Cold Burn of Magic Read Free Page A

my sword and resisted the urge to look over my shoulder for a glimpse of whatever had snatched my coins off the center stone.
    Sometimes, Talent or not, it was better not to see things.

CHAPTER TWO
    T en minutes later, I turned off the street and sidled up to a brick building that took up an entire block. A faded sign planted in the lawn read CLOUDBURST FALLS LIBRARY—WESTERN BRANCH. No fancy castle adorned this sign, just a simple stack of splintered books. Like everything else in the neighborhood, the sign and the library were both a little worse for wear.
    I slid my sword back into its scabbard, then reached up and pulled a pair of chopsticks out of my former ponytail. They looked like two thin, black-lacquered sticks, the sort women wear in their hair; however, a quick twist of the wood revealed the lock picks hidden inside.
    I used the picks to open one of the side doors and slipped into the building. The interior was dark, but that didn’t bother me. Even if I hadn’t had my sight, I still would have been able to navigate through the stacks. My mom used to bring me here every Saturday in the summer when I was a kid, and I’d long ago memorized every inch of the library, from the miniature chairs and tables in the children’s section to the graffiti carved into the wooden shelves that housed the young adult books to the checkout counter with its out-of-date computers.
    I walked through the aisles until I came to a door that opened onto a storage room. It featured a shelf full of paper towels and cleaning supplies, along with boxes of old discarded books no longer in library circulation. I moved past the boxes to the back of the room, where another door was set into the wall.
    I picked that one open as well, then shut and locked it behind me. By this point, I was so deep into the library that no light penetrated the interior, but there was nothing down here that could hurt me. So I walked through a short hallway filled with more boxes of unwanted books, down a set of stairs, and into the basement.
    I pulled off my gloves, went to a table in the corner, and ran my fingers over the touch lamp Mo had given me when I’d first moved in here about four years ago. Soft white light filled the basement, revealing a mini-fridge, a couple of battered suitcases filled with clothes, another suitcase bristling with weapons, and a metal rack full of books, photos, and other mementos. A cot was also shoved into the corner, the blue flannel sheets hanging off the edge where I hadn’t bothered to make up the bed before I left this morning.
    Home, sweet home.
    I unbuckled the black leather belt and scabbard from around my waist and propped them and my sword next to the cot, then shrugged out of my coat and tossed it on top of the sheets. I pulled out my phone and texted Mo.
    Â 
    Got it. Home now.
    Â 
    The phone beeped less than a minute later, as if he’d been waiting up for me. I snorted. Waiting up to make sure I got what he wanted was more like it. He’d probably been using that stupid app of his to track my phone, making sure I was back at the library.
    Â 
    Good. See you tomorrow. *After* school!
    Â 
    I rolled my eyes. For some reason, Mo thought that the simple act of my going to school would somehow counteract my nightly life of looting and larceny. As if.
    I plugged in my phone to let it charge. Then I plucked the black velvet box out of my coat pocket, cracked open the top, and fished out the necklace.
    â€œEat your heart out, Robin Hood,” I murmured. “Lila Merriweather strikes again.”
    I admired the fiery flash of the rubies before holding the necklace up to a framed photo sitting on a table next to my cot. A woman with my same black hair and dark blue eyes stared back at me. My mom, Serena.
    â€œIt went just like I planned. You should have seen the looks on their faces. Those guards couldn’t believe that I got away from them.”
    I paused, as if I were waiting