Cold Burn of Magic(7)

“Watch where you’re going,” she growled.

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going?” I snapped right back.

The girl stopped, then turned to face me. She was beautiful, with long golden hair, perfect porcelain skin, and dark blue eyes that glittered with anger. She was the only girl in the group not wearing a sundress, although her white shorts and cropped red top were still the best that money could buy.

So was the black blade belted to her waist.

Guns had long ago been banned in Cloudburst Falls for the simple reason that big, beefy, scary-looking guards carrying guns made the tourist rubes nervous. So the Sinclairs, Draconis, and other Families kept law and order with swords, daggers, and, you know, other sharp, pointed weapons. And the tourism officials had totally embraced the idea, claiming that the old-fashioned weapons added to the town’s magical atmosphere. Whatever.

Besides, a gun wouldn’t do you much good against someone with a speed Talent, who could dodge bullets like they were as big and slow as beach balls. A little more magic and a whole lot more skill was involved to keep out of the way of a sword’s edge for any length of time, especially if the person wielding the weapon knew what she was doing.

This girl looked like she knew exactly what to do with her sword. In fact, she was already rocking back and forth on her feet, ready to attack me at a moment’s notice, studying me as closely as I was her.

She took in my battered black backpack, sneakers, gray cargo pants, and faded blue T-shirt that had been washed and worn a dozen times too many before her gaze focused on my wrist. I knew what she was looking for. A cuff that would let her know which Family I belonged to, if any.

Like the one she was wearing.

A gold cuff wrapped around her right wrist, a snarling dragon stamped into the middle of the gleaming metal. Blond hair, black blade, gold cuff. Terrific. Out of all the girls in the square, out of all the ones in the entire town, I had to run into her.

I might not care much for the Families, but I recognized the dragon crest and the girl in front of me—Deah Draconi, daughter of Victor Draconi, head of the Draconi Family, the most powerful man in town.

“What did you say?” Deah demanded.

Her companions all wore the same gold cuffs stamped with the same Draconi dragon crest. The girls spread out, forming a semicircle behind Deah. Apparently, they didn’t want to get in her way should she decide to slice me in two with her sword, something she was exceptionally good at, if you believed the rumors.

I would have liked nothing more than to tell Deah Draconi exactly what I thought about her, and especially about her horrible father, but I forced myself to swallow my anger.

“Nothing.”

“Yeah.” She smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Deah stared at me, her blue eyes bright with a clear challenge. Thinking that she was the alpha bitch here, she wanted me to lower my gaze and look away, but I lifted my chin and glared right back at her. Surprise flashed in her eyes, then wariness. She recognized an enemy when she saw one. Her hand dropped to her sword, her fingers curling around the hilt and hiding the intricate scrollwork and symbols from sight, as she considered me.

Part of me wished she would draw her weapon. Because being a thief wasn’t the only thing I was good at, and I itched to show her that I was exactly the same sort of tough girl she was. Even if picking a fight with a Draconi was pretty close to suicide.

She smirked at me again. “Come on,” Deah said to her entourage. “This nobody isn’t worth dirtying up my clothes.”

She drove her shoulder into mine, making me stagger to one side, before walking past me. The other girls giggled, but Deah never even looked back as she sashayed away.

Of course she wouldn’t. I didn’t belong to a Family, so I was a nobody, just like she’d said.

I stood there, my cheeks burning, my body rigid, my hands clenched into fists. Part of me wanted to run after her, grab her shoulder, spin her around, and plant my fist in her face for what she’d done to me, for what her Family had done to mine—

A happy shriek of laughter from a little boy tossing pennies into the fountain snapped me out of my anger. I shook my head, banishing the treacherous thoughts. Letting my emotions get the best of me, especially when it came to the Draconis, would be a quick way to die, and I was far too sensible for such things.

At least, that’s what I told myself. Even if I did glare at Deah Draconi’s back until she and her friends left the square behind.





CHAPTER THREE


I pushed aside the rest of my anger and headed for the store that took up the entire back section of the square. A flashing blue neon sign over the entrance screamed THE RAZZLE DAZZLE in ten-foot-high letters surrounded by a cascade of stars. As an added touch, the white stars winked on and off, burning even brighter than the blue letters. Mo wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to his advertising—or greed.

I pushed through the double doors, causing a series of lochness bones to rattle together, and stepped inside. Despite its grand name and neon sign, the Razzle Dazzle was what most tourist rubes—what most everyone—would call a pawnshop. And that’s if they were being nice. Junk store was way more appropriate.

Glass cases filled the store, stretching from wall to wall and front to back, housing everything from jewelry to digital cameras to musical instruments. And that wasn’t counting the metal racks full of books that crouched in the corners, the rolled-up movie posters crammed into bins, or the fake and not-so-fake art prints and paintings that decorated the walls, along with stuffed tree troll and other monster heads.