Burned by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #1)

I glanced up at Noria, who’d spoken. “You think the Mage’s Guild is responsible for the murders?”


Noria shrugged, lines bracketing her mouth as she scanned another one of the articles. “I can’t say for sure, but it seems like someone’s definitely trying to keep all of these hush-hush. I mean, usually the papers are quick to connect cases like this, and yet we have six issues here, spread across three months, and not a single peep from the media. What gives?”

“But this is the Shifter Courier,” I argued. “These stories aren’t published by the Mage’s Guild.”

Noria shrugged. “Race doesn’t seem to matter when someone shoves a pouch full of gold in your face. They probably bribed the editor or something.”

Even though as a hybrid I wasn’t fully part of the shifter community, my gut still twisted at the idea one of us was a sell-out. Sure, I’d had to take down my fair share of shifter bounties, but it was still tough to admit we were just as susceptible to the same weaknesses as any other race.

A gloomy silence descended as we all pondered the possibilities. So far, the beginnings of our theory suggested human involvement with mage cover-up, which didn’t make a whole lot of sense because there was no reason I could think of that the mages would want to cover up for humans. I’d searched Roanas’s house for clues while I’d been waiting for the Enforcers to show up and hadn’t found anything helpful, but that didn’t mean nothing was going on. I had a feeling that even if we were on the right trail, we were only scratching the surface, and things were going to get a whole lot messier the deeper we went.

“What about your cousin Rylan?” Comenius asked. “He might have heard some rumors about this underground.”

“Huh.” I hadn’t thought of that. “I haven’t heard from him in a long while, but I should ask.” Rylan was a member of the Resistance, a ragtag band of humans and shifters who lived on the outskirts of civilization and worked tirelessly to overthrow the mages. He was the only one of my cousins I was close to, which was ironic considering that I worked for law enforcement. Unfortunately, his way of life meant I didn’t get to see him much.

“I think that’s a good idea.” Comenius paused. “Are you going to be alright?” he asked, his voice gentling. “I mean, if you lose your job at The Twilight –”

“I’ll be fine,” I cut him off, not wanting him to worry. For all of his self-preservation instincts and tendencies towards conservatism, Comenius could become a freaking mother hen when it came to keeping his friends safe. “I’ll figure out a way to make ends meet.”

“You haven’t come to me for amulets in a long time,” he said quietly. “Which means that you haven’t been going after any new bounties. That Talcon fellow has been giving most of them to the Main Crew, hasn’t he?” His brow darkened.

“Com, stop.” I rose to my feet, agitated now. Most of the Enforcers Guild was made up of small crews – eight to ten people, usually – but there was always a Main Crew of at least forty people who got the best bounties. Unfortunately, since the Main Crew didn’t have to work so hard to get their bounties, they were also pretty half-assed when it came to their job – and Brin and Nila were part of them. “There’s no need to worry about this, because I’m going to change it.”

Comenius sat back, skepticism written all over his face as he crossed his arms and looked up at me. “And just how are you going to do that?”

“By solving these poison murders,” I declared, jabbing my fist in the air like a torch. “If I can show up the current Main Crew by catching this murderer, Galling will add me to the Main Crew roster and I’ll get access to better bounties. Then Talcon will have to show me some respect.” The thought of pressing a proverbial boot to Talcon’s neck brought a fierce grin to my face. He wouldn’t dare mess with me if I was on the Main Crew.

“Hmm.” Comenius appeared to give the matter serious thought. “The idea definitely has merit.”

I was about to roll my eyes when a loud buzzing sound filled the room as my Enforcer bracelet, a tiny bronze shield charm threaded through a brown cord, vibrated against my wrist. “All nearby Enforcers to 228 Garden Street,” a tinny voice blared, projected by the bracelet. “Rogue shifter out of control.”

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