Prologue - Part Two: Fire

 

It hadn’t been long after the Sunday night dinner from hell that the final straw had snapped. It hadn’t been a huge screaming and fighting match; it was the quiet horror and reality of a prescription bottle. Two weeks before I had finally decided that I had had enough, my mother cornered me in my bedroom with a bottle of heavy sedatives, wearing a pristine smile on her face as she explained to me that a doctor friend from the country club thought that these pills would help calm my “nervous twitching” and my “buzzy, erratic phases”. I tried to insist to her that it was just my magic wanting to come out, that it felt suppressed and it was only going to get worse, but she promised it could be controlled by medication. No one had to know what I really was; she’d managed to hide it for her whole life, so I could too, right?

That night, while the house slept beneath its quiet, expensive nothingness, I packed a single duffel bag with whatever cash I’d hidden under the floorboards and my grandmother’s old leather-bound journal. Walking out into the freezing Chicago midnight air felt like I was stepping onto a tightrope without a net below to catch me. But as the sub-zero wind hit my face, I knew I’d much rather starve out on the streets of Chicago than let them chemically lock me inside the cage that they had built for me. I had done my research, and I knew exactly where I wanted to go. The Obsidian wasn’t just a random club - it was a strip club; one dark enough where a girl on the run from an oppressive life could completely disappear. I rented an apartment a couple of buildings away from the club, stripped off the heavy clothing and exchanged them for short shorts and a tank top, and went to see what the other side of the street had to offer. The grass is always greener, right?

Stepping through the heavy back entrance of The Obsidian felt like plunging into a deep, warm bath after freezing to death. The outside world thought it was just a high-end strip club, but for me it was a rhythm that finally made sense. In the dark, velvet shadows of the lounge, away from my father’s strict schedules and my mother’s anxious glances, I felt like I could finally breathe for the first time in my life. And not only that, but that raw purple static humming under my skin? It no longer felt like a curse. It felt like power!

The first several weeks went easily enough. It took a bit of motivation from the club director, Victor, to loosen up and relax into my new life, but eventually I became one of the more popular pole dancers in the club. Men were paying to watch me strip my clothes off and dance for them around a long, vertical pole, and I absolutely loved it. The attention, the appreciation, and the affirmation were things I had never felt at home, and I quickly found my place among the other girls that entertained the elite guests of the Obsidian.

After about a month or two of success, the Director called me into his office once my shift was done. He stood by the window, swirling blood-red wine in a crystal tumbler. He was wearing a smart black suit, but it wasn’t anything like the ones my father had worn. The heavy door clicked open as I walked into the office, still wearing my two-piece lace lingerie with a satin robe draped over my shoulder.

Victor didn’t even turn around and said, in that sultry voice that I was finding difficult to not think about at night, “You were magnificent tonight, Tyra. The crowd couldn’t get enough. You have a rare gift for showmanship and… grace.”

“It was just a dance, Sir. I came to get my envelope. I have rent to pay,” I said easily.

“Just a dance?” Victor turned and raised an eyebrow at her. His movements were impossibly smooth, his pale face handsome, but his eyes remained extremely cold. “From up here it looked like a localized emotional glamor. The ambient energy in the room was practically bleeding into you.”

I stiffened at that, my jaw tightening, and I refused to answer.

The director stepped closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous purr. “Don’t insult my intelligence, darling. I have lived a very long time and I know exactly what a witch looks like when she is feeding her spark. You have been hiding from your family, sure, but you have also been hiding from me. And that ends now.”

I blinked at him, surprised. How had he known? How could he possibly know what I was? “I don’t owe you anything but my time on that stage, Sir. We had a deal.”

“A deal. How charmingly naive,” Victor eyed her. “You dance for them. You drink in their lust like the little firecracker that you are. And in return, I protect you from everything that wants to devour a pretty little runaway witch. Your parents, the hunters… The Conclave…”

He set his glass down deliberately and turned with smooth movements, stepping closer. “The Conclave would love to collar a wild fire like you. Bind you. Study you. Turn you into another weapon in their precious little Veil… But I’ve kept you safe from them… For now.”

“The… what?” I felt tense, and stepped back just a little bit. These were words I’d never heard of before. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not part of any of this… Whatever it is.”

“Of course you don’t.” Victor gave a cold, predatory smile. Clearly he enjoyed the fact that I was completely ignorant to what he was saying. “That’s what makes you so deliciously dangerous, sweetheart. A witch who doesn’t even know how to play by the rules yet…”

I tried to pull back as he came closer. “This was a mistake. I… You’re just another cage. I should go…”

“No, darling,” Victor whispered, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. “I am the key.”

He moved faster than I could even track him. Suddenly he was behind me, his chest pressed to my back; one arm loosely around my waist. His breath was cool against my ear. “Look at me,” he said softly, in a commanding tone that was more than I could even understand yet.

I tried to resist him, but there was no point. I felt my whole body still, and the purple static at my fingertips dimmed as he continued to speak to me, holding my gaze.

“You want this. You’ve always wanted this. Feel it flooding back… That heat. That ache. Your body knows that I make you burn every time I touch you. Forget the Conclave. Forget your fear. Forget everything except how much you need me.”

My breath quickened and my cheeks flushed. I shifted, struggling against the rising wave of desire, but as much as I tried to fight it, there really wasn’t much point. “Victor… please…” I whispered reluctantly.

He leaned in, and his lips brushed my ear, deepening the hold he had on me. “You crave me. You need to be close to me.”

I whimpered softly, against every internal instinct in my body, but there was nothing I could do to stop the need growing in me. My hands betrayed me, and slipped up to grip his suit jacket. The satin robe slipped off one of my shoulders. “I… I want you… I need you…”

Victor walked me backward until my thighs hit the edge of his large mahogany desk. He lifted me effortlessly onto, pressing close. “Good girl… This is where you belong, Tyra,” he said softly, giving a low growl.

My fingers tightened on his jacket as I pulled him into a heated kiss. My body responded fully to the compulsion, and my purple magic faintly surrounding the air around us. The desk lamp flickered violently as Victor broke the kiss, smirking at me triumphantly.

“You are mine, Tyra Pierce. The Conclave will never have you. No one will.”

There was nothing I could say to attempt to fight him.