Paranormal Magic (Shades of Prey Book 1)

by Margo Bond Collins

  “There’s trouble,” I said.

  “Of course there is, if you left your house,” said Vance.

  “Hilarious,” I said. “Seriously. I’m trapped in the necromancers’ back yard while they’re at their summit, and the dead aren’t staying put.”

  “You’re joking.” He paused. “How many?”

  “At least a dozen. I don’t have enough salt. I need a necromancer, ideally, but you’ll have to do.”

  “How flattering,” he said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Smoke swirled at my side, and suddenly Vance stood beside me.

  “Dramatic, much?”

  The undead broke through the circle. A dozen pairs of hands grabbed at me. Vance’s sword appeared at the same time as I swung mine. Three undead fell back then kept coming, some missing arms, all bearing deep slashes that didn’t bleed.

  “They won’t die,” I said unnecessarily. “Even when you cut their heads off.”

  “In that case…”

  He stepped forward and decapitated one of them. Before I could say a word, its head disappeared as it touched the ground, leaving its body to collapse onto its front.

  I stared. “You displaced it?”

  “Elsewhere within these walls,” he said. “We don’t want them getting outside.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Really good thinking, actually. I wished I’d thought of it.

  At least we had a strategy now. I cut the undead, while Vance displaced their body parts so they couldn’t pull themselves back together. Within a minute, harmless pieces of zombie surrounded us, bloodless and stinking, but mercifully not trying to gouge our eyes out. I gagged a little when a severed hand attempted to pull itself along the ground, but Vance displaced it before it could grab my ankle.

  “Good riddance,” I said.

  “How did you end up here?”

  Oh, crap. I didn’t want to bring up the ghost. Or its plan. Using my magic to open a way back to Faerie. It explained a lot—explained too much. But if I dropped out of this case, nobody would be able to solve it.

  Except Vance.

  No. He couldn’t fight the faeries. Nobody could.

  Pushing aside a fresh wave of guilt, I explained how Isabel and I had fought the hellhounds, and that I’d used the tracking spell to come here. Guilt over abandoning her replaced the guilt I felt over lying to him. Or at least omitting very important information.

  “So you called me.” The hint of a smirk showed on his face.

  “I’m not incapable of admitting I’m in over my head. I did find another clue, though. The man buried here—was Swanson’s ancestor. They’re part necromancer.”

  His expression turned serious. “Which is significant… why?”

  I shrugged. “No idea. I wish I knew. I mean, faeries rarely take anyone for no reason.”

  Too late, I realised what I’d said. But he didn’t seem to hear the implied meaning. The faeries had had no reason to take me… not before. The patterns here were beginning to make sense in a way that I didn’t care for.

  I opened my mouth then closed it. Hell, I knew lying would come back to hit me, but if he knew I was apparently the cornerstone of the faeries’ plan, he’d—do something to stop me being involved. Like locking me up, or putting me under house arrest. Vance might be skilled, but he wasn’t Sighted. He couldn’t see the full extent of the menace we faced.

  “Necromancy,” I said. “It’s not usually associated with faerie magic, but somebody set up that necromantic circle in the Swansons’ house.”

  Could necromancy have summoned those hellhounds? The trail did lead back here…

  Something told me that was important. But why take children? Even necromancer kids just coming into their power wouldn’t know…

  “Hang on,” I said. “Did you find your missing people?”

  “I did,” he said. “It seems our friend in the factory had an accomplice.”

  “Wait. What? You battled faeries without telling me?”

  He tilted his head on one side. “I had the impression you were a tad preoccupied. I wasn’t aware you had a monopoly on all faerie killings in town.”

  “Very funny. What happened?”

  “We put the faeries down.”

  “Good.” One problem down. A million more to go.

  “Are you really that bothered you didn’t get to kill the faeries yourself?” His eyes gleamed with amusement.

  I didn’t see anything funny in the situation. I should be home, making sure Isabel was safe.

  “Or,” he went on, “are you concerned I can’t cope with a few spider webs without you around?"

  Yes. Okay, ‘concerned’ was a strong word. Like hell I’d let on how relieved I’d felt when he’d appeared to take down those zombies. I’d never live it down.

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “Not going to thank me for saving your neck again? We ought to keep a tally.”

  “I’d be more inclined to be polite to you if you didn’t make a point of acting like an ass every time you bailed me out.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “If I hadn’t shown up, you might have joined those poor fools in the ground.”

  “I’m aware.”

  A pause. “Has it ever occurred to you that you need to think before you go off alone?”

  “Frequently.” If he thought I was a reckless idiot, so be it. I couldn’t let anyone else end up in as deep shit with the faeries as I had. “I didn’t realise I needed to ask for your permission before I did anything. Especially as you’ve been dealing with the faeries by yourself.”

  He sighed and brushed some of the dirt from my shoulder. “Just think next time. Please.”

  I froze at the surprisingly intimate gesture. His hand moved slowly, deliberately, down the side of my jaw, leaving a trail of goose bumps. I became aware of the sound of my heartbeat, still racing from the battle, and the same masculine scent I’d picked up on before, underneath the decaying smell of the undead. It drew me to him, one step, then another. His fingertips lingered on the side of my jaw, his gaze deep. Not cool, but the kind of warm that preceded a tropical storm. My breath stopped, like my lungs had decided I didn’t need oxygen anymore. Two more steps would close the distance between us. One step.

  His hand dropped to his side. “You’re covered in dirt and your clothes are torn.”

  Just like that, the spell was broken. “So I can’t afford a twenty-four/seven dirt repellent spell like you can. If it’s a problem, you don’t have to stand in a ten-mile radius of me.”

  The words snapped out even though I didn’t give a shit what he thought of me. I was comfortable in my own skin, dirt, scars and all. But worry for Isabel clawed at my insides, along with a fair helping of guilt that I’d let myself get sucked into whatever the hell magic this guy possessed. Or just post-battle lust. Whatever it was, I wanted it gone. I scooted back a few steps, putting a respectable distance between me and those blasted temperamental eyes.

  Vance’s brows lifted. “I didn’t intend to offend you. But you might want to think about replacing those jeans. They’re a tad distracting.”

  I looked down to find the seams had split, revealing my dirt-stained legs. Heat flushed my cheeks. “Bloody zombies.” Guess I’d taken one fall too many.

  He smirked at me. “I’m not complaining.”

  I stepped back. “You’re a total ass, you know that? Also, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re trespassing.” And there was a half-faerie ghost somewhere here, probably watching us.

  That thought was pretty effective at stopping all wayward ideas of him touching me again. Oh, shit. The dead are probably laughing at us.

  “Yes,” said Vance. “We are. And this place… nobody should have raised the dead here. The necromancers know better. The energy levels here are unstable.”

  “Because of the invasion.”

  “Exactly.” He met my eyes. “The purpose of necromancy is to converse with the dead, not raise them. This is no nec
romancer we face.”

  He didn’t know the half of it. I couldn’t tell him the truth. However powerful he might be, the weakest faerie would always triumph over the strongest human. Even a predator. Even the Mage Lord.

  Only I, a weak human with faerie magic, might be able to stop them.

  Chapter 17

  Even outside the gates to the necromancers’ place, the creeping feeling of being watched remained. The autumn chill in the air didn’t help, nor did the faint breeze sending tattered leaves skipping by, or the stark lines of the building beside us etched against the pale grey sky. All we needed was darkness and a full moon and we had a serious contender for a horror movie scenario. At least Vance had re-locked the gate to the cemetery. Though if he wanted to confront the necromancers about their out of control zombies, he’d have to admit we’d been trespassing.

  I couldn’t give an airborne shit-factory what they thought. “Well?” I asked Vance, once he’d hung up the phone and walked back over to me.

  “We have an audience with the necromancers tonight,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  “It’s a date.” Then I realised what I’d said.

  Vance smirked. “I’ve had worse propositions.”

  “It’s a figure of speech.” I turned away, my face heating up. Nope. Not going there. “I’m going home to check on Isabel.” I’d texted her but hadn’t received a response. She was probably still asleep, but worry gnawed inside me all the same. I’d dragged her into danger then ran off. And if Larsen moved the wards around my house again…

  It’s not possible. They’re stronger this time.

  That faerie—the one with the ash blade, who I’d never seen in person—had ordered the mercenaries to bring down the wards. Faeries couldn’t counter witch magic themselves, but with Isabel incapacitated, I couldn’t risk leaving her alone a moment longer. With Larsen against me and every half-blood open to the influence of whoever this faerie was, the list of people I could count on had shrank to almost nothing.

  I asked Vance to drop me off at the street corner. The ruins of the summoning circle had been cleared away along with the bloody remains of the dead hellhounds, though the stench of faerie blood still hung in the air and clogged my throat. I swallowed bile, imagining all the horrors that’d erupt on our doorstep now the incompetence of the clean-up guild had left a giant neon sign to the faeries behind.

  I’d have to clean up the mess myself. But I needed Isabel’s spells to do it.

  Worse, now the changelings were dead, we’d lost our leads. They were pure faeries, so once they died, it was forever. They wouldn’t come back as ghosts like the half-faerie. Which meant we had to rely on the necromancers.

  I really hated relying on those creepy bastards.

  Inside the flat, I found Isabel still passed out on the couch.

  “Isabel?”

  I walked over to her, waving my hand in front of her face. No response. Her pulse beat fainter than before. And she was unconscious this time, not sleeping. Her puncture wounds had turned an angry red despite the healing remedy I’d used.

  Shit. Shit.

  If her home remedies hadn’t worked, the only option was an ambulance. I dialled the number with shaking hands, skipping over Vance’s number. No, she needed medical attention, not a mage. Once the call was done, I ran to my room and swiftly changed out of my ruined clothes, but I didn’t have the time to take a proper shower before the ambulance showed up. I ran to get the door, pushing my hair over my shoulder. Apparently I looked pretty scary, because they didn’t ask too many questions. I carried Isabel to the door myself, unwilling to invite anyone inside. I didn’t dare let down the wards, not now.

  Even accompanying her to the hospital, I didn’t let my guard down until I heard the words, she’s stable.

  I’d have stayed longer—hell, it tore me apart to leave her—but I had only half an hour before I was due to meet Vance. On the way back, I bought something to eat even though I felt sick. I’d need the energy.

  Dead on seven o’clock, Vance appeared on the doorstep. I already stood outside, having locked the door and gathered my weapons ready.

  “What happened?” Vance asked. “You’re wearing that look.”

  “What look?”

  “The look you get right before you stab someone.”

  “If this night goes how I expect, I probably will.” To my horror, tears pricked at my eyes. “The hellhound bite was poisonous. Isabel’s in hospital. I was too late with the healing spell.” I swallowed, eyes watering. I would not cry in front of him.

  “You could have come to me.”

  “Like you can solve everything,” I snapped. “I never said I wanted you to interfere.”

  His mouth parted in surprise, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he took my hand—his was warm, burning against mine—and transported us to the road leading to the necromancers’ place.

  The necromancers’ leader waited for us outside, as grim-faced as ever. The door to the cemetery at the side was open, guarded by more black-robed figures.

  “Come,” he said, beckoning us behind the gate. He was a man of many words, clearly.

  “Hang on,” I said. “You’re taking us back—there?” Where we trespassed?

  And where the half-faerie ghost appeared? Had the necromancers seen him? Probably not, if they were inviting us in. If the half-faerie could choose to reveal itself to me, of course it could hide itself from the necromancers.

  “This is where we sensed the disturbance in the spirit world,” said the necromancer.

  Ordinarily I might have made a joke about disturbances in the Force, but worry for Isabel made my temper fray even thinner than usual.

  He stopped just inside the cemetery. “This is where our spirit sight would normally be at its peak. But something’s blocking it. I intend to find out what—and who is responsible.”

  Entirely too late, I saw the rows of black-robed figures standing between the graves. It looked like I’d wandered into a secret cult meeting, and I very nearly turned on my heel and hightailed it out of there. Even Vance didn’t look nearly as intimidating as usual, though his hands twitched at his sides like he wanted to grab a weapon.

  “So you think there’s a traitor,” he said to the necromancer. “We saw the undead right here.”

  Presumably he hadn’t brought up the trespassing, then. I scanned the graves, seeing nobody but the necromancers. The image of that half-faerie laughing at me made my hands clench into fists. I wasn’t scared of ghosts. Not even the faerie variety.

  “And what exactly were you doing here?” The necromancer’s eyes narrowed. “Spying on us?”

  “You promised us an audience.”

  “After our summit,” he said.

  “And do you sense anything weird here?” I asked, unable to help myself. After all, being able to sense the spirit world was the very definition of a necromancer.

  “No. As I said: our vision is clouded.”

  Several necromancers brought candles out to place at intervals on a blank stretch of grass in front of the graves.

  “Looks more like a séance than a summit,” I muttered to Vance, who grunted. His eyes were fixed on the growing circle of candles, his hands clenching and unclenching. My skin crawled as the candles lit simultaneously of their own accord, the necromancers standing at a distance. All of them had their hoods up. It was like a Death Eater conference. I bit down on the wild giggle rising in my throat.

  Only the lead necromancer kept his hood up. With his hunched, unimpressive countenance, he made this scenario considerably less creepy.

  The candle flames turned blue then white, and he stepped into the circle. Immediately, he vanished. I blinked, and white flames sprang up, masking the circle. Okay…

  “Hope that was meant to happen,” I said.

  White light flared around the circle. The necromancer flickered in and out of view, like he was a ghost himself.

  “There are spirits stuck in limbo. Two of them.
”

  Huh? The half-faerie, maybe? I readied my hand on my weapon, not that it’d do any good against a ghost.

  The flames within the circle went see-through but still flickered, like a tinted window. And rather than the necromancer, two smaller faces appeared in the circle.

  Two. Not faerie. Human. Oddly familiar.

  Vance hissed between his teeth. I stole a glance at him and saw his pupils enlarged, and his clenched hands blackened around the edges. Like he was shifting.

  Like he knew who the people—children—in the circle were.

  And then the familiarity slid into me as surely as the keen edge of a knife.

  That was Swanson’s son. And the other must be the necromancers’ missing daughter.

  Oh, my god.

  “She said they weren’t in this realm,” I croaked. “The Lady of the Tree… she knew. She never meant they were in Faerie at all.”

  No. They hadn’t been kidnapped. They were over the veil—in Death.

  I couldn’t do any more than stare in horror. In Death.

  The necromancer spoke from the circle. “They aren’t dead. Someone has taken them.”

  I sucked in a breath. They can’t be dead. Taking someone over the veil wasn’t the same as killing them. Not if they were part necromancer and could take their physical bodies over to the other side in a way no other humans could. But new necromancers usually went through intensive training before they were allowed to cross over. Based on what I’d observed, tearing your physical body loose from the mortal plane was more damaging than crossing into Faerie.

  And someone had done it to those kids.

  “They wanted children for a reason,” I whispered.

  “Only a necromancer could have,” said Vance. “That explains why we couldn’t find them in this realm.” He looked directly at the necromancer’s flickering form. “Find the culprits. They’ll be amongst your own people.”

  Yes. They would. But why—and how? I’d thought the faeries’ master plan was to open a gateway from their realm into our world. Not Death. Faeries couldn’t die.

  The Lady of the Tree’s harsh voice echoed in my ears: My life is limited in this mortal plane.