Free Fire Kissed by Erin Kellison Page A

It had been commissioned in the early 1600s by graymage Lloyd Trahaearn to depict, in the artist’s lusty frenetic style, The Fall of Magic . Angels, in their perfect beauty, bore down with mighty swords on the naked flesh of magekind, who writhed in myriad angry agonies. And throughout the melee, the immortal trees of Twilight reached into the sky as silent, still witnesses to the scouring of magic from the earth.
    It had happened more than once.
    Ferro glanced back at Shana, hoping for understanding. A flicker of anything in her eyes might spare her.
    But no. The very real threat of angelic discovery had yet to dawn on her. His discovery would have to be enough. Pity.
    “Okay, one more thing and we’re done here.” He loosened the ring on his index finger; it was a little sweat-stuck. The ring was iron, the backbone of Grey House. A circular rim was its only decoration, as if it had once held a stone, but now only the setting remained. No stone had been lost; the ring had always held Shadow.
    He was about to earn his reputation. “This is for your own good, the good of your House, and magekind. And it’s temporary .”
    Shana made a little noise and backed away from him. He respected her instincts.
    “You’ll be all right.” Eventually. “But you won’t be trouble for some time.”
    He backed her to the door. He took her hand in his—her nails were short, painted black—and turned her palm upward. She trembled in his grasp, and though he was sorry for her discomfort, he didn’t regret what he had to do. She had to learn somehow, and through her, perhaps a few other careless mages, just coming into their power, would take note. And think twice. Or think at all.
    He pressed the top of the ring into the center of her palm.
    Shana’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, and she shook against the closed door. He felt a curl of her Shadow enter him, sweet, sharp, and potent. It mixed with the darkness already gathered in his blood. Magic. With it would come the Maya House’s gift of illusion. For a little while, at least.
    Color fled from her face, and when she fell to the floor, her weight took her hand. A circular welt had been scorched into her palm, but at least it didn’t bleed.
    Eventually Shadow would thread through her system again, quicken her umbra, and she’d be able to wield the magic that had brought her this unwelcome attention. How long that would take varied from mage to mage. But the scar would remain and would remind her to be very careful.
    Ferro nudged her fallen body out of the way with his foot and shin. Then opened the door and exited.
    “Camilla, have Arman Maya come collect his daughter. Give them a room here in Grey House until she is well enough to leave.” He handed Camilla the book on mage history. “And see that her father gets this too. Miss Maya is to read it before I see her again. Thank you.”
    Camilla stood. “Mr. Maya said that he wanted to speak with you when you were finished.”
    “Arman can see me at the dinner tomorrow,” Ferro said. “I have other work to do.”
    Ferro kept tabs on every mage—but apparently, today was all about women. Darshana Maya, Gail Meallan, and Kaye Brand. But where, if it please Shadow, could he find one of his own?
     
     
    Jack was not surprised that the senator didn’t like the future she witnessed in Kaye’s Shadowfire. She’d paled, the press of her lips highlighting the deep wrinkles around her lipsticked mouth.
    The oil and gas lobbyist Kaye and Jack saw two days later struck at the fire. Tried to strike Kaye, which Jack intercepted.
    And the congressional aide this morning broke down in tears, hurling hoarse threats, as if Kaye had anything to do with his future. All three saw doom, yet another proof that the world was darkening once again.
    Jack had seen it all before: Kaye’s visions of the future looked very much like the reality of the distant past. Shadow grasping at ankles as the angels laid siege to warded temples that