"A powerful wizard, reunited with a former lover, is forced to use magic when humanity is threatened."
Reviewed by Mandy Burns
Posted July 15, 2010
Romance Suspense | Fantasy Urban
Jackson Slater is a full-blooded Aequintas Warrior and
trained wizard, but his real passion is geology. Currently,
he is hanging in a small shaft taking readings of energy on
the leyline he has been searching for years. Leylines are
pure sources of energy that wizards like Jackson can draw
from to be more powerful. The more the wizards know about
this source, the more prepared they can be when the time
comes for war with their ancient enemy. As Jackson is logging his findings, he hears a familiar
voice yelling his name. He attempts to ignore the voice,
but the more persistent it becomes, the more Jackson is
compelled to answer it. He teleports himself to the voice,
which is the one woman he wishes to never see again, only
to find her in the middle of a dangerous situation. Sara Temple refuses to use her wizard skills because since
childhood she is unable to control her ability to call
fire. Sara only uses simple spells and attempts to live as
close to a normal life as possible by doing interior design
for a company putting up hotels in South America. Her world
changes as known wizards in the area are getting sick and
going berserk, causing havoc by killing everyone around
them. Sara's close friend and father figure is experiencing
his own breakdown when none other than Jackson Slater pops
in to save the day. Sara wants nothing to do with Jackson,
but they are forced to work together by the Wizard Council
to solve the epidemic. Sara and Jackson must learn to put
aside their past and work together to possibly save the
world. This exciting new series is a bold mixture of fun and
excitement with an interesting connection to the Edge
brothers. I could not put it down!
SUMMARY
SHE HATES USING MAGIC . . . Ever since the death of
her parents, Sara Temple has rejected her magical gifts.
Then, in a moment of extreme danger, she unknowingly sends
out a telepathic cry for help—to the one man she is
convinced she never wants to see again. HE’S A POWERFUL
WIZARD . . . Jackson Slater thought he was done forever
with his ex-fiancée, but when he hears her desperate plea,
he teleports halfway around the world to aid her in a
situation where magic has gone suddenly, brutally wrong.
THEY’VE BEEN CHOSEN TO SAVE THE WORLD . . . But while
Sara and Jack remain convinced they are completely
mismatched, the Wizard Council feels otherwise. A dark force
is killing some of the world’s most influential wizards, and
the ex-lovers have just proved their abilities are
mysteriously amplified when they work together. But with the
fate of the world at stake, will the violent emotions still
simmering between them drive them farther apart . . . or
bring them back into each other’s arms?
ExcerptPilbara region, Western Australia
Present
dayJackson Slater lowered himself over the
crumbling rim of the volcanic plug, then dropped into the
cooler, shadowy dimness of a rust-colored soda trachyte rock
tube. He didn’t need the rope. He was a wizard, after all,
and perfectly capable of drifting down the seemingly
bottomless vertical tunnel, light as a feather, without it.
But what the hell was the fun in that? He was a
wizard, but he was foremost a geologist. A field hand of
earth science. Confined spaces, sweat, and the adrenaline
rush of new discoveries fed his soul and fueled his
imagination. The ley he was following originated south of
Perth in Mandurah, ran up through the mountains through
small towns like Sandstone and Wiluna, and ended here in the
Rudall River National Park. Jack had climbed
mountains, forded rivers, and slept on the hard ground for
months to reach his conclusions before presenting his latest
findings to the Archon Council, which would in turn share
that information with the Wizard Council. How deep
was this tunnel? he wondered, descending
hand-over-hand. The plug, six feet across, didn’t give him a
lot of room to maneuver. He was a big guy. He’d been in
darker, tighter plugs in other parts of the world, but
rarely had he experienced this kind of intensity. Every
twenty feet, he took out the meter to observe the happy
dance of the gauge. Jesus. Look at the thing
jump. He couldn’t wait to get back to his temporary lab in
Perth and run his samples through the
chromatograph. The salt lakes characteristic of this
desert region, part of a palaeodrainage system, indicated
there was probably water far below. He could almost smell
it, but what riveted his attention was the powerful force of
the ley he was tracking. The leys, invisible force fields of
magnetic energy deep within the earth’s crust, were a source
of power to wizards—millions of whom lived, worked, and
thrived unnoticed along the leys, coexisting with the humans
who had no idea magic was in their midst and beneath their
feet. The Archon, governing body of the Aequitas, had
given him the enormous and delicate task of mapping and
cataloging the thousands of leylines banding the globe. As
keepers of the land, the Aequitas were charged with the
safety and well-being of the mostly oblivious mortals around
them. “Oh, yeah. I feel you.” His voice echoed
slightly. The strong vibration of magic zinged through his
body as though he were a tuning fork. Intense, alive, the
ley pulsed around him harder and faster as he descended.
Place smelled like dirt and sweat. Nah. He smelled of
dirt and sweat; the tunnel had a slightly musty, damp clay
smell, indicating water far below. “Better than citrus and
ginger, and a hell of a lot more
interesting.” Jack! His head jerked up.
What the … ? No one visible
above. Jaaaack! Ignoring what honest to
God sounded like a woman’s voice shrieking in his ear, Jack
took several soil samples one-handed. Maybe he should think
about that beer and shower sooner rather than later if he
was starting to hallucinate. He continued downward,
sweat oiling his skin, using his shoulder to swipe at the
runnels on his face. He wondered if the leylines in the
western deserts were the basis of stories told by the
aborigines, who said the land was crisscrossed by a large
number of mythical songlines or dreaming tracks associated
with magical beings. One story involved the travels of two
lizard-men known as the Wadi and Gudjara; another described
an enormous snake who mystically disappeared beneath the
earth and remained there to this day. With the blue
sky a small circle above him and a powerful ley beneath him,
Jack felt at peace for perhaps the first time in several
years. He was a loner by nature, more comfortable in a
desert than a city. Better off identifying a leyline than
what went on in a woman’s illogical, convoluted brain. And
while he enjoyed his fair share of the ladies, he always
came back to what he loved most. Geology. Leys.
Solitude. The Archon paid him. Paid him ridiculously
well. But he’d be ley hunting if he were doing it for free.
This was his life’s work, his burning passion, what got him
up in the morning and kept him going long past exhaustion.
He was his job. All his eggs in one basket, and to
hell with anyone who had a problem with that. There wasn’t
anyone he gave a damn about anyway. Not anymore. A man
knew exactly where he was with a leyline. There was no room
for interpretation. Leys were logical. Honest. Reliable. And
nonjudgmental. He paused again to record the strength
of the power surging up through the thick soles of his boots
then lowered himself another twenty feet. The meter in his
breast pocket vibrated against his chest like a second
heartbeat. “And you—hell, you are the
granddaddy of them all, aren’t you, big fella?” And he
should know; he’d mapped thousands of them all over the
world. He slowly dropped another ten, using his booted feet
to keep his body away from the walls, where he suspected
snakes and poisonous spiders lurked to avoid the heat of the
day. Aboveground, the sun-baked rocks were hot enough
to fry an egg. The lower he dropped, the cooler it became—if
one considered a hundred degrees cool. Jack grinned. He
loved this shit. Loved the heat. The solitude. The high of
discovery. His meter was going off the charts, and he
methodically recorded into a small voice-activated tape
recorder as he went. “Why isn’t anyone living around here?”
he mused aloud to keep himself company after he’d documented
relevant data. It was too damned hot, of course. Only a
madman would live—or work—out here in the middle of a
desert, hundreds of miles from civilization. The
Rudall River National Park was one of the most remote
wilderness areas in the world. Nothing but spiny, pale green
clumps of spinifex, a few stands of eucalyptus, and flat,
red earth as far as the eye could see. His body ached
pleasantly from long hours bent over his equipment in the
broiling sun. But before he teleported back to camp and
materialized an ice-cold beer and a cool shower, there were
still several hours of daylight left to do what he
loved—research the fascinating and complex leylines in this
part of the world. Exhilarated by his latest find,
Jack had shoved aside the physical exhaustion, pushing
himself long and hard for the last couple of weeks. South
America was next on his list, but he’d been putting that
trip off for a while now. He unhooked his water bottle
from his belt and chugged half of its contents down,
relishing the warm wetness on his parched
throat. Jaaaack! His head jerked up.
There was, of course, no one there screaming down to him. He
was alone. The only thing visible at the mouth of the tube
was a small circle of blue sky. Ignoring the icy chill that
had suddenly skittered across his nerve endings, Jack
dropped another ten feet and paused to record the
data. San CristÓbal, Venezuela SARA
TEMPLE DROPPED ONTO a straight-backed chair beside her
friend, when what she really wanted to do was pace like a
caged lion. She hated feeling helpless. “Carmelita, we have
to get help.” “You are all the help Alberto needs,
mija.” Carmelita’s olive skin was gray with fear.
Twisting her apron in her lap, she gave Sara a helplessly
trusting look out of dark eyes. “You did good with him just
now. He will get better soon. You will see.” “I didn’t
do any good at all,” Sara said in a strained voice as they
sat outside the closed bedroom door. The sound of furniture
being thrown violently against the walls indicated that, far
from settling down, Carmelita’s husband was getting
worse. Sick with a fever, crazed and delirious,
Alberto had tried to strangle his wife only moments before.
He didn’t know where he was. Didn’t recognize either
Carmelita or Sara. The only positive thing was that he
wasn’t using magic. God only knew what his distorted mind
would conjure while he was in this state. Damn it, how
could any illness cause him to lose himself this fast? An
hour ago, he’d looked better than he had in a week and been
joking and laughing in his kitchen as he prepared the midday
meal with his staff. Sara had gone in to let him know the
head honcho, Grant Baltzer, wouldn’t be home for lunch.
Alberto was used to things changing at the last minute. He
had been Grant’s chef, and Carmelita had been Grant’s
housekeeper, since as far back as Sara could remember. They
and Sara had traveled all over the world with Grant and his
business partner, William Roe, as Baltzer Enterprises built
fabulous hotel properties in some of the most beautiful and
affluent cities in the world. At present, they were
constructing a string of luxury hotels down the west coast
of South America and living in a sprawling hacienda a
hundred miles from the nearest town. Fifteen minutes
later, after Sara delivered her message and shared an iced
coffee with him, Alberto had thrown a carving knife at his
assistant, then grabbed Carmelita by the throat when she’d
come in. Sara shuddered. “We have locked him
inside,” Carmelita said resolutely, somehow managing to look
as though she didn’t hear the mayhem going on in the room
behind them. “The fever will burn away. Can you not use your
powers to make him sleep? The doctor, he will just give him
medicine and tell him to rest. He needs rest, mija.
You can make him sleep deeply and peacefully. You will see,
my Alberto will be better by morning if you make him sleep
now.” Carmelita had an unhealthy aversion to doctors.
Sara had an unhealthy aversion to using her wizard powers.
She suspected her foster father needed more than a good
night’s rest. Medication would surely help.
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