by Linsey Hall
“You could tell it was ribs?” I asked.
“Not the first time one of us has cracked ribs.”
“True.” It was handy that Cass was now dating a guy with a bit of healing power. Much easier than going to the hospital. “How’s Roarke?”
“Good,” Del said. “In the Underworld, dealing with some business.”
Her boyfriend—and it was pretty danged serious between them—was Warden of the Underworld. He kept the peace between the Kings of Hell and made sure that not too many rogue demons made it onto Earth.
Cass returned with the drinks and sank into the chair next to me.
“Here.” She handed me the glass. “Drink your medicine.”
“Any day.” I sipped my Four Roses bourbon on the rocks, while she drank her PBR—the beer of hipsters and hillbillies as she called it. Del sipped her coffee mug of boxed wine. Though we were particular about our beverages, we were cheap. Too many years of being poor while living on the run were hard to break. And now that we actually had a bit of money, it all went into our troves.
“So what’s wrong?” Cass asked.
“I witnessed a murder.” The memory of the old man appeared in my mind, making my stomach turn.
Del frowned. “Like, a human murder? Not demon?”
The Order of the Magica was fine with us killing demons, since they weren’t supposed to be on Earth anyway. But people were another matter.
“A Magica.” I explained what had happened with the attacker and the blast of magic.
“What do you think the magic was?” Del asked.
“No idea.”
Cass frowned. “Where did it happen?”
“Darklane.”
“Hmmm. Bad part of town. You think it’s going to be trouble?” Del asked.
“Maybe.” Even in Magic’s Bend, where weird shit happened all the time, witnessing an outright murder was bad news. “I’m just so pissed that some dude offed an old man. Not cool.”
“You’re not thinking of hunting down the killer or anything crazy, right?” Cass asked.
I shrugged. I wanted to. I couldn’t get the old man’s face out of my mind.
“Not a great idea,” Del said. “Things have been crazy lately. We should stay under the radar.”
Understatement of the century. The last few months had been…active. The three of us were FireSouls—persona non grata in magical society because we could steal powers—so we did our best to lie low. That hadn’t been easy lately.
Behind me, the door creaked open, and a cold breeze rushed in. I turned to see Aidan, Cass’s boyfriend, walk into the bar. He waved at us, then made his way to the bar, towering over the other customers. He was a good guy, tall and handsome and the strongest Shifter in the world. I couldn’t have picked a better match for Cass.
Cass, who was normally tough as steel, was making googly eyes at Aidan’s back.
I nudged her with my foot. “Get ahold of yourself.”
She grinned. “What? I like him.”
“I know.” I gestured around the room, grinning. “Everyone knows.”
She shrugged. “You’re just jealous.”
“Yeah.” I was big enough to admit it. She had a good thing. And as much as I liked my life, I wouldn’t say no to a nice dude showing up on my doorstep with dinner and a movie.
Aidan made his way over to us, weaving elegantly through the crowd in the way that only a Shifter could.
“How’s it going?” His Scottish accent was strong despite the ten years he’d lived in Magic’s Bend. In the time I’d known him, which was only a few months, I’d come to think of him as kind of a brother figure. It was nice. Since I couldn’t remember any of my blood family, I’d take what I could get.
Cass jumped up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Great, now that you’re here.”
“But Nix’s ribs could use a blast of your healing power.” Del pointed to me.
“Get in a scuffle?” he asked.
“Robbery,” I said. “The usual.”
Until I’d witnessed a murder.
He raised a brow. “I assume they didn’t succeed?”
“Hell no.”
Aidan grinned and knelt by my side. “Which ribs?”
I pointed to my left side. He laid a gentle hand on my ribs and fed his warm, healing energy into my side. Besides being a powerful shifter, he had a few Magica gifts as well.
As his gift knitted my bones back together with warm, soothing magic, I was grateful to whatever ancestor had bequeathed him a healing ability.
“Better?” He removed his hand.
“Hundred percent.” I shifted and stretched, but there was no pain. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He took a seat next to Cass and picked up his glass of whiskey.
I finished off my drink. “Well, it’s been a long day. I think I’m going to take a shower.”
Del nodded. “Yeah. Get that blood off you.”
I saluted and stood, then made my way out into the cold night. It took only a few minutes to walk down the sidewalk toward our building. We rented the whole factory above our shop, each taking a floor for ourselves.
It was the ideal setup because we all needed a ton of space. FireSouls were said to share the soul of a dragon—though no one really knew what that meant since dragons were long dead. But we did share the dragon’s covetousness. Each of us had a treasure trove of our own, made up of whatever weird shit we considered to be valuable. We hoarded it in our apartments, in secret spaces built behind the walls.
Right now, I wanted nothing more than to visit my trove. Not only was it a place to store all my goodies, it was Xanax for the soul. Just sitting amongst my preciouses made me feel a million times calmer, as if the energy reached inside of me like a soothing tonic.
I was basically Gollum—my precious-ing all day long—but hopefully cuter.
I stopped in front of the green door and dug into my pocket for the key. I’d just slid it into the lock when the air changed. Magic crackled, a strange signature that I didn’t recognize.
But it was powerful. Like, magical nuclear blast powerful. The kind of powerful that could wipe out a city. With me in it.
I could rush inside the building and slam the door behind me, but…nah.
Not my style.
I turned, muscles tensed and ready.
The man who stepped out of the shadows took my breath away. Not just his looks—which were panty-droppingly gorgeous—but the danger that rolled off of him. I could freaking feel it, and that was unusual.
It felt like hungry tigers were circling me.
He kept to the shadows near a broken lamp post—in fact, he almost looked like he was made of shadow.
That had to be his magic. Supernatural’s power gave off different signatures that lit up the senses. Strong supernaturals triggered more than one sense. This guy triggered all five.
And the first one I noticed was that he looked like he could blend in with any of his surroundings. His form almost looked transparent—but he was still so real. A human chameleon.
He was tall and broad shouldered, the kind of guy who looked like he chopped down trees for a living or built great iron bridges. But his face was far too sophisticated for either of those options. He looked like a damned fallen angel, and I was dead certain those didn’t exist.
But the magic that rolled off him was almost dark. It smelled like a cold winter morning and felt like a hot caress against my skin. It was the flickering of flames, but wonderful. It even banished the chill in the air.
“You’re the one I seek.” His voice rolled over me like waves, deep and strong. His accent was a little bit like Russian, but not quite.
And he wanted me? Yikes. I held up a hand. “Hang on.”
He raised a dark brow and looked at me, curiosity gleaming in his eyes, as if I were something unexpected. Not used to being talked back to?
Good. I liked being unexpected. And I had to get a feel for the rest of his magical signature. I
needed to know what he was.
Dangerous, that was for sure. But what was he?
As subtly as I could, I called my magic up from within. I was careful to repress my own signature for fear that he would sense what I was doing. Powerful supernaturals could control how much of a signature they gave off. He was definitely strong enough to do that, though he clearly didn’t want to.
This guy wanted me to know how strong he was.
Don’t worry, pal. I get it.
His magic tasted like the best whiskey, rich and warm with a slight burn. Seductive. And the sound was that of a thunderstorm rolling in the distance.
“You about done?” His voice was as deep and sexy as before. And scary.
I shivered.
With his dark jeans and sleek brown leather jacket, he’d look just like a regular guy if regular guys looked like killer super models.
He led with his power, the magical equivalent of swinging his dick around.
“You mean business, don’t you?” I asked.
“Always.”
“What the hell are you?”
His green eyes darkened. “A problem for you.”
Yeah, that was the truth. I kept my magic primed, just below the surface of my skin. It prickled and jumped, ready to be set free. But I wouldn’t, not until I knew I’d have to fight. Because once you conjured a weapon, people knew what was coming.
And I didn’t want to give this guy a head start. My magic was weaker from all the conjuring I’d done all day. I’d need to rest to completely rejuvenate.
“I mean what species? I don’t like games,” I said.
“Are you sure?” His voice was so deeply seductive that I’d have to be dead not to get his drift. And from the way my insides lit up, I was certainly not dead. Every part of me was brilliantly alive—with the desire to fuck and flee, I couldn’t figure out which.
And all of that was a bad idea. This guy was a predator. You didn’t flee from predators, and you certainly didn’t fuck them.
I was impulsive, not stupid.
“I don’t want to play your games,” I corrected.
He grinned, his full lips curving up in a smile that devastated my insides. It was a nuclear bomb that laid waste to my good sense.
Until he stepped forward. Those few feet gave me a chance to really get a feel for his magic. The chill scent of a winter morning, the hot caress of a hand brushing my arm.
And something else. Something I’d only ever heard about but not felt. A prick against my neck—lovely and terrible at the same time.
My stomach dropped out of me. “You’re a vampire.”
“The vampire.” He stepped closer, now only a dozen feet away.
The earth tilted even more on its axis as I picked up a sixth signature. My dragon sense pulled me toward him.
What the hell?
My dragon sense was a gift from my FireSoul side. It allowed me to find things of value. Treasure. Dragons loved treasure.
But it’d never pulled me toward a person before.
And it chose this moment to pull me toward him?
It was clearly mistaken.
“What do you mean, the vampire?” My heart raced as I searched his features, trying to get a glimpse of his fangs. But they stayed hidden behind his too-perfect lips.
“This.”
The air around him shimmered, as if he were dropping some kind of concealment charm.
I staggered back against the door, hit by more magic than I’d ever sensed on a single being before. His every magical signature was multiplied by a hundred. I’d already thought he was strong. But this was nuts.
“Shit,” I breathed. “No wonder you keep that under wraps.”
He wasn’t just a vampire. There was more magic to him. But what?
“So you know who I am?” Quiet confidence gleamed in his brilliant green eyes.
“Yeah.” I swallowed hard, suddenly cursing my decision to leave the bar early. “You’re the Enforcer. The most powerful vampire alive.”
I didn’t know much about vampires, but I’d heard of him. Goosebumps prickled my skin, and fear curdled in my belly. Most supernaturals were governed by either the Alpha Council—for the shifters—or the Order of the Magica—for the rest of us. But vampires had their own governing body.
In all my life, I’d only ever seen one other vampire. They were highly secretive and rarely interacted with other supernaturals. That guy had been nothing like this one. This one… He was unique.
As beautiful as he was, he was even more dangerous. I’d only ever heard whispered rumors of the Enforcer who both protected vampires and policed them in equal measures. He was death on the wind, so fast and strong that you didn’t see him coming.
The fact that he was here, talking to me….
That was enough to scare the sense out of anyone.
“Why are you at my door?” I asked. “It’s been a long day, and I’m ready for bed.”
I almost thought interest sparked in his eyes, but they quickly turned cold. “Does murder exhaust you?”
Chapter Three
I barked a laugh, but fear rose in my belly, a toxic mess that made me want to hurl. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do. You murdered Marin Olerafort. Your magic was all over the scene. All over the weapon.”
Shit. I’d done a piss-poor job covering my tracks, apparently. But who’d have thought a supernatural bloodhound would be on the case? I wanted to conjure a weapon, but my odds of winning a fight against this guy were ridiculously slim.
“I didn’t murder him.” Sweat rolled down my spine. “I tried to save him.”
“You did a poor job of that.”
“I know.”
“Your magic was on the blade. You sunk it into his heart.”
“I didn’t!” But shit, this looked bad. I never should have used my conjuring at the scene. I’d left my signature all over the place. “I conjured a towel to try to stop the flow of blood.”
“Then where is it?”
“In a dumpster near the alley.”
“That’s convenient. The leading theory amongst the Vampire Court is that you conjured the blade and that’s why your magic was on it.”
“I didn’t! And I saw the murderer.”
Skepticism flashed on his face. “What did he look like?”
“I don’t know. It was far away. Bigger than Marin, and wearing a cloak.”
“A cloaked figure?” He laughed derisively. “That gives me nothing. And it doesn’t help you.”
No, it didn’t. I could give him nothing more than the obvious, and that wasn’t believable. Not with my magic at the scene.
“What were you doing in the Shadowlands?” he asked. “You shouldn’t even be able to enter that realm.”
“What the hell are the Shadowlands?” Was he talking about the darkness that had pervaded the alley?
His brows lowered over his eyes. “You’re a strange one.” He stepped closer, until he was only a half dozen feet away. His eyes gleamed with interest as they traced over my face. “What are you?”
I shrugged. “Conjurer. Nothing exciting.”
“Oh, that’s hardly true.”
I scowled. “Fine. I may be exciting, but I’m just a Conjurer.”
“That’s only half true.”
I swallowed hard. “The exciting part?”
“That part is true. The only a Conjurer part is bollocks. You’re something different. I can sense it.”
Shit. I didn’t want him sensing what I really was. There was a bounty on FireSoul heads. Though the Enforcer was rumored to be super rich—even he might like the cash that the Order of the Magica would give him for turning me in. Or the social connections. The governments didn’t always cooperate. But if he brought me to them? He’d be favored, no question.
“Dude, I have no idea what you are talking about.” I stepped back until I was pressed against the door. “I didn’t kill your friend. I know nothing abou
t the person who did. And I’m ready to go to bed.”
This time, interest definitely sparked in his eyes. And it took longer to fade. In fact, he seemed like he had to force it away until anger simmered in his eyes.
He was pissed about this Marin guy’s murder. But he was also interested in me. In getting me into bed?
Nah. Though he was so damned hot that if he was a normal guy, I’d have considered it. Except that he was terrifying. Terrifying was so not my thing. And he was the farthest thing from normal.
Just like my life was going to be if he insisted that I’d killed Marin.
“I’m here to take you before the Vampire Court. You’ve hereby been accused of the murder of Marin Olerafort.”
“I didn’t do it!” Shit! This was getting too real.
“Then why can I sense fear on you? The innocent wouldn’t be fearful.”
A derisive laugh escaped me. “You’re joking, right? You just said you’d drag me in front of the Vampire Court. Anyone who isn’t an idiot would get a little nervous.”
Not to mention, I’d have my own government after me if they knew I was a FireSoul. And that would put Cass and Del at risk, as well. Why did he even care? Marin hadn’t been a vampire.
All of this was going south.
“Here’s an idea,” I said. “My friend Connor is the best potions maker around. He works right down the street. Let’s go there. He can whip up a truth serum in no time. I’ll take it, then I’ll tell you everything I know. And you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”
Skepticism lowered his brow. “I’m not going to trust your friend.”
“You can watch him make it. You can even consult the recipe book. He’ll use a standard one, approved by the Order of the Magica.”
“Even those aren’t infallible. Everyone knows that. Truth serums are best used when the victim doesn’t see it coming. Otherwise, they can erect mental defenses.”
Damn it. This guy was stubborn. He was also right.
Which meant I had no freaking clue how to get him to believe me. Add in his suspicion of my species and the fact that I could “walk in the Shadowlands”—whatever that meant—it wasn’t looking good for me.
And I did not want to go in front of the Vampire Court. They were a shadowy organization that I knew nearly nothing about. But vampires were rumored to have a mind reader on their court. I didn’t need them reading my mind and figuring out that I was more than just a nobody Conjurer.