Magic Undying (Dragon's Gift: The Seeker #1)(6)

An expanse of brown caught my eye, and I glanced over. A beautiful house sat nestled amongst the trees, overlooking the wide, glittering river. It was a modern marvel of wood and stone, with massive windows that would provide a gorgeous view. The whole place was beautiful, and totally unexpected so close to a portal.

Not my business. Certainly not now. And no way I’d knock on that door for help. Who knew what lived there.

I raced away from the house and the portal, following my dragon sense toward town. I zipped up my jacket to cover the wound on my chest and resumed my human form. As I ran, I reached up to touch the comms charm at my neck, but it was gone.

Had it been torn off in the fight? Or during one of my many falls?

However I’d lost it, it looked like I’d be getting home the hard way.



When I finally staggered onto the street that held Ancient Magic, the shop I ran with my deirfiúr, tears prickled my eyes. I knew I’d be happy to see this place again, but crying? That was new.

The wound at my chest wasn’t deep enough to cause massive blood loss, but the poison was becoming a problem. I could feel my limbs growing heavier and weaker.

It hadn’t helped that I’d had to run the whole way home. Not a single car had passed me until I’d reached the city limits, where our shop was located. Though Magic’s Bend was the largest city of supernaturals in the country, where fae walked around with their wings out and Shifters stalked around on four legs, it still wasn’t big. We were hidden from humans by a massive spell, so the only traffic through town was supernatural. Hitchhiking wasn’t easy when your town had so few cars going in and out. Most times it was impossible.

I stumbled down the main street of Factory Row, which was wide and nearly empty. Factory Row was usually pretty dead since we were at the edge of town. One side held a park, and the other a row of old factory buildings from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. They’d been converted into shops and apartments in the nineties. The shops were mostly antiques places, so our own shop, Ancient Magic, fit right in.

The rent was low and the company odd, which made it ideal for me and my deirfiúr. We rented the entire building above our shop, each of us taking a floor for our apartment.

The windows of Ancient Magic glinted in the light of the setting sun, welcoming me.

I was home. And not a moment too soon. My legs were starting to feel numb. I shoved aside the panic. It did no good in situations like this.

I shivered in the chill autumn air as I hurried toward Ancient Magic. When I stopped outside the window, my gaze immediately zeroed in on Cass and Nix, who stood behind the counter. Shelves stocked with all kinds of artifacts and replicas covered every wall. The treasures filling the space might draw most people’s gazes, but I had eyes only for my friends.

They were here. Safe.

Cass, with her red hair and usual brown leather jacket, stood next to Nix, who was her opposite in many ways. Nix’s brown hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she wore a T-shirt with a cartoon cat on it. She hovered her hand, which glowed blue, over an ancient Greek amphora. An identical vase stood by its side on the counter. In addition to being a FireSoul, Nix was a Conjurer who could also transfer magic.

Looked like they were transferring a spell from an artifact to a replica, which we would then sell. Selling only the decayed magic in artifacts was how we stayed on the right side of the law.

Cass glanced up, her gaze widening at the sight of me. Confusion was replaced by pure joy, a light so bright that I grinned.

Nix let out a shriek of delight. I stumbled into the shop, colliding with my best friends, getting lost in a tangle of arms.

“Del!” Cass cried. “You’re alive!”

They squeezed me so hard that I almost saw stars.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Tears prickled my eyes.

Ten years ago, we’d woken in a field with no memories and only the ratty dresses on our backs. We hadn’t even known our own names. Since then, we’d made our way in the magical world, three FireSouls lying low from the government that hunted them.

I pulled back, my gaze devouring them. They were alive. Really, truly alive, having survived the battle that had killed me. The magical world, which existed secretly alongside the human one, was a dangerous place. There were fights all the time. The one that had killed me had been a doozy, but only unusual in the fact that I had died.

“Where have you been?” Cass demanded as she shook me by the shoulders.

Pain streaked through my chest, and my knees weakened. I stumbled.

“I have a problem.” In my joy, I’d temporarily forgotten my wound. I winced as I unzipped my jacket. The wound was still bleeding slightly, with the green poison oozing from the cuts.

“Shit!” Cass cried.

“Oh no.” Concern clouded Nix’s eyes. “That looks bad.”

“Yeah.” I gasped as my heart started to race. “It’s poison.”

Cass and Nix caught me under the arms and turned me to the door, helping me stumble along.

“Come on,” Cass said. “We’re getting you to Connor. He’ll know what it is.”

They all but dragged me down the dark street toward Potions & Pastilles, the coffee shop owned by our friends Connor and Claire. They were a brother and sister pair who had immigrated from England about six years ago. Claire was a mercenary, while Connor was a hearth witch with an extraordinary knack for potions.