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of waking in
the back seat of his car with no memory of how she got there.
    Information like that would trigger his white
knight reflex and he’d wind his way to her side to defend her.
Still, he finally deferred to her insistence that she was fine and
only rang off when she agreed to call him for a wind home when she
was finished.
    She quietly resumed her place on the couch,
retrieved her wine glass and contemplated Prosser’s expression. In
the relatively short time since her frightening, awkward
introduction to him, Prosser had gone from inaccessible celebrity,
to object of ire, to potential ally. Gooseflesh rose on her skin
when she considered what might have happened if either one of them
had involved the authorities; but would he lend the assistance for
which she asked?
    He noticed her inspection of him. “I’m not in
the habit of dismissing a good cause out-of-hand, and this does
strike me as a good and worthwhile cause.”
    Yule swallowed and tried not to look like she
was waiting for the other shoe to drop, which she was.
    “It’s just that you happen to bring this to
me at an inopportune time,” he went on apologetically. “My
executive assistant is taking some personal time and I have a
rather serious matter to attend on Atlantis.”
    “Atlantis,” Yule repeated with a tone of
combined reverence and subdued excitement. The name of their native
island-country evoked a flood of longing and envy in her. Only the
strongest magic workers visited or lived there, to avoid polluting
the strength and purity of the first and last bastion of Foundation
magic. It was her ancestral home, but she was forever banned. “I
completely understand, but maybe when you return and you have some
spare time? I mean—if you’re interested, if you have some empathy
for the Project?”
    His eyes twinkled while his expression
remained stoic. “Miss Fiore, are you attempting to beguile me?” His
expression softened with amusement when her finely made lips formed
an O of surprise. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease. Listen, I’ll think
about it while I’m in Atlantis and when I return I’ll see about
arranging a meeting with your Mr. Woodmont.”
    “Thank you.” She smiled politely. This
concession was better than outright refusal. “Marc will be so
pleased to hear from you and gratified,” she added. “I’ve been
terribly distracted as I’m going away for a while and I hate to
leave things at loose ends.”
    The ghost of a smile curved Prosser’s lips as
he became at ease with the conversation. “A vacation perhaps? Are
you winding to some barely travelled destination?”
    “Nothing so exotic,” she replied
apologetically. “It’s just my annual Retreat and they’re never in
places like Rio or Monte Carlo. I suppose they think we can’t focus
on practice spells or meditate with our toes in the sand, but I’d
like to try.”
    “I’ve entertained much the same idea about my
work,” he agreed.
    Yule made no additional comment, none was
particularly invited. The quiet that ensued served to focus her
observations on the differences between them. He was unlike any man
she’d previously known or been employed by. Not that she found that
observation surprising. After all, he was a best selling author, a
celebrity, and a Magus. Compared to her, he might as well be a life
form from another planet.
    Frankly, since he was old enough to have been
a child when the Merge occurred and the dimension of magic resumed
its place in the mundane world, he really was from another planet.
That otherworld Earth of magic workers, though it developed along
similar paths as the world stripped of its magic, had still been a
separate world.
    In that moment of silence Yule longed to
possess Hermes’ effervescent personality and contagious good humor.
He had the innate ability to blend effortlessly into any crowd or
conversation, charming all who crossed his path. It wasn’t magic,
it was just Hermes. She couldn’t help feeling