Renegade Magic (Legacy Series Book 3)

by McKenzie Hunter

  “Things are getting bad, aren’t they?” she said softly.

  “It’ll be fine,” I offered, putting more confidence in my words than I felt. But she didn’t start with questions about what had happened the day before. Instead, she poured us both a cup of coffee and pulled out a box of donuts. If it were any other day, I probably would have had a nice little quip about it, especially when she bit into one and didn’t have a look as though she had committed the most wrongful act and sin imaginable.

  “Lucas won’t let me come to Devour anymore.”

  Savannah must have agreed, because she wasn’t big on anyone letting her do anything and didn’t have any problem telling whomever it was what they could do with their “let.” She continued, “He said it’s not safe. Fear is making people impulsive and violent. Someone came to his club last night and the night before and attempted to attack vampires. I don’t know if it was hate that made people stupid, but it didn’t necessarily make them smart. You go to the oldest vampire bar to start trouble?” She made a face, and I didn’t blame her. It wasn’t easy to kill a vampire, and it was hell of a lot harder doing so when they had the home advantage. Without prying eyes, they were able to use their magic to compel. It definitely wasn’t a wise decision.

  “Do you think that had anything to do with the terrible triplets?” she asked.

  “It’s not the Maxwells, the SG has them.” I really hoped they had them separated from each other so there wasn’t any chance of all three of them escaping or being broken out again. Without the power of three they were harmless.

  She sighed and grabbed another donut, and that was worse than knowing that assassins were after us. Someone might as well have told me there was about to be an apocalypse and we were going to be forced into a dystopian world. Her second donut was my apocalypse.

  “Things are going to be fine, Savannah,” I offered in a low, comforting voice, giving her a sympathetic smile.

  Her voice broke when she spoke and that was the most heartbreaking thing, “I don’t think they are, Levy.” I was sure she was concerned about many of the same things that I was—most importantly Conner. He was out there causing havoc.

  It looked like she couldn’t take any more news, and I wasn’t prepared to deliver it. She kept talking and told me how Mr. Lands had made another appearance asking for people to be calm and to adhere to the alliance. He was reasonable; I took some solace in that. But I suspected his calm would lead to another branch of HF becoming radicalized, and there wasn’t anything a voice of reason could do about it. But that wasn’t the most pressing thing: I needed to find out who was targeting the Legacy and what type of magic they possessed that rendered us helpless.

  After several moments of weighted silence, Savannah split her attention between the television and the various stories popping up on her Facebook feed and alerts. She grabbed the remote and changed the television to a comedy and silenced her phone before turning it facedown. The heaviness of her feelings was displayed on her face: her eyes darkened and her smile was forced and strained.

  “What happened yesterday with the other Legacy, were you able to speak with them?” she asked.

  I shook my head, deciding to tell her the information later.

  “Don’t,” she said ordered softly. “Don’t hide things from me. We are in this together.”

  There weren’t many truer words. Her life had changed, too, but she had the benefit of living in the shadows, her skills nothing more than a blip on the spectrum. However, if Conner were successful with the Cleanse, she, too, would die.

  Savannah had mastered the placid look she held on to, an unwavering mask that didn’t show shock or disgust at what I was telling her. Her tone remained level and flat when she asked her questions. “Do you think it was a spell?”

  “That’s possible, but it didn’t look like the victims made an attempt to defend themselves. That’s the most troubling thing.”

  When someone knocked on the door, she looked at it appreciatively—a reprieve. She jumped up to answer it. Looking out of the peephole, she smiled, and I didn’t have to guess who it was. She pulled open the door, and Lucas stepped in and leaned down, quite a bit, the eight inches he had on her proving to be a disadvantage. He pressed his lips to hers, giving her a slow, lingering kiss. His fingers intertwined in her hair, his other hand wrapped around her waist, and I looked away. When I returned my attention to them they were still kissing, seemingly forgetting I was there or caring very little that I was.

  I cleared my throat. They both looked in my direction. “Oh, good morning, Levy.” He stepped into the apartment, his hands resting on the small of her back. With the halation of the sun behind him, his skin was slightly paler than Savannah’s. His tall, svelte physique closely mirrored my roommate’s. His short sandy blond hair was just a few shades darker than her blond hair. He was dressed in what was probably his Sunday “casual” attire, a pair of gray slacks, matching vest, and white shirt. My roomie was dressed similarly to the way I was: a t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants, yet she didn’t look out of place standing next to him.

  “Did I interrupt anything?”

  I shook my head; it wasn’t as if he’d turn around and leave if he had.

  “Were things bad last night?” I asked.

  Dragging his fingers through his hair, he made a sound, then bared his fangs, something I figured he’d had to do quite a bit last night. And he was only doing it now in response to my question. I felt sure they looked more menacing when displayed as a warning. His eyes narrowed and the muscles around his neck corded and bunched. “I do grow tired of the delicate fashion with which we must deal with humans now. Very different than the way it used to be. So much so that they’ve forgotten that we are a bigger threat to them than they are to us.”

  “Devour was pretty bad last night?” I asked, going for my third donut.

  He shook his head. “No, Crimson,” he grumbled. “Devour is more selective but …” He sighed again. Devour was the club the older vamps frequented, a den of hedonism and seduction. Crimson was where the younger vampires dwelled. Taking their cue from every modern vampire noir, they surrounded themselves with fanboys and fangirls while they donned broodiness and angst like they were part of their uniform. Often you’d find older vampires in the club, monitoring them because laws prevented vampires from compelling people to feed, and some had a difficult time adhering to it. Since the laws stipulated that sires were responsible for the sired, older vampires took an interest to make sure the youngsters behaved. Just like some of them lacked the discipline not to retaliate when provoked.

  “Did you spend the evening making sure the children behaved?” It was odd referring to people who had decades on me as children, although their appearance wouldn’t imply that they were older.

  He nodded once. “Diplomacy is something honed with age. For most vampires it takes centuries not decades. When they are confronted, they respond with force. Temperament and patience for humans’ bad behavior are becoming low and the desire to maintain an alliance and play nice is strained.” Lucas rolled his eyes, irritated, and it was clear that he didn’t appreciate having to deal with either.

  When I shoved another donut in my mouth, he gave me a disapproving look. I don’t need that from you. You drink blood, or did you forget that?

  “What did you eat this morning?” I asked with a smirk, goading him. A reminder that my delicious donut was a far better alternative than his meal.

  He laughed. “Perhaps we should have brunch.”

  It seemed odd going to brunch with a vampire knowing that I wasn’t on the menu. But the way he coveted Savannah’s neck, the delicate way he stroked along the pulse of her wrist, and the salacious and inappropriate kisses he gave her, led to a reminder that I was still there in the backseat of his car.

  “I haven’t forgotten you are there; if your presence ever became missed or unnoticed then the scowl you have on your face each time I look in the rearview mirror serves as a reminder.
And if I dare miss that, those groans are a quick prompt,” he joked. A couple of times I caught his eyes fixed on my neck; I didn’t think he could help himself.

  He slowed as we drove down Coven Row. He stopped and glared at a group of four men dressed in camouflage pants and green shirts with Human Rights Alliance printed on them, guns at their sides, who were heading into one of the shops. They stopped when two men dressed in uniforms stepped out. I recognized the badges but I wasn’t used to seeing the bearers in uniforms—perhaps they were for appearances to demonstrate a united front because the style was similar to the human uniforms, but they were definitely not human police. One was a shifter, and his pale brown eyes pierced into the men, the dark shifter ring glowing in defiance, the predaceous confidence and lethality apparent. The mage next to him made a show of playing with a glowing ball of magic that was a burnt orange and reminded me of fire. The humans tensed and scanned the immediate area, seeing similarly dressed supernaturals posted outside of each business.

  I speculated how much of this was Conner’s doing and when he would make his grand appearance to ally himself with whoever would help him with his agenda. He’d dispose of them when he was finished, of course.

  Frowning, I felt pulled in so many directions, and none led to a solution. The Maxwells weren’t the problem; Humans First was a minor and insignificant problem. The Human Rights Alliance, although agitators, still weren’t the problem. It was Conner, and it had to end. I didn’t feel any guilt or remorse when I wished the thing that had killed the other Legacy had set its sights on him. But I was quickly burdened with the thought that maybe Conner was responsible for it. Had he approached them and they declined and that was the penalty? Anger flittered through me, starting off as a little prick. By the time our food had arrived at the little French café we’d decided on, it was a roaring inferno and difficult to tamp down.

  Lucas proved to be a good distraction for Savannah; once we returned home, they immediately went to her room. I didn’t want to consider for what—for sex, feeding, or both—I pretended none of them were an option even though both of them were probably on the menu. It allowed me to slip out of the house unnoticed by Savannah.

  Dressed in running clothes, I blended in with the people in the area, most of them running along the trail. I veered off the trail and trekked through the woods to my special spot. My cave. It was pointless and unnecessary now, but I still found comfort in the solitude that it offered. It was my little place where I could perform magic, hidden from the world, a ghost. I wasn’t a ghost anymore. I was known and outed—but this was still where I’d always felt safe.

  The comfort was there as I dropped down through the small manhole.

  “What took you so long?” I adjusted to the darkness and focused on Gareth, his eyes dulled by dusk. His voice carried in the empty space, and a small echo of his teasing reverberated off the walls. He moved closer, flashing me a smile.

  “Let me guess, you were feeling a little stalker-y and decided to do something about it.”

  “When did you suspect that Conner might be behind whatever killed the others?” he asked. My eyes narrowed on him, and I had an eerie feeling that he could get in my head. My heartbeat increased at the very thought. Had we all underestimated the skills of shapeshifters? If someone had told me he could track me in the city, I would have balked at the absurdity of it. But there we were in my cave, with Mr. Arrogance fighting a smirk.

  I opened my mouth but the words didn’t come out immediately due to fear of broaching something that I might not want the answer to.

  “I can’t read your thoughts, Levy, but I am excellent at reading your expressions. What’s going through your mind about me that has you so afraid of me knowing it?” He moved closer, just inches from me. I could see the miscreant expression in his eyes. “After all, you’ve seen me naked plenty of times, and we’ve had enough encounters that you clearly can’t have more things to fantasize about me.”

  “Good.” I made a face. “I’m glad you don’t know all the names I call you—it might hurt your feelings.”

  “If that’s what you want me to believe, but I think what goes through your mind might be a little more salacious than a few names.”

  “Mr. Humility, can we get back to work?”

  “Of course,” he said, but the taunting curve in his lips remained. “Let’s find Conner.”

  I strode to the wall of the cave and slid the knife over my hand, hissing at the pain. It wasn’t any easier, nor did it hurt any less, no matter how often I did it. Blood welled from the cut and I let it drop, chanting the spell. As crimson spread, the area darkened, and the edges of the city revealed themselves, the lines and structures giving me a very broad map. I looked over it, watching for that flicker of light that would locate Conner and the others. The map remained blank, just the landmarks and nothing else. I felt nothing but the overwhelming feeling of the unknown. Had they been killed by the pale creature? If so, was it an act of betrayal against Conner? If not, who was really responsible for the other murders?

  I chanted the spell again and waited for something more to reveal itself to me. The same map, unchanged from before, was presented to me.

  “He’s probably dead,” Gareth asserted, but there was a hint of doubt. Usually when Conner used magic, there was at least a flick, not long enough for me to get a location. But before he’d been playing a puerile game of cat and mouse. After everything he’d done and everything that had transpired, he was no longer playing with me. Perhaps he was taking his ill intent to another level. Gareth was waiting for me to give him the confirmation he needed, but it wasn’t there.

  “We should look for him” was the last thing I said before exiting my little hideaway. Gareth followed me and wasn’t too enthusiastic about my plans.

  “A blind search seems like a good plan to you.” He kept in step with me as I went through the woods where I’d found Conner before. Large oak trees populated the area, and instead of magic remnants lacing the air, it was overwhelmed by the scent of lavender and grass. I walked past a stump, the remainder of a tree that I’d destroyed when I’d first encountered Conner and powerful magic had consumed me, demanding to be released.

  Magic was nowhere to be found in any of the places I’d run into Conner. There wasn’t any evidence of his existence in any of the places where we had battled.

  I was reluctant to let myself give fully in to the idea until I’d searched a few more places.

  They all came up empty. “Conner is dead,” I said quietly. Uncertainty clung to my words, but I said them aloud as if for some reason that confirmed my belief.

  Gareth was just as reluctant to accept it. “I need to see the body,” he said.

  CHAPTER 12

  Kalen and I moved around the office, pretending that life was normal. It had been three days since I’d seen those murdered Legacy and just a day since I’d had enough evidence to believe that Conner was dead, but things were still off. Someone had killed the Legacy, and there were so many questions unanswered. My curiosity was second only to my thirst for revenge on whoever had killed them. It was becoming increasingly frustrating dealing with the feelings of fear and helplessness that managed to wiggle their way into my mind—two emotions that I detested. Instead of succumbing to them, I immersed myself in trying to find out who the blind assassin could be. I’d spent most of Sunday evening going through any spell book, mythology, or history book I could get my hands on.

  I knew my silence was bothering Kalen as I typed away at the computer. I’d never been silent during inventory reconciliation. It was an easy job, just making sure what we claimed to have matched up with what we actually had and then determining what could be sold and what needed to be offered to different sects prior to selling. If we had spell books, we offered them to the witches first, most recently Blu. If it had anything to do with vampire, mage, or fae then it was dealt with through the appropriate liaison. Kalen handled that, because, until recently, I’d made it a habit to
stay away from supernaturals. Oh, except for occasionally being dragged by Savannah to a vamp bar to canoodle with hot zombies.

  Concerned silver eyes peered at me from the other side of the room and then immediately went to the twins next to me, hilts placed in my direction within reaching distance, ready to engage. In fact, the slightest movement and sound had me reaching for them.

  “Are you going to sit there and continue looking broody and lethally silent, or do you plan to tell me what the hell is going on?” he finally said. I glanced at the clock: it had taken him twenty-two minutes, a record for him—ten minutes of silence between the two of us and he’d get twitchy.

  “But I’m nailing the whole dark, lethal, and broody thing,” I teased.

  His laugh was tight and tense. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

  I told him everything, and like Savannah, when faced with the information he made great efforts to hide his emotions. Occasionally, the facade would drop and I could see his concern, but he quickly reasserted it. I even told him that Tina now knew about me.

  “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal that she knows,” he said. “The moment Gordon Lands took over HF and said that they believed Legacy existed, you all were outed anyway. He wasn’t just some wacko spewing nonsense and conspiracy theories. He’s a well-respected man in the community. Most people wouldn’t expect him to take such an interest if he didn’t believe it was true.”

  I knew he was right. “The witness said the killer was blind. Each victim looked like they didn’t fight, and there weren’t any remnants of their magic in the air, and no signs of struggle.”

  “And you don’t think it was a fae?” he asked.

  “I’ve been around your magic, Harrah’s, and that of the fae at the SG. I’m familiar with it. It doesn’t feel ominous and dark. Even Harrah’s doesn’t feel that way. I just feel power when she’s around—strong, controlled, overwhelming power.”