Ashes (Fire Within Series Book 3)

by Ella M. Lee

  “Hey, I want you to go into the city with Teng,” Daniel said. “He needs to make a delivery.”

  Dan was lounging in Teng’s dark apartment, lying on his back on the floor. He made lazy alternating strikes with his hands into the empty air. The guy had far too much energy for his own good.

  “What?” I asked, flopping down next to him.

  I looked up at Teng, who was studying the tablet in his hand and eating potato chips with chopsticks. His thin, sallow face was lit blue, his expression twisted into a thoughtful grimace. He raked a hand through his hair, pushing it behind his ears distractedly; it was long now, brushing all the way to his shoulders.

  There was nothing eye-catching about Teng’s physical appearance. If I were mortal and he passed me on the streets, I would think he was a normal Hong Konger, maybe a bit shorter and skinnier than average.

  What made Teng unique was his incredible magic.

  Right now, it was wound tightly, held close to him, but I had seen its full majesty. Teng was an elemental specialist, capable of insane feats with raw Water magic and with water itself as an element. He was faster at manipulating magic than anyone I had ever known and could control huge amounts of it. I had seen him literally part the ocean into a staircase and hold it that way for fifteen minutes.

  Even Nicolas couldn’t do that.

  I was envious and also a little frightened of Teng. He was brilliant—everyone in Nicolas’s group was—but he was also damaged. I hadn’t asked his full back story, but he was quiet and withdrawn and hardhearted. Daniel had told me details about Teng that made me believe that his life had been difficult before Water, and the black gloves he wore constantly hid devastating scars.

  Daniel snapped his fingers in front of my face, a gesture very reminiscent of Nicolas. “Fi?”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said warily, looking between them.

  Teng got up and opened the door to his left. I had assumed it was his bedroom—Cameron’s was the door on the right—but a look inside revealed it to be a lab of some sort. I got a brief glimpse of workbenches, tubing, metal trays, glass beakers, and overhead machinery that looked like fans and ventilation.

  From the room, he brought out a stack of four large plastic-wrapped bricks of white powder. Two were tagged with blue markings and two were tagged with red markings. He stacked the blue- and red-marked bags side by side and added a small bowl on top of each, filled with a small amount of the white powder.

  I’d seen a lot of drug deals on television, but I had never seen anything like this in person.

  “Is that… cocaine?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Daniel said nonchalantly.

  He didn’t seem fazed by this development, and I got the impression that it occurred frequently. Magicians from most clans, including Water, didn’t generally take recreational drugs—we didn’t need to, nor did we want to do anything that could potentially mess up our magic. This was definitely an outside sale, at the very least to a clan with fewer reservations about illegal substance use.

  I was even more surprised when Nicolas came through the door a minute later. He looked keyed up; although he had died the night before, he was always excited when he had interesting work to do with magic.

  He flashed me a warm, beautiful smile and said to Teng, “Well?”

  Teng handed Nicolas a tray that contained a pile of round papers, a beaker of water, and a stack of flexible straws.

  With practiced motions, as though he did this all the time, Nicolas tested the bowls one at a time. He took a pinch of the cocaine and placed it on the round paper, then wet it with water from the beaker. He studied each result as the paper shifted through a rainbow of colors, first streaking through with blue, then purple, then into pure red.

  I watched in shock as Nicolas doled out a small amount from one of the dishes, formed it into a short line with a folded piece of paper, and used one of the short straws to inhale it through his right nostril. He flinched in distaste, inhaling slowly and deeply, his eyes going wide.

  Teng and Daniel watched with disinterest, but I was dumbfounded.

  “Did you just snort cocaine?” I asked, trying to get my voice to stabilize above a strangled squeak.

  Nicolas held up a finger to me, indicating that I should wait. His eyes were closed, his expression thoughtful.

  I would know if my boyfriend used cocaine, right? I would have noticed, right? There was no way he did this often, but he certainly looked like someone who knew what he was doing.

  After another two or three silent minutes, he did the same thing with cocaine from the other bowl, inhaling it and waiting thoughtfully.

  “The blue one,” he said finally, pointing.

  “That’s the new technique,” Teng said.

  “It’s good,” Nicolas said. He went into the bathroom and washed his hands and face. When he returned, his pupils were almost fully dilated, completely blocking out their normally tawny hue.

  “Are you high?” I asked him.

  “Temporarily,” he said, smiling. “It will burn out in about… two more minutes. Commander-level magic can destroy cocaine quickly.”

  Teng moved the red-marked bricks back into the lab. The blue-marked bricks he threw into a black backpack.

  “You produce and sell cocaine?” I asked.

  “I don’t produce cocaine,” Nicolas said. “Teng produces cocaine. I merely test it for quality because of my background, and my ability to get it out of my system quickly.”

  I was still startled that he dabbled at all in drugs, whether taking them, selling them, or allowing his subordinates to do so.

  Nicolas shrugged. “There are some things that only pure cocaine can buy.”

  Daniel clapped me on the shoulder. “Lighten up, Fi. We aren’t selling to children or Triads. This is going to a guy who uses it for medicinal purposes within Wild Clan.”

  Wild magic was dangerous magic that put a lot of stress on the body, more so than Meteor or Flame, and it could often be painful. I had never before thought that cocaine could be used for medicine, but then again, I had never had Wild magic. Who knew what good things it did for their power?

  “So Teng and I are delivering cocaine today?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Dan said. “Just a routine drop-off. We’re already several days late and can’t keep putting this off without hurting our connections to Wild.”

  I studied Nicolas, worried. He was watching us silently, breathing slowly. His eyes had returned to normal, and he didn’t look high. He offered me a reassuring smile and came to kneel in front of me, taking my hands.

  I’m fine, lamb, truly, he said. Cocaine can’t do much to me.

  Yeah, okay, I said.

  Be careful when you’re out with Teng, he said. I’ll be in the lab until late, but I’ll be in touch later.

  At least come home to sleep, please, I said, squeezing his hands. Don’t overwork yourself.

  I will be home to share the night with you, no matter what, he said, and I smiled.

  He saw himself out of the apartment, and I stretched my arms before standing up.

  “Let’s go,” Teng said, handing me the backpack.

  I took it gingerly. “What happens if I get caught with drugs in Hong Kong?”

  Teng rolled his eyes. He exchanged a look with Daniel that clearly said, You handle this.

  “In this quantity? A lot of time in prison,” Daniel said. He laughed. “Seriously, Fi, you think I’m going to let you rot in jail? Don’t worry, you won’t get caught. This is low risk.”

  I sighed, watching Teng pull his sweatshirt up over his head and toss it on his chair. He was wearing a black T-shirt and his customary black gloves, which went up to his elbows. I had never seen him in short sleeves before, and I noticed he had a gorgeous tattoo on his upper left arm—a phoenix, colorful and detailed, half consumed in flames.

  He saw me looking at it and frowned, turning away.

  I cleared my throat. “Where are we going?”

  “D
own to Mong Kok,” he said, naming a district on Kowloon Peninsula, right in the middle of the city.

  “Have fun, Fi!” Daniel said.

  “Yeah, um, sure,” I said, wondering how and why I was supposed to be enjoying myself on a cocaine drop.

  Teng didn’t like to drive, so we took the train into the city. I enjoyed working with Teng—he was quick, efficient, and silent. He walked ahead of me down the crowded streets until we got to a weathered black door at the base of a six-story apartment building.

  He turned to me. “Make your magic look as impressive as possible,” he said, blooming his out into a lovely lacy net.

  I wasn’t good at this; I didn’t have enough practice with posturing my magic like Nicolas and Daniel often did. Teng watched as I struggled to gather it around me, his lips pursed.

  “What are you imagining when you do this?” he asked. This was a common question from Teng. He liked to use imagery when working with magic.

  “Um, like, a net, I guess. Or pretty fabric,” I said.

  Teng shook his head. “Think of something stiffer. Something that can hold itself up. You’re struggling because you’re trying to do all the work. Let your magic find the structure. Try a tree blooming broad leaves, or a flock of birds, or clouds. Something with its own support but also some flexibility.”

  I wracked my brain and came up with a dandelion. Not the soft yellow flower, but the seedhead, with its white puffy spores floating around their core, bending and fluttering until they could finally break free. I showed that image to my magic and forced it into that shape. It bloomed like little crystalline stars around me.

  Teng gave me a tilted smile. “Nice.”

  He pushed the door open, and we climbed four flights of stairs to the nondescript door of an apartment. Teng knocked in a pattern—three long knocks and then two short ones. It took a long time for the door to open.

  When it did, Teng and I were face-to-face with a tall man, lanky and lithe, with dark hair and brown eyes and a lot of Wild magic. He sized Teng up, and his eyes went to me interestedly.

  “It’s Lee,” he called into the apartment, using Teng’s surname.

  He swung the door open and gave Teng a wide berth as we swept into the apartment. There were two other people inside. One was a young woman with blonde hair and light eyes and a wary look. The man who opened the door went to stand beside her protectively, half shielding her behind himself.

  Teng turned his eyes on her for a brief moment, and she drew back. Her magic, also Wild, trembled around her. Wild magic loved to betray its owner’s emotions, and I could see fear written all over this girl. All over the man too.

  The third person stepped forward, an older man, powerful enough to be a commander in Wild, but it was hard to tell exactly. He ran a hand through his grayish hair and watched Teng unload the two large bags of cocaine onto the small kitchen table. Teng then handed the man a small baggie.

  The man opened it, rubbing a bit between his fingers and placing some on his tongue. Teng spread his hands the tiniest bit, and the man nodded. They took out their phones, and the man read off a long string of numbers.

  “All good,” Teng said after a few moments of studying his phone.

  The man watched me. I would normally cut my eyes away shyly, but I knew it would be better to show strength here. Wild magic was animal-based, and their magicians generally respected dominance and hierarchy.

  After a few moments, the man turned to his left and reached a hand into a half-open kitchen drawer. Teng’s magic rippled aggressively, his gaze sharp.

  “Easy,” the man said, sorting through several unseen items in the drawer.

  Eventually he withdrew his hand. When he opened his palm, there was a small stone the size of a walnut sitting on it, reddish-brown with streaks of orange and vermillion running over the surface. It was beautiful—like fire made solid. He held it out to Teng.

  “For the fox,” the man said.

  Teng took the stone and held it up to the light. “Painite?” he asked, tilting it back and forth.

  “Si,” the man agreed.

  Teng nodded. “He’ll like this.”

  The man shoved his hands into his pockets. “Until next time.”

  Teng threw his backpack over his shoulder and motioned me out the door. The other man and woman, who had been watching us tensely, took another step back. I didn’t blame them. No one liked being close to Teng, and they were probably just as happy to have us gone as we were happy to be gone.

  It wasn’t until we were back on the quiet train, seated side by side, that I asked, “Who is the fox?”

  “Ryan,” Teng said. “He uses this stuff for his work.”

  “Is that Wild magician a… gemstone specialist?” I asked. Many Wild magicians had nature-related specialties.

  “Yeah, I guess. Who knows. Wild magicians are weird,” he said. “Ryan is a gemstone specialist, so they send him interesting things.”

  Teng appeared bored by this conversation, but I was fascinated. Wild magic was weird, but its strong connection to life and animals and the earth made it interesting. More unpredictable than Verdant magic, though, since Verdant only dealt with plants.

  “They seemed scared of you,” I said.

  “Yeah,” he said without elaboration.

  The train car was empty except for us and a small group of three people at the other end. Teng took a quick look around and then stripped off his gloves, folding them neatly. My eyes hung on the scars on his wrists, angry red streaks that mottled the skin from his lower palms to his elbows.

  He gave me a look and lifted his chin, as though daring me to say anything. I tore my eyes away, letting them travel further up his arm.

  “Why a phoenix?” I asked, studying his tattoo. “Seems sad and morbid, to die over and over again.”

  I thought of how many times I had started over and shuddered. Each time had been worse than the last, and I looked forward to never having to do it again.

  Teng shrugged. “Would you rather die and fade to nothingness? Or die then rise and be reborn? Good things can come from ashes, even the ashes of terrible things.”

  “Those burns… What happened?” I asked.

  He gave me a penetrating stare. I drew back, thinking I had offended him and that I was about to be told off. After a moment, he shook his head, dug in his bag, and pulled out a new set of gloves.

  He put the gloves on, flexing his fingers and offering his hands a long, thoughtful look. “Does it matter? It was years ago, and everyone involved is dead except me.”

  It occurred to me that most magicians’ lives, whether we wanted them to or not, started from ashes. Mine certainly had. We abandoned everything we had to start over, hopefully more powerful and successful than before.

  And here I was, about to do it again with my new family. From the ashes of whatever we had in Water Clan, Lightning Clan would rise. And we would have to hope it was worth it, have to hope it was powerful and successful, have to hope we’d all rise and not fade to nothingness.

  It was well past dinner, closer to midnight snack time, when I finally found a moment to myself. I took the opportunity to stop by the Menagerie, our clan house’s hip-looking espresso bar with impressive glass walls. It was open twenty-four hours a day and always had a pleasantly active energy that made me feel better.

  I had barely sat down at a table with my latté and sandwich when I got a text from Nicolas.

  Where are you?

  I hadn’t heard from him all day. I wrote back quickly.

  Menagerie. Eating dinner.

  His response was even faster.

  Come by the lab when you’re done. 9th floor, room 905.

  I sighed at yet another blind order, hoping it wouldn’t be cocaine-based this time.

  I was interested in what Nicolas had discovered, and more than a little worried at how hard he was working himself. He had died yesterday, and today he’d been in the lab for twelve hours. I finished eating as quickly as I coul
d, not wanting to indulge in laziness while he was working so hard.

  Chapter 3

  The lab was a sparse twelve-by-twelve-foot square with workbenches on the left and right walls and a large central rectangular table. This room had the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the rest of the building, but they were an opaque obsidian color—they had been blacked out. All the surfaces were covered with wards, especially the table, which held the poison and several complex magical devices.

  When I arrived, there was a heated debate going on between Jasmine, Ryan, and Cameron. They stood around the table, pointing and offering a lot of complex technical statements that I didn’t understand.

  Nicolas leaned against the smooth stone surface of the workbench, a tablet in his hands. He had on a pair of glasses with thin rectangular frames and blue-tinted lenses. With his messy dark hair and arched cheekbones, he looked very sexy in a nerdy, bookish way.

  “You look incredibly hot in glasses,” I murmured to him, nudging his shoulder.

  He offered me a wolfish smile. “I used to need glasses to read when I was young.”

  “What changed?”

  “Smoke fixed my eyes when I joined the clan,” he said. “It was a blessing. These annoy me, but they are enchanted. I need them to see magical flows clearly.”

  He took them off and perched them on the bridge of my nose. I gasped. I had excellent magical detection skills and could see magic in people and objects very clearly, but these offered clarity in magic that I hadn’t noticed before. It turned magic into high definition, and I was fascinated studying the differences between the wards and each of the people in the room.

  “Now who is hot?” Nicolas asked, his breath on my ear.

  I jumped, blushing, and pulled them off.

  “Do you need my help here?” I said.

  “No. I merely wanted to show you something.”

  He beckoned for me to follow him to the table. The crowd of three moved away, clearing space. Nicolas pulled on a pair of latex gloves that were covered in wards and picked up a pane of spelled glass. It was a double pane, actually—two pieces of glass pressed together with magic between them.