Ancient Magic: a New Adult Urban Fantasy (Dragon's Gift: The Huntress Book 1) (3 page)

 
The smoke blast hit my guardian column. Her bottom half blew apart, rock and debris flying across the temple. With an enormous cracking sound, the guardian crashed to the ground. The stone floor vibrated beneath my feet. Dust filled the air until I could hardly see.

Guilt ate at me over the damage done to such an ancient place. Don’t worry about that now. Fix it later. I jumped onto the guardian, who was now lying on the ground in several large pieces, all lined up in a row. I raced across her skirt, jumping from piece to piece until I was right above the shadow demon.

I leapt for him.

He looked up at the last moment, his eyes widening. He twisted and Lefty sank into his meaty shoulder. With a roar, he threw me off him. I skidded across the floor, then groped my way behind the top of the fallen column. He was strong, both in magic and form, and his magic smelled ancient. Like dust. I’d bet he was an old demon.

“Blades?” he yelled. “You come at me with blades? Use your magic and give me a real fight!”

“What? You bored? Been guarding this tomb a long time, eh?” I said as I flung Righty at him.

It sank into his chest, nearly a perfect shot at his heart. Or at least, where I figured a shadow demon’s heart might be.

He yanked it out and said, “You have no idea.”

I swallowed hard.

Missed his heart, I guess.

Quickly, before he could fling the dagger, I called it back to me. Righty pulled itself out of the demon’s hand and flew home.

The demon didn’t startle, nor did he look weakened by the dark blood leaking from the wound in his chest. Old and strong, like I’d thought. Even if I hadn’t hit his heart, he should at least be incapacitated. But this one was different. He wasn’t even winded from the blade that had sunk six inches into his chest.

“Well? Won’t you give me a real fight? You are one of the three. Strong enough to fight, but you don’t.”

My heart tried to climb into my throat. “What does that mean?”

The three? Did he mean me and my
deirfiúr
? How could he know about Del and Nix?
 

“What do you mean?” I screamed when he didn’t answer quickly enough.

“You don’t use your powers.” He threw another blast of magic at me. Blazing smoke blasted away my column barricade, and I scrambled back.
 

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.

 
I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall to watch. I’d step in if necessary, but I doubted it would be.

My
deirfiúr
and I had nicknames for each other. I was called Huntress because I hunted down the sparkles. Del was Seeker because she sought the artifacts we wanted in ancient texts and told me what to look for. And Nix was called Protector for damn good reason.

Quick as a blur, Nix jumped up and planted her feet on the chest of the thief to her right. She used his chest for leverage, kicking off and breaking his hold, then spun and kneed the other man in the chin so hard that he dropped to the floor, unconscious. She had to jump to do it, but she got good height.
 

I grinned as I watched her lay out the second guy with two kicks and a mean punch. He collapsed to the ground like a sack of boulders. I was grateful he didn’t crush the table full of shiny things behind him.

But then, Nix was good at choosing where they landed.

She was taller than me, and though she didn’t look any stronger, she was a heck of a lot better in a fistfight. Weapons were my game. My hand-to-hand skills were slightly better than good—enough to get me by on most jobs, which almost always involved sending a demon or two back to where they came from—but hers were almost preternatural.
 

She didn’t look like she could kick someone’s ass, though. She was dark haired and pretty, with warm green eyes and a big smile. Funky t-shirts and ripped jeans with motorcycle boots completed the picture.

“Nice job,” I said.

Nix brushed her hands off and grinned at me. “All in a day’s work. You get the chalice?”

I held it up. “Not my favorite job, but it’s done. Let me help you with those guys.”
 

Our shop was small. A narrow wooden counter stretched along one wall, shelves and tables on all the rest. Enchanted objects took up most of the space—everything from tiaras that would make a person beautiful to sleeping potions strong enough to rival the one that had knocked out Briar Rose.

Nix grabbed the enchanted cuffs off the counter and tossed me a pair.

I snagged them, then nodded at the counter where she’d had the cuffs waiting. We didn’t usually keep handcuffs next to the register. Looked weird to customers. “Expecting these guys?”

“They weren’t exactly subtle. I saw them crossing the street. No masks on yet, but all bulk and a walk like they kick puppies. Two and two equals robbery.”

I nodded as I set the chalice on the counter, then bent to cuff the guy sprawled at my feet. I wasn’t the only one who liked shiny objects, though these thieves were likely after the magic. Because of the value of the enchanted artifacts in our shop, there was a robbery attempt every few weeks.
 

After waking in the field ten years ago, we’d scrounged around for a living until we’d figured out how to profit from our skills. And thus Ancient Magic had been born.
 
We found treasure imbued with ancient magic and sold it.

Ancient Magic was located on Factory Row in Magic’s Bend, Oregon, but it was no Fifth Avenue. We provided our own security.
 

Magic’s Bend was one of three all-magic cites in America that humans had no idea existed thanks to some powerful spells. Supernaturals lived in human cities as well, but this was one of the few places we could be ourselves. It made it the perfect place to set up a shop selling ancient magic.

While I was out hunting down enchanted artifacts, Nix manned the home front. It should have been an easy job—chat with customers, sell the goods, drink coffee from Potions & Pastilles next door. But of the three of us, she was the best at kicking ass and taking names, among other things. So she protected what I hunted. In addition to being
 
Seeker, Del was a demon hunter the rest of the time, something that endeared us to the Order of the Magica, the government that ruled the Magica, and kept our shop on the good side of magical law. She was on a job right now, somewhere in South America.

I nudged the unconscious thief with my foot, then rolled him over so I could get at his back. It took some tugging, but I got his hands bound before I looked up to see Nix hanging up the phone.

She lowered the phone and glanced up. “Cops’ll be here in a minute. Dispatch said there’s a cruiser right around the corner.”

“Good. Then we can grab something to eat. I’m starving.” We’d had so many break-ins that Nix had become friends with most of the force.
 

It took only three minutes for the shiny police vehicle to pull up in front of the shop. Officers Cooper and Dale climbed out. It didn’t take long for them to collect the thieves off our floor, or for Nix to give her statement. She was well versed by now.

Within ten minutes, they pulled away from the curb, criminals in tow.

“Glad that’s over.” Nix walked behind the counter and leaned on the wood, her brown gaze avid on the chalice. “So this is it? The Chalice of Youth?”

“The one and only.”
 

Actually, that wasn’t true. There were probably more, but this was the one that suited our client the best. According to Mr. Sampson, a weather witch who’d commissioned me to find a youth charm for him, it would keep the drinker looking ever young and beautiful. They’d still age—all the magic and the mages in the world hadn’t figured out the secret of immortality—but they’d look good doing it. Mr. S planned to be the hottest weather witch on TV. Weather witches weren’t usually meteorologists, but Mr. S liked being a semi-famous local celebrity.