Cold Burn of Magic
Page 75

To distract myself from the pins and needles, I scanned the slaughterhouse again, this time looking for exits. No windows were set into the walls, although I did notice a door at the far end of this section. Where that door led, I didn’t know, but it had to be better than being trapped in here with Grant.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” Grant said. “I wanted you to be the first to witness my newfound power—after I take it from Devon.”
He held up the same dagger he’d attacked Devon with earlier, and I realized it was a black blade—bloodiron—with a hand holding a sword carved into the hilt. The Sinclair crest. He must have gotten it from the training room at the mansion.
Grant twirled the dagger around and around in his hand, like a cowboy spinning a six-shooter on his finger. Devon kept glaring at him, the anger in his eyes flaring hotter and brighter. Grant gave him an evil grin and stepped in that direction, ready to hurt Devon if I didn’t figure out a way to stop him.
“How did you find out about Devon’s Talent?” I called out.
Yeah, it was a weak ploy at best, but ego was the one thing that Grant had more of than anything else, and I was counting on it to buy me a few more minutes to do . . . something.
Grant stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. “You mean his compulsion magic?”
I nodded.
“I overheard Claudia and Reginald talking about it with Oscar. Apparently, they were reminiscing about how they once saw Devon use his power to make a kitten climb down out of a tree in one of the squares. It’s not a big secret, no matter what Claudia likes to think.”
“And you decided that you wanted Devon’s magic for yourself.”
Grant shrugged. “You don’t know what it’s like, always taking orders from somebody else. Just because Claudia Sinclair and the heads of the other Families have a little bit of magic and a whole lot of money, they think they’re better than the rest of us. Even though we’re the ones who do all their dirty work. Who keep the monsters under control. Who keep the rubes in line. Who save their sorry asses from the other Families’ plots and assassination attempts time and time again. Well, I’m sick of it. I worked so hard and so long to move up in the Family, but Lawrence still chose Devon over me in the end. When I heard about Devon’s power, I finally figured out a way I could get my revenge—a way that I could get everything, including my own Family. People who follow my orders.”
He swung his dagger in a vicious arc. Behind him, the two guys with swords crossed their arms over their chests, nodding their heads, agreeing with him. Bronze cuffs with a hacienda stamped into them flashed on their right wrists. So Grant had hired Salazar guards this time. I’d always thought that he knew everyone, and now I realized why—so he could have more people to use for his schemes when the time was right.
“You didn’t have to stay. You didn’t have to take orders. You could have quit. Left the Family. Gone somewhere else. Done something else.”
Grant let out a bitter laugh. “Like what? My father was stupid enough to gamble away my trust fund, which is why I ended up working for the Sinclairs in the first place. At least I got to live in a mansion again, even if it wasn’t my own. Besides, being part of a Family let me learn all sorts of secrets.”
“And Lawrence, Devon’s dad?” I asked. “Why did you kill him?”
Grant shrugged again. “Because he passed me over. Actually, I was trying to kidnap Devon that night. Killing Lawrence was just a bonus.”
Devon made a snarling sound deep in his throat, and Grant glanced at him.
“Oh, don’t worry, Devon. Your daddy didn’t suffer— much. Not like you’re going to suffer when I cut you open.”
He slashed out with the dagger. Devon snarled again, but Grant just laughed at his anger.
“You know, maybe I won’t even bother getting your mom to promote me to bruiser. Maybe I’ll just go ahead and take over the Family myself. Once I have your compulsion magic, I’ll be able to make anyone do anything I want them to, even Claudia Sinclair herself.” He paused. “What do you think, Devon? Wouldn’t you like to see your mom bowing her head to me for a change? I certainly would.”
Devon couldn’t say anything, but the look he gave Grant radiated hate. Yeah. I knew the feeling.
“But how did you do it?” I asked, still trying to keep him talking.
Grant turned back to me. “Do what?”
“You said that you were in the pawnshop and the library. You said that you killed Ashley. But you don’t look anything like that guy, the mystery man. So how did you do it?”
Grant stared at me. I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then, his face began to . . . ripple.
And I watched while Grant’s features slowly changed.
His perfect nose, his chiseled cheekbones, his square chin, blue eyes, and golden hair. In an instant, they all softened, dulled, and disappeared, replaced by brown hair, brown eyes, and the other plain, average features of the guy I’d seen twice before. The mystery man who’d taken such delight in killing Ashley, trying to kidnap Devon, and attacking me.
But as quickly as the change came over him, he reversed it, and a second later, I was staring at the perfect, polished, handsome Grant that I knew. A faint chill of magic radiated off his body, and I finally knew what he was using his power for—what he’d been using it for all along.
“You have a Talent for illusions—for changing your appearance.”