Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Margo Bond Collins

  Thin wisps of smoke outlined the creatures, like the ones painted on the room where they’d kept me, that began to form. Three, one from each of the black candles, a vampire, a werewolf, and a devil-like thing. Their bodies were deformed and grotesque. Mason was enthralled at what was happening before us. His grip on my arms loosened. I dug a hand into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out the crystals. I wasn’t sure what made me think of them, something from the vision or the thought of reversing them. I didn’t know and it didn’t matter, as long as it worked. Intuition was my gift at that second. The magic flowing through my veins, whatever it was, guided me. I knew for certain the crystals were the keys to take Lajaria down. I had had the defeating weapon with me all this time.

  The sharp shards of the Kyanite dug into my palm as I held it tight. In my other hand was the star, diopside crystal, it was as black as her heart, and the astrophyllite stone. The curses on the stone no longer mattered. Returning the crystals to the one who had cursed them was altogether bad. Having a curse come back to you was the ultimate execration.

  The creatures continued to develop and grow into the horrid beings Lajaria conjured. From what I remembered, they would obey her, be like her pets. I looked at Traer. His eyes were fixed on the black smoke. Lajaria’s back was to me, her arms were raised high in the air as she continued to chant. The devil-like thing bared his pointed fangs. Fear was no longer a feeling rushing through me. I was a Protector first and true. Anger at Kem’s death, having to run away from our home, and a million other things to be pissed off at, boiled inside me.

  I wrenched myself free. Lajaria spun. We stood in a face-off, as the creatures surrounded us. Mason didn’t come after me. I threw up my hands and yelled, “Inversare de blestem!” Reversal of curse. The crystals heated in my fists. Instead of the crystals being able to harm me, I reversed them to their positive state. The diopside crystal had been cursed to get me to reveal information to Traer, lower my inhibitions. Now, by reversing its energy to its positive side, which was connecting with Earth, I hoped Lajaria would feel the strong connection and it would be enough to send her where she belonged, back in the ground.

  Lajaria’s eyes went wide. Immediately she knew what I had done. Although, I knew having done the Echo Ritual that she had become very powerful. I also knew the reversal curse had to do some damage. The creatures stopped forming. They dissolved into the smoke. Everyone in the room had disappeared except for her and me. All I could see and feel was the energy seeping off of her and me. Focusing on the Kyanite crystal, I repeated, “Inversare de blestem!” The stone glowed in the light of the candles. Those three words would, hopefully, transition the negative energy into positive energy, bringing calm and tranquility to her whole being. I repeated again the curse of reversal for the astrophyllite. She could torment me no longer. And lastly, I took out the feather from the death bird. I held it over the flame of one of the black candles. The flame sparked and turned as black as the disintegrating feather. Then, as if commanded, all three candles went out.

  A few white ones were still lit. The room looked haunted. Lajaria no longer looked fierce. Her features had taken on a withered look. “I loved him,” she said. “I loved him, and he was supposed to love me back. And, he didn’t. He loved your wretched mother. He could’ve married me. He could never have a life with that woman. They had to live in silence and fear of being caught, of being found out, because she was pregnant with an illegal child. A child out of wedlock, you.” Defeated, she crumbled to her knees. “Not only did he not love me and he loved your mother, he loved you even more.” Her breathing became labored as she continued. “Your mother had nothing except the lies she told as fortunes for coins. I was strong, I was a Protector. I was gifted magic beyond anything or anyone she could have ever dreamed of. But, even my magic hadn’t been enough to make him believe he loved me. I was no match for his real love. I tried everything to get him to see how much I loved him, to show him he could love me. But, he wanted no part of it, and soon he became tired of me.” Tears ran down her face. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t mean to.”

  The beautiful woman had disappeared. Her face bore only ugliness and hate. “It was your mother who had more than she could take. My magic was no match to her poison. It wasn’t enough for me to suffer with the agony of a broken heart, or the pain from the poison that coiled around every cell. No, it wasn’t enough. Your mother dragged my half dead body into the alley for the rats. I felt them gnawing through my flesh and there was nothing I could do as I lay there dying for two moons. I had nothing left. Death could not have come soon enough.”

  I almost felt sorry for the woman, but then I remembered what she had planned, and what she had done, and all the evil things along the way; and I couldn’t bring myself to have one feeling of sadness for her. The host’s body weakened. Lajaria caught herself on a side table.

  Her voice was cracked and could barely be heard. “The Black Moon was in three days. To replenish the Irizat Luna was my dream. Instead, I lay in an alley useless and helpless, dreaming of a plan for revenge.”

  “It almost worked,” I said.

  The vampire crumbled to the floor. Her last spoken words were more chilling to the bone than anything I’d ever heard before. “I will return before the Black Moon.”

  A swish of warm energy swirled around the room until every candle was extinguished. The vampire was gone, not back to the dead as I had hoped. There was no doubt Lajaria would be true to her last words.

  Trust

  The woman of the house lay dead at our feet. Mason and the other guard had run off. Traer had backed out of the room and stood just beyond the threshold, looking in. His eyes were wide. His mouth was agape. No words, no smart-ass comment, no sarcastic expression, just wide-eyed and gaped mouth. Finally, the fucker was speechless. It only took a Protector to die an awful death, come back from the dead as a vampire, inhabit a beautiful woman’s body, reenact the Echo Ritual, and watch as she manifested evil creatures into being to get revenge that left him speechless.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “What the fuck just happened?” he asked in a slow drawl.

  “Magic of the worst kind.” I flipped on the light switch. “If you had listened to me, none of this would’ve happened.”

  “Jeta, I didn’t know.” I went out into the hall. “Listen to me,” he said.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “And why should I? All of this is because of your greed. You deserve to be lying next to that poor woman on the floor.”

  “I would take her place if I could.” His voice was so low I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly.

  I walked back into the room, to the dish with the protective eye. I picked up the tiny spiral dagger lid and replaced it into the vial. As I walked past him, he grabbed my arm. My arm was sore and bruised from the big man’s grasp and I winced.

  “I’m sorry,” Traer said and released me. “Please, Jeta.”

  “Please what?”

  “I didn't know.”

  “I know you didn’t. That’s why I tried to explain it to you. Our magic is powerful and it can be deadly and dangerous as much as it can be good and used for protection. I tried to warn you.”

  “I was a greedy asshole and I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn't matter now.”

  “But, she said she’d be back—”

  “Oh, she’ll be back all right. And, she’ll be stronger and smarter next time. This time was for show, it was to get under our skin, a test. My guess is she’ll do everything in her power to prevent us from getting to the Black Moon to replenish the Irizat Luna.”

  “Let me help you. Make up for what I’ve done.”

  “Why the hell should I trust you?”

  His chin dropped to his chest. He didn’t have an answer and there was nothing he could say that could convince me. “I can’t give you a reason. Only my word.”

  “You’ve given us your word before and it was a lie. All of your words are lies ex
cept the harsh truth you said about your greed.” I waved my hands in the air. “I can’t talk about this right now. I need to call Plamen.” I searched the house until I found a phone. He answered before the first ring had completed ringing. “Plamen it’s me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Come to Rapture, I’ll find you.”

  “Jeta—”

  I hung up before he finished. I owed him more than an explanation, but it wasn’t going to be over the phone.

  Traer was standing behind me when I turned. He held his hand out to me with my knives in his grasp. Without any words, I walked over and took them from him. I slid them into their sheaths on my belt.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said.

  “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” he offered.

  I desperately wanted to get out of this house and I had no other ride. Plamen wouldn’t be here for hours. I was exhausted and hungry. There was something in Traer’s tone, something I wanted to believe, something I had possibly heard, a thread of trust I wanted to hang on to. It had taken a lot for him to believe what I told him. Was it because he wasn’t gullible? Was it the fact he didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone other than himself? Had something changed inside of him after seeing what was actually possible? I didn’t know. And, I still didn't know if I could trust him.

  “How do I know you won’t try to steal the Irizat Luna again?”

  He shrugged. “You don’t.” He took my hand not holding the relic. “But, I can promise you this, I will help you protect it from anyone who does.”

  I decided to rely on my instincts. I held the vial up to the sunlight. One iridescent drop lay at its bottom. The Irizat Luna was almost dry. It was up to me, and my Protectors, to make sure it was replenished. We had to get to the Black Moon on time. Lajaria would do everything in her power to prevent us from doing our one vital job. We had no choice but to make it happen. Maybe, having someone else on our side to help us would be beneficial.

  Setting aside my trust issue, I said, “Fine. Take me to Rapture.”

  Traer smiled. “You’re not making a mistake.”

  With the weight of the Irizat Luna in my palm, I said, “I know.”

  The Black Moon would rise in twenty-three days, and I would be there.

  The End of Book 1

  Continue the Echo Rituals Series in book two, Moon Gift.

  http://www.ainsleyshay.com/echo-rituals

  About the Author

  Ainsley Shay’s passion for writing sparks from her love for the fantastical world of fiction. It’s in those enchanted and mystical places she dwells and conjures cursed and magical beings, spells, hope, madness, desperation, and love; all the ingredients to an unputdownable book.

  She surrounds herself with positive people and strives for balance in everything (rarely finds it, but she’ll never give up looking for it!). She sleeps with dreams and stones in her pillowcase, loves audio books, and has more jeans with holes than without. Her beta fish, Enzo, excitedly meets her at his window each morning and never fails to put a smile on her face. She loves the beach, but like most Floridians takes that beautiful part of our state for granted. (She’s working on that!) Ainsley lives in South Florida with her incredible husband and three amazing daughters.

  Read More from Ainsley Shay

  Ainsleyshay.com

  For news about new releases and giveaways join her Newsletter

  Gypsy Becca

  Death Of A Gypsy Queen

  Chloe Garner

  Gypsy Becca: Death of a Gypsy Queen © 2017 Chloe Garner

  All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Gypsy Becca

  An old curse is back, and Becca's queen is in mortal danger.

  Becca has only just joined her first Makkai Gypsy tribe, devoted to fighting dangerous supernatural things, when an old threat to the tribe's queen resurfaces.

  Without knowing who else she can trust, Bella draws Becca deep into the intrigue of an old curse that has already claimed the lives of five queens.

  Can Becca reveal the source of the curse in time to stop it, or will Bella suffer the same fate as the queens who came before her?

  Gypsy Becca

  “It started, like most things, with a man who loved a woman.”

  The camp fire sputtered, throwing sparks up into the sky and Becca smiled at the invocation. She’d heard this story before, a thousand times, from when she was a little girl with braids down her shoulders. Always at the campfire, always in a moment of greeting between people who knew each other, but seldom spent time together.

  It was the story of the gypsies.

  “Our greatest forefather, back beyond the time of anything we know now, was called Makkai, and he was an angel. He had great work to do on Earth, people to save and to heal, the work of God, but he looked down one night and saw a woman in her bed as she slept and he fell in love with the shape of her face, with the smile she wore even in her sleep.

  “When dawn came, he found that he was still there, and she woke to him, and like her daughters and her granddaughters and her great granddaughters, she chased him out of the room with swearing and violence.

  “The angel persisted and he won her through kindness and wisdom, and he gave her a son and two daughters. A first daughter to lead, a son to protect, and a second daughter to love. After that, he left her to resume his holy duties, and she passed on into the next world, her life having run to its completion.

  “The people hated the three children of the angel Makkai, and they cast them out with their families and their children, their possessions and their flocks, and the Makkai have never again settled to be a part of a people. We are set apart, chosen for a special purpose, and we are driven ever onward to fulfill that purpose and join our foremother in the hereafter.

  “But so have the tribes of the Makkai ever after been structured: a woman to lead, a man to protect, and a young woman to heal and tend to the tribe. And the Makkai were not without resources for their mission: all descendants of an angel have a natural gifting with magic, and so we go into the world prepared, armed and as ferocious as our parents before us, with our wits and our magic and our community.

  “Thus has it been, and thus may it ever be.”

  Jackson sat on a stool, the closest to the fire so that the flames lit his features as he spoke, Bella standing just behind him, tall, proud, and dark, her hand resting on Jackson’s shoulder. Becca always thought that if you were going to be a gypsy queen, you ought to look like that. Bella wore dark makeup around her eyes, making her gaze seem even more intense than it actually was, and she wore her chin at an angle that left no question who was in charge, here. Even as Jackson told the story, Bella watched the group, daring one of them to act out or misbehave in front of Argo.

  For his part, Argo was sweating and he looked put-upon, which was the point, Becca knew.

  “The young woman’s power is waxing in New York,” Jackson had said the night before, as they’d pulled into the RV park and started getting their things settled. “He won’t show us his anger, because he doesn’t want to fix his problems himself.”

  “Don’t push him too far,” Bella had warned. “We may not like them, but we like their money just fine.”

  Becca had heard stories of what it had been like to work with the Gray, in the years before she’d been allowed to join a roving tribe. The tempers and the pride, the complete instability. Jackson was enjoying having Argo trapped there, listenin
g to the story, and then, yes, they brought out the bowls, pouring kettle water over pods to make tea. Argo grunted, but Dawn ignored him as she continued to pour water in the bowls around the circle.

  In all, there were eighteen Makkai in seven trucks, an average-sized tribe of hunting Makkai. They were necessarily small, to be nimble and to keep the power struggles from happening that were inevitable when more of them got together in one place or in one power structure. Becca sometimes wondered if the Gray were really worse than the Makkai for infighting.

  Argo had brought three of his sycophants with him, fearful, angry people who jostled each other for position on stools and short-legged chairs as Argo sat on the ground in front of the fire. One of them was clearly superior to the other two, and he sat upright at Argo’s right side, but for the moment he didn’t have the intensity of either Argo or the other two. If anything, Becca thought, he seemed relaxed.

  It made him sexy.

  Becca found herself watching him as she sipped tea out of the polished wooden bowl, setting it down between her feet when she’d finished.

  She couldn’t place his ethnicity. His skin hinted at a darker hue, but not Mediterranean or African. Almost a faint gold or a copper. He had long hair that hung to his shoulders in thick, glossy waves, and his features were sharp, expressive.

  He caught her and watched back, each of them unflinching. He was too old for her, but he intrigued her, nonetheless, and for an instant she had a vision of him pressing her against the side of one of the trucks, his mouth on hers.