Ancient Magic (Dragon's Gift: The Huntress #1)(6)

He wouldn’t use his powers either if it meant getting locked up in the Prison for Magical Miscreants. As long as I didn’t use them, I could pretend that I was nothing but a low-strength Mirror Mage and have a lovely life where no one tossed me in prison.

The shadow demon threw another blast of fiery smoke. It plowed into the ground in front of me. The stone floor exploded. The blast threw me backwards. Pain streaked through me. My entire front felt singed, pierced by small pieces of shattered stone. A cough tore through my lungs and I blinked blindly, my throat and eyes burning.

I could barely see, and he kept throwing those damned blasts of smoke at me, driving me ever backward. I just had to get him to lay off for a sec. Then I could question him.

Through the dust, I could make out his hulking form approaching. It was risky, but I threw each of my blades in quick succession, hoping to incapacitate but not kill.

The thud of a body collapsing sounded. The blasts of power stopped coming.

I climbed to my feet and limped toward the form sprawled on the ground. The stone bit into my knees when I dropped beside him. My blades protruded from his chest, one embedded in each pectoral. His breath strangled in and out of his lungs, but he wasn’t dead. I grasped his rough shirt and shook him.

“What do you know about me?” I said.

“What”—he coughed—“you are.”

“But—”

His lips parted, and I snapped my mouth shut, frantic to hear what he had to say.

“FireSoul.”

I stumbled back, my stomach twisting. Chills raced over me. How could he know that? No one knew that but my deirfiúr.

“I’m a Mirror Mage.” My voice came out hardly louder than a whisper. I tried again, louder, fear choking my throat. “I’m a Mirror Mage!”

Panic welled in me, and I crawled back to him, reaching for his shirt again, desperate to shake answers from him.

His eyes were dimming, their gleaming black light turning a dark gray. A great breath shuddered out of his lungs, followed by stillness.

The light faded from his eyes, and his body disappeared. My blades, no longer embedded in a chest, clattered to the floor.

“No!”

My heart threatened to break my ribs. I hit the ground, frustration and fear beating in my chest.

The demon was gone. Not dead—you couldn’t really kill a demon—just send them back to whatever hell they’d originally come from. Normally very neat and tidy. Except this one had information about me, and my blades had been too accurate. The demon had seemed so strong when my first blade had found its mark. I’d wanted to question him more. This was what happened when I freaked out. Like a bull in a china shop. And it was the main reason I could never use my magic.

My breath echoed too loudly in my ears. Think, think. How could the demon have known that I was a FireSoul? Was it because this job was in Ireland, my homeland? At least, what I assumed was my homeland, given that I could speak Irish and had red hair.

One option was so terrifying I couldn’t even poke it with my mind. It was the bogeyman that lurked at the corner of my memories. Whenever I pressed too hard, it leapt up, bringing with it a splitting headache and adrenaline like nobody would believe.

I had to get out of there. Talk to Nix.

Quickly, I grabbed my blades, shoved them into their sheaths, then climbed to my feet. I limped to the altar, pain singing up my leg, and grabbed the golden chalice. It’s magic sang beneath my palm, an unsteady beat that indicated this was old magic. The perfect age for selling. There were other priceless objects too, no doubt tributes to the gods carved onto the columns.

My fingers itched to pocket a couple, namely a golden dagger encrusted with rubies and a strange hexagonal blade that looked wickedly sharp on all sides. Despite my terror, covetousness surged within me. My hand trembled as I reached toward the golden dagger. Just one touch. I wouldn’t take it.

No.

I sucked in a deep breath and clenched my fist. Not mine. Not mine. Like an addict resisting a fix, I dragged my gaze away from the glitter.

With a shaking hand, I pulled a small black rock out of an inner jacket pocket. My last transport charm. Like all magic that wasn’t my own, they were expensive and hard to come by. Del could make them because she could transport, but her power was limited and they commanded a lot of it, so she couldn’t make them often.

I should use the charm only in emergencies.

But this sure felt like a heck of an emergency.

I threw the stone to the ground. It shattered and a glittering silver cloud rose in front of me. I stepped into the sparkling stuff and envisioned my home. Magic grabbed me around the waist and threw me through the ether.





CHAPTER TWO





By the time the portal spat me out in my little shop, some of my freak-out over the demon had faded.

Which was a good thing, because all hell had broken loose inside Ancient Magic, the entrepreneurial enterprise that kept our collective ship afloat. Del and Nix had been my besties since we’d woken in the field ten years ago. My deirfiúr.

“Nothing’s ever simple, is it?” I muttered.

Two men with stupid black stockings over their heads were grappling with Nix in front of the counter. Looked like her afternoon had been just as adventurous as mine.

Despite their silly disguises, they were both huge, with hulking shoulders and ham-like fists. They’d each grabbed one of Nix’s arms. Probably wanted to tie her up and rob the place. That was the usual deal.