Fireborne, p.21
Fireborne, page 21
part #1 of Raven Cursed Series
It wasn’t until I relaxed the scowl on my face that he continued.
“It was after years of Malific terrorizing so many in the Veil, conquering for no other reason than to assert her power, that eventually, with persuasion from others, the Caste intervened. They pride themselves on being neutral…” He considered his words for a second. “Not neutral as much as too self-absorbed to care about more than themselves. Self-absorption, which is often seen as a flaw, serves as an asset for Caste. They tend to overindulge and prefer extravagant lifestyles. Their exceptional ability to curse has never made them power hungry. Attaining and maintaining power is difficult and of no interest to them.” Briefly he looked up from Pearl, his eyes meeting mine. “The Blood Moon is in two days.”
Uh, okay. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Excuse me?” Obviously, I had missed an important part of the conversation.
Giving me a small smile, he said, “It’s not a coincidence that they abducted her two days before the Blood Moon. It’s the most optimal time to do a spell, particularly if they have something that can remove the curse. They’ve secured a Caste, because only Caste blood can be used to remove the curse. As long as a Caste exists in the world, the curse will remain. Unless it’s lifted.”
“How can you two be so confident that a magical object is involved and that they don’t have several Caste?”
“Because it took the magic coven to weave the curse. It is doubtful that one person could lift it, no matter how strong they are, which is why there has to be a magical object involved. Even if they have more than one Caste, it’s doubtful there are enough of them to remove the curse. A magical object has to be involved. Hopefully Elizabeth will be able to offer us more help, perhaps find the object and nullify it.”
Maybe we did have time. But not a lot. Where are you, Mephisto?
Pearl was devouring the attention Simeon bestowed on her but still decided that it wasn’t enough. She bumped her head against my leg in a request to pet her.
You’re not a house cat no matter how many houses you end up in! The look I gave her relayed that thought. Pearl simply bumped me again. Eagerness to know more about Simeon kept me seated next to him, halfheartedly stroking Pearl. She made some chuffing noises and Simeon laughed and covered my hand with his, guiding it over her fur, showing me how she preferred to be stroked. Content, she snuggled her head closer to me. Despite her belief, she wasn’t a house cat and was at risk of unbalancing me. I switched position and sat on my butt, unsuccessfully trying to ignore Simeon’s magic. Weary from drowning in magic, I was relieved that Simeon’s was decidedly the less tempting of the two. I chalked it up to the fact that I knew Mephisto’s and its facets and ignoring it was more difficult. And Simeon hadn’t ever had me on the kitchen island shirtless, panting, clawing at him.
I was confident that wasn’t likely to happen. He was infinitely a better choice than Mephisto to share magic with, if it were possible. And if he were as open about Mephisto as he was about the Caste and Immortalis, then I might be able to find out more about him and Mephisto. It was a situation where I just couldn’t lose.
“She likes you,” he soothed, removing his hand from over mine.
Or she wants me to be an appetizer. The fact that on her hind legs, she stretched to a length that would put her just a few inches shorter than me made it difficult not to see her as anything less than a predator. No matter how friendly Pearl was, one overly playful or aggressive lunge could floor me, and her claws and fangs were designed to damage. She tolerated my unguided stroking of her velvet fur for a few minutes before shrugging me off and returning to Simeon, who apparently had superior stroking skills.
That gave me an opportunity to move away from Simeon, whose magic was inducing urges that were getting harder to ignore. Leaning against the wall, I watched him.
“You can communicate with all animals?” I asked.
He nodded. I gathered he preferred the company of four-legged animals. Studying him with greater scrutiny, I could see flecks of green in his terracotta eyes. The intensity of them swung from the animal to me in anticipation of more questions.
“Can you only speak to animals or can you read their minds as well?”
His lips slowly formed a smile. “That’s not the question you want to ask. I prefer directness. What you want to know is whether I can read your mind, because humans are animals, too.”
I barely moved my head into my nod. The kitten had fallen asleep, and he moved from under her to standing with imperceptible grace, then quickly closed the distance between us. I was mistaken; his magic wasn’t less tempting than Mephisto’s. The similarities and the stark contrasts were apparent but no less enticing.
“Mephisto enjoys his games,” he said, “and his indulgences. I don’t share those qualities. Be direct with me and I’ll be direct with you.”
I liked him. I liked him a lot.
“You know who I am, right?” I asked.
“Yes. Erin Jensen.”
He might be direct, but questioning him was going to be difficult. It was like asking a robot: I wasn’t going to get any more than what I asked.
“Do you know what I am?” I modified.
“I know what Mephisto thinks you are and the capabilities he is hopeful you possess.” A shrewd smile appeared and disappeared. “I know what people think you are. Raven Cursed.” He frowned. “Crudely referred to as ‘death mage’ in a demonstration of the slow extirpation of history and respect for words. Mage magic is diametric to what you are.”
“Diametric?”
“Your magic comes from loss—most of the time, life. Theirs, like witches’, is created, it’s vitality and conception. Witch and mage are new magic, yours isn’t. It is a curse, but it can’t be traced to the Caste—so I suspect it predates them. An arche.”
Although his words were cold and somewhat cruel, his tone held a gentle timbre. Paying more attention to our conversation, it wasn’t until I felt the pulsating energy of his magic near me, waking my senses, that I realized how close we were to each other. Fully aware how easily he moved undetected, I watched him more carefully.
“Are you and Mephisto the same? I mean magic wise.”
“No. He can’t communicate with animals, his defensive magic is stronger than mine, and he can Wynd. I can’t.” He tilted his head at me. “You’re not asking the questions you want to ask.”
“If I were to borrow magic from you, what would happen?”
“What do you think would happen?”
“I thought you valued directness. You don’t seem to have the same feelings about vagueness.”
His smile radiated mischief and reticence. A duality I wasn’t fond of.
“Because that’s not what you really want to know. Ask your question, Erin,” he urged. His patience appeared to be thinning.
“Mephisto didn’t die when I borrowed magic from him, and something about your magic feels the same. I’m wondering if you’d respond in the same way.”
There was so little space between us that if I wanted, I could just say the words of power and find out for myself. Remembering the massive headache I suffered when I tried to do it to Mephisto without his permission was the only thing stopping me. I wish it was because it was wrong, but it wasn’t.
There was a slight spark of irritation when Simeon’s gaze drifted to the entrance, where Mephisto was now standing, and then back to me.
“Perhaps,” he said, “but I don’t have a desire to find out.”
He glided away from me with the same ease he had moved toward me and went back to take a position next to the napping cat.
“I assume you’ve filled her in on the Caste and Immortalis?” Mephisto asked.
Simeon nodded, ignoring the sharp look Mephisto was giving him as he addressed me.
“My knowledge is your knowledge,” he offered. I had no idea what that meant.
“You’re offering her use of your library?” Mephisto asked.
“If she’d like. Your interest in her makes it necessary that she doesn’t remain as ignorant as she is now.”
Becoming less fond of his directness since it seemed to come with a side of insults, I glowered. But he was offering me his library, his knowledge was mine. And I had a lot more to learn.
“That’s quite an offer,” Mephisto said, his tone smooth and professional despite his speculative gaze. “Simeon’s library is impressive. Many originals, before they were modified to present what they want the general public to know. Books that are no longer in circulation, and handwritten accounts of many events. It will be an experience you should enjoy.”
Mephisto’s gaze narrowed on Simeon and they stared at each other. Finally breaking the eye contact, Simeon looked down at the napping snow leopard.
“Should I leave her here?” he asked.
Irritation moved over Mephisto’s face.
“No, put her in the basement.”
“Who will watch her?”
She’s an apex predator, she doesn’t need to be “watched.”
“Benton will be here soon, he can do something with her,” Mephisto groused, heading for the door. Guardian of the door to leopard babysitter cannot be considered a professional lateral move.
He turned and gave Simeon a wicked smile. “Maybe if she’s hungry later, he can take her into the backyard. She might find the okapi interesting.”
Simeon scowled and shot a laser-sharp glare at Mephisto. I looked from one to the other, puzzled, and then it dawned on me that Simeon must be the friend who’d given Mephisto the okapi.
Mephisto laughed and Simeon nudged Pearl awake. “I don’t find your humor funny,” Simeon asserted.
“Of course not, you never do.” Mephisto looked quite pleased with himself.
CHAPTER 23
We drove down the empty street of Mephisto’s subdivision, flanked by trees that obscured the few neighbors from each other, interspersed with small ponds and fountains. As we approached the gate, it opened and two motorcycles sped in, the drivers slowing their machines to look in our window. Giving Mephisto a small nod, they turned and raced away.
“That’s Kai and Clayton,” he informed me. By the time we were through the gate, they were so far ahead, I couldn’t see anything more than the ruffle of their shirts from the wind as they tore through the streets.
In the gravel parking area were the two motorcycles, parked. The taller of the two men rested against his bike. Deep, dusk-brown skin melted along the angles of his face and high cheekbones. His lips twitched as he watched the slight man bound back and forth. They couldn’t have been waiting long, but from watching the tawny-skinned man pace, you would have thought they’d been waiting hours.
I got out of the car and was immediately hit with the wave of magic flowing from them. It was more than magic coming off the pacing man. Bounding energy like that couldn’t be functional. I wouldn’t be likely to forget experiencing his magic. It was an effort to drag my gaze from his finely carved features, but I managed because staring is rude. I did keep taking peeks at him, though. His ethereal beauty made it difficult not to watch him to determine what was the most alluring thing about him. Could it be his sharp nose, his expressive eyes, or his enviable flawless skin? When he caught me looking, he stopped pacing.
“I’m Kai,” he said softly, his cognac-colored eyes meeting mine briefly before he returned to walking, slower now, but he obviously needed to move.
The taller man, who I assumed was Clayton, was as fluid and effortless in his movements as if he were gliding in water, which, based on his broad build that narrowed at the hips, was something he did often. A swimmer’s build. Full lips remained in a relaxed line, resisting a smile of greeting. His curious eyes looked me over. His nostrils widened a little to inhale and he leaned slightly into the air. Did he sense magic the way I did? Did I smell like Riesling and strawberries the way Grayson said I smelled?
“We didn’t think you would take so long, Mephisto,” Clayton teased, but his voice tightened on the name. Simeon’s gaze wrenched in my direction, hyperaware of my presence. I knew he was used to calling Mephisto something else.
“Erin was in the car.”
“Ah, protect the breakable Erin. That’s your excuse.” His head went back in laughter that Mephisto didn’t share.
So, they weren’t as breakable. Today was full of new information, including the fact there were more people like Mephisto. Even in the open space, their unique thrum of magic couldn’t be ignored.
Although Clayton continued to address Mephisto, his eyes stayed as glued to me as mine were to his. After several moments of us gazing at each other, his lips settled into a welcoming smile.
“Clayton,” he said, extending his hand. My gaze held his before dropping to his long dreadlocks of intricate twists, coils, and waves that he had secured back with a loose-fitting band.
“Hi,” I breathed out, hating the sound of my voice. It wasn’t him. I felt like I was drowning in magic that I couldn’t have, and I hated the feeling.
One brow hitched up and he smiled, exposing brilliant white teeth. I had zoned out. Trying to force myself to think of anything other than magic, I blurted, “I like your dreadlocks.”
“I’m confused. Do you like them, or do you find my locs dreadful?”
“No, not dreadful at all.” Confused, I looked at Mephisto, whose pursed lips indicated he’d heard this line before.
“You can just call them locs.” Clayton grinned in Mephisto’s direction. “I’ll save her the history lesson.” He winked at me.
“Well that hardly seems fair since I’ve had to hear it . . . what is it, twenty times?”
“There’s nothing wrong with a refresher on history. Isn’t that what you always say? But of course, if it were up to you, my locs would be gone, right, M? Sharing the attention has always been difficult for you.”
Mephisto chuckled. The sound held an ebullience very different to the darkness he leaned into. This man brought it out of him. I looked at him with renewed interest.
“M, you’re bringing a Raven Cursed to see Elizabeth. I don’t see how anything could go wrong with that.” Clayton cast a sympathetic look at Kai, whose pace had quickened.
“It’ll be fine,” Mephisto said in a neutral voice that lacked the confidence needed to sound believable.
Mephisto navigated the area with the awareness of someone who had been there before. I fell back and allowed the Others to pass so they would encounter the imp first. Worst-case scenario, while they were dealing with the imperious duplicitous red devil, I could sneak by.
But there wasn’t an imp or sharp-toothed fishes. Instead, at my approach, the bridge collapsed and a small blaze ignited that quickly spread to surround us. I bolted toward the untouched area, hoping to cross before it was engulfed in flames, but it was too late. Encircled in the flames, heat licked the air and brushed at my skin. I looked around anxiously. It was only a matter of time before the forest would be engulfed in wildfire. That didn’t happen. The orange-and-blue flames danced around in a controlled circle with a life of its own, restricted to the small area.
“Step back,” Simeon instructed.
I did. Backed away until I was in the middle of the forest. The fire faded, leaving the ground unmarred. The bridge reassembled and yellow flowers twined around the handrails.
“It’s you,” said Kai, in a whisper, when the flames ignited again at my next approach.
Really? I never would have come to that conclusion.
Mephisto sighed and a frown tugged down his lips. Exasperation whetted his words. “Elizabeth.” He said her name with a combination of reverence and annoyance. An appreciation of her display of power and irritation that it was being used against him.
Mephisto whispered a few words, and the flames disappeared then reignited. A spark of fire lashed out and nearly burned Mephisto, who jumped out of reach just in time. It was a reprimand for his behavior.
“It will be worse if we attempt to disable it,” Mephisto said. He studied the fire. “I don’t believe Elizabeth is happy with us.”
“Us?” Clay looked at me cautiously.
“You all should go. Obviously you are welcome and I’m not,” I said. I’d have to find an alternative way of getting to her. Worse, all information from her would come secondhand and possibly edited.
Mephisto placed his hands close to the flames. “It’s an illusion.”
Illusion my ass. I’d seen illusions and very convincing replications, and this was neither. Illusions didn’t give off heat.
“It’s a Mirra,” he offered in explanation.
A spell, I presumed, one I wasn’t familiar with. I reveled in new information, as a rule, so I should have been pleased to learn about Mirras. I wasn’t. I was being reminded that I knew little about this world and I desperately wanted to learn more. Like this magic. Elizabeth’s magic. It had to be powerful beyond imagination to create such a realistic illusion.
“We need to walk through it,” Kai said, his voice just above a whisper.
Like hell I’m walking through fire.
Without preamble or further consideration, he walked through it. His strained groan that changed to a shrill sound of pain wasn’t encouraging, nor was the silence that followed.
“Kai?”
No response.
Clay followed. You don’t follow after hearing that. You stop, assess, and move away from the danger. But they didn’t. And seconds after Clay went through it, Simeon did as well, because apparently that was their logical response to someone groaning in pain and then falling silent. It’s like hearing a crash and a bloodcurdling scream. I see it as a sign of danger, whereas obviously they looked at it as an invitation.
“It’s going to feel like you’re going through a fire, but you won’t have any injuries,” Mephisto informed me.
“That’s reassuring.” Fear softened my sarcasm.
