Bloodmagic (Blood Destiny 2) by Helen Harper

supposed to know anything about the existence of real magic or mages though, so I tried to keep a confused expression on my face.  It wasn’t too hard.
    Maggie dug into the little brown leather handbag that she was carrying by her side and pulled out a fine silver necklace.  She placed the bag on the store counter and handed the necklace out to me.  For a heartbeat I paused without taking it.  Silver was poisonous to shifters and after half a lifetime living among them, sometimes old habits died hard.  Then I shook it off and reached out and grasped it.  The metal was cool to the touch and buzzed slightly.  I realised that it wasn’t actually silver after all, but instead some kind of odd alloy.  Interesting.  She’d clearly placed some sort of ward on the necklace so her little ‘tricks’ definitely did include some actual real magic.
    “Place the necklace around your neck,” Maggie instructed.
    Again I hesitated.  I hadn’t been around the otherworld for years to foolishly walk straight into some kind of mages’ trap.  John had used to warn all of the pack about accepting gifts from strangers and letting “meddling mages” as he sometimes called them, gain any kind of foothold of control over us.  There had been tentative peace between the mages and the shifters for decades but that didn’t mean that either side wasn’t often keen to try for a little one-upmanship just to prove who was stronger.
    Maggie smiled at me gently, eyes twinkling again.  “It won’t bite, Mackenzie.  I promise it won’t do anything that you don’t want it to do.”
    I debated internally for another half second and then looped the necklace round my neck, bringing the clasp round to my front so I could do it up.  I fumbled for a few moments and then managed to link it together.  I looked back at Maggie and raised my eyebrows slightly.  Mrs Alcoon was watching me like a hawk.
    “Now, we need to key it to you so it recognizes your blood.”
    I felt a brief surge of heat when she mentioned blood.  If she wanted me to spill some of mine to complete this ritual then she was going to be getting the little necklace right back because I’d already caused enough problems by dropping my fiery red cells all over half of Britain.  Fortunately for both of us, however, she didn’t mean blood literally.
    “Hold the front of the necklace with your left hand and take hold of my right.”  I did as Maggie bade.  “Now, repeat after me – aye lee ch boil eeth aitch.”
    I dutifully repeated her words, even getting the proper Scottish ‘ch’ sound fairly accurate.
    She continued.  “Reek ath boil eeth aitch.”
    Again I followed her sound by sound, wondering idly if a little man with a TV camera was going to suddenly pop up from behind a bookcase to tell me that I’d been fooled by some elaborate television stunt.  However, my fears in that direction started to fade as the necklace started to heat up.  I thought I was imagining it to begin with but soon it was becoming almost painful to keep hold of.
    “Ach leith fack aitch,” intoned Maggie.
    “Ach leith fack…” I began.  I didn’t manage to finish, however, as there was a sudden crack and hiss.  I yelled in pain as the heat of the silver was suddenly ratcheted it up and dropped the necklace from my hand; it bounced painfully against my neck, searing the skin there.  Instinctively, I raised my fingers to my mouth to suck away the burning pain when all of a sudden I saw little green flames sparking from my fingertips.  I gazed at them, stunned, then wiggled my fingers to see what would happen.  The flames wiggled along, shimmering in a cooking with gas haze.  I jerked my whole right hand in a sharp snapping motion to see if I could get rid of the flames and was horrified to see a sudden jet of green flame arc out, hit a pile of books that was haphazardly placed on the counter top awaiting their chance to be inventoried, and completely incinerate them.  My