Magic Fire: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Shifting Magic Book 1)

by Catherine Vale

  “I gave you a bit of my clairvoyance so you could know how Ravena would receive you,” I told him when he finally came back to me. He looked more vibrant after my gift, his skin healthier and eyes more alert. “I’m sure you were nervous about seeing her again.”

  “Was not.”

  “Was too.” I sat sideways, watching him, and then grinned. “So? How does it go?”

  “The visions are hard to decipher,” he admitted after a brief pause. I nodded, all the while knowing I could have looked for myself—but wanting him to be the one to see that particular future on his own. It only seemed fair. Ravena was his ex—his drama.

  “You’ll get there.”

  “But…” He handed me the keys and opened the door. “It seems as though she’s going to help us with whatever comes next.”

  I twirled a finger in the air after he got out and slammed the door. “Yippee…”

  Chapter Six

  Just because I wasn’t allowed in the sprawling TV worthy manor didn’t mean I’d be content to sit in the car like a scolded child. Once I watched Darius disappear inside the front doors, I grabbed my purse and slipped out of the car. While the transfer of my powers to him had left me a little woozy, I managed to dart across the courtyard, lightning quick, courtesy of fae speed, and crouch down in the shrubs—shrubs in desperate need of a trimming.

  Seriously. What was the point of being a witch if you didn’t keep your house and garden immaculate? I winced when some of the branches dug into me, but the pain was worth it. Fairies had a number of extra-sensory gifts that we could whip out when we wanted, and tuck away when they weren’t needed. I couldn’t imagine walking around this world, or any other, with my supersonic hearing abilities turned up at all times. I’d go insane. But for now, with a little coaxing and a dollop of white magic use, I was able to crank up the volume and listen in on what was being said inside the house.

  Of course, I’d really only be able to hear what was happening in the foyer and whatever other rooms were nearby. If they retreated into some dingy dungeon two floors down, Darius was on his own. But at the sound of heeled shoes clicking toward the front door, I knew this would be good enough for now.

  “Darius.” I stiffened at the sound of Ravena’s voice, but only because it sounded like it was right beside me. This was what happened when you didn’t use your senses all that often; it could get a little overwhelming, just as my extra sight made me dizzy when I’d tried to peer inside the gargoyle box.

  “Ravena.” He sounded tense, like he was speaking through tight lips. I exhaled deeply, wondering still if this had been a good idea. Was he ready to face her? Could he be my advocate if he was wrapped up in drama with his ex?

  We were about to find out.

  “Look, I’m not here to catch up on the good times, or rehash the bad,” he all but sneered after a tense beat had passed. I rolled my eyes. Even though he had as much a reason as any to be a dick to a witch, we needed her help. If she wasn’t responsible for my attack—unlikely—then we could use her help to find out who was behind it.

  “Good times? Bad? I think you mean downright ugly. I have no good memories left of you, Darius.” She hissed.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Ravena. But again, I’m not here to talk about us.”

  “Oh, of course, you aren’t. I assume you came to barter over the use of your wings,” she fired back, her voice low—seductive? I made a face. Ugh. She had the voice of a seasoned smoker, but if she snagged a guy like Darius, I had to assume she had the looks to counteract that throaty, crackly rumble.

  “I’m not here for me,” Darius told her, still stiff. “I need to know if you commanded a gargoyle to attack a friend of mine. A fae.”

  “The one you left me for?” My eyes widened, and I swore my heart skipped a beat. Ravena gave a cold chuckle. “No. I did nothing to her, despite the insults she paid me. How is your paramour, anyway?”

  In the lengthy bout of silence that followed, I almost thought I’d lost my connection inside. Wiggling a finger in my ear, I leaned in closer, frowning, until…

  “She left.”

  Ravena burst out into a cruel, mocking laughter, the kind that told me his heartbreak vindicated her own.

  “Serves you right, dragon.” She spat out the words.

  “Enough, Ravena,” Darius replied, his voice filled with impatience. “Did you, or did you not, send a gargoyle after a fae? I’ve been working with her because I sense the danger around her, and then this gargoyle shows up, and—”

  She scoffed. “Gargoyles aren’t really my thing. I thought you’d know that.”

  “I do,” he noted quickly, and I heard the earnestness in his voice. Surely Ravena did as well. “I just had to be sure. The gargoyle was sent to her wrapped in witch’s magic. Since she doesn’t know any witches personally, we came to you. Not because I think you’re capable of sending an assassin after someone, but because… I’d hoped you might help us.”

  “And why would I ever want to help you?” Although she had tried to sound tough, the witch’s voice wavered slightly, and I could imagine her crossing her arms—defensive, hurt. Darius affected her more than she would ever care to admit; I could tell that just by listening to her speak.

  “Ravena, you know why.” I heard some footsteps. “Please. A woman’s life is in danger. If you didn’t send the gargoyle—”

  “You know I didn’t.” There was that hurt again, slowly edging out the anger and bitterness. I almost felt bad for accusing her of the crime in the first place.

  Almost.

  “Then we need to find out who did,” Darius said, finally sounding like he had control over the situation. “I’m not asking for me. I’m asking so this woman doesn’t get hurt. That’s all.”

  “Are you two involved?”

  “We’re just friends.”

  I bit my lip as a stab of hurt shot through me. It wasn’t fair to feel that way. Just because I wanted to get him into bed didn’t mean we were a thing. I had no ownership over Darius, and, honestly, if I had to make the choice, I’d rather have his friendship than some weird romantic thing that would probably crash and burn anyway.

  The conversation went mute for a little while again, and I made myself more comfortable in the bushes, twitching whenever the spiny branches poked me. It took so long for her to make up her mind that I debated going back to sit in the car with the AC blasting, but in the end, Ravena conceded.

  “Wait here,” she ordered softly, and I leaned in closer as her footfalls faded. Moments later she was back. “My black mirror will show all things. I’ll need a drop of blood to—”

  “Of course you do,” Darius grumbled. A sharp intake of air followed, and I made a face at the sound of droplets hitting a hard surface—presumably the blood offering on the mirror’s surface. I owed him one. Blood magic wasn’t something many played around with: not without serious consideration, anyway.

  “Now take my hand.”

  “Ravena—”

  “Just do it,” she snapped. I bit back a laugh. Apparently, all the women in Darius’s life handled his alpha bullshit by yelling at him.

  “So, what do you see?”

  “Give it a moment.” She sounded more impatient than him. “I see the box. I see the magic. You were right in assuming it was witch’s magic.”

  “Kaye figured that out, actually.”

  I tensed at the use of my name, but no one else seemed to care.

  “It’s a man… A warlock,” Ravena continued, followed swiftly by a sharp gasp. “Abramelin!”

  “Abra-what?”

  “A dangerous and very powerful warlock,” Ravena replied hastily. “He is not one you ought to tangle with.”

  “Trust me, Kaye isn’t the type of person to tangle with anyone. She works all the time, keeps to herself.” He had a fair point there. Not only did I have no idea who this Abramelin person was, but I was too busy in my day-to-day existence to stir up any sort of drama with a warlock. Clearly, I was the targe
t of a hate crime—or a case of mistaken identity.

  “He enchanted the box,” the witch said. The way she said it—the words created a heavy knot in my gut, one that made me want to take off running. I was very quickly getting way in over my head.

  “Do you know why?”

  “The mirror only shows who,” Ravena insisted, “not the why. Speaking of who…” Her voice suddenly thundered in my ears, and I tumbled out of the bushes with a yelp. “You may enter my home, fairy. No point in hiding in my shrubbery anymore.”

  I wriggled a finger in each ear, trying to rid them of the high-pitched whine that followed her invite. When the sudden bout of tinnitus finally ebbed, me popping my jaw and blinking hard like an idiot, I scrambled to my feet and made my way for the front door.

  “She saw you in the mirror, apparently,” Darius said, sounding somewhat apologetic when he opened the door for me. I glowered up at him, then flinched out of the way when he reached for my head. He shot me a look, and with an annoyed huff I stood there and let him pick the twigs out of my hair. Perfect. The shifter smirked, head cocked slightly to one side. “Pretty sure I told you to wait in the car.”

  “Pretty sure I don’t take orders from you,” I snapped, though I forced a little half-smile when a flicker of hurt washed over his features. There was something unsaid with what I’d snapped—shifter. Like I didn’t take orders from the lesser. It wasn’t my intention, but I was sure this wasn’t the first time someone had sneered it at him in the supernatural community. Tucking my wild hair behind my ears, I cleared my throat and nodded toward the interior of the manor. “Come on. Introduce me to your ex already. I’m on pins and needles.”

  I noticed his hesitation in the way he hovered by the front door as if blocking me from whatever lay in wait beyond. Rolling my eyes, I shoved by and made my way in, knowing that I had to face Ravena one way or another. She stood waiting for me in the grand foyer with a cathedral ceiling and a dusty glass chandelier overhead. I hoped my surprise didn’t show, but she looked nothing as I’d expected. Tall. Lanky. Her hair had a straw-like dry quality to it, even at a distance, and wavered somewhere between mousy brown and dirty blonde. Her eyes, a deep green, were quite lovely. Almost the same color as mine.

  I’d thought she would be a bombshell if she managed to land a guy as gorgeous as Darius. In fact, I’d assumed she would be stunning simply because she was a witch. After all, spells and potions and charms could be crafted to energize one’s vitality and youth. Ravena, however, looked much older than I had expected, and when she offered a faint smile, her dark green gaze studying me in silence, I noted the way her skin crinkled around her eyes.

  In that moment, I firmly reminded myself I ought not to judge physical appearances. After all, I wasn’t exactly the typical image of a fairy either. Most fae looked like Catriona and Jasmine. I was an anomaly. Ravena was probably thinking the exact same thing about me, as I was about her.

  How did she land Darius?

  Weren’t fairies supposed to be pretty and thin?

  I squared my shoulders and decided to be the bigger person.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I managed, as I extended my hand. Even if I wasn’t feeling it, I could slip into my work-Kaye persona pretty easily when I was around people I didn’t click with right away. “I’m Kaye Allister. I’m a friend of Darius’s.”

  The door closed gently behind me, but I faced forward, offering Ravena my full attention, as Darius moved back to my side.

  “Ravena,” the witch offered. She took my hand in hers, and at the slightest feel of her magical essence, I steeled myself with a surge of white magic.

  A flicker of surprise passed across her face, something you’d miss if you blinked. I wanted to establish quickly that while I might not have been a witch, I was a magical being in my own right, and my white magic was limitless. Easily depleted if used too much, of course, but it always returned. A fairy’s white magic was like walking around with an invisible coat of armor; sure, it wouldn’t protect you from a knife or a gun, but when called upon, it could befuddle an attacker, or temporarily block harmful spells and influences.

  Ravena had clearly been testing the waters, and when our clasped hands fell apart, I felt as though we separated on relatively even footing.

  As even as one could get in a stranger’s home. The witch would always have the upper hand here. I bolstered my white magic for good measure, deciding I’d crash in the car once we left and recover there.

  “So,” I said in the incredibly tense silence that followed. I could feel both Ravena and Darius staring right through me—the witch glaring daggers, the dragon looking…concerned? Both were super unnecessary. Rolling my shoulders back, I pushed on, sliding my psychologist mask into place. “You saw a warlock in your mirror?”

  “The warlock who cast the spell on your stone visitor, yes,” Ravena told me, her arms crossed. “Abramelin.”

  “The name isn’t familiar to me.”

  “It wouldn’t be,” the witch mused, lips twitching into a smirk. “We all tend to know our own kind. Abramelin is an ArchMage.”

  ArchMage—leader of a coven of Warlocks and Witches. Holy shit. I shifted my weight side to side, mulling the information over. As far as I knew, I hadn’t done anything recently to piss off a coven.

  “Well, at no point have we been introduced,” I insisted with a quick glance at Darius to see if he believed me. When I lifted my eyebrows slightly, he gave a small nod. With a sigh, I faced Ravena again. “Nor do I get involved in politics, or anything dangerous within our world. Did you see anything specific in that mirror of yours?”

  The black mirror hung from a black lace strand attached to her belt. Her dress, an unsightly pale purple, gave her the illusion of lacking a figure.

  She pursed her lips for a moment. “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Ravena,” Darius said, and I didn’t miss the way heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Come on. Anything you can tell us that will help Kaye live to see her next birthday will be useful.”

  “Charming,” I muttered, shooting him a quick look.

  “Just as you profess not to involve yourself in the politics of our world, I too have no desire to tangle with a warlock as powerful as Abramelin.” Ravena picked at her nails to give the impression of nonchalance, but I could spot the awkwardness in her movements a mile away. She wasn’t a disinterested bitch by nature. Darius must have brought out that side in her, and I briefly contemplated sending the shifter back to wait in the car. Maybe it would have been easier for just Ravena and I to hash this thing out on our own.

  “Is there anything you can recommend to protect ourselves?” Darius pressed, sounding a bit more frustrated with every word uttered. I glanced back at Ravena, wondering what kind of tone might make her snap. She studied Darius with a veiled look, then swallowed hard and flicked her hand toward a staircase. There was a dusty set that went up to another floor paired with one that went down to the basement.

  “I have some protection bags in my workshop,” she noted, “along with a few charmed runes and crystals to keep intruders out of your space. I’d use them in your car, your home. It won’t solve the problem, but it will beef up your defenses.”

  Darius gave a curt nod before jogging toward the stairs, disappearing down the one that led to the lower levels of the house. Once he was gone, it was less tense between the Witch and I than I’d expected—but not by much.

  “You know, you ought to be careful around him,” she said, as we both continued to stare at each other, like some weird magical Western standoff, though neither of us had a gun on our hip.

  Well, I suppose we each had metaphorical guns.

  “I’m just trying not to get killed by some asshole warlock,” I assured her.

  “Good.” She tried to flick her hair over her shoulder, but it lacked the glossy shimmer that would make the gesture effective. “He’s a heartbreaker.”

  “I heard.” With a
nod, I tightened my psychologist mask in place. “And you’re a wing-taker.”

  “That was warranted.”

  “Because he left you?”

  “Because I found his loyalty lacking,” she said sharply, eyes flashing. “When he learns to be selfless, to love another as much as he loves his own precious ego, then he will have his wings returned.”

  “So you’re here to give life lessons?”

  “No.” Her cheeks flushed a dull red that made her complexion look ashy. “I merely wanted to spare the next hapless woman who fell for his charms a little pain. Darius has led an easy, carefree life. He toyed with my heart and tossed it aside like it was nothing. He needed to learn—”

  “Suffering?” I suggested, to which she pressed her lips together for a moment and scowled.

  “He needed to learn to be human.” The Witch sniffed, the rhythm of our conversation broken when she turned away, muttering, “I can think of many creatures in our world who could do with learning the same lesson.”

  Even though I merely pressed my lips together and turned away when Ravena lifted her green eyes to mine, searching them for a reaction, I had to agree with her. There were plenty of stuffy supernaturals in our secret magical world who could learn a thing or two from the most mundane species around. Humans were… trying. They could be a nuisance. A pest. A bore. But at least they lived their lives to the fullest—or at least most did. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, you had to respect them. They loved and lost, and fought for every breath of their, what, eighty or ninety years on Earth? No one besides vampires and demons—that I knew of, anyway—was immortal. Fae were gifted with longer lives, but only by another fifty or sixty years. Witches could prolong their lifetime with potions when brewed successfully, but eventually, they too would die.

  We all laughed in the face of Mother Nature, and Father Time, here and there as supernaturals. Humans just had to be. They had to fight. They had to exist. They had to carve out a spot in their cruel, magicless, mundane world, or they’d fade into nothing.