Stolen Magic (Shadows of the Immortals Book 1)

by Marina Finlayson

  “It wasn’t me,” he said, flashing a practised smile. “It was all Lexi’s doing. Can I buy you all a drink?”

  Holly smiled her dimpled smile at him, though there was a certain wariness there, too. They hadn’t forgotten who he was: one of the most powerful shapers on the Ruby Council. Despite the number of humans around, this was shaper territory.

  Shapers, just as much as anyone, liked the benefits that industrialisation and human ingenuity had brought to the world. The Great War had ended nearly a hundred years ago with a truce that guaranteed shaper access to human manufacturing, in return for more human-only territory and the right to share the shapers’ lands. But the Ruby Council ruled this part of the country and, if their grip on the reins was generally light, it didn’t do to forget that they could tighten that grip at any moment.

  This man with his fake smiles governed the whole of the South-East, which basically made him Lord of All He Surveyed around here. Shapers tended to be a little arbitrary in their decisions, as Holly had so recently discovered, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone else could do about it.

  I didn’t trust that smile. The memory of his casual threats in the bookshop was still front and centre in my mind.

  “Not for me, thanks,” Holly said. “It’s time this pregnant lady went home. I need sleep and a back rub, not necessarily in that order.”

  “I guess that’s my cue to leave too,” Joe said, flexing his hands melodramatically. “She’s going to work these fingers to stumps.”

  I snorted. “You’ll live.”

  I should have gone with them. I meant to, but when I turned back to say goodbye to Alberto, he’d placed another full glass in front of me, ice clinking invitingly.

  Steele patted my stool. “Sit down. Just one more. We haven’t had a chance to chat yet.”

  Exactly. And that was just the way I liked it. “I’m not sure I like your brand of small talk, Mr Steele.”

  I raised the glass to my lips and downed half of it in one go. This could be the shortest chat on record. Alberto wiped his precious bar top, though it was already sparkling clean. Maybe he’d be interested in hearing about the threat to his beloved bookshop if Steele got too insistent.

  “You’re different,” he said. “Nothing personal, but different usually means trouble. It’s my job to deal with trouble.”

  He thought being different caused trouble? He should try walking a mile in my shoes.

  “It seems to work out all right for you shapers.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Things would go much easier for you if you answered the question.”

  So we were back to threats again. My heartrate picked up the pace. At least there were witnesses here. Alberto was engrossed in conversation with the guy on the fireshaper’s other side. Steele wouldn’t try anything in front of all these people, would he? “You haven’t asked one yet. But there’s nothing special about me. I’m one hundred per cent regular old human.”

  He leaned closer, his blue eyes frosty. “I’d really like to believe you. But I don’t.”

  “Is there a problem here?” Alberto’s smooth tones cut across the menace in the air.

  Steele sat back and took a sip of his drink. “Not at all. Just having a friendly chat.”

  Friendly, my arse.

  Alberto wasn’t convinced either. “Good.” Steele wasn’t the only one who could plaster on a fake smile. “Because Lexi is a personal friend of mine. She’s an asset to our town. The bookshop never ran so smoothly before she arrived.”

  I smiled gratefully at him. No one did veiled threats like a vampire.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Not that Steele looked particularly cowed. Even a vampire would have to get lucky to bring down a shaper of his power. “Sometimes the enemy who hides in plain sight is deadlier than those who lurk in the shadows.”

  “No shadows here,” Alberto said, with an emphatic shake of his head. “Lexi is one hundred per cent pure sunshine.”

  I looked from one to the other, confused. Enemies and shadows? It sounded like a whole other conversation was going on under the surface here. After a moment, Steele nodded, and the smile he cast my way was the friendliest expression I’d seen on his face yet.

  “What brings you to Berkley’s Bay?” Alberto asked, swiping at non-existent spots on the bar’s gleaming surface. “Something particular, or just a yearning for the sea air?”

  “Various things. I’ll need to talk to you when it’s convenient,” Steele said noncommittally. “I wish I had time for sea air, but the Mayor’s been bending my ear half the night, so it sounds like I’ll be busy.”

  Oops. I looked down at my glass. Hope one of those ear-bending things wasn’t his missing altarpiece.

  “I’m surprised the Ruby Adept could spare you. I hear you’re the rising star of the council.”

  “No, that’s Anders,” he said, a certain bitterness in his voice. I jumped at the mention of that hated name, but neither of them noticed. “I’m far from being the Ruby Adept’s favourite person at the moment. In fact, I could be here quite a while. He basically told me not to hurry back.”

  Oh, joy. Nothing ever happened in sleepy Berkley’s Bay, which was why Syl and I had chosen it. We needed a place to lay low, far from the city, somewhere no one would think to look for us. Having a councillor in residence—and one who was already suspicious of me—really didn’t fit in with my plans.

  The last councillor I’d known had involved himself in robbery, blackmail, and murder. I took another swig of my drink, feeling the burn all the way down my throat. I shivered anyway. At least it didn’t sound like Steele was on good terms with Anders.

  No sooner had I put down the empty glass than Alberto replaced it with another. Apparently satisfied I was in no immediate danger from the councillor, he went to serve someone else.

  Steele’s own drink sat before him, still half full. Scotch on ice, judging by its honey gold colour.

  “Let’s start again,” he said, taking a sip. His pale blue eyes watched me over the rim of the glass. Very striking. “Alberto vouches for you, so perhaps I was hasty. Tell me about yourself.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I said, wary in spite of all the alcohol I’d consumed. He should have stuck to threats. There was no way he was charming the information he wanted out of me.

  “You’re new here, aren’t you? I don’t remember seeing you last time I was out this way. And I would remember.”

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  He laughed. “Are you always this direct?”

  I downed the glass and gave him a fake smile of my own. Did he really think he could flutter his eyelashes and win me over?

  “I’m going home.”

  I wouldn’t trust him any farther than I could throw him—and, considering the well-muscled height of him, that wouldn’t be far. He was way too nosy for my taste. Although, in other ways, he was exactly to my taste. My gaze lingered on the broad shoulders, then travelled down a muscled arm to the strong hand holding his glass. What would those hands feel like on my skin? Pity about his personality. In other circumstances I would have enjoyed finding out.

  “So soon?”

  “It’s been a busy evening, and I’ve got work in the morning.”

  “That’s a shame. Let me walk you home.”

  “Seriously? It’s just across the street.” I hopped off the stool, but somehow fumbled the landing, my head whirling from the unaccustomed alcohol. I staggered and fell against him. For a moment my face was solidly planted against his muscular chest.

  His hands closed on my shoulders and gently set me on my feet again. Not quite what I’d imagined when I’d been picturing his hands on my body. My cheeks flamed.

  “Maybe I’ll just come and make sure you get there in one piece.” There was laughter in his voice.

  “I’m fine, really.” I clung to what was left of my dignity. “I think I got my foot caught on something.”

  He ignored me, steering me toward the door with one ha
nd in the small of my back. The heat of it burned through my shirt. Well, it was only across the street. I gritted my teeth and kept moving.

  The night air felt good on my heated skin. Refreshing. My head cleared a little as I marched across the street, determined to put some distance between us. I fumbled the key in the lock on the street door, but I got it open in the end.

  “Thanks for the drink.”

  His blue eyes glinted in the light from the streetlamps. “Maybe we can do it again some time.”

  Over my dead body. “I’m sure you’ll be too busy with your councillor duties.”

  He refused to take the hint. “I don’t work twenty-four seven. All rest and no play, as they say …”

  “Goodnight.” I stepped inside and shut the door firmly. He’d just have to find someone else to play with.

  5

  I had piles of books all over the counter when Joe’s mum Norma came in. She was in her fifties, though she didn’t look much more than forty. One of the benefits of the shifter life: they didn’t show their age like humans did. Maybe that was why so many humans wanted to be turned. Shifters were always popular among the humans in shaper towns.

  Of course, it was a different story in the human territories. A shifter would be risking their life to travel there, which was why Syl and I had been forced to hide out in shaper territory.

  Norma wore a sleeveless sundress which made me shiver just looking at it; I had a long-sleeved shirt on and I’d been looking around for my sweater. Werewolf metabolisms ran hotter than other people’s—apart from fireshapers, of course. Steele, for example, had been warm to the touch last night.

  Though why I should be thinking about touching him I didn’t know. Impatiently, I pushed him out of my mind and smiled at Norma instead.

  “You look nice. Have you just had your hair done?” Tegan’s salon was next door. We had a lot of customers in common.

  She patted her softly waved hair self-consciously. “Yes. I thought I’d better make an effort for the baby shower tomorrow. You’re still coming, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  *Liar,* said Syl. *A whole lot of women playing silly games with nappies and telling horror stories about the birth of their children? Who in their right mind would want to go to that?*

  She was perched on a pile of books in the window display, her pink tongue flicking in and out as she groomed herself.

  *Babies are pretty cute. Cuter than some cats I know.* And I couldn’t help being caught up in Joe and Holly’s excitement for their first child together. Cody was hoping for a little brother, but I had a suspicion that Norma had her heart set on a little granddaughter. Either way, there were a lot of people looking forward to this new little person’s arrival.

  “Do you think you could pick up the cake from the bakery for me? I was going to duck in and get it in the morning but I’m not sure I’ll have time. All that excitement last night cut into my preparations a bit.”

  “What excitement?” My mind was still preoccupied with the problem of Jake Steele and his odd questions, so I was a little slow.

  She laughed. “What excitement, she says. Only finding my lost grandson and his friend. You’re something of a celebrity now, you know, you and your mysterious talents.”

  “Really, it wasn’t a big deal. It could have been anyone who found them.”

  “Well, it’s all the girls next door are talking about this morning.”

  *Great,* said Syl, favouring me with a death stare. Cats did that so well.

  *Don’t give me that look. What was I supposed to do, leave them out there all night?*

  When Norma left, I went back to sorting the piles. One of my regulars had brought in two huge boxes of books; I hadn’t taken everything he had, but I still had plenty to price and find a home for on the shelves.

  There was the usual collection of shifter and shaper romances. Shaper romances seemed particularly popular among the residents of Berkley’s Bay. They usually featured some poor human girl swept off her feet by a dashing shaper—or dazzled by his wealth, more like.

  A children’s book of myths and legends at the bottom of the box caught my eye as I lifted it out. I flicked through, admiring the watercolour illustrations. There was a lovely one of Hades, done in moody blues and purples. His chariot was erupting out of the ground, surrounded by swirls of darkness, clods of earth flying from under his horses’ hooves as he leaned over, about to snatch up the shrinking Persephone. The contrast between his dark domain and Persephone’s sunlit world was stark. No wonder the pretty nature goddess hated living in the gloomy underworld.

  I turned a few more pages and found another gorgeous picture, this one of Prometheus, chained to his rock while the eagle snacked on his liver as punishment for bringing fire to mankind and creating the first fireshapers. In the clouds above, Hephaistos, blacksmith to the gods, and the one who’d sneaked the fire to Prometheus, pleaded on his knees for mercy, while Zeus gazed into the distance with a look that said No way, José.

  The next legend dealt with Zeus’s jealousy, and his creation of the airshapers so that he, too, would have a special group of followers, but I snapped the book shut. Stupid children’s stories. Even in the quiet haven of my bookshop I had to have shapers rammed in my face.

  Once the morning sun left the front window, Syl retired to her cushion on the counter. She was unusually quiet this morning. Guess that made two of us. I sorted like a demon and tried to ignore the uneasiness growing inside me.

  Just before lunch, the main source of my uneasiness entered the shop, setting the bell to jangling wildly. Why couldn’t he just do whatever it was he’d come to do, and get his undeniably cute shaper arse back to the city? He’d better not try his flaming threats again.

  “Hi.” He took off his sunglasses and offered one of his dazzling smiles. Looked like he was still trying to win me over with his charm. He was gorgeous when he smiled, and I felt a moment’s genuine regret that I couldn’t smile right back. When was the last time anyone had looked at me like that? “How about I buy you lunch?”

  “How about no thanks?” My moment’s regret soon passed—it didn’t matter how pretty he was, he was still a shaper.

  “Why not? You have something else booked?”

  “No. I’m just busy.”

  “Really?” He set his sunglasses down on the counter and looked around in a very theatrical way, like a pantomime star searching for the villain. “You don’t seem to be overrun with customers.”

  “Really.”

  He stroked Syl and she got up and stalked away down the counter.

  I hid a smile. “I have books to sort and new stock to price. Things to do.”

  To demonstrate just how busy I was, I swept an armful of detective novels off the counter and went over to the crime shelves to make room for them.

  “You still have to eat.”

  Clearly Councillor Steele wasn’t used to having people turn him down. I cast him an impatient glance over my shoulder. He had one hip propped against the counter, muscular arms folded across his broad chest. My gaze lingered for a moment. If he hadn’t been a shaper—but he was, so there was no point thinking about it.

  Besides, I liked my men a lot less bossy. And less flammable.

  “Sorry. Too busy.”

  “Shame. It would do my reputation good to be seen out with you. You’re quite the celebrity in town today.”

  *Why is he still here?* Syl complained, winding around my ankles as I shelved the last book.

  *Because he’s a giant pain in the butt. Would you stop that? You’re getting fur all over my jeans.* I said nothing to Steele. I was beginning to think just ignoring him might be the best strategy.

  “Everyone’s talking about you, you know.”

  “Well, people talk.” I went back behind the counter; I felt better with a barrier between us. “There’s not much else to do in a little town like this. The most exciting thing that happens here is the occas
ional visit from the Councillor.”

  Those pale blue eyes of his lit with amusement. “So you find me exciting?”

  *Idiot.* Syl leapt up onto the counter and rubbed her head against my hip. More cat fur. *You walked right into that one.*

  “I find you an interruption. If there’s nothing I can help you with, I have a lot to do.”

  Couldn’t say it much plainer than that, but he refused to take the hint.

  “Some of the humans are wondering if you’re a shifter.”

  *Ridiculous.* Syl licked her privates to show what she thought of that idea.

  I returned his challenging gaze with a calm one of my own. “They should know by now that I’m not.”

  “Well, the shifters know that, of course,” he said, “but that doesn’t stop the rumours from spreading.”

  I shrugged. “I can’t stop people believing what they want to believe.”

  “True.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Some people will believe anything. According to some people, those One Worlders have found a new weapon against shapers.”

  My heart began to beat a little faster. A smile still played around his lips, but those pale blue eyes watched me like a hawk, waiting to see my reaction. Now we were getting to his real reason for inviting me out to lunch. All his flirting was just a cover.

  I forced myself to smile back and pretend a nonchalance I didn’t feel. “Really? How’d they do that?”

  I had no love for One Worlders, though I shared their dislike of shapers. The movement had been around since the end of the Great War, but it had gained traction in the last few years. It seemed the more time passed since the war, the worse people’s memories got. As if, in this modern age of electricity and long-distance communication, people couldn’t quite believe that the shapers had really destroyed all those cities, burying them beneath mountains or drowning them in the sea. Killed all those people with a flick of their fingers. And hey, there were more humans all the time, and so few shapers, that if humanity tried again, they really ought to be able to win the whole world for themselves—especially now that we had modern weapons on our side. Bullets killed shapers as easily as they did regular humans.