by Jayne Faith
Table of Contents
Stone Cold Magic
Copyright
Books by Jayne Faith
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Acknowledgments
Stone Cold Magic
ELLA GREY BOOK ONE
JAYNE FAITH
Copyright
Stone Cold Magic
Copyright © 2016 by Jayne Faith
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to a real person, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the authors.
Stone cold magic / a novel by Jayne Faith
Ebook Edition ISBN: 978-0-9970260-5-4
Edited by: Mary Novak
Proofread by: Tia Silverthorne Bach of Indie Books Gone Wild
Cover by: Deranged Doctor Designs
Published in the United States of America
Books by Jayne Faith
Sapient Salvation Series
The Selection
The Awakening
The Divining
The Claiming
Ella Grey Series
Stone Cold Magic
Dark Harvest Magic
Love Across Stars Novels
The Seas of Time
The Laws of Attraction
Dedication
For every unknown artist or creative following a dream.
Chapter 1
IT WAS A pleasant summer night, but I walked with my fists stuffed deep in the pockets of my lightweight jacket and my head bent as if leaning into a stiff, chilly wind. I paused at the end of 12th Street where the mid-century bungalow houses stopped and the little shops began. Murky shapes feathered the edges of my peripheral vision, moving in a slow, curling dance like wisps of campfire smoke. There were moments, even long stretches, when the phantom shapes faded into the background of my awareness. But every time I noticed them anew, my insides chilled and gave a little lurch.
I tried to convince myself that the shadows framing my sight were meaningless. More than once, I’d sternly told myself they were just misfires of my optic nerves, artifacts of having been clinically dead for eighteen minutes. My brain had been deprived of oxygen, and there were bound to be some lingering effects. Hell, what were a few blurry dark shapes when I could have suffered serious brain damage—or not come back at all? But none of my internal cajoling had worked particularly well. Ever since I’d opened my eyes on a gurney with a sheet pulled up over my head, the shadows had been there. And as much as I wished it were otherwise, I couldn’t help feeling that the smoky shapes were alive. They lurked, an ever-present reminder that sure, I may have cheated death. But I’d brought something back with me.
It was odd, knowing I’d been dead, queued up for the morgue, and yet somehow escaped the cold clutch of the grave to walk away from the hospital and return to my little apartment and the usual rhythms of life. I was like one of those drowning victims you sometimes hear about on the news, a still body with no pulse pulled from icy water and then miraculously revived. I knew I was lucky. I was beyond fortunate to be alive. Except something wasn’t right.
I shivered and tucked my chin to my chest. Nope, not right at all.
With the dancing shadows framing my sight came horrific nightmares, jerky, unfocused visions of death that plagued my dreams when I slept and my thoughts when I woke. In the two weeks since the accident that had temporarily killed me, I’d become so sleep deprived—and, frankly, creeped out by the dreams—I’d finally decided I had to do something. I’d waited to see if my head would clear, hoping that during my forced medical leave I’d get back to normal. But it hadn’t happened, and I couldn’t wait any longer. Tomorrow was my first day back at my job as a Demon Patrol officer, and I needed to be fresh and clear-headed.
That was what brought me to where I stood—the hope of finding relief. The particular segment of 12th Street before me was known locally as Crystal Ball Lane. It was lined with small shops offering magical cures, a place normals came furtively seeking love potions, healing charms, and money spells. Ordinarily, most normals shunned the use of such things. They believed magic was responsible for tearing the world open twenty-nine years ago and letting in the hellish chaos of demons, the vampire virus, and the zombie virus. And, well, I couldn’t blame normals for their prejudice because they weren’t entirely wrong.
Those with magical ability like me—witches, or crafters as I preferred to call us—tended to see stores such as the ones on Crystal Ball Lane with disdain. They were the equivalent of magical tourist traps for the desperate and beneath the notice of crafters. But I needed something to eradicate the nightmares, to expel whatever grave-thing was clinging to me, and I didn’t have enough magic ability to stir up a spell or a charm to help myself.
I pulled out my phone and pressed one of the side buttons, and it awoke with a cool white glow. It had vibrated against my hand three times since I’d left my parked truck a few blocks away, and each time the guilty little knot in my stomach tightened a touch more.
The device buzzed again as I held it, and a new text from Deb flashed.
Ella!! I’m an empath. You can’t trick me. Spill it, lady. What’s wrong?
There were two little frowny faces at the end.
I ruefully shoved the phone back in my pocket.
It was almost uncanny how Deb’s texts had started coming through as soon as I’d hopped in my truck to seek help on Crystal Ball Lane. I’d talked to her earlier—she’d called to see how I was feeling about heading back to work—and of course Deb being Deb she’d picked up on the fact that I was having trouble with something. I didn’t possess her intuition or empathic talent, but I could tell she had her own worries. It wasn’t any magical sixth sense on my part, just an instinct borne of many years of friendship. Her voice took on a particular tightness when she was having trouble with her husband Keith, and I’d be damned if I was going to add to her burden. So I’d insisted that I was fine, knowing she didn’t fully believe me.
I entered the first block of the shops, eyeing the neon signs that advertised Tarot readings, herbal remedies, healing crystals, and all manner of magical cures and spells. The store I was looking for, Nature’s Light, was a few blocks down. I’d checked out the website and saw the owner offered a variety of services, aura cleansing among them. I’d tried the phone number but never got an answer. Most of the businesses on the Lane kept late hours, and I hoped Nature’s Light would be no different.
My phone vibrated again. I felt bad about ignoring Deb, but she didn’t know the full extent of my problems, and I was hoping to eliminate them so that I could avoid telling her altogether.
She knew I’d been off since my accident. When she pressed me, I ma
de a vague mention of insomnia. But I left out the smoky forms around the edges of my vision, the weird throbbing in my forehead. I hadn’t mentioned the dreams, either, and it was partly due to my difficulty trying to describe them, even to myself, because I couldn’t shake the sense that they weren’t mine. They were like films shot by a camera that was held by an unknown hand, images that seemed to come through the eyes of someone—or something—else. The other, as I’d begun to call it. And they weren’t just visual—they were often laden with a heavy smell, a stomach-turning mix of wet leather, sulfur, and the metallic tang of blood.
Deb had given me the name of a hedge witch and made me promise I’d make an appointment. I suspected I needed a remedy stronger than a hedge witch’s herbs, but Deb’s suggestion had prompted the idea to look up other types of services. I wasn’t convinced an aura cleansing would do the trick, either, but I had to start somewhere.
The soft sound of movement to my left brought my low-top leather boots to a scuffing halt. I sucked in a breath, and my heart thumped hard at the side of my throat. With a familiar, automatic motion, my hand instantly shifted from my pocket to my service stun gun at my hip. Some part of my mind knew that this was mostly likely perfectly normal street noise, but since my accident I’d gotten jumpy, startling so easily it was sometimes embarrassing.
As my pulse quickened, I squinted into the deeper darkness between two buildings. The center of my forehead thumped faintly, another odd post-mortem symptom that had been plaguing me on and off.
Something dark and bulky moved.
I flipped the strap on the holster with my thumb so I could draw out the gun if I needed it, and as an afterthought, I sent my senses through the bottoms of my feet and into the ground to pull up a thread of earth magic. Honestly, I probably shouldn’t have even bothered. My weak-ass abilities barely even registered on the Magic Aptitude Scale and certainly didn’t give me much in the way of protection. Crystal Ball Lane was situated along a stretch of ley line, an underground vein where magic concentrated and flowed, that enhanced my abilities by a smidgeon, but not enough to properly shield myself against attack.
Movement again.
Just as I was on the verge of calling out and demanding that the lurker show himself, a large dog crept partway into the weak pallor cast by an orange neon sign across the street. We watched each other for a beat or two. The dog’s tail waved back and forth, and he panted, his mouth stretching into a doggy smile. His eyes glowed like embers, reflecting the light of the signs nearby.
Assured that he wasn’t going to attack me, I released the magic thread. My hand relaxed on the gun.
I nodded at the dog. “Careful of the cars, big guy. Drivers can’t see you too well in the dark,” I said, as if he’d understand.
Voices ahead sent him scuttling back away from the street and my attention whipping toward the new noise. Damn, but I was jittery these days. I shook out my hands, as if trying to fling away some of my tension, and peered ahead.
A group of boys, jostling each other and laughing, had spilled out onto the sidewalk. By their heights and builds, I guessed they were around fourteen. I grimaced. A pack of kids out this late, and right around the age when their magical aptitude, if they possessed any, would be emerging? I’d bet my paycheck they were up to no good.
The jeering voice of the biggest one confirmed my suspicion and quickened my pace toward them.
The boys had circled around, trapping one of their own. The thin, small one in the middle had the hood of his sweatshirt up and was getting shoved around like a pinball.
My hand back on my stun gun, I sped up to a jog. “Hey . . . hey!”
I got closer and saw the kid they were picking on was actually a girl. Anger spiked through my chest and I yelled again, but the ring of boys was too caught up in its bullying to hear me.
When I reached the mob, I grabbed the shoulder of the nearest kid, pulling him back and breaking the circle. The boys finally looked up.
I pulled out my gun and waved it around for effect. “Go pick on someone your own size, you little apes.” I drew myself up to my full five-foot-ten-plus-boot-heel and glowered down at them.
The big boy, the tallest by a few inches, shoved his hand across his snub nose and gave me a derisive once-over. He glanced at my weapon but didn’t even blink. “We don’t have to do what you say.”
Strong currents of green earth magic swirled around his hands as he curled them into fists. The kid had a decent level of magical aptitude, but he appeared to enjoy using it for the purposes of bullying and intimidation. Great. In a depressing flash, I could practically see his future—Supernatural Crimes would eventually haul him in for gross misuse of magic, or maybe something worse, and he’d either spend time in prison or get stripped of his ability. Maybe both. One side of his upper lip lifted in a sneer that was so exaggerated I might have laughed if I wasn’t so ticked off. I stared at him for a split second, surprised by how brazenly he stood his ground. Then I reached to my belt and pulled off my badge. A faint tingle of magic stirred against my palm as I tilted the charmed object so my credentials illuminated on the sidewalk:
Demon Patrol Officer
City of Boise, Idaho
Gabriella Grey
Badge #889475
One of his little henchmen sucked in a breath. “Oh shit, she’s a cop.”
Snub Nose snorted out a scoff. “Ooo, Gabriella Grey, demon police,” he mocked in a falsetto, further raising my ire. He turned to the other kid. “She ain’t real police. We ain’t breaking the law anyway, don’t be such a puss.”
I pulled out my phone. “You’re out after curfew, and that’s automatic jail time. I’m going to need the names and numbers of your parents. I’ll let them know where they can visit you in prison.” There was a curfew law, but the other part was my own little enhancement for the purposes of getting them to scatter.
One kid shuffled back a few steps and then turned and hightailed it down the sidewalk, his arms pumping hard. Others followed. After a few seconds only Snub Nose, his victim, and I were left.
He lunged at me, and I automatically jumped back, but not far enough to elude the wad of spit he hocked. It landed with a splat on the toe of my right boot.
“Little twerp,” I muttered, trying to shake the saliva off my shoe. Instead of flying off as I’d hoped, it just dribbled off the side.
With a final sneer, the ringleader jogged backward a few steps and then chased after his crew. I watched him go and allowed myself a moment of satisfaction. As I followed his progress, I caught sight of the Nature’s Light sign, illuminated by tubes of blue neon, half a block away and across the street. A card in the glass door displayed the word OPEN.
I faced the girl, leaning in with concern. “You okay?” I asked, clipping my badge back on my belt. “You shouldn’t be out alone at night.”
She was dressed in a too-big pullover sweatshirt and the hood had fallen back, exposing wispy pale blond hair escaping from the sides of her sagging ponytail. Shaking her head once, she stepped forward, and it didn’t take an empath to feel the desperation that seemed to shroud her. It gathered like two rain puddles in her soulful eyes. She took another hesitant step and then reached out as if to grasp my forearm but stopped short of touching me.
“My brother,” she said, her voice already watery as tears began to pool in her eyes, causing my chest to catch in reaction. “He’s in trouble, and I don’t know what to do. That’s why I came out here. Please, Officer Grey, you have to help me.”
I glanced down the block just in time to see the blue neon Nature’s Light sign extinguish. There was movement at the door, and a hand reached out and flipped the OPEN sign over.
Sorry! We’re CLOSED
A colorful string of curses streamed through my mind. For a second I thought about making a run for it, banging on the door before the proprietor left and offering to pay extra for an after-hours aura cleansing. Then I looked back at the girl and my heart clenched. If she’d said anyth
ing else, I probably could have resisted, told her I’d help after I’d finished my own errand. But the despair in the way she’d said “my brother” was piercingly familiar and impossible for me to brush off.
Resigned, I felt my shoulders drop. So much for my hopes of getting back to normal before I had to return to work. My aura would have to remain unclean for at least another day.
I gave her a small smile of encouragement. “Where’s your brother?”
“Upstairs.” She pointed to a metal staircase in the alley.
I nodded at her to go ahead and stifled a sigh. I’d missed my chance, and I’d just have to hope the other allowed me a decent night’s sleep. I didn’t relish the thought of finally returning to work only to drag my exhausted ass through the day.
As I went after her, I glanced back in time to see the big dog poke his head around the corner of the building to watch us. But in the next blink, he was gone.
The throbbing in my forehead intensified. It was like a finger tapping against my frontal lobe, a bass drum rhythm that never quite synced up with my own pulse, another new sensation since my accident, and it swelled and receded like a tide throughout the day. Wincing, I pushed the heel of one hand against the side of my head.
“Nathan’s out on our balcony,” the girl said. She was holding the exterior door open, waiting for me. She beckoned with an urgent movement of her fingers. “Please, hurry.”
Chapter 2
EVEN WITH MY paltry magical aptitude, I sensed the girl was just coming into her own abilities. Not only was she strong, she also had a specialty—at least one. Curious, I mentally reached for earth energy, trying to build up enough magic in my body to help me read her specific talent, but I wasn’t able to pinpoint it. I guessed she was probably fourteen, maybe fifteen, but by her small stature could pass for younger. She and I were both children of a post-Rip world where magic was no longer a secret. Magic had been around forever but had never been openly revealed by the magic community until the Rip, the catastrophic tear between dimensions that had brought hellish winged creatures into our world. It had also catalyzed the emergence of the VAMP2 and NECR2 viruses, infecting normals and turning them into blood-thirsty vampires and brain-hungry zombies. The original Rip had first opened in Manhattan in 2001, around thirty years ago. The zombie problem had been contained before I was born. Vamps weren’t a huge threat anymore either, after Gregori Industries developed an implant that made them docile—taking away their bloodlust and their ability to glamor, as well as allowing them to walk safely in sunlight. That had all happened before I was born, too. These days, demons were the most imminent danger from the Rip.