A higher-powered mage with a thorough mental catalogue of spells would be able to crack it open without much of a problem. But then, that was true of most spells. He had to be thankful there weren’t too many mages with the power to achieve it.

The scuff of a shoe caught his attention up the way. A dark shape zipped in behind a house, the figure’s slight frame dressed in black.

This place was teeming with surveillance, more so than he’d originally thought.

Cold washed through his middle. Penny needed to be taken out of here. Now.

Also, his cover was already blown. He hadn’t been thinking, approaching it so overtly.

“Damn,” he swore softly, at the edge of the Bankses’ property. With the anxiety of meeting her troubling his thoughts, he’d completely lost his senses, missing some very basic survival precautions.

Another weave glimmered near the Bankses’ front door, overlaying the wood. Without getting closer, he couldn’t tell what it was for, but he imagined it was a beefed-up ward, meant to do harm to anyone trying to break through as well as alert the casters to unwanted visitors. Though he couldn’t see any weaves, he would bet the windows had something similar.

Cars lined the street in front of the Bankses’ house and filled the long driveway. Their lower windows were almost all lit, and a couple glowed on the upper floor. They seemed to be hosting a party or a meeting, possibly introducing Penny around the New Orleans magical community.

Maybe that was the reason for all the posted surveillance. The Guild could pick off a few magical people as they came and went, maybe turn them into Guild spies. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or maybe they’d already found spies.

There were too many “shoulds” and “maybes” on the table. No more stalling. Emery had to face this, for Penny’s sake.

Palms sweating, warning tingles from watchful eyes running his length, he started down the walkway toward the front door. It took everything he had not to turn around and try to catch whoever was watching him.

His heart sped up and his breathing became laborious. Even his legs were trembling, of all things. There was a great deal on the line, but all he could think about was seeing her. Her beautiful blue eyes. That giant, glittering smile.

How much it would fucking hurt if she yanked out his heart and kicked it to the curb.

“Steady on, Emery,” he said, stopping in front of the door.

With gritted teeth, he gave three hard raps on the door. The next moment, he turned and quickly scanned the street. As expected, two shapes ducked for cover—one directly across the street, the other a little down the way.

Once he was sure Penny was secured, he’d clean up this street. From now on, if any Guild spies got close enough to be seen, he’d snuff them out. The battle was about to begin in earnest.

Turning back to face the door, he rapped again, analyzing the weave layering the wood. As with the spell on the side of the house, it was straight to the point and packed a good amount of power. It would take a few run-of-the-mill Guild workers a few days to get through it, or a knowledgeable power player. The Bankses knew what they guarded, and they were doing their best to hold up their end of the bargain.

It wasn’t enough.

The door swung open and light blasted into him, making him squint. Warmth and the homey smell of cookies wafted toward him as a barrel of a woman filled the doorway, her fist on her hip. Covered in a light blue faux-velvet sweat suit, she slammed him with her bold gaze.

“Yes?” she asked, her eyes traveling his frame and sticking a little on his hip, where others might wear a satchel.

“Hello, ma’am.” He slipped his hands into his pockets so he seemed less of a threat. “I’ve come to inquire after Penny Bristol.”

Her eyes narrowed and her body stiffened. “Who are you, and where do you get off calling me ma’am? Do I look like my mother to you?”

He couldn’t help a lopsided smile. That wasn’t exactly the answer he’d expected. “Um…” he said, confusion and nerves creating a potent cocktail of stupid. He cleared his throat. “I’m Emery Westbrook, and I’ve never seen your mother, so I’m afraid I can’t say, but I would assume, based on your comments, that it is doubtful. I’m sure you’re much younger and more—”

“Never mind,” she said, waving him to silence. She squinted this time as she looked him over. “Emery. The Emery? The Rogue Natural?”

“Yes, ma’—Yes.”

She shook her head as someone called, “Who is it, hon?”

A man about her age showed up at her side, wearing a stained shirt and a pleasant expression. Keen eyes looked out from over half-moon reading glasses, and something told Emery this man wasn’t nearly as jovial as he looked at first glance.

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” the woman asked, looking suspicious. “That’s not even possible, and it’s an even worse attempt than the one you made yesterday. We aren’t going to invite you through this ward, so you can just stop trying. You better get off my property, or you’ll meet the same fate as that poorly dressed vacuum salesman.”

“What’s not possible?” the man asked.

“This idiot claims he’s the Rogue Natural,” the woman said. “The Mages’ Guild clearly thinks we are as empty-headed as they are.”

“Oh.” The man shoved in a little closer, his eyes now scrutinizing, and his gaze touched the same empty patch on Emery’s hip. “He is handsome enough.”

“What does that prove? A bunch of guys are handsome enough,” the woman said.

“He’s the right age.”

“So they went to a modeling agency.”

“I hadn’t heard he was so large.” The man made a movement like he was flexing.

“I can prove it, if you wish,” Emery said quietly, feeling the pressure of the eyes on him.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest. “If you are who you say you are, you’d know what you’ve been sending Penny.”

“Power stones that pulled at me more than typical power stones, or ones that were particularly beautiful. She can feel their personalities, and I wondered what she’d feel in the ones I sent her.”

The man made a duck bill with his mouth. “Well, that seems right enough—”

“Shh.” She elbowed him. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Yes, it does,” the man said in a flash of anger. “The spells protecting those packages weren’t tampered with.”

“Everyone knows the Guild is keeping eyes on the Rogue Natural”—she leaned forward, her gaze boring into Emery’s—“who is on the other side of the world right now.”

“Well, yes, I suppose that information could’ve been obtained another way,” the man conceded.

Emery spread his hands. “How can I prove it?”

“Do some magic,” the woman said.

He looked harder at the spell covering her door, blocking access to her house. He pulled magic from the elements around him—the dew on the grass, the rubber from his boot, the chemicals from his hair care products—and quickly constructed a countering weave.

“You might want to stand back,” he said. “It will spark.”

Both of them took a step back as he laid his spell over theirs. Multicolored fizzing filled the doorway. Their eyes widened, and suddenly the woman was hurrying away and the man filled the door, as though he planned to fight Emery off should he tear down the spell.

“You have no need to worry,” Emery said, putting his hands back in his pockets when the spell was done. “I’ll put up a new spell, one that very few mages will be able to take down.”

The spell in the doorway unraveled, its energy dissipating back into the natural world, from whence it came. Or so Penny would say.

“How is she?” Emery asked quietly, unable to help it. “Is she happy?”

The woman showed up with a satchel draped over her shoulder and held another out for the man. “Here,” she said, gathering a handful of basil and sage.

“Wait.” The man took the satchel.

“You’ve studied that spell, have you?” the woman asked, taking a capsule out of her bag. “Well, that crossed the line. We don’t—”