Chapter One
“Do we really need an audience for this?” I motioned to the five onlookers assembled in the gallery of the training room of Pandora’s Pride headquarters.
Evadne gave her razor-sharp fangs an exaggerated snap. “I perform better with an audience.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I mumbled. Evadne struck me as someone with mirrored walls and ceilings in her bedroom.
We faced each other on the mat in the center of the room. Evadne had challenged me to a competition and, because I was the stubborn child of Quinn Wendell, I’d accepted. Never mind that I was a half mage mountain guide and Evadne was an experienced supernatural agent with the rare distinction of being part vampire, fae, and werewolf.
“What are the rules?” Liam called from the safety of the gallery. The werevamp had been looking forward to this moment more than anyone, except he was under the misguided impression that there’d be a vat of Jell-O and nudity involved.
“When have you ever known me to follow rules?” Evadne scoffed.
I raised my hand. “I feel like there should at least be a rule about not killing each other.”
Liam’s head bobbed in agreement. “That seems fair.”
“What’s the matter, mage? Afraid to die?” Her sneer erased all traces of her pretty face.
“Unlike some in this room, I don’t list life-threatening situations as a favorite hobby.” The avalanches and feral supernaturals I’d faced as a mountain guide had been about survival, not entertainment.
“There will be no killing of anyone in the training room,” Abra’s voice rang out.
“But I already placed my bet,” Liam said.
The older witch kept a watchful eye on us. I knew from her granddaughter Tate that Abra was concerned about this particular challenge. She wanted us to fight deadly demons rather than each other. Still, given my limited experience in the field, fighting a skilled tri-brid like Evadne could only elevate my game.
Evadne wiggled her fingers in a ‘come hither’ gesture and I fortified my mind so that she couldn’t use her telepathy to identify my weaknesses or my plan of action.
“Callie’s power comes from that pink streak in her hair,” Liam called. “She’s like the punk version of Samson.”
My head jerked toward him. “No one is cutting my hair.”
Evadne kept her eyes on me. “I think I’ll fight you next, Liam, if only to shut you up.”
A bell sounded and Evadne charged. Strength and speed were her main traits, so I expected her to lead with those and she didn’t disappoint. I quickly activated the tarot card in my pocket—The Magician—and darted aside.
Evadne skidded past me and halted. “You forget that I can smell you even if I can’t see you. You reek of black coffee and…” She stopped to sniff the air. “Barbecue potato chips?”
I reappeared behind her. “The snack bar was out of pretzel bites.” I gave her low back a swift kick and she flew forward onto her hands and knees.
“Nice!” Saxon clapped loudly in the gallery. The half angel-half vampire wasn’t a fan of Evadne’s. As the team leader, he was concerned with the unanimity of the group and Evadne wasn’t exactly known for her interpersonal skills.
I felt prepared for Evadne’s next move, anticipating a photokinetic move to match my magic.
I was wrong.
From her position on the mat, she flipped to face me and sprang with her jaw unhinged. Her fangs plunged into my shoulder and I cried out in pain. This was worse than the time I was attacked by a feral vampire. I was only thirteen at the time and I’d broken the cardinal rule of wandering too far ahead of my father. His mage abilities didn’t extend to that level of healing and there was nowhere we could go without accelerating my blood loss. The only upside during those harrowing three days was that he didn’t force me to drink the Green-Eyed Monster, the potion that treated Melchior’s Syndrome—a disease I’d recently learned I didn’t actually have. Eventually I healed. Even more importantly, I learned a valuable lesson about heeding the wise words of Quinn Wendell.
“Extrico,” I said through clenched teeth.
Her fangs let go and I wrenched my body away, clutching my shoulder as blood trickled between my fingers. I turned to face her and realized that she’d sprinted to the opposite end of the mat. What was she doing?
From the edge of the mat, she cartwheeled toward me at a rapid pace like a deranged magical cheerleader. I was so taken aback that she managed to reach me before I could defend myself. Her feet pummeled me as she wheeled around to the floor and I landed flat on my back. It was only when my head cracked against the hard surface of the floor that I realized I’d gone off the edge of the mat. When I tried to get back up and fight, everything went black.
When I awoke, I found myself flat on the exam table in the healer’s office with a throbbing headache and wounded pride.
“Welcome back, Calandra.” Emil crossed the room with his healing hands already aglow.
“She cartwheeled,” I groused. “Who uses cartwheels as part of their battle plan?”
“Evadne, apparently,” the fae said with an amused smile. “I have always admired her creativity.”
I struggled to a seated position. “How much did you win?”
He wore a vague smile. “What makes you think I bet against you?”
“Come on. You’d have to be a fool to bet against Evadne.”
He observed me. “And yet you agreed to fight her anyway. How curious.”
“More like how stupid. Where’s Harmony?” Although Emil was a powerful fae, he didn’t normally work hours in the healer’s office.
“I’m afraid we had to let her go.”
“Let her go? As in you fired her?”
Emil motioned for me to lean back. “I believe Abra handled the termination.”
“What happened?” I immediately thought of the blood test results that the healer had shared with me in confidence that claimed I was one hundred percent human. I knew the results had to be a mistake, given that my father was a mage and I’d inherited his magical abilities.
“Incompetence,” Emil said. The fae rubbed his hands together to warm them. “Would you mind lifting your shirt and rolling to your side?”
I froze. “Is that necessary?”
“I suppose I can work through the material of your shirt, or I can call in Rhea or Prunella if you’d be more comfortable with a female observer.”
“It isn’t that.” How could I explain that there was a birthmark on my back that no one was supposed to see? Harmony had glimpsed it and I’d felt instant guilt for letting my father down so soon after his death. I’d spent a lifetime hiding my mage marks—the elaborate one on my back as well as the strip of blond hair that framed my face. Only certain lucky descendants of an ancient mage named Abraham bore the marks and my father had been insistent that I cover them to avoid unwanted attention. Coloring the blond streak fuchsia tended to bring a different kind of attention, but it was preferable to being challenged by every supernatural with something to prove.
“If you could try to work through my shirt,” I said. “The fabric is pretty thin.”