Fire and Ash (Rise of the Dragons Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  Fire and Ash

  Rise of the Dragons Trilogy Book One

  N. R. Hairston

  Copyright © 2017 by N.R. Hairston All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  OTHER TITLES BY N. R. Hairston

  Magic and Mischief Series

  A Magical Reckoning, Book One

  A Symptom of Magic, Book Two

  Chronicles of Magic and Mischief (Novellas set in the Magic and Mischief world):

  Cursed Magic, Book One

  World Breaker

  Rogue Magic, Book One

  World Breaker Beginnings (Novellas set before events in World Breaker, though you don’t have to read one to read the other.) Read this series for free when you join my mailing list, here.

  Rebel Magic

  Stolen Magic

  Crooked Magic

  Rise of the Dragons

  Fire and Ash, Book one

  Smoke and Flame, Book Two

  Dust and Cinder, Book Three

  Contents

  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

  Other Titles by N. R. Hairston

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Fire and Ash

  A chance encounter with a group of powerful beings leaves private investigator Alisa reeling from the knowledge that she is something...other. Can she use her newly discovered abilities to fight an ancient enemy bent on destroying the world as she knows it? Or will she succumb to the fire before she learns to control her “other” nature?

  Chapter 1

  “Depending on what you tell me I’ll probably kill him. That’s a joke, don’t go running to the cops, Alisa. May I call you Alisa? I need your help on this.”

  I looked up from my notes to the tall redheaded woman before me and nodded, letting her know I didn’t mind her using my first name. She was slim, had a cigarette in her hand, and a permanent scowl on her face.

  I tried for my best neutral look as I readied myself to hear this woman’s tale of woe.

  A small pain in my fingers alerted me to the fact that I was gripping the ballpoint too tight and I let it go, flexing my hand in the process, and putting my other work aside for later.

  Like all the rest, I already knew what she wanted, could probably speak her next words verbatim if she let me. I cued up my laptop and spread some papers around on my desk, trying to appear professional even though I was feeling anything but.

  It was always the same. Over the last couple of years, the script hadn’t changed much, only the players. Cheating spouses, dishonest business partners, false insurance claims... I’d seen it all and to be honest, I was tired. When I’d first gotten into this business eight years ago, I’d been an excited newbie, eager to excel in a new field. Now? Now I was just done.

  My bank account was also done, and didn’t that beat all? I was down to my last dollar and with an empty fridge and rent due in three days, I couldn’t afford not to take this case.

  There were other options, but I’d rather eat hot coals than go to my father, tail between my legs, and ask for his help. I was twenty-seven years old and he still thought he could make all my decisions for me.

  He’d never approved of me becoming a private detective, thought I’d be better suited as a teacher or nurse. He was a stern man, a big name in this city, so much so that when I’d decided to get my PI license only one person was brave enough to let me train under them. I smiled when I thought about Reid. He’d taken a chance on me, and for that, I’d always be grateful.

  Still, that didn’t help me now. I loved the PI business, but for the moment, I was just done. Hot leads and anonymous tips no longer made my adrenaline rush and heart pound. If anything, they now made me groan and wish I’d just passed on the case in the first place.

  Reid called it burnout. He’d often lectured on the importance of being able to distance oneself from the case. I guessed I’d never really learned that lesson and somewhere along the path, I’d lost my way.

  In the end, it didn’t matter, though. Whether it was burnout or a simple weariness with the business, I knew without doubt that this would be the last case I’d be taking for a while.

  Now I just had to figure out what to do for money in the meantime.

  Trying hard not to let my indecisiveness show, I smiled and encouraged her to continue. “Tell me the facts.” It was an effort to keep the fatigue out of my voice, but this lady had come to me for help, and she deserved my best. So, I pushed my misgivings aside and made a promise to give this case my all.

  My client, a Mrs. Melinda Handler, didn’t miss a beat. She straightened just a little and began to tick off the list of things that had caused her suspicion. “Overtime at work that’s not really overtime. I call his cell phone, no answer. Then I call the office. Still no answer.”

  She put fire to the cigarette in her hand. This was a smoke-free office, but because of the rattled look on her face, I decided to let it go. She blew a long line of smoke out of her mouth, then continued with her story. A strain of annoyance crept into her voice as she told more about what had brought her here today. “If everyone has to work overtime, wouldn’t someone be there to answer the damn phones?”

  I nodded as I typed, but made no move to interrupt, as I knew she probably still had a lot to say.

  She blew out more smoke and finally took a seat in one of the brown office chairs in front of my desk. “Strange phone calls in the middle of the night. When I answer, they hang up. When he answers, it’s whispers in the bathroom, or backyard.” She shook her head as if she could hardly believe what she was saying. “Leave it to a man to think you’re too stupid to see what’s right in front of you, huh?”

  I ignored that, and read over the information she’d given me so far. The smoke from her cigarette drifted my way, and I stifled a cough, hating the way the thing smelled and hoping she’d hurry and put it out.

  To do something with my hands, I began typing her information into a spreadsheet on my laptop. The late-night phone calls and unaccounted-for overtime did seem suspicious. Still, if there was one thing I’d learned in my eight years as a PI, it was not to jump to conclusions.

  Things were rarely as they appeared, and I didn’t see any reason why this would be any different. Her husband did seem to have a secret, but that could be anything from him arranging a surprise birthday party for her, to planning a secret vacation for their anniversary. Innocent until proven guilty, right?

  I shrugged. There was no need to speculate. I’d find out what I needed once I got started on the case. “I require a five-hundred-dollar retainer. My fee is fifty dollars an hour plus expenses.”

  I hoped she had it. If she did, then I could eat something besides a peanut butter and jelly sandwich tonight, and I’d be able to put a dent in my rent.

  It wouldn’t pay the whol
e thing, I owed fifteen hundred, but maybe my landlord would work with me if I gave him some money.

  He’d said he wouldn’t, but I was betting on him not being able to pass up on the four hundred I aimed to give him. The other hundred, well a girl had to eat.

  Melinda reached into her purse and pulled out a thick white envelope. She smiled as if she’d done something great, then put the cigarette out on the corner of my desk.

  I gritted my teeth as the smoke and ashes made a distinctive mark on my mahogany, and it took everything in me to keep from reprimanding the other lady. My office was a source of pride for me.

  I’d fixed it up just the way I’d wanted when I’d first started out and had the money to do so. The walls were a warm burgundy and the carpet a plush maroon, which I thought offered a nice contrast.

  My desk was set against the back wall, with the front door to the right and a standard size office window to my left.

  No pictures hung on my walls, only my state license. It was a comfortable space. At one hundred seventy square feet, my office was just the size I needed it to be and not a bit more.

  I’d never been the best in the housekeeping department, but I made an effort here, and it showed. No dust covered my desk, and I emptied the trash and ran the vacuum every night before I left.

  I didn’t really do that at home, as my house looked like a hurricane had run through it, and that’s why her putting her cigarette out on my desk bothered me so much. That, and the fact that the smell always seemed to linger long after the smoke was gone. It was not a pleasant scent, not to me anyway.

  Melinda, for her part, seemed oblivious to the slight frown on my face. She pointed to the envelope. “Here’s five thousand to start. Sufficient enough for you?”

  I swallowed hard and tried not to blink, a feeling of queasiness in my stomach. That was a lot of money. It would pay my rent up, allow me to get some groceries, and I’d still have cash left over to survive into the next month.

  That was all good, but because of how disconnected I’d been feeling from the job lately, I wasn’t sure I was up to earning it. If not, I’d give it back, no other way around it.

  Melinda pulled out a much larger manila envelope and plopped it down in front of me. I’d asked her to bring as much information as she could gather, and I assumed this was it. I lay it beside the envelope with the money and listened to what she had to say.

  She ticked off a list with her fingers, her cherry nails looking elegant and freshly done. “In there you have a couple of photos, work information, and schedule, places he likes to hang out, list of friends, you know, all types of stuff you said you needed.”

  I opened the envelope and picked up one of the pictures of Brad Handler. He was a handsome man. He had a strong chin, deep-set brown eyes, and brown hair with hints of gray around his temple which gave him a distinguished gentleman kind of look.

  I put the photo down and turned back to my client. “How long have you two been married?” While I waited for an answer, I typed his name into the spreadsheet, then pulled out a folder and wrote it on the tab.

  Melinda’s eyes took on a wounded look for just a second, then she cleared her throat, her eyes turning to steel. “Five years. Can you believe the nerve? We were together three before that.” She lit up another cigarette, and I sighed as that dreadful smoke once again filled the air.

  I coughed surreptitiously as my eyes filled with tears. There wasn’t much I hated more than cigarette smoke, and I knew I needed to get her out of here before my lungs exploded completely.

  Walking to the door, I opened it and made a waving motion with my hand. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Handler. I’ll call if I have any questions.” It was a quick, non-rude, way to end the interaction and I was glad for the breath of clean air once the door opened.

  Melinda took a deep breath and stood, bringing her coat tightly around herself. Her fingers shook as she tried to button it, and for a moment I saw the scared, vulnerable woman underneath.

  I lowered my eyes. I couldn’t stand that look of heartbreak I’d seen on so many of my client's faces over the years. I wanted to help her, to help them all, and that was probably one of the reasons for my burnout. I felt their pain on a personal level. How could I not?

  I often held that look with me while I worked, doing everything I could to bring my clients back the answers they sought. Sometimes the news was good, others not so much, but I always gave one hundred percent and knew despite my personal feelings, I’d go the extra mile for this lady as well.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said, my voice strained from just thinking about it.

  She swallowed hard, cigarette dangling from her lips and eyes shining. Not uttering another word, she walked out of my office.

  I watched her until she disappeared, then closed the door, taking a second to catch my breath. The emotion it took to deal with this on a daily basis just got to be too much sometimes, and I was more than thankful that this would be my last case for a while.

  I walked back into my office to see the first cigarette still laying crushed on the side of my desk. Wanting to get rid of the offending thing as quickly as I could, I used a napkin to plop it into the trashcan.

  That done, and feeling a little better now that my office was smoke-free again, though the smell did still linger a bit, I sat back down and looked over the things Melinda had given me.

  Five p. m. was when Mr. Handler usually left the office. It was four forty-five now. I printed out the spreadsheet and snatched the folder up. If I hurried, I’d have just enough time to get there before he left for the day. I threw the information back into the manila envelope, grabbed my purse, and headed for the door.

  I usually did more planning than this but had decided a simple tail would be okay until I could set up the real surveillance. Normally a good tail required at least three cars, but I just wanted a quick look at his after-work routine, and I figured this was the best time to get it.

  I’d planned on having drinks with my sister later, but depending on Mr. Handler, I might have to cancel. My sister Vonda was a bank teller at First National downtown. She’d wanted to study marketing and go into advertising, but my father had squashed that by refusing to pay for her college courses. He’d made too much for her to receive financial aid and though she’d had a few scholarships, she’d left them floating in the wind, in the face of his disapproval.

  My hands gripped the steering wheel tight as I thought of the trapped look I sometimes caught in my sister’s eyes. Her dreams were gone, yet my parents couldn’t be prouder of her.

  Me? Well, I was the rebel child. The black sheep, who dared go into the career I wanted instead of the one my father had chosen for me. My brother was not exempt from this either.

  The only reason he’d opened a restaurant in midtown, instead of the nightclub he’d wanted, was because, from the time my father had discovered his aptitude for cooking, he’d hammered home the benefits that feeding some of the city’s top officials could bring him.

  The stoplight changed to green, and I turned into Brad Handler’s office parking lot, vowing to leave my family drama for another time. From here on out I needed to focus on the case.

  Brad’s office was just around the corner from my own, and when I looked at the clock on my dash, it read four fifty-five.

  I parked toward the back, and picked up his picture and gave it another look. His features were strong and bold. Looking at the photograph now, I got the impression that he was a man used to giving orders, and having them obeyed with little to no resistance. I wondered if that extended to his wife.

  At five fifteen I saw his tall figure making its way confidently across the parking lot. He wore khaki pants and a brown sweater, briefcase gripped tightly in his hand.

  He moved with distinct purpose as he opened the door to his white Volvo and got inside. He headed down Main Street, and I hurriedly turned my engine, following a couple of cars behind.

  I’d expected him to go left, whi
ch would have taken him toward home, but instead, he went right, toward the bridge. I followed, only two cars between us now, thinking I’d probably miss dinner with my sister after all.

  Since it was winter, the day had already turned to dusk. This was both a plus and a minus for me. On the one hand, it would make it harder for him to spot me, on the other, it would make it more difficult for me to see.

  I followed him for about fifteen minutes, out of the city and into the country. I watched as large buildings and houses turned into trees and wilderness. I bit my lip, telling myself to focus. I hated this. It was dark, with nothing but forest and an empty road for miles. It was also isolated, highlighted by the fact that only one car had driven past in the last couple of minutes.

  Brad turned down a small dirt road, causing my brows to furrow. I’d taken this route many times, and I’d never noticed there was a street here.

  I waited until he was a good way down, then started a slow drift in that direction. After about ten minutes a clearing came into view, and I eased the car over to the right, in between two sets of trees. I figured I’d hang back, and soak up as much information as I could.

  I got out, knowing I’d have to hoof it from this point forward. It was colder here, and I buttoned my coat to the top, reaching inside to pull out my gloves. The dark was stifling, and I tried to tell myself not to panic. Off in the distance, an owl hooted, a dog growled, a frog croaked, and something fast and furry ran past my feet.

  Not wanting to make any sudden moves, I froze for about three seconds trying to center myself and get my mind back in the game. My heart sounded like a thundercloud in my ears, and my pulse raced about a million miles a minute. It was spooky here, and the quicker I got done with this whole matter, the better.

  I opened the trunk and took out the small backpack I kept for just such occasions. I rambled through it a bit, sticking a few items in my pocket. A noise sounded in the bushes in front of the car, and I made sure to lock my doors before heading down the path Brad had taken.