Cold Burn of Magic

by Jennifer Estep

  “Don’t worry, Lila,” Grant said. “I’ll leave your pretty face intact. More or less.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “We’ll see if you still have that smart mouth on you after I cut you some more.”

  He looked over his shoulder at Devon, who was still trying to shout through the tape and get free of his ropes. But his struggles were useless.

  “What do you say, Devon?” he cooed again. “Looking forward to round two on Lila? Because I sure am.”

  Grant turned back toward me and studied me with a critical eye, trying to decide where to stab me next. All the while, blood oozed out of the wounds he’d already inflicted, spattering onto the floor, rolling toward the concrete drain beneath my feet, and disappearing into the darkness below.

  And still, I was waiting for my transference Talent to kick in, for the pain to melt into something else, something that I could use to break free of the bonds that held me tight. But all I felt was that faint chill and not the one, big, sweeping, cold surge of power I desperately needed in order to have a fighting chance. No, there was just wave after wave of pain, pulsing through my body.

  “Okay,” Grant said. “I think that’s enough blood. Don’t you guys?”

  The men shrugged. They weren’t getting my Talent so they didn’t care.

  “Yeah,” Grant said, answering his own question. “I think one more cut will do to finish her off. Grab her arms again.”

  This was my last chance.

  So I sucked down a breath, and I bucked and heaved and thrashed like I never had before, forcing the men to use more and more of their strength to hold me still. I even snapped out with my teeth, trying to bite them, even though there was no way I could do that, given the awkward position I was in. But one of the men slammed his fist into my face, momentarily stunning me.

  “What am I paying you idiots for? Hold her still!” Grant snapped.

  The men finally wrenched me back into place. Grant raised the dagger high into the air, ready to drive it into my heart and deliver the final, fatal wound that would let him rip my magic out of me before I died.

  And I realized that the red-hot pain of my injuries had faded away, and that all I could feel was that cold burn of magic roaring through my veins, stronger now than ever before.

  Grant raised the dagger even higher, then brought it down, the weapon whistling like a scythe of death through the air—

  I snapped my wrists apart, breaking the heavy ropes that held them together like they were no thicker than strings of thread. I ducked, and Grant missed me, the dagger slicing into the shoulder of one of the guards instead. The man howled with pain and staggered away, blood spraying out in an arc from his deep wound.

  Grant whirled around to face me. I shoved the ropes off my hands and got ready.

  “How did you do that?” he hissed.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I mocked him.

  He let out an angry roar and charged at me.

  I stepped up to meet him, sliding past his defenses and the weapon whistling toward my head. Instead, I drove my fist into Grant’s face and took hold of the dagger at the same time. Even though the edge sliced open my palm, I yanked it out of his grasp. In one smooth motion, I flipped the dagger up into the air, grabbed the hilt, and stabbed him in the shoulder.

  Grant screamed, but I paid little attention. I was too busy pulling the dagger out of his shoulder and ramming my fist into his face again. He dropped to the ground. I would have finished him off then, but the second guard charged me, his hands arcing out into claws, as if he wanted to rip me limb from limb.

  I lashed out with the dagger again. The guy might be strong, but he wasn’t very quick, and I opened up a wound all the way across his stomach, making him fall to his knees. Not deep enough to kill him, but enough to put him out of the fight for the time being. The other man was still staggering around and clutching at his shoulder.

  “Mm! Mm-mmm!” Devon tried to shout through the tape again.

  I didn’t think I had enough magic left to finish off the men. Besides, saving Devon was my priority, so I hurried over to him.

  “Hold your arms out behind you, your hands as far apart as you can get them.”

  He did as I asked, and I went to work, slicing through the ropes with the dagger. I helped Devon shove off the heavy ropes, ripped the tape off his mouth, and pulled him up onto his feet.

  And just like that, the last of the magic burned out of my system, and I was my regular self again. I took a step forward, my injured left leg almost buckling beneath me.

  “Run,” I told Devon. “Get out of here while you still can.”

  He shook his head. “No,” he rasped. “Not without you.”

  Despite my protests, Devon put his arm around my waist and took most of my weight. Together, we hurried away from the injured Grant and the two guards as fast as we could.

  Devon helped me over to the door at the far end of the slaughterhouse. He tried the knob.

  “Locked,” he rasped again. “It’s locked!”

  “Let me go.”

  He did as I asked, and I passed him the dagger. He watched our backs while I reached up. The two chopstick lock picks I had put into my hair earlier were still there, so I plucked them out of my ponytail. I shoved the loose strands of hair out of my eyes and went to work on the door, sliding the picks inside and searching for the tumblers.

  “Come on, baby,” I cooed at the lock. “You know you want to open for me.”

  Behind me, low moans sounded, but I shut the noises out of my mind and concentrated on the lock, the feel of the picks in my hand, and the way the slender bits of metal needed to slide.

  “Hurry, Lila,” Devon croaked. “They’re getting back on their feet.”

  I shot him a quick glance. “Can you use your magic on them? Your compulsion?”

  He shook his head and arched his neck to one side. Ugly purple bruises ringed his throat. “They took turns . . . strangling me. I can try . . .”

  But he didn’t think it would work. Not given how low and raspy his voice was. He was barely more than whispering as it was, and I had to strain to hear him.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll find another way.”

  I redoubled my efforts on the lock, ignoring the sweat and blood on my hands and the faint tremors in my fingers. And finally—finally—the tumblers slid into place.

  I turned the knob and yanked the door open. Devon put his arm around my waist again, taking my weight, and we staggered outside and away from the slaughterhouse.

  The night was cool, even for late May, but I breathed in deeply, wondering if it would be the last bit of fresh air I ever tasted.

  “Come back here, you bitch!” Grant’s scream chased us outside.

  It wouldn’t be long before he grabbed a weapon and his men regrouped and came after us.

  Too bad we had nowhere to go.

  The slaughterhouse was in one of the many bad parts of Cloudburst Falls, and the door opened onto a dark alley. Devon helped me down to the end and then over to the corner. I looked up at the street signs, and my heart sank. I knew exactly where we were—and that there was nothing and nobody around for miles to help us. Sure, there were houses and people, but nobody in this neighborhood would open their doors to us, assuming we didn’t get attacked by a monster in the meantime. Still, we had to try.

  “That way.” I pointed to the right. “Hurry.”

  I shoved my chopstick lock picks back into my ponytail. Then, with Devon’s help, I hobbled down the street. With every movement, every step, blood dripped down my face, side, and leg from where Grant had stabbed me.

  One by one, eyes winked open in the alleys we passed, burning like all the jewels I’d stolen—ruby red, emerald green, sapphire blue, citrine yellow. Drawn by the scent of my blood, shadows slithered away from the walls and crept out from behind the Dumpsters. Faint spits, hisses, and scratches sounded, as claws, talons, and tails scraped over the walls and cobblestones around us.

/>   “Lila,” Devon croaked out a warning, hearing the same things I did.

  “We have to keep going.”

  But we both knew the truth—that if Grant and his goons didn’t get us, the monsters would.

  Either way, we were moving slow—way too slow. I couldn’t exactly run right now, not with the stab wounds in my face, side, and thigh throbbing with pain. Devon was helping me as much as he could, but he’d been badly beaten, and he was limping along almost as slowly as I was. The only thing that was keeping us going was sheer stubbornness, and I didn’t know how much longer that would last.

  We’d only gone half a mile from the slaughterhouse. Any second now, Grant and his men would come running down the street and kill us—and that’s if Grant didn’t decide to drag us back to the slaughterhouse and finish what he’d started by stealing our Talents—

  Talents. Magic. Monsters.

  The words rattled around in my mind, and I glanced at Devon. His face was set in grim, determined lines as he hobbled forward, dragging me along with him. My eyes locked on to the bruises around his throat. He couldn’t shout loud enough to use his compulsion magic on Grant and his men, not before they cut us down.

  But maybe he didn’t have to. Maybe all he had to do was use it on me.

  I checked the next street sign we passed, making sure of our location. In the distance, about half a mile away, the lochness bridge curved over the river. And a crazy idea popped into my head, a way that I could save Devon and myself—and kill Grant and his men.

  “How strong are you?” I asked Devon as we kept hurrying along. “Your magic? How strong is it? How long does it last?”

  “Depends.”

  He wheezed out a few more garbled words, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. He gave me a frustrated look, then cleared his throat and gestured out with his hand.

  “We need to run.”

  I nodded. “You’re exactly right.”

  Devon gave me a strange look, but I pointed to the lochness bridge up ahead.

  “Do you see that? Do you think you can run that far? All the way over to the opposite side of the bridge?”

  He nodded, but questions clouded his eyes, wondering what difference getting across the bridge would make.

  “It’s our only shot,” I said. “Do you have change on you? Any quarters? Any kind of money at all?”

  Devon gave me a strange look, no doubt wondering why I wanted loose change at a time like this. He shook his head.

  I cursed. I’d dropped my purse with its quarters when I’d been racing toward the parking lot to save Devon from Grant. Sure, I had the chopsticks in my hair and the throwing stars and my phone in my belt, but there was only one thing on me of real value, only one thing that would work as tribute—my mom’s ring.

  I raised my hand. The star-shaped sapphire glinted in the moonlight, burning with a dark inner fire. I didn’t want to give it up, but my mom would understand why I had to lose it. Because it was the only way Devon and I could survive this.

  “Stop for a second.”

  Devon did as I asked. I took one more long look at my mom’s ring, then slipped it off my finger with a pang of regret. I fisted my hand around the cool bit of silver and stepped away from Devon. He reached for me, wondering what I was doing, but I held up my hand, stopping him.

  “Tell me to run,” I said through gritted teeth.

  He frowned, wondering what I meant, but the realization hit him a second later. He started shaking his head no-no-no.

  “We need to run,” I said. “You said it yourself. I know we’re both hurt, and I’m bleeding, but all we have to do is get to the other side of the bridge, and we’ll be fine. You’ll see—”

  “There they are!” Grant shouted behind us.

  Devon and I whipped around. Grant and the guards were four blocks away and closing fast. All of them were carrying swords, including Grant. Given the murderous glare on his face, it looked like he was just going to kill us now, instead of trying to tear our Talents out of us. Either way, if they caught us, we were dead.

  “Do it,” I said. “Tell me to run. Now. Before it’s too late.”

  Devon sighed, but he cleared his throat and lifted his eyes to mine. “Run!” he yelled in the loudest voice he could muster.

  For a moment, nothing happened, and I wondered if his voice had been strong enough for his magic to work. Then, it was as if a pair of hands reached inside my body and wrapped around my arms and legs. I felt like a puppet whose strings were being pulled this way and that. Despite my many aches and pains, I had this sudden urge to do exactly what Devon said. To run and run and run until I either dropped dead of exhaustion or blood loss. The shape I was in, it was going to be the blood loss.

  So I grabbed Devon’s hand, and we started running.

  He kept up with me the best he could, but he still couldn’t go very fast, given his own injuries. He hissed with pain, but he didn’t ask me to slow down. He knew I couldn’t, not with his magic compelling me to run, run, run. So I tightened my grip on his hand and dragged him along with me. It was run, or die.

  So we ran . . . and ran . . . and ran . . .

  And slowly, much too slowly, the bridge loomed in front of us.

  “You’re dead, Lila! Do you hear me? You’re both dead!”

  Grant continued to shout behind us, but I didn’t dare turn around to see how close he was. All we had to do was make it across the bridge, and it wouldn’t matter. That was my plan, anyway—and the only hope Devon and I had left.

  But a funny thing happened. We’d just started up the bridge when I realized that I didn’t feel the need to run anymore. That I wasn’t being compelled by his Talent. Instead, my own transference power had kicked in, and the cold rush of magic flowing through my veins was what was giving me the strength to run.

  Devon and I hurried up the gentle curve of the bridge, but I tightened my grip on his hand and veered toward the stone set into the right side.

  “What are you doing?” Devon croaked. “Are you crazy? They’re right behind us!”

  I risked a quick glance over my shoulder. Grant and the other two men had closed the gap to a block. In a few more seconds, they’d start up the bridge and catch us.

  I was counting on it.

  I opened my fist and slapped my mom’s ring down on the stone in the center of the bridge, the stone marked with the three Xs. Somehow, the sapphire gleamed, despite my blood smeared all over the ring.

  I tightened my grip on Devon’s hand, pulled him away from the edge, and hurried down the far side of the bridge.

  I couldn’t be sure, but I thought that I heard a familiar, distinctive clink, as what I had offered up was accepted.

  We stepped off the far side of the bridge when the last of the magic burned out of my body. I took a step forward and ended up falling to one knee before Devon could catch me. He hauled me back upright and put his arm around my waist again, but I couldn’t go any farther.

  “Stop,” I whispered.

  Devon tried to drag me forward, but my bare, bruised, bloody feet barely shuffled along the cobblestones. “We have to get out of here!”

  “We’re safe,” I whispered again. “I know we are. So trust me. Please?”

  Doubt flared in his eyes, but he nodded and stopped trying to drag me away. Instead, he turned so that we were both facing our enemies.

  By this point, Grant and his men were on the bridge.

  Grant realized we weren’t going to keep running, and he started laughing. “Making one final stand, eh? Don’t you know that you only do that when all hope is lost?”

  I shrugged, as though I didn’t care about how close he was, although I really, really did. Grant was about a third of the way across the bridge, with the two guards a few steps behind him. None of them so much as glanced at the stone where I’d placed the ring. Good.

  “You should have let me kill you in the slaughterhouse, Lila,” Grant continued his triumphant crowing. “Not made me chase you a
ll the way out here. Because now—now I’m going to make it hurt.”

  I gestured at the blood dripping out of my wounds. “And you think this doesn’t?”

  He grinned. “Trust me. By the time I’m done with you, those will feel like paper cuts.”

  I locked eyes with him and my soulsight kicked in, letting me see and feel exactly how much he meant his twisted words—and how very cruel he was. I shuddered. I’d rather get eaten by a monster than let Grant get his hands on me again. The monster would be a kinder, quicker death. Besides, monsters had to eat, too. I’d probably taste like bacon to them.

  “If this doesn’t work,” I whispered, “you need to drop me and run. Get as far away from here as you can.”

  Devon shook his head, and his mouth set into a hard line. “I’m not leaving you.”

  I sighed at his stubbornness. “All right then. I hope this works.”

  “What?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Grant kept coming, with the two guards marching along behind him, all of them eager to cut us into tiny, bloody pieces. Devon tightened his arms around me, and we both lifted our chins and waited.

  Grant moved closer to the middle of the bridge. So did the guards. All he had to do was take a few more steps forward, and then hopefully, my plan would be put into action—

  Grant stopped just short of the halfway mark of the bridge.

  His head snapped left and right, as he peered into the shadows that cloaked everything. “What are you up to, Lila? What’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He gave me an appraising look. “I’ve been watching you ever since you joined the Sinclairs. You’re smart. Clever. You always have something up your sleeve. So why did you stop? Why are you giving up?”

  I arched an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t say that stabbing you, freeing Devon, and running away was giving up. More like totally embarrassing for you, that you couldn’t keep two people prisoner for more than, like, an hour. Not quite the criminal mastermind, huh, Grant?”

  One of the guards snickered. Grant shot him an evil glare, and the other man started coughing, trying to hide his laughter. But it was enough to push Grant over the edge.