flavor pleasing, as was the warmth in his throat and belly as he swallowed. He took another sip.

  Ry glared at him for a few heartbeats. He must have realized he wasn’t going to change Tikron’s mind, because he finally took the seat across from him. “I don’t see what has you so worked up that you need alcohol. A lot of people don’t believe in magic.”

  Tikron swirled the dark amber fluid, the ice clinking against his glass as he considered Ry’s statement. He was right of course. Most people didn’t believe in magic these days. It shouldn’t surprise him that Richard was among that number. Tikron damn sure shouldn’t be freaking out over it. He looked up and met Ry’s questioning gaze. “I think the gravity of my situation is setting in.”

  Ry’s expression softened, and he gave Tikron a small smile. “It’s been there for a while. You’re just finally dropping the tough-guy act.”

  Tikron shook his head. “It’s not an act, at least it wasn’t. I mean seriously, Ry, I’m tired of watching people we care about grow old and die. It’s like this vicious cycle: meet, care, die, move, repeat. I’m so weary of it all, and yet, at the end of the day, I’m a coward. I don’t want to die.”

  Ry reached across the table and took Tikron’s free hand. “Wanting to live doesn’t make you a coward. It makes you strong. I’ve found myself in the same mindset you are right now, questioning if it’s all worth it, and you know what?”

  “What?”

  Ry squeezed Tikron’s hand. “It is, and let me reiterate, if you ever consider checking out on me, I will totally kick your ass.”

  “Like you could,” Tikron countered, doing his best to give Ry a small smile. He wasn’t sure if he pulled it off, but Ry played along.

  “Just don’t try me.” Ry winked. “Now, explain to me how come I am not currently munching on a turkey and ham club while you tell me about your trip to the bakery.”

  “Oh shit! The subs. I totally forgot. Sorry.”

  “No problem.” Ry pulled his phone from his pocket and, after a couple swipes across the screen, held it to his ear. “Hey, Chen, this is Ry. Can you send over the usual and put it on Tikron’s card?”

  “Hey, you were supposed to pay for dinner,” Tikron protested. He fished the cash Ry had given him from his pocket and held it up. “Oh well, I’ll just pay off the card with this.” Before he realized the error of his ways, Ry had plucked the money out of Tikron’s hand and stuffed it into his own pocket.

  “Asshole,” Tikron mouthed.

  Ry ended his call. “It will be here in fifteen minutes, and before you say another word, I promised to pay for deli subs, not Chinese.”

  “Fine,” Tikron grumbled. He supposed it was the least he could do since he’d gotten sidetracked and forgotten all about picking up dinner.

  “So you going to tell me what happened at the bakery?”

  “Not much to tell really. He shot me down again.” Ry started to laugh, but Tikron pointed a finger at him. “Zip it.”

  It took a second for Ry to get himself under control, but there was still amusement in his voice when he said, “Please, continue.”

  “Ass,” Tikron said fondly. “As I was saying, I did get him to say a few words to me this time, and I found out he’s a mathematician.”

  “Well, that explains why he doesn’t believe in magic. We’ve met our fair share of his type. The kind who thinks there is a scientific reason behind everything.”

  Tikron grabbed a book from the stack and absently thumbed through it. “People like Richard are so damn difficult to convince. He’s not only a math nut, but he’s also a loner and doesn’t appear to like people. Then add in the irritating fact that I can’t use magic on him, and that just adds to the difficulties. There is no way I’m going to get this guy to fall in love with me with the time constraints I’m working under.”

  “Then let’s find someone else. You’re an ugly mug, but you have charm. I’m sure you can find someone who’s not immune to it.”

  “It has to be him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…. Well….” Tikron couldn’t come up with a good reason. There was no sound reason. It was more of a gut feeling, instinct telling him Richard was the one. He didn’t know how to explain it, because seriously, humans really only possessed the instinct to survive, not love. At least that had been his experience with humanity. All the same, instinct didn’t explain the strange obsession or the tingling sensation Tikron experienced when he was near Richard. All Tikron knew was that as much as it scared the shit out of him to open his heart to anyone, he knew he had to allow Richard in. That Richard was the one who could save him. Hell, maybe they could save each other. Tikron shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know why. Call it fate, destiny, or whatever, but something is telling me Richard is the one who can break this curse.”

  “We make our own fate,” Ry pointed out.

  “How can you believe in magic but not fate or destiny?”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe it. I simply think we have more control over what happens to us. Fate can be changed. I truly believe we can modify our future through the choices we make.”

  “An argument that is possibly moot since I may not have one.”

  Ry frowned. “Don’t say that.”

  “Not saying it makes it no less true. I’m still going to try, and Richard is my last and only hope.”

  Ry shook his head. “I just don’t see it.”

  “See what?”

  “You and him together,” Ry clarified. “He’s completely opposite of what you normally go sniffing after. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, and the fact that he’s not my typical type is all the more reason to think the strange feelings I have when I’m around him must mean something.”

  Ry pursed his lips. “You always have to do everything the hard way, don’t you?”

  “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

  Ry took the book from Tikron and added it back to the stack. “No sense continuing to go through this boring crap. We need to figure out how to make you irresistible to short, skinny, and geeky. Although that may be impossible consi
dering you have a face only a mother could love. Come to think of it”—he tossed the book back to Tikron—“better keep looking.”

  “Ha ha. You should really take that comedy act on the road.”

  “I’d be a huge success. Good-looking, funny, and smart. Oh yeah, I could totally make a fortune.”

  “Uh-huh.” Tikron wasn’t in the mood for laughing, as he really didn’t see anything funny in his current situation. “Ugh, this would be so much easier if I could cast a couple of clever spells.”

  “You can.”

  “Knock it off. I need help here.” Tikron glanced down into his nearly empty glass. He wasn’t going to find the answers there, but at least it made him feel a bit better. It also tasted damn fine. He downed the rest of it.

  “I’m serious, Tikron. I was doing a little research while you were gone. You’re correct that you cannot cast a love spell on Richard or any other spell that alters his mental abilities. He must fall in love with you of his own free will. However, you can and should prove to him that magic does indeed exist and is very real.”

  “But—”

  Ry held up his hand. “I called your mom and discussed it with her, and she and I came to the conclusion that while you can’t use magic to make him love you, Mysdus never said you couldn’t use magic for another purpose.” Ry crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and flashed a satisfied grin.

  Tikron frowned. “You know Mysdus forbids the use of magic outside the coven.”

  “Like anyone hasn’t broken that rule.” Ry pointed a finger at Tikron. “Including you. Just don’t use too much juice and he’ll never know.”

  Tikron thought about it for a second, a plan forming. He was good, really good, at magic, and if he could get Richard to believe in it, then the possibilities were endless, including love. He waggled his brows at Ry. “Oh, you are a clever little warlock.”

  FOR the second time in as many days, Richard found himself sitting cross-legged, staring out the patio door to the darkness beyond, Albert nestled on his lap. His normally rigid schedule was in disarray. Deviation created chaos—an unacceptable problem he refused to let become an aspect of his daily routine. A rigid schedule prevented such chaos. He got up at 6:00 a.m., took Albert out at 6:10, breakfast of fresh fruit and toast at 6:20, showered and ready to go by 6:50, to work by 7:00 on the dot. His afternoons were just as precise. Home at 5:10, walk Albert until 5:45, dinner at 6:00, the bakery at 6:30 for dessert and coffee, home at 8:05, History Channel until 9:00, bed, repeat. Each day was the same, and he liked it that way. The only changes were Friday through Sunday, in which he didn’t go to the bakery and rather than work at the office, he worked from home. He didn’t like this new intrusion to his schedule. He didn’t like it one bit. Tikron obviously wasn’t just a muscle head. He had no respect for personal space. He was also annoyingly charming and sexy, and damn those gray eyes anyway.

  Albert whimpered, snapping Richard out of his musings. He looked down, and his pup was twitching, then whimpered again. Richard ran his hand soothingly over the little guy’s back. “What’s the matter?”

  Now it was Albert who jerked, stared at Richard for a moment, then yawned big.

  “Bad dream?” Richard chuckled, scratched Albert behind his ears until he settled back down. A little rubbing and the pup quickly fell back to sleep. “Oh, no, you don’t. My butt’s getting sore. C’mon, up you go.”

  It took a bit of shaking, but Albert finally opened his eyes, gave Richard what could only be described as an irritated look, then stalked over to his dog bed and flopped down.

  “Sorry, Albert, but some of us can’t lie in the same position for hours on end.” Richard untangled his legs and went to his feet. His body protested with a series of snaps and pops. He raised his hands over his head, stretched, and was rewarded with another round of cricks and creaks. Christ, he was getting old. Most people who looked at him would never guess he was thirty-five. He still got carded, for Christ’s sake. However, some days he felt much, much older. He really wasn’t sure why, but at times a weariness would settle over him, and on those days, he felt twice as old, like today.

  After a bit more stretching, Richard grabbed a glass of ice water and settled at the dining room table in front of a double-sided puzzle he’d been working on for several days. He scanned the pieces, picking up one only to discard it before selecting another. Thirty minutes later, he hadn’t placed a single puzzle piece. It was a jumble of colors and shapes, and yet the only thing he saw was gray eyes.

  “Dammit!” Richard pushed to his feet and stomped around the apartment, each step angry and jerky. He curled his hands into fists and had the sudden urge to knock some sense into his head. His second thought was to call his mother, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The last time he’d called her hadn’t gone well. He’d love to have the type of relationship his parents had, but he certainly wasn’t going to ask them for relationship advice again. Ever!

  His parents weren’t in love, never had been. They had something better—statistics. They were scientifically compatible with a 92.6 percent chance of coexisting with the least possible resistance or friction. So far the calculations had been accurate. They were coming up on their union celebration of forty years. Richard would do well to find such a partner to cohabitate with. He was lucky to have grown up in a home where logic ruled and emotions were something that needed to be controlled and kept in check. If he were ever fortunate enough to have children of his own, he’d raise them the same way. Filling children’s heads with stories of soul mates and true love was setting them up for disappointment. Fairy tales were nothing more than silly, fanciful stories. They had no worth in the real world.

  True, he didn’t have a lot of men—more like zero—knocking down his door, so the probability of a partner and children wasn’t high. His superior brain should more than compensate for his lack of physicality, but it hadn’t worked out that way yet. Like his mom, he was small, what some might even consider puny. There was nothing he could do about his lack of stature, and really, it didn’t matter. He’d accepted that there probably wasn’t anyone who could match his intelligence. This didn’t matter since he had a better chance of winning the Fields Medal than anyone asking him out on a date. He was completely fine with that. The award would last forever. Love rarely did.

  Then in walked Tikron Amorith.

  Too bad the guy wasn’t more compatible with Richard’s level of intellect. Actually, if he were truly a wise man, he’d take Tikron up on his offer of dinner, maybe even spend the evening enjoying a little sweaty skin sliding against sweaty skin. Damn, if only he didn’t have such an aversion to the whole meaningless sex thing. Why couldn’t he just enjoy the physical aspect of a coupling without having to worry about germs, disease, incompatibility, the awkward morning after, the expectations, the…. Richard sighed.

  It was better, less complicated, if he stuck with a tube of lube and his trusty B.O.B. He didn’t have to wonder where he’d been or who he’d been with. He wasn’t allowed out of Richard’s bedside table drawer and only required a battery change from time to time.

  Richard snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. I need to add batteries to my grocery list.”

  There’s magic between you and me.

  Chapter Seven

  HIDDEN in the shadows of the early evening, Tikron watched Richard through the bakery’s large picture window. According to his watch, Richard would be leaving in less than five minutes. A drop of rain landed on the back of Tikron’s neck, traveled down his spine, and caused him to shiver. He pulled his jacket tighter around him. The cloudy and wet night had helped him come up with the perfect plan to share a little magic with Richard. Tikron couldn’t actually change the weather, but he had a nifty spell in his arsenal that would keep Richard warm and dry on his walk home.

  He caught movement inside the bakery. He turned his head in time to spot Richard as he tucked his notebook into his messenger bag.

  Showtime.

  Tikr
on hurried down the sidewalk toward Richard’s place. He stopped halfway between it and the bakery and leaned against the brick wall. He kept a close eye on the door. Richard walked out into the night, and Tikron pushed off the wall and moved toward Richard. Tikron kept his steps slow and measured, casual.

  Hunched over, head down, Richard moved at a steady clip. Tikron made sure he was in Richard’s direct path, since the man was obviously not paying attention to his surroundings.

  One and two and….

  “Hey! Whoa. Sorr—” Richard lifted his head. His eyes went wide. “You!”

  “We really have to quit meeting like this. This is the second time you’ve plowed into me.” Tikron tapped his finger against his chin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you were doing it on purpose.”

  “What!” Richard squawked, sounding affronted. “I absolutely would not do such a thing. It was an honest mistake.”

  “Aw, come on, Richard. It’s okay to admit you wanted to get my attention. I won’t mind. In fact, I’d be extremely flattered.”

  Richard’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he appeared to try to figure out what to say. It was the cutest thing ever. Finally he huffed out a breath. “I shall be more careful in my future navigation.” Richard stepped past Tikron.

  “Nice night for a stroll,” Tikron commented when he caught up with Richard.

  Richard looked up at him from beneath dark wet lashes. “I suppose if you were a duck.”

  “Do you like ducks?” Tikron inquired. He could easily change his plans. Producing a duck would be easy enough.

  “Not particularly. Now if you’ll please go away.”

  “Well since you’re not a fan of ducks or rainy evenings, maybe you’d be more inclined to take a walk with me if it were a nicer evening.” With a wave of his hand, Tikron created a bubble above them that represented a star-filled night and blocked the less-than-pleasant weather from soaking them further.