Cold Burn of Magic

I didn’t notice the SUV until I was almost at the sidewalk.

 

It crouched at the curb like an oversize beetle. Everything about it was black—black paint, black windows, black tires. The sort of car you see in action movies where government spooks use the vehicle to help them disappear people—forever.

 

But it was much, much worse than the government because a crest blazed on the front passenger door—a hand holding a sword aloft, all of it outlined in white. I might not have anything to do with them, but I still recognized the Sinclair Family crest.

 

I’d had my suspicions before, but I still bit back a groan. Of course it would be that Family. The only thing worse would have been if the Draconis had come for me.

 

A guy was leaning against the side of the SUV, his arms crossed over his muscled chest. His hair was a rich, golden blond and slicked back into a cool style, while his tan skin brought out his pale blue eyes. He was easily one of the most gorgeous guys I’d ever seen, and I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed him. All of the girls walking by paused to give him a hungry once-over, especially since he didn’t look all that much older than the students, maybe twenty or so.

 

Too bad he wasn’t alone.

 

He was flanked by Felix and an older man with snow-white hair who was wearing a three-piece black tweed suit. Silver cuffs flashed on all their wrists, and golden boy had a sword strapped to his waist. Felix straightened up the second he saw me and nudged golden boy with his elbow. Oh no.

 

It would look more suspicious if I bolted, so I kept going, falling in behind a group of football players. I reached the sidewalk and turned left, away from the SUV. I ducked my head and started walking in the other direction, not really running, but seriously thinking about it— A pair of boots planted themselves on the sidewalk, and I had to pull up to keep from slamming into the guy in front of me.

 

“In a hurry?” golden boy asked, smiling and revealing a dimple in his left cheek.

 

“You might say that.”

 

I started to step around him, but he blocked my path. I moved the other way, and so did he, cutting me off again. We did our dance a third time before he reached out, as though he were going to grab my arm. Handsome or not, I bared my teeth at him.

 

“You touch me, and I will knock you into next week.”

 

His eyebrows shot up, and his gaze flicked past me. Footsteps sounded behind us, and too late, I remembered his friends. I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, Felix and the older man had come up behind me. I backed up so that the four of us were standing in a loose circle, even though all of them were on one side with just me on the other.

 

“Yep, that’s her,” Felix said. “That’s the girl from the pawnshop. The one who saved Devon.”

 

I opened my mouth to tell him that he was wrong, when my phone buzzed.

 

“I imagine that’s your friend Mo, asking you to come along quietly,” the older man said, his rich, cultured voice tinged with an English accent. “Why don’t you look and see?”

 

Even more suspicious now, I backed up another step. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the message. Sure enough, it was from Mo.

 

 

 

 

 

Go with Reginald. Will explain more when I see you.

 

 

 

 

 

I glanced up at the three guys and texted him back.

 

 

 

 

 

You can’t be serious.

 

Go with Reginald. No fighting. Please

 

 

 

 

 

There was that stupid please again. But really, I didn’t have a choice. I could take out Felix, but golden boy and the older man looked like they would present more of a problem. Besides, I was already getting enough strange looks from the kids streaming by on the sidewalk. They might not have noticed me before, but I was very interesting now.

 

So I sighed and texted Mo back.

 

 

 

 

 

Fine. But if they murder me, it’s your fault.

 

Done!

 

 

 

 

 

I glared at the phone. Trust Mo to be totally blasé about my getting into a car with three strangers. I waited but he didn’t respond, so I slid my phone into my pocket again.

 

“Which one of you is Reginald?” I muttered.

 

The older man gave me a very deep, very formal bow. “I am, miss. William Reginald, with the Sinclair Family.” He gestured at golden boy. “And this is Grant Sanderson. I believe you know Felix Morales already.”

 

I had to work very hard to keep from showing any sort of surprise. William Reginald looked and sounded like a glorified butler because that’s exactly what he was. As the Sinclair Family butler, he ran the mansion, overseeing the day-to-day operations of everything from the kitchen staff to the gardeners to who got admitted inside to have an audience with the higher-ups. I’d heard Mo complain more than once that getting past Reginald without an appointment was harder than selling life insurance to a dead man. And Grant and Felix were obviously more than just regular guards.

 

This was turning way more serious than I’d thought.

 

“As I said before, we are with the Sinclair Family,” Reginald repeated, taking my silence for worry, which he was spot-on about. “We mean you no harm.”

 

Yeah. Right. Because getting into a black SUV with Family goons always worked out so well for folks like me.

 

Reginald tipped his head, his lined face neutral, while Grant flashed me a brief, but wary smile.

 

But Felix did a most surprising thing—he winked, then gave me a slow, knowing grin, flirting with me just like he had in the pawnshop. I rolled my eyes, but that only seemed to amuse him more. I had a feeling that Felix Morales knew exactly how pretty he was and used it to get whatever girl caught his eye. Cute, cocky, and arrogant. A bad-boy combination if ever there was one.

 

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