Binding Magick: an Urban Fantasy Novel (The Witch Blood Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Fuck.

  Just a group of young lads. One leaned in toward the window, his eyes bloodshot and crazy, and licked it, his piercing scraping against the glass. His friends pulled him away, jeering and laughing.

  Great. Nix junkies. Why was I surprised? This was the Magick District after all, and Nix was freely available to anyone who fancied seeing what it was like to have magick coursing through their veins. I’d played it with it on more than one occasion, but the low and the despondency once the high was gone had stripped the hope from my heart and tarnished the positive slivers of lies on my tongue. Nix was a fantasy, merely mimicking the high of connecting to the skein, nothing more. It was probably created by the covens to line their coffers.

  Yeah this didn’t have to be a bad thing. Helping this entity could be my positive.

  I picked up my phone and held it to my ear. “We have a deal. On one condition.”

  You really aren’t in any position to set conditions but … I’ll play.

  God, I hated the amusement in his tone. I exhaled. “You need to swear, like proper swear, you won’t take over my body again.”

  There was a lengthy pause and then … Very well. I give you my word I will not take over your body without your consent unless you break the terms of our deal.

  “And the terms are?”

  You do whatever it takes to help me get the answers I seek.

  “Can you be more specific?”

  No.

  “Fine in that case, I agree as long as I don’t have to endanger myself or anyone else in this endeavor.”

  Unless the person being endangered is the villain I seek.

  Bloody hell, this was getting complicated. “Look, how about you don’t take over my body without my consent as long as I keep helping you?”

  He was silent for a long beat. That is acceptable.

  “Okay. We have a deal.”

  His low exhalation was all the confirmation I needed. The tension racing through my body abated and my muscles unknotted.

  I was free … for now.

  _____

  “If we’re going to do this, then you need to tell me everything.” I strode down a side street—a short cut to the nearest aerial station. “What you are, why this, whatever it is, is hunting you. Everything. The sooner we figure this out the better. I know some people who may be able to help, but you’ll need to let me tell them some of what’s going on.”

  No. We cannot trust anyone.

  “Yes. We can. We can trust my friends.”

  The crowds were thinning out as more people moved away from the stores selling trinkets and charms, and toward the streets where booze was on offer. Monday night drinking … lovely. The aerial tram was just round the corner. If I legged it, I could catch the next one and be home by seven-thirty.

  “Hey, silver!” A male voice called out.

  Keep walking.

  The sound of running boot falls came up behind me.

  Shit. I was almost at the station steps.

  “Silver, hey. Talking to you.”

  Someone slammed into me, pressing me up against the wall.

  I shoved him off. “The fuck?”

  “Hey, been waiting for you.”

  It was the window licking guy. I glanced over his shoulder … Correction, window licking guy and his friends.

  Carmella.

  My stomach quivered. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just heading home.”

  He made a grab for me, slipping his arm around my waist. “But the night is young.” His eyes were bright, too bright in the gloom. How high was he?

  His friends laughed. “Hey Jinx, you gonna share or what?”

  Heck no.

  Carmella.

  Jinx leaned in, his rancid breath fanning across my face. I brought my knee up into his crotch and he fell back clutching his jewels.

  “Bitch!”

  His friends, all four of them, converged on me. I’d passed the combat training with the IEPEU, I could do this.

  Carmella, let me help you.

  Help me? He wanted to take the driver’s seat. My mind rebelled. “No. Not yet.”

  The guys closed in, and I attacked.

  Quick jab to the face, duck and swing away from the wall. Cos nope, I wasn’t getting backed up against it five to one. One of his mates swung, missing me by a hairbreadth. Too close, too damn close. Nix got you high but it also made the world around you uber focused. They were probably seeing me in all kinds of high definition right now. Hands up in defensive gesture I bounced on the balls of my feet. Staying still was not an option. With movement I had a chance. Duck, jab, uppercut.

  Yes. One down.

  I was doing this. Me. Carmella Hunter.

  A blow to the head had me reeling.

  Dammit Carmella, let me take over!

  I was seeing stars.

  And then my throat was closed as fingers tightened around it. Squeezing and lifting me off the ground.

  Jinx grinned. “So pretty, so bright.”

  Take the power then, take it now.

  Dark spots filled my vision as Jinx’s grip tightened, but then my limbs were infused with cold fire, a strange energy I’d never felt before. I grabbed Jinx’s shoulders and squeezed. The world crackled as frost energy poured out of my hands and into him. His eyes widened. He screamed, released me, and stumbled back just as a dark shadow flew over my shoulder and attached itself to his face.

  The bloody cat … what the heck?

  Jinx hit the ground and the cat landed lightly on her feet. She began to grow, morphing into something else, something bigger, primal and sleek.

  “A panther, a fucking … Run!” Jinx scrambled to his feet and bolted, his posse close on his tail, leaving me alone with the huge fucking jungle cat.

  The ice-fire crackling in the palms of my hands died. What? No. I needed that. “Hello, voice in my head. A little help here. ”

  The cat turned to face me. Its glowing green eyes regarded me with speculation. Did big cats speculate? Probably wondering which limb to take first.

  Oh god.

  What the heck was the voice playing at? Where was the power? He’d promised me power, dammit. Could I fight a panther using IEPEU training?

  A low chuckle reverberated through me. Mira, stop scaring the human

  The panther chuffed and then began to morph again, this time shrinking and rising up until I was staring at … Gemma?

  “See, not so useless after all my lord,” the little girl said.

  Okay, that was not Gemma’s voice, too sexy and sultry and … adult.

  She pouted. “Oh, look at the confused little human face.”

  We have much to discuss. Mira, you will accompany us back to the human’s abode.

  “I shouldn’t have to. You should have annihilated those cretins. Why did you not take over? I find you a host, a formidable host, and you refuse to drive it?”

  Mira …

  But Mira wasn’t done. “No.” She held up a hand. “We are running out of time. Take the vessel and be done with it.”

  Whoa. I held up my hands. “We have a deal.”

  Mira’s eyes widened. “I leave for a day to take care of some business and come back to find you making deals with humans?” She strode off a few steps, hands on hips, pony-tails bobbing, then turned sharply on her heel and headed back toward us. “You made a deal? Have you forgotten what humans are? What a stain humanity is? Have you forgotten what they want to do to us?”

  She was glaring at me, no not at me, through me, like she was seeing someone else. Could she see it? Whatever it was?

  I have forgotten nothing. His tone was frost fire. But you forget your place. Do I need to remind you?

  Mira’s eyes narrowed to slits, and her face contorted into sneer. “My lord does not make deals. My lord does not shy away from what needs to be done. That lord would reprimand me. You, I fear are incapable of—”

  A tingle ran over my limbs and my hair stood up on end. Mira gasped
and doubled over. She looked up, her smile a grimace.

  “Is that all you have?”

  The tingle intensified and she was on the ground writhing and moaning. Thank god the street was deserted, because it was a fucked-up sight, and I’d had enough.

  “Stop. Just Stop.”

  I didn’t know what these creatures were or where they’d come from, but I’d had enough. I was going home to my pajamas and my fucking fuzzy slippers.

  _____

  Urvashi didn’t pick up, so I left her a voicemail letting her know I was home, all right, and I’d see her in the morning.

  Mira sat in the armchair, glaring at me.

  I perched on the edge of the sofa-bed. “So, you’re not human.”

  “Well observed.”

  “And you don’t have a sick mother.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “So what do you look like … really?”

  Her face split into a sadistic grin.

  Mira … the voice was saturated with warning.

  This was too weird. She could hear him, but he was in my head. She could see him, but he was … invisible? I shuddered. Mira pouted, looking completely child-like once again. It was disconcerting and kinda creepy. I mean, I’d seen her turn into a cat, well not turn into, but turn from a cat to a panther and then into a little girl. She was no child, this one. She was something else, and it was time to find out just what she was.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Start from the beginning. Tell me what you are. Just tell me everything.”

  Very well. My name is Paimon, and I’m a djinn.

  8

  A djinn? Well, that was … unexpected. It wasn’t even on my list of possibilities. “We don’t have djinn in our reality.”

  Mira snorted. “You have a lot of shit in your reality that you have no clue about, human.”

  “Look, can you just stop calling me human? My name is Carmella. Use it.”

  Her brow arched. “Nice to see a little backbone there. Be careful not to flash it too often, or I may be tempted to tear it out.”

  The tiny ball of hot anger in the pit of my belly flared. “How about you shut the hell up and let the grown-ups speak.”

  Silence. Absolute and tense.

  And then Mira let out a bark of laughter. “There may be hope for you yet.”

  I focused on the creature bound to me. “So Paimon … a djinn, seriously?”

  He sighed. I do not waste my time with lies and idle chit-chat. My people … my reality was disrupted a few years ago, the fabric of our world overlapped with another, and ever since then we have been hunted.

  “Five years ago the Void threatened to destroy the multi-verse. It’s possible some damage was done before we succeeded in stopping it.”

  Yes, our research indicates this to be the case. My people have been taken for long enough. First it was just the odd disappearance and now djinn are being taken every week.

  “How can you be sure they’re being taken? What if they’re just choosing to cross over and live here?”

  It was Mira who answered with a derisive snort. “You think we would choose to live here? Among such primitive creatures?”

  “How about, if you haven’t got something constructive to say, you shut the hell up?” The words came from a place I rarely acknowledged—an icy reserve of rage I’d left untapped all my life.

  Mira, take a walk.

  Her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned. For a moment I thought she was going to argue, but then she stood and strode to the door, slamming it shut on her exit.

  I flopped back on the bed, the tension seeping from my limbs.

  Mira is a warrior. She is accustomed to action. His voice was a low rumble skimming across my mind. Give her a target and she is happy. Unfortunately, since we entered your reality we’ve had no luck in finding our target.

  “So you’re being hunted, but she isn’t?”

  Mira is a hinn, low on the power hierarchy of my realm. So far only ascendants have been taken—djinn who have reached enlightenment.

  I’d only ever met the one hinn, he’d been Malina’s dog for a while … yeah long story, but from what I knew, they weren’t violent. “I thought hinn were peace loving creatures?”

  He let out a bark of laughter. And what do you know of hinn?

  I sat up. “I met one actually. He’s married to my best friend’s mother, who’s a naga.”

  Well it seems I have much to learn about your world. In our world, hinn are shape-shifting warriors.

  “And you’re an … ascendant?”

  Yes.

  “So you came here to find out stuff and ended up on these hunter’s radar.”

  Precisely. It makes investigating difficult, and Mira, although a superb fighter, is not an investigator.

  So he’d bound himself to me, hiding in plain sight. What I didn’t understand was why they’d chosen me. Yeah he’d said they’d been running out of time, but we lived in a world filled with supernatural creatures: Yaksha, vampires, apsaras, Ghandarva, and Vedic gods. There were witches and witch-bloods much more powerful than me. It didn’t make sense. Also, Mira had been coming to the bakery for weeks … almost as if they’d been scoping me out. He was hiding something.

  “Tell me why you picked me again?”

  Because you were suitable, and I was out of time.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  It doesn’t matter what you believe. What’s done is done. We have a deal, and first thing tomorrow we get started.

  “No, first thing tomorrow I have to go to work.”

  He huffed. Quit.

  “Really? And how do you expect me to pay my bills? Buy food? You gonna do some djinn magick and make me rich?”

  He made a disgusted sound. We do not grant wishes.

  “Well, then it looks like I’ll be keeping my job, doesn’t it? We’ll just have to work your case outside of working hours.”

  Fine.

  “Good.”

  Now you must eat. Something meaty and protein rich.

  “Seriously? You’re going to dictate what I eat now?”

  I’m bound to you, and I have a craving for red meat. It’s in both our interests to keep your energy up. If you are to draw from my power you need to be strong enough to channel it.

  I sighed. “Fine. I have a steak in the fridge.”

  I take it medium rare.

  Pompous ass. “How about you take it how I give it to you?”

  I sensed the arched brow, and the half smile.

  “Stop that. Stop … projecting.”

  You sensed that?

  “Shouldn’t I have?”

  Just make the damn steak.

  And then there was silence. He hadn’t liked that I could sense his mood. Maybe I could use this to my advantage. He was hiding something, and I was gonna find out what it was.

  9

  T he cinnamon roll dough was ready for a second beating. Peeling off the saran wrap, I gave it a punch down and then left it to rise once more. Yeah, this was why I loved making the rolls. A little aggression went a long way into making these babies fluffy and delicious.

  Once the dough had risen for a second time, I rolled it out over my floured counter, and then brushed it with melted butter. A little brown sugar and cinnamon sprinkled over the top, maybe a little more. Then time to roll it up. Cut, pack, and then leave to rise again.

  Yeah, I loved making these rolls.

  What do they taste like?

  “I thought we agreed you’d leave me alone when I was working. I can’t focus with you jabbering on in my head.”

  He fell back into silence.

  “Carmella? A little help?” Brenda called from the front of the store.

  Leaving the rolls to rise I headed out front. “Is Urvashi not in yet?”

  Brenda shook her head, her eyes on the rapidly growing queue. Oh, man. Understaffed and inundated again. Being so close to an aerial tram station meant we got the morning, lunch, and afternoon rushe
s. We’d have to work like the wind to serve all these people.

  The rolls would take at least twenty minutes to rise. Plenty of time. “Hi, what can I get you?”

  And so it began. Fifteen minutes later the last customer pinged out the shop and Brenda and I sagged against the counter.

  “I’m gonna call Urvashi again,” Brenda said.

  She wandered into the back office, and I headed to the kitchen to pop the rolls in the oven. I’d just shut the huge oven door when the bell pinged.

  Brenda was still in the back office so serving was up to me. “Hi, what can I—you?”

  “Me,” Banner grinned. “And how is my favorite baker?” He sniffed. “Are those fresh cinnamon rolls I smell?”

  I’d only just popped them in the oven, there was no way he could smell them yet. But he was a customer, and one of our best, even though he probably thought I was a gullible fool. And why couldn’t I stop admiring the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, or the smooth golden forearms he had on display?

  Ahem. “They won’t be done for at least twenty minutes.”

  “I can wait.” He tucked his thumbs into his jean pockets and stared at me with his unnerving brown eyes. He licked his luscious, Jonathan Ryes Myers, lips. “So, been busy?”

  “Yes actually.” Stop staring at his mouth.

  Yes. Please stop. I feel … sick.

  Oh, god. This was so messed up.

  Banner stepped closer and suddenly the counter between us didn’t feel all that significant. “I was headed over earlier but saw the queue snaking out the door, so decided to wait.”

  “So why ask if we were busy?”

  He shrugged. “Just making small talk.”

  “If this is your idea of small talk then I’m glad I’m not going on a date with you.”

  His brows flicked up. “If you were on a date with me, small talk would be the last thing on your mind.”

  He was looking at me in that way again. The, I-can-see-what’s-under-your-clothes way. Heat climbed up my neck.

  He has questionable intentions …

  No kidding.

  Brenda joined us at the counter. “Oh, Mr. Banner, how nice to see you.”