Cold Burn of Magic (23 page)

Or maybe . . . maybe they'd already made their move by killing Lawrence Sinclair. Maybe they were behind the attacks on Devon, too. Maybe the mystery man worked for them.

“Deah! There you are! I've been looking everywhere for you—”

Felix rushed over to us, but he pulled up short and choked back his words at the sight of Blake glaring at me.

Blake turned to face him, his hands still clenched into fists. “And why, exactly, would you be looking for my sister? Huh, punk?”

For once, words failed Felix. “Um . . . I . . . uh . . .”

Every stammer only made Blake's eyes narrow that much more. He started flexing his fingers, as though he were warming up for a fight.

“Felix was probably coming over here to save me from having to listen to your sister brag about how rich and powerful your daddy is.” I rolled my eyes. “You'd think he was a king or something the way she kept going on and
on
about him.”

Deah's lips fell open the faintest bit in surprise, but she quickly recovered. “I wanted to put her in her place. For what she did to you at the arcade.”

Blake nodded his head in approval. “C'mon. You were right before. These losers aren't worth our time. Let's go see what Dad's up to.”

He jerked his head, and Deah followed him. Felix reached out to her as she passed, but she ignored him. A minute later, she and Blake were standing next to their father, laughing at some stupid joke he'd made.

Felix stared longingly at Deah. “Thanks for the save.”

“No problem.”

He barked out a harsh laugh. “But it
is
a problem. It was stupid of me, coming over to her like that. Sometimes . . . I wish I could just forget all about her. Pretend I never met her. Pretend I don't feel
anything
for her.”

My gaze zoomed across the room to Devon. “Yeah. I know exactly what you mean.”

A
bell chimed, signaling that the cocktail hour was over and dinner was about to start. The heads of the Families took their seats at the center table, with everyone else stationed more or less behind the leader of their Family. I sat in between Felix and Reginald.

Pixies fluttered into the room, carrying trays of steaming food. Mounds of pasta smothered with spicy marinara sauce and meatballs that were as big as my fist, crunchy breadsticks slathered with garlic butter, Caesar salads dusted with snowy mountains of Parmesan cheese.

Everything looked and smelled amazing, but I couldn't eat a single bite. Not tonight. Not while I was in the same room with Victor and Blake.

So I moved my meatballs from one side of my plate to the other and tuned out most of the conversations around me, which had to do with all sorts of boring things. Trade agreements, a tree troll infestation in one of the squares, and gossip—lots and lots of gossip. Everything from who was getting married to who was getting divorced and how the makeups and breakups would affect the balance of magic, money, and power among the Families. Then again, Family members considered such things important. I did not. All that really mattered was having a roof over your head, a warm, dry place to sleep, and enough food to fill your stomach on a daily basis. Life really was that simple. Everything else was just static.

“. . . ruby necklace that he was giving to his mistress . . .”

My ears perked up at that snippet of conversation, although I kept pushing my food around my plate.

“Yeah, I heard that he bought the necklace for his mistress. When the wife found out, she naturally arranged to have it stolen right out from under his nose.”

“Naturally,” Reginald agreed in a dry voice, as though he found the conversation inappropriate.

I grinned.

Once dinner was finished, waiters brought out the dessert course. Cannolis, of course, delicate, crispy shells stuffed with fluffy, vanilla whipped cream, mini chocolate chips, and fresh, sliced strawberries, served with a scoop of strawberry ice cream.

A waiter set a plate in front of me. The ice cream had already started to melt, the thin pink rivulets reminding me of blood.

Ice cream was the one thing I wouldn't—couldn't—eat. I hadn't had a single scoop since my mom died. Just looking at it made me sick sometimes.

This was definitely one of those times.

I pushed my plate over to Felix. “You want this?”

“Sure,” he said, snagging it. “But aren't you going to eat it?”

“I'm full.”

He gasped and clutched a hand to his chest. “Will wonders never cease.”

I scrunched my face up into what I hoped was a smile.

“. . . find the last agreement to be far more lenient with the rubes than I would ever be,” Victor Draconi's deep, rumbling voice caught my attention.

I leaned to the side so I could have a better view.

He frowned at everyone around him. “It's disgraceful, really, the way they market the town as some sort of fairy-tale tourist trap. And then the shop and restaurant owners have the gall to demand that they keep more and more of the money they earn, lowering what they give to the Families.
We're
the ones with the magic.
We're
the ones with the power. Without us, they would quickly find out exactly how monstrous certain sections of this town really are. It's shameful, how they take us and our protection for granted.”

His stance wasn't an uncommon one. Lots of magicks thought that they were better than the mortals. Hence the term
rube
. Truth be told, so did I. Oh, I didn't think that I was more special or important than mortals, per se, just that I knew the dangers of what they were promoting a lot better than they did.

Several of the other Family leaders nodded in agreement. Then again, most of them would have sided with him no matter what. Victor turned his golden gaze to Claudia, who had remained quiet through what had seemed to be a long-winded rant on his part.

“Have you given any more thought to my proposal to impose a new tax on the rubes for profiting from our protection efforts?” he asked.

Claudia dabbed at her lips with her napkin, her fingers curling tightly into the cloth before she set it aside. “My answer is the same as it's always been.
No.
The mortals are doing their best to drum up business and attract more tourists, something that we all profit from. I say we let them do their jobs, and we do ours.”

“You're making a mistake,” Victor said, his voice dropping to a lower, more sinister tone. “Someone should remind the rubes what their place is. In fact, I say that it should have been done a long time ago.”

Claudia grabbed a biscotti out of a basket on the table. “And I say that the mortals are already paying quite enough in protection money. If we ask them to pay more . . .”

She snapped the biscotti in half. “They are liable to quit paying altogether. And none of us want that.”

This time, everyone at the table nodded in agreement with her—except for Victor.

Claudia knew she'd won this round, and she gave Victor a smile that was about as sweet and pointed as a dagger to the throat. I liked her more in that moment than I ever had before.

Victor's eyes narrowed, but he tipped his head and returned her smile with one of his own. Claudia started murmuring to Hiroshi Ito, while Victor took another bite of his strawberry ice cream. Even though the two of them were pointedly ignoring each other, you could almost see the tension between them hanging over the table like a storm cloud.

Everyone knew that the Sinclairs were second only to the Draconis in power. Once again, I couldn't help wondering if Victor was behind the attempts to kidnap Devon. Because if her son was taken, Claudia would do anything to get him back—
anything
.

Victor must have sensed me watching him because he glanced in my direction. Our eyes locked for just a moment, but that was long enough for my soulsight to kick in. His expression was calm, but his heart was cold.

So completely, utterly, chillingly
cold
.

Most anger and rage felt hot, like fiery knives stabbing into my heart or water boiling in the pit of my stomach. But not Victor Draconi's. Instead, his was pure ice—hard, cold, utterly unbreakable, and completely unrelenting.

In that moment, I realized that he hated the rest of the Families, especially Claudia and the Sinclairs, and that he would do whatever it took to eliminate them all—down to the smallest pixie. Blake had said his father was planning something, and I knew that it would have deadly consequences for everyone in this room, maybe even everyone in Cloudburst Falls.

Victor looked away, breaking my connection to him, and I slumped over the table, shivering.

“Lila?” Devon asked, leaning forward in his seat on the other side of Felix. “Are you okay?”

I let out a breath, certain that it would frost in the air, given the cold rage still racing through my body, but nothing happened. I forced myself to straighten back up, and I dropped my hands together and hid them under the napkin in my lap, so that no one would see how badly my fingers were trembling.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to make my voice sound normal. “I'm fine. I probably just ate too much.”

Felix snorted. “You think?”

I forced myself to smile at him. Felix turned to Devon, and the two of them started talking again. The cold rage slowly faded from my body, but it was quickly replaced by a stomach-churning combination of worry, dread, and fear about what Victor, Blake, and the rest of the Draconis were up to.

T
he dinner wrapped up soon after that.

Devon went back over to Claudia, standing by her side in silent support, as she shook hands a final time with the heads of the other Families, including Victor.

I positioned myself off to the side of the crowd, away from everyone else, just trying to get through the rest of the night.

The Draconis left the restaurant first. Victor didn't even glance at me as he swept outside. Of course he wouldn't. I wasn't a senior member of one of the Families, so I wasn't important. A nobody, just like my mom had been to him.

However, Blake stopped long enough to sneer at me, a clear promise on his face that our little feud wasn't over. I gave him the same sort of cold smile that Claudia had Victor.

Deah followed her dad and brother out of the restaurant, but her gaze darted away from mine before I could get a lock on her emotions.

Once the Draconis were gone, the tension level went down about ten notches, and everyone else left in a more leisurely fashion, talking and laughing with one another.

Felix split off to ride back to the mansion with Angelo, Reginald, and Claudia, while Grant, Devon, and I headed for our SUV. It was close to midnight now, although you wouldn't know it by the lights and tourists still going strong in the Midway.

“I'm glad that's over,” Devon muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as we ambled down the sidewalk. “I hate those dinners. And Victor Draconi is a gigantic ass. Can you believe he wants to tax the mortals even more? Sometimes, I think he's out of his mind.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Because he's always pushing my mom about the mortals. Do this to them, do that to them, like they're his own personal property or something. A lot of the Families don't like the mortals, but Victor takes it to new levels, new extremes.”

“He's just trying to do what's best for the Families,” Grant said. “He's right. We keep the monsters at bay for the rubes, we do all the hard, dirty, dangerous work, and they don't pay us nearly enough for it.”

Devon gave him a sharp look, but Grant shrugged his shoulders.

“I'm not the only one in the Sinclair Family who thinks so,” Grant continued. “Everyone respects your mom, but they look around at what the other Families are getting, and they want the same things, too.”

Devon snorted. “You mean what the Draconis let them have.”

Grant shrugged again.

We started to leave the Midway and step onto the side street that would take us back to the car, when I saw a sharp movement out of the corner of my eye. Deah was standing by an ice cream shack. She gestured with her hand, waving me over.

“I'll catch up with you guys in a few minutes, okay? I want to get some ice cream.”

Devon gave me an amused look. “You're hungry again? Felix was right. You really are a bottomless pit.”

I managed another grin. Devon shook his head, but he and Grant walked on. I got in line at the ice cream shack, as though I really was going to buy a cone. When I was sure that Devon and Grant had disappeared into the crowd, I went over to where Deah was standing in the shadows.

“What do you want?”

She glanced left and right. I wondered if she was looking for Devon and Grant—or Blake. Finally, she stared at me again.

“Look, tell Felix that I'm sorry, okay?” Deah said.

“Sorry? Sorry that you treated him like dirt? You can tell him yourself.”

I started to walk away, but she reached out to me.

“If you so much as touch me, I will make you eat my fist,” I growled.

Her eyes narrowed. “I'd like to see you try.”

We glared at each other. After a moment, Deah sighed.

“Just tell Felix that I'm sorry, please?” she asked again. “He'll understand. He knows what my brother is like.”

“Your brother is a complete monster, and so is your dad. You might not like what Blake does to other people, but you always go along with it. I don't know what Felix sees in you.”

She gasped, and her face whitened with shock. “You know? About me and Felix?”

“Kind of hard not to, when he gave you a rose at the arcade. You two should be a little more discreet.”

Her hands curled into fists, and she took a menacing step forward. “If you tell anyone, anyone at all—”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You'll pull my guts out through my nose. I get it. Don't worry. Your precious little secret is safe with me.”

This time, I was the one who took a menacing step toward her. “But Felix is a nice guy, and if you and your brother do anything to hurt him, anything at all, then you'll be the ones who are sorry.
Capisce
?”

Deah jerked her head in what I assumed was a
yes
. She glared at me a final time, then stormed off in the crowd.

 

I stayed where I was, scanning the sights and sounds of the Midway, just in case Blake had decided to follow his sister and was waiting in some shadow for me to walk by. But I didn't see anything suspicious, so I headed toward the parking lot. Grant and Devon were probably getting impatient—

My phone rang. I thought about not answering it, but there was only one person who would be calling me. He'd want to know all the dirty details about tonight. So I pulled my phone out of my purse and answered it.

“Hey, kid.” Mo's voice filled my ear. “So how was your first Family dinner?”

“Tense.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I can imagine. So fill me in.”

I told him a few things, including how Victor was pushing Claudia and the other Families for new protection taxes on the mortals.

“You saw Victor?” Mo asked in a sharp voice. “You were in the same room with him?”

“Yeah.”

He didn't say anything, although I could hear him
tap-tap-tapping
his fingers on the counter through the phone, something he only did when he was worried. We never talked about it, but Mo knew exactly what Victor and Blake had done to my mom.

“You can tell me more about that later,” he said. “There's another reason I'm calling. I finally found out who that accountant works for, the one whose guards were here at the pawnshop when Devon was attacked.”

He paused, rather dramatically. Even though he couldn't see me, I still rolled my eyes.

“And that would be . . .”

“The Sinclairs. The accountant works for the Sinclair Family.”

I frowned. “The Sinclairs? But why would guards who worked for a Sinclair accountant attack Devon? It doesn't make any sense . . .”

A sign on top of the ice cream shack lit up, the deep red light reminding me of the ruby necklace I'd stolen—a necklace someone had joked about at dinner tonight.

But how would any of the Sinclairs have even known about the necklace? It wasn't like I had mentioned it to anyone, and Mo would never gossip about something like that. With the three guards dead, the only way . . . the
only
way anyone could know was if the accountant had told about it. I doubted that, since the accountant would want to save face and keep his affair as quiet as possible. But what if the three guards had blabbed between the night of the theft and the attack at the Razzle Dazzle? What if they'd shared that juicy bit of gossip with the person who'd hired them to attack Devon?

My steps faltered, my mind reeling at the implications. But once I made that first connection, another one quickly fell into place, like a tumbler on a lock. The identity of the person joking about the accountant with Reginald.

My eyes zoomed over to the arcade entrance. And I remembered that I'd seen that same someone who knew about the ruby necklace talking to Volkov guards a few days later, right before Devon's first fake date with Poppy.

Someone who probably knew all about Devon's Talent, since he lived under the same roof with Devon.

“Grant,” I whispered.

“What? What did you say, Lila?” Mo asked.

“It's Grant,” I repeated. “He's the one behind the attacks on Devon. He arranged them all.”

“Are you sure? Why would he do that? He's the Family broker. He's about as high up on the food chain as you can get.”

“Exactly,” I murmured. “So Grant would know the accountant and his guards. Well enough to hire the guards for a side job, anyway. And since he is the broker, he has access to all the Sinclair money. Including enough to hire some Volkov guards for the second attempt.”

The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Then another, more chilling thought filled my mind.

“Oh no,” I whispered, more to myself than to Mo. “Grant is with Devon right now.”

Alone. In a dark parking lot. The same place where Devon had already been ambushed once before, the night his father was killed after that New Year's Eve party.

“Grant's going to try again,” I said, starting to run. “Call Claudia! Tell her what's going on! And track my phone!”

“Lila, wait—”

I hung up on Mo, yanked up my jacket, and slid my phone into one of the hidden slots in my belt. Then I sucked down a breath and raced toward the parking lot. My heels
clack-clack-clacked
on the cobblestones, making far too much noise for me to sneak up on anyone, so I stopped long enough to yank them off. My purse fell from my hand and tumbled away, so did my shoes, but I ran on. The cobblestones were still warm from the heat of the day, although small bits of dirt, gravel, and glass scraped into the soles of my bare feet. I gritted my teeth against the uncomfortable sensations and kept going.

I reached the edge of the parking lot and forced myself to stop and hunker down in the shadows. Only a few cars remained, since most of the Family members had already left, but I was able to creep from one pool of darkness to the next, easing closer and closer to the Sinclair section. Finally, I stopped, crouched down, and peered around the corner of a black sports car with the Salazar hacienda emblazoned on the door.

Thirty feet away, Grant and Devon were leaning against the side of the SUV. I let out a breath. Maybe I wasn't too late after all. Still, I stayed where I was in the shadows, staring into the darkness around me. Because if Grant was going to ambush Devon, then he wouldn't do it alone. He was too much of a coward for that.

“Where's Lila?” Devon said. “Do you think something's happened to her?”

“Nah,” Grant replied, a bit of a sneer creeping into his voice. “She probably decided to stop and pick a few pockets in the Midway.”

“Why would you say that?”

“She's a thief, Devon,” Grant replied, the sneer a little louder this time. “You and Felix might have forgotten that, but I haven't.”

“Lila is more than just a thief.”

“Why?” Grant asked. “Because you want to get into her pants? Don't be stupid. That girl is nothing but trouble. The only reason she's probably still at the mansion is that she's casing the place and trying to figure out what she can take with her when she goes.”

Devon shook his head. “Lila's not like that. Yeah, she's a thief. But she wouldn't steal from the Family. Not now.”

“Whatever,” Grant muttered. “If she's not here in five minutes, we're leaving without her.”

I didn't see anyone lurking in the shadows, so I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Felix.

 

Grant behind attacks. With Devon right now @ the car
.

Call Mo. He'll know what to do
.

 

Then I put my phone on silent, slid it into that slot on my belt again, and started creeping forward. I could have called out to Devon, but I was betting that Grant had at least one weapon, maybe more, and I didn't want to risk his hurting Devon—

“You know,” Grant said. “I've been waiting for this night for a long, long time.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

He grinned. “So I could finally do this.”

I rushed forward, even though I knew I was going to be too late.

Grant pulled a dagger out from the small of his back. Before I could scream out a warning, Grant whipped around, raised the weapon high, and brought it down, aiming at Devon's chest.

But Devon must have seen the glint of the metal because he raised his hands, blocking the attack.

“Grant? What the hell, man?” Devon asked, his voice full of shock.

Grant let out an angry snarl, snapped up his fist, and punched Devon in the face. Dazed, Devon staggered back against the SUV, and Grant raised his dagger again.

But this time, I was there to help Devon.

I put my shoulder down and slammed into Grant from the side, knocking him away from Devon, making him land on his ass on the pavement. The dagger clattered to the ground, and I stepped forward and kicked it away. Then I went over to Devon.

“Are you okay?”

Devon shook off his daze and straightened back up. “Yeah, I'm fine. What's going on?”

“I think we should let Grant explain that.”

We both looked at Grant, who had gotten back onto his feet. His face darkened at the sight of me.

“You,” he muttered. “I should have known that you would show up and ruin everything.
Again
. You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?”

I bared my teeth at him. “What can I say? It's a bad habit of mine.”

“Grant, what are you doing?” Devon asked.