Bank of Lake Laberge

Yukon Territory, Canada

“I think I’ve got it.” My magic finally sparked to life, a little ember shining inside my mind. Like a glowing orb, but so tiny and frail. I reached for it, envisioning myself with a hand outstretched to grasp it. The golden light of the magic warmed my fingertips.

So close. I reached harder, trying to control a power that was so new and unfamiliar. Honestly, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but the visualization trick felt like it was actually working.

“You’re doing well. The weather is turning,” Roarke said.

My gaze darted to him. We stood on the bank of a lake in northern Canada with the sun shining brightly on the water’s glass-smooth surface. Roarke stood closer to the shore, his dark gaze avid on the lake. For the hundredth time in the week since I’d met him, I was struck by how freaking handsome he was. You couldn’t tell from looking at him that he was the Warden of the Underworld, the bossman of everything on that whole side of life, but it was clear he was one powerful supernatural.

I still wasn’t sure what he was to me—we’d only kissed once and otherwise been as prickly as porcupines around each other—but he’d insisted on coming along while I practiced my new magic. He hadn’t left my side since he’d learned I was one super weird supernatural. A SuperWeird, as I’d started thinking of myself.

But he’d barely spoken to me in the last few days—and he clearly had stuff on his mind that he wasn’t sharing. Was it because I was a fugitive from his Underworld, and he was rethinking his promise not to force me to go back there?

I dragged my gaze from him. Now was not the time to be distracted by the fact that I had the hots for him. Especially since I had zero idea what we were to each other. He was helping me for now, so I’d take that at face value because I had bigger things on my plate. Like some seriously wiggly magic to try to control.

Raindrops sprinkled on my face. I grinned. The fair weather was turning foul, just as we’d hoped. My magic was working!

“Do you see it?” I squinted toward the lake, looking for the boat.

“Not yet. Keep going.”

I may have been responsible for the rain, the weather turning worse by the second, but I wasn’t a weather witch. Far from it.

I had a weird ability to bring the past back to life by weakening the barrier between the past and present. Problem was, I couldn’t control it. I’d only had the power for little more than a week, and all it had done was cause trouble.

So, we’d come up here, to the middle of nowhere in the mountains of the Yukon Territory, so that I could practice going back to one specific point in time. It wasn’t an important point in time, not to me at least, but it was more the specificity of it that mattered. We figured that being able to bring back the past from a specific moment was probably the most useful way to use my talent, so why not practice it? It was tough, but I’d always been a real toss-me-into-the-deep-end kind of girl.

“Come on,” I muttered as I reached for my magic, envisioning the small steamboat A.J. Goddard puffing toward us through the storm. I knocked on my head for good luck.

And this wasn’t just any storm. It was a storm from 1902.

In October of that fateful year, the little gold rush steamboat had encountered a storm on Lake Laberge and sunk to the bottom. It had happened only a hundred yards from shore. My goal was to bring that exact moment forward to the present, then send it back, returning everything to normal. It was the perfect tester, because there was no one to witness my forbidden magic out here in the middle of nowhere, yet the boat wrecked close enough to shore that I could see it happen, proving that I was learning to control my magic well enough to witness a specific moment in time.

It was genius, as long as I could actually do it.

Abruptly, the day turned dark. Rain pelted my face, and the wind picked up, roaring through the valley created by the rolling mountains. Waves kicked up on the lake, their tops glittering white in the dim light of the cloud-covered moon.

This was perfect shipwreck weather.

“Keep going,” Roarke encouraged. “You’re nearly there.”

My muscles trembled with the strain of controlling my magic. I envisioned the steamboat puffing toward us, smoke billowing from its stack. A ping of magical connection zipped through my veins.

Suddenly, the boat was there, real as day, though hard to see through the gloom. I could even feel a connection to it, like I was linked to the past with a string.

Jackpot!

I squinted against the pouring rain, my heart thudding as the waves crashed over the bow of the little boat. I couldn’t see the people yet, but they were on there. Five of them, if the newspapers were to be believed. I could feel a connection to them. To the scene that I had brought from the past.

But it was time to send them back.

Sweat prickled my cool skin as I reached for my magic, envisioning the historic scene disappearing back into the past.

Nothing happened. The wind continued to howl and the rain to pour. The boat struggled along as waves plowed into it. The smoke coming from the stack began to dissipate. They were losing their engines. This was it. Now that the boat had lost power, it would sink at any moment.

I sucked in a ragged breath and reached for my magic, but I couldn’t get hold of it. The visualization trick of grabbing the glowing ball didn’t work. I could feel my link to this scene from the past, like a wire stretched from me to the little boat. But I couldn’t manipulate my magic enough to break the connection.

My heart thundered as my power spiraled out of control.

Could we be stuck in the past? Did I bring it back permanently?

A harsh sob escaped my chest as I pushed myself. I could do this, damn it! But doubt crept in as the small steamboat continued to flounder in the waves.

If I couldn’t control my magic, how could I control anything at all? I was prophesied to be some kind of Guardian between the Underworld and this one, but I didn’t know what the heck that meant. And what good was I like this?

A sickening sense of failure spread in my chest like a sickness. Too familiar.

Any grip that I had on my magic vanished, snapped like a broken wire. Or like a wall had slammed down between me and my magic.

“It’s going down!” Roarke’s deep voice carried over the wind.

He was right. It was sinking. Waves had swamped the deck and were filling the hold with water. Two figures grappled at the bow, then leapt into the water.

“No!” I darted toward the shore.

They would drown. Three had died in this wreck, according to old newspapers. I didn’t want to let that happen again!

Right before I reached the water’s edge, I felt Roarke’s iron grip around my arm, jerking me to a halt.

“No!” His voice was harsh. “You can’t. You know that.”

“But…” I looked up at him through the rain, desperation making me frantic. “I can’t just let them die.”

“You must. We can’t change history.”

Disappointment carved a hole in my chest. I tried to tug my arm away from him, but didn’t let go.

Because he was right. Changing history would be catastrophic. We knew that. Anyone who’d ever watched a TV show or read a book about changing the past knew that it ended poorly.

I turned back to the boat, which was nearly under now, sinking beneath the cold waves. I made myself watch, penance for my failure. I hadn’t been able to close the wall between the past and the present, and this was the result. Witnessing this. Making it happen all over again. Making those men die all over again.

Without warning, magic swelled on the air. What the heck?

The ship and its occupants were human, so it wasn’t coming from them. And the magical signature was nothing like Roarke’s. His smelled of sandalwood and tasted of wine. This felt so cold it burned my skin and smelled of smog.

“Someone is here!” I whirled around to search the shore.

Two demons stood at the far edge of the pebble beach, near the trees. The shock of seeing them broke my connection with the past, as abruptly as if it had never been. It was annoying, frankly, how easily it happened when I wasn’t trying to make it happen.

The rain halted, the storm returning to 1902, and present-day sunlight replaced the dark night. I didn’t turn to look, but I’d guess that the boat and the crew were gone as well.

In the newly-returned sunlight, I caught a look of surprise on the demon’s faces. One had the pale gray skin of what might be an ice demon species. The other was dark red. Fire demon?

“Where the hell did they come from?” Roarke asked.

Oh, this was just fabulous. First, my magic had failed. Now freaking demons were appearing out of nowhere.

Four more appeared at their sides, different species that I’d never seen before. Two with large horns, the others wiry as twigs. The horned demons held massive, curved swords that should have belonged to giants, while the skinny ones must have some kind of weaponized magic, otherwise they’d be armed, too.

One of the skinny ones wound up as if he were going to throw a baseball, then hurled a glowing green orb.

I ducked, the scent of sulphur burning my nose as it passed overhead.

“Acid blast,” Roarke said.

Cold raced over my skin. I didn’t want to get hit by one of those. They could eat through your flesh in seconds.

I glanced at Roarke briefly before calling upon my Phantom magic. It was still weird to shift around him—he’d only learned I was half-Phantom three days ago—but if I didn’t want to lose a limb to the demon’s acid blasts, it was a necessity. As a Phantom, I was faster, stronger, and most importantly, impervious to harm.

Shivery cold raced across my skin as the Phantom magic took hold, turning my limbs a transparent blue. Beside me, Roarke’s magic filled the air. The taste of wine and the smell of sandalwood were followed by a mini tornado of black mist that obscured him as he shifted.

A second later, he burst into the air, his demon form a shimmering dark gray and his wings massive. In his shifted form, he was terrifying and beautiful. Against the pale blue sky, he looked like an angel of destruction. I grinned and pulled my sword free.

I, too, could be destruction.

Roarke swooped down on two of the acid blasting demons while I charged the rest. When the red demon threw a fireball at me, I ducked instinctively, even though it couldn’t harm me in this form.

I leapt at one of the massive horned demons, not bothering to block his blow. His sword sailed through my middle, unable to make contact while I was in Phantom form. It was a creepy but handy talent. Unfortunately, I couldn’t land a blow while in Phantom form. My ghostly sword would sail right through him.

Before the demon could recover his blow, I turned corporeal long enough to slice my blade across his neck. Warm blood spurted onto the rocky beach as I landed on the other side of him.

Blazing pain flared up my arm right before I could adopt my Phantom form again.

The fire demon! My knees weakened as the arm of my leather jacket melted. I sucked in a ragged breath, trying to ignore the pain, and turned into a Phantom. Once I’d shifted, my gaze darted across the beach, searching for the demon who had landed a blow while I was in solid form.

He stood about twenty yards away, winding up with another blast, his palm glowing red hot. Behind him stood the gray demon.

“You,” the fire demon growled as he pointed at me.

Behind him, the other demon nodded.

“What the hell do you mean, me?” I demanded.

He growled again. I was going to have to be fast if I wanted to kill him without letting the fireball land while I was corporeal.

Wasn’t gonna be easy.

I raced forward, sprinting across the pebble beach. Right before I reached the fire demon, Roarke swept out of the sky and yanked him up. He swooped away, taking him out to the lake and leaving just the pale gray demon behind. I grinned. Fighting with Roarke was efficient.

As the demon raised a hand to throw his magic, I charged. When I was about ten yards away, the demon hurtled a massive icicle. It was a glittering white spear that would pierce my belly like iron. I leapt out of the way, the ice missing me by inches, and nearly lost my footing on the pebble beach. I wobbled and righted myself, then raced toward him again, reaching the ice demon before he could charge up with another blast.

Instead of striking with my sword, I leapt upon the demon, taking him to the ground. I straddled him while in Phantom form, pinning him to the rocks. Though my sword couldn’t cut while in Phantom form, I could manipulate things with my hands in my ghostly state. I thought it was because the sword was an object and didn’t have the same magic that I did. Phantom magic was weird. And scary. Just by touching, I could make people relive their worst fears, sending them straight into nightmare and pain.

“Why did he say you?” I demanded. “Why are you here?”

The demon’s face twisted as he thrashed underneath me. I didn’t know how to control my power over his fears, but his eyes rolled in his head and he shrieked. Whatever he was reliving sucked.

“I’ll let go if you tell me!” Actually, I’d kill him. But all that would do was send him back to his Underworld, a fate he likely wouldn’t mind at this point.

“You’re no Ubilaz demon,” he rasped. “But you called us here.”

My breath caught. I’d killed an Ubilaz demon four days ago by tearing out its soul, a power I hadn’t realized I possessed. Ubilaz demons were horrible beasts that attracted other demons to them.

“What does that mean?”

He shuddered and his eyes rolled again, pain twisting his face at my touch.

“Tell me!”

“Must…kill abomination.” He spat at me. It sailed right through me, but I still shuddered.

Gross. I scrubbed it off with my uninjured arm.

I shook him again. “Why?”

“Power stealer!” He spat again, then convulsed and lay still, captive to his horrible memories.

I would get no more information from him. I turned corporeal so that my sword would strike, then raised my blade and plunged it through his chest. As soon as my steel pierced his flesh, an icy electric shock ran up my arm from where I clutched his shoulder. The familiarity of the sensation made my stomach pitch.

This is what it had felt like to tear out the Ubilaz demon’s soul.

I lunged back from the ice demon, heart pounding.

His soul followed, clinging to my hand as a wispy white smoke.

“Shit!” I stumbled and landed on my butt on the rocks. I flung my hand out, trying to shake his soul off. It flew away, disappearing on the wind. I shook my hand, which still tingled icily, and glanced around frantically.

All the demons were dead, their bodies slowly disappearing as they returned to the Underworld. Roarke landed on the beach, his boots thudding against the rocks. His massive gray wings folded behind his back as he approached. His magic allowed him to keep his boots and pants, though his shirt always disappeared to accommodate his wings.

I scrambled to my feet, my whole body trembling. The weirdest feeling was racing through my veins. It felt like they were full of antifreeze. I shook my hands, trying to make the feeling go away.

Ice blasted from my fingertips, frosting the rocks on the beach.

I jumped, my heart in my throat. “Shit!”

Roarke’s eyes widened. “What the hell was that?” In his demon form, his voice sounded like gravel scraping together.

I stared at my hand, which looked normal. The ice in my veins had dissipated. I’d just thrown ice. Like Elsa. But I didn’t have that power, and I wasn’t about to start singing “Let It Go.”

“I have no idea.” The ground felt like it had fallen out from beneath me.

Besides being a Phantom halfbreed, I was also a FireSoul. We could steal other supernaturals’ powers, but it was an intentional thing. I’d never done it before, but my friend Cass had. When FireSouls stole a power, it was a longer process that involved pressing both hands to another supernatural’s chest as colorful flame enveloped your body. That was nothing like what had just happened with the ice demon.

Ice demon.

I turned to look at his body, which hadn’t yet disappeared. It should have by now, shouldn’t it?

“Del?” Roarke approached. “Why the hell can you suddenly throw ice?”

“Maybe I can’t.” I dragged my gaze from the demon’s body and looked at Roarke. “Maybe it was a fluke.”

“Try, then.”

I nodded. My mind raced as I tried to process what had happened.

“Do it,” Roarke said.

How though?

Try.

I closed my eyes and called upon my magic, poking around at my different gifts. I had so many new and weird talents that I was a bit of a mess when it came to using magic. But the signature of the ice burned cold inside me. It wasn’t hard to find, and it was definitely there.

I reached for it, envisioning an ice spear. I flung out my hands toward the lake. Twin icicles shot from my palms, plunging into the water like harpoons.

“Whoa.” I staggered backward. “That’s new.”

Roarke reached for my right hand, pulling it up to inspect it. I shivered at the warmth of his touch, then glanced back at the ice demon. It still hadn’t disappeared.

“What’s going on, Del?” Roarke murmured as he studied my palm.

I hadn’t yet told him I was a FireSoul. He knew I was a Phantom and had some weird power over death—two magical talents which were expressly forbidden and could get me thrown in the Prison for Magical Miscreants—but the FireSoul secret wasn’t mine alone. Since Cass and Nix were also FireSouls, I couldn’t put them at risk by revealing my secret.

And that wasn’t what had happened, anyway. I hadn’t stolen that demon’s powers with my FireSoul gift.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But we need to get out of here. I think those demons were drawn to me. We need to get back to my place where it’s safe.”

My apartment and the shop I ran with Cass and Nix were protected by charms that would keep demons out. I didn’t want to hang out here any longer.

“Fine.” Roarke started toward the ice demon’s body. “But we’re going to have to do something about this guy. He hasn’t disappeared yet. He should have.”

I glanced around. All the other bodies were gone. Whatever I’d done to him had made it so that he hadn’t returned to the Underworld. Because he no longer had his soul? I shuddered.

“Put him in the lake.” I begrudgingly pointed to the water, hating having to ask Roarke to do it. I liked to clean up my own messes. But I didn’t have a handy pair of wings.

“That’ll scare the hell out of some scuba divers.”

“It’s a mountain lake. The middle will be deeper than divers go. And the fish will eat him.” Wow, how morbid was this? I felt like a mobster, knowing just how to dispose of a body.

“Fine.” Roarke grabbed the demon by the collar and took off into the air, his powerful wings quickly carrying him to the middle of the lake. He dropped the demon and waited, no doubt watching to see if the body sank.

Some demons were denser than humans. I just hoped this one was.

By the time he returned, I was shaking from the cold.

“Did it sink?” I asked.

He nodded. “Ready to get out of here?”

“So ready.” My arm hurt like hell, and the memory of the demon spit made me want to shower even though it hadn’t landed.

I glanced at the lake where the body of the demon now rested near the wreck of the A.J. Goddard. Had this practice trip been a success?

Nope. Not really.

Sure, I’d brought the ship back. But it had all gone entirely to shit after that. Bringing the past back without being able to get rid of it was worse than not being able to bring it back at all.

“Ready?” Roarke held out a hand.

I eyed the icy water of Lake Laberge, shivering at the mere thought of it, then nodded and took his hand. He swept me up into his arms, carefully avoiding my burned arm. His muscles were tense, as if touching me were difficult for him. But my stupid heart raced as his warmth drove some of the chill from my veins. When he lunged into the sky, his wings carrying us high, it was all too easy to feel the strength of his arms.

I clung to him as he flew us out over the water. It glittered gray in the sunlight, calm once again.

One of Roarke’s badass talents as Warden of the Underworld was that he could travel through the Underpath, a network of pathways that passed through the hells, connecting different places on Earth through portals. He could most easily access the Underpath through graveyards and haunted places. The wreck of the A.J. Goddard counted as both, which was another reason we’d chosen this place to practice.

The only inconvenience was that it was underwater. Only twenty-five feet deep, but still, that was an icy twenty-five feet to the portal entrance on the boat’s deck.

“Ready?” His rough voice made me jerk my gaze upward to meet his eyes.

I nodded, then sucked in a breath and held it, bracing myself for the freezing chill of the water.

“Now.” Roarke’s voice made me snap my eyes closed.

I felt his muscles flex as he folded his wings, then we plummeted through the air, hitting the water with an icy blast. It was so cold that my head ached like the worst ice cream headache imaginable. We sank quickly, propelled by our fall.

Unable to help myself, I opened my eyes. The water glowed bright green. I leaned over to peer down, catching sight of the boat below. The bow loomed eerily in the water, a real ghost ship. The deck still intact, though the smokestack was gone, no doubt lost during the wreck. Machinery hulked at the stern. The engines, probably. At the very end was a massive paddlewheel.

The boat was in nearly perfect condition after all these years, down to the pair of old leather boots sitting in the mud next to the hull. Thrown off by one of the men who’d jumped overboard to make it easier to swim? I shuddered, hoping he’d been one of the two to make it to shore.

We drifted through the icy water down to the deck. My lungs were burning from lack of air, and I clung to Roarke, grateful when I finally felt us stop sinking. Roarke’s feet had hit the deck. He reached out a hand, and a portal glowed in front of us. We moved toward it, and a moment later, the crazy whirlwind pull of the Underpath sucked us in, and the world turned black.