by Linsey Hall
Once the vial was full, I filled a second. Then I patted down the demon’s pockets for charms. Mari and I could make all sorts, but not everything. And demons often carried cool stuff.
I found a transport charm in his right pocket and shoved it into my own. Mari had transporting abilities, but I didn’t, so I loved these things.
I checked the demon’s last pocket, but found nothing. He was already starting to disappear, his body fading away. If a normal person killed a demon, they’d go back to the hell that they’d come from.
Not me. I was a demon slayer. If I killed them, they stayed dead. I was basically a professional murderer, but I definitely didn’t feel bad about it. Demons weren’t supposed to be on earth—they were inherently evil. Their top hobbies included eating people and murder.
So yeah, not nice.
I finished with the demon and touched the comms charm at my neck. “Hey, Mari? I’m done. Coming home.”
“Good. Hurry. Trouble is coming.”
Mari got her info from her seer friend, Aethelred. He was always making predictions about things to come, but they were rarely good. He never told me I was going to win the lottery or a lifetime supply of Cheetos.
I stood, ready to hightail it home.
As if I sensed something, the hair raised on my arms.
I got a hardcore hunted-animal feeling as I turned.
A man stepped out from behind one of the mausoleums, the fog snaking around his ankles.
The shadow that had been following me.
Just looking at him felt like a punch to the gut.
He was even taller than I imagined—probably six and a half feet. His shoulders were broad and his waist narrow. He had the body and stance of some kind of super warrior. Relaxed, but ready to kill.
I recognized it, because I saw it in the mirror every morning. Even his clothes were the kind you could fight in—a battered leather jacket and perfectly cut dark pants that didn’t hide the muscles in his thighs.
But his face.
Damn.
He looked like some kind of sexy bruiser, with a sharp jaw and dark eyes. A nose that had been broken once but only made him hotter. And his lips.
No. Look away from his lips.
It didn’t matter how full they were—I had secrets to keep and this was just the kind of guy to reveal them.
It was impossible to ignore his magic, though. It crashed over me like a tidal wave.
Every supernatural had a magical signature that corresponded to one of the five senses. Generally speaking, good magic smelled or tasted good, whereas dark magic was gross. More powerful supernaturals had more signatures. This guy had all five, and boy, were they strong.
I backed away slowly as his magic rolled over me. It smelled of a rainstorm and sounded like the roar of a river. Tasted of aged rum—sweet and spicy at the same time—and looked like an aura of silver moonlight.
But the worst—the worst of all—was how it felt.
Like a shiver at the back of my neck. And not a bad one.
It took only a second to absorb everything about him, but it felt like ages.
Since he couldn't see me, his dark eyes traced over the demon at my feet. His jaw was set in hard lines.
“Damn it.” His voice was low and rough, annoyance echoing in the tone.
Then his eyes traveled up, sweeping over the graveyard, no doubt looking for whoever had killed the demon.
They landed on me, and he frowned.
My heart thundered so loudly he could probably use it as a homing beacon to find me.
“That’s the trouble,” Mari whispered, so quietly I could barely hear her.
And she was so right.
This guy was trouble.
I turned and sprinted, racing away. My footsteps were silent on the grass, and I turned back only once to look at him.
His gaze continued to sweep over the cemetery.
Oh, thank fates. There were a few rare supernaturals who could see through my ghost suit. Not him.
I turned left, cutting through the cemetery and leaping over smaller headstones. As I neared the cemetery wall, the air quieted. The man’s signature disappeared—I’d left him far enough behind.
“Does he know what I am?” I whispered to the comms charm. “Is that why he’s trouble?”
“I don’t know. Aethelfred can’t tell.”
No matter what, I didn’t want this guy knowing what I really was. My big secret.
I have dragon blood.
In theory, I could create new magic—if I was willing to risk it—but that was totally forbidden.
The only person who knew was my sister, Mari, because she had it, too. The world knew us as Mordaca and Aerdeca, the sophisticated, creepy Blood Sorceresses who lived in Darklane.
What they didn’t know was that we had a secret life. Even our closest friends didn’t know.
I sprinted toward the cemetery wall and leapt over it. My boots slammed onto the damp cobblestones, and I raced down the narrow street. It was bordered on either side by ramshackle wooden houses that were boarded up. As usual, yellow eyes peered out at me.
I waved, unable to help myself despite the fact that my heart was beating a mile a minute. The yellow eyes belonged to city trolls, and they were generally total jerks.
They hissed at me to prove it.
“Love you, too,” I said.
Music blared from the pub up ahead. I was almost home. I turned left at the Banshee’s Revenge, catching sight of the revelers through the window, and turned on the main avenue that cut through Darklane, the dark magic neighborhood of my town.
Magic’s Bend was the largest all-magic city in America, with a population of over sixty thousand. No humans lived here, or even knew it existed. The Great Peace, one of the most amazing pieces of magic ever created, kept us hidden from humans. If they approached Magic’s Bend, they’d be compelled to turn back without ever realizing why.
The main street through Darklane was busy at this hour. Here, nighttime was when people really came out to play. Though the rest of Magic’s Bend was like a normal city—if you ignored the Fae and shifters and other monsters—this neighborhood was downright creepy. Not everyone here was evil—Mari and I weren’t—but a lot of them were real iffy.
I slowed so I could easily avoid people, sticking to the edge of the sidewalk, right up against the buildings. I was still invisible, and in the hustle and bustle of the city, no one would notice me. I’d been slipping unnoticed through these streets for years. No one would mess with me if I showed myself, but I just didn’t feel like talking to anyone. I rarely did.
Most of the buildings here were three stories tall, built back during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The fancy Victorian architecture and formerly bright paint was now covered with a layer of grime—the remnants of dark magic hanging in the air.
I passed by shops selling all kinds of magic, from potions to shrunken heads, and restaurants where witches made deals over tiny glasses of strong black wine. A dark Fae with gray wings slipped by me, her eyes scanning the area where I walked. As expected, she kept going, unable to see me.
Once she passed, I pressed my fingertips to my comms charm and whispered, “What kind of trouble was that guy back in the cemetery?”
There was a pause, perhaps as Mari talked to Aethelred. Finally, she spoke. “The kind that will change your life forever. And he can’t tell if it’s in a good way.”
Eek.
We’d gotten our life to a really good place—I wanted it to stay that way.
There was really only one thing to do in this situation. Ignore it. I was a champion avoider.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I’ll never see him again.”
I swore I could hear Aethelred chuckle in the background and scowled. He said his goodbyes to Mari, and I was grateful. She was the only one I wanted to talk to. Her, and a nice stiff drink.
I picked up the pace and hurried toward my house and shop. It was just up ahea
d—a once purple building that was now mostly black. A creaky sign hung over the door—Apothecary’s Jungle.
Ignoring the narrow stairs that led up to the front door, I slipped down the side alley and entered through the back. When invisible, it was never good form to open a door. In a world where invisibility was pretty normal, doors opening on their own were an obvious tell.
Obvious tells would get me killed.
The side alley was dark and quiet as I slipped into the back garden, and then toward the rear of the house. Protection charms prickled against my skin as I touched the doorframe. My magic disengaged the charm and I entered.
As soon as the door shut behind me, my shoulders sagged. I flicked my hand in front of my face, and the magic faded from my ghost suit. The hood and veil were gone—which I never really felt anyway, since they were made of magic—and I wore regular tactical wear, though it was white. My signature.
It was the outfit I wore to fight battles, but only Mari knew that it could make me invisible. I saved that for my gig as a demon slayer.
Quickly, I strode through the dim corridor, calling out, “Mari! I’m home.”
Our house was actually much bigger than it looked from the front. Years ago, we’d bought up the buildings on either side and hollowed them out. I lived on the left and Mari lived on the right. The house in the middle was our workshop and public area. The space where Aerdeca and Mordaca lived—our Blood Sorceress personas.
But it wasn’t really a persona. I was just as much a Blood Sorceress as I was a demon slayer.
I strode through the hall toward our workshop, entering the room through the back entrance. A huge wooden table sat in the middle of the space, with a hearth on one of the shorter walls. Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, giving the place a lovely floral scent. Tall shelves ran along one side, cluttered full of vials of potions and ingredients. The tools of our trade—mortars and pestles, daggers and crystals—were scattered all over the room.
It was the work that paid the bills. For the right price, we could use our blood sorcery to make charms and spells, performing all kinds of magic that people would pay a hefty amount for.
I dug the two vials of demon blood out of my pocket and set them on the shelf. The people who came to us for spells didn’t realize what was in most of them, and I wasn’t telling. The demon blood was often our secret ingredient, and it was just a bonus that I could get it through my gig as a slayer.
“Finally!” Mari’s smoky voice came from the other entrance. “I was worried.”
I turned and grinned at her. “You knew I’d be fine.”
She shrugged one slender shoulder that was barely covered by her scandalous black dress. “True enough. You’re tough as an old broad with a battle ax. But still, I worry.”
“I know.” And I loved my sister for it. We were a team of two against the world.
Together, we’d been through thick and thin, heaven and hell. These days were more heavenly, but our past was hell. Which was the main reason that Mari was dressed like a magical version of the vampy Elvira from that old movie.
Her black dress plunged low between her breasts, sweeping the ground in dramatic fashion. Black hair was piled high over her head in a beehive, and a black sweep of makeup surrounded her eyes. She tapped her painted black claws on the doorframe as she inspected me for wounds.
Sometimes Mari really dressed like this—she did like it, after all—and sometimes it was a glamour. Frankly, it was a pain in the ass to do your hair like that every morning, so the glamour was a lifesaver. But no matter what, the outside world saw her only in this getup or her black fight gear.
I had a similar disguise, except white and classy. Ice queen, was how most described it. Though it was a disguise, it was also part of me. I liked my ice queen side.
Our past selves had been scrappy fighters. When we were dressed as Aerdeca and Mordaca, no one would guess that the two of us were Aeri and Mari, the two urchins who’d escaped from Grimrealm, determined never to go back. There, we’d been forced by our families to use our magic for evil. Had we not escaped, we’d be dead by now.
So, yeah. No way I was going back.
“Come on,” I said. “I need a drink.”
“What happened with the guy?” she asked.
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I won’t see him again.”
She propped a hand against her hip. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
My heart thudded. “What?”
“Aethelred said you haven’t seen the last of him. And that he’s from Grimrealm.”
Grimrealm?
Oh, shit.
~~~
Demon Slayer is now available. Click here to check it out.
Dedications
Institute of Magic
For Lindsey and Andrew.
Crime of Magic
For Pam and John.
Celtic Magic
For The FireSouls, my awesome friends on Facebook.
Captured by Magic
For Janice, with love.
Doomsday Magic
For Jon McGough.
Author’s Notes & Acknowledgements
Gods of Magic Author’s Note
Thank you for reading Gods of Magic! If you’ve made it this far, you’ve probably read some of my previous books and know that I like to include historical places and mythological elements in my stories. Sometimes the history of these things is so interesting that I want to share more, and I like to do it in the Author’s Note instead of the story itself.
First, the setting for the supernatural neighborhood in Edinburgh is a real place. The Grassmarket is a very cool part of the city located near the massive and amazing Edinburgh Castle. Edinburgh city proper contains both an Old Town and a New Town. The Grassmarket is located in Old Town, and as such, it is full of rich history and all kinds of cool places.
As you probably guessed, Old Town is the oldest part of the city and still contains much of its medieval street plan, whereas construction on New Town started in the second half of the 1700’s. While New Town is a masterpiece of city planning, with broad roads and beautiful Georgian buildings, Old Town is a super cool section of the city that is ancient, twisty, and cobblestoned, with narrow alleys and underground tunnels. The perfect setting for my sort of story, frankly.
Rowan’s favorite pub in Edinburgh is called the Whisky and Warlock, and it’s located next to the current (and real) White Hart Inn, which is supposed to be the oldest pub in Edinburgh. It’s a very cool little place with a big fire, a low ceiling, and copper mugs that dangle from the beams. I was looking for something a little bigger and more ancient, however, so the interior of the Whisky and Warlock is based on an old Devon pub called the Lydford Inn. It’s bigger, with more small rooms and narrow halls. Fireplaces decorate each room, along with old wooden bars that serve all variety of Real Ale, an English staple.
One of my favorite elements of the book—The Vaults—is based on a real place. Edinburgh actually has several underground places, including the real life Vaults. They are also called the South Bridge Vaults and they are a series of chambers built in 1788 underneath the South Bridge in Edinburgh. Initially, they were used as workshops and taverns, but later they were a hotbed of criminal activity. As the vaults fell into disrepair, Edinburgh’s poorest members of society moved in. By 1860, they were in such terrible shape that they were empty. Mary Kings Close is another one of Edinburgh’s underground districts. It is an alley that was closed off overtime until it eventually became an underground street (buildings were built right on top, closing it in). It was occupied between the 16th and 19th centuries and in the 17th century was named for Mary King, the daughter of a wealthy advocate (something similar to a 17th century lawyer).
The Vaults as they appear in this book are a combination of these two places, set right under the castle in Edinburgh, which is located on a rock outcropping about three hundred meters high. Steep stairs from the Grassmarket lead up to the street in front of the
castle.
Other history in the book can be found in the scene that was set in the Amazon jungle. Eloa’s small steamship, the Kilbourne, is based off of a real steamboat called the F.H. Kilbourne that served during the Klondike Rush at the end of the 19th century. The boat was nearly identical to the A.J. Goddard, a boat that was mentioned in Del Bellator’s series (Dragon’s Gift: The Seeker, published 2016). I just love my boats, and these two in particular. The coolest part of the A.J. Goddard and F.H. Kilbourne’s story is that they were carried over a snowy mountain by men, women, and mules. Albert and Clara Goddard, who built the two boats, were so determined to reach the Klondike gold fields as soon as the ice on the river melted that they broke the boats down into pieces and then took the shortcut through the mountains, hauling the pieces up and over and reassembling them on the shores of Lake Bennett, which is located at the headwaters of the Yukon River. As soon as the ice melted on the lake, they took off, shooting across the lake and down the Yukon river. Talk about determination, huh?
Other fun elements in the jungle scene come from mythology. The Caipora appeared in this book as a ghost, but depending upon where you are in Brazil, it could appear as something else all together. In most cases, however, they haunt lost travelers. The Boitatá is a mythical snake in Brazilian folklore, massive in size with eyes that could possibly blind one who looked too long. It is not always a bad creature and occasionally is viewed as a protector of the forest. In this book, however, it is definitely dangerous.
Last, while the Caipora’s Den is not a historical place, the small town did play a role in one of my paranormal romances. I thought it would fun to include it in this series as well. Though the worlds of the Mythean Arcana (my romance series) and the Dragon’s Gift do not formally intermingle, it’s fun to revisit them occasionally. For reference, that book is called Rogue Soul.