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

by Margo Bond Collins

  The elder seemed petrified by this fact, which, in turn, petrified all of the others. The voivode felt as though his heart and lungs might turn to stone and drop into his belly at any moment as he realized what this meant.

  Not only was the ring—the potential solution to his daughter’s ailment—gone, but the magic that made it useful was gone from it, as well.

  “Where…” the voivode began, feeling his legs betray him and buckle under his own weight. “Where is my daughter? Where is Analetta?”

  “What an interesting thing to overhear,” Tybalt’s steps were swift-but-silent as he closed the distance between himself and the man his informant had identified as this camp’s leader. “Because that’s exactly what I was about to ask.”

  Dark, untrusting eyes turned on Tybalt, and, though he didn’t need to avert his gaze from the leader who’d already identified himself as his newest target’s father, he felt the eyes of many more like them peering from beyond the windows of the vehicles surrounding them.

  Like birds in a canopy of treetops, he thought, letting his left hand come to rest on a reliable, solid weight hidden under his black duster. And a single shot into the sky will send them soaring.

  “Who are you?” the Sybii leader demanded as the moment of weakness he’d shown upon Tybalt’s arriving suddenly seemed to dry up like a drop of water on those desert sands. The man was suddenly taller and more dangerous than he’d anticipated.

  Excellent, Tybalt thought, letting a smile spread across his face.

  This only seemed to drive the Sybii leader to become that taller; that much more dangerous.

  “I don’t like to repeat myself,” he said, taking a step toward Tybalt and his team. “So this will be the last time I ask. who are you?” Then, narrowing his eyes at him and jabbing a thick, calloused pointer finger into his chest, he added, “And what do you want with my daughter?”

  “Same as you, I’m certain,” Tybalt answered in his most professional, upbeat tone as he took the man’s finger into his hand and gave it a formal shake. Then, releasing the finger and wiping the trail of dust on his palm off against the lapels of his nearest soldier, he said, “And my name is Anthony; Anthony Tybalt. I’m a…” Tybalt’s smile widened, “I guess you can call me a ‘problem solver.’”

  Chapter 7

  “Who the hell are you? Why the hell are you in my trunk? How the hell did you get in here? What the hell are you doing with my jacket? And why in the hell should I let you live long enough to answer?”

  Why the hell shouldn’t we freeze the air in your lungs, you ass?

  We need him, remember?

  Need him for what? To supply you with perfumed leather to huff off of for the rest of your extended life?

  I can’t wait to be rid of you, I swear.

  Ana wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep, or how she’d managed to do so without succumbing to the poisonous gases that had been flooding the young mage’s trunk, but she was violently aware that it had happened when the sharp, metallic pop of the trunk opening offered warning of her inevitable discovery before the stream of questions started raining down on her.

  Though it was only a small comfort, Ana was relieved to see that the young mage was alone. His hair was slightly more tussled than it had been when she’d first seen him, and without his jacket she saw that he was more muscular than he’d initially seemed.

  Standing over her and her small, confined space, his body was stretched to hold the trunk open with one arm while the fingers of the other worked in a circular pattern that had begun to generate a small, glowing orb above the flesh of his palm. Ana wasn’t sure what the nature of the spell was, but was confident it wasn’t about to burst into a bouquet of flowers for her.

  “I…uh,” she shifted her gaze between the growing spell and the young mage’s enraged face, wondering which one made her feel smaller.

  “Not the answer I was looking for, thief,” he hissed, moving to bring the spell and the palm wielding it into Ana.

  “No.” Ana flinched and withdrew, slinking further into the trunk in an effort to save herself from whatever was coming.

  Mage and metal alike cried out in protest as the car lurched and hopped, torturing the already lame shocks even further.

  Ahead of her, something impacted—sounding like a sack of flour hitting the desert sands—and made an all-too-human grunt.

  Behind her, something impacted—sounding like a lightning bolt made of metal and hatred colliding with a ton-and-a-half of steel.

  Inside of her, the urge to laugh and cry all at once grew to nearly unbearable levels.

  Did I kill him? she asked, not wanting to uncover her eyes and reveal the horrible potential.

  Not as much as you killed his car.

  “His…” Ana opened her eyes and, gazing upward, realized there was no longer a door to the trunk over her head. Moving up on her knees and glancing back toward the front of the car—where the metallic impact still resonated with a faint hum—she saw the missing hunk of metal, dented and twisted like an abandoned sheet of aluminum foil, teetering on the equally tortured roof of the car. “Oh, my.”

  Immediate thoughts of “How am I going to pay for this?” and “What’s he going to do when he sees this?” were replaced by a more demanding set. “How did I do this?” and “Why didn’t we do more?”

  The last, she hoped, wasn’t one of her own thoughts.

  You’re not a fast learner, are you?

  “Shut up,” she muttered, climbing back to the edge of the trunk. Getting her first look around, she realized she was in a garage, or maybe a storage unit with a sliding door. Admittedly, Ana had seen more of those than she had car garages in her lifetime.

  A single light with a frayed pull string illuminated the interior, containing the car, the two of them, and a few tools—along with an old desk littered with books, papers, and doodles.

  They were alone.

  Worried for the mage, Ana drew in a deep breath before looking over the edge, where he had managed to roll onto his knees and was clutching at the sides of his head. Seeing that he was, for the most part, alright, she let out the lungful of air.

  “What in the hell was that?” he groaned, seeming to respond to her relieved sigh, though Ana didn’t believe for one instant that he was talking to her.

  “I’m sorry about that.” She worked to keep her voice down as she took slow and precise steps to climb free of the trunk. Once back on her feet—which she realized too late had fallen asleep—she held herself upright against the rear bumper and made a clumsy, slow show of trying to kneel down beside the mage. “I didn’t mean to…well, do that.”

  Green eyes, once bright and excited at the thrill of bargaining over the cursed ring, now reminded Ana of a pair of toppled pine trees as they lazily swam up to take her in. “Then what did you mean to do, sibyl?”—the word felt bitter in Ana’s ears and she flinched at it—“Because that didn’t seem like the sort of thing somebody does accidently.”

  You’re right, stud, I meant to send your head to the other side of the room.

  The mage’s eyes regained a bit of focus then and he cocked his head, confused by something.

  Ana leaned back, worried. Had he somehow heard her thoughts?

  “What was that?” he demanded.

  Ana shivered, suddenly feeling exposed. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” he moved to put a little more distance between them. “It’s what I saw. Your whole being—your energy, your aura—”

  “What?” Ana asked, suddenly feeling like she might die if she didn’t know what the strange thoughts looked like from an outsider’s perspective. “What happened?”

  The mage shook his head, seeming confused and disgusted all at once. “It was like everything about you just soured.”

  Ana blinked at his word choice. “Soured?” she repeated.

  The mage shook his head and pulled himself to his feet. “Forget it. Just don’t come—what the hell did you do to my
car?” His voice cracked and sounded close to crying as he caught sight of the damage that had been done.

  What I meant to do to you, actually.

  “Shut up,” Ana hissed.

  The mage turned on her, a fresh wave of magic kicking up and making the trunk door begin teetering on the car’s roof all over again. “Who are you telling to—”

  “Not you.” Ana shielded herself with her palms. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not me?” the mage looked at her with a face that reinforced his “sour” claim. “If not me, then—”

  There was a banging on the garage door then that had both of them jumping.

  “Holy hell. What?” The mage had one hand on his forehead and the other on his chest, and Ana took a moment to consider the likelihood that he’d have a heart attack and drop dead right there. He didn’t, though. Instead, he crossed the small space until he was leaning against the sliding door, then he repeated “What?” with a great deal less panic.

  “Sorry if I scared ya, Ryn. Thought I heard a scream,” the voice on the other side called back.

  The mage—Ryn, was it?—shot Ana a look that, on its own, seemed to say “I should turn you over to them right now.”

  Ana made a face back that she hoped said something to the tune of “Don’t.” Then she pressed her palms together, begging, and mouthed the word “Please” along with it.

  Taking her in for a moment, the mage finally rolled his eyes and turned to face the wall. “Really, Ty? You heard a scream and, what, instantly thought it was me?”

  There was a muffled chuckle. “Well, not normally, no,” came the response, “but this one sounded like a girl’s scream, so, naturally, I hurried to your aid. What say you, fair damsel? Dost thou need rescuing?” The laughter on the other side of the wall doubled, and Ana worried for a moment that the speaker might actually be coming inside.

  “You’re hilarious, Ty.” The mage’s eyes didn’t stop rolling. “Now why don’t you go see if you can magically light one of your farts without scorching your insides this time?”

  The laughter ended, followed shortly after by a fading call of “It was only that one time.”

  Groaning, the mage turned, sighed, and leaned back against the wall. Aiming his eyes at the ceiling, he muttered “Why you doing this? Why?” before shaking his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, and, for the first time to Ana, asking, “Why did I help you?”

  I’ve got a few guesses. Boi-oi-oi-oing.

  Shut up, Ana thought before giving her left shoulder a soft tug—the best she could offer as a shrug—and said, “Because you’re much nicer than I deserve right now?”

  “By Merlin’s wand,” he scoffed, “that is an understatement.” Once again he stared at his car, shaking his head in bewilderment as he examined the damage, and paused to linger on the nearly perfectly circular hole that had served as Ana’s only source of fresh air during her time in the trunk. Tracing the edges of this with a curious finger, he muttered, “How is this possible?”

  “That’s actually why I’m here,” Ana said, starting to poke her fingertips together and fidget nervously. “Or why I snuck into your car, at least. I don’t know where ‘here’ is, to be honest.”

  The mage looked up at her, seeming to remember something. “And how did you get in here?” he asked.

  Ana stared at him for a moment. “I hid in your trunk, remember?”

  “That’s not what I meant,” he took a step toward her. “Here. You’re here.” He shook his head. “You’re here and you shouldn’t be able to be here.”

  Ana opened her mouth to respond, but, not sure what he was asking, stammered for a moment before holding up her hands and shrugging.

  “You really don’t know?” he stared at her quizzically and shook his head, seeming to answer his own question. “You really don’t know.” Sitting on the rear bumper of his car, he glanced back at his jacket. “So,” he sighed, pulling it out of the trunk and hugging it to his chest, “what were you doing in there?”

  “It’s like I said.” She felt her cheeks go hot with a blush, “I need your help.”

  Looking up at her, he scoffed—though it seemed more to himself than to her—and shook his head. “You’re not trying to sell me something, are you?”

  “My name is Analetta Lovelli. I’m the last person who’d likely do something like this. Up until a few hours ago I thought the most daring thing I’d do was free a peck-happy bird from some garbage. Then I discovered this”—the sibyl held out her arm so that Aderyn saw the mark—“and suddenly my father, our peoples’ leader, and his team of elders were talking about me like I was some sort of monster who was going to doom them all. They were talking about casting me out—all because of this thing—and I couldn’t…”

  Folding his arms over his chest, Aderyn nodded to her to continue.

  She sniffled, then did it again, harder than before. She looked as though she were about to cry. Looking away, she sucked in a ragged breath and then continued.

  She coughed and swallowed loudly, seeming to struggle with her own words. “I heard you, back in the camp, bartering over the ring—the cursed one, you remember?—and explaining that you could remove the curse. At first I didn’t believe it. N-not that I don’t believe that mages have powers,” she hurried to defend her own words, “b-but it seemed too good to be true. I mean, the morning that I wake up with some mark that I’m cursed with is the same morning that I encounter a boy who happens to know how to remove curses? What are the odds, right?”

  One in a billion? A trillion? A billion trillions?

  The cursed typically had a run of bad luck…

  …wouldn’t stumbling across that sort of ring be a stroke of immeasurable fortuity?

  Never in a million years did he see something like that doing anybody any favors.

  Aderyn wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh, cry, or throw up.

  Define irony. Slapping down three-hundred dollars for a chance to show off and, in doing so, luring a cursed girl whose own people were terrified to have her within their camp to tag along to a place she should not be able to exist? Or perhaps the awe-inspiring amount of trouble he’d be in for allowing this to come to pass solely for the sake of pride and arrogance, which he’d already received numerous warnings about. Or perhaps the fact that, in his cockiness to buy a curse from the Sybii, he’d inadvertently gotten one he hadn’t bartered for. Or, better yet, how about the irony of buying and then neutralizing the one thing that might actually have helped this sibyl girl and prevent this all from happening?

  “Yeah, right.” He forced an agreeable chuckle and shrugged. “What are the odds?”

  “Exactly.” the girl, Analetta, nodded, smiling that he was actually agreeing with her. “So that was when I tried to ask you to help, but you…” she stopped, biting her lip, and gave a well, you know shrug.

  Aderyn nodded. “Right. I wouldn’t listen.” He unfolded his arms and wiped his face with the palm of his right hand. “And, after that, you saw your last chance to stay with the Sybii walking off, so you,” he raised an eyebrow at her, “left the Sybii camp.”

  “I was about to be cast out either way,” she said coldly. “Better to leave with a chance of returning than be cast out without any idea of where to go next.”

  “Reasonable enough,” Aderyn shrugged. “Except that your ‘chance,’ in this case, was sneaking a ride with my people. Now, not to paint any grim pictures of us—we’ve both got our fair share of ugly stereotypes, after all—but the peace between our people is, at best, a strained and not-to-be-tested one. When they find out that a sibyl managed to get here, it’ll be out of mercy if they don’t kill both of us.”

  The girl paled at that. “Kill? Why would they kill…?” she choked on the last few words and left them unspoken.

  “Because, like your people, mages have secrets they’re not eager to have found out. Because, like your people, mages value their solidarity and hold to the old ways of protecting that solidarity. Because, lik
e all people, mages are uncomfortable with anybody who isn’t their own. But more than any of that? You somehow managed to follow us here without so much as a scratch to show for it.”

  Analetta glared at him. “You keep saying ‘here’ as though it’s some big deal that I’m standing in a stinky little garage.”

  “This is not what I’m talking about,” Aderyn growled, waving an arm to indicate the room. “This place—this entire city, as far as you’d be concerned—does not exist to others. It’s on no maps, no GPS navigators, no nothing—this place is only accessible by mages, and yet, somehow, you managed to ride right into it inside the trunk of my car as easily as you would…”

  “A garage?” Analetta finished for him.

  He glowered at her. “You think this is a joke?” he demanded. “People put a lot of investment in their security systems, a lot of faith. For most that’s just wires and electricity, and when somebody manages to slip through that security there’s all sorts of panic and worry.” He walked over to her and glared down at her. “Now imagine a security system thousands of years old that’s built of magic that’s basically stamped with a hundred-percent guarantee that nobody—and I mean nobody—except those who wield that very magic should be able to pass through. How do you think somebody would respond to that security system being broken? Especially when the person breaking it is a…”

  “A thieving sibyl?” Analetta challenged with a glare.

  Aderyn shrugged and turned away. “Like I said, we both have our ugly stereotypes. You happen to be standing on the wrong side of yours.”

  “You might be a little more sympathetic, you know,” Analetta called after him. “After all, I wouldn’t have even climbed into your crappy car if you’d listened to me in the first place.”

  “That I didn’t kill you the moment I found you squatting in my ‘crappy car’”—he spat out the two words as a challenge to repeat them—“is a sign that I’m being very sympathetic.”