Magic Edge (8 page)

“You were. I saw that spark in your eyes. It’s the one you get right before you’re about to do something reckless. Anyone who has the magic to create supernatural hybrids must be very powerful. And going after someone that powerful is reckless.”

“You and Marek should be best friends,” she muttered.

“The dragon summoner?” His mouth drew into a hard line. “He’s…flamboyant.”

“He most certainly is.” Alex snickered. “Ok, so maybe you two don’t see eye-to-eye on fashion. But you both are operating under the misconception that I am reckless. I’m
not
reckless.”

He snatched up her hand from the table, turning her arm until he could see the shredded leather at the shoulder. “Thought I wouldn’t see this, did you?”

“That wasn’t me being reckless.” She pulled her arm free. “It was a pair of mages being crazy.”

“You shouldn’t have been in that bar in the first place. It’s full of criminals.”

“
You
brought me to that bar.”

“You shouldn’t be hanging around me either. I’m an assassin.”

Alex felt her jaw pop. “You’re the one who wanted to work with me,” she reminded him.

“Yes, and I still do. But that doesn’t mean hanging around me isn’t reckless of you.”

“You sure have an odd way of convincing me to work with you.”

“There’s no need to convince you of anything. I’m already working with you.” His eyes drifted to the shoulder she was rubbing. “Are you seriously hurt?”

“No, it’s ok. Just a bit sore. I dealt with the wounds after the fight.” She smirked at him. “Blue didn’t offer to pat my skin with a wet towel.”

“Blue?”

“The fairy who was popping out of that piece of lingerie she thought was a dress.”

“I see.”

“She had eyes only for you.”

“Jealous?”

Yes.
“No, she’s not my type.”

He leaned across the table. “And what is your type?”

Apparently, assassins. No, not assassins. Definitely not assassins. Because that really would be reckless.

“Alex?” he asked, leaning in further. His hand caressed her cheek, feather-soft, brushing back her hair. It slid across her neck…

She clenched up as he scraped across the vampire bite.

“What’s this?” Logan asked, looking it over. “It looks like someone bit you.”

“Someone did. A vampire elf. I thought you were watching the fight.”

“I had to run before the end of it,” he said. “It doesn’t look that bad.” He pulled back far enough to look her in the eye. “Should I be worried that you’ll turn into a vampire and eat me up?”

She shrugged. “If that was going to happen, I would have already changed into a vampire.”

“You’re immune to vampire venom?”

“Gaelyn thinks I’ve built up a resistance to it from the last time I was bitten.”

“You’ve been bitten before?”

“Just a nip.”

He looked as surprised as an assassin could be—which was to say his eyebrows might have lifted a tad. “So, you’re immune to vampire venom. And to the poison Hugh tried on you last night. You can dissolve iron chains,” he tallied off. “What are you?”

“I’m just a mercenary who fights monsters. That’s all you need to know.”

She hoped he didn’t know enough about magical history to add it all up and figure out she was Dragon Born. The magic-breaking was probably a dead giveaway; there weren’t too many Magic Breakers, and most of them were really underpowered. Alex didn’t know much about the Dragon Born, except that in addition to sniffing out magic, her kind was supposed to have had the power to break any spell.

Her sister Sera thought the Dragon Born didn’t have much to do with dragons, but Alex wasn’t too sure. They did know that the Dragon Born mages had gotten their name from the unique circumstance of their birth: like dragons, they were two souls born into one body and later separated by magic. They’d once been the most powerful mages in the world, thanks to an unusual effect of the separation spell. According to ancient lore, when the two souls were split each into their own body, their magic multiplied instead of divided. Each new mage had the power of two. Just like the dragons.

So if the Dragon Born were born like dragons, couldn’t they also share other things in common with them?

It was too bad there weren’t any dragons left to ask. They’d died out long ago. There weren’t any Dragon Born left either because the Magic Council had declared them abominations and hunted them to near extinction. As far as Alex knew, she and Sera were the only ones in the world. Though it’s not like any other Dragon Born would be quick to speak up. To do so would mean their death.

“You are a lot more than ‘just a mercenary who fights monsters’,” Logan said. “That much is certain.”

CHAPTER TEN

Supernatural Steel

THERE WASN’T MANY places open for business in Zurich on a Sunday, but the things you could count on were train stations, bars, and shooting areas.

Supernatural Steel, the citywide shooting tournament for Zurich’s magic population, was held every year at the Glass Dome. Large enough to hold a soccer field, the dome was made of UV-blocking glass, an important consideration when a sizable fraction of the participant pool was sunlight averse.

Logan parked in a spot spray-painted with the picture of a pair of crossed daggers over a skull. Alex didn’t know what the symbol meant—and she probably didn’t want to. It must have had something to do with being an assassin. One thing was perfectly clear, though: if a regular joe tried to park in a space like that, the parking police would be the least of their worries.

Alex and Logan followed the stone path from the parking lot to the entrance hall. Inside the building, Rustic Charm had teamed up with Modern Elegance to dance the do-si-do of interior decorating. The blended look worked surprisingly well. The floors were made of elegant beige tiles, the ceiling dripped with strands of tiny magic lamps, and the reception desk looked like a log from an ancient tree.

Three fairies with brilliant smiles and enormous ‘volunteer’ badges sat behind the desk. Another five people—some fairies, some mages—hurried back and forth in the background, fetching manila folders and participant bags. On the wall behind them hung paintings of supernatural scenes that were obviously supposed to be idyllic. Vampire cowboys. Fairy acrobats. Ghost professors. Mage warriors.

Logan cut to the front of the very long line, eliciting a few angry protests from the waiting supernaturals. Most of them grew quiet as soon as they saw it was Slayer cutting them; the sight of the Black Plague and her big sword silenced the rest. A few of them shuffled to the back of the line. The looks on their faces said they wanted to be as far as supernaturally possible from Alex and Logan.
 

“Well, aren’t we a regular crowd-killing duo,” she whispered to him.

Logan looked over his shoulder, his green eyes assessing the scene. “It makes things simpler.”

“Like line cutting?”

“For instance.” He looked at the purple-pigtailed fairy sitting behind the counter. “We’d like to enter the tournament.”

The fairy gaped at him for a second before remembering to paste on her dazzling smile. “Of course. Slayer, right? And Black Plague?”

“That’s Paranormal Vigilante,” Alex muttered.

The fairy breezed right past the interruption, her glittery nails flicking through the stapled list of participants. “Are you registered?”

“No, how about you take care of that now,” Logan said.

She opened her mouth to protest, then must have thought better of it. “Ok.” She pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil with a unicorn eraser on the end. “Which division? We have Fairy, Mage, Vampire, and the Wild Card group for humans.”

It made sense. For obvious reasons, there was no
otherworldly division.

“Two wild cards,” Logan told her.

“Slayer.” She began to write on the paper in a long, loopy script. “And Black Plague.”

“Paranormal Vigilante.”

The fairy continued to write. “The Wild Card qualifying rounds start in twenty-five minutes. Please go through the double doors and wait in the Ballista Room with the other Wild Card competitors until your names are called.”

“Where are the vampires waiting? And the fairies?” Logan asked her.

The fairy volunteer dropped her pencil. “Assassinations are strictly prohibited on the premises.”

“I’m not going to assassinate anyone,” Logan said.

No, he’s just going to show the thief his knives
, Alex thought.

“Sorry, I can’t help you.” The fairy handed them their bags, then waved the next person in line up to the counter.

“I don’t think she believed you,” Alex muttered as they pushed through the double doors that led into the back.

“So it would appear.”

He sped up to close the distance to a group of gabbing fairies with rifles and crossbows swung over their shoulders. They’d almost have looked tough—if not for the knee-highs and short schoolgirl skirts. The huge polkadot butterfly bows in their hair weren’t doing their lethal image any favors either.

“Did you bring your gun?” Logan asked Alex.

“Gun? What gun? I don’t even own one.”

“Crossbow?”

“No.”

“Do you have any form of long distance weapon?”

Alex thought about that for a moment. “That depends. Will they let me throw my knives?”

“No.”

“My sword?”

“No.”

“Then this could prove to be problematic. Just how long are we going to let this little charade play out?”

“As long as it takes to find Drake and ask him some questions about the Orbs.”

Logan scanned the room the schoolgirls they’d been following had just entered. There were about two dozen fairies inside of various types, including a few elves—but no vampire elves.

“That might take awhile,” she said. “We’re not actually going to participate in the tournament, are we?”

“No. But you need to look like you’re ready to participate.”

“Ok.” She showed him her sweetest smile. “Give me a gun to carry around.”

“On second thought, I’ll look ready for the both of us.”

“Spoilsport.”

A vampire passed between them, pausing in the doorway to the room. He gave the fairies a superior sneer, then puffed out his chest, expelled a grunt worthy of a minotaur, and turned to leave. Logan trailed him.

“We’re about to step into a room full of vampires who like to shoot things for fun,” Alex whispered, walking beside him. “Are you sure you don’t want to give me a gun? I promise not to shoot you in the back until after the fight.”

He gave her a cool look. “Do you ever stop joking?”

“No. It helps calm my nerves.”

“Try meditation.”

“In the middle of a fight?”

“No. At home, now and then.”

“I’m not very good at sitting still and doing nothing,” she said. “I do yoga, though.”

“I remember.” His coolness evaporated, the look in his eyes burning the frost away. “And I’m still waiting for my invitation.”

“To work out with me?” She poked her finger at his chest, and it hit solid muscle. Ouch. “You couldn’t keep up with me, assassin.”

“Cute, Alex. Very cute. I was training back when you still didn’t even know what a sword was.”

“Unless you’re a lot older than you look, I very much doubt that,” she replied. “I always knew what a sword was. My father put one in my hand as soon as I could walk. And he taught me how to use it.”

“That explains a few things.”

“How crazy I am?”

“How well you fight,” he said. “Why did he teach you to fight?”

“Because the world is a scary place, full of monsters. He wanted to make sure we had the skills to keep ourselves safe. And it was a good thing he did.”

“What happened?”

“When Sera and I were sixteen, an assassin killed our dad.”
Except he was really after us. Because, you know, we’re abominations.
“We had to take care of ourselves after that. And our little brother too.”

“That’s why you became a monster-hunting mercenary.”

“Yes. It paid better than anything else we could get.”

“Though not as much as if you had a magic rating.”

“That’s how it works, yes. Sera and I are on the bottom rung of the pay scale for monster-hunting mercenaries. The money wasn’t great, but it was enough.”

“Until Gaelyn hired you.”

She nodded. “He pays…well, there really are no words for that. Gaelyn hired me through my guild Mayhem, so the guild still gets their pretty sizable cut. But it’s more money than I’ve ever seen before in my life.”

“I do like your new boots.”

“So do I. And the jacket. I even bought myself a bracelet.” She lifted her hand and jiggled it; the silver strands of tiny gemstones slipped out from under her sleeve and brushed across her wrist.

“I saw.” He caught her hand, brushing a finger across the bracelet. “It looks good on you. Though I would have gone for something with real diamonds.”

“I’ll remember that if I ever decide to enter the assassin business,” she said drily.

“If you ever enter the assassin business,” he replied, his fingertips dancing lightly across her hand. “I want to have the chance to make you an offer?”

“What kind of offer?”

“To work for me.”

“I thought you worked alone.”

“I do,” he told her. “But for someone with your rare abilities, I’d make an exception. Just imagine what the two of us could do together.”

Imagine what they could do together? Probably a lot of things that didn’t have much to do with assassinating. Or wearing clothes…

“Alex?”

She gave her dirty mind a mental slap. “Yes?”

“We’ve found the vampire waiting room.”

The vampire they’d been trailing had gone through a door with a bright red frame. How fitting.

“How do you want to do this?” she asked Logan. “Should I go take a peek to see if the jerk who chowed down on my neck is in there?”

“We’ll go together.” He moved beside her. “Get your knives ready, just in case. You know how vampires are.”

Yep, she knew. Vampires were moody beasts. Whether shape-shifting, demon-possessed, or just plain old crazy common vampires—they liked to get themselves worked up into a fit. The first two breeds piled on some extra drama while they were at it. The third kind cut to the chase and went straight for the jugular.