Ignite: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Spelldrift: Coven of Fire Book 2)

by Sierra Cross

  “Do you know anything about the necklace she was wearing?” I asked. “It seems to be the only thing missing.”

  “Not really. She was super secretive about it.” She sniffed as a memory came to her. “She was like that, you know, keeping her magic a mystery. Always kept people guessing. I loved that about her.” She gulped back a sob. “Marley had visions. She saw her wards falling. Even after she enhanced them, she kept seeing them fall, over and over. So she kept throwing money at the wards. But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t change the visions.” Charice rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. “The only thing I know about the amulet is that it cost a fortune. She said she needed it for the wards. How it would help the wards…I have no idea.” Charice had begun to quietly sob again. “I guess her visions were right, and there was nothing she could do to change her destiny.”

  We all stood there for a minute, watching Charice cry.

  “What do we do now?” Liv asked.

  As if in answer, boot heels rushed up the front steps, then we were surrounded by what I could only describe as a joint task force. In the dark blue uniforms of the Council Suprema stood five agents. I felt their mingling magic as soon as they walked in. Lately as my magical skills grew, I was starting to be able to tell other magicborn apart by the way they felt and smelled. One of the agents was a warlock, a strong unyielding thread of magic with a citrus scent. One was a witch, her magic smooth and earthy. A hearthstone witch, I thought. The next two, a man and a woman, were shifters. I could tell by their musky scent. I was still trying to identify the last agent; her copper scent was unfamiliar to me.

  A tall man in a dark bespoke suit entered after them, also with a similar coppery essence. His presence filled the living room, commanding attention even as he silently took in the scene. He was also compellingly beautiful. His thick crop of brown hair was gelled away from his pale face like a cologne ad and his heavy brow gave his intense blue eyes a smoldering quality. His movements were fluid and fast, but not hurried, as if he were consciously trying to slow down to human pace.

  Bringing up the rear, in crisp black Fidei uniform, were a slew of agents. Including Larch and Asher’s tall, dark-haired “friend” Daria.

  “Release whatever is in your hands,” the man in the suit said in a commanding tone. Matt, who’d been holding the chain of the missing amulet, slipped it into the man’s open palm. “And refrain from destroying the evidence any further.” His voice sounded like chocolate tastes. I couldn’t pinpoint his faint European accent. He sounded like he’d learned English overseas. His eyes scanned us, looking from one to the next like he was deciding who is in charge. His eyes lingered on me for a brief minute, but he addressed Matt.

  “Director Ambrose Bonaventura.” He flashed a badge. “I need a detailed description of everything you’ve touched, casts of all your shoes, and fingerprints.” He motioned to all of us. “Please step outside and we’ll take your statements soon. Please hold your conversation until we do so.” Though he said please, not following his requests was clearly not an option. Even as he was going through this very Wont-like list of directives, the witch and warlock from the Council were hovering above the living room, hands clasped, chanting a spell in unison.

  On our way out the door, Agent Larch gave us a sidelong glance. “Interesting to see you all again so soon.” Her voice full of insinuation and challenge. I had to admit she was right that it didn’t look great.

  We waited for over an hour in the front yard, while the Council Suprema completed their magic-enhanced mapping of the crime scene.

  “Who the hell does that GQ wannabe think he is?” I muttered. “Accusing us of destroying evidence.”

  To my surprise, Asher shut me down. “You do not want that vampire pissed at you.”

  “Vampire?” Liv and I said at the same time. So now I knew what that coppery scent meant.

  "The Director said to hold your conversation," a uniformed shifter reprimanded us.

  “What’s he the director of anyway?” I whispered.

  “A little thing called the Council Suprema.” Asher shrugged. “He wields a lot of power in our small Spelldrift community. Even sits on the bench for major criminal cases.”

  “Got it.” I made a mental note to be on my best behavior in front of him from now on.

  As the clocked ticked on, Liv and I leaned against one of their massive black SUVs, though Matt refused to, as if out of respect. Asher paced back and forth. The uniformed shifter stood by and policed us every time we tried to speak. Who knew “hold your conversation” was vampire for you can’t talk at all?

  Finally, they called us in, one by one. First Matt. Then Asher. After that Liv. By the time it was my turn, I’d built up a serious case of nerves.

  The uniformed, waif-like vampire led me into house. She moved like air, sure-footed and lithe. Like a ballerina, but I bet she could kick some ass. Reminding me of a crime-scene red carpet, white paper had been spread on the floor. In a small study off Marley’s kitchen there was the Council Suprema version of police tape—black with fluorescent green lettering that said Do Not Cross—sectioning off the furniture that rims the room creating a small clean space in the center of the room. A white tarp covered the floor, two kitchen chairs on it. Director Bonaventura sat on one. He raised a hand, inviting me to take the other.

  For the first time—well, what seemed like the first time in recent history—I had nothing to hide. The Director asked me why we were here. And I told him we were looking for Marley’s advice on rebuilding the Demongate ward from scratch—a rather rare skill we hadn’t perfected yet. That wasn’t a lie…maybe a flattering version of the truth. The wards were down when we got here. I told him about what I touched. He took me down a winding road of repeating the same things over and over. But I knew this was all a pointless waste of time. So, the sixth time he asked me the same question that I’d already answered, I tried to give him information that would actually help instead. “The only thing I see missing is the amulet from Marley’s necklace.”

  “Thank you, Miss Hill, for your definitive detective work,” he said condescendingly. “Answer the question.”

  “I have answered that question. Five times,” I blurted out and rolled my head in exaggerated fatigue. I knew Matt would die if he saw how I was letting my frustration show. “It wasn’t an ordinary necklace, either. The amulet was glowing the last time I saw her.”

  Bonaventura’s brilliant blue eyes flared for an instant. So quick I thought I might have imagined it. His body became even more still. “In deference to your bloodline, and the obvious fact that you were raised devoid of training, I’ll let your little outburst slide.” His voice was calm, but it felt like the temperature in the room dropped by ten degrees. “You will answer the questions I ask. As I ask them.”

  Were vampires always this touchy? Sure, I’d been a bit insubordinate, but we were going over well-trodden territory and he’d been awfully quick to dismiss my input. If he really cared about gathering evidence as much as he seemed to, why not at least ask me some follow-up questions about the amulet? It was like he was angry that I’d shown any initiative. My survival instinct said to let it go. “Sure. Of course.” But I couldn’t help myself—burr, saddle, I pressed. “But you saw the chain, right? Every link was individually hammered. It was quite exceptional—”

  I didn’t even see him move. His nose was suddenly inches from my eyes, fire in his gaze as he leaned over me.

  “When you address me, you’re addressing the Council Suprema. And you will do so with the utmost respect, do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal.” I forced myself to meet his gaze. What was setting him off like this? It couldn’t just be my attitude, could it? You’d think all his experience would have given him a thicker skin.

  “I have no further use for you.” He stood, fully composed again, and buttoned the top bottom button of his suit jacket, looking for all the world like a cologne commercial dude. I had no choice but to follow him out
to the front yard where Daria and the waif-like vampire stood on the porch, apparently waiting for further instructions from the Director. Bonaventura addressed our coven as a group. “We’re through for today. But you may be called back in for further questioning if the need arises. So please make yourselves available.” Vampire for don’t leave town, I guessed. “The Fidei rep will provide you with a list of witches who can assist you with the wards.” He paused for effect. “I want to be perfectly clear on this matter. This is our crime scene now. You will not discuss it, you will not inquire about it, you will not even think about it.” As he spoke a wave of power emanated off him. I was guessing his requests had a high compliance rate. Didn’t have to ask me twice. But given Asher’s feelings for Marley, I might have to tie him up to keep him from diving in. It was definitely in our coven’s best interests to let the professionals handle this investigation. Besides, we had a Demongate ward to rebuild.

  “And Guardian,” Bonaventura continued, “you should make sure your witches understand manners.” As he raked his eyes over me it was almost physically painful and then he was back in the house before I could blink. “Daria, give the list to Mr. Forest.”

  “Your phone.” Daria held out her hand. Matt pulled his cell from his pocket and Daria grabbed it from him. “I’m going to do a direct transfer.” He nodded as if he actually understood what that meant. The Fidei agent tapped her phone against her own until we all heard a soft chime. “These names and addresses,” she said in a businesslike tone, “are of local light witches known for their talent and expertise with general warding. Of course, none of them have experience conjuring a Demongate ward. They’re book smart, but they don’t have practical experience.”

  The ballerina-like vampire spoke up. “But their extensive educations will offer a good foundation for this...group.” An obvious diss on my lack of magical knowledge. “It’s a shame, really.”

  “What is?” I asked.

  “Marley,” the vampire said with no trace of emotion. “She would’ve been top of that list.”

  Daria handed the phone back to Matt, who pointedly relinquished it to me as we turned to head back to the car.

  We all piled in. As we were buckling our seatbelts I scrolled down the list. They were older-sounding names. None looked familiar. “Wanna hit the first name on the list? My shift at Sanctum doesn’t start until eight.”

  “Hell yes.” Liv’s excitement at the thought of learning new magic—from new and different teachers—lit up her face.

  “Are you forgetting something, witches?” Asher scowled at me in the mirror. “Training.”

  “Seriously?” Liv groaned. “Can’t we skip it, just this once?”

  “On the contrary, grasshopper,” he said looking directly at Liv. “This is precisely when you need to take your training to the next level.”

  “Yeah, great.” I tried to muster some enthusiasm. But at the thought of practicing magic, I remembered the peach pit throbbing in my gut. What would happen the next time I called my magic? Would it come out tinged with green? I guess we were going to find out.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A s the winter sun was setting, I walked up the back steps of Talisman Books with a sinking feeling about this training session. The door was locked. Cartoon brakes squealed in my head and a massive flashback popped into my head of catching Asher and Charice with post-romp glow. Who he was having for dinner tonight? I so didn’t want to know. He’d been heartbroken this morning, but people dealt with grief different ways. I turned to leave, but our session was supposed to start now. If I was wrong and ended up being late, my teacher wouldn’t take kindly to it.

  And given that his version of making me run laps usually involved high reps of magical performance, I guessed I’d take having my eyes scorched rather than incur his wrath.

  I sighed and sent a quick blip of magic to unlock the door. Hey, no green tinge. My heartbeat sped up with sudden hope. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with me? Or had I just not used enough magic just now to reveal the taint? Whichever it was, I didn’t want to figure it out in front of them.

  A flurry of laughter floated from down the hall. The lab door swung open and Asher burst from the room, shirtless. So much for hiding his new tattoos. Amusement stole his breath.

  Through his laughter he called behind him, “Get out of there.” He reached back into the lab and tugged on an arm. A long slender feminine arm.

  And the woman on the other end of that arm was Liv. He pulled her through and slammed the door shut. She stumbled into the hallway, red-faced and giggling. Both of them were cracking up hysterically.

  Liv.

  Crap. I wasn’t prepared for this. I knew about their kiss this morning, but we’d both seen Asher’s grief over Marley. Was he using my friend to ease his pain? I couldn’t watch her be one of his playthings...knowing how much she revered him. This would not end well. And what would that do to our coven?

  “Earth to Alix.” Asher snapped his fingers in front of my face.

  “Oh, hey...you...two.” Could that have sounded any more awkward?

  “What’s the matter with you?” Liv asked.

  “Nothing.” Why did I sound so pissed? They were consenting adults. “Let’s just get to work.” I grabbed the door knob.

  “I’d give it a minute for the dust to settle.” Asher put his hand on my arm. “Unless you’d like your skin to be fire engine red for a week.”

  “What were you doing in there?” The question came out of my mouth before I processed the fact that I probably didn’t want the answer.

  “Druid battle magic,” Asher said casually. Okay, not the answer I’d expected.

  “Yeah, I asked Asher to show me a few things,” Liv said.

  I was about to ask why they didn’t invite me, but then it came to me. Ancient magic was multi-stepped and so slow. It was exactly the type of magic I had zero interest in. My coven got me. “Can’t learn it from books. It requires a demonstration.”

  “We were distilling alder bark when…” Asher wags a finger at Liv. Then I noticed the tiny red blisters across his chest. “This one gets all heavy handed with the incantation.”

  “I was so close to getting it,” Liv says. “I could feel it.”

  “Mmmhmm. And I almost slept with Sofia Vergara.” Asher rolled his eyes. “The room should be good now.”

  A sharp vinegar smell hit me when I walked in. The room looked even larger with the large butcher block table that we usually practiced spells on all the way up to the cozy corner. The expanse of hardwoods now visible. On the back wall above the workbench with the Bunsen burner on it, the wall had a huge splatter of bright red. Asher’s crimson-stained, white button-down lay abandoned in a heap on the floor.

  “That looks like quite an explosion,” I said, grinning despite myself at the mess they’d made. Or maybe I was just relieved they hadn’t been back here “making magic” of the carnal variety?

  “Enough.” Asher clapped his hands. “We’re eating into our training time!”

  At the thought of having to call my magic up in front of them, my laughter dried up.

  Half an hour later, Liv and I stood barefoot on the hardwood floors of Asher’s lab. My karambit, along with my boots and all my other blades were on the couch next to the fireplace, but only because Asher ordered me to. Trying to distract myself from longing for my knives, I look down at the floor. There was a swirl of an old brown scar on the beautiful hardwoods, like someone dropped a firework and it spiraled about until it burnt out. “Why haven’t you ever fixed that?” I asked. “Can't you just throw a reparations spell on it?”

  Asher’s grey eyes reflected a look I couldn’t quite read. “Some mistakes are worth remembering,” he said with a sad smile. “And that is precisely why the back wall of my pristine lab will remain red until a certain jumper of guns learns to follow instructions.”

  “All right, into fighting stance.” He was all business now.

  I tried to keep my eyes from searchi
ng out my blades. His whole while I’m teaching there will be no dissent philosophy chafed at the moment. It felt so wrong to be without my blades. I stole a last longing glance at the couch.

  “Stopping pining for your daggers and pay attention,” Asher chastised me.

  “I’m not pining.” I was totally pining. “I don’t see why I can’t just wear them if I promise not to use them.”

  “Because I said so.” He rolled his eyes and went on with the lesson. “In order to properly absorb a blast, you have to see it coming. Never throw magic at a witch who isn’t looking directly at you.” He’d spent the first half hour of the session trying to convince us that one could learn how to absorb a golden blast—one from a fellow light witch or warlock—without being harmed, using a rough and ready technique he’d learned from an older warlock back in the UK. It was fairly painful, like a punch. But if a spellcaster was running low on power, intentionally absorbing a blast from a friend was one way to boost their magic.

  “Liv, feel the connection through the coven bond.” Asher threw his hand out and effortlessly called his golden magic to his fingertips. “Tell me when you can feel my energy.”

  Liv’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Got it,” she said and laughed with delight as the magic on Asher’s fingertips swayed like a candle in the breeze.

  He jumped like he’d been goosed. “No horsing around,” he chided. “But excellent control, mighty blond learner.”

  Liv couldn’t hide her megawatt smile at the praise.

  I had no idea what she’d done or how she’d done it. Though I was learning magic fast, being classmates with Liv still made me feel like a dunce sometimes.

  “Okay,” he continued. “Now think of yourself as a sponge. And…” He let his magic fly, directly at her, and she wasn’t wearing a wardsuit. I yelped. Liv’s eyes went wide, but she leaned into the oncoming firebolt like she was jumping on a wild bull. Her body bucked before it bent back, absorbing the blast.