Page 32 of Wings and Shadowthief

She slid on the leather interior, willing herself to ignore Jack’s familiar scent.

He was listening to classical music—an orchestra Gwen wasn’t familiar with—but as she put her seatbelt on, he lowered the volume.

Great. He wanted conversation. Her jaw tightened.

“I must admit, I didn’t expect you’d ask for a trip to town. When I owe people favors, I tend to end up stealing ancient artifacts, or raiding demon lairs.”

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t prefer that to shopping.”

He chuckled. “Touché, Gwen.”

The car’s engine purred contentedly as they crossed the borders of the territory.

“Don’t you feel awful for using so much carbon with this car?” she asked.

Most cars were electric or hybrids nowadays. For a price, they could still get their hands on vintage gasoline models, but Gwen would have felt guilty.

“I converted it. Rebuilt the engine from scratch. It’s entirely electric. I’ve even installed solar panels on the roof.”

She blinked in surprise. “How? Old cars aren’t made for it.”

He shrugged. “A bit of elbow grease, plenty of money, some magic. Nothing worth the effort is ever easy.”

It didn’t sound like he was talking about the car anymore.

“So, glasses?” she asked, changing the subject. “Aren’t Enlightened spawns supposed to be ridiculously perfect?”

“You think I’m perfect?” He flashed her his wicked grin.

Gwen rolled her eyes, looking out the window at the passing Scottish landscape.

“My vision’s fine, but I get headaches staring at the computer for too long.” He tapped the frames of his black glasses. “These are filters to counteract the effect of the blue screen.”

“You were working?” She felt guilty for disturbing him. If he’d been sparring with the huntsmen, she wouldn’t have minded as much.

Jack shrugged. “It’ll keep. I don’t sleep anymore. I have plenty of time for analyzing degenerative genomes.”

He’d managed to surprise her again. “That’s what you’re into?”

She had no idea about his field of study. She had no idea about anything when it came to Jack, really.

“I’m into many things,” he shot back with a suggestive wink. Then he chuckled. “Sorry, I couldn’t help. You jumped into that one.”

She was woman enough to admit that she had. At least to herself.

“My thesis is on the decline of preternatural energy through the ages. I’m presenting it next month.”

So much information all at once. He was done at the Institute in a month?

Gwen opted to concentrate on the first part of his revelation. “That sounds a lot more complicated than what I would have thought. I mean, aren’t huntsmen into murder, mostly?”

If he was insulted, he didn’t show it. “Mostly,” Jack admitted. “But to murder something, we have to understand how strong it is. That’s where papers like mine come in.”

“So, you think magic’s getting weaker?” she asked, trying to make sense of his research subject.

“I think it isn’t,” he countered. “The general consensus is that someone’s strength is defined by their ancestry—they only get as powerful as the strongest of the magic users in their line. I’m proof of the opposite, so the subject has always been of interest to me. I believe that by mixing certain lines, two individuals may create children more powerful than them—than any of their ancestors. Most of the time, the magic diminishes down the line because of the pairing of incompatible magics. Oil and water aren’t going to make for an interesting solution. But if, say, you’re oil and you add a spark of fire…”

She nodded, getting his point on a personal level.

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