Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  “Yes,” I say, a little annoyed by him rushing such an important discussion. “Why is the Maltorim doing this?”

  “I can’t say for sure,” Adrian offers dejectedly, “but it is not up to us to determine their reasons or analyze what they are up to. It is up to us to mediate the problem at hand as quickly and cleanly as we can. Now, let’s get to work.”

  A pit grows in my stomach. Something is off about this guy. Why is he avoiding discussion? We can’t be in that much of a rush . . .

  Can we?

  Just as I’m thinking this man cannot be trusted, a dizzy spell rushes my head, and I’m thrust into an unwelcomed fragment.

  I’m in my room. My Pa hovers over of me. The blanket seems like it’s weighing him down, holding him there, like he’ll never move, never take himself off of me. I used to fight it, but he would just pin my arms over my head and clamp his dirty farm-hand over my mouth so hard that my lips crushed against my teeth. My arm is still broken from the last time I fought him.

  Mama passes the room, her eyes full of tears, peeking through the cracked-open door. She swallows and looks away quickly, then disappears down the hall. I keep staring at that crack in the door, willing her to come back, to stop him, to save me, but even my own Mama has betrayed me since the Darkness came. I’m black inside. I’ll never be whole again. And I’m dead. Just a lifeless doll, waiting to be tossed away, to finally have this misery end.

  When I come back from my fragment, I’m outside, vomiting in frostbitten grass beneath the cover of a cloudy night sky. Pa is Anna’s father. Bitter acid burns the back of my throat. I’m so shaky I feel the trembling will never go away. There’s a crunch of dry snow behind me, then William is standing at my side. I can hear his voice but not what he’s saying. Then it starts to get louder, clearer.

  “Cord? I asked if you’re all right. What happened?”

  I spit on the ground, wipe my mouth with my wrist, and shake my head. “Nothing.”

  My birthmark peeks out from my dress, and I quickly pull my sleeve back down to cover my wrist. The birthmark reminds me of Anna, as it always has, and now my dread has doubled. She is alone with that man, and the danger he poses to her is worse than I had remembered.

  “Talk to me, Cord. You don’t look well.”

  I push past William and hurry back into Tess’ cabin, not saying a word. I don’t want to see him right now. Inside, I grab the fingerless gloves Verity made me from the end of the cot, slip them on my hands, and sit by myself.

  I’m lightheaded and woozy, and it’s enough to send Tess over to me with a herbal mix she insists I drink. Though food is the last thing on my mind, I drink, hoping it will help the aches I still have from running earlier and the blisters on my feet.

  Adrian continues on with all of his planning as though nothing has happened. William checks on me one more time before joining them. He’s leaning over a table, chanting something in another language as he draws mark after mark on a large map.

  I don’t concern myself with whatever they’re doing, and no one seems to care. I just stare at them, all working together. Adrian smiles and makes some remark that has Tess smiling, too. Her hand goes to his forearm, grazing a scar I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. He’s leaning on the table also, watching William work.

  I sit here, feeling as though I’m watching art move, watching a painting in motion as I question everything. They work well together. I’m supposed to trust Adrian, as they do, but I don’t. This man wants me to fight alone, and I don’t sense it’s because he has great confidence in my abilities. Before tonight, I didn’t even know exactly what I was called here to do. I’m still not entirely sure. But either I try what he suggests, or we’re stuck in the same situation we’re in now.

  What choice do I have but to take the risk? The risk of doing nothing is worse—it’s certain death. If William and Tess trust Adrian, and I trust them, that should count for something. Even if I can’t place my finger on why I trust them in the first place.

  William rolls up a map and hands it to Adrian. “I’ll meet you by the mountains,” he says.

  Adrian nods. “Let’s move.”

  As he turns, he replaces his hand on the small of Tess’ back, then ushers her outside.

  I spin toward William. “Who the hell is that guy?”

  He swivels his face toward me, expression glum. “Our only hope.”

  Daylight has expired, making it safe for us to walk outdoors without risk of harm from sunlight. William suggests we head back to the settlement. He can guide me there, but he can’t stay with me—there’s no way to explain the strange appearance of a new man in the village, especially one staying in my home, but I am grateful for his company on the way back. Besides, Tess will need him to help distract the Maltorim and Marked Ones.

  This is all moving too fast. Even for me. How could anyone be in more of a rush to end all this than I am? We haven’t even considered any other options.

  At least it’s just me and William now. A certain happiness overcomes me when I’m with him, even though being alone with him always makes me nervous. I can’t eat, I can think straight, I can’t sleep—and that’s okay, because I don’t have the luxury of any of those things right now anyway. I just have to do what Adrian told me, unless I can come up with a better plan in the time it takes to get from Tess’ cabin to the settlement. Thankfully, Adrian suggested we walk as humans, so as not to draw attention to ourselves from any nearby Morts, Cruor, or Marked Strigoi.

  “We could move them during the day,” I suggest. “With the speed we move, no one would see us at all, let alone our wings.”

  “We would still be exposing ourselves to the sun,” William counters. He walks so assuredly, with strong posture and long strides.

  “But you aren’t pure Ankou. Can’t you...”

  “Burst into flames?” He grins. “The Cruor can’t go in the sun, either, Cord.”

  “I hate this,” I mumble.

  “It could be worse.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “How so?”

  William stares into the distance and breathes heavily through his nose. He rubs his thumb across the stubble on his jaw, then glances sideways at me. “Before the year 1000 A.C., the Ankou had been completely trapped. Then, it had been the moonlight that revealed their wings, but the sun still caused their bodies to shrink.”

  “That sounds awful. What changed?”

  “At the turn of every millennium, the magic to the Universe opens. It’s the only time the rules of a species can change, at least to some degree. The Ankou used that opportunity to change one thing. They chose to make the daylight their only weakness, by making their wings only visible to the sun during the day. This way they were free to live and hunt at night, where only other elementals can detect us by the glow of our skin. For the Ankou, the decision meant at least a thousand years of some sense of freedom.”

  Some idea of freedom. But it’s good to know that my skin can’t be detected by humans at night.

  “Why do you say ‘at least’? Why would they want to change it back to the way it was, if it was so awful before?”

  “They don’t,” he says. “But other people would prefer the Ankou be trapped. Each millennium is the battle of the species. A battle that determines whose magic is stronger, who gets their desires.”

  “Sounds stressful.”

  William places his arm around my shoulders and playfully tugs me against him, so that my shoulder falls against his ribs. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, right?”

  I look up to him and our eyes lock and the whole world seems to freeze and my heart does that fluttery thing. My mouth goes dry, and the humor melts under the desire I have for him. The irises of his maple-syrup eyes are encircled with a midnight blue I’ve never noticed before, and I can’t break the stare, can’t stop staring at the way his oaky-brown hair falls against his pearly-white skin. The golden sheen of the Ankou looks so much more...magical...on him than it does on me. He has the beauty of an
angel.

  I feel warmth with him. Feel safe. I’ve never felt safe around men before, and thanks to my fragment earlier, I now know why. But William is different—I trust him. Even if I can’t explain it or understand why. At the same time, I can’t help but wince when his hand slides a little lower on my arm. The closeness makes me uncomfortable. I know William would never hurt me, but his intimate touch still reminds me of those who have. Will I ever be comfortable with intimacy, even with a man I trust?

  It doesn’t matter anyway. Only Anna matters. Although I sense I will miss William, there’s a comfort in knowing that soon it will just be Anna and me.

  William clears his throat and drops his hand away. He stares straight ahead, and I rub my hands over my arms against the biting chill of winter that seems suddenly crueler.

  “Anyway,” he says. “We’ll get you back to Anna soon enough. You’ll never have to deal with our millennium changes.”

  “You really think so?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” he says. He sounds so sure—so sure it almost feels like a promise—and that makes my heart soar. “But only if we all stay focused...” He glares at me. “Just don’t let your capacity for love become a weakness.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” he mumbles. “I don’t want you to end up like...me. Just follow Adrian’s directions. We’re all counting on you.”

  He stops, and I turn toward him. His hands hesitate near the back of his neck, and it takes me a moment to realize what he’s doing: removing a necklace. He thrusts it toward me, not looking at me. “Here.”

  I take it gently and inspect it—a large, round, wooden chip with a tree engraved on the front. “What is it?”

  “It’s good luck,” he says. “It’s always kept me safe.”

  I can’t help but smile. Verity would approve. I clasp the charm tightly in my palm. “How will I know where to find you afterward? Or when?”

  He pulls his map from his pocket and points to a mountainside I don’t think I’ll ever be able to find. “If we aren’t at Tess’ cabin, you’ll find us here.”

  I point to the marks on the map. “What are these?”

  He stops walking and crouches down, pulling me down beside him. He flattens the map as best he can against the forest path’s rocky terrain. “Each mark is a spirit or cluster. My father taught me how to map them as a kid, using a kind of magic. See, he was dying and I was the one nursing him back to health, but he was afraid he wouldn’t make it. He wanted me to protect my mother, and the best way to do that was to always know where the Morts were—to find them before I could even see them. This is important in the event they possess any humans, because at that point they become more of a danger to us than we are to them.”

  “Can you teach me?” I ask.

  “Only if you have a lifetime to learn. It takes a lot of practice.” He rolls up the map and helps me back to my feet. “It never served me until now, you know. I was supposed to use it to protect my family, but then...”

  I get the feeling he doesn’t open up with people often, and it makes me feel as though we are connected in some way—a way that’s not just in my head but that he feels, too.

  “Go on,” I say.

  William shakes his head. “How would you feel if the boy that saved your life grew up to be the man who took your life?”

  “I...well...I don’t know.” I hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn.

  “Of course you don’t.” He shoves the map in his pocket. “My father hadn’t even fought back. He just let me kill him.”

  “You’re different now. He would be proud of the man you’ve become.”

  “Right.”

  I sense our ‘sharing time’ has ended. I slip the necklace he gave me into the deep pocket of my dress. The dress has been torn in a few places to allow for better movement while fighting, and I can’t help but wonder what the people of the settlement will make of it. Hopefully they won’t notice me at all.

  “All right, Cord. You know what to do.” He looks down the path, and I follow his gaze to where it ends—to where the settlement begins.

  I know this place. As Abigail, I once rescued a young boy from a snake bite, right here where I stand now. His mother saw me, and she’d thrown a stone that hit me in the back of my head. But I didn’t stop until I removed all the poison. Once she realized what I’d been doing, she apologized, but the apology was rushed and given beneath a skeptical glare before she hurried her son away from me.

  Abigail and I are nothing alike. Abigail believes humanity is worth saving. I’m just doing this for Anna.

  William places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “You’re on your own from here.”

  12

  January 1692

  I enter the settlement in a daze. Energy returns to my body as my aches ebb. My whole body tingles. My heart thuds in my chest. I feel eerily balanced, senses so sharp it’s nauseating. I don’t want to be here. Even the wind is harsh—cold and unrelenting.

  The sun has tucked in for the night. The sky is still light enough to lend a clear quality to the world around me but dark enough that I can walk without my Ankou wings being visible to the townsfolk. I wish I could use my wings to make me invisible not only to the Morts but to the people of my town as well. But they can see me, and I fear that, somehow, they will be able to tell something about me has changed.

  Some of them stare at me with coal-black eyes and graying skin. The arm of a young man has begun to decay. He licks his yellowing teeth, and I shudder, ducking my head and looking away. The Morts must have gotten to some of the people of Salem.

  I bustle by the hushed whispers that spread like wildfire—talk of the afflicted, talk of witches—and try to ignore the disproving glares, the indicating fingers. I try to be invisible, but it’s not as if I can blend in here—not with my fiery-red hair and startling pale face. The healing bruises from earlier look like grass stains on my skin, and I curse myself for bruising so easily. What will they make of it? I cover them up as best I can.

  The aroma of the town overpowers my senses. Human sweat. Horse manure. The welding of hot metal. I intend to go straight home, but as I’m walking past the blacksmith shop, Verity pays the nearby vendor for some winter squash. She looks right at me.

  Right at me. It’s as if she can see me from this distance, even with poor vision. And yet, at the same time, it’s as though she doesn’t know who I am. As though she is looking right through me.

  I walk around the woman pulling up her night’s water from the well. I try to get closer to Verity, but a small boy runs into my path. The mother grabs her son in time to save him from getting trampled by a horse and cart. The loud clatter of hooves thunders in my head, but the whole while I do not take my focus off of Verity. I grow more and more anxious the nearer I get to her without her acknowledging me.

  Closer and closer, until I can confirm what I feared most.

  Verity has been taken.

  Her tea-colored eyes are now two black coals. Her smile is not her own. Her hair is limp and her skin is graying. I swallow around a lump in my throat. When she turns, I realize the Mort has not fully overtaken her—its back still protrudes, and its feet have not stepped into Verity’s shoes.

  My spark of hope.

  But with the whole town out and about, saving her now would expose me. Just the same, if the Mort completely overtakes her, it can expose me as well, using her as a witness against me. I chew my lip, debating what to do.

  I need to get her away from here.

  “Verity!” I say, waving, forcing a smile as though I have no idea of the truth. As she dips her head and starts to walk by me, I fall in line beside her. “I’ve been looking for you! Come with me, I have something to show you.”

  I tug at her arm in as friendly a way as I can, but the Mort resists. Its left foot steps into hers. Its back protrudes a little less as its form melts into her. It’s clear I won’t be able to get her alone in time.

  I can’t
take this. I can’t handle her being forced into this, her body becoming not her own. It reminds me of Pa—I shake the image away. I can’t think about my old life right now. I can’t even think of my life as Abigail. Right now, I need to honor my spirit. I need to be Cordovae.

  I can’t let myself be exposed, but I must act now. Either I stand back and do nothing, or I try to save her. One option might risk exposing who I am, but the other definitely will.

  Something rips in my chest—an emotional turmoil over this Mort taking my friend. If I’m going to be exposed one way or another, the least I can do is save my friend.

  Maybe if I move fast enough, I can get through this without the town noticing.

  The back of the Mort nearly absorbs into Verity. It’s now or never. If it possesses her completely, it’ll be too late.

  I step behind Verity and sift my hands into her hair. My Ankou nails snap out, piercing her skull. They are like ghost fingers, though, unable to harm her physically. It is the Mort I attack now. I glance around, confirming my elemental abilities have allowed me to move fast enough to go unseen. My speed may just be what helps me pull this off.

  The Mort screeches, and the sound pierces my ears. In the nearby blacksmith shop, a hammer pounds hot metal. It sounds so much slower now, as though five minutes pass between one clang and the next.

  The Mort separates slightly from Verity. I’m close. But I hear the chatter of the town dying down, which means I’m not moving fast enough. Slowly, they are turning toward us, gathering. I was warned against doing this around other people, despite our ability for speed, and now I am seeing why. But what choice did I have? I’m still limited in that I cannot move Verity—only Ankou with advanced gifts can travel with a human without killing them. I’m stuck here, and I need to finish before it’s too late.

  Vibrations shudder through me. It’s almost done. Just a few more...seconds...and...Christ, this Mort is strong—much stronger than the ones I fought in the field.