Raised in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy Book 2)

by K. F. Breene

  Good job on only giving him blood, Reagan. Way to stay strong.

  I sighed within his warmth, realizing to my horror that I was perfectly content. My body fit just right, cuddled within his. It was a bad sign.

  I blinked a few times to clear my vision, but I was still tired as hell. The guy had kept me up until all hours of the day. We hadn’t done much resting, either, and I had sore junk to show for it.

  Speaking of sore junk.

  I shifted and winced, feeling the not-quite-comfortable ache in my lady bits. But wow, the guy had prowess. He should’ve, because of his age and situation, but still. Legendary. A little unbelievable, actually.

  So that wouldn’t be so easy to forget, unfortunately. Crap, I was an idiot.

  The phone clattered again. Someone was clearly trying to get hold of me. And being that I was supposed to be working, and not fornicating with overprotective elder vampires, I pushed his arm away and crawled out from under it. He groaned and shifted, snuggling deeper into the pillow.

  My smile at his humanlike antics turned brittle. My heart was fluttering. Actual, honest-to-goodness fluttering. This wasn’t good. A heart didn’t belong anywhere near this situation.

  I about-faced and made for the door between our suites. It was time to get myself back under control. Thankfully, logic had returned, and I knew without a doubt that I could never go down this road again. Darius would be good on blood until we got out of here, and then he could go back to using very pretty humans who fawned all over him, and maybe I could date a human who wouldn’t try to manipulate me. Or at least wouldn’t succeed at manipulating me if he did try.

  A pang of regret hit my heart. Damn it!

  Back in my room, I snatched up my phone, shivering now that I was separated from the warmth of his body. I didn’t recognize the number of the two missed calls. After slipping on a white, fluffy robe provided by this fine establishment, I listened to the new message.

  Tiredness fled.

  I shrugged out of the robe and hurried to don my leather.

  Ouch. I gingerly buttoned up my pants, not comfortable in such thick, unforgiving material. Sure, the material was worn in, and therefore softer, but loose sweats would probably be more my speed after my night with Darius.

  He really should’ve stopped after the second time. Or even the third. I would’ve been fine after the third.

  I tied my hair up, strapped on my weapons, and ran to the door. While jogging down the hall, I tapped the missed call and put the phone to my ear.

  “Detective Allen,” came the gruff answer.

  “It’s Reagan. I got your message. You found another body?”

  “Yeah. We’re at the site now. The MLE office can’t get here for another few hours.”

  “They aren’t going to be of much help to you. Hold on.” I stopped at the front desk and caught the eye of one of the women. “I’m with Darius. I need a car.”

  “Darius…? Do you have a last name—”

  “I’ll take care of that,” the other woman said, stepping closer to the first. She nodded at me. “I’ll have one brought right up. Do you also need a driver?”

  I hesitated for a moment. I’d sold my mom’s car so I could afford to move to the city, and I hadn’t driven since. And this was a new town. “That would be great,” I said. “I’ll be out front.”

  The woman nodded and moved away, leaving the other employee blinking at me in confusion. I didn’t stay to explain, but headed out the sliding glass door at the front of the lobby.

  “Sorry about that,” I said to Oscar as I took a seat on the bench to the right of the door. “I’m just arranging for a car. Like I said, the MLE office isn’t going to be much help. They’ve been warned away from the case.”

  “Warned away? By whom?”

  “It’s political magical stuff. Just know that they won’t be doing much. You still got me, though. I can handle it.”

  “Speaking of handling it, we’ve got an unsolved case from last night. A man got hit by a car. Another man tried to save him, but it was too late. That man, and a woman, fled from the scene of the crime. You know anything about that?”

  They thought the car had killed him? “Nope. Not a thing.”

  “The descriptions of the two who fled sound remarkably like you and Mr. Durant.”

  “That right? Huh. Well, there are an awful lot of blond girls dressed in leather who hang out with tall drinks of water. It’s trendy.”

  “The bitch of it is, the guy had a broken neck and bruising from what appears to be physical violence, but no bruising from getting hit by the car.”

  The Mercedes Darius had been driving pulled up in front of me. A building of a man with a stern face stepped out and came around to the rear passenger door. I waited for him to open it before sliding into the back seat.

  “This is fascinating, but I don’t know what you want from me,” I said as the door closed.

  “It was turned over to me because the witnesses swore the woman was levitating in the air,” Oscar said. “Being that all you magical people assume I have a problem with demon worshipers, I put two and two together. I don’t believe half of this shit, but at some point, you just have to roll with it.”

  “You are long past that point. Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about. If I did, however, I would tell you that if someone was at the scene of that crime, and if they had a hand in that whack-a-doo affair, they did you a huge favor. I would also tell you that more crap is coming your way. Whatever was going on might’ve amped up a notch. I don’t have all the info yet, but from what I saw, which had nothing to do with a cracked neck, we’re looking at a big-time demon. Much more powerful than I’d anticipated. More powerful than I am, probably.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means we are up shit creek, and we better hope my mage friends brought an outboard motor, because paddles won’t be enough.”

  The driver stopped behind two parked police cars with lights still flashing. People crowded on the street corner, holding coffees or just chatting with their heads close together. They kept shooting glances in the direction of the yellow police tape stretching across the sidewalk behind what looked like an Irish bar.

  “Should I wait for you, Miss Somerset?” the driver asked, not putting the car in park.

  “No. I can get a ride back to the hotel.”

  He hefted himself out of the car, probably planning to come around and open my door. I didn’t wait on ceremony, and hopped out.

  “Wait.” The driver held out a white card. “Call when you’re ready, and I’ll pick you up.”

  “Question: does your boss employ discreet people?” I asked in a low tone.

  Not one ounce of confusion or hesitation crossed his expression or bled into his bearing. “Absolutely.”

  His body language had been answer enough. He’d probably seen some crazy crap, working for a vampire. Although maybe not as crazy as he was likely to see with me.

  “Great.” I held up the card before slipping it into my pouch and saying thanks.

  The small crowd on the corner made plenty of room for me to get by, their eyes sticking to my sword, my gun, or—and this was a first—my pouch. No one questioned my weapons. They probably thought I had legit permission to have them on my person. Which, in this state, I did not.

  I found Oscar on the other side of the tape, a small leather book and pen in hand. The cop standing sentinel in front of the scene put his hand out.

  “Detective,” I said, motioning at Oscar so the cop knew I had a friend on the inside. His gaze took in my various weapons, and a scowl flowered on his face. “Detective Allen,” I said, louder.

  He looked up as the sentinel cop’s eyes narrowed. This cop clearly didn’t like it when riffraff tried to invade his crime scene. I’d seen that look a time or two in my past.

  “Yes. Reagan, great. Let her through.”

  The cop lowered his hand and shifted, but didn’t move completely out of the way.
>
  I stepped around him and ducked under the tape, meek as a mouse. After last night’s disaster at the mage’s house, I didn’t need to make waves with the folks in authority.

  “Come this way.” Oscar motioned me on, taking me deeper into the alleyway where a metal trash bin waited to the side. Flags and hasty chalk circles on the rough and cracked cement marked evidence. A man worked from one end to the other with a camera, the flash illuminating the area in bursts.

  I felt the pulse of magic and the hint of residual magic. There was a spell in the area. A strong spell. “Tell everyone to freeze.”

  “Freeze? Why—”

  “Now,” I said, slowly working my way around the evidence being catalogued—droplets of blood, a button, and a shoe. Next to the bin, the broken and twisted body lay in a heap. Beside it was the pile of skin. “Good Lord, this is gross.”

  I hunched down next to it and put my hands above the body, feeling that weak thrum of residual magic. Wiggling my fingers in the pulse, I could but guess the spells used. “It’s probably like we said the other day. They froze him when alive, then used the other spell to collect the energy while they were working on him.”

  “Spell?” the cameraman asked. A woman with a baggie and a long cotton swab looked up from one of the blood spills.

  “You should get them out of here for this,” I told Oscar. “I’m pretty sure you know why.”

  “You just said to freeze…”

  Someone finally does what I say, and I go and ruin it.

  “Walk them out the way I just came in,” I said, analyzing the visible cut marks. “They hacked more than cut. They wanted to get more pain out of this one. He’s a big dude, too. They were trying to find more power. Does that mean they were trying for a higher-powered demon? Or maybe they were trying to push their summons and what they ended up with was an accident?”

  “Even if you had those answers, I don’t know how I could use that information,” Oscar said, working his way back toward me.

  I held out my hand. “Just chill there for a second. There is something nasty lurking around here.” I glanced at the wall behind me, the back part of the bar. I knew the spell was in that direction, but parts of it seemed to spider-web out to either side, and I had no idea how far the tendrils went. It would be easier—and safer—if the humans just steered clear.

  “You can’t use that information. I’m trying to get a complete picture so I can.” I looked into the metal bin. Normal trash. “Why didn’t they dump it into the bin like last time?”

  “We don’t know. They also left a lot of evidence. Unlike last time.”

  Frowning, I checked out some of that evidence. That spider-web spell wasn’t going anywhere.

  “This is a woman’s tennis shoe.” I hunched down next to it. “It’s not from the victim, and I doubt the murderer left it behind. No blood.” The button was random. Something from a trench coat or large jacket. “Are you sure these are even part of the crime?”

  “No. How could we know until we check them out? But the blood must be. It’s fresh.”

  “The victim’s clothes?”

  “We haven’t found them.”

  “They would’ve completely disrobed him before starting.” I hunched down next to some of the blood. “They probably put it in a trash bin near wherever they did this.”

  “That would be unbelievably stupid of them. Eventually someone will notice if they keep dumping clothes into the trash bin.”

  “Number one, these people are murderers, but not in the normal sense. They are killing people as sacrifices, not for the joy or rage of killing. So they would be less likely to think about the stupidity of putting a victim’s clothing into the trash bin. Number two, who is going to bat an eye at some ratty, old, torn clothes being thrown away every few weeks? They wouldn’t have blood on them, so they’d just look like trash.”

  “If we can home in on a location, I’m sure we could collect enough evidence to crack this sucker.”

  “I’m working on that, don’t you worry. Their number is already down by one.”

  His expression hardened, but he didn’t say anything. I doubted his MLE office had any peacekeepers quite like me, and I doubted the captain of said MLE office had as much experience covering up the accidental deaths of bad people as my captain did.

  Welcome to the crash course, buddy. It’s going to be a bumpy ride before all this ends.

  I pointed at the next bit of blood. “This was staged, as was the last. It wasn’t dripped or splattered—it was poured.”

  “That’s what it looks like, yes.” He tilted his head at me. “Since when do you guys know about blood spatter?”

  “Think of New Orleans as the magical Wild West, detective. We’re hard-core.”

  “It would seem.”

  I put my hands to my thighs and took it all in before straightening up and turning toward the spell. “Now for the crappy part. Run and get me that chalk, would you? The one you used to mark that evidence.”

  “Why?”

  “Why ask why?” I walked toward the throbbing spell slowly, feeling that strange coldness expand within me like ink in water. Something about the magic used here called to my other type of power—the one I’d barely glimpsed so far. Just like it had when that mage used the demon’s gift of magic on me.

  Clearly this was part of my heritage in some way.

  I thought back to all the things my mother had said about my father. The things she’d noticed, and the things he’d explained to her, however briefly. He had often used his fire to toy with my mother. They’d make a game of it—my mother would try to hex him, and my father would cut right through it, dissolving her attempt. That was how she had come to know enough about his powers to somewhat teach me.

  “You okay?” I heard behind me. “Need a light?”

  The blue sky still shone above me, but the shadows had lengthened, dousing the alleyway. The deep red of the wall had almost bled away into black as the light retreated.

  “No, I’m good.” I put my hands on my hips and shook my head. “Just give me a minute?”

  “Yeah. Can I let the others back in? We need to finish processing the scene.”

  “Keep them well away from here, and if I say run, make sure they do. And fast. Drop everything and run.”

  “Why? What are you—”

  I held up my hand, getting frustrated. I really did hate working with other people. It slowed me down. “Just trust me.”

  “I hate my job,” he mumbled, moving away. I knew how he felt.

  That cold block of power sat in my stomach, squashing the power I understood. I needed to figure this out, and now, before I faced off with the demon.

  I ran over the list of passed-down powers that seemed to have skipped me. My father had been able to pluck secrets out of my mother’s head, but she’d worked out a spell to keep her thoughts to herself. That had tickled him. I was stronger and faster than normal humans, like him, and I could sense magic, also like him, but he could smell where someone had been previously. I couldn’t do that. At all. Then there was the whole “moving things with the mind” thing. I didn’t remember my mother ever mentioning my dad doing that, but I bet he could.

  My father had levitated often, sometimes carrying my mom in his arms as he drifted through the air. She’d loved doing that, and apparently, he’d done almost anything to make her smile. But he’d never divulged the difference in the various powers he used. Or maybe she just hadn’t thought to ask.

  Whatever the reason, I could do almost half of what my dad could do, and this demon represented the half I didn’t have much access to. I was at a severe disadvantage, since the cold magic it called forth banked the power I could control, leaving me defenseless.

  I shook my head. My bad luck, as always.

  Pulling in a deep breath, I took out my sword, filled with my fire magic. Now struggling, I focused on my fire magic, fighting to bring it to the surface. I gasped as I felt the two powers swirl around each othe
r, coexisting but not blending. I had no idea if that was right or wrong.

  “Here we go,” I said, ignoring one of the cops when she asked why I was getting ready to stab the wall with a sword.

  Edging closer, I felt that throb, beating in time to the cold power within me. The spell was amplified by the demon’s magic, dull yet vicious. I closed my eyes, focusing on the currents as they teased my senses. Getting a feel for what the spell was supposed to do. Another moment, and the intricacies of the spell revealed themselves to me.

  It wasn’t what I’d expected.

  The spell would explode in a rush of frost. Usually it would be a blast of heat, but the demon’s power had turned it wintry. So a smack of cold to the face that would result in temporary frostbite for exposed human skin.

  They had dumped the body in clear view, ensuring it would be found immediately, decorated the crime scene with plenty of “evidence” for the police to fret over, and left a useless spell just out of the way so it wouldn’t easily be disturbed, but would be noticed by the magical person who had been sent to analyze the crime scene.

  “Shiznit,” I said, backing away as a pattern emerged. I turned slowly toward the mouth of the alley where that cop still stood sentinel. “They’re trying to keep me here.”

  “What?” Oscar asked, walking closer.

  I put a hand out to keep him away. “They lured me here with the intent of keeping me busy.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because I’m the one working the case and trying to find them.” I took a few quick steps back down the alley and sliced through the spell. The magic opened up in a void, a maw of cold, potent power that raised my small hairs. It attached itself to me, like little suction cups spreading across my skin.

  Fear shot through me. I hadn’t expected that little number hiding within the spell. Or maybe this was the normal effect of the demon’s magic. Whatever it was, it was not good.

  My heart sped up and a sheen of fire rolled over my skin, weak because of the other power but thankfully still effective. Bye-bye, magical suction cups.