Flame Caster

“I can feel the pull of magic as it desperately calls to me—but my own kind prevents me from seeking it. Soon, I will let my fire burn.”

Mirella has let go of her old life. As the heart maiden, her duty is to protect her people and seek out the precious heart flowers that keep magic flowing through their veins.

There’s only one problem… Mirella doesn’t want any part in it.

Then her enclave falls ill, and Mirella alone has the power to find the cure before it’s too late. She embarks on a quest to heal her clan, a journey full of monsters and deception, where friends turn on friends and Mirella begins a romance that is sure to be forbidden.

But the biggest betrayal is yet to come… and the cure might just break her heart.

The second book in the incredible The Fire Heart Chronicles, Flame Caster is an exciting urban fantasy thrill ride with paranormal monsters and magical mayhem. Readers will swoon for the love story and stay for the adventure.

Chapter One

I was always a firm believer that everything happened for a reason.

Now, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I was the Heart Maiden. I hadn’t known I was a tzigane, a special kind of Romani with actual magical powers, until two months ago. I knew next to nothing about tzigane history and customs, even though the elder council ordered I studied it all ASAP. I had no control over my powers, and if it weren’t for my mother’s elixir, I would have killed a person or two by now.

I was also a hot-tempered, sharp-tongued, cut-the-bullshit kind of girl. I bet the council, with all their orders, would get tired of me fast.

But for now … for now, I tried to compromise.

As I walked out of the classroom, my phone vibrated. I checked and it was a message from my mother.

Mom: I’m 5 minutes late. Be there soon.

Me: Okay.

Letting out a sigh, I exited the building and sat on the side of the stone steps. Students came and went; all of them went about their classes as if this were the real world.

If only I could still be that naïve.

Now I knew there was so much more to the world. There were magical creatures, there were monsters, and there were alchemists who were bent on using tzigane blood for terrible purposes. And they were after me.

That was why I wasn’t walking to the bus stop. That was why I had to stay here, seated on this cold stone step, waiting for my mother to pick me up. Usually, she would be parked right in front of the building the moment I stepped out.

As much as I liked the break from being watched over twenty-four-seven, I hated staying put and doing nothing.

I pulled out my phone and found a text message from Ellie.

Ellie: Hi, Mi. Raul wants to go to Muévete this Friday. Are you in?

Shit.

Me: I wish.

Ellie: Because of the alchemists?

I had met Ellie about two months ago, when she started taking my flamenco classes at the dance studio I taught at. Even though I was quiet and wary of making friends, Ellie had broken through my walls, and soon I considered her my best friend. She had gotten a little creeped out when she found out I was a tzigane, but after the alchemists kidnapped us, she had come to terms with it. Mostly.

Me: Yup.

Ellie: Then tell your hunky warriors to come with you.

Me: They won’t go. I asked already, and they were vehement. They won’t let me go anywhere like that anymore, and they won’t take me.

Ellie: Jeez, that sucks.

I agreed. Muévete was a great club about thirty minutes from Broken Hill that played lots of flamenco and reggaeton, which I loved. But since the alchemists’ attacks, “my hunky warriors” and the elder council decided I couldn’t go anywhere. There or any other clubs or bars, or anywhere that would make protecting me difficult.

Such a pain in my ass.

Ellie: Is there anything I can do?

Me: Come and rescue me.

Ellie: Say when and where. I would love to teach the hunky warriors a lesson.

I chuckled, imagining Ellie standing up to Artan and Theron, the two warriors who were always trailing me. I might pay to see that.

Letting out a sigh, I watched the road. Where was my mother? She was never this late.

A cold breeze blew by, and I tightened my suede jacket around me. The day was gray and dark for ten in the morning, but the forecast had called for clear skies in the afternoon, which would warm the day a little. But only a little since October in Connecticut was already too damn cold, in my opinion. I missed the heat of Florida.

Hmm, an idea popped in my mind. I bit my lip, wondering if I could pull it off. It would be a little risky with so many people walking by me, but I couldn’t stop the little excitement filling my veins. What could I say? I liked risky and forbidden things.

I closed my eyes and focused on my magic. I called it from deep inside me. Because of the suppression elixir I drank every day, only a sliver answered. It was enough, though. I channeled it, coaxing it out of its hiding place. Soon, the magic ran free inside me, and I let out a relieved exhale. At first, it had been odd to feel magic inside me. Now, it was a part of me. I pushed my magic under my skin, the fire in my magic, and focused on the heat, on the warmth.

Soon, my skin felt warmer, and I wasn’t cold anymore.

A proud smile spread over my lips. I had done it. I had been able to warm myself with my magic, my yog—the tzigane word for fire.

But the heat kept increasing, kept coming, and my hands started turning orange.

Shit.

I closed my eyes again and focused. I pushed the magic back. I asked it to retreat, to let it go, before fire shot from my hands and everyone saw what I could do. Only the heat increased and panic took over.

Without thinking, I ran inside the building and into the nearest restroom. I turned on the cold water faucet and shoved my hands and arms under the water. A hiss echoed through the bathroom and a little smoke rose from my now damp jacket.

A girl stepped out from a stall and stared at my arms—and jacket—under the water.

“I …” I started. But what could I say that made sense? Nothing came to mind. The girl looked at me as if I were crazy, then dashed out of the restroom without washing her hands.

I sighed.

When my magic was doused, I turned off the faucet and stripped off my jacket. Cursing, I folded the sleeves of my sweater to my elbows. Now I would be even colder outside. Damn, what the hell had I done?

It was only morning and my day was already going so well.

I dragged my feet back to the front of the building, fully expecting to see my mother parked in the fire lane, waiting for me, but to my surprise, she wasn’t there.

Shivering, I picked up my phone and shot her a text.

Me: Where are you? Everything okay?

I stared at the phone, waiting for an answer.

The next set of classes was about to start. A large group of students rushed into the building. A guy bumped his shoulder into mine and I stumbled back.

He reached to me and held my upper arm. “Sorry.”

A cold shiver rolled down my spine as I stared at him. He wore a black hoodie and a black mask over his nose and mouth. When I didn’t answer, he humphed and continued his march to the building.

A long breath escaped my lungs, and I put a hand over my racing heart. Holy crap, what a scare. For a moment, I thought the guy was an alchemist, but his mask was a part of a scarf to cover his nose and mouth against the cold air. That didn’t stop my overacting brain from imagining him conjuring a shadow dagger and piercing it into my heart.

I swallowed, trying to push those fears away.

The guy wasn’t an alchemist. Not everyone who wore a hoodie, or a cloak, or a mask was an alchemist. I knew they could be hiding in plain sight like Phillip had done—he had pretended to be a normal human who liked me to get close—but after all I had been through, it was hard not to.

I shook my hand.

Mirella, stop.

I couldn’t live in fear. I had to live as I always had. I refused to cower because of these damn alchemists.

And yet, when I saw my mother’s car rounding the corner and coming toward me, I never felt more relieved.

I rushed down the steps, and once she stopped in front of the building, I jumped inside the car.

My mother, an older copy of me, knotted her brows. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” I said, sinking into the seat.

She lifted an eyebrow at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Just drive.”

Without a word, she pulled away from the curb and back onto the road. “I’ve never seen you so eager to go to training.”

“What can I say? I love getting my butt kicked.” My voice dripped with sarcasm.

My mother shook her head, her eyes on the road.

I glanced at her as she drove. She asked what happened, but it wasn’t as if she really wanted to talk to me. She never did. She wanted to be near me. She wanted to make sure I was all right, but talk? No. Every time I had tried to talk to her, she practically ran away. So why would I reach out to her when she never tried reaching out to me?

I crossed my arms and stared out the window, wishing time passed quickly and training wasn’t so bad. At least, I would get to see Artan, even if the hunky warrior was always in a bad mood.

Maybe today, just today, he would be nice, or less horrible, and not kill me during training.