by Linsey Hall
“A strong one,” Del said.
“Too strong. I couldn’t control it.”
Mirror Mages weren’t rare or very dangerous, from what I recalled. They could reflect back the magic of any supernatural that they were with. But it was just temporary, and the other supernatural got to keep their powers the whole time. From what I remembered, if Mirror Mages didn’t use the borrowed gift right away, they could use it later. But it was a one shot deal. I could have held on to the conjuring gift I’d borrowed from Nix, but I’d only have been able to use it once.
In a way, Mirror Mages were a tiny bit like FireSouls because they used the powers of others. But they weren’t very dangerous because they couldn’t keep the magic or replicate it more than once.
I turned toward the valley. The fire was starting to dissipate, but it was still an unnatural spectacle, the sky alight with flame.
“I could have killed us if I hadn’t pointed my hands to the sky,” I whispered. “I’m dangerous.”
“I think you need to practice,” Del said.
“Or not use my power at all.” Tears pricked at my eyes. Why was I like this?
“Let’s not worry about that now,” Nix said. “We should get out of here. Let’s find food and shelter.”
I nodded and blinked the tears away. “Okay. Let’s go.”
We set off along the mountain ridge, following the magical string tied around our waists. I was tired and scared, but at least I had my deirfiúr. My sisters.
But as I walked, the most horrible thought occurred to me. Had I been born a Mirror Mage, or had I killed someone for this gift?
CHAPTER ONE
Ten Years Later
Temple of Murreagh
Deep Beneath Western Ireland
“Cass! Answer me, damn it. Are you hurt?” Nix’s voice echoed quietly from the pendant around my neck.
“Gimme a sec,” I wheezed as I shoved the huge rock off my leg and scrambled behind a big boulder. Pain radiated from my shin, but nothing felt broken, thank magic. I didn’t have time to deal with it anyway. A nasty looking shadow demon was currently trying to blow my head off. As long as my limbs were mostly functional, I was good to go.
A blast of magic blew apart the stone over my head.
I ducked and rubble bounced off my shoulders.
Damn demon!
When it stopped, I peered over the boulder at the demon who guarded the altar in the middle of the underground temple. It’d taken me nearly six hours to get through the enchantments that led to the temple. Fire charms, moving rocks, an awful riddle—the whole lot. Real Indiana Jones stuff, but I didn’t have the cool hat.
After all that, it seemed like it should be smooth sailing. But no, this treasure was protected by a shadow demon. Who was apparently very displeased with my presence.
His skin was dark gray, his powerful body clad in simple pants and a shirt. He was basically human-shaped, except for the exceptionally bulky arms and the narrow black horns that came out near his temples and ran back along his skull. Dark eyes glinted maniacally through the dust in the air.
Though big, he was dwarfed by the subterranean temple that housed the Chalice of Youth, my current assignment. The chalice sat on an altar behind the demon, gleaming gold. Graceful columns supported the soaring stone ceiling, each carved in the shape of a different long-forgotten goddess. The only light came from eerie torches that lined the walls. The air was stagnant, permeated by the scent of smoke that wafted from the shadow demon.
“Do I send backup?” Nix asked through static.
“No. I’ve got this.” I didn’t usually need my friends to step in and save my butt on a job, but it gave me the warm fuzzies to know they were willing. “You’re breaking up, Nix. Too much magic from the demon. I’m turning you off now.”
Strong magic, like the kind the demon was throwing, usually interfered with the comms charm that hung around my neck. Something about the magical signature overpowering the puny charm that fueled my necklace.
I usually worked alone, but sometimes—okay, always—a riddle enchantment stumped me. At that point, Nix was there to back me up via a quick call through my comms charm. But now that she’d gotten me through the riddle that had opened the main door to this temple—Why does a dragon cross the road?—I no longer needed her help.
“Fine, don’t—” More static broke up Nix’s voice.
“If I’m not out in an hour, remember that I hate lilies,” I said. “Worst funeral flower.”
“But—”
I touched the silver charm around my throat, and its magic went dormant. Only the sound of the shadow demon’s breathing echoed in the chamber.
It was time to get this over with. I was starving, and this was my last gig before the long weekend. My leg screamed as I pushed myself to my feet. Breathe through the pain. It’s just bruising.
I drew my obsidian blades from the sheaths strapped to my thighs and stepped out from behind the boulder. Torchlight reflected wickedly off the black volcanic glass. Lefty and Righty, I called them—not nearly regal enough names for their power—but I’d never been good at clever names.
“Time to go back to hell, fella,” my voice echoed in the stone chamber. “The devil says he’s missin’ ya.”
The shadow demon laughed, his dark gray skin absorbing the light. Fine, it was a little corny, but I was tired.
The demon raised his hand to throw another blast of magic at me. I flung Righty at him, dodging the whoosh of magic that he managed to get off before my blade sunk into his arm.
Perfect hit. Ten points.
He roared in pain as heat seared my shoulder through my leather jacket.
Oh, so he wanted to play that way? With heat as well as wind? I thought wistfully of blasting him back with a reflection of his own power. His magic manifested as burning smoke. I’d give him a flaming tornado.
Except that was the problem. My magic was too powerful for me to control. I just blew shit up if I tried. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, so I didn’t use my power. But I didn’t hide that I was a Mirror Mage—strong supernaturals could tell I had magic. If I didn’t use it often, my magical signature appeared weak to those strong enough to sense others’ powers.
So I’d gotten really good with weapons.
I pricked the back of my hand with Lefty before immediately throwing the blade at the demon’s heart. My blood ignited a spell that would call its twin back to me.
As Lefty hurtled toward the demon, Righty pulled itself out of the demon’s arm and flew through the air toward me. As long as I was quick—which I usually was—I always had a dagger at hand.
I reached up and snagged Righty as I kept an eye on the dagger that zoomed toward the demon. He used magic to blast it away.
“That’s all you’ve got?” he roared.
I dove behind the nearest column, a stone warrior woman in a flowing cloak, both of her hands gripping swords.
A guardian. Of me, I decided.
I swiped my dagger over the small amount of blood welling on the back of my hand so that my other blade returned to me.
The demon roared again, his muscles bulging beneath his thin shirt as he drew his arms back to throw twin blasts of magic at me. All supernaturals had different gifts and his seemed to be throwing blazing blasts of smoke that blew things apart like a grenade.
The smoke blast hit my guardian column. Her bottom half blew apart, rock and debris flying across the temple. With an enormous cracking sound, the guardian crashed to the ground. The stone floor vibrated beneath my feet. Dust filled the air until I could hardly see.
Guilt ate at me over the damage done to such an ancient place. Don’t worry about that now. Fix it later. I jumped onto the guardian, who was now lying on the ground in several large pieces, all lined up in a row. I raced across her skirt, jumping from piece to piece until I was right above the shadow demon.
I leapt for him.
He looked up at the last moment, his eyes widening. He twis
ted and Lefty sank into his meaty shoulder. With a roar, he threw me off him. I skidded across the floor, then groped my way behind the top of the fallen column. He was strong, both in magic and form, and his magic smelled ancient. Like dust. I’d bet he was an old demon.
“Blades?” he yelled. “You come at me with blades? Use your magic and give me a real fight!”
“What? You bored? Been guarding this tomb a long time, eh?” I said as I flung Righty at him.
It sank into his chest, nearly a perfect shot at his heart. Or at least, where I figured a shadow demon’s heart might be.
He yanked it out and said, “You have no idea.”
I swallowed hard.
Missed his heart, I guess.
Quickly, before he could fling the dagger, I called it back to me. Righty pulled itself out of the demon’s hand and flew home.
The demon didn’t startle, nor did he look weakened by the dark blood leaking from the wound in his chest. Old and strong, like I’d thought. Even if I hadn’t hit his heart, he should at least be incapacitated. But this one was different. He wasn’t even winded from the blade that had sunk six inches into his chest.
“Well? Won’t you give me a real fight? You are one of the three. Strong enough to fight, but you don’t.”
My heart tried to climb into my throat. “What does that mean?”
The three? Did he mean me and my deirfiúr? How could he know about Del and Nix?
“What do you mean?” I screamed when he didn’t answer quickly enough.
“You don’t use your powers.” He threw another blast of magic at me. Blazing smoke blasted away my column barricade, and I scrambled back.
He wouldn’t use his powers either if it meant getting locked up in the Prison for Magical Miscreants. As long as I didn’t use them, I could pretend that I was nothing but a low-strength Mirror Mage and have a lovely life where no one tossed me in prison.
The shadow demon threw another blast of fiery smoke. It plowed into the ground in front of me. The stone floor exploded. The blast threw me backwards. Pain streaked through me. My entire front felt singed, pierced by small pieces of shattered stone. A cough tore through my lungs and I blinked blindly, my throat and eyes burning.
I could barely see, and he kept throwing those damned blasts of smoke at me, driving me ever backward. I just had to get him to lay off for a sec. Then I could question him.
Through the dust, I could make out his hulking form approaching. It was risky, but I threw each of my blades in quick succession, hoping to incapacitate but not kill.
The thud of a body collapsing sounded. The blasts of power stopped coming.
I climbed to my feet and limped toward the form sprawled on the ground. The stone bit into my knees when I dropped beside him. My blades protruded from his chest, one embedded in each pectoral. His breath strangled in and out of his lungs, but he wasn’t dead. I grasped his rough shirt and shook him.
“What do you know about me?” I said.
“What”—he coughed—“you are.”
“But—”
His lips parted, and I snapped my mouth shut, frantic to hear what he had to say.
“FireSoul.”
I stumbled back, my stomach twisting. Chills raced over me. How could he know that? No one knew that but my deirfiúr.
“I’m a Mirror Mage.” My voice came out hardly louder than a whisper. I tried again, louder, fear choking my throat. “I’m a Mirror Mage!”
Panic welled in me, and I crawled back to him, reaching for his shirt again, desperate to shake answers from him.
His eyes were dimming, their gleaming black light turning a dark gray. A great breath shuddered out of his lungs, followed by stillness.
The light faded from his eyes, and his body disappeared. My blades, no longer embedded in a chest, clattered to the floor.
“No!”
My heart threatened to break my ribs. I hit the ground, frustration and fear beating in my chest.
The demon was gone. Not dead—you couldn’t really kill a demon—just send them back to whatever hell they’d originally come from. Normally very neat and tidy. Except this one had information about me, and my blades had been too accurate. The demon had seemed so strong when my first blade had found its mark. I’d wanted to question him more. This was what happened when I freaked out. Like a bull in a china shop. And it was the main reason I could never use my magic.
My breath echoed too loudly in my ears. Think, think. How could the demon have known that I was a FireSoul? Was it because this job was in Ireland, my homeland? At least, what I assumed was my homeland, given that I could speak Irish and had red hair.
One option was so terrifying I couldn’t even poke it with my mind. It was the bogeyman that lurked at the corner of my memories. Whenever I pressed too hard, it leapt up, bringing with it a splitting headache and adrenaline like nobody would believe.
I had to get out of there. Talk to Nix.
Quickly, I grabbed my blades, shoved them into their sheaths, then climbed to my feet. I limped to the altar, pain singing up my leg, and grabbed the golden chalice. It’s magic sang beneath my palm, an unsteady beat that indicated this was old magic. The perfect age for selling. There were other priceless objects too, no doubt tributes to the gods carved onto the columns.
My fingers itched to pocket a couple, namely a golden dagger encrusted with rubies and a strange hexagonal blade that looked wickedly sharp on all sides. Despite my terror, covetousness surged within me. My hand trembled as I reached toward the golden dagger. Just one touch. I wouldn’t take it.
No.
I sucked in a deep breath and clenched my fist. Not mine. Not mine. Like an addict resisting a fix, I dragged my gaze away from the glitter.
With a shaking hand, I pulled a small black rock out of an inner jacket pocket. My last transport charm. Like all magic that wasn’t my own, they were expensive and hard to come by. Del could make them because she could transport, but her power was limited and they commanded a lot of it, so she couldn’t make them often.
I should use the charm only in emergencies.
But this sure felt like a heck of an emergency.
I threw the stone to the ground. It shattered and a glittering silver cloud rose in front of me. I stepped into the sparkling stuff and envisioned my home. Magic grabbed me around the waist and threw me through the ether.
CHAPTER TWO
By the time the portal spat me out in my little shop, some of my freak-out over the demon had faded.
Which was a good thing, because all hell had broken loose inside Ancient Magic, the entrepreneurial enterprise that kept our collective ship afloat. Del and Nix had been my besties since we’d woken in the field ten years ago. My deirfiúr.
“Nothing’s ever simple, is it?” I muttered.
Two men with stupid black stockings over their heads were grappling with Nix in front of the counter. Looked like her afternoon had been just as adventurous as mine.
Despite their silly disguises, they were both huge, with hulking shoulders and ham-like fists. They’d each grabbed one of Nix’s arms. Probably wanted to tie her up and rob the place. That was the usual deal.
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall to watch. I’d step in if necessary, but I doubted it would be.
My deirfiúr and I had nicknames for each other. I was called Huntress because I hunted down the sparkles. Del was Seeker because she sought the artifacts we wanted in ancient texts and told me what to look for. And Nix was called Protector for damn good reason.
Quick as a blur, Nix jumped up and planted her feet on the chest of the thief to her right. She used his chest for leverage, kicking off and breaking his hold, then spun and kneed the other man in the chin so hard that he dropped to the floor, unconscious. She had to jump to do it, but she got good height.
I grinned as I watched her lay out the second guy with two kicks and a mean punch. He collapsed to the ground like a sack of boulders. I was grateful he didn’t crush the
table full of shiny things behind him.
But then, Nix was good at choosing where they landed.
She was taller than me, and though she didn’t look any stronger, she was a heck of a lot better in a fistfight. Weapons were my game. My hand-to-hand skills were slightly better than good—enough to get me by on most jobs, which almost always involved sending a demon or two back to where they came from—but hers were almost preternatural.
She didn’t look like she could kick someone’s ass, though. She was dark haired and pretty, with warm green eyes and a big smile. Funky t-shirts and ripped jeans with motorcycle boots completed the picture.
“Nice job,” I said.
Nix brushed her hands off and grinned at me. “All in a day’s work. You get the chalice?”
I held it up. “Not my favorite job, but it’s done. Let me help you with those guys.”
Our shop was small. A narrow wooden counter stretched along one wall, shelves and tables on all the rest. Enchanted objects took up most of the space—everything from tiaras that would make a person beautiful to sleeping potions strong enough to rival the one that had knocked out Briar Rose.
Nix grabbed the enchanted cuffs off the counter and tossed me a pair.
I snagged them, then nodded at the counter where she’d had the cuffs waiting. We didn’t usually keep handcuffs next to the register. Looked weird to customers. “Expecting these guys?”
“They weren’t exactly subtle. I saw them crossing the street. No masks on yet, but all bulk and a walk like they kick puppies. Two and two equals robbery.”
I nodded as I set the chalice on the counter, then bent to cuff the guy sprawled at my feet. I wasn’t the only one who liked shiny objects, though these thieves were likely after the magic. Because of the value of the enchanted artifacts in our shop, there was a robbery attempt every few weeks.
After waking in the field ten years ago, we’d scrounged around for a living until we’d figured out how to profit from our skills. And thus Ancient Magic had been born. We found treasure imbued with ancient magic and sold it.