Cold Burn of Magic

by Jennifer Estep

  Devon fell silent, and we wandered through the arcade for ten more minutes before Felix insisted that Poppy had to have ice cream. She giggled as he bowed and handed her the tall, sprinkle-covered, vanilla-swirled concoction. She took a bite out of it, turned around, and accidentally rammed straight into a guy behind her, smearing ice cream all over his red shirt—one emblazoned with the gold Draconi dragon crest.

  The guy was built like a brick wall—tall and wide, with a body that was all solid muscle. He looked down at the ice cream and sprinkles dripping off his shirt, then slowly raised his head. The sun warmed his blond hair, but his brown eyes were as cold as chips of stone in his face.

  I sucked in a breath, recognizing the guy the same way I had his sister.

  Blake Draconi, Deah’s older brother, the bruiser and second-in-command of the Draconi Family.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Poppy’s mouth opened and closed as she realized what she’d done—and to whom.

  “Oh no,” she whispered.

  But I had to hand it to her. She pulled herself together and held out a hand in apology.

  “Blake! I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you.”

  At six feet, Blake towered over the petite, slender Poppy, and the twist of his lips told everyone how angry he was. And he wasn’t alone. Five guys, all wearing red Draconi T-shirts and gold cuffs, and all with swords strapped to their waists, formed a semicircle behind him. And Deah was here, too, standing off to Blake’s right, looking back and forth between her brother and Poppy.

  Blake sneered at Poppy. “I didn’t know that Itos were blind. I thought they were just deaf and dumb.”

  Poppy gasped at the insult, but she still tried to smile in the face of his anger, although her expression quickly wilted.

  “Leave her alone, Blake.” Devon stepped up beside her. “It was an accident.”

  Blake sneered at him, too. “Oh, look. A Sinclair errand boy. Why don’t you run home and cry like the rest of your pathetic loser Family does?”

  Devon’s hands clenched into fists, but Poppy put herself in between the two guys.

  “I’m sorry, Blake,” she repeated. “I’ll buy you another shirt.”

  He smiled, although the expression was as predatory as any monster’s. “Actually, sweet thing, why don’t you give me the shirt off your back? Oops. I meant your whole dress, since you’re not wearing a shirt. Now, that’s something I’d really like to see. What about you, boys?”

  He snickered, and his friends laughed with him. The only one who didn’t join in his cruel fun was Deah, who gave her brother a guarded look.

  Poppy’s hands fisted in the folds of her sundress, but she lifted her chin. “Forget it,” she said in a disgusted voice.

  She started to turn away, but Blake grabbed her arm and yanked her up against his body. Devon, Felix, and Grant all surged forward, but Blake’s friends stepped up and drew their swords. Devon managed to dodge them, but the Draconis cornered Felix and Grant against the side of the ice cream shack, forcing Devon to pull up short of tackling Blake.

  “What do you think you three losers are going to do?” Blake sneered. “Well? What are you going to do, Morales? Heal me to death?”

  Blake and his friends snickered; Deah winced. So healing must be Felix’s Talent. It was nothing to be embarrassed about, but Felix’s lips pinched together in anger.

  “Leave him alone, Blake,” Devon growled, his hands still clenched into fists.

  “At least Morales has a Talent,” Blake said, still sneering. “Unlike you, you useless freak.”

  Devon didn’t have a Talent? No magic at all? Maybe that’s why Claudia thought he needed a bodyguard.

  Blake turned his venomous glare to Grant. “And you, I don’t even know who you are.”

  Grant’s lips twisted much the same way Blake’s had.

  “Blake,” Deah said, a clear warning in her voice. “That’s enough.”

  He gave his sister the same wicked sneer. “It’s enough when I say it’s enough.”

  Blake tightened his grip on Poppy’s arm and dragged her even closer, so that she was plastered up against him. “Come on, now, sweet thing,” he drawled. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got on underneath that pretty little dress?”

  I looked at Grant, since Claudia had sort of put him in charge of me this morning, but he shrugged back at me. Apparently, he thought there was nothing he could do against five guys with swords, especially when one of those swords was pointed at his throat. Anger burned through me. Well, if he wouldn’t stop this, then I would.

  “Let go of her,” I snapped, stepping forward so that I was standing directly in front of Blake, even closer to him than Devon stood.

  Blake’s cold brown gaze flicked up and down my body. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a look, too.”

  He started to turn back to Poppy, but I moved even closer to him, so close that I could smell the spicy cologne slathered over his skin.

  “You want to pick on a girl?” I sneered. “Well, pick on me. C’mon. What are you afraid of, tough guy?”

  I stepped back and held my hands out to my sides. Blake’s eyes narrowed, and his gaze dropped to my sword. But when he realized I wasn’t going to grab it, he gave me the same cruel grin he had Poppy.

  Blake shoved her away and reached for me, but I was faster, and I grabbed his hand and bent it back as far as it would go. It was a simple wrist lock, one my mom had taught me years ago, but it was brutally effective. In this position, I could easily snap his wrist. Part of me wanted to go ahead and do it. Just because he was such a dick.

  “How does that feel, sweet thing?” I drawled.

  Blake let out a whimper between his gritted teeth. He tried to jerk his hand out of my grip, but I dug my nails into his skin and held on. He yanked back again, and a cold shot of magic spiked through my body. So Blake had a strength Talent, one that he was trying to use to break free. I let him struggle because the more he flailed around, the stronger he made me, and the more I tightened my grip on his wrist, until his eyes watered and he went down on one knee to try to alleviate some of the pressure.

  Everyone around me sucked in a breath. Apparently, bringing Blake Draconi to the verge of tears was somewhat shocking.

  If only they knew what I really wanted to do to him—and especially his dad.

  My gaze flicked from one Draconi face to the next, daring anyone to make a move. Finally, I looked at Deah, who stared back at me with a mixture of horror and fascination—and the faintest bit of grudging respect.

  “Lila,” Grant snapped. “That’s enough. Let him go.”

  I stared at Blake and bent his wrist back another tiny fraction, just to let him know how much more I could hurt him if I wanted to. Then I let go and stepped back.

  Blake cradled his wrist in his hand. Then he snarled, staggered up to his feet, and started toward me, but Deah stepped in front of him and held her hands out wide.

  “C’mon, Blake. They’re not worth it.”

  He tried to surge past her again.

  “C’mon,” she repeated in a louder, colder voice. “Dad will be pissed if there’s another . . . incident right now. Be smart. Look around. This isn’t the time or the place.”

  Our confrontation had attracted almost everyone’s attention in the arcade. Most of the workers had stopped what they were doing to gape at us, and more than a few of the tourist rubes had their phones and cameras out, snapping photos, along with the kids from the other Families. Even Blake realized he couldn’t get away with attacking me in front of so many witnesses. But that didn’t stop him from threatening me.

  “This isn’t over,” Blake hissed.

  “You bet it isn’t,” I hissed right back at him.

  He gave me one more hate-filled glare before turning, shoving through his own friends, and stomping away. The other five guys scurried after him, but Deah stayed behind.

  “You just made a big mistake,” she said. “You have no idea what Blake is capable of.”
>
  I probably knew a lot more about her big brother’s cruelty than she did, but I shrugged. “It’s not the first one I’ve ever made.”

  Deah gave me a look that was almost pitying before shaking her head, turning, and following her brother and his friends.

  Blake, Deah, and the rest of the Draconis rounded the corner and disappeared from view. The second they were gone, Grant whirled around and threw his hands up into the air.

  “What was that?!” he demanded.

  I shrugged again. “Just doing my job.”

  Grant shook his head. “You have no idea how many problems you’ve just caused.”

  Oh, I knew. I just didn’t care. Not when it came to Blake Draconi.

  Devon moved over to Poppy. “Are you okay?”

  She stared at the ground and rubbed her arm. The spot where Blake had grabbed her was already starting to bruise. “Yeah, I’m fine. But I think I should leave now.”

  “Okay,” Devon said in a gentle tone. “Why don’t I walk you over to one of the Ito hotels?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll go with you,” Grant volunteered.

  “What about Felix?” Poppy asked.

  We all glanced around, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight.

  “I’m sure he’s fine.” Devon turned to me. “Can you find Felix while I walk Poppy across the Midway? Grant and I will meet you guys back at the SUV.”

  I looked at Grant, who nodded his approval.

  “Sure,” I said. “I’ll find him.”

  Devon held his hand out, and Poppy stepped forward and took it. She looked at me.

  “Thank you,” she said in a soft voice.

  I nodded. “Anytime.”

  The three of them headed toward the arcade exit. Devon glanced over his shoulder at me. At first, he looked utterly serious, but then, his face split into a wide, happy grin. He’d enjoyed seeing Blake get taken down a notch just as much as I had.

  I grinned back at him, then headed off to search for Felix.

  I moved from one section of the arcade to the next, my hand on my sword, looking at everything and everyone around me. Just because Blake, Deah, and their friends had left didn’t mean they couldn’t double-back and try to sneak up on me. If they did that and caught me by surprise, Blake would kill me.

  Just like he’d killed before.

  The memories rose up in my mind. A hot summer day. A small apartment. And blood—so much blood.

  On the floor, on the walls, even spattered onto the ceiling. A few white stars flashed on and off in front of my eyes in warning, but I managed to blink them away, even if I couldn’t quite block out the hoarse screams they left ringing in my head—my screams.

  I kept moving through the arcade, and I finally spotted Felix standing behind a cotton-candy cart—with Deah.

  Her arms were crossed over her chest, and a small red bag dangled from her wrist. She kept shaking her head, while Felix held his hands out to his sides, as if he was arguing with her.

  My fingers curled around the hilt of my sword, and my eyes cut left and right, but I didn’t see any of the other Draconis. Just Deah and Felix.

  Deah spotted me and clamped her lips shut. She gave Felix a withering glare, spun around, and stormed away. Felix’s head whipped around, but when he realized it was me, his body relaxed. I walked over to him, still keeping a watch out for Blake and the other Draconis.

  “What are you doing here?” he snapped. “Were you following me?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Devon and Grant took Poppy back to one of the Ito hotels. They’re going to meet us at the car. They sent me to find you.”

  Felix deflated a little more. “Oh. Sorry.”

  “What was that about? With Deah?”

  He raked a hand through his black hair. “I was apologizing to her, trying to smooth things over.”

  His explanation made sense, but something about seeing them together bothered me.

  “You shouldn’t have done that. Blake was being a total jackass. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s him. Even though there’s no excuse for how he treated Poppy.”

  “You really don’t know anything about how Family politics work, do you?” Felix said. “It’s the Draconis on top, and then everyone else below them.”

  “I know that’s how it works. Believe me. But that doesn’t make it right.”

  Felix shrugged. “Anyway, Grant’s right. We should leave before things get any worse. Come on.”

  He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked past me. And I realized what I’d missed before.

  Felix wasn’t clutching his red gift bag anymore. When she’d left, Deah had been carrying it—and she’d had a red rose tucked into her long blond hair.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I didn’t say anything to Felix about my suspicions concerning him and Deah, and we walked back to the car.

  Grant and Devon were waiting in the SUV with the engine running. Grant gave me another angry look when I climbed into the backseat, still pissed about what I’d done and all the problems it would cause, but I didn’t care.

  It had been worth it to see the pain in Blake’s eyes.

  For once, even Felix was quiet, and we rode back to the mansion in silence. Felix mumbled an excuse about needing to check on something in the greenlab, then hurried away. Devon disappeared as well, and Grant said that he needed to talk to Claudia about what had happened.

  I went back to my room and plopped down on the bed. I pulled out my phone and texted Mo, asking him to call me so I could tell him about my run-in with Blake, but he didn’t respond. He was probably busy in the shop, trying to sell tourists tacky yard art they didn’t need and couldn’t afford. A pang of longing shot through me. A week ago, I would have been in the Razzle Dazzle with him, discussing the latest job he had lined up for me. But things were different now, for better or worse.

  I was surprised how sad that made me.

  Since I didn’t have anything better to do, I took a long, hot shower, using up some more of the fancy soaps and lotions in the bathroom. I put on a fresh pair of cargo pants and a T-shirt and came back into the bedroom. I headed over to the vanity table so I could pull my hair back into a ponytail—

  “So you’re the new girl,” a soft, twangy voice called out. “Woo.”

  Startled, I grabbed my sword from where I’d propped it against the vanity table and whipped around, wondering who had gotten in here and what they wanted.

  But no one was there.

  My eyes scanned the entire room, from front to back and wall to wall, but it was empty. So was the balcony outside.

  “Over here, cupcake,” that twangy voice drawled again.

  A movement off to the left caught my eye, and that’s when I remembered the pixie. Looked like he’d finally decided to come out and be sociable.

  I put the sword down on the bed, walked over to the table to his house, and bent down so we were eye level. Tiny the tortoise was snoozing in a sunspot, so I focused on the pixie.

  He was wearing black cowboy boots with pointed, silver tips, a threadbare white tank top, and blue-striped boxers, both of which seemed to be spattered with mustard, ketchup, and other stains. For a guy who was only six inches tall, he was handsome, with sandy blond hair and eyes that were a vivid violet. A bit of stubble clung like golden fuzz to his cheeks, as though he hadn’t shaved in several days.

  He slouched down in a tiny, rickety lawn chair on the front porch of his wooden trailer, his legs stretched out in front of him, a can of honeybeer in his hand. At least, I thought it was honeybeer, since it looked the same as all the other cans littering the yard. My nose twitched at the sour stench wafting up from him. It certainly smelled like honeybeer, and he looked like he was in the middle of a bender.

  “You must be Oscar.”

  The pixie drained the rest of his honeybeer, crushed the can in his hand, and tossed it away. The can clattered against the others in the yard, sending them all flying apart like bowling pins and making them
tink-tink-tink across the grass. “Yep. Lucky me.”

  “My name is Lila—”

  He held up his hand, cutting me off. “Let me stop you right there, cupcake. We need to get a few things straight.”

  “Like what?”

  He glared at me, his violet eyes practically glowing in his face. “First of all, you will wipe that indulgent smirk off your face. I am not your pet, and I am certainly not a toy to be trifled with.”

  “I never said you were—”

  “I wasn’t finished yet,” he snapped. “I am a pixie and proud of it. But just because I happen to have been assigned as your pixie doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “Okay . . .”

  His hot glare intensified. “Ashley Vargas was a friend of mine. A nice, sweet, polite girl who didn’t deserve to die in some crummy pawnshop.”

  “No, she didn’t,” I said in a quiet voice.

  His gaze sharpened, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not I was mocking him. But I wasn’t. I wouldn’t. Not about something like this. Even I had limits.

  “I heard you and your buddy Mo talking last night,” Oscar said. “About what a great opportunity this was for you. You didn’t actually believe any of his pretty speech, did you?”

  I didn’t answer. Part of me had believed Mo—or at least wanted to—when he said this was my chance to make something of myself. To finally do what my mom would have wanted me to all along.

  Oscar heard the confirmation in my silence. “Oh, you did. You really did. Well, don’t that beat all.”

  The pixie slapped his hand against his knee and started chuckling, although his laugh was a bit slurred. I eyed the honeybeer cans and wondered how much he’d had to drink. Given their small size, pixies weren’t known for being able to hold their liquor, which is why they drank honeybeer, which was mostly sugar and barely had any alcohol in it at all. I wondered how long and how often Oscar drowned his sorrows—and why he was taking his anger out on me. I had never even laid eyes on him until two minutes ago, but he already hated me.