Spells and Necromancy: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Unfortunate Magic Book 1)

by Candace Wondrak

  “Heard you went out on that hunt,” he said, smiling. “How’d it go?”

  “Good,” she said as she moved past him.

  “Did you see it?” His fingers thrummed against the book he was transcribing, his question said jokingly.

  She paused at the winding stairwell that led to the second floor. “Actually,” Lena deadpanned, mostly because it was true, “I did.” She chuckled to herself when Jerome laughed outright, believing she was making it up. Who would ever believe that she had seen the fabled white wyvern? She could scarcely believe it, and it had happened to her.

  Lena knew where she was going. She wound through the tall bookshelves, heading for the religion section. After finding out who Issept was, she’d do a little research and brush up on the Grey Revolt. Tamlen’s little civil war, which cost thousands of people their lives, mages and non-mages alike.

  The stacks were cursorily marked. Lena stopped herself at the section marked Old Gods. That voice had said Issept used to be worshipped, and Issept—man, woman or creature—was not worshipped any longer. Now, the widely-accepted religion involved a woman who had sacrificed herself to give mankind free will, so that they would not simply be slaves to the gods. She was the Goddess of Goddesses, the Bringer of Light. She was Enu.

  Lena herself wasn’t a very religious sort, but a self-sacrificing god was always more popular, in a historical perspective, than gods who did nothing but smite the unbelievers.

  Her fingers withdrew an anthology of gods and goddesses, and as she opened it, she was thankful that it was alphabetical. Lena went to the I tab, a little less than halfway through the book. She scanned the heading of the chapter, reading through the list of gods until she found it: Issept.

  She took the book to a nearby table as she flipped to the right page. Lena slid into the stuffy and somewhat uncomfortable chair as she read what little the book had on Issept. Issept was an Old God—that much she knew.

  What she didn’t know, however, was that it was universally worshipped, by Rivaini, by Noresah, by Sumer—all of the kingdoms on the eastern side of the Black Sea—as the god of life. It was a relatively benevolent god. There was a crudely-drawn picture of a man with a bird’s head. Thought to be a man, of course, because in the olden days, women were property…though it wasn’t much better now, at least where mages were concerned. Issept was prayed to heavily in times of drought, when farmers needed their crops to survive, and when women were having difficult pregnancies.

  Lena bit her nail. So far, Issept didn’t seem too bad.

  At the very bottom of the last paragraph about it, a tiny note was scrawled. She had to squint and lean forward to see it. Its mirrored god was Zyssept. At least that was something to go on. She flipped to the back of the book, under the Z tab. Zyssept was the final entry of the book.

  Zyssept was not worshipped, save for those who reveled in death, like those who could command the dead. Necromancers. It was known as the god of death, the bringer of disease and the void. When plagues spread, villagers offered the god sacrifices of human flesh. It was thought to have started each and every plague when it grew dissatisfied with humanity. Its blood, black as night, caused corruption and decay to anything the god touched. Necromancers who worshipped it freely called it father, master, the one true God. Mankind had not always been capable of power over the dead…Zyssept gave its blood to its most devout followers, and from its following sprang the dark arts.

  Dark arts meaning curses, necromancy, and other vile magics that were now outlawed in Rivaini and Sumer. Blood magic.

  The worship of Zyssept in Rivaini was banned eras ago. Anyone who still claimed to worship the god were scornfully dubbed Blackbloods. A common misconception today was the assumption that all necromancers continued to worship it. While it might’ve been true in the past, it was no longer true now. Zyssept was a forgotten god, perhaps for good reason.

  Lena startled. Blackblood—that’s what the voice called her. That voice in her head wasn’t Zyssept, was it? If it was, how? Why her? She did not worship it, did not even truly know of its name until now. The necromancy bit was a mistake; it didn’t mean she would instantly fall to the god’s feet.

  Her eyes fell to the picture of it. Just like Issept, Zyssept was thought to be part man and part something else. From the abdomen down, it had the body of a man, other than its feet, which were clawed. From the chest up, it was…a serpent, almost like a dragon.

  She supposed that made sense, due to the fact that dragon blood was acidic to the point where it burned through anything it touched. People in olden times must’ve thought that Zyssept was a dragon.

  Lena swallowed as she closed the book. She would need to read more about Zyssept, just in case it did turn out to be the voice in her head, but she could not handle any more of that right now, so she decided to instead read about the Grey Revolt and try to find out why history erased Vale.

  It was…too much. Too much for her mind to handle and process. She felt her anxiety growing.

  Zyssept.

  Even as she focused on other things, the name never seemed to leave her head, as if it was always there, waiting to be unlocked.

  Zyssept.

  Chapter Nine

  Lena sat in her room, waiting for Ingrid. She’d stolen a glance or two at the Noresh tome that she hid beneath her other robes; she’d have to move it before Gregain passed her onto the rank of apprentice, for she’d have to return the robes and receive new ones.

  She sat at the small table in the corner, thinking over what she learned. Zyssept was probably the voice in her head—an old god of death. The Grey Revolt was ended after a four-year-long war with a man who could swallow up entire fields in spells of fire. Midas, the king of Rivaini at the time, was said to have struck the killing blow after one of his rune-inscribed soldiers distracted Tamlen. Vale’s name was never mentioned, though there were rumors that the upper-most soldier was also spending a lot of time in the King’s bed. That, she knew, had to be Vale. Midas probably had his name stripped from history. Being a lover to a king or queen never worked out well.

  There was a single knock on her door and Ingrid let herself in, carrying a small bag. Why did she…

  “Have a surprise for you,” Ingrid chimed, patting her bag as she shut the door. “Though you’ll have to wait until after curfew to use it.”

  Lena had no idea what her friend was talking about, until she reached in her bag and withdrew a small vial of a light blue liquid. Was that— “Don’t tell me that’s a projection potion.” That was a journeyman-level potion, at the very least. How had her friend discovered its ingredients? Potion books were assigned by student level; she shouldn’t have had access to it. She shouldn’t even know how to make it.

  Her friend smiled, tossing the vial to Lena as she said, “I told you, you don’t know all my secrets.”

  Lena’s heart nearly stopped when she fumbled to catch it. But catch she did, and she found herself asking, “How do you—”

  “Secrets,” Ingrid repeated. “They’re secrets for a reason. Let’s just say I’ve found use for my talents, and they’ve helped me to amass some coin. Now, you’re going to drink half of that vial after Kyler does his nightly check, and when you do it, you’re going to picture where you want to pop up. I’d do the alleyway right next to the inn, or the room itself. The fewer people who see you pop into existence, the better—trust me on that.” She must’ve spoken from experience.

  “And the other half?”

  “Save it for another use. I can make you one of these every few days.”

  “Who are you getting your supplies from?” Ingrid gave her a silencing look, and Lena knew she shouldn’t have asked. “Right. Sorry. When I…pop into existence, will I just be a projection?” A blush crept up her cheeks, because she didn’t want to be a noncorporeal projection. She wanted to be tangible. She wanted the men to be able to touch her, and she wanted to touch them.

  How much she had changed in so little time.

&nbs
p; “Nope. You’ll be able to enjoy their presence just as much as they can enjoy yours.”

  Damn. Lena glanced at the vial. It was a very high level projection potion, then. This had to be the reason her friend was so easily able to slip out and make money in the city—because she wasn’t really slipping out at all. “What do you do with the coin people pay you?” She knew better than to ask what jobs her friend did, and she hoped Ingrid would at least tell her that much.

  “I hide it in the inn, and when I get leave to go into the city, I swing by and pick it up.”

  “You trust Harry that much?”

  “Like I told you before, I’ve saved his business countless of times.”

  Lena felt her eyebrows lifting. “And you’re sure this won’t have any lasting effects, like a certain other potion you gave me to test out—after assuring me the change would only last for a few hours, at most?” She couldn’t help but bring up her strange hair and eye color, but her friend acted innocent.

  “Hey, I’ve been doing these projection potions for years. That hair dyeing potion was a new thing, one I’m still working to perfect.”

  “All right.” There was the evidence of Harry knowing Ingrid, the coin that Ingrid had stocked up. The projection potion was something her friend must’ve done often. Lena smiled, giddy to the extreme. “Thank you for this, Ingrid. I owe you.”

  She made her way to the door, her hips swaying with an extra oomph, as if she knew what Lena planned on doing with her men. She probably did. “You do, Lena, and once I start writing my dissertation, I’m calling in your favor.”

  “Can you make me another potion to get rid of this?” Lena pointed to her head, gesturing to her hair and her eyes. Both were a beautiful shade of light violet, but she really missed her blonde hair and blue stare. Plus, not having everyone’s eyes on her would be a plus.

  “I’ll work on it tonight while you’re…” Ingrid grinned. “…getting down and dirty with your men.” She slipped out with a wink.

  When she was once more alone, Lena’s eyes returned to the vial. She couldn’t wait for lights out.

  All throughout the day, Valerius couldn’t stop thinking about it. He missed Lena, yes. He missed her dearly. But he simply couldn’t stop remembering what happened in the morning, how quickly things had progressed.

  He sunk lower in the water, trying to focus on cleaning himself and not how good it had felt to rub his dick on Tamlen’s. It could’ve been a one-time thing, because they both woke up with morning erections. But if that were true, why did he make Tamlen orgasm twice—and hard a third time as he watched Valerius jerk himself off? No, there had to be more to it than that. There had to, for as much as he tried to not think of the man, he failed. He thought of Tamlen nearly as much as he thought about Lena.

  Lena and Tamlen…as foolish as it was, he needed them both. He wanted them both.

  He couldn’t get his mind off it.

  Valerius sighed, heaving himself from the waters, not bothering to dry himself before slipping on his clothes. They clung to him, sagging off his wet skin as he made his way back up to his room. He threw a wave to Harry as he went and said, “The pork was delicious.” Harry chuckled over a bar full of drunk patrons. For a small inn, he certainly was full service.

  As he entered their room, he spotted Tamlen standing near the window, gazing out at the street across from them. The street was lit with glass-encased candle lights, protected from the weather. The night was upon them, dusk settling comfortably across the landscape. He didn’t even look at Valerius as he came in, but he did mumble, “I will go crazy if I am stuck in this room for much longer.”

  “Surely that’s an exaggeration,” Valerius spoke, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  Tamlen shook his head, finally turning his dark gaze to him. It was an intense, smoldering expression, one that, coupled with his scar, reminded Valerius of fighting him on the battlefield. His shoulders were permanently drawn, his chest puffed out in a stance that said fight me. He was an intimidating man, a powerful mage, and Valerius was not the type to be easily intimidated.

  “Not an exaggeration at all,” Tamlen said, leaning his back on the wall near the window. He crossed his arms. “I don’t exaggerate.”

  Valerius laughed, running a hand through his wet hair. “Of course.”

  Tamlen was slow to move beside him, sitting, hands on his knees as he said, “Rivaini hasn’t changed nearly as much as I hoped, I think.”

  “How much time do you think has passed?”

  “I asked Harry what year it was, and…” Tamlen shook his head. “It’s the Era of the Rabbit. The fucking Rabbit.”

  Valerius nearly choked on the information, for that meant that it had been over three centuries. Certainly, Rivaini hadn’t seen much change, considering. Perhaps it was the blasted monarchy, holding the kingdom back.

  With a sigh, Tamlen added, “And I was hoping for Lena to return.” The man acted like he needed a good rutting, a good lay. As if this morning hadn’t been enough. Maybe, for a man like him, it wasn’t.

  “I wish she was here, too,” Valerius said, honest. And then, before thinking, he moved a hand to Tamlen’s crotch. Tamlen quickly stood, whirling on him with a glare—all right, he thought, too soon.

  “What are you doing?” Tamlen hissed, dark eyes narrowing in a glare.

  “Lena’s not here, but we do have each other,” he explained his thought process. Really, did Tamlen truly think it was that odd that Valerius tried to touch him? After everything they did this morning? What a blind man. It both infuriated him and made him want the man even more.

  Tamlen frowned. “That doesn’t mean I want you to—”

  Standing, Valerius stepped toward him. “How can you deny what happened? How can you say that you don’t want me?”

  “I don’t…and what happened this morning was—it was a mistake.”

  Valerius wasn’t the type to take an insult like that lying down. He’d throw it right back, only his words meant more, for he spoke the truth, unlike Tamlen. “You might be comfortable with lying to yourself, but I’m not. Not anymore. It wasn’t a mistake. It was world-shattering. You and I fit, just as we do with Lena. You felt it too, or was someone else’s hard cock in my mouth?” He moved closer to Tamlen, whispering angrily, “Was it another man’s cum that dripped down my throat?”

  “Simply because it happened does not mean I would do it again,” Tamlen muttered.

  “You did not deny Lena.”

  “She is a woman.”

  “And I am a man. It might be different, but underneath it all it’s the same. You and I are together, connected, as we are with Lena,” Valerius said, stepping closer once more. There was not even an arm’s distance between them. They were on even ground, but only one spoke and faced the truth.

  “I don’t sleep with other men,” Tamlen growled.

  Valerius said, “I’m not other men. I am me, and I’m honest enough with my feelings to tell you that I want to do it again. I want to be naked again, to get on my knees and suck that cock of yours. I want to touch you, kiss you, prove to you that it’s all right. I want you—” He paused, glancing down, noting the hardness pressing against Tamlen’s pants. “—and judging from that outline, you want me too.”

  Still, Tamlen felt the need to argue, “Perhaps I only want that talkative mouth of yours on my dick.” Well, Valerius supposed that was a start. Tamlen ran a hand over his groin, touching himself over the fabric.

  “Is that all you want?” Valerius held a breath when Tamlen used his other hand, still gripping himself over his pants, to push him to the bed. Valerius sat, watching as the other man kicked off his shoes and tore down his trousers. That wondrous cock sprang forth, pointed and ready, the very instant he lowered his undergarments. His own prick was rock hard, aching to be released.

  Valerius slid off the edge of the bed, on his knees. Without any hint of hesitation, he took him in his mouth. He had to open his jaw as wide as he could to fit him in. His
jaw ached almost immediately, but the pain, the dull throbbing in his dick, made it worth it.

  Letting out a moan, Tamlen’s hands went to the back of his head. “No,” he said when Valerius started bobbing, “I want to fuck your mouth.”

  The crude language made him desperately wish that he was naked too, but Valerius didn’t move. He let Tamlen set the pace, thrusting his hips, sliding his dick in and out of his mouth. It didn’t take long for him to come, thrusting deeper as his fluid shot down his throat. Tamlen shook, the orgasm wracking his body so hard he nearly withdrew and collapsed. He pulled out of Valerius’s mouth, staring down at him. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it over his head, naked before Valerius.

  “Get up,” he commanded.

  Valerius got to his feet, shocked when Tamlen started to help him out of his clothes.

  When he gave him a questioning look, Tamlen muttered, “Shut up. Don’t say another word.” So he kept quiet, shivering at the sensation of Tamlen’s rough hands on him, helping him out of his shirt and then his pants. His fire magic made him run a little hot, but right now, Valerius was more than fine with the heat level.

  Tamlen ran a hand down his chest, over his runes. He didn’t pay much attention to the inscribed magic, for his dark gaze rested on Valerius’s erection. Not as impressive as his own—which had gotten a little limp, but not fully disappeared. His hand kept traveling down, until it gripped him. Valerius let out a ragged breath; he truly hadn’t anticipated him doing that.

  “Tell me,” Tamlen said, gaze heavy as his hand ran along his length, “did you ever think about fucking me before?”

  Those…thoughts should be private, shouldn’t they? Plus, Valerius found it extremely hard to form cohesive thoughts while Tamlen’s hand was around him. To answer him, Valerius leaned forward and kissed him. His skin was growing hot, he felt like he was going to come—much faster than if he’d been touching himself.