Magic Born

by Rayanne Haines

  “No. No one else is privy to my being here. As far as the rest of the plane is concerned you are sleeping peacefully.”

  “But if you cut me or something, I'd bleed?”

  He looked appalled. Outraged. Her stomach fluttered again.

  “I would never hurt you.” Anger glittered in his eyes. Green summer turned to a thunderstorm. “Maria, do you think I would hurt you?”

  She took a deep breath. It was now or never. “I've been in your brain, Neeren. Have seen what you can do. What you've done. For you, hurting people is as easy as breathing.”

  And there it was. Anger shifted to something else. Not regret. She'd been hoping for regret. He sat back again. Pushed the sleeves of his black sweater off his forearms. They were muscled. Covered in soft black hair. His skin tanned. She studied his hands. Would they be hot against her skin? How many times had he wrapped them around someone's neck and squeezed?

  “Look at me, Maria. For me, offering death to some is easier than breathing.” He gently cupped her chin. Made her face him. “They hurt my mother. Tried to rape her.” He closed his eyes. Inhaled air on a long sigh. “They deserved it.”

  Tears stung her eyes. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But to do what you did? Surely there was another way.”

  “What? A more humane way to kill your enemy? Be real. What bothers you is I turn you on. You want me, even knowing I can and will rip my enemies mind apart, and that I'll take pleasure in doing it.”

  A ragged breath escaped her aching chest. “You killed twenty parthen—an entire campsite—with one thought. They were awake and aware, Neeren. The last thing they saw was you smiling at them.”

  “I fucking hope so.” His lip curled into a sneer. “Tell anyone you wish, Maria. I hid myself for close to a hundred and fifty years to protect my mother and sister. No more. If you want to tell people I can kill shifters and humans alike by thinking it, for fucks sake do it, and stop lording it over me.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “I saw you. You were cold, calculated. There was no feeling. It was like you weren't there. Like killing is as easy as tying your shoes.”

  “No. It requires much less effort. I was born to be a hunter. A killer.” He shook his head. Like he was disappointed in her. “You felt what this power feels like when you bound me. That was a fraction. A minuscule moment. I live feeling this immense power every fucking second. The only way”—a haunted growl tore from his throat—“the only fucking way my people survive is for me to be in control of every emotion I've ever had. That is my life.”

  The blanket on her lower legs covered her like dead weight. He could kill any shifter or human with a thought. By blinking his eyes. Yet the first time they'd met he'd tried to cop a feel. Had been trying ever since. Maybe he wasn't evil. The thought crashed into her brain with the force of a freight train. It didn't matter. She was a witch. A human. That put her at risk. She had enough to deal with. Mar sat up and pushed the blanket off her feet.

  Her eyes begged him to understand. “People who swore they loved me have hurt me before. Because they couldn't control themselves. Or wouldn't. I can't take that risk again.”

  “I'm not them. I won't take the blame for what they did.”

  He stepped back, leaving her with the distinct feeling she'd just lost something important.

  He shook his head. “You can believe me or not when I tell you I don't hurt innocents. I'm a hunter. I will kill again. I'll do it in any way I need, to protect my people. And I'll be rock solid.”

  He turned from her to listen to something in the distance. “Your plane is landing soon. You need to wake up. When you do, remember that I'm not the one who hurt you.”

  Before she understood what he was doing, he leaned over and kissed her. His soft lips pushed against hers. Gentle. Careful. Electricity shot through to her core. Her lips opened on a moan. He pushed his tongue into her mouth.

  He tasted like a summer thunderstorm. Like fresh air. The calluses on his hands scratched her skin. Tingling reverberated straight into her tightening nipples. She whimpered. Arched against him. He leaned in, deepening the kiss. Rocked his body against hers. Her fingers gripped the back of his neck. He purred. A jungle cat feasting.

  She feasted back. Let all her confusion pour into the kiss. His mouth felt like a lifeline. Like safety. The thought poured through her like warm milk and cinnamon. The smell of oranges wrapped around her. For a moment, she felt a contentment she’d never known.

  The kiss ended before she was ready.

  He pulled back on a sigh. Stroked her hair. Whispered against her cheek, “I'm done playing. Goodbye, Maria.”

  The flight attendant shook her awake at the same time as the pilot's voice came over the loud speaker saying they were preparing to land. Tears poured down her cheeks.

  “Oh, Mi Ami. Did you have a bad dream?” the woman asked.

  Mar didn't know how to answer. She'd got what she'd wanted. Hadn't she? Neeren was gone. Why did that thought tear a hole in her chest?

  ~ ~ ~

  Check-in at the hotel was relatively simple. Admiring glances came fast and hard, at least until Mar told the clerks her booking was under the Wu family. Afterward, there was so much bowing and scrapping it was all she could do not to gag.

  The hotel was, of course, the best money could buy. Appearances must be kept up. It was a good thing the guardians budget was unlimited. Neeren would probably think it was a hovel.

  In true Spanish style, the rooms were small but elegantly decorated. The bedroom walls reminded her of a Seville sunset. Lush pillows framed the bed like an artist’s pallet. Merlot carpets covered the floors. A bouquet of roses sat on the side table and filled the room with the scent.

  It was six in the morning and she was wide awake. She laid on the bed. Tried to close her eyes but images of Neeren were tattooed to the backs of her eyelids. She punched the mattress. Covered her head with a pillow. Her stomach growled. She rolled to the edge of the bed. If she couldn't sleep she might as well eat. A walk on the main street might burn off her extra energy. That's what she'd do. She had to do something other than stare at the walls.

  The cell phone buzzed behind her head. She swatted blindly for it and pulled it to her ear.

  “You've reached Mar,” she said, thinking it was Collum checking in.

  Neeren’s voice came through instead. She almost dropped the phone.

  “You landed safe? Why didn't you call me?” Annoyance rang in his voice.

  Mar rolled her eyes. “I don't have to check in with you.”

  “It is considered common courtesy, Maria. I'm sure you knew I'd be wondering.”

  “No. I didn't. It never occurred to me to call you. Seriously. Why would you care?”

  “You are Alex's friend. This makes you”—he quieted for a moment—“important. Someone should check in with you and I believe you have no family.”

  She cringed. “What makes you think that?”

  “You did not speak of a mother or father during your time at the island and I have never heard you on the phone with anyone. I assumed . . .”

  She cut him off before he went too far. “Well don't assume shit. You know what they say when you assume right. Makes an ass out of you and me.”

  He snorted on the end of the line. “What a ridiculous statement. Very well, Maria. You have tons of family you simply do not wish to talk to me about.”

  “Both my family, and what I want to talk about, are none of your business.”

  She almost felt him roll his eyes. She knew she was acting petulant, but she couldn't stop herself.

  “You have arrived safe?”

  She sighed. “Yes. I've arrived safe. I'm hungry though. I can't sleep, and I have killer jet lag after the flights from Parthen to Greece and then to here in Madrid.” Now why did she
tell him that?

  “Go to Salvador Bachiller Jardin Secret. It is on the fourth floor above the shops on Calle Monstera, not far from the Gran Via. You'll love it. It's mostly locals and they have decent coffee.”

  Surprise raised her voice. “I thought you'd spent your life hidden on your island. How do you know about local haunts in Madrid?”

  “I said I spent my life hiding. I did not say I'd never been anywhere.”

  “Not the vibe you give off.”

  He chuckled. It was a soft sound.

  “It was important people remained ignorant to my occasional sojourn off island. There were times I'd disappear for a few days to myself. As far as anyone knew I was meditating in the caves in the south side of the island.”

  “I think Alex and I drove there one day. It's beautiful. Ragged and barren with all that volcanic rock.”

  “The south has always been my favorite part of the island. The way the waves crash against the cliff edges with raw intensity.”

  She couldn't believe he was confiding in her. It was . . . nice. It made him seem normal. Not that she'd ever tell him. “Where else have you been?”

  “Only Europe. Never anywhere in Asia or the America's. I would like to see the mountains in Canada—where Alex came from.”

  He paused again and she had the sense he was testing the taste of his words before he spoke. “Would you like me to visit you in Madrid?”

  She rested her head on the pillow. His voice was soft, lulling her into thinking they were having a normal conversation. It wasn't true of course. He was a killer. She needed to remember that. What if he lost control around her? Like her Mother had.

  “Maria?”

  She sat up. Stuttered, “No. No I don't want you to come here, Neeren. You told me you didn't want to play games. Neither do I. You aren't right for me.”

  “You don't know that.”

  “You invaded my mind on the plane. I told you not to enter my dreams, but you did anyway. Almost as soon as you could.”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  Silence hung in the air as she waited for his answer. Distance colored the sound of his voice when he finally answered. “Because I could.”

  Disappointment crashed over her. “Because you could? Really?”

  “Yes.”

  His voice came across cold, controlled. A reminder of why she couldn't be with him.

  “Well, you can't come here. I don't invite you. I'm busy and I don't want you here.”

  “You are lying to yourself, Maria.”

  “Wrong, kitten. You don't know anything about me.” She stood up. Paced the small room. Dug her toes into the carpet. She flicked her wrist and the wrinkles on the bed disappeared. Magic skittered across her fingertips. “I'm here on a contract and you’ll only get in my way.”

  “I can help you.”

  “You think I'm a plaything. I don't need your help,” she bit out. “What I'm doing is important and it matters to me. You don't.”

  She almost apologized. The truth was he'd begun to matter a little. But her course was set. She couldn't risk him getting involved. Couldn't risk trusting him. She'd trusted darkness before. It almost killed her.

  This time she heard his sigh. “Very well, little witch. I will leave you alone.” Ice crystallized his words.

  Tears burned at the back of her throat. The sounds of early morning traffic echoed through her window. A car horn blasted. Spanish swearing erupted as an irate pedestrian told off the driver of the car. It was the sound of life. Of chaos. It was how she blocked out the silence of death. The silence of her childhood.

  She bowed her head as she spoke. “Thank you. Don't come to me in my dreams anymore either.”

  “You have made this clear.”

  She pulled the phone away from her ear. Maybe if she concentrated, his face would appear on the screen. It would be rock hard, she knew. His eyes would be emerald shards. They would look at her with disdain now. There would be no heat. That was what she wanted. Wasn't it? To end whatever this was before it began.

  “Good. As long as we're clear.” Her voice caught. “Look I . . . I gotta go. Breakfast, remember? No hard feelings. Bye, kitten.”

  She hung up before he could say a word. Before he told her another story. Before she caved.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ten minutes later Mar surveyed the sleeping city. Quiet before the sun rose. In an hour, the streets would be filled with life.

  The streets of Madrid had a music all their own. The people were her people. Her culture. Breathing deep, she let the early morning air fill her lungs. Soon it would be too hot to think, let alone wander. Explore now. Air-conditioned shopping later.

  It’d been six years since she'd been here. Another ten years before then. Her Nonna and Nonno owned a little shoe shop she visited often as a child. When they felt it necessary to remove her from her mother’s presence for a while. She didn't like to think about those days.

  Salty tears burned behind her eyes. No. She wouldn't cry. Not now. She stopped crying for her mother a long time ago.

  Isabella—the woman had never been a real mother. Always seemed jealous of the power Mar wielded. Even at a young age it had been evident Mar would be more powerful than almost any of the Wicca before her.

  In the end her mother found what she'd been searching for. A swarm of death followed. The details were shaky. Mar'd been so young. Her grandparents murdered. Her mother at fault, yet screaming for revenge. Bouts of insanity and lucidity. Blood.

  Terror takes on many faces. Isabella wore them all. There were days Mar loved her so hard. When the woman recalled she was a mother. The other days . . .

  Thankfully the American branch of the Wicca council got Mar out when they did. She'd spent ten years with them. Ten blissful years.

  When she was eighteen she decided to return to Madrid and see if it still held memories. The witches, with the help of her ancestors, cloaked her. Blocked her mind from any intrusion as a way of trying to keep her mother at bay. The block remained in place to this day.

  Secrets. She held many.

  An appreciative whistle brought her back to the present. She smiled at the group of young men who whistled at her. Still drunk. Likely on their way home from a party the night before.

  She waved. Yelled, “Hi, boys” at them. Red-faced, they ran the other way with embarrassed laughter. Her lips curled with humor. Keep them off guard. Always a good motto to have.

  As she looked around she realized she'd gotten herself lost. Madrid was a maze of endless cobblestone side streets and back alleys, filled with ancient brick buildings, and mom and pop shops. She tried to find her bearings. The traffic from the Gran Via a faint whisper. Mar had no idea if she was facing north or south. She was lost on an empty street filled with early morning shadows.

  Unease crept up her spine. The hair on her arms stood on end.

  Two old men wearing moth ball covered suits and bolero hats entered from the other end of the street.

  She waved them over “Disculpe? Dónde puedo encontrar la Calle Monsterra?” They looked at her with glazed eyes. She tried again in English. “Calle Monsterra? I'm looking for a secret coffee shop on the fourth floor of a building there.”

  They continued to stare blankly ahead. A shiver raced down her spine. She shook it off. Tried a final time. “My friend told me of this place. Do you know it?”

  The sound of heels clipping against cobblestone rang out behind her. A dragging noise followed. Her blood turned cold. Understanding settled in her bones. They'd found her. So quickly? She'd been stupid. Careless.

  She spun toward the sound. Arms raised. Magic poised on the edges of her fingers. Ready to fight with everything she had.

  A woman dressed in black stood at the edge of the shado
w with a baby in her arms. One hand wrapped around its neck. Beside her, a young woman with silent tears running down her agonized face; held in check by the fear of her child's imminent death.

  Ice filled Mar’s veins as the woman spoke. “Maria Del Voscova. We've been looking for you.”

  “What is this? Some kind of shitty prank? Did Andrew send you?” Mar asked, trying for the mistaken identity ploy.

  “Come now or I kill the child. Right here. Right now.” The woman's words were clipped. Measured for full effect.

  Mar knew she meant it. This kind had done so before. Would do so again. Liquid terror poured through her bones. Fleeing should have been the priority. Escape before more of them showed up. More always showed up. But she had to save the kid.

  The Vamp sneered.

  Her mother had taught them well.

  Mar threw her shoulders back with fake bravado. “Great. She sent the welcoming party I see. Couldn't come up with something a little more original? A baby? Really?”

  “I have orders not to kill you. I'm allowed to kill anything else.” The vamp inclined her head to the infant in her arms. “Do not temp me.”

  Mar noticed the length of her fangs. She was an old one. A strong one. Obviously, they were determined this time. She rubbed the tips of her fingers together. Felt the pull of the magic inside her.

  “I can feel the spell you’re attempting to weave. The air reeks of your magic. Do not push me, child,” warned the vampire before dragging one long finger nail along the infant’s leg.

  The smallest drop of blood appeared. A tiny cry tore from its throat. The mother fell to her knees, begging for the return of her baby. The old men sidled closer.

  Mar dropped her hand. Memories of other dead children clouded her mind. Her mouth parched. Her bravado turned to dust.

  “You are to be returned.” Vamp bitch stretched out her hand. One finger coated in blood. “Come before it’s too late for this one.”