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

by Margo Bond Collins

  I arrived at an old building and hovered outside. Black and green mold clung to the old bricks. A light mist hung in the air and coated the broken and cracked windows. I knew I was at the correct location because dark magic surrounded the building. It acted as a repellent for normals.

  From what Cipriano had taught me, drampires liked to move into areas like this. Areas that were in desperate need of gentrification. Old buildings that had been abandoned and neglected were perfect for drampires’ dark magic activities.

  The areas they chose to inhabit were rife with criminals. These were normals that would look the other way and mind their own illegal business. Perhaps if the cities paid more attention and took some responsibility for these areas, the criminal activities would decrease.

  Drampires thrived on manipulating the minds of normals and especially criminal normals. Propaganda and rhetoric properly worded and presented in the correct light, could be a powerful tool in the drampires’ arsenal. And normals could be easily swayed and deterred.

  There were numerous cases throughout history to support this point. Various leaders who had abused their position of power to catastrophic social results. Drampirey at work in the background to serve their own nefarious purposes—that of harnessing the physical and emotional suffering of normals and feeding off of that powerful energy.

  This was a short term fix because it took dragon blood, a ceremonial knife of Damascus steel and glyphs to have any kind of longevity. Drampires preferred dragons and their brethren, but in a pinch, mass pain would work for the emotion reaping it would provide.

  I could feel Ralph inside the old building, but I could no longer hear him. I made my way through one of the broken windows. I had no way to prepare myself for what I found inside.

  I floated towards Ralph and made a circle around his body. He was secured to a chair that had been bolted to the concrete floor. His arms were pulled tight behind his back.

  His right shoulder was grossly deformed—dislocated or broken, I couldn’t tell through the dark-purple mottling. His wrists were bound with grey duct tape, as was his mouth and his ankles.

  His dark head hung listlessly against his bloody and motionless chest.

  He was covered in strange tattoo-like carvings—words and symbols that glowed with a greenish light and felt like pure evil. Glyphs! I would have shivered if I’d had the body to do so, but my shadow form did waver.

  I shifted, remembering clothes this time. My senses were immediately assaulted by a stinging, burning sensation—I ran my hand under my nose in an attempt to relieve the feeling. I looked around for the source of the irritation, but found nothing and no one.

  Except Ralph.

  I came to associate that stinging sensation with either fear or dark magic. It reminded me a bit of the fear and the accompanying stinging sensation I had felt from my adoptive mother, but lower on the intensity scale.

  The strength and force of his agony lingered in the warehouse—permeating the entire space. His pain moved through me in nauseating waves. It was as if he were still being tormented, but looking at Ralph, I could see he was well beyond pain and suffering.

  I was too late, I thought with sadness.

  There was no residual dragon essence that I could detect—only his pain remained. I wondered if I should attempt to revive him, like Cipriano had revived me. Could I offer him the sustenance of my essence—the healing of my aura if he was already dead, like I had been? How would he accept it, if he was well on his way to the other side.

  Lifting my hand, I was astonished to see that it glowed with a mixture of colors that looked just like my aura. The white light of healing had blended with the blue and red iridescence of my Phoenix Dragon.

  I reached out my trembling hand to touch the place on Ralph’s neck where his pulse should beat and my legs collapsed under me with the force of his pain. I vomited the contents of my stomach onto the dirty floor.

  My mind was instantaneously captured and assaulted.

  Chapter 13

  Visions of Ralph’s torture flashed through my mind in rapid succession and left me in a tangled, chaotic mess—the echo of his memories felt as if they were mine and experienced in truth.

  Just like that little boy when I was eight years old.

  Weak from the continuous stream of memories and the residual pain, I remained on my hands and knees awaiting the next expulsion from my queasy stomach. I hated throwing up!

  Once I finished weaving my musical notes, the pain started to subside and would hopefully arrest the need to vomit again.

  Sitting back on my heels, I wiped the vomit from my mouth with the back of my hand and concentrated on reinforcing the mental barrier I had haphazardly created.

  What in the hell was I supposed to do now?

  While immersed in Ralph’s memories, I’d seen a man who had to be a drampire. It was the only explanation that made sense. He’d been torturing Ralph and reveling in the pain he inflicted.

  The drampire’s features had remained distorted through the haze of pain consuming Ralph’s mind—except for his eyes. They were glowing green just like the words and symbols carved into Ralph’s skin.

  Oh God! I did not want to touch Ralph again, but I had to if I wanted to know more about his killer. As I reached out, I noticed my hand no longer glowed with healing light. But before I could touch him, Cipriano materialized before me and prevented me from doing so.

  I fell flat on to my ass—heart racing and startled spitless at his sudden appearance and booming voice, “No, Charani! You mustn’t touch him,” Cipriano admonished, “once was enough,” he finished in a more temperate voice.

  “A little warning next time…if you please!” I rasped with a show of bravado I didn’t feel.

  “I do apologize, but I didn’t want you to be become trapped in a memory-loop tainted by dark magic,” he explained.

  “A what?”

  “See how he’s been marked with multiple dark magic glyphs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unfortunately, as you know, those ancient symbols and archaic language are used as part of the reaping ritual to hijack emotional energy and acquire immortality for the drampire.”

  Yes, I did know. I thought about my glyph, the one that had been carved between my shoulder blades, like a tattoo—courtesy of the deceased Dr. Hanley. Luckily, mine didn’t glow with dark magic, not anymore at least, despite the druid blood I’d wiped across it.

  Cipriano continued, “When they are used in tandem, they capture and syphon painful emotions created during the torture of our brethren. That energy is funneled directly into an object infused with dark magic, like Hulbetto’s Amulet of the Dead.”

  “Is that what happened to your brother?” I asked, sensing that it had. “He was captured and locked into something?” I finished with mind-speak because abject horror had closed off my airway and stolen what was left of my raspy voice.

  “Yes, Hulbetto used dark magic to trap Aiden within the Sword of Dramascus.”

  My stomach dropped again, as the realization as to what could have happened just now, had I been captured by a drampire trap.

  “Yes, and I didn’t want you to be likewise captured and cursed to such a fate. During the reaping, the drampire use a ceremonial knife made of Damascus steel to perform the carvings and the torture. It’s toxic and incapacitating to dragons and dragon brethren. It can be paralyzing, which is why we are so vulnerable to it. Also, a small amount of blood is needed to complete the process for trapping the dragon’s essence and their energies into the amulet or whatever object is being used to house the stolen essence.”

  “Do you think Aiden is still trapped?”

  “Yes. I believe he still lives sentient and aware in the Sword of Dramascus, so named for being made of Damascus steel and infused with potent dark magic. I think he must be soul-tortured, as he’s forced to take the life of our dragon brethren. I will not rest until I have found and freed him from the enemy!”

  Cipriano’s
pain and angst slammed against my shield and I felt it waver under the force. No doubt I would have ended up prostrate and curled-up into a fetal position from the strength of it, but luckily I had just reinforced the shield moments before.

  “Pray forgive me, Sister. But the emotional trauma that Aiden must feel as he’s been forced to kill other dragons is more than I can tolerate. I must find him!”

  “It seems we both have people to find. My Mia and your Aiden—my brother as well, as of right now. I will help you as best I can, Cipriano. Your quest will be mine. We will find them both and bring them home.”

  “Yes, we’ll find them eventually. Did I ever tell you that Aiden was named after the Celtic sun god? His name means, “fiery.” It fit his Phoenix Dragon and his temperament perfectly. We must take care of Ralph and his continued postmortem torment.”

  I had no idea what to expect or what to do and so I followed Cipriano’s lead. He shifted to his dragon form and I did so as well—and ended up as a small hatchling—again.

  “For fuck’s sake! Why is it so difficult?” I said, frustrated that I couldn’t get this one thing right.

  “You’ll get there. Be patient,” he responded before instructing me to move to his side.

  He opened his jaws and let loose a stream of dragon fire that engulfed poor Ralph. Horrified, yet compelled beyond reason, I did the same. But my little hatchling’s dragon fire was nothing compared to his. Mine would hardly light a bonfire let alone incinerate a body—which his had done with alacrity.

  “Why did you do that? But, I assumed it must be for the same reason they had used their dragon fire at the asylum.”

  “We needed to stop the cycle of pain to prevent the drampire who had created those glyphs from using them to fuel his immortality. But, we also needed to prevent normals from finding this body—especially as it was—bound to a chair and littered with glyphs. We don’t want the normals to suspect that others exist.”

  “Why did I feel the need to help you?”

  “Because dragon fire is instinctual and despite your hatchling form, you still knew it, but more importantly you felt it.”

  I had so much to learn about living in this new world.

  Living—what a foreign concept. I had been existing before now and barely that. I didn’t know the first thing about freedom and living unrestricted.

  “Do you think you can shift back to shadow?” Cipriano asked as we turned to leave the warehouse as dragons.

  I shook my dragon head and added with regret, “I don’t think so. I didn’t shift into that form to begin with. It just happened when I was sleeping. Honestly, I was lucky to shift to human and then back into my hatchling form.”

  “No worries. Hop up onto my back and I’ll get us home and when we get there,” he informed me in his fatherly voice, “we will sit down and have a discussion about what it means to be family. Like communicating what you’re doing and reaching out for assistance when you need it. There’s no shame in needing help.”

  I knew he was right. I should have reached out to him when my shadowed self was following that magical trail. I would next time, I told myself and apologized to him.

  As we were flying over the warehouse and across the night sky towards Kansas City, a sensation came over me that was reminiscent of one of my more memorable bouts in solitary confinement.

  The sensation that day had started out just as insidious, barely there and unrecognizable for what it truly was—hundreds, if not thousands of tiny black ants crawling all over my unprotected skin. I was bound and helpless in that dark hell of the asylum basement.

  It was horrible!

  What would the sensation turn out to be this time?

  Chapter 14

  The creepy-crawly sensation came and went over the next few weeks, but I couldn’t place what it was or where it originated. At least not initially, but the feeling was at its strongest when I was at my most vulnerable—asleep and in the dreaming. There was something about being there that allowed me to connect easier with others—if I wanted to—and sometimes when I didn’t.

  My goal was to hunt down Hulbetto, locate the dragon brethren being tortured and find Mia before it was too late. They had all become my reasons for living, the purpose to my life. I wanted to find them and free them from the hell they endured, but especially Mia.

  I no longer ignored the voices, but actively sought them out and listened to what they had to tell me. Not that I understood half of what they had to say.

  I kept those goals foremost in my thoughts as I discovered what it meant to be a soul seeker. Cipriano taught me all that he could, but some of what I needed to learn would have to come through trial and lots of errors.

  My dragon was still small and I couldn’t always shift on command. I was hindered by the inability to reach my full potential. Something was still missing and holding back my transition to a full-fledged Phoenix Dragon.

  It was frustrating, to say the least!

  I learned how to take advantage of all my normal senses and all the ones that weren’t—including dropping my shields to allow the voices of the lost to come in and find me. And boy did they, every single night!

  My shadow self was compelled to respond every time—shifting to follow their pleas of mercy. The resonance of their pain became easier to track as I became more proficient and familiar with the various auras emitted and the stinging sensation of the dark magic tainting the pathway on my way to them. But despite these changes and pinpointing where my brethren were located, I had been too late.

  Every. Single. Time!

  The dragon souls I connected with had died before I managed to reach them.

  Every. Single. One!

  I was no soul seeker. I was a complete failure and should change my title to corpse finder instead!

  Could Hulbetto know that I was coming? I was continually one step behind—often just minutes too late. I was tracking him through the dead and the dying, but maybe he was doing the same.

  At times I felt as if someone were watching me, tracking me through the dreaming as I tracked the voices. Was Hulbetto using Hanley’s druid blood to find me as I used it to find him?

  I needed to ask Cipriano, I had kept this to myself thinking that perhaps I was just imagining things. The feeling was just vague enough to make me doubt myself and my developing abilities.

  Tonight, something had dramatically changed. I’d been able to connect with his current victim immediately upon falling asleep and entering the dreaming. She had been right there and screaming for help, almost as if she had been waiting for me specifically.

  I’d stopped shutting out the voices. I’d learned to find the energy trail created by the pain and suffering of the brethren and follow it directly to its source.

  However, this time was different, as were the circumstances.

  The desperation of this woman came from the fact that she, as well as her daughter had been taken. Her pleas for mercy and for help were not for herself, but for her little girl.

  The energy fueled by her love and fear were the strongest emotions I had ever felt!

  Her desperation was a beacon—a magnetic force pulling me from my bed, out of the dreaming and into my shadow self in rapid succession. Something that I had yet to accomplish on my own with any rapidity, and yet here she was, practically dragging me to her. All I had to do was hold on for the ride.

  This is what I’d always imagined a mother’s love would look like. What it would feel like—self-sacrificing and all encompassing.

  I would save her and her daughter this time. I was no one’s hero, but that was the only acceptable outcome! I would not let Hulbetto win again.

  I had been so close in saving Ralph, but too late nonetheless, just like all the others. This losing streak needed to change, but this time I needed to save two and not just one.

  I could hear her daughter too. I could feel her pain and confusion. The feelings were a little too close to home—too reminiscent of what I had gone through as
a child. Residual fear coursed through me and shook me to the core.

  No child should have to experience this.

  Through my connection with the two of them, I could feel and sense Hulbetto. It was like they were able to amplify him and his evil-essence. It was that amplification that would make all the difference.

  I felt a positive shift, perhaps I’d win this time and save them. I quickly tethered myself to them and followed their energy trail straight into the heart of darkness.

  Chapter 15

  Time had been essential, so I’d left without saying anything to Cipriano. I should have reached out with mind-speak to alert him to the fact that Hulbetto had struck again, but I didn’t.

  I didn’t want a lecture as to how I wasn’t ready to take him on. The time would never be right. If I was truly a so-called soul seeker, then I needed to start using that ability so that it could grow and evolve—and me with it.

  The time for patience and caution had passed!

  There was a thrumming sensation running through my veins, so I knew I was near. Dragon blood? Or druid? I didn’t know and frankly, I didn’t care! I would use whatever I had or needed to get the mission accomplished and save them.

  The mother and daughter’s energy signals were pounding in my chest and resonating through my soul. That’s how I would ultimately find them—soul to soul. All these people that I found carried dragon blood, no matter how dilute. Dragons had been around since time immemorial.

  There were lots of normals with dragon blood, more than I would have suspected. But if they had more than a trace, I was able to connect with them. What percentage that was, who knew, but they had to have a certain amount to be detectable by my weird soul-seeking ability.

  I didn’t recognize where I was, but I thought I might be on the outskirts of Chicago. There was a waterfront area with abandoned buildings, just like where I had found Ralph. A water element was integral to the drampires’ dark magic, as was soil from their home country.