Burned (A Magic Bullet Novel Book 1)

by A. Blythe

  I gave him the number of my new phone from Mix.

  "You should tell your tribe you're back. They'd want to know."

  "They'd want to know a lot more than that." I shook my head. "No thanks. I'll stick to Farah's apartment."

  He gave me a sly look. "If you get cold in that drafty apartment of hers, Tessa works on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I'd be happy to warm up that human body of yours."

  "I'll bet you would." I headed for the door before he had another go at my shoulders. I wasn't sure I could resist him. My human form seemed more vulnerable to Flynn's charms.

  "Stick to what you do best, Flynn," I called over my shoulder.

  "I thought I was."

  Gods have mercy.

  True to his word, which had to be a first for Flynn, he called me later that day with information. Farah and I were gorging on penne and a bottle of Chianti when the sounds of Taylor Swift's We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together blasted from the phone on the end table.

  "You've already programmed your phone with ringtones?" Farah asked.

  I grabbed the phone and held it close to my ear, hoping she couldn't hear the voice on the other end.

  He spoke before I even said hello. "I'm sorry, Alyse. Word is you've been disavowed."

  "Is that Flynn?" Farah asked. Her outrage was evident by the way her voice ratcheted up to a squeak.

  I nodded, my head reeling. Disavowed. Blacklisted. The Shadow Elite would erase me. Deny I ever worked for them. No, it wasn't possible.

  I choked out my next words. "Are you sure?"

  "Nothing official. Just rumors."

  Rumors that could reach the ears of the many supernaturals I've pissed off over the years.

  "Do people know where I am?" Please say no.

  "Doesn't seem to be common knowledge."

  A sliver of good news. It was only a matter of time before someone was industrious enough to track me here, though. Without my powers, I was a sitting duck. My thoughts turned to the truck driver who left me here. When I asked who gave him instructions, he could only think of a yellow duck. Now I wondered whether the duck was a message to me.

  "Anything else?" I asked.

  "No, but there's a guy who might be able to get you more info if you want."

  "Name?"

  "Local guy. O'Leary. Reasonably high up the food chain. Runs the casinos."

  "He's a money launderer."

  Flynn shushed me. "You're on a cell. Did the agency teach you nothing?"

  I rolled my eyes skyward. Lessons from Flynn. Will wonders never cease?

  "Where can I find this guy?"

  He gave me an address in North Philly. "He's in the Badlands?" That didn't seem right for someone reasonably high up the food chain.

  "So I'm told."

  In that case, I'd bring the Glock this time. "Thanks, Flynn."

  "I'll meet you there at ten."

  "Whoa," I said. "No way. Just me. I don't need backup."

  "You're stuck in a human body," he said. "A damn fine one, but still. Of course you need backup."

  "O'Leary's human, presumably."

  "But he's part of the controlling crime syndicate. Those guys don't play human. I've heard a few of them have even brought in mages. It's getting out of hand."

  "I'll keep that in mind. I still don't want you there. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. The greater the distance, the fonder I am."

  "Alyse," he objected, but Farah cut him off.

  "I'm coming with her, darling," she yelled. "No need to worry that thick head -- of hair." She growled into the phone and I clutched it closer to my chest to muffle her sound.

  "Thanks for the help, Flynn." I tapped off the phone.

  Farah fixed me with a hard stare. "You went to see Flynn today, didn't you? That's who you needed Mix to find."

  "It was the right call." My voice went hoarse. "His sources are saying that I've been burned."

  "How do you know he's telling the truth?"

  Flynn only lied when it suited him. He had no reason to lie about this.

  I glanced at the time on the phone. "I need to get to the bank before it closes." I should have gone sooner.

  "The bank? Why?" she asked.

  "That's how I'll know for sure."

  I hurried to the local branch of my bank over on Market Street. If Flynn was right, the account would be cleaned out. The Shadow Elite would never leave a burned agent with access to money.

  The bank was due to close soon. I could tell from the pale and exhausted faces of the employees behind the counter.

  I stepped up to the teller window and gave my best impression of a harried young professional.

  "Hi there. I'm switching my account to my fiancé's so I need to close this one. If we can get this finished before seven, I'd really appreciate it. We have reservations at Chou Chou and you know how they are if you're late." I slid my account information across the counter and flashed a world-weary smile.

  The teller punched in the account number and squinted at the screen. "I'm sorry, Miss Winters, but this account was closed two weeks ago."

  Two weeks ago. I was in Monaco laying the groundwork for Aladdin two weeks ago. Everything on that mission was funded by the agency. I had no need to access my personal account.

  "There must be a mistake," I said. "I'm the account holder and I didn't authorize closure of this account. Who signed off on this?"

  The teller pursed his lips. "You did. The signature matches the one we have on file."

  "It must be a glitch." My heart pounded in my chest.

  All of my money. Gone. Nausea rolled over me in waves.

  The teller looked ready to slump over the counter. "I'm sorry, Miss Winters, but the system is accurate."

  "Are you sure?" I asked, tapping my fingers on the counter. My blood pressure soared. "There's no computer error? Those computers are only as capable as the humans controlling them, you know. My secretary is a prime example." I rolled my eyes at my fake secretary's fake incompetence. "Geraldine seems to be on the phone with IT every other hour. I mean, how many times can you reboot a computer in a day?"

  The teller ignored my antics. Smart move. "If you would like to speak to our branch manager..."

  "Forget it." I recognized a lost cause. "Consider my account closed then."

  I grabbed a purple lollipop on my way out to ease the pain. It didn't help, but it tasted good.

  By the time I returned to Farah's apartment, my emotions were a blur of anger, shock and panic. These cuffs were official. No one at the Shadow Elite was going to take them off because, apparently, someone there was responsible for putting them on. Had the whole Aladdin mission been a setup or had a powerful higher-up at the agency simply been waiting for the right opportunity to get rid of me? Maybe the secret B team in the marina had been the ones tasked with cuffing me. It was a sobering thought.

  "How'd it go?" Farah asked, when I appeared in the living room.

  Wordlessly, I shook my head. She crossed the room and handed me the paper cup of Chianti that I'd been drinking earlier. No one ever accused us of being classy.

  "At least you don't have to go see O'Leary now," Farah said. "You have your answer."

  "Oh, I'm still going," I said. "I need to know who and why. I need to fix this. If O'Leary has the connections that Flynn thinks he does, then we need to talk."

  "It's too dangerous," Farah said. "You have no idea what you're walking into."

  The Badlands was no joke. That section of the city was known for high crime and violence.

  I polished off the wine and looked at Farah. "You're right. I have no idea, but I don't care."

  Farah finished her own paper cup of wine and set it down on the coffee table. "Well, I'm coming with you. You never know when you're gonna need a fox in your corner. Oh, and I have a car."

  "You do?" She didn't have one the last time I lived here.

  "It's parked in a garage around the corner. Keys are in the kitchen drawer."

  I
n the blink of an eye, she shifted into a small red fox. She was just as adorable as I remembered.

  "Fine then. Let's go, Foxy. But stay like that and keep to the shadows. If there's any trouble, I want you to do your best Lassie impression and run for help."

  The fox nodded and jumped up to the table to grab one last nibble of penne.

  I removed the floral blouse to reveal the black tank top. I had no choice but to leave on the khaki capris. Not very tough-looking. Right now, though, they were the only bottoms I had. Ironic, considering I was in a place called Tops and Bottoms.

  I strapped my daggers to my calves, holstered my gun, and headed out into the balmy summer night.

  5

  By the time we made it to the dingy warehouse, I was in a foul mood.

  We left Farah's Prius in the adjoining neighborhood. It was a shiny sea glass pearl color and bound to draw attention here. Nobody in the Badlands drove a Prius.

  After we had walked about twenty blocks, my feet started to complain. I forgot how annoying it was to walk everywhere. As a djinni, when I'm in a hurry, I usually shift to mist or use shadows and light. Being locked in my human body made this impossible and extremely irritating.

  I was sure Farah resented having to walk, even on four legs. I silently vowed to buy more comfortable shoes as soon as I had money. I was still wearing the plain white sneakers from when I woke up in the back of the furniture truck. They had no arch support. It was one thing to wear designer heels and be uncomfortable -- at least they looked good. These shoes were both ugly and uncomfortable. A cardinal sin.

  At first glance, the warehouse appeared empty. I motioned for Farah to stay outside. In part, I wanted her out of the danger zone. I also wanted her to keep an eye out for Flynn. Just because I told him not to turn up didn't mean he'd listen. Listening had never been one of his strong suits. Then again, it wasn't one of mine either.

  "If I'm not out in twenty minutes, get yourself out of here," I told Farah.

  The fox nodded.

  I crept along the wall of the warehouse. A faint light was visible from a window, but it was too high to see inside. Without my cuffs, I could have floated up and taken a peek. I sighed. Not in this body.

  As I approached the front of the warehouse, I removed my gun from its holster. Even though I wasn't a djinni or an agent anymore didn't mean I was incompetent. I had years of weapons training and martial arts training. PAN Academy and the Shadow Elite prepared me for all eventualities, including working within the confines of a human body. On the other hand, the lessons weren't recent and I never expected to need them. The high price of arrogance.

  The oversized door was slightly open at ground level. The space was wide enough for me to crawl inside on my stomach. These poor khakis had seen better days.

  I peered into the darkness of the warehouse as I slowly and quietly rose to my feet. There was a single lit bulb fixed to the ceiling, but it was so high up, it did nothing to illuminate the interior. Very atmospheric. Inside, there was no movement. No sound. Great intel, Flynn. I was pretty sure O'Leary wasn't here.

  Then I spotted the body.

  The victim was male, judging by the penis. Did I mention he was nude?

  I tread quietly toward the body and wondered whether this was -- or had been -- O'Leary. There was no evidence of a struggle. No clothes ripped to shreds nearby. Maybe the man had been killed elsewhere and dumped here. But why?

  As I got closer, I saw the probable cause of death. It was hard to miss. His entire chest had been ripped open like an alien parasite had buried itself inside and exploded into life when it had matured. A wave of revulsion hit me. I'd seen plenty of corpses in my years as an agent, but this one was truly horrifying. Whatever did this to him...

  I sucked in a breath when I saw the funky-looking capital F on his thigh. I recognized that mark. This corpse didn't belong to O'Leary because it didn't belong to an ordinary man.

  Whoever he was, he was the offspring of an angel and a human. A Naphil.

  A noise outside jolted me out of my horrified state. I scattered into the shadows of the room as the door lifted higher and a tall figure stepped inside. Too tall to be Flynn. The beam of the flashlight prevented me from seeing more.

  I knew when the figure caught sight of the body because the feet moved swiftly across the floor. Too swiftly. My new friend wasn't human.

  I remained crouched in the corner, wishing like hell I could shift to mist or a puddle of water. Something that meant the intruder wouldn't notice me. I cursed the cuffs in my mind as loudly as my human head could stand.

  "Who's there?" a male voice demanded.

  Shit.

  The flashlight moved in my direction.

  How did he hear me? I hadn't said a word. Then it dawned on me. He might be another Naphil. Some Nephilim had the power of telepathy. I'd met a few during my work in the field. Some could also command fire. I really hoped he wasn't one of the talented ones.

  I debated stepping out politely, but I had no clue who this guy was. What if he was the killer? The Nephilim were notoriously difficult to kill.

  I watched as the light moved closer to me and then, just as quickly, the light turned off and we were steeped in darkness together.

  "Come out with your hands in the air and I won't hurt you," he said. "I swear in the name of the Protectorate."

  Double shit.

  The Protectorate was a Naphil-only organization tasked with keeping order. Sort of like the human's Paranormal Task Force but this one was staffed with the Nephilim. No humans or djinn allowed. The Nephilim took their role as the self-appointed protectors of humans very seriously. Those guys were tough and humorless. They also had incredible strength and weren't too shabby in the reflexes and senses department either.

  I didn't want to tangle with one now, certainly not in my human form. Although I could pretend to be human, a sharp Naphil would see through my ruse in a heartbeat.

  I wondered where Farah was, if she'd noticed the Naphil open the door and come inside. If so, then where in the hell was she?

  I opted for the only card I had to play. My weapons. Although weapons could kill a Naphil, a gun like the one in my hand would only stun him, which was exactly what I had in mind. I needed enough time to flee the warehouse. That was all. I had no beef with the Protectorate.

  He took a step closer and I aimed the gun at what I hoped was his rock hard stomach and pulled the trigger.

  He staggered back and I heard the flashlight clatter to the floor.

  I seized the moment and ran for the open door. I forgot all about my sore feet. My only concern was getting as far away from the Protector as possible.

  "Stop," he ordered.

  A wall of flames appeared in front of me and I skidded to a halt. What a crappy way to find out he was one of the talented ones.

  There were no accessible windows. No way around the flames. I was trapped in a deserted warehouse with a dead Naphil and his angry friend. Every fiber of my being cried out, begging to shift. It was a painful reminder of my impotence.

  "I don't want to hurt you," I said. The fact that I already shot him probably didn't escape his notice.

  "Good, because it doesn't seem likely," he replied, edging closer to me.

  A smart-ass Naphil. That was about as common as a pink unicorn.

  The smart-ass Naphil rushed me, his expression hard and fierce, and my human body reacted. For a split second, terror paralyzed me and I thought he might just kill me after all.

  With one precise blow, he knocked the gun out of my hand before I had time to fire it again. I watched it slide across the floor as if in slow motion, straight through the flames.

  "Did you hear the part where I said I wouldn't hurt you if you put your hands in the air?" he asked. "I even swore it."

  The Naphil backed away slowly and I took the opportunity to get a good look at my opponent. Six feet three inches of pure physical perfection. Wavy blond hair and deep brown eyes. Chiseled features. Damn his an
gel DNA. He didn't even have the decency to bear a scar.

  "Yes, yes. In the name of the Protectorate," I finished. "Sorry, I was blinded by your angelic beauty." Not to mention the terrifying look on his face.

  "That would enhance your hearing, not make it worse."

  Right.

  "Anyway, your hands are empty now," Captain Obvious said. "So if you just put them up..."

  Protector or not, in my experience, if your opponent had you cornered, you fought your way out by any means necessary. Or you died.

  I unsheathed my daggers.

  His eyebrow lifted. It wanted to know if I was serious.

  Oh, I was serious.

  I struck, slicing his shoulder. He twisted aside. Congratulations, Alyse. You bought yourself an extra breath. Interesting that his own sword remained sheathed. Either he didn't think I could hurt him or he truly didn't want to hurt me. I didn't have the luxury of taking a man at his word.

  I spun my daggers to keep him at bay until I could advance again. Maybe all the flashing of metal would hypnotize him into submission. I'd seen it happen before. Granted, there'd been magic involved. No such luck now.

  He dodged my blades, moving with admirable grace. Well, it would have been admirable if he weren't my opponent. After that first slice to his shoulder, he seemed to anticipate each move before it happened.

  "Give up yet?" he asked.

  "Not really in my vocabulary."

  Before I could strike again, he lunged at me. His fist hammered the side of my head. Pain exploded -- it was like he'd driven a hot poker into my brain.

  My body slumped to the floor in a heap.

  One hand snatched the back of my top and yanked me off my feet. I noticed that the daggers were no longer in my hands.

  "You promised not to hurt me," I said. My voice sounded weak to my own ears and I hated it. My blood surged with strength it could no longer display. The harsh reality sickened me.

  "There was an 'if' involved," he said.

  If I had my powers, we would have been pretty evenly matched. Who am I kidding? I would've trounced him.

  "Trounced me?" he echoed. His deep voice rumbled beneath my skin. "From where I'm standing, it hardly seems possible."