“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.