Magic Burn: an Urban Fantasy Novel (Shifting Magic Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Magic Burn

  Shifting Magic Series - Book 2

  Catherine Vale

  Contents

  Magic Burn

  Catherine’s Newsletter

  Cover Page

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Thanks For Reading!

  About the Author

  Other Books by Catherine Vale

  Magic Burn

  Shifting Magic Series: Book #2

  The second book in the bestselling new series by New York Times Bestselling Author Catherine Vale.

  Don't get killed by a bloodthirsty Warlock or his legion of darkness.

  That’s been Kaye’s goal since discovering that a murderous Warlock sent a gargoyle to kill her. Now forced into the shadows of the Hallowed Forest, as a ruthless army of darkness hunts them down, Kaye must form uneasy alliances, and unravel the secrets of her true identity.

  Magic Burn is the second book in the urban fantasy Shifting Magic series. Don't miss this thrilling world of otherworldly magic, in the battle against dark forces. For those who love paranormal romance mixed with urban fantasy, this is for you.

  This book contains explicit language, violence, and content suitable for adults. It also features a fierce heroine, powerful dragon shifter and tons of colorful, otherworldly characters.

  Catherine’s Newsletter

  Website: http://www.CatherineVale.com

  Looking for free urban fantasy and paranormal romance books, as well as access to giveaways, contests and more? Subscribe here: www.ShifterFans.com

  Chapter One

  “Heads up!” I shouted, amplifying my voice, so that it reverberated off the walls of the cave. Right on cue, all the supernaturals within range, the ones on our side of this bloody war, quickly moved out of the way. Within seconds, my dragon’s flame incinerated a squadron of goblins. Their comrades shrieked in anger, and I deflected an incoming arrow with a deft flick of my hand.

  Learning that deflection charm after the hive’s first invasion, had come in handy time and time again. I was suddenly less annoyed at my older brother, Zayne, for making me sit through hours and hours of classroom time to learn spell theory. There hadn’t been time for lessons in charms, spells, or magic of any kind since I was a teenager. After all, in another life, I was just a fae psychologist, living and working a simple life in New York City. My life there, was Friday night martinis with friends and nearly almost all of the rest of my time was spent with clients. Though, I occasionally met up with my fae sisters—no blood relation, of course—for a weekend of fae-induced frivolity. Ordinary. Drama-free. Peaceful.

  Now, everything had changed. I was Kaye Allister, half-fae, half-dragon shifter, fighting a righteous war alongside my half-brother, Zayne, and his militia of supernatural resistance warriors.

  Our goal: stop a bloodthirsty Archmage named Abramelin from eradicating shifter clans from the face of the planet.

  One of our greatest assets?

  My dragon.

  My non-magical, surly, tongue-in-cheek, swoon-worthy dragon, Darius. He fought every skirmish in dragon form, which was no small task given he was the size of a city bus, and we fought in secret caverns, hidden beneath the supernatural realm of Alfheim.

  Sometimes it was a tight fit, especially now that the curse of his ex-girlfriend—a witch, no less, both literally and figuratively—was finally broken, and he had full use of his wings. But I was always just a little more smitten with him after each battle. I couldn’t help it. Darius in dragon form—with his scales, red as a summer sunset, and his flame, blue as a dying star—was the most exquisite thing I’d ever seen in my life.

  No one could blame me for crushing hard on the guy. It wasn’t every day that I got a chance to date a beautiful dragon shifter with a wicked sense of humor, right?

  It certainly helped that he had been willing to give his life for mine when one of Abramelin’s men tried to toss me from thirty feet up to what would have undoubtedly been sudden death. Yeah, I was never going to live that down.

  Unfortunately, we’d had plenty of opportunities since that initial battle, between Abramelin’s forces and Zayne’s militia, for Darius to give his life for me. In the month that followed that skirmish, the hive—aptly named because the headquarters of Zayne’s secret underground world was shaped like a beehive—had almost twelve raids. Some of them were noteworthy. Others, like the goblin siege today, were just a nuisance.

  Still, no enemy force could be taken lightly. Abramelin was hell-bent on annihilating an entire race of supernatural beings—a race I’d only recently learned I was a part of, courtesy of my mom’s affair with a dragon shifter. Even if I hadn’t learned I was half-shifter, I still would have fought this battle, side-by-side with my older fae brother and my beautiful dragon, Darius, because it was the right thing to do. No one deserved Abramelin’s level of persecution, of magical terrorism, solely because he or she happened to be born a shifter.

  So, we would fight to the very end. Today’s battle was just a drop in the shit-storm of conflict swirling around the supernatural community, all just outside the realm of human awareness.

  Or so I hoped. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if things spilled over and people found themselves forced to get involved. If humans did one thing well, it was nuking whatever potential threat they could, before said threat nuked them.

  Literally.

  “Kaye, behind you!” I whirled around at Zayne’s prompting, nailing the goblin, who’d been creeping up behind me, square in the face with my foot. I would have preferred my fist—so much more satisfying—but given that most goblins weren’t taller than hip-height, it was the best I could do. The creature emitted something that sounded like a belch, and I hit him with a disorienting hex—a flash of bright yellow from my fingertips. I followed that with another hex that was basically the magical version of get-the-fuck-out-of-my-face—a flash of red light. Seconds later, the little creature sailed across the cavern, hitting the huge, rough stone wall with a grunt.

  The goblins had coordinated an attack with a handful of mountain trolls from Alfheim. The goblins were supposed to crush us with their magic. Unfortunately for them, goblin magic wasn’t much to speak of, and their attack amounted to only a lot of green slime everywhere. While sticky, foul-smelling and quite slippery, it didn’t do all that much damage in the grand scheme of things. Our fairies, elves, witches, dryads and even our one vampire had more magic in their pinkies, more spells in a single brain cell, than goblins had in their entire bodies.

  The trolls were eliminated with a sunlight spell, turning them all to stone the second they came barreling into a cave we called Freedom Falls—because of the gorgeous waterfall, gushing down from the ceiling into an underground, blue lake. Intelligence had them arriving aroun
d noon; they didn’t make it until two that afternoon, and we were ready. With the massive trolls hardened into decorative statues, it was just us and the goblins. It would have been an unfair fight, if they hadn’t had the numbers. I’d never seen so many of the pesky fuckers in one place in all my life.

  Goblins had the height advantage. They were quick, slippery and mischievous to a fault. All in all, however, not great fighters. As Darius stomped out a cluster of them, squishing them under his enormous dragon talons, the rest fled through the tunnel their trolls had carved. When the last one was gone, a fae and a witch got to work on closing the tunnel and sealing it with a ward. The rest of us checked on the wounded, piled up the dead goblins, and tried to get all the green slime off our boots.

  While my right knee was a bit testy today, I’d managed to walk out of the battle unscathed—a far cry from my first rendezvous with Abramelin’s forces. Either I was getting better, or his troops were getting less impressive with every wave we beat back. I wanted to think it was the former, but had a suspicion the latter would be better for the collective good.

  “Good grief, man, put that thing away.”

  “No one’s forcing you to look at it,” Darius drawled from behind me, much to dwarf Alfred’s disgust. A slow smile spread across my lips. “I can’t help that he’s at your eye level—”

  Without looking back, I raised a hand and tried out the new summoning charm Zayne and I worked on last night. It was a blend of white magic and witchcraft, requiring the summoner to close her eyes, concentrate hard on the item in question, and then picture her white magic furling around it like a fist.

  About thirty seconds later, a damp pair of jeans dropped into my outstretched hand. Apparently, someone had left them in any number of dank places around here; who knew underground caves could be so moist? Not I.

  I turned around just as Alfred stalked by me, grumbling something about indecent exposure, and I had to swallow my laugh, knowing it wouldn’t help the situation. Once fully turned around, I found my dragon in his human form—his delicious, gorgeous, stunning human form. Swallowing hard, I worked very hard on keeping my gaze level with his, my emerald green eyes fixed firmly on his stormy gray ones. Darius’s brow quirked slightly, lips twisted into a wicked smirk, and I knew he was daring me to look down.

  If I did, my gaze was bound to wander across the gorgeous muscular bounty of his body, over the hard planes and edges, right down to… Well, it.

  Not today, bucko.

  Rolling my eyes, I thrust his jeans at him, which he accepted with a long, drawn out sigh. I looked away while he shimmied into them. As soon as I heard his zipper whiz up, I crossed my arms and finally let myself look at him, ignoring the way my cheeks prickled with color.

  “You okay?” I asked, assessing him for injuries. I’d gotten pretty good at healing him in the field when the need arose, but since the caliber of Abramelin’s attacks had been hit and miss, I hadn’t needed to heal him in a few weeks. Today appeared no different. While sweaty and a little soot-stained, Darius was in perfect condition.

  “Fine,” he told me, hands on his hips—and pectorals on full display.

  Don’t stare, Kaye. Don’t. Do. It.

  He shook his head. “Smells like shit in here though.”

  “Goblins.” I rolled my eyes again. “Goblins and charred bodies. I’m not surprised it smells horrible.”

  We exchanged quick grins, though both faltered when one of Zayne’s fae generals marched right up to us and thrust a pair of rubber gloves at each of us.

  “Goblin slime is resistant to most magic,” he remarked, evidently amused by our disgusted faces as we accepted our gloves. He then summoned a handful of garbage bags, a bucket, and a mop. “Unless you can heal, you’re on cleaning duty.”

  “Oh, I can do that,” I said quickly, as Darius started to protest. “I’ve been getting rather good at healing… It barely drains my energy anymore.” Shoving my cleaning supplies into Darius’s hands, I strode forward, headed for the gathering wounded, but was sure to shoot a smirk over my shoulder for my dragon. “Let’s see this place sparkle.”

  He mouthed a very pleasant fuck you at me. I only laughed harder when he tried to shove his big hands into gloves that were obviously meant for me, then quickened my stride when he blew smoke out his nostrils, clearly unimpressed.

  Maybe he’d think twice about tempting me with his magnificent body when we were around the rest of the militia.

  I snorted. Highly unlikely.

  “Today was nothing more than a distraction.” I flinched when my brother’s hand slammed down hard on his desk, hard enough to knock over a jar of quills and a pot of ink. He cursed, hastily gathering important documents, while I all but leaped out of my chair to contain the damage. Quills upright, I summoned a thick cloth and threw it over the spilled black ink. While I had many new spells, charms, and hexes in my arsenal, cleaning spells hadn’t exactly been high on the priority list. Zayne would just have to clean it better when we left his chambers.

  Darius remained unmoved, probably used to Zayne and me falling into the sibling routine more and more these days. He leaned against the stonework creeping up the wall around the fireplace. The mantel was made of a blend of crystal—infused with protective magic—and natural slate from the caves around the hive. It was a grand piece of design, but Darius would always draw my gaze first, not the masonry. He crossed his arms when our eyes met, much of the joking and silliness from our post-battle flirting gone. Zayne’s ire had sucked all the fun out of the room in a heartbeat.

  “What makes you say that?” I asked, settling down in the fat, yet stiff leather armchair. My eyes drifted to the map etched into the desk’s wooden surface featuring both Alfheim and North America. I focused intently on where the two worlds intersected. I cleared my throat as my brother pushed his high-backed chair away and started pacing, hands clasped behind his back. “Today’s battle was just like all the others—”

  “They’ve all been distractions,” he snapped. I didn’t take offense to his tone. While we were only rekindling our relationship after years apart, I knew he had an insane amount of stress on his shoulders. After all, he was responsible for every living creature here—and, in his eyes, every supernatural and shifter in Alfheim and the human world. He led the resistance. He fought in every battle we did, usually leading the charge.

  He was allowed to be a bit snappy and churlish. I could give him that, though I would put my foot down at outright rudeness. I mean, he had pulled us out of our cozy dinner up in my room for this little meeting.

  “Abramelin’s forces have been assaulting Alfheim as well, particularly in the Core,” he told me after a few moments of tense pacing. I stiffened, a twinge of anxiety making my stomach turn.

  “How… What’s happening?”

  “Guerilla-style attacks,” my brother said, sighing. From the way he spoke, I could tell it pained him. “Hit and runs. Our forces outside can’t keep up. It’s not good. I believe he thinks he has weakened the supernatural community substantially enough, that he can finally unleash his wrath on the shifter clans.”

  Darius’s growl told me he wasn’t about to let that happen, but I wasn’t sure we had the ability to stop Abramelin from our location in the hive.

  “I’ve only just heard from my intelligence agents that he’s moving west.”

  I frowned. “Why west?”

  “The clans,” Darius answered for Zayne, his voice gruff. “There are several wolf and bear clans to the west, along with the dragon communities. They’re very powerful.”

  “Indeed.” Zayne nodded, his expression tight. “He’ll want to weaken those more substantial clans before he delivers the killing blow. It is our estimation that once they are sure of a victory, they’ll encircle the stronger shifter clans from all sides and eliminate them.”

  “That’s horrible,” I whispered. My words had no meaning anymore, everything Abramelin did was horrible. There were cubs in those clans. And the elderly. S
hifters who had never fought a day in their lives. It wasn’t fair to pit them against an army of supernatural magic-wielders, but it was evident that had been Abramelin’s plan all along.

  And, really, we had known that. We weren’t fast enough to stop it.

  “These little skirmishes have been distractions,” Zayne insisted. “He’s been keeping us busy down here, so we don’t divert too many of our forces to Alfheim and the human world, where the real fighting will take place.”

  I stood, my heart racing. “We can’t just sit here anymore.”

  “We need to warn them,” Darius agreed.

  “If we go now, maybe we can stop them,” I continued, pushing some scraps of parchment aside on Zayne’s desk to get a better look at the maps. “It will take time to move all those supernaturals into place. If we can—”

  “Abramelin will take advantage of the portals,” Zayne remarked, scowling. “He’ll move quickly. Quicker than we’ve been giving him credit for lately.”

  “Then we need to move faster,” Darius said as he stalked across the dimly lit room and stood by my side. I caught the slight shake of Zayne’s head, but before he could shoot my dragon down, I offered a better solution.

  “We should split up,” I told them, my voice soft as I contemplated the near future. “Darius and I can make our way toward the clans in the west, with a group of fighters, of course, and you can take others to warn the remainder of the clans. Abramelin may think he’s killed or weakened enough supernaturals to make a move, but we have a decent sized militia here, Zayne. We could do this.”

  I glanced at Darius to gauge his reaction. While he still wore a hard expression, he started to nod, his stormy gray eyes distant and reflective. As always, my dragon was on my side. Squaring my shoulders and drawing in a deep breath, I turned my attention to Zayne, who seemed less sold on the idea than I’d hoped.