Silverfall

by McKenzie Hunter

  “Thanks.” I knew that her compliment was a precursor to her showing me exactly how impressive she was.

  A flick of her wand caused sparks to crackle at my feet. One singed my pant leg. Focused on putting it out, I looked up in time to see another blast from her wand, larger than the previous one. She had me dancing back as she kept them coming, putting me on the defensive. One of them pelted me in my chest, pushing my breath out.

  This should have been discouraging. I was getting a magical ass kicking. But I felt invigorated. I returned fire with my magic. With a wave of her wand, she froze the spool of magic midair. Distracted by her own talent and cleverness, she missed the one I sent into her leg, dropping her to the floor with a crash. Her wand rolled out of her hand and she became entangled in her silly robe.

  She rolled toward her wand, but I sent it to the opposite end of the room with a wave of my hand. Fury in her eyes, she came to her feet. With her hands spread wide, magic smacked me hard, sending me back several feet and crashing to the ground.

  Her robe that I’d thought so derisively about slipped from her body and became a black eclipsing sheath of fabric. It blocked my vision, wrapping around me and entangling me. My struggling to get untangled provided the distraction she needed to get her wand, which she had in her hand when the robe, acting like it was sentient, unraveled, spinning me. Disoriented, I erected a protective wall while I got my bearings.

  The world stopped spinning and she lifted her arms dramatically, the robe dancing in the air in a choreographed move to slip back over her. It was an extension of her, doing her bidding. How strong was she to have such meticulous control of it while distracted by looking for her wand?

  Arrogance and cynicism curled her lips. I looked back at Kane, expecting him to disqualify her. We weren’t allowed to use outside gadgets. Magical ingredients could be used, and clothing. Not too many people could use a shirt or pants in the same manner she’d used her robe.

  Kane said nothing. So despite how ridiculous I thought she looked, I scanned the spectators only to find that her robe show was a crowd-pleaser. He wouldn’t disqualify her on that alone, because it brought him more money. People would return to see Wendy, the Magical Maestro and her stupid balletic robe.

  “Cute trick,” I said.

  “Not a trick, a skill, love.”

  Ugh, now she’s doing a fake English accent?

  I focused on the red glow on the tip of the wand aimed in my direction. She cut through the air, and I flinched at the searing pain in my arm. Another air strike and my other arm received the same treatment. Arms throbbing, I didn’t chance looking at them. Instead, I opened my hands, concentrating, taking slow controlled breaths, using the same level of concentration it took to shift to the cat. I’d wielded fire before, when I had an elemental mage’s magic. It was simpler with his magic. A spark singed the bottom of her robe. It was equivalent to my electric pellets: a much-needed distraction. As she attempted to put it out, I pelted her with a rapid fire of magic, sending her crashing to the ground onto her robe, where she manually patted out the flames.

  Darkness cast over her face, anger blazed in her eyes, and her lips moved rapidly as she slowly approached me. My lips were pressed into a tight line, unable to perform any spells, and my arms were bound to my sides. Her first push secured me to the wall. I tried to fight against it. Mind clouded, I figured she was doing a distraction spell. I searched for a spell to release me, a weaker one that required cognitive execution. Everything was a fog. Releasing me just a smidge, she pushed me even harder against the wall. She inched closer until she was directly in front of me.

  Her face relaxed. It didn’t look as if she was wielding the level of magic to perform the combination of spells. Her fingers traced along the red bracelet, a nonverbal request as to whether I was to concede.

  “Blink twice to concede,” she said, her voice raised slightly to ensure Kane would hear. He was a vamp; she could have whispered it and he’d have heard. Pride made it take longer for me to do so. Several minutes passed as I unsuccessfully tried to weave through the fog. Two blinks and she removed the band from my arm and tossed it to the middle of the floor and then released me from my position on the wall. The crowd erupted in applause and jeered. She’d be rewarded for winning and, based on the buzz from the audience, probably receive a bonus for being the crowd’s favorite.

  Defeat left a dank taste in my mouth, despite not having anything to feel bad about. I held my own against a person who had access to magic continuously. She should be more skilled than me.

  I concentrated on the red band in the middle of the floor, making it dance in front of me in a steady beat. Discarded paper on the ground joined in the movement. Having access to magic for such a short period of time made it difficult to let any time go by without using it even for something as frivolous as this.

  Every moment I had use of it, I wanted to do more. Practice, perform a spell, battle with it. Despite being drained from earlier activities, I couldn’t bring myself to stop indulging in my borrowed magic. I binged whenever I had access to it. How could I not?

  I slowly made my way to my car, my shoulders drooping from fatigue. Finally, I stopped the performance of dancing objects around me. I was weighed down by more than just tiredness; it was the knowledge that I wouldn’t have my own magic for a while. Savoring every moment of it wasn’t enough. I wanted to keep it, and by the time I’d made it to my car, I’d come up with several scenarios on how to achieve it, one being just leaving town. It was an extreme and unreasonable idea that I quickly dismissed when I saw Cory’s car parked in front of mine.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” he responded wryly, scrutinizing my appearance. Using a light touch he brushed the perspiration-matted hair from my forehead. He took my hand in his and assessed my arms that were now trembling. He looked pensively at my state. His hands were cool against my warmed skin.

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t, Madison did.” His contemplative look remained. “She got word that you were here from an unlikely source.”

  “River.”

  He nodded. “We really should be leaving. He’s convinced he’s going to be the first on “the scene” of another incident.” The Dome wasn’t technically illegal. It was just people getting together to demonstrate their magical prowess, but because of its very nature, things happened.

  While I looked up the empty street, expecting to see River’s car, I could feel Cory’s eyes on me. “How many escape scenarios have you come up with in order to keep his magic?”

  I didn’t bother asking how he knew. Of course he knew I’d borrowed it from Mephisto.

  “About four, each one more ridiculous than the previous one.”

  He forced out a laugh, rough and mirthless. Giving me a narrow-eyed evaluation, he asked, “I thought you two had a deal regarding the magic exchange. What changed?”

  “Nothing,” I responded quickly. “It was just a loan.” Based on the way he looked at me, I knew he wasn’t buying my response and that there was more to it. I appreciated him for not pushing.

  “So who did you duel?”

  I rolled my eyes. “The Maestro of Magic. A wizard robe–wearing magical savant.”

  “Ah, Wendy.” He grinned but managed to keep his opinion of her to himself. The miscreant twinkle in his eyes and tightly pressed lips convinced me that it wasn’t kind.

  Cory walked me to my car and once I was in, leaned in. “I met with Grayson today,” he admitted. Now I knew why he hadn’t pressed me on the Mephisto issue.

  “Why are you meeting someone who was kicked out of your coven for performing dark magic?”

  “Because he’s the only person I know who would deal with demons. We need to stop Ian, and the best way to do that is to remove his magic immunity. I thought he could help.”

  “By summoning a demon!” I snapped, immediately regretting it. With all the things I’d done in my pa
st, I had no right to chastise him.

  “Relax, I wasn’t going to have him summon demons. I wanted to confirm what you said about reversing Ian’s immunity. You’re right, only the demon who cast the spell can reverse it.” Raking his hands through his hair, he blew out a frustrated breath. “I have no idea what else to do.”

  Me neither. “We’ll figure something out.” Each time I said it, I sounded more confident than I felt.

  “I think we should go,” Cory suggested, seeing a car creep down the street. “Don’t skip town with Mephisto’s magic,” he teased while backing away.

  “That was on my list of ridiculous things to try.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Mephisto’s midnight eyes were imperceptible as they reflected back at me when I finally answered the door. Did I think he would forget about his magical loan and just go away?

  “I don’t know if I did you any favors by doing this,” he admitted, his gaze trailing over me. When I returned home, I did several more spells and more attempts to Wynd and I was positive I looked as exhausted as I felt.

  “I don’t know either,” I said, chewing on my lip. I was afraid if I bit any harder I’d draw blood.

  “Just for a few more days. You can work on finding your box. I know you want it and it is so important for you to find it. That couldn’t have changed. Not in such a short time.” Everything rushed out in a long string of words as I floundered to come up with a justifiable reason to keep his magic.

  “As I said, there is always a penalty for loaning my magic. I can’t search for the box without my full strength.”

  He stepped closer and I moved an equal distance back.

  He sighed. “You’re not like the other Raven Cursed and you know why—because you’re not the same. Theirs is a lust that can’t be ignored, but with discipline it can be controlled. Yours is a need that has to be satisfied because your magic is restricted differently. You have to know this, Erin.”

  “I don’t know that!” I snapped, fully aware of the direction he was going with this conversation. I was clinging ever so desperately to the fact I was just a terrible death mage, the worst of the worst, which was why I lacked control. My parents were mine and I wasn’t related to Malific, let alone her daughter. All the denial in the world couldn’t make me forget the raven that showed up on my arm. That had to have meaning. And maybe someone did put a restriction on my magic, hoping I wouldn’t turn out to be like Malific.

  Covering my face with my hands, I took a moment. Once again faced with the creation of another liminal period in my life. Before and after I confirmed that I was Malific’s daughter.

  Mephisto’s hands were gentle as they enclosed my wrists, pulling them away from my face. His eyes tracked mine as I attempted to avoid the sincerity in them.

  “Talk to your parents,” he urged.

  As if that was an implied contingency of keeping his magic, I nodded and stepped away.

  Okay, I’ll talk to my parents. Bye-eee.

  Me backing away made him chuckle as he grabbed my arm and tugged me to him. “Erin,” he entreated.

  I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, my tongue languidly running against his lips, making his breath come harder. My fingers traced the curves of his jaw, down his neck, where my mouth soon followed. Fisting his hair, I placed soft kisses on his neck. The warmth of our attraction enveloped us and his desire for me was very obvious. I pressed my body even closer to him.

  “Give me time to talk to my parents,” I whispered in his ear. My tongue eased out to caress his lobe. “And you’ll leave and return later to retrieve your magic. Okay?”

  He lifted me and my legs curled around his waist. Turning around, he backed me to the wall until I was firmly pressed against it. Eyes heavy lidded with lust, he regarded me for a few moments, then he leaned in and kissed me, his tongue exploring mine before tracing the outline of my jaw with soft kisses. He nipped lightly and teased the fragile skin of my neck. Soft pants escaped me as I held him tighter, digging my nails into his back.

  “You little seductress. If only you knew how much I would love to fall for this.”

  Then his lips were over mine, pulling his magic from me. He released my legs, allowing them to touch the ground before giving me a chastising look.

  Then he straightened his clothes and ran his thumb over my lips.

  He backed away to the door, keeping his eyes on me. “Erin Katherine Jensen, you are quite the temptress, and I’m so easily tempted when it comes to you.”

  Not enough because he was gone and I had been divested of his magic.

  I ignored the faux look of exasperation my mother gave me whenever she answered the door because I’d rung the doorbell instead of using my key. It only took me once seeing my parents’ affection for each other on full display on the kitchen island to discourage me from ever just walking in again. The key was for emergency purposes only.

  “Use your key,” my mother admonished before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

  You get an eyeful of your dad’s ass and your mom’s boobs and see how willing you’d be to “use your key.”

  “It’s rude. I don’t live here anymore. I need to give you the courtesy of deciding whether you want company or not.” And time to put on some clothes.

  As soon as I entered the house, she pulled me into a hug. I held her tight, taking in the scent of her perfume. There wasn’t a pulse of magic coming from her; before, I thought I couldn’t perceive it because it was too weak, but with my new knowledge, it made sense. When she pulled away and studied me, new lines appeared around her mouth and the crease between her brows became more pronounced. Seeing her through unfiltered eyes made me question how I hadn’t seen this before. Round face, wide eyes, and a fair complexion no amount of sun could tan was in contrast to my olive tones. Strawberry-blonde hair with hints of gray with natural waves couldn’t explain my brunette hair, even taking into consideration my father’s deep caramel-colored hair.

  In the living room, I stared at them both as if seeing them for the first time, examining our differences, searching for our similarities.

  My dad’s discerning gaze stayed on me. “Erin, good to see you. Are you staying for dinner?” He gave me his typical quick casual hug. He wasn’t as affectionate as my mother, whose hugs were so tight they pushed the breath out of you.

  I forced the tension out of me. So damn what if they weren’t my real parents? That wasn’t what bothered me; it wasn’t blood that made them my parents, it was their love and caring that did. People who cared for me all my life, worried about my inability to control my magic, did everything in their power to protect me. My mouth dried to the point I could barely speak.

  “Water,” I squeaked and went to the kitchen to get some. I was on my second glass when my parents slipped onto the barstools at the island and turned the same concentrated look on me that I had given them.

  “Do you know who my real parents are?”

  Great, Erin. Real smooth. Not fucking tacky at all. I felt even worse when my mom’s eyes became glassy with unshed tears. To their credit, neither one looked shocked. My dad seemed relieved, my mother sad. No one said anything for a while.

  “No. Sophie doesn’t know either.”

  Sophie? Why would Madison’s mother know anything about it?

  “What does she have to do with it?”

  “She found you . . . or rather, you found her.” My mother’s voice was tight, losing the battle with the tears she’d been fighting back.

  My dad pressed a kiss to her temple. “Vera, it’s okay.” Then he directed his attention to me. “You were left at her door and they had Maddie—” He stopped, chewed on the words. “And we were trying and couldn’t. She gave us you. Her gift to us.” And now he was having a hard time speaking. His voice was rough and low.

  It explained how he was so accepting of my mother and Sophie’s weird relationship—and no one looking from the outside would consider it anything but freakishly weird. They raised Madison and me
as sisters because we were supposed to be.

  We’d moved twice and each time, it was close to Madison’s family. Either on the same street or a block away of their home. Now my parent’s home was three houses from theirs. Madison and I often teased them about how we lived in a commune. Dinner together at least three times a week, and it wasn’t unusual to come down and find Madison and her parents at the table for breakfast.

  “You have no idea who my real parents are?”

  “No,” my mother whispered. “When we saw what you could do with magic, I wondered. You nearly killed Sophie.” New tears glistened in her eyes and I vaguely remember them telling me about how they discovered what I was. As a toddler sitting in Sophie’s lap, I had pulled the magic from her. I had to be coaxed into returning it. My magic was so instinctual, I knew what needed to be done. Well, that’s the version they told me.

  “How did you all know what to do?”

  “We didn’t. You saw her there lying lifeless. We thought she’d had a heart attack, stroke, or fainted or something. But she wasn’t breathing, and her face had a peculiar expression of peace. We panicked. Administered CPR. Did whatever we could to save her. You simply walked over to her and . . . then you started moving things around the room from where you were next to her on the floor.” My mother gulped in air as tears streamed down her face. I blinked back mine. She swallowed hard. “We couldn’t get you to stop. It was like you felt our panic, innately knew something was wrong. You told her to wake up and she came to life.”

  I used words of power in Latin, which were translated into “mine” and “wake up.” Something I started to do in magic school. They were just words, focusing the intent. I could draw the magic just thinking it, but just as it was easier to take the magic with contact, it was easier with power words.

  “We hated having you wear that damn iridium bracelet, but we had no choice until you were able to control it,” my father explained, shaking off the memory.

  Should I remember nearly killing my mother’s best friend? I didn’t remember it, and Sophie never treated me as if I was someone to fear even when she saw me struggling with managing my magic as a child and even more as a teenager. The bracelet stopped me from taking people’s magic; it did nothing for the urge. Nothing other than having magic staved that off.