The Fire Within Series: Books 1 - 3

by Ella M. Lee

  She had done a fantastic job. My new apartment was a dream.

  Keisha had tastefully decorated it in navy blue with pops of sky blue and fire-engine red, a tribute to my background and magic. It was larger than Daniel’s cramped apartment, but much smaller than Nicolas’s, which often felt like an art gallery or a museum or the sitting room of some seventeenth-century French king. Much like their apartments, the fixtures and materials were all luxurious. I could tell she had spared no expense in her choices.

  I walked through it several times, trying to reconcile the fact that all this space was mine, that I now owned a rain shower that felt like a waterfall and a six-burner chef’s stove and a sound system that was more expensive than a mid-range car.

  Trying not to feel sad that this vast amount of room—too huge for one person, really—was all mine and I was by myself in it.

  I studied the view out the windows and attempted to talk myself into liking this place. How could I not? It was fabulous.

  Fantastical and amazing and… completely lonely.

  Every single one of Keisha’s personal touches meant nothing compared to my apartment near Toronto, an apartment that had five years of clutter and charm and love built up within it.

  If I closed my eyes for a moment, I could almost believe I was in my old home, but I couldn’t hold on to that image. Everything here was too strange and new.

  I took several deep breaths, pulling out my phone and opening the texting app. I owed Keisha a thank-you, regardless of my conflicted feelings. Even with a heavy heart, I wrote:

  This place is absolutely stunning! Thank you, darling! Come over for a glass of wine tomorrow and tell me how you picked everything. <3

  I climbed into bed and watched the sunlight die behind the mountains. I skipped dinner and skipped all the reading I was supposed to do, skipped checking my phone even though I could see text messages piling up.

  When it was fully dark, I put a shield in place over my door and agonizingly drew all the basic wards that I could manage over the door frame, trying to pour my volatile emotions into that task rather than into a full-blown panic attack.

  When I finally had spellwork that looked halfway decent, I cranked up the heat in the apartment and crawled back under the covers, trying not to think about how lonely I felt, and how much my proximity to Nicolas had been staving off the worst of it.

  I woke up completely disoriented for the first time in weeks. I retrieved my phone and checked my messages. There were two from Nicolas.

  Are you all right?

  Good night. Sleep well.

  I sighed, studying his words, trying to hear them in his smooth drawl. I tried to think of an appropriately neutral response that wouldn’t worry him.

  Morning. I went to bed early last night, sorry.

  Thank you for checking on me.

  Daniel had attempted to check on me too, sending me a string of concerned and encouraging text messages that ended with:

  I’m going to assume you’re alive behind that shield. See you tomorrow, Fi.

  I smiled, typing my response quickly.

  Alive and well, Lieutenant Darling. Flame magic couldn’t kill me, so Water certainly won’t.

  I wasn’t due to meet Daniel until noon, so I lounged in bed with a mug of tea and did work from the comfort of my expensive new linens.

  I took my first foray into my new group’s chat channels and data repositories. Daniel had told me Teng would provide a laptop for me, but it wasn’t ready yet. For now, I studied our work from the small screen of my phone.

  Nicolas’s group was well-organized. Tasks were laid out on a digital task board and had all the relevant information associated with them: requirements, assignee, links to pertinent data, and ongoing status reports. Daniel had more tasks than anyone else by almost double. The next highest was Teng, followed by Cameron. The tasks ranged from simple work, such as finding intelligence about a particular person, all the way up to large-scale projects that had many associated smaller tasks.

  Our group’s data was organized thoroughly as well, and it took no time at all to find what I was looking for: a preliminary report on Derek Douglass.

  Derek had been in Water for sixteen years, only barely longer than Nicolas. He was fifty-seven years old, a former accountant, born in Ottawa, with blond hair and green eyes. He had been made a commander in Water eleven years ago, and he had been on Water’s council for eight years. His lieutenant, Liam, had been killed during Derek’s escape, and the other seventeen members of Derek’s group had been investigated by Water and cleared of any collusion. Whatever Derek had been planning with Flame and Meteor hadn’t been something he shared with them.

  We didn’t know where Derek was now, but I saw tasks on the board that related to finding leads on him. I would have to ask Daniel if I could get involved in that research. I was extremely interested in finding Derek. I wanted to know why he had used my Flame group to try to assassinate Nicolas, and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to try the same thing again.

  Nicolas didn’t seem quite as concerned, but Nicolas had a different definition of “emergency” than I did. He’d put up with Derek’s plotting for years. He’d also thwarted other assassination attempts and political rivalry before. While I saw danger to him as distressing, he probably hardly noticed it.

  It was becoming difficult for me to deny that I had feelings for Nicolas. As I read through our data, my eyes lingered on his reports more than the others, and I found myself tracking his frequent messages to the group closely.

  My mind wandered to his lovely gaze more than once.

  It took the entirety of my slow and procrastinated shower to talk myself into going over to his apartment. I gave it about a fifty-fifty chance that he was home, but to my surprise, he dissolved the shield at my knock and invited me in.

  I closed the door behind me and froze, my eyes stopping on his long, beautiful form. He was stretched out on the couch, studying his laptop, looking calm and bored.

  He sat up and studied me with an amused smile.

  “I’m glad you’re alive,” he said.

  I shrugged. “I figured I should attempt to live up to all those adjectives you applied to me—brave, resilient, strong, flexible, etcetera.”

  “Is there something I can do for you, Fiona?” he asked, tilting his head curiously.

  “You said that you owe me,” I told him. “And you do. How would you like to make good on that sooner rather than later?”

  His eyes lit. This sort of game, I knew, was incredibly fun for him. He steepled his fingers and smiled. “I’m listening.”

  “A date,” I said. “Take me out on a date—a real one, without danger and fighting and concussions—and we’ll be even. You’re rich and creative. I honestly think I’m letting you off easy.”

  I watched his expression darken, watched him study me as though he had no idea who I was or what I had just said to him.

  “No,” he said finally.

  “No?” I repeated.

  “No, I will not take you on a date.”

  I waited for him to continue, to say something funny or sarcastic or teasing. Nothing. He merely watched me warily.

  I felt as though I had been doused in cold water. Heat crept into my cheeks while the rest of me went numb.

  “Oh,” I said. I fumbled for words. “Yeah… yeah, sounds dumb now that I said it aloud.”

  Stupid, stupid, stupid, my brain repeated, hitting me with a solid dose of embarrassment each time. My chest felt crumpled and full of needles.

  “I’ll… um… I’m sure I’ll think up something that… makes more sense,” I babbled.

  He watched me stoically, almost painfully, and I felt even more awkward. He seemed like he was trying to figure out what to do with me. I desperately wanted to be gone before he decided to say something obligatorily kind in the face of my pathetic request.

  “Have a good day, Nicolas,” I said, barely recognizing my own stilted tone of voice.
/>   He opened his mouth, but I didn’t wait for a response. I backed out of his apartment and shut the door before sprinting down the hall back to the safety of my own place.

  Once inside, I hugged myself, confused and hurt.

  Nicolas can have anyone he wants, I thought. Of course he was just messing around with you.

  What a complete misinterpretation of his actions. How moronic of me to assume that his playfulness and friendliness were anything more than a little harmless flirtation. He had been stuck with me—of course he had wanted to amuse and distract himself.

  Now that we weren’t bound that way, he was obviously happy to let that part of us go. It was silly of me to think there was anything else to it.

  More needles of anxiety shot through me, starting in my throat and creeping down my body as I wallowed in embarrassment.

  Quit it, I told myself firmly.

  Perhaps it was a blessing that Nicolas was backing off. I had enough going on in my life. I didn’t need his insanely complicated presence ruining my focus. I needed to pull myself together. Daniel wasn’t going to let me off the hook just because my feelings were hurt.

  I examined myself in the mirror, frowning. I was pretty, right? I was smart and funny and likable, right? I had cute blue eyes, and I had an attractive figure, and if I put enough styling cream in my hair, it fell over my shoulders in smooth waves.

  So what if Nicolas didn’t want any of that?

  Chapter 5

  I had a hectic few days coming up, and most of my work was predicated on getting through a hundred pages of reading on elemental Water magic. I could usually rely on Nicolas to answer my asinine questions, but this morning I was alone in the Menagerie with a latté, slogging through the dense text as quickly as possible before Ryan grilled me on it all afternoon.

  My phone vibrated. It was a message from Nicolas.

  I will be home all day. Please come by.

  Christ.

  I really didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want the embarrassment of him going over his rejection in painful detail, nor did I want him to rifle through my thoughts and hear the things I would have said if I thought he cared about me.

  I flipped my phone over and pushed it aside, refocusing on the words of the book.

  “... the transition from basic elemental manipulation to interposed elemental manipulation is the practical application of both Parker’s Law and Cao’s Law at the inversion point…”

  A shadow appeared over my table. I looked up and froze as Chandra slid into the seat across from me.

  Just great.

  Chandra was intimidatingly pretty. Her thick, black hair was sleek and braided back today, and she wore a dark sheath dress, which showed off a lot of her glowing, coffee-colored skin. She was perfectly made up too—full lips, gorgeous lashes. Her Hermès handbag’s handle was wrapped elegantly in a colorful Hermès scarf. I felt a pang of envy. I was wearing designer workout gear, but it was still just workout gear, and I hadn’t worn makeup in years.

  “Hi,” I said warily.

  Chandra did not like me. That was fair. I had killed her lieutenant and attacked her commander. Our brief interactions—including in our group’s training room and during a couple of awkward dinners—had been cold and stiff. I was shy, and Chandra’s self-assured carriage was nerve-wracking. How exactly did Nicolas manage to breed so much self-confidence among his group? Would it work for me, too?

  I recalled Nicolas’s explanation that Chandra was an excellent fighter because of her transmutation skills, and I hoped she wasn’t about to attack me in the middle of the clan house. I should have asked Nicolas if that was allowed and what I should do if it happened.

  “Hi,” she said, putting her hands together on the table.

  “Can… um… can I help you?” I asked.

  “You’re a nervous little thing, aren’t you?” she said, almost sympathetically.

  “Yes,” I agreed, her tone helping me decide not to be intimidated. “I’m also a busy little thing, so if you just came over here to rattle me, then you’ve succeeded, and you can go about your day now.”

  She laughed and offered me a wry smile. “Relax. I’m curious about your transmutation. I wanted to see it for myself.”

  I hesitated. “Oh,” I said, relieved.

  I held out my left hand. Carefully, I called up a palmful of Water magic, and with a tiny mental twist, shifted it into glorious blue fire. It burned brightly in my palm, flickering and shimmering.

  Chandra leaned closer to study it. “Huh. Pretty neat.”

  After another few seconds, I squashed it. I was anxious under Chandra’s attention, wondering if she would shift from being calm and slightly muted to something worse.

  “Of course Nicolas would keep you,” she said. “He can’t resist collector’s items like us.”

  “Yeah, he seems to enjoy showing off,” I said. “Style like his is cultivated with intent. It only makes sense that he’d wrap his group in that too. You’ve known him a long time, right? Where do you think he picked up all that snobbery?”

  Chandra laughed again, a bit more relaxed this time, and I smiled tentatively.

  “I’m glad you’re willing to call him on his crap,” she said. “You’ll need that. He can be overwhelming.”

  “I’ve noticed,” I said dryly. I paused. “Why are you talking to me? We’re not friends.”

  She shrugged. “We’re both transmuters. There are so few of us, we should stick together.”

  Ah, yes, the bonds of specialty magic. It was like a family you didn’t want, but one you got anyhow. Outside of your group and your group’s immediate allies, those who shared your magical abilities were probably the people who understood you the most. Other detectors in Flame had wanted to bond with me too. Water Clan was large enough that there was probably some sort of support group for transmuters here, not that I’d be eager to join.

  But I would take what I could get. If it made Chandra more amenable to forgiving me, I would accept it.

  “Thanks,” I said, trying to smile. “Can I buy you an espresso?”

  Chandra waved me off. “I’m on my way out.”

  “Clearly,” I said. “That’s an impressive dress, by the way. I do not have the body for it.”

  It was a genuine compliment. Chandra was tall and straight and leggy. I was short and tended toward curves, despite mostly toning them into flat lines and muscles. I had always been envious of women who were straight as arrows and could slink around in tight dresses.

  She looked me up and down, standing. “You aren’t doing so bad yourself,” she said. She turned away, calling over her shoulder, “Ciao!”

  “Bye,” I offered, waving.

  Well, then. That had gone wholly better than I could have imagined. Chandra probably didn’t hate me. She was, at worst, interested in me and my ability. I shouldn’t be surprised; she was one of Nicolas’s people. There was no way they weren’t like him in some way—curious, driven, professional.

  I took a deep breath and smiled, trying to drain all the stress from my body. I looked down at my book. I had another sixty-five pages to blitz through, and I was already halfway to a headache.

  I had read just enough to impress Ryan with my knowledge when he quizzed me on it, but I was ready for a break by the time Keisha showed up to my apartment with dinner and a huge bamboo plant.

  “Finishing touch! You can’t have good luck in a new place without bamboo. It’ll grow forever, lots of life,” she said, setting it on my living room table. “Do you like it?”

  “I love everything,” I said, pouring us white wine and settling onto the couch with a relaxed sigh. “You are amazing.”

  Keisha gave me a pleased smile, twisting her long hair idly in her hand as she ate. She was bubblier than anyone else I’d ever known, always moving and talking. While I would typically find that annoying, tonight I was still embarrassed about my morning with Nicolas and happy to have a distraction.

  “I once asked Nicola
s if you were his assistant,” I confessed, laughing. “You buy things for him and bring him food.”

  She laughed. “No way! I’m no one’s assistant! But I like shopping, and he pays me extra to run errands and do some logistical work for the group, so I don’t mind.”

  “I didn’t know you were an SM at first either,” I said.

  “Neither did I,” she said, shrugging. “I didn’t believe it until I opened my first portal, even though Ryan had been assuring me for weeks that I could do it. I’m still learning though.”

  “Nicolas said you’ve been here about a year?”

  “Yeah,” she confirmed, “but I’ve only been making portals for six months, and it’s still hard and tiring. That’s why I run errands for Nicolas. I’m usually pretty wiped out between portals, not good for much else. More than two or three in a row, and I’ll sleep for a day. Ryan says it will get easier. Got to strengthen my magic muscles or whatever.”

  “Magic always gets easier over time,” I assured her. “I don’t think an SM in Flame can make portals for at least a year. The magic is just too difficult.”

  “Is Water easy for you?” she asked.

  “Not easy,” I said, recalling my grueling afternoon with Ryan, “but it helps to know the basics, even from another clan.”

  “I wish I had that,” she said wistfully. “Magic is hard for me. I feel like a failure all the time.”

  I looked at her with concern. “I’m sure that’s not true. Nicolas says nothing but nice things about you.”

  “Does he?” she asked, interested.

  “He doesn’t say them to you directly?” I asked.

  “We haven’t had a personal conversation in a while. I spend most of my time with Ryan. Nicolas just checks in to make sure I’m not stressed or overworked.”