Tracking Magic: A Rylee Adamson Short Story

by Shannon Mayer

  PRAISE FOR THE RYLEE ADAMSON NOVELS

  “Shannon Mayer’s Rylee Adamson paranormal romances keep me glued to the page. Rylee is a kick-ass character who loves with her whole heart and reminds me of my own Rose Gardner—a collector and protector of lost and broken souls. Every new book is better than the last and I always finish her latest book hungry for more.”

  -Denise Grover Swank

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author

  “The Rylee Adamson Novels are filled with a wonderfully detailed and rich paranormal world with engaging characters, a fast paced plot and lots of action. A must read for urban fantasy lovers.”

  -Eve Langlais

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author

  “If you love the early Anita Blake novels by Laurel K. Hamilton, you will fall head over heels for The Rylee Adamson Series. Rylee is a complex character with a tough, kick-ass exterior, a sassy temperament and morals which she never deviates from. She’s the ultimate heroine. Mayer’s books rank right up there with Kim Harrison’s, Patricia Brigg’s, and Ilona Andrew’s. Get ready for a whole new take on Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance and be ready to be glued to the pages!”

  -Just My Opinion Book Blog

  AUTHOR INTRODUCTION

  The Rylee Adamson Novels are not written as standalone novels. While each book MAY be read on its own, to get a comprehensive understanding of characters and their interactions, I always advise to read the series in order. As the characters do make repeat appearances, I’ve decided to add in a state-of-the-art feature to refresh your memory when necessary.

  In the digital editions of The Rylee Adamson Novels, the reader will come across occasional hyperlinks when a character first appears. Clicking on this underscored text will take the reader to a brief description of the character and how they relate to Rylee, for those interested in getting a reminder of characters and past events. Just hit your back button or click on the name in the character list to return to the spot you were reading.

  However, these links are in no way necessary to understanding and enjoying each book on its own or The Rylee Adamson storyline. The ebook format has allowed the opportunity to utilize this state-of-the-art functionality in a way that has been impossible in the print world. I hope this feature enhances your enjoyment of The Rylee Adamson Novels.

  DEDICATION

  This one is for my readers, who just can’t get enough of my foul-mouthed, kick ass heroine, Rylee. I hope you enjoy seeing her before she was tough, before she had Alex, and before she kissed O’Shea.

  Enjoy!

  Editing by NL “Jinxie” Gervasio & Leona Bushman

  (Originally published in “Into The Darkness: An Anthology” by Just Ink Press)

  CHAPTER 1

  Holding a plank position with a plate of hot coals under my stomach was not my idea of a fun time. Strange, it seemed my mentor was enjoying my discomfort. Which meant I was in for a long haul on this particular exercise. Or at least, long enough till I got whatever point she was trying to make.

  “Hold your mind still. This is more about what’s going on in your head than your ability to hold yourself up. This is not about how strong your muscles are,” Giselle said, as she walked a circle around me, her feet tapping on the creaky wooden floor boards.

  Could have fooled me. My arms shook, sweat slid from my shoulders, down the middle of my back and pooled there, soaking into the waistband of my yoga pants. My sports bra had collected moisture until it, too, dripped as if sweating on its own. Giselle pushed my boundaries harder than I ever thought my body could be pushed, and then she went further.

  Like the coals below my bare skin.

  “I can’t,” I gasped, every muscle in my body screaming at me to stop, as they threatened to buckle. Already, I knew I would have to somehow throw myself to the side. How the heck I would manage that I had no idea.

  “Rylee,” –she crouched down in front of me, her eyes boring into mine— “you must be still inside of yourself. Let the fear go. It is the only way to survive in my world. Our world.”

  Tears gathered in the corner of my eyes and I tipped my head down to stare at the wooden floor while her voice washed over me.

  “I know you didn’t kill your little sister.”

  My body heaved as if it would physically block her words. But I couldn’t move, trapped between the fear of the coals below me, the pain my body trembled with, and the exquisite ache in my heart I could never escape.

  “Your parents, though they adopted you, now deny you; they believe you killed their daughter, yes?”

  The tips of my fingers curled against the floor. “Yes.”

  “You have a police tail at all times, yes?”

  I nodded, unable to speak, as my mind whirled with facing the truth Giselle tossed at me as casually as my mother threw mail onto the table at home.

  “Yet, you did nothing wrong,” she mused. “Still, you ran away from your home, solidifying your guilt in their eyes. They have no idea what they’ve tossed aside.”

  I wasn’t sure I was supposed to hear that last bit. But I didn’t care, couldn’t answer.

  “You are obviously supernatural. We only have to discover what it is you can do.”

  Shifting my weight, I prepped to roll to the left, the pain in my body and the heat from the coals as I slowly lost my fight with gravity, too much for me to bear any longer.

  Giselle blocked me with her leg. “Stay where you are until I give you leave to do otherwise.”

  “I can’t!” I said, throwing myself in the other direction, barely missing the coals, then hitting the floor with a heavy thud. I lay there, panting, heart jamming along, muscles still tense from the extended plank position.

  Giselle shook her head at me, then let out a heavy sigh. “You are not meant to be a part of the human world. You are a part of this one, the supernatural. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner your training can progress.”

  “I do accept it,” I spit out, saliva dripping from my lips. My gorge rose up, the exhaustion and mental games bending me into a proverbial pretzel. There on the floor, I questioned once more what the hell I was doing. This strange woman took me in under her roof and offered to help train me, maybe even help me find my little sister. But how was that possible when my sister was dead? Still, I stayed, hoping against hope that perhaps there was something that could be done. Something that would allow me to redeem myself, both in my eyes and my parents. Because, even though I was not convicted of my sister’s death, I knew in my heart she’d died because of me. Her death was my fault. I’d failed her.

  Giselle’s voice snapped at me. “Then why do you still let fear rule you?”

  I could barely lift my head, scarcely meet her eyes. “Because I don’t know anything else.”

  She smiled, actually smiled at me, for the first time. “Now we’re getting somewhere. No more fear; you must stop it from taking over. There is danger. Of course there is. There are things you need to be cautious about. But panic and fear, they will steal your will, leave you helpless. You must fight them as you would fight a physical enemy.” She paused and pointed at me. “Back to plank. We aren’t done yet.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “Midnight came too swiftly, especially knowing my mentor would have me up at the ass crack of dawn. My bed, the one Giselle had said was mine as long as I wanted it, was small but comfortable. The room was the same, small, the slope of the roof stealing headroom, the window leaning out over the east side of the house. But I didn’t mind. I was grateful I had somewhere to sleep where I didn’t have to fight the local bums for bed space.

  My room here wasn’t any
thing like my room back home with my parents. And the real reason I couldn’t sleep. I shook my head, sliding my hands around the back of my neck. No, I had to stop thinking about them like that. They were my parents when they adopted me, but the minute they thought I’d killed their daughter, their miracle baby, I was as dead to them as she was. The muscles in my chest tightened and it had nothing to do with the routine Giselle had put me through that day.

  Even now, almost a year later, I couldn’t understand how they could believe I killed her . . . then again, running away hadn’t helped my image any. I got out of bed. Sleep evaded me; no reason to keep laying there staring at the ceiling.

  Stepping out into the hallway, I padded to the stairs and peered down into the living area. The house was old, well lived in, and, for the most part, kept the constant North Dakota wind out. So very different from my old home where there had been nothing but warmth, sunshine and beaches. That being said, at least here no one thought I’d killed my sister.

  No one except that jerk of an FBI agent who had actually gotten a transfer to North Dakota shortly after I moved. Coincidence? I snorted to myself. Not likely. He thought he was pretty hot stuff, young and confident; he thought he could break the case. But I could see through him. He was an ass trying to prove himself at my expense, plain and simple.

  Making my way down to the kitchen, using the light from the full summer moon through the window to guide me, I headed straight for the fridge. I pulled out a glass container of milk and poured myself a cup, taking a gulp of the ice cold liquid. Before I could put it back, a voice startled me, making me drop the glass container, shattering it on the tiled floor.

  “Giselle, that you?”

  I put the cup down and slowly turned to face where the voice floated from. Somewhere in the shadow darkened living room. Shoot, what was I supposed to do now? Best I could tell, the intruder was a man, or at least male. And Giselle didn’t have any boyfriends I knew about.

  “Giselle?”

  I backed farther into the kitchen, my mind freezing, paralyzing my ability to even begin to plan—

  A figure shot out of the darkness, slamming into me. There was a brief image, more of an impression I got of light coloured hair and faded blue eyes, a flash in between movement and moonlight. We hit the far cupboards, the pull handles digging into my back. A glimpse of fang was all I saw before the vampire drove his face towards mine. I reacted instinctively, snapping my fist up between us, catching his jaw in an uppercut I felt all the way to my elbow.

  His teeth snapped down on his tongue, the sharp fangs severing the tip. The chunk of flesh fell between us.

  “Wha da fuck?” He screamed, hands over his mouth, blood squirting out through his laced fingers.

  I scrabbled for the closest drawer, and yanked out a heavy kitchen knife, balancing it in my hand. Fear rattled around in my brain at light speed, as I struggled to recall the things Giselle had been teaching me. Strike first, ask questions later.

  Three quick slashes and I’d backed the vampire up. He easily dodged what even I knew were wild swings. There was nothing controlled about my attack, my movements jerky and out of balance. I stepped into what would have been my fourth slash when he slid sideways and swept my legs out from under me.

  My back slammed into the floor, but I didn’t let go of the knife, the only thing I had between me and this bastard’s teeth.

  He stood above me, blood dripping down his chin, one foot on my chest.

  “Where ih ick?

  “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” I asked, my voice remarkably steady considering the fact I was staring down death in the form of a creature I’d only just learned existed.

  He spit a gob of blood to one side, then grinned down at me, his mouth a hideous twist of fang, blood and bright white teeth. “I am going to ennoy killing you. Firck. Where ga fuck ih ick?”

  The light flicked on and he blinked in the sudden brightness. Giselle stood there in her long white nightgown, dirty blonde hair cascading around her and one of her swords I was not yet allowed to touch gripped in her hand.

  “Martin, you know better than to show up un-announced,” she said, her voice deceptively soft.

  He smiled at her, then gave a mock bow. “Buineth. Ick ih all abou buineth.”

  “Good grief, did you bite your tongue off?” she asked, her eyes widening. Martin pointed at me.

  Giselle’s brown eyes flicked over me and she gave me a slight nod of her head. A flush of pride skipped through me.

  “Good. Perhaps this will teach you not to attack people.” I noticed she didn’t lower her sword tip, just adjusted her grip slightly. “How long before it grows back?”

  Martin shrugged thin shoulders. “Few minutes. Ah, there we go.” He smacked his lips and flicked his tongue, fully intact, out around his lips. He really didn’t look like much, certainly not the scary, big, bad, ugly thing Giselle had told me vampires were. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it hadn’t been a fang I’d seen.

  “I’m here on business. I want the stone the kid has.” Again he pointed at me and I sat up, scooting back from them both. I didn’t know what was going on, but Giselle would sort it out. Of that much I was sure.

  “I don’t have any stone, rock, gravel or boulders.” I said, pushing to my feet.

  Giselle glanced over me. “Are you sure? Go check your room.”

  I knew a dismissal when I heard one; but at seventeen I struggled with myself to do what she wanted. Frowning, I backed out of the room and then ran up the stairs to my tiny bedroom. A quick search gave me nothing, as I knew it would. Giselle had wanted me out of ear shot for a reason. Well, screw that.

  Creeping back down the stairs, avoiding the squeaky one third up from the bottom I made my way back to the living room with my back pressed against the wall.

  Martin’s voice reached me first. “The boss said a runaway had the stone. A runaway with a talent no one has seen for years. That fits your girl there.”

  “What would your pack want with the stone? You have no witches who can use it,” Giselle said.

  I slowed my breathing and tried to ease the beat of my heart as if that would help me hear better.

  “You don’t know everything about our pack,” Martin said. Something shifted, like a chair being scraped across the floor.

  “Fine. But still, a stone like this, it shouldn’t be floating around out there. The connection to the deeper sides of the Veil is too dangerous.”

  “Why do you think we’re trying to track it?” Martin snapped. “Can you imagine what would happen if . . .” There was a sniffing sound then, “Your girl is listening.”

  Heat rushed through my face and I had no doubt I was bright red; it would be stupidly obvious what I’d been up to. Like a brand on my forehead. But I stayed where I was. I hadn’t been invited to the conversation.

  “Good night, Martin,” Giselle said and heard the irritation in her voice. I was about to get lambasted for sure.

  Footsteps and then the soft click of the door shutting. “Rylee. Come back in.”

  Pushing off the wall, I rounded the corner. “I’m not a child. I need to understand everything this world has to offer. Not just what you think I can handle.”

  Her eyes flashed, then dimmed, and she slumped where she sat, as if the stuffing had been knocked out of her. Like she’d been the one to have been fighting a . . .

  “What was he?”

  “A werewolf, from the local pack. You did well, fending him off. But don’t let it go to your head.”

  I bit back the grin attempting to stretch my lips. “Of course not. “

  “He would have killed you without any qualms if I hadn’t stepped in. When you are fighting a supernatural, you kill them. No questions asked.”

  The would-be grin faded and the pride slipped off of me. “Got it.” Lesson received. Kill before they, whoever they are, kill you.

  “What did he want?”

  Giselle took a deep breath, her fingers drumming on the si
de table. “A young girl, a runaway, has a stone of great value. One too powerful for her to even know about, let alone carry.”

  “Do you know who she is?”

  My mentor nodded. “Her name is Milly Waters. She’s a couple of years younger than you. Martin was even so kind as to have a picture of her on him.”

  She handed me a crumpled sheet of 8 by 11 paper. A lost person sheet like the kind you would see stapled to a telephone pole. Milly had long dark brown hair and huge green eyes. She was pretty, way too pretty for her age and she didn’t look fifteen. More like twenty five.

  “Where are you, Milly?” I asked softly. A vibration of energy rippled through my mind and I gasped, clenching the paper in my suddenly trembling fingers.

  “Rylee? What’s wrong?” Giselle’s voice reached me but her words sounded like she was far away. The vibration through my head intensified, and though I wouldn’t call it pain, it scared the bejeesus out of me. Inside my head, I could feel something new as the vibration faded. What I could only describe as a loop of energy tying me to someone else. Like a thread I could hang onto and point out exactly where she was. Where Milly was.

  “I think I can find her,” I said, my voice shaky.

  I met Giselle’s eye and she gasped, pulling back slightly. “Well I’ll be damned.”

  “What?”

  “Your eyes have changed. I’d say whatever form of supernatural you are, your powers are just coming on line,” she said, then gave me a soft smile. “Now, why do you think you can find her?”

  I tried to explain. I did, but the words weren’t sufficient. In the end, she shushed me and sent me to bed. As if I really were still a child, and I let her. Because I was scared. The mirror in the bathroom had shown my once normal brown eyes had shifted into a swirl of gold, deep brown, and emerald green. No matter how many times I’d blinked, the three distinct colours remained.

  What was I becoming? I stared into the mirror and traced my eyes. No, it didn’t matter what I became because what I’d left behind, the Rylee Adamson who’d had parents and a little sister, was gone.