Blood Magic (Dragon Born Alexandria Book 2) (4 page)

“I think I’ll take my chances.” He cut a large piece from his fillet and chewed it with slow relish. “Delicious. Now, I promised you a surprise.”

“I’m guessing that surprise has something to do with your friend.”

Logan nodded. “His name is Deathstalker. We’ve known each other for nearly a decade. He’s well-connected in the assassin circles. All of them.”

“How many are there?”

“A lot. And he has ears in them all. He knows the details of every big contract for the last twenty years—or he knows someone who knows. Several weeks ago—back in Zurich when we were trying to recover the Orbs of Essence from the Convictionites, when you told me about what happened to your father—I contacted him.”

“Why?”

“Your father was killed by an assassin, Alex.” He set his hand on hers. “I saw the look in your eyes when you told me. The assassin might be dead, but you’ve been trying to find out who sent him.”

She didn’t deny it. There was no point. “It’s not just the assassin who’s dead. The trail is dead. Sera and I have been searching for eight years. We haven’t found a thing. Not even the tiniest clue.”

“No offense, darling, but you’re about as subtle as a machine gun,” said Logan. “And you and your sister didn’t find anything because you didn’t know where to look. These are my circles, my contacts. My world. The trail is cold, but it’s by no means dead.”

“You found something,” she said, hardly daring a whisper. Hardly daring to hope.

“Yes, thanks to Deathstalker. It’s just a lead at this point, but it’s a start. We have the assassin’s name.”

Just
a lead? That’s more than Alex and Sera had been able to find in eight years.

“The assassin was called Nightshade. He worked mostly out of London,” Logan told her.

“Do you think the person who hired him could be here?”

“Perhaps.”

He caught her hand as she moved to stand. It was just as well. She didn’t even know where she was going. A restless ache had taken hold of her. She had to be doing something. Hunt. She had to hunt down the depraved soul who’d sent an assassin after her and Sera because they’d been born different—the assassin who’d killed Dad.

“Alex, we’re going to find out who killed your father,” Logan promised, holding to her hand.

Even when she shot him an irked glare, he didn’t let go. She could have zapped him with her magic, but what good would that do? He was on her side.

“But you have to be patient,” he continued. “Deathstalker has a contact, someone who might know more about Nightshade and his contracts. He’ll message me soon with more information.”

Alex lowered to her seat. “And then we’ll go after the person who sent Nightshade.”

“Yes.”

There was something about the way he said that single word, popping with menace, as hot as venom and as cold as death, that pushed her over the edge. Tears burned her eyes. Her throat grew heavy, tight. She couldn’t have spoken if she’d wanted to. There were no words for what he’d done for her—for what he was going to do for her. Finally, after all those years, she had a chance at avenging her father’s death.

Alex leaned across the table, and this time when she kissed him, she wasn’t playing games. And she wasn’t holding back. She thrust her soul, her passion, her…love into that kiss. She slid her hands down his back, tugging him closer, wishing there wasn’t a stupid table between them. She had half a mind to hurl it across the room.

His lips kissed up her neck, trailing fire across her skin. “Alex,” he growled against her ear. “You’re making it very difficult for me to behave myself.”

She met his eyes. “Maybe I don’t want you to behave yourself.”

He pushed back his chair, and before she could blink, he was standing behind her. “Let’s go,” he said and threw a stack of bills down onto the table. His hand locked around her waist, leading her toward the exit.

“Your hair smells like chocolate,” his voice rumbled in her ear as they left the restaurant.

She looked down at the chocolate-dipped ends of her wig and shrugged. “Well, it’s better than fish.”

He was still chuckling when a taxi screeched to a halt in front of them.

CHAPTER FOUR

Underground Lair

THE TAXI RIDE passed in a blur. At some point, the driver had closed the dark window between the front and back seats to give them some privacy. Or maybe he just couldn’t bear to hear them making out in his taxi.

“We’re here,” Logan said. His lips had stopped kissing her, but his hands were still kneading delightful circles into her back.

“I suppose we are,” she sighed and opened the door.

Logan followed her out of the car. As soon as he’d been paid, the driver sped off like he couldn’t get away fast enough.

“We scared him,” Alex said.

“It must have been your armory of steel.”

“Yeah.” She snorted. “That must have been it.”

They walked toward the row of houses that spanned the entire block. Each one was painted a different shade: yellow, white, red, blue… Alex turned and climbed the stairs that led to the pumpkin-orange one. Marek’s house. Like most first tier mages, her friend believed that subtlety was a mortal sin.

Alex unlocked the door, and they entered their base of operations. Upon entering, there was nothing to give away that this house was being used to fight a nefarious supernatural-hating organization. The entrance area was a square platform with old oak floors and hardly enough space for the small coat rack in the corner. Stairs made of that same old oak led to the upper floor and down into the basement.

Smiling coyly at Logan, she pressed her finger to her lips, then pointed up the stairs. His brows lifted, and he shot the old steps a dubious look. She slipped out of her heels to tackle them barefoot.

It didn’t help. Even as her bare foot eased down on the first step, it groaned a squeaky protest.

“Alex?” Marek’s voice called up from the basement.

She cursed under her breath.

“We really need to get different accommodations,” Logan growled, his breath hot against the back of her neck. “I know of a nice hotel.”

“We decided to stay here so we could all stick together while working on getting the Blood Orb back,” she reminded him.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time anyway. And it had been the responsible thing to do. Unfortunately, the responsible option always happened to be the least fun one.

“You agreed that we should all stay together,” she said, throwing him a long-suffering smile.

“One of my less brilliant decisions,” he replied, need buzzing beneath his words.

Alex was tempted to tell Marek they’d catch up to him later, then pull Logan upstairs and throw him onto her bed. She hadn’t had sex in so long, it wasn’t even funny.

“I want you too,” he whispered, as though he’d read her mind. His hand trailed down her arm, his feather-light touch electrifying her magic on her skin. “But not like this. Not with Marek banging on our door.”

Alex sighed in defeat and turned to head downstairs. The basement interior—which Marek was very proud of—looked much more modern than the classic style that permeated the rest of the house. The walls were chocolate-brown, beige tiles covered the floors, and an array of artfully-placed ceiling lights lit up the underground level. A full bar sat at the front of the open room, a desk with a few chairs on either side in the middle, and a lounge area at the back. Marek called it his ‘underground lair’, complete with air quotes. The man did like to amuse himself.

He was sitting on one of the leather sofas, his black-and-white boots balanced atop the coffee table. He wore a shiny dark blue shirt—speckled with gold, red, and green swirls—and black pants. As always, his dark hair was styled into spiky peaks.

“Hi.” Alex waved at him.

“You’re late.”

She made an effort not to look guilty—or look at Logan.

“Never mind then.” Marek’s lips curled up into a smirk. “Smashing outfit. Whoever picked it out has impeccable taste.”

Alex rolled her eyes. The outfit had been his idea—mostly. Alex’s dragon had made a few suggestions too, which she’d then relayed as her own.

You’re always doing that.

Sorry,
Alex replied. But it’s not like she could tell anyone that she had a dragon half. That was a one-way ticket to hell. Or the loony bin.

Marek stood up, looking over her new collection of knives. “Can’t say I’m keen on the accessories, though, darling. Did you raid an armory on the way over?”

“No, just a Convictionite stronghold.”

“Oh? Being reckless again?” He clicked his tongue.

“Well, you know me.” She plopped down on another of the sofas and tossed her wig onto the side table. “Did you get our delivery?”

“I did. The assassin’s program claims it’s almost finished sorting through it.” He gave Logan a cool look.

The two of them had learned to work together. But the fact that they could tolerate each other didn’t mean that they were best buddies. That might take a few more years. Or a few more decades.

Marek stood. “Are you ready for your post-mission bliss?”

Logan grunted and sat down on one of the chairs beside the desk. Marek took the chair on the other side of the desk and pulled a syringe from one of the cabinets.

“You fought Convictionites tonight?” he asked as he took a sample of Logan’s blood.

“Yes.”

“How long ago?”

“About an hour.”

A crinkle formed between Marek’s dark eyebrows. “That’s too long. Next time, return here sooner. The longer you wait, the less accurate the magic tests are.”

“I’m familiar with the tests’ limitations,” Logan replied cooly. “I designed them.”

Something he’d done after their confrontation on Lake Zurich with his mother, leader of the Convictionites. That day, he’d learned the truth: that his enhanced abilities weren’t thanks to genetic engineering, as his parents had always told him—but because he’d been enhanced with magic. His own parents had turned him into a weapon—and they’d built in a safeguard to make sure he obeyed.

Alex had used her magic to break his mother’s control over him, but neither she nor Logan thought that was the end of the story. The Convictionites weren’t abandoning their weapon so easily. They would try to regain control of him, maybe with another magical device, maybe with magic itself. That’s why Logan had developed tests to check the magic in his blood after battle, especially after a battle with Convictionites. They had to figure out how the magic in his body worked. Only then would they have a chance to develop a defense against the Convictionites’ control.

“None of the guards at Purge were carrying a device like the one the Evil Queen had,” Alex said. That was her name for Logan’s mother: the Evil Queen. He didn’t seem to mind. His names for her were much worse—and usually peppered with expletives.

“Were there any other magic artifacts present in the area?” Marek asked her.

“Besides a bunch of enchanted weapons, the only magical thing that I could sense was something that blocked out all magic in the area. They managed to mask it somehow. It bounced the anti-magic echoes like we were in a house of mirrors.” She frowned. “I didn’t have time to find it and shut it down. We had to resort to more creative means.”

“I can see those ‘more creative means’ here.” Marek swiveled the computer around to show Logan a screen filled with various graphs. “Under normal conditions, your magic maintains a constant low level, hardly detectable, like background noise.” He pointed at the first chart. “However, when you use your enhanced abilities, your magic jumps. Here is your blood sample from last week, when you and Alex ‘stumbled upon’ a vampire nest.” Marek shot a hard look Alex’s way.

“Ok, so there were a few more vampires in that building than I’d thought. Besides,” she added, smirking at him. “You’re just jealous you weren’t there.”

He flashed his teeth at her. Alex felt the hum of magic in the air a moment before a fireball erupted from Marek’s hands. It roared her way, trailing the scent of sweet wood chips and sugar cookies. She caught the fireball between her hands and slowly rolled the flame away until it was a globe of crystallized ice.

“I’ve been practicing,” she said and tossed him the ice ball.

As the ball met his hands, it evaporated to steam. “You are even more reckless with magic than you were without.”

Marek knew about her magic. After her twin sister Sera had been thrust into the Magic Games to be tested,
everyone
knew about it. For some reason, the Magic Council hadn’t come knocking on Alex’s door, demanding that she enter the Games too. She tried not to think too much about it. If they came, she’d worry about it then—and kick their asses just like Sera had.

“This is the sample from just now,” Marek said, directing their attention back to the screen. He tapped on the second chart.

Alex squinted at the screen. “I don’t see any nice ripples like on the other one. Are you sure you did it right?”

Annoyance rippled through Marek’s magic. It smelled like burning newspapers. “Yes.”

“You don’t see any ripples because the reading is off the charts,” Logan told her.

Oh. She leaned in for another look, shrugging when she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. She and computers didn’t get along. She couldn’t even go two months without breaking her phone. Most of the time, she managed to take photos without blowing anything up, though.

“What happened tonight?” Marek asked them.

Logan looked at Alex. “She wasn’t very stealth.”

“One of the Convictionites recognized me,” she said. “I had to improvise.”

“By shooting lightning magic through me.”

“You let her electrocute you?” Marek asked.

“Yes.”

“It was
his
idea,” Alex added quickly.

“I said it would work,” he replied. “And it did.”

Marek shook his head in disbelief. “You’re as mad as she is.” He shut off the screen. “These readings are unusable. Next time, Alex, I suggest you not shoot him.”

“I’ll try to contain myself,” she said drily, standing. “Now, as much as I enjoy the two of you bonding over your joy of teasing me, I really should call Sera.”