Fire Within

by Ella M. Lee

  “Can’t defend yourself against a mortal woman with a six-inch blade?” I retorted, the words bolder than I felt. “I had no intention of using it against you. I just like being armed. I imagine you aren’t the only dangerous thing around here.”

  He smiled tightly. “Forget about knives. You currently have one of the most powerful commanders in Water guaranteeing your life.”

  I had no idea how true those words were. He had the calm self-assuredness of someone who was truly powerful and comfortable with it, but sometimes that was all bravado. He certainly seemed like he had a scary amount of magic on top of his additional gifts.

  He beckoned for me to come closer. I hesitated. I didn’t want to be within throttling distance of him. I had no idea how angry he was, what his typical temperament was like, or how far his promise to treat me politely truly extended.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said impatiently, rolling his beautiful eyes. “I merely want to take a look at your injuries.”

  I joined him on the couch, sitting far enough away that he was only barely within reach. The exasperated look he gave me said, Seriously?

  “I haven’t laid a hand on you,” he said.

  “May I remind you who broke my nose?” I said curtly.

  I recalled his hands on the back of my neck, slamming my face into a sturdy oak table. The blow had been so hard and fierce I was surprised it hadn’t cracked my skull into two pieces. Remembering exactly how strong and quick he had been sent shivers down my spine.

  He let out an incredulous huff of air, his shoulders stiffening. “You had just killed my lieutenant,” he said. “I’ve shown remarkable restraint since then, wouldn’t you agree?”

  I flinched away from him, bracing myself for his wrath, for his hand to connect painfully with my face. I deserved it; I couldn’t deny that. I had killed someone he cared about. There was nothing that could make that easier on either of us.

  I hadn’t realized at first that the man I had fought in Vienna had been his lieutenant, his second in command. That had only become clear during the fight. Lieutenants were almost always close with their commanders, powerful and hand-picked. The Auspex had a pretty solid reason to hate me, to want to hurt me, and he probably would. Humans were rarely above anger and revenge.

  But he didn’t move. He merely studied me, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

  After several tense moments, he moved closer to me and touched the bridge of my nose and my swollen cheeks. I flinched again, barely breathing. His touch was gentler than I expected. I was still trembling, wondering how quickly those long fingers could end my life.

  The tingling vibration of his magic as he examined me was so strong it was a trial not to pull away. Unlike my own clan, I knew Water had powerful and effective healing magic, but I had no idea if he intended to use it on me.

  We were so close now that the complex net of his magic enveloped me. It was simultaneously wonderful and wholly frightening. He could keep it contained if he so desired, but I had a feeling he was enjoying showing off.

  His face was very close to mine as he worked. There was hardly anywhere to look but directly at him. His eyes were indeed lovely: light brown with golden rings around their pupils, set deep under arched brows, practically glowing. They paired well with his smooth skin, several shades tanner than mine. My skin had always been annoyingly transparent, prone to burning and scarring. His hair was dark but not black, messy in a deliberately styled way, brushed barely out of his eyes.

  I studied the designer labeling on his blazer’s collar. Of course he was smart, handsome, powerful, talented, and rich. I’d have to be careful with him. That was a combination of qualities that tended to make a person arrogant and vain and downright impossible to deal with.

  “Merde,” he said, sighing in annoyance, his eyes meeting mine as his fingers rested lightly on my nose. “Definitely broken.”

  Interesting. He had cursed in French. Very competent-sounding French that fit his accent perfectly. Yet another piece of information to collect about the Auspex.

  I leaned back, shying away from his touch. “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ve had my fair share of injuries before.”

  “Nonsense,” he scoffed. “This needs to be healed. Unfortunately, it would complicate things to bring you to my group’s healer. Healing is not my specialty, but I am skilled enough to fix this. Relax. Water healing magic doesn’t hurt, although setting the bone might sting.”

  I waited while he touched my face again with his right hand and then made a small series of complex looping gestures. With a sharp and biting twinge, I felt my slightly unset bones shift. My whole face went numb for several seconds. When the feeling returned, he withdrew his hands. I touched my nose. It was still bruised and sore but not broken. I took a few experimental breaths. Everything seemed okay.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  His eyes met mine again, his expression softening. What a warm color. How did someone with eyes like that end up as a commander? All the commanders I knew were layers of cold beyond cold beyond cold.

  “Some people don’t have choices in life; they are merely carried along their path,” he said quietly, and I cursed myself again for forgetting his gifts.

  It was common within clans to forget your life before joining, to not speak of it. Most people joined clans willingly out of attraction to magic, or to escape from someone or something, or in the hopes of something better. I didn’t think he would tell me his history, but I wondered about his statement.

  “You’re right. That is a story for another time,” he said.

  “Could you not do that?” I asked. “Stop looking into my head and taking whatever you want and answering my unasked questions.”

  My sharp words didn’t seem to bother him. “If it makes you feel better, think of it this way: me knowing your thoughts is keeping you alive and free. The second I consider you a threat—or even merely an unwanted annoyance—you are dead.”

  I looked away automatically, but his fingers caught my chin, and he tugged so that I was looking right at him. I inhaled sharply, unnerved, as he stared into my eyes for a moment.

  “Are you dizzy? Nauseated? Experiencing any memory loss?” he asked, his tone professional.

  I knew what he was searching for. “I don’t have a concussion,” I said, drawing away from his grasp.

  His eyes traveled down to my wrists. He took my hands, and I jumped. I didn’t like that he touched me without a word, that he likely knew it scared me but didn’t care if he had my consent. If he noticed my skittishness, he didn’t react. He merely turned my hands over, examining the welts on my skin.

  “Do these hurt?” he asked.

  “No,” I said, although they did.

  His eyes went to mine for just a moment, and he gave me an exasperated look, well aware of my lie. He made several quick motions against my skin, and the pain and swelling faded a little.

  “Thank you again,” I whispered.

  “You aren’t completely devoid of manners, I see,” he said with a sardonic smile.

  “You are,” I said.

  I looked down. His fingers were still on me, making light circles around my wrists. He let go immediately.

  “My apologies,” he murmured.

  I studied him, unsure of what to do next. He was impossible to read, which made it all the more frustrating that he knew me so well. After a moment, he leaned closer. I froze.

  “Listen carefully, lamb,” he said. “We’re going out in public now, among my clanmates, and the rules there are very different. I’m a commander, and as I’ve told you, I’m at the top of the food chain here. You are a captive mortal slave from another clan. Needle me all you want in private, I don’t care. But out there? If you so much as look at me the wrong way, I’d be expected to beat the shit out of you. Despite what you may think of me, I don’t want to do that, so keep your head down and your mouth shut. If you have questions, save them for later. Right now, you are less than nothin
g to anyone but me, and my generosity extends only so far. I have a certain reputation here—not a nice one, but it’s one I need—and I’m not risking it for you. Do you understand me?”

  I nodded, my heart beating faster. I wasn’t sure what to think of him. He’d been oddly kind toward me so far, but this new directive was bone-chillingly harsh. I didn’t know much about the internals of Water Clan. Were they the type to beat defenseless mortals for saying the wrong things? Would he do that to me?

  “I would,” he said, answering my unspoken questions again, “if it meant keeping the reputation I’ve so carefully crafted intact. I’m being harsh because I need you to know this is serious. Tell me that you understand and that you’ll obey me. I don’t want to have to hurt you, and I won’t if you behave yourself.”

  “I understand,” I whispered. “I’ll obey.”

  “Good,” he said, standing. “Do well enough with these very simple instructions, and we can continue our conversations about your future later.”

  So those were the rules. Or at least some of them. Time for another round of the game but with higher stakes.

  A test.

  I could handle that if it meant learning what would happen next. If he heard my assessment, he didn’t deign to comment.

  I nodded. “Yes, okay. I get it.”

  “Retrieve your bag and bring it with us,” he said.

  “Wait,” I said, reaching out a hand reflexively. I immediately withdrew when I saw his incredulous look. I stumbled over my next words. “No one told me. What’s your name?”

  He stared at me for a long moment. “Nicolas Demarais.”

  He pronounced it the French way. Nee-ko-lah Deh-mah-rey.

  “Pleased to meet you,” I said, standing up, my instinctual politeness kicking in regardless of the strange situation.

  He smiled as though I were completely unbelievable to him, utterly new and baffling and unpredictable.

  “Yes, the same to you, Fiona Ember,” he said.

  I froze. I hadn’t told him my surname, hadn’t even thought of it since coming here. When he asked for my name the night before, he must have merely been testing me to see how I would react.

  I followed him out the door, feeling deeply unsettled. The only bright side was that I now knew what my first test had been, and I had passed it.

  I hoped that meant I could pass the rest of them.

  Chapter 4

  “We’re on the top floor of this clan house building,” Nicolas said after we had taken a nondescript elevator from floor thirty-one to thirty-eight. “It houses the largest café in the building and one of the clan’s larger libraries.”

  I looked around, interested in his mention of the library. There, off to the right—towering shelves behind a lengthy wall of glass. I smiled involuntarily at its beauty. I loved libraries, loved books, loved reading. Water was a large and old clan; I imagined their collection was impressive. Would I ever get a chance to find out for myself what it contained?

  I was shocked back into reality by the clamoring of people talking around me. We hadn’t encountered anyone else so far, but this floor was busy and crowded. The elevator doors opened into a large atrium with huge domed glass ceilings. There was seating everywhere. Tables, chairs, couches, beanbags, rugs—all covered with groups of people talking, working, and eating.

  This space had a nice, friendly energy, and I relaxed slightly despite the press of magic around me and Nicolas’s imposing presence. It looked like a comfortable place to enjoy a meal or get some work done, much like my own clan house’s common areas.

  Nicolas barely looked around as we made our way through the crowd, but people we passed quieted at his approach and stared after us. I had never felt so many eyes on me before, and it was disconcerting. Most of the people here were clan members filled with magic, but here and there I noticed some mortals.

  It was easy to tell the difference between free mortals and captive mortals. Mortals who were there as clan candidates were happy, healthy, and chatting with magicians like friends. The captives were hollow-eyed and twitchy. Although none had bruising quite as prominent as mine, there was one man whose hand looked like it had been broken in several places and not healed, and there was one girl, maybe eighteen years old, who had the subdued, gaunt look of someone beyond caring what happened next.

  My jaw trembled, and I tried not to meet anyone’s eye, tried not to think about how that could be what I might look like in a few days or weeks.

  Nicolas didn’t care where he walked or who he disrupted, and no one dared say anything if he bumped their chair or walked too close to their table. I was more careful, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

  I kept my eyes down, telling myself to act the part of a scared, beaten slave. If I made everyone believe that, Nicolas would be happy.

  When the happiness of my enemy had become my goal, I didn’t know. But it was part of the game, and it would keep me safe, or so I hoped. As I watched him, his glittering magic still thrown around him like a cast net and his back straight and taut, I thought maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that I had accepted his deal.

  But what had I gotten myself into? Or out of, as Nicolas had said.

  The entire back wall of the building was a buffet of food. My own clan house had a similar setup in our main café, although the choices here were more varied and eclectic. This lunch spread included an array of Chinese roast meats, noodles, soups, rotisserie chicken, a whole ham, salad, stir-fried vegetables, Indian curry, three kinds of rice, croissants, baguettes, bagels, yogurt, fruit, and a dozen other options.

  Nicolas took a plate and tray and picked his way down the row of food, selecting things seemingly at random. He motioned for me to take some as well. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to eat at all, so I selected a bland array of chicken soup, white rice, and vanilla yogurt.

  He led me to a table at the far corner of the hall, near an impressive spread of windows. When we sat, the two groups at the tables near us immediately left, giving us a reasonable radius of privacy. I didn’t know whether I should be impressed or wonder why everyone hated him so much.

  “They don’t hate me,” he said in an undertone. “They merely know better than to get in my way.”

  He clearly hadn’t been lying about his position here. I didn’t dare respond. Instead, I kept my eyes on my plate and tried to eat as though I had never seen food before.

  A few minutes of silence was punctuated by Nicolas’s sharp, annoyed sigh. I flicked my eyes to him, wondering if I had done something wrong already, but he was looking past me. After a moment, I became aware of a strong magical presence behind me. I wanted to turn to look, but Nicolas’s eyes met mine, and I understood the unspoken command in his eyes: Don’t move. I stopped eating, locking my gaze on my half-empty tray.

  “Nico!” a voice behind me boomed, and I thought I noticed Nicolas bristle, his magic swirling. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

  “I arrived last night,” Nicolas said.

  His tone was calm, but he seemed very on edge compared to how he’d sounded earlier with me.

  The new voice was now right at my shoulder. I could feel the imposing male presence and his stifling magic, different from Nicolas to my senses. Darker, slithering and sleazy, an unpredictable kind of dangerous.

  “I thought you were staying in Vienna for a few weeks?” the newcomer said.

  “I thought so too,” Nicolas said. “But, you know, assassination attempts are a bitch.”

  He jutted his chin at me and shrugged. I met his gaze in a panic, wishing he hadn’t drawn attention to me.

  The man moved around the table to see my face. I glanced at him for half a second, remembering Nicolas’s warning to me from earlier. He looked older than Nicolas or me, with sharp features and blond hair like a lion’s mane. He had the profile of a movie star, but there was an undercurrent of malice to him that worried me. His wide-set piercing green eyes studied me intently.

  I h
adn’t realized Water magic could appear so murky and shadowy. Nicolas’s magic was bright and sparkling in my vision, but this man’s magic could almost be called dense or opaque. There was less subtle shifting within it, less to see when you looked at it, as though it hid much within its layers.

  Whatever alarm bells I felt didn’t seem to bother Nicolas at all.

  He was mostly relaxed, leaning back in his chair, studying Green Eyes with slight impatience. I would have said Nicolas looked indifferent, but there was a certain poise about his posture that told me he was ready to move instantly. He waited for the other man to speak.

  “You’re alive, at least,” Green Eyes said, not necessarily in a tone of happiness, “and it looks like the prize was worth it?”

  In a gesture that chilled me to the core, he reached out and ran a finger down my bare arm. My breath caught. I knew better than to recoil, but everything in me screamed to fight or run. I hated having to sit still, frightened and trapped. I wanted to reach out and break his fingers, but I would be dead if I did that. Instead, I gave a single pleading look to Nicolas under my lashes.

  Nicolas didn’t move, didn’t so much as even tense at what I would have considered a massive overreach, but his voice was like iron when he said, “Come now, no touching.”

  Green Eyes paused, his finger still barely lingering on the skin of my inner arm. Every single muscle in me screamed to move, and I didn’t think I could stand sitting still much longer.

  “Are you looking to sell?” he asked. “I can think of some ways to make use of this one.”

  Sell what? Me?

  I began trembling. I wanted to tell myself that it was part of the role I had been told to play, but that wouldn’t be honest. Green Eyes seemed pleased by my distress, and his fingertip pressed into my skin a little harder. I waited for Nicolas’s answer, not at all confident that he wouldn’t take the opportunity to get rid of me.

  “Do I need to repeat myself?” Nicolas asked, brow raised, his voice a shade darker. “And no—she’s mine.”