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

  After such a proclamation, I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect. Darius had tensed beside me, his fingertips now biting into my thigh, and Hayden had stopped fiddling with his cutlery to my left. There was no thunderous applause, no hooting from the peanut gallery in the far back. Only silence.

  I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly hurting for Darius—until the first shifter stood. Another aged man, his skin sallow and his posture stooped, rose to his feet from the middle of the table to the far right. All eyes turned to him as he kissed his fingertips, then placed them over his heart, chin lifted in an almost reverent quiet that made my chest tighten.

  Slowly, soundlessly, shifters around the room stood and repeated the gesture. Each time it happened, Darius’s death grip on my leg lessened, until suddenly his hand was gone, resting on the table as he looked around the room. It might have been a trick of the light, the flickering flame of the candles at the edge of our table, but I swore there were tears in his eyes.

  When the entire hall was on their feet—my supernaturals included, much to my continued surprise—Darius softly cleared his throat. His chair legs scraped the stone floor as he stood, mirroring the gesture with a kiss and a hand to his heart, eyes still shining.

  My heart stuttered and confirmed what I hadn’t fully admitted to myself. I loved him.

  “There is no greater honor, no greater joy,” Darius said, “and no greater fear—” The crowd chuckled. “—in all my life than to assume the position of alpha of this clan. You are my family. My brothers. Sisters. Aunts. Uncles. When this war is over, and we emerge victorious, there is nothing I look forward to more than coming home… at last.”

  Cue the positively deafening cheers. My hands clamped down over my ears as I laughed, then rose with the rest of the head table to toast to Darius, to Khalon, to our journey to clan Brisbane—and to victory.

  However, it might unfold.

  Chapter Nine

  “Okay, okay, let’s everybody fan out… Give each other some space.” I tried my best to issue the order without smiling or laughing or even hinting at all that I was enjoying the sight before me. In my brief experience with a dragon shifter clan, I’d learned a lot. Dragons were prideful, intelligent, and strong. They hailed from a tradition of warrior beings, and no one worried about getting their hands dirty.

  So, imagine my surprise when almost none of those traveling with us to the Brisbane clan had ever used a portal before. Before we left Darius’s childhood home earlier this morning, we had decided that we’d go straight to the Bighorn Mountain range in northern Wyoming, where the Brisbane clan had settled for the summer. According to Khalon, they had a winter settlement near Yellowstone Park, but this time of year, they headed to a more northern range, dwelling deep within, barricaded by magic and stone.

  When I asked about the magic situation over there, I’d been pleased to learn Abramelin hadn’t crafted their defenses, but rather they were more like the fae wards that kept humans from seeing what went on within the mountains. Perhaps a fae had done it—no one knew for sure.

  Enter the portals. Luckily for us, there was one near the Sanctius clan—about a two-hour march—that took us within range of the Bighorn Mountains, exiting right into a secluded, wooded clearing. While all the supernaturals passed through fine, the dragons were having a rough time adjusting to magical transport. At least one had thrown up, many others complained of dizziness and difficulty clearing their vision.

  “It’ll subside,” I assured them. “Just walk it off.”

  The group—about twenty dragons—were more inclined to listen to Darius and his brothers. Well, brother. Hayden bounced back pretty fast, being about ten years younger than most of the others, while Quinn sat near the portal, a hand pressed to his forehead, and wouldn’t speak to anyone.

  Anyone except Catriona, who I figured at this point had a bit of a crush on the guy. She had helped him find steady footing as soon as he stepped out of the portal, and had been by his side ever since, offering him small sips of water whenever his head popped up.

  “Bunch of babies,” Hayden said, chuckling. He stood beside me now, arms crossed. “It’s no worse than a roller coaster.”

  I clamped down hard on the insides of my cheeks to keep from reacting to the glares a few of the dragons threw his way—if looks could kill, Hayden would already be six feet under.

  We spent about an hour settling everyone down, although once most of the dragons started to feel better, myself and my fae captains moved on to other duties: checking supplies, sending out scouts, and mapping our progress. A dragon named Zander offered to fly ahead and let us know how many miles we needed to cover to reach the mountain entryway known only to the Sanctius clan. When he returned a half hour later, we learned that if we walked, it would take us about an hour and a half to get there, and that was if we moved at a good clip.

  “It’s doable,” Darius insisted, countering the dubious looks shared amongst his dragons. “We have plenty of daylight left, and our supplies are good.”

  “I think some of you should fly ahead, to make sure the way is clear.” This time I was the one catching the worried looks exchanged amongst the militia.”

  “Agreed.” Quell crossed his arms beside me, Galen did the same on the other side, and for the first time, I felt like they had my back—and meant it.

  Darius barked Quinn’s name, and the shifter trudged forward.

  “You’ll lead the brigade in the sky,” he instructed. “I’ll stay on foot with the militia, and we’ll meet at the door. At the first sign of trouble, turn back. We should be unified for whatever Abramelin might throw at us along the way.”

  “Don’t you want to fly with us, Darius?”

  “Yeah, come on, man, just—”

  “This isn’t up for discussion,” my dragon said curtly. “You’ll fly overhead, half of you leading the charge, half back with us. It’s our best strategy so that neither group is singled out in the event of an attack.”

  A few of the dragons blanched at his tone, and while it might have sounded a little harsh, I knew exactly what he was doing. Darius needed them to see him as their soon-to-be alpha—not their friend. Their safety was in his hands, and from this point forward, it wasn’t a democracy. I could learn a thing or two about leadership from him, but I was finally happy with my relationship with the militia and all its members.

  I clapped my hands together, breaking the somewhat tense silence that followed. “Okay people… You heard him. Move on out.”

  Although a few dragons seemed like they wanted to argue some more, a pointed look from Darius and a few curt words from Hayden and Quinn got everyone moving again. Both brothers stepped in, regardless of how they felt, to have Darius’s back—which only endeared them more to me, Quinn included.

  During what would probably only be a few seconds of alone time, I flicked Darius’s arm, grinning when he glanced back at me. “Hey, thanks for staying down here with me. I’m sure it would be more fun to fly, but—”

  “Like I would leave you by yourself in unfamiliar terrain,” he said with a slight scoff. “Never. While the Brisbane clan will probably welcome us, they’ll be on the lookout for supernaturals. I’m not risking it.” He planted a quick kiss on my cheek, one of those blink-and-you’d-miss-it kind of kisses, and then met my gaze. “Or you.”

  I swallowed hard, ignoring the burn in my cheeks, and quickly changed the subject when I caught Quell and Galen studying me with concern.

  “So, I think if I do ever fly, I should probably ride you,” I started, and just as I was about to add because you don’t burn me and I won’t need a saddle, Darius dove right in and spoke over me.

  “I’d love for you to ride me,” he purred, a mischievous glint in his eye

  The burn sharpened to a prickle across my cheeks. “You’re so childish.”

  “You wound me.” He touched a hand to his heart and pouted, then laughed when I shoved by him to go confer with my captains.

  With the militia
ready, supplies loaded onto backs and weapons half-loaded—just in case—Darius signaled for the dragons to take flight. Although I was sure no one wanted to watch a bunch of grown men and women strip down to nothing but their underwear, we all did, unable to tear our eyes away from the shifters as they transformed.

  Dragons of all sizes soon filled the clearing, roaring into existence, the beat of their wings akin to a helicopter’s whirring blades before take-off. I gripped Darius in the windstorm paired with the mild earthquake that followed the flight of twenty dragons, their scales rippling in the early afternoon sunshine. My dragon kept me steady with one arm—and held onto Catriona with the other. She laughed, shielding her face as dirt and loose forest debris shot up around us.

  I wanted to protect my eyes, my face, from the onslaught, but I couldn’t tear my gaze from the scene playing out before me. Darius had always been the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in all my life, but watching all these dragons of different sizes, colors, wingspan, and protective outer spikes take flight… Well, it was easily a close second. Third, if you counted the skeleton graveyard back at the Sanctius clan.

  Each new experience I had with dragon shifters was more meaningful, more exhilarating than the last, and for that I was grateful. As the wind died down and the militia collected themselves, I still found myself staring up at the flapping wings, wondering what it would be like to fly.

  Would I be able to fly if I have the ability to shift? I blinked hard when the thought hit me like a freight train. I’d never considered it before. Despite my senses growing more acute, perhaps only because I was aware of the reason now, and that tenacious inner voice getting louder and more distinct, I hadn’t even thought about shifting. I’d never had the urge to before, and even after I learned of my heritage, I assumed I didn’t have the capability.

  But if I could… Would I be able to fly?

  It was a lifelong dream.

  A desire I’d kept quiet since childhood, knowing that some fae lucked into wings, and others didn’t.

  “You okay?” Darius asked, his voice low in my ear. I nodded, realizing my eyes had started to water, and quickly swiped a hand under each.

  “That was just…” I shook my head when I noticed the sympathetic twist of his lips. He knew. I didn’t have to explain the impact that seeing multiple dragons take flight had on me. “I’m fine.”

  “I’d understand if you weren’t.”

  Touched, I grabbed his hand and squeezed, knowing we didn’t have much time before the others looked to us to lead the way.

  “I know.” Another squeeze, as though our hands couldn’t stand the thought of parting. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime, Kaye… my fae.”

  “Remind me again why we are going this way?”

  “It’s a more direct route,” I insisted, a strangled cry slipping out when my hair snagged on a pair of gnarled, spiny tree roots poking out from the cave wall—again. “Ouch!”

  Catriona rushed to my aid, the bright white light emanating from her palms half-blinding me as she set to work freeing my red waves—which I should have worn tied back, honestly. We’d been in such a rush to get going once we arrived at the mountain entrance, one that opened only with a drop of dragon blood, the first magical door I’d encountered that deferred to dragons over supernaturals, that little things like wearing my hair off my face weren’t exactly pressing issues.

  By some stroke of sheer luck, we made it to the Bighorn Mountain range with no trouble from any of Abramelin’s men. Our witches managed to conceal the dragon army so that any hiking humans wouldn’t see them, and we had all arrived at the secret entrance known only to Darius and his brothers in a timely hour-fifteen. By then, the militia was exhausted, but we were losing daylight. The most direct route, apparently, was through the mountains, though Darius had told me they always flew over when they visited.

  After a brief debate, the dragons opted to fly. One dragon, however, agreed to deliver a message to Zayne: meet us at the Brisbane clan. Time was slipping away, and I preferred we reconnect on schedule but in a different location rather than miss each other completely—and potentially risk an attack by Abramelin when we were still divided.

  With most of the dragons in the air, we’d been left to travel on foot through the mountains via unfamiliar tunnels, with nothing but directions carved here and there on the wall in a script only Darius and his brothers seemed to know.

  Apparently, we were on the right track, based on the vague directions on the walls, appearing at random. However, that didn’t make the journey any more pleasant. As soon as we’d crossed the magically concealed doorway into the mountains, darkness encircled us—not a drop of sunlight to be found. Sure, the place smelled like the Hive, but in the Hive, we had a charmed ceiling that brought the outside sky in. Here, we had all our fae folk acting like giant flashlights as we moved slowly and steadily through the underground tunnels. Catriona and I took the lead at the front of the group, Darius and Quinn behind us, while Galen and Quell fell to the very back.

  “You okay, Kaye?” Quinn asked.

  “Fine,” I insisted, wincing when Catriona ripped the last of my hair free. Mostly I wanted to get moving again; every incident that slowed us put us more behind schedule, whether it was someone tripping over an unseen boulder, or insisting they heard something skittering above.

  “Catriona, are you okay?”

  “She’s fine,” I said flatly, fighting the desire to roll my eyes as Quinn hurried to Catriona’s side. He’d refused to join the others in the air this time, citing he wanted to make sure we got through the mountain paths okay. I, however, knew by now he just wanted to hold Catriona’s hand if something jumped out at her in the dark, which I could appreciate. Sort of. “Let’s go.”

  “Someone’s grumpy underground,” Darius teased, smoothing my ruffled hair down after sidling over to me. “We’re making good time. Don’t worry.”

  I shot him a narrowed look, then raised my illuminated hands and picked up the pace again. Telling me not to worry down here, with my entire militia behind me and no real escape route, was like telling an elf not to stop and obsess over a weed—not going to happen. There was plenty to worry about in such a small, cramped space, even with a band of talented supernaturals behind me, so I spent a lot of our initial march through the tunnels wondering if I should have pushed for Darius to fly over the mountain like the other dragons were.

  No. I shook my head a little, more of a reminder to myself to trust my gut instinct. We’d made the right decision. My inner voice had even agreed with me, though she’d gone into a tense silence for the last fifteen minutes or so.

  After what felt like hours of staring at the same dark, depressing landscape, the musty scent of closed in space lifted as we neared a cavernous opening. I enhanced every sense I had, focusing on piercing through the darkness as best I could and listening to the soft clicks emanating from the cave ahead.

  “What is it?” Darius asked. “What do you feel?”

  “Nothing,” I admitted. My inner voice scoffed, murmuring in a low, whispery voice that I should trust my senses—something was afoot, even if I couldn’t see it. I rolled my shoulders and tossed my head from side to side, as if working out a kink in my neck, and ignored her. “I just… I don’t know.”

  We stopped the group at the mouth of the cave, then called all the fae present to the front. Together, we lifted our bright palms up, and even that couldn’t entirely light up the huge space ahead. No sunshine still. Just a massive catacomb, whose ceiling I couldn’t see, covered in cobwebs. No graves, yet a quick scan of the floor showed weak spots and holes.

  “We’ll need to travel in a line,” Catriona noted with some concern. “Maybe three across?”

  “And slowly,” Galen agreed. “I don’t like the look of this.”

  While the space appeared large enough for Darius and Quinn to shift and possibly act as ferries to get us all from one side to the other, I didn’t like the look of the thick
, gnarled roots hanging limply from somewhere above. They must have connected to dead trees on the mountainside; they didn’t touch anything, just hung there. A few rustled, as if in a breeze, but I felt no wind on my cheeks.

  “Stay alert,” I ordered. “I’m not sure we’re alone down here.”

  Those around me exchanged wary glances, while Darius exhaled a puff of smoke from his nostrils, his eyes darkening. Quinn mirrored his older brother’s stance, moving closer to Catriona as my fae captains barked instructions back to the rest of the militia. I trusted them to bring up the rear again—though I wasn’t sure I trusted myself to lead.

  Not like I had a choice.

  There was some debate over whether Catriona or Quinn should make up the third member in our front line, with Quinn insisting he be the one and Catriona arguing it would be better to have another magic-wielder at the helm. In the end, I made an executive decision to take Catriona, though I would have preferred she stay buried in the middle somewhere, out of harm’s way.

  With the militia organized and prepped, many with their weapons loaded or hands up, we descended fat stone steps leading down into the hollow. Like in the forests, underbrush snagged our pants and shoes, hindering our movements. Unlike in the forest, here it was cobwebs and dust, not prickle bushes and ivy.

  We were halfway across the space, each step carefully thought out, when we spied a darker entrance straight ahead—like a door into another tunnel. However, as we pushed onward, I swore I heard something scuttle around to my right. I stopped with a hand up, shining my light in that direction. Nothing.