Table of Contents
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
RENEGADE MAGIC
(LEGACY SERIES BOOK 3)
MCKENZIE HUNTER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
McKenzie Hunter
Renegade Magic
© 2017, McKenzie Hunter
[email protected]
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
Cover Artist: Orina Kafe Artworks
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ISBN: 978-1-946457-97-4
Contents
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
MESSAGE TO THE READER
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
BOOKS BY MCKENZIE
CHAPTER 1
Avery glanced up at me several times, the last for a few seconds longer and with a flick of irritation that I would dare to ask him to work at a job he believed was a punishment and his uncle considered repayment for damaging his car. Although there was just a vague physical family resemblance between nephew and uncle, they were practically twins in their characteristic obstinacy. Uncle Gareth had perfected his over decades, and his position as head of the Supernatural Guild only reinforced it. Avery had spent only eighteen years on his.
“Is your uncle in his office?” I blew out a sigh of exasperation as he returned to his phone, sending a text.
“I don’t know.”
I looked for Beth, who usually worked the reception desk of the SG. The kind fae knew her job and did it well.
“Isn’t it your job to know where he is?” I asked, frowning.
He placed his phone on the desk, leaned forward, and gave me the sad puppy-dog eyes that Gareth accused him of using on his mother to get away with virtually everything. While they were widened into his impression of a male Blythe doll, I momentarily found myself looking past his mussed man bun and his overly casual dress of t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops that I became aware of when he propped them on the desk.
“I’m indentured. I can’t do anything, and I go to school in a couple of weeks.”
“Aw. I would feel really sorry for you if you were actually doing your job and the big, mean lion was being unreasonable. Have you ever thought about actually doing the job really well and seeing if he’d let you off easy for good behavior?”
He made a face as he considered my suggestion but gave it just a few seconds of his time. “Doesn’t seem to have worked for you.” Then he gave me another sly smile. Even if it had worked for me, I suspected he would have ignored my suggestion. Avery and Gareth seemed to be embroiled in a subtle battle of dominance and stubbornness. Based on what I’d seen of Gareth, I was going to put my money on him. Avery wasn’t his uncle’s equal, and with all his years of dealing with him, he should have figured that out. He picked up the desk phone, dialed a number, and listened for a while. “He’s not in his office. He was in one of his moods this morning. When he’s like that, he’s usually trotting about the city in his animal form or taking it out on anyone stupid enough to spar with him. People around here are pretty smart now.” He shrugged. “I’d check the gym.” He reached into a drawer, pulled out a visitor’s badge, scanned it, and then handed it to me. He wasn’t incompetent, he just wanted everyone to think he was.
“Where’s the gym?”
“The bottom floor.”
Avery was right: I heard the aggressive grunts and followed the sounds and ended in a large gym. Gareth, shirtless with a pair of sweats, laid into the heavy bag. With each movement, his muscles contracted and sweat ran down the peaks and valleys of his back, chest, and abdominal muscles. I averted my eyes. We’d had several moments that hadn’t gone very far. Once, I’d stopped it and had lived to regret it. The last time, we’d been interrupted with news that Trackers had taken the Legacy that the SG had captured with my help. Now I couldn’t get in touch with Gareth. Two days calling and texting had gone unanswered. I’m not sure why it bothered me, as it was his MO. I took a step closer to the massive gym, which didn’t look any different than the typical gym except for the thicker, more solid equipment. Probably necessary when dealing with shapeshifters, who were stronger and faster than most.
“Hello Levy,” he said, his back still to me, before he hit the bag again. Then he turned.
Oh yes, the infamous enhanced sense of smell.
I kept my eyes fixed on his as he advanced toward me. His smooth, graceful movements were constant reminders that I was dealing with an apex predator. The shifter ring that pulsed around his eyes was several shades darker than their crystalline blue. The ever-present smirk on his lips indicated he could tell the effort I was putting into looking at his eyes and there only. This was a business meeting.
He beckoned me to follow him. He led me past the locker rooms to another elevator, different than the one I’d used earlier. He swiped a keycard, and the elevator opened.
“You have your own elevator?” I asked derisively. Had they met this guy? He didn’t need an ego boost, and giving someone their own private elevator was definitely a way to inflate one.
“You’re Batman,” I teased as the door closed and we started to ascend. Towel in hand, he wiped his chest and arms and then ran it over his head. Once again, I directed my eyes to anything other than the half-naked man in front of me.
He made a face. It was obvious he wasn’t a comic book fan: each time I’d made a reference I’d gotten the same tilt of his head and a quizzical look.
The elevator opened to a small room behind his desk. Each time I visited his office I was surprised by its massive size and the floor to ceiling windows that gave a beautiful view outside. There was a small kitchenette in the corner, and he had a shower. His office was basically a small apartment.
“This is a business visit. I’m not going to take a shower with you!”
He stopped midstep and turned to face me. Looking faintly amused, he regarded me for several moments. “We can talk while I’m in the shower. The shower and dressing area are separated. I didn’t invite you to take a shower with me, but it seems like you would like me to.” He strode toward the shower, the haughty little kink in his lip that I’d become far too familiar with firmly in place. I cu
rsed the warmth that inched up my face.
Do I follow him in? There were so many inappropriate things about this situation, I had no idea where to start with the list.
After a few minutes of hesitation, I followed him. As soon as we were over the threshold of the bathroom, he slipped off his sweatpants. I turned my head.
“Surely you’ve seen a naked man before?”
“Of course, and it’s because of shapeshifters—driving past Forest Park, I’ve seen enough naked man and woman parts to last a lifetime. I understand nudity doesn’t really bother you all, but there is a social contract. A person should at least get a name before they start showing their goods or at least charge people for the look-see.”
“Who made that rule?” he asked, stepping through the door that separated the shower area from the dressing room. The wide-open door didn’t offer a lot of privacy so I kept my eyes averted to the khaki-colored walls of the dressing area.
I turned when I heard the water running and shower door closing.
“Society,” I offered, rolling my eyes.
“Well, if it’s any consolation to you, if I hadn’t received that call the other day, I had planned on seeing you naked. Every inch of you,” he pointed out in a low purr.
He wasn’t wrong; I had every intention of that as well, but I didn’t want to think about our lascivious intentions. There were more important issues we needed to discuss. “What are you going to do about the Trackers and the Legacy?”
For a long moment, all I heard was the sound of water splashing. I waited longer. Even over the water, his enhanced hearing would have allowed him to hear me.
After several long beats of silence, he finally said, “Nothing.”
“What?” I nearly opened the glass shower door. I needed to see his face as he told me that the Supernatural Guild was going to allow seven Legacy and Conner to die at the hands of Trackers. Anger simmered inside of me and I was unable to tamp it down. The steamy fog filling the room didn’t help and only made things seem claustrophobic and stifled. I didn’t have any sympathy for Conner—there wasn’t any redemption for him, certainly not from me. Nor for Evelyn, who had become his most devoted acolyte. They were a threat and I could see how the others were as well. Perhaps I was being naïve, but they’d been persuaded by the promise of something other than a life of hiding in the shadows waiting for Trackers to pick them off the moment their existence became known. I didn’t agree with their alliance with Conner or how easily they’d been seduced by his idea, but I understood how it had happened. I felt sure they could be dissuaded; maybe not as easily as they’d been convinced, but at least it was possible that they could switch sides. For a brief moment I considered how I would have responded if Conner had approached me after my parents were killed. Blocking out the image of their lifeless bodies lying on the floor when I’d returned from school one day was hard. I blinked back the tears that were threatening to stream down my face.
I averted my eyes when Gareth stepped out, otherwise I would have gotten a full frontal view. He made an annoyed sound and said, “I’m covered now; you maintain your virtue,” with a huff of sarcasm.
He was standing just a few inches from me, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my eyes from drifting down to look at the towel. Knowing he was probably going to drop it, I brought my eyes to his face. Although I was done pretending I wasn’t attracted to him—I was—now wasn’t the time to make that stand. Whether or not he was deliberately trying to distract me with his appealing body, I didn’t want to be distracted. This was important, and I wasn’t going to let my libido get in the way.
“You’re going to let the Trackers murder them and do nothing about it?” Ire hardened my words and intensified the glare that I’d fixed on him.
He remained silent, the only sound the gentle ruffling and movements of him getting dressed. However, he held my gaze as he slid on dark blue slacks and a light blue button-down shirt. It wasn’t until he started to button his shirt that he spoke. “It wasn’t a decision I came by lightly—but it’s a good one,” he finally said in a flat tone, which just fueled my irritation.
“And you are okay with their murders?” I managed to keep my voice down but the words were hissed out through gritted teeth. Clothed, he looked so official, and the look of quiet resolve that he gave me made this seem more like a professional meeting in which he was giving me intel. It didn’t matter if I liked it, that was his decision, and he was just informing me of it.
“This isn’t right.”
“What’s not right is for us to use resources for a massive hunt to get back people no one believes exist. This is a good decision—my final decision.”
The rage was more than a little flicker of discomfort; it was a fiery uncontrolled blaze and I was having a difficult time trying to contain it.
“Is that your decision or Harrah’s? Protecting the humans and controlling the narrative at all costs seems like a play out of her handbook.”
As the head of the Magic Council, Harrah was instrumental in maintaining the alliance between the humans and the supernaturals. Fully trusting her was difficult because she’d do anything to keep up the appearance that supernaturals were harmless. Anyone who was capable of the sleight of hand that she’d used to maintain that illusion, all while keeping a plaintive genteel smile, couldn’t be trusted. I suspected behind her seraphic appearance was someone whose personality and agenda were anything but. She’d ordered the Supernatural Guild to murder someone so the world wouldn’t find out about his betrayal in assisting Conner to perform another Cleanse after acquiring a Necro-spear.
“It was her suggestion, but I made the decision to do it.”
At least he was being honest with me about who’d come up with such a cruel idea. My eyes narrowed on him. I was a cynic by nature—my past had made me that way— and I wondered how close he still was to the Trackers. He’d been one once, but he’d said that their “kill on sight no matter what” policy wasn’t something he could abide by. Was that same dislike of my kind so deeply instilled in him that agreeing to such a callous and cold decision had been easy?
“How did they find out?” I asked.
The same incensed look of betrayal that had been mine claimed his appearance as my question lingered in the air.
“I’m still looking into that and when I find out—” He bit down on his lips, and the shifter ring that flashed in his eyes was a less than subtle reminder that behind the nice, professional clothing a predator still lurked in him.
“The idea of you having a leak in the SG is a problem but—”
“Levy, I urge you not to make this personal. This isn’t an affront against you. I will keep you safe—”
“I’ve managed to stay safe this long without you, I’m sure I’ll be fine. For all I know you might have a bad day and lead them to my door.”
I turned and headed out of the dressing room. My frustration over the situation was making me unnecessarily volatile. I tried hard to master it, but I couldn’t get over how cavalier they were about the murders of Legacy and Vertu, our stronger counterparts. Everyone was just so flippant over the loss of our lives and it was hard to ignore the feeling of betrayal because of it. I’d come out to the world as a Legacy myself and hoped that the Supernatural Guild would work on the redemption of the others who were in SG custody. I’d envisioned a mutual display of goodwill that would lead to us being part of the fabric of society instead of being forever feared and hunted as the people who’d done the Cleanse. The stories of it would be just part of our history and regarded as such. Never to be repeated, but to remain a mutual cautionary tale for humans, supernaturals, and Legacy.
Ignoring Gareth calling my name, I headed for the elevator, and by the time it opened to the main floor I’d devised a plan. It wasn’t much of one. I was going to go find the Trackers who’d taken the Legacy. I didn’t have the element of surprise because they knew who I was. That left me at a disadvantage, but I didn’t care. As I move
d down the hallway, my thoughts were consumed by violent retaliation and the many ways I planned to exact it. I had no intention of implanting false memories in their heads when I was finished. I wanted them to remember and possibly have nightmares for days to come after my visit.
As I made my way to the door, I was met by four people who blocked my exit. Two very powerful mages—I could feel the waves of magic that wafted off of them—and two shapeshifters. One of the latter definitely had to be a bear. Arms the size of tree trunks rested at his side, and his broad body was going to be hell to get past. Even if I managed to duck around him, I wouldn’t stand a real chance against the other shifter, who was lean, sinewy, and undoubtedly fast.
“Ms. Michaels.” The mage spoke, approaching me slowly, sparks of gold and turquoise twining around his fingers. A congenial smile rested on his face, but his eyes were hard, deadly—dangerous. Out of habit my hands slipped to my back where I usually kept the twins, my sai, but I’d left them in the car.
He said my name again, lower—a warning as magic twirled around my fingers, accumulating and forming a small ball in my hands. He watched me carefully and so did the other three. Do I want to do this? I did, even if it was a show of force, a demonstration that they didn’t want to screw with me—a Legacy. But that was the problem. No one wanted to deal with us, which was why it was okay for some rogue group to take incarcerated Legacy and kill them.
“Mr. Reynolds has instructed us not to let you leave the building.”
“Really? I had no idea! That’s what the fanfare was all about,” I said sarcastically.
“Come with us,” requested the bear-shifter as he positioned himself in front of me. The other shifter flanked me on one side and one of the mages on the other. The first mage moved to secure me from behind.
Renegade Magic (Legacy Series Book 3) Page 1