Cast in Angelfire: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Mage Craft Series Book 1) Read online

  Cast in Angelfire

  The Mage Craft Series

  S M Reine

  Red Iris Books

  Contents

  Copyright

  About Cast in Angelfire

  Epigraph

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Dear Readers

  OTHER SERIES BY SM REINE

  The Descent Series

  The Ascension Series

  Seasons of the Moon

  The Cain Chronicles

  Tarot Witches

  Preternatural Affairs

  War of the Alphas

  The Mage Craft Series

  Want to know the instant I have a new book out?

  sign up for the Army of Evil!

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  This book is sold DRM-free so that it can be enjoyed in any way the reader sees fit. Please keep all links and attributions intact when sharing. All rights reserved.

  Copyright © SM Reine 2016

  tmcs01-v1.0v

  Published by Red Iris Books

  1180 Selmi Drive, Suite 102

  Reno, NV 89512

  ISBN: 978-1-937733-32-2

  About Cast in Angelfire

  As a half-angel, half-human mage, Marion Garin is the most powerful witch in the world. She’s been embroiled in preternatural politics since childhood and navigates the factions with ease.

  Or so she’s been told.

  Unfortunately, she’s lost her memory, and now Marion doesn’t know much of anything. Casting magic? Forget about it. It’s not an accident, either. Someone powerful wanted to take Marion out of preternatural politics, and they succeeded.

  She’s told that a man named Seth Wilder could help, but she’ll have to find him first. He’s been missing for years. Marion needs to track Seth down and fix her memory before her unknown enemy finishes the job…

  * * *

  In paradisum deducant te Angeli…

  Æternam habeas requiem.

  1

  Billings, Montana—September 2030

  There was a bounty on the life of a girl named Marion. The dollar figure was high enough that the real question wasn’t whether she would die—it was how quickly, and who would land the reward.

  The bounty was passed around on darknet forums where killers sought their next paychecks. The darknet had become more advanced as unseelie sidhe developed technology so complex that it seemed to be magical, and the content was immune to the eye of law enforcement, since the servers were hidden in the Winter Court. Only people invited to the darknet could access it. Invitations were not cheap, and they could never be purchased with money.

  The original posting of the bounty said that the target answered to “Marion,” and that she had multiple last names. This Marion had been born in 2011—four years before Genesis rebooted the world, spewing vampires, faeries, and a thousand other preternatural breeds across the face of the Earth.

  It also said that she needed to die before the first of November. That meant that there was less than a month to form a plan, track her down, and murder her.

  The bounty’s poster included a blurry photograph of the target taken from a distance. Only her wavy brunette hair was distinct, but she stood near a bus shelter, which allowed Geoff Samuelson to approximate her height at five feet, ten inches—perhaps a bit taller.

  The information wasn’t much, but it was enough for Geoff to get that bounty.

  And he didn’t plan to share.

  “She’s only nineteen,” said Vasicek. “A baby.”

  “Nineteen’s old enough to screw, and it’s old enough to die for your country,” Geoff said.

  Vasicek slipped a magazine into his sniper rifle. “I’m not saying it’s a problem. I’m stating fact. My little sister is older than she is.”

  “She musta done something to piss people off,” Geoff said. Nobody got million-dollar bounties put on their head unless they really deserved it. That was the thought that had been comforting Geoff while crossing the North American Union on Amtrak, rushing toward the target’s last known location in Montana. If someone was willing to pay that much money to knock off Marion Multiple-Last-Names, then she probably deserved it.

  The thought of what Geoff would do with all that money was its own kind of comfort, too.

  Vasicek had a dreamy look that said he was contemplating something similar. Even the serpents coiled over his ears looked like they were fantasizing about the bounty. “What do you think you’ll do with your half?”

  “I’m out of this business,” Geoff said. “Out of the business, out of the country, retiring for life.”

  “The money’s good, but not that good.”

  It would be once Geoff murdered Vasicek, ensuring that he didn’t have to split the bounty in half. “What are you planning to do with your cut?”

  “I’m franchising. Got lots of connections who are, you know, like me.” Vasicek probably meant demons in general, not specifically megaira. His specific breed made good assassins, though. They fed on aggression the way vampires fed on blood. “Us types do good with this killing stuff. I’ll buy ‘em, pay ‘em a salary, collect lots more bounties. Get some fat stacks going.”

  “Like the Mary Kay of murder?”

  “The Wal-Mart of murder. We’ll be huge. We’ll dominate.” The snakes creating Vasicek’s hair laughed along with him in a chorus of cruel hissing.

  It was a nice fantasy all right. Before Genesis, Vasicek might have been able to do such a thing. Demons had been almost as numerous as humans back in those days, and there had been no sidhe or shifters to compete with. Now there weren’t many demons for Vasicek to hire. They’d all been shoved into the Nether Worlds, then the key to the door tossed away.

  Geoff didn’t bother pointing out how impractical the plan was. Vasicek should enjoy the fantasy while it lasted. In a few hours, he’d be bleeding sulfurous blood onto the pavement, his soul dragged to the Nether Worlds to be with his brethren. No Wal-Mart of murder for him. Not on this plane.

  “It’s a nice idea.” Geoff got to his feet as the train halted. He shouldered his backpack, which was a lot smaller than Vasicek’s gun-laden duffel bag. Geoff didn’t need weapons to kill. “Dream big, bro.”

  “Dream and keep on dreaming,” Vasicek agreed.

  The train station wasn’t far from the target, so Geoff braced himself for competition—the legions of assassins, primarily sidhe, who would be closing in on the same million-dollar skull that he was. It felt anticlimactic to step off the train to no fanfare, no blood, no gunfire.

  He hoped they weren’t too late to kill Marion.

  Their destination waited on the other side of the street. Original Sin. The name was picked out in bold neon sparkling with magic.

  It was one of many clubs under the same name—a franchise not unlike Wal-Mart. This was the kind of franchise that mundane humans couldn’t see, though. Mundane humans passed on the sidewalk without ever glancing at it. Their eyes skipped from the tattoo parlor to t
he lingerie shop on the other side, like that space between didn’t exist.

  Even Geoff had a hard time focusing on any of the Original Sins he’d visited. Like the darknet, Original Sin was intended only for the kind of souls who could locate it, and the owners didn’t make that an easy chore.

  “What time did the email say?” Geoff asked.

  Vasicek said, “Midnight.”

  The train had been delayed at its last station; the time was already after eleven thirty. Geoff and Vasicek wouldn’t have much time to set up.

  The bouncer at the door for Original Sin had the strange glittering flesh that was a hallmark of sidhe—also known as faeries, though the sidhe had made it clear that wasn’t their preferred term. And most people were smart enough to call sidhe whatever the hell they wanted.

  Sidhe were a whole other deterrent to visiting Original Sin. The sheer power of their magic warped the world, consuming all light and emanating it from their glittering flesh. It was hard to think straight around the unseelie sidhe, harder still to focus on them, and near impossible to murder one of them.

  If Geoff and Vasicek pissed off the bouncer, they’d die before they could track down the bounty.

  This particular sidhe seemed too bored to fight. Vasicek paid their cover fees, and the sidhe didn’t even glance in their bags before stepping aside.

  Eleven thirty should have been too early for any club to be so busy. Under ordinary circumstances, the creatures of the night didn’t get partying until the witching hour struck, but Original Sin wasn’t an ordinary circumstance. The regulars simply never left. It was as packed with bodies that evening as it would have been in brilliant, burning midday.

  Every version of Original Sin was essentially the same, with minute differences. Geoff scanned the room to orient himself to the changes in this location.

  The bar was at the back as it usually was, glowing like a beacon in the midst of inky shadow. Liquor bottles seemed to hold inner lights all their own, as if pixies had been trapped at their bottoms.

  The dance floor was on a level below ground. Geoff skimmed the faces of the dancers as he walked along the mezzanine, picking out all the preternaturals he could. Shifters were easy to spot, golden-eyed as they were. Vampires were the pallid and frail. There were only a couple of sidhe besides the doorman. Having too many sidhe around was bad for business.

  This particular version of Original Sin had columns of fire in each corner, a shade of white-blue that suggested magic. Geoff passed by one. It looked deadly, but it wasn’t hot. He still wouldn’t risk bumping into it. Original Sin was exactly the kind of place where they would decorate with something fatal at a touch.

  “Up there,” Vasicek said, jerking his chin toward the south wall. Scaffolding supporting the lights that strobed over the dancers, lighting their preternatural flesh like prisms.

  Geoff climbed the scaffold. Vasicek was right behind him. Much like the doorman, none of the regulars seemed interested in the fact that two men were scaling the rigging for the lights; of all the strange things that demons did in Original Sin, crawling up the walls was the most ordinary.

  The scaffold gave them an excellent vantage point overlooking the rest of the club. Geoff could see into the curtained booths on the far side of the bar. He could even see the hallway behind the DJ.

  When the target came in, he would know.

  Geoff turned on his cell phone to read Marion’s emails again. An anonymous person had contacted Marion to ask for help, and despite the message’s brevity, Marion had readily agreed to meet that person at Original Sin at midnight. The target must have known the individual she was due to meet.

  He checked the time again. Almost midnight. Geoff rolled the moonstone charm in his fingers as Vasicek set up. “Do you feel that?” Vasicek asked, scratching at the back of his neck. His nails were sharp enough to leave red streaks on his greasy skin.

  Tilting his nose up, Geoff took a sniff. The club was filled with a nauseating cocktail of lethe, pot smoke, liquor, sweat, and piss. One smell was so strange that it rang alarm bells in his head, even though it was faint—the smell of burning oak.

  His eyes swept the crowd, and he spotted the target near the door.

  Marion shone among all the other preternaturals. She wasn’t the most beautiful of them, but there was something compelling about her willowy figure, high cheekbones, and cold blue eyes. She didn’t look like she was only nineteen. She didn’t exactly look older, either.

  Ageless was the word for it.

  Unease crawled over Geoff. What is she?

  The options slithered through his consciousness—cherubim, gibborim, or messenger, maybe. He wouldn’t have expected any of them. Ethereal types seldom left their territory in the Levant, and they would never deign to socialize with mere gaeans.

  He felt less guilty about Marion’s impending death.

  Marion glided toward the bar and slipped into a booth. A waiter brought her a drink in a martini glass, which she accepted with a smile. It must have been her regular drink. She wasn’t old enough to have a regular drink.

  She sat out in the open, oblivious to how many creatures would be circling for her blood. Trusting enough to meet an unnamed contact in public, trusting enough to sit with her back to a room filled with strangers.

  Vasicek extended the stand on his sniper rifle, propped it against the rails of the scaffold, and aimed it down. The light coming through the sight shone on his eye. Black swirled over the iris like pools of ink. “I have her in my sights.”

  “Remember the plan,” Geoff said. “Wait until I’m down.”

  “I’m waiting, I’m waiting.” Vasicek’s finger looked awful twitchy. “Hurry up.”

  Geoff swung off of the scaffolding, landed behind the dance floor, and slipped out the back door to the alley. The moonstone charm was burning a hole in his pocket—almost literally. He needed to use the magic before it expired.

  He stripped his clothing off and stuffed it behind a trashcan. The moonstone scorched his palms. He bounced it between them, waiting for the signal that it was time to change.

  Muffled gunshots popped from within Original Sin.

  People screamed.

  That was Vasicek’s signal.

  Doors burst open, and Original Sin’s patrons flooded onto the sidewalk. Geoff watched them from his hidden position at the back of the alley.

  Some people clutched bloody wounds on their arms, shoulders, necks. Vasicek hadn’t deliberately been aiming to kill. He had been trying to create mayhem, and it had worked.

  “Come on,” Geoff muttered, pressing his thumb against the stone.

  Gaean magic settled over him.

  It didn’t hurt to shapeshift into his wolf form when he allowed the Alpha to control him, as most shapeshifters did. But using a charm between moons to force the change—that was different.

  He shapeshifted a piece at a time. Fast and brutal.

  His knees broke. Switched positions. He collapsed onto his hands as the fingernails fell out. Silver claws thrust from the skin, oozing blood around the edges.

  He threw his head back and roared through his breaking jaw, which extended into a muzzle.

  Nobody heard him. They were too busy running from Vasicek’s attack inside. There were more gunshots, more screaming, the wail of a fire alarm.

  After his spine extended into a tail, vertebrae replicating, grinding, twisting, the fever of fur extruding from his skin was nothing. It barely even itched. Within a minute, he had swollen to quadruple his former size, perhaps more, and Geoff could no longer hide behind the trashcan.

  A pair of women burst through the rear door.

  One of them Geoff didn’t recognize. She was a petite nobody with hair the color of straw. Most likely the anonymous person who had emailed Marion asking for help.

  The other one was tall, with lots of curly brown hair, and bright-blue eyes.

  Even Geoff’s wolf brain recognized the target, and it remembered how much she was worth.
r />   A million dollars.

  He could retire permanently.

  Geoff lunged.

  Werewolves were faster than any other gaean breed, so he flashed across the alley in a heartbeat, and he was on top of her the heartbeat after that. He slammed her into the wall hard enough to knock her out. Maybe even hard enough to kill her, if her skull hit in just the right way. He’d struck her with half a ton of werewolf at a hundred miles an hour, after all.

  He reared back to rip her face off.

  His claws halted inches from Marion’s cheek.

  It felt as though a fist had closed around his body, holding him suspended in the air. He thrashed, howling. But no matter how he snapped, there was nothing to bite. Nothing physical held him.

  Marion slid out from underneath him, hands outstretched, pupils white with magic. Her hair swirled around her neck, lifted in a wind that didn’t touch him. “Bad dog,” she said, and she flicked her fingers. “Down, boy.”

  Geoff hurtled into the far wall hundreds of feet down the alley.

  He’d been tossed around by Alpha shapeshifters before. He’d been shot more than once. He’d even been crushed by a car before.

  None of that hurt as much as Marion tossing him with a single, magical gesture.

  “Stay down,” she said. Her voice rattled within his skull. The very sound of it hurt.

  Geoff scrambled to his feet while his head was still spinning.

  Marion was holding hands with her straw-haired friend, ignoring Geoff as though he presented no threat whatsoever. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” the girl said.

  “Get back into Original Sin.” She pushed the other woman through the back door.

  Geoff launched himself at Marion again, faked a left, and then swung right. All with lightning speed. The fastest that he had ever moved.

  She stepped out of his way effortlessly.

  He skidded past her, paws scrabbling uselessly on pavement.

  Marion saw his lightning speed and raised him by summoning real lightning. She pointed one hand toward the sky and the other toward Geoff. “I told you to stay down.”