“Am I nothing more than a weapon to them?” I continued.
“You forget who you are, Mira. You are the Fire Starter. You are the ultimate weapon among our kind. The nightwalker that holds your allegiance holds power over all of our people. Jabari cannot afford to lose his control over you to anyone, even Sadira.”
“Is that why you are so eager for my company?”
Valerio smiled at me, his thumb caressing my cheekbone. “Having the Fire Starter at my side does afford me a feeling of security,” he admitted. “However, Jabari is keeping a close watch on our arrangement. He will kill me if he thinks there is a chance of me coming between your loyalties to him.”
“Then you’re taking a risk by being with me.”
“Cara, you are worth the risk. I need your laughter and your warm spirit next to me as the nights drift past.”
“I’m not just another weapon?”
“No, you are my love.”
A lump grew in my throat as I stared up at him. It was the first time either of us had uttered that word in such a way over the past several decades of traveling together. I had never allowed myself to wonder how deep Valerio’s feelings ran for me. I couldn’t allow myself such thoughts for fear of questioning my own feelings for him. We always had a silent agreement that we were not to dwell on the serious, but just enjoy each moment and each amusement as they came to us.
Valerio’s hand dropped from my cheek and dipped into his pocket. The arm wrapped around my back moved and he gently took my left hand in his hand. I looked down as he slid a silver band over my ring finger. Waves were etched into the ring, flowing around the band like the waves of the ocean. Forever and unending.
“You are bound to me,” he said softly. His voice danced around me, wrapping me in a sweet embrace. “Not because I am your maker. Not because I have a power to control you. You are bound to me by love. Time will pass and we will drift apart, as all of our kind finally does, but we will forever have our hearts bound to each other by a deep love and respect. Jabari will never have the power to erase that memory or break that bond.”
Leaning into him, I tightly wrapped my arms around his neck and laid my head on his shoulder, snuggling as close as possible. Already my memories of speaking to Sadira were so foggy that I felt myself letting go of them. The last of the tension eased from my body and I closed my eyes. I wasn’t sure what Valerio was talking about with Jabari, as I doubted the Ancient would ever have reason to come between Valerio and me, but it didn’t matter. I knew that Valerio used me at times for his own amusement, but there were deeper emotions now tying us together.
“Let’s go inside,” I murmured against his neck, my lips brushing against his flesh. “I want to show you how much I love you.”
Valerio bent down and scooped me up in his arms. As he carried me back inside to the bed, I looked up and found him smiling at me. And all was right in my world.
If you enjoyed Jocelynn Drake’s Dark Days series,
read on for a sneak peek at her next book,
ANGEL’S INK,
the first in The Asylum Tales series,
coming in October 2012!
CHAPTER ONE
The hammer of a gun clicked as it was cocked back.
That small, distinct sound sent a shiver through me, despite the summer heat shimmering off the sidewalk. My heart skipped. I froze with my right foot on the bottom step leading up to the tattoo parlor—so close to sanctuary, and yet I didn’t have a chance. The front door was locked. I was trapped, hanging helpless in that second, waiting for the gunman behind me to finally speak or send a bullet screaming through the back of my head.
“You fucking lied to me, Gage!” snarled my assailant. The voice sounded familiar, but it wasn’t until I slowly turned around that I realized why my life was hanging by a thread. I had tattooed the man just a couple weeks ago and apparently he wasn’t pleased with the result.
Russell Dalton was a large, beefy man full of muscles and a layer of fat around his waist from too many Big Macs and not enough core exercises. He was loud, obnoxious, and cheap. In my opinion, he had got what he paid for, but then it looked like he wanted to take his anger and frustration out on my hide as he remained in the shadows of the alley beside the parlor.
“I never lied to you,” I replied calmly, holding my hands open and out to my sides to show that I didn’t have any weapons. In this world, you couldn’t be too careful. I resisted the urge to look up at the sky, knowing that it was not long after noon—hours away from when the hulking Bronx would be able to get to the tattoo parlor. Damn trolls and their weakness for sunlight. I was on my own for now, but then it was better that way. Just the two of us and no one watching.
“You promised me good luck,” Russell accused. “Since I got this damn tattoo, I was fired from my job, my car was stolen, and my wife wants a divorce. That ain’t good luck.”
“You paid me fifty bucks for a shamrock tattoo the size of a quarter on the bottom of your foot.” Balling my hands into fists, I let my foot fall from the step and turned around to fully face my attacker. “That was barely enough to cover the cost of the ink and my time and expertise, not to mention the leprechaun hair that I threw into the mix. Do you know how hard it is to get that shit?”
In all honesty, I had a contact at a popular beauty parlor across town and she was kind enough to grab up samples of hair for me at a price. It wasn’t that hard to get my hands on leprechaun hair. The only problem was that it so easily turned bad if you weren’t careful. Obviously, my stockpile had taken an unexpected turn. I made a mental note that if I used it again I needed to cut the spell with water from a spring snow melt or fuzz from a white rabbit to counter the negative energy from the leprechaun hair.
Unfortunately, this cheap-ass dirt bag hadn’t paid enough for me to take those kinds of precautions. Hell, he shouldn’t have gotten the leprechaun hair at that price, but I had been in generous mood. Sometimes I can be a real dumbass when it comes to my clients, but then my motto was that you get what you pay for.
“You have to fix it!” Russell snarled, ignoring my question. “You have to make everything right again!”
“And let me guess, you want this work done for free?” I sneered.
“Damn right it’s free! You’ve ruined my life!”
I took a step forward and to my surprise, Russell slid half a step backward into the alley. That worked for me. I didn’t want this on the street, should someone walk by. “If you want good luck, it comes with a price, and the kind of luck you’re looking for is extremely expensive. You blew through my front door demanding lottery-winning luck while waving fifty bucks in my face. You got what you paid for. Buyer beware, buddy.”
“You fucking asshole! You’re not the only tattoo artist in Low Town! I don’t need you!” he shouted, shaking the gun at me.
I took another step toward Russell, backing him farther into the alley. “Yeah, but I’m the best and that’s why you came to me instead of some broke-down backroom operation with dirty needles and shady ingredients.”
“You’re obviously not any better!”
I had had enough of this shit. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I let the gym bag on my right shoulder slide off and hit the ground with a heavy thud. As I expected, he jerked the gun toward the bag. Taking advantage of his distraction, I edged forward and slammed both of my hands into the hand gripping the gun, knocking the weapon to the ground. Still holding his right hand, I twisted it at an awkward angle while dropping to my knee, putting Russell on his back in the dirty cobblestone alley. Before he could get his wits about him, I slammed my elbow into his face with a smile, feeling his nose fracture beneath my forearm while the back of his head hammered into the brick-covered ground.
“Asshole,” I muttered. Standing, I dusted off my jeans and stepped back. “Don’t show your face around here again or I’ll tell the cops what kind of tatto
o you really came in my shop for.”
Sucking in a deep, cleansing breath, I summoned up a smattering of energy that swirled around me, begging for my touch. I raised my left hand toward him and clenched my fist as if I were grabbing his shirt before throwing out my arm. Russell slid violently down the alley until his head clanged into the side of a dumpster.
My breath froze in my chest and I watched the sky for the tell-tale flash of lightning that would streak across seconds before the appearance of a guardian. I wasn’t supposed to be using magic, no matter how minute. And the guardians were itching for an excuse to put my ass in a sling. I didn’t need to push my luck, but Dalton got under my skin. I was an excellent tattoo artist and I didn’t need his kind of bad karma mucking up my business. After a couple seconds and no lightning bolt, I relaxed. For now, I remained under the radar and I intended to stay there.
A large hand appeared from out of nowhere and wrapped around my throat, picking me up and slamming me against the alley wall of the tattoo parlor. A sharp-featured face leaned close so that I could easily make out the silver eyes with a hint of green. Black hair flowed around his face, putting his features in dark shadow despite the bright sunlight.
“Gideon,” I choked out as I held onto his hand, trying to loosen his grip before I suffocated. “It’s been a long time.”
“Not long enough,” he said in a menacing voice as he raised his wand and dug it into my cheek.
My heart pounded in my chest far worse than when I was facing the barrel of Dalton’s gun. I’d always known I could stop a bullet, but I wasn’t prepared to stop any spell that this warlock was itching to throw in my direction. Apparently, someone had been watching. Fuck.
Gideon’s sneer turned into an evil grin. “You’ve been warned more than once that you have been forbidden to perform any of the magical arts. As I recall, you were the one that turned your back on us, saying that you didn’t need us or magic.”
Gritting my teeth, I pressed my hands into the wall behind me and kicked Gideon in the chest with both feet, shoving him violently away from me. I immediately erected a protective barrier as I slammed into the ground. A wicked flash of energy that shot from Gideon’s wand was deflected by the shield, briefly lighting up the alley.
“Before I left, the council agreed that I could use magic in acts of self-defense,” I shouted before Gideon could come up with another spell that would crash through my meager defensive shield. I had always been good at magic, but there was more to it than just being naturally attuned to the energies in the air. Being a powerful warlock took decades of study and I had stopped more than a few years ago. I didn’t stand much of a chance in a magic fight against a warlock like Gideon.
He picked himself up off the ground and dusted off his black pants and shirt. Gideon even took the time to shake out his cloak before turning to me. In this day and age, the cloak looked a little ridiculous, but I was no fool. That thing was woven with enough protective spells that the warlock wouldn’t be caught dead without it.
“I saw the fight,” Gideon said calmly. “The man was already down.”
“But not unconscious. I had to be sure that he wouldn’t follow me into my shop where I would still be alone and defenseless.”
“We all know you’re never defenseless.”
I shrugged, fighting back a smirk. “Relatively speaking.”
“You used magic when you were not permitted when dealing with this human. You broke your agreement. You’re coming with me.”
“Not today.” I shook my head as I dropped my protective shield and leaned against the wall so my shaking knees wouldn’t have to fully support my weight. “Bring me before the council and they will see that it was self-defense. An unarmed man against one with a gun. The council would be forced to find in my favor. Think about it, Gideon. I know you and everyone else in the Ivory Towers are eager to see me dead, but do you really want to waste the council’s time? They won’t look kindly on it.”
My only warning was a low, frustrated growl before he rushed across the alley and slammed my head against the wall. “I will let you go this time, renegade, but we are watching you. We will catch you eventually.”
“Try all you like.”
Gideon gave a little snort as he stepped away from me. “Why you’ve chosen to live among these useless flesh bags is beyond me.”
“That’s why,” I said in clipped tones. I refused to view humans as little more than chattel.
Gideon frowned at me one last time before he disappeared completely, heading back to the Towers, I was sure. Each continent was dotted with gleaming white towers made of white marble and granite that stretched above the clouds. These were the elusive Ivory Towers, their exact locations known only to the witches and warlocks that lived in them. And me. I knew where they were and had managed to escape with that knowledge, not that it was doing much good now.
Sliding down the grimy wall, I took a deep breath as I tried to slow my racing heart and my trembling hands. I had come too close that time. That self-defense argument was starting to run a little thin with the guardians and I had a dark suspicion that Mr. Dalton might have been given a little shove in my direction in hopes of pushing my buttons into using magic. It had worked. I didn’t like being threatened and I didn’t like when my abilities were questioned. Sometimes I had too much ego and not enough common sense.
If Gideon had his way, I would have been whisked away to the council in the Ivory Towers, found guilty, and executed all within an hour.
Pushing back to my feet, I paused for a second as I gazed down the alley and saw Dalton’s chest rise once with a heavy breath. Then I picked up the gun in one hand and my gym bag in the other. This neighborhood was getting more dangerous by the day.
CHAPTER TWO
Stepping inside the air-conditioned arctic of the tattoo parlor, I kicked the door shut while dropping my bag on the floor along with the gun. I twisted around and slid the dead bolt back into place, and glanced around the parlor. The lobby had dark hardwood floors covered in ancient area rugs with worn floral patterns. An old ceramic fireplace stood against one wall with its mouth covered over to hold in the heat during the winter and the cool during the blistering summer months. The far wall was covered in plastic flipboards that held common tattoo designs we had done in the past to give potential clients some suggestions, should they need them. But in most cases, clients didn’t much bother with the flipboards, preferring to rely on the knowledge of the artist. A counter with a clear glass case stood before the doorway to the actual tattoo work space. It held a variety of old books and pictures depicting tattoos from the earliest of days when only sailors were among the clientele. They had been handed down to me by the man I had apprenticed under when I decided to open my own shop.
A faint hint of antiseptic hung in the air from where Bronx had sterilized most of the surface areas in the back before closing up the night before. Underlying that was the smell of stale magic, which always made me smile a little. It was a distinct smell that only the experienced magic user could pick up, and I had more experience than I was willing to admit to anyone.
I leaned down and threw back the largest of the area rugs near the center of the room to reveal a pentagram deeply etched into the wood floor. Stepping into the center of the pentagram, I closed my eyes but still hesitated. I reminded myself that this type of magic fell under the self-defense clause. Besides, it was a rune spell and the guardians couldn’t pick up on that kind of magic very well. Energy flowed around me, beating against my skin while trying to push its way into my brain. I started a low chant while keeping my arms lifted slightly at my sides. Magic energy coursed through me for a few seconds before shifting throughout the front room and flowing to the back room and down into the basement, completing my bidding.
After a second, I dropped my arms back to my sides and narrowed my eyes as I stared at the front door. A slight blue glow that only
I could see clung to the opening. The spell was a small one, allowing me to see through anyone’s glamour as they entered my tattoo parlor. You never knew who was going to walk through your door and I wasn’t taking any chances. I had to recast the spell every day before opening the shop, but it was a small price to pay. Besides, security systems didn’t come cheap, and getting one that included magical defenses was even more expensive since it involved finding a warlock or a witch willing to do a little menial labor. Not fucking likely.
The de-glamour spell had proven itself time and time again, and very few could sense it when they walked through the door. Bronx had before I had hired him—I remembered seeing him open the door and pause at the threshold. I had been behind the counter at the time, and I remember seeing the troll narrow his eyes at me before he stepped boldly into the room. I doubted whether he could tell what the spell was exactly, but he knew it was there. I simply smiled and shrugged. The Asylum Tattoo Parlor wasn’t in the greatest neighborhood, and I had every right to protect myself and any colleagues. Bronx never said a word about the spell and I think that was part of the reason why I hired him. That, and he had some of the most impressive shading skills and creative line work I had ever seen. His potion-stirring skills hadn’t been the strongest when he had been hired, but he proved to be a fast learner.
However, the greatest reveal came from Trixie. She had given a little shudder when she stepped into the tattoo parlor, but by her expression, I could tell that she had simply waved it off as a cold chill in the air. The spell had instantly stripped away the glamour spell she had been using, leaving it as little more than a hazy shadow over her tight, lithe form so that I could see that she was truly an elf. I had never told her that I knew exactly what she was and had no intention of mentioning it. She was cloaking her true presence for a reason and I had no desire to go digging into something that wasn’t any of my business.
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