by Ella M. Lee
“It’s not uncommon,” Daniel said, shrugging. “Ryan has a Chinese name that he barely uses, and my name is not Daniel.”
“No?” I asked, surprised.
“Nicolas gave me the name Daniel,” he said. “My original name is Chinese—it means daybreak or dawn. It’s a little girly.”
“Fiona means white, pure, or fair. Like pretty,” I offered.
“Someone named you well,” he said, smiling at me. “What is the word in English for the color of your eyes? That sky-colored blue?”
I looked away, embarrassed by Daniel’s attention, even though I could tell the words weren’t a compliment or flirtation so much as merely fascinated curiosity.
“Azure,” I said. “Or so people tell me.”
“Azure,” he repeated. “I’ve never heard that word, but I like it.”
“Yours are a bit like mahogany,” I said. “Or dark chocolate.”
He grimaced. “I don’t like chocolate. I don’t eat a lot of sweets.”
“You are a monster,” I said, and he smiled. “I love chocolate and sweets. That was the best part of living in New York City for a year. So many chocolate shops.”
“No chocolate in Nebraska?” Daniel asked.
I was surprised he remembered the name of my home state.
“There’s nothing fun in Nebraska,” I said, sighing. “Growing up on a farm was just a lot of work.”
“What did you farm?” he asked, catching my arm gracefully and repositioning it. We were in a rhythm now, doing a complicated dance together through some steps and punches.
“Oh, we had horses, and sheep, and chickens, and corn mostly. Nebraska has a lot of corn. I had a dog too. He helped with the chickens. And a bunch of cats.”
“So your parents were farmers?” He was very obviously curious about my life, his questions genuine and interested.
“My mom was,” I clarified. “She had me and my brother to help her. My dad had his own business, selling tractors and other farm equipment. He was a great cook, though. He loved to use what my mom grew in the garden when he wasn’t super busy with work.”
“Sounds perfect,” Daniel said.
His wistful tone made me recall his past—orphaned street urchin—and I wondered if he was jealous of my family.
“It was,” I said, frowning.
His eyes narrowed. “What happened?”
I took half a second to glance at Nicolas. He was busy and focused and hadn’t so much as looked in our direction, but I knew he could hear us. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for him, for both of them, to know more about me.
I took a deep breath. “My mother died a week before my high school graduation. Brain aneurysm. There was nothing anyone could have done. My brother, Mark, who was only fourteen, found her dead in the garden when he got home from school.
“We carried on well enough, I suppose. I still went to college. I had been accepted at the University of Nebraska, about an hour away, where all my friends were going. My dad mostly gave away our animals and focused on his business. My brother… Well, he struggled. With me and Mom gone, he had issues in school and was depressed.”
Daniel indicated silently that I should do a sequence of high kicks and low kicks. He wisely remained quiet.
“Things were okay,” I continued, between kicks. “I graduated from college with a double major in history and English. I decided to enroll in graduate school and was planning to get a master’s degree in library science. My brother hadn’t gone to college, but he’d been helping my dad with the business.”
I paused, going still. Daniel waited, not goading me into moving.
“Yeah, I guess things were as all right as they could be,” I said. “Until I got a phone call one night. It was December twelfth, a few days before the end of the semester. The police officer on the other end of the line told me there had been a fire. My house was gone. My father had died inside, and my brother was missing. No one could contact him.”
Daniel’s eyes went to mine. “Fi, I’m sorry…”
I held up a hand. “It was a long time ago. I went home to take care of affairs, obviously.” My voice sounded dull and mechanical to my ears. “The search for my missing brother ended a few days later when they identified a body they had found in a field as his. He’d been… tortured, mutilated.”
The pictures I had been shown flashed through my mind, and I shuddered. Daniel took my hands in his and then stretched my arms out carefully, showing me the next position he wanted to see. I smiled weakly. He knew to distract me and keep me moving.
“I didn’t finish my master’s degree,” I said, clearing my throat. “I dropped out immediately. Everyone told me how sorry they were, that it must have been a random act of extreme violence or some weird cult activity, but there was something that just didn’t feel right.
“Our barn had been vandalized, some strange symbols painted on the side of it, and my brother’s body had markings on it too. But… it was more than that. There was a shimmering I could see on our property, a tingling in the air.”
“You were sensing magic?” Daniel asked.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but yes. I researched the symbols, delved into old books and archives and the deep web. I connected it all to magic. It was tough to find any leads, but clan members aren’t perfect—sometimes they talk or sell information or defect. Over the years, data has been collected.”
Daniel nodded. Of course. He was an intelligence agent, he would definitely have experience with what types of information had leaked out into the real world.
“My searching led me to New York City, to Violet, to Flame. She was mortal still, but we became fast friends, and she introduced me to her sponsor in the clan. I was astonished that I had actually managed to discover that magic was real.
“But my house had burned down, and with a name like Flame, I was suspicious at best of their involvement in what had happened.”
Daniel’s eyes were serious on mine as he mirrored my gestures, drawing attention to my form with slight shakes of his hands or head when I needed it.
“I really had no intention of joining the clan,” I said. “My plan was to figure out if Flame was responsible and get revenge. Well, turned out they weren’t the clan that killed my family. I have Meteor to thank for that.”
Daniel frowned. Meteor Clan was an unpredictable mess. Small and close-knit, with tight internal bonds, they had very little interest in messing with other clans. Instead, they took pleasure in messing with mortals. Their magic allowed them influence and domination over people’s emotions and decisions. They had more mortal followers than any other clan and often organized them into radical cults. It was so obnoxious that one of the few things other clans tended to agree on and ally against was Meteor’s antics. I could see why Nicolas and Daniel were concerned to have rogue Meteor magicians in their city.
I followed Daniel into what was obviously a cooldown. He stretched his arms and legs, and I copied him.
I took a deep breath, reaching my palms toward the ceiling, my hands linked. “It seemed a lot like Mark had gotten mixed up with Meteor and then was killed for it. Why? I didn’t know. But I wanted to find some closure. I thought if I could get revenge, I would feel better. And the best way to get revenge? Get the power to do so first. Why fight them as a mortal when I could get myself into Flame?”
For the first time in a while, I smiled.
“But it ended up being more than just that.” I laughed lightly. “I ended up liking Flame. I ended up being good with that magic, which is impressive given how few people can use Flame well. Violet’s sponsor agreed to sponsor both of us, and I threw myself into my studies. At first, my only goal was to join and then find a way to go rogue. But as I got to know the people, the clan, the magic? I wanted to be part of it. I wanted to join and stay there.
“We studied for almost a year. Flame has a long joining process for learning the history and getting to know the magic. Flame magic can kill you quite easily wit
hout appropriate training. Near the end of that year, we moved to Toronto, to a larger clan house than the one in New York City. Shortly after, we both passed the trials and were clanned.
“That’s where I’d been for just about five years, working for Jeremiah, doing tasks for him and for Flame. That year of studying made me fall in love with the magic. It had dulled my desire for revenge. I continued to research Meteor—I might be one of the best outside experts on their clan—but my burning rage had died. I had lost my family but found another. In a way, that was all I had needed, as terrible as it sounds.”
Daniel had stopped moving altogether. He was now studying me sadly.
“You don’t have to look at me like that,” I said. “Practically everyone in a clan has a traumatic story.”
“You and I are way too much alike,” he said.
“Hopefully your twenties will go better than mine,” I offered.
“I was surprised you knew so much about Meteor,” Daniel said. “That makes a lot more sense now.”
“Did you ever learn what those two Meteors are doing in Hong Kong?” I asked, touching my toes in a satisfying stretch.
“Not really my problem unless the security team sends me another request,” he said. “Those sorts of issues are boring to me.”
“You’re too good for them?” I asked, teasing him.
“I’m too good for most things,” he said, tilting his head at me endearingly.
I laughed, spinning away from him.
I was met, startlingly, with Nicolas’s golden gaze. I had forgotten he was in the room with us. He wasn’t working out now, he was merely sitting cross-legged on the bench, watching Daniel and me impassively.
“Morning,” I said hesitantly, backing up. I hit Daniel, who caught me and steadied me.
Nicolas didn’t move. “It’s afternoon,” he said, offering me an amused smile.
“Yeah, lunchtime,” Daniel said.
“A match before you go, Dan?” Nicolas asked.
“Sure,” he said.
I backed away, pressing myself against the shield dividing the room and sinking to the floor. I definitely didn’t want to be anywhere near the two of them while they fought.
Watching Daniel and Nicolas together was riveting. Nicolas’s style was closer to mine: a heavier boxing technique that made use of his long arms and his height. Daniel was short and slight but incredibly fast. He knew he couldn’t outreach Nicolas, so he stuck close to him, using offense as defense, preventing Nicolas from putting too much strength into his movements.
Although they landed blows on each other, they were clearly going easy, and I could tell they sparred together frequently.
Seeing Nicolas fight put me a little on edge, remembering how fast and capable he had been in Vienna. He was the same now—swift and powerful and deadly. But I could have watched him for hours. This was more expression than I usually saw from him, emotional in its own way.
When they were done, they chattered together about their match. Daniel was smiling and energetic, and Nicolas looked pleased with his lieutenant. Daniel switched to Cantonese as Nicolas went back to the bench press, and I figured they were now talking about me. I braided my hair, trying not to look too interested in their conversation.
When Nicolas finally waved Daniel off, he came and offered me a hand up. I took it gladly. Daniel spun me quickly, intending to face me toward the shield, but I did a full rotation instead.
“Elegant,” Daniel said, spinning me in a circle again. He smiled and pushed me lightly through the shield to the other side, following close behind.
He retrieved us both water bottles, and we were just about to leave when Nicolas called Daniel’s name and asked him several more incomprehensible questions. I heard my name twice, and I flicked my eyes between them, nervous once again, as Daniel rattled off a bunch of Cantonese in response.
“Lunch?” Daniel asked, guiding me through the door.
I hesitated. “I really don’t want to run into Derek.”
“No problem,” he said. “Let’s go somewhere quieter than Aria, anyhow.” He must have noticed my confused look. “Aria is the name of that café on the top floor, and it’s Derek’s favorite lunchtime haunt.” He offered a sympathetic smile. “Trust me, I hate him too.”
Chapter 20
Daniel took me to the twenty-fifth floor, which contained the most elegant space I had seen in the building yet.
The room was huge and divided into small enclaves by floor-to-ceiling glass panels. Some of the enclaves were tiny enough that they only held single chairs; others were large enough for tables of ten or more. At the far end, beyond all the glass, was a sleek, modern-looking espresso bar with an open kitchen.
Right now, the floor was busy but quiet. The glassed-in sections could be shielded and silenced, and there were easily a dozen or more pairs of people having coffee or lunch, and a handful more singles with laptops.
It looked a lot like the world’s hippest coffee shop.
Daniel and I ordered food, and I was pleased to find that I could take a break from Chinese food for a meal. As delicious as Nicolas’s choices usually were, it was nice to have the option of a plain ham and cheese panini.
“We call this café the Menagerie, because the glass walls look like cages,” Daniel whispered while we waited for our drinks. I had to resist the urge to laugh.
We settled ourselves into comfortable chairs in a small corner, and I took a sip of my latté. If I weren’t here with Daniel or looking out the windows at unfamiliar green mountains, I could almost believe this was a normal day in my old life—figure skating in the morning, training, maybe some sparring, eating lunch at a café. I would have had my laptop with me or maybe a book. I’d already be thinking about my task list and how to organize my afternoon and evening. I’d have a million things to do and so little time.
I still wasn’t really allowed to speak in public, so I merely watched Daniel impassively as we ate, wondering how well I’d done in his test today. He finished his food before I was even halfway through my sandwich, so he studied his phone and occasionally stole potato chips off my plate.
Daniel wasn’t in a rush. He waited patiently while I picked at my meal. I was still having a hard time with food, often trying to squish it past the giant ball of anxiety living in the pit of my stomach.
Daniel clearly understood that I was still upset. He gave me sympathetic looks when I glanced in his direction, and his eyes often held silent questions. How are you? his expression always seemed to ask, and all I could do was shrug and press my fingertips together nervously.
I had just barely finished my food and was swirling the dregs of my coffee around when my eyes widened on a man who had just entered the café. I recognized him—the tall, muscled blond who had been with Nicolas in Vienna. I brought my alarmed eyes back to Daniel, and he turned.
The man saw Daniel and veered in our direction. When his eyes landed on me, they narrowed.
“Hey, Sylvio,” Daniel said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Vancouver?”
Sylvio thrust his hands in the pockets of his pants, still studying me. I shrunk nervously under his cold glare, looking away.
“I’m going later in the day,” Sylvio said. “Kaylee wants to meet for god knows what, and Nico has been pushing that meeting off for ages. I offered to take it.”
“How is Irina?” Daniel asked.
“Upset,” Sylvio said, his tone hard. He glanced at me once again. “I think it’s probably best that she stays in Vancouver for now.”
“She can have all the time she needs,” Daniel said.
“You know Nicolas won’t see it that way,” Sylvio said, shifting his weight.
I was reminded of how very deadly he was—perfectly balanced, lithe, full of powerful kicks and punches and incredibly aggressive magic.
To my surprise, Daniel crossed his arms and shrugged. “I don’t care. I’ve been making the calls on Irina’s work for five years. If Nico has a problem with my
decisions, he can speak up anytime. Until then, Irina can do whatever she wants.”
I thought Sylvio might say something biting or admonishing, but no, I had misjudged. Sylvio liked Daniel’s confident attitude.
He nodded. “Good. I will take care of her this week.”
“Thank you,” Daniel said, and he seemed genuinely grateful.
Sylvio checked his watch and then spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I can’t wait to get out of here for a few days, either. See you around.”
He gave me a final look up and down before turning on his heel and walking toward the espresso bar. I watched him until Daniel waved his hand in my vision.
He tilted his head toward the elevator in a silent question, and I nodded. I followed him back up to the thirty-sixth floor, shaking. I was about to sigh in relief at being somewhere familiar, but at that moment, the elevator door opened to reveal a magical pressure so strong that I jumped back, alarmed.
Waiting on the other side of the floor’s protective shield was a short, slim man. He had sallow skin and long, stringy dark hair that touched his shoulders. His eyes were narrow, tilted slits over an arrogant nose, and he was dressed head to toe in black, including black gloves.
His magic was glorious, all shimmery and set in complex webs around himself, immensely stable and secure. When he saw us, he snapped it all in tight and lifted his chin in curiosity.
I looked at Daniel, trying to get a cue from him as to who this person was and what I should do. He merely raised his left hand in greeting—his right hand was still holding mine—and said, “Yo.”
The man stepped aside, but his intense gaze didn’t leave me. I looked away, unnerved. His eyes were hard and dark and mean.
He took our now-empty elevator, and I glanced back at the closing doors as Daniel pulled me down the hall to Nicolas’s apartment.
“Who…?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s Yu-Teng,” he said. “He reports to me. He’s an intelligence operative and a great hacker. He’s also an elemental specialist. His magic is so cool, isn’t it?”