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

by Margo Bond Collins

  I can’t.

  “I’m implying,” Tyler shouted over the noise, “that something’s wrong with my buddy, and the only things that have changed are him being banished—her fault—and his curse-fueled source of magi—”

  Tyler didn’t get to finish.

  Too late.

  Somehow the single gunshot among the roar of so many others echoed clearly in Ana’s ears. As though no other bullets had mattered until that moment.

  In some ways, that was true.

  The message was clear in Ana’s mind—she could practically write in the missing words herself—but the speaker would never have a chance to say them. That mattered more than anything else.

  Tyler’s flexed muscles deflated.

  His tension turned to emptiness.

  And Tyler fell across Aderyn’s outstretched leg.

  We promised, remember? We said that if we saved the mage—gave him our magic—that we could kill another. Plenty to kill now; plenty we need to kill if we expect to get out of here. Either kill or be—

  No.

  Ana stared down at the thing that had a second ago been an angry mage, full of life and love for his friend. It still looked like him. That felt wrong. Then his skin went gray, the lost life seeming to drain out of what was left.

  Aderyn gasped as though he were breathing an entirely different sort of air. His eyes shimmered with fresh moisture.

  Shaky and uncertain, his raised hand hovered over the thing that used to be Tyler’s head, then he withdrew it. Kicking the body off of his leg with a desperation that made Ana think he believed it might return to life and attack him, Aderyn worked to stand. Lash moved to hold him down.

  Pretty boy’s gonna get himself killed next.

  “No. No!” Again and again Lash gripped at his shoulders, keeping him from standing. “Otherwise you’ll wind up like him, too.”

  Or maybe our old friend; he’s not paying attention, either.

  Aderyn didn’t seem to care. His eyes flashed red—a flash of lightning warning of an impending storm—and Ana’s mark burned under her sleeve.

  Which one of them will we let die next while doing nothing?

  “Get off of me,” Aderyn said.

  And so it was. Lash’s efforts ceased; his hands fell against his sides, unresponsive.

  Ana’s mark burned hotter; she whimpered.

  Or maybe…

  “Get back,” Aderyn said. It sounded like a command in Ana’s ears.

  Lash’s body skidded back, dragged away by an invisible force.

  …he’ll beat us to it.

  Then Aderyn stood.

  Maybe he’ll get himself killed right in front of us.

  Glimmering strings that Ana only knew to be bullets only by knowing their source turned their focus on the mage; lines of roaring, shimmering death that spotted new prey—new, unperforated flesh to tear through—and honed in on like the predatory creatures they were.

  Here we go.

  Ana’s mark burned that much hotter.

  Chapter 16

  “Die.”

  The word was simple enough. Simple to say, simple to wish—especially at that moment—and simple, worst of all, simple to make real.

  One word.

  One syllable.

  One breath spent.

  Thirty-seven deaths.

  All at once. Silence. Stillness. One moment all hell seemed to be breaking loose in the Library, and the next, to a chorus of thirty-seven nearly simultaneous thuds and the clatter of weapons, it all went away.

  Die.

  It had been so simple.

  As both Aderyn and Lash’s startled gazes turned toward Ana, she saw that nothing would ever be so simple again.

  Chapter 17

  “What the hell was that?” Lash demanded as the two worked to escort a sobbing Ana out of the Library.

  “We call it death in my world, Lash,” Aderyn growled, struggling to keep her upright while stumbling over the myriad of bodies littering the floor.

  Ana wailed, her words coming out in garbled, inaudible cries. The only thing that was even remotely decipherable was “I’m sorry,” which she repeated. Over and over and over.

  “It’s okay, Ana,” Lash whispered to her, using his free hand to keep her chin aimed up and her gaze pointed away from the product of her curse’s magic. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Is it?” Aderyn grunted, pausing to get a better hold on Ana while securing his footing. “Is it really? Because these guys”—he toed one of the corpses as he passed it—“didn’t choose this place at random. Between the mind-shifting and cloaking spells at the door, nobody accidently wanders in here. Even if we hadn’t seen their buddies on that roof earlier, I’d say it was a safe bet they were here for us. And unless you recently pissed off any world leaders or landed yourself on the CIA’s MOST WANTED list, I sorta doubt they were after you. And since I’m practically a non-entity as far as the rest of the world’s concerned—can’t get more ‘off the grid’ than a mage born in a pocket dimension, believe me—it’s safe to say that they weren’t here for me, either. Who’s that leave?”

  Lash glared at him. “You trying to make things worse?”

  “I’m trying to instill some understanding of the severity here,” Aderyn growled. “My best friend is dead, and as the only mage connected to him when he died I’m the sole carrier of his essence. I can still feel him—his last moments of pain—in my head. And then that thing on her arm started goddamn talking to me. Now for the life of me I can’t remember what it was saying, but I can tell you this much, Ana beat me to the punch. Now I’m thankful, I really am, to not be dead and to have a clear head on my shoulders—thanks a lot for that, Ty—but that doesn’t change the reality that Ana is being hunted and that, by extension, so are we. So I’m sorry, Lash—carrier and stroker of the bracelet of eternal creepiness—but if all of this”—he nodded toward the mayhem in front of him—“isn’t registering as not okay to you—’cuz, buddy, does Ana look like she’s not getting it?—then you keep your delusions to yourself and quit trying to pass them on to others. Hell, you can even sit here and tell yourself that everything’s going to be okay.” He shook his head and scoffed. “Ana doesn’t need lies right now, she needs—”

  “Lies? Lies?” Lash was shaking with rage as he moved to all but lift Ana off the ground, working to carry her bridal-style toward the entrance of the Library. “Is that what you think I’m telling her? You listen good, mage, I followed Ana into exile and, if I have to, I’ll follow her into the pits of Hell itself if it means ensuring her safety. I know full well that this is not okay, you arrogant punk—but when you care about somebody other than yourself, something you’d know nothing about, then you’re prepared to make it okay, no matter the cost.” His eyes shimmered and Aderyn wondered if he was about to cry as he glanced down at his wrist and the bracelet wrapped around it. “And whatever you think this means, you’re wrong.”

  He sighed and looked away. “She gave it to me. So long ago I doubt she even remembers; probably doesn’t even think about anymore. But she told me then like I’m telling her now—‘it’s okay’—and I’ll die before I let anybody say otherwise.”

  Ana, though she seemed distant and barely aware of what was happening around her as the two marched her out of the graveyard that the Library had become, seemed to calm a bit at that. Her wails quieted, the twin rivers of tears slowing. She seemed to find a place in her mind not quite so terrible. Seeing this, Aderyn nodded slowly and helped Lash to keep her chin aimed up and her gaze pointed away from the product of her curse’s magic.

  “Everything’s going to be okay, Ana,” he said, startling himself at how comfortable the words made him feel.

  The wails quieted that much more; the twin rivers beginning to dry.

  Lash smiled and nodded. “Thank you, mage.”

  “Any time, sibyl.”

  “Report.” Tybalt’s voice was boulders rolling down a jagged valley. “REPORT.”


  The silence that responded was a dry desert wind.

  Gods, he hated the desert.

  “I need a status on Unit Five yesterday,” he growled, tearing the headset from his ear and throwing it across the SUV’s interior.

  “Everyone’s getting radio silence from them, sir,” the man beside him explained. “They’re all still online—their equipment is, at least—but the last known…wait…” His eyes squinted at nothing as he pressed a finger against the earpiece, working to hear it better.

  “Well?” Tybalt demanded.

  The man actually shushed him.

  Stunned by this unprecedented act, he stared, trying to decide if he wanted to put the ballsy cadet underground or promote him. Before he made up his mind, though, the man pulled out his laptop and routed the audio feed through its speakers.

  A few keystrokes later and the SUV was filled with the static-laced hum of an otherwise silent feed. The same sound Tybalt had been listening to for the past few minutes. He pursed his lips and looked up toward the man, already forgetting the promotion option he’d been considering.

  Then…

  A voice?

  No, two voices. Distant and muffled, obviously not belonging to the wearer of the microphone, but getting clearer; drawing nearer.

  “…okay, Ana. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  “Is it? Is it really?” Tybalt found himself no longer having to struggle to hear the two; they were actually approaching the soldier. He felt a smirk growing; perhaps they’d laid an ambush for the—

  “Because these guys”—a series of impacts sounded so loudly that the driver actually swerved the vehicle; Tybalt bared his teeth at nobody and, at the same time, everybody—“didn’t choose this—”

  “Turn it off,” Tybalt growled under his breath.

  “Sir?” the man looked up, confused.

  “Turn it off,” he roared, bringing his fist down on the laptop and taking no satisfaction in it as the device erupted into pieces.

  The speakers gave a shrill whine of protest and then went silent.

  The man, whose leg had likely been injured in the process, said nothing; did nothing.

  Both he and the driver were likely already aware that he’d be ending their lives when they arrived where they were going.

  Chapter 18

  Lash wasn’t sure if Ana had fallen asleep, but, as they finally slipped free of the Library and worked to lean her between them as they paused against the stairwell, he wasn’t about to go about upsetting whatever peace she’d found since quieting. Aderyn made no move to wake her and, like him, seemed intent on moving her as gently as possible to avoid it.

  He was having a harder and harder time disliking the mage. Ironically, this felt like a reason in and of itself to hate him—How dare he have the gall to be likable?—but the attempt to hold onto that didn’t last long. He’d seen how Ana had been looking at him. He’d seen how he’d been looking at Ana. No amount of prayers on the bracelet or ongoing denial was changing any of that. Being noble and modest wasn’t changing the direction she faced when that look of longing overtook her.

  Worst yet, the mage didn’t even seem to realize how he felt. Sure, Lash had been trying for years to walk that path—the “I’ll get your attention by not wanting it”-method that seemed to be working so well for Aderyn—but playing it cool had never worked. In the meantime, it had become a way of life, a mental system in Lash’s mind that was so focused on playing it cool, casual, and unknowing that anything uncool, effort-laced, and blatantly aware was forced away. Lash had likely missed any shot he’d ever had because of this, and Aderyn, being who he was, was succeeding where he’d failed.

  And still Lash was having a harder and harder time disliking him.

  He only hoped that maybe he didn’t appear as pathetic as he’d been feeling in his eyes. It might have been difficult to dislike the guy, but he certainly wasn’t thrilled at the idea of this being a one-sided friendship.

  Friendship? Lash caught himself in the middle of that thought. God. What sort of day has this been that so much has changed?

  Roughly twenty-four hours earlier everything had been normal. Since then, Ana—the very daughter of the voivode—was being exiled, she’d broken into a mage’s car, trespassed into a realm that should have been inaccessible to them, turned a young mage’s life around and, in turn, gotten him banished from his city—all of which had nearly killed him—and they’d all since landed themselves in the crosshairs of a small army. Less than twenty-four hours.

  Damn. What’s tomorrow going to bring?

  “Hard to imagine, isn’t it? Everything that’s happened, I mean.” Aderyn asked, seeming to read his mind. He shook his head then and chuckled, but there was no humor in it.

  This simultaneously concerned and relieved Lash.

  They didn’t need him slipping into whatever “giggly” frame of mind he’d been in before, but was the opposite end of that spectrum much better?

  Lash forced his own laugh, hoping it sounded sincere and upbeat enough to motivate some of both in the mage. “Makes you wonder what dung-heap we’ll be in tomorrow, huh?”

  If Aderyn was reading his thoughts, he’d obviously stopped before “hearing” those ones, because hearing it earned a fresh laugh—Lash was relieved to hear some genuine emotion behind it—and a nod.

  “Long as we’re still alive, I guess I won’t be able to complain,” he offered, and Lash caught his eyes drift back toward where they’d been forced to leave Tyler’s body.

  He sighed and caught himself sniffling. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  Aderyn only shrugged as best he could without moving the arm Ana had draped over his shoulders. Her opposite arm, draped over Lash’s, twitched slightly as her closed eyelids tightened and shifted.

  Already dreaming.

  Lash had heard that it was possible, though uncommon, to slip into REM sleep so quickly, and, realizing how long it had been since any of them had had a decent rest, he wondered how exhausted she was.

  As long as she’s out of this nightmare, he thought.

  “Sleeping spell,” Aderyn sighed, following Lash’s gaze. “Figured it was better for her this way.”

  Lash looked up at that, starting to resent the idea of the mage putting her under some spell. Then, seeing how peaceful she looked, he decided he had to agree with him. The calmness he saw there was almost enough to make him jealous, and he toyed with the idea of having Aderyn cast the same spell on him when they found somewhere safe to stay.

  Nodding, he said, “Good idea,” and then looked down at his bracelet.

  “So she actually gave that to you, huh?” Aderyn asked.

  Lash nodded.

  “Like, really gave it to you?”

  He chuckled and looked up. “Are you asking if I cut her hair myself and considered that ‘giving’?”

  “I’m…” Aderyn elongated the word as he shrugged, “entertaining that notion, yes.”

  “Well entertain it no more,” Lash said, holding up the bracelet. “Because I can tell you right now that I could never braid anything this well. My mother tried to show me how, but…” he shook his head. “We decided I was good for knots and only knots. This”—he nodded to the bracelet—“is the work of somebody with an eye for detail and a heart for giving.”

  “So why’d she give it to you?” Aderyn asked.

  Lash chewed his lip. “I’d rather not say. It’s embarrassing.”

  “More embarrassing than fondling a hair-bracelet like some kind of stalker?” Aderyn laughed.

  “Oh god. Is that really what it looks like?” Lash groaned, looking down at it. “Damn.”

  Aderyn laughed harder and nodded. “So?” he pressed, “Why’d she give it to you?”

  “In the interest of not looking like a stalker,” Lash sighed and looked over. “I got lice.”

  “Wh-what?” Aderyn started cackling and had to work to avoid doubling over and knocking Ana down with him.

  “Son
of a—see? See why I didn’t want to say?” Lash growled and looked away.

  “It’s okay. I-it’s okay. I’m good. I’m fine, see?” Aderyn’s face was beet-red and in no way reinforcing Lash’s confidence that he’d heard the last of his laughter. “So yeah, you got lice. And?”

  “And my mom decided that the best way to deal with it was to shave my head.” Lash made a pass over the top of his long, thick hair with his free hand, mimicking an electric razor as he did. “All of it—bzz—gone. Just like that. And, of course, all the other kids thought it was high-larious. All of them but Ana. See, even then—even as kids—she was different. She was Ana, you know? And right there, in front of everyone, she picked up a pair of scissors—those little play ones, you know? The ones kids always wrestled to get around the construction paper?”

  Aderyn shook his head. “I never played like that,” he confessed.

  “Your loss,” Lash shrugged. “Well, she takes this crappy pair of kids’ scissors and, with everyone else watching, cuts off half her hair. And this wasn’t a clean pass, either; I mean, she hacked her hair with those things. It was all jagged and such—long in some parts, short in others. None of it even. It was a total mess. The other kids, though, they were just, like, stunned, right? It was one thing when a series of unfortunate events left one of their peers bald, but when they watched another outright chop off half her hair, they didn’t know what to make of it. They stared, stunned, and suddenly what’d happened to me didn’t matter to them.” Lash nodded at the memory.

  “Then,” he went on, “not caring what the other kids thought of her or what she looked like, she saunters over—she had a goofy walk as a kid—and holds up this mess of the hair that she’d cut off. ‘It’s okay,’ she told me, offering this hair to me like I could pop it on my head and it’d suddenly be my own. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’ She kept saying that to me until I stopped crying. I told her that she’d ruined her hair, and, again, she said it would be okay—‘hair grows back, silly,’ she said—and, when I wouldn’t take all the hair she’d cut off herself, she goofy-walked off with all of it and started working on it. I wasn’t sure what to make of any of it, honestly, but she’d gotten the other kids to leave me alone, so I didn’t wander off. It creeped me out, what she’d done, but at the same time it made me obsessed with her.” He blushed and looked away, not believing what he was already committed to confessing. “I think that was the day—the moment—I fell in love with her.” Though part of him thought that saying the words aloud would invite some calamity or response from Aderyn, the mage only gave an understanding nod.