Cold Burn of Magic
Page 4

I thought about crossing the rest of the bridge without paying the usual toll, but it was better not to chance it. Besides, it was the polite thing to do. My mom had been big on that. On paying the tolls, following the old traditions, and giving every creature—mortal, magick, and monster—the respect it deserved. Especially the ones that could eat you in one gulp.
So I dug through my pockets and retrieved three quarters. I placed the coins on a worn, smooth stone, also marked with three Xs, set in the middle of the right side of the bridge.
Pretty cheap, if you asked me, especially given the insanely high prices the tourists and we locals paid for everything in town. I could have given the monster the crumpled, five-dollar bill in my pocket, but this lochness preferred change for some reason. Maybe because the coins were so shiny, glimmering like perfect silver circles. Although I had no idea what the creature could possibly do with quarters. Maybe the lochness took the change to some hidden lair, made a nest out of the coins, and slept in the middle of them, like dragons with gold, gems, and other treasures in those old fairy tales.
The lochness wasn’t the only monster in town, and each kind required different forms of tribute to let you pass by safely. Small things mostly, like a lock of hair or a drop of blood or even a candy bar. That last one was for the tree trolls. Apparently, they loved their sugary snacks. But if some quarters or a chocolate bar kept something from attacking, killing, and eating me, then it was worth the effort to be nice and play along with the monsters.
My toll paid, I turned and walked down the far side of the bridge—
Clink. Clink. Clink.
My steps faltered, but I tightened my grip on my sword and resisted the urge to look over my shoulder for a glimpse of whatever had snatched my coins off the center stone.
Sometimes, Talent or not, it was better not to see things.
CHAPTER TWO
Ten minutes later, I turned off the street and sidled up to a brick building that took up an entire block. A faded sign planted in the lawn read CLOUDBURST FALLS LIBRARY—WESTERN BRANCH. No fancy castle adorned this sign, just a simple stack of splintered books. Like everything else in the neighborhood, the sign and the library were both a little worse for wear.
I slid my sword back into its scabbard, then reached up and pulled a pair of chopsticks out of my former ponytail. They looked like two thin, black-lacquered sticks, the sort women wear in their hair; however, a quick twist of the wood revealed the lock picks hidden inside.
I used the picks to open one of the side doors and slipped into the building. The interior was dark, but that didn’t bother me. Even if I hadn’t had my sight, I still would have been able to navigate through the stacks. My mom used to bring me here every Saturday in the summer when I was a kid, and I’d long ago memorized every inch of the library¸ from the miniature chairs and tables in the children’s section to the graffiti carved into the wooden shelves that housed the young adult books to the checkout counter with its out-of-date computers.
I walked through the aisles until I came to a door that opened onto a storage room. It featured a shelf full of paper towels and cleaning supplies, along with boxes of old discarded books no longer in library circulation. I moved past the boxes to the back of the room, where another door was set into the wall.
I picked that one open as well, then shut and locked it behind me. By this point, I was so deep into the library that no light penetrated the interior, but there was nothing down here that could hurt me. So I walked through a short hallway filled with more boxes of unwanted books, down a set of stairs, and into the basement.
I pulled off my gloves, went to a table in the corner, and ran my fingers over the touch lamp Mo had given me when I’d first moved in here about four years ago. Soft white light filled the basement, revealing a mini-fridge, a couple of battered suitcases filled with clothes, another suitcase bristling with weapons, and a metal rack full of books, photos, and other mementos. A cot was also shoved into the corner, the blue flannel sheets hanging off the edge where I hadn’t bothered to make up the bed before I left this morning.
Home, sweet home.
I unbuckled the black leather belt and scabbard from around my waist and propped them and my sword next to the cot, then shrugged out of my coat and tossed it on top of the sheets. I pulled out my phone and texted Mo.
Got it. Home now.
The phone beeped less than a minute later, as if he’d been waiting up for me. I snorted. Waiting up to make sure I got what he wanted was more like it. He’d probably been using that stupid app of his to track my phone, making sure I was back at the library.
Good. See you tomorrow. *After* school!
I rolled my eyes. For some reason, Mo thought that the simple act of my going to school would somehow counteract my nightly life of looting and larceny. As if.
I plugged in my phone to let it charge. Then I plucked the black velvet box out of my coat pocket, cracked open the top, and fished out the necklace.
“Eat your heart out, Robin Hood,” I murmured. “Lila Merriweather strikes again.”
I admired the fiery flash of the rubies before holding the necklace up to a framed photo sitting on a table next to my cot. A woman with my same black hair and dark blue eyes stared back at me. My mom, Serena.
“It went just like I planned. You should have seen the looks on their faces. Those guards couldn’t believe that I got away from them.”
I paused, as if I were waiting for her to chime in, but my mom didn’t say anything. She died when I was thirteen, but I still talked to her photo sometimes. Yeah, I knew that it was stupid, but it made me feel a little better. Like she was watching over me from wherever she was. Like she wasn’t completely gone.