Pandora’s Kiss
A Prelude Scene to Magic Brew by T. Rae Mitchell
THE BOY I LOVE could survive a hail of bullets, wield a hurricane, and grind a demon into the dirt. But if I kissed him, I’d kill him.
The thought hangs over me like a black cloud as Fletcher and I walk the Coney Island boardwalk beneath a bruised-orange sunset. Waves roll against the sandy shore with a steady rhythm. Salt hangs in the air while the neon lights of Luna Park flicker to life one by one, splashing the crowd in pink, gold, and electric blue.
For once, Fletcher and I are alone. Well, alone as we ever are.
The rest of the Forsaken are scattered somewhere behind us, probably arguing over tonight’s summit. Every supernatural gang in New York will be there, gathered beneath a so-called truce. Vampires. Fae. Warlocks. Demons. Witches. Purebloods who wrinkle their noses at our gang—as if mixed blood somehow makes us less than them.
Maybe it does. But I think it makes us dangerous.
We’re the offspring no one expected. The bloodlines no one can predict. We don’t fit into anyone’s rules, which is exactly why we’ve held Coney Island longer than gangs twice our size. Every one of us inherited something our enemies never see coming. Especially an air elemental who commands the wind with a monster sleeping beneath his skin, and a pixie and chaos demon’s daughter whose voice can end a life before the echo dies.
We pass the funhouse, where a row of carnival mirrors stretch us into giants or squash us into hobbits. One mirror catches me perfectly. Not tough, boyish Pan, but Pandora. The girl with the wind blowing her blonde hair away from vivid green eyes and a pretty face that’s softer than anyone ever gets to see. My gaze drops to my baggy jeans and oversized jacket hanging past my hips. Clothes chosen to erase every curve and ensure nobody looks twice.
Beside me, Fletcher’s reflection is all long, dark hair, broad shoulders, and quiet strength, his red leather coat catching the carnival lights. For one impossible moment, I wonder. What if I tucked my hair behind my ears instead of using my long bangs as a curtain? What if I wore clothes that fit to let Fletcher see the girl I really am?
The wish is foolish enough to make me blush. I lower my eyes and keep walking. It’ll never happen. Not while a single sound from my lips could turn the boy I love into a stain on the boardwalk.
A gull cries overhead.
Fletcher glances toward the horizon. “Ever noticed how the ocean and sky never touch?” I follow his gaze, where the line between them glows gold beneath the setting sun. He slips a hand into his pocket. “But they spend every day trying.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Typical Fletcher. I bump my shoulder against his arm. He glances down as I mime playing the violin, then I sign, That was almost poetic.
His mouth twitches. Nearly a smile. High praise.
We reach an ice cream stand. Before I can shake my head, he’s already reaching for his wallet. A minute later, he holds out a chocolate cone. I point at him.
“I’m not the chocolate fiend here. Take it.”
My heart does that stupid thing again. The thing it only does around him. My fingers graze over his as I take the cone. The warmth of his skin lingers on mine. I pretend not to notice as I swirl my tongue over the chocolate scoop.
Fletcher swallows hard, his eyes fixed on my mouth. He turns, making me hurry to catch up to his long strides.
We continue down the boardwalk beneath strings of lights. The crowd thickens around us. People are staking out their spots on the beach in anticipation of the 4th of July fireworks. Children laugh. Music drifts from the rides. For a few precious minutes, it almost feels normal.
I take another lick of ice cream. It’s starting to melt. A drop slips down the cone. Fletcher slows to a stop to slide a finger across my bottom lip. A slow, gentle touch that nearly undoes me. His gaze lifts to mine as he holds up the smear of chocolate before slipping his finger into his mouth.
Another blush creeps across my face, and I look away. Bad idea. Very bad, because now I’m imagining what it would feel like to step closer. To slide my hand beneath his coat and feel the warmth of his bronzed skin beneath my fingertips.
The fantasy lasts all of a second before terror follows close behind.
My curse. The chaos demon flowing through my blood. One accidental moan, and Fletcher will die. The thought hits me like a bucket of ice water over the head. I take a step back.
Distance means safety.
A sudden gust catches a paper napkin and sends it tumbling across the boardwalk. Fletcher lifts two fingers, changing the wind’s direction. The napkin stops mid-flight. It spins once. Twice. Then folds itself into the shape of a bird. Fletcher directs a tiny current, making the bird circle my head before landing on my hair.
I cross my eyes, trying to look at it. Pleased crinkles form at the edges of his eyes. I point at him. Show off.
He shrugs. The paper bird launches itself from my head and glides between us. A stronger breeze joins it, carrying fallen scraps of colorful carnival tickets through the air. They twist and fold themselves into tiny creatures—an eagle, a winged pig, and finally a dragon.
The winged pig circles me before settling on my shoulder. I stare at it, biting back the urge to laugh. I glance back at Fletcher, completely mystified.
This isn’t like him.
Fletcher shows affection the way mountains move. Slow as time itself, and imperceptible—nearly impossible to catch unless you’re paying attention. And there’s no way he’d do this in front of the rest of the Forsaken. I can already hear the endless ribbing he’d get from the others if they saw him now.
This is… special. But why now?
The pig lifts from my shoulder and circles us again. Fletcher watches it fly, his expression calm. Steady. The same expression he always wears before a fight. But I’ve known him long enough to recognize what hides underneath. The tension in his shoulders. The way his eyes keep drifting across the water toward Manhattan.
He’s more worried than he’s letting on. He must be thinking the same thing I am. That not everyone who goes to the summit is guaranteed to come home. Does that mean this amusing display of paper creatures and dancing wind is a parting gift in case one of us doesn’t make it through the night?
The thought hurts more than I dare let show.
The winged pig soars away toward the ocean. Fletcher watches it disappear over the waves. “The wind likes you.” His voice is low and quiet.
Hardly. The wind does what you want. I lick the drips off the edge of my cone.
His dark eyebrows furrow in thought for the briefest moment. “No, it chooses.”
For a moment, standing beside the boy I can never safely kiss, I let myself imagine a different life. One where my voice isn’t poison and the monster inside him isn’t waiting to erupt in a tangle of claws, scales, and fury. A life where distance isn’t necessary.
Fletcher’s gaze remains fixed on the darkening horizon. “The storm’s coming.” For the first time all day, uncertainty touches his expression.
I reach out before I can stop myself. Just two fingers brushing the sleeve of his coat.
The air turns hot, carrying the sharp scent of ozone and smoke. Violet embers bloom out of nowhere, whirling in a spiral next to Fletcher and me. The boardwalk crowd walks right through the spectacle without so much as a second glance. Glamours. One of the perks of living in a city where magic has learned to wear camouflage. It’s how I hide my horns.
Edge steps from a cloud of smoke and embers. The fire dies inside his eyes last. Dark hair brushes the collar of his red leather jacket, still carrying wisps of smoke that curl away into the sea breeze before disappearing. Those unmistakable violet irises of the Djinn scan the boardwalk in a single practiced sweep. Always watching and measuring. Forever a step ahead.
Which is exactly why he’s our second. The guy can smoke into wherever he damn well pleases. Even past wards. And whatever strange gift rides alongside his Djinn blood lets him feel trouble before it arrives.
I’ve learned to trust that look in his eyes. Tonight… I don’t like it.
The instant Edge appears, Fletcher takes a half step away from me. Instinct. I drop my hand from his sleeve. The fragile closeness between us disappears so fast you’d think it had never existed. Two gang members, nothing more.
Edge’s gaze flicks between us. If he notices the shift, he has the decency not to mention it. He rubs the back of his neck. “You two got anything to smooth me out?”
Edge doesn’t rattle. He’s the guy who smokes into war zones without blinking and keeps the rest of us on track.
Fletcher reaches into the inside pocket of his coat and pulls out a small leather pouch. “Sweetgrass and white sage.” Native medicine ground-fine. Good for centering.
Edge gives the pouch a look before shaking his head. “Appreciate it. But tonight, I need something stronger.”
Thinking of my sister, I sign, Tell India. She’ll brew up the perfect tonic for you.
A tired smile ghosts across his face. “Yeah. Probably my best bet.”
The violet in his eyes brightens, igniting the fire inside him into thousands of glowing sparks. In the next instant he dissolves into smoke and heat. Then he’s gone.
Silence falls between Fletcher and me. Not the comfortable kind. I look at the empty space where Edge had been standing. Then at Fletcher. His eyes meet mine. Neither of us says what we’re thinking, and together, we turn toward the city lights waiting beyond the boardwalk and the dangerous night ahead.
This concludes Pandora’s Kiss
I hope you enjoyed this little prelude of just two of the characters you’ll meet from a whole host of unforgettable characters from Magic Brew. If you’re in the mood for magical gang wars, betrayal, hard core battles, laughter, love, and death, now’s your chance to grab Magic Brew for only $0.99!
Something bad’s about to go down at a supernatural gangland summit. Being part Djinn gives Edge a razor-sharp ability for knowing what’s ahead. It’s why his gang, the Forsaken, is undefeated. But this time he’s plagued by a vague, supersized case of the dreads.
Sure enough, the brown stuff hits the spinning thing at the summit. The gang’s been double-crossed and Edge finds himself at the center of an ancient power struggle he never knew existed. Now he’s running with what’s left of his gang through enemy territory thick with bloodthirsty gangs of shifters, witches, vamps and demons hunting them for the bounty on their heads.
Good thing Edge has an angel sitting on his shoulder–albeit a depressed one–because it looks like it’s going to be a hell of a night.
If you like The Mortal Instruments and A Modern Faerie Tale, you’ll love this fast-paced urban fantasy.
