Page 1 of Shadow Scorching

CHAPTER ONE

“This is never going to work,”I said, falling on my ass for the third time. “I can’t seem to find the updraft.”

I was on the floor of my gym, staring up at Devon, the trainer Seton had hooked me up with. Devon was half demon like I was, and he was training me to feather glide out of a fall. Trouble was, I couldn’t grab hold of the air to cushion myself. I could feel the current, but was having a hard time controlling it to slow my descent.

“You’ve only been practicing for two days. Don’t expect miracles. Now, get up and try again. Don’t expect miracles.”

Grumbling, I stood up and rubbed my ass. The floor was cushioned by mats, but it still hurt. But Devon wasn’t letting me out of this. I climbed back up the ladder to the platform that stood ten feet off the floor.

“This time, before you jump, before your feet even leave the platform, reach out to find the current. Then, envision yourself plugging into it. Visualize it, don’tthinkabout it.” Devon stepped out of the way.

I shook off my frustration and closed my eyes, searching for the cushion of air. There it was, like a cotton ball, hanging in front of me. Reaching out, I visualized hooks coming out of myhands. I held out my left hand, still focused on the imaginary hooks as I fed energy into manifesting them. Then, taking a deep breath, I jumped and tried to latch hold of the air current.

A second later, I was drifting to the ground as the breeze buoyed me up.

As I landed, Devon thrust his fist into the air. “Way to go!” He high-fived me. “You’re learning, Kyann.”

“Should I try again?” I was proud of myself. It was hard enough to cope with the fact that I was developing powers that I never expected to have. But learning more about my father’s demon heritage was also traumatic.

Devon had made it easier. His mother had been a succubus, though not from the same demon clan as my father, but his powers were close enough to the ones I was acquiring that we had quickly developed a rapport that was rapidly growing into a friendship.

“No. Leave it on a good note for now,” he said. “Why don’t you finish up with ten minutes of stretching to cool down. We’ll meet again at seven, on Thursday.”

“Thursday at seven,” I stopped to add it to my calendar on my phone. “Sounds good.” I began to stretch, easing into the splits, so I could stretch out either side.

Devon waved, then headed out. As he left the gym, I thought back over the past month. It had been one hell of past four weeks. Sighing, I threw my towel over my shoulder and headed for the showers.

By the timeI got home, I was starving. As I let myself into the house, the glow of the Yule tree spread an ambient shimmer through the living room. The tree was eight feet tall, and itnearly kissed the ceiling. The boughs were covered with soft white lights, red and gold ornaments, and ivory bows. The glow and glitter of decorations filled the house.

Garlands draped around the perimeter of the living room and hallway, encircling the ceiling, and soft faerie lights sparkled. Here and there, battery operated red and gold and green candles flickered. Penn had helped me. She had brought a cozy touch to the house that had been missing. To add to the mood, a glorious smell filled the air. My stomach rumbled.

“Whatare you cooking?” I asked. I dropped my purse and backpack on the sofa before entering the kitchen.

Penn stood there, dressed in a rockabilly goth swing dress, with a cherry covered apron tied around her waist. She had pulled her hair back in a pony tail, and she was holding a wooden spoon over a pot of something that smelled like the best stew in the world. She was watching a true crime show on her tablet, and when I walked in, she paused it.

“Welcome home.” She adjusted her glasses—they were constantly sliding down her nose—then stirred the pot, turned down the heat, and poured me a cup of coffee. She added cream and sugar, then carried it to the table where she sat down.

I dropped into the chair, realizing how tired I was.

“Thanks. What’s for dinner? Whatever it is, it smells fantastic.”

Penn loved to cook. She wasn’t a gourmand, but she cooked good, cozy food that satisfied both hunger and taste buds. Since she had moved in, she’d taken over most of the cooking, and had decided to start a food blog, inspired by the movieJulie & Julia. But instead of working her way through Julia Child’s cookbook, Penn decided to tackle recipes she found in various cookbooks she had bought at the used bookstore.

“Stew. I’m trying out a recipe that Curl gave me.” Penn was dating a chef. Although, Penn didn’t really date. HerFae side gave her a taste for unusual men, who could handle her independence and who weren’t looking for long-term commitment.

Curl was the sous chef for O’Brigatoni’s, a fusion Italian-Irish restaurant. He was nice enough, but I knew it wouldn’t last.

“How did training go?” she asked.

“I was able to float down to the floor, today. It took three tries and my ass hurts from falling on it, but I did it.”

“Yay! So, you finally managed it. That’s a good reason for a celebration.”

“I finally managed it,” I repeated, lowering my voice. “I never thought I would. Even now, it seems so far removed. How do you do it?”

“Do what?” she said, returning to the stove to stir the stew, after which she removed a pan of biscuits from the oven.

“Magic. How do you manage to live your life steeped in magic without losing yourself to it? When I was floating down to the floor—even from ten feet up—it felt…impossible and yet amazing, all at the same time.” I closed my eyes, reliving the experience. “It made me laugh. I felt like a little girl again, playing pretend.”

---