Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy Book 1)

by K. M. Shea

  For the House.

  In that moment, I hated House Medeis. It came before the people who were my family—which hurt something in my chest.

  But as I looked from Great Aunt Marraine to Mr. Baree, I could see the determination in their eyes. They would sacrifice themselves for me. So that House Medeis would survive.

  And just as I was powerless to protect them, I was equally powerless to stop them.

  I gripped Mrs. Clark’s keys so hard they bit into my palm.

  “Now!” Mrs. Clark barked.

  Momoko burst forward, firing off her magic in shimmering clouds. One hit Gideon, who dropped to his knees with a mewl of pain.

  Mr. Baree dragged me to the end of the hallway, plopping me down on a massive window seat. He unlocked one of the windows in the honey-comb shaped window seat and kicked out the screen.

  “Stop him!” Mason shouted.

  “House Medeis, don’t let them through!” Mrs. Clark cried.

  The air crackled with magic, and with a numbing horror I realized I didn’t hear Momoko’s shouts among the others.

  “Wait—” I objected as Mr. Baree set me on the edge of the window.

  He ignored me. “Don’t stop until you reach House Rothchild.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. I craned my neck as I looked back, trying to see Momoko through the storm of magic behind us. “But this is the third story—” My throat closed with terror when Mr. Baree shoved me out of the House, dumping me into thin air.

  I slammed into the decorative eaves that jutted over a fancy second story window just below me. My momentum made me roll off it and skid over the side before I could even try to grab at a shingle.

  I hit railing that corralled a tiny second-floor balcony. That took the air out of me, but it also slowed me down so when I fell over the side and landed in a lilac bush in the gardens below, I fell without much harm, miraculously still clutching the car keys.

  I struggled to breathe for a moment, simultaneously terrified and confused. Had there always been a lilac bush on this side of the House? I didn’t think so…

  “Thanks,” I squeaked when I got enough air.

  The House was silent, though I could still hear shouts and the explosive boom of magic coming from within its walls.

  “After her! She made it to the ground floor!”

  Run. I had to run. Momoko, Felix, and the others had paid for my escape. I wasn’t going to let it be in vain.

  I fought my way out of the bush, scratching my bare feet on some branches. Once on my feet, I stayed in the shadows of the few trees planted on the front lawn and stopped only when I saw the gate that normally blocked House Medeis’s driveway at night. It was ripped off its hinges and tossed to the side, another example of House Tellier’s brutality.

  I couldn’t let myself cry, this was not the time for it, but I did hiccup as I threw myself at Mrs. Clark’s car—a blue Toyota.

  It took me a few fumbling moments before I figured out her car was a press-button starter, but I managed to throw the car into reverse. Tires squealing, I backed the short distance out of the driveway—thank goodness Mrs. Clark had parked just inside the now busted gates—then threw the car into drive when I careened into the street.

  Cursing that I still lacked a cellphone, I floored it, shooting down the darkened street as a few wizards emerged from House Medeis.

  My heart pounded in my throat and I clutched the steering wheel with shaking hands, still barely able to believe what had happened.

  House Medeis had been invaded, and I was running for my life, and for my family.

  House Rothchild was only a ten-minute drive away, but it felt like hours of my life passed on that trip.

  I slammed on the brakes at the curb just outside House Rothchild and threw the car into park before it fully stopped.

  I almost fell out of the car when I kicked the door open, scrambling to the front gate and scraping my bare feet on the chiseled sidewalk. There was a buzzer on one of the gateposts, which I frantically pressed.

  The gate didn’t open, and though there were three lit windows on the main floor, no other lights turned on.

  “Come on,” I whispered as I tapped the buzzer so many times I lost track. “Wake up!” I strained my ears, listening for any sign of Mason and House Tellier driving after me.

  Only crickets chirped.

  Nothing on the street—or in the House—stirred.

  House Rothchild was more of a colonial architecture style—rectangular, white, and with an endless front porch. Between the sole streetlight and the dim lights that flickered in House Rothchild’s front windows, I could see three people sitting on the front porch.

  I jumped up and down and waved my hand. “I’m Hazel Medeis!” I shouted.

  They didn’t move.

  “House Medeis has been attacked! Please let me in!” I gripped the spokes of the gate and glanced back over my shoulder—still no sign of other cars. When I peered at House Rothchild’s front porch I saw someone stand, and I let my shoulders drop.

  Finally, I’d be safe with House Rothchild. I’d have to explain to their Adept what had happened, but we had a sworn alliance between our Houses. They would help.

  As I watched, the three figures all stood, walked across the porch, and went inside.

  Shortly after, the lights turned out, and no matter how much I pushed the front buzzer, no one stirred.

  House Rothchild wouldn’t help me.

  A sob filled my throat, but I forcibly pushed it down as I hurried back to my car. “It’s okay,” I whispered to myself as I threw the car in drive. “We have lots of wizard allies. Someone will help.”

  Except, they didn’t.

  Chapter Four

  Hazel

  I went to the four other wizard Houses we were allied with. No one came to the door. No one would even see me.

  Desperate, I drove to the Curia Cloisters.

  I screeched into the cloister parking lot, and the car jumped the curb before I could stop it.

  I abandoned it and ran for the doors—which were well lit and open.

  It was still dark outside—I think it was only three in the morning—but the cloisters were open all night given the nocturnal tendencies of some magical species.

  I sprinted up the sidewalk and into the cloisters, almost running down the brownie janitor who was mopping up what looked like a puddle of slime.

  “I’m sorry, can you tell me who’s here tonight?” I said between gasps for air.

  “The vampires are holding a meeting in the assembly hall to discuss the recent vampire murders,” the short statured brownie said.

  “Anyone besides the vampires?” I asked desperately.

  Vampires were among the strongest supernaturals. As a result, they tended to look down on the rest of us, and they barely adhered to society laws. Seeking refuge with the vampires was my last choice.

  “Anyone from the Regional Committee of Magic? Any Pack Alphas or fae nobility?” I continued.

  The janitor adjusted his hat. “A few Alphas are discussing hunting rights in the red meeting room.”

  “Thank you!” I almost skidded out on the wet floor as I ran down the hallway, familiar enough with the cloisters to know my way to the red meeting room.

  Hopefully I knew at least one of the Alphas present for the meeting.

  Usually the various magical species kept to their own, but my parents had been among the strongest in their generation in the Midwest, so some werewolf Alphas and fae nobles knew them. If I was lucky, an Alpha would take me in out of pity.

  With the rejection from the other wizard Houses, I was running out of options. I couldn’t easily drive out to some of the more obscure wizard Houses in neighboring states. I had so little magic it would be dangerous, and with House Tellier helping Mason, it would be easy for him to find me.

  The Alphas must have finished their discussion. When I reached the red meeting room the doors were open, and the Alphas were all lingering around the large ho
rse-shoe shaped table placed at the center of the room.

  Three of the Alphas were male, the remaining one was female. It was she who was curiously watching the door when I skidded around the corner and almost smacked into the doorframe.

  “Please,” I panted. “I need help.”

  One of the werewolves was Sam, the Alpha of Pack Whitefrost. He had attended my parents’ funeral, and while the other werewolves warily studied me, he stood up taller. “You’re Hazel, Rand and Rose’s daughter,” he said.

  “And the new Adept of House Medeis,” another one of the werewolves added.

  I nodded and swallowed the bitter taste of my panic. “House Medeis was attacked.”

  “What?” the Alphas snapped.

  “Mason—one of my senior wizards. He staged a takeover.” I sagged against the doorframe, my gaze darting between the werewolves, looking for any hints of compassion. “He got House Tellier to attack us.”

  “He’s after your position?” Sam asked.

  I nodded. “I escaped, but the rest of my House was captured. Can you help me?”

  Sam rubbed the back of his neck and was silent.

  I gazed from him to the other Alphas. “Please? What he’s doing breaks committee law.”

  “Have you sought refuge with other wizard Houses?” the female Alpha suggested.

  “They’re refusing to help me,” I bitterly said. “They won’t even talk to me.”

  Sam sighed. “I’m sorry, Hazel, but…we don’t interfere with other species’ business. It leads to infighting and war. The supernatural community already weak. We can’t risk it.”

  I shut my eyes, forcing back the tears that threatened to escape.

  “Why don’t you officially hand over your Adept position to Mason and forgo your right to leadership?” the third male Alpha suggested.

  “She can’t,” the female werewolf wryly said. “To wizards, the House is their top priority. If she does that, she’ll bring ruin on House Medeis.”

  The second male werewolf scowled. “Pack should be first,” he grumbled.

  Painfully, I opened my eyes. “You really won’t help me?”

  Sam looked away—signaling just how uncomfortable the situation made him as usually it was considered a sign of weakness to his kind. “I’m sorry, Adept.”

  I wanted to crumple into a heap on the ground. The cloisters had been my last resort. Where could I go now?

  The other male Alphas also looked away. The female Alpha alone was studying me.

  Should I risk traveling to one of the other out-of-state wizard Houses? It might be my only chance.

  I heard shouts echoing up the hallway. I poked my head out of the room and saw a group of wizards stalking closer. Mason was leading them.

  I glanced back at the Alphas. Judging by their flickering gazes they heard the other wizards.

  They really weren’t going to help.

  What could I do now? My family had sacrificed themselves for me, and I was about to get caught! Wasn’t there another way?

  My thoughts focused sharply on my final option and the only other beings in the cloisters: the vampires.

  I zipped out of the red meeting room and darted down a different hallway from the one Mason and his goons were in, my bare feet thudding painfully on the unforgiving marble floor.

  “There she is!”

  “Get her!”

  I felt the tangy sensation of wizard magic, but sprinted around a corner before they could throw anything at me. Even so, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was running to safety, or throwing myself into an even greater danger.

  There was no way the vampires would take me in as a political refugee. I wasn’t important enough, and frankly it wasn’t their way. But vampires and fae were known to take on humans as servants and—in the vampires’ case—blood donors.

  I couldn’t be a blood donor because I was a wizard, but maybe one of the vampires would take me as a servant. I would have preferred to serve a fae Court, but I was out of time.

  The vampires were my last hope.

  I took a few twisting corridor loops that would keep me out of sight. It took me a little longer to get to the assembly hall, but it also made it harder for Mason to figure out where I was.

  The assembly hall was the second largest room in the Curia Cloisters—it was actually multiple floors high for viewing purposes. But I didn’t fancy jumping down on the vampires, or using a side door—they might maim me just to make a point—so I scrambled to the main entrance.

  It had two doors—both of them were large, wood paneled monstrosities—and they were luckily the tiniest bit ajar.

  I had to use both hands to muscle the door open enough for me to slip in, and it creaked loudly enough to wake a sleeping werewolf.

  Mason’s shouts were starting to grow closer, which meant there was a good chance he’d heard the door creak, so I yanked the door shut behind me, my shoulders heaving with the exertion.

  I wanted to rest my forehead on the cool door, but already the hair on the back of my neck was prickling. I slowly turned around, keeping my hands at my side.

  I paled when I realized my vampire audience was much larger than I had expected. I thought it was informal—like the werewolves’ meeting—but slightly larger.

  Turns out, I was totally wrong.

  In fact, based on the filled chairs that spiraled the circumference of the room, about half of the vampire Families in the Midwest had a representative present. And all of them were staring at me with glittering red eyes.

  Vampires are considered some of the oldest supernaturals, so the style and range of clothes in the room varied by centuries.

  A female vampire sitting on the left side of the room wore a Victorian era gown with thick, poofy skirts held out by a crinoline, and a bonnet-like headdress that tied in a large bow at her chin. The most modern looking vampire I saw was a male with his hair slicked back wearing a plaid suitcoat and loose trousers in colors that made him look like he had stepped out of a 1950’s advertisement.

  With all the different costumes, it might sound like a masquerade, but the unnatural stillness of vampires matched with their utter lack of emotion, the unnatural paleness of their skin, and the overwhelming predator sense they inspired made me aware that they weren’t dressed up for the fun of it, but rather because they were that old.

  My heart beat faster from an entirely different type of danger, and I swallowed loudly as I grabbed fistfuls of my stupid fleece pajama pants.

  “I apologize for interrupting your important meeting.” I bent over in a deep bow. “My name is Hazel Medeis, and…”

  I heard shouting in the hallway, and something banged against the door.

  I jumped, making the pads of my feet ache.

  “Hazel Medeis, the new Adept of House Medeis?” The question came from a female vampire lounging on her chair in a beaded, loose-fitting dress that looked like something from the 1920s.

  “Yes,” I said in a dry, scratchy voice.

  “Why do you interrupt this private and sacred meeting of vampires with your garish presence, Adept Hazel of House Medeis?” a male vampire sneered, his upper lip curling back. He had a pointed beard and wide mustache and wore a sort of red jerkin-doublet-thing that made him look like he was a musketeer.

  I tried and failed to lick my lips as someone knocked on the door behind me. “It is not my intention to offend. Rather, I am here to request refuge. A member of my House has staged a coup.”

  The musketeer scoffed and leaned back in his chair. “No self-respecting Family would take on a refugee of your diminutive and unimportant status. We don’t bother ourselves with the politics of ants.”

  “I am aware of this, which is why I would like to request a servant’s position.” I had to spit the words out of my mouth, they were so unwillingly lodged in my throat. Every piece of self-preservation screamed at me to run from the room, but as dangerous as the vampires were, I had a better chance of surviving with them than with Mason.

>   They wouldn’t be interested in trying to manipulate House Medeis, as wizards posed no threat to them, but because I was a wizard, neither could they drink my blood. If I was a servant, they might leave me alone, which would give me a chance to recoup.

  The musketeer looked down his long, aquiline nose at me. “What use would a rat-blood be to us?” he scoffed.

  The female in the beaded dress thoughtfully played with her jeweled necklaces while the male in the plaid suitcoat set an unlit cigarette in his mouth as he studied me.

  “You don’t look like you could do anything useful.” The flapper-era female said doubtfully. “I don’t suppose you are trained in lawn management, hand scrubbing laundry, or pastry making?”

  “No.” I glanced over my shoulder—Mason and his goons hadn’t stopped knocking, but since they hadn’t burst in after me they must have figured out who I was speaking to. “But I am a quick learner and have a background with technology.”

  Plaid Suitcoat waved his hand. “What use is technology?” The way he narrowed his eyes made me think it was a rhetorical question. “Your parents were quite powerful wizards. Did you inherit their abilities?”

  If I had been anywhere else, I would have shut my eyes. I’d come to accept my lack of magic while in college, but it was the source of all my problems tonight, which was a bitter pill to swallow. “No,” I said. “I’m not powerful at all.”

  “Ah. In that case, run along.” Plaid Suitcoat leaned back in his chair. “You really are useless. Off with you.”

  The pounding had stopped, and instead Mason called through the door. “I beg your pardon, but I believe a dangerous renegade has impeded upon you. Please allow my men and me to peacefully retrieve her.”

  I peered down the side of the room—perhaps I could run out a side door? But would the vampires let me, or would they kill me in their indifference?

  I took a step sideways. Flapper-Dress peeled her lips back, revealing slightly elongated, sharpened fang teeth. “You were told to leave, rat-blood.”

  What do I do? Death by fang, or traitor?