Risk (A Mageri World Novel)

by Dannika Dark

  Had there been a window in Ella’s room all those years ago, she might have escaped that terrible night when an intruder broke into her parents’ home and brutally murdered her family. All had perished, except for Ella.

  They were the lucky ones, she thought, resting her arm on the windowsill as she sat in bed, gazing out. Down below, a guard puffed on his cigarette. She flared, sending out a strong wave of energy, and when he felt it, he quickly put out his smoke and looked around. He was one of the lazy guards who was always sitting beneath the tree or looking at his phone.

  Having guards on the property gave her a small sense of security, and even though she knew her attacker wouldn’t come for her, she still had nightmares. Most survivors did. It was a random act of violence, and the fact that he was out there somewhere only added to her anxiety. It enraged her to think about him eating a slice of pie or going to a baseball game while her family slept in the cemetery. He didn’t deserve to breathe, let alone be happy.

  The crime had taken place a year before she met Hannah, when Ella was nothing more than an eighteen-year-old human living at home. She was anxious to go to college that fall because she’d been homeschooled her entire life, and this would be her big venture into the world. Her little brother was about to have his tenth birthday, and their dad had been planning a family trip to the lake house to shoot off fireworks. They called off the trip at the last minute when her pregnant mother began experiencing intermittent pain. After a checkup, the doctor advised her to rest. She wasn’t a young mother-to-be, so they decided to play it safe by staying near the hospital, just in case.

  Had they gone to the lake, they’d all still be alive and Ella would still be human.

  She pulled the blanket away and looked down at her legs. A colorful imagery of flowers, water, and a tiger stretched from her lower thigh to her hip. On her left leg, a garden of butterflies and vines decorated her skin. Seeing the images always put her at ease.

  Hannah certainly didn’t like her tattoos, but she hadn’t forbidden Ella from getting them. Instead, she’d arranged for the most gifted tattoo artist known to the Breed to use Ella’s body as a canvas, saying that if she was going to ink her body, then she was going to do it right. The images were sealed with liquid fire—an ointment that made tattoos on immortals permanent. Otherwise, her Mage body would have absorbed the ink until it was untraceable.

  Ella pulled her nightgown down past her knees, and shifted her gaze out the window. Darkness enveloped the house as if searching for a way to extinguish the lights on the outer walls.

  She thought about Hannah’s offer to make her immortal. After the attack, she’d been hospitalized and heavily sedated. But she could have sworn she saw Hannah standing by the door and speaking with the doctor. This memory came to her in dreams, but Hannah denied that such a visit occurred, which left Ella thinking she’d just imagined it. They hadn’t actually met until a year later when she wound up in the emergency room after a suicide attempt. When they were going to admit her into a rehab facility, Hannah appeared. At first Ella thought she was a counselor. She swooped in, took charge, spoke with the doctors, and asked her all kinds of questions. Hannah said she was there to help, and Ella assumed when she signed some of the paperwork that Hannah would be the one taking her to rehab.

  That facility turned out to be her home. Confused and distraught, Ella lashed out, breaking vases and attempting to escape before the guards locked her in one of the bedrooms. There were no windows. There wasn’t even a television. The only time the door opened was when they brought her food. She realized that her behavior was the root cause of the isolation, so she quelled the violent outbursts and calmly asked to speak to the person in charge.

  Hannah showed up in all her prim and properness and laid out the facts about the Breed world. Ella thought she was insane, but her doubts evaporated when Hannah flashed and performed feats only a Mage could do. Once the light display was over, Hannah left her alone for two days, and Ella began to question her own sanity.

  When she finally came to terms with what she’d seen, more questions surfaced, and she wanted answers. Why had she been brought here? What did Hannah want with her? Why hadn’t she been taken to the mental facility? How come no one knew about immortals?

  Ella vividly remembered the conversation. Hannah had taken a seat in a white chair and kept a stoic expression despite Ella’s tears. In a matter-of-fact tone, Hannah said, “I have watched you for some time, and you have proven to be a good candidate for a Mage. You’re young, intelligent, without family, and resilient. Or at least, you were, until this little… accident.” She waved her hand in irritation.

  The “accident” had been a bottle of her best friend’s pain pills. Ella remained silent while Hannah continued.

  “Now that you know about our world, think carefully before you turn down my offer. You’re a liability if you remain on the outside; we can’t afford to have our secrets divulged by a petulant child. You have a choice, Ella. You can either remain human and die, as you’ve already tried doing, or leave behind that world and live forever.”

  Ella’s suicide attempt had fallen on the one-year anniversary of the murders. Grief had overcome her, but now in a sound state of mind, she clung to her life when someone else threatened to take it away. Hannah’s offer was tempting. Ella wouldn’t just live forever—it was a chance to forget her past and take on a new identity. She could become a strong warrior, and time would eventually erase the pain and memories of her past.

  Still, the idea of a secret world of immortals seemed improbable.

  But what if? What if everything Hannah had said was true? What if Ella could be like her—manipulating energy to heal and do magical things? The logical part of her brain switched off, and she entered a realm of fantasy, burying the ashes of her past. In retrospect, she was too vulnerable to have made that decision, but in the end, no one had forced her choice.

  Hannah sheltered her from meeting other Learners. She also initiated a strict rule about not speaking unless spoken to, so that made for awkward dinners when Hannah would invite guests. Ella was curious if that’s how they chose Learners, by selecting people at the end of their rope. Her Creator offered no answers—only reminding Ella how fortunate she was to have been given a second chance.

  Before Hannah would give her the gift of immortality, she wanted to teach Ella discipline, patience, and fighting techniques. Hannah preferred her employees to be seen and not heard, so the servants weren’t allowed to speak to Ella. It seemed elitist and rude, so Ella occasionally played chess with them since it wasn’t an interaction that required speaking.

  Ella shook her head, yanked back to the present. A dusty brown moth landed on the outside of the window, and she traced her finger across the warm glass, wishing they could trade places. Her day with Simon had been exhilarating. Visiting a Breed bar, walking down the street, and eating a sandwich reminded her of what it felt like to be normal. She’d never had a job, so her parents hadn’t seen a need for her to learn to drive. It wasn’t something she cared about until she turned eighteen and started dating boys. Ella smiled, remembering how they’d take her out for pizza or burgers. Now she lived on squirrel food.

  It was strange to think she’d never known freedom. When her parents died, she’d felt caged by her own grief.

  How old was she now in human years? Twenty-four? Without calendars or even a television, it became easy to lose track of the days. Not that it mattered since she stopped aging at twenty-two.

  Ella thumped her finger on the glass and the moth fluttered off.

  If Hannah didn’t want her anymore, why not just set her free? She pounded her fist against her pillow and turned on her side, yanking the covers over her legs. Maybe she could run away and find some obscure town in New Mexico that didn’t have any Breed. Surely places like that existed.

  Ella stared at the wall across the room, suddenly worried Simon might not come back.

  Damn. Why did she have to stab him in the ch
est? Sure, he was arrogant and rude, but he was her only way off the property. Maybe on their next outing—when he wasn’t paying attention—she could slip out of sight and make a run for it.

  The thought nestled in her head, and she rolled over, facing the window again. That might not be a bad idea. After all, how many chances would she get to leave the house before Hannah put a stop to it? There was no escape because of all the guards on the property and the security gates.

  Her emotions seesawed between anger and hope until she finally fell asleep, dreaming about her dance with Simon.

  Hannah turned away from the bedroom door when Ella’s energy finally leveled down. In the early years, Ella used to wake up with a scream, so Hannah had instructed her staff to remain on the lower floors after midnight. She didn’t want anyone to question Ella or think she was mentally unstable.

  But this night was different. A strong flare had drawn her into the hall, and when she stood outside Ella’s bedroom door, it sounded as if someone was pounding their fist against a pillow. Anger was not an emotion that Hannah tolerated. Anger led to actions that made a Learner untrustworthy.

  She’d once had Ella’s fealty, but lately she’d noticed a shift in those intelligent eyes that made her believe otherwise. Especially after her first outing with Simon. He was a demonstrative man, and Hannah was concerned about the influence he might have on her Learner. It had taken years to teach Ella how to control her emotions; they were the very thing that made women in their world weak. Young girls were too eager for affection and, as a result, made poor choices.

  Hannah descended the stairs, her silken white gown caressing the steps behind her. She reached her office and closed the door, making sure all the red drapes were drawn closed. Instead of turning on a lamp, she used her Mage gift to emanate light. Her skin illuminated, giving off an ethereal glow that surrounded her like an aura.

  “Simon Hunt,” she whispered like a curse. What choice did she have? He was the only man whose talents could restore Ella to her true potential.

  In all honesty, Hannah disliked Ella. Always had. Meek, uncertain, emotional, defiant—characteristics she abhorred. But Hannah would do whatever was necessary to place Ella in the immortal world, so it was crucial for her progeny to rise above her disability and become superior to the men around her. She had to.

  After all, she was Hannah’s last surviving descendant.

  Hannah retrieved an old book with weathered binding from her bookshelf and took a seat behind the desk. The spine creaked when she opened it, the light from her fingertips illuminating the paper. The first pages began with the names of her ancestors as far back as she could recall. Hannah had created the book after her first spark in the 1500s that marked the end of her human life.

  She was one of many women taken as concubines in a time when Breed laws didn’t exist—when Creators built armies of progeny, slaughtering anyone who didn’t show loyalty. Few women were invited into their world; most were taken.

  Hannah was one of three women captured when invaders raided their village. Two were innocent maidens, but Hannah was a young widow with two sons. After her Creator and his men were massacred in a battle for land, she quickly fled the territory, refusing to become another man’s whore.

  Years passed. So many that she almost didn’t recognize her own children, who had grown into young men. That was in a time before photographs, and the boys had been too young when she’d left them to recognize their mother. She discovered her orphaned sons had been taken in as servant boys.

  Hannah’s finger grazed over their names, dates of birth, and dates of death within the book. Only one of her children had gone on to have a family. Her youngest son succumbed to a fever shortly before his nineteenth birthday. She turned the page, carefully handling the delicate paper. She wanted to have a professional rebind the book, but it would jeopardize her career if someone discovered what she’d been doing for all these years.

  Even before the Mageri, every Mage was expected to cut ties with their human life. Most who were brought on didn’t have families. Having a connection to the mortal world posed too great a threat. A Mage was more likely to divulge secrets or even turn rogue and abandon their Creators. If the Mageri found out a Councilwoman had been tracking her descendants for the past five hundred years, they would deem her unstable and revoke her title.

  The pages went on and on, but eventually some of those lines began to end as each generation brought fewer children than the last. Things really took a turn in the late nineteenth century when she followed her descendants to the United States. It was a far cry from her beginnings in Germany. Initially, they settled in Boston, but eventually the children split up, and one of them moved to California. She kept tabs on them over the years, occasionally flying to their location and taking a photograph to include in her book.

  Much to her dismay, one child joined the priesthood, and that was the end of that. Her last hope was the twins—Judy and Clay. Judy’s line ended when both her sons were killed in the war. Clay didn’t have to endure that loss because his three children were young girls.

  One of those girls was Sarah Grant, Ella’s mother. Hannah was especially fond of Sarah. She was opinionated, tough, and ended up becoming a lawyer. Her eldest sister was childless, and the youngest had only one. For a while, Hannah still held out hope that the line would flourish once again.

  Until one summer when she checked up on her descendants and discovered the youngest sister and her twelve-year-old son were killed in a car accident. Hannah recovered the news video and watched in disbelief. The drunk driver had faced charges but ended up meeting his untimely demise by way of suicide in his cell.

  Hannah made sure of that.

  Left with only Sarah’s family, Hannah became overly watchful. Call it ego, but she simply refused to see the last of her genetic line perish. Sarah quit her job to homeschool the children, and when Hannah saw them struggling financially, she hired a Vampire to charm her husband into making some bold stock moves. They did very well in the stock market, and Hannah ensured they had the best financial advisor.

  She later had the Vampire killed for treason. It wasn’t smart to leave loose ends, and anyone who knew about her secret was a threat. After the brutal slaying of Ella’s family, the financial advisor had an “unfortunate accident” of his own.

  Hannah pushed the book forward and clenched her fists, the light pulsing. All that work… all that history. She’d always suspected the attack against Sarah’s family had been personal; everything about it felt deliberate. Nothing in the home was taken, the police found no prints, and then there was Ella. The manner in which she was left alive, brutalized in such a way that she would never have children, led Hannah to believe the culprit knew exactly what he was doing by executing the most lethal move that would end her family line. Hannah’s only weakness was the value she placed on her descendants. He or she had left Ella behind as a reminder—salt in the wound. Soon the only thing remaining in this world of her family would be tombstones and photographs. Somewhere out there, someone was laughing at Hannah, reveling in their accomplishment. Call it spite, but an idea struck her when Ella tried to kill herself.

  Foolish child.

  So Hannah had done what no one would see coming. She made Ella into a Mage. Her gift as a Creator had always been a favorite subject in whispers. Most of her progeny didn’t survive the first five years, so few considered her a legitimate Creator.

  Her light dimmed, and the room swam with shadows. In the time before electricity, her ability to generate light was a true gift. No lanterns were needed to light her way, nor would she be lost in the woods at night. But now, most called her a lighthouse or a glowworm; her gift was nothing more than a novelty.

  She gently pulled the book toward her, flipping the pages until she reached the last name. Her finger traced over the inked letters, and she thought about all the empty pages afterward—ones that would remain forever blank.

  This coward wasn’t going to gi
ve up—especially now that Ella was under her care. A Mage was nearly impossible to kill and had healing abilities that gave them the potential to live forever, but all things that are created can be destroyed. Beheading was one way, or burning—and those types of executions were often done in days of yore.

  A knock at the door startled her, and she immediately put out her light, drenching the room in darkness. Hannah placed the book on her lap as the door opened and a rectangle of light sliced into the room.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, Vera?” she said, her tone sharp.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were in here,” the maid replied. “I heard noises and saw a light beneath the door. I thought maybe we had an intruder. Is there anything I can get for you? Would you like me to turn on a lamp?”

  “That’ll be all, Vera.”

  “Yes, m’lady.”

  The door abruptly closed, and Hannah released a sigh. Simon was her only hope, and yet his carelessness could result in Ella’s death. What choice did she have? None. She couldn’t tolerate Ella living in her home like an invalid, incapable of ever becoming independent.

  That would be a true slap in the face.

  Chapter 10

  Simon had on his poker face when he picked up Ella the next morning for training. He wrestled with a smile as she burst through the front door like a prisoner fleeing Alcatraz. Her eyes sparkled like jewels when she got in the car and looked up at him expectantly.

  “Well, someone had their Wheaties this morning,” he mused.

  She pointed at his shirt that said CHESS PLAYERS DO IT ALL KNIGHT, and he turned so she could read it. Instead of appearing offended, her face lit up and she shook her head. As long as he’d live, Simon would never understand women.