Magic Thief (The New York Shade Book 1)

by D. N. Hoxa

  “Okay, okay,” he said, holding onto the blanket tightly. “He called me last night, said to tell you that he was with me if you called. He said not to answer if you came looking for me in the apartment. He didn’t say you’d be breaking down the door!”

  This didn’t make any sense. My brother didn’t lie to me, not for things like this. I’d never stopped him, never held him back from going out with his friends. When we came here, he even insisted on going to a human high school, even though we’d both learned everything we needed to know from our aunt Marie’s homeschooling. Eight hours a day, seven days a week, no exceptions.

  My stomach clenched as if I were being attacked by an invisible fist. This kid didn’t know anything. He was so scared he’d have told me if he did. There was no point in asking him anymore.

  “I believe you, Jake. If Sonny calls you, I’m going to need to know, okay?” I could see the corner of his phone peeking out from under his pillow, so I leaned down to grab it. He moved to the other side of the bed, almost hitting his head against the wall. Fucking teenage boys. “I’m going to leave my number on your phone. If he calls, you tell him that I’m looking for him and he needs to find me right away. You tell him that it’s very important. If he comes here, or you hear anything about him, text me. Okay? Just a text—that’s all.”

  Jake nodded his head, trying to become one with the wall.

  With a sigh, I left his phone on the bed and walked out of the apartment, feeling a bit nauseous. A bit scared. Kit waited for me outside on the sidewalk. His little black nose moved as he sniffed the air, probably looking for chocolate. When he saw me, he rushed forward in a blur and looked up at me with his beady eyes.

  “He’s not here,” I said, raising my arms to my sides. “I had no idea he lied to me, Kit.” The squirrel squeaked, moving his fluffy tail up and down. “We need to go see Malin.”

  A loud squeak and he took off running down the street. Kit loved Malin because Malin loved chocolate and Kit loved chocolate even more. Half the stash in Kit’s box at home came from Malin. The other half—I had no idea where he stole it from, but I was not allowed to even look in Kit’s box when he wasn’t home. He always knew, and there’d be hell to pay, so I steered clear of it at all times.

  It took me fifteen minutes to get to the south entrance of the Shade. I tried to distract myself by focusing on the people passing me by, but it was no use. Every few minutes I caught myself thinking about the vampire. The elf. The werewolf. They were assassins, a whole team of them that people called the Bane. I didn’t even want to know exactly what had inspired people to call them that in the first place.

  Shivers broke on my spine, chasing away any feeling of positivity I had in me. The vampire’s beautiful face had haunted my dreams all night. I’d finally made it home at three in the morning, having searched all the human clubs Sonny liked to go to. I’d found nothing.

  I looked at my wrist. The fang marks had already disappeared. Supernaturals healed fast, and I was no exception. But I still saw them in my mind’s eye. I still felt him biting me, drawing my blood from my body as if it was his to take. The way he’d looked into my memories terrified me.

  Slaughtered. Maimed. He thought Sonny had something to do with the murder of four people. Murder. It wasn’t possible. I would not believe it, never in a million years. It was a misunderstanding, and as soon as I found him, we’d clear it all up in a heartbeat.

  Malin and I had been friends for the past two years since Jamie had introduced us at Cavalieros. She was a darkling witch, and her Talent was necromancy. Of course, she no longer could use that kind of magic, even if she’d wanted to.

  At the age of ten, every supernatural is tested by the Guild. Every supernatural species have their own testing procedure, but for sorceresses and witches, it’s very similar. It starts off with a written exam and continues with a showcase of powers—a set of simple, basic spells for sorcerers and simple rituals for witches. The difference between us was that witch magic was silent, colorless, invisible. Ours was very flash, which was a pity. You could never catch someone by surprise properly. Also, sorcerer magic couldn’t be saved or locked into something. Witch magic could. They could make charms and stuff like that, but they weren’t usually that powerful to justify the cost.

  The third part of the Guild test was designed to test our individual Talents. Every supernatural had them, and powers like necromancy, marauding, possession of the living or dead, mind reading, will bending, and mind control would land you on the darkling side of the classification. Talents were usually inherited from our parents, but not always, and those who were classified as darkling underwent a series of spells designed to strip away the illegal Talents for the length of the supernatural’s life. We called it the Nulling—and Malin was Nulled as a kid. She could still do magic—everything other witches could do—but she would never be able to use her Talent for as long as she lived.

  I never used my Talent, either, even though I was never Nulled. It’s safer that way—for everyone.

  The Guild had certain people, certain darkling they allowed to keep their Talents. They had necromancers working for them, too, but they kept them under very tight control. The world needed those powers, too. Necromancers like Malin could not only awaken the dead, but they could do a lot of other things, among them creating and killing diseases—like viruses and bacteria. That’s how the Guild had eliminated a highly contagious virus at the beginning of the year that had taken over entire human cities. They’d done it through necromancy in the span of two weeks.

  But those they didn’t need, they Nulled in the name of safety.

  The Shade was semi-quiet at this time of the morning. Supernaturals stayed up late and slept in. Most of the stores were closed. Malin lived in a four-story apartment building across the street from the biggest grocery store in the Shade—Golem It. It was managed by some of the most powerful witches in the City, all Primes—Level Four supernaturals. All the workers were golems—creatures made out of earth through a series of very complicated rituals—who served their creators in whichever way they pleased. The shoppers at Golem It only needed to make an order at the entrance, and a team of golems would gather all the groceries from the huge store and bring it to you. They even did free delivery right to your door—within the Shade.

  I knocked on Malin’s door with Kit right next to my foot, waiting impatiently to get inside. Malin was awake—I’d texted her before coming here.

  “Come on in!” she called from inside the apartment, and I opened the door. Kit sprinted inside to go find wherever Malin had hidden chocolates for him.

  I walked through the short corridor that led into the living room, followed by the kitchen. That’s where Malin was—that’s where Malin always was—pulling something out of the oven, something that smelled delicious.

  “Morning,” I said as I went around her orange couch and to the small dining table for four that separated the kitchen cabinets from the living room.

  “Morning!” Malin said cheerfully.

  “Oh, good morning, Sandra!” said Malin’s mother, her voice dripping sweetness.

  “Morning, Ms. Arnon,” I said to the open book on the dining table.

  Malin’s mother had died about three years ago, before we met. Back then, she’d only had one friend—Sandra—and that’s why Ms. Arnon always called me that. Obviously, it wasn’t really Malin’s mother speaking. It was a cookbook-slash-grimoire passed down from mother to daughter in Malin’s family for at least a couple of centuries. The book was spelled—necromancy—to speak with the words written in it. It was started by Malin’s great-great-great grandmother, and it had more than two thousand recipes—for food and rituals. Malin’s mother had been the last to spell it—whatever was written in the pages of those books would be spoken out loud in Ms. Arnon’s voice. It was like talking to her in real life, except she only wrote down recipes and ordinary things Malin and her usually talked about. It had freaked me out the first time I’d seen it.
She just sounded so real, the way she almost always never got confused, recognized different voices and could answer simple questions. This was very illegal, too, especially since nobody had known that Malin’s mother wasn’t Nulled like the rest of her family. That’s why Malin lived alone in the Shade, and wasn’t part of any witch coven. Witches tended to stick together more often than not, but Malin’s grandparents had taken Ms. Arnon away when they found out she wasn’t Nulled, afraid somebody would find out and report her to the Guild. By the time Ms. Arnon died, Malin said she was already used to living alone.

  “I’m just making this cherry pie for Ms. Whitiker,” Malin said, putting the delicious-looking pie on the counter with a red oven mitten. “You know how she loves cherries. I promised her I’d bring some today. Just give me a moment—I’ll be done soon.”

  “Who doesn’t love cherry pies, right?” Ms. Arnon’s voice came from the book. If you looked at it, all you’d see was a mess of letters in all sizes, moving around the pages—the spell in action. “Honey, did you mix the lemon juice in?”

  “Yes, Ma,” said Malin.

  “And the vanilla extract? Did I mention it? I can’t seem to remember if I did.”

  “Yes, Ma, you did. You mentioned everything,” said Malin as she put a foil cover over the pie then turned to me. “What’s up? Did you hear about Caravelios last night?” she asked, washing her hands at the sink. She was five foot five, with wild corkscrew curls falling to her shoulders. Her dark skin shone golden in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, and her brown eyes sparkled, giving you the impression that she was always smiling.

  “Yep.”

  “And Kirk Hale!” she cried, drying her hands on the kitchen towel before she threw it on the counter and put her hands on her hips. “The asshole! He got caught and they sent him to Judicum Prison. Now I have to find a new dealer. It’s not as easy as it sounds. You can’t trust anyone anymore, and I need something for tonight.”

  “Why? What are you making?” She was really, really good at potions.

  “Just a sleeping potion for Mr. Patel. He’s having a lot of trouble sleeping lately, and he needs his rest.” Malin worked as a nurse in a human hospital and took her job very seriously. She went out of her way to make the patients comfortable, even brewing illegal potions for them. “All the legal recipes are fine but not strong enough. I just need a bit of cantalia for one of Mom’s potions. It’s so much better than the Guild’s.”

  I didn’t doubt that for a second. “Talk to Jamie. She probably knows someone.”

  “Jamie? Is that a man you’re seeing, sweetie?” Ms. Arnon said from the book.

  “Ma, no! Jamie’s my friend,” Malin said and rushed to the book. “Gotta go now, Ma. Thanks for the recipe. I love you.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome, honey. Love you!”

  Malin closed the book and turned to me, squinting her eyes as if she was just noticing something on my face. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”

  I nodded. “I think Sonny’s in trouble and I can’t find him anywhere.”

  She flinched. “What kind of trouble?”

  With a sigh, I pulled one of the chairs out and sat. I tried to wrap up everything as quickly as possible for her: the hellbeast, Travis, the explosion at Cavalieros, and Damian Reed and his team.

  She sat across from me and listened, eyes wide and mouth open. Just as I finished, Kit jumped over the dining table, with two round chocolates wrapped in golden foil in his hands. He rushed to Malin, and she grabbed him in her arms without ever looking at him, stroking his back and tail while he sniffed her—his way of saying thanks.

  “By the goddess, Sin,” she said, shaking her head, in complete shock. “Typhon Reed? He’s like extremely old. Extremely powerful.”

  I flinched and rubbed my wrist. “Tell me about it. He could literally see into my mind—everything I saw, everything I thought.”

  “And the Guild Nulled me,” Malin said, “but they let him roam around free. Fuckers.”

  “Amen. Nobody even tried to stop him or anything. They just stood back and let them do whatever they wanted.” I’d expected officers of the Guild to come running to my rescue last night. I’d been dead wrong.

  “He’s probably full of shit. Sonny wouldn’t do something like that,” Malin said, and I nodded. On that, we agreed. “Do you need me to do a sight ritual?”

  I smiled. That’s why I was here at this hour. “Yes, please.”

  Most witches, Level Three and up, had the gift of foresight, which technically was a gift of the angel-born, yet Malin was classified as darkling because of her necromancy Talent. Go figure.

  “Okay, let me just get some things and we’ll get started,” my friend said, and with Kit in her arms, she stood up.

  I sat at the dining table, looking at everything Malin had prepared—a small circle of salt, a bowl made out of mud in the middle, half filled with water, three different kinds of dried leaves on the sides of it. Malin pushed open the window of the kitchen, closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She was probably asking the Shade for a certain smell. Scents were her thing. Her collection of perfumes, some of them magical, would put any cosmetics shop to shame. She said certain smells put her in the mood for certain rituals, better than the position of the moon. Witches were very well connected with the earth, so they were the closest with the Shade. In all the time I’d known Malin, I’d never once witnessed the Shade not responding to her call, and this time was no different. The smell of fresh lavender filled the kitchen in an instant, so strong it made me a bit nauseous. Wind blew into the kitchen, bringing in the smell from who knows where, and once Malin was satisfied, she came to sit across from me around the dining table.

  “I’ll never understand how you can live out there,” she said, as she took the dried leaves, crushed them in her fists one by one, and put them in the mud bowl.

  “I’m not a witch,” I reminded her. To be fair, not all witches loved the Shade as much as she did. If you heard her speaking about it, it was like she was speaking about a person. Shades were magical creatures, and I understood that they were alive and aware, but I could never feel it the way she did.

  “Give me your hands,” Malin said, and I reluctantly put mine over hers. “Think about Sonny as hard as you can.”

  She closed her eyes and tendrils of smoke began to slip out of the bowl, as if the water with the crushed leaves in it were boiling. It wasn’t. I closed my own eyes and focused all my attention on Sonny’s face. We’d done this only once before, when I’d wanted to know how Aunt Marie and Uncle Rick were. Calling was not an option, but I’d just wanted to see if they were okay. Malin’s strength was incredible. She was a Level Three witch and her power hummed, vibrating on my skin as she searched for Sonny through me, through my memories. I could see my brother’s face in detail in my mind. We were nothing alike. His hair was dark and mine very light, his eyes dark brown and mine hazel, he was tall and slim, and I was a bit on the curvy side. I’d known very early on that we’d had different fathers, even though Aunt Marie, our mother’s sister, would never talk to us about it. Not because of how we looked but because of what we were. Sonny was a hundred percent Sacri sorcerer, and I…well, I wasn’t. He was a Level One, and I was a Level Three.

  Even Malin didn’t know what I was, even though she suspected I wasn’t who I said because I couldn’t communicate with Kit through thoughts. Yeah, I lied to my friends. So what? I didn’t want them to be afraid of me. A little lying never hurt anybody, anyway.

  “A crowd,” said Malin, and my eyes snapped open. Hers were open, too, and she was looking my way, but she couldn’t see me. Her eyes had glazed over as the gift of foresight gave her visions only she could see. “Bright lights. Water. A very long mirror.”

  A small fire erupted in the mud bowl for a second, before dying down. The smoke rose up and disappeared, leaving behind a completely empty bowl. The ritual had consumed the water and the dried leaves Malin had put in it. She let go
of my hands.

  I took in a deep breath as her words rushed through my mind.

  “It wasn’t very clear,” Malin said. “I’m sorry, Sin. It was too far away. All I saw was that: a crowd of people, some bright lights, a mirror with no reflection, and I felt like I was swimming in ice-cold water somewhere.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Are you kidding me? This is great.” This wasn’t so great. What place would have a crowd, bright lights, mirrors, and water? Maybe a swimming pool?

  “If he had been in the Shade, I’d have gotten an address, but he isn’t. He’s out there,” Malin said with a sorry smile.

  “That’s fine. You’ve given me so much more than I had.” Which was nothing. “I’ll figure it out. I just need to think, that’s all.”

  “He’s okay, Sin. I could feel him. He’s fine.”

  Tears suddenly stung my eyes. “Are you sure?” I asked in a whisper.

  “Positive. No wounds, no blood, no pain. His breathing was even. He’s okay, wherever he is.”

  And that was worth more than a thousand addresses to me. It didn’t matter where Sonny was—I’d find him eventually. But to know that he was okay gave me a much needed energy boost.

  “In that case, I’m going to buy you breakfast, and I’m going to search every inch of the City until I find him.”

  Malin smiled. “Let me get my purse.”

  Chapter Six

  Damian Reed

  I threw the envelope in the drawer of the desk and slammed it shut. In it was a thirty-pages-long contract that amused me as much as it repulsed me. If they thought they could get me to sign my life away to them again, for any reason, they were in for an unpleasant surprise.

  I took the picture of the amulet in one hand and my glass in the other. The red wine normally revived my taste buds, even if only for a moment, as it went down my throat. But it wasn’t going to work tonight. The memory of Sinea Montero’s blood was too fresh on my tongue. My body didn’t want to let go of the reminder of her taste.