by Gina Shafer
“I’m just about the same as you. Soren too. Our lives were dedicated to the Sicarri, and the warehouse is gone now. People who were invaluable in the fight against the demons—they’re just gone, and I have no idea how to pick up the pieces, but I know I want to. Damn it, do I want to.”
“Have you been able to get word to any Sicarri in different areas? I mean, I know they have expanded tremendously since Vara put that sleeping spell on you. The warehouse was just the epicenter. The fight isn’t over,” I tell him, fighting like hell to believe my own words. It’s hard not to want to give up when you’re struck by such a crushing defeat.
“I have an idea.” I pull him over to the bed to lie beside me. “Do you remember me telling you about those two kids, Mya and James? They were special, like me and Soren. And they were special to me.” Elijah kisses my cheek. “They mentioned a place where they worked on their magic. A camp in Oregon with hundreds of members. The Three Sister’s Wilderness, I think. I might like to go there.”
“I think that would be great.” Elijah rolls me on top of him.
I hold myself up with my arms. “Thank you.” I kiss his lips hard.
“I love you, Karina. And I would do anything to keep you and the rest of our weird fucked-up family safe. We’re all we’ve got left,” he says.
I lay my head under his chin. I fall asleep after a while, and this time I’m thankful I don’t dream.
After staying with Rosie a few more days to recuperate, we decided leaving Rayna with Rosie was safest. Rosie had her property spelled from top to bottom, and she had all the provisions a baby could want: food, clean water, a room to call her own. And somewhere deep down, I know that Scarlett would feel good about Rayna living in a room covered in little pink rosebud wallpaper.
June traveled with us. And she’s been a hell of a trooper, not complaining once about the size of her blisters on our trek through the wilderness.
“This is it,” I say. Soren looks around, and I can tell he notices the difference too. Mya said people with our powers can sense when others like us are near.
I point, noticing a large canvas tent. “Just there.”
“Look!” Elijah exclaims, pointing toward an opening.
That’s when I see it. It’s not only a small camp. It’s a damn village, filled with tons of smaller tents that surround one large tent. There’s a market, and an area for kids to play. It’s amazing.
There are people outside, and as we get closer, they notice us, turning to watch us carefully. We’re heading for the big tent, hoping we’ll get information. We’re stopped by an older man with a salt and pepper beard and a healthy looking belly as soon as we reach the middle of their village.
“You’re not here to harm us, or you would never have been able to get past the circle of spells that begin about a mile from here. At least we know that much, “ the man says. “Who are you all, and what are you doing here?” Though his tone is friendly, his words say something different.
These people don’t like intruders, and I don’t blame them. “My name is Karina, and this is Soren. We were told this is a safe place for people like us. People who practice light magic,” I say. “Mya and James told us about this place.”
Hope flares in his eyes. “Mya and James! Do you know where they are? We expected them back weeks ago.” The man looks behind us with hope flaring in his eyes, though it quickly dies when his gaze loops back to my face.
“They were killed on their return trek. We took care of them for a time, fed them and sent them off with whatever provisions they needed, but they were intercepted by some of the forces which I’m sure keep you hidden here. I found them afterward and gave them a proper burial.” Elijah’s hand closes over my shoulder, and I sag in relief at the comfort it brings me.
“We’re very sorry to hear that. Mya and James were two very special people. My name is Rhett, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. We have a few unclaimed tents around the other side. Tell me, what are your friends’ names?”
“This is Elijah, and this is June.” I gesture to both of them.
“Pleased to meet you.” He bows his head. “Follow me, and I’ll get you all set up. We’re having a meeting this evening after dinner, and there we’ll be able to explain our rules. For now, just know we don’t take well to disturbances, and everyone around here carries their own weight.” Rhett walks us along the trail. “Even the little ones do what they can,” he says, pointing to two toddlers stacking wood. The girl looks to be about two, and the boy is most likely four. I lift my hand over my eyes to shade them from the sun, getting a closer look.
Only, when I do, the breath leaves my body in a rush, and I freeze in place. I know the faces of these two children better than I know my own. I saw them in visions, down to every last detail. I don’t realize I started moving again until I’m right in front of them.
“Are you okay?” Elijah whispers behind me, but I don’t answer. Instead, I kneel and tuck the girl’s hair behind her ear and cupping her chubby little cheek.
“They’ve been here most of their lives. Orphans,” Rhett admits. He tells them both what a good job they’ve been doing. “Some of the other mothers raise these two in shifts, but it gets hard around here,” he says, ruffling the boy’s hair.
Elijah, these are the children. They’re the children from my visions.
Elijah crouches next to me. He watches in fascination as the kids dust themselves off and smile at us. I look at him and ever so slightly catch the tilt of his head toward me. His acceptance. I stand, and nothing has ever felt more right than clutching the children’s hands and saying, “They’re with me. I’ll look after them.”
“We’ll look after them,” Elijah says, and Soren scoops the girl up in his arms. We fall into step behind Rhett, who I’m sure is completely confused but hurting enough for help that he goes along with it.
I fall behind a little, watching Elijah pick up the boy. June touches the girl’s hair, and she giggles, which becomes the most glorious sound as it fills the air.
In this moment, I look from June, to Soren, to Elijah, and back to these two beautiful children were meant to be mine, and I feel it. After everything we’ve been through, I feel like I’m on the right path at last.
Like I’m finally where I’m meant to be.
To be continued…
Gina Shafer is the author of the Burned By Magic Series. She lives in California with her husband and two children. She spends her time dabbling in photography, cooking, and interior design. She likes windy weather, good food, great conversation, and most of all… good books. For contact and inquiries, please email [email protected]
www.authorginashafer.com
You can find her on Facebook at:
www.facebook.com/authorginashafer
Instagram:
www.instagram.com/authorginashafer
Keep in touch with Gina Shafer to find out more about her upcoming projects!
Reviews are greatly appreciated!
THE BURNED BY MAGIC SERIES
OF LIGHT AND FIRE – BOOK 1
THROUGH ASH AND EMBERS – BOOK 3 (2018)
BLURB:
Soren hasn’t had it easy.
He’s sacrificed his body to further the Sicarri cause, sat idly by when the people he loved were tortured and killed, and has watched as nearly everyone he cares about turned to dust before his eyes.
Now, he must learn to control a new type of magic that flows through him with little knowledge how, if he wants to save the world. Soren finds his life suddenly filled with a new love, a blast from the past, and more carnage than ever before.
All the while, his magic is slowly wrapping its powerful embers around his insides, pushing him to set his powers free. Will he be able to control the wildfire in his veins, or will he quickly turn to ash?
THROUGH ASH AND EMBERS PREVIEW
PROLOGUE
Soren
Magazine, slide, guide rod, and barrel.
Dis
assemble. Reassemble.
Magazine, slide, guide rod, and barrel.
Uncle Marcel says cleaning your gun is important. He told me that my dad cleaned his gun every single night. You’d never want your gun to jam during a fight just because it’s dirty.
I’m going on my first real patrol tonight. I’m not sure what it was that finally made Marcel give in. Could have been the constant and ever persistent begging I’ve bombarded him with lately, or maybe it’s because we’re down a couple of men right now. We’re patrolling an area where shadow-walkers have been sighted, and though I’ve seen a number of them, I’ve never actually had the chance to kill any. I’ve never killed anyone for that matter.
Maybe tonight that will change.
“Soren, did you hear me?”
I stumble from my daydream as if I really were asleep. Marcel’s voice rings loudly in my ears a second before I realize he’s close. Right next to me, in fact.
“I’m sorry, no. What were you saying?” I ask.
“I said we’re ready to go. I think that gun is clean enough, don’t you?” He smiles, tilting his head at the weapon in my hands.
He’s right. I’ve been at this for hours, sitting in my room, obsessively cleaning my gun because I don’t know how else to prepare for a Sicarri battle.
I’ve gone out with Marcel before. I’ve even seen small encounters turn into battles, but Marcel has always explicitly warned me never to participate. It was his way of training me, making me watch from the sidelines, study the way shadow-walkers and demons move, the way they fight. And it worked. At least I hope it has. I feel like it has. I guess we’ll find out tonight.
“Soren?” Marcel gives me a small shake. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. I’m fine. Just stuck in my head today. I’ll get it together before the fight,” I tell him, locking my eyes with his. He looks a lot like my mother. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that before, but then again, I can count the number of times he’s been close enough for me to see it his features so clearly.
“I don’t know, maybe it would be wiser for you to stay home tonight,” He sighs. “We really shouldn’t be risking you.”
“No!” I shout, then grimace as Marcel stands and backs away. I just yelled in his face. I calm myself, stand, pick up the gun, and stick it in the holster…“I’m good. I promise.”
Marcel nods slowly, taking me in. “Come on then.”
I follow him like the good soldier I’ve been trained to be. We leave my room and easily navigate the maze that is the warehouse. Marcel says it’s a work in progress, but soon it’ll be the biggest Sicarri safe house any of us have ever seen.
“Ted, did you toss that flamethrower in the back of the car?” Marcel says when we enter the arms room.
“It’s right here,” Ted points to the weapon on the table. “I’m bringing it with us when we leave.”
“Good, good.”
Ted’s a tall dark man with the stance of a lion. Lu, the most badass woman I’ve ever seen with a shotgun, is also here, as is Peter, Lu’s husband. He’s the best with throwing knives.
“Let’s go.” Marcel says, scooping up extra magazines on his way to the exit.
We walk past Karina, who scowls so deeply at us, it almost makes me laugh. To be fair, I agree with her. She’s more deadly than I am with those swords she uses, but Marcel doesn’t want to risk her even more than he doesn’t want to risk me. I shoot her a sympathetic smile, and when her eyes meet mine, she mirrors it.
Because the team is small this time, we only have to take one. I’m quiet for most of the drive, listening to Marcel rattle off details of this mission for the hundredth time. I shouldn’t complain, because I remember my dad drilling into me that you can never be too prepared for a fight with shadow-walkers. I straighten and force myself to listen to Marcel.
Before I know it, we’ve arrived. I peer out the window at the building we’re raiding. We’ve gotten reports of a group of people practicing magic dangerously in this old abandoned department store. They’re holed up, slowing turning into shadow-walkers. The idea sends shivers down my spine.
We exit the vehicle, and Marcel frowns. It’s too quiet. I know he feels it too. We decide to enter through the rear, and with our weapons in hand, skirt the building in formation. Marcel is in front, and I’m directly behind him, followed by Ted and Lu, with Peter bringing up the rear.
Marcel points to our opening, a huge busted window half covered with tarp. This has always been the most nerve-wracking part for me to watch, the moment where our guys enter a building blind. I’ve never been a part of it, but I’ve watched from the sidelines many times. We have no idea what could be lurking behind these walls; well… we have a pretty good idea what, but not how. How many, how will they be situated, how will they feel about being raided by Sicarri. Okay, that last one is a lie. No demon is ever happy to be raided by Sicarri. He enters first, and I climb in after him. I’m on his flank as we navigate the darkness. Ted come up behind me, closer than I expected.
And that’s when I hear deep, ragged breathing behind me, and my nerves fire. It isn’t Ted following me. It’s a shadow-walker. I have no way to warn Marcel, and no way to know if the others are okay. I don’t want to let the shadow-walker know that I know it’s behind me.
We stop at the corner, and I squeeze Marcel’s arm so hard my fingers go numb. He stiffens but doesn’t turn. Does he know?
My back tingles with the feeling of being watched. My scalp prickles, and shots break out around me. Marcel picks off a shadow-walker from the other side of the room, the explosion of his bullet lighting the room for a split second.
What I glimpse is nothing I could have prepared for.
There are people, innocent unburnt locked in cages, guarded by shadow-walkers. My stomach rolls, but I don’t have much time to think before the shadow-walker following me wraps his burnt arms around my neck and begins to choke me.
Ted, Lu, and Peter are fighting their way through the crowd of shadow-walkers at the exit, and Marcel charges forward, blasting shadow-walker after shadow-walker. I’m on my own, and I’ve never been more terrified.
“Your fire will be mine,” the shadow-walker says in my ear, it’s voice thick and rough, like it has to travel through hell just to fall from its throat.
I look for a way out. My pistol is at my hip, and I grab it, but the shadow-walker wraps it’s burnt fingers around my wrists, stopping me from aiming at its face. I decide to go a different route, stomping the top of its instep as hard as I can. The shadow-walker screeches and throws itself back, releasing me.
I draw my weapon, aim, and shoot an explosive round into its chest, effectively killing it. The first shadow-walker I’ve ever killed. I thought it would feel different, but right now it’s just disappointing. And not in the way you’d think.
I thought killing the enemy would feel good. I was ridding the world of evil and protecting innocent people, right? But all I can think about is this shadow-walker used to be a person, and it’ll never feel good to take a life.
The Sicarri have subdued the other shadow-walkers. I join them, and Marcel looks me over. We break the locks on the large iron cages holding the unburnt. They are old and give easily, but there must be about fifteen. Peter stands near the exit, ushering everyone out of the building.
Something shiny catches my eye. In the corner of the room, a shadow-walker’s steel eyes shift like a cornered animal. It’s not dead, though very wounded, and it clutches its stomach, where dark blood oozes between its fingers. I open my mouth to warn Marcel and am blown backward by an explosion, breaking the rest of the windows on the building.
When I come to, the Sicarri and many of the unburnt we saved are all gathering themselves outside and picking each other up from the asphalt. I was the one closest to the explosion, and many of the people around me are injured, one of them completely on fire. I scramble to the woman, remove my jacket, and pat her down until the flames die. H
er skin is withered, and she screams in agony.
But that’s not what makes me nearly lose my last meal on the concrete. As I take in my surroundings, I realize that everyone that was close to me has at least some kind of injury; the air is filled with the smell of burning skin.
But not me. My hands glow with the faint light of my fire but I don’t burn. I don’t even feel out of control of it. It scares me, but more than that, it makes me feel powerful.
Then, I hear a sickening sound, and it reminds me where we are, and what just happened. The building is one fire, the flames nearly licking the sky at this point, and I hear screaming from inside the walls. A deafening scream, followed by another, as the few people that were left inside become overtaken by the hot flames.
I don’t even realize I’m moving until Marcel stops me.
“Let me go!” I yell, and the cold air hits my wet cheeks.
“No,” Marcel says harshly. And I struggle some more. Why won’t he let me go? Why wont he let me help them?
“I have to help them!” I scream.
“Soren! No! It’s too late! . You can’t go back in there. I won’t risk you! It’s done son, okay? Just please... It’s done.”
Marcel pleads and my tears bleed through his hold on me, falling to the ground around our shifting feet. I didn’t realize he was nearly dragging me back to the car until I almost stumble over his shoes. The other Sicarri follow, somberly. Somewhere between it all, Ted calls for backup on the radio, advising we need relocation of about a hundred unburnt.
“Wait!” I screech, warping my tear stained cheeks with the stretch of my mouth.
“We can’t Soren. They’ll be more of them drawn to the battle after all this commotion. We have to leave.” Marcel explains as he shoves me into the passenger seat of the vehicle and slams the door. I hear the crunch of his boots as he rounds the front of the car and gets in the driver’s seat.
