Waldon, Amelia’s father, lived in constant fear of retaliation from other witches or the shadow gods once Amelia hit puberty and her own unique scionce magical powers emerged. She was a magic power booster. If a spell was intended to bring down a wall, Amelia’s boost of magic would bring down the whole building. It was a skill very few witches possessed; Vina was the most infamous.
“I’m sorry.” My apology was heartfelt.“I fear you will regret saving this life.”Vina’s final words haunted me. I was sure I was the reason Amelia no longer got even her meager visits.
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered with a brush of her hands over her sorrow-hooded eyes. Her attempt to shrug off the emotion made her breathing heavy. After an extensive weighted silence, she blew out a long breath. “It’s been so long. If she turned herself in to the shadow gods and let them collect the stolen magic, then maybe she could live a normal life,” she speculated. The optimism in her suggestion didn’t match her expression or her eyes.
Her mother had left her for the pursuit of magic and to improve her spellcrafting abilities. It had always been her top priority. I wasn’t convinced that she’d pursue a better relationship with Amelia. I believed she’d spend her time discovering ways to get her magic back or return to advancing her skills with the limited magic she possessed. Shadow godsappeared with death. It’s not like she could send them an email requesting a meeting.
My friend’s sorrow had clouded her logic.
It seemed like we came to the same conclusion when she shored up a tight smile. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here. And you’re the family I chose.” She raised her nearly empty cup and drained what was left of what I assumed was a cherry bomb, her drink of choice. “I’m getting another drink. Rachel’s not the boss of me,” she touted with a huff, sliding from the seat.
“You sound really sober and mature enough to be making decisions,” I teased, nudging her back into the seat. Before she could make another attempt for the bar, Rachel appeared in time with two bottled waters for us and her drink. Opening one, I gave it to my best friend, who guzzled it down. When she finished it, I gave her mine as well.
“Dance with me,” Rachel suggested to Amelia, taking her hand and leading her to the crowded dance floor. Amelia pulled me along.
Amelia’s emphatic dancing was to burn off the liquor. Her body winding and moving. She whispered something and an amber light flowed over her.
Despite dancing to counter the intoxication, it was a beautiful sight. Her performance of magic always had a theatrical flair that observers appreciated. All eyes were on her; even William looked up from the drink he’d been nursing while sending away the third person who’d approached him so far. The last was a very handsome guy. Broody, moody, standoffish, and deadly seemed to be an appealing combination.
Cloak and Dagger was one of the few bars that catered to both human and supernaturals, and for that reason, it stayed crowded. There weren’t any laws against integration, but many places kept them segregated by making their establishment inhospitable to their rejected audience. Cloak and Dagger hadblood for vampires and the expensive laced wine they preferred. Because of the ridiculously fast metabolism that shifters enjoyed, people stayed away from their menu. No matter how wasted you wanted to get, it wasn’t worth the risk of alcohol poisoning.
Amelia caught sight of William watching her, gave him a tight-lipped smile, and inched closer to me. “So, I’m the only one who finds it off-putting that they don’t breathe? Look at him, not breathing and his heart is not beating.”
“You can’t tell when a person’s heart is beating unless you are taking their pulse,” I countered, keeping my tone light.
“That’s your rebuttal,” she teased, glaring at me before returning her attention to William. The corners of his lips lifted in a smile. He never took her lingering looks as an invitation and seemed to find her aversion to vampires amusing—peculiar, but amusing.
“A person shifting to an animal is fine?” I challenged.
She nodded emphatically. “They breathe. They have a heartbeat. Like me.” Her grin softened the sharpness of her words, and as she spun back into the rhythm of the music, I let the subject drop and joined her. The tension in my chest eased as we danced, but my thoughts kept circling back to the man I’d seen earlier.
My furtive glances around the room seemed to land on William too many times. His expression moved from an amused grin to annoyance. He’d left the House of Knights to escape Belham’s concerned looks and here I was giving him my own variation of it. His hollow smile couldn’t quite mask the sorrow flickering in his eyes.
I scanned the room for the handsome stranger once more. William’s mood gnawed at me, and my concern for him was too unsettling to ignore. I decided to talk to him. Just as I leaned in to share my plans with Amelia, someone yelled, “Fire!”
Chaos erupted. Flames burst into life, a riot of orange, gold, and an eerie blue that devoured everything in their path. There were no alarms, no flashing lights or sprinklers—just the frantic sound of people scrambling toward the exits, their shouts blending with the roar of the inferno.
The fire raged through the crammed bar. Two witches emerged from the crowd, their arms outstretched. They looked at each other, their mouths parted in the beginnings of a spell when they hesitated. The dilemma coursed over their faces. Breaking a window would let in the wind and spread the fire faster, but suffocating the flames by drawing out the air would doom everyone still inside who required oxygen. From their scowls, I could see them calculating their next move, likely debating whether they could summon rain without access to the clouds.
The bartenders, servers, and a few employees using the fire extinguishers were rendered useless as they were jostled and pushed out of the way by humans rushing for the doors. Their discarded cups of alcohol made the floor slippery, and the spilled liquor only fed the ravenous flames.
The bartenders abandoned the fire extinguishers and joined the evacuating customers, some slipping out of the fire exit, others taking the front door.
“Get out! Everyone!” I shouted, my voice carrying over the commotion. William’s hand grasped my shoulder and attempted to guide me toward the door. The rush of people tossed me back and forth. William’s hand gripped my shoulder harder and urged me out of the door. I hesitated, waiting to see if people were leaving the restroom. People fled out of the restroom in various states of undress, racing past me to safety.
When William urged me forward again, I didn’t resist. At least, that’s the story I’m sticking to. His hand pressed firmly against my back, he steered me, Rachel, and Amelia out onto thecrowded street. Fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars clogged the area, their lights casting chaotic, flashing colors against the darkness. A few humans were loaded into an ambulance and oxygen masks pressed to their faces. Others were off to the side, having their burns treated, although I couldn’t tell the extent of their injuries.
Across the street, restaurant patrons abandoned their meals to gawk through the windows, while pedestrians stopped in their tracks, craning their necks for a better view. Murmured questions were a chorus of noise as the crowd exchanged scraps of information, desperate for details.
William and I studied the burning building. His brows inched together. Smoke clouded my vision further along with the confetti of ashes.
“The alarm didn’t go off and the sprinklers weren’t activated,” I said.
The chaos had sobered Amelia. She blinked several times and took in the charred, wet building. “Do you think it was a murder attempt? Or just a distraction?”
“A fire is a terribly inefficient way to kill someone,” I replied, glancing at the crowd.
Rachel had sauntered over to the fire investigator and seemed to be asking them just as many questions as they had for her. Returning to us, she shrugged and made a face. “They aren’t very forthcoming.”
