Touched by Fire: Magic Wars (Demons of New Chicago Book 1)

by Kel Carpenter

  My atma was a strong woman, but for a time she would be weak.

  Weak enough to find.

  I stepped back into the shadows of the building behind me. A void blacker than night wrapped around me as I used my magic to traverse space itself, and I reappeared in the penthouse I’d taken. It had been one of Kenneth’s before he signed over everything he owned to me.

  I walked to the bar and poured myself a splash of scotch, then swirled the glass around to watch the honey-colored liquid coat the edge.

  A buzzing built in the back of my head. It was almost time.

  I swallowed the contents in a single motion. It had a smoky flavor, a hint of salt, yet smooth. A faint warmth followed it as I set the glass back on the counter and took a seat in the armchair before the fireplace. I had been watching the flickering flames when Greta MacArthur’s mind brushed against mine, notifying me of Piper’s arrival. I’d left her alive specifically to lure out my atma. The rest of the Antares Coven was already dead. Their money and estates all belonged to me now.

  As well as their power, not that they had much.

  All twelve members combined were no more than a single drop of what Piper held.

  Then again, no being on this plane could compare to her. Not that she saw it. She handled her problems with firearms and a mean right elbow, even though she could end them all.

  The buzzing turned to a burning.

  I leaned back and never closed my eyes, though the penthouse faded from me. Flashes of memories replaced it. Images of a little blonde girl hiding under her bed, thinking if she couldn’t see them, maybe the monsters wouldn’t come. An older version of the same girl, shooting a firearm for the first time. Her hands shook, but they didn’t shake when it showed her killing a vampire only two years later. She was twelve.

  I watched from the shadows of her mind as Piper relived her past. She must have entered the stasis, and this is where it brought her. While these memories couldn’t be relied upon to be exact, they still provided insight into the woman I sought.

  For a long time, I didn’t want an atma. I hoped I’d never find them. That perhaps fate would be kind to me for once and not give me one. But as the years went on, the strain of my magic became harder to contain, and I found myself searching.

  Then actively hunting.

  When the door opened up in front of me, I jumped through without looking back.

  And when I saw her, standing in the circle, glaring at me with feverish blue eyes and blood stains on her face—she was not what I expected.

  I needed her, regardless of her prejudice, but the desire to possess her, keep her, own her—I did not plan for that, and yet I felt it all the same. She called to me on more levels than one, and like the selfish god I was, I refused to deny myself.

  It was for that reason alone that I finally stepped out of the shadows and put her nightmares to rest.

  The walls broke apart into dust-like particles. The monsters trying to kill her paused, their faces going blank, before they vaporized. The furniture turned to nothing, and when there was only the ground left, that, too, dissipated.

  Her mind went quiet as nothingness settled in around us.

  Then she stiffened and squinted into the darkness, right where I stood.

  She could sense me.

  This woman, whom fate deemed insignificant, could sense me when no other could. She was my equal in every way.

  Yet, she hated me.

  I smiled cruelly and stepped out of the shadows.

  13

  “I told you I’d find you,” a voice said.

  Ice ran through my veins.

  He was here.

  A dry, humorless chuckle slid from my lips. Of course he was here. This was my nightmare, after all. My price that I paid for the unholy magic that I allowed to ravage my body.

  “You’re nothing but a dream. A figment of my imagination,” I said, turning around. The words dried up on my tongue when I looked at Ronan. He’d seated himself on a chair, ornate enough to be nothing less than a throne. His legs were crossed, ankle resting on top of his thigh. He leaned back, appraising me.

  “Is that so?” he asked, running one of his hands over his stubbled jaw.

  I didn’t like his tone, or what it implied.

  “Yes,” I answered, and it sounded stronger than I felt. A hint of doubt wormed its way through me at the knowing tone he used. It shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have thought twice because demons were liars, and this was my psyche . . .

  But something made me consider it.

  I didn’t like the implications.

  Ronan smiled, and it was incredibly cold and cruel, but also amused. There was a challenge in his steel-colored eyes. A purpose in his calloused hands.

  He uncrossed his leg and leaned forward to stand. The throne disappeared behind him as he strode forward to stop before me.

  “Then you won’t mind if I do this—” He reached for me, his fingers brushing a strand of blonde hair away. They trailed down my face, around the curve of my cheek, and came to grip my chin. I flinched when he tilted my face up. He didn’t seem that bothered by my reaction.

  “Actually,” I bit out, despite his grip. “I do.” I turned my face away, and he let me.

  He let me.

  I cursed. Because that only aided those suspicions that this wasn’t a dream.

  At least not completely.

  “The magic exacts this price on you because you are unbalanced. Divided. The consequences will only get worse,” Ronan started.

  “You know this how?”

  “I have seen your past.”

  “My past is not my future,” I replied, stepping away.

  “No,” he agreed. “Your future will be worse because you are not human, Piper. You think you know things, but if you truly understood, you would not continue to run from me. I can be your salvation, but you will be our damnation if you do not let me.”

  My lips parted. He’d have shocked me less if he’d slapped me.

  “If you know so much, then you’d know better than to chase. You’d know that whatever fascination you have with me is hopeless. I’m not your atma. I’m not your anything.” I spat the words at him, but Ronan was unperturbed.

  “That is where you are wrong,” he said softly. “Your prejudice blinds you, and I can understand it—to an extent. After what happened to you . . . I can be a patient man because you are everything. Or you will be. If I have to chase you for a thousand years, I will. The magic does not lie. People do. And you, Piper”—he stepped forward once more, crowding my space—“you’re the biggest liar of them all.”

  I shuddered because deep down, I knew.

  He was telling the truth.

  Ronan grinned like he knew it too.

  “I’ll be watching, Atma.”

  He stepped away.

  “Wait,” I bit out harshly. I hated this. I didn’t want to do it, but I had to know.

  Ronan paused. He lifted one dark eyebrow in silent question.

  “If you are not one of my nightmares, then how are you here?”

  His jaw tightened, and then he confirmed my worst suspicions.

  “The blood-exchange. I took a piece of you, and you took a piece of me.”

  Then, just like the walls and the people and the floor before him, he disappeared.

  I blinked, turning in circles, but Ronan was gone.

  Not for good, though. Oh no. This wasn’t over.

  I had a feeling it was just getting started.

  The first thing I registered as the crash wore off was the way sleep clung to me like a fog, trying to pull me under. I didn’t fight it. Instead, I lay there, letting it pass through me as I slowly inched toward the surface.

  It was only when cool fingers brushed over my forehead that I was able to open my eyes.

  The light was muted. Dim. My skin felt hot and aching, like the remnants of a fever that had finally broken. I swallowed hard and then winced. My throat was dry; the tissue lining had c
racked as if sandpaper had been scraped over it.

  “Here,” a voice said. I was too tired to be startled by the presence at my side. It should have registered when the fingers were touching, taking my temperature, I now realized.

  But that was the crash for you. There was a reason I never let it happen in public.

  Before now.

  A glass of water appeared in front of me.

  I sat up to drink it, reaching out with trembling hands. The cup shook in my tight grip as I brought it to my lips.

  The crisp coolness hit my tongue, and I tipped my head back, swallowing as much as I could.

  The cup emptied far too quickly, but when I swallowed this time, it didn’t hurt so much. I counted that as a win, slowly lowering it from my face as the events before the crash came back to me.

  “Fuck,” I groaned. My hand dropped to my lap, and I took a sweep of the room.

  My surprise must have shown on my face when I realized it was my room because Nathalie said, “Eidetic memory, remember? When you lost consciousness, I told the driver to bring us to the diner and from there I backtracked it to your apartment. I figured it was probably the safest place for us, given the bomb you have strapped to the door entrance.”

  “You stayed.” Her words were still processing, but that was all I seemed to come up with when I searched for a response.

  “I did, not that your utterly charming and grateful personality helped,” she said sarcastically, running a pale hand through her light brown hair. My eyes raked over her, carefully noting the clean scent, fresh clothes, and slightly red nose.

  “You also went through my apartment,” I added, my voice slightly harder. There was a dangerous edge to it, reflecting the growing unease as I pulled myself out of the stupor the crash left me in.

  Nathalie pursed her lips together. “You were unconscious, and I couldn’t wake you. If I hadn’t seen it last time, I would have thought you were violently ill.”

  “That’s not a good excuse for going through my apartment,” I said, even as some of the initial ire faded. She wasn’t wrong, but given how well the new clothes fit, she’d also crossed a line whether or not she knew it.

  “I have a cold, so I took the medicine you gave me before. I used the same shower and the same towel. I figured you’d rather I didn’t wear your clothes, so I went looking in the other room—”

  “Which is the problem,” I said, flinging the covers aside.

  “Well you weren’t awake to tell me otherwise, so forgive my snooping for the basic necessities. I did get you out of there, you know,” Nathalie said, getting to her feet to give me some room.

  “I didn’t ask you to,” I snapped.

  Tossing one leg over the side of the bed, I noticed that she’d also stripped me of my shoes and jeans before putting me to bed.

  “Would it kill you to say thank you for once?” Nathalie groused, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I reached out and put a hand on the edge of my nightstand, using it to brace myself as I stood. I grabbed my pants and pulled them on, strapping my holster to my thighs as well. I looked to the clock and the glowing red letters read 1:15 in the afternoon.

  I gritted my teeth.

  “How long have I been out?”

  At that, she didn’t answer right away. I had to work to control the panic inside me as I took in her guarded expression. She looked away, a guilty twist of her lips confirming it.

  “How long?” I repeated in barely more than a whisper.

  “Two and a half days.”

  The ground nearly dropped out from under me.

  I tripped as I moved forward, and then brushed past her. My living room barely registered as I stumbled toward the front door.

  “What are you doing?” Nathalie called as I peered through the tiny circle window in the center.

  “Has anyone come to the door?”

  “What?” she asked, like that was a crazy thought. “No, no one’s been at the door.”

  “Have you seen anyone lurking outside?” I demanded.

  “No, I haven’t seen anyone ‘lurking’ outside.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the tone in her voice. “You think I’m being paranoid.”

  She scanned my features and then sighed. “It’s been quiet. No one’s come to the door. When I left to get groceries, no one followed me—”

  “Are you sure?” I asked her. If I were someone else, I might have thought I was just a little paranoid.

  Given who my boss was—or ex-boss, I should say—I wasn’t taking my chances.

  “Yes,” Nathalie sighed. “I did a tracking spell both on the way there and back since you have a demon on your trail.”

  “By your own admission, your magic isn’t consistent. Are you one hundred percent positive that no one followed—”

  “Yes, Piper. I’m sure,” she groaned, turning on her heel to enter the kitchen.

  I stepped away from the door, and slowly trailed back into the living room, narrowing my eyes on her. She drifted toward one of the cabinets and pulled out a glass, then moved to get herself water before going for the package of cold medicine that was on the counter.

  “My boss will have heard that the Antares Coven has been taken out. He probably knows it wasn’t me that did it, and we have less than twelve hours before my three days is up. Of those three, I’ve been unconscious for most of them, and you’ve been in and out of my apartment—so forgive me for being a little fucking paranoid when the people I used to work for tend to send assassins before they put a price on a head.” I raised my voice toward the end of my speech because truth be told, I was feeling more than a little unraveled after the week I’d had.

  Nathalie didn’t react, though. Not the way she should have. If anything, she seemed unbothered by my anger.

  “Are you done yet?” she asked in a bored tone while making a sandwich.

  Annoyance and anger sizzled through me.

  “Are you always so lax with safety?” I asked her, tilting my head. My heartbeat picked up a fraction, but it wasn’t anywhere near dangerous levels. Yet. “Because if I didn’t know any better . . . I’d say you simply don’t care. And for someone that begged to work with me so that you could keep your ass alive, I’m starting to wonder why you keep putting yourself in positions that do the opposite. In fact, working with me at all doesn’t lend to staying safe. Which makes me wonder, why are you here?”

  She paused, lifting her head. I could tell that she only just realized where I was going with this.

  “I’m not working for your boss,” she said quietly. “And I know you don’t really think that, or you’d have killed me already.”

  “You’re a good liar,” I said. “A great one. You use subtle manipulations to play people. I watched you do it with that McArthur bastard. How do I know you haven’t been playing me? That you’re not waiting for the call to be put out just to kill me where I stand?”

  Nathalie sighed and then lowered her eyes, before raising them to meet mine.

  “Because I want to work with you—” she started.

  “Why?” I bit out. “You’ve yet to really give me an answer. Your coven excommunicated you, yes, but you could have found a new one. I bet Barry would have taken you in, or worst case—you could have left. But you’re dead set on staying with me. On helping me. I need to know why, right now, or we’re going to have a problem.”

  Maybe I was a tiny bit paranoid. It was possible.

  But things simply weren’t adding up. For a girl that wanted to live so much, she latched onto the person who literally kidnapped her—then wouldn’t leave me when I told her to—it just didn’t make sense. Survival of the fittest.

  No one was that loyal. And from the time I’d spent with her, I knew she wasn’t stupid.

  If anything, she was smarter than she let on.

  “Okay,” she said. Her shoulders slumped as she set down the knife she’d used to smear peanut butter and jelly on bread. “I’ll tell you why. I haven’t b
een completely honest with you.” When my jaw tightened, she gave me a hard look. “You don’t get to judge given you kidnapped me, haven’t told me shit about what you are or why the demon wants you, not to mention the fact that I got us back here on my own—”

  “Spit it out.”

  “I’m not a gray witch.”

  I blinked. “Then what are you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I have magic, but not like my family’s magic. Everything I told you about my magic was true, but I don’t have a color alignment. I do have an ability, though. When I touch someone for the first time, I see . . . things about them.” She struggled for words. “Sometimes it’s just a feeling for who they are. Sometimes I get visions of the future. Their future. It’s different every time.”

  “All right,” I said, running a hand through my hair. I walked up to the other side of the counter and leaned one hip against it. “So you’re some kind of witch freak. Not the weirdest thing I’ve seen or heard. What’s it got to do with me?”

  “When we touched the first time, I had a premonition I’ve never had before. It was like a feeling, but more—and before you ask, no, I don’t really know how to explain it better than that. It told me you’re my future. You. Singularly. That I will find my way because of you—and that any future without you ends in death.”

  “That’s an awful lot to get from a backhand,” I pointed out.

  “This ability—whatever it is—it’s never wrong. Believe me, when I first woke up and you were tying me to a chair, I really wished it were otherwise.”

  I let out a heavy exhale. “Were you lying to me about anything else?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Is there any way for me to confirm that?”

  A slight grin curled around her lips. “Unfortunately for you, a blood oath or a spell are the only ways. Given I don’t think you can cast spells, pretty sure that only leaves the oath. Something I’m not so sure you want to do with your aversion to magic . . .”

  She wasn’t wrong. I really didn’t like the idea of any kind of binding . . . but I also liked the idea that she was actually a bounty hunter, or worse, an assassin working for my boss, even less. My dislike of magic came from the price of it. Not many things were worse than being dead, though.