by Ashley Meira
“They won’t. We’ll keep our heads down. We’ll have lives — the kind the man who took us tried to prevent us from having. We may never get our memories back—” she took a deep, shuddery breath as tears filled her eyes “—but we will always have each other.”
I couldn’t see her face through my tears, but I could feel her warmth as we hugged again. We might not be blood, but our bond was permanent. We were free, and we were going to stay free. Together.
“Family.” I nodded as we stood. “Sisters.”
Fiona held up her pinky. “Forever.”
I linked my pinky with hers. “Forever.”
We took each other’s hand and walked away from the castle.
We were only kids, tired and barely able to defend ourselves. Yet, as we walked toward what we hoped was freedom, I couldn’t help but think of how many people we’d left behind. Titus, Julian, Diana, and who knew how many others were still in there.
And we were abandoning them.
Chapter Two
Eight years later
“Run!”
“Damn it, Fiona!” I called over my shoulder. “All you had to do was shrink down, fly over, and blast him!”
The earth rumbled as the herd of golems chasing us slammed their fists against the pavement. They were shaped like faceless humans and stood over fifteen feet tall, bathing our path in shadow. Not a creature you wanted chasing after you.
“He thought I was a fly,” Fiona called back as we ran for our lives. “You know how I feel about being swatted!”
“Yeah, I do,” I said, vaulting over a bench. “We share a wall, remember? Thank god you broke up with that guy. I was about to move out.”
She glared at me. “I hate you.”
I signaled for her to go right before veering left and hurling my sword at the group of rock monsters. The enchanted metal hit one of them in the shoulder, doing as much as you would expect a piece of metal to do against stone. Still, a girl had to try.
A chorus of screams rang out as I approached the crowd of couples enjoying their afternoon. Moonlight Park was Santa Fae’s hotspot for couples old and young alike, and we’d just ruined their day.
I circled around the park’s giant fountain and charged toward one of the golems. It slammed a granite fist down, and I hopped onto it. Sword raised, I climbed its arm and slammed the blade deep into its head. The golem roared, reaching back to grab me. Its body crumbled to dust before it could.
A hail of rocks slammed into the tree by my head. I rolled my eyes at the crazed cackle that followed. Fiona’s almost-fly swatter was Cyrus…something. Didn’t know, didn’t care. He was an earth mage and pain-in-the-ass thief that had the balls to steal from the supernatural community’s most powerful families. And while those families weren’t any friend of mine — most had a seat on the Council of Magic — jobs for them paid top dollar.
The first few years after escaping my prison had been hard. I was tempted to say they’d been the hardest years of my life, but my memory still hadn’t returned. And based on the scars that littered my body, I’d put money on my childhood being much worse.
It had taken Fiona and me five years to find a new home in California’s biggest magical city, Santa Fae. Supernaturals had their own cities that existed alongside human settlements. Whenever a human came near one, they had an undeniable urge to turn around — thanks to powerful spells woven by the Council. Supernaturals lived in human cities, too, but the ones who didn’t look human had to stay in magical cities.
We hadn’t planned on staying this long. Major cities like Santa Fae tended to house more Council family members than I was comfortable with. Our original plan was to pick up a few odd jobs at the Guild and make some money before moving on.
But we grew attached to the city and people — enough that we’d spent the last three years here.
Life had been good so far. We had a house, friends, and no one has tried to kill me. Okay, plenty people have tried to kill me, but not because I was Fireborn.
We also had a job that allowed us to kick ass for a living. Fiona and I worked for the Mercenary Guild. I may not have remembered why I woke up eight years ago with knowledge on how to rip someone’s eyeballs out through their bellybutton, but it was nice to have a use for it.
The pay was okay, though it could have been better. Mages made more money, but if I claimed to be one, I’d have to demonstrate my magic. If I did that, people would be able to sense it. All it took was one person recognizing my magic, and I was looking at a life sentence in the Black Citadel — right next to my sister.
I was more than happy to live lean if it meant living free. Fiona agreed but thought I should practice my magic. She’d tried to teach me a few things when we were younger, but fairy magic was different. And after I set our little hut in Wales on fire — then flash froze it in panic — I’d been too afraid to try again.
I curved my left index finger in a “come-hither” motion. My sword vanished and reappeared in my hand. The pink sapphires imbued into the onyx hilt glowed in tandem with the ring on my finger — an onyx band encrusted with pink sapphires. I loved enchanted weapons.
Despite being made of stone, golems weren’t naturally occurring constructs. They were either summoned or built and enchanted to rise when someone disturbed the area they were guarding. I’d fought them once before in Peru. They were strong and would fight until something destroyed them. The only way to do that was to stab them in the head, severing the magical connection that kept them functioning.
I turned to Cyrus, rubbing my shoulder. My sword was enchanted to resist almost all physical trauma, but my arm wasn’t — and stabbing through solid rock hurt.
The thieving mage’s dark hair was greasy, and he was wearing a ratty trench coat. The magic emanating from him tasted like stale beer mixed with syrup. The syrupy taste was Fairy Dew, a magical drug made popular by bored socialites. It gave the user a nice high, so it functioned well as a party drug. But too much made you lose control, and people rarely took drugs in moderation, especially douchey mages that threw rocks at me.
It may have been the Fairy Dew clouding his magic, but Cyrus didn’t feel like a summoner. His magic sure as hell didn’t feel strong enough to be able to summon these golems. Usually, hybrids were powerful mages, even if they didn’t have control over their abilities. But he was a sub-par earth mage at best, his magic tepid and watery. How was he able to summon six big golems to chase after us? He had managed to steal from some of the most well-protected people in the world, so I guess he had some skill. Still, something didn’t feel right.
Cyrus cackled. “Come on, ladies! What’d they do? Send rookies after me?”
A golem to my left exploded in a burst of pink glitter, leaving Fiona standing there triumphantly. Yeah, magic definitely worked better than metal.
“Get the thief,” she said, charging up another Fairy Bolt for the golem running toward her. “I can handle the golems.”
I watched the charging golem burst like a filled balloon, scattering pebbles into the fountain. “No kidding.”
I ran toward Cyrus. His eyes widened when he realized how close I was. He waved his arms, calling a pair of golems to stand in front of him. Coward.
His lackeys charged. I slid between them. If I took Cyrus out, they would crumble to dust. The wind from one of the golems’ punches shoved me forward. I fell into a roll and side flipped to the right. The second golem reached for me. I ducked, strafing around its gargantuan body before turning back to Cyrus. He’d called the first golem back to him and was watching me with a sneer.
I groaned. Not wanting to make it easy was one thing, but did they always have to look so smug?
As the golem swiped at me, I grabbed onto its arm and swung myself up, scaling the appendage. I stepped onto its shoulder and sunk the onyx blade deep into its head.
It shattered in a cloud of dust. I ran through it, Cyrus’ outline in my sights. When the dust cleared, I saw him reaching into his pocket for som
ething. I couldn’t tell what it was from here. Probably his ace in the hole, if the lack of fear on his face was any indication. I had to stop him before he could use it.
The final golem came for me, but I vaulted over its outstretched arm. Charging forward, I tackled Cyrus to the ground. We wrestled, the Fairy Dew making him squirmier than usual. He tried to throw me off, but wasn’t making much progress with one hand occupied.
His magic flared, and he pressed a hand against my chest. Before I could react, a shrapnel blast of sharp rocks shredded my tank top. The rush of magic caused me to stagger backwards. My hand snagged against his pocket before he fell out of range. Cyrus stood there cackling while I looked myself over.
Being Fireborn meant my skin absorbed magic the moment it made contact, so I wasn’t worried about any physical damage. If anything, his attack served as a much needed energy boost. No, that wasn’t what had my attention. When I fought mages, it was my clothes that suffered. My black tank top was little more than a few scraps hanging across my shoulders. But what really upset me was my bra.
Being a mercenary didn’t allow for a lot of freedom in the way I dressed. The one frivolity I allowed myself was an assortment of colorful — and extremely frilly — bras. My breasts were small enough to not need any support, so I could get away with wearing something purely whimsical.
Like the cute, bright blue bra I had on now. Though “on” wasn’t the right word anymore. One strap was gone, the lace cover of one cup was shredded, and the other cup was almost cut in half.
“Damn it,” I mumbled. “Dude, shut up!”
Cyrus’ cackling stopped. He sneered but didn’t dare come closer. His tan skin was soaked with sweat, and his brown eyes were bloodshot. Seriously, the Council needed to spend less time throwing fancy dinner parties and more time regulating magical drugs. At least he was too high to notice I’d absorbed his attack. I could fake being injured well enough, but there was no disguising the lack of blood or cuts on my chest.
“Don’t be a sore loser,” he said. His voice was raspy, probably from all the cackling. He deserved it. “I’m just better than you are.”
I raised a brow. “Yeah?”
“Of course.”
“Why don’t you come over here and say that?” I challenged, giving him a cocky grin.
The desire to fight, to destroy everyone in my way, was rushing through my veins. It’d been there since waking up in that dungeon and had remained all these years. Another reason I was both eager and terrified of remembering my past. Wanting magic was one thing — it was in my blood. But killing? That didn’t feel right. Fireborns went crazy and hurt people, but they didn’t start off that way. Or did they?
“No thanks.” Cyrus sneered. “I don’t waste my time with low-grade trash.”
“Big talk from a petty thief.” I stood up and dusted myself off, casting another mournful look at my bra.
“Petty? Me? I managed stole from the most powerful families in the world. Their security systems make the Pentagon look like a preschool, and I bypassed them all. Me. A completely awesome, totally cool thief.”
This guy? Seriously? If I hadn’t gotten the information personally, I’d have thought this a case of mistaken identity.
“Well—” I thumbed the item in my palm “—I may not be a completely awesome, totally cool thief, but at least I know when something isn’t in my hand anymore.”
Cyrus frowned. “What the—”
He opened his empty hands. While he frantically patted himself down and checked his coat pockets, I looked over the item he was searching for.
It was a giant ruby surrounded by a platinum band. The band was engraved with intricate designs. Runes or a foreign language maybe. It looked like a brooch, but there was no pin in the back. The item was magical, but I didn’t know what it did. No way it was his — the ruby was almost as big as my palm. He definitely stole this from one of the families.
I whistled, waving the item in his direction. “Looking for this?”
His head snapped up, eyes wide with outrage. “How did— That’s mine!”
“I highly doubt that.”
“You bitch!” He shoved a finger in my direction. “You think you can stop me? I’m connected in ways you can’t even imagine! I—”
I launched my sword at him. He shrieked and fell, crumbling into a ball as it landed in front of him. While he cowered, I dusted myself off and sauntered over to him.
He looked up just in time to see my fist flying toward his face. The feel of his nose cracking under my knuckles was officially the highlight of my day. He collapsed against the pavement like a wet rag, and based on the sweat drenching his trench coat, I’d say that was a pretty apt comparison.
“Hit him a little hard there, Soph.” Fiona came over. Her ponytail was mussed up and she was covered in dust, but she didn’t look hurt.
“I liked this bra.”
“You like them all.”
“That’s why I buy them. It’s like you and your heels.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Heels you don’t need, by the way. Freakin’ giant.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m five foot seven.”
“Well, I’m five foot…nothing.”
“I thought you were five-one.”
“I slouch.”
Heat prickled against the side of my left hand. I’d added another pair of rings to the two I’d found eight years ago — the enchanted ring that connected to my sword and a communication charm on my pinky. It was a simple silver band, almost out of place amongst the giant lightstone, fancy ruby, and bedazzled onyx band.
“Can you call the Guild clean-up crew?” I asked her. “I’ve got a call.”
She nodded and walked away while I activated the charm.
“Darling, how are you?” Symeon’s aristocratic drawl filtered out.
Symeon was my patron. His word, not mine, but after a year of fighting it, I’d let him win. He was a treasure collector and dealer that scoured the world looking for ancient artifacts and rare pieces of art to add to his trove. Finding items for clients was what made him rich, which in turn allowed him to find more treasure for himself.
He was great at brokering deals and getting his hands on “minimally guarded” treasures — I tried not to ask — but was less skilled at tracking things through active volcanos or stealing them from a hoard of angry zombies.
That was where I came in. One job for Symeon paid ten times as much as one for the guild. It was far from steady work, but it provided us with a nice emergency fund.
“I’m fine. What’s up?”
“Oh, not much.” He sounded overly casual. That usually meant trouble. “Could you pop on over? I’ve got a job that needs doing. Now.”
Yep, definitely trouble. “Give me a few minutes.”
Fiona approached, her delicate features wrinkled in annoyance. “Both the Pierce and the Corbin families are sending people to collect him. I hope the Pierces get here first.”
The Corbins and the Pierces were two of the Council’s most affluent families. No wonder they wanted Cyrus. He had all their stuff.
“It’s not like Jeffery is going to come.”
Jeffery Corbin was the epitome of entitled. He was the baby of his family, which basically meant he had everything handed to him on a silver platter. We’d met last year on a job, and he decided the next thing he wanted on his platter was us. I had to stop Fiona from shoving him through a portal that led into a pit of vipers, but only because Roger, our guild leader, made me.
“Well, if he does show up, you’ll have to deal with him on your own. Without vipers,” I added. “Symeon needs me.”
She pouted. “Piranhas?”
“Sure, but don’t forget to portal his people, too. Leave no witnesses.” I handed her the ruby I pickpocketed. “Cyrus had this on him. I don’t know what it does, but it definitely isn’t his.”
“It could be ours,” she said, her voice full of awe as she turned the jewel over. “Looks kind of like your ring.�
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“Lots of fancy stuff does.” I shrugged. That thing belonged to a Council family. No way I had anything to do with them. “But if it belongs to the Corbins, you might be able to convince Jeffery to give it to you.”
“Yeah, but I’d have to let him give it to me first.” She shuddered. “The very thought has left a permanent stain on my soul.”
“Fairies have no soul.”
“Sounds like somebody wants to take the bus to Symeon’s.”
“The way I’m dressed, for lack of a better word, I’ll probably get kicked off.”
She smirked. “Or picked up.”
Green lights danced over Fiona’s hand before expanding into a person-sized oval. “That’ll take you to Symeon’s place. What do you think he wants?”
I shrugged. “Maybe he heard pissing off Council families was in this season and wants to get in on the action.”
“I hope not.” Fiona nudged Cyrus’ limp form with her toe. “You’re not gonna top him.”
Chapter Three
Symeon lived in the second-most prestigious district in Santa Fae. Water Nymph Bay, where all the fancy penthouses overlooking the ocean stood. The streets were paved with white stones and lined with soaring apartment buildings. Expensive restaurants and trendy bars were spread out along the boardwalk, each with their own view of the Pacific. The beach beyond these venues was closed to the public — only residents of the apartments were allowed access.
I stepped out of Fiona’s portal, taking in the pristine glass towers and salty ocean air. Compared to the ruckus in the park, this place was another world.
The peace was ruined by a loud crash emanating from the building before me. The windows on the top floor exploded, raining down shards of glass. A giant blur plummeted toward me, landing at my feet with a violent splat. Blood burst out of the body on impact, soaking me in red. The smell of grave dirt and dried blood was unmistakeable.
Just what I needed to complete my look: vampire guts.
With a sigh, I marched inside, the sound of bodies hitting the ground echoing behind me. Kyle, the concierge, greeted me with a smile and buzzed me in. He didn’t need to ask who I was here to see, or why I was half naked and covered in blood — just like I didn’t need to double check the broken window to make sure it belonged to Symeon’s apartment.