Wild Magic by Ann Macela

the task force head to report his success, and Ken Erlanger had praised his work.
    But ... Jim had left out part of what had happened in Finster’s study. He couldn’t bring himself to mention the redheaded woman—who glowed. He had to learn who she was and how she fit into the mess before he told anyone about her. He had to see her again.
    Because? Because another hunch was driving this decision. One of the most powerful he’d ever had.
    At first, the guys in his police squad and then the Drug Enforcement Administration and now a combined task force had ridiculed him for his intuition, his premonitions, his out-of-left-field notions like he was a weirdo or a charlatan. When his hunches started to pay off, everybody shut up. Next, they were asking his help.
    Sometimes he wondered where his ideas came from. They didn’t really come all that often, and the big, solve-the-case ones didn’t show up until he and the others had gathered reams of information. It was like the data had to sit in his brain and percolate, drip down from his subconscious. He’d be doing something totally unrelated when, all of a sudden, wham , and everything was laid out in his mind like rolling out a carpet.
    Having a quick strong hunch, like with this woman, was rare. Something would be behind it. What, he didn’t know—yet. Could she be the real key to nailing Finster?
    He almost let himself follow the road of wishing he’d had a quick hunch about his sister—hell, any hunch about his sister. Almost. He shut off the thoughts, stuck them behind the wall in his mind, and remortared the stone. Finster would pay for what he did to Charity. Patience and good police work were the keys.
    He turned over, punched the pillow, rubbed his itching sternum, and willed himself to sleep.

     
    In a private dining room at four in the morning, Irenee took a break from stuffing herself and looked up. Everybody in the room was eating like they hadn’t seen food in a month. One of the wait staff brought her favorite dessert, warm fudge cake and raspberry sauce. Could she truly eat more? When the warm chocolate smell hit her nose, she realized of course she could.
    Because energy in the human body was caloric and spells required use of that energy, she’d known she needed to eat to maintain her Sword powers. She never expected, however, to be eating like a teenaged boy or a farmhand. On the other hand, she could indulge her sweet tooth. She’d probably lost five or ten pounds in tonight’s endeavors. Maybe a hot-fudge sundae would top off her appetite—after the cake, of course.
    The food was definitely helping her headache, and she didn’t feel at all wobbly anymore. She hadn’t been the only one to fall over when the Cataclysm Stone finally died, so she wasn’t embarrassed by her fainting. Two team members and two backups had also.
    She did feel somewhat guilty and chagrined about relaxing her guard for the moment when the black flame almost burst out of the Stone and hit her. Her training had emphasized the need to maintain concentration. Better to face her lapse, learn from the mistake, and go on.
    Turning to Fergus sitting at the head of the long table next to her, she waited until he put down his coffee cup before speaking softly. “Listen, I’m sorry I almost blew it.”
    His bushy eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about? When?”
    “I made a mistake, relaxed when I shouldn’t have. When the facets first started dying, I jumped to the conclusion the Stone was much weaker than it actually was. It almost got loose, and it was my fault.”
    “Nonsense. I was assuming the same thing. The attack surprised me, too. No, you have nothing to apologize for.”
    “But—”
    “Hush, Sword. You did your job.” He smiled at her. “I, for one, am very proud of you. We’ll have to test your level again. From the way your sword changed colors, I think you went up during the battle.”
    A little thrill of excitement zinged through her when she