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

by Margo Bond Collins

  Mage walked through the crowd of shoppers. She couldn’t help but have the feeling she was being followed. She didn’t want to turn and look; she preferred for them to think she had no clue. After last night, she was pretty sure she knew there was a skin walker on her tail. She had heard the legends over the years. Most people blew them off as stories to scare children, but she knew all legends started with a truth.

  When Mage walked up to the booth, she was greeted by a short, older woman. She was dressed in a beautiful white blouse, pressed with extra starch, and a pair of dungarees with red clogs. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, and twisted into a bun at the top of her head. She had on red lipstick and a small red flower barrette decorated the side of her bun. She wore earrings made of turquoise birds. They hung low and matched the long necklace draped around her neck.

  “Magenta, hello.” Patience walked out from behind the table and gave her a warm hug. Axle waved and went about with slowly packing away the goods they had with them to sell for the day. “So good to see you.”

  “We have to talk,” Mage said to Patience.

  “Okay. Do you want to talk here?” Patience asked her, looking around, scanning her surroundings.

  “We can stay here or take a walk. Either way, I’m not alone. I believe I’m being stalked by a skin walker.”

  “Oh! I see.” Patience’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah, exactly. I’m here to make sure you can take my family’s book to the safe location we discussed many moons ago. It must be kept safe. Kasha will come here if I am gone. She loves it here. You will need to help her at some point. When the time is right, you will know to tell her the truth.”

  “I understand. The book is already tucked safely away. I have a false copy that has little bits of information and false information at my home. I know not to trust anyone.”

  “Patience, hi.” A slightly taller woman approached the two of them. “I hope I am not interrupting anything.” Clearly she knew she was.

  “Phaela, how are you?” Patience looked over at her and the young man next to her.

  “Who is your friend?” She extended her hand. “How do you do? I am Phaela, and this is my son, Nate.”

  “Nice to meet you both.” Mage shook her hand and that of her son. He stood just under six feet. He looked very familiar. “I can’t help but feel like we met before,” she directed to the boy.

  She thought of him as a boy, but he had the body of a grown man. She admired his youthful skin and his lush head of hair. It was dark and trimmed short on the sides; the top was just long enough that he needed to flip it out of his eyes.

  “We crossed paths yesterday.” The boy’s thin lips curled up in the corners.

  Mage felt that cold sensation again. It was at least eighty degrees out, and she was sure there was no breeze. “You don’t say,” Mage simply said.

  “I’ve been volunteering at the ranch. Catori asked me to empty the supplies from your car yesterday. Are you looking forward to the festival next week?” He looked her square in the eyes, not blinking once.

  “Oh, yes, I am. Thank you for your assistance with my supplies. I’m here to pick up a few more odds and ends.” Mage looked down at her empty tote bags.

  “As you can see, I haven’t accomplished that yet. Patience, I will swing by to say good-bye before I leave. Is Sam here today? I need to grab some things to make my labels.”

  “Yup, same spot as always.” Patience let her know.

  “It was nice to meet you, Phaela. I am sure we will meet again.” Mage reached out to shake her hand again.

  Phaela’s eyes went white when they touched hands and her grip tightened. Mage tried to pull back her arm, but Nate put his hand on it. “It’s okay. She’s having a vision.”

  Phaela released her hand and her eyes returned to their nearly black state.

  “My apologies, Mage. Your granddaughter…might she be the one of light the prophets speak of to usher in a generation of light? There is only one of the Unis that can break the darkness.”

  “Excuse me?” said Mage. She looked over at Patience for some reassurance about revealing her family’s identity. Patience gave no indication either way. The boy was watching her intently.

  “I’m not sure what you are talking about. Your son said you had a vision. Can you tell me what kind of vision?” Mage questioned her.

  “I can tell you that I will need your assistance with one of your special teas that you are so famous for.”

  “What kind? Maybe something with a nice chamomile base?” Mage was cautious what she revealed about herself.

  “Oh, no, sweetie. Do you know when your granddaughter’s real birthdate is? Do you know where the stars and the planets truly aligned the night she was born. I have seen where she has been and where she will be.”

  “Oh, is that so?” Mage didn’t like the tone Phaela took with her. She also wasn’t clear on what her relationship to Patience was.

  “Here is the deal, Mage. I will need a tea that allows me to see those that can astral project, like your friend over here. She might be Kasha’s only chance at a life outside of the darkness.” Phaela took a strong stance and her jaw tightened as she spoke.

  “So now you know my granddaughter’s name?” Mage knew she and her granddaughter were being threatened.

  “I have seen many things, Mage. There are a lot of details missing, and you know fates can always shift, but it is rare that destiny can be distracted. So how about that tea? Can you make it for me?” Phaela demanded an answer.

  “I can. When do you need it?”

  “You can make it tonight. You will bring it to me at Patience’s house. I’ll be staying with her for some time. I believe you know where they live.”

  “I do. I will be there with the tea and you will tell me what you have seen that involves my granddaughter.”

  Phaela turned and walked away with her son into the crowd.

  Chapter 5

  Mage forgot all about what she needed to pick up from the market. She felt it in her bones that she wasn’t going to make it to that festival next week. Something didn’t sit right with her about this Phaela person, but she could have been wrong.

  Where did she come from? Mage was caught off guard by her intrusion. There was something about her she didn’t trust. She would make her the tea. She would bring it to her, but she would be sure to take certain precautions, just in case.

  When Mage got home, she pulled out all of her recipe and enchantment books, as she liked to call them. She cleared off the old wooden picnic table that they used for a kitchen table and she set up her books. She grabbed all the herbs and minerals she thought she might need and two pots.

  She had two recipes she needed to make. One pot would be for a mixture of dried herbs to make the tea for Phaela to be able to see someone who is astral projecting. The other pot was for her to brew a tea for herself, the one to mark the dark one who would come for her.

  Mage searched each book, looking for something that would only be a temporary solution for Phaela. Could she make a tea that could give her the ability permanently? Of course she could, but it wasn’t her place to give those kinds of gifts.

  Mage believed that our creator made us with a purpose. Sometimes we need help getting through this plane and level of existence, but we all had our place. We all had our energy. Whatever we borrowed or took from the universe would have to be made right somehow.

  It conjured up memories of how she was brought up so heavily connected to nature. If we took something and left a hole in the universe, the only thing that could fill that hole was darkness. When we gave of ourselves and were left with a hole, it would fill with light.

  She mixed a variety of dried herbs, flowers, and barks into the pot. Mage had a few tonics in her arsenal of which she dropped in a few drops and made sure the dried leafy mixture was evenly coated. She grabbed a large jar and filled it with the mixture.

  There was enough to make enough tea to last her a few weeks, ma
ybe two months if she used it sparingly. Mage didn’t know and was concerned with what Phaela’s intentions were.

  In the second pot, she poured in some brown tonic and a spoonful of rose water for the base. This was going to be a little bit more complicated. Mage needed to make a solution that she could both ingest and spray herself with. If someone attacked her tonight, her killer would be marked. He or she would have no knowledge of it, but the right person would be able to see the mark.

  Mage added a variety of ingredients at different times throughout the cooking process. With each grouping of ingredients, she chanted words from her book. The brew would be ready when the steam swirled with color. That was always a sign of when something magical was ready, when the connections had been made. Another reason she didn’t make her special teas for just anyone.

  She strained the solution into a jar and let it cool. She poured most of it into a cup with some wildflower honey. The remaining solution was poured into an atomizer. Mage spritzed herself from head to toe with the solution and after that, she drank the tea. It wasn’t the most pleasant, but she had made some that had been very difficult to smell, let alone consume. This one had the lingering smell of roses and cheap perfume.

  She learned this one from a young lady just south of the border. It was one of those recipes she didn’t take any monetary payment for. She knew the day might come that she would need the recipe more than the young lady. The young lady told Mage that if someone were to take the life of the person who drank or wore this potion, they would take with them the part of the potion that would mark them to a seer. Of course, the downside was that there needed to be someone looking for the mark.

  They walked in a world that was different than the average human. Although they lived the same lives, sometimes more times than they might prefer, they lived with a different set of rules and laws. Most inhuman breeds lived in secrecy for one reason or another, mostly in fear.

  She wasn’t sure who, how, or when someone would see the mark on her killer, but she would make sure she left Kasha a message.

  Kasha was aware of the small box in her grandmother’s room with her important papers and legal documents. Mage made sure to let her know where such things would be after she passed. In the lockbox, she included the tools needed to locate someone who wore the mark of her killer, should there be one.

  When Kasha was young, she and her gram used to write each other secret notes. Not that they were really secret from anybody, but it was fun for Kasha. Mage also knew that if she ever needed to tell Kasha something, Kasha would know how to unlock the words on the page.

  Mage wrote a quick note about her concerns that she was in danger and that if she passed before she had time to tell her everything, Kasha would need to find the person that was marked. Hopefully Kasha would know what to do with the blank piece of paper in the box. If someone was coming for her, she knew their real target was going to be Kasha. She needed to find a way or someone to help protect her.

  Phaela spoke about a prophecy. Mage needed to know more. If she had to give her life to get those answers, then that was the risk she was willing to take. She made herself a small dinner and made sure the house and her hidden secrets were in the best order she could have them under the circumstances.

  Mage put the keys in the ignition of her old Chevette and again the engine struggled to turn over. It took her several attempts, but the old girl managed to grumble to life. The car was at the end of her usefulness.

  The sun had already set past the horizon; the clouds didn’t obstruct the beautiful night sky. The moon was the tiniest sliver, not really providing much light, but the stars were shining bright.

  Patience and Axle lived on the northern edge of Santa Fe, out away from the crowds, just up the mountain. She had been there on several occasions, usually to meet with common acquaintances for business type things. Patience had a lot of connections. She knew more about the existence of supernatural breeds than most breeds themselves. If she didn’t know, she could always reach out to one of the other Keepers. There weren’t many of them left, but they recorded the histories and stories of the supernatural world. Some of her family’s stories had been exposed, and thought of as fables and fairytales by the run-of-the-mill humans.

  They all had a way of getting news to one another. It was imperative to insure the safety of the record and family histories they documented. Mage didn’t know how they were able to do so and she never asked. She did know about Patience’s ability to astral project. This was one of the reasons she had asked her to help look after Kasha, if anything ever happened to her.

  She fiddled with the dial on her radio as she drove, but gave up on finding an acceptable radio station. Most of the channels that came in were too noisy for her old ears. Instead, she decided to enjoy the silence and the whirl of the air streaming over her car and the hum of the tires spinning over the pavement below.

  She hoped she made her potion correctly for marking anyone who might bring her harm. In her mind, she retraced her steps and silently listed all the ingredients and the steps she took to ensure its effectiveness. It gave her a false sense of accomplishment that she couldn’t remember making any mistakes.

  Mage didn’t usually drive that fast, but she had over a thirty-minute ride and the speed limit on the highway was seventy. Not sure the old Chevette could handle the push, she took the chance and gunned it. It made her feel like a real rebel. She actually might have gone the fastest she had ever gone at a cool seventy-five mph.

  It was a fairly warm evening for that time of year. If she had to guess, it was in the mid to high sixties. She had on a long-sleeved dress that came down to her ankles. It was a faded purple with green leaves embroidered around the base. She liked the idea that the leaves circled her ankles. It reminded her of when she was a child and they lived on the upper East Coast when the leaves would change colors and fall to the ground. Her parents would make large piles of leaves for her to jump into.

  Mage smiled and her heart warmed at the thought of her parents. She knew she would soon see them again. Kasha was a strong young woman and she had confidence that she raised her right. Kasha would survive whatever the darkness might try to throw at her.

  An unexpected chill to the air had her shivering. She knew he was close. There were other cars on the road tonight and the closer she got to the city limits, the more traffic and lights would keep that skin walker from showing himself.

  Mage was doing her seventy-five mph, but that did not stop the other driver from passing her. For a short time she was alone on the highway. As soon as that happened, the gust of cold air hit her. She turned to her right and could see the silhouette of a black humanoid coyote running beside her.

  Her first concern was that she had never seen a black coyote, second was no one that she was aware of could run seventy-five miles per hour. His eyes flashed back and forth between yellow and red. She looked at the road ahead of her and when she looked back, he was gone again.

  There was no doubt in her mind that he was following her.

  Mage arrived in one piece at Patience and Axle’s house. It was a small house on a road with sparsely placed homes. It was easy to see the city lights from where they lived. The view was breathtaking.

  She grabbed the jar from the back seat of the Chevette and said a little prayer to herself. She prayed that whatever happened, her spirit guide would steer her in a way to protect her granddaughter, whatever the cost. She asked them for a sign if she shouldn’t be there. None came so she approached the front door.

  Her concern for why Phaela may need to see someone astral projecting, was not outweighed by her concern for Kasha. If there was a prophecy and there was information foretold about her granddaughter, information that could help her inform and protect Kasha, she needed to know.

  Patience opened the door before she had a chance to knock. “Come on in. We’ve been waiting for you,” Patience said. Her voice was flat; the warm, inviting vibe she usually had wasn’t present
on this visit.

  Mage walked into the living room. It was over-cluttered with books and nick-knacks everywhere. The lights were dimly lit. There was one floral-patterned loveseat and two recliners that looked like they were upholstered in a striped green velvet.

  There was no part of the room that wasn’t decorated, if that is what you wanted to call it. The walls were covered with shelves covered with books and figurines. Paintings filled in the empty spaces on the walls. Next to each recliner, there were baskets full of books and magazines.

  You could tell which chair was Axle’s because the basket was full of history-related periodicals. The other basket had an assortment of old novels and gardening magazines.

  Phaela and Nate stood up from the loveseat and approached the door.

  “You remember my sis-ster, Phaela, and her son Nate.” Patience put her hand out in their direction with her palm facing the ceiling.

  “Your sister?” She looked back and forth between Phaela and Patience, confused and searching for the resemblance. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

  “Yeah, well.” Phaela eyeballed Patience. “It’s a long story. I would love to tell you over a cup of tea one day.” She looked like she was forcing the small smile that cracked at the corners of her lips.

  “Where is Axle?” Mage asked Patience.

  Patience looked down at the floor and hesitated.

  “Pat?” Phaela prompted her.

  “Oh, Axle. He’s in the other room.” She looked up at Mage. “He was tired so he retired earlier than normal today.”

  Mage searched Patience’s eyes. There was something she was hiding. Never in all the years that they’d known each other had she not looked her in the eyes when they spoke to one another. Mage also knew this was a huge pet peeve of Patience’s. She found it very rude to not look at a person that was talking to you. It was her old-school way of thinking.