Born in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy Book 1)

by K. F. Breene

  I stared into the gaping door and then shifted my gaze to the windows, hoping it looked like I was looking at someone, before turning and stalking off. Darius stayed where he was for a moment. He didn’t switch his gaze from the doorway, which told me that he saw something I didn’t, like a hiding mage. After a moment, he followed me, catching up immediately.

  A moment of silence passed between us.

  “Do you plan to tell me who that was, and what they are after?” Darius finally asked.

  “You know that mage I accidentally killed? Well, I took some of his spells, and his cronies want them. Or else those guys were his friends. I really have no way of knowing. This is all hearsay from a nosy neighbor. Do you have a working watch, or some other way of knowing how long we have until you need to scurry into cover?”

  “I don’t scurry.”

  “So you say…”

  “I don’t need a watch to know when dawn is coming. I can sense it. We have four hours, and then we will stay at my residence in the French Quarter. You’re sure you want to leave those men in your house? I can easily remove them for you.”

  “If they are who I think they are, there would be no easily. They probably have spells at the ready. Spells you wouldn’t be able to outrun. While they might even be good to question, without my sword, things would be very dicey. I need an arsenal or a new sword before I deal with people like them. We should get some breakfast and regroup—decide the next step.”

  “We don’t have time for breakfast. Your longer-than-usual sleep has delayed our plans.”

  “Longer than usual?” I narrowed my eyes at him. Rather than reply, he pulled a phone out of his pocket and typed a few words into a text message screen. “Tell me you haven’t been standing outside my windows and watching me sleep. Because that’s creepy, and I don’t hang out with stalkers.”

  “You are not human, therefore you shouldn’t have to sleep as long as a human does. That you did sets us severely behind.”

  “That does sound logical, but you should’ve asked to make sure. Your bad.” A black Lincoln Town Car turned slowly around the corner up ahead. The streetlights shone in the rolled-up windows as it crept toward us, an urban shark. “That doesn’t look good. That car is a little too nice for a drive-by in these parts, but it could still happen.” I grabbed his arm, ready to pull him away.

  “It is my man. He will take us to our next destination.”

  “Oh.” I relaxed. I probably should’ve figured that. “What is our next destination if it isn’t breakfast? I need some food.”

  The car stopped by the curb, allowing a dilapidated truck to get around him. Darius stepped forward and opened the rear passenger door. He stood to the side and held out his hand, ready to help me in. I let him before scooting across the bench seat so he could slide in after me. Instead, he closed the door.

  I scooted back and noticed the dark, piercing gaze in the rearview mirror. While vampires didn’t show up in cameras or video, for some reason, they did have a reflection in mirrors and water and what not. It was one of those unexplained things I had never bothered to dwell on.

  “Hi,” I said.

  The eyes were trained on me for a moment longer before drifting down to the road in front of him. Another vampire, this one not much younger than Darius.

  “Do you always travel with mid-level and upper-mid-level vampires?” I asked Darius once he’d settled into the car.

  He closed the door. “Of course, unless I have a new child. And only then when I am teaching or checking on her.”

  Creating a child, for vampires, meant giving their blood to finish the transformation from human to vampire. It made the newbie “theirs.”

  “Her? Never him?”

  “In the last couple hundred years I have found that human males of a certain wealth and influence greatly rebuke any change they are not accustomed to. Any hardship causes them to whine and moan. It is most vexing.”

  “I assume the females also come from backgrounds of wealth and prestige so you can take their fortune. Are they any different?”

  “They are usually beautiful, use their beauty to secure a powerful man, and usually allow said man to dictate their lives. Within reason, of course. In general, I find guiding female children much easier, with a higher rate of success.”

  “They can control themselves better.”

  “Generally, yes.” He entwined his fingers on his lap, the visual of patience. “Do you need more of an arsenal?”

  “I have to commission another sword. We need to put the order in pronto. I need bullets, as well. I’d hoped to stock up at my house. Like I said, food would be nice. You’ll have to lend me money, obviously, since you took the mark that would ensure I could keep eating.”

  He didn’t respond to my dig.

  We spent the next handful of minutes navigating the streets of New Orleans, heading over to the Garden District for God knew what. I asked Darius a few times, but the car remained silent. Which was particularly aggravating, since we really should’ve been heading to place the sword order.

  Finally, we pulled up at a gorgeous mansion with a huge front of manicured lawns and lovely flowers. A tire swing dangled from a branch, drifting back and forth lazily. I wished I could’ve been there in the daylight to see the marvel that was the gardens.

  “Come,” Darius said as he exited the car. The driver did as well, his dark gaze flicking to me before he climbed out of his seat.

  I reached for the handle and met empty space. My door had already swung open. Darius stood beside it, reaching down to help me out.

  “Wow. I feel like a princess.” I took his hand, warm despite the myth that vampires always ran around with the temperature of iceboxes. He gave me a slight bow as he helped me stand before closing the door.

  “This way,” he said, directing me to the front door.

  “Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

  “No. Stop asking. It is extremely annoying.”

  “You act in such a gentlemanly way, but you say such dickish things. How do you manage the dichotomy?”

  “With aplomb.” He paused as his man knocked on the door.

  The door opened, spilling light across the wooden porch and up the leg of a rocking chair that sat empty and to the side. An older man with padding around the middle peered out through the screen. Seeing who awaited him, he beamed, his smile crinkling his face.

  “Well, hello,” he said, opening the door. “Hello, hello. Good to see you, good to see you. I’m so glad you could stop by. Please. Come in, come in!” He pushed at the screen door, opening it a crack.

  Darius’s man grabbed it and pulled it wide, allowing us to enter.

  As I stepped closer to the older man, I could feel the residual magic pulsing from him. Its vibration calmed me, relaxing my muscles and putting me at ease. It was almost like a homey feeling in chemical form.

  I let my hand drift to my gun and stepped aside quickly, giving myself space. I didn’t know why he was making a spell equivalent of Xanax, but I didn’t want to get blasted with it and then have to fight.

  “Mr. Durant, so good to see you.” The man ushered Darius into a grand foyer with marble for days and lovely green plants on stands that looked like columns. In contrast, he wore shabby pants covered in burned holes and colored splotches. His T-shirt had a hole at the bottom, also appeared to have been burned, and there were more stains on it than there was white. “Mr. LaRay. Hello.”

  Mr. LaRay, our driver, didn’t acknowledge the salutation, and stood just inside of the doorway with his hands clasped in front of him.

  “Yes.” The older man turned his gaze on me. His eyes crinkled in the corners with his continual mirth. “And you must be Ms. Somerset. Such a pleasure.”

  I glanced at Darius and got a minimal nod. He must’ve alerted this man that I was coming.

  “This is Mr. Banks,” Darius said. “He will be assisting you this evening.”

  “Assisting me?” I got another nod, b
ut no further explanation. What else was new?

  With a half-confused frown, I offered the man a smile and a “Hello.” I didn’t offer my hand. I’d learned the hard way that one should never touch a mage who recently performed magic. You never knew what cooties might suddenly explode across your skin. That had been an exciting lesson followed by a horrible rash.

  The man’s hand lingered in the air for a moment before he clapped. “Yes, yes. Come, come. I think I have just the thing.”

  He led the way back into the hollow of a finely put-together house with rooms galore and lots of areas to lounge. A big staircase curved away right, with a sweeping banister that Mary Poppins would ride down in style. The porch at the back was a large affair with a table and chairs sprawled around a closed-up umbrella. We crossed the deck and then a large section of plush grass.

  I didn’t realize, before that moment, that grass could be plush. I’d been in my fair share of parks, but this was the sort of gardening miracle that made me slow and wish for a sunny day.

  “Can I come here without you?” I asked Darius.

  “Do you know this mage?” he asked.

  “No. But his house is fantastic, and it would be even better in the—”

  “Oh I’d love to have you,” the man interrupted as he trampled through a patch of flowers. I tried to pick my path much more carefully. “You would fit in here expertly, I can tell. Here we are.”

  We had arrived at a large wooden shed in the corner of the property that matched the man’s clothing. He tugged on a rusted metal handle and pulled the squealing door open. Light washed over his face and body.

  “Just in here, now.” He hurried in.

  “I’m not going in there,” I said as a wave of magic rolled out.

  Darius lightly touched my back and leaned in close, his version of a private conversation. “I have been in there many times, Reagan. I vow that you will come to no harm.”

  The driver, who had trailed behind us, took up residence near the door, apparently providing security.

  I pushed Darius away. “I’m not someone you or your man need to protect, Darius. You opening doors and feeding me grapes and wine—yeah, I’m in. Trying to coddle me on my home turf? That’ll get you punched. You do you. Let me do me. You go in if you want. I’m not.”

  He stared at me for a long moment. “I will go in,” he said, “and bring it out.”

  “It?” But it was too late. Darius had already stalked into the shed that may or may not have been purchased from the Unabomber. The thing did not fit with the house at all.

  I felt eyes boring into the side of my head. I swung my gaze toward the driver. “No one told you staring’s rude, huh?” He continued his unwavering gaze with a straight face and body. “No compute?”

  He ignored me. While still staring.

  “Were you creepy before you became a vampire, or is this a recent development?” I asked.

  “Oh no! Let me show her myself,” I heard from the opened shed door. Mr. Banks hurried outside with a pained expression, trying to shrug off Darius’s attempts at grabbing a long blade from him. “No. You couldn’t understand what it is I have made. Don’t touch it. She needs to be the first.” He stopped in front of me and thrust forward a sword.

  “Nope.” I took a step back. “You can’t expect me to take whatever you give me. You must know that.”

  Impatience covered his face. He shook the sword at me. “It is ready to pair. You must be the first to hold it.”

  “Besides you, obviously.”

  “Yes.” He shook it. “Obviously.”

  “This is a replacement for the sword you lost,” Darius said with wary eyes as he looked at the weapon.

  I felt my confusion cross my face. “My sword took two weeks to make. When was this called in?”

  “While you were sleeping,” he replied.

  “I loved that movie.” I shook my head at the blade being offered me. “I’ve lost track of time, but I haven’t lost track of that much time. The kind of sword I use couldn’t possibly be ready this quickly.”

  Mr. Banks scoffed. “Ignorance.” He shook the sword. “The fundamentals of the sword are easy. We have several on hand. It’s the magical composition that requires finesse, and my missus is a master. She can create a spell to feel out the user’s magic and mesh the two together. If the sword marries to you, it will only work for you, and it will work better than any sword prepared for you by the hacks you usually work with. If this one doesn’t marry, we’ll try another. Simple. She has loaded three swords, per Mr. Durant’s instruction, but I have dozens ready.”

  Swallowing down my hesitation—he seemed legit, if excitable—I let my hand hover over the blade. The vibration was pleasant, but too warm. Too…sticky. It made me uncomfortable.

  I shook my head and took my hand back. “No.”

  Mr. Banks scowled, annoyed, before confusion stole his expression. He analyzed me, looking over my face, my body, and the things I carried before shifting back to my eyes. There was a strange moment of gravity between us, like he recognized me. A smile drifted onto his face and excitement sparked in his gaze.

  He stepped away. His eyes flicked at Darius before he minutely nodded. “Let me just get the missus. She is best suited for clients such as yourself, Ms. Somerset.”

  I watched him set down the sword, smash a few more flowers, half run across the grass, and go back into the house.

  “What kind of dog and pony show is this?” I asked, strangely nervous. Darius’s uncharacteristic look of confusion told me I wasn’t getting any answers from him. The driver, whose name I honestly couldn’t remember even though it had been less than ten minutes since I’d heard it, was staring at the house where Mr. Banks had disappeared, his scowl a permanent fixture.

  After an amount of time that had me shifting impatiently, and the vampires go unnaturally still, which probably wasn’t good, an older woman came trundling out of the house. She had a stocky body, a hair net, a shiny sort of robe that must’ve been hard to find, since it was so odd, and fists at the end of her arms. Instead of crossing the grass like Mr. Banks seemed to favor, she took the path, with him trailing after her.

  When she reached me, she wore a bulldog expression. “So. You don’t trust me, huh?” She looked over my face.

  “This is my wife, Callie,” Mr. Banks said, pushing in close so he could get a good look at me too.

  “No,” I said flatly, answering her question and inching back. “Which you should be accustomed to.”

  “I’m not, actually.” She sniffed, blinked at me a couple times, nodded as if she was agreeing with something, then walked toward the shed. Mr. Banks followed her.

  “What is going on?” I mouthed to Darius, ready to pack it in and take off. I’d never seen mages act so weird around me. They were usually comfortable in my presence because I understood magic but couldn’t cast—they didn’t think I was a threat. These two were studying me, like they knew a secret about me.

  Considering the enemies I’d recently accrued in the mage world, and the things I’d done in Darius’s presence, that didn’t bode well.

  “No, Dizzy, the red one,” Callie shouted from inside the shed. She stalked out, rolling her eyes. “I hate being in that place. He loves chaos. It’s how he thinks best. I can’t stand it. I need order.”

  “So you stuck him in the shed out back?” I asked, taking a step in the direction of the house.

  “Which red one?” Dizzy—clearly Mr. Banks’s nickname—called out.

  “The red hilt. Deep silver blade. The red one! You know which one. You spent a month on the thing.”

  “Oh! That’s the silver one.”

  Callie scoffed and threw up her hands. “Suddenly he calls them by the color of their blades and not the hilts.” Focused on me again, she said, “In answer to your question, absolutely not. Do you think I want this God-awful shed dragging down the look of the garden? No, honey. He has a wing dedicated to the sort of chaos he loves. He won’t use i
t. Prefers this ramshackle disgrace for a workstation. Insisted it be nearly falling down, too.”

  “I think better in it,” Dizzy said as he came out holding another sword. “The house is too walled in. I need nature.”

  His wife rolled her eyes again.

  He held up a smaller sword with a red hilt, an expectant expression on his face.

  I did the same thing as before, assessing the magic. This one was better, more pleasant, with a good killing edge, but it seemed…distant, somehow. Unimpressed.

  “Magic with emotion,” I murmured as I handed it back to her. “That’s a new one for me.”

  The woman leaned in as a sparkle lit up her eyes. Her lips tweaked upward at the edges, threatening a smile. “Tell me, did you have a mother who practiced around here?”

  Pain flicked at my heart, as it always did when someone mentioned my mother. Equally as common was the expression of longing that Callie wore. Everyone who’d known my mother loved her. They couldn’t help it. She just had a way about her.

  “Yes,” I said. “She died five years ago. Did you know her?” I was terrible with names, but great with faces, and I hadn’t seen this mage before. She might’ve known my mother before I was born, but I doubted she’d seen much of her since. We hadn’t talked to many people, mostly just vendors or shop owners, and we hadn’t invited friends over. She’d hidden me until I was old enough to hide myself, and twenty-four years was a long time to still miss someone you used to know. It made me nervous, like these mages did in general.

  “A long time ago, yes. You look so similar, but even more beautiful, if that were possible. Except for the eyebrows, of course. Those are ghastly. I wish I could say I feel her in you, but I can’t. You’re much too powerful for that, aren’t you? Did she know you could feel magic like you do?”

  “Yes. She helped me hone it.”

  “Very rare, that trait,” Callie said softly. “Very rare. Only a handful of mages in the world have that talent. You got it from your father, right?”

  I bristled. She was right; it was a very rare trait. And yes, I did get it from my father. He wasn’t a mage, though.