Ignite: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Spelldrift: Coven of Fire Book 2)

by Sierra Cross

  I could hope.

  The foyer she left us in was larger than our whole rental. On every wall, heavy gilt frames hung from gold-leaf picture rails. The eighteenth-century faces staring back at me all wore the same coy yet utterly dignified expression: a moody gaze coupled with the barest hint of a smirk. A look modern faces no longer seem capable of making. Except…holy crap. Now that I was examining it closely, the subject in the largest painting looked just like Bonaventura. Was it his ancestor, or him? The second seemed more likely…it sure would explain the décor around here—his refuge from a modern world he’d had to force himself to navigate.

  I didn’t think I was that adaptable, myself, and was reflecting that perhaps the vampire deserved some grudging respect, when I heard muffled voices from the study.

  Male voices, in a heated exchange. Bonaventura—the louder voice—was pissed at somebody. Somebody who was pissed right back, which meant the argument spat on and on, uninterrupted. I poked my head down the hallway and saw the mousy, petite maid practically cowering outside the door to the study, like she was afraid to knock. Screw that. If she wouldn’t, I would.

  When I was about halfway down the hall the indistinct voices turned into words. And I recognized the second voice as Wes’s. I guessed being immortal, know-it-all pricks with gobs of money didn’t exempt you from family drama.

  “…your contempt for the rules of this household—” Bonaventura half shouted.

  “What do you care?” Wes was defiant. “Some of us appreciate nice things. New things. Christ, it’s not even a private jet, just a car.”

  “One you couldn’t possibly afford on your allowance—” Bonaventura stopped abruptly mid-sentence. Footsteps headed my way and the doors to the study slid open. The Director’s stone cold pissed off face was staring right at me. “Witch, do you make a habit of eavesdropping?” Before I could answer he turned his anger on the maid. “Fiona, this breach will not be repeated, am I understood?”

  The mousy maid nodded and hurried back down the hallway. Bonaventura and I stood there locked in the mother of all staring contests. If looks could slice like a sword, his would. But I refused to cower like he seemed to be used to humans doing.

  “We have some questions, Director.” I felt Matt’s presence behind me, his energy bolstering mine—like the power of a coven was supposed to work. “Questions we think only you can answer.”

  Bonaventura gave a nearly imperceptible headshake. Then he turned on his heel and walked back into his study. Wes stood in the middle of the room, his entire aura wrapped in a tornado of agitation.

  Seated—more like slumped—in an arm chair off to the side was a beautiful man who looked about thirty. His golden dark-blond hair was stylishly unkempt, his green eyes large and expressive. His rumpled linen shirt and faded jeans bucked what I thought was a vampire trend of bespoke suits. It was like ten o’clock in the morning and he was staring into a half empty rocks glass. Hard core.

  “Griffin.” From Bonaventura’s disapproving dad look, I guessed this must be his other son. “Perhaps coffee would be a better choice at this hour.”

  Could vampires be alcoholics?

  Griffin curled his lip and glared up at me with thick-lashed dark eyes. Yeah, whatever. No idea what about; maybe he just disliked warmbloods? Or maybe, it struck me suddenly, they could read minds? His beautiful lips twitched into what might be considered a smile, but the fangs made it far from cheerful. He dragged himself up and strode across the room, muttering, “Nice chat, dad.” Then he and his whiskey cloud were gone.

  Bonaventura exhaled. Not like a human huff of air, there was no rasp to it; it was more of a genteel expression of annoyance. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said to us with exaggerated calm. “The whole point of having you investigate this matter is so I stay out of it. Was that somehow unclear?”

  Matt was poised to say something diplomatic, but I beat him to the punch. “You lied to us. And we’re not leaving until we get some answers.”

  Flash frame, Wes was standing next to his dad, all differences forgotten, aligned in an offensive stance. Muscles at the ready and squinting as if he could see right through my skin to the juiciest artery.

  “Stand down, Wes.” Bonaventura turned to Matt. “Guardian, I see you’ve made no progress in controlling your witch.”

  “This witch is the head of the Coven of Fire.” Matt sounded like he was made of steel. “And my job is to protect her as she does hers.” He just called me the head of the coven. A thrill ran through me. Is that what I am? My soul sang with that thought. “And right now, your job is to answer her questions.”

  “They should have their throats ripped out for speaking to you like that.” Wes said through clenched teeth.

  “I said, stand down, childe. These mortals are in my employ, and I’m perfectly capable of ripping their throats out if the need arises.” Bonaventura smiled, like he was pretending it was levity. But the veil on that threat was as thin as a Neq’s glamour.

  But I’d rather be ripped apart by a vampire than rot in jail forever. “You need to tell us all you know about the amulet.”

  Wes bristled, but remained still. Matt’s body was tensed, ready for a fight.

  “You’re tasked with returning the amulet to me from the culprit who stole it from Marley. Not writing a dissertation on it,” the Director barked. “You know all you need to know to do your job.”

  “Really?” I countered, hands on my hips. “Well, your trinket’s hanging around the neck of a skinsuit being prepared for a Caedis. I’d say that ups my need to know.”

  “What?” His eyes flashed. Was it fear? The emotion was gone before I could fully register it. “I don’t believe you.” But his words rang hollow, like he was saying the opposite of what he was thinking.

  “Yeah, I crashed a demon party and I saw a Caedis preparing to upgrade, I guess—kinda like your son did with the Quattroporte.”

  I expected to get a rise out of Bonaventura with that dig, but his mind must have still been whirling on what I just told him. “What demon party? What Caedis? Tell me what else you know,” Bonaventura demanded. His son looked ready for bloodletting.

  I was about to demand he tell us what he knew, but Matt probably anticipating my response cut me off. “Alexandra, why don’t you fill our employer in on our progress.”

  I had been hoping he would give us information without us giving up the only leverage we had. But there was no way around it. So I told him about the ceremony. The Omni volunteering to be a skinsuit, the blood-stained amulet hanging around his perfect neck. Tenebris’ huge red face shining down from the Demon Realm.

  “Why the hell would Tenebris get himself a skinsuit?” I demanded in the silence that followed. “He’s stuck in the Demon Realm for another hundred years.” Something occurred to me. “If he can be seen from the other side, can his powers cross realms too?” I’d thought that was impossible, but maybe that was an ability the amulet afforded him. “Can he use the Omni as a remote control body?”

  Bonaventura stared at me from across his tented fingers, absorbing every word like water on sand. The vampire’s reaction gave me pause. He didn’t look ready to dismiss my fears.

  “It’s not his power crossing realms we have to worry about.”

  “Wait. What?” My heart was beating so hard I felt like a rib would break. “That’s impossible. It takes a Caedis a hundred years to amass the strength to cross realms.”

  “Calm yourself down, witch. That pumping blood is quite distracting.” He snapped, revealing sharp tips of his brilliant white fangs. “As long as the amulet is on this side of the demongate, he’s powerless.”

  “Wait, what?” Matt said.

  I tried to will my heart to slow down. But his words had the opposite effect. “Are you saying that amulet would let him waltz back in?”

  “If—and it’s a big if—he could get the amulet delivered to him in the Demon Realm, it would give him enough power to walk right through the wards across the De
mongate.”

  “That’s impossible,” Matt said. “Demons can’t transport objects to the Demon Realm. And even if they could, they couldn’t get through the wards.”

  “No, demons can’t.” It seemed to pain Bonaventura to say the next sentence. “But it’s not impossible. Any witch of the bloodline who built those wards can pass through them.”

  My breath came too fast in my lungs. The possibility existed, no matter how remote, that Tenebris could cross back to the Earthly Realm. And there wasn’t room over here for both of us.

  “So I’m sure you see,” Bonaventura said, “the only safe place for that amulet is in my care.”

  A thousand protests were on my lips. Why should I trust him, given how much he’d lied to us, bullied us, disrespected our coven? And the vampires had let this evil out into the world in the first place. But on the other hand, I couldn’t think of any safer place to put the amulet than with Bonaventura. He had been played once. I was certain he wouldn’t let it happen again. Okay, I was on board. We needed to make sure he got it.

  “We’ll get it back to you.” Matt had already sprung into action-mode. “We can lean on the mage. Easy enough to find him at the comic book shop. He’s clearly at the center of all this—”

  “Father!” Wes exploded. “Tell me you’re not listening to this sad drivel!”

  Matt ignored him. “We located the amulet, didn’t we? Now we just need to retrieve it.”

  “They’re exploring dead ends,” Wes continued as if Matt and I weren’t in the room. “They aren’t even capable enough to be called amateurs.”

  “They did discover what became of the amulet,” Bonaventura allowed. “For which I am grateful, on behalf of our kind.”

  “But that’s exactly it, our kind. This is vampire business.” Wes was wild-eyed, spittle flying. “These idiots know too much already—”

  “Enough.” The Director was commanding, without raising his voice. His eyes landed on his son, gaze penetrating. Wait…was he seriously considering what that dilhole was saying? He opened the drawer and pulled out another fat stack of money. I stared at it with relief.

  Then he surprised me again.

  “Your services are no longer required.” He slid our payment across the smooth mahogany. No, not payment. Hush money. “Stay away from the amulet, the demons, the Omni, all of it. It’s too much of a risk for your coven to be involved.”

  Wes stood, using his sheer size to force us toward the door.

  Back in the cozy corner, I paced on Asher’s three-hundred-year-old oriental rugs, still stunned by Bonaventura’s about-face—not to mention, the revelation that that amulet could bring back Tenebris. My muscles wired so taut I couldn’t make myself sit on my favorite leather loveseat.

  “They’re vampires,” Asher said with a shrug. As if that explained anything.

  “Erratic behavior is to be expected,” Matt agreed.

  Weird how the two of them had been agreeing a lot lately. It was almost as if punching and shoving each other had brought them closer together. “Well, forgive me if I don’t get on the nonchalant wagon with you two bros.” I gave them my best fuck you look. “I’ve still got this green crap inside of me. Tenebris Stella thinks I’m great wife material. And oh, Agent Larch is fitting us for prison shackles.”

  “Take it down a notch, maybe.” Liv rolled her eyes. “We’re obviously not stopping our investigation. As if. But losing our shit won’t help.”

  I let out a breath I’d been holding since we left the vampires. “I thought Bonaventura wanted us to find the amulet. He seemed desperate to get it back. Well, until his son went berserk.”

  “That’s right.” Matt blinked. “And Wes didn’t go berserk until you mentioned following up with the mage.”

  Holy shit. He was right. “Wes is involved. And Bonaventura is protecting him.”

  “Sounds like we’re going mage hunting.” Asher sounded a bit too excited.

  “No violence this time,” Matt said, then corrected himself. “Not even a threat of violence.”

  “Killjoy,” Asher quipped.

  “We’ll find a better way this time,” I assured Matt. His code of honor was a pain in my butt daily—constantly—but I respected it too.

  “Magic would be better anyway.” Liv pointed to the bookcases. “I don’t care what you say, Asher. I refuse to believe there’s not a truth spell worth a damn somewhere in one of those books.”

  “There is,” Asher said with a sigh. “One. But it’s not the kind of magic any of us know how to do.”

  “So we can buy it,” Liv countered. “That’s even easier, right?”

  Her tone was no-nonsense. Gone was Liv the warlock fangirl who looked up to his expertise. She was challenging him right and left.

  Asher looked a bit annoyed. “It’s not like buying a bottle of milk, luv. You can’t just nip out to Alchemy Row and grab a vial of this stuff.

  “Why not?”

  “The practitioners don’t live in-city. Not fans of our Council Suprema’s rules.”

  Matt’s brows went up; I knew Asher’s words raised a red flag for him that these spellcasters were shady. Maybe they were, but I didn’t care. I’d had about enough of the Council’s stuffy ways myself. “Tell us where to go.”

  Asher looked amused by my enthusiasm. “Slow down, you haven’t heard the catch.”

  “Another catch?” Matt muttered.

  “It costs thousands and thousands of dollars for a vial like this.” Asher held up his thumb and index finger an inch apart. “And I’m afraid my assets aren’t liquid at the moment.”

  “Ok, well, so much for that.” Liv settled back on the couch and folded her arms in defeat. She wasn’t broke, but cash poor; her money tied up in the small seaplane business she took pride in running.

  “Are you guys forgetting about the hush money from the vampires?” I asked. This plus the first stack would be enough. We were saving our share for security deposits to get our own apartments…” Actually we could have paid security deposits, bought furniture, and taken the coven out to dinner at Canlis multiple times. “But this is more important.”

  After a moment, Matt nodded in agreement. I appreciated that he’d had to compromise his high ideals when it came to who he worked with.

  “If you two are willing,” Liv said slowly, “then I’m in. First thing in the morning we get this vial and then we track down the mage.”

  Asher was silent.

  “Oh my God,” I burst out, “there’s another catch, isn’t there?”

  “Just a small one,” he conceded. “This kind of magic is very ancient and, well, finicky. It involves a bit of…er…bloodletting.”

  The things I do for this coven.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  T he air outside the Charming Herb Nursery was crisp and tinged with moisture from the morning’s rain that had settled into the grass.

  Issaquah was less than thirty miles from Seattle, but it felt like a different world altogether. Mountains on the horizon punctured the thin clouds with their snow-capped peaks. The fields on this property had been plowed and mulched for their winter slumber, no hint of life on them. But my witch’s senses called to me in a way they didn’t do in the city, or even in Caster’s Park. This land was alive. Incantations had been woven in the earth. Spells had been spun here centuries older than me. As the four of us walked from the gravel lot to the front of the house-turned-store, my lungs drank in the air and the magic and the feeling of sisterhood I felt simply by being here.

  Asher led the way, pushing open the front door—which made the bells on it tinkle like faeries’ wings. Inside, the place was adorably eclectic. The kind of shabby-chic style Aunt Jenn had once favored before she went all corporate-sleek. Hand-painted pots, candles, and perfectly pruned house plants covered every surface. There were more than a few Wonts inside gift-shopping, talking with the buxom witch behind the counter.

  “Be with you in a minute,” she called to us in a sing-song voice.

>   An herb-laden pillar candle caught my attention. I picked it up, and a thrill rushed through me. It felt so organic it took me a moment to recognize it as magic. I had to imagine this shop did well with Wont customers—all the merch was enchanted. Was that cheating? Don’t get me wrong, it was beautiful and well made, but the little something extra added probably kept them coming back. Asher had assured me that blood magic wasn’t dirty or evil, it was just out of favor. Not to mention ancient and finicky—which apparently translated into costly. No wonder I was feeling a bit wary. And there were no other vendors to get prices from, so we were at their mercy.

  “Do we have to spend this money?” I asked one more time. “I’m okay with a little harmless intimidation.” Only half-kidding.

  Matt looked at me, unamused.

  I looked to Asher.

  “As I mentioned, I don’t have the cash at the moment. And even my sexual favors won’t suffice for this,” Asher said, giving me a salacious smile, making sure Matt saw. “Besides, witches that practice blood magic are few and far between.”

  “I have a feeling this group isn’t here just to browse my pillar candles.” The curvy, dark-haired witch was suddenly in front of us. She was smiling but the sing-song voice was gone. “I’m Althea. Let’s talk in the back room.”

  We looked at each other and followed our friendly blood magic practitioner into the back of the shop through a door marked Employees Only. Althea called into the stockroom, “Nada, will you work the register for a bit?”

  The small room was bare of furniture except for an old and unstable looking oak bookcase crammed with bottles of dried herbs and tinctures. Hanging over a large hearth in the center of the space was a real live witch’s cauldron. A sickly-sweet odor wafted up from the bubbling thick liquid. Althea closed the door behind us.