Victoria DeLuis's Blog, page 3

The Fire Within

 

 

The Fire Within is a newsletter serial.

I will post chapters as I write them and let you know when they are here in my monthly newsletters (although feel free to check back at any time as I may write more than one a month).

You will be reading a pre-edited version of the story, so there may several mistake and the events might change.

 

 

~

Six Chosen. One Dragon. No Choice.

Taken as a child and raised to be a fierce warrior with no connection to her past, Seren is first among the five Chosen sworn to protect humans from the dangerous creatures who invade her world.

Living with the knowledge that one day she must make the ultimate sacrifice and give her life to seal the rift between worlds and grant her people a two-hundred-year reprieve from vicious attacks. Seren never doubted her path, never questioned her destiny, until now…

Can Seren overcome the creatures of the void and save her people?

Will she meet her fate?

Will her world or that of the dragons survive if she doesn’t?

~

Chapter 1

Light burst from the drac-stone in the centre of the domed chamber. Though dozens of torches lined the walls, Seren had never needed their light to brighten the space. Even when she was a young child and her powers were yet to develop, the stone responded to her presence and flared like the setting sun, enveloping the room in a brilliant sheen of orange and red. It sensed the potential in all the Chosen, but it never shone as brightly for anyone else as it did for Seren, and today it flared brighter still.

She huffed out a breath and moved around the chamber studying the etchings on the surrounding walls as she had countless times before. Monumental dragons sat on powerful haunches, poised with wings spread, ready to take flight. Their horned heads loomed, menacing and repressive, a constant reminder of the magic needed to seal the rift between Seren’s realm and that of the Dreigiau.

Seren shuddered, wondering how she had ever found comfort in them, how she ever imagined them as watchful guardians. As she turned away from the walls, she adjusted the green shawl draped over her shoulders and reached towards the drac-stone. Rays of light danced between her splayed fingers, and a tingling sensation filled her chest with a mixture of dread and awe.

“You, I’ll miss,” she said to the stone. “Even with the beasts circling, ready to pounce, you’ve always made me feel safe.” She gave a wry laugh and pulled her hand away. “Though, just once, I wish you’d allow me to see you the way those not of the Chosen do. I haven’t the faintest idea what you truly look like. Are you grey, like flint, or do you glisten like crystal?”

The shadows shifted and drew her gaze to movement from the left. A figure stood hidden in an alcove, shielded from view by one of the four pillars supporting the vaulted ceiling.

Seren’s heart raced in alarm, quickening her breath, but she stood ready to fight should the need arise.

“It looks like a white opal,” a masculine voice said as the figure stepped forward.

“Who are you?” Seren had lived in the temple for as long as she could remember. She knew every soul that walked its halls, The man before her was a stranger. “By what right are you here?”

“I’m sorry.” His deep voice echoed around the otherwise silent chamber. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Dark hair flopped over eyes that reflected the crimson light as he edged closer. He was young, not much older than Seren, but a strength radiated from his being, and he stood with the confident ease of one born to command.

Adrenaline coursed through Seren as she gathered her power and readied to release a sphere of pressure to push him away. The drac-stone reached out to her, flooding her with more energy should she need it.

“No, wait,” the man said, as though sensing the ripples of magic in the air. A twinkle shone in his gaze as it moved down her body and took in her readied stance. “I’m Trilian. I mean you no harm.” He bowed and stretched his arm out in greeting. “Seren, I presume.”

“That’s the first of my questions answered,” Seren said. Keeping her magic close, Seren eyed him with suspicion. “But you have yet to explain your presence in this chamber, and how it is you know my name.”

“Lady Branon directed me here to await your arrival.”

“A likely story, considering she had no knowledge that I would come.”

“Indeed, I had expected her to arrive with you.”

Seren raised an eyebrow. “Then how is it you know who I am? I’d remember if we’d met.”

Trlian smiled and nodded towards the drac-stone. “It radiates for you. From what I understand, no other elicits quite the same response.”

He reached his hand forwards again, urging her to shake it. With the comfort of the stone providing reinforcement to her magic, and the knowledge even one born to command was no match for her power and training, she accepted.

Sparks tingled along her fingers and up her arm at the touch, and she almost pulled away. Instead, she held firm and looked him in the eye, secure in the knowledge that the light from the stone masked the flush that crept across her cheeks as warmth flooded her body.

“The drac-stone looks like an opal,” Trilian said again. “Even to those without power, such as your own, it is beheld as a thing of magic. Every and any colour ripples beneath its surface.” With Seren’s hand still in his own, he took them a step closer to the stone. “Do you know what it’s made of?”

“It was a gift from the Dreigiau. It stores their magic and helps us develop our own.” Trilian looked at her as though she was a simple child. She bristled and pulled her hand away, debating whether to blast him with a ball of energy to put him in his place, even if Lady Branon had allowed him to be here. “Do you know what it’s made of?” she asked instead, unable to keep the scorn from her voice.

“Of course. It’s made of the tears of a thousand dragons. Each of the Dreigiau sacrificed a drop of their magic to create the stone and guide the children it finds on their path.”

Seren scoffed and shook her head. “The beasts do not cry.”

“Are they not the friends of humanity? Did they not work to save this world from the creatures of the void?”

“They worked with us to save both our worlds. A mutually beneficial arrangement. But they demand a high price in return. What price do they pay?”

Trilian reached out and placed his hand on the drac-stone. Seren’s breath hitched at his audacity, but her eyes fixed on the stone as its blinding light faded. Darkness flooded the chamber, but a play-of-colour danced beneath the surface of the stone, shifting in intensity from bright fiery red to an incandescent white.

“This is the price they paid,” Trilian said, “and it cost them more than you can ever understand.”

He pulled his hand from the stone, which returned to its previous state and filled the chamber with all the light and warmth of the sun. Seren turned to Trilian, ready to ask him a million questions, but paused when a wave of sadness washed over his face.

“Who are you?” she asked again.

“There you are,” Lady Branon called from the doorway, cutting off his chance to answer. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Her breath came in exhausted gasps. “I see you’ve met Master Trilian.”

After a final glance at the strange man, Seren moved to help the old High Priestess find a seat. “You should have sent another instead of climbing those stairs.” She reached out and grasped Lady Branon’s arm to steady her, then looked up as Master Trilian took the other. His intense eyes made her stomach flutter, as together they guided Lady Branon towards a bench in one of the alcoves.

A sigh escaped the old woman as she sat with Seren on one side and Trilian on the other. “I can make the stairs for a while longer yet.” She reached out and took Seren’s hand. “Though when you leave, I’ll have little reason to.”

Sadness welled inside Seren, and she turned her head to hide the tears forming in her eyes. Though, she suspected, they mirrored those of the old lady.

Lady Branon squeezed her hand, a comforting gesture from the only mother she’d ever known. 

A moment passed in silence until Seren cleared her throat and composed herself. “Now,” she said. “I assume the arrival of Master Trilian is why you’ve ventured up five flights of stairs when you know one makes you tired.” She gave Trilian a denouncing glare. “Though I can’t imagine why he’d be worth the effort.”

Lady Branon looked from Seren to Trilian and back again. “Forgive me, Seren,” she said. “I thought you knew. Master Trilian is the Emissary from Pinacia.”

Seren blinked hard. She felt as though she was tumbling head first from the tallest tower. The Emissary from the capital, from Pinacia. The man who in all likelihood would exile her, send her to her death. How could one so young be the Emissary and have the final say in which of the Chosen was sacrificed? 

She studied him for a moment: the wide smile, broad shoulders and muscled chest that made her body melt and brought visions of her enfolded in his strong arms, wrapped away from danger. She shook her head. Such thoughts only came with the knowledge that he could spare her life. Even if something in his eyes made her believe he would if she asked. But she could never ask. She could never live with one of her sisters going in her stead.

“You’re early,” was all she could think to say.

“The way was clear, and the journey easy. I saw no reason to delay.” Trilian smiled at her with that look that made her feel no more than a child of ten.

She held tighter onto Lady Branon’s hand and stared at the drac-stone, unwilling to hold his gaze longer than necessary for fear of antagonising him. But the whole idea suddenly seemed ridiculous, after all, what was the worst he could do? She stood ready to give him a piece of her mind. His time might not be precious, but her’s was.

Before she could say anything, Lady Branon stood between them with her back facing Seren. “We welcome your presence,” she said. “Now you will have plenty of time over the coming weeks to talk and get to know each of the Chosen before making your final decision.”

His eyes flickered from Lady Branon to Seren. “The decision is not mine alone to make,” he said, causing the High Priestess to bristle.

“All of the Chosen are ready to follow the decision you make.”

Trailian bowed his head. “Forgive me. I only meant that I would not choose anyone who did not wish to be Chosen.”

“I know what you meant.”

Seren glanced at Trilian, her brows furrowed. She would need to speak with Ania about the Emissary. He was not what they expected.

~

Copyright Victoria Deluis / Deryn Publishing 

Eira Snow Cozy Mysteries

 

As many of you know, amongst other projects, I have been working on a new paranormal cozy mystery series, following witch, Eira Snow, as she starts a new life in Caerleon following her divorce.

Of course, things never run smoothly, and Eira soon stumbles onto a murder.

Check out the (unedited) first chapter of  Where There’s A Witch, There’s A Way  below:

~

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

“Mrs Jenkins, I hope the ointment I gave you worked.” I looked expectantly at my one and only customer to date as she entered through the door of my new store, anxious to hear how the remedy had fared on her back. From the way she walked, with a newfound spring in her step, I was hopeful, but a tinge of butterflies rose in my stomach while I awaited her reply. To Mrs Jenkins, the remedy I supplied may have seemed a simple oil to soothe her pain, but to me, it was a new magical recipe and I was desperate to know it performed as intended.

I’d only recently moved to the quaint village of Caerleon in South Wales and opened Crystal Magic, a little spiritual shop located just down the road from the Roman Fortress and Baths, and I was keen for the locals to sample my concoctions and reap their benefits. Shelving lined the walls adorned with incense and sage, which stood side by side with healing crystals and magical potions disguised as essential oils. The shop was pristine and ordered just how I liked it. Either side of the door, lilac curtains that matched the carpet draped the two large windows, which were divided by glazing bars into fifty identical squares. A comfortable sofa and two overstuffed armchairs sat around a coffee table in the centre of the room. A picture of perfection and as homely and inviting as I could make it.

As always, a vase of beautiful fresh cut flowers stood on the coffee table next to a bowl of lemon drops that visitors were more than welcome to delve into to retrieve a sweet or two. A mix of delicious scents hung in the air like fruit and flowers, or the fresh ozone of a rainstorm on a summer’s day. The only thing it lacked was more than one customer, but with any luck, the potion would have worked on Mrs Jenkins, and she would recommend me to other locals.

I believed there was nothing better for bringing trade to my door than the satisfaction of an elderly customer who liked to gossip. Mrs Jenkins was a small dark-haired woman with glasses, carnelian-red kissed cheeks, and a homely look about her. She couldn’t be more than sixty-five but had certainly proved in the short time I’d known her that she liked to talk. At least, I hoped so. Although I had a good income from selling my remedies online and didn’t need to rely on foot traffic for my trade, I couldn’t think of a better way to become a staple of the community and meet new people than running a physical store.

With my now ex-husband — the less said about Chris the better — I’d always been on the road, travelling from one place to the next. The store and accompanying cottage were something of an impulse purchase following our divorce. I’d been browsing online when I’d stumbled upon them. You might say, perusing property sites, looking at the fancy houses, and seeing how all the rich people lived was a hobby of mine. I called it ‘lottery-shopping’. My ex called it a waste of time. Still, the store, flat above, and accompanying cottage were in my price range, and the idea of finding a place to call home in the village of my birth appealed in more ways than one.

It was late in the evening and near closing time. The sun had sunk low in the sky and a peaceful grey covered the world like a soothing blanket. But I was glad to see Mrs Jenkins back after only providing her with the ointment the day before. I motioned for her to sit in the armchair and offered her a lemon drop and a cup of tea.

“Tea sounds lovely, dear,” she said, reaching out to take a sweetie and delicately unwrapping it before popping it in her mouth. “The ointment worked wonders,” she added as I headed through to the small kitchen area at the back of the store to pop the kettle on. “I honestly never expected it to work so quickly. The relief was instantaneous.”

“That is good news,” I said, returning and taking the seat opposite her. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

She stood and walked over to the shelf nearest the counter. After crunching her lemon drop between her teeth and swallowing, she pointed at a starter smudging kit. “I saw this yesterday and wondered what smudging was exactly,” she said.

I smiled and joined her by the kit, which consisted of a small bundle of white sage, an abalone shell, a strip of palo santo wood, and a feather. “Smudging your home with sage is a great way to cleanse it of stagnant and negative energy,” I said, knowing this kit was extra special as I’d added a protection spell to keep evil spirits at bay. Although, Mrs Jenkins didn’t need to know about that. “You simply open a few doors and windows to help the negative energy leave, focus your intention, and then light the sage, being sure to waft its smoke around all areas of your house using the feather. The full instructions on what to do are included in the kit.”

“What is the shell and wooden stick for?” she asked, picking up the pack and eyeballing the contents.

“The shell is a decorative fireproof vessel you can light your sage over, and the wood you can light instead of the sage. It carries the most delicious scent of lemon, pine, and mint. It brings healing and good fortune.”

“Do they work?” Mrs Jenkins asked.

“I’ve always found them to be beneficial,” I said. “A good smudging does wonders for removing stress and creating a calming atmosphere.”

“I’ll take it.” She flashed me a smile. “With my neighbour, I could do with all the stress relief I can get.”

I walked over to the counter and grabbed a gift bag to put the kit in, while Mrs Jenkins opened her purse and paid. “Do you have a lot of problems with your neighbour?” I asked.

Mrs Jenkins huffed out a deep breath, shook her head, and opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, the bell went on the shop door. I turned to the sound and saw an incredibly handsome man step inside.

Butterflies flip-flopped in the pit of my stomach and fluttered all the way into my chest at the way he looked at me. As I mentioned, he was incredibly handsome, and it took every ounce of restraint I had to not stand there with my mouth agape, drooling. His face was strong and defined, even beneath the designer stubble he sported, and his dark brown hair had the type of lustrous, tousled curls on top that made me itch to thread my fingers through them.

I suddenly felt quite conscious that I’d been wearing my simple white button-down top and jeans all day and hadn’t run a comb through my hair since this morning. I brushed the loose, wavy curls over my shoulder and returned the warm smile the man flashed me before he turned his attention to Mrs Jenkins.

“I’m all finished at the post office,” he said. “Are you ready to head home?”

“I was just telling Ms Snow all about Tanya next door,” Mrs Jenkins said, causing the newcomer’s face to drop.

“Please, call me Eira,” I said as a way to move the topic along. As well as the neighbour clearly being a contentious topic, I’d only recently changed my surname back to my maiden name and it felt a little strange hearing it after all this time.

“And you must call me, Samantha,” Mrs Jen– Samantha said. “This is my son, Aaron. Aaron, come and say hello to Eira. She’s a divorcee, just like you.” She added a wink on the last part that made a blush rise on my cheeks.

Aaron smiled and held out his hand in greeting. “It’s lovely to meet you, Eira,” he said in a voice that could melt butter.

I tentatively shook his hand, becoming all the more uncomfortable under Aaron’s intense gaze and Samantha’s watchful eye. “It’s lovely to meet you too,” I said.

“Eira’s a business owner.” Samantha waved her arms around the shop. “She makes miracle cures and helps people with their ailments.”

Aaron choked back a laugh. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or not until he apologised and leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “She phoned me at least three times today to tell me how great your back ointment worked. She also mentioned you were very beautiful. But I have to confess, I didn’t quite believe her until I walked through the door.”

“She’s new to the area,” Samantha continued. “Could use someone to show her around. You should take the week off work and make sure Erin gets to know the place.”

The blush on my cheeks grew and my chest tightened. I looked at my feet wondering how on earth they had managed to stay rooted to the spot when every instinct told me to flee. For goodness sake, anyone would think I was a teenager with the way I was acting and not a thirty-seven-year-old woman. It was just… I hadn’t really come around to thinking about dating yet. I’d met my ex when we were both eighteen, and I wouldn’t even know how to go about getting a first date after almost twenty years with the same man. On top of that, I was pretty certain Aaron had just called me beautiful. Something else that hadn’t happened in almost twenty years.

“You couldn’t possibly go to all that trouble,” I said, surprised at the firmness of my voice.

“I have a feeling you might be worth it,” Aaron countered and gave me a wink. “I’ll have to see what I can do.”

“Wonderful.” Samantha clapped and looked at the bag flapping about in her hand as if she couldn’t place where it came from. “Ooh,” she said after a moment. “I bought a smudging kit.”

“A what?”

“A smudging kit. We should get one for you too. It removes negative energy from the house. Something long overdue at your place.”

Without waiting for Aaron to respond, Samantha went back over to the shelf and grabbed a second kit. She shoved it in the bag with hers and handed me another tenner. “Keep the change,” she said. “We’d better get going. I’m off to a lovely Italian place with the girls tonight. They’ve got a piano player. Nothing goes better with good food than good wine and great music. We’ll have to have that cup of tea another time,” she said and lightly touched my hand.

“Of course,” I said. “Have a lovely evening.”

“You bet I will.” Samantha grabbed Aaron by the arm and pulled him towards the door. He whispered something to her. I couldn’t make out what he said, but it made Samantha turn back. “Actually, thinking of my neighbour, Tanya, I wonder if there’s something you could do to help her situation.”

“Mum,” Aaron said, but she brushed him away with her hand.

“Her cat can become quite agitated at times. I know your remedies are for humans, but do you think you could whip something up to calm the cat and drop it off at my place later? I’ll be out, but you could leave it on the doorstep under the porch and I’ll send Aaron round tomorrow to pay for it.”

I glanced at Aaron who gave me a can’t-argue-with-a-mum-on-a-mission look. “That won’t be a problem,” I said. “I have a cat myself, so know just what to do.”

“Wonderful. I live in The Hawthorns just off Usk Road. Take the first right and then the first left. You can’t miss me. I’m at the end of the cul-de-sac and have a green garage door.”

“I’ll find it.”

“Wonderful,” Samantha said again before dragging Aaron through the door and out into the street.

I couldn’t help but notice him glance back over his shoulder as he left and smile in my direction. Another blush blossomed on my cheeks. As soon as they were out of sight, I huffed out a breath and shook my head. Any thoughts of dating anyone, let alone Mrs Jenkins’ son, needed to be pocketed for another day. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Noting it was nearing half-six, I walked to the front door, flipped the sign to ‘closed’, and locked up. Although the shop had a flat upstairs, which I really needed to consider letting out, I headed out the back door, crossed the lawned garden surrounded by shrubs and trees, and then the quiet patio area to the cottage situated behind.

The back door entered directly onto the utility room, which in turn led to the kitchen. “Niles, I’m home,” I called out as I moved through the kitchen and into the lounge, making my way through it to the snug I’d converted into a workshop of sorts.

Apothecary cabinets lined the walls, filled with jars too many different things to note. I pulled out a few essential oils — lavender, copaiba, helichrysum, and frankincense — and placed them in an orderly line on the worktable in the middle of the room. Choosing the right oil and enhancing any beneficial properties found within it was less time consuming than creating something from scratch. Plus, if some inquisitive customer decided to look at the properties of the oil on the Internet, it was always best they aligned with the properties I claimed the oil possessed.

I stood, chewing on my bottom lip, and looking at the bottles considering which one would be best as my base. Many essential oils were dangerous to cats, but these were safe. Helichrysum would be good for healing and the immune system. But Samantha never mentioned her neighbour’s cat being sick. Frankincense was very soothing. But–

I lost my train of thought when something soft and furry brushed against my leg. Glancing down, I saw Niles, my black cat, rubbing against me. I bent to scratch him behind his ear and picked him up.

“You took your time,” I said and pointed at the oils on the table. “What do you think? I have to work a potion to calm an anxious cat. These are my best four options.”

Niles wriggled in my arms and jumped down onto the table. He looked at the bottles for a few seconds and then, one by one, batted them off the table with his paw.

I sighed, quickly flicked my hand at each jar, and stopped them from smashing on the floor with my magic. They floated towards me and I cupped them in my hands before putting them back on the shelf.

Niles sat purring smugly on the table behind the one remaining jar. I picked it up. “Copaiba. Great for soothing anxious feelings and supporting the nervous system. Good choice,” I said. “Although, you didn’t have to be so dramatic in your selection of it.”

Niles gave me a superior, pointed look, jumped down from the table, and left me to my work. It took twenty minutes from then to weave a spell into the oil. After which, I was pretty certain I had something that could relax a cat sitting in the middle of a firework display. Too bad magic didn’t work on familiars or I would have tried it out on Niles. Not that he was ever anxious.

I grabbed a quick bite to eat and searched Google Maps to find out how far it was to Samantha’s place. After discovering it was only a little over half a mile away, I grabbed my jacket, placed the cat-oil in my oversized bag, and decided to walk.

The sun was slowly setting and burnished the previously grey sky in a rich blend of orange and crimson. I loved this time of day when all the hustle and bustle had finished, and a quiet calm settled over everything. I was beginning to love this place too. The village held a few shops along with my own, but the main street was lined with attractions, and as you’d expect, a fair few pubs and hotels.

Caerleon was once home to the Roman fortress of Isca, which dated all the way back to 74 AD when the first timber encampment was erected to subdue the tribes living in Wales. I’d visited the baths and the museum a little further along the road and learnt how costly the prolonged war with the Silures, a local iron-age tribe, had proved to the Romans. The village was steeped in history and parts of the fortress wall still stood, with the stone from other parts having been repurposed hundreds of years ago to make some of the buildings I passed.

The air felt fresh and invigorating as I walked around the common with its beautifully trimmed grass and spattering of trees. I sucked it in while wondering if we might have a little rainfall overnight. Hopefully, it would be clear during the day. If so, I resolved to pop into the library inside the town hall and see what they had relating to the village’s association with King Arthur. When I was little, my mother had been full of tales of Merlin, Morganna, and the legendary king.

I sighed and wished she were here with me now, but she’d passed when I was young, and I’d been shipped off to Swansea to live with a father that neither liked me nor wanted me. And he certainly hadn’t embraced my gifts.

I huffed out a deep breath, focused on the sun setting over the top of the houses, and resolved to shift my melancholy. I rounded the bend in the road and entered the cul-de-sac, intent on dropping the oil off and heading back home for some much-needed rest, and maybe a glass of gin or two. Niles could be a bit of a grump, but he was also very loving, and would soon curl up on my lap demanding cuddles and making me glad that no matter how alone I felt at times, I never really was.

The directions Samantha gave me were simple to follow and I soon found her modern detached house with the green garage door at the end of the road. Baskets filled with daffodils hung either side of the front door from the slight porch that covered it. As instructed, I left the oil on the doorstep and turned to go home, wondering which of her neighbours had the stressed-out cat.

As I left her drive, I looked at the other houses in the area. All were of a similar design. There were only around twelve of them and it was clear they’d all been built at the same time as part of a development. It was then that I noticed the door on the house to the right of Samantha’s was ajar.

I stopped short, staring at it for a few minutes, looking for any sign of movement. I didn’t want to pry, but something just didn’t seem right. I pushed back my shoulders and steeled myself before entering the garden and edging towards the door. The air felt strange as I approached, as though it was compressing in around the house. I shivered and clutched my bag tighter. A sensor light flared to life almost blinding me, but I continued.

“Hello,” I called out, even though the dread building in my stomach told me what I’d find inside.

To avoid the possibility of contaminating the scene with my fingerprints, I pushed at the door with my elbow. It swung open with a slow creek, making my skin crawl.

I was more resolved than surprised to see the dead body in the hall at the bottom of the stairs. There was no point checking for a pulse, even if I hadn’t known what to expect. The angle of the poor lady’s neck told me there was no hope.

New covers!

After much deliberation and a lot of advice, I finally took the plunge and got new covers for the Independent Necromancers’ Bureau. Aren’t they pretty

Dragons & Mages Anthology

If you haven’t read Exile – a companion story to the Rune Witch Mysteries, following Trystan as he hunts for the Serpent’s Egg. It’s available along with a selection of other stories in the Dragons and Mages Anthology for a limited time only!

Relic Guardians Complete series in One Set

You can now enjoy the complete Relic Guardians series in one action and magic packed volume!

Available in Kindle Unlimited and for an introductory price of only 99c! 

Fans of Lara Croft and Indiana Jones will enjoy this fast-paced contemporary fantasy adventure series filled with magic, action and kick-ass characters. Start the adventure today.

The Relic Guardians Series: Ancient Magic, Hidden Magic, Cursed Magic, Gathered Magic

Plus the Short Stories: Rogue Magic, Stolen Magic

Ancient Magic

Relic Guardian. Defender of Mankind. Witch.

Magic is real – but you knew that, right?

I’m Zoe Stark, and the last thing I need after saving London from a possessed African mask is the theft of another magical artefact – one that’s far more deadly.

When Kukulkan’s Skull is found and promptly stolen, it’s up to me to recover this legendary relic before its demonic powers are unleashed upon mankind.

With the Day of the Dead, and the zenith of the skull’s devastating powers fast approaching, I’m out of luck and out of time.

Not knowing who to trust or where to turn for help, it’s up to me to save the world, but first, I have to save myself.

Hidden Magic

One stone. One Wish. One life changing event.

I’m Hayley Bevan, a museum curator, and my secondment to New York is about to get a whole lot more interesting. I couldn’t wait to pore over ancient Buddhist discoveries, but there was one that I hadn’t expected to see. Little did I know, I’d find more than I bargained for; a stone that was nothing more than a myth… or so we all thought.

With a wish-fulfilling stone in my grasp and a murderous investor desperate to get his hands on it, I’m thrust into a world I never knew existed.

Now I have a weapon that can destroy worlds, and no idea how to keep it safe in a world where I’m drowned by magic I don’t understand and can’t control.

How do I find my place? How far will my journey take me? More importantly, who can I trust to guide me?

Stolen Magic

Magicai. Traveller. Londoner.

I’m Nathan Scott. I’m a city guy, born and raised, but I’ve seen more than my fair share of the world – and not just this world. I’m a Traveller. You wouldn’t believe how many Englands I’ve seen.

When I receive a magical distress call, I cross the desert to help. Who wouldn’t do the same for an old friend? Although, as it turns out, it’s me that needs help and not the other way around.

With a crazed megalomaniac on the loose with a seemingly insignificant stone that can destroy the world, I’m up against the clock.

Luckily, I have more than one friend who can help.

Rogue Magic

One rogue decision. One grave mistake.

I’m Jamie Oxford. I meant well, honestly, but my best intentions never seem to end well.

Magical artefacts are disastrous in the hands of non-magical Ordinaries, but in the hands of power crazed Magicai..? It doesn’t bear thinking about. What have I done? I could kick myself for being so stupid..

I know I’ve messed up. I’d like to say it wasn’t the first time, and that it would be the last, but, well… you know how things are. When you walk the line of life and death, right and wrong, mistakes happen. Admittedly, this is my worst.

This one could end the world. No exaggeration.

I’ll fix my mistake. I just have to figure out who to trust first.

If Zoe finds out, she’ll kill me, but maybe she’s the only one who can help.

Cursed Magic

Jamie Oxford: Friend. Foe. Bane of my existence!

I should have known better than to trust Jamie with the location of Pandora’s Box. The minute I tell him, he steals it from under MI5’s nose. Maybe I’d be impressed – if I wasn’t so furious. Now it’s in the hands of an infamous Magicai, determined to sell it to the highest bidder, who could unleash the next apocalypse. No big deal, right?

Jamie can try all he likes to redeem himself, but as usual, the fate of the world rests in my hands. Now, I have to recover the box for a second time, before it’s opened.

If only I could do it without Jamie tagging along for the ride.

Maybe the apocalypse is better than dealing with that idiot.

Gathered Magic

A magical portal. A new World. A price to pay. 

‘Hayley Bevan, Magicai, Traveller’. Not something I thought I’d want to be, or even knew existed, but here I am, desperate to come to terms with my new found powers – and all that they

have shown me.

Multiple worlds, and magic, everywhere. And all of them are in danger.

My life has changed forever. Yet, the key to my future still lies in my past, and that past is determined to see Sebastian Davenport pay for what he’s done. He’s one mistake away from destroying worlds and I have to stop him.

With Nathan and Zoe to guide me, I’ll face whatever the future holds, but can I face the prospect of losing them, or myself

That’s what it might take to defeat him. I’m not sure I’m prepared to do that – or that I can.

What should I do?

The Cities of Magic Storybundle

The Cities of Magic Bundle is now live!

Curated by Joseph R. Lallo

“StoryBundle has been kind enough to ask me back many times to perform the near-impossible task of selecting just a handful of titles from the endless library of quality stories within the genre du jour. Despite having titles from newcomers like me all the way to New York Times Bestsellers like Gail Carriger, this latest bundle still represents a tiny, tantalizing sample of the Urban Fantasy world. If you’re new to the genre, name your price and take your first walk on the wild side! If you’re already a fan, grab this heap of additions to your to-be-read pile before time runs out!” – Joseph R. Lallo

Urban Fantasy is a set of flavors and textures that form a foundation from which thrilling tales of every sort can spring. How to Marry a Werewolf will introduce you to the finer points of supernatural courtship in an alternate Victorian London. Interested in some action? We’ve got Relic Guardians and Cast into Darkness to feed your need for danger and excitement. If you’re in the mood for a mystery, crack open A Furnace Sealed and see how murders are investigated when magic is the modus operandi. If you’d like to see the super heroic side of Urban Fantasy, Scales will teach you what sort of mischief a gargoyle can get up to, and never underestimate the Trials(and Trifles) of a Werevulture. Shadowblood Heir will make you wonder just how much of fiction is really fictional, while Arcana will make you question what depths a society will sink to if it feels threatened by mystic powers. Perhaps you’ll find yourself in the city of brotherly love, peering into a darkness that just so happens to be peering back at you in A Traitor in the Shadows, or exploring Boston with a technowitch in Ghost Garages.

For StoryBundle, you decide what price you want to pay.

 

The initial titles in The Cities of Magic bundle (minimum $5 to purchase) are:

Teenage Werevulture Book 1: Trials of a Teenage Werevulture by Emily Martha Sorensen
Ghost Garages – A Boston Technowitch Novel: Book 1 by Erin M. Hartshorn
Cast into Darkness by Janet Tait
Arcana by Paul Kane

If you pay at least the bonus price of just $15, you get all four of the regular books, plus SEVEN more!

Teenager Werevulture Book 2: Trifles of a Teenage Werevulture by Emily Martha Sorensen
A Traitor in the Shadows by Joseph R. Lallo
How to Marry a Werewolf by Gail Carriger
Shadowblood Heir by J.S. Morin
A Furnace Sealed by Keith R.A. DeCandido
Scales by Amity Green
Relic Guardians Collection (Books 1-3) by Meg Cowley and Victoria DeLuis


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A Grave Death ~ Chapter One

A Grave Death is currently out for editing and alpha reading with a few awesome people, and I hope to have it out in the world by the end of the month. In the meantime, I thought I’s share this unedited snippet of chapter one

Stolen Magic

This is a short story that introduced Nathan Scott as a new character to the Relic Guardian series, which is now available on Kindle, Kobo, Nook, iBooks, B&N, and more!

This is a fun short story that features Nathan Scott – a character who joins the Relic Guardians in the final book, Gathered Magic

A Grave Death – Cover Reveal

A Matter of Death

As you know, I am busy working on A Grave Death, the first full length novel in my Independent Necromancers’ Bureau series (on track for release in May). A couple of week ago, I shared with you the first short story I wrote in this series, Till Death. Today, as promised, I have for you the second:

A Matter of Death.

*

 

Caim

A protective spirit (Wales)

Boys name meaning amddifynydd, protector (Welsh)

(n.) lit. “sanctuary”; an invisible circle of protection, drawn around the body with the hand, that reminds you that you are safe and loved, even in the darkest times (Scottish/Gaelic)

 

 

 

I kicked off my boots and stumbled to the bed, falling face down in a heap on top of the covers. My feet hurt, my head hurt, and my hair was so desperately in need of a wash, my scalp itched.

Mumbling to myself, I considered the distance from the bedroom to the bathroom and the effort required to drag myself through the house and remove my clothes to have a shower.

A slight weight joined me on the bed and a rumble sounded in my ears before Nibbler gave me an affectionate head-butt. ‘You stink of cat food,’ I said before returning the kiss.

‘You, my dear, also do not seem your fresh, cleanly self,’ Dylan said from the corner. ‘Might one suggest a shower?’

Sure, having a friendly neighbourhood ghost pop by was pleasant enough when you’re in the mood for some company and a chat, but not when you’re shattered after a hard night shift, and not when said ghost is being overly critical.

‘No one might not,’ I said, and threw a pillow in his direction. A useless act of defiance when all it did was pass through him and knock over a bottle of hand cream on my dressing table. I flopped back down on the bed and closed my eyes. ‘Besides,’ I said, ‘what do you care? Ghosts have no sense of smell.’

‘This is indeed true. However, one can see the noxious fumes coming off you and it does not require a sense of smell to know that you stink.’

Charming. The cat climbed on my back and nuzzled my hair. ‘If it doesn’t bother Nibbler,’ I said, enjoying his reassuring weight, ‘it doesn’t bother me.’

With that statement, the turncoat cat spluttered on my head, jumped onto the floor and proceeded to have a mild coughing fit.

‘Okay, okay,’ I said and pushed myself off the bed. ‘You win already. I’ll take a shower. But after that, Dylan, you can explain what the hell you’re doing in my house at five in the morning.’

The warm shower washed away the aches and pains in my body and soothed my headache. It’s a miracle how great a clean head of hair can make you feel. To make things even better, as I trundled down the stairs, the fresh scent of coffee enveloped my senses.

Opening the kitchen door, I dropped my head towel on a stool, took a seat on the neighbouring chair, and thanked my lucky stars that Dylan was an old ghost who’d mastered the art of physical manipulation. One of the reasons Nibbler got on so well with him, I was sure. Like I didn’t notice his dwindling treats and expanding girth.

Dylan handed me my hot beverage and opened the fridge. His insubstantial form flickered in the light. For once, groceries lined the shelves, as the supermarket had delivered my bi-weekly shopping the day before. ‘Would you care for some eggs?’ Dylan asked. ‘It would be a matter of moments to whip you up an omelette.’

Not that it wasn’t tempting, Dylan made the best omelettes, always light and fluffy, but I declined and asked him the reason for his visit.

‘I see you are tired. It is of no great urgency.’

Now that was a lie and we both knew it. After five years of living in this three-bed semi and being visited by Dylan, I liked to think we were buddies, even if he was dead, and it was clear something was on his mind. Plus my spidey senses were tingling and sure as hell, anything that bothers a two-hundred year old ghost was bad news for me.

I took a sip of the bitter coffee, savoured the swift injection of caffeine to my brain, and gave Dylan a look that said, ‘Oh, please!’

He closed the fridge and perched his ghostly form on the stool opposite mine. Although downcast, his pale face spoke volumes, but still he seemed reluctant to talk.

I took a long drink from my mug and then placed it on the counter. ‘That bad?’ I asked.

‘One might say, a matter of life or death, if not for the fact the dear lady is already one of the departed.’

‘Lady? So we’re talking about another ghost here.’

When he looked at me, he pushed his shoulders back, adjusted the lapels on his dress waistcoat, and straightened out an imaginary crease in his pantaloons. ‘Elizabeth,’ he said after a moment. ‘She’s in trouble. We met last night and she was most distressed. Her spirit was being drawn to the remains of her body. I stayed with her as long as I could, but, alas, fear of being bound forced me to abandon her.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ I said, now understanding Dylan’s reluctance. He was a man of honour and would judge himself harshly for leaving a woman in need.

‘I am a coward. I should have stayed with her to the last. No matter the personal cost.’

‘And where would that have got you? No, Dylan. If you had stayed, you could have been bound, and whatever trouble you think Elizabeth is in, you would be in too.’ I downed the remains of my coffee. Sleep would have to wait.

*

It was six-fifteen and the sun was a radiant ball of orange cresting the horizon. The sunrise had banished Dylan to whatever plane of existence he visited during the day, but not before I’d gained the best directions he could give.

I jumped in my reliable old Clio, but before I headed to Canton, I pulled my mobile out of my bag.

I needed to call work to rule out the obvious.

‘Independent Necromancers’ Bureau, Klas speaking.’

‘Hi, Emma. It’s Cassie.’

‘Cassie? Thought you’d be dead to the world by now. What keeps you up this time in the morning?’

I smiled. Emma was good people. At twenty-two, she was closer to my age than any other agent, and we’d built a close relationship in the short time she’d been with the bureau.

‘Listen, any chance INB was pulling an operation in Canton last night.’

‘I’ll check now.’ Emma went quiet, but I could hear the quick tapping on her keyboard. It only took a minute for her to come back with the answer, ‘Nope.’

‘Okay. I’m heading to the area now. I haven’t got an exact address, but when I get one, I’ll text it over.’

‘You got a job on?’

I sucked at the corner of my lip, and thought about that for a few moments. From what Dylan had told me, there could be a rogue necromancer on the loose. Now, it could be a misguided practitioner attempting to free trapped souls, but, in my experience, the odds of that were unlikely. ‘Nothing concrete yet,’ I said to Emma. ‘But do me a favour. Run a check and see if there are reports of any activity in the area.’ Who knows, maybe I would get lucky and the odd report of a ghost or unconfirmed zombie would turn up.

‘Will do,’ she said. ‘Give me an hour.’

The seven mile drive from my home in Pontprennau to Canton took almost half an hour, counting a quick detour to the drive-through to refuel on caffeine. Dylan’s description told me that the house I looked for was backed on to Thompson’s Park, and a quick search on my phone told me that there were seven potential streets to search. The third one I tried looked promising with its identical red brick houses and matching single garages. With the house number, window dressings, and occasional hanging basket as the only items to tell each property from its neighbour. The property with the blue garage door and hanging rose baskets caught my eye based on Dylan’s description.

I pulled up outside and was considering my next move when the phone rang.

‘We only have one report linked to the area, back in December. Involved, and I use the complainant’s words here, “a thieving witch”.’

‘That’s something at least,’ I said to Emma. ‘Any concrete details?’

‘No. The complainant withdrew the accusation when agents went to investigate. All I have is her name, Sarah Rose. She’s a student, lives in Cathays.’

‘Okay, thanks, Emma. Text me the full address and I’ll check it out.’

Sarah Rose lived in the heart of student town, and with three days until Easter Break, I wasn’t holding on to much hope of finding her around. The place became a ghost town during the holidays.

I pulled into the street and parked in front of the house Emma had directed me to. Being bin day, wheelie bins lined the street and I was impressed to find the residents of Sarah’s house had also sorted out their recycling. Despite the forthcoming break and the early hour, the door to the run-down terraced house was answered by a sleepy-eyed man after only five minutes of pounding. Between incoherent grunts, I learned that Sarah slept in the attic room. I thanked him for his help and left him to return to bed. Ignoring the stench of weed that permeated the hall, I climbed the stairs.

‘Sarah Rose. This is Cassie Dune. INB.’

I knocked again.

‘Open the door, Miss Rose. I need to talk to you.’

The door was flung open to reveal a blonde in a pink and blue nightgown depicting a cow along with the words “Moooody Cow.” The woman, I presumed to be Sarah, demanded to know what the hell I wanted.

‘It’s regarding a complaint you made just before Christmas, relating to a thieving witch in Canton.’

‘Seriously. I’ve already withdrawn that complaint.’

‘I just need to ask you a few questions. Can I come in?’

‘Sure. Why the hell not? I’m up now anyway.’ Sarah pushed the door wide and I entered.

The room consisted of a double bed and the sunken remains of a foam sofa bed, all exuding that worn-out greyness typical of a student bedsit. A patch of mould grew on the ceiling near the window, and every surface was littered with clothes, makeup, the occasional workbook and the remains of more than one meal. Sarah lifted a jacket from the sofa bed, revealing the bong beneath. I stifled a smirk as she quickly covered it again, and used the jacket to keep it concealed while she moved it to a cupboard on the far side of the room.

‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ I said. ‘I’m not the police.’

‘Yeah, but you work with them.’

‘When needs arise. I work for the Independent Necromancers’ Bureau. We’re independent. It’s in the name.’

‘The guys I spoke to a few months back sure acted like cops.’

‘We take infractions in supernatural guidelines quite seriously.’ I sat on the sofa and considered the best way to get Sarah to open up. She came across as a girly type, happy to be your best pal if you didn’t push her. ‘I’ll be frank with you,’ I said. ‘I’m not here in any official capacity. It’s a personal matter, a friend of mine is in trouble and I’m hoping you can help me out.’

‘You think this business over in Canton has something to do with your friend’s trouble?’

‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. What can you tell me about the witch?’

Sarah scraped her hand through her hair and paced the small room. Her reluctance to talk was obvious, but when she took a deep breath and sat on the bed opposite me, her words came out rushed.

‘I was having trouble at Uni,’ she said. ‘Thought about quitting. A friend of mine told me about some fortune teller. Helen. I can’t remember the exact address, but it had David in the street name, and there were lots of empty flower baskets outside the house.’

‘Blue garage door?’

‘I think so.’

I nodded. The street name fit and the rose baskets would have been empty before Christmas.

‘Anyway, I paid for a reading. To see what I should do. Helen took me through to her dining room, but when she opened the cabinet, she dropped her crystal ball on the floor and went ape shit. Like it was my fault. Started cursing and screaming. Kicked me out the house and didn’t give me my money back. Hundred quid down the drain.’

‘So why didn’t you tell my colleagues about this?’

Sarah didn’t answer. Instead, she stood, walked over to the window, and looked outside.

I stood and pulled a hundred pounds out of my purse along with a business card. ‘You still at Uni?’ I asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Good. In this day and age, life’s a damn sight easier with a degree under your belt.’ I handed Sarah my card and the money. ‘You call me if you need anything, okay.’

Sarah nodded.

As I walked to the door to leave, Sarah called to stop me. ‘Watch out for that bitch,’ she said. ‘Looks like butter wouldn’t melt, but don’t be fooled. If your friend’s in trouble with her, then it’s big trouble.’

‘Thanks for the warning. And the info.’

‘No worries. It didn’t come from me though, yeah.’

‘Not official, remember.’

I let myself out, only to slam straight into a couple of guys entering the building. They were amped on coke, if the constant sniffing and pupils the size of frying pans were anything to go by.

‘Hey, what’s the hurry, love?’ one said, blocking my path and reaching to link his hands around my waist. ‘Why don’t you stay and party with us for a while?’ He stank of BO and booze after his all-nighter.

‘Tempting,’ I said, as I narrowed my eyes and gave him my best mean girl stare. ‘But, no thanks.’ My muscles strained as I tried to push free.

They laughed. ‘Come on, love. You frigid or something. Where’s the harm in staying for a little while?’

At five foot four, and weighing a hundred and ten pounds, I’m not exactly rocking the intimidation factor. Although I could probably hold my own against two beefy assholes with more muscles than brains, I didn’t fancy taking the risk. Why fight fair when I don’t have to?

I relished the feeling of lightening that danced through my skin as I called the power within me. Taking a deep breath, I centred it on my caim tattoo and activated my very own circle of protection.

The full magic of my caim can only be used on beings of the spirit world, but a burst of energy created a shockwave around me. The man’s arms were ripped from my waist as he stumbled backwards. I didn’t have enough energy for a second blast, and the effects of this one would only last so long, so I wasted no time. I kicked out and landed a hit squarely between his legs. His friend also felt a blow from the blast and faltered for a second. Before he had a chance to react to his fallen comrade’s plight, I gave him an elbow to the nose.

‘You need any help there, love,’ a bin man shouted as he and two colleagues ran down the street to my aid.

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I said as I pushed past the injured idiots.

When I climbed in the Clio, I gave work another quick call.

‘Hi, Emma. Great you’re still there.’

‘You just caught me. I’m off in ten.’

‘Do me another quick favour before you go? I’ve been to see Sarah Rose, and I’m not too keen on the shit-tip she’s living in. Bad neighbours. Send someone round to pick her up, will you? Make sure she knows I sent them, and put her in the Marriot. Tell her I’ll drop by later.’

‘Done.’

‘Thanks, Em.’

‘You got a line on that issue in Canton?’

I sucked at my lip and wondered how much to tell her.

‘Spill it, Cassie,’ she said. ‘I can hear you thinking.’

‘Okay, but it’s off the record for now and Sarah isn’t to be brought into it.’ I snapped my seatbelt into place and leaned my head on the rest. ‘We could be looking at a divining nec.’

‘A fortune teller. You sure the spirits are forced?’

‘Pretty sure,’ I said. The concern in Emma’s voice echoed my own. A divining nec using bound spirits was the worst type of evil. A spirit may choose to look into the future once or twice, should the need arise, but the act drains their essence. If a spirit is forced to divine over and over again, then they will become a shade of their former self. An empty shell with no personality and no control over their actions, a danger to cross paths with.

‘Then INB should be in this officially.’

‘They will be. I’ll text you the address and let you know when I’m going in. You can have back-up arrive twenty minutes later.’

There was a long pause before Emma advised me to be careful. I told her I was always careful, then hung up and sent her the promised text.

My body ached and my head pounded, so I decided to return home for some much needed sleep. A bound spirit can materialise during the day, but only in a weakened state. If this nec, Helen, was using spirits to divine the future, then she would need them at full strength. That gave me plenty of time to get some rest.

*

I woke a little after five, showered for the second time that day, grabbed a coffee, and headed out the door. Although not before Nibbler accosted me for some playtime and a little food. There were a few hours to spare before sunset, so I went over to the Marriot to check in on Sarah. With a king-sized bedroom, separate from the living area—the latter of which housed a dining table, writing desk, sofa and chair, and provided satellite TV—the suite Sarah occupied was a far cry from her previous digs. Sarah gave me the name of the friend who referred her to the fortune teller and we grabbed some room service—butternut squash and feta salad, followed by passion fruit crème brulee—before I headed over to Canton.

A spring shower had lowered the temperature and cleansed the evening air. I sat in the car and enjoyed the fresh scent of flowers as the light drained from the sky.

The lights came on inside the building and I watched the house until a little after sunset, then I walked up and knocked on the door.

Helen Davenport was exactly how I imagined. You meet all sorts working for the INB, and given her nature as an evil witch who entrapped spirits, paraded them as some sort of side show, and charged to tell people’s fortunes, then yes, the hospitable, good-humoured woman before me was exactly what I imagined.

She stood before me in her jeans and floral tee, smelling like roses and beaming down like a saint from on high.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

I pleaded my case and asked for a reading. Helen looked undecided for a moment, but then smiled and nodded. ‘Follow me,’ she said at last. I was in.

‘Who did you say referred you to my services?’ she asked, leading me through the hallway.

‘Annabelle Clement.’

‘Then you know the price?’

I plastered a warm smile on my face and nodded. I knew the price.

Helen led me to a dining room, then moved around drawing the curtains and shutting out the night sky. She removed a crystal ball from a welsh dresser and placed it on the dining table. I sat down and stole a glance at the markings around the base of the ball. Bindings.

‘So will this really work?’ I made the question light and excitable.

‘Spirits never lie…’ She tapped her chin as though thinking. ‘Sorry, what was your name again?’

‘Cassie.’

‘Spirits never lie, Cassie,’ she said and placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Now, tell me, what do you want to know?’

‘My nain—’

‘You’re worried about her future?’ She sat in the chair next to mine and held my hands within her own.

‘She’s dead,’ I said. ‘I need to know that she’s moved on. That she’s not trapped in this world.’

She nodded. ‘I understand your worry, but the spirit cannot contact the other world to know this for certain.’

Not that I needed further confirmation, but that sealed it. The spirit she was using was bound and trapped. If it were free, it could reach out, and unable to find my nain, would confirm that she had left the mortal plane. Now all I had to do was find Elizabeth. With any luck, it would be her spirit trapped within the crystal.

I lowered my head and frowned in a show of disappointment. If I was reading Helen right, she would push for the sale, not wanting to risk the loss of a punter.

‘Perhaps, if we rephrase the question,’ she said after a moment. ‘We could ask if you will meet your grandmother again in this lifetime. If the answer is no, then we know she has moved on.’

That was bollocks, but I smiled and squeezed her hands in agreement. As Helen turned and pulled the crystal ball closer, I opened my sight to my gift. A circle of protection surrounded our chairs, lit up in brilliant violet. Another circle, one of containment, enclosed the base of the globe. Helen weaved a thread from herself, reaching out to connect with the shade trapped within.

With the existence of a bound spirit confirmed, there was no further need to continue. ‘Enough,’ I said, standing up. ‘By the power invested in me by the treaty of the Fifth Council, I am taking you into custody for the entrapment and abuse of a spirit.’

‘How dare you,’ Helen said in a low voice while drawing herself up.

A mist swirled within the ball and the spirit came forth, even though it was no longer called. The circumstances of Helen’s fate had been conveyed to it within a flicker of contact.

‘Sit down,’ I said to Helen.

‘Don’t you tell me what to—’

‘Sit down.’ I pushed her back into the chair, pulled her hands behind her back and bound them with plasticuffs.

The translucent purple mist within the confines of the crystal expanded, pushing at the boundaries of the glass as though it could somehow break free. I glanced at the circle of protection still ablaze beneath my feet and reinforced it with my own power. The spirit might be Elizabeth or it could be a shade. Either way, the spirit had to be released and it might respond in a hostile manner after having been bound.

I snatched up the globe and brought it down with a shattering crash.

Helen flinched as broken shards littered the table. In their centre lay a polished finger bone. Above it, the mist coalesced into the shape of a young woman, no more than twenty. Light wavy hair skimmed her shoulders and shrouded her delicate face. Elizabeth, if Dylan’s description was anything to go by.

In a flash, Dylan was in the room. I should have guessed he would be lurking nearby with the sunset. ‘Elizabeth,’ he shouted, before rushing into her spectral arms.

Charming. I do all the work but don’t even get a look in when Elizabeth is in the room. Feeling embarrassed by the pangs of jealousy I felt, I distracted myself by reaching across the table and collecting Elizabeth’s finger bone. Elizabeth’s bond to her remains had been strengthened by Helen and she would be tied to their location for some time. The option of sending Elizabeth on to her afterlife was possible, but I was pretty sure Dylan would voice some objections. I braced myself and decided to broach the subject, when the door crashed open and Emma arrived with my INB backup.

*

Once all the formalities and paperwork had been completed, it was not far off sunrise, so I headed home to feed Nibbler and get some rest. Luckily, Elizabeth had never had the chance to be used as a seer, so there was no risk to her essence. Had there been, INB would not have hesitated in severing her connection with the living world. Instead, they’d secured her bones at headquarters and allowed her spirit to roam free around the building.

When I arrived through my front door, Nibbler jumped into my arms. I nuzzled my face in his fur as he rolled and gave me his best ‘I love you. Now feed me’ look.

When I heard a noise coming from the kitchen, I lowered the cat to the ground and reached for the coat stand, by the front door. I grabbed the only weapon to hand — a fluorescent pink umbrella my mum had given me for Christmas—and tiptoed through the hall. It was only when Nibbler almost tripped me by circling my legs that I noted how calm he was.

Sure, Nibbler’s an affectionate cat… to me. But ask any number of visitors to my home and they’ll tell you straight out, he’s more likely to claw their eyes out than come for a cuddle. That snarling, spitting beast was a far cry from the docile sweetie he was acting now, and that could mean only one thing. I lowered the umbrella and kicked open the kitchen door.

‘I had not realised it was raining outside,’ Dylan said with raised eyebrows and a nod to the umbrella.

‘It’s not.’

He gave me a glass of water and I sat on a stool as he moved around the kitchen like he owned the place.

‘I thought you might now care for an omelette,’ he said.

‘It’s not long until sunrise.’

‘It will take but a moment.’ Dylan broke two eggs in a bowl, gave them a whisk, and turned the hob on. I watched as he effortlessly prepared a mushroom omelette and laid it on the counter before me.

‘Any particular reason for this visit,’ I said between mouthfuls.

‘My dear lady, can a friend not just visit another friend as an expression of their gratitude?’

‘You’ve thanked me twice already.’

Dylan pushed his shoulders back, gave me a resigned look, and asked me if Elizabeth was truly safe.

I wanted to tell him that she was, that they could carry on in their spectral forms for ever, but we both knew that wasn’t the case.

‘She’s as safe as she can be,’ I said. ‘Being tied to her bone makes her vulnerable.’

I could have added the best option would be to send her on to the next plane of existence, but Dylan wasn’t ready to hear that. Maybe someday he would be.

‘And her assailant?’

‘Helen will have her powers eradicated. A binding similar to the one she trapped Elizabeth with will eliminate her influence on spirits.’

‘Well, that is some small thing at least,’ he said as the sun broke the horizon, streaking the sky in its fiery glow and sending Dylan away for the day.

***

This was my second short story in the Independent Necromancers’ Bureau series. I hope you liked it. If so, please consider leaving a review on Amazon