[Southern Arcana 1] Crux by Moira Rogers Page A

morning. He closed his eyes and focused, slowly turning toward the sofa. Mackenzie’s bag lay at one end, right where she’d left it, but Jackson could feel that it had been searched, rifled through. Violated.
    Mackenzie stepped up behind him and laid a hand on his arm. “Alec says he’s on his way.” Her fingers trembled where they rested on his arm, the nervous energy back and worse than before.
    “Check your bag.” His gaze darted around the room. “See if anything is missing.”

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    Moira Rogers
    She frowned in confusion, but obediently opened her bag.
    Her frown deepened as she sorted through her belongings. “A shirt’s missing.” She glanced up. “One of the ones I sleep in.
    Who would steal a tank top when there’s a few hundred dollars in cash sitting right next to it?”
    “Someone who isn’t after money.” He walked into the hallway and pulled his lockbox off the top shelf of his closet.
    He opened it quickly, removed the Beretta he kept there and performed a cursory check of its mechanisms.
    “What’s going on?” Mackenzie’s voice was frightened.
    He gave her a serious look. He didn’t want to scare her even more, but she deserved to know the truth about her own situation. “Whoever broke in is powerful. Insanely powerful.
    And that means that Marcus Foster has some terrifying connections.”
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Chapter Eight
    Jackson paced the office. “I’m telling you. It’s like the wards weren’t even there , Alec.”
    “Mahalia hasn’t called you back yet?” Alec asked, his voice tense.
    “Not a peep, but I’ll drive to Boca if I have to, because this shit isn’t funny.” He chewed on his thumbnail. “Dealing with someone who can walk right through Mrs. Morris’s most powerful magic isn’t the least bit amusing.” Mackenzie shifted restlessly in Kat’s chair, her right foot still tapping on the floor. “Do you think it’s Marcus? Or that guy from earlier?”
    Jackson stopped and looked at her, again torn between wanting to make her feel better and needing her to understand how much danger she was in. “Neither. That guy in the alley was small potatoes, and unless you neglected to mention that Foster is a wizard who’s about a hundred and fifty years old, there’s no way he could do something like this.” Alec’s voice broke in. “He wouldn’t have to be a hundred and fifty if he was a Seer.”

    Moira Rogers
    Jackson fought a chill and pointed a finger at Alec.
    “That’s crazy talk, Jacobson. There’s one Seer out of how many thousands of wolves? The one cougar Seer I know of—” He broke off and glanced at Mackenzie. “Was the guy trying to romance you in his seventies?”
    For the first time since their arrival she stopped fidgeting.
    “Uh, no. No, he looked my age, maybe a little older. Couldn’t have been much past thirty.”
    Alec looked undaunted. “Well maybe there’s another one.”
    “What are the mathematical odds of that, Alec?”
    “Hell, Jackson. Who even knows? Who knows how many wolf Seers disappear every year because someone found out their precious blood had magic in it? Do you think Nick’s sister would have made it to adulthood if their dad wasn’t the Alpha? Besides, no one knows for sure how many cougars are out there. It’s not impossible.”
    Before Jackson could reply, Mackenzie spoke. “I don’t understand. What’s a Seer? A psychic?”
    Jackson held Alec’s gaze for a couple more seconds and turned to her. “Most shapeshifters can’t use other types of magic. Magic—the kind you’d think of—tends to override everything else. So when two shifters with a family history of magic have kids, sometimes there’s a kid who seems like a regular shapeshifter…until the magic ability manifests. And 116
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    Crux
    they’re…” His voice trailed off, and he shook his head.
    “They’ve usually got more raw power in their pinkie toes than I’ve got in