Feral Magic: An Urban Fantasy Romance-Thriller

by Nicolette Jinks

  * * *

  Holding out the letter, I repeated my parents' names three times and focused on their faces. Breaking from ritual the way I always did, I took my lighter to the corner. Instead of being instantly consumed by the flames and disappearing in a puff of smoke, the letter burned normally with lots of smoke from paper laced with silk. Half-burned, I tossed the letter onto the ground and stamped it out with my foot. Flustered, a thought sunk in as I stared at the singed paper at my feet.

  Perhaps I hadn't regained my power, after all. I swallowed a lump in my throat, folding up the remains of the letter. No, the more reasonable explanation was that I was exhausted. Running out of energy was nothing to be ashamed of. Nevertheless, I could not bear the thought of seeking out Mordon to have him burn a new letter. I should not get anyone prematurely excited.

  I crumpled the letter into my pocket and took to wandering the shop. Cabinets and organizers took up most of the floor space, but there were wandering isles and a few large, clear areas. One of these cleared areas had a wizard's circle seared into it, and I would be curious to investigate it properly later.

  As I walked past a suit of armor, it drew its hand over its chest and said dramatically, “Welcome and welcome, fairest lady! Many and many and many a splendid night and day did we await your arrival!”

  Jumping at first, I was left with the impression the armor wanted me to reply. “Thank you…who has been waiting for me?”

  “We, we, all of we held within these walls,” it said, motioning to the shop as a whole. With power and time, these buildings formed their own ideas and personalities. The building did not want me to leave. I would have to ask Mordon if this was a common reaction or if his building was choosey about its occupants. The armor resumed its at-ease stance and was immobile.

  Heavy, slow footsteps advanced from the front of the shop. Barnes lumbered to a stop a few rows away, staring up at the night sky through the glass ceiling.

  “Are they done talking about the wards?” I asked.

  “They're arguing a point. Mordon should be done soon.”

  “Ah.”

  Barnes pointed to my singed letter. “Trouble with fire?”

  “I have never gotten along with it. Back in the day, I had a lighter which would send the letters for me, but I don't have it anymore.”

  “I can send it for you.”

  I held it, wavering back and forth between handing it over and not. “No. I want to win.”

  Barnes laughed, a thin hoarse sound. “There is no winning against yourself.”

  “Sure there is, if you set the bar low enough.”

  “Is it a win if you do that?”

  “Huh. I don't know, I'm just rambling because I'm fed up with the letter and tired, and now the shop is talking to me.”

  “It will do that now and again.” Barnes turned slowly on his heel, angling himself to watch both me and the wainscoting-disguised door. “Don't you string him along.”

  The calm way he said it was more unnerving than the implied threat. “You talking about Mordon?”

  “He's never shown an interest in any woman since I've known him. Mooning over some old heartthrob takes up his spare time.”

  My heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach. “Oh. What was the deal with her?”

  “No one knows.”

  “So he's never talked about it?”

  Barnes twitched his mustache. “Not directly. He'll talk of love, he'll talk of loss and heartbreak. But he'll never talk about her.”

  “He must have been very loyal, if he's still staying true.”

  “He is. When he cares for someone, he cares.”

  I nodded. “I can see you must care for him, too, and since we're having this conversation now, does that mean you aren't so confident in me?”

  Mordon appeared in the wainscoting door, but he stopped to talk to someone on the stairs. I didn't know if I wanted him to hurry or take his time.

  Barnes said, “You haven't come clean with the whole truth since I've known you. You lie, you sneak, and you know how to manipulate your way out of a situation. You've got determination, I'll grant you, and you're clever, but some of the worst worms in history are determined and clever. I like you. You are easy to like, but I don't trust you. Until I know what makes you tick, I won't take my eye off you.”

  “You sound like my Uncle Don.” Moving slowly, I came to a stop in front of Barnes. “What you say is reasonable. I'll consider it, but you have to understand. There is a lot to tell, it is easily misconstrued, and I have seen firsthand how badly my past can be mangled. Makes it hard to trust anyone, much less people who I've only known for days.”

  Barnes's mustache did a little circular dance. “What of Leif? He says you have not told him about Railey.”

  “My parents moved the family immediately after Railey died. To give a fresh start. You know, make it easier to accept that I would have to live out the rest of my life without magic. I haven't had contact with him until recently.”

  “But you have not told him now.”

  “You're right. I guess, I hadn't thought of it.”

  Barnes grunted. “Think about it.”

  He left. Mordon talked to him for a minute, laughed, and continued on to me.

  His hair had a way of catching the sliver of moonlight, making him appear very non-human.

  “Barnes said you struggle with fire.”

  I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I do.”

  “Want to know a secret?” Mordon asked, playful.

  “Don't I always?”

  “I have an incredibly hard time getting wind to do anything for me.”

  “What? It's hardly like you would need to use it for anything practical. Unlike sending a letter.”

  Mordon grinned. “Practical? How about portals? That's wind magic. Or search spells. Also wind. Then there's spying and the amplification or suppression of sound.”

  “Scrying is water.”

  “True, but spying is wind. It is a pity you don't realize how much you call on your magic every day around me.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh.”

  I wondered if it was because my magic was half-feral and not under my control. Mordon must have reached the same conclusion, his cheerfulness died. Serious, he tapped against a blue seashell which hadn't been returned to its proper place yet.

  “Our good Constable brought to mind that we should talk about a guardian for you. Being an unmated, youthful female without a strong family presence in Merlyn's Market.”

  “That would be a smart thing to appoint, wouldn't it?” I said, staring up at the airplane and admiring the night sky. Mordon dropped a drawstring bag next to my elbow. It sounded full of coins.

  “Only the most powerful of sorceresses have decided against it.”

  “I don't fit well into that category, do I?”

  “Maybe not in terms of magic,” he whispered, yet another one of those asides I thought he didn't intend for me to hear. Louder, he said, “Leif doesn't have a ward, and he's highly regarded. Barnes would be stretched a little thin, but you two do seem to operate very well together.”

  I laughed, enjoying its pitch under the stars and the moon. “Barnes! The grumpy man.” I shook my head, noticed a couple rat tails in my hair, and combed them out with my fingers. “We're no good for each other.”

  “What do you mean by that? You get along wonderful.” Mordon sounded bitter.

  I kept unknotting my hair. “Because he's a dark elemental. He's got these urges comin' in though his magic, and I'll bet that every time he walks onto a crime scene, he feels what made it come about. He feels the victim's panic, and he gets a thrill the same way the perpetrator did. And when the case is over and he looks at his empty home, he is swarmed by the emotions and passions of every single case he ever worked on. So he goes and lives on the wild side, just enough to exhaust those feelings so he can limp to the couch and sleep for three hours.”

&nbs
p; I stared into the plane's cockpit and let loose a small sigh that carried the weight of a decade of nightmares.

  “You've felt it?”

  “Railey did. She was a dark elemental, too, not as strong as Barnes but maybe she would have been with time.”

  “…and when she became your ghost, her memories, her nightmares became part of you.”

  I let out a shuddering breath. “I still feel her when all is quiet like this.”

  Mordon nodded, staying quiet next to me.

  Much as I didn't want to disturb the peace, I was itching to know something. “Is it real or rumor that drakes have a second form?”

  A surprised laugh burst from him. “You mean, are we a dragon version of werewolf? In short, yes, with some notable differences. The ability to shift forms is hereditary, while the skill to do so is learned. In werewolves, the ability to shift comes with bites and the skill is instinctual.”

  I nodded. “I was just wondering. I haven't heard talk of too many drakes.”

  “That is because there are few to our race, and they prefer to stick to themselves.”

  His voice was so lonely when he said that.

  What are you doing here? I wanted to ask, but this was one of those peaceful moments in time when it was wrong to press for more disclosure.

  “Can I ask you something?” Mordon asked.

  “Shoot.”

  He hesitated. “Does shoot in this context mean 'yes'?”

  “Shoot in this context means yes, go for it.”

  “I want to know the full story about what brought you to my door.”

  “I take it the ward-modification-conversation got sidetracked?”

  Mordon frowned.

  I shrugged. “Barnes mentioned something similar. If you're all wondering about it, I'll tell. Just not right now. I'm too tired right now.”

  “I believe we all are. I thank you in advance. I know it is not easy to speak of such personal troubles.”

  We stood there and gazed at the stars around the airplane.