Burned by Magic

Burned
by
Magic

The Baine Chronicles, Book One

Jasmine Walt

Copyright © 2015, Jasmine Walt. All rights reserved. Published by Blue Bolt Publishing.

This novel is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, except by an authorized retailer, or with written permission of the publisher. Inquiries may be addressed via email to
[email protected]
.

Cover illustration by
Judah Dobin

Cover typography by
Hungry Author

Edited by Mary Burnett

Electronic edition, 2015. If you want to be notified when Jasmine’s next novel is released and get access to exclusive contests, giveaways, and other awesomeness, sign up for her mailing list
here
. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.

“H
ey, shifter girl!”
a human with sandy hair shouted as he leaned over the bar counter. He waved his hand as though I were a cab he was trying to flag down. “Can I get another whiskey over here?”

“Coming right up.” Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I grabbed a glass from beneath the counter and the requisite bottle of liquor. Strobe lights bounced off the dark walls of the club as I splashed a generous amount into the shot glass and slid it across the glossy countertop. The place was in full swing tonight, shifters, humans and mages all clamoring for their shot of liquid courage so they could go rub their bodies all over each other on the dance floor and hopefully take someone home with them tonight.

“Thanks.” The human threw back his shot in one go. His pale cheeks turned bright red, and his wheezing cough told me taking shots was a new pastime.

“Another,” he gasped, slamming his glass down on the counter.

I arched a brow. “Don’t you think you should take it easy?”

The human grimaced. “I need it if I’m going to ask that girl over there for a kiss.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, where a brunette in a skin-tight red dress leaned against the wall, her dark orange gaze scanning the crowd. The lack of whites in her eyes combined with the dark orange color of her irises told me she was a tiger shifter, likely her
e searching for a male to help her get through heat.

“Why her?” I glanced back at the human, taking in his white polo shirt and short, neatly trimmed hair, which was so different from the loud clothing and hairstyles the residents of Rowanville boasted. This boy was from Maintown, the section of Solantha reserved specifically for humans, and I doubted he’d ever set foot into the melting pot of Rowanville in his life.

The boy bit his lip. “I lost a bet, and now I have to get a shifter girl to kiss me. Unless you’d rather do the honors?”

“Ugh. No thanks.” The kid looked all of nineteen years old; at twenty-four I had
some
pride.

“Aww, c’mon.” The kid leaned forward, desperation in his eyes. “The guys are watching me from across the room right now. If I did it right now I could get out of here.”

“Save it, kid.” I curled my lip, exposing the fangs sliding out behind my gum line. The kid blanched. “I’m not getting involved. My advice, you hightail it outta here and go tell your mother. That girl over in the corner is looking for a lot more than just a kiss. She’ll tear you apart if you lead her on and then try to ditch her later.”

“Fine.” The boy slumped back down into his barstool and gave me a sullen glare. “Just give me the shot.”

Why did I even bother?

“Suit yourself.” I poured him another and watched him down it. He wasn’t the first to come in here on a bet. Most of the human customers were regulars who knew the deal – so long as you were within these walls you treated everyone with the same amount of respect regardless if they were shifter, human or mage. That’s how it was supposed to be in Rowanville – the only neighborhood in Solantha where shifters, humans and mages lived together. But every once in a while someone from one of the segregated neighborhoods wandered in to cause trouble. Usually they got more than they bargained for.

“Thanks.” The kid slapped a coin down on the bar. “Wish me luck.”

Yeah, right.
I shook my head as he disappeared into the crowd, then turned back to my work. Tempted as I was to watch the tigress wipe the floor with him, I had a bar to tend, and it was nearly as packed as the dance floor.

I reached for the coin the kid had left for me on the counter, intending to pocket it. But as soon as I touched it, searing pain shot straight through my fingers.

“Oww!” I dropped the coin like it was a hot coal, and shook my smoking hand. Fucking Maintowner. Didn’t he know shifters were allergic to silver? The little bastard had probably left it there on purpose. I had half a mind to drag him back out of the crowd so I could beat on him myself.

“I’ll trade that for you.” Cray, the other bartender, offered. He pocketed the coin, then handed me a pandanum coin of the same value. He was a black-skinned human, and didn’t have any issue handling the silver.

“Thanks.” I smiled at him and tucked the coin into one of my pouches. Most of the humans around here were pretty decent.

“Hey. Can I get a glass of
teca
with a twist of lime?” a woman with ice-blue shifter eyes asked. My nose told me she was a wolf.

“Coming right up.” I ducked beneath the bar to grab the bottle of liquor. I could use a little
teca
myself – it was one of the few substances that could actually get shifters drunk. On another night, I could have been that wolf shifter, standing at the bar asking for a drink after a long day chasing bounties. Instead I was here serving them up.

As I reached for the liquor bottle, the inside of my forearm brushed against the crescent knives strapped to my leather-clad thigh. A familiar longing seared the inside of my chest, and I sighed.

All it would take is one blowjob, and you’d be out of here and back to your
real
job.

I fought the urge to shove my hands into my mass of curly hair and yank on it until I’d come to my senses again. There was no way I was wrapping my lips around that dick’s… well, dick. I’d much rather stay here at The Twilight, even if that did mean dealing with snotty little shits like that Maintowner.

Still, being stuck behind the counter like this sucked. Yeah, I could mix a decent drink, but I wasn’t meant to be a bartender. As a black panther shifter I was a natural hunter, much better suited to chasing down criminals and turning them in like every other licensed Enforcer in the city. That’s what we do – we clean the riffraff off the streets so the mages don’t have to get off their entitled asses and do it themselves. And since we get paid per head, most of us are pretty motivated about the whole affair.

Unfortunately for me, Garius Talcon, the Deputy Captain of the Enforcer’s Guild, was in charge of distributing all the mission dockets. And ever since he found out that I was only half-shifter, he’d been treating me like a lesser being. Recently he’d decided that if I wanted to continue getting jobs I needed to get down on my knees and suck him off.

I’d told him that if I ever got down on my knees in front of him he’d better run like hell because it meant I was going to rip his balls off and feed them to him. And ever since then we’d been at an impasse.

I’d tried going to Captain Galling, but my word was useless against Talcon’s, and there was no one to corroborate my story. Truthfully, it was better not to draw attention, because as far as Talcon and Galling knew I was a shifter-human hybrid. If I gave them a reason to dig deeper, they would find out about my real heritage, and money would be the
least
of my problems.

Until I figured out a way around Talcon, the only Enforcer jobs I was getting paid for were the ones I brought in by answering the emergency response calls broadcasted by my Enforcer bracelet. As much as I hated to admit it, right now bartending paid the bills.

Turning my attention back to work, I served up the
teca
with a big, fat smile on my face, and was rewarded with a big, fat coin for my trouble. I nodded my thanks at the she-wolf before she disappeared into the crowd – the shifters here were always my best tippers.

“Sunaya!”

I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of my mentor’s voice in my head, calling my name. Heart pounding, I scanned the crowded bar for him, though part of me wanted to simply shrink behind the counter and pretend I didn’t exist. Even though Roanas Tillmore knew about my bartending job, I didn’t like it when he saw me here – after all the time and effort he put into training me it was shameful that I was tending bar for a living. But I caught no sight of him, and weeding through the hundreds of clashing smells, I didn’t catch his scent either.

Shaking my head, I picked up another glass to get started on the next order. Must’ve imagined it. Mindspeech didn’t work well from more than a couple hundred yards away, so if I couldn’t smell him then he wasn’t here.

“Sunaya! Co… quick… need…”

The glass slipped from my fingers as Roanas’s garbled voice echoed inside my ears. It hit the ground and shattered, tiny pieces shooting across the floor, but I hardly noticed as acid-sharp panic filled my lungs – panic I realized wasn’t from me at all, but from Roanas.

As the Shiftertown Inspector, Roanas rarely ran into a situation he couldn’t handle. If he was able to reach me with a mental call from afar, he was in big trouble.

“Hey!” Cray snapped as he tapped me on the shoulder. “What the hell are you doing, standing around with all this broken glass everywhere!”

I whirled on him, baring my fangs. “I have to go,” I growled. He took a step backward, his eyes wide – Cray was a big guy, but as an unarmed human he was no match for me.

Turning away, I slapped my palm on the counter and launched myself over the bar. Patrons yelped as I sailed over their heads, and Cray cursed me, but I hardly heard them over the blood pounding in my ears. I landed in a crouch halfway from the bar to the door, then sprinted outside to where my steambike was parked on the curb. I was going to lose my job over this, but I didn’t care – nothing mattered more to me than Roanas.

With that thought taking up all available real estate in my mind, I hopped onto my bike and shot into the street, leaving a white-hot cloud of steam in my wake.

Twenty minutes later, I skidded to a halt in front of Roanas’s house in Shiftertown. The lights spilling out from the windows and into the darkness of the street told me he was home. I charged up the steps of the two-story brick townhouse, my veins full of fire as I prepared to face an army of enemies. I fully expected to open the door and find the place wrecked, the furniture splintered and the floor splattered with blood, because nothing short of a fucking army would be able to take down Roanas.

Instead, I found him lying on the red and gold carpet in the living room, his big body splayed next to the coffee table.

“Roanas!” I was at his side in an instant, an icy fist of fear squeezing my heart. He was lying on his back, his skin pale beneath his dark complexion as he shook. Foam spurted from his blue lips, and his tawny lion-shifter eyes rolled.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chanted as I scrambled for the vial of antidote I kept in one of the pouches strapped around my torso. I knew the signs he was exhibiting all too well. This was silver poisoning.

I carefully positioned Roanas’s head in my lap, then pried open his mouth and poured in some of the antidote. The pale amber liquid trickled right out of his icy lips, but I tried again, doing my best to get it into his mouth despite the tremors. Still nothing. I bit my lip as his cheek came into contact with my hand – his skin was frigid – and then tried a third time. Finally, his throat bobbed and the liquid stayed down.

Instantly the tremors receded to slight vibrations, and his breath came a little easier. A huge wave of relief rushed through me, and I wanted to sag against the couch. Instead, I fed him the rest of the antidote, drop by drop until the entire vial was gone. Even so, the symptoms did not completely subside – his lips were still blue, his skin ice-cold.

“Sunaya,” Roanas croaked in a voice like crushed gravel. He shifted his head in my lap, his black mane of tiny braids sliding against my legs.

“Shhh,” I soothed, sliding my arms beneath him so I could lift him onto the couch. His dark cotton shirt was soaked in sweat. “Don’t speak. You need to conserve your energy.”