Cold Burn of Magic

  “You know what, Lila?” he growled. “I’m going to cut your tongue out—before I kill you.”

  Grant tightened his grip on his sword, and then he did the one thing I’d been hoping he would all along—he stepped past the center stone where I’d put the ring.

  So did the other two men. Together, the three of them crested the top of the bridge and started down the far side, heading toward us.

  Devon moved to let me go and put himself between me and our enemies, but I tightened my grip on his hand.

  “Stop,” I said. “And stand very, very still.”

  Devon frowned, but he did as I asked.

  Grant slashed his sword through the air. Behind him, the other two men did the same thing, all of them trying to be as menacing as possible. I rolled my eyes. Wasn’t that cute.

  Still, despite the fact that they were seconds away from killing us, I couldn’t help laughing. Despite the pain pulsing through my body, the blood oozing out of my wounds, my fear, despite everything—I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Grant growled.

  “Nothing much,” I said. “I was just thinking about when you came to get me from school and took me up to the Sinclair mansion that first day. That, and all the other times we’ve ridden around town. Every time you come down here, you always go across this bridge.”

  “What does that matter?” Grant snapped. “It’s the quickest way through town.”

  I grinned at him. “It matters because you forgot to pay the lochness toll—again.”

  He frowned, wondering what I was talking about. But the guards knew. One of them cursed and turned around, staring at the smooth stone in the middle of the bridge. Even as he ran back toward the stone, he dug in his pockets, trying to find a few coins or bills, something, anything, that would save him.

  But it was too late.

  A long, black tentacle shot up out of the dark surface of the river, spraying water everywhere. Devon gasped. Yeah, I did, too.

  The tentacle hovered in the air over the bridge, undulating back and forth like a cobra about to strike.

  And then it did.

  The tentacle snapped down and coiled around the first guard, the one who’d been rushing to pay the toll. The man was so startled that he lost his grip on his sword, the only thing that might have helped him. He screamed and screamed, beating at the wet tentacle with his fists, but even his strength Talent was no match for the lochness. The tentacle raised the guard high into the air over the bridge, then dragged him down into the river below.

  Silence.

  As quickly as the tentacle sank down beneath the water, another jetted right back up again. The second man clutched his sword. I thought he might stand and try to fight the lochness, but he turned and started running toward the far side of the bridge, where Devon and I were standing.

  But Grant didn’t give him the chance to get here.

  He waited until the man was in range, then slashed his sword across his henchman’s chest. The guard fell to the cobblestones screaming, and the tentacle swooped down and scooped him up as well. Easy peasy. That man also disappeared into the river.

  Grant whipped around and started running, trying to get away from the lochness. Beside me, Devon tightened his grip on the dagger I’d given him in the slaughterhouse, even though I doubted he had the strength left to wield the weapon.

  “If he makes it, you’ll have to try to use your power on him. And if that doesn’t work, then you start running. Please—please do that for me.”

  Devon gave me another stubborn look and shook his head. “Not without you.”

  Grant kept racing toward us, moving as fast as he could, his wing tips smack-smack-smacking against the cobblestones.

  “You bitch!” he screamed again. “You’re going to pay for this!”

  I didn’t respond, wondering if he was actually going to escape the lochness’s wrath after all. I kept looking for the creature, or at least its tentacle, but saw nothing. No tentacle, no sprays of water, nothing to indicate that the lochness was still lurking in the river below.

  Grant risked a glance over his shoulder, but the bridge was empty now. He turned back around and gave me a smug look. “Looks like my men paid the toll for me. So what are you going to do now, Lila?”

  My heart sank because I didn’t have an answer. This—this had been my plan. The old traditions. The customs that my mom had drilled into my head. The ones that I’d always respected and enjoyed following. But right now, it didn’t look like they were going to be enough to save us.

  Devon tensed, waiting for Grant to get in range. No matter what happened, Devon was going to stand by my side and defend me to his dying breath. That meant more to me than just about anything.

  But he didn’t have to.

  Grant stepped off the bridge, putting one foot onto the street. Just as his second foot was about to touch down, a tentacle shot out of the shadows, slithered across the cobblestones, and wrapped itself around his ankle.

  Grant fell to the ground, his sword skittering out of his hand. Slowly, the tentacle pulled him back onto the bridge. But Grant wasn’t going without a fight. He hooked his hands over a cobblestone that jutted up from the bridge’s surface. The tentacle pulled at him again, giving him an impatient yank, but Grant held on tight—so tight that his nails started to crack and bleed. But that was better than the alternative.

  Grant raised his head and focused his gaze on me. My soulsight kicked in, and I felt all of his pain, fury, and disbelief at what was about to happen.

  “Help me!” he screamed.

  “No.”

  Seeing that I wasn’t going to take pity on him, Grant turned his frantic gaze to Devon.

  “Devon! Please!” he screamed. “Help me!”

  Devon sighed and started forward, just as I knew he would, but I held my hand out and stopped him. I shook my head.

  “No,” I repeated. “Not him. I know he’s a member of your Family, I know you thought that he was your friend, but he doesn’t deserve it. Not after what he tried to do to you. Not after what he did to Ashley and your father. Believe me. If you help him now, he’ll just try to kill us again.”

  Devon stared at Grant, an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, he gave me a sharp nod.

  Grant saw his last hope fade away, and he swung his ugly, hate-filled glare to me again. “You bitch!” he snarled. “You did this to me! My blood is on your hands!”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I did do it to you. But you did it to yourself, too. Good-bye, Grant.”

  Grant kept clutching at the cobblestone. The tentacle wrapped tighter and tighter around his ankle, until I heard the snap-snap-snap of the bones breaking in his foot. It gave him a harder yank, then a harder one . . . then a harder one still . . .

  Grant screamed and wrapped his hands around the cobblestone that much tighter.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  The bridge was wet, and the stones were slippery from the water the lochness had sprayed everywhere. Grant finally lost his grip. One moment, his fingers were scrabbling over the cobblestone, trying to latch on to it again. The next, the tentacle had snapped him high into the air. Grant barely had time to suck down a breath to scream before the creature slammed him down into the water.

  Devon and I looked at each other; then we both hobbled to the bridge and peered over the side. The water rushed by much faster than normal, bubbling, foaming, and frothing like rapids. I thought I heard Grant let out one final waterlogged scream, and then . . .

  Silence.

  The river slowed back down to its normal flow, although an oily stain slicked the surface of the water—Grant’s blood.

  Devon let out a low whistle and slowly backed away from the edge, but I stayed where I was, clutching the stone for support. I might have backed away, too, if I hadn’t thought that my legs would buckle, and I’d fall to the ground.

  I don’t know how long we might have stood there if the black tentacle hadn’t risen up over the bri
dge again.

  I tensed and tightened my grip on the stone, thinking that maybe the lochness was still hungry, and that Devon and I were going to be scooped up and pulled into the water like Grant and the two guards. The tentacle drew back, then snapped forward, almost like it was a baseball player hurling something in our direction. A bit of silver glittered in the air.

  Clink-clink-clink.

  The piece of metal hit the stone ledge, bounced off, and skittered to a stop at my feet. I looked down.

  My mom’s sapphire ring gleamed in the moonlight.

  I sucked in a breath. Beside me, Devon did the same.

  “Why did it do that?” he rasped. “Why did it give your ring back to you?”

  “I don’t know. And I’m not sure I want to.”

  I leaned down and scooped up the ring. Despite the blood in the water, the sapphire star and the silver band gleamed, as though they had just been cleaned. I slid the ring onto my finger, where it belonged, then looked up. That tentacle was still undulating in the air, almost like it was waving at me.

  I hesitated, then waved back, even though I had no idea if the lochness could actually see me. “Um . . . thanks.”

  The tentacle slid down and disappeared below the water’s surface. A moment later, a loud sound blasted out from beneath the bridge, almost like a foghorn.

  Urp.

  “Was that . . . a burp?” Devon whispered.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  He shook his head.

  “Yeah. Me neither.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I couldn’t walk, but Devon wouldn’t leave me, so we sat on the lochness bridge. It was safer than hobbling through the streets. Despite the blood that covered us, no monsters appeared to make us their midnight snack. We seemed to be under the lochness’s protection, at least for this night.

  So I pulled out my phone and called Mo, telling him where we were. Ten minutes later, several black SUVs pulled up to the end of the bridge and stopped. Claudia, Felix, Reginald, Angelo, and several guards poured out of the cars and hurried over to us, along with another familiar face.

  Mo dropped to a knee in front of me. “You don’t look so good, kid.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  He grinned and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder.

  Felix crouched down in front of me and Devon. He shook his head, then smiled. “I can’t leave you guys alone for a second, can I?”

  “Next time, I will be happy to let you battle the crazy guy and his goons,” I said.

  “What happened?” Claudia demanded in a sharp voice. “Where’s Grant?”

  I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “Sleeping with the fishes—permanently.”

  Claudia stared at the bridge, obviously confused. But then her lips puckered into a silent oh. Everyone else stopped talking, and more than a few peered over the side of the bridge, their hands on their swords, looking for the lochness. I knew they wouldn’t see the monster.

  Finally, Angelo cleared his throat. “I hate to point out the obvious, but Lila and Devon need medical attention. We need to get them into the vehicles now.”

  Mo looked at me. “Is that okay with you, kid? Because I would say that you have more than fulfilled your contract with the Sinclair Family.”

  Claudia stiffened at his words, but she couldn’t deny them.

  I looked around at everyone gathered on the bridge. Claudia, Reginald, Angelo, Felix, Mo, and finally Devon, who was staring at me with a mixture of hope and wariness in his eyes. And something else that I didn’t want to think too much about right now.

  “Yeah, take me back to the mansion,” I said. “Take me home.”

  The rest of the night was a blur. Mo scooped me up into his arms and loaded me into one of the SUVs. Devon and Felix insisted on riding with me, with Mo in the front and Reginald driving. Mo kept up a steady stream of chatter the entire ride back to the mansion. Even Felix couldn’t get a word in, for a change.

  Back at the mansion, Mo carried me up to the infirmary, where Angelo and Felix poured stitch-sting over my wounds. Devon was in another room, getting his throat and other injuries looked at, and Angelo and Felix went back and forth between us. I asked about Devon, but Felix said that he was fine and not to worry.

  Once I was healed, I took a shower and put on the pajamas that Felix brought me. Mo helped me back to my room, and I collapsed into bed.

  The sun streaming in through the windows woke me the next morning. Thinking of Tiny and his beloved sunspots, I dozed for a while longer, but eventually, it got too bright and warm to sleep. So I threw back the covers, sat up, swung my legs over the side of the bed, and groaned, as a hundred small aches and pains flared to life in my body. All of my stab wounds were healed, but cuts and scrapes still dotted my hands and arms, not to mention my sore feet and the pulled muscles in my legs from running around barefoot for so long and so hard—

  A faint zip-zip-zipping sounded, and something blurred across the room before stopping right in front of my face.

  “Finally!” Oscar snapped, his arms crossed over his chest, his wings twitching in indignation. “I was wondering whether or not you were ever going to wake up.”

  I winced. “Do you have to shout? I was in a fight last night, in case you haven’t heard.”

  “Oh, I heard all right. The whole mansion has heard. It’s all anyone can talk about. Grant and what he did, and you and what you did.”

  “So everyone’s gossiping about me,” I muttered. “Terrific.”

  He shrugged. “It goes with the territory, cupcake. Now, come on. We need to get you dressed. Claudia wants to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea, but you are not going to keep her waiting. So, come on. Rise and shine.”

  I groaned again, but Oscar darted around me like an annoying bee, poking and prodding me until I finally got up. I stumbled into the bathroom and took a hot shower, trying to work some of the kinks out of my body.

  When I finished, I shrugged into a thick white robe and stepped into the bedroom. Oscar had already made the bed, and another black pantsuit lay on top of the comforter.

  “What’s that for?” I asked, fingering the fabric, which was even nicer than the one I’d worn to the dinner last night.

  “Claudia sent it up for you, so you’re putting it on.”

  “Can’t I just wear shorts and a T-shirt?” I whined.

  “No,” he snapped back. “Not if you want any of that before you go.”

  Oscar fluttered to one side and held out his hand. Trays of food had been arranged on the table in front of the TV. Steaming plates of scrambled eggs, hash browns, chocolate chip pancakes, cherry Danishes, and, of course, a mound of bacon. My stomach rumbled, and my mouth watered in anticipation.

  I took a step forward, but Oscar darted in front of me, blocking my path and crossing his arms over his chest again.

  “No,” he said. “Not one bite until you put your suit on.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, pixie.”

  He grinned. “So I’ve been told. Now, put your clothes on, and eat some bacon like a good girl.”

  “Yes, master,” I grumbled, but I was smiling.

  And so was he.

  Oscar kept nagging at me to hurry, but I took my sweet time with breakfast, savoring every single bite. Despite what had happened last night, I had a sneaking suspicion that Claudia was going to boot me out today. After all, with Grant dead, she didn’t need me to protect Devon anymore, and I wanted at least one more good meal before I left. I thought about stuffing what was left of the food, especially the bacon, into one of my suitcases, but I decided against it. For now.

  When I was finally ready, I buckled my mom’s sword and scabbard to my black belt and followed Oscar to the library.

  “Claudia will be with you in a minute,” he said.

  “Thanks,” I muttered. “I think.”

  He grinned, then zipped down the hall and around the corner.
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  I entered the library, but Claudia wasn’t sitting at her desk, so I went over to the doors that overlooked the balcony, admiring the view. That was something else I would never get tired of here.

  Soft footsteps sounded behind me, and Claudia came to stand beside me. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged.

  “Let’s take a walk.”

  She opened one of the balcony doors and stepped outside. I followed her as she strolled down a set of steps, across the lawn, and into the woods. I looked around, but I didn’t see anyone else.

  “Where are the guards?”

  “I sent them to the opposite side of the estate,” she replied. “I didn’t want them to see us.”

  “Of course not,” I muttered.

  Claudia gave a sideways glance, but said nothing else.

  We followed a path through the woods for about a quarter of a mile before it opened up into a large clearing ringed by a wrought iron fence. Behind the fence, square blocks of black marble had been set into the grass.

  No, not blocks, I realized—tombstones.

  “A cemetery? Why did you bring me to a cemetery? Are you planning to bury me here?” I tried to make my voice light, as though it were a joke, even though I was afraid it wasn’t.

  Claudia didn’t answer. Instead, she opened the gate and walked down the main row. I muttered under my breath, but I followed her.

  I scanned the tombstones, many of which were shaped like crosses. Those on the left side of the graveyard bore the last name Sinclair, including one for Lawrence, Devon’s dad. So this was the Family cemetery. But then, I glanced over at the right side and noticed that the last names were all different. So the guards were buried here, too. One grave near the front was fresh enough to still be covered with sprays of wilting flowers—Ashley’s grave.

  Claudia stopped by that grave a moment, bowing her head and silently paying her respects. So did I.

  We walked on. As we moved deeper into the cemetery, another name appeared on the tombstones over and over again—Sterling.

  Dread filled the pit of my stomach, and my legs felt as numb and heavy as they had last night after Grant had stabbed me. Suddenly, I knew exactly why Claudia had brought me here.