Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  Another Pricolici sprang at me, saliva foaming at its mouth. I dropped the telekinetic shield and dove to the side and out of the way of the demonic dog’s attack. I slashed the dagger though the air and missed.

  The Harvester stepped back, its sunken black eyes triumphant. It held out its taloned hand and hissed. The Pricolici circled it, mocking me.

  There was no way that I could fight them all. Not even with Hunter’s help. I was going to die, and it was going to be a painful death. With me gone, Asaroth had no reason to spare the lives of any of my friends.

  The root cellar doors slammed shut. The steel gray Pricolici that had been advancing toward me stopped, turning around to see who had shut them. I seized the moment to sink the dagger into his back. He crumbled into ash and dust, but two more were quickly in his place. I took a step back and tripped over my own feet.

  Slowly, the Pricolici inched closer, growling and snarling, teasing me. I pushed myself up, wincing at the pain it caused my wrist, so intense it was hard to grasp the dagger. There was no way I was making it out of this.

  “Hey!” a familiar male voice shouted. The energy shifted and every creature in the room turned to look. My eyes widened, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw the pale figure of Ryan standing at the bottom of the stairs. Behind him stood a very young girl, wearing a bright yellow dress, and next to her stood a middle-aged man that looked like he was from another time. They were ghosts, trapped to this earth and this madness by Asaroth’s possession of their powers.

  Flickering in movement, Ryan appeared before Jenny. His hands sparked with electricity. Jenny’s face blanked in disbelief as Ryan clamped both hands over her ears, jolting the electricity and causing her to shriek in pain. The other two spirits, also sparking with blue energy, took on the Pricolici that were in front of me.

  With the feeling of despair melting away, I jumped up and went for the Harvester. The dagger slid easily into his back, and soon, he was nothing but a pile of smoldering ash.

  A dog yelped in pain. The big, black Pricolici had Hunter by the scruff. Going now on pure adrenaline, I darted to his side and stabbed the black dog. The last two Pricolici were fighting against the ghosts. Hunter looked into my eyes, and I nodded. He bounded ahead of me, taking one of the demon dogs around the neck and knocking him to the ground. I killed the other one, leaving only Jenny alone in the basement with us.

  Even for a ghost, Ryan looked ragged. Jenny screamed, and her body began to vibrate. The air buzzed with dark, swirling energy. The spirits disappeared.

  “Ryan?” I called out, but no one answered.

  Then Jenny exploded. The petit cheerleader transformed into a hideous monster, rising out of her human skin into a seven foot tall demon with horns and claws. Drawing from a strength I didn’t know I had, I thrust my left hand forward. Asaroth stumbled back, barely fazed by my powers in her true form.

  Ryan reappeared next to me, looking very corporeal. I had a sudden idea. My hand flew up to the agate necklace I was wearing. I ripped the cord off from around my neck and tossed it to him. He looked at the stone and smiled.

  “Go back to hell!” he said as he slammed the pendant into Asaroth’s chest. She screamed, echoing a hundred gruff voices at once. I gathered all the energy I could, wrapped both hands around the hilt of the dagger, and shoved it deep into her chest. Not letting go, I leaned forward, pushing the blade even farther into the demon. The hilt felt hot, and the blade glowed a fiery red. Finally, her head flopped unnaturally back. I pulled the dagger out and stepped back, panting and exhausted.

  Asaroth let out a final harrowing yell. Fire swirled around her, engulfing her in billowing flames. The dagger slipped from my hand, splattering demon blood on my boots. A mound of smoldering ash was all that was left of Asaroth. I collapsed onto the cold ground, panting.

  “It’s over,” I whispered.

  Feeling a presence, I looked up. Ryan extended a hand. I took it apprehensively, not knowing if he could actually help. His cold, stiff skin clasped my sweaty hand and pulled me to my feet.

  “Thank you, Anora.” He smiled. The little girl and the man appeared behind him again. “We can finally be free.”

  “You saved me,” the little girl whispered.

  Emotions flooded my heart, and tears stung at my eyes.

  “I’ve been waiting for a hundred years,” the man spoke. “No one’s been strong enough to stand up to her.” He came a bit closer. “Now I can be with my wife.” He looked up and let out a deep breath of relief. Slowly, he faded away.

  The little girl smiled shyly and faded from sight. Though I couldn’t see them, I could feel the presence of more spirits, grateful to be finally moving on.

  Ryan put a hand on my shoulder. “Asaroth was right about one thing; you are a powerful witch.”

  “I don’t feel like it,” I blurted, still fighting back my emotions. I barely made it out of this alive.

  He placed his other hand on me, stepped closer, and looked square into my eyes. “You saved four lives tonight and set many free. You stopped a demon from continuing a rein of torture and terror. Anora, you are strong.”

  “You’re just saying that to be nice,” I said with a half smile, feeling embarrassed by his pride in me.

  He shook his head. “We all believe in you.” His touch grew warm. “I’ll see you on the other side someday,” he said with a smile.

  “Hopefully, not anytime soon.”

  Slowly, his body became more and more transparent until I was looking at the blank wall. For a second, I missed him before I remembered that I should be happy he could finally move on. Breathing hard, I bent over to pick up the dagger. I wiped the sticky blood on my pants and stuck it in the sheath. Hunter padded over and nuzzled my hand.

  “You were amazing,” I praised and knelt down to hug him. The fire crackled behind us. I looked around the basement once more before jumping back down the hole to get my friends.

  38

  Ethan spent two days in the hospital. He needed stitches, had two broken ribs, and had lost a lot of blood. I was battered and bruised, but nothing was more serious than a mildly sprained right wrist. I modified the Agreeance Spell to make the doctors, nurses, and my parents not ask too many questions.

  He was home now and on the mend. Harrison avoided me for two days after his kidnapping. He was mad I hadn’t told him about Hunter and even angrier that he had to feel such fear. And he was having a hard time dealing with the fact that he had dated a demon.

  I couldn’t say I blamed him.

  It was awkward for a mere ten seconds around Laney. She promised she wasn’t mad and was more concerned about Ethan and me. She told me that she knew I would save them all the whole time. Whether she was lying or not, I’d never know. And honestly, I didn’t want to know. I wanted to move on and forget that I inadvertently put the three people I cared about more than anyone in grave danger.

  I helped Ethan settle into his bed as soon as he came home from the hospital. The pain medicine he was prescribed knocked him out, so I stayed close to his side, doing anything I could think of to make him more comfortable.

  Sam came into his room almost every hour, saying that she was checking on him, but really, all she did was scowl at me and wake Ethan up. I couldn’t blame her for being mad at me either; this was entirely my fault.

  Now, I knew that I wasn’t the one who bewitched and beat Ethan, but the demon that did only did so because of me. And Harrison and Laney and Leslie had all felt the effects of my new destiny. Even Hunter, though assigned to me through a destiny of his own, had to be taken to the vet for a few stitches. The people I held most near and dear had been hurt. I didn’t want to risk it anymore. And I shouldn’t. What good was it to be a demon-hunting witch who is supposed to save people when I couldn’t even protect my friends?

  “How does it feel to be a high school graduate?” Mom asked me.

  I forced a smile and looked up from my plate of cheese ravioli. “Amazing.” The lie swarmed inside
of me. “I feel free,” I blurted.

  Just a few weeks had passed since Asaroth’s attack. I flicked my eyes to Ethan, who was still healing. Most of the bruises were gone, but the broken ribs weren’t quite mended yet.

  “Lucky,” Harrison mumbled.

  “You could have graduated early too,” Dad said, raising an eyebrow. “If you put in the extra work.”

  Harrison wrinkled his nose and shrugged. “Nah, the extra semester isn’t a big deal.”

  I pushed my food around on my plate, trying to look like I was hungry. I had officially finished my last day and we’d gone out to my favorite Italian restaurant to celebrate, but I wasn’t in a party mood. I’ve been waiting for this day since the demon attack, and now that it was here, dread filled me. I could hardly look at Ethan without crying, and he knew something was going on. I couldn’t tell him; he’d talk me out of it or lock me in his room so I couldn’t carry out my plan.

  It had to be done. Yeah, Asaroth was gone. The Harvesters were gone. There were no demonic threats—for now. Living here, being a breathing magical target…it wasn’t right. I understood why Aunt Estelle had a house out in the middle of nowhere and lived alone now.

  And that is exactly what I had to do.

  39

  I cried the first hundred miles. I didn’t even listen to music. Stopping every four hours to check on the horses made the already long trip even longer, and I debated the whole time if I was doing the right thing.

  On one hand, I thought leaving was right. Being a witch meant being targeted by demons, and I didn’t want to subject my family and friends to that. On the other hand, I thought I was acting like a martyr and making this more dramatic than it really was. But this was a big deal. People’s lives were at stake, and I happened to care very much about those particular lives. Being a witch changed everything. I couldn’t live my old life anymore.

  I stopped for the last time to let Hunter run around and even took Romeo out of his carrying case to make sure he was okay. It was tempting to turn my cellphone back on and see if I had messages from my family and friends. I was sure I did, but part of me feared Harrison and Laney might be glad to not have to deal with me anymore. I left my family and friends notes, telling the truth to everyone but my parents.

  Resisting the urge, I sighed and got back into the truck. I had packed everything I could and loaded it into the bed. My horse stuff filled the tack room of the trailer.

  Sixteen hours after leaving New York, the truck bumped its way down the driveway of my Indiana home. Frost covered the bare trees and sparkled in the glow of the headlights as if someone had tossed glitter over the landscape. An odd sense of belonging swelled in my heart when the Victorian came into view. I pulled as close to the barn as was possible. Hunter took off as soon as I let him out. I expected him to search the area and then come right back. By the time I retrieved the horses’ lead ropes from inside the trailer tack room, he hadn’t.

  “Hunter?” I called, but my Guardian didn’t come running. For some reason, I didn’t feel nervous. I set the lead ropes down and walked toward the house. I heard the jingling of Hunter’s tags on his collar and followed the sound to the front porch. Hunter was busy excitedly greeting someone. His tail wagged like crazy. He ran over to me and then back to him.

  Ethan slowly stood. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said with a smile.

  Everything felt surreal as I rushed over to him. He caressed my face and kissed me. It was every bit as intoxicating and wonderful as the first time.

  “What are you doing here?” I looked into his deep brown eyes.

  “I told you you’d never have to be alone, and you‘re not. I‘m staying with you.” His lips met mine and he pulled me to him, encasing me in his embrace. My heart beat against his, and for a second, everything was right in the world.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “I love you too, Anora.”

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  About the Author

  Emily Goodwin is the author of the twice banned dark romance, Stay, as well as over a dozen other titles. Emily writes all types of romance, from love stories set in the zombie apocalypse to contemporary romances taking place on a western horse ranch.

  Emily lives in Indiana with her husband, children, and many pets, including a German Shepherd named Vader. When she isn't writing, Emily can be found riding her horses, designing and making costumes, and sitting outside with a good book.

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  www.emilygoodwinbooks.com

  Read More from Emily Goodwin

  http://www.amazon.com//e/B006075SSG/

  Legally Undead

  The Vampirarchy, Book One

  Margo Bond Collins

  Legally Undead © 2014 Margo Bond Collins

  Originally published by World Weaver Press

  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.

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  About the Book

  Legally Undead

  A reluctant vampire hunter, stalking New York City as only a scorned bride can.

  Elle Dupree has her life all figured out: first a wedding, then her Ph.D., then swank faculty parties where she’ll serve wine and cheese and introduce people to her husband the lawyer.

  But those plans disintegrate when she walks in on a vampire draining the blood from her fiancé Greg. Horrified, she screams and runs--not away from the vampire, but toward it, brandishing a wooden letter opener.

  As she slams the improvised stake into the vampire’s heart, a team of black-clad men bursts into the apartment. Turning around to face them, Elle discovers that Greg’s body is gone—and her perfect life falls apart.

  Prologue

  The worst thing about vampires is that they’re dead. That whole wanting to suck your blood business runs a close second, but for sheer creepiness, it’s the dead bit that gets me every time. They’re up and walking around and talking and sucking blood, but they’re dead. And then there’s the whole terminology problem—how can you kill something that’s already dead? It’s just wrong.

  I was twenty-four the first time I… destroyed? dispatched?… a vampire. That’s when I found out that all the books and movies are wrong. When you stick a wooden stake into their hearts, vampires don’t disintegrate into dust. They don’t explode. They don’t spew blood everywhere. They just look surprised, groan, and collapse into a pile of corpse. But at least they lie still then, like corpses are supposed to.

  Since that first kill (I might as well use the word—there really isn’t a better one), I’ve discovered that only if you’re lucky do vampires look surprised before they groan and fall down. If you’re unlucky and miss the heart, they look angry. And then they fight.

  There are the other usual ways to kill vampires, of course, but these other ways can get a bit complicated. Vampires are notoriously difficult to trick into sunlight. They have an uncanny ability to sense when there’s any sunlight within miles of them, and they’re awfully good at hiding from it. Holy water doesn’t kill them; it just distracts them for a while, and then they get that angry look again. And it takes a pretty big
blade to cut off someone’s head—even an already dead someone—and carrying a great big knife around New York City, even the Bronx, is a sure way to get arrested. Nope, pointy sticks are the best way to go, all around.

  My own pointy stick is actually more of a little knife with wood inlay on the blade—the metal makes it slide in easier. I had the knife specially made by an old Italian guy in just about the only ratty part of Westchester, north of the city. I tried to order one off the internet, but it turns out that while it’s easy to find wood-inlay handles, the blades themselves tend to be metal. Fat lot those people know.

  But I wasn’t thinking any of this when I pulled the knife out of the body on the ground. I was thinking something more along the lines of “Oh, bloody hell. Not again.”

  The problem with killing a vampire, of course, is that then you’ve got a corpse on your hands. A corpse with a hole in its heart. Coroners tend to describe it as a “post-mortem wound.” Usually coroners don’t know quite how post-mortem, of course—all they have to go on are things like rigor mortis and the rate of decomposition, and corpses that are up and walking around and talking simply don’t decompose all that quickly. At least, not on the outside. Apparently the insides can get pretty rotten. Whatever it is about sucking blood that keeps them going, it works on the heart, the blood vessels, and the brain, but not much else. The liver turns to something kind of like pâté, all mushy and spreadable. And you don’t even want to think about the stomach. At least, I don’t.