Fractured Slipper Page 9

  Angela Corbett

  Scattered Cinders

  Urban Fantasy

  by

  Angela Corbett

  Copyright © 2017 by Angela Corbett

  Cover by Ampersand Cover Design

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America by Tork Media

  Prologue

  My bare feet hit the cold tile floor as I ran down the hall, my toes curling for grip. Star, my little grey kitten with a soft white ring of fur around her neck, was running after a toy ball and we were racing to see who would get to it first. She glanced at me and I returned her determined gaze…right before she abruptly skidded into a stack of pillows. I stopped running and fell into the pillows after her, giggling as I searched for her through the fabric. After a few seconds she emerged from her plush cave, toy in her mouth. She shot me a gloating look before she started to take off back down the hall again, pawing at her ball as she went. I followed her, starting the chase again.

  I was cut off by a blur running out in front of me. It was about the size of a ten-year-old boy. I frowned. My cousins, Mark and Kory, were visiting and I’d never gotten along with them. They were two spoiled boys and they both had mean streaks. Mark had run into the hall from where he’d been hiding in one of the bedrooms. A cruel look covered his face as he tackled my sweet Star, grabbing her by the neck. Star started crying in protest. Anger bubbled within me. “Put her down!” I yelled.

  Mark’s face twisted into a sneer. “No,” he said, and pinched Star tighter. Star yelped again and tried to squirm away.

  “You’re hurting her!”

  An awful smile spread on his lips. “I know.”

  My simmering anger turned to a boil. I loved animals, and Mark was harming mine. That made him my enemy. I loved my kitten more than anything and knew it was my job to protect her. I gave a comforting glance at Star before I turned my eyes on Mark, concentrating on his face. I repeated the word “drop” over and over in my head. My eyes focused with the precision of a laser as an orange light tinted my vision. Within seconds, smoke started percolating around Mark. A glowing flame circled his legs and started to flicker. Mark looked down, screamed, and dropped Star. The kitten ran over to me, her little eyes still wide with terror. I scooped her up into my arms, holding her like a baby as Mark started yelling, “You burned me! You burned me! I’m telling!”

  Mark ran off. I didn’t care. Star was safe and that’s all that mattered. But I’d only meant to scare him, not burn him. A twinge of regret wound through me and I pushed my brows together at the emotion. Mark had hurt Star, and he would have kept hurting her. He was mean. I’d had to save her. It was my job, and I’d done it. If I’d hurt Mark a little in the process, it was okay because I’d saved Star. I felt better after I’d rationalized it all out in my head.

  Mark was a bully and a tattle-tale so I knew I’d have to deal with my parents and uncle soon. That was fine. I hadn’t done anything that they could prove. My eye caught a black smudge on the rug. I wrinkled my nose and went to investigate it. A scorch mark. I looked around for something to cover it with and grabbed the curtains in front of the window, adjusting them to hide the mark.

  A concert of footsteps sounded down the hardwood hallway and my mom, dad, and uncle Robert came into view, Mark in tow, smiling like the cat who got into the cream.

  My dad gave me a reproachful look. “Sweetheart, Mark said you hurt him. Do you want to tell us what happened?”

  I steeled myself against my dad’s gaze and shot a glare at Mark. “I was playing with Star. Mark jumped out and grabbed her by the neck, and then started being mean to her. She was crying and he was hurting her. So I made him stop.”

  “You made him stop,” my dad said, making it part question, part statement.

  I nodded and toed the floor with my bare feet. I didn’t like being the center of attention, especially when I was in trouble.

  “How did you make him stop?” My uncle Robert and Mark’s dad asked, his tone a combination of anger and curiosity.

  I looked at him and shuddered. Uncle Robert had never been my favorite. He was cold and I hardly ever saw him smile. “I told Mark to drop her.”

  “And he just dropped her?” Uncle Robert asked, disbelieving.

  I lifted my shoulders. “I had to say it a lot.”

  My uncle hadn’t taken his eyes off of me since he started talking. I shifted, uncomfortable with his assessment. “Mark says you burned him.”

  I had. I wasn’t sure how, but ever since I was little, I’d been able to start fires with my mind. I’d never told anyone, but I practiced with my fire when no one could see me. My emotions affected the strength of the flame. Sometimes my emotions got the best of me, and I wasn’t as careful. Mark had made me really mad, and he’d been hurting Star so I hadn’t been as cautious as usual. My fire was still a secret though—I just had to convince my uncle. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “How would I do that, Uncle? I’m not allowed to play with matches.”

  My uncle gave me an appraising look, and then his eyes went over my head to my dad’s. My dad held his gaze for a moment like my uncle Robert had issued a challenge and my dad was responding with stares instead of words. My dad bent down and took my hand. “I don’t know what happened, but it’s not okay to hurt someone else. You need to apologize to Mark.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Mark got hurt because he was hurting my defenseless kitten who hadn’t done a thing to him. I was not apologizing unless he apologized too. “Mark was hurting Star. Does he have to apologize for that?”

  My dad glanced up at my uncle. “Yes, he does.”

  My eyes went from my dad to my uncle and I watched as my uncle’s jaw clenched. “Say you’re sorry for hurting the cat, Mark,” Uncle Robert said.

  Mark scowled and folded his arms across his chest.

  “Now,” my uncle said in a tone that brokered no argument.

  Mark made another face. “Sorry,” he said, his voice bordering on mocking.

  My dad took my hand, his eyes soft but ringed with authority. “Now it’s your turn to apologize, El.”

  I didn’t want to apologize to Mark when I’d done nothing wrong. I’d made him stop hurting my cat. I never would have burned him or hurt him for fun like he’d tried to do with Star. I burned him in kitten-defense, but my explanation wouldn’t matter. It took everything in me to say the words, but I knew my parents would insist. “I’m sorry,” I said, trying to make it sound like I meant it when I totally didn’t.

  My dad squeezed my hand.

  “I think it’s time for us to go. We’ll see you soon,” my uncle said, putting his hand on Mark’s back and guiding him down the hall.

  My mom reached down and put her soft hand on my shoulders. “I think you should spend some time in your room thinking about what you did,” she said. My dad nodded in agreement and I knew I wouldn’t get out of some sort of punishment. My parents both followed my uncle and I went down the hall to my room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  About fifteen minutes later, I heard voices coming from the hall. I snuck to my door and saw my parents standing in the hallway, near where Mark had been tormenting Star. I crept closer so I could hear them, and stood in the shadows, listening to their conversation and watching them.

  “There hasn’t been a magic user in either of our families for generations,” my mom said, worry creasing her
forehead. “Why did it have to happen to our little girl?”

  My dad bent down, his hands going over the black mark on the carpet that I’d covered with the curtain. He looked up at my mom. “No one can ever know she’s a mage, Rose.”

  My mother sighed, concern lining her forehead. “I know.”

  My dad reached out his hand and took hers. Her shoulders slumped a bit like his touch had visibly taken away some of her stress. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “How?” My mom asked, her tone sounding defeated. “She’s already exhibiting her power. And we have no idea what her power actually is. She starts fires, but is there something more to it?”

  My dad stood up and pressed his lips together. “We knew this day might come and we put precautions in place. We won’t know the extent of her talents for years. It’s something we’ll have to figure out with time.”

  My mom worried her hands together. “We need to teach her to control her magic and keep it a secret.”

  My dad nodded. “She’s smart. We’ll explain it and she’ll understand.”

  My mom shook her head as she bit her trembling lip. “If someone knew what she could do—” my mom’s voice trailed off and was replaced by a heaving sob.

  My dad reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms. “They won’t find out,” he said, his face against her head as he whispered into her ear. “No one will.”

  I didn’t tell my parents my secret—that this wasn’t the first time I’d played with my magic fire, practicing it, and trying to get better at controlling it. I knew mages were rare, and those mages who lived in the open often lived in danger. I’d been careful about keeping my powers a secret, but I wasn’t certain that I’d always been alone and unseen during my trial sessions. I would have to be more careful in the future; my parents seemed worried.

  That night, I climbed into my warm, safe bed in my room, the soft touch of my parents’ good night kisses lingering on my cheek. I fell asleep with Star cuddled around my arm, and dreamed of our next adventures.

  It was the last time I saw my parents alive.

  They were found by our housekeeper on the floor of their bedroom, sprawled out next to each other, my dad’s body covering my mom’s like he’d tried to shield her. Three streaks of glittering teal that almost looked like claw marks were torn across each of their chests. The same claw marks were also slashed across my bedroom door. Like someone, or something, had tried to get in but for some reason, couldn’t.

  The police never found my parents’ murderers.

  But I would.

  I’m Cinder, a fire mage, and my flames are fueled by vengeance.

  Chapter 1

  The streets of Everly were quiet as I walked home from my shift at the shelter. I’d been working there for a little over a year. It paid the bills, and kept me safe, which were things I’d learned not to take for granted. I was proud of myself and how far I’d come—on my own, because that’s the way it had been ever since I’d run away from my caregiver to save my life.

  Memories of what it was like when I was younger and had a home and parents who loved me stabbed at my heart. Now, life was a struggle; I didn’t know any other way. I’d struggled at first to find food, then I’d struggled to make money and stay safe. It was in my darkest hour when I finally found my tribe—the people who were like me: magic users in hiding, protecting one another.

  The world was full of magic. Some people were open about their abilities. They were the people who came from a long line of magic users and had resources, money, and ways to protect themselves from those who would try to take advantage of their skills. They lived public lives, had huge houses with expensive cars, and were treated like celebrities within the mage community. Others, like me, didn’t have any of those advantages and lived in fear of anyone finding out who we actually were, or what we could do. We were constantly looking over our shoulders, hoping someone wouldn’t identify us and try to use us. The fear didn’t stop me from utilizing my magic for my own purposes and trying to help others, but it made me very careful about who I helped, and who I trusted with my secrets.

  Magic is passed down through families at random. No one knew when it would happen, why, or what the variations of a person’s powers might be. One family might produce magic users in every child, another family might skip mages for five generations. And others still, could never have magic at all. Then there were the people who had gone so long between magic users being born in their families that when the power manifested in someone, they didn’t realize what it was and often brushed it off as some sort of quirk.

  There were several theories about why magic existed, and why some people had it, but others didn’t. The idea that made the most sense to me was that for some reason, mages had the ability to tap into a part of the brain that most people couldn’t access. Essentially, mages were able to utilize their brain and subconscious in ways that gave them superpowers. Some genetic lines produced offspring more capable of this than others.

  In addition to the public world of mages, there was an underground world where magic users were highly sought after, both to hire, and to use. These were people who wanted to find mages, take them, study them, and harness the magic for their own gain. They would do almost anything to gain access to magic and especially to mages who had a lot of power. When I’d first developed and started playing around with my powers as a child, I hadn’t known what my powers were. I’d learned quickly, and also learned that my magic made me prey for some very influential people and I should trust no one.

  In the underground, magic users without family and protection were traded and sold like objects. It was horrifying, and something I was constantly aware of, and knew I had to avoid. As soon as I was able, I dedicated my life to finding other magic users who needed protection, and helping them to stay safe. Without the benefit of family, money, and security, we’d had to create our own. My little tribe lived in the tunnels beneath Everly, where the people society didn’t want to see, stayed. It was a good place to hide—people like to pretend things that make them uncomfortable don’t exist, and burying them in the tunnels is a good way to make that happen. We weren’t the only mages hiding there, but mages weren’t the most dangerous things lurking in the darkness either. We tried to stick together, and watch out for our own.

  “Hi, Kerry,” I said, slowing to check on one of my favorite people. He was sitting on a chair outside of his house, watching people come and go.

  His eyes lit up when he saw me. “Hadley Scott!” Kerry said. “I haven’t seen you for a couple of days.”

  “I was on a long shift at work.”

  He nodded and leaned back against his chair, getting comfortable. Kerry was about six feet tall, a burly guy in his fifties with a golden beard, kind eyes, an easy smile, and the frame of a lumberjack. He lived in an old shipping container at the entrance to the tunnels, and acted like a sentinel for everyone who passed through. He knew more about what happened in the tunnels than almost anyone, and he kept me in the loop. He also made sure the people I cared about stayed safe, and that mattered a great deal to me. I handed him some food. I always tried to bring him something on my walk home from work. “How are things today?” I asked, holding out the sandwich I’d grabbed for him.

  “Good, good. Sway’s been keeping me entertained.”

  I raised a brow and wondered what she’d been doing…hopefully not playing with her magic in public. She liked to use it to freak people out. It was going to get her in trouble one of these days. “She is pretty entertaining.”

  “What’s this?” Kerry asked, tilting the wrapped sandwich and trying to peer inside at the contents. “Turkey with cheese?” His voice carried a hopeful note.

  I nodded. “Your favorite.”

  His mouth spread into a wide, grateful smile. “You’re too good to me.”

  I shook my head as I kept walking. “Don’t be silly. You deserve all the goodness in the world.” I gave a little wave as I continued through
the maze of tunnels. The tunnels were originally built as ways for stores to have deliveries made to their basements easily without disrupting the businesses. As time went on, the tunnels that offered basement access to the buildings above also became another access point to the businesses and several stores were robbed. As a result, most of the businesses sealed off their basement tunnel access doors long ago, but the tunnels and their various offshoots remained. Some of them even had doors that still opened into the basements of old, abandoned buildings.

  One of those buildings was where my people stayed. The door offered an extra layer of protection, but the magic users who resided there were the best defense against any one intruding. Mages alone could be dangerous depending on their powers, but mages working together were a force. The concentration of my friends all in one spot did carry some risks, however. While it gave us more defenses to have multiple mages with various powers in one area, it would also make us a target if anyone was trying to find us. Luckily, the tunnels were full of all kinds of people, and everyone generally kept to themselves and protected those that they knew could help them. I was one of the people others came to for help.

  I continued down the tunnel, watching animals that were hiding in the shadows scurry away at my footsteps. Some of the people lingering there in the dark did the same. The realization that they were all scared because they’d been treated poorly in the past squeezed at my heart. I knew what it was like to be afraid and alone. Even though I knew I couldn’t save everyone, it didn’t stop me from wanting to take them all under my wing and make sure they had refuge and weren’t being hurt anymore.

  As I came around the corner, I heard voices. The tones were heavy, and sounded menacing. My heart sped up and I stopped walking. I listened for a few more seconds, and then crept forward slowly. Two figures were locked in a fight, arms swinging and legs kicking as they each tried to gain the upper hand. They were grunting and growling as they grappled, and I couldn’t tell which one of them was winning. In the blur of movements, I couldn’t identify much about them aside from the fact that one of them had blonde hair and the other’s hair was a deep black that reminded me of charcoal.