Magic Edge (4 page)

“I know a lot about you, Alexandria Dering.”

She laughed so hard, she nearly fell out of her stool. He moved forward to catch her.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I don’t really know,” she laughed, burying her face against his chest. It was as hard as granite and smelled of warm spice and amber. She inhaled deeply and picked up a hint of leather and orange too. He smelled sexy enough to eat.

“Alex.”

She looked up. “Yes?”

“Come with me.”

“Hmm? Why?”

“You aren’t yourself right now. It’s dangerous for you to stay here when you’re like this.”

She snickered. “I’m fine.”

When she tried to stand up, she stumbled to the side, barely catching herself on the bar. The room was a blotchy canvas of pulsing streaks. It hadn’t been spinning so much when she’d come in, had it?

You’ve been drugged
, a voice said in her head.

She laughed at it.

Snap out of it.

“Ok, then,” she said. “I’ll just be going now.”

She blacked out. The next thing she knew, Slayer had her cradled in his arms, and he was carrying her toward the exit.

“Put me down,” she said, her words slurred and sloppy. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

When he didn’t say anything, she tried glaring at him—but her eyes weren’t working. She couldn’t see anything but the pitch black abyss.

“What have you done to me?” she growled right before she passed out.

CHAPTER FIVE

Graffiti Dungeon

ALEX OPENED HER eyes to find an angel with golden hair and a halo of emeralds staring at her. It wasn’t a real angel, of course. He’d been painted onto the wall, along with fairies and vampires. In the background, a herd of unicorns battled it out against some dark ponies with teal-green bodies, purple manes, and golden hooves that dripped blood.

The room was cast in shadows, but there was just enough light to see that supernatural motifs covered every wall. The colorful graffiti contrasted starkly with the bare, ugly concrete of the floor and ceiling. Early morning light cut through the slender window slits.

She’d been here all night. Wherever ‘here’ was. She started for the door—only to be yanked back by the chains locked around her wrists and ankles. Metal rattled as she shook her hands, but the chains held. They were attached to the ceiling. The pair around her ankles were bolted to the floor. She wasn’t even wearing shoes anymore. Her sword was gone too. So was her leather jacket with all her knives. And the knives she’d hidden elsewhere on her body.

“Damn assassin,” she growled. He’d done a thorough job of disarming her. That made her almost as mad as being chained up in some creepy basement. Without her weapons, she might just as well have been naked.

“Let’s not go calling names now,” Slayer said, stepping out of the shadows.

There was something odd about his aura. He didn’t feel supernatural, at least not like any supernatural being she’d ever met—but he didn’t feel completely human either. There was magic in him.

“I know what you are,” he said.

Alex’s heart stuttered in her chest. Eight years ago, an assassin had killed her father. He’d been after her and Sera, but he didn’t have any problem mowing down anyone who got in the way.

Dad had gotten in the way. That was the only time Alex had used her magic to kill. Looking down on her father’s broken body, rage had taken over. The magic she’d spent years concealing flooded out of her. She’d blasted the assassin so hard that he was dead even before he hit the wall. The knowledge of her forbidden origin had died with him.

Or so she’d thought.

Was history repeating itself? Had Slayer found out that she was Dragon Born? Is that why he’d been stalking her for weeks, just waiting for the right moment to strike? Turning her in to the Magic Council was worth a bounty of at least two million dollars—and the leaders of the supernatural community weren’t too choosy if she arrived on their doorstep dead or alive. They’d kill her themselves anyway.

“I know what you are,” he repeated, drawing closer.

Alex didn’t have an answer for that. “What the hell did you do to me?” she demanded, using anger to drown out her fear.

“I did nothing. It was Hugh.”

“Hugh? Who’s that? Is it the name of your alter-ego?”

“No.” A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “That’s the bartender at Impulse. He poisoned your drink.”

She frowned. “I knew he was lying.”

“Pardon?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. How did you know he was the one who poisoned me? Maybe it was a certain assassin.”

“Me?” He laughed. “I don’t poison people, doll. What’s the challenge in that?”

Yep, he killed for pleasure too.

“I know it was Hugh because I asked him about it after you passed out,” Slayer said. “He meant to kill you. Apparently, you were asking the wrong questions. But you survived the poison. How?”

Wouldn’t I like to know.
It was just like the incident with the vampire venom. Her body had fought that off too.

“What kind of poison did he use?” she asked him.

“The Black Death.”

That poison came from the thorns of a magical rose plant. It was fast-acting, mostly tasteless, and one hundred percent deadly.

“Hugh probably saw poetic irony in using the Black Death to kill the Black Plague,” Slayer said.

Alex scowled. She’d show that homicidal ass some poetic irony when she punched him in the face.

“And yet you survived. How?” he asked.

“Just lucky, I guess.” The chains jingled as she shrugged back her shoulders.

“Hmm.”

He flipped a knife up in the air, then caught it. A jolt of anger ripped through her as she recognized her own weapon.

“That’s mine,” she growled.

“Yes. And what a very pretty knife it is,” he replied. “But stop changing the subject.”

“I don’t know how I survived the poison, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell someone who sells secrets as well as takes lives.”

“Touché.”

“Why did your friend Hugh feel the need to poison me anyway? He could have just ignored me.”

“He’s not my friend. He’s a source of information,” Slayer said dispassionately. “After I dropped you off in my car, I went back to ask him about it. He said you were snooping for information about the Orbs of Essence.”

“Snooping?”

“It turns out that while I was carrying you to my car, some guys came into the bar and stole the Blood Orb out of the vault.”

“The Blood Orb was being stored at Impulse?” she asked, feeling stupid. She could sense magic better than most anyone. Why hadn’t she sensed the Blood Orb?

Because you allowed yourself to get distracted flirting with the assassin
, the voice in her head said.

She didn’t try to argue with it. The damn thing was right. And she was an idiot.

“Yes, it was Impulse’s turn to store the Blood Orb,” he said. “They’d had it for only two nights before someone stole it. Rumor has it the Vampire Covenant is in a real temper right now.”

So the vampires weren’t behind the thefts like Marek had thought. Or it was rogue vampires after the Orbs.

“Hugh knew Impulse would be hit last night,” Alex realized. “That’s why he was so jumpy when I started asking questions about the Orbs. He was afraid I’d figure out he was helping the thieves and that I’d turn him in.”

“He claims he poisoned you because he thought you were one of the thieves after the Orbs of Essence.”

“He’s such a liar.”

“Yes. When vampires lie, their scent changes. You can taste it in the air. It takes on a subtle hint of burning metal.”

Alex had thought she was the only one who noticed that.

“He looked far too relieved when I told him I’d taken you out of there,” he said.

“Did you tell him that I’d survived his poison?”

“No, he didn’t need to know that.” Slayer gave her a smile as deadly as he was. “I saved you from a most unpleasant fate.”

“My hero,” she said drily, rattling her chains for emphasis.

She’d broken chains before. It just took time—and a touch of magic. She eased her magic down the thick silver links, making it eat away at the steel.

“Come now. Don’t be moody.”

“Moody?” she spat back his words. “I was poisoned—”

“Which wasn’t my fault.”

“—and then I woke up in a dungeon tied down with chains. I have every right to be moody!”

“After you passed out, you developed a slight fever. It didn’t seem serious, but your body put you to sleep to fight the poison. It didn’t look like you’d regain consciousness before morning. If I hadn’t restrained you, you would have tried to take my head off the moment you woke up. And knowing your temper, you wouldn’t have even bothered to ask questions first. At least this way, we could have a civil conversation.”

“I’m in chains, you deranged assassin! There’s nothing civil about it.”

“I’ve seen you fight, Alex. You’re strong, agile, and smart. Normal restraints wouldn’t hold you,” he said calmly. “And, yes, this is the most civil conversation we’ve ever had, barring last night. You should throw yourself at me more often. It’s endearing.”

“I didn’t throw myself at you. I fell off my stool because I’d been drugged.”

“And I suppose you’re going to blame the rest of your behavior on the drugs too?”

“The rest of my behavior?” The details of last night were foggy. She hoped she hadn’t done anything…inappropriate.

“Inhaling my scent.” He smile smugly. “Calling me sexy. There may have been some touching.”

Alex wished her hands were free so she could cover her mortification by throwing a few daggers at the wall. But they weren’t, so she had to settle for looking daggers at the assassin.

“I don’t recall anything of the sort,” she said.

“Then I’ll just have to remember for the both of us.” His smile grew wider, teetering on rapturous. “I’m glad we’re finally having this talk. It’s long overdue.”

As overdue as a magical apocalypse—and just as welcome.

“You’ve been blowing me off for weeks,” he said.

“I’ve suffered through more than my fair share of conversations with you, Slayer.”

“Logan.”

“That’s your real name?”

“Yes.”

She chuckled.

“You find my name amusing, do you?”

“It’s not the name of an assassin.”

“Hence my choice of Slayer,” he said. “My parents didn’t name me with the expectation that I’d one day become an assassin.”

“How do you know? Did you ask them?” she teased.

“They told me so. Right before they disowned me.”

“Oh.”

She tried not to think about it. She was
not
going to feel sorry for an assassin. Especially not the assassin who’d locked her up in his dungeon. She tested the chains. The metal had softened, but not yet grown brittle.

“Well, Logan, I don’t see any need for us to discuss anything. You tried to kill me the first time we met, and I don’t see any evidence that your morals have changed since then.”

“There’s no need to hold a grudge, princess. That was a simple misunderstanding, nothing more.”

“A misunderstanding,” she stammered out. “Was it a
misunderstanding
that you snuck up on me and tried to jump me in a dark alleyway?”

He shrugged. “We were after the same target that day. Once we realized that, we ended up killing the monster together, remember?”

Of course she remembered. It was hard to forget. There weren’t many people who could move like Logan. He fought like a demigod.

He moved in closer, his breath hot on her skin as he whispered into her ear. “You’re attracted to me, Alex. Just admit it.” As he pulled away, his cheek brushed against hers.

Repressing a shiver, she hardened her eyes and glared at him. Chains clinked together as she crossed her arms to her chest. Almost there. She started to work her magic on the chains holding her feet. “Attracted to you? Puh-lease! I will admit no such thing.”

“Stubborn woman.”

“Demented assassin.”

He grinned.

“What do you want?” she demanded. “Why am I still chained here?”

“What will you do if I release you?”

What indeed? She saw herself dislocating his shoulder. If he was really mean, she might even break it. Come to think of it, he deserved a broken rib or two as well. And maybe a punch to the kidney.

“What I’ll do depends on what you want,” she told him.

Still smiling, he took another step back. “You accuse me of being mad for enjoying a good fight. But I saw that gleam in your eyes just now. You were thinking of headbutting me.”

Yeah, and he’d ruined it by moving out of range. “Let’s just get to the point.”

“You’re investigating the Orbs of Essence,” he said. “And doing a pretty piss-poor job of it too. I knew what you were after the moment you fumbled your attempt to interrogate the bartender. If almost everyone at Impulse last night hadn’t been completely smashed, they’d have noticed it too.”

“My speciality is fighting, not interrogating.”

Logan snorted. “That much is obvious. You’re about as subtle as a punch to the gut.”

Alex glowered at him.

“You want to know what’s going on with the Orbs of Essence. Well, so do I,” he said. “Due to the high bounty, there are dozens of hunters after the Orbs. That band of vampire elves were just the beginning. Together, we can stop those amateurs from getting their hands on them. What do you say?”

“You’re an assassin,” she pointed out.

“And a thief, don’t forget,” he said. “You’re working with Gaelyn. That old man has deep pockets. He can afford my fee.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I can live with that.”

“Maybe I can’t live with that,” she said. “I don’t want to be constantly on the lookout, watching for the inevitable stab in the back.”

“I won’t betray you.”

“No, you won’t. Because I won’t give you the chance to,” she said, yanking on her chains. They broke off at her wrists and ankles, crumbs of shredded steel snowing down to the ground. “Now, hotshot, let’s see what you’ve got.”

CHAPTER SIX

The Assassin

TRUE TO HIS profession, the assassin moved like silk and hit like stone. Alex barely had time to evade the first fist he hammered at her head. She wasn’t quick enough to evade the second; it pounded hard against her ribcage and sucked the breath right out of her lungs. She stumbled back in retreat, gasping for air.