Dark Heart of Magic

Book 2: Black Blade

by Jennifer Estep

Genres: YA Fantasy; YA Science Fiction

Synopsis

The New York Times bestselling author “deposits the reader back into the wonderful world of Cloudburst Falls, West Virginia where mortals and magicks mix.”—Book Swoon
 
As a thief, I stick to the shadows as much as possible. But when the head of the Sinclair Family picks me to compete in the Tournament of Blades, there's no escaping the spotlight—or the danger. 

Even though he's my competition, Devon Sinclair thinks I have the best shot at winning what's supposed to be a friendly contest. But when the competitors start having mysterious “accidents,” it looks like someone will do anything to win—no matter who they hurt. 

As if I didn't have enough to worry about, mobster Victor Draconi is plotting against Devon and the rest of my friends, and someone's going around Cloudburst Falls murdering monsters. One thing's for sure. Sometimes, humans can be more monstrous than anything else . . .
 
Praise for Cold Burn of Magic, the first Black Blade novel
 
“An adventurous ride you will never want to get off.”—Jennifer L. Armentrout, #1 New York Times bestselling author

“Jennifer Estep is a genius!”—Simply Nerdy
 
“Packed with action and a nice twist, this is just the book for fans of the Mythos Academy series who want more Jennifer Estep.”—Bristol Herald Courier

Release date: November 1, 2015

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 294

Sample

Working for the mob isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

Oh, sure. It always looks all glitzy and glamorous on TV and in the movies: folks wearing snazzy suits, eating in fancy restaurants, and talking about how to best deal with their enemies over coffee and cannolis. And maybe I’d actually done some of those things, during the few weeks I’d been working for the Sinclair Family. But most of the time, taking care of Family business was a boring, tedious job, just like any other—

“Watch out, Lila!” Devon Sinclair shouted.

I ducked just in time to keep from getting pelted in the face by a blood persimmon. The ripe, apple-size fruit sailed over my head and splattered against the ground. The skin exploded on impact, painting red pulp and seeds all over the cobblestones and filling the summer air with a sweet, sticky scent.

Sadly, the cobblestones weren’t the only things covered in fruit—so was I. Red pulp had soaked into my blue T-shirt and gray cargo pants, while seeds and bits of skin clung to my gray sneakers.

An angry, high-pitched cheep-cheep-cheep sounded, the noise somewhere between a crow’s cawing and a chipmunk’s chirping. I glared up at the tree where the persimmon had come from. A creature with charcoal-gray fur and emerald-green eyes jumped up and down on its hind legs on a branch about ten feet above my head. The creature’s jumps were so hard and powerful that more ripe blood persimmons dropped from their branches and hit the ground, bursting open and adding to the oozing mess. Oh, yeah. The tree troll was definitely upset that it had missed me with its latest fruit bomb.

Tree trolls were among the many monsters that made their home in and around Cloudburst Falls, West Virginia, along with mortals and magicks, like me. I’d always thought of the trolls as sort of a cross between an oversize squirrel and the flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. Oh, tree trolls couldn’t actually fly, but the black webbing under their arms helped them catch wind currents as they hopped from one branch to the next, while their long, bushy tails let them dangle upside down. The trolls were only about a foot tall, so they weren’t nearly as dangerous as copper crushers or many of the other monsters that inhabited the town. Most of the time, they were pretty harmless, unless you got them riled up. And this one was certainly riled up.

Careful of the falling persimmons, Devon Sinclair stepped up beside me and craned his neck back. His black T-shirt and khaki cargo pants were splattered with even more persimmon pulp than mine, making it look as though he’d been caught in a red rainstorm. Just about the only part of him that wasn’t covered in fruit was the silver cuff that glimmered on his right wrist, one stamped with the Sinclair Family crest—a hand holding a sword aloft.

“He’s not a very happy fellow, is he?” Devon murmured in his deep, rumbling voice. “No wonder the tourists are complaining.”

Cloudburst Falls was known far and wide as “the most magical place in America,” a town where “fairy tales are real,” so tourism was the name of the game around here. People came from all over the country and the world to see the magnificent views from Cloudburst Mountain, the rugged, fog-covered peak that loomed over the city, as well as spend their money in all the shops, casinos, restaurants, hotels, and other attractions that ringed the Midway, the main drag in the center of town.

But monsters were also drawn to the area because of all the bloodiron, a magical metal that had been mined out of Cloudburst Mountain for years. At least, that’s what many of the local legends and tall tales claimed. Tourist rubes might like to ooh and aah at the monsters in the various zoos in the Midway and photograph the creatures in their natural habitats during expeditions up the mountain, but the out-of-towners didn’t appreciate tree trolls chucking persimmons at them as they strolled down the sidewalk. And the tourists especially didn’t like to get attacked by some of the more dangerous monsters that lurked in the dark alleys and shadowy spots in and around town. So it was the job of the Families to make sure that the monsters stayed in their designated areas—or at least didn’t snack on too many tourists at one time.

This particular troll had taken up residence in a tall blood persimmon tree that sat in the center of one of the shopping squares that branched off the Midway. Since this square was part of the Sinclair territory, we were the ones who’d been called in to deal with the creature. For the last three days, the troll had been fruit bombing everyone who dared walk by its tree, causing several tourists to drop and break their expensive phones and cameras. Nothing pissed off a tourist more than losing their fancy new phone. I knew, since I’d spent the last few years swiping phones out of the pockets, purses, and fanny packs of every out-of-towner that looked like an easy mark.

Beside me, Devon shifted on his feet, moving out of the bright, direct sun into a pool of dappled shadows closer to the tree. The warm rays filtered down through the branches and danced across his muscled body, showing off his rugged features, intense green eyes, and the honey highlights in his dark-chocolate-brown hair. I breathed in, catching a whiff of his crisp pine scent, mixed in with the sticky sweetness of the splattered persimmons. Just standing near Devon made my heart do a funny little pitter-patter in my chest, but I ignored the sensation, just as I’d been doing for weeks now.

“What do you want to do about the troll?” I asked. “Because I don’t think he’s coming down from there without a fight.”

Devon was the bruiser, or second-in-command of the Sinclair Family, responsible for overseeing all the Family guards and dealing with all the monster problems that arose in Sinclair territory. Most of the bruisers for the various Families were arrogant jerks who enjoyed bossing people around and taking advantage of their powerful position. But Devon was a genuinely good guy who treated everyone in his Family equally, from the smallest pixie to the toughest guard. Plus, he would do anything to help the people he cared about, something he’d proven by putting himself in danger time and time again.

Devon’s inherent goodness and devotion to others were some of the many things that made me like him way more than I should have. His soulful green eyes, teasing grin, and rocking body didn’t hurt either.

Me? Good and I weren’t exactly close friends, and the only devotion I had was to myself and making sure that I had plenty of cash in my pockets and food in my stomach. I was a loner thief who’d spent the last four years living in the shadows until I’d been recruited to be Devon’s bodyguard a few weeks ago. Not that he really needed a guard. Devon was a tough fighter who could take care of himself—and then some.

“Well, I say that we pick up all the fruit that’s still in one piece and chuck it right back at the troll,” another voice snarked. “Let him see how it feels to get splattered.”

I looked over at Felix Morales, Devon’s best friend and another member of the Sinclair Family. With his wavy black hair, bronze skin, and dark brown eyes, Felix was even more handsome than Devon, despite the fact that he was also covered in pulp—not that I would ever tell him that. Felix was already a terrible flirt. We’d been in the square for ten minutes, and he’d spent more time grinning at the tourist girls who wandered by than figuring out what to do about the troll, which was why he’d gotten hit with the ripe fruit so many more times than Devon and me.

Felix winked at two girls in tank tops and short shorts who were sitting on a nearby bench sipping lemonade, then waggled his fingers at them. The girls giggled and waved back.

I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the side. “Try to pay attention.”

Felix shot me a sour look and rubbed his side.

“What do you normally do about tree trolls who throw things at tourists?” I asked.

Devon shrugged. “Usually, we don’t have to do all that much. Most of the trolls stay in the trees in their designated habitat areas. Whenever they start making pests of themselves, we send some guards over to tell them to either cut it out or move back up the mountain where they can do whatever they want.”

I nodded. Like most monsters, tree trolls could understand human speech, even if mortals and magicks couldn’t really understand them all that well.

“Usually, that’s the end of it, but this guy doesn’t seem to want to leave,” Devon said. “He’s still here, despite the guards I sent over yesterday. And he’s not the only one. I’ve heard rumors that all the other Families are having similar problems with trolls right now. Seems like something has them spooked and they’re coming down off the mountain in record numbers.”

As soon as Devon said the word leave, the tree troll started jumping up and down even faster than before, his cheep-cheep-cheeps growing louder and louder. The high-pitched shrieks stabbed into my brain, making me grateful that enhanced hearing wasn’t one of my Talents. The creature was plenty loud enough already without the sound being magically amplified.

All around us, the tourists stopped slurping down their jumbo sodas, noshing on their giant wads of cotton candy, and snapping photos of the bubbling fountain in the middle of the square. They stared in our direction, curious about the commotion. I dropped my head and slid behind Felix, trying to blend into the background as much as possible. As a thief, I’d never liked being the center of attention. Kind of hard to pick someone’s pocket or snag a watch off her wrist when she was looking straight at you. I might not be here to steal anything, but old habits die hard.

Devon looked at me. “Do you think you can use your soulsight to see what he’s so upset about?”

“Yeah,” Felix chimed in. “Let the great Lila Merriweather do her magic mojo. She is the monster whisperer, after all.”

I reached over and punched him in the shoulder.

“Hey!” Felix said, rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”

“I am not a monster whisperer.”

He rolled his eyes. “Did you or did you not feed three guys to a lochness a few weeks ago?”

I winced. That was exactly what I’d done. I didn’t even feel bad about it, since the guys had been trying to kill Devon and me at the time. But I’d always been secretive about my magic, my Talents, and all the things that my mom had taught me about how to deal with monsters. I’d had to be, since I wanted to keep my magic firmly inside my own body and not have someone rip it out of me and take it for himself. So I wasn’t used to Felix joking about it so openly. Every time he or Devon made a comment about my magic, I always looked around, wondering who might have overheard and what they might do to me in order to get my Talents.

Devon noticed my worried expression, and he put his hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his fingers soaked through my T-shirt and burned into my skin. That was something else I liked a lot more than I should have. I shrugged out from under his touch, trying not to notice the flash of hurt in his eyes.

“Please, Lila,” Devon said. “Try to talk to the troll.”

I sighed. “Sure. Why not?”

Most magic fell into three categories—strength, speed, and senses, such as sight, smell, sound, taste, and touch. So lots of magicks had a Talent for sight, whether it was the ability to see great distances, in microscopic detail, or even in the dark. But I had the more unusual Talent of also being able to see into people and feel their emotions as though they were my own, whether it was love, anger, jealousy, or something else. Soulsight, it was called. I’d never used it on a monster before, though, but I supposed there was a first time for everything.

So I stepped forward, tipped my head back, and peered up at the creature. Maybe it sensed what I was trying to do because it stopped jumping up and down and focused on me as intently as I was staring at it. My eyes locked with the monster’s, and my soulsight kicked in.

The tree troll’s red-hot anger slammed into my chest like a flaming fist, but that emotion, that feeling, was quickly smothered by another, stronger one—stomach-churning fear.

I frowned. What could the troll have to be so worried about? Sure, Devon, Felix, and I were all wearing swords belted to our waists, but so did most everyone in the Families. It wasn’t like we were actually going to hurt the creature. Or maybe that’s what the other mobs did. I wouldn’t put it past the Draconi Family to slaughter the monsters that dared to wander into their territory, either down here in the city or up on Cloudburst Mountain, where the Draconi mansion was located.

But whatever the troll was so worried about, it wasn’t going to leave or even calm down until it had been taken care of. As if the troll could sense my thoughts, it cheeped again, then skittered up a branch, moving higher and higher into the tree, and disappearing into the green clusters of leaves.

“What did you do to it?” Felix asked.

“I didn’t do anything to it,” I said. “Here. Hold this.”

I unbuckled the black leather belt from around my waist and passed it over to Felix. He clutched the belt and the attached sword and scabbard in his hands.

“What are you doing, Lila?” Devon asked.

“It’s worried about something. I’m going to find out what that is.”

I went over and circled around the tree, my dark blue gaze going from one branch to the next as I mentally calculated how I could best get up to where the troll was.

Felix looked at me, then at the tree. “You’re going to climb up there? With the troll?” He shook his head. “Sometimes, I forget how totally cray-cray you are.”

I scoffed. “The only one here who is cray-cray is you, Romeo.”

Felix’s face scrunched up with worry at my not-so-veiled reference to his love life. On the surface, Felix might seem like a terrible flirt, but it was all an act to hide how crazy he was about Deah Draconi, daughter of Victor Draconi, the most powerful man in town. Naturally, Victor hated all the other Families, especially the Sinclairs, because that’s how these kinds of doomed love stories always went. My mom and dad were proof of that.

Devon glanced back and forth between Felix and me, but he didn’t say anything. If he knew what I was talking about, he didn’t pipe up and say so.

I shut Devon and Felix out of my mind, stepped forward, and took hold of the tree. The blood persimmon was old and sturdy, with lots of thick branches that would hold my weight. I’d always enjoyed climbing, no matter the surface or what I was scaling, and it was practically a job requirement for a thief.

So I shimmied up the trunk, then reached up for the first branch. I quickly went up ten, fifteen, twenty feet, smiling all the while and enjoying the earthy smell of the tree and the rough scrape of the bark against my hands. I might be an official member of the Sinclair Family now, with a thin veneer of legitimacy, but I still liked practicing all my old tricks. You never knew when they might come in handy, especially with Victor Draconi plotting something against all the other Families.

Finally, when I was about thirty feet up, that distinctive cheep-cheep-cheeping sounded again. I looked up to find the troll perched on a branch up and off to my left. The creature regarded me with open suspicion, its emerald-green eyes narrowed to slits, another blood persimmon clutched in its long, curved black claws. Three fresh, jagged scars raked down the right side of the troll’s face, as if it had tangled with a much bigger monster recently—and won. This one was a fighter. Good thing I was too.

I wrapped my legs around the branch, making sure that I wouldn’t fall, then held my hands out to my sides, trying to let the troll know that I wasn’t here to hurt it. The creature kept staring at me, but it didn’t make a move to bean me in the face with the fruit. Finally, some progress.

I dropped my right hand down to my side and unzipped one of the pockets on my cargo pants. The troll cocked its head to the side, its small, gray, triangle-shaped ears twitching at the sound of several quarters jingle-jangling together in my pocket.

But instead of coins, I drew out a dark chocolate bar, held it up above my head, and waved it back and forth. The troll’s black nose twitched, and its green eyes brightened in appreciation and anticipation.

Monsters might have more teeth and talons than the rest of us, but it was easy enough to deal with most of them. You just had to know what to bribe them with, something I totally appreciated as a thief. Most of the time, a drop of blood or a lock of hair was enough to get you safe passage through a monster’s territory. Some monsters, like the lochness that Felix had mentioned, required quarters and other shiny coins, but tree trolls went in for more immediate gratification.

Dark chocolate, and lots of it.

“C’mon,” I crooned. “You know you want it. I’m just paying the toll for climbing your tree and invading your personal space—”

The troll scrambled down, snatched the chocolate bar out of my hand, and returned to its previous branch, its lightning-quick movements almost too fast for me to follow.

Zip-zip-zip.

Its black claws made quick work of the wrapper, and the troll sank its needle-sharp teeth into the chocolate. More little cheep-cheeps sounded, but this time they were squeaks of pleasure.

I waited until the troll had downed another bite before starting my spiel, such as it was. “Listen, little furry dude. I’m not here to make trouble. But you know how it is. If you start acting out and throwing stuff at tourists, then the Sinclairs are going to make you move on. You know that. So what’s got you so upset?”

The troll chomped down on another piece of chocolate, staring at me all the while, his green eyes locked with mine. Once again, his anger and worry rippled through my body, mixed in with a bit of warm happiness brought on by eating the chocolate. Nothing strange there. Chocolate made me happy too.

But the longer I stared at the troll, the brighter and greener its eyes became, until they were practically glowing like stars in its furry face. It almost seemed as if the creature had the same soulsight that I did and was peering into me the same way I was into him—judging whether or not I was trustworthy. So I focused on remaining calm and trying to look as nonthreatening as possible.

Maybe it was a trick of the sunlight streaming down through the leaves, but I swear that I felt something . . . shift inside me. It was as if I was somehow calming down the troll just by staring at it and thinking good thoughts. Despite the hot summer day, a chill swept over me, cold enough to raise goose bumps on my arms.

I shivered and blinked, breaking the strange spell. The troll was just a troll again, and everything was normal. No glowing eyes, no odd emotions in my chest, no more cold chills. Weird—even for me.

The troll cheeped again, then reached up and pushed back a branch beside its head, revealing a large nest.

Twigs, leaves, and grasses had been braided together in a crook of the tree, along with several candy bar wrappers. Looked like this troll really loved his chocolate. I scooted up higher on my branch so that my head was level with the nest. A moment later, another tree troll—a female given her dark gray fur—popped her head up out of the nest, along with a much smaller, fuzzier head. A pair of tiny, innocent green eyes stared back at me. The male tree troll handed the rest of the candy bar to the female, and she and the baby vanished back down into the bottom of the nest, out of my line of sight.

So the monster was watching out for his family, which was the reason for all the fruit bombs. No doubt the creature saw everyone who approached the tree as a potential threat. Well, I couldn’t blame him for that. I might be a thief, but I knew what it was like to try to protect your Family—mob and otherwise.

And to fail miserably.

The old, familiar, soul-crushing grief stabbed my chest, but I shoved the emotion deep down into the bottom of my heart where it belonged.

“All right,” I said. “You can stay here until your baby is big enough to travel. If you’re looking for someplace a little quieter, there are some nice, tall trees over by the lochness bridge. You should scout them out.”

The tree troll cheeped at me again. I hoped that meant he understood me.

I pointed at him. “But no more throwing fruit at people, okay? You leave them alone, and they’ll leave you alone. Capisce?”

The troll cheeped at me a final time, which I was going to take for a yes.

I unhooked my legs from around the branch and started climbing down. The troll watched me all the while, jumping from one branch to the next and following me all the way down the tree, but he didn’t throw any more blood persimmons. More progress. Maybe I really was a monster whisperer after all. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

When I was about ten feet off the ground, I sat down on a branch, flipped over, and let go. I plummeted through the air, letting out a happy laugh at the rush of the wind through my hair, before landing in a low crouch. I made a gallant flourish with my hand to add to my dramatic dismount, then got to my feet.

Felix grinned. “Show-off.”

I grinned back. “Absolutely.”

Devon craned his neck back, trying to see the troll. “So what did he do?”

“He’s got his family up there, so he’s not going anywhere,” I said. “I told him to stop throwing fruit at people, and it seemed like he agreed to it. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Devon nodded. “Thanks, Lila. Good job.”

His face crinkled into a smile. I looked away from him before my soulsight kicked in, but the dizzying rush in my heart had nothing to do with my magic. It was just Devon being Devon, and how hopelessly into him I was, despite my need to keep my distance.

Devon sensed my mood swing, and his grin dropped from his face. I felt like I’d reached up and snuffed out the sun with my bare fingers, and more than a little guilt curled up in my stomach. He really was a good guy, and I kept pushing him away, hurting him without even meaning to.

But I’d been hurt too—horribly so—and I didn’t want my heart to be broken again. Not even for someone as all-around hot, charming, and wonderful as Devon Sinclair.

Devon waited until Felix had handed over my black leather belt and I’d buckled my sword around my waist again before jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“Come on,” Devon said. “Let’s go home and get cleaned up.”

He and Felix turned and headed out of the square, but something made me stop and look back over my shoulder. Thanks to my sight, I easily spotted the troll staring at me through the leafy branches, his green eyes brighter and more wary than ever before, as if he knew about some lurking danger that I didn’t. Our eyes locked, and once again, the creature’s worry, fear, and dread made my heart sink, my stomach churn, and a chill slither down my spine.

I shivered, dropped my gaze from the monster, and hurried after my friends.

Devon, Felix, and I left the square, strode down a walkway, and stepped out into the Midway, the commercial heart of Cloudburst Falls.

The square and its shops had been busy enough, but the Midway was jam-packed, as throngs of tourists moved from one side of the enormous circular area to the other, flowing into the shops and restaurants, and back out again. Every single business tied in to the town’s overall fairy-tale theme, from the smallest Olde Tyme Fudge Shacke to Camelot Court, one of the largest hotels. Oh, there were plenty of real magical attractions, like the zoos where you could pet rockmunks and other small monsters. But really, the Midway was nothing more than the world’s largest—and cheesiest—renaissance faire.

Adding to the atmosphere were men and women wearing knee-high black boots and black pants, along with poofy silk shirts, colorful cloaks, and cavalier hats topped with feathers. Gold, silver, and bronze cuffs stamped with various crests glimmered on their wrists, while swords were belted to their waists. The guards moved from one food cart and clothing shop to the next, like sharks circling around and around, making sure that everything was running smoothly. They were constantly on the lookout for everything from obnoxious tourists who’d had a few too many drinks to employees taking more out of the till than they put in.

The tourists thought that the dressed-up guards were just part of the fun, and several folks stopped to snap photos of them. What the rubes didn’t realize was that the color of their cloaks and the symbols stamped into their cuffs designated which Family the guards belonged to—and that they all took their jobs very, very seriously.

Each Family owned a different piece of the Midway, and we were in the Sinclair section, which consisted of banks, several petting zoos, and a museum displaying artifacts made of the bloodiron that had been mined out of Cloudburst Mountain.

The guards here all wore black cloaks and silver cuffs stamped with the Sinclair crest—a ha. . .