Cornered Magic Read online



  Cornered Magic

  By Charissa Dufour

  © 2014 by Charissa Dufour

  All rights reserved.

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  Chapter One

  Sam slowly opened her bedroom door, pausing to listen for any signs of life within her family’s tiny apartment. By mostly-mutual consent, the family avoided contact with her, and she them. They left for their work in the Reservation before she left her room, and anytime they had to be in the apartment with her she stayed in her room.

  As a Void, Sam couldn’t expect any better.

  Voids were a rare nuisance to the fae community, even now that they were forced to live within the tall walls of the Reservations dotted throughout the United States, like all the other mystical entities. While other fae had a certain power or gifting, a Void had nothing but the ability to drain another mystic of their power and therefore, no one, even her family, want to be near her.

  Sam scratched at her tattoo. It always itched when she thought about her gift. The tattoo, along with the power of the mage who had crafted it, helped Sam control her powers. She had gotten the tattoo at the young age of thirteen, but it was too little and too late. The work of her gift had already ostracized her within the mystical community. She was alone—except for her two friends, the only people to look past what she could not always control.

  Trying hard not to think about her life, Sam scarfed down a bowl of stale cereal, washed her dishes, and left the apartment.

  The Gollet family lived in what had originally been built as a parking garage. When it became illegal for mystics to live outside the Reservations in the year 2000, the population skyrocketed, and the garage had been retrofitted to house the increasing population. Even now, thirty-one years later, Sam could smell the leaked oil which still stained the concrete. Each floor was designed with a central courtyard surrounded by tiny apartments.

  Sam shut the door to her family’s home and turned, stopping in her tracks. Lee Rose stood in the courtyard, his brown eyes trained on her. Sam took a deep breath, willing her heart to slow down.

  Though the population of the Illinois Reservation was too large for Sam to know everyone, everyone knew Lee Rose, the top enforcer for the leader of the vampire community.

  While most vampires appeared somewhat stuck in the era they had been turned, Lee was pure American emo band guitarist. His layered hair was streaked with highlights and his slim figure was clad in a tight-fitting black button-up shirt, the collar stylishly popped.

  Despite his chosen style of dress, Sam knew he was one of the most dangerous mystics in the Res.

  Sam chose to ignore him, hoping he would do the same. She had no idea what he was doing in a housing complex that was not his own while the sun streamed down outside. If she could just make it to the spiral driveways attached to the corners of the parking garage, she would be safe.

  “Sa-am,” Lee called before she could take more than a few steps, drawing her name out into two syllables.

  She stopped and turned to look at him. It didn’t surprise her that he knew her name. As the only Void in the Res, even the toddlers knew who she was. Of course, her looks didn’t help her quest for anonymity. Unlike most fae, Sam didn’t look entirely human. Her hair was white, not blonde but white, and her eyes—while slightly shaped liked the human Asian population—were nearly as devoid of color as her hair. The effect had always unnerved the humans she met through her touring duties.

  “Yes, Lee,” she said softly, not wanting the other fae on her level to overhear her talking with a vampire—an action that would only further ostracize her from her people.

  “You’re a Void, right?” he asked, matching her pitch as he crossed the courtyard, dodging the various children’s toys left out.

  Sam rolled her eyes in an effort to hide her fear. She didn’t like his proximity.

  “Everyone knows that,” she said when she realized he was still waiting for a response.

  “And you can take power from others?”

  Tired of being afraid, Sam decided to be angry instead.

  “Would you like a demonstration?” she asked as her power rose to the surface.

  Her tattoo itched again and Sam fought to keep her powers in check. If she wasn’t in constant control she could drain Lee until he passed out. While tempting, it wouldn’t do any good in restoring her in the eyes of her family or her people.

  Lee’s smiled, his eyes remaining dark and threatening. The combination brought Sam’s heartbeat back into triple digits. In an effort to hide her fear, she leaned toward the vampire, allowing her power to taste his strength.

  Taking a vampire’s mystical speed and strength always left her hungry and angry. Each type of mystic had a different effect on her. Werewolves left her edgy and hyperactive. A fae’s power, while giving her their gift, left her feeling sick, as though her body fought against the idea of her attacking one of her own. A mage… well, that was a whole different story. Beyond the differences between each species of mystics, each individual had their own taste. While she might forget someone’s face or name, she never forgot their power-flavor.

  Lee’s power seemed to feed her anger, as though he was angry now as he confronted her in her own home.

  She watched with satisfaction as his shoulders drooped and he eyes fluttered shut for a second. He was feeling the effects of her theft and, to her disgust, she enjoyed his weakness.

  Lee opened his eyes, his smile vanishing as he realized what was happening to him.

  “Point taken,” he replied. “And here I thought you had to touch the victim.”

  Sam cringed inwardly. She didn’t like to hear the word “victim” in association to what she had done, not that she could argue with it. It was accurate.

  “Touching them allows me to take more faster. Why are you asking?”

  Lee’s smile reappeared, his eyes glowing. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. Like she would be doing the vampires any favors. “I don’t have time for this. I have to get to work.”

  “Oh, yes. You give tours for the executives and rich tourists that come barging into our homes.”

  Sam wasn’t stupid. She heard the threat in his voice. Most of the mystics didn’t like to see humans prowling around their home, such as it was. Sam argued they would get a tour whether she did it or not. At least this way she brought in a few extra tokens to help support her family. Tokens were how the U.S. government controlled the economy within the Res. Of course, they had no control over the free trading taking place between the families.

  “I do as I’m told,” she replied. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

  Sam turned to slip past him when she felt his hand grasp her arm. She looked down at his hand, which squeezed into the leather of her jacket.

  Again she worked to control her powers. The contact between them only made her want more. Power and strength were addictive, and if she wasn’t careful she would become what all the mystics feared—an out of control Void.

  Still, she needed to show him she wasn’t willing to be pushed around. Sam carefully released her hold over her gift, allowing Lee’s power to leak into her, coating her skin and making the hair on the back of her neck stand to attention.

  Lee’s grip loosened.

&nb
sp; Sam jerked her arm free and marched away. As she reached the spiral driveway that led down to the lower levels of the parking garage she glanced back, happy to see Lee leaning against the wall.

  “Don’t think it’s that easy,” she heard him say as she started her way downward.

  Sam began to fret as she walked past the various pots of growing vegetables. The fae who lived in the parking garage used the spiral driveways to hold their potted gardens. Her own mother, Miranda, grew a tomato plant and a precious cucumber plant. The family seldom enjoyed the cucumbers she grew. They were too valuable in the realm of trading.

  A few of the local women were out watering their plants. They skirted to the sides, giving Sam a wide berth.

  To Sam’s astonishment, she found her mother standing at the base of the spiral. Sam frowned down at her.

  Over the hundreds of generations since the fae had come to the human realm the fae bloodline had been diluted as the fae married humans. With the industrial revolution, the fae had lost most of their power and their ability to conceive. The result was even more marriages between humans and the fae to continue the race. Still, there were a few full-blooded fae left, and Sam’s parents were among them.

  Despite this honor, Sam had somehow come out as a half-fae. Though her parents insisted it was a fluke—the result of previous generations diluting the gene pool—but Sam thought otherwise. Sam simply couldn’t shake the notion that her mother had had an affair twenty years ago. Her father’s obvious dislike gave the theory further support.

  “Mom,” she said as she moved to pass her mother.

  “Sam, can we talk?”

  “What’s up?” Sam asked, trying to shake off her recent encounter with Lee.

  “Well, I just wondered how things were going with Chad?”

  Sam frowned. Her mother had stayed behind to ask her how her dating life was going?

  “Fine,” Sam replied, sounding suspicious even to her own ears.

  “Think you two’ll get married?”

  Sam felt her brows come down into a deeper frown. “What? I don’t know, Mom.”

  Her mother scratched the back of her neck. “I just thought… you might be happier in your own home.”

  Sam ground her teeth together. She knew what her mom really wanted. She wanted her Void of a daughter out of her house. Within the Reservation, a person didn’t get their own apartment until they were married, no matter how old they were. Sam’s brother was still living at home at the age of twenty-nine.

  “Sorry my presence bothers you so much,” she said as she tried to start walking again.

  Her mother’s hand snaked out and caught Sam’s leather coat, right where Lee had just grabbed her. “That’s not what I mean. Please know what I’m about to say is not meant in hatred. I love you, Samantha. I do, and therefore I want what is best for you. But the fact is you are a Void, and most mystics don’t like to be around you.”

  Sam ground her teeth together again, her jaw aching with the pressure.

  “And yet you have found a man who wants to date you. A man who is well connected, who has surprisingly good jobs. You’re not going to get a better offer. And if you got married, you could move out… away from your father.”

  Sam stopped gnawing on her own teeth to stare at her mother. Miranda had never spoken against her husband before. In fact, in all the times her father Dave had verbally abused Sam her mother had remained silent.

  “Just think about it, Samantha,” her mother said as she released her daughter’s arm.

  Before either of them could say anything, her father appeared.

  “What’s going on here?” he asked.

  “Just talking,” her mother said calmly.

  Her father’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at his wife. “What could you have to talk about?”

  “Can’t I give her a bit o’ advice?” her mother asked.

  “Guess so. After all, she is your daughter,” murmured Dave before taking his wife’s wrist. “We need to get to work. When’ll you be home, girl?”

  Sam swallowed the lump in her throat. After all these years, her father’s habits shouldn’t have bothered her, but they did.

  “I have a tour for the admin this morning. After that, I’m going to see Amber.”

  Her father nodded. “Fine. We’ll see you after dinner.”

  It wasn’t a reminder to be home before dinner. Her father’s statement was a reminder to stay away until the family had finished their meal. Sam used her best poker face and nodded in return. Dave tugged on his wife’s arm, leading her away from their daughter.

  Sam rubbed her thumb against the bridge of her nose, trying to ease the tension forming. Today had been a perfect repeat of a conversation she had had with her father a hundred times. Why, then, was she so upset?

  Sam tried to shake off her emotions and turned toward the street. At this rate, she was going to be late for her tour.

  She had barely made it onto the street before someone else called to her. Sam turned to see her best friend, Amber, waving. She stopped to let the shorter-legged woman catch up.

  “Good morning,” Amber said brightly.

  “Morning.”

  Despite Sam’s efforts, Amber liked almost everyone. As an empath she felt their emotions, giving her a glimpse into the various things people tried to keep to themselves. When someone was mean, she felt the pain of past experience. When someone was rude, she felt their need to defend themselves from future hurt. In nearly every way possible, Amber was the exact opposite from her friend.

  “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” asked Amber before laughing at her own joke.

  “Nothing,” Sam grumbled.

  “You giving a tour today too?”

  “Yep.”

  “Umm… when you’re done, would you go with me to Becky’s?”

  Sam rolled her eyes. She wasn’t in the mood to wander into vampire territory, especially after her confrontation with Lee. As an adult without parents, Becky lived in the tiny studio apartments that had been built in the streets of the only neighborhood with actual houses. The studio apartments were reserved for anyone who was single. This meant a lot of vampires lived in Becky’s neighborhood—for some reason, vampires tended not to get married.

  “Why?” Sam asked.

  “I haven’t seen her in days. We were supposed to meet up yesterday, but she never showed.”

  Sam sighed, her head bobbing up and down on its own accord.

  She hadn’t even made it to work and her day was already falling apart. What else could go wrong?

  “Thanks,” Amber said brightly, most likely in an effort to drag her friend out of the dumps.

  As an empath, Amber always knew when Sam was grumpy—which was often—and most of the time her friend’s efforts only made her grumpier. Still, Amber was one of the few people who actually trusted Sam to not drain her of power.

  Amber gave Sam’s shoulder a pat before wandering away.

  Sam continued down the packed street toward the small, two-story brick building placed beside the main entrance to the Res.

  The Res had originally been designed for car traffic, with six one-way streets—hence the parking garage—but when the population increased cars were forbidden. Now the narrow streets had barely enough space for the abundance of foot traffic.

  Amber pushed her way through the crowd, making it half way to the administration building before someone else called to her.

  For someone who generally found herself alone and avoided, Sam was perplexed by her sudden popularity.

  “Sam!” the voice called again.

  She recognized the voice, but after her mother’s suggestion, she didn’t much feel like meeting with her boyfriend. She liked Chad, she really did—or at least that’s what she told herself—but there was just something missing. She couldn’t say what precisely, but something about him was lacking.

  Though she couldn’t put it into words, she wanted a man, an
d Chad was still a youth in so many ways. He played practical jokes and flirted with anything female. Sam didn’t care about his flirting. She didn’t see it as a form of infidelity, but rather as a sign of his adolescence.

  While life inside the Reservation was not a life of luxury it was comparatively safe. The Federal Mystics Bureau policed the small space. Like herself, up until Lee confronted her, Chad had never experienced a moment of true danger, and it showed in the way he ran around the Res trading tokens for better-looking clothing.

  The fact was, the Res didn’t breed men. Instead, it bred pathetic boys who stooped before those who confined them to this small slice of hell.

  Slowly, Sam realized her disgust was less concerning Chad and more relating to her people’s current situation. “Current situation” implied that it might change soon, but the mystics had been forced to live within the Res for over thirty-one years.

  “Hey, beautiful,” Chad said as he reached her side, draping his arm over her shoulder, effectively pulling her from her frustrating thoughts.

  Sam forced a smile to her lips as he gave her a gentle peck on the cheek.

  “How are you?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.

  “Fine.”

  Chad’s smile didn’t waver. Either he wasn’t very good at reading her bad moods, or he was so used to her being in a bad mood that he just ignored it.

  “You have a tour?”

  Sam nodded.

  “Can I see you after?”

  “I have to take Amber to visit Becky’s apartment.”

  Chad’s arm stiffened against her shoulders. “I don’t like you going into that neighborhood.”

  “Good thing it’s not up to you, then,” she replied as she shrugged out from under his arm.

  Chad was silent for a few minutes as they continued down the crowded street, weaving past children running to the school, women working to get to the courtyard where people set up stalls for trading, and other adults working to get to their jobs before the gong sounded.

  “Sam, I don’t want you going into vamp territory.”

  “And I already said it’s not up to you,” Sam said, not even turning to look at him.

  “And when we’re married? Will you defy me then?”

  Sam stopped in her tracks. Was her mom conspiring with Chad?

  “Who said anything about getting married?”

  “I’m not saying let’s go get married tonight. But surely we will eventually.”

  “Right,” Sam sighed, her sarcasm coming out despite her best efforts. “Real romantic, Chad.”

  “Look, we need to figure this out. This is important.”

  “There’s nothing to figure out.”

  Sam realized he was right, but she was in no mood to debate women’s rights with him. Just as he opened his mouth to retort, they reached the admin building. Outside the building, a large, sleek, black sedan sat, its engine ticking cool.

  Both Sam and Chad skirted around it to reach the steps and jogged up to the door. Chad opened the door for her, allowing her to enter first.

  “Love you,” he said, preparing to leave her.

  Sam did her best to ignore the puppy-dog expression on his face.

  “You too,” she replied, unable to stomach the four letter word.

  Sam turned away from her frowning boyfriend to find herself under the scrutiny of the admin secretary, the Res’ human governor, and three strange men. The human secretary only had eyes for her computer screen, in contrast with the men who openly stared at Sam. While the governor, Mr. Tibbs, was glowering at her with his usual disdain, the other three were eyeing her as though her exchange with Chad had amused them.

  “Miss Gollet, nice of you to join us,” said Mr. Tibbs.

  Sam forced a polite smile to her lips, even though she knew the governor was taunting her. Like the other mystics under his control, Sam disliked Tibbs. He presented himself as their best friend, their greatest advocate, then took bribes from politicians, resulting in a reduction in funds sent to the Reservation.

  “May I introduce you to Mr. Sterling? He is the CEO of Michigan Plastics. He’s here to look into replacing some of our iron structures with plastic to better improve the fae’s health.”

  Sam nodded, willing her poker face into place. It wouldn’t help her to reveal how little she trusted Tibbs’ statement.

  “As a fae,” he continued, “I thought you would be best to show them around the Reservation, telling them when you feel the effects of the iron.”

  Sam bit down on her tongue. She couldn’t tell him how little she believed him. Tibbs had made promises time and again without actually following through. The entire Res population didn’t trust him.

  “And these are his two assistants: Mr. Martinez and Mr. Hunt,” Tibbs said, motioning to the two men standing behind the CEO.

  Sam froze, quickly averting her eyes from Mr. Hunt. As she looked on his tall, lean figure, she realized she was not the only mystic in the room. She could feel Hunt’s power caressing her skin. It called to her gift, begging her to taste his power. It tickled and enticed her all at the same time. Sam took a deep breath, drilling her well-trained focus into her tattoo, etching its shape in her mind as the magic of the tattoo worked in her, shutting down her gift. Sam might have thought it was the power of an untrained mage, a man who didn’t even realize he was a mystic, except the power had the taste of experience and training. He was not a novice.

  Hunt was a master of masters.