Read Kate Daniels 02 - Magic Burns for Free Online Page B

helped, and I had given Red my card and a promise of help if he should need it.
    â€œYou said you’d help. You owe me.”
    Now was not a good time, but we didn’t often get to choose the time to repay our debts. “That’s true.”
    â€œGuard Julie.” He turned to the girl. “Shadow her, sokay.” He darted to the side and out the door. I followed and saw him scrambling up the slope like a pack of wolves was snapping at his heels.

CHAPTER 4
    â€œBASTARD!” THE GIRL YELLED. “I HATE YOU!”
    â€œAny clue why he took off in a hurry?”
    â€œNo!” She sat down cross-legged on the crates, her face a picture of abject misery.
    Alrighty then. “I take it you’re Julie.”
    â€œYou’re real smart. Did you figure it out all by yourself?”
    I sighed. At least she had dropped out of street speak for my benefit.
    â€œJust because my boyfriend thinks you’re all that, doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to you. How are you going to guard me? You don’t even have a gun.”
    â€œI don’t need a gun.” A small hint of metallic sheen within the crates caught my eye. I approached the pile. “Any clue what I’m guarding you from?”
    â€œNope!”
    I peered into the space between the crates. A broken bolt, stuck tight in a board. Blood-red shaft. The fletch was missing, but I bet it had three black feathers. My bowman had been here and had left his calling card.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” she asked.
    â€œHunting.”
    â€œHunting what?”
    I wandered to the ring of stones, crouched, and reached for the nearest rock. My fingers slipped through it. Whoever set this ward really didn’t want his hiding spot disturbed. But the trouble with wards was that sometimes they didn’t just hide. They also contained. And a ward of this caliber could contain something nasty. “Where are we?”
    â€œWhat are you, retarded?”
    I looked at her for a second. “I came through a tunnel from the Warren. I don’t know what neighborhood this is.”
    â€œThis is the Honeycomb Gap. Used to be Southside Park. It pulls metal to itself now. Gathers the iron from all over—Blair Village, Gilbert Heights, Plunket Town. Pulls it all into itself, the iron from all the factories, from the Ford Motor plant, cars from Joshua Junkyards…The Honeycomb’s right above us. Can’t you smell the stink?”
    The Honeycomb. Of all the hellholes, it had to be the Honeycomb.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked.
    She stuck her nose in the air. “I don’t have to tell you.”
    â€œSuit yourself.”
    I pulled Slayer from its sheath.
    â€œWhoa.” Julie crawled forward on top of the crate tower and flopped on her stomach so she could get a better look.
    I put my hand on Slayer’s blade. Magic nipped at my skin, piercing my flesh with sharp little needles. I fed a little of my magic into the metal, aimed the tip of the saber toward the stone, and pushed. Two inches from the rock a force clutched at Slayer’s tip. Thin tendrils of pale vapor curled from the sword and the magicked steel began to perspire. I gave it a little more of my power. Slayer gained another half inch and stopped.
    â€œI’m looking for my mom,” Julie said. “She didn’t come home on Friday. She is a witch. In a coven.”
    Probably not a professional coven. The daughters of professional witches had more meat on their bones and better clothes. No, most likely it was an amateur coven. Women from the poor side deluding themselves with visions of power and a better life.
    â€œWhat’s the name of the coven?”
    â€œThe Sisters of the Crow.”
    Definitely an amateur coven. No legitimate witch would name a coven something so generic. Mythology was full of crows. With magic, you made sure to cross all your t’s and dot your i’s. The more specific, the