The Dagger and the Flame (The City of Fantome, #1)

by Catherine Doyle

It was midnight in the city of Fantome, and Ransom Hale was on the hunt.

“Get up,” he muttered. “Get up and run.” Let me chase you.

Magic was a game of restraint. To consume it at all was to place one foot in hell.

Those who got drunk on their own power risked turning on their friends or themselves just to satisfy that itch: kill, kill, kill.

Desperation makes the Dagger. Power keeps them.

sheer towering height of this stranger,

But Oriel, weaver of fate. Oriel, cruel and cunning. What a wicked little game. And yet, in that moment, he had wanted to play it.

Time slipped away, and they didn’t chase it.