Fire and Illusion

By Patti Larsen

Her family thought she'd be safe in London. She proved them wrong.

Auburdeen Hayle is supposed to be in London for her own protection. But since she chose to help and befriend Jack Bishop, everything she knows and understands has fallen to pieces around her. Worse, her friend is lost and in the hands of those who want to use him as a weapon, being slowly devoured by the living metal that infects him. Hunted by the coven meant to protect her and the constabulary being controlled by the very man who holds Jack captive, Burdie is forced to ally herself with those to whom truth and honesty are a convenience.

Don't miss the rest of this magical steampunk series, available now!

Smoke and Magic
Fire and Illusion
Steam and Sorcery

Auburdeen's adventures are only the beginning of the Hayle Coven Universe!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Feb 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9780987897664

Patti Larsen

About me, huh? Well, my official bio reads like this: Patti Larsen is a multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. But that sounds so freaking formal, doesn’t it? I’m a storyteller who hears character's demands so loudly I have to write them down. I love the idea of sports even though sports hate me. I’ve dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows, singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.But always, always, writing books calls me home.I’ve had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It’s the coolest thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.As for the rest of it, I’m short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics and can’t seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches in the world, with my pug overlord and overlady, six lazy cats and Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Book preview

Fire and Illusion

Blood and Gold: Book Two

Patti Larsen

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 by Patti Larsen

Find out more about Patti Larsen at

http://www.pattilarsen.com/

***

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Original Photography by Brian Sharp. All rights reserved.

Model Shania MacPhail

Cover art (copyright) by Stephanie Mooney. All rights reserved.

http://www.stephaniemooney.blogspot.com/

Edited by Annetta Ribken, freelance Goddess. You can find her at http://www.wordwebbing.com/

***

Chapter One

I’d never seen eyes bulge so very much. It was fascinating, in a way, how the veins in Hugh Brindle’s eyes leapt to the surface, the way his lips opened and closed like a landed fish, the distinct shade of red his face became as my magic slowly tightened in a band of blue energy around his neck and squeezed out his life.

It would be a tragic ending for him, to die among those who despised him for his betrayal, in a dark and dismal back alley deep in the heart of London. An unhappy death, surrounded by dirty brick walls, the flicker of gaslight and the refuse of a large and jaded city.

I couldn’t bring myself to be sad for him.

The most delightful part was how no one tried to stop me. Not Josephine with her metal sorcery, nor Vasek the magician who seemed to be enjoying the show for once from the other side of the stage. His beautiful counterpart, Stella, watched with great curiosity, blonde hair falling forward as she observed my technique.

Brilliant, she said, smiling at me in an almost innocent way. Then, she sighed. If only I had a bit of magic. You have no idea how jealous you’re making me, Burdie.

I? Making her jealous? With her stunning good looks, legs that went on forever and perfect complexion? It was almost enough to distract me from killing the young Brindle.

Almost.

Josephine finally winced, her black-gloved hands pulling me back away from the nasty weasel. I allowed my magic to ease only after one last parting slap across his very red face. He gasped for air, collapsing to his knees, all his strength gone and unable to hold himself up any longer now that my power wasn’t there to support him.

Have you had enough? Josephine prodded him with one black boot. You know I’ll let her kill you next time.

Even faced with death, Hugh was loyal to his uncle. Not that Lord Samuel Brindle deserved anyone’s loyalty, let alone the son of his sister. Georgina was the leader of the only coven of any power in London and, until only shortly previous, my hostess during my stay in England.

Thanks to her nasty git of a son, however, and his conniving uncle, I was now an outcast. Worse, because Hugh accused me of attempting to take over the coven, I was now under charges of treason and would, in all likelihood if unable to clear my name, be burned at the stake.

A fate I dearly wished to avoid. Or at least have Hugh trade places.

If only I could reach my mother! But Mum and Da and my brothers were far off in New York with no idea any of this was happening. Damon and Pharo heard a little about my meeting with Jack Bishop, an innocent young man taken in by Samuel, a sorcerer as it turned out. How Samuel was using Jack in some terrible experiment causing him to slowly morph into metal. The last time I’d seen him, Jack’s right hand and lower leg were both encased in what looked like polished gold.

The worst of it, though, and the reason for my homicidal mood, was the fact thanks to Hugh, my dear companion, the demon cat Sassafras, was forced to throw himself in the path of Georgina’s magic, saving my life and ending his. For that Hugh would pay, whether he told us Jack’s location or not.

When pressed, Hugh merely shook his head, thin lips tight together in a white line as his color faded back to horrid paleness.

Vasek sighed and rolled his dark eyes. Your silence isn’t serving you, boy, he said, tone testy, eyebrows pulled together, making him appear all together sinister. Your master will pay for the things he’s done, one way or another. And we will locate him regardless of your misplaced loyalties. Make it easier on yourself and tell us now before more permanent harm comes to you.

It was clear from the anger rising in his voice the magician’s patience was about as thin as mine. No doubt he also focused his blame on the boy kneeling at our feet, though I was certain it was Samuel who hired the men who burned Vasek’s club, The Conjury, to the ground only hours ago.

Was it really only hours? And had I only been in London a matter of days? I’d been sent here for my own protection while my mother assumed control of our coven. It certainly hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned.

My hands ran down the soft, pale green satin of my ball gown, recently worn to the theatre. Again I wished I’d found time to change before I’d run after Jack in an attempt to rescue him. Though my feet ached and my breathing was restricted, I was at least grateful I was forced to run in one of the dresses my mother supplied. I winced inwardly at the memory of the gigantic and vice-like grip of the golden dress my former hostess was having made for me for the up coming Prince’s Ball. I shuddered at the thought of having to even breath in that monstrosity, let alone flee through the underbelly of London.

My despair at how horribly I’d messed things up was shoved aside as the magician gestured at Stella.

She’s remarkable, yes?

Hugh just glanced at her then away again. A flush rose in his face. Imagine, the idiot was thinking of her looks at a time like this? Typical.

In more ways than one, Vasek continued. You see, my darling Stella wasn’t raised here in England. In fact, her parents were missionaries, in Japan. Only, there was a terrible incident. Vasek tapped the end of his cane on Hugh’s nose, making him flinch. The entire mission was destroyed, everyone killed. All but Stella. Vasek smiled at her and she smiled back, a sweet expression belying the story he told. For that moment my anger and regret left as fascination took over.

She survived, on her own, only six years old, isn’t that right, Stella?

Five, she said.

Ah yes. Only five. For four days and nights she faced the elements, wild animals and those who killed her parents.

Stella’s fingers brushed over Hugh’s hair and he flinched.

Do you know what happened then? Vasek tilted his head to one side. No? Well, allow me to tell you. She was taken, kidnapped by those very murderers. And when she was to be killed herself, an intruder in their land, one of the men spoke for her. She’d impressed him, you see. Vasek tapped his cane on the ground, then swished it about as if it were a sword. With her will to live. He took her in, enslaved her.

Stella shrugged. It wasn’t so bad, she said.

Only fifteen years of torture and degradation.

And training, she said. Don’t forget my training.

Ah, yes. Vasek smiled apologetically. Of course. The daily beatings. The suffering and drive, all for what?

Stella crossed her arms over her chest. To make me stronger.

There, you see? Vasek dropped his cane to his side. All that horridness had a purpose. Have you heard of the ninja? The assassin elite?

Hugh’s throat worked over and over, his Adam’s apple a bobbing wonder.

I see you have. How spectacular. Our dear Stella here, he gestured, the silver tip of his cane catching the light, was trained by one of them.

How did you get away? I was wrapped up in the story, I admit it. I alternated between burning curiosity and painful empathy for what she must have gone through. I had only known kindness when my brothers were teaching me to fight. Even when our Asian friends taught me some of their techniques.

I killed my master, Stella said.

Hugh’s body clenched as he surged to his feet. Stella had a grip on him before he could reach his full height.

With her bare hands, as I recall the story. Vasek polished the silver knob of his cane on his jacket as he observed the terror running through Hugh’s trembling body. Now, unless you’d like me to turn you over to Stella here for some personal attention, I advise you to tell us what we need to know.

Hugh collapsed again, a blubbering mess. Stella looked disappointed and the blame was aimed at Vasek.

We won’t get much out of him now, she said. You’ve gone and scared him to death.

Oh, he’ll tell us, I snarled, all my hurt and rage returning. Or I will see him dead.

My dear, Vasek said so mildly it made me want to slap him, I do believe our darling Stella is rubbing off.

You say that like it’s a bad thing, the stunning blonde said.

I’ve had my temper far longer than I’ve known you, Vasek, I snapped back. And it’s at the end of its limit.

Josephine frowned, but not in anger. Perhaps none of this is really necessary.

We need to find Jack, I said with some heat.

She patted my hand, her concentration releasing. Yes, Burdie, but that’s not what I meant. Stella, would you search him, please.

She did, thoroughly and with great care, manhandling the quivering fool as she did. Stella finally dropped him casually back to his fetal position and held out her hand.

He only had this, she said.

‘This’ turned out to be a coin. I scowled at it, sitting there in Josephine’s black glove. Useful, I said.

You might be right, there. Josephine slid the other glove free and allowed the metal to sit in her palm.

It’s a coin, Vasek said.

It’s more than that. She held it up, showed us. On one side was a man’s profile, though England was ruled by Queen Victoria. And on the other was a stamp, two crossed pyramids linked together. I’d never seen a coin like it.

Vasek had. The mark of the Brotherhood.

Josephine nodded. He is a member, then, she said of Hugh. Only full members carry these. As a means of identifying each other.

A coin from the Brotherhood, I said. It’s still just a coin, Jo.

She smiled at me. To you, witch girl, she said. But I’m a metallurgic sorcerer. If we are fortunate tonight, and I believe we are finally due for some good fortune, this coin will lead us where we need to go.

Hugh bolted upright. No! He grabbed for the coin, but Stella almost casually struck him behind the ear and he fell back again, unconscious.

Faker, I swore at him.

Metal has memory, Josephine said. All things do. Perhaps we can use this as a type of beacon, follow it to where it was made.

You can do that? I found it hard to believe, and yet I’d discovered in the last few days I knew far less about the available powers in the world than I’d thought.

In theory. Her eyes lifted, gaze meeting Vasek’s. At any rate, we no longer need our young captive.

For a moment two things waged war within me—first, the fact that I wanted to be the one to kill Hugh. The second was a spike of absolute horror at the very idea.

No matter my personal issues, Stella was already at work. She rummaged through a pile of refuse, returning with a length of rope. She quickly and efficiently bound Hugh, stuffing a filthy rag in his mouth before piling garbage on top of him.

Her blue eyes shone as she met my gaze. He’ll keep, she said.

Now, Vasek bowed to Josephine, lady sorcerer, the stage is yours.

She bit her lower lip, striding forward toward the mouth of the alley where we were concealed. This may only take us as far as the forge where the coin was made.

I jabbed her gently in the ribs. Not like we have a whole lot of options.

Josephine nodded and squared her shoulders. Her fingers closed around the coin, a deep glow of pale silvery blue power growing and escaping from between them. A mist of the same color formed around her hand before trailing outward in a thin but visible ghost of smoke.

With Josephine in the lead, we set out to follow it, leaving the groaning Hugh behind us.

***

Chapter Two

We wound our way through the dark streets of London in pursuit of the faint silvery trail. I stumbled more and more often, the ridiculous hem of my dress very much in my way. Again I cursed the fate that kept me from changing before all of this began. I’d been at the theater only a few hours earlier, under the influence of Samuel and his power. I’d intended to change the moment I arrived with Jack in tow, but my conversation with him had taken longer than expected, interrupted by Hugh and his sister, Kate.

Then there was no more time and I was forced to run, ball gown and all.

I had to admit I was tired. Almost worn out. It had been a very busy night in a very busy few days. I’d experienced more drama and grief, more anger and fear than I ever had before, and I found it took its toll. But the others still moved forward and I refused to fall behind.

I began to recognize landmarks as we moved on. We were near the same part of town where Vasek’s club was located and I was certain I caught a waft of wood smoke, the heavy kind caused by a house fire, hanging in the air. He didn’t seem to notice and I wasn’t about to bring it up, to salt that wound.

My, my, he said to no one in particular with so much sarcasm I knew I was wrong about him not noticing. Haven’t we been here already tonight? Destroyed someone’s livelihood in the process?

Stella very quickly and casually slapped him across the back of the head. The blow appeared mild, but he staggered from it.

Stop being such a baby, she said. You’re alive, aren’t you?

I decided then and there I was Stella’s biggest fan.

The further we went, the more seedy the streets and houses became. We weren’t the only ones out and about in this part of town. I glared back at a cluster of women dressed in gowns of their own, though I was certain none of them had been watching Romeo and Juliet earlier in the evening. They seemed much more careworn and, as I drew close to them, hardened by life. Their chatter was rife with thick accents I could barely understand, though their meaning when they gestured rudely toward me was plain. I was unwelcome.

It wasn’t until a staggering man with horrible teeth approached one of the women that I finally made the connection and understood who they were and their purpose. I caught myself blushing with some heat, dragging my eyes away as the woman followed him into the dark of an alley.

Whitechapel, Stella said softly, falling back to walk beside me as Vasek took his place with Josephine.