Cold Burn of Magic

by Jennifer Estep

  “I’m glad that’s over,” Devon muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as we ambled down the sidewalk. “I hate those dinners. And Victor Draconi is a gigantic ass. Can you believe he wants to tax the mortals even more? Sometimes, I think he’s out of his mind.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Because he’s always pushing my mom about the mortals. Do this to them, do that to them, like they’re his own personal property or something. A lot of the Families don’t like the mortals, but Victor takes it to new levels, new extremes.”

  “He’s just trying to do what’s best for the Families,” Grant said. “He’s right. We keep the monsters at bay for the rubes, we do all the hard, dirty, dangerous work, and they don’t pay us nearly enough for it.”

  Devon gave him a sharp look, but Grant shrugged his shoulders.

  “I’m not the only one in the Sinclair Family who thinks so,” Grant continued. “Everyone respects your mom, but they look around at what the other Families are getting, and they want the same things, too.”

  Devon snorted. “You mean what the Draconis let them have.”

  Grant shrugged again.

  We started to leave the Midway and step onto the side street that would take us back to the car, when I saw a sharp movement out of the corner of my eye. Deah was standing by an ice cream shack. She gestured with her hand, waving me over.

  “I’ll catch up with you guys in a few minutes, okay? I want to get some ice cream.”

  Devon gave me an amused look. “You’re hungry again? Felix was right. You really are a bottomless pit.”

  I managed another grin. Devon shook his head, but he and Grant walked on. I got in line at the ice cream shack, as though I really was going to buy a cone. When I was sure that Devon and Grant had disappeared into the crowd, I went over to where Deah was standing in the shadows.

  “What do you want?”

  She glanced left and right. I wondered if she was looking for Devon and Grant—or Blake. Finally, she stared at me again.

  “Look, tell Felix that I’m sorry, okay?” Deah said.

  “Sorry? Sorry that you treated him like dirt? You can tell him yourself.”

  I started to walk away, but she reached out to me.

  “If you so much as touch me, I will make you eat my fist,” I growled.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’d like to see you try.”

  We glared at each other. After a moment, Deah sighed.

  “Just tell Felix that I’m sorry, please?” she asked again. “He’ll understand. He knows what my brother is like.”

  “Your brother is a complete monster, and so is your dad. You might not like what Blake does to other people, but you always go along with it. I don’t know what Felix sees in you.”

  She gasped, and her face whitened with shock. “You know? About me and Felix?”

  “Kind of hard not to, when he gave you a rose at the arcade. You two should be a little more discreet.”

  Her hands curled into fists, and she took a menacing step forward. “If you tell anyone, anyone at all—”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’ll pull my guts out through my nose. I get it. Don’t worry. Your precious little secret is safe with me.”

  This time, I was the one who took a menacing step toward her. “But Felix is a nice guy, and if you and your brother do anything to hurt him, anything at all, then you’ll be the ones who are sorry. Capisce?”

  Deah jerked her head in what I assumed was a yes. She glared at me a final time, then stormed off in the crowd.

  I stayed where I was, scanning the sights and sounds of the Midway, just in case Blake had decided to follow his sister and was waiting in some shadow for me to walk by. But I didn’t see anything suspicious, so I headed toward the parking lot. Grant and Devon were probably getting impatient—

  My phone rang. I thought about not answering it, but there was only one person who would be calling me. He’d want to know all the dirty details about tonight. So I pulled my phone out of my purse and answered it.

  “Hey, kid.” Mo’s voice filled my ear. “So how was your first Family dinner?”

  “Tense.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine. So fill me in.”

  I told him a few things, including how Victor was pushing Claudia and the other Families for new protection taxes on the mortals.

  “You saw Victor?” Mo asked in a sharp voice. “You were in the same room with him?”

  “Yeah.”

  He didn’t say anything, although I could hear him tap-tap-tapping his fingers on the counter through the phone, something he only did when he was worried. We never talked about it, but Mo knew exactly what Victor and Blake had done to my mom.

  “You can tell me more about that later,” he said. “There’s another reason I’m calling. I finally found out who that accountant works for, the one whose guards were here at the pawnshop when Devon was attacked.”

  He paused, rather dramatically. Even though he couldn’t see me, I still rolled my eyes.

  “And that would be . . .”

  “The Sinclairs. The accountant works for the Sinclair Family.”

  I frowned. “The Sinclairs? But why would guards who worked for a Sinclair accountant attack Devon? It doesn’t make any sense . . .”

  A sign on top of the ice cream shack lit up, the deep red light reminding me of the ruby necklace I’d stolen—a necklace someone had joked about at dinner tonight.

  But how would any of the Sinclairs have even known about the necklace? It wasn’t like I had mentioned it to anyone, and Mo would never gossip about something like that. With the three guards dead, the only way . . . the only way anyone could know was if the accountant had told about it. I doubted that, since the accountant would want to save face and keep his affair as quiet as possible. But what if the three guards had blabbed between the night of the theft and the attack at the Razzle Dazzle? What if they’d shared that juicy bit of gossip with the person who’d hired them to attack Devon?

  My steps faltered, my mind reeling at the implications. But once I made that first connection, another one quickly fell into place, like a tumbler on a lock. The identity of the person joking about the accountant with Reginald.

  Click.

  My eyes zoomed over to the arcade entrance. And I remembered that I’d seen that same someone who knew about the ruby necklace talking to Volkov guards a few days later, right before Devon’s first fake date with Poppy.

  Click.

  Someone who probably knew all about Devon’s Talent, since he lived under the same roof with Devon.

  Click.

  “Grant,” I whispered.

  “What? What did you say, Lila?” Mo asked.

  “It’s Grant,” I repeated. “He’s the one behind the attacks on Devon. He arranged them all.”

  “Are you sure? Why would he do that? He’s the Family broker. He’s about as high up on the food chain as you can get.”

  “Exactly,” I murmured. “So Grant would know the accountant and his guards. Well enough to hire the guards for a side job, anyway. And since he is the broker, he has access to all the Sinclair money. Including enough to hire some Volkov guards for the second attempt.”

  The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Then another, more chilling thought filled my mind.

  “Oh no,” I whispered, more to myself than to Mo. “Grant is with Devon right now.”

  Alone. In a dark parking lot. The same place where Devon had already been ambushed once before, the night his father was killed after that New Year’s Eve party.

  “Grant’s going to try again,” I said, starting to run. “Call Claudia! Tell her what’s going on! And track my phone!”

  “Lila, wait—”

  I hung up on Mo, yanked up my jacket, and slid my phone into one of the hidden slots in my belt. Then I sucked down a breath and raced toward the parking lot. My heels clack-clack-clacked on the cobblestones, making far too much noi
se for me to sneak up on anyone, so I stopped long enough to yank them off. My purse fell from my hand and tumbled away, so did my shoes, but I ran on. The cobblestones were still warm from the heat of the day, although small bits of dirt, gravel, and glass scraped into the soles of my bare feet. I gritted my teeth against the uncomfortable sensations and kept going.

  I reached the edge of the parking lot and forced myself to stop and hunker down in the shadows. Only a few cars remained, since most of the Family members had already left, but I was able to creep from one pool of darkness to the next, easing closer and closer to the Sinclair section. Finally, I stopped, crouched down, and peered around the corner of a black sports car with the Salazar hacienda emblazoned on the door.

  Thirty feet away, Grant and Devon were leaning against the side of the SUV. I let out a breath. Maybe I wasn’t too late after all. Still, I stayed where I was in the shadows, staring into the darkness around me. Because if Grant was going to ambush Devon, then he wouldn’t do it alone. He was too much of a coward for that.

  “Where’s Lila?” Devon said. “Do you think something’s happened to her?”

  “Nah,” Grant replied, a bit of a sneer creeping into his voice. “She probably decided to stop and pick a few pockets in the Midway.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “She’s a thief, Devon,” Grant replied, the sneer a little louder this time. “You and Felix might have forgotten that, but I haven’t.”

  “Lila is more than just a thief.”

  “Why?” Grant asked. “Because you want to get into her pants? Don’t be stupid. That girl is nothing but trouble. The only reason she’s probably still at the mansion is that she’s casing the place and trying to figure out what she can take with her when she goes.”

  Devon shook his head. “Lila’s not like that. Yeah, she’s a thief. But she wouldn’t steal from the Family. Not now.”

  “Whatever,” Grant muttered. “If she’s not here in five minutes, we’re leaving without her.”

  I didn’t see anyone lurking in the shadows, so I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Felix.

  Grant behind attacks. With Devon right now @ the car.

  Call Mo. He’ll know what to do.

  Then I put my phone on silent, slid it into that slot on my belt again, and started creeping forward. I could have called out to Devon, but I was betting that Grant had at least one weapon, maybe more, and I didn’t want to risk his hurting Devon—

  “You know,” Grant said. “I’ve been waiting for this night for a long, long time.”

  “Oh yeah? Why is that?”

  He grinned. “So I could finally do this.”

  I rushed forward, even though I knew I was going to be too late.

  Grant pulled a dagger out from the small of his back. Before I could scream out a warning, Grant whipped around, raised the weapon high, and brought it down, aiming at Devon’s chest.

  But Devon must have seen the glint of the metal because he raised his hands, blocking the attack.

  “Grant? What the hell, man?” Devon asked, his voice full of shock.

  Grant let out an angry snarl, snapped up his fist, and punched Devon in the face. Dazed, Devon staggered back against the SUV, and Grant raised his dagger again.

  But this time, I was there to help Devon.

  I put my shoulder down and slammed into Grant from the side, knocking him away from Devon, making him land on his ass on the pavement. The dagger clattered to the ground, and I stepped forward and kicked it away. Then I went over to Devon.

  “Are you okay?”

  Devon shook off his daze and straightened back up. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s going on?”

  “I think we should let Grant explain that.”

  We both looked at Grant, who had gotten back onto his feet. His face darkened at the sight of me.

  “You,” he muttered. “I should have known that you would show up and ruin everything. Again. You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?”

  I bared my teeth at him. “What can I say? It’s a bad habit of mine.”

  “Grant, what are you doing?” Devon asked.

  Grant let out a harsh, bitter laugh.

  I scanned the parking lot again, searching for guards that Grant might have hired to help him. I didn’t spot anyone, but I still felt like I was missing something. Hopefully, Felix, Claudia, and Mo were on their way here right now.

  Grant finally quit laughing. “What am I doing? I’m finally taking what should have been mine all along.”

  “And what would that be?” Devon asked.

  Grant’s eyes narrowed. “My place as second-in-command of the Sinclair Family.”

  “But you’re the broker,” Devon said, still confused. “You have more money and just as much power as I do. So why would you want to be me?”

  “Because then, after I kill your mom, everyone will naturally turn to me to be the new head of the Family.”

  Devon sucked in a breath at Grant’s matter-of-fact tone.

  Grant gave him another evil smile. “Something that your compulsion Talent will help make that much easier.”

  “So you’re the one who’s been behind the attacks on Devon?” I asked, trying to keep him talking, trying to give the others time to find us.

  I also put my hand on Devon’s shoulder and slowly inched to the left, taking him with me. I wanted to put as much distance between us and Grant as possible, in case he had another weapon.

  “Of course, it was me,” Grant sneered. “No one else in the Family has the brains to pull off something like this.”

  Devon sucked in another breath. “You—you were the one who arranged the attack at the pawnshop? You’re the one who gave those men orders to kill Ashley?”

  “Oh, I didn’t just give the order. I killed her myself.” Grant’s face twisted. “The same way I killed your father.”

  I frowned, wondering if Grant was lying. Because the mystery man had killed Ashley, not him. Unless . . . he was the mystery man. But how was that possible?

  Devon surged forward, but I dug my fingers into his shoulder, warning him to stay back.

  “Why?” He choked out the word, his hands clenching into tight fists. “Why did you kill my dad? What did he ever do to you?”

  “Because he chose you to be the Family bruiser instead of me,” Grant hissed. “I was his right-hand man. I was older. I had more experience. But he told me that I wasn’t a good enough fighter, that I wasn’t as good a leader as his precious son. He made me broker as a consolation prize. Well, it wasn’t enough.”

  “And you think this will be?” I asked.

  Grant blinked, as if he was just now noticing that Devon and I were still easing away from him. But instead of coming after us, he gave me another smirk, as though I was doing exactly what he wanted me to. I frowned again. Why would he be looking at me like that? Where were the men he should have with him? What was he up to?

  “Actually, now that I think about it, I might as well take your Talent, too, Lila,” Grant said. “It’s not as powerful as Devon’s, but sight can be handy on occasion.”

  “You’re not getting my Talent,” I ground out. “I’ll die before I let you rip my magic out of me.”

  “You’re gonna die anyway,” he said. “Might as well make it useful.”

  Grant let out a sharp whistle. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, one by one, the doors on the cars in the parking lot opened, and men with swords started pouring out. I cursed my own stupidity. I’d been so concerned about people hiding in the shadows that I’d never considered the fact they could be waiting in the cars with their tinted windows. And now, Devon and I were both going to pay for my mistake.

  Devon moved in front of me and raised his fists, but he couldn’t take them all on, not even with his compulsion magic. There were just too many of them.

  I spotted a movement out of the corner of my eye, and I realized that one of the men was racing toward me. He had to have a speed Talent to move s
o fast. I started turning in that direction, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to block the attack—

  A fist slammed into the side of my face. I staggered back, feeling a cold burst of magic racing through my veins—but it wasn’t enough.

  The fist hit me again, and the last thing I heard was Devon yelling before the world went black.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The ache in my arms woke me.

  For some reason, they seemed to be anchored over my head, as though I were trying to do some difficult yoga move. In fact, they seemed to be stretched up so high that I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. Everything just . . . hurt.

  I tried to move my arms to take the pressure off them, but something heavy was wrapped around my wrists, holding them in place over my head. Still, I struggled, wondering what was wrong and why I was having such a strange dream—

  The night came rushing back. Family dinner. Mo’s call. Realizing Grant was behind the attacks. Grant confessing to killing Lawrence Sinclair and threatening to take Devon’s Talent—

  My eyes snapped open at the thought of Devon.

  All I saw was darkness, but I blinked again and the world came into focus. A lone bulb burned in the ceiling, casting out long shadows that twisted every which way like monsters about to strike. I scanned the shadows, but all I saw was a warehouse with a dirty concrete floor and gray cinderblock walls. The air was cool enough to make me shiver, despite my black suit. But perhaps the most curious things were the drains that had been set into the floor at regular intervals. One was directly underneath my bare, bloody feet, which were sprawled across the concrete, since I’d been unconscious.

  Since I couldn’t really tell where I was, I moved on to how I was. My jaw pulsed with pain, but other than that, I seemed to be okay. I didn’t feel any stinging cuts or throbbing bruises, although a dull ache filled every other part of me.

  I looked up at the source of the pain—my arms. My hands were tied together with a heavy rope, which had been looped over a metal hook hanging down from the ceiling. Someone had strung me up on the hook and then left me to dangle for however long it took for me to wake up. More hooks hung from the ceiling, each one right over a drain.