Magic Games (Dragon Born Serafina Book 2)

by Ella Summers

Sera had the sudden and irresistible urge to shower.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way, Sera,” Finn said, pushing off the wall. He took a cup from the table, then strode up to her like a king in his own castle. “Water?”

  A dry film caked her tongue, screaming for his offering. “How long have I been here?”

  She didn’t expect an answer, so she was surprised when Finn replied, “It’s been nearly a day. The magic Alden hit you with was pretty potent. We weren’t sure we’d be able to knock you out otherwise. Your resistance to magic is troublesome.”

  “Troublesome. I’ve been called that once or twice before.” Often by uptight members of the magical elite. “But I prefer charming.”

  “Yes.” His tongue flicked out, sliding across the entire length of his upper lip.

  Yuck.

  He held the cup in front of her mouth. Since she didn’t think he’d go through all the trouble of chaining her to the room only to poison her the second she regained consciousness, she took a drink. If she was wrong about the poison—if she choked on her own vomit—she vowed to throw up all over his shoes as she died.

  “Who’s Alden?” Sera asked when she’d emptied the whole cup without dying a painful and horrible death.

  Surprise flashed across his face. “You don’t know of the great Alden, the world’s greatest mage?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  “He was born millennia ago, at the height of magic.”

  “Like Gaelyn?” she asked.

  “No, nothing like that pansy,” Finn spat with disgust. “Gaelyn is weak. The centuries have diminished his magic. But Alden is strong.” Pure, undiluted adoration gleamed in his manic eyes. “He was so strong that the Magic Council feared him. They didn’t have the power to kill him, so they had him entombed. He slept for centuries, waiting for someone to free him. Me.”

  Sera had heard this story before—all but the final bit where some idiot freed him. “You’re speaking of the mage named the Grim Reaper.”

  “It was the sniveling fools on the Magic Council that gave Alden that name. He is so much more than death.”

  “More than death? Right,” she said drily. “He was a monster who terrorized the world for centuries. He was put down because he was insane. He mass-murdered humans, draining their life force to increase his power and give himself immortality. He’s no better than a vampire, except at least most vampires know when to stop. The Grim Reaper just drains them dead.”

  “Don’t call him that!” Finn snarled, drawing back his hand. His fist collided with her jaw and bone creaked.

  She spat blood at his feet. “You hit like a little girl.”

  He hit her again, harder this time. Yellow and purple lights danced in front of her eyes.

  “You’ll understand. Someday,” he told her, his tone softening. His hand stroked down her face. “Or you’ll die,” he added with a crooked smirk.

  Sera glared up at him through a veil of her own hair, wet with sweat and blood and who knew what else. It smelled like vomit. She sent a surge of magic across her skin, electrocuting him. The iron echoed her magic back at her, shooting her headache to new epic levels, but it was worth it to watch Finn flail like a fish on a hook.

  “Stupid bitch!” he screamed, jumping back. His fireball fizzled out. He clocked her hard against the temple.

  She must have blacked out for a second because when she opened her eyes again, he was pacing in front of her, bouncing a new fireball between his hands.

  “What do you see in him?” he snarled, rage quaking his body.

  “Who?” she croaked. Her throat felt like it had been strangled then hung out to dry.

  “Kai,” he snapped out his cousin’s name like it was poison. “Is it the way he blows things up?” The cup on the table behind Finn exploded. “Is it his dragon magic?” The fiery shape of a summoned dragon took shape behind him. Its tail uncurled, sliding up Sera’s leg.

  The fire of the dragon began to eat away at the fabric of her pants, turning it to ashes. Heat bathed her skin, searing it with pain. Sera shook her hands, pulling against the chains, but they were too strong.

  Use magic to break them, her dragon said. I’ve figured out how to shield you from the iron.

  Sera didn’t have to be told twice. She slid her magic along the chains. As the metal weakened and moaned, Finn stepped back, his mouth flying open in shock. But it was taking too long with the chains. She poured water magic down her legs, putting out the dragon’s fire. Steam hissing, her magic spread up the dragon’s tail, her rage chomping away at the summoned beast. As the last piece of the dragon dissolved, she threw her hands forward, breaking through her chains. Tiny iron flakes crumbled to the ground.

  “We’re done here,” she told Finn, her voice cold and flat.

  Twin pillars of fire burst out of the ground, one on either side of him. “Oh, no, Sera. We’ve only just begun.” The ghost of a smile danced across his lips, his magic crackling in the orange-red light. He arched forward, primed to strike.

  Liquid lightning slithering across her arms, Sera shot him her best demented grin. “Bring it.”

  Finn’s arms lifted, quivering with magic. His eyes were a nonstop runaway train ride to hell.

  “Stop,” a voice boomed, the walls shaking with the force of the magic pounding beneath that single word. Overheard, two of the floating lights slammed into each other and crash-landed onto the table.

  Finn’s tense body went liquid, and he fell to his knees. “Alden,” he said, his word kissing the ground as a cloaked man strode into the room.

  “Serafina Dering,” the Grim Reaper said, his voice burning as intensely as his fiery green eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time.”

  26

  The Grim Reaper

  Alden’s magic hung thick in the air, old and powerful. Like Kai-powerful—times a hundred. His magic tasted like death and dripped torment. Sera could see how he’d earned the name Grim Reaper. Her skin was drenched with the vile mist. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up like an army of rigid-backed soldiers.

  Alden stepped into the light of the magic lanterns. He looked like a mage, and yet there was something eerie about him. Too perfect. Too fake. He didn’t look a day over seventeen. It must have been all the life force he’d drained over the centuries. Power slid over him like a cloak of blood and tears. A cloak of death.

  He looked down at Finn’s groveling form with disdain. “This is no way to treat our guest,” he said, his voice like crushed diamonds. “You were supposed to ask her about the traitor she mentioned in our midst, not force yourself on her. And most certainly not attack her,” he added with a clinical glance down at Sera’s burnt legs. The look in his eyes was so clean, so borderline bored, that you could have sterilized wounds with it.

  Apologies and brittle excuses spluttered out of Finn’s mouth. Alden raised a hand, and the words froze on his minion’s tongue. Then he turned and glided toward Sera, fluid and graceful, his feet hardly touching the ground.

  “Sera, I must apologize for his behavior,” Alden said, primly sliding a handkerchief out of his cloak pocket. He dabbed it against the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. “Young mages have so little control over their baser impulses.”

  With Alden’s attention off of him, Finn decided it was safe to stand again. He hung back at a distance; his eyes darted nervously from the ancient mage to Sera.

  “Welcome to my humble home,” Alden told her. “It’s not much. For now. This is what I’ve been reduced to, but it will change soon enough. Soon, I will reclaim my kingdom. Soon, I will rule over all. It will be a better world.”

  He stretched out his hand toward the doorway. She followed him through, hoping for a bigger room with more room to maneuver. She got her wish.

  Magic flames burst to life, revealing a huge chamber. Mages lined each rocky wall, their magic standing at attention. The iron didn’t seem to be bothering them any more than it had Finn or Alden. Besides the door she
’d just stepped through, there were three other openings. Maybe they were exits, or maybe they were just passages into dead end rooms.

  A centaur stood guard in front of every doorway, each one armed to the teeth and looking as mean as a harpy with PMS. One of them was Apollo, the centaur Sera had talked down from a fight in the Rich Witch section of Macy’s. He held a sword twice as long as the one he’d had last time. As he met her stare across the room, his hand twitched on his hilt. Hand cramp or secret symbol? Sera was hoping for the latter. Chances were—well not good, but at least not impossible—that if Kamikaze Mage had weaseled himself inside of this evil organization, then someone else could have done it too. Apollo seemed like an upstanding, honorable sort of fellow. A little bloodthirsty maybe but definitely not crazy. She couldn’t imagine that he would join a war campaign against the Magic Council.

  “What do you think?” Alden asked, drawing her attention back to him.

  Sera allowed her gaze to slide across the lines of magic-drunk mages, then turned to stare him down. “I am not your puppet.” She could feel his magic skirting the perimeter of her defenses, trying to find a way inside her mind. She pushed back, snapping his magic back to him.

  “No, you’re not,” he laughed, brushing his hands across the front of his cloak. “Your will is strong, your mind formidable. I am not surprised that you bested that spineless sap Blackbrooke at his own game.”

  “Did you have anything to do with the vampire attacks on the Magic Council?” she asked him.

  “I?” Alden rested his hands before him, braiding his fingers together. “No.”

  “So it is just a coincidence that you and a mad mage just happen to both be gunning for the Magic Council?”

  “Well, there are no true coincidences in the world, dear girl. Everything happens for a reason,” he said, his magic ripe with amusement.

  Whatever the joke that was tying his magic up into happy bows, she didn’t get it—or want to.

  “But, no, I didn’t have anything to do with that,” he told her. “Those Convictionites are truly vile creatures. They were around even back in my time, and I was dismayed to learn that they hadn’t died out in the centuries since. Especially given their utter lack of competence. Had they succeeded in their ploy against the Magic Council…well, no matter.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s not get caught up in pointless details. We will deal with those magic haters soon enough.”

  She arched a single eyebrow upward at him. “And everyone else who stands in your way?”

  “There’s no need to be melodramatic. I am not a psychopath.”

  Could have fooled me.

  His eyes snapped at her, as though he’d heard the thought. “Let’s speak not of the horrid necessities, but of more pleasant things.” His smile returned with a vengeance. “You will have a place in my new world, Sera. A place by my side. You will be my sentinel, the white knight, the champion of might and righteousness. You will protect this new and better world. A world where you will be the hunter, not the hunted. But we will speak of that soon. First, tell me about this traitor in my midst.”

  Sera balked at the command in his voice, but she decided to tell him anyway. She needed to keep him talking. She had a feeling that as soon as he realized she wasn’t going to join his creepy cult, he wouldn’t waste time in disposing of her. Even if he’d been alone, she wouldn’t have had a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving a duel with him, let alone winning one. His magic was for the moment calm, but she could feel the power throbbing behind that cool facade. Bone-splintering, magic-shattering power. The man was a beast hidden inside of a teenage boy’s body.

  “Your traitor was the mage controlling the vampires. He was a Convictionite,” she told Alden.

  “How illogical,” was Alden’s cool response.

  “I’ll kill that traitor,” Finn spat.

  “No,” Alden said. “That’s a job for my new sentinel.”

  Sera laughed. “It’s too late for that. Your traitor poisoned his own blood with magic. He’s dead.”

  Alden folded his hands together calmly. “There will be others for you, my sentinel. You will uproot all those who threaten our noble cause.”

  Sera nibbled on her lower lip, pretending to consider his words. Any idea how we’re going to get out of here? she asked her dragon.

  Your centaur friend. Goldilocks.

  Apollo? She tried to look at him, but the damn Grim Reaper was in the way.

  He’s subtly pointing at the doorway guarded by his tawny comrade.

  Describe ‘subtly pointing’.

  Scratching his hindquarters with his middle finger pointed kind of in the direction of that doorway.

  That’s what you’ve got? For all we know, he’s just flicking me off.

  Her dragon shrugged. That’s a distinct possibility. You do tend to bring that out in people. And dragons.

  Hey!

  Chuckles buzzed inside her mind and her dragon said, I know it sucks, but Goldilocks and his middle finger are the best chance that we’ve got.

  Sera gave her a mental grunt. Her dragon was right. She began to pace, angling toward the questionable exit. Alden watched her, his eyes growing wary. Maybe he thought she’d try to pull something. Well, she wasn’t one to disappoint.

  “I am not your sentinel,” she told him. “Not your lackey, your brain-dead worshipper, or whatever else the hell you want to make me.”

  His lips thinned. “How disappointing.”

  His magic pounded against hers—once, with the force of a great big hammer. He hit her again, harder. And again. Her mind was crinkling like an aluminum can beneath a battering ram. Fissures formed in her shield, and he slithered inside. She saw her house burning and her friends screaming in torment.

  Keep him talking, her dragon said.

  I don’t think I can talk. She winced, buckling beneath the pain. She’d never felt anything like it before. Her brain felt like it was melting from the inside.

  Toughen up and shoot off that smart mouth of yours! We need time to build up our power for a single concentrated burst.

  Sera didn’t think she could do anything more sophisticated with her magic right now than let it collapse to the ground like a deflated balloon, but she didn’t relay that to her dragon. Her head hurt too much to think, let alone talk.

  “You don’t know me at all,” she croaked out, glaring out at Alden. Standing was getting difficult. So was staying conscious.

  “Don’t I?” His mouth quirked up. “I know what you are. Dragon Born.”

  The words echoes through the hollow chamber like a spell on the wind. Some of the mages began to mutter, their faces twisted in shock. They gaped at her, disgust rolling off of them. The word ‘abomination’ hummed over their heads. Even Finn looked shocked. He turned to Alden like a confused child seeking comfort and answers from his father.

  Alden pivoted, his cloak swirling around him. “She is not an abomination,” he told his loyal followers.

  The frightened whispers died down.

  “No more than I am the Grim Reaper,” he continued. “They are just vile names forced onto us by lesser mages. By the Magic Council.” His eyes, alight with sweet, seductive magic, turned to Sera. “We are much alike. Both powerful, both feared for our power.”

  “We are nothing alike,” she ground out. He hadn’t lessened his attack on her mind, not even for a second. “You killed people. You wreaked havoc and devastation.”

  His laughter roared through the chamber, and the walls quaked. “And what do you think the Dragon Born did, my dear? Why they were sentenced to death?”

  Dread crawled its way down her throat, choking her rebuttal.

  “That’s right.” Victory sang in his eyes. “I was there. There the day the Dragon Born were sentenced to oblivion. I could tell you all about it. All you have to do is listen.”

  Lies!

  How do you know? she asked her dragon. Does your magic allows you to see back to that time?

&nbs
p; No, through my magic—our blood—I see fleeting glimpses of past days, but it’s been too long. The history, the bonds of magic of the Dragon Born, are withered and old because any time one of us is discovered, we’re killed. The mage dynasties with the right magic to produce Dragon Born twins have been all but destroyed. It’s a rare condition of birth, the chance of a Dragon Born birth only one in millions. It requires the right combination of blood, magic, and luck.

  “The others, the members of the Magic Council, are small-minded,” Alden said, cutting into her thoughts. “They don’t understand you, and they don’t want to. I do. I alone am sympathetic to your plight, and I alone can help you. I can unlock your potential. You are special, Sera. You’re worth more than the entire Magic Council put together.”

  She grimaced against the pain. Her skin felt like it was being slowly and methodically scraped off her back.

  “I know what will happen if the rest of the world finds out about you. You will die. Your sister will die. Your brother will die. Everyone you care about will die. But that doesn’t have to happen. You are a threat to their world, but you’re an asset in mine.” He extended his hand out to her. “Join me. Protect those you care about. And eliminate those who threaten you.”

  Temptation churned inside of her, his words like cool, liquid relief on a hot and sticky day, but she pushed it down and gave his hand a scathing look.

  “Don’t you want to know who sent the assassin after you and Alex? The assassin who killed your father,” he added, his voice dropping to a scathing whisper.

  “The assassin was working alone.”

  “How little you know, dear girl! A mage sent the assassin. This mage sent him running after rumors of Dragon Born sisters. The assassin tracked down these rumors, but he was never able to report back who you were to his employer because you killed him. And by the time the mage sent another, you and your family were long gone, your house burned to the ground, no evidence of your existence there remaining.”

  His smile was so vicious, so undeniably depraved—and yet she couldn’t look away.