Born in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy Book 1)

by K. F. Breene

  The cab I’d called pulled up as I finished, ready to go. I climbed in and gave the address, breathing through the anxiety. My stomach flipped and tingles of nervousness radiated through my chest. The breathing wasn’t helping.

  I thought about all the spells I had and where I’d put them in my satchel. Sometimes all I had was a split second to grab something—I needed to make sure it was the right something.

  “You going to a costume party?”

  I looked up in confusion, not having expected chatter. The cab driver was looking at me in the rearview mirror.

  I glanced down at my leather pants, then touched my leather halter top. Leather covered my lower arms up to my elbows as well, leaving holes for my fingers.

  “I work with fire.” I looked out the window, a subtle hint that I didn’t want to talk.

  “You’re worried about your arms but not your stomach?”

  He had clearly missed the hint.

  I could feel the frown creasing my features. “I have hair on my arms, not my stomach.”

  “What about your head?”

  I grabbed the headrest in front of me, anger filling my body. With my finger, I made a circle around my face. “Does this look like the face of a girl who likes small talk?”

  His eyes rounded in surprise. He went back to driving. Blessed silence filled the cab.

  A half-hour later, I argued with him about where to let me off, finally convincing him that a dodgy side road near my destination was the right spot. He wanted to make sure I got there safely, but he also wanted to keep his nose on his face. The desire for an intact nose finally won out.

  My foot crunched on the gravel as I stepped out of the cab. The dull thunk of the car door set my decision in stone—this was happening. Final, final. No turning back unless I wanted a long walk.

  The eight hundredth deep breath of the night done, I started on my way, trying not to turn around and yell at the cabbie to come back. The sound of insects replaced the hum of the motor, reminding me that I was on my own. Each footstep was a crunch in the direction of a crap-load of mages who wanted to do me harm.

  My father’s blood roared in my veins, the key to controlling that demon. My mother’s blood sang a song of magic. I was a mutt of excellent pedigree, unlike anything the world had seen before. One of a kind, fated for a throne. I was all by myself, but my ancestors were riding on my shoulders. This had been the way of it my whole life, and I was about to unleash it all on Mr. All Powerful.

  He would regret sending that dick pic. He would regret burning my house even more.

  The old church came into view, partially hidden behind trees shooting into the sky. Usually buildings and houses around here were wood or brick, but this ramshackle establishment looked like people had painstakingly built it stone by heavy stone, slapping the layers together with mortar and curses. There was an old-world feel about it that didn’t seem to fit with the new world of America. It was magical, I had no doubt, and I wondered if humans could even see it.

  His chessboard was laid out, and I was about to throw a bowling ball through it. Always trust in crazy.

  As I got closer, I could see the structure more closely. An old church, it had a grand entrance front and center with thick wooden doors, and a large square edifice with two rectangles stuck on the sides. I couldn’t tell if the building was made up of sections, or if it would be completely open inside.

  Large windows, almost gothic in style, dotted the front. Was that a gargoyle? I almost wondered if the whole shebang had disappeared from Europe into the Realm at one time, only to be spat out here. Things like that had been known to happen, close to a gate or not.

  As I passed the trees, I did a double take. Wearing a purple velvet sweat suit and night-vision goggles, Callie stood with her hands on her hips like she had been waiting for me. Beside her, wringing his hands and staring at the church, hunched Dizzy, without goggles.

  I stopped dead, dread and relief passing through me in turns. “What are you doing here?”

  Callie braced her hands on her hips. “What do you mean, ‘What are we doing here?’ The question is, why didn’t you wait for us to pick you up?”

  “What?” I glanced at the church, feeling the thrum of magic vibrating off the outside. It was a doozy of a spell, one that would have made me pass out if I had my old weapon. I’d stored magic into both the ugly brooch and my sword. I was ready. Ish.

  “I told you we’d pick you up at sundown.” Callie scowled.

  Dizzy poked her. “We need to get going. I don’t like the silence. They must be planning something.”

  “I didn’t hear you say that,” I replied, not liking the extremely hostile look on Callie’s face.

  “Honey.” Dizzy poked her again.

  “I said it when we dropped you off. Did you really think we would let you come here and battle all this on your own? Are you insane?”

  “Honey!” Dizzy nudged her.

  “What?”

  “That’s new.” He pointed.

  A glow flickered under the door. Fire.

  Mr. All Powerful was challenging me to a fire walk.

  I started laughing and quickly recounted the contents of the letter—and what I thought it meant.

  “How would he know?” Callie asked, the anger melting away into concern.

  “I don’t know.” I shook my head, at a loss. “I would’ve felt a demon if it were close enough to feel me.”

  “Would Darius have told?” Callie asked.

  “Never.” Dizzy waved the thought away.

  “He doesn’t know that side of me. I’m almost certain of it,” I replied.

  “He wouldn’t tell.” Dizzy shook his head with a knowing, upside-down smile. “No way. He was a noble in the French Revolution. He risked losing everything to keep his people safe.”

  “What”—Callie turned to him with an incredulous expression—“does that possibly have to do with him keeping secrets?”

  “He would’ve eternally died instead of giving away secrets! He could have saved himself, but didn’t.”

  “Regardless, I have to go in there.” I patted my weapons, feeling the pull of battle. The adrenaline and anticipation.

  Dizzy nodded and started pulling things out of his satchel. “Reagan,” he said with a tight voice, staring at the church, “the protection spell is going to come down in a hurry. A moment later, I imagine it will be outright war. You’ll run in first, and we’ll walk quickly to follow. I don’t run anymore.”

  “I understand,” I said, bracing myself beside them while watching what they were doing.

  “Throw some spells to get everyone ducking for cover,” he went on. “Use that to get to some sort of cover for yourself. Don’t worry about them throwing spells at you. We’ll handle that.”

  “Got it.” I shifted from side to side, ready to run. Eager to meet the challenge.

  Dizzy collected more ingredients while Callie palmed a rock and a few blades of grass. “After that, you’re on your own.”

  “If you use your fire,” Callie said in a strange, distant voice, “you’ll have to kill them all. We can’t let that information escape.”

  “Get ready,” Dizzy said.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Dizzy put his fists around his collection of ingredients and banged them together. Callie rose her rock and grass into the sky, her lips moving but no sound coming out. Dizzy banged his fists again, his lips moving as well, the words no louder than a whisper.

  Dizzy started to stomp. Callie joined him. Together they began to chant in Gaelic, their words almost keening, a song of the dead.

  Shivers raced up my legs and coated my body. I kept my arms at my sides, fingers lax, no weapons in hand. I didn’t know what I’d need. I wanted to keep my options open.

  The two reached a sort of wail. A black substance, thicker than smoke, darker than the night sky, pooled around their hands and drifted upward.

  Callie changed her language to Latin; Dizzy started to g
runt in a rhythmic way. The pair moved their bodies jarringly. The black substance, almost solid, floated higher. It started to roll, twisting and turning, a violent thing. They reached a crescendo in their chanting. Then stopped. The black shot out like a cannonball, heading straight for the church. It hit, splashing across an invisible wall.

  I jerked forward, ready to go.

  “Wait,” Callie said in a wispy voice. “Wait.”

  Hands opening and closing in furious anticipation, I stood, braced, ready to run, as the black spread out across the barrier of the spell. It sparked in various places, tiny lights.

  “Go!” Dizzy yelled.

  I took off running like a lion was chasing me. The sparks brightened. Grew larger. Sizzling and covering the front of the church with smoke.

  Still I ran, not grabbing my sword. Trusting in Callie and Dizzy. Hoping the warring spells didn’t slice me up.

  Ten feet away, the brightness of the sparks made me squint. The pulsing of the spell quaked my bones.

  Five feet. Brighter still.

  I really hoped this didn’t melt my face off.

  Three feet, and I reached for my sword.

  The spells blinked away. The power evaporated.

  My face smacked into the door.

  I fell backward onto my butt.

  “Open the door, you idiot!” Callie yelled.

  “Good advice,” I grumbled. I’d been so worried about that spell that I’d forgotten about the hard wooden surface in front of me.

  I sprang up, grabbed the iron handle, and yanked it open. A flash of red light shot at me immediately. I dropped to the ground while reaching into my satchel. My fingers closed around a volatile spell. I pinched and threw at the same time, quickly crawling to the side.

  A blast of cold washed through the room. It was gone in a moment, a terrible casting. Or maybe the spell had reached its expiration date in the casing. Hard to say.

  I threw another. A surge of light went up, accompanied by a loud pop. The mages flinched. Someone shouted. Another dropped to his belly.

  I jumped to my feet and took in the space, taking in the overall shape and positioning of people without registering any specific details. Mostly empty, but with a few wooden bench seats, the airy room was a perfect square. Within that, a dozen or so men were recovering from my distraction, getting ready to cast. Based on the size of the room versus the overall size of the building, the closed doors on the side walls and in the back led to other rooms rather than closets. The problem was that I didn’t know where the powerful mage was hiding.

  In a quick decision, I broke left, grabbing out volatile spells, pinching and throwing. Red streaked past me, followed by pink. Blue splashed at my feet, unleashing some sort of fog. Whatever the effect, it didn’t penetrate my leather pants.

  Running, I threw more spells, some lobbed, some hard and toward the ground. Flashes and explosions and one weird monster burst from them, my spells totally unpredictable. Shock and awe. I burst through the side door and quickly slammed it behind me, hoping I wasn’t trapping myself.

  A large group of chanting women gathered around a cauldron in the middle of the bare room. Liquid bubbled within it, and steam swirled above it, twisting as it reached for the ceiling. As one, they all turned to look at me, their eyes glazed and completely white.

  “What the fu—” I paused for a moment in indecision, not knowing what was more dangerous, the strange women or whatever they were brewing. I needed to know what would be chasing me.

  My question was answered almost immediately when the chanting quickened, rising in pitch and volume. The steam pulsed red. In the cauldron, blood rose up through the once-clear liquid. The bubbles started popping, spraying the ladies. Their bodies undulated, their arms jerking. The steam drifted in my direction. A figure started to take form within, spindly and clawed—it was definitely some sort of monster.

  “Nope.” I ripped out my gun and shot the pot. The bullet ricocheted. I snatched a spell next and lobbed it, the throw perfect. The orb plunked into the liquid. Swish!

  The blast went skyward, enveloping most of the steam. A moment later, it imploded, sucking the spell, liquid, and crazy down into itself. The cauldron shook, wobbling on the floor. Screaming drowned out the iron scraping the stone. One of the women ran at me, her hands curved like claws.

  “Seriously, what the hell is up with you broads?” I slapped her arms to the sides and punched her in the face. Her feet flew out from under her. She whipped back and landed on the ground, her head thunking.

  Cue insanity.

  Screaming or gurgling women lurched after me. I ripped out my gun and fired, trying to make nonlethal shots. I hit one in the shoulder. She whipped back, screeching like a bird of prey, but kept coming.

  I shot another. She didn’t feel it either, ignoring the blood now streaming down her leg.

  “What are you ladies?” I asked, backing up.

  The door behind me opened.

  I whipped out an invisible wall spell, pinched, and threw. The spell engaged a little early, stopping two feet from the man coming through the door. He threw a hex, his lips moving and his brow scrunched in effort. Bright green flew out from his open palm. It hit the invisible wall and reflected. He screamed as his spell ate away his exposed skin.

  If I’d needed proof they were trying to kill me, that was it. Green light for the no-holds-barred approach.

  A hand grabbed my shoulder. An intense shock dug down and frayed through my body. I jerked out of the woman’s grasp, my teeth chattering. I spun and shot. So much for nonlethal. The woman fell. Her eyes changed from white to red, the same color as the potion they’d made.

  “You ladies are dabbling in some dark stuff, huh?” I kicked out, my foot connecting with a head. My target staggered, trying to keep her balance. Another woman almost reached me. I shot. She windmilled back, no shock or anything on her face. Just trying to stay upright. That same blood-red color filled her eyes, and her hair changed from brown to a swampy sort of green.

  I had no idea what kind of spell would make any of this happen. If there was one, I’d never heard of it before, and that was saying something.

  The woman on the ground jerked. Her body bowed backward and she shrieked. I shot another as Exorcist lady struggled to her feet. Like a zombie, she convulsed before lurching after me, her arms out, trying to grab.

  Zombies.

  I groaned. “What kind of a freak show is this mage running?”

  I put my gun away and took out my sword. Another of the women came at me. I slashed, cutting off her head. Killing them was very similar to killing vampires, only easier.

  “Dumb move on your part, ladies.” I smashed my foot into one woman’s knee. It bent sideways. She spilled to the ground, clawing at the stone. “You should not work with spells you are unfamiliar with. Look what happens. You get turned into zombies.”

  I cut off a head and stomped on a chest. A whizz sounded behind me. The mages were working on the spell I’d thrown.

  “Where the hell are Dizzy and Callie?” I chopped off another head, spun, and sliced at a neck. The head lolled to the side, a part still attached.

  My stomach swam. That was gross.

  I took out the last one as blood started dripping from her mouth. How they could be so stupid as to unknowingly turn themselves into zombies, I had no idea, but it seemed to be par for the course with the type of people the mage had gathered around him.

  There were two doors in the back, one to the left and one to the right. Other than their positioning, they looked exactly the same.

  I ran to the one on the right until I felt thick, heady magic vibrating from the left. Confused, I jogged that way, palm out. Extremely intricate and wonderfully complex, the pulse of the magic felt pure, comforting. The power of the spell rivaled even the combined force of Callie and Dizzy. It was a blockade, meant to keep people away.

  What was the mage hiding? Himself?

  I touched the spell with my sword. A burst
of light made me blink, followed by an intense electric shock that violently threw my blade away. My hands followed. I punched myself in the face before I could regain control. I was lucky it wasn’t the blade that had hit me…

  Taking a step back and breathing heavily, I stared at the door in confusion, knowing my time was bleeding away. I glanced at the door on the right, not pulsing magic. Then back to this one.

  There had to be a reason it was protected. I couldn’t let that reason remain hidden, especially not when it would probably sneak up behind me later.

  A rumble from the other room shook the floor. People shouted. The mage trying to get past my spell at the other door disappeared, yelling instructions. Someone screamed.

  That was probably the Callie/Dizzy team. About time!

  I put away my sword and felt the fire burn through my body, sweet and right. Power and strength. My birthright.

  I moved my palm sideways through the air, low, facing the ground. Flames sprang up and danced at the base of the spell. I lifted my hand, willing the fire to grow. It spread across the surface, and in a moment, the door was covered in living fire, eating away the magic. I kept it slow. I didn’t need anything blasting out at my face, and this kind of fire would definitely trigger that reaction if it was burning too hot.

  Another rumble shook the room, followed by a different kind of roar. That had to be the T-Rex.

  The spell over the door peeled away, though it was still fighting my magic. I’d never seen that reaction. The caster had a solid understanding of his craft, creating something that didn’t want to say die.

  I didn’t take no for an answer.

  I held my hand in front of me, clenched it into a fist, and ripped to the side. The fire roared and flew through the air, taking the spell with it. A throb of light announced the defensive trigger I had expected, but there wasn’t enough spell left to carry it out.

  Grabbing the handle, I whipped the door open before draping the space in front of me with fire. Magic shot out, white-hot. It hit my wall and tried to eat through it. I ripped the blanket of fire away, tossing it to a different part of the room. I yanked out my gun and aimed it, only now seeing a girl about my age hunkered down in the broom closet. She was the source.