Magitek (The Rift Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Magitek

  BR Kingsolver

  Contents

  License Notes

  Untitled

  Books by BR Kingsolver

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Books by BR Kingsolver

  Magitek

  Book 1 of The Rift Chronicles

  By BR Kingsolver

  brkingsolver.com

  Cover art by Heather Hamilton-Senter

  www.bookcoverartistry.com

  Copyright 2020 BR Kingsolver

  Created with Vellum

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means now known or hereinafter invented, electronic or mechanical, including but not limited to photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Books by BR Kingsolver

  *Also available in audio format

  The Rift Chronicles

  Magitek

  War Song (Coming late 2020)

  Rosie O’Grady’s Paranormal Bar and Grill

  Shadow Hunter*

  Night Stalker*

  Dark Dancer*

  Well of Magic*

  Knights Magica

  The Dark Streets Series

  Gods and Demons*

  Dragon’s Egg*

  Witches’ Brew*

  The Chameleon Assassin Series

  Chameleon Assassin

  Chameleon Uncovered

  Chameleon’s Challenge

  Chameleon’s Death Dance

  Diamonds and Blood

  The Telepathic Clans Saga

  The Succubus Gift

  Succubus Unleashed

  Broken Dolls

  Succubus Rising

  Succubus Ascendant

  Other books

  I’ll Sing for my Dinner

  Trust

  Short Stories in Anthologies

  Here, Kitty Kitty

  Bellator

  Chapter 1

  I was thirteen, almost fourteen, when my world crashed. Two retainers from Findlay—my grandmother’s Family—abruptly barged into my classroom.

  “Pardon us,” the one I recognized as Osiris Dillon said to my teacher. “Mistress James must come with us. Now.”

  The teacher, fear evident on her face, turned to me.

  “It’s okay,” I said, although inwardly I was shaking. Somehow, I knew that it wasn’t okay, that it would never be okay again. I gathered my books and put them in my bag, then slowly stood, thankful that my legs held me. Conscious of everyone staring at me, I walked to the front of the room.

  Osiris and his companion dipped their heads when I reached them, then Osiris turned and walked out of the room. I followed him, and the other man fell in behind me. The headmistress stood there waiting for us, her expression very serious, but she didn’t say anything. She walked beside me down the long hall, not to the front entrance but to the back, where the service trucks delivered food to the cafeteria.

  Outside, at the loading dock, a car waited—a long black limousine—along with two armored fighting vehicles. All of the men wore the uniforms of Findlay guardians, and they were on high alert, their personal weapons at the ready. One man opened the back door of the limo when we appeared, and I was herded into the car. Osiris got in the front with the driver.

  No one said anything to me, and I was too afraid to ask any questions. But my father had trained me, and I wrapped my hand around a small box in my bag. He had created it, and with my magikal gifts being the same as his, I had the power to activate and use it.

  Our small caravan drove north from the school in Baltimore out into the country to the Findlay estate. The grand white house perched on top of a hill, surrounded by tall white walls and forest.

  When we arrived, the front gates were closed, and the guard towers on the walls were fully manned. Osiris hustled me out of the limo and through the personnel gate, leaving the car outside. I glanced back and saw the guards at the gates searching the inside and underneath our vehicle, which frightened me more than anything. We passed through scanners—both mechanical and magikal—into a room inside the wall, and then I was placed in a new vehicle and driven up to the main house.

  The butler met us at the front door, but Osiris stayed with me as we entered the house and were conducted to a room I had visited only twice before. My granduncle’s study.

  Granduncle George Findlay and Grandmother Olivia awaited me. Osiris stayed outside in the hall, pulling the door closed behind me. I stood there staring at the two oldest members of my father’s Family.

  “Come sit, child,” my grandmother said, indicating the place next to her on a loveseat. Granduncle George was in his chair behind his large desk.

  I sat down, holding my bag in my lap. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Grandmother Olivia reached over and pulled it out of my grasp, then set it on the floor beside her.

  “What is that in your hand?” Granduncle asked.

  I opened my hand and showed them the box.

  “Did your father give you that?” Grandmother asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What is it?”

  “A lightning generator.”

  “I think you can put it away for now,” Grandmother said, sticking out her hand. “You’re safe here.”

  I placed it on her palm, and she slipped it into my open bag.

  “But I’m not safe outside,” I said.

  “No, Danica, you’re not.” Her eyes filmed, and her chin quivered a little, as though she was trying not to cry. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll not try to sugarcoat it. Your father is gone. Something happened this afternoon.”

  “Mom?”

>   “Your mother is safe,” Granduncle said. “Once the situation stabilizes, we’ll bring her here, but we don’t think it’s safe for her to travel right now.”

  “How?” My father was healthy when I had seen him the day before.

  “We’re not sure,” Granduncle said. “He and Richard were attacked in the city center.” Richard Findlay was George and Olivia’s younger brother. I found out later that while Granduncle Richard’s body was found, my father’s never was.

  But that wasn’t what worried me at that moment. I had no idea where my father’s death left me and my mother. I was a bastard, something the kids at school were fond of telling me. My surname was James, granddaughter of Hunter James, the most reviled man on the planet. Were we no longer part of the Family?

  Chapter 2

  Twenty-two years later

  The man sitting in my boss’s office was a mage. Or at least, he was dressed like a mage, which was a pretty good indicator. I didn’t recognize him.

  Not that mages wore uniforms, but they all tended to flashy, expensive outfits. I didn’t know if their arrogance and flamboyance was a side effect of their magik, or if they picked it up along the way from their families and schooling, but I had never met a mage who was shy and retiring.

  Witches tended toward the hippie-earth-mama-organic-farmer look. Vampires dressed in black or silver or red gothic-disco fashions, and werewolves seemed to favor either mountain man or Native American shaman outfits. Demons wore whatever, or nothing at all. The Fae dressed like the Fae.

  The type of magik I had was fairly rare, but almost all of those I knew with it wore black leather and rode motorcycles. Except for Mary Sue. To say she was different was a world-class understatement.

  My boss, Thomas Whittaker, was a mage, and I was pretty sure that his dark tailored suit trimmed in gold piping cost more than I made in a month. But he was a hundred years older than I was, so I had time to catch up. Not that I planned to be sitting in an office when I was one hundred thirty. The fantasies I indulged in when thinking of my future trended toward white sand beaches and pina coladas, with surfer-muscled cabana boys lighting my dope pipe and giving me massages.

  “Ah, Danica,” Whittaker said, waving me into the room. “This is Mychal Novak. Mychal, this is Danica James, the magitek I was telling you about.”

  Novak gave me the up-and-down about three times, and he didn’t look happy. I probably didn’t either. The Novaks? Me being called into a meeting with a scion of one of the Ten Families didn’t bode well for me having a happy time.

  “Mychal is joining us from the drug division,” Whittaker said, drawing my attention from the pompous ass sitting in front of his desk. The way it was stated raised immediate fiery-red flags. No. No, no, no. Please no!

  “Danica is one of our finest detectives,” Whittaker said. The red flags launched fireworks. “She also came over from narcotics, so you have a common background. I’m sure the two of you will work well together.”

  My new partner. I stared at Whittaker, and he stared back.

  After my last case, he had said I would pay for breaking protocol, not to mention a few regulations and a couple of laws. But I had solved it, when half the force had been stymied. That bought me a reprieve and the lack of a reprimand in my file. It also bought me a new partner, and Whittaker’s look dared me to object.

  Considering Novak’s family connections, I assumed he must have screwed up somewhere if Whittaker was assigning him to me. If he was a wunderkind, he would have landed with another mage, one who was older and more established. One who was considered a good influence. Most cops looked at an assignment to be my partner as a form of punishment, if not a death sentence. The two deaths weren’t my fault, though. Idiots do stupid things.

  The Novak Family was one of the Ten, usually considered the richest and most powerful. I wasn’t fixated on following the antics, scandals, and maneuverings of the Families, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Whittaker was allied with Novak. I could sense the deference in Whittaker’s attitude, even though the Whittaker clan was one of the Hundred, and Thomas was Mychal’s boss. Class structures were ingrained from an early age.

  At least my new partner was easy to look at. Mychal appeared to be mid-thirties, about my height, with dark hair, perfectly symmetrical features with chiseled cheekbones, and an athletic body that promised he might be in decent physical shape. It could have been worse. Whittaker could have saddled me with an out-of-shape drunk, like the guy he assigned me to when I was new.

  “I drive,” I said to Novak.

  Before Novak had a chance to reply, Whittaker said, “A beat cop called in a homicide in downtown Baltimore. Tompkins was tagged, but he just called and asked for Arcane Division assistance. He’ll probably turn it over to you.”

  I nodded, then said to Novak, “Let’s go.”

  My new partner followed me out of Whittaker’s office and down the stairs to the parking garage. He raised an eyebrow when I led him to the sporty-looking black Toyota the department assigned me. I assumed he was probably used to top-dollar luxury land barges, but the Toy was fast, nimble, and cornered like a bat. Not as good as my cycle for chasing down vampires, but in my opinion, it was the best the Metropolitan Police Department had to offer. My modifications made it even better.

  We buckled up and blasted out onto the street. Novak stiffened, and I tried not to grin. I flipped on the lights and hit the freeway, swerving in and out of traffic and sitting on the horn. No sense breaking my partner in gently. If stuff got rough, he needed to be ready to deal with it.

  Chapter 3

  It wasn’t a bad area of the city, although it used to be better before the pandemics and subsequent wars. And it had seen an increase in drug trafficking in recent years. Probably because a lot of college students and single young professionals lived in the area. It was also fairly near the location where the Rift had opened a few years before. That always messed up a neighborhood.

  I parked and flashed my badge at a uniformed cop, hoping he would keep my car from being broken into. As soon as I walked into the alley, I knew why Tompkins asked for Arcane. Blood was splashed everywhere, and the corpse barely resembled anything human. He—I assumed it was a man due to the short hair—had been shredded.

  “It’s bad,” Tompkins said as he came to meet me. “The girl is over there, on the other side of the dumpster.” George Tompkins, with his craggy face, hair graying at the temples, and a long overcoat covering a cheap brown suit, looked like a cop, and he was a good one. He’d been working Homicide for more than ten years.

  “Well, obviously not a vampire,” I said. “George, this is Mychal Novak, my new partner.”

  Tompkins led me farther into the alley and stopped, pointing at a footprint in the blood. The print wasn’t close to human. I judged it at about size thirty-three, with six clawed toes, and it looked as though the thing that left it was hairy.

  The girl had long blonde hair, and other than having been disemboweled and having her face bitten off, she hadn’t suffered as much damage as the man.

  “Any idea why they were here in the alley?” I asked.

  With a gesture to his right, Tompkins said, “We found drug works.”

  I took a few steps in that direction and saw a syringe, a spoon, a lighter, and a small baggie with white powder lying on the ground next to the dumpster.

  “I wonder if whatever ate them got high on the dope,” I said.

  “Doesn’t look like they had a chance to shoot up,” Tompkins said. “I think whatever did this was back here waiting for them.”

  “Ever seen something like this?” I asked.

  “Dunno. Demon? Werewolf? Some kind of monster, but no, nothing quite like this. Doesn’t look like it was hungry.”

  At that point, I noticed that Novak was looking a little green.

  “Out! Go on, get out!” I pointed to the street where we’d parked and gave him a shove. “If you puke and contaminate the scene, I’ll kick your ass
!”

  He went, stumbling a little.

  “New to major crimes?” Tompkins asked.

  “Yeah. Came over from narcotics.”

  “Novak? One of the Novaks?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shook his head. “No good deed goes unpunished. You know the brass has it in for you.” Luckily, the cops on the street respected me because they knew I took care of business.

  I wandered around, checking the walls of the buildings, and especially the dead end. One way into the alley, one way out. I finally found blood stains that indicated where the killer climbed out. Holes in the brick wall that looked like claw marks and the distance between the holes weren’t encouraging. The being had to be at least six to eight feet long or tall, with claws on all four extremities. And it climbed a sheer brick wall, so not a werewolf. But demon didn’t make sense either. The damage to the victims didn’t match what I was used to seeing from the run-of-the-mill common demon. And it hadn’t fed.