by Linsey Hall
“Awesome.” I hoped they’d bring a lot.
“Del said you found the scroll. What’d you do with it?” Nix asked.
“Stashed it in my trove, but we need to put it somewhere no one will find it. And that can’t be traced back to us.”
Nix blew out a breath. “That’ll be tough. Can’t exactly take out a safety deposit box.”
It’d work, if only we could trust the bank not to look in our box. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
“So, Del,” I said. “That scroll said that you are part Phantom.”
“Whoa.” Her forehead creased. “I have no idea what that means. Or what to do with that info.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said.
She sighed. “Yeah.”
“Anything about me?” Nix asked.
“Nothing we don’t know.”
“I guess I’m kinda relieved,” she said. “So what happened back there—while I was passed out?” Nix asked.
I heaved out a sigh. Where to start?
Aaron. “The thief who destroyed this place wasn’t actually a bad guy.”
Nix’s head whipped toward me. “What?”
I told them about Aaron and his collar. About how his master was hunting us as well. About how I felt like shit for killing him.
“Man, that sucks,” Del said. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Cass. It was just a shitty situation. It sounds like he was happy in the end.”
“He felt happy. At peace,” I said.
“He’d have to be, after what he lived through,” Nix said. “How awful, being enslaved by a guy who puts a collar on you that will kill you if removed.”
“I think it was worse than that,” I said. “Aaron had powers that weren’t his own. He was born a Lightning Mage, but he wasn’t born with power over fire or telepathy. He’d killed for those. But his soul was so pure once I’d taken the collar off him, I don’t think he would have done it willingly.”
“So his master is making super FireSouls? To like, fight or something?” Del shuddered. “Monster.”
“I don’t know what his goal is. But he’s hunting us.”
“But he doesn’t know where we are, right?” Nix asked.
“I don’t think so. There was no one left alive to tell him where we are. I killed every demon who saw us. And Aaron.” I rubbed my upper arms, suddenly chilled. “I feel like a monster.”
“You did what he wanted,” Nix said. “He gave you his power. Willingly. He taught you how to take it. Don’t dwell on the bad. Use it to get even. Because the monster is coming for us.”
She was right. Logically, I knew it. But I’d killed a man tonight and taken his power. I just didn’t know how to process what I’d done. I’d spent my whole life resisting this.
Now my options were to keep ignoring my gifts and disrespect Aaron’s last wish—that I use his power to defeat the monster who hunted us—or to embrace them and eventually be discovered and thrown in the Prison for Magical Miscreants.
They were bad options.
But at least they were options.
And like Nix had said—the monster was coming for us.
I had to decide, I just didn’t know how.
The door to Ancient Magic opened. I tensed, still on edge, but it was just Claire and Connor.
Connor held up a brown paper sack. “Brought the promised pasties!”
Claire raised a tray of paper coffee cups. “And lattes!”
At the sight of my friends, warmth and gratitude filled me. It’d been a bad night and bad shit was on the horizon. But today was good. My friends and deirfiúr were here.
Aidan would live. I wouldn’t see him again—at least not past assuring him that the scroll really was destroyed—but at least he was safe.
At least we all were safe.
For now.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Two nights later, I sat in the corner at P & P with Nix and Del after another long day cleaning up Ancient Magic. We’d lost about half our stock—months of hunting work for me—but I couldn’t be mad at Aaron over the damage. That was all on his master, the man we now called The Monster.
But I was trying not to think of that tonight. We’d swept up the last broken replica and shard of glass, and new windows had been installed that morning. So tomorrow we’d be back to normal. That was worth celebrating. In the morning, I’d set out in search of another youth charm for Mr. S. Del had found reference to an amulet hidden in a temple in Prague.
Connor and Claire had joined us once their only staff member had shown up. Bridget manned the counter some evenings when Connor wanted a break.
“All right,” Connor said as he held up his glass of whiskey. “To Ancient Magic. Back on its feet!”
I touched my glass to his, then clinked my way around the circle, careful not to miss anyone. I was so damned glad to be back with my friends, the threat temporarily averted.
“One more,” I said after a sip. I raised my glass. “Health and happiness. Because we have them, and we want to keep them.”
“Cheers to that,” a deep voice said as we clinked our glasses.
I turned. Aidan stood in the doorway, his hands tucked into his pockets. It was suddenly a bit harder to breathe. His dark hair was shiny instead of singed, and his skin was no longer deathly pale. In his t-shirt and jeans, he looked back to normal. Which was to say, damned good.
And also a pain in my ass.
“Hey, Aidan!” Connor said. “Good to see you, man!”
“You’re looking better,” Nix said. Though she and Del liked Aidan, after the events at the cathedral, we were all on our guard. Because of my memory, someone hunting us had always been at the periphery of our thoughts. But after what had just happened, the threat had become more real. We were all wary.
They still thought he might be able to help us, but he made me nervous. I’d experienced how powerful he was. Aidan was the freaking Origin, not to mention a full Elemental Mage and a healer. He was too powerful. Eventually he was going to sense what I was, especially now that I had Aaron’s lightning gift.
“You look like you’re feeling better,” Nix said. “Not nearly as crispy.”
Aidan grinned. He looked so damned handsome that I wanted to curse him. I settled for cursing myself.
“Come, join us,” Claire said. “Want a beer or a whiskey?”
Aidan glanced at me. Clearly he was here to talk about the scroll, but I wasn’t ready to lie again. So I said nothing. We’d talk, but it’d be better if it were after a drink and some chatting with my friends. If we were all normal and charming, then he’d be more likely to trust me when I lied, right?
Even the thought turned my stomach.
“Whiskey, thanks,” Aidan said. He took the seat next to me.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I glanced at him quickly, then away.
“So, they sprung you from the hospital, eh?” Connor asked.
“Clean bill of health,” Aidan said.
Claire brought him the whiskey and he thanked her. We chatted about the shop being up and running again.
At first, I was uncomfortable. But Aidan fit right in with my friends. I was genuinely wishing I didn’t have to blow him off later tonight.
But I had to. Severing contact with him was safest for us all.
“Hey,” Aidan’s husky voice was soft near my ear. “Can we talk?”
I glanced at him. Better now than later, I figured. Like a band aid. “Yeah.”
“Thanks for the drink, Claire and Connor.” He set his empty glass on the table. A twenty was tucked beneath it. “It’s been good talking to you all, but I’ve got to run.”
“I’m going to walk him out,” I said, not making eye contact with anyone.
I followed him to the door. He held it open and I walked through.
“Can we talk at your place?” he asked as he followed me out.
I looked around at the darkened street. I didn’t really want to talk abou
t the scroll out here. “Sure. Come on.”
“How are you doing?” he asked as we climbed the stairs to my apartment.
“Fine. You know, getting the shop back together.” I hated this awkwardness. But I was about to lie to him, so there was really no avoiding it. I let us into my apartment and asked, “You?”
“Great, now that I’ve recovered from being a lightning rod.”
I swallowed hard at the reminder. “You threw yourself in front of that for me.” That made it even harder to lie. And much harder to push him away.
“Yeah, seems that I did.”
“Why?”
“Felt like a better option than watching you get lit up.” His dark gaze met mine, intense enough to burn.
My heart pounded and my breathing stuttered. This was going to be so much more difficult than I’d thought.
“And I knew you wouldn’t use your magic to protect yourself,” he added.
He was right about that. “Um, thanks for saving me. I’m sorry I didn’t get the scroll.”
“You’re a bad liar.”
“No, I’m not.” I was a great liar, even when I didn’t want to be. “I really am sorry I couldn’t get it. It was destroyed by the lightning.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, Cass.”
I really did. I had to lie to everyone who wasn’t Nix or Del, no matter how much it exhausted me. “I’m not lying. I am sorry I didn’t get it.”
“You are lying. And I know why. I know what you are.”
My stomach lurched. “A treasure hunting Mirror Mage? Yeah, I told you that.”
“No. You’re a FireSoul.” His gaze was solemn.
The floor felt like it dropped out from under me. Somehow I stayed upright. I even managed an incredulous laugh. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
My heart pounded as I searched his gaze. Serious and sincere, but I couldn’t risk it. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m a Mirror Mage. Nothing too exciting there.”
“You’re exciting, Cass. But not because you’re a Mirror Mage. Or even because you’re a FireSoul.”
“I’m not a FireSoul!”
“I can feel it, Cass. I’m the Origin and a multi-gift Magica. You can’t hide something like that from someone as strong as me. At least not for long.”
His tone was so certain, his gaze so steady.
“How?” I asked, dread curdling in my stomach.
“I didn’t figure it out right away. Your magic felt strong and strange, but I couldn’t place it. When you agreed so quickly to help me—without even discussing payment—I was suspicious. It made me wonder if you thought there was something in the scroll about you. I thought you might just be the ArchMage of Mirror Mages. But it didn’t feel right.”
The ArchMage was the strongest of that particular gift. “I might be. I don’t know.”
“I’d say it’s likely, especially if you practice. But I figured out you were a FireSoul when I saw you right before they put me in the ambulance. I could feel the lightning in you. You took his power.”
“I could have borrowed it as a Mirror Mage and not yet released it.”
“Maybe, but I knew that wasn’t it. You killed him and took his power.”
My throat tightened and my eyes blurred. “I didn’t want to. I had to.”
His gaze softened. “I know. It’s why I haven’t told anyone what you are. If you intended to steal powers, you’d have done so by now. You’d be full of them. Why was this time different? Why did you have to take his power?”
“How can I trust you?”
“I don’t know.” His intense gaze locked with mine. “But I want you to.”
“Why?”
“Like I said before, I like you.”
“I think you’re okay, too.” Understatement. But at least my tears had dried up before they dropped.
I figured it was better to tell him the truth and try to gain his sympathy. Maybe even his help. “Aaron gave his power to me. To help me defeat the one who hunts us.”
“Hunts you?”
“FireSouls.” I told him everything I’d learned from Aaron. When I finally trailed off, his gaze was dark with worry.
“You know this means you have to practice your powers, right?” he said.
“I can’t! Someone will figure out what I am and alert the Order of the Magica or the Alpha Council. They’ll throw me in prison. I’d rot in there.” Though the two governmental organizations were separate, they both agreed that FireSouls were a risk. “It’s better for me to just keep hiding.”
“You know that won’t work forever. The monster who hunts you will find you. You’ve got to be able to fight him when he does.” Passion rang in his voice.
My heart pounded. Part of me knew he was right, just as the other part wanted to pretend the last week had never happened.
“You need to learn to use your magic so that you can control it. Maybe even learn to repress it so that other powerful Magica can’t sense your arsenal of gifts.”
His logic made sense, but it terrified me. To purposefully—frequently—access my magic? It sounded divine. And scary as hell.
“I’ll help you,” he said. “You can train on my land. There’s no one for miles.”
“Thanks, but no. This is working for me. The risk isn’t worth it.”
His face hardened. “I won’t accept that. You have to learn to protect yourself. If you don’t, I’ll report you to the Order.”
I stepped backward. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would. I’m serious about this, Cass. You’d be safer locked up in prison than you are out here, unable to defend yourself. You’re scared, so you’re fighting it. But you need to face this.”
Anger bubbled in my chest. How dare he? I had actually liked this guy? He was threatening me and demanding I make changes I wasn’t ready to make.
But he was right.
The monster was coming. And I was afraid. I was so scared that I was curling up in a ball and refusing to face the inevitable.
But the girl who’d run from the monster ten years ago hadn’t curled up and died in that cell. She’d broken free. I didn’t know how I’d done it, but I had. I’d changed my destiny.
And I had to do it again.
“Fine,” I said. I was still pissed at him, but he was right. “I’ll learn to use my magic. On your land. But don’t get any ideas. I’m not exactly fond of you anymore.”
He grinned. “That’s fine. I’m fond enough for the both of us. And when you’re strong enough to defeat the monster that hunts you, I’ll fight by your side.”
Strong enough to fight the monster that hunts me.
I really hoped I would be.
THANK YOU FOR READING!
I hoped you liked Ancient Magic. Reviews are so helpful to authors. I really appreciate all reviews, both positive and negative. If you want to leave one, you can click here.
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If you’d like to know more about the inspiration for the Dragon’s Gift series, please read on for the Author’s Note.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Hey, there! I hope you enjoyed reading Ancient Magic as much as I enjoyed writing it. In addition to being a writer, I’m also an archaeologist. As a kid, I loved history (because of the fantasy and historic romance novels I read), Indiana Jones, and Laura Croft. When I started writing novels, it was only a matter of time before I applied my love of archaeology and history to my stories.
Hence, Dragon’s Gift was born. However, I knew I had a careful line to tread when writing these books. As I’m sure you know, archaeology isn’t quite like Indiana Jones (for which I’m both grateful and bitterly disappointed). Sure, it’s exciting and full of travel. However, booby-traps are not as common as I expected. Total number of booby-traps I have encountered in my career: z
ero. Still hoping, though.
When I talk about treading a line with these books, I mean the line between archaeology and treasure hunting. There is a big difference between these two activities. As much as I value artifacts, they are not treasure. Not even the gold artifacts. They are pieces of our history that contain valuable information, and as such, they belong to all of us. Every artifact that is excavated should be properly conserved and stored in a museum so that everyone can have access to our history. No one single person can own history, and I believe very strongly that individuals should not own artifacts. Treasure hunting is the pursuit of artifacts for personal gain.
So why did I make Cass Cleraux a treasure hunter? I’d have loved to call her an archaeologist, but nothing about Cass’s work is like archaeology. Archaeology is a very laborious, painstaking process—and it certainly doesn’t involve selling artifacts. That wouldn’t work for the fast paced, adventurous series that I had planned for Dragon’s Gift. Not to mention the fact that dragons are famous for coveting treasure. Considering where Cass got her skills from, it just made sense to call her a treasure hunter. Even though I write urban fantasy, I strive for accuracy. Cass doesn’t engage in archaeological practices—therefore, I cannot call her an archaeologist. I also have a duty as an archaeologist to properly represent my field and our goals—namely, to protect and share history. Treasure hunting doesn’t do this. One of the biggest battles that archaeology faces today is protecting cultural heritage from thieves.
I debated long and hard about not only what to call Cass, but also about how she would do her job. I wanted it to involve all the cool things we think about when we think about archaeology—namely, the Indiana Jones stuff, whether it’s real or not. But I didn’t know quite how to do that while still staying within the bounds of my own ethics. I can cut myself and other writers some slack because this is fiction, but I couldn’t go too far into smash and grab treasure hunting.
I consulted some of my archaeology colleagues to get their take, which was immensely helpful. Wayne Lusardi, the State Maritime Archaeologist for Michigan, and Douglas Inglis and Veronica Morris, both archaeologists for Interactive Heritage, were immensely helpful with ideas. My biggest problem was figuring out how to have Cass steal artifacts from tombs and then sell them and still sleep at night. Everything I’ve just said is pretty counter to this, right?