Magic Awakened, Tome 1: Bound by Magic

CHAPTER 1

The man in the blue tunic opened his mouth and let out a high-pitched scream.

Or at least, that’s what it sounded like to me. I’d been told that, among the more refined classes, what he was doing was considered singing, but my eardrums begged to differ—thank you very much. It didn’t help that I couldn’t understand a word he was saying, though I was pretty sure he was technically speaking English.

I surveyed the audience from the shadows, wondering if any of them actually enjoyed opera, or if they just didn’t want to be the first in their social circle to admit they hated it.

Who would actually pay good money to subject themselves to this?

Apparently, over a thousand members of the magical elite of Denver, that’s who.

The theatre was enormous, with a large ground-level seating area and three balcony levels rising above it. I lingered in the shadows at the back of the third balcony. The season ticket holders in this section must have decided they wanted to preserve their hearing a little longer, because this area was much more sparsely filled than the main floor. Perfect.

The man onstage opened his mouth again, nearly unhinging his jaw to release a single sustained note. I grimaced, resisting the urge to stick my fingers in my ears.

Badass mercenary Lana Crow will not be brought down by an opera singer, damn it.

Still, I pulled my dark wool cap lower on my head, covering my ears a bit more. I told myself I wasn’t doing it to block out the sound, but simply to make sure none of my flame-red hair peeked out and drew unwanted attention to me.

After glowering at the man in the blue tunic for a moment longer, I shifted my focus away.

I wasn’t here for him, after all.

Nope, that dubious honor belonged to the man sitting in the seat four rows ahead of me.

Gerald Marceau.

He was the reason I was pressed against the wall at the back of the balcony, dressed head-to-toe in black like a rogue stagehand. I didn’t know much about Gerald aside from his name and the fact that I was supposed to deliver him alive to collect my bounty. Oh, and he was Gifted, which meant he had some sort of magical ability. I could feel the power coming off him from where I stood, but unfortunately it didn’t give me any clue as to what he could actually do.

Some Gifted felt incredibly powerful—until you realized their only power was creating potions that turned into five course meals or something. A kitchen witch might become the world’s best magical “chef,” but that hardly made her a threat. However, other Gifted people held massive amounts of magic at their fingertips and weren’t limited to one kind of spell casting. Powerful mages could learn new kinds of magic with intense study and dedication, and most of it would do a lot worse than give you a stomachache.

Sadly, in the social strata, I ranked far below both the kitchen witch and the mage. I was one of the Blighted, with no magic at my command. That lack of magic didn’t leave me completely powerless though, something the Gifted seemed to forget all too often.

Oh well. Made my job easier, really. They never saw the threat coming. Not from little ol’ Blighted me.

Speaking of which….