The Fire Within Series: Books 1 - 3

by Ella M. Lee

  I took a sip from the cup—hot lemon honey water—and had a few bites of the toast before saying to him, “Has anyone ever told you how confusing you are?”

  He glanced at me. “All the time,” he said without any elaboration, but the words also sounded like light banter.

  I knew we were only out here because it would have been unbearable for him to deal with me wallowing on the floor for the entire day, but I was still surprised he had gone this far to help me.

  I knew it couldn’t have been an easy decision for him to bring me outside given how much risk it presented, yet he had done it anyway, knowing it would cheer me up. He was speaking gently to me, teasing me, and now he was kind enough to order me special food because I wasn’t feeling well.

  This friendly Nicolas was completely different from the frightening commander who had threatened to have me tortured and executed, different even from the reserved Nicolas of the last few days who had interacted with me coldly and almost professionally.

  Why was he shifting his personality? Had that been his plan all along? Or had he realized being cold wasn’t working, that it broke me down too far and he needed to bring me back somehow?

  Was it a good sign that he didn’t want to torture me and drive me insane?

  He was practically being sweet right now, and if the behavior weren’t so weird and out of place, I might have enjoyed it. This Nicolas was a man I could see myself trusting—but maybe that was all part of his plan.

  Nicolas didn’t respond to my silent musings. I was starting to wonder if he didn’t like doing that. Instead, he continued to study his phone for a while longer before getting up from the table to pay the bill. I took small sips of my hot water and tried to convince myself to feel better, for his sake and mine.

  “Come,” he said, holding his hand out to me.

  “I’m not your dog,” I said, but I stood and took his hand as he had commanded.

  He cast me another one of his charming smiles. “Oh? You are as obedient as one. Very well trained, and so quickly.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have been really hard to hate these past couple of days, you know.”

  He put a hand to his chest dramatically. “You flatter me. I think I like it. Compliment me again.”

  I shook my head, disarmed by more of his unexpected playfulness. “Your hair doesn’t get frizzy in the humidity like mine does,” I said, tugging on my ponytail.

  “And here I was, hoping for something like ‘Nicolas, you have impeccable bone structure’ or ‘your eyes are as lovely as stars,’” he said with an amused laugh.

  “Lovelier, actually,” I said.

  His lips curved into a pleased smile as he tugged me back into the market. I watched in fascination as he bought a whole roast duck, smoked almonds, apples, grapes, passion fruits, and tiny fluffy cakes from a bakery no wider than a phone booth.

  Everyone he spoke with seemed to know him, at least in a passing manner, and his chattiness was oddly captivating and endearing. He alternately kept his hand wrapped around mine or resting lightly on the small of my back. Although I knew he did it because the trust between us was fragile, I appreciated that he didn’t make his touch feel possessive or claustrophobic. He was acting like a genuine gentleman, and I attributed that to his better mood and not needing to seem so menacing and deadly outside his clan house.

  “You’re enjoying yourself,” I said, tentatively taking a small bite of the cake he handed me. “Being out here, interacting with these people.”

  “I’m a local. They are my community,” he said. “I enjoy food, and they enjoy good business.”

  “You look different out here than inside.” I hoped I wasn’t overstepping by saying that.

  He shrugged, the bags in his hand rustling with every little movement. “Inside the clan house is a different kind of enjoyment. The comparison is apples to… passion fruits.”

  I smiled. “It’s hard, being what you are in there,” I said, remembering that he had told me playing the game was difficult and taxing on him.

  “Certainly harder than out here, yes. But don’t misunderstand—I enjoy what I do in Water. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t.” His eyes slid to mine warily for a brief moment. “Let’s cross here. I want to show you the riverfront.”

  We walked across the deserted road and through some alleys that led to a wide-open boulevard along the water. It was beautiful, with the sun bearing down on the sparkling water and small boats lining the edge of the river. It was early morning, so there was hardly anyone walking along this path.

  “It’s lovely right now,” Nicolas said, catching my wide-eyed expression, “but summer afternoons in Hong Kong usually bring thunderstorms.”

  I spun around and pointed up at a towering set of buildings. “Home?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yes. When I first joined Water, the clan house was smaller and in another part of Hong Kong. It was my idea to move farther from the city center,” he said. “Sha Tin was an obvious choice. Far enough from the city proper to not draw attention, with several very large temples nearby, which mask our magical usage from any mortals who are particularly sensitive and from other clans trying to get a lead on our exact location. I designed the whole thing, proposed it, and had it built.”

  I was impressed that he had been such an integral part of guiding the clan’s decisions on something so important.

  “So the clan owns that whole building?” I asked.

  “Yes, and the two on either side of it. We merely call them One, Two, and Three. A total of 114 floors—thirty-eight each—with personal apartments, meeting rooms, training rooms, restaurants, libraries, and archives.”

  “And prison cells,” I reminded him.

  He smirked. “Yes, how could I forget?”

  I followed Nicolas to the railing. He leaned against it casually, and I mirrored him. Without his dark expression and heavy cloak of magic, he was radiant in the hot sunlight.

  “Are you selfishly being nice to me so that my emotions bother you less?” I asked.

  I seemed to be getting more candor from him out here, so I was hoping my questions would be met with some truth.

  “Yes,” he said, “and because my plans will work out better if you aren’t constantly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”

  “I see. Would it be reassuring if I told you I’m not going to slit my wrists in your gigantic bathtub or anything else equally desperate?”

  “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” His dry tone and slightly pursed lips told me he was still teasing me.

  Of course, today hadn’t been about making a real connection with me. That didn’t seem to be his goal—at least not yet—but I did appreciate his frank honesty. Nicolas was often vague and mysterious, but out here he seemed to care less for mincing words.

  I sighed. “Thank you. I know I deserve more unpleasant treatment. I appreciate your magnanimity.”

  “Ryan and Daniel told me I should go a little easier on you,” Nicolas said.

  “Daniel said that?” I asked. “Seems unlikely.”

  Nicolas laughed. “Daniel is warming up to you, as I said he would. You don’t know much about him, but he is sweet, and he has a background that should make him more amenable to giving you a chance.”

  “He hit me in the face,” I reminded Nicolas, touching my cheek where the welt from Daniel’s strike hid under Nicolas’s glamour.

  “I know. I’m sorry about that. I want the two of you to figure yourselves out without me forcing it. Daniel made a mistake. He’s young and a little impulsive, and he’s still learning. Do me a favor and don’t be too hard on him. I know the two of you will get along in time, but I’m not exactly sure how to get you there.”

  I sighed. “I’ll work on it, if it will make you happy.”

  He gave me a grateful smile. “I would appreciate that.”

  “What about the rest of your group?” I asked. “Do they all hate me? How do I change that?”

  “Don’t worry about that
yet,” he said. “For now, focus on Daniel. But I can tell you that no one in my group has had an easy life. They’ve all experienced tragedy and pain and trying circumstances. They can all look at your situation and see their own beginnings reflected in some way.”

  “Even you?” I asked.

  He hesitated, offering me a rather sympathetic look. “Even me,” he said, his words slow and deliberate. “I got a second chance. I had someone willing to take a risk on me.”

  I understood from his open expression that he was offering me a chance to ask questions.

  “Ryan, right?” I said. “He told me that you came from Smoke originally. He implied it wasn’t such an easy transition.”

  Nicolas nodded. “Not easy at all. I’ll tell you about it, but not here.”

  Looking at Nicolas, it was almost impossible to imagine he had done such a thing, given how comfortable he was with his Water magic. But I could see determination in him that I thought had probably fit well with Smoke. From what I had heard, they were all workaholics—eccentric and passionate and gifted.

  I was dying to hear more about him.

  “Something to stay alive for,” I said, trying to smile. “I am looking forward to hearing that story.”

  “You have been very tame. I expected more trouble from a member of Flame.”

  “I’m not the typical personality type for Flame,” I said. “I’ve always been more patient and accepting than average.”

  “It wasn’t part of my original plan,” Nicolas said, “but I can keep being kind if the results are this positive.”

  “Your generosity knows no bounds,” I said sarcastically.

  His eyes slid to meet mine, and after a moment, we both laughed.

  I felt like maybe I was going crazy. Was this shock? Hysteria? Stockholm syndrome? Some weird defense mechanism of my idiotic brain?

  There was no logical reason I could be standing in the sunlight and laughing with the man who had slit my best friend’s throat four days ago, right?

  Or maybe it was wholly logical. Maybe I had managed to completely turn off my emotions and do the logical thing: please the only person standing between me and execution.

  I had lost plenty of loved ones in my life. I had needed to start over too many times. My life had been shattered in ways that most people never experienced. Maybe I was desensitized to that sort of grief, adept at pushing past it.

  You need to be strong and think of yourself now, Nicolas had told me while I was still trapped in my cell. Had he known I would be capable of that or had he only been guessing?

  And what sort of person did it make me that I had so readily obeyed?

  Chapter 12

  I would have loved to stay outside forever, despite the heat and stifling humidity, but Nicolas eventually took us back to the clan house, and I hadn’t said a single negative word about that. I knew it would sound petulant and ungrateful.

  Despite the bright sunlight filtering through the apartment windows, being inside again felt oppressive. The moment Nicolas removed my glamour in the elevator, the fear I felt at being here again hit full force. I didn’t need to affect my silence—there was a reasonable amount of genuine panic gripping my throat, making it harder to inhale. Being inside reminded me that even though Nicolas had been kind to me today, I was still at his mercy for everything, including continuing to breathe.

  Watching Nicolas’s transition as the elevator rose through the building was startling. It was like seeing a living form made stone. His warm smile disappeared, replaced with his usual stern and impassive expression. His cloak of magic returned, flaring around him like a threat. His posture changed, and I realized that inside the clan house, he was always poised for a fight or defensive maneuver.

  His hand was a light touch on my back as we waited in the elevator, but it was once again a possessive, sinister gesture.

  In the relative safety of his apartment, he relaxed slightly. He went to sit on the floor in front of the windows, resting back on his hands. I joined him, pulling my sweatshirt around me, positioning myself next to him in the one small strip of sunlight filtering into the cold apartment.

  “Thank you for taking me out,” I said hesitantly.

  “Thank you for not making me regret that decision.”

  His tone of voice was back to being unreadable, and I was debating whether I should ask the questions I had when he suddenly spoke.

  “I’ve been in Water for about fifteen years.”

  I glanced at him. He had been in Water longer than any non-commander I knew personally in Flame, and that was only the period after he had switched clans. It was no wonder he was so powerful and at ease with magic—he had an immense amount of practice.

  “Were you a commander in Smoke?” I asked.

  “No,” he said without additional elaboration.

  “Why did you leave them?” I asked.

  He hesitated, putting his hands together, considering. He frowned. “They were not terribly receptive to my additional gifts. I’m better off here.”

  His eyes were closed now, and his expression was slightly tense. I decided to back off my questioning. I didn’t want to annoy him after he had taken such great care to make my life better today.

  I lay down in the disappearing sunlight, stretching out on the warm hardwood floor. On my back, I had a better view of the sky and the gathering clouds. Nicolas had mentioned afternoon thunderstorms, and I thought the clouds looked a lot like me right now: confused and unsure of what they’d do next.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked me quietly.

  “I don’t think you have time to listen to me unpack the answer to that question.”

  Despite what I said, I desperately wished I had someone to talk to. I wasn’t used to being so silent all the time, being alone and isolated.

  Maybe I had chatted and laughed with Nicolas earlier because of that simple reason: I couldn’t not. I had needed something to keep me together because I couldn’t hold all my pain and grief inside and not fall apart.

  “That is probably true,” he said.

  He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, studying me. I closed my eyes, trying to avoid his gaze. It was hard not to feel like he was looking through me every time he had his eyes on me.

  “You are very confusing,” I told him.

  “What is it that you would like clarified?” he asked.

  “I just wish I knew more about you,” I said, opening my eyes and casting them back toward the cloudy sky.

  “My name is Nicolas Alexis Demarais,” he said. “My blood type is O-positive. I am 186 centimeters tall. I weigh eighty kilograms. My Chinese zodiac animal is the Rat. The Water Rat, to be specific, and that irony is not lost on me. I was born in Hong Kong and grew up with my time split between here and Paris. My favorite tea is sou mei, a type of white tea. My favorite grape varietal is pinot noir, and I am partial to wines from Burgundy. My favorite composer to listen to is Handel, although I prefer to play Tchaikovsky—more fun. I speak many languages, although I am most fluent in French, English, Cantonese, and Italian—in that order.”

  “Interesting,” I said, studying him. “A lot of information, but none of that tells me anything about you.”

  He smiled appreciatively, and I knew that we were playing a game again. He liked when I engaged him. I gladly would if it meant learning things that could keep me alive.

  “Alexis, huh?” I repeated. “What a mouthful of a name you have.”

  “Alexis was my grandfather’s name,” he offered, rolling his shoulders casually.

  “What was your father’s name?” I asked.

  “I never asked.”

  Interesting. That piece of information told me something about him, although I wasn’t sure what it meant. Nicolas was fatherless, but why? Death? Abandonment? I wondered if it played into his personality.

  “Where does the name Nicolas come from, then?”

  “I have no idea. My mother was prone to whims. Perhaps I was named after
an actor or a character in a book she was reading at the time.”

  The way he spoke of his mother told me a few things. She was dead. Not shocking, but it did potentially point to him being older than I had imagined. His tone indicated that they hadn’t been particularly close, at least not recently. “Prone to whims” was not a glowing compliment, and he apparently hadn’t been invested enough in their relationship to know why she had named him.

  His expression showed growing interest, and I could see that I had permission to continue my questioning. I put my hands behind my head, relaxing further into the floorboards.

  “What’s your magical specialty within Water?”

  He looked surprised by the question, although I didn’t know why. Most magicians demonstrated an affinity with some particular aspect of their clan’s magic. Very few people were powerful enough to be good at everything, and magic was so vast that it would be ridiculous to even try to collect expertise in every area. All magicians learned the basics of their clan’s magic, but usually after a few months they found an attraction to one path.

  Someone like Nicolas was powerful enough to be competent in many areas, certainly, but he probably had something he gravitated toward more than the rest.

  His eyes narrowed. “Glamour, although specialties in Water don’t mean much, and the clan cares very little for them. I only declared one because I am required to as a member of the council.”

  “What is the council, anyhow?” I asked.

  “Water has far too many groups within the clan for all of them to govern. That would be chaos. Instead, we have a council of fifteen commanders who make most of the decisions for the clan. The council includes our three pinnacle members, the chairman, and the most powerful commanders in the clan.”

  “Of which you are one,” I said. Not a question.

  “Of course.”

  There was no hint of doubt in his tone, yet no sign of bragging or hubris, either. He was merely confirming a fact with confidence. I believed him. Everything about Nicolas screamed strong and impressive and formidable. He could have kept up his stone-cold act, and I would have been terrified to even be in the same room as him. Even toned down, it was easy to see that he was capable of more than most other magicians.