Burned (A Magic Bullet Novel Book 1)

by A. Blythe

  Hugo thrashed and screamed as Mix tore him apart. I came out from behind the table, ready to talk Mix down from his heightened state if he needed it. As I approached, the tiger's powerful jaw opened, wider than I would have thought possible, and crunched down on Hugo's head. The image was tough to stomach, even for me. I peered over at Paulette to see how she was handling the introduction to her boyfriend's dark side. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be chanting quietly. Or maybe she was praying.

  The tiger craned his neck, blood dripping from his mouth. He looked at Paulette.

  "Mix," I said gently.

  Paulette's eyes opened as the tiger inched toward her. His movements were precise, like a predator stalking its prey.

  "To me," Paulette cried out and the semiautomatic flew from the table into her waiting hand.

  "Paulette, don't," I said. I dared not move too quickly and cause a chain reaction.

  Her hand shook as she held the gun in line with the tiger's face. Three feet separated them. I had no clue what was running through Mix's head right now, but I knew this much -- he'd never forgive himself if he killed her. I couldn't let him do it.

  "Mix," I said again. Cautiously I walked in an arch so that I approached him from the side rather than from behind him.

  I heard a low growl. It wasn't directed at me.

  "Paulette, talk to him," I urged.

  "Jeremy, I'm sorry," she said. Tears slid down her cheeks. "I never would have let Hugo hurt you."

  Mix took another step forward and the growl deepened.

  "I'm sorry about Alyse, too," she said. Her hand shook harder and I worried that she'd accidentally shoot him. "This whole thing was a giant mistake. I never felt right about killing, but Hugo convinced me..." She trailed off, choking on her sobs. "He was like the father I never had."

  Her djinni father must have abandoned her at birth, leaving her vulnerable to a controlling man like Hugo. She probably didn't even know her father was a djinni until her magic manifested. It must've been a difficult path for her to navigate all alone.

  "Mix, shift," I said. "I know you don't want to hurt her, and she doesn't want to hurt you. Please."

  The white tiger dissolved into a beam of blinding light and was gone. I wasn't sure if he'd gone home to lick his wounds or maybe to Farah for help. Wherever he went, I knew he was suffering.

  I was alone with Paulette and two gross corpses.

  Her hand dropped to her side and the gun slid onto the floor. She buried her face in her hands.

  "What were you chanting earlier?" I asked. "When Mix was attacking Hugo."

  "A cloaking spell," she mumbled. "I blocked the sights and sounds. I didn't want anyone outside of the room to hear what was happening."

  "You're a really talented mage, Paulette. It's a shame." It really was. I hated to see wasted talent.

  She nodded mutely.

  I collected my stray dagger and sheathed them both. Then I took my phone off the table where Hugo had left it and dialed.

  "What are you going to do with me?" she sniffed.

  "I'll let Detective Thompson decide that," I said. "I'm not an agent anymore." Truthfully, I didn't know what I was.

  I heard Thompson's voice on the other end.

  "I need you to meet me at a bar called Dive," I told her. "I have your murderer and your mage. One of them is in pieces. I'll let you figure out which one when you get here."

  "Anything else I should know?"

  "Yep, bring a cleaning crew. You're going to need it."

  30

  I sent a message to O'Leary via Rocco to tell him about the recovery of his precious heirloom. The reply was immediate -- he'd send a car for me.

  Ten minutes later the Challenger pulled up in front of the store and I saw Niko emerge from the passenger's seat, impeccably dressed in a pale gray suit. One day, I'd have to introduce him to Prince Simdan so they could swap fashion tips.

  I grabbed the scian and raced down the stairs.

  By the time I got there, Mickey and Niko were already engaged in conversation with Farah in between a group of mannequins. I could only imagine what was going through Mickey's perverted brain right now.

  "There's our girl," Mickey said when I appeared.

  "I'm nobody's girl," I snapped, especially not his. Mickey left a bad taste in my human mouth. I didn't need to be a djinni to recognize a clear and present asshole.

  "Let's go then, Nobody's Girl," Mickey said. "Mr. O'Leary is most anxious to have his heirloom back in the vault."

  I waved the heirloom at him. "Watch your tone, Mickey. I took the liberty of sharpening this for your boss. I might want to test it out on the way there."

  Niko stepped between us. "You're making a scene in front of our lovely new friend." He nodded toward Farah.

  "Actually, she's Rocco's new friend," I said.

  His dark brow lifted. "Rocco Paretti?"

  Farah flashed a huge, toothy smile. "For now. We discovered we have a lot in common."

  I dreaded to think what those commonalities were.

  "I'll be back shortly," I said, as my two goons escorted me to the car.

  When they tried to put a bag over my head this time, I slapped their hands away. "Are you out of your stunted minds?"

  They exchanged uncertain glances.

  "This is standard operating procedure," Niko explained. "Mr. O'Leary doesn't like people to know our location."

  "I'm not an unknown entity anymore, and if you try to put that bag over my head one more time, I'll cut off your arms and use them to beat you to death."

  Mickey started the car, a sure sign of acquiescence. "You can explain it to O'Leary," I heard him mutter to Niko.

  We drove out of Center City to Lower Merion, one of the affluent Main Line communities. It wasn't where I would've expected to find him. Now I understood the secrecy.

  O'Leary was pacing the room when we arrived. He came straight over to me and embraced me like his long-lost daughter. I wasn't sure how I felt about it, so I let it go.

  "My savior," he declared, stepping back to look at me. His hands still gripped my arms. "I'm in your debt."

  "No, you're not," I said, "because you're going to pay me, remember?"

  He laughed and released me. "Payment is not an issue." He rubbed his hands together eagerly. "May I have it?"

  I unsheathed the heirloom from my hip and handed it to him. "It's a nice piece. If you ever want to sell it, I know a buyer."

  "Never." O'Leary kissed the handle before giving it to one of his assistants. "To the vault," he ordered and snapped his fingers again. Another young man, not much older than me, appeared with a metal briefcase. He set it down on a nearby table and opened it.

  "Your fee," O'Leary said.

  I watched the guy peel off several bills and stuff them into an envelope. As he handed me the envelope, I faltered. This was blood money. I had no idea what their associates had done to acquire this cash. What if it was Vito's profits from organ trafficking? His group preyed on innocent people who were down on their luck. Some of those people died as a result of the shoddy medical procedures. I was no angel, but I wasn't a monster either. As much as I needed cash, I couldn't take the money.

  I waved away the envelope. "You know what? There's something I'd like more than cash."

  O'Leary stiffened. I'm sure it wasn't every day that a contractor turned down a wad of bills.

  "What's that?" His tone was wary.

  "My own mage," I said. "If I'm going to be trapped in this human body for any length of time, I need to up my game if I want to stay alive long enough to find the party responsible for my condition. A mage assistant would be invaluable."

  O'Leary nodded, understanding my request. "You did more than return my heirloom. You rid me of an unknown enemy. That bastard Hugo would have used his monster to kill me if you hadn't stopped him."

  He whistled loudly and Pinky strolled into the room, popping her gum. Her long ponytail swished behind her as she walked. Her expres
sion brightened when she saw me.

  "Hey, Pinky," I said.

  O'Leary snapped his fingers at her like she was a trained dog. I wanted to slug him.

  "Come here, doll," he said.

  Pinky obliged, but I caught her look of disgust before she could hide it.

  "I'm sad to see her go, but I'll find another mage," O'Leary said, slinging his arm around Pinky's shoulders. To her credit, she didn't flinch.

  "Pinky, how would you feel about coming to work for me?" I asked. O'Leary was a fool to release her. He had no clue how powerful Pinky might become. Her potential was enormous. Even in human form, I sensed it. It would take time, but with proper training, she'd be able to take down even the most powerful djinn.

  Pinky wrinkled her nose. "But what about my contract?"

  She was, what, seventeen? Was she old enough to be bound by a contract? Not in the normal human world.

  "I'll have my lawyer draw up termination papers," O'Leary said. "It's the least I can do for Miss Winters."

  "Only if it's okay with you," I said to Pinky. I didn't want her to feel like chattel. "You've got skills, Pinky, and I've got experience. I think we might be able to help each other."

  "So I'll, like, work with you, not for you?" she asked.

  I nodded. "I need someone who knows magic. I can't pay you until I have an income." Certainly not if I refused O'Leary's money. "But as soon as I can, I will."

  Pinky blew a huge pink bubble and sucked it back into her mouth. "I know you will."

  Until I could clear my name and get reinstated, I needed to earn a living. If I played my cards right, Pinky could help me achieve both of those things.

  As we left the building together, she peered up at me. "A Shadow Elite agent with a conscience, huh? That's new."

  I shrugged. She was right. The Shadow Elite didn't send us on puppy rescue missions. Their hands...My hands were just as dirty and bloody as our enemies' hands and I'd happily accepted my salary for years and enjoyed the luxuries that salary afforded. Maybe it was the influence of my human form. Or maybe I wanted to atone for past wrongs. Who knew? Honestly, introspection wasn't one of my strengths.

  We turned the corner and I was pleased to discover that we didn't need a ride back in the Challenger. Turned out Pinky had her own set of wheels. A white Range Rover with black trim and tinted windows. It was like climbing into a tank.

  "Pinky, why in the hell were you working for the mob when you clearly have money to burn?" She was an upper middle class badass.

  She gave me a teenaged look of utter disdain. "It was never about money for me. My dad left us a lot of money when he died." She smiled at me. "He was a Marid, too."

  That explained her power.

  "Anyways, I'm all about experiences." She revved the engine and winked at me. "And I'm thinking you're going to be a pretty good one."

  Pinky hit the gas and we skidded away from O'Leary's hideout toward freedom.

  Farah and I were heading out for a well-deserved drink when Captain Perfect appeared on the sidewalk outside the store. He wore neatly pressed khakis and a dark green polo shirt. It wasn't my style, but the look suited him.

  "You okay standing so close to an unseemly place like this?" I asked, gesturing to the sexy mannequins in the window. One was bent over, clad in white lace undies, while the other mannequin stood over her, brandishing a whip.

  He glanced at the display and quickly averted his gaze. "I go wherever the job takes me."

  I stopped walking. "And the job has brought you here again? Why?" The murderers were done and dusted. Case closed.

  "First, I wanted to let you know that we recovered Lieutenant Adams' sword and presented it to his mother."

  "Where'd you find it?"

  "Hugo's basement. He had a collection of items from his victims."

  "How serial killer of him."

  "I also wanted to apologize," he said, clearing his throat.

  Apologize? I met his gaze and noticed flecks of gold that I'd missed before. I had no doubt that women went nuts over his eyes, if they hadn't already been driven nuts by the rest of him.

  "For casting me in the role of suspect?" I shrugged. "No big deal. I've been accused of worse things and, for some of them, I don't even know what the accusations are." I raised my cuffs and smiled.

  "I spoke to a friend at PAN," he said.

  I cocked my head. "I'm listening."

  "He said he'd make a few quiet inquiries on your behalf."

  I froze. "You told someone at PAN that I'm here?" The Marida court was bad enough. Now he'd blabbed to PAN?

  He placed a calming hand on my shoulder. "He's not going to reveal your location. I made him promise."

  "Did you threaten the death of his first born son?"

  Reed smiled. "I trust him. He's family."

  Captain Reed had family in PAN. Interesting.

  "And what do you want from me?"

  Reed looked momentarily baffled. "Nothing. You helped us stop the murders of the Nephilim and other innocents. Consider it a thank you."

  A thank you. Well, their Protectorate halos were firmly intact. "Thanks, Captain Reed. I appreciate that."

  Farah punched his arm lightly. "By the gods, I'd love to slip a little devil into you. Wanna come have drinks with us? We're going to The Night Owl."

  Reed gave a polite shake of his head. "Another time, maybe. I have plans."

  "Ooh," Farah said. "Hot date? I promise I won't get jealous. Well, maybe just a little." She held her thumb and index finger an inch apart.

  "Not a hot date. I volunteer at one of the retirement homes in my spare time."

  I rolled my eyes. Of course he did.

  "Have fun, Reed," I called over my shoulder. When I glanced back, he was already gone.

  I looped my arm through Farah's, and we skipped down South Street like two drunken college students.

  Mix stood on the sidewalk outside the bar, waiting for us. He looked like a guy whose girlfriend had betrayed him while aiding and abetting a murderous mobster. Okay, that was awfully specific. He looked downright miserable. My heart ached for him.

  He mustered a smile when he saw us. "Hail, hail, the gang's all here." It hadn't been easy to convince him to come out tonight. He'd been avoiding me since his disappearing act at the Dive, which was probably for the best. He needed time to process and to heal, if it was possible from a blow like that.

  Farah nudged him with her shoulder. "Come along, Mixie. Let's get bombed."

  The Night Owl wasn't too busy tonight. Farah and Mix grabbed a booth and I went to the bar to pay for the first round. Good friend that she was, Farah had agreed to loan me more money until I picked up work. In the meantime, I would help her out with the armory. Weapons I could do, but I drew the line at Tops and Bottoms. My first order of business was to ask Pinky to put a protection spell on the dressing room mirror. Even though it was hidden from the public, Farah was too trusting with her special customers.

  Khalil was elated to see me again. The moment I stepped up to the bar, he pressed a vodka tonic into my hand and leaned across the counter to kiss my cheek.

  "Still here," he said. "My spirit is radiating joy." Khalil had always fancied himself a poet at heart, although precious few agreed.

  "I guess you heard about my encounter with a wannabe necromancer."

  "It's the only thing customers are talking about. Alyse Winters is back, baby."

  I guess they didn't get the memo about my cuffs.

  "They do realize I had nothing to do with killing Hugo, right? That was all Mix."

  His gaze flickered over to Mix and he snorted. "Sure it was." He lowered his voice. "Everyone is talking about how you single-handedly obliterated Dive."

  As long as they were saying things like that, I'd let them keep talking.

  "I don't think the word has spread about your cuffs," he added.

  "Well, that's a relief." I needed to keep a lid on my incapacitation for as long as possible.

  "Any p
rogress on who burned you?"

  "Not yet, but I'm still working on it." And now that I was off the hook for the murders, I'd have more time to devote to it.

  "Good luck, Alyse. If anyone can survive this, you can."

  I hoped he was right. "Thanks, Khalil."

  I ordered drinks for Farah and Mix and carried them to the booth. Farah held her glass aloft.

  "A toast," she said. "To old friends reunited."

  I raised my glass to meet hers, but Mix remained still, his pint on the table. His expression was difficult to read.

  I sighed. "I'm sorry about Paulette, Mix. I really am."

  His gaze met mine. "You're sorry?" he asked softly.

  I set down my glass. "Of course I am. I know you think I have a heart forged from cold iron, Mix, but I mean it. I hate seeing you suffer. I hated being helpless when Hugo threw that choker on you." My stomach turned, remembering.

  He pushed his fingers against his forehead and for a fleeting moment, I thought he was going to rip into me. When he looked at me again, his eyes were damp with unshed tears.

  "You don't understand," he said. "I'm the one who's sorry. I feel like an idiot. The things I said to you..."

  I waved him off. "Forget it, Mix. No hard feelings, I promise."

  "I almost got you killed." His hand squeezed the pint glass with such intensity, I was afraid he'd break it.

  "You almost got yourself killed," I reminded him. "She was the first one woman to fool you, Mix, but if you live long enough, she won't be the last."

  "That's encouraging."

  "There's a Shaitan at two o'clock who seems to have her eye on you," Farah told him.

  Casually, he glanced in that direction. "How do you know she's a Shaitan?"

  Farah tossed back her beer. "Because she has horns where her tits should be."

  I laughed. "You're not very observant, are you?"

  "Says the djinni who was willing to overlook Flynn's bad qualities." He arched an eyebrow, challenging me.