Born in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy Book 1)

by K. F. Breene

  “Then what was all that talk about Latin and Gaelic? If the words don’t really matter, why the different language?”

  She shrugged. “We still use words for the harder and more complex spells. It took us nearly a lifetime to get here. There are a handful of incredibly skilled mages who can do it naturally. The rest of us have to go the traditional route and practice constantly. So when we do have to use words, we choose ones others might not understand so no one else will steal our stuff.”

  “Are those natural mages in the Mages’ Guild?”

  “Two are, I think. Prized, of course. The others aren’t.”

  “I bet the guild is constantly trying to enlist the ones who aren’t.”

  “Oh yes. One of the naturals constantly disappears, I’ve heard. He goes off-grid. Wild, that one, not that I blame him. Really handsome, too. If only the fountain of youth were real…” She shook her head and sighed. “You should dump the vampire and seek out that mage. You two would be good together.”

  “I’m good. Single is a good choice.”

  “Who said anything about marriage? Good Lord, no. Do yourself a favor: don’t move in with him. Then he’ll be expecting you to cook and clean—no. Just take him for a spin and return him if he breaks. That’s the best bet.”

  I stifled a laugh.

  “Ah. Here comes the light of my life now,” Callie said dryly as Dizzy stepped over the hedge right beside the walkway.

  “Don’t believe a word she says,” Dizzy said, shifting his satchel. “She’s mad about me.”

  “You’ve got the mad part right.” She grinned.

  “I took some pictures. Let’s get out of here.” Dizzy headed toward the driver’s side. “This is a crime scene.”

  “I doubt the cops are going to believe we pulled a house down on top of people.” Callie pulled the passenger door open.

  “I’d rather not be questioned at all.” I slid into the back seat.

  The roar of the car cut out the sound of the insects. “To the next house, or home?” Dizzy asked as he pulled away from the ruined house.

  “That depends.” I watched the houses drift by. “Do you think he’ll use those circles multiple times?”

  “He won’t reuse the one we’ve just seen.” Dizzy rested his hands on his legs and steered with a knee. “That workroom was in disarray. Anyone planning to use a circle as a permanent fixture generally treats the area as sacred. Or at least with respect. It’s your protection. It’s your container, holding a powerful and purposeful item. You treat it and the area around it like a piece of expensive furniture. He treated it like a necessary, though temporary, area. There’s no way he would have left that corpse to rot if he’d planned on coming back. It was a one-off. He’s used it and now he’s moving on.”

  “You know a lot about circles…” I let the sentence linger.

  “I did a little demon calling in college. Now, that was fun.” Dizzy tapped a drumbeat on the steering wheel, though continued to steer with his knee. “Killing animals wasn’t as taboo then. We ate it afterward, too, which also wasn’t as taboo.”

  “Yes it was,” Callie said.

  “Oh. Well, we did it anyway. It was a different time.”

  “He was a bachelor, is what he really means.” Callie adjusted her seatbelt. “He did things without thinking about them.”

  “That’s true enough.” Dizzy continued to tap out a beat.

  “What about that crime scene you two mentioned the other day?” I asked.

  “What about it?” Callie said.

  “We didn’t find any casings at the house, but I’m positive this is the mage I’m looking for. So this is my guy, but he’s doing circles and sacrifices like the mage who skinned that human. Could it be the same mage?” Thinking out loud, I added, “But if he has the gumption to go big, why settle for sacrificing a calf? It doesn’t seem to fit with his power hungriness.”

  “No, it doesn’t fit at all,” Callie said. “I think we’re looking at two different people with the same idea.”

  “While the circles did have strong similarities, which we should’ve mentioned before now, I suppose, I agree,” Dizzy said. “I would be very surprised if the person who did this circle was the same one who skinned someone to collect their power.” He shook his head. “Very surprised. The mage who murdered that person was very controlled. Very diligent. Even the crime scene was well organized.”

  “This is our problem,” Callie said. “That other thing is not. Rule of thumb with mages, Reagan. Don’t stick your magical nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  I frowned out the window. Her words were true enough. I had plenty on my plate, and seeing that poor calf had been bad enough.

  “So about the other houses,” I said, watching homes drift by. They were closer together now. “Let’s not bother. The throwaway circle confirms what I heard about his moving habits. He doesn’t stay in one place very long—”

  “With you and a bunch of vampires after him, do you blame him?” Callie huffed.

  “So you’re still going to bust in on his gang tomorrow?” Dizzy asked. “Even though a bunch of mages will be there, and the head mage will be carrying around a demon inside his body, you’re going to stalk in there, alone, and try to take them all down?”

  “When you say it like that, it sounds a little foolish. Besides, Darius might come back to help.”

  Neither of them commented.

  “Not going to sway me either way, huh?” I asked, running my finger along my holster. “Yes, I am. Because if I’m right, their defenses will largely be left to the mages at that meeting, led by Mr. All Powerful. Most of the mages will be scrambling, trying to remember which spell is which, what does what—they’ll screw the pooch.”

  “And Mr. All Powerful?” Callie asked.

  “He’ll be battling a demon.”

  “He’s used to battling a demon,” she said. “He seems to have it under control.”

  “He’s never tried to battle a demon who senses its true master…”

  Chapter Twenty

  I had Dizzy drop me off down the street from my house. The street looked abandoned other than a large figure that was sitting on the front steps of a house. I waved to the dual mages instead of voicing a goodbye, and stood on the cracked sidewalk as they drove away. I looked over at the wall of the graveyard across the street, breathing in the thick air of my neighborhood, relishing the comforting feeling of the humidity coating my skin. Home.

  “Any news?” I asked, not looking at the figure.

  “I’ve never seen someone leave a house so clean, and come back so filthy. It’s a talent.”

  I glanced down at my leather pants, covered in dirt and grime. Each arm had smears of brown, and I’d ripped a hole in my shirt. I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “It certainly is that.” Mikey rested his arm on his knee. “There are a couple knuckleheads running around the graveyard, but other than that, nothing is going on.”

  “What kind of knuckleheads?”

  “Poor kids with grass and leaves ’n’ shit. Not worth robbing, if that’s what you were thinking.” He dug a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Not worth chasing out, neither. Just some dumb kids who probably got a book on calling the corners or whatever and decided to give it a try.”

  “What do you know about calling the corners?”

  “I know people gather in there and yell at the sky about watchtowers and gods ’n’ shit. They wake me up. I’m a light sleeper.”

  I chuckled. “Okay, then. So you didn’t see anyone trying to sneak into my house?”

  “Nope. They know better by now.”

  “No one walking by? That guy Smokey didn’t see any vampires or whatever?”

  “Smokey said you got two mail deliveries. It was earlier this evening. He said one didn’t look right, but the guy didn’t go inside. Used the mail slot.”

  “He used the mail slot in the broken door propped up against the house…”

  �
�Yeah. Where else are they supposed to put your mail?”

  I braced my hands on my hips. “That’s true, I guess. I’m still surprised the cops haven’t shown up yet.”

  “In this neighborhood?” Mikey heaved himself to his feet. He scratched his stomach then stretched. “Cops don’t care about us. Not unless they need a suspect for something gone wrong.”

  “Half the time I should be a suspect.”

  “Then you’re doing it wrong.”

  We walked down the street slowly, taking our time. I wasn’t sure why, just that when I sped up a little, he fell behind. He was a strolling kind of guy, I guessed.

  “You dating that guy Smokey thinks is a vampire?” Mikey asked. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

  “No. Working with him. He was supposed to meet me tonight to do a job tomorrow. Hasn’t shown.”

  Mikey looked behind him before rolling a shoulder. “A partner you can’t trust is bad news.”

  “I know.”

  He held up his hands. “You don’t gotta start with the tone. You ain’t no fool. I get it. Just sayin’.”

  “I’ve been hearing that warning a lot. I need him to get a payoff, though. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to force the issue.”

  “Trust me, force that bitch. Force it right down his throat. Go hard.”

  “I plan to.”

  He dropped his hands and nodded, stopping when we got in front of my house. “I know you do. You’re crazy, that’s why. You can always count on crazy.”

  “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

  “I don’t give a shit how the saying goes. Everyone is crazy. It’s the people who go with it, and admit it, that you can trust. So you be crazy, girl. Give that rat bastard hell.”

  I trudged up onto my first step. “I feel like this conversation has gone a little sideways.”

  “Yeah. I’m no good at pep talks. Good luck with your thing.”

  “Thanks for watching my house.”

  He waved at me and continued walking. He didn’t turn into his house, though; he kept going, staring at the wall to the cemetery. I had a feeling he was going to scare the kids out of there after all. That was always a fun time.

  I lifted a side of the door and scurried under, not feeling any magic. A few letters sprawled out at my feet, barely inside, given how the door was leaning. I scooped them up and walked back to my bedroom, looking through the house for anyone physically hiding. Nothing.

  I plopped down on my bed, feeling strangely hollow. Disappointed. I knew vampires predominantly looked after themselves and their way of life; of course I did. Everyone knew that. And who could blame them? With their humanity eroding away, taking their deeper emotions with it, all they really had was brainpower and boredom. Most of them turned to political intrigues, and as everyone knew, trusting politicians was a bad move. But I had hoped Darius would pull through. I’d hoped he would at least honor the contract, if not our working partnership.

  I turned over one of the envelopes and saw that it was a packet of coupons. I tossed it to the bed for a “keep” pile. The way things were going, I’d probably need them. I turned the next letter over. Paper spam. If only there was an unsubscribe button for real mail.

  The last was a plain envelope addressed to Reagan Somerset, Bounty Hunter Extraordinaire. In the sender area was “Your Future Master” with an address below it.

  “Oh good, another stalker.” I tucked the tip of my finger in a little opening and slid it across, ripping open the envelope. The edge of the paper sliced into my finger.

  “You diaper-wearing biscuit handler!” I shook my hand and examined my paper cut. A tiny line in my skin taunted me with stinging pain.

  After shaking my hand again, I pulled out the paper and opened it up. A picture fluttered to the ground. Annoyed, I examined the letter.

  In large font, the typed message said, I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Let’s make a deal.

  It wasn’t signed.

  I put it in the trash pile and bent to scoop up what was sure to be a dick pic. Since I wasn’t on social media and didn’t even have an email address, a few marks turned admirers took to sending me real pictures of their junk. I honestly had no idea why, since I couldn’t tell them apart. Yet that didn’t stop them from taking part in this strange sort of mating ritual for the hopelessly ignorant.

  “C’mere, little willy, time to see the inside of the trash can.” My fingers hit off the edge and accidentally flipped it over.

  I felt my brow furrow, wondering if it was Photoshop, until I saw the hand scrawled Durant and the arrow pointing to clothing filled out like a person wore them, without the person actually pictured.

  Much like a vampire wouldn’t show up in a photo.

  I snatched it up.

  Ropes wound around an invisible body, indenting a shirt and pants. Out from the shirt hovered the top of a wooden post. Fire starters, those logs you bought in the store to light a fire, were piled up to mid-calf area on the pant.

  That had to be a joke, since fire logs produced a slow smolder, not a proper burn.

  I could just make out stone a ways behind the scene, dirty gray. The color and texture matched the Google Maps image of the meeting site. I checked the return address. Yes, the same place.

  Darius’s clothing was different than when I’d last seen him. If it was him, and I had no reason to assume it wasn’t since I wouldn’t care about any other vampire, he must’ve made it to the lair, since I’d gone back to his house that night and he hadn’t been there. That didn’t tell me if the mage had sought Darius out, or vice versa.

  So Mr. All Powerful had trapped Mr. Handsome. That would be fun to rub in Darius’s face.

  Looking over the picture again, I focused on the rope. No way could normal rope keep a vampire put. He could easily rip out of it in his human form, or change to his monster form for an even easier escape. That rope had to be magical. Or else a spell was keeping him put and the rope was for show. Yes, that fit with the fire logs and the nature of the mage’s note. Cute.

  I dropped the picture onto the letter and sat for a moment, staring at nothing. Thinking.

  I glanced at the window, then the clock by my bedside table, which wasn’t working. I checked my phone. Four ten. Dawn wasn’t far away. If I stormed the gates now, I’d have a better chance of breaking in before they got all their defenses up. Then again, if they’d dropped off the letter earlier in the night, they were ready for me.

  The other problem was that if I went now and got Darius out of there, he’d get fried by the sun. I wasn’t sure how exactly that would work with the contract, but killing a high-level vampire probably wouldn’t make me any friends, even if I still got paid. I already had one vampire pissed at me for killing a bond-mate—probably; I still didn’t have any proof—and I’d rather not make any more enemies.

  So that meant tomorrow—or today, rather—evening, sundown.

  I had a whole day to obsess. Great.

  My mind flitted over the message. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Let’s make a deal.

  Let’s make a deal was clear enough, and I had a feeling it had to do with my power. Maybe he wanted me to stop breaking their spells? Or use my abilities to help them out? Whatever it was, the answer would be no.

  What was with the showing-and-telling bit? A dick pic made sense with that line, but a surly vampire tied up to a post, ready to be burned at the stake by logs that didn’t do much more than glow?

  I tapped my finger against my lips.

  Fire.

  Somehow, the mage knew I could magically create fire. How, I wondered, and did he know what kind?

  I continued to tap my finger against my lips, thinking about the demon the mage was using. Wondering if I’d strayed close to the mage without having known it.

  What else could it be?

  Unless Margaret had somehow seen my getting John’s book, and blabbed when the powerful mage was questioning her…

 
My finger kept tapping.

  The windows were covered. I didn’t see how that was possible.

  In a sudden movement, I scooped all the paper off my bed, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash. I didn’t know what was going on, but it didn’t matter. The mage was cheating in the game of magic, he had a surly vampire I wanted back, if only for the fantastic dinners he put on, and—bottom line—he had my meal ticket to a better, less stress-riddled life. He could light the whole place on fire, shoot hellfire at me, and decorate the building in spells…

  I was tired of playing. I was going to get what was mine.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I slung my stained, frayed-edged, modified satchel over my shoulder and let it drape across my body. It was smaller than the version everyone else used, with an extra strap that kept it close to my side. When the flap was pulled back, there were compartments on the inside for easy grabbing on the run. I used to wear it all the time, but since I stopped being able to fill it with spells, the small leather pouch was a better option. Certainly a nicer-looking option.

  My sword warmed my back and my gun was secured to my upper thigh. I buckled a knife to my ankle for overkill, because if the gun didn’t work, and the spells didn’t work, and my magic didn’t work, a knife certainly wouldn’t save the day. Still, you never knew.

  “Right, then.” I took a deep breath and glanced out the window. The dying light put a hard edge on everything. Sundown was right around the corner.

  I walked out of my room and down the hall, my head held high and butterflies in my stomach. Usually I went after one person. Occasionally two. I’d never taken on a whole army before. Especially not alone.

  This wasn’t smart.

  I was doing it anyway.

  I reached my front door and kicked it. The wood fell away and tumbled down the steps. It felt good. Destruction!

  A moment later, I hauled the door back to its former glory, leaning it against the gaping hole into my half-burned house. I didn’t need anyone telling the landlord on me, if they hadn’t already. I’d have to confront him eventually, but I figured I might as well wait, since there was a chance I wouldn’t survive.