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

by Kel Carpenter

  It took another five seconds for that in-between state of being awake and asleep to shift more toward awake, and reality crashed down. I opened my eyes, and bright, brilliant sunlight assaulted me. I winced, taking in the soft cream walls and the jazz music playing in the background.

  My body was stiff as I twisted, trying to sit up. My legs tangled in the blankets. Gravity threatened to pull me back down as a wave of dizziness hit.

  “Drink this,” Nathalie said from beside me. She passed over a glass of water that was clear and cold; fat droplets of condensation running down the side of the glass.

  I took it between my hands and drank greedily.

  At the end I choked, and she took the glass as I coughed roughly.

  My ribs ached, and a jackhammer started pounding into my head.

  “How long?” I rasped, between breaths.

  “Four days,” she said, knowing what I was talking about.

  The coughing subsided, and I cursed under my breath. I knew it was longer by the hunger and dehydration getting at me, but I didn’t think it would be that long. I wondered how many more times it could happen before I wouldn’t wake up. Before starvation or dehydration killed me.

  It was a somber thought. I pushed it away for now, taking in my surroundings.

  I was on a twin-sized bed with an off-white comforter. Behind me, a window spanned a few feet, the long drapes wide open, letting the sun warm me through the pane of glass. There was an antique-looking end table beside me, with crystals and the now empty glass on it. On the other side of the room, a small bookcase had more crystals and knickknacks. Books of all types. Including raunchy romance ones, if the titles were anything to go by. The room was small, and a double set of French doors with glass panes were wide open, leading into another, larger room with living room furniture.

  “Where are we?”

  “My apartment,” Nat said with a sigh. “You crashed as we were coming through the shop downstairs. I had to drag your ass into the elevator. You’re lucky there was an elevator. You weigh a lot more than you look.” The last bit was added with a bit of a grin sliding up one side of her face. She was amused. I wasn’t.

  “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Because we were never going to make it to the car, and my apartment is warded. No one will find you here. Not with blood magic. Your demon hasn’t shown up either, so I’d guess it probably protects against that too.”

  I swallowed hard and looked away. The jazz music was subtle, but it filled the awkward silence when I couldn’t.

  “You saved me,” I said eventually.

  Nathalie nodded. “And you saved us. I guess we’re even now.”

  I leaned back, titling my head to rest it against the window.

  “Lucifer isn’t dead,” I said. “He’ll be back.”

  She nodded slowly. “I kinda figured as much. Demons seem to be harder to kill than other supes.” She reached out and took my hand before I could yank it away. “But we’ll find a way.”

  I frowned. “We will?”

  She snorted. “You can be so dense sometimes. Yes. We will. I told you, I’m not leaving you. Not even if you’re a—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  She tilted her head, and I pushed her hand away. “Why?”

  I didn’t answer her immediately . . . because I couldn’t. “Just . . . don’t say it.”

  “Demon,” she said.

  “I just said—”

  “Demon. Demon. Demon. You’re a demon—” I grabbed the pillow from behind my lower back and whacked her in the face with it.

  “You’re annoying.”

  She chuckled. “Pot meet kettle. You have a real lack of social skills, you know that? Have you ever actually cracked a smile, or said thank you for anything? You should work on that.” I pressed my lips together, and she laughed again. “Look, I’m doing this for you. You’re afraid of it, and you shouldn’t be.”

  “I’m not afraid,” I argued.

  “Then what are you?” she challenged, lifting both eyebrows.

  I took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. “Prejudiced. Hateful. Wishing I could still be in denial.”

  Her expression softened. “I take it you weren’t born one.”

  I shook my head. “I . . . I was made.” My mouth was dry again, but this time it was for a whole other reason.

  “How does one make a demon?” Nathalie mused, leaning back in her chair. She kicked her feet up onto the end of the bed.

  “With a summoning,” I said. “At least that’s how I was. You know the girl your coven used as a sacrifice?”

  She nodded.

  “I was her. Ten years ago. Claude Lewis led a summoning, and I was chosen as the sacrifice. They told me that I would be able to bargain for power. That I could be made into a supe.” I looked at the ceiling as I recounted it because I couldn’t look her in the eyes. “Only later did I realize it was all a lie. I survived that summoning on pure dumb luck when I should have died.”

  “You hate magic,” she said. A statement, not a question.

  I laughed humorlessly. “People keep saying that. You gotta remember, I was born human. The world changed in a single day, and suddenly I went from being on equal footing to being at the bottom of society. My family . . .” I struggled with this part. To recall those memories. Bittersweet. The best and the worst. “We were treated horribly. I watched my parents lose their jobs and then struggle to make ends meet. My mom had to sell her body to put food on the table because there was literally no other work for a human woman. She tried to hide it, but the vampire clients she had were rough with her because they could be. It tore my dad apart. Things got better when he helped form human patrol, but it was still difficult. I’d had enough. If I wasn’t born equal, then I was going to take power and make myself equal.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Nat said softly.

  I shrugged, though I didn’t mean it. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Witches were the ones to start the wars. We revealed magic to the world.”

  I nodded. “Revealing it didn’t change whether or not it existed. It was what happened afterward that screwed us over. But that’s why I went looking for magic, and eventually I found someone that would give it to me.”

  “If you were meant to be a sacrifice,” she paused. “How did you end up with a demon’s magic? Every sacrifice used in a summoning dies. They never even get to bargain for power, and of the people that do, half of them die because the magic doesn’t take. Yet you got all of it. How?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. Something went wrong. She came forward, but she never fully formed. She and I—we made a link of sorts. It was short, but for that small span of time, I heard her, and I felt her—and then I became her. I never drank Aeshma’s blood. I just absorbed all that she was, then the link fizzled, and she died.” I shrugged again. “I struggled at first. The magic was a lot to take in. I broke the circle, and the witches were knocked unconscious. I was young and dumb. I went straight home like a child, and then told my parents everything. We tried to get out of town, but it was too late.”

  “They found you,” Nat said quietly. “They killed your parents, didn’t they?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Bree?” she prompted.

  I lowered my eyes, and when I finally looked back at her, I hated the pity I saw there. I didn’t deserve it. I brought this on them. On myself.

  “She took a spell meant for me. It put her in some kind of coma. I’ve been trying to find a way to wake her up for the last decade, but no one knows what spell was used. I didn’t even think he was alive until the summoning that night.”

  “That explains why you bargained with the demon instead of just killing us,” she said. “You were hoping he was strong enough his magic could break the spell without killing her.”

  I nodded. “Claude, Kenneth—whoever he was—he was the source. He knew which spell he’d cast, which meant he could undo it. That’s why I tried to send the demon af
ter the rest of you while I got him. But Ronan killed him.”

  “Ronan?” She frowned.

  “The demon from the club,” I said. “His name is Ronan, or at least that’s what he goes by. Demons wear their true names on their skin.”

  Her eyes drifted to my form. I was wearing a T-shirt now, but the brands on my arms were still visible.

  “I never knew,” she said.

  “Most don’t,” I replied. “It was one of the few things I learned from Aeshma before I absorbed her.”

  “Are your brands the same as hers?” Nat asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I don’t think so. They change, now and then. In the same way a person changes and grows, who we are, our true name does as well.” Her eyes seemed to light up, soaking in the little bits of knowledge I was sharing.

  “Does your name have a sound? Do the markings mean something?”

  “They mean different things, but they’re not like letters. They’re specific to each of us. Our magic and our souls. My true name has a sound, or multiple, but before you ask—no, I’m not telling you what it is.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Because that’s how you control a demon. Truly control them. If you know their name, then you can make them do whatever you want.”

  She opened, then closed her mouth. “I see. How did you learn your name if it changes?”

  “It’s hard to explain. I just sort of know. When one of the brands change, so does my name.” I shrugged again, not the most comfortable with the topic.

  “Thank you for sharing with me,” she said.

  I shrugged again. “I figure if you run your mouth, I could just shoot you.”

  She tossed the pillow back at me, and with the tiny pricks of feathers poking at my face, I grinned into it.

  “It’s not like I have many people to run my mouth to. Besides, you know my secret too. I guess we’ve both got weird magic.”

  I snorted. “You blew up that fae chick. I’m not sure weird is the only word I’d use to describe it anymore.”

  She sighed. “That happens sometimes. Especially when someone uses their magic against me. I just panic, and then it’s like this switch flips and I take all their magic and throw it back at them. I don’t even know how I do it.”

  She looked troubled, and if I were a better person, I might have taken her hand and said we’d figure it out.

  But I wasn’t.

  I was an asshole.

  “That would have been great to know when we had that entire conversation about you keeping secrets and shit,” I griped. “You could have killed me.”

  “It’s not like I’m the only one,” Nat said, but not as defensive as I would have thought. “Besides, when we were in the dressing room, you told me everyone has secrets, and you’ve been keeping an awful lot yourself.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s when I thought we would die,” I deadpanned.

  She lifted an eyebrow at me and crossed her arms over her chest, not accepting that for one second.

  “Trust goes both ways, Piper. You’ve been screwed over a lot. You’ve seen the people you love suffer at the hands of supes. I get that. But it takes both sides to change things. You’re stuck with me now, but only you can decide how this is going to go between us.”

  She gave me an expectant look. I couldn’t believe how much had happened in the last two weeks. Truly. If someone had told me I’d be telling my deepest, darkest secrets to a witch of all people, I would have laughed. I certainly wouldn’t have thought twice about it.

  But Nathalie wasn’t just a witch. Hell, she might not even be a witch at all.

  And I wasn’t just a human. Or a demon. My heart was human, but my body . . . it was remade. What happened in that summoning circle ten years ago changed my life irrevocably.

  We were both something else. Something other . . . and maybe together we could find out what.

  “Okay,” I said eventually.

  She frowned and her eyebrows drew together. “Okay?” she asked. “That’s the best I get? You finally tell me a little bit about you, and we connect, and then—”

  “Don’t make this weirder than it is,” I said, stopping her.

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “I really can’t with you. But fine. Whatever. So how are we going to do this?”

  “First, I need a shower. Then, I need food. After that, I need to find a way to get this blood magic tracker removed—”

  She made a face, and I paused. “What does that face mean?”

  “Well, I, uh . . . I may have had Barry come remove it while you were asleep.”

  She scratched the back of her head.

  “You what—”

  “It’s not like you’re the most reasonable about things. I figured if you were already asleep, it couldn’t hurt. Besides, you wanted it done and now it is.”

  “I cannot believe you right now.”

  “A thank you will suffice,” she said.

  I blinked, debating throwing the pillow at her again. “Where’s the bathroom?” I said. Kicking her legs off, I scrambled to get out of bed.

  “Right around the corner, down the hall, last door at the end.” She scooted her chair back to give me room. I was dizzy at first, but pushed past it to get around her and put some space between us. Her living room was cozy, small but stylish. I spotted a kitchen on my way to the bathroom, as well as a few closed doors. I’d have time to snoop later. When I felt less disgusting and could talk to Nathalie without wanting to throw shit at her. That girl really did my head in sometimes.

  I paused with my hand on the last door.

  She might do my head in, but all things considered, I was lucky to have her. Without her, I’d be dead, and Bree’s only chance at waking up would die with me.

  “I’m happy I didn’t shoot you,” I said loudly. It was the closest to a thank you she was going to get.

  I heard Nat snort, as if she knew that. Though she was in another room, I heard her whispered reply. “Me too.”

  29

  I touched my fingers to the brand on my chest.

  A delicate thorn-covered vine that looped around before connecting to another brand. My name had changed because I changed. That night. When I tried to kill Lucifer and showed Nathalie what I was.

  I wouldn’t speak my name. I hardly let myself think it, but I knew it then just like I knew it now. Much as she pissed me off, somewhere deep down, she’d left her mark on me. Permanently.

  I traced the brand twice before dropping my hand. I wrapped myself in a fluffy teal-colored towel and padded down the hallway barefoot. The scent of jasmine tea and something spicy filled my nostrils as I stepped around the corner.

  Nathalie looked up from whatever she was frying on the stove. “Clothes are on the bed.” She thrust her head toward where I’d woken up, and I wordlessly returned to the room. Undergarments, a pair of black jeans with ribbed thighs, and a hunter green long-sleeved shirt were laid out for me. I dressed quickly, the cool air nipping at my skin. The jeans were a little tight, but workable. I shifted around, trying to loosen the material, and then pulled at the neckline of the shirt. It wasn’t as high as I usually liked. The brand around my throat would be visible in it. I supposed all things considered, I couldn’t complain.

  Nathalie was plating food when I stepped back into the living room. She put both plates on the high bar, and then pulled out two glasses, filling them with what I could only guess was orange juice. I hadn’t had it in years. It was too expensive for the budget of a bounty hunter.

  “Breakfast is ready.”

  “I see that. . .”

  I shuffled over to the counter in my too-tight jeans and peered down at the plate: real scrambled eggs, hash browns that came from an actual potato covered in spices with chunks of pepper and onion, and two slices of fresh tomato. No wonder she picked at the food from the diner when she normally got to eat this way. I took a seat at the high bar and dug in. My stomach rumbled in approval.

  “So,” Nat
halie mused a few minutes later. “I was wondering . . .” She started. I rolled my eyes.

  “Spit it out.”

  “What’s an atma?”

  I choked on the hash browns. The spicy pepper went down the wrong pipe, and only half a glass of the best orange juice I’d ever tasted could soothe the burn and swallow it down. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Nathalie wrinkled her nose.

  “I have napkins, you know.”

  “Why do you want to know what an atma is?” I asked, ignoring her comment.

  She gave me a look as if to say are you shitting me? I supposed that was fair.

  “Two demons seem to think you’re theirs, and I’m one of the only things standing between them and you—”

  “I never asked you to—”

  “I’m not trying to guilt you,” she said sharply. “I just need the truth. You’re a demon. They’re demons. From context I’m assuming it’s some type of weird mate bond shit. I’m asking you to help me understand.”

  I took a bite of tomato and chewed slowly, then swallowed.

  “Mate bonds, psychic bonds, vampire brides—they are all versions of the atma bond. Trickle down from having a demon’s magic,” I said slowly.

  She nodded. “So it’s a mate bond on crack. Okay. If the other types of supernatural bonds stem from it, then I’m assuming that without completing it, both parties slowly turn feral, or in your case, all three?”

  I pressed my lips together, staring hard at my plate.

  “I can only assume so . . .”

  She hummed under her breath. “We’ll have to figure that out, then.”

  My chin snapped up. “You’re not going to push me to go to them?”

  “Not my bond, not my call—but I can’t have you going feral and demoning out on me.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her and she chuckled. “Too soon?”

  “Yes,” I said stiffly. She laughed again.

  We finished our breakfast, and she did the dishes before grabbing a set of keys that were hanging off a coat hook by her front door.

  “All right, so here’s the deal. While we’re being honest with each other. I’m not staying in the cabin and neither are you.” I opened my mouth to object, and she held up a hand. “Just hear me out. If we’re going to find a solution to waking your sister up, we won’t find it in the woods. Coming in and out of the city is risky, and there’s no food out there. I’m not eating sandwiches for weeks on end.”