A Weapon Of Magical Destruction

by Katie Salidas

  A WEAPON OF MAGICAL

  DESTRUCTION

  AGENTS OF A. S. S. E. T.

  KATIE SALIDAS

  A Weapon of Magical Destruction

  Copyright © 2018 by Katie Salidas

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Print ISBN 978-1-7321014-3-2

  Cover Art by

  https://www.wegotyoucoveredbookdesign.com

  Editing by Sharazade

  Published by: Rising Sign Books

  http://www.KatieSalidas.com

  For more information about my books email:

  katiesalidas@gmail.com

  Autographed Editions of all Katie Salidas books may be purchased at

  www.KatieSalidas.com

  Titles by Katie Salidas

  Chronicles of the Uprising

  Dissension

  Complication

  Revolution

  Transition

  Retribution

  Annihilation

  Little Werewolf

  Pretty Little Werewolf

  Curious Little Werewolf

  Fearless Little Werewolf

  Immortalis

  Carpe Noctem

  Hunters & Prey

  Pandora’s Box

  Soustone

  Dark Salvation

  Olde Town Pack

  Moonlight

  Mated

  Being Alpha

  Be sure to stop by KatieSalidas.com and sign up to the Paranormal Posse Newsletter.

  All new subscribers will be sent a FREE ebook.

  Autographed Editions of all Katie Salidas books may be purchased at: www.KatieSalidas.com

  Acknowledgments

  This book was a product of tough love, and I want to thank the team of readers who really put me through my paces. Thank you for going over multiple drafts, giving me all of your honest feedback, and really paying attention to the small details. You’re honesty and critical eye have shaped this story into something special.

  Anne Loshuk, Chris Smith, Jason LaVelle, Jacob Devlin, & J.E. Taylor!

  Thank you for the enthusiasm you had for this book. You guys jumped on this project the moment I announced it and devoured each section faster than I could produce them. The late night chats, encouragement, & feedback was just the encouragement I needed to keep this project moving, even when I felt it was all for naught.

  And last but not least, thank you to my editor for making sure this book looks its best!!! (Extra exclamation points for you.)

  I can’t thank you all enough!

  The world is full of magical creatures and artifacts.

  The

  Anonymous Supernatural Security

  & Elimination Taskforce

  is on the front line, maintaining the balance of power, ensuring humans remain safely oblivious to the

  dangerous magic around them.

  ONE

  “It’s not a tattoo, it’s a birthmark,” Sage insisted as a pair of curious eyes landed on her deformity.

  The eyes were always first. Then came the questions. A cycle that repeated with every new person she met. Tattoos were cool, but the hideous way her veins splayed out like broken tree branches underneath the pale skin of her wrist was far from beautiful, and definitely not intentional The disfigurement she shared with her mother looked like a toddler had attacked her with a permanent marker.

  Why did people have to be so nosy?

  “You going to charge me?” Sage waved her credit card to be swiped, hoping the cabbie might find something else to focus on. Discussing her embarrassing deformity ranked alongside jury duty or paying taxes as far as she was concerned, and yet everyone she met seemed to find it a fascination.

  Soon as she paid her fare she could be released from the vehicular prison.

  “You want a receipt?” The driver’s tone held more curiosity than his question deserved. His gaze lingered at her wrist, and she could see the wheels turning in his bald head as the cabbie silently tried to figure out the strange design.

  “No.” She snatched her card back before he could hold it hostage for interrogation, and exited the cab with her bag.

  Outside, the summer winds blasted Sage’s face with the force of a blow dryer on high. Her long hair took to the breeze, attacking her eyes like a cat o' nine tails, commanding tears to the surface. She made quick work of taming the whips into a messy bun on top of her head and wiped the tears and grit from her eyes.

  Summer, even for desert rats like herself, was a special kind of hell.

  It’s a dry heat. That’s what the locals always said, as if that somehow made it a benefit. Wet or dry, heat was heat. Anything hitting triple digits was oppressively uncomfortable, something the city of Phoenix was famous for.

  And with that glorious dry heat came sweat, sand-blasted in the wind and flash-burned to her skin the instant she stepped outdoors. It didn’t matter that she’d taken a shower that day. She could have taken one in the damn cab for all it was worth. All that effort to make herself clean and presentable was wasted. Nasty, gritty, smelly… eau de baked-on toxins was the perfume of the day, and she could feel it all at that moment, leeching from her pores. Deodorant–no matter how bad the hippies claimed–was a necessity, though she doubted it was keeping her personal stench from announcing her arrival.

  A white ten-story building stood before her. Sage had passed through its doors hundreds of times, but now the thought of crossing the threshold caused a lump to form in her throat.

  She couldn’t face Mark again. Not now. What would she say to him? Sage had never belonged here. The ASSET Agency was her mother’s domain.

  She should have said no when the call came. A stronger woman would have. Her mother never did anything she didn’t want to. Miranda Cynwrig was the epitome of strength and courage; genes she’d failed to pass down to her one and only daughter.

  Stress only made her sweat more. So much for making a good impression. Clinical strength deodorant didn’t stand a chance today. Every instinct she had told her to turn tail and never look back. If she did choose to run, only Mark would be upset with her.

  She never needed to see him again.

  Mark might have been like family, but he wasn’t blood.

  He was just her mom’s boss.

  The devilish voice whispering excuses in her mind nearly had her convinced, but deep down she knew they were lies. Mark Sorenson had been a surrogate father. Her dad had died before she could develop memories of him, and her mom was constantly away on business.

  Mark had always been there, a fixture in her life she could count on. In fifth grade, he’d stepped in to take her to the father and daughter dance at school. When she’d had her heart broken for the first time, it was Mark who’d taken her for ice cream and threatened to make mincemeat of the boy who’d hurt her. He’d been the one to teach her to drive in that great big beast of a Jeep he drove. Throughout her life, when she’d needed someone to lean on – and her mother had been on assignment – it had always been Mark. To call him anything less than family was an
insult to the care he’d shown.

  And for that reason alone, despite every protest and excuse she could come up with, when Mark had asked her to come, she hadn’t been able to say no.

  But now, as she stood in the shadow of that great white building, staring at the crimson letters A.S.S.E.T. mounted across the front entry, Sage wasn’t sure she had the strength to walk inside.

  She needed her mother more than ever, and looked to her wrist, to the birthmark they had shared. Tracing the haphazard pattern with the tip of her finger, she remembered her how her mother would tell her to wear it with pride, like a badge of honor.

  You may see a tangled mess of veins, but I see a testament to strength. Blood must always flow. It has no choice. Where there are barriers, new paths are created. Strength is born of necessity. It comes from refusing to let setbacks prevent you from getting the job done. Obstacles can always be overcome if failure is not an option.

  With a sobering sigh, Sage resigned herself to getting the job done. Automatic doors parted, revealing a brightly lit reception area. The entire bottom level of the office was bathed in natural light. The office walls and conference rooms were separated by glass panels that allowed unobstructed light to flood in from all angles. Architecture aimed at making the place feel as welcoming as it was revealing, it offered a sense of truth to any who came to deal with the agency.

  Large LED screens behind the reception desk played silent advertisements for the various security services the company provided.

  Anonymous

  Strategic

  Security

  Elimination

  Taskforce

  The world’s leader in specialty security and weapons.

  Because of her close ties to Mark Sorenson, Director of Operations of the Phoenix office, Sage had been offered a job numerous times during her high school and college years. She never took him up on it, though; Sage couldn’t see herself working with her mom. She was no warrior. Granted, she did count herself among the highest order of Elven Mages, but that was only on game nights. In the real world, dollars made much more sense to her than the intricacies of blades and their balance.

  Miranda Cynwrig’s image flashed on one of the screens, and eyes like turquoise sea-glass winked at Sage. The ultimate insult to her recent injuries, seeing her mother struck a hard blow to Sage’s fragile emotional state. Bright red hair woven into a warrior’s braid swung around Miranda like a whip as she demonstrated various uses for their latest line of tactical blades, all of which played out with devastatingly crisp high-definition. A weapons expert and one of the most gorgeous women Sage had ever known, her mother was a true superhero who deserved a better fate than what had been handed to her.

  The news had reported nothing of the crash. It had been Mark who’d called and delivered the message when her mother’s plane went down in the Atlantic Ocean.

  Sage choked on her breath, desperate to fill lungs that refused to accept air, as her heart pounded with anxiety. Try as she might, Sage couldn’t tear her eyes away from the image of her mother on the television. Her legs threatened to give out, and she reached out a hand to steady herself against the reception desk while the other clutched her chest, hoping to find the knife slicing her heart in two.

  “Good heavens!” Mark sprang from the glass-enclosed conference room. Surprisingly spry for a man of his age, he crossed the room at a fast clip, making it to the reception desk before she could open her mouth to acknowledge him. “I’m so sorry, Sage. We weren’t expecting you yet. The car I sent was supposed to radio in when they picked you up.” Dark wavy hair and a full beard masked his expression, but there was no mistaking the sorrow in his voice. He quickly snatched the remote from the reception desk. “We’re working on changing these ads. I should have had them taken down as soon as…” His words trailed off as he met her watering eyes.

  Fighting against her own emotions, Sage tried to put on a brave face. As badly as she felt, it was clear from the furrow of his brow that Mark had been dealing with the same torment, though he’d had much more practice wearing the mask.

  “Let’s just get this over with, please.” She forced the words past the burn in her throat.

  “Of course.” He waved a hand toward the conference room. “I have her personal items boxed up for you. We can have them loaded in your car when we’re done.”

  “I came in a taxi.” She hadn’t meant to sound so snippy, but the effort it took to hold back her tears left little room for anything else.

  “Always so stubborn.” His demeanor shifted in response to her tone. He’d always been a father figure to her, and he knew exactly how and when to employ the Dad voice to make his point clear. “You’re going to let me help you with this. I’ll have one of our cars help you back to the house. We’ve already begun packing things for storage there.”

  “I shouldn’t have come,” she whispered under her breath, feeling terrible about how she was acting, but having no control over it. Mark wasn’t her enemy, but he’d been the messenger, forcing her to deal with emotions far beyond her capabilities. Parents weren’t supposed to die. Not this early. She wasn’t ready for life without her personal superhero. Tears were falling again, trickling down her face one by one. How she could still have so many to shed after all the crying she’d done was a mystery. But still they came, and she let them fall. This was infinitely harder than she could have ever imagined. Everything reminded her of the mother she’d never see again. And Mark, caring and protective as he’d always been, was only rubbing salt in her wounds with his kindness.

  “I’m glad you did.” He held his arms out, an invitation for a hug Sage wasn’t ready to accept. “Missed you, kiddo.”

  “It’s been a while,” she replied mechanically, as her eyes settled on the two lidded banker’s boxes bearing her mother’s name. “I’m sorry.”

  When he realized she wouldn’t hug him, Mark let his arms fall. He’d always had the patience of a saint, but the strained sigh he let out as he opened the glass door suggested she’d hit his limit.

  Under better conditions, spending time with him had always been something she looked forward to. She’d always stayed with him while her mother was away on assignments. They’d have late night pizza and movie marathons; sometimes excursions in the desert with his old Jeep. She tried to focus on the good memories, but nothing dampened sorrow slowly shredding her heart into pieces.

  “I’ve settled as much of Miranda’s affairs as I legally can.” He waited for her to walk inside. “But you’re going to have some documents to sign as the next of kin.”

  Switching hats, he’d taken on a businesslike tone that carried all the emotional weight of a feather, discussing paperwork as if it were simply work rather than the end-of-life arrangements of his longest-term employee. But all it took was a quick glance up to his face and Sage saw the truth glistening there at the corners of his pale turquoise eyes.

  “Let’s just get this over with.” It was the only phrase she could say without breaking down, and even that took more effort than it should have.

  “I’m so sorry.” He finally pulled her into the hug she’d refused him before, as if he sensed that she desperately needed it. “We all miss her. She was the finest agent we’ve ever had.”

  She’d never admit it aloud – not that she was capable of words at that moment – but the human connection was exactly what she needed. She buried her face in Mark’s shoulder and clung to him until she had gained enough strength to sniffle up her tears and get it done.

  When she met his face again, she understood that as much as she’d needed that hug, he had too. Not quite relief, but a sense of calm had softened Mark’s features. He spoke gently as he took a step back. “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

  “I will.” She turned to face the ominous pair of brown boxes he’d packed for her.

  “You don’t have to go through them now. I’ll have the guys ship them.”

  “I’m not even su
re what should be in there,” she replied, silently vowing to leave them shut forever. Maybe she’d bury the boxes in memory of her mother since there had been no body to honor with a funeral.

  “Nothing for you to trouble yourself over now. Desktop stuff. Pictures. Mementos.” He offered a piteous smile. Perhaps he knew what she was thinking. How she’d been robbed the chance to have a service and share the mourning with those who’d been part of Miranda’s life. Or maybe he knew the contents would reduce her to a blubbering mess and simply didn’t want to invoke that kind of emotion in an already painful time. No reason to tempt fate. “Best you wait to get home.”

  “Yeah, better to have a good cry there, right?”

  “Need a tissue?” He crossed the room, grabbed a box, and pulled one to offer her.

  Sage caught the quick movement of his eyes following her hand as she took the tissue and brought it up to her nose. He was looking at it, just as the cabbie had when she’d handed over her credit card. Mark had averted his eyes when she caught him staring, but Sage had seen the curiosity and surprise on his face.

  “I need to step outside for a moment to get the documents for signature.” His eyes had not drifted back to meet hers as he spoke. Mark seemed preoccupied as he slowly backed toward the glass door. The odd shift in his demeanor felt telling, but Sage’s mind wasn’t clear enough to read the signal properly.

  “I’ll be fine,” she lied, blowing her nose for the fifth time into the ruined tissue. A few minutes’ peace might help her regain the composure she needed to finish this. As the blubbering mess she’d become, she’d likely smear the paperwork with tears and risk having to repeat the signing process all over again.

  “Just wait right here. Two minutes.” Mark excused himself.

  Alone with her thoughts, Sage walked across the room and took ownership of the entire box of tissues. The two boxes on the table tempted her, silently begging her to take a peek inside.

  But she knew they would only bring more pain.

  Two minutes turned into five as she paced around the table, desperately trying to ignore those boxes. The weight of all her tears began to tug at her eyes. Headaches always followed a good ugly cry, and she didn’t need a mirror to tell her how puffy and swollen her face was.