The Codex of Shadows: The Fire Mage Chronicles, #1

By Tiffani Skye

I'm an assassin, not a treasure hunter. 

 

In the shadow-drenched alleys of New Orleans, I'm pushed past my usual assassin gig to retrieve a lost grimoire for the city's Master Vampire.

 

Did I mention the grimoire holds the power to unleash Hades from the Underworld?

 

With the fate of the world teetering on the brink, I'm forced to partner with Kestrel, a vampire whose allure is as potent as his secrets. 

 

As Hades inches closer to freedom, I have no choice but to expose my powers.

Except there's a catch—

 

Using them might destroy me.

 

The Codex of Shadows is the first book in the Fire Mage Chronicles trilogy, an Urban Fantasy adventure with a morally gray hero, fated mates and vampires!

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tiffani Skye
• Release date: May 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224478637

Tiffani Skye

Tiffani Skye is a paranormal fantasy romance author who is a Dr Pepper addict, a mom to three kids, and married to her best friend. When Tiffani was little, she wrote stories for the fun of it, but it wasn’t until she became a mom that she realized this was her dream—to share her imagination with others to make them smile. Her hope is to provide you with an escapism from your everyday worries and leaves you happier than when you picked up the book.

Book preview

Prologue

5 years ago

My stomach grumbled. Last night’s dinner and this morning’s breakfast were nonexistent, but hey, it wasn’t the worst thing I’d experienced. To distract myself from the ache in my belly, I picked at my nails and tore off bits of the tips. Most girls used nail polish to add a hint of self-expression. I, on the other hand, couldn’t afford such luxuries, and they weren’t worth stealing. Every once in a while, I yearned to just be a girl. A girl with friends. A girl with hopes and dreams. A girl who was just that—a girl.

The only noise in the classroom was Mrs. Williams and the sound of the ancient ticking clock. I mean, seriously, who used analog clocks nowadays? It wasn’t as if the LED could conjure a Demon or anything. 

The room itself was rather plain. Boring white walls with only a single creepy poster. It was of the Sorcerer’s representation in the council. Drugan the Dangerous. He was in fine robes with a gold crown on top of his wide head, all while sitting on an elaborate chair. His arm was outstretched, and he beckoned. The words read, we want you. It was weird and very cultish. 

The rest of the room was four rows of six desks each. All of them were filled with a teenage Sorceress. All of them, sweet sixteen, naïve, and innocent, except for me. I was the odd Mage out, one of the mere five in the entire academy. 

Mrs. Williams stood with her back toward us. Today, her floral dress went down to her ankles, exposing her gray flats. Her outfit resembled something from an old western movie. Her short curls stopped by her ears, hinting at bedtime spent in curlers. 

And in 1544 the Blackthorn Vampire family began to slaughter various species. There was no rhyme or reason to which clans they picked. Mrs. Williams used a purple dry erase marker to write on the board. Small high-pitched squeaks emitted with each of her strokes. 

All the girls in the class, the future Sorceresses of the world, nodded along like bobbleheads. I’d never fit in with them. 

Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. Perfect ringlets, brown eyes, brown skin, and a mischievous smile. Ah, the foster girl. She’d been here a month and already had two strikes against her. Not that I blame her. This school sucked, but my alternative was much, much worse. 

Chantel. The feisty Sorceress. She was the only person I had met who I could see myself being friends with. Too bad I could never let that happen. 

We were polar opposites. One day, she would have a family and would go far in life. Maybe even throw in a barbecue or twenty with friends. All the girls would, well, probably not Jessica. She’ll be a trophy wife for some politician. 

I squirmed in the hard plastic chair. It connected to the desk in a way that screamed ‘no escape.’ A previous student had carved a stick figure into the grain. No doubt the girl had received a punishment for her design. That was how it worked here at Andrews Girls Magic Academy. It was one of the academies for Sorceresses and Mages. More so for Sorceresses. In some circles, Mages were considered as lesser. 

Mages didn’t need to use a wand to access their gifts, but we could only perform our inherited abilities. In my opinion, we were more powerful and more dangerous than other supernaturals. Unfortunately, my father agreed with me.

Jessica’s hand shot up. Mrs. Williams? Mrs. Williams?

The old grumpy Sorceress whirled around. What? 

The bubbly blonde wasn’t fazed by the harsh tone. Why do we have to learn about Vampires? Like most live a century behind the rest of us. Plus, like, anyone with a brain wouldn’t date, let alone marry, a bloodsucking viper. 

Mrs. Williams taped her chapped lips. It’s imperative to understand the reasons Vampires are disliked, and so that we won’t repeat their mistakes. 

Also, because if you backstab a Vampire, they’ll hold on to that grudge for generations. If, for some reason, you had a conflict with one, most likely your great-great grandchild would receive their vengeance. 

But if Sorcerers were to murder thousands of people, it would be for the greater good. We would end up on top. Jessica tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

I rubbed my palms on my stolen jeans. The imbecile wasn’t getting it. Sorcerers would never reign supreme because of their lifespan. They would always be tools for Vampires, Shifters, and Hunters to use, not to mention other beings that you wouldn’t ever want to cross. 

Mrs. Williams nodded. Someday, a formidable Sorcerer will spearhead change and dismantle the Council, but until then… 

I rolled my eyes. The Council had been established before King Arthur’s bedtime stories. Nobody would easily be able to overthrow them. The other species wouldn’t allow a dictator to rule. 

We have to be patient, Jessica mumbled. 

Exactly. Mrs. Williams smiled and turned to face the board. Now as I was saying, in 1544… 

I tuned her voice out, not because this wasn’t important, but because what was happening across the classroom was more interesting. Chantel slid her wand out of her pocket. Her arm fell to the side and pointed toward the front of the class. 

Her mouth moved, but I wasn’t close enough to hear the words. Two little red sparks sputtered from her wand and propelled into the garbage can. The paper waste fed the magic, and flames ignited. 

Uh, Mrs. Williams! Jessica screeched. 

Our teacher spun and jerked backward against the board. For a beat, her palm lay over her heart. No longer stunned and unresponsive, she reached into her deep pocket and aimed her wand. 

"Torrens aquae," she said in a collected tone. A stream of cool water poured from her wand toward the garbage can.

But it did nothing. 

Correction, it didn’t do nothing. 

It angered the fire.

A vertical eruption burst from the waste bin. A tiny flame jumped onto Mrs. Williams’ outfit and slowly ate the fabric. Bit by bit. 

Uh-oh. Chantel nibbled on her bottom lip and sank into her chair. 

The other students froze, temporarily paralyzed by shock and fear. Mrs. Williams fanned her dress with one hand, and with the other tried using her magic, but instead, a fiery surge enveloped her attire. The only conclusion I could come to was something went awry, or all counter spells were blocked on purpose. Noting the shame on Chantel’s face, I bet it was the former. 

I blew a raspberry and extended my hand. With a wiggle of my fingers, I beckoned the inferno, and it responded willingly. I needed to be careful. I couldn’t have people thinking I was more than I was pretending to be. Escaping my sperm donor was challenging, and hiding all my family ties wouldn’t be exposed in vain. 

At a snail’s pace, the burning red-and-orange flames eased off. I stood, but my focus never wavered. It danced back into a collective body that posed no threat to anyone in the classroom. My magic flowed through me, and I simmered the fire until only faint ashes remained. 

I released my breath, blowing the strangling tension out. My shoulders sagged, and warmth bloomed within my chest. I had done something good. Something that had protected others. Something my father would’ve hated. A smile tugged at my lips. Oh, how I loved irritating the man. 

You! Mrs. Williams screamed. 

I glanced up at the woman and quickly averted my gaze. The fire had eaten most of her dress. The crisped material rested just below her breast. Luckily for me, and everyone in the room, her underwear was fully intact. But if you looked up the definition of mean lady in granny-panties in the dictionary, you’d get a snapshot of my current view.

You! she repeated. You did this!

I snapped my head up. Wh-what? 

You heard me, Miss Olsen. She jabbed her pointer finger at me. You did this to me, you little brat. 

Excuse me? 

I knew you were going to be a handful from the moment you were placed in my class. All Fire Mages are trouble. Mrs. Williams narrowed her eyes, as if daring me to contradict her. 

You’re delusional. The real person who did this— I glanced behind me at Chantel. 

The Sorceress’ head dipped, and her bottom lip quivered. If I gave her up, this would be her third strike, and she would be kicked out. 

I sighed and faced the teacher. So, what if I did it? Send me to the dean’s office already. 

Mrs. Williams shrieked. She raised her hand, and her palm connected with my cheek. I didn’t flinch. I held still, despite the burning in my skin. One slap was nothing. I’d endured much worse. 

No. I won’t let the dean give you a measly strike. I’ll deliver your punishment. Mrs. Williams whipped her wand in front of her, and her icy stare remained on me. "Maledicat inepta liquida."

Swirling lights of blue and red circled me. From my feet all the way to the tip of my head. A shock ran through me, and my spine went ridged. Unable to move my limbs, I swallowed my scream. 

Crap. What had I just been cursed with?

Chapter One

I’ll watch you burn . My final promise to my father lingered in my thoughts, and I vowed if I ever crossed paths with him again, I would fulfill it through with my dying breath. 

The flames flickered and danced, their orange-and-red tendrils reaching higher with each passing moment. The fire’s warmth surged down my arms and poured into the pile of candles.

In the depths of my thoughts, the malevolent Ghost’s face clawed its way to the surface. My gut clenched, and I screamed, releasing my pent-up frustration. Magic burst from me, covering me with a whirlwind of heated sparks. My elemental fire manifested in hues of orange, red, and a subtle hint of blue. Even though I’d successfully accomplished my assignment and saved those kids, the adrenaline-fueled rage still smoldered within me, refusing to be contained. 

Normally, control over my abilities came effortlessly. A mere flip of a switch. But no. Not this time. 

I closed my eyes. Images flashed behind my eyelids. Suits. Glittery dresses. Men. Lots of men. Children. Boys. Girls. A small doll. Red glowing eyes. Ghost. 

With a sudden jolt, I opened my eyes and glanced around. My heart raced, and I filled my lungs with a purposeful deep intake of air.

He can’t get me. I’m fine. I’ve been safe for five years.

Burn! I commanded.

Blue overtook the pile. I should pull back to ensure nobody saw, but I was too hot. Too close to the situation. 

Those kids, I whispered. 

The job had taken an ugly turn. I had been hired to take out one of the men running for governor in New York. And I had. Tracking him to and from various charities was easy until he’d shown his villainous ways. He was a player in a much bigger game. Discovering he was at the center of a child trafficking ring was something I couldn’t walk away from, even though I wasn’t getting paid to dismantle it.

I’d spent days staking out their warehouse. Noting their coming and going was simple. People tend to be predictable. I had to establish the pattern and go when they were at their weakest. 

Fifteen kids. 

No innocent casualties. 

What I hadn’t planned for was the governor-wannabe to have a vicious Ghost whispering in his ear. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How did I miss that very specific detail?

When I was in the middle of escorting the children out, the Ghost confronted me. My anger had controlled me. Anger at the conditions the children had been kept in. Anger that these children had been separated from their families. Anger at the trauma they had endured.

So, I sent him back to the Underworld. 

I should’ve trapped him, keeping him from identifying me, but my emotions had got the better of me. I’d been chastising myself. The power I concealed should’ve stayed buried. 

My favorite scents tickled my nose. Vanilla. Clean linen. Crisp apple. I inhaled. Once. Twice. And slowly the smells grounded me. They were safe. I was safe. 

With my magic drained enough for me to reclaim my composure, I extended my hand and snapped. The flames immediately obeyed and died. A mound of melted wax was left in its wake. 

I sighed. What had I been thinking? How many terrible decisions would I make? I had been so fueled by magic that I hadn’t thought my actions through—which in my line of work would get me killed. 

The twenty candles met their demise, and they were now a giant mix. Thankfully, I had the forethought to put them in a fire pit. Small victories, I guess. 

I squatted next to them and sniffed. For the various scents, it didn’t smell half bad. If only it didn’t also reek like singed hair. It was an unfortunate aroma that came along with my magic. Most Mages didn’t have a lingering smell. But I had more power than most. 

A reassuring thought flickered through my mind. I had acted responsibly by expending my surplus magic. Fire Mages, like me, walked a precarious line. We couldn’t hold on more than we could handle, because we could easily ignite a house while we were sleeping. Fire was feisty, wild, and full of anger. Often, it had a mind of its own. But, for one powerful reason, it always bowed down to me. It was a blessing and a burden. 

I stomped into the house and into the kitchen. Under the sink was a blue plastic bucket I regularly used for mopping—or at least tried to use. Turning on the tap, I groaned. I would have to strategically plan how to move the water. 

I tapped my foot with a quick rhythm and filled the bucket up. The smoke rising from the wax would be seen by my neighbors soon. The last thing I wanted was for the fire department to show up at my door.

The water was only filled three-fourths of the way. I gripped the sides and carefully placed one foot in front of the other. Carrying it was annoying, but it would be slow moving.

Sloshing water over the rim, I lifted the bucket to the backyard. Only a few more steps. A fourth of the liquid had already jumped out, leaving a mess on my floor.

I can do this, I grumbled. 

Hope bloomed in my chest, and I smiled to myself. 

My foot caught the ground, and I stumbled forward. No, no, no. 

I tripped, and the bucket flew out of my hands. Falling, I braced myself and got ready for impact. I smacked into the grass and winced. 

A hiss sounded, and I snapped my head up. I laughed and threw a fist into the air. The container had landed face down on the pile of candles. The water had made it to its intended target. 

Suck on that, curse! You can’t break me! I chuckled. 

Not every day did my luck win out against the hex Mrs. Williams had put on me, but today Fate was on my side. 

I stood and arched my back from side to side. I picked up the bucket and examined the waxy remains. The smoke trickled down and was no longer sending up a signal. My hope was my impromptu activity would go unnoticed. 

Ugh. I hadn’t even been home for twenty-four hours yet. The flight from New York to New Orleans had been torture. Between the guy stealing my armrest and pent-up magic, I was ready to combust. 

Massaging my temples, I walked into my house. It was cozy. Not too big, but not too small either. It was just enough for me. One bedroom. One bathroom. One living area. One kitchen. The white walls were bare and lacked adornments. No pictures were displayed. There was no need. I didn’t have any memories worth capturing. My place was clutter-free. The only thing I collected was candles. 

A knock sounded at my door, and I dropped my chin to my chest. Only two types of people visited me—solicitors or my handler. At this moment, I wasn’t sure which would be the better option. 

I padded to the front entrance with the bucket swaying in my hand and checked the peephole. I rested on my forehead on the cool wood, hoping my silence might persuade him to leave. 

He rapped his knuckles again. I know you’re in there! I saw you arrive.

I undid two out of my three locks. The chain lock still secured the opening. He wouldn’t be able to barge in, and I could get away with only showing my face. I cracked the door, and the chain pulled tight. 

Go away, I huffed. 

I went to close the door, but he put his shoe in the slot. I weighed my options. Very easily I could slam it, but that would break a bone in his foot. I would have to hear about the damage for at least a year. Or I could listen to whatever he wanted to say. 

Speak fast. I’m in a mood. My tone was curt.

He snorted. So, a normal Tuesday, then?

My mouth twitched. You have five minutes, Benny. Ticktock, ticktock. 

My handler raised his perfectly shaped eyebrows. Given his shaved head and the lack of a beard, it was evident of pride in the only hair he possessed. Light from the sunset bounced off his gold necklace. Black slacks with a baggy button-up shirt only fastened up to mid-chest. Benny was a made Vampire, and like all Vampires, he thirsted for power. Despite his mobster vibes, deep down he was good at heart.

Job well done, Mac. He rocked back on his heels. 

Why do you assume I completed the job? 

One, you wouldn’t have returned if you hadn’t fulfilled the contract. Two, the money has already hit my account. Your payment is currently being processed. Three, you always succeed. 

I stared at him blankly. And?

Just thought I’d say congrats. Tell you that you did a good job. I realized I don’t do that very often and I need to do better at it. And to chitchat, to see how you were doing. He stuffed his hands into his front pockets. 

My eye threatened to spasm, but I held myself stony. My reputation of being cold would not be ruined by the heinous emotions my previous job had created inside me. And I most definitely wouldn’t allow him to witness a sliver of my weakness. 

You came over for chitchat? I popped my fists on my hips. 

He blinked. Is that so hard to believe? His deep brown eyes went round and innocent-like. Well, as innocent as the Vampire could portray himself, which resembled a hungry shark. 

We aren’t those kinds of neighbors.

But we could be.

I pursed my lips. Why change such a good thing? 

We couldn’t be on friendlier terms. I would have to move and disconnect all my professional connections. Plus, this was for his own well-being. Being dead in a ditch didn’t benefit anyone. 

Benny wiped a hand over his face. Fine. You got me. I need your help.

With what?

A job. 

Nope. I moved to shut the door, but his foot was