Double-Sided Magic (Legacy Series Book 1)

by McKenzie Hunter

  I answered them all with as much detail as I could scrape from my fragmented memories.

  His lips twisted into a moue and then he looked down at his papers. “This is a standard question that we must ask when supernaturals are involved: do you possess magic in any form?”

  Lying to people was why I was still alive, but I hated doing it. I felt like a part of me was removed each time I had to deny who I was.

  “No.” It was easier each time, but I hated it because being a good liar was the hallmark of a sociopath. In my case it was a quality of a survivor.

  “Did you know the victims?”

  I shook my head. His lips pressed into a thin line and I wondered what he was thinking as he looked at me in a ratty blue tank top stained with dried blood. There weren’t any noticeable stains on the black yoga pants but I could feel the crusted patches each time I moved my leg.

  His face relaxed as he blew out a breath, and for the first time his features presented something that they hadn’t since the interview began. Doubt. He might not have considered me a murderer anymore, but I doubted he would vouch for my innocence, either.

  Brought to a cell, it took me a moment before I finally sat on the cot in the small confined space and waited for my fate. I was charged with murder; I’d be surprised if I’d be let out on bail. And I was sure my face was plastered on the news along with tons of speculation. I wondered what catchy name they gave me to pull in an audience. I looked around the cell, a human cell. The one I hoped I remained in. This was a heinous crime against supernaturals. Would I stay here or be transferred to the Haven, where they kept the supernaturals and occasionally humans who committed crimes so egregious against the supernatural community that the humans allowed them to be tried by the Magic Council? My heart started to pound in my chest at the thought of it. If things got too bad here, I could use magic to escape. But if I got anywhere near the Haven, that would be impossible. Used to dealing with people with magic, their cells were probably marked with runes and warded to weaken magic or render it ineffective, and I would have to contend with others who wielded magic and might be more experienced.

  It had been a little over five hours and I’d imagined a number of ways to escape, but they all utilized some form of magic. Some required me to use strong magic. My fingers were going numb from clenching the bars. The officer who had questioned me earlier came by, a resigned look that everything was well out of his control on his face. The only thing he knew was that the Magic Council had petitioned for my release into their custody, but the only thing preventing it was opposition from two people. I had no clue who they were. Kalen? His connection to some of the members of the Magic Council because of his work for them in the past might have afforded him some consideration. But how much sway could he have in this situation?

  I guess my situation was complicated. If I were proven to have magic or be a supernatural then there wouldn’t be a debate, I’d automatically go to the Magic Council. But when a human killed a supernatural then the Magic Council petitioned for that human to be tried in their courts. They believed that there were still biases against them and that the person would never be convicted of any crimes against them in the human justice system.

  By the sixth hour, I had decided and quickly dismissed the idea of escaping. If I did, people would know and things would be worse. I would be known as a magic wielder and my hand in the deaths would seem possible. Or even worse, they would identify what I was. I would be a fugitive and would have more than just Trackers after me. I couldn’t go to Kalen because I would be risking his life; they would assume he knew and had been harboring me all these years. I couldn’t go home because the same would be true with Savannah. The only way this wouldn’t erupt in hellfire was if I were found innocent. I was innocent. I think.

  The Magic Council didn’t have to adhere to the same rules, and they didn’t. I had a better chance at a trial in the human courts’ flawed system and the biases that might happen with a jury. That wouldn’t happen with the Magical Court. There wouldn’t be a juror who thought I reminded them of their sister or cousin’s auntie’s next-door neighbor and therefore couldn’t be guilty of the crime. My fate would be determined by the five members of the Council. I would be my own defense, and their ability to detect lies and the use of magic made it hard to get away with much.

  The waiting was getting to me; all I could think about were the rumors of how humans were treated. Years in their prison was a better outcome. Supernaturals had the option of the trials, which they considered a lenient punishment. If you survived it then your sentence was discharged. I wasn’t sure what it entailed, but humans weren’t ever given that choice because it was equivalent to a death sentence. The agreement was that humans wouldn’t get a death sentence, but from the rumors most people would have preferred it. The city usually fought hard to keep humans in their court, but I was being accused of three supernatural deaths and doubted I would get that option.

  CHAPTER 5

  I laid back on the cot. Twenty-three years I’d managed to hide, and this was how things were going to end—convicted of murders in the supernatural world on a day I couldn’t remember. I looked at the clock. They’d made a decision in less than eight hours. That had to be a record. Usually these decisions took days. Once charges were brought they were debated for a month, and now a decision was made in less than half a day. Did they even meet or did they just toss a freaking coin and text their decision?

  I closed my eyes, listening to footsteps get closer and wondering if my decision to let myself be sent to the Haven and stand trial rather than escaping was a foolish one. At this point I’d missed my chance anyway. Whoever they would send to retrieve me would have access to magic.

  Moments later, three people stood in front of my cell. How ironic, they sent a mage, fae, and shifter to retrieve me.

  I recognized the shifter as one of the officers from the SG who took the vamps away after the attack at the auction. Up close, I had a better view of the dark gold shifter ring that coiled around his hazel pupils. He walked in front, next to the guard, while the mage and fae stood behind dressed in dark brown suits. At least the shifter attempted a smile, but it was faint. A plaintive one, the one you give when you see a person in trouble and there isn’t a thing that can be done.

  The mage and fae remained expressionless when the guard attempted to put cuffs on me. The shifter stopped him. They were strong: magic rolled off them and wrapped around the air, smothering the area with the power they possessed. It’s not that they trusted me—they were confident that they could stop me if I tried anything. The mage gave me a look as though he dared me to.

  For me to be a dangerous murderess accused of taking the life of a shifter, fae, and mage, Mr. Fae was standing awfully close. His thin lips twisted as his jasper-shaded gaze assessed me. Thick long lashes made it hard to read his eyes when he cast a look in my direction. He was in desperate need of sun, or at the very least a trip to the tanning bed, and flaxen-colored hair wasn’t doing him any favors.

  Once we exited the building, the fae held up thick arm and leg shackles adorned with sigils.

  “Do you think we need that?” the shifter asked, with a downcasting of his eyes in my direction. It was very apparent he was unimpressed with what he saw.

  Both the fae and the mage stepped closer, slowly assessing me, frowns becoming deeper with each moment. They dismissed me simultaneously. I’m not sure what I expected—a police car, armored vehicle, typical unmarked sedan—but when I was directed to a black Suburban, I didn’t have the same feeling of desperate desolation as I sat back into the soft seat next to the shifter. He hadn’t looked at me since they decided not to restrict my legs, and each of the others’ expressions were indecipherable and professionally stoic. I had no idea if they had even made a judgment. As far as they knew, I was human. I didn’t have the power to remove a person’s magic. In fact, not many people did. It required not only a great amount of power, but incredible skill as well. The
silence continued as we drove out of the city to the Haven, where the Magic Council held offenders before their trial.

  The city passed before my eyes and everything became so distant despite being close. Frequently visited cafés, restaurants, and stores made my heart heavy. It wasn’t like I wouldn’t find other friends and a place to work wherever I ended up, but this was now my home. After my mother died, I’d lived in a number of foster homes and at sixteen this was where I settled, just outside of Chicago. An ache reached all the way to my fingertips and I took a deep breath, because I knew it wasn’t an ache, it was magic urging to be released. My body was reacting to the high stress situation, and all I needed to do was unleash it and give into the instincts to perform magic and protect myself. But then what?

  The closer we got to the Haven the more I questioned my decision to stand trial rather than try to escape. About twenty miles from the city and minutes from the Haven, I was beyond nervous, ignoring the glaring looks as I fidgeted in the seat. The SUV took a turn, buildings became sparse, and we passed an occasional vacant one. Another turn and we were driving down a two-lane road in a desolate area. The SUV was the only car on the road, and the only thing present for blocks were open fields. Finally, we turned onto a path, a building set far back, well-maintained bushes wrapped around it. A bed of fully blossomed exotic flowers extended along the path leading to the large white building and curled around the sides of it. Thorns protruded from them, and I was sure they were magically enhanced and poisonous. It didn’t look like a jail at all but that was exactly what it was. A prison. The Haven. Who did they think they were fooling?

  If it weren’t for the steel rune-covered gate at the entrance it could have easily passed as a business in the city. We drove around the building to the back, and the aching progressed to a throbbing. I folded the magic that was threatening to be released into me.

  Just ten feet from the building my heart started to race, I could strike now and escape. The debate went on in my head over and over, but I wanted to see what the Council decided. If they found me innocent, then I could walk away, return to my life and friends and find the son of a bitch who did this to me. The doubt poked at me, the fear I denied weighed heavy on me as I considered the other consequences. What if they could see past the shield that masked my magic? It worked for years for me and my parents. No one could feel my magic, and as long as they didn’t see the mark on me, they didn’t know I was hiding any.

  But what if they found the mark? Adrenaline, fear, and magic didn’t mix well and it was all coursing through me, making me anxious and jumpy. When the shifter took my arm I almost slammed my elbow into his face. I jerked my arm back to my side, but he’d sensed it. His eyes became small slits and he drew back his lips, baring his teeth; his voice stern but gentle. “You definitely don’t want to do that.”

  It wasn’t a threat of danger from him, and I followed his gaze. The mage’s hand glowed with magic that he was ready to subdue me with. The fae’s eyes lowered and the sparks of anger that flashed in them pretty much guaranteed he was ready to deliver an unspeakable amount of pain.

  The Haven wasn’t like the jail I’d just left, nor was it like any I’d seen on television. A small room that reminded me of a dorm, with a small enclosed door to the left where I assumed that passed food. The shower was a step up from the jail cell I’d been in. After I’d showered and dressed in the black jumpsuit they provided, I was starting to feel fatigue from the lack of sleep. I lay on the bed, another improvement. It was actually soft, and the pillows seemed to have something fluffy in them instead of an assortment of rocks. Sleep didn’t come, because each time I closed my eyes, I didn’t see anything—nothing. A whole section of my memory wiped clean, and I wanted so badly to retrieve it and find the ass who thought I should take the fall for their crime.

  Who had power to wipe a memory—my memory? A high-level mage, fae, or witch had the ability to do it, but it would have taken a great deal of magic. The question remained: who did it and why?

  Plotting revenge against the unknown assailant did make the time go by, but I wasn’t sure how long it was or the time when two uniformed guards came and got me out of my cell, or the pretentious stay as they called it. They were shifters and none too gentle as they led me down the hall to what I assumed would be another room. Great, more questions.

  Flanked by the two shifters, I worked hard to control my breathing, steady my heart rate, temper my fear. Predators, they couldn’t help themselves. They were drawn to it, and based on the smile on the dark-haired shifter’s face, they enjoyed it.

  “Who am I going to see?”

  “We’ll be there in a minute.”

  I stopped. Tired of just following orders, I needed people to tell me something. Nothing about this situation had followed normal judicial process, and I’d realized it wouldn’t once I was taken out of the human courts system. I hadn’t had a phone call, not even a bail hearing. And now I was about to just meet with some random person. Was it a lawyer at least?

  The other shifter grabbed my arm and tried to pull me forward, but I dug my heels in and snatched my arms away. When I pulled away again, he placed me in an achingly tight grip and started pulling me toward the door. He didn’t see it coming, and honestly, I didn’t plan it to go that way, but I yanked my arm out of his bruising grip, gave a quick front kick, and with the help of my foot caught him square in the jaw. A left jab sent him back even farther. The other shifter swiped my leg. I tumbled into him, bringing him down, too, as I hit the ground with a thud. A quick thrust of my elbow landed hard enough into his shoulder, but I missed my target—his throat. Before I could strike again, he moved and pinned me facedown on the floor, my wrist behind my back as he placed cuffs on me.

  He was panting as he spoke against my ear. “Bad move.”

  He yanked me to my feet. I didn’t care. I wasn’t going anywhere until I was told what was going on. Going limp might have worked with some humans, but because of shifters’ strength it wasn’t an option. But I wasn’t going to make it easy and just go slowly into the night, locked in a prison.

  They dragged me to the door and when it opened they tensed at the appearance of a very angry Gareth. “What the hell?” he asked as he looked at my ruffled appearance, my legs under me, as they roughly pulled me along. I’m sure he came to the right conclusion.

  “What happened?”

  “She attacked us,” the blond shifter said, his voice vibrating with anger as he pushed the words through clenched teeth.

  “But she’s been peaceful the whole time. What set her off?”

  “I don’t know. I smell the fear,” the other shifter said.

  “She won’t eat, either. The meal is still where it was placed.”

  I am standing right here, you know. “She,” I said pointedly, “asked a simple question about what was going on and no one would give her an answer. She refused to go in a room without having a phone call or at least knowing who she was going to meet.” I fastened my eyes on him, cooling my voice to make it sound more assertive.

  He nodded slowly as he looked at the shifters again and then back to me. “You’re meeting with me,” he said. His voice was deep and rough, and I realized that it was the middle of the night. I was dragged out of bed and probably so was he. But you wouldn’t have known it. His chestnut hair was slightly mused, but it looked like it was from what he was doing at the moment, running his fingers through it.

  I nodded. “I need to use the phone.”

  He jerked his head at the two shifters, asking them to leave, and then he opened the door wider. I didn’t move, firmly rooted in the middle of the hallway, obstinacy in the driver’s seat. “Phone. I need to use a phone.”

  “My hearing is fine, I heard you the first time. Come in,” he said in a cool but mild tone.

  Any gentleness that he’d possessed was belied by the stern look in his eyes. He appeared to have had the same couple of days I had, but I doubted he lived in a place as cramped as the sta
y.

  He waited patiently for me to walk in and take a seat in the metal chair across from the large wooden table. The county jail paled in comparison to the Haven. The walls were light yellow and a lay person would have thought the designs on the walls were art, but they were spells used to inhibit magic. It was so strong that it drifted over my skin and pricked at the tiny hairs on my arm. They didn’t need to put rune-decorated cuffs on me to prevent me from doing magic—the room had enough magical wards to prevent the average magic user from performing any. If I were a typical magic user it would have stopped me, too.

  Gareth moved in silence as he came behind me and unlocked the handcuffs.

  Gently I rubbed the red line that had formed from their tightness. As he tossed them on the table, I asked, “I guess you don’t consider me dangerous?”

  His lips formed a half-grin and only displayed a hint of perfectly aligned white teeth. “I’m quite sure you are dangerous, but I don’t fear it is to me. I’m not as easily subdued. But I’m sure you know that.”

  Arrogance and confidence were so often confused, but he seemed to possess a great deal of both. He slipped in the chair with such ease of movement I was reminded that I was dealing with a predator, a skilled and probably deadly one.

  Crossing his arms, he relaxed back in the chair. “What happened in the park?”

  “I would like to make my phone call first.”

  He repeated his question, his voice harder than before, his stormy, narrowed eyes fixed on me. “You will get your phone call, but you will answer my questions first.” It was a reminder, just like my first conversation—people didn’t deny him. Or at least it seemed like an expectation of his.

  I closed my eyes and tried to retrieve memories that were still lost. Just a blank space where that day should have been. “The only thing I can actually remember is the night at Crimson.”