Cold Burn of Magic

  Technically, pixies were monsters, since they weren’t quite human—or at least human-sized—like mortals and magicks were. But really, pixies were the housekeepers of the world, offering their services in exchange for food, shelter, and protection. I’d been hoping that one—a nobody like me without a Family—would take refuge in the library basement, and we could work out a similar deal, especially since I hated making up my bed. And doing laundry. And every other housekeeping chore. But it hadn’t happened. I bet that none of the Sinclair Family members ever had to make their beds. I bet that whoever lived here never had to lift a finger. Not with all these pixies scurrying around.

  Reginald followed a female pixie balancing a tray of cucumber sandwiches on top of her head. Apparently, she was headed toward our destination.

  I kept gawking as we moved through one room and one wing of the mansion to the next, going so deep into the structure that I had no idea where we were—or how I could get back out again.

  Or if I was ever going to get back out again.

  Finally, Reginald opened a set of double doors and we stepped into an enormous library, one that stretched up three levels, all the way to the top of this particular section of the mansion. Each level featured a wraparound balcony, all filled with bookshelves, and all overlooking the main, square reading area on the first floor. The ceiling rose to a point; it was made out of panes of black-and-white stained glass that cast alternating pools of shadow and light onto everything below.

  Here on the first floor, ebony shelves filled with books, photos, crystal paperweights, and other expensive knickknacks lined one wall. An antique ebony desk occupied the back of the room, in front of a series of doors that led out to a balcony encompassing the entire length of the library. Another crystal chandelier dangled from the ceiling, like a cluster of icicles frozen in place.

  I eyed the shelves, wondering if I might discreetly swipe a silver picture frame or two. Just because I’d been brought here more or less against my will didn’t mean I had to leave empty-handed. Like Mo had said, I was always looking to put more cash in my pockets, along with silverware, jewelry, and other small valuables.

  The female pixie fluttered over to the white marble fireplace that took up most of another wall. She placed her tray on a table next to another tray that held a pot of tea, spoons, and several cups. But I focused my attention on the figure sitting beside the table—a familiar face with sly black eyes.

  “Lila!” Mo called out, jumping up off a white velvet settee. “Finally! There you are!”

  He looked the same as ever in his white pants, flip-flops, and Hawaiian shirt, this one a bloody red printed with smiling hula girls.

  I broke free of my entourage, grabbed his arm, and yanked him all the way to the back of the library, next to the balcony doors. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure we were out of earshot, then turned back to face him.

  “What is this?” I hissed. “Who are these men, why were they waiting for me outside of school, and why did they bring me to the Sinclair Family mansion?”

  A smile lit up Mo’s face. “This, kid, is an opportunity. The opportunity of a lifetime.” His smile disappeared. “And, frankly, the best I could do for you, all things considered.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means I had a hard time convincing the Sinclairs you were not involved in the attack at the Razzle Dazzle. That you were just an innocent bystander who managed to save the day.”

  My eyes narrowed. “What happened after you shoved me out of the shop? What have you been doing the past few days? What in the blue blazes is going on?”

  Mo waved his hand, brushing off my concerns. “Oh, you’ll find all that out soon enough. Just promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “That you’ll let me do all the negotiating.” He paused.

  “Unless you see a chance to get a better deal. Then feel free to speak up.”

  “Deal? What sort of deal—”

  Before I could ask him again what was going on, the double doors opened and Devon stepped into view.

  Dark brown hair, green eyes, chiseled features, muscled body. He looked the same as before, with one notable exception—he’d traded in the casual T-shirt and pants he was wearing at the Razzle Dazzle for a black shirt layered under a black suit. My heart sank. Because only high-ranking Family members wore suits like that, and only then on special occasions.

  Like, say, an execution.

  Devon nodded at me, then went over to stand with Grant and Felix, who were munching on the cucumber sandwiches the pixie had brought in.

  Reginald proceeded to the doors and held one open for a woman to enter the library. Like Devon, she was wearing a simple, but expensive, black suit, although she’d added three-inch stilettos to her ensemble. A silver cuff glimmered on her right wrist—one that featured the Sinclair Family crest, that stupid hand holding a sword. Her hair was a beautiful auburn, while her eyes were a cold, clear green. And just like with Deah Draconi, I recognized her.

  Claudia Sinclair, the head of the Sinclair Family, the most powerful woman in town.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Claudia walked over and stood next to Devon. Side by side, the resemblance between them was obvious, and I could have kicked myself for not realizing exactly who he was sooner. Like, say, back at the Razzle Dazzle.

  If I had known, I might have let that guy strangle Devon to death after all.

  I whirled around to Mo. “That guy is Devon Sinclair? Claudia Sinclair’s son?”

  I hissed out the words through clenched teeth, but my voice wasn’t as quiet as it should have been, and the others heard me. Felix, in particular, seemed amused, and he elbowed Devon in the side as though he found my ignorance entertaining. If this kept up, I was the one who’d be worse than the tourist rubes. But right now, I was too angry to care.

  Mo nodded.

  This time, I made sure to lower my voice. “Why was Devon Sinclair in your shop?” A sneaking suspicion occurred to me. “You weren’t going to sell him that ruby necklace, were you?”

  He gave me an offended look. “Of course not. I already had another buyer lined up for that.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, so Mo sighed and finally answered my question.

  “Devon was out in the Midway a while back, looking for a present for his mom,” he said. “I had rented a booth for the day to showcase some of my finer items, and I . . . might have suggested that I had some even better stuff at the Razzle Dazzle. Something that might really wow the head of the Sinclair Family.”

  That matched up with what Devon had told me, but it wasn’t a good thing. Not at all. My head started pounding. This was bad, so very, very bad.

  “And the other guy? Felix?”

  “Felix Morales. Son of Angelo Morales, the Family chemist, and Devon’s best friend.”

  “And the bodyguard?”

  “Her name was Ashley Vargas. Another Family member, albeit it a relatively new one.”

  I couldn’t keep from letting out a low groan. This just kept getting better and better. Somehow, despite my best intentions not to get involved with any of the Families—ever—here I was standing in one of their mansions, all eyes fixed on me.

  Grant, Reginald, and Felix had dragged me here before Claudia Sinclair to . . . to . . . do what exactly? Question me about the attack? Determine whether or not I was involved ? Torture me until I told them something they wanted to hear?

  Either way, this was the absolute last place I ever wanted to be. For a wild, crazy moment, sheer, sweaty panic filled me, and I wondered if they all might know who I really was. Mo would never tell them, but Claudia Sinclair might guess on her own. And if she did, then she’d never let me leave here—

  Reginald gave Mo a sharp nod, which he returned with one of his own. I pushed my panic aside and eyed Mo. He had never told me much about his contact with the Families, much less this particular Family, but Mo knew everyone. He had to in his line of work. I wondered what
he had gotten me into—and how I was going to get out of it.

  “Keep your cool, answer their questions, and you’ll be fine,” Mo said. “And try not to be too much of a smart-ass, okay, kid? We’ve both got a lot riding on this.”

  He plucked my backpack out of my arms, scurried over to the white settee, and took his previous seat there, leaving me standing in the back of the library all by myself like a complete idiot.

  “Mo!” I hissed in that too-loud voice again. “Mo! Get back over here—”

  Claudia strolled forward and my words died on my lips. Everyone stopped what they were doing to turn in her direction, including me. She had that much of a commanding presence—not to mention the ability to have me executed with a snap of her fingers.

  “Now that we’re all here, we should get started.” Her voice was smooth and silky, but it definitely was an order, not a request. “Grant, Felix, thank you. That is all for now. I will call you when we have finished our discussion. In the meantime, please go make the necessary arrangements for our . . . guest.”

  The cold, clipped way she said guest made me think about severed tree troll heads showing up in my bed, instead of mints on my pillows. That was exactly the sort of mob hospitality I would expect.

  Grant and Felix each gave her a respectful nod, then left the room, shutting the doors behind them. Claudia took a seat in a black armchair in front of the fireplace. The tall, wide, throne-like chair was set back from all the others, in a pool of shadows, with the rest of the seats angled to face it. Oh yes. Claudia Sinclair was definitely the queen here.

  Devon took the smaller, matching chair closest to hers. Mo grinned and patted the empty space on the settee. Grumbling under my breath, I went over, sat down next to him, and wished that I hadn’t. The settee was in a sunspot, one so bright I had to squint against the glare, and the white velvet was so slick I had to dig the toes of my ratty sneakers into the black Persian rug to keep from sliding off—

  Reginald bent down beside my elbow. I bit back a surprised shriek. Somehow, he had appeared at my side without my even having seen or heard him move. He was either really fast, really quiet, or really good at lurking. Probably all three.

  Reginald held out a china cup to me. “Tea, miss?”

  “Not unless it has a whole lot of ice and at least a pound of sugar in it.”

  He frowned but set the cup aside, then picked up the platter of treats.

  “Cucumber sandwich?”

  My stomach rumbled. “You got something bigger?”

  His frown deepened. “Bigger?”

  “Yeah, you know, more substantial? Like a sub or something? With bacon? Because I could down that whole plate of nibbles in, like, five seconds flat.”

  If I was going to be questioned, or whatever this was, then I at least wanted to get some free food out of the deal. And those little cucumber things were barely thicker than saltine crackers.

  A soft snicker sounded, and I realized that Devon was laughing at me, his eyes crinkling with the first bit of warmth I’d seen him show. My hands curled into fists in my lap. He had no right to laugh at me. None at all. Not after all the hurt he’d caused me.

  Reginald didn’t like the snicker, either. He gave Devon an icy look, and Devon’s laugh turned into more of a choking cough.

  “As you wish, miss,” Reginald said in a stiff voice, setting down the tray. “I will go see if I can round up . . . a sub.”

  He made it sound like I’d asked him to serve dog food to the Queen of England. But he bowed to Claudia and strode out of the library, closing the door behind him.

  That left me alone with Devon, Claudia, and Mo. Everything was quiet except for the faint tick-tick-tick of a crystal clock on the fireplace mantel. It sounded eerily similar to the grandfather clocks I’d heard in the pawnshop after the attack. Only this time, the seconds were counting down to whatever decision Claudia Sinclair might make about me.

  “So,” Claudia said, her voice seeming to float out of the shadowy depths of her chair. “You are the girl who saved my son. Lila Merriweather.”

  Mo dug his elbow into my side, his not-so-subtle way of telling me to answer her.

  “Yeah, that’s me. The one and only.”

  “And tell me, exactly how did you manage to do that?” she asked.

  “I took out two guys.”

  “You really expect me to believe that you killed two grown men, all by yourself? A seventeen-year-old girl with only a Talent for sight?”

  I glanced at Mo. Looked as if he’d told her more than I thought, if he’d mentioned my magic. But he hadn’t told her everything; otherwise, this conversation would be going in a very different direction. Still, the last of my panic vanished. My most important secrets were still safe.

  Mo dug his elbow into my side again, encouraging me to keep talking.

  I shrugged. “They’re not the first ones I’ve killed. I doubt they’ll be the last. Cloudburst Falls might be the most magical place in America, but it’s also one of the most dangerous. Especially after dark. Unlike you and your son, I don’t have the luxury of hiding behind Family money and mansion walls, or of having other people do my dirty work for me.”

  Mo sucked in a breath at my rude, snarky tone, but I didn’t care. I’d been approached by strange men, driven up the mountain, and dragged in front of the head of a Family, and I still had no idea what was going on and what the Sinclairs wanted with me.

  All I wanted was to get out of here, get away from this place and these people who reminded me so much of what I’d lost—my mom.

  And what I could still lose—my freedom.

  But Claudia kept staring at me, expecting an answer, so I decided to play nice . . . for now.

  “You don’t believe me, ask Mo. He can vouch for me.”

  Her eyes cut to him, her green gaze even frostier than before. “Oh, I am quite familiar with Mr. Kaminsky. More familiar than I care to be, actually.”

  “Yes, indeedy. Claud and I are old friends.” Mo’s smile widened at her obvious displeasure, as if he enjoyed needling her.

  “I watched the security footage from the pawnshop,” she continued. “And Mo has told me all about your . . . skills.”

  Mo gave me a guilty grin, and I tried to figure out exactly how much he had revealed. Obviously, he’d mentioned my sight magic, but I wondered if he’d told her about my other Talent as well. Mo was the only person who knew about my transference power, that magic made me stronger. My mom had always warned me to keep that particular skill to myself, for fear that someone might try to rip the Talent out of me. There was a booming black market for stolen magic, just like there was for everything else in Cloudburst Falls. Some creatures simply wanted to eat you, but there were worse things, like someone tearing your magic out of your body and taking it for himself—before he killed you.

  “Lila is a scrapper, that’s for sure,” Mo chimed in. “A real good fighter. You saw the footage.”

  Mo was so paranoid about being robbed that he had more hidden cameras in the pawnshop than he did digital ones for sale. I bit back a curse. I should have known that Claudia had studied the footage. She would have wanted to see the attack on her son for herself.

  “And where were you when Devon, Felix, and Ashley were being attacked?” Her tone was as sharp as a sword’s edge.

  “Unfortunately, I was in the back of the shop, or I would have jumped to their rescue myself,” Mo countered, his voice even smarmier than his smile. “You know that.”

  Her gaze grew even colder.

  “But luckily, Lila was there,” he hurried on. “You’d better snap her up before somebody else does.”

  Snap me up?

  “Word’s already gotten out about Lila’s skills,” Mo continued, spreading his hands wide. “Why, today alone, I’ve had inquiries about her availability from three other Families.”

  My availability? That sounded suspiciously like bodyguard talk, the sort of thing I’d heard him say on the phone when he was lining up m
y mom’s next job and trying to weasel a few more bucks out of her potential employer by pretending he had someone else competing for her services. I was starting to get a bad, bad feeling about what Mo was up to.

  Claudia ignored him and focused on me again. “Why would you even get involved in such a fight? What were you hoping for? Some sort of reward from my Family?”

  This time, I was the one who threw my hands out wide. “Yeah, because being dragged up here and interrogated is such a great reward.”

  “But surely, you knew who Devon was.” She jerked her head at Mo. “Your friend certainly did, luring my son to his cheap shop in the first place.”

  “Hey, now,” Mo protested. “Ain’t nothing in my shop cheap. Tacky, sure. But never, ever cheap.”

  This time, we all ignored him.

  Devon sighed and finally entered the conversation. “He didn’t lure me anywhere, Mom. I told you that I remembered Mo talking about his store, and I decided to check it out. That’s all.”

  “That’s never all,” Claudia snapped. “Not where you are concerned.”

  Devon sighed again, and something like weary resignation flickered in his eyes, but his gaze shifted away from mine before I could get a lock on exactly what the emotion was. Yeah, Devon was important, since he was the son of the head of the Sinclair Family, but it sounded like Claudia was talking about something else, something more. Seemed like I wasn’t the only one here with secrets.

  “So you can see why I find this whole situation . . . suspicious,” she finished in an icy tone.

  She had every right to be angry because her son had been attacked, but she was getting on my last nerve. I hadn’t asked Devon to come into the shop, and I certainly hadn’t wanted to be in the middle of the fight. But I’d been there, and I’d even done the right thing, for a change. And look where it had gotten me. Being accused by Claudia Sinclair, who thought that I had some sinister ulterior motive when I didn’t. Enough was enough.