I was so focused on the bodyguard that I lost track of the second guy. I didn’t see him approach me until he was standing next to my elbow.
“Excuse me.”
I turned my head to him. Once I did, I didn’t want to look away.
His face was as hard and chiseled as the rest of him, and his eyes were an intense green that was completely mesmerizing. He drifted a little closer to me, and I caught a whiff of his scent, sharp, fresh, and tangy, like pine needles. It suited him. In a strange way, he reminded me of the forests that covered Cloudburst Mountain—deep, dark, and utterly mysterious.
“Do you know where Mo is?” he asked, his voice low, deep, and melodic, like a river rushing by.
“You know Mo?”
He nodded. “I met him over at the Midway a few days ago. He had a booth next to one of the fountains. I need a birthday present for my mom, and he said he might have something here that she’d like.”
Something that I’d stolen or he’d conned from someone was more like it, but I decided not to ruin Mo’s potential sale. Maybe he’d give me a bonus for keeping the guy here until he returned.
“Mo’s in the back,” I said. “He should be out soon.”
“Thanks.”
The guy smiled at me, and I glanced at him again just in time to look directly into his eyes.
My mistake.
Sight was a common Talent, but my magic went beyond seeing the world with crystal clarity or being able to navigate through the dark like it was daylight.
Because I could also see into people.
All I had to do was stare into someone’s eyes, and I knew exactly what they were feeling at that moment, whether it was love, hate, anger, or something else. Not only that, but I could actually feel the emotion in my own heart, just like the person who was experiencing it. Soulsight, it was called. A major Talent and one that I could have done without. Most people didn’t have a lot of nice thoughts, feelings, or emotions, not even toward their own so-called friends and family.
But this guy . . . he radiated cold sorrow, as though he was carrying around a heavy burden that he could never, ever be free from. Still, there was a rock-hard strength mixed in with his sorrow, along with a flicker of something else buried deep, deep down . . . a hot spark that I couldn’t quite identify.
I knew in an instant that he was the sort of guy who was exceedingly loyal to his friends. Who felt responsible for others. Who tried to help people as much as he could even if they didn’t deserve it, and he ended up being the one who got hurt instead. The sort of guy that others saw as a leader and naturally flocked to. The sort of guy who was just so disgustingly fascinating that you couldn’t help wanting to know more about him.
The guy kept smiling, although his expression grew thinner and fainter the longer I stared. But I couldn’t help it. For the first time in a long time, I was completely captivated by another person. In that moment, all I wanted to do was peel back the cool exterior of his emotions and see what really lay beneath—and especially see what would happen when that hot spark inside him flared to life and he finally let out his true feelings.
But there was also something disturbingly . . . familiar about him. As though I’d met him someplace before, although I couldn’t quite remember where. I kept staring into his green eyes, hoping that my soulsight would kick in a tiny bit more and bring the knowledge, the memory, along with it . . .
The older girl, the bodyguard, stepped over to us, her hand dropping to her sword in a clear warning—to me.
“What are you doing, Devon?” she asked.
Devon. Even his name was disgustingly fascinating. Of course it would be. And it caused him to seem even more familiar, like I should know exactly who he was—
Devon sighed and looked at her, breaking my connection to him. “Nothing, Ashley. Just talking to . . .”
“Lila,” I replied, shaking my head to get rid of the last of his emotions.
Devon nodded. “Lila.”
The first guy moved over to the counter where the three of us were standing.
“Lila?” he said, his voice a sly, flirty drawl. “A pretty name for a very pretty girl.”
He flashed me a wide, mischievous grin that no doubt caused girls to swoon and write a second poem about him, this one focused on his dreamy smile.
Devon sighed again. “Felix, this is Lila. Lila, Felix, and this is our friend, Ashley.”
Felix winked at me, then wandered on, continuing with his aimless browsing. I wondered what Devon had done to get him to come here. Birthday present shopping for your friend’s mom wasn’t exactly a big male bonding ritual. Or maybe they were going to go flirt with the tourist girls over at the Midway after this. Yeah, I could totally see Felix doing that.
Ashley gave me another suspicious look. “Come on. I saw some antique perfume bottles. Maybe your mom would like one of those.”
Devon nodded at me again, then moved off with her. I wondered if he realized that Ashley was doing the smart thing and steering him away from me, a total, and perhaps dangerous, stranger. I stayed where I was and watched them, but they continued with their browsing, so I looked out through the windows at the front of the store.
People moved back and forth, in and out of my line of sight, as they roamed from shop to shop, through the park, past the food carts, and from one side of the square to the other. In the distance, the fountain kept spewing water. A few of the tourists were taking photos of it. Of course they were. I rolled my eyes.
Everything was perfectly normal—until a guy stopped at the windows and peered into the shop.
At first, I thought he was examining the wooden pixie houses that Mo had set up in the windows like birdfeeders. Then I realized the guy was looking past the houses and deeper into the store. Nothing unusual about that—except he was staring straight at Devon.
I straightened up, dropped my hand to my belt, and rubbed my fingers over one of the stars hooked to the leather. The throwing star was small and thin, but it was made out of bloodiron, and it would cut through anything—or anyone.
I didn’t have to use my Talent for sight to know I didn’t like the look of the guy outside. But I didn’t pull out one of my throwing stars. I had no desire to get into a fight with Ashley, the bodyguard, because she mistakenly thought I was a threat to her charges.
The guy watched Devon for several seconds before his gaze moved over the rest of the shop. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because he stepped out of sight of the windows.
In the store, Felix kept right on with his relentless rambling. Ashley was still standing next to Devon, but she was staring down at a perfume bottle on top of the counter instead of keeping an eye out for trouble. I stayed where I was, my hand on my belt, watching the windows and wondering what the guy outside was up to.
A second later, he reappeared, pulled open the front door, and strode inside.
But he wasn’t alone.
Four other guys stormed into the shop behind him—all armed with swords.
CHAPTER FOUR
The mystery man reached Felix first, since he was the closest to the door. He rammed his fist into Felix’s face, and Felix dropped like a stone to the floor, unconscious. My eyes narrowed. The guy had to have some serious training to swat at Felix like he was a fly and get that kind of immediate result.
“Felix!” Ashley screamed, drawing her sword.
She charged at the mystery man, who pointed his finger at her, a clear signal that he wanted her out of the way. Two of the other men rushed past him to engage her.
Ashley raised her sword and whirled first one way, then the other, lashing out at the men with smooth, precise strikes and holding them at bay.
Devon’s eyes widened with surprise for a second before his gaze sharpened, coolly assessing the situation—and the danger. He glanced down at the counter, as if he was thinking about picking up one of the perfume bottles and using it as a weapon. After a few seconds, he glared at the glass, as though the bottles
had disappointed him by being too delicate and fragile to hurt someone with. A determined look settled on his face, and Devon stepped forward and opened his mouth—
A third man came up on his blind side and wrapped his hand around Devon’s throat, squeezing tight and cutting off whatever he’d been about to say. I thought the man might go ahead and choke Devon to death, or snap his neck, but he stood there and maintained his grip.
Devon punched and punched the man, driving his fists into his attacker’s stomach over and over again, but the hard blows didn’t seem to bother the other man, and the guy kept his death grip on Devon’s throat. He must have had some sort of strength Talent that let him ignore punches like that, any one of which would have made another man let go and gasp for air.
Me? I stayed where I was. Not because I was shocked, frozen, or scared by what was happening, but because I had absolutely no plans to get involved. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero.
This seemed to be a dispute between the Families, an ambush assassination attempt that was probably in retaliation for something that someone else higher up on the food chain had done. Devon and Felix were just unlucky enough to have gotten caught in the middle of some Family feud, with Ashley along as collateral damage. It happened all the time in Cloudburst Falls. Folks like the Draconis were always plotting against the other Families, especially the ones they perceived as threats, or worse, competition for magic, money, and power.
Oh no. I didn’t want any part of this. My mom had been the bodyguard—not me. Time and time again, she had risked herself for some rich Family schmuck and had gotten little in return. And when she’d had problems, when she’d been the one in danger, when she’d needed protection, no one had helped her. No one had given a damn about her, despite all the times she had saved their miserable lives.
So, no, I wasn’t going to risk myself for these strangers—no way.
But then Devon looked at me.
His green eyes locked with my blue ones, and my soulsight kicked in, letting me feel his emotions—red-hot anger, soul-crushing guilt, stomach-churning fear. Not the usual feelings I would have expected in this situation. The guilt intrigued me. So did the fear, especially since it was for his friends instead of himself. Devon didn’t care what happened to him. He only wanted to get free so he could help Felix and Ashley.
Devon kept staring at me. He tried to croak out some word, but the guy choking him didn’t give him the chance.
“Quiet!” he hissed, shaking Devon and tightening his grip on his throat.
Devon’s gaze met mine again, even though he had to be seconds away from blacking out. I saw the silent, desperate plea in his eyes—and I felt his anger, guilt, and fear knife me right in the heart.
Damn it.
I pulled a throwing star from my belt and sent it flying. The weapon zipped across the pawnshop and sank into the guy’s right shoulder, making him howl with pain, let go of Devon, and, most important, drop his sword.
I grabbed another star from my belt and raced down the aisle, heading straight at the wounded man. He was so focused on the weapon sticking out of his shoulder that he never even looked up, so I sliced the edges of the second star across his stomach to get his attention. He threw back his head, bellowing even louder with pain and anger, but I was already pulling out the first star from his shoulder and moving forward for another strike.
Mortal, magick, or monster, there are certain areas that are particularly sensitive on anyone—eyes, throat, knees, groin. So that’s what I went for. I slammed my sneaker into the guy’s knee, putting all of my weight and strength behind the blow. Then, when he staggered forward, I rammed my knee into his groin. He was really screaming then.
The guy toppled to the floor, but I wasn’t done yet. I grabbed his sword from where it had fallen. Then I brought the weapon up, around, and down—straight into his heart.
He arched once and then went completely slack—dead.
I stopped long enough to hook my throwing stars back onto my belt and glance at Devon, who had managed to pull himself up onto his hands and knees.
“Are you okay?”
He gasped for air, so I took that as a yes.
By this point, Ashley, the bodyguard, had killed one of the guys and was fighting another, along with the mystery man. I tightened my grip on the dead guy’s sword and stepped forward to wade into the fight.
At least, I tried to.
The fourth and final guy, who’d been hanging back so far, stepped into the aisle in front of me. The overhead lights made his black, stubbly hair stand out like needles poking out of his skull. I recognized him—the leader of the three guards that had chased me across the rooftops last night. What was he doing here?
“Well, well, well,” he rumbled, grinning and showing me his crooked teeth. “If it isn’t the one who got away.”
“I thought you didn’t like carving up little girls.”
He shrugged. “I might not like it, but it doesn’t bother me, either. Especially not when I’m getting paid this much for it. You’re not going to be so lucky today.”
I twirled the sword in my hand. “We’ll see.”
He let out a loud bellow, raised his sword, and charged at me.
We fought through the pawnshop aisles, knocking over books, dashing bottles off counters, overturning bins of movie posters, and making a mess. The guy didn’t have all that much skill with a sword, and I was easily able to defend against his attacks. But he had a moderate Talent for strength, and each one of his blows was so sharp and hard that it threatened to jar my weapon out of my hand. I was going to have to change tactics before my own strength gave out and he managed to slap the sword away from me.
Meanwhile, Ashley had killed the second guy and was battling the mystery man, who had drawn his own sword to counter her quick, relentless attacks. Devon managed to stagger back to his feet, although he was still trying to suck down air through his severely bruised throat. Felix remained sprawled on the floor in the front of the shop, still unconscious.
Everything was going more or less okay—until the mystery man broke through Ashley’s defenses and stabbed her in the stomach.
She screamed, and blood arced out from the wound—dark, red, arterial blood. Ashley collapsed to the floor, although she managed to hold on to her sword. The mystery man approached her and she lashed out with the weapon, trying to catch him across the legs. However, he sidestepped her clumsy blow and headed toward Devon, who raised his fists, even as he wobbled on his feet.
I couldn’t peer directly into the mystery man’s eyes, but his cruel, satisfied smile told me all I needed to know about his intentions. But the fourth and final guy was still in front of me, so I wasn’t going to be able to protect Devon. Not unless I did something drastic.
Not unless I used my other Talent.
I cursed myself for getting involved in the fight, even though there was nothing I could do now but see things through to the end. I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t let Devon die. Maybe because I knew that the world needed more people like him, more strong, silent types who felt things far more deeply than they ever let on. Maybe because he was the kind of thoughtful, loyal person that my mom had always been proud to protect. Maybe because he was someone who actually seemed to care about others, especially his friends.
So I sighed, lowered my sword, and turned my head to the side, wincing at what was coming next—
The guy’s fist plowed into my face.
He saw the opening I’d given him, and he took it. The hard blow threw me back five feet, making me crash into a counter, the one with all the perfume bottles that Ashley and Devon had been considering. The counter rocked back and forth, but it didn’t tip over and the glass didn’t shatter. But the violent motion caused several bottles to slip off the top, slam onto the floor, and splinter into shards, sending the soft scents of lilacs and roses spiraling into the air.
For a moment, the pain of the punch overwhelmed me, as if a firecracker had exploded in my jaw, and it
was all I could do to stay conscious.
But then, my other Talent kicked in, and the pain crystallized into something else—a brutal, bitter cold so intense it burned.
My entire body felt like it had just been submerged in the chilliest water imaginable and then left outside in a raging blizzard to air-dry. One second, I was sweating from the effort of swinging my sword in the shop’s stuffy air. The next, I had to grind my teeth together to keep them from chattering from the frigid sensation filling my body, as though my blood had been replaced with ice. But it wasn’t ice running through my veins—it was magic.
So I focused on that cold burn of magic and let it flow through my entire being, reenergizing me. Because this—this was my true Talent.
Some people called it transference, the ability to absorb magic used against you and turn it into something else. A major, major Talent because it was so extremely rare and could make someone so very powerful. But I knew it for what it really was—my most trusted weapon, and my most dangerous secret. One that I kept hidden for all sorts of reasons.
Oh, magic hurt me the same way it did everyone else.
But magic also made me stronger.
I staggered away from the counter and back onto my feet, holding my sword down by my side. That cold burn of magic filled every single part of me, thrumming through my veins like a bittersweet song.
The guy who’d hit me frowned, wondering why I wasn’t an addle-brained puddle on the floor. Then he snapped his fist forward again, aiming for my head as though he wanted to punch right through it.
This time, I caught his hand in mine, keeping it from slamming into my face again. We seesawed back and forth, with the guy trying to use his larger size and weight to overpower me. He didn’t realize that by punching me, by using his own strength against me, he’d given me the very thing I needed to beat him.