Cold Burn of Magic (5 page)

The same couldn't be said for Ashley.

The bodyguard was lying on her back, staring up at a set of crystal wind chimes shaped like stars and dangling from the ceiling. Her sword was lying on the floor, and she had both hands pressed over the wound in her stomach. As soon as I saw it, my own stomach clenched. It was even worse than I'd thought, and the thick, metallic stench of her blood filled the air, overpowering the sweet, floral scents from the shattered perfume bottles.

I let go of Devon just as the last of the magic burned out of my system. My extra strength evaporated, the cold sensation in my veins vanished, and my body returned to its normal temperature.

Devon fell to his knees beside Ashley. I grabbed several white silk handkerchiefs from a rack, dropped down beside Ashley, and pressed the silk to her wound, although all the fabric immediately turned a bright crimson. She stared at me, her brown eyes two pools of pain in her face, the light in her gaze getting darker and darker as the blood drained from her body.

“You're good,” she said. “Much better than me. Which Family do you belong to?”

Instead of answering, I pressed the silk even tighter against her stomach. Hot, sticky blood oozed over my fingers like a waterfall and puddled on the floor.

“You should snap her up, Devon,” Ashley said, smiling at him through the pain. “Smart, pretty, and wicked good with a sword. And look at those blue eyes on her. I know how . . . crazy you are for . . . baby blues like that.”

Devon shook his head and took her hand in his.

I scanned the counters around us. Among the many things in the shop, Mo sold bottles of stitch-sting, a healing liquid made from evergreen bushes of the same name. I didn't know if he had enough to help her, though—

“Don't bother,” Ashley rasped, picking up on my thoughts. “It's too late for any healing. Besides, his sword was poisoned with copper crusher venom. I can feel it . . . running . . . through my veins. It . . . burns. It burns . . . so bad.”

Devon tightened his grip on her hand. “I'm so sorry, Ash. If I hadn't wanted to come out today—”

She shook her head. “I knew the risks when I signed up for the job, remember?”

He didn't respond, but anguish tightened his face—along with guilt.

“Tell Oscar I'm sorry,” Ashley rasped.

“Don't even talk like that. You can tell him yourself.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Sure—”

Ashley let out a violent, racking cough, blood dribbling out of her lips. She sighed, her head lolled to the side, and her whole body relaxed.

I didn't have to look into her eyes and use my sight to know that she was dead.

 

For a moment, everything was quiet—so quiet.

The only sounds were the steady, faint, mechanical
tick-tick-ticks
of the grandfather clocks that clustered together in one section of the shop.

“Ashley? Ashley!” Devon rasped, shattering the silence.

He leaned down and started shaking her shoulders as if he could bring her back to life if only he tried hard enough. I got to my feet, stepped back, and let him get it all out. It didn't take long.

“Ashley . . . Ashley . . .”

Devon's voice broke off into a choked sob, and he cradled her to his chest and started rocking back and forth, the way a child might with a favorite stuffed animal. He really had cared about his bodyguard after all, and Ashley had paid the ultimate price for protecting him.

Just like my mom had.

My stomach started churning, so I looked away from them, trying to distract myself from memories that were best forgotten. This was why I stayed away from the Families. This was why I didn't get involved. This was why I didn't let myself care about anyone.

Because heartache and suffering and misery were all you got in return.

Felix had finally come to and tried to sit up, although one of his shoulders was propped up against a rack of comic books, while the rest of him was still slumped on the floor. The left side of his jaw had already started to swell and bruise from where the mystery man had hit him, and his brown eyes were unfocused. He probably had a concussion, but he'd be okay. He was lucky that the mystery man hadn't killed him outright. Then again Devon had seemed to be the target of the attack—

A hand touched my shoulder. I whipped around and raised my sword, thinking the mystery man had come back into the shop.

“Whoa! Whoa, Lila!” Mo held up his hands and backed out of range. “It's just me.”

I hissed out a breath between my clenched teeth and lowered the sword. Once again, the shop was quiet, except for the rustle of Devon's clothes as he rocked back and forth with Ashley. Every once in a while, Felix would let out a low moan, as though he were chiming in to Devon's raspy chorus of grief.

“I'm in the back, talking on the phone, and I hear all these yells and screams. What happened?” Mo asked, his gaze going from the dead men to Felix to Devon holding Ashley's body before finally coming back to me.

I drew him away from Devon and quietly told him everything.

Mo stood there, thinking. “Did you get a good look at the man who was leading the attack?”

I shook my head. “He was just a guy. Brown hair, brown eyes, plain features. I didn't see any crests on his clothes, wrist, or sword, so I don't know which Family he might work for.”

Mo nodded. For a moment, he was perfectly still, then he burst into action, like someone had lit a fire under his feet. He grabbed the sword out of my hand and laid it on one of the counters before hustling over and grabbing my backpack. Then he whirled around and stormed right back toward me, his Hawaiian shirt fluttering around his body and his flip-flops
snap-snap-snapping
against the floor. He shoved my backpack into my chest and slapped a fat wad of cash into my bloody hand.

“You need to get out of here, Lila,” Mo said. “Right now.”

“What? Why? Why are you freaking out?”

“You don't know who these kids are? You didn't recognize
him
?” He stabbed his finger toward Devon.

I shook my head. Now wasn't the time to tell him that Devon had looked familiar but that I hadn't been able to place him.

Mo snorted like he didn't believe me. “Well, it doesn't matter. What does is that you killed a couple of guys.”

Sad to say, nothing I hadn't done before. Although I bit my lip to keep from telling him that. He knew it anyway, and he wouldn't appreciate my sarcasm.

“Not only that, but you put yourself smack-dab in the middle of some Family feud or assassination or whatever you want to call it. You know what that means.”

I shivered. It was bad enough when a member of a Family killed someone working for another Family, even if it was in self-defense. But when someone like me, a nobody who didn't belong to one of the Families, took out a couple of their guys . . . Well, there could be consequences. Some very serious, nasty, and unpleasant consequences—for me.

“You need to leave,” Mo snapped. “Now, Lila. Please,
please
leave.”

I frowned. Mo never,
ever
said
please
. Even if he was facing down a lochness that was about to rip him limb from limb, he was still more likely to try to wheedle, cajole, and con the creature out of one of its tentacles rather than plead for his life.

Mo started muttering under his breath. “Can't believe this happened . . . just trying to make a few bucks . . . didn't think he'd actually come here . . . Serena would kill me for this . . .”

He paced back and forth, but I seized on to the last thing he'd said.

“Why would Mom be upset about this?”

Mo stopped pacing, and his head snapped up. “What are you still doing here? Go. Go!”

He grabbed my shoulders, spun me around, and marched me toward the front entrance. Mo didn't have a Talent for strength, but he was no lightweight, either. All I could do was go where he pushed me.

We reached the front doors, and Mo yanked one of them open. He would have shoved me right on outside if I hadn't reached out and latched on to the door frame, smearing blood as I did. Even then, he still gave me a nudge, but I wasn't budging. Not until I got some answers.

“What's going on?”

“I'll give you the rest of your money later, if that's what you're worried about. I promise. I'll even pay you double. Triple, if you want. Think of it as a bonus. For leaving. Right now.”

I blinked. Mo never,
ever
gave me a bonus, much less tripled anything. That was even more shocking than him asking me nicely to do something. What had him so rattled that he'd be willing to part with so much cash just to get rid of me? Yeah, a couple of Family members getting attacked in his shop wasn't exactly good for business, but it wasn't all that uncommon, either. People got mugged, robbed, and beaten on the streets practically every day in Cloudburst Falls, thanks to all of the mob feuds. Not to mention everyone out to fleece the tourists, and how riled up and out of control the tourists themselves could get when they'd had a few too many mimosas with their never-ending stacks of pancakes.

“But—”

“Just go, okay?” Mo said. “Give me a chance to fix this. I'll text you later. Just go home and then go to school in the morning like everything's normal, okay? Can you do that for me, Lila? Please?”

There was that baffling
please
again. Twice in two minutes. Mo must be really shaken up, which only made me that much more suspicious about what was really going on and who those kids were. But before I could ask him again, he reached over, plucked my hand off the door frame, and gave me another nudge, one that sent me staggering outside.

“Hey!”

I whirled around, but Mo was quicker. He shut the door behind me, then locked it.

“Tomorrow!” he called out through the glass that separated us. “I'll text you tomorrow!”

Then he flipped the sign on the door over to CLOSED and drew down the shades, blocking my view of him and Devon and Felix still inside. A few seconds later, the flashing neon sign outside the store went dark as well.

I raised my hand to pound on the glass, when faint murmurs caught my ear, and I saw some furtive movements out of the corner of my eye. I glanced to my left and realized that some of the tourists were staring at me, their hands held up over their mouths as they whispered. At first, I wondered why they'd be so interested in me, but then I looked down. I'd forgotten about the blood that had spattered all over my T-shirt and cargo pants.

I grimaced and cradled my backpack in my arms in front of me, trying to hide as much of the blood as I could, along with the money in my hand. The whispers grew louder, and I saw one of the tourists—the same woman I'd sat next to on the trolley—pull her camera out of her purse.

Maybe Mo was right about my leaving.

So I turned away from the tourists, put my head down, and walked away from the Razzle Dazzle as fast as I could.

I
made it out of the square and slipped onto one of the side streets. I kept my backpack in front of me and my head down the whole walk home. I didn't dare take a trolley. Not now.

But luckily, a blood-covered girl wasn't an unusual sight in Cloudburst Falls, at least not in the dilapidated parts of town I was hurrying through, and I made it home without attracting any more attention.

From people, at least.

But I spotted more than one pair of slitted eyes tracking my movements from the alleys, shadows, and Dumpsters. Quick, cigarette glows of light that grew bigger and brighter as the monsters slithered closer to the sidewalks I was scurrying along. But since it was still daylight, they didn't venture out of their hiding spots to attack me.

By the time I made it back to the library, it was after six, and the building had already closed for the night. I plucked the black chopsticks out of my ponytail, went through my usual lock-picking routine, and slipped inside. But instead of going down to the basement, I headed into the women's bathroom. I flipped on the lights, put my backpack down on a bench inside the door, and went over to one of the mirrors.

Blood covered most of my body.

The front of my T-shirt was soaked with it, the fabric more rusty brown than blue now, and more blood had spattered onto my cargo pants, with thick, fat drops congealed on my sneakers. Not to mention the red smears on my right cheek and the stains that had dried on my hands, arms, and even under my fingernails. My gut twisted, and I had to force myself to ignore the hot nausea rising in my throat.

Blood didn't usually bother me. I'd killed people before. Folks who'd attacked me during my jobs for Mo. Others who'd come after me just because they'd wanted to, thinking that a lone girl would be an easy target. Monsters who'd slithered out of dark alleys, determined to make a meal out of me. Oh no, blood didn't bother me, but I couldn't help shuddering at my reflection all the same.

Because this time, the blood belonged to a dead girl—one who was too much like me for my peace of mind.

A strange emotion seized me, and I stripped off my T-shirt, wrapped it in some paper towels from the dispenser by the sink, and shoved it into the bottom of the trash can. Then I cranked up the faucet as high and hot as it would go, grabbed another wad of paper towels, and started scrubbing at all the blood, even though my hands were shaking so badly that all I really did was fling water everywhere.

It took me longer than it should have to get my emotions under control, but ten minutes later, my hands were steady, my gut was calm, and the nausea was a fading memory. I wiped all the crimson stains off my skin and got the worst of them out of my pants and off my sneakers. I flipped off the faucet and stood there shivering in my bra and wet pants, but I'd used up all the paper towels, and I didn't feel like going into the men's bathroom to get more.

I leaned forward and peered at my reflection again. Shoulder-length black hair, pale skin, a puffy blue bruise that had bloomed on my cheek from where the guy had hit me in the pawnshop. I looked much more like myself now. Maybe my blue eyes were a little darker and more haunted than they'd been before, but that was nothing new, either.

You didn't do the things I did—lie, steal, cheat, and kill—without having a few bad things happen to you along the way. You didn't pick-pocket tourists who were only in town to have a good time without feeling a smidge of guilt. You didn't kill simple, hungry creatures who were only doing what came naturally to them by trying to eat you without getting a few dings on your conscience. And you especially didn't witness the aftermath of your mom's murder and realize there was nothing you could do to save her without getting more than a few rips and tears in your heart.

My thoughts turned to Devon, and I wondered what scars he'd have from today, from watching his bodyguard die protecting him. No doubt they'd be far worse than mine. I wondered if Devon's emotions would harden and if that hot spark that burned so deep inside him would be extinguished after this, smothered by all the guilt he felt. Hard to tell.

I grabbed my phone from my backpack. No message from Mo. I wondered what he had done after I left the Razzle Dazzle. He would have had to call
someone
about the attack. Since Devon, Felix, and Ashley had belonged to one of the Families, the regular mortal cops wouldn't get involved, but somebody would have to do
something,
if only to remove the dead men's bodies from the shop and sweep everything under the proverbial rug.

But there was no way for me to get answers to my questions until Mo decided to contact me.

So I gathered up my things, turned out the lights, left the bathroom, and headed down to the basement to go to bed, even though I knew it would be hours before I actually fell asleep.

 

After a night of bloody dreams, I quickly dressed and went to school the next morning, but my thoughts lingered on Ashley. I wondered how long she'd been a Family bodyguard. I wondered if Devon and Felix were really her friends or just a job. I wondered if she had a family—a
real
family—and not just the stupid mob she'd joined for whatever reason.

I wondered a lot of things I shouldn't have.

But the school day passed by like any other. And so did the next one . . . and the one after that . . . and the one after that . . .

Mo sent me a few cryptic texts, saying that he was
taking care of things,
but he didn't call me, and I didn't dare go by the pawnshop until he gave me the all-clear. So the days went by, and I still didn't know what, if anything, was going on.

The suspense was driving me crazy, but there was nothing I could do but schlep to school every day, find a diner to hang out in until the library closed for the night, and pick a few tourist pockets to pay for my daily dinners of cheeseburgers and fries. I didn't spend any of the money Mo had given me for stealing the ruby necklace. Not a single dollar.

There was too much blood on it for that.

So here I was, at school again, wondering which greasy dive I could lurk in this afternoon and checking my phone every five minutes in case Mo texted me. This was the last week of classes, and all that was left were a few lame, end-of-year activities, which I totally could have skipped. But I always came to school every day right up until the bitter end to hit the breakfast and lunch lines, where I swiped extra cookies and apples that I didn't pay for and stuffed into my backpack to eat later.

The last bell of the day rang, and I was heading out the front door when my phone
finally
chirped with a message from Mo. I stopped in the hallway and looked at the screen.

 

 

I sighed. Another cryptic message that told me absolutely nothing. I wondered who he thought I was going to start a fight with. Certainly not the rubes at school. I knew better than that. Oh, I could kick the ass of anyone stupid enough to mess with me. My mom had taught me to take care of myself—and then some. But a fight would mean a talk with my parents, and since I didn't have any, that would lead to all sorts of awkward questions about why I wasn't in foster care, where I lived, and other things that were best left to the imagination.

I waited, but Mo didn't text me again. So I put the phone back into my pocket, pushed through the doors, and stepped outside into the bright sunshine.

I didn't notice the SUV until I was almost at the sidewalk.

It crouched at the curb like an oversize beetle. Everything about it was black—black paint, black windows, black tires. The sort of car you see in action movies where government spooks use the vehicle to help them disappear people—forever.

But it was much, much worse than the government because a crest blazed on the front passenger door—a hand holding a sword aloft, all of it outlined in white. I might not have anything to do with them, but I still recognized the Sinclair Family crest.

I'd had my suspicions before, but I still bit back a groan. Of course it would be
that
Family. The only thing worse would have been if the Draconis had come for me.

A guy was leaning against the side of the SUV, his arms crossed over his muscled chest. His hair was a rich, golden blond and slicked back into a cool style, while his tan skin brought out his pale blue eyes. He was easily one of the most gorgeous guys I'd ever seen, and I wasn't the only one who'd noticed him. All of the girls walking by paused to give him a hungry once-over, especially since he didn't look all that much older than the students, maybe twenty or so.

Too bad he wasn't alone.

He was flanked by Felix and an older man with snow-white hair who was wearing a three-piece black tweed suit. Silver cuffs flashed on all their wrists, and golden boy had a sword strapped to his waist. Felix straightened up the second he saw me and nudged golden boy with his elbow. Oh no.

It would look more suspicious if I bolted, so I kept going, falling in behind a group of football players. I reached the sidewalk and turned left, away from the SUV. I ducked my head and started walking in the other direction, not really running, but seriously thinking about it—

A pair of boots planted themselves on the sidewalk, and I had to pull up to keep from slamming into the guy in front of me.

“In a hurry?” golden boy asked, smiling and revealing a dimple in his left cheek.

“You might say that.”

I started to step around him, but he blocked my path. I moved the other way, and so did he, cutting me off again. We did our dance a third time before he reached out, as though he were going to grab my arm. Handsome or not, I bared my teeth at him.

“You touch me, and I will knock you into next week.”

His eyebrows shot up, and his gaze flicked past me. Footsteps sounded behind us, and too late, I remembered his friends. I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, Felix and the older man had come up behind me. I backed up so that the four of us were standing in a loose circle, even though all of them were on one side with just me on the other.

“Yep, that's her,” Felix said. “That's the girl from the pawnshop. The one who saved Devon.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that he was wrong, when my phone buzzed.

“I imagine that's your friend Mo, asking you to come along quietly,” the older man said, his rich, cultured voice tinged with an English accent. “Why don't you look and see?”

Even more suspicious now, I backed up another step. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the message. Sure enough, it was from Mo.

 

 

I glanced up at the three guys and texted him back.

 

 

There was that stupid
please
again. But really, I didn't have a choice. I could take out Felix, but golden boy and the older man looked like they would present more of a problem. Besides, I was already getting enough strange looks from the kids streaming by on the sidewalk. They might not have noticed me before, but I was very interesting now.

So I sighed and texted Mo back.

 

 

I glared at the phone. Trust Mo to be totally blasé about my getting into a car with three strangers. I waited but he didn't respond, so I slid my phone into my pocket again.

“Which one of you is Reginald?” I muttered.

The older man gave me a very deep, very formal bow. “I am, miss. William Reginald, with the Sinclair Family.” He gestured at golden boy. “And this is Grant Sanderson. I believe you know Felix Morales already.”

I had to work very hard to keep from showing any sort of surprise. William Reginald looked and sounded like a glorified butler because that's exactly what he was. As the Sinclair Family butler, he ran the mansion, overseeing the day-to-day operations of everything from the kitchen staff to the gardeners to who got admitted inside to have an audience with the higher-ups. I'd heard Mo complain more than once that getting past Reginald without an appointment was harder than selling life insurance to a dead man. And Grant and Felix were obviously more than just regular guards.

This was turning way more serious than I'd thought.

“As I said before, we are with the Sinclair Family,” Reginald repeated, taking my silence for worry, which he was spot-on about. “We mean you no harm.”

Yeah. Right. Because getting into a black SUV with Family goons always worked out so well for folks like me.

Reginald tipped his head, his lined face neutral, while Grant flashed me a brief, but wary smile.

But Felix did a most surprising thing—he winked, then gave me a slow, knowing grin, flirting with me just like he had in the pawnshop. I rolled my eyes, but that only seemed to amuse him more. I had a feeling that Felix Morales knew exactly how pretty he was and used it to get whatever girl caught his eye. Cute, cocky, and arrogant. A bad-boy combination if ever there was one.

They didn't ask me my name, I assumed because they knew it already. They wouldn't have been here otherwise. Obviously, this had something to do with the attack at the Razzle Dazzle, although I couldn't imagine what they wanted with me. I'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been stupid enough to get involved. That's all, and that's all that I wanted it to be.