Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  Rylan stiffened. “Those were accidents,” he growled, his fangs sliding out. “Careless actions by new members. They’ve been reprimanded since.”

  “I’m sure the families of those who were killed find that real comforting,” I snarled.

  Rylan’s features contorted in fury. “Don’t tell me you’re condemning us for a few small missteps. They’re nothing compared to the damage the mages have wrought on our world.”

  “That’s pretty fanatical, even for you.” Sadness dragged at my heart, and I realized that somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d been hoping he would refute my accusations instead of just defending them. “I can’t believe that you’d choose to sacrifice family for the Resistance.”

  “The Cause is greater than any single individual,” Rylan said, but guilt flickered in his eyes, and he looked away. “I’ll tell my superiors that you’re gathering intel during your magical training and that you intend to turn it over as an initiation gift when you’ve joined. That should keep them off your backs.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Sounds a hell of a lot like a promise that I’m not sure I plan to keep.”

  Rylan shrugged. “It’s the best I can do under these circumstances. I can’t protect you if you decide to throw in your lot with the enemy, Naya. You know that.”

  I scowled. Things were so much better when I was neutral… now that I was so closely associated with the Chief Mage, I knew the Resistance couldn’t categorize me as a non-issue anymore. But if they were going to be a thorn in my side, perhaps I could use that.

  “Maybe you can do me one better.”

  Rylan’s brows flicked up to his hairline. “How so?”

  “I’m sure you’ve been following the shifter killings,” I said, “and when I was alone with Yantz and Talcon, they told me they were working for someone called the Benefactor. Any chance you can find out who that is?”

  Rylan’s brow furrowed. “The Benefactor… the name sounds familiar. I’ve heard it mentioned amongst Resistance members before.”

  Dread pooled in my stomach again. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Rylan gave me a sharp look. “Just because the name was mentioned doesn’t mean it’s connected to us. But if this person is responsible for killing shifters, I’d like to know who he is too. I’ll look into it.”

  Relief flooded through me, and I flung my arms around him. “Thanks, cousin,” I murmured into his hair. We might not be standing quite on the same side, but our mutual loyalty towards shifters was something we had in common. I couldn’t trust Rylan to protect me from the Resistance completely, but I could count on him to do this.

  “You’re welcome.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, then stepped out of my embrace. “I’ve got to go now.” He tapped the charm on his collar and muttered that Word again, and his freckle-faced illusion slid back into place. “Enjoy whatever’s in that package.” He winked at me before letting himself out of the apartment.

  The package. I’d completely forgotten about it. Frowning, I lifted the brown cardboard box and checked the address. My heart rate sped up a little bit as I saw the return address was from the palace, with my name and address written across it in flowing, bold, script. And when I leaned closer to sniff the box, an amalgam of sandalwood, musk and magic tickled my nostrils.

  I ripped open the box.

  Inside, to my amazement, were my crescent knives and my chakram pouch. It had been so long since I’d seen them that at first I thought I was imagining things, but as I wrapped my hands around the handles of the knives and lifted them up to the afternoon light filtering in through my kitchen window, a burst of joy filled me. Rushing to my room, I found the strap and pouch that I used to hold them and fastened my weapons to my legs. Having them back was like welcoming home two old friends.

  I then lifted the note that sat at the bottom of the box, and held it up to the light so I could read it. It was written in the same flowing, bold script that was on the outside of the box.

  Miss Baine,

  After much searching, I have recovered your weapons from an unsavory pawnshop in Downtown, and enchanted them so that you will not lose them again. Though I am still not convinced letting you live outside the palace walls is the best decision for your wellbeing, I recognize the futility of arguing with you and only ask that you remain armed and aware when you are not under my protection.

  I fully expect to see you tomorrow at 1 o’clock sharp for your lessons.

  Iannis ar’Sannin

  Chief Mage

  I grinned as I pocketed the note. Maybe I still had problems, but I had my weapons and my magic and the most powerful mage in the state on my side – who apparently was willing to venture into the slums of the city to ensure I was armed and dangerous. If that wasn’t enough to put a smile on a girl’s face, I don’t know what was.

  To be continued...

  Continue the Baine Chronicles Series in book two, Bound by Magic

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  About the Author

  Jasmine Walt is a devourer of books, chocolate, and all things martial arts. Somehow, those three things melded together in her head and transformed into a desire to write, usually fantastical stuff with a healthy dose of action and romance. Her characters are a little (okay, a lot) on the snarky side, and they swear, but they mean well. Even the villains sometimes.

  When Jasmine isn’t chained to her keyboard, you can find her working on her dao sword form, spending time with her family, or binge-watching superhero shows on Netflix.

  For more information on Jasmine:

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  jazzywaltzwrites@gmail.com

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  Unbound

  The Guardian Legacies, Book One

  Emily Goodwin

  UNBOUND © 2014 Emily Goodwin

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Created with Vellum

  About the Book

  Unbound

  Is following your heart more dangerous than following your destiny?

  The world of ghosts and spirits is nothing new to eighteen year old Anora Benson; she’s spent her whole life trying to ignore them, trying to be normal. But when the Pricolici, a group of ancient bounty hunters, are sent after her, Anora realizes she is more than just a medium. As a witch she has power, power she doesn’t know how to use, power that makes her vulnerable to the demons that desire her gifts.

  Anora is alone and scared, forced to face the darkness on her own. Then she meets Ethan, a mysterious boy who shows up in her life right along with the magic, and he seems to know quite a bit about her and her legacy Coven. Will she risk everything by trusting him or risk fighting alone?

  1

  I was almost able to ignore the dead guy standing under the old oak tree as I cantered around the arena on Mystery, my white Arabian.

  Almost.

  I’d named the apparition Bob, and he randomly showed up under the shady protection of the trees. He was your average residual h
aunting, stuck in a repetitive pattern of appearing for a brief moment before disappearing again, never noticing anything around him.

  I had waved and smiled and said ‘hello,’ but nothing had ever gained his attention. I’d thought about throwing something at him, or through him technically, just to see if he would respond, but I’d resisted the urge, afraid it would somehow hurt his undead feelings. There was always sadness in his eyes, as if he was desperately waiting for something that would never come.

  He wasn’t threatening, like some of the other spirits I’d seen, and I’d seen a lot. I’d been a medium for as long as I could remember, being able to see and hear ghosts.

  “Bye, Anora!” Leslie, my riding instructor, called from inside her truck as she drove down the barn driveway.

  “See you tomorrow!” I said with a wave.

  Once Mystery cooled down, I brought him into the barn, removed his saddle and bridle, and put him back in his stall. I moved on to the stall next to him, which contained a pretty buckskin Quarter Horse named Neptune. Technically, she belonged to my twin brother Harrison, but he had lost interest a week after he got her.

  I was alone in the barn now, and the silence was peaceful. I ran a stiff bristled brush across Neptune’s short summer fur and sighed happily, a smile settling subconsciously on my face.

  A low rumble of a car engine and the crunching of gravel broke the laconism. I gave Neptune a goodbye hug and quickly put my brushes away. I had just opened Mystery’s stall to say bye to him when Mike, the guy I was casually dating, came into the barn.

  “You ready yet?” he asked impatiently.

  “Almost, and it’s nice to see you too,” I called over my shoulder.

  Mike’s face twitched slightly. “Of course it’s nice to see you, Anora.” He stayed in the doorway. Horses and dirt weren’t really Mike’s thing. Dressed in a white polo shirt and khakis, he looked out of place in the stable. I slid the heavy, wooden stall door closed and joined Mike.

  “Ready now,” I said with a smile.

  “You’re not gonna change?” He eyed me up and down.

  “No, what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I looked down at myself. My tan breeches were new and had miraculously stayed spotless, my tight black tank top showed off my slim figure and matched my tall, black boots and my long, dark hair, which had been in a French braid all day, fell in loose waves around my face. We were going to get ice cream. I didn’t see the need to change out of my riding clothes.

  “People are gonna wonder.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s fine with me,” I said with a shrug.

  “At least you look good in them.” Mike slapped my butt and followed me outside. I opened the passenger door of his Mustang and got in. Mike started the car, blasting rap music from the speakers. A fan of classic rock and alternative myself, I couldn’t stand his choice in music.

  Our conversation was sparse to say the least. Since running into each other a few weeks ago at the mall, Mike and I had gone on a few dates. I was skeptical when he asked me out at first. Mike was a grade ahead of me, and he never so much as spoke to me when he was in school. We had nothing in common, and I honestly didn’t understand his sudden interest. After a lot of coaxing from my friend Marie, I agreed to go out with him.

  Mike parallel parked on the street downtown, got out, and headed towards Greta’s Frozen Goodies, my favorite ice cream parlor, without waiting for me to get out of the car.

  “Can’t you wait?” I asked, jogging to catch up.

  “You take too long,” Mike said. He paused for a brief moment and extended his hand toward me. I took it, and we walked the rest of the way together. I ordered my usual cookie dough ice cream and took a seat outside on the sidewalk.

  “Want to come to Travis’s tonight?” Mike asked without looking into my eyes.

  I shook my head. “It’s a school night. My parents will never let me.” Mike looked away and rolled his eyes. “But I’m coming to his party on Saturday,” I reminded him. My stomach fluttered with nerves thinking about it. Travis had his own apartment near Syracuse University. I had never been to a college party—or any party—before and had no idea what to expect.

  Mike faced me, his eyes dropping from my face to my chest. “Right. That’ll be fun.” He smiled and flicked his gaze up, looking into my eyes. I smiled back, ignoring the bad feeling that was forming in the pit of my stomach. I really wasn’t looking forward to Saturday night.

  I noticed the large box on the front porch as soon as Mike dropped me off at my house. My riding boots softly thudded on the cobblestone as I hurried along the sidewalk.

  I picked up the box, eyeing the tiny, cursive handwriting. I recognized it as Aunt Estelle’s right away. Every year, my great-aunt Estelle sent birthday presents to Harrison, my twin, and me. And every year, the presents were obscure and borderline inappropriate. I had been expecting her package for days. I gave the box a gentle shake before tucking it under my arm and walked around the house to punch in the code to open the garage door. Since my neat-freak mother wasn’t home, I kept my boots on when I entered the kitchen.

  Hunter, my oversized German Shepherd, stood by the counter, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shook. I set the box down and leaned over to pet him. Hunter licked my face, then turned his attention to the box, sniffing it with much curiosity.

  “I want to know what’s inside too,” I told him and pulled a knife from the block on the counter. Carefully, I hacked away at the packing tape until I could pry open the box. Several smaller boxes were inside. I picked up one that was wrapped in green paper, knowing it was for Harrison, and set it on the counter.

  There were three more presents inside the large box, all wrapped in yellow paper. I grabbed the smallest one first and unwrapped a deck of tarot cards.

  “Ohhh, cool,” I said to Hunter and shuffled through the deck. “I’ve always wanted these, but Mom never let me get them.” I set them on the counter and moved onto the next present, unwrapping a wooden box. Stars and moons were engraved into the lid, and the wood was worn along the edges from years of being opened and closed. The box was pretty, and it was probably the most useful thing Aunt Estelle had given me yet. I opened it to see if the cards would fit.

  Then I saw the necklace.

  I set the box on the counter and reached inside. My fingers graced the cold metal of the round pendant. I brought it out, holding it up to the light. A triple moon was engraved in the center, and something was etched around it in what must have been an ancient language, as the letters were foreign to me. I stared at it for a minute.

  There was something familiar about the symbol. I ran my thumb over the engraving, trying to place it. Where had I seen this before? I turned it around, wishing I knew what the inscription said. Hunter nudged me. I looked down at him, then slipped the pendant over my head, tucking it into my shirt.

  “There’s one more,” I said and picked up another pendant from inside the little wooden box. Though that one wasn’t attached to a chain. I set it back in the box and put the tarot cards on top. It was a perfect fit. I closed the lid and turned back to the cardboard box on the counter, pulling out another present.

  I tore off the paper to discover a glass jar filled with white powder. I raised an eyebrow. Did Aunt Estelle send me a jar of powdered

  sugar? I pulled the cork off and held the jar under my nose. Whatever it was smelled like salt. I had no idea what the powder was. I sighed, smirking as I shoved the cork back on.

  “Typical Aunt Estelle,” I muttered to Hunter and set the glass jar on the counter.

  There was one more gift inside. This wasn’t wrapped in paper. A shimmery midnight blue scarf had been folded around it. Though I didn’t know who the present was intended for, I reached inside and pulled it out anyway.

  It was heavy. Carefully, I unwound the scarf and was surprised to see a dagger. I blinked. Out of all the weird things Aunt Estelle had sent me over the years, this one took the cake.

  The bl
ue scarf fell to the ground as I slowly pulled the dagger from its sheath. The blade was about seven inches long. I turned it, the light reflecting off the sharp edges. It was made of three different types of metal but was forged together seamlessly.

  Golden crossguards curved up, looking like wings. A single Tiger’s Eye gemstone was set into the pommel. I wrapped my fingers around the hilt and turned the dagger over. The same symbol from the pendant was engraved onto the blade.

  I held my hand out, watching the setting sunlight flash across the shiny metal. I couldn’t explain it, but holding the dagger felt right.

  I wasn’t sure how long I had stood there, admiring the weapon. I startled when the garage door opened behind me. I dropped the dagger inside the box, afraid that if my mom or dad saw it, they’d take it away.

  “Hey, Harry,” I said to my brother, my heart slowing down. “How was football practice?”

  “Fine,” he said and dropped his gym bag on the floor, immediately going to the fridge.

  “Aunt Estelle’s present came today.” I tipped the box on its side and resheathed the dagger.

  “Yay, more crap I don’t need,” Harry said dryly and rummaged through the fridge. I wrapped the scarf around it. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Fend for yourself,” I said as I gathered up my gifts. “Mom texted me and said she had to perform emergency surgery, and Dad teaches a night class on Thursdays, remember?”

  Harrison grumbled. “I would have picked something up if I knew.”