Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  Desperately I bite at her again on her forearm and again on her neck, calling up shrieks that are progressively more intense. Her hand comes up firmly to my shoulder before I can bite again, and when I look in her eyes, I see it’s her again. Really her.

  She stumbles back, but catches herself. After a deep breath, she turns away from me, facing the destruction, then takes off to return to combat. Behind where she stood is Verity, smiling sadly at me, a pile of dead at her feet. She had protected Tess so Tess could help save me. I nod my thanks to her, but it’s not long before my attention shifts to the clearing beyond.

  The water lifts me back into my levitation, and my gaze cascades over the remaining enemy. I feel the power thrumming in me. I hear my call—hear the drum beat in the ground, a building crescendo inside of me.

  One of the possessed is sneaking up on Tess’ left. She won’t be able to see it, not with the blindness in that eye. And she won’t be able to hear me over the roar of the battle. I plunge toward the possessed and use my Ferrum nature to extract it from the human. The body thuds into the water, and the Mort tries to run. But it’s too late. My fingers are already in its spirit skull, and soon it is nothing more than black particles on the breeze. Tess nods her thanks to me, then refocuses her attention on the Morts that have evolved from our wet chimes.

  This ends now.

  I zip around the clearing biting every possessed human I can before returning to neutral ground, then I reach out both my hands and pull all the Morts toward me. I pull them from the shadows, I pull them from their battles, I pull them from the human bodies they fight to keep possession of. The clearing is filled with the shrieking cries of Morts and the thudding slosh of host bodies falling into the ankle-deep water.

  Now it’s just me and the Morts. They claw at me, fighting back against my control over them. I clutch the witch’s ladder I still keep in the folds of my dress and begin chanting. The spirit of the Forever Girl is with me, and the power of the triple goddess swirls through me, making her presence known and giving me the strength and energy I need.

  “Veni, tenebræ,” my voice trembles low, the Latin words coming out with a guttural tenor. “Veni, tenebræ.”

  The Morts slog forward. Through the wall of their shadowy forms, I see William trying to break through.

  “Cord! No!”

  He’s yanking Morts back. He’s moving two of them at a time, reducing them to black particle that turns the water below a shimmering gray.

  “Veni, tenebræ.”

  Come, darkness.

  I repeat the chant until all the Morts have been extracted from the human bodies. Bodies that now lie drowning in inches of water, waiting to be reborn.

  William is low now; the crowd of Morts have swallowed him.

  They hover closer and closer, until I can feel their deadly chill, until it’s like ice melting over a Georgia sunburn. I hold tight to this world, not allowing the fragment to push forward.

  “No!” William yells again, but his voice is drowned by a sea of moaning spirits.

  Soon, they are on top of me, suffocating me, too many for me to fight back, wrapping their fingers around my arms and legs, pulling my levitating body from the sky to the ground below. The water surges away, clearing a circle around me as I land.

  If I let my friends fight this battle without me, they could die. Do I sacrifice the lives of some of the people I love in order to save Anna? That was never possible. I had to save them all to save her anyway.

  If I die here today, maybe I still would make it back to Anna. Just so long as I do what needs to be done. Maybe that would be enough.

  Maybe.

  And if not, I can only hope William or Tess would return for me to make sure she is safe.

  My heart is weak—a slave to my emotions. Fighting is perhaps the only strength I have left. But deep down, I know why I’ve been hiding behind my reasoning. I’ve been hiding from what I’ve always known: the only way to win this battle is to fight it myself. This war has always been mine, and finally I realize that it won’t end until I own it. Embrace it. The power of the very moon is on my side. I am stronger than I ever could have imagined.

  It has to be enough.

  It has to.

  The resolved energy swells within my chest, and I will the waves around us to rise in great walls, the crystal blue water sparkling in the sunlight. As the waves coalesce around and above us, shadows turn the waves black, and soon I’m trapped under a dome of water. Everything goes dark.

  My friends can’t help me now, and I have no idea what I am doing. I can only act out my instincts, my urges. I can only trust the magic given to me by the Forever Girl.

  Two walls form, blocking out my friends and encasing me inside with my attackers.

  My prisoners.

  I try to use the pull of my power to bring the Morts together, to pit them against one another, but it’s useless. They pass through each other, swirls of shadows that deepen the darkness around us. They press up against me, and my stomach lurches. They want to take me, to be part of me, and I have to fight images of Pa’s body over my own.

  I crouch to the ground, and my chest tightens in panic as they hover over me. I can feel their cold energy on every inch of my skin. I close my eyes in the dark and try to focus on the ground beneath me. The earth’s drumbeat thuds against my fingertips.

  I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, focusing harder, soaking in the energy. Darkness consuming me. Is this what it will take? Inviting the dark into myself in order to destroy it?

  Beneath the shrieks and moans of the Morts, my body trembles with the earth. My fear is gone. It’s the energy alone that shakes me to my core. Finally, I let go. I stop pulling. I stop pulling the Morts, stop pulling the energy from the earth, stop pulling my strength from the water, and I...let go.

  I let go of every emotion, every dream, every hope.

  And the energy bursts from me in bright rays of echoing light, bright and blinding and turning my world white. But as this light temporarily destroys the color of my world, it permanently destroys the Morts in the clearing. Each and every one—vaporized. Sucked from this existence almost as though they never existed at all. A Chibold gift I hadn’t even known I possessed.

  Icy salt water crashes down around me and slaps into my face, stinging my skin, and I can taste the ocean on my tongue.

  When I open my eyes, the clearing is silent. The air around me is ruined by the scent of wet ashes as the sky snows in shades of black and gray. I rise, looking at each of my comrades in turn. Charles and Adrian stare at me in surprise; Grace and Vanessa, in awe. Tess, in apology, and William in...admiration? They don’t move, even as I walk toward them.

  What we’ve accomplished here is nothing great. It is only the end of something horrible. Anyone can murder. Anyone can silence the life of another. Be they evil or pure, their blood is on our hands now.

  I spread my arms out to the piles of humans around us.

  “They need us now.”

  I didn’t know I was this person, but on this day, I became myself. Became who I always have been but have never known.

  I learned I was a fighter, that I am strong enough to overcome evil. And I realized that my ability to do so comes from a darkness within myself...a darkness that was born in me back in Georgia, a darkness shaped by all I have been through and all I am yet to do. Because this isn’t over yet.

  It’s not over, but my time in this place, with these people, ends here. And of them, I will miss William and Tess most of all. I will leave here knowing that they would risk themselves to save me. They would save me even knowing I would just as soon leave them to save my daughter.

  That is what makes leaving so hard.

  It’s what makes me want to stay.

  And I hate myself for even thinking it.

  35

  April 1692

  It takes hours for William, Tess, and me to heal the once-possessed humans of their wounds. Each one we heal is then, in turn, addressed
by Charles—Adrian’s dual-breed friend—who whisks them swiftly back to where Adrian has taken cover from the sunlight. Adrian wipes their memories, Charles returns them to their home, and then he swiftly abandons them to return to us for the next.

  Some of the Morts’ victims don’t make it.

  Vanessa, Verity, and Grace assist us in putting them to rest. They carry them into the woods, almost ceremoniously, and with the way the sun slants golden in the clearing, it’s almost beautiful. Beautiful, if not for the finality of it all.

  That could be Anna if I don’t return to her soon.

  As I heal one of the humans, I stare across the clearing to where William is under a heavy shade, tending to a young man. My heart thumps in my chest. His eyes lift to mine, and my mouth goes dry. My very soul aches, knowing I will leave him soon.

  Then my wings tingle again, and at first I think it’s from the sunlight, but then I wonder if it’s something more. But could being Ankou really run that deeply in me—so deeply that it has rooted itself to my emotions?

  “Tess?” I ask as she heals a deep gash in the stomach of an older woman.

  She doesn’t look up. “Yeah?”

  “When I go home, will I still be...this way?”

  She shrugs. “How could I possibly know the answer to that?”

  “Right,” I say, defeat settling in, kicking its feet up and getting comfy. “Sorry I asked.”

  “Don’t be,” she mumbles. “But the people who leave here, we never see them again, get it? So how do we know what life is like for them once they leave?”

  I don’t say anything more. We work silently in the somber clearing, our clothes drying stiff in the early spring sun. The waves have swept back to the ocean. The only evidence of their recent presence is the way our knees and toes sink in the muddy, saturated ground as we kneel over one body after the next.

  “Too late on this one,” Tess says, and though at first her words seem matter of fact, when I look at her I can hear the sadness in her voice. She gently closes the eyes of a rosy-cheeked, blonde-haired little girl. “You can be at peace now.”

  Tess turns away. “This woman’s next.”

  I slosh across the overwatered grass to join Tess’ side. I want to look at her, to search her face for answers, for clues that will lead me through the passageways of her mind, but I don’t. I allow her the privacy of feeling whatever she feels without me knowing, without me seeing.

  Her hand finds my own; our fingers intertwine. I give a gentle squeeze.

  “So much lost,” she whispers. Then she shakes her head. “Her lungs are filled with fluid, Cord. You’ll have to pull it out.”

  I nod, then place my hand inches above the young woman’s mouth. Tess’ energy flows through me, strengthening my energy, but it’s my own gift—this control I have over the water—that will save this woman.

  The sensation starts in my fingertips, then some outside pressure pulses against my palm. A droplet of water slides out of the woman’s mouth, then rises into the air. A few droplets later, it’s a small rivulet swirling up toward my hand, coalescing into a sphere of water.

  The woman coughs, sputters, gasps. I flick my wrist to the side, sending the water to splash against the mud. Before I can say a word, Charles blurs past, and the woman is gone.

  It was my gift that saved her, but it was also my gift that nearly took her life.

  I had no other choice.

  William calls us over to the next victim. When he looks at me, his mouth twitches on one side. Half smile, half apology. When he puts his arm around me and pulls me to his chest, I don’t think about it. I don’t analyze. I’m just there.

  I’m alive.

  It’s not until after all the surviving humans have been returned to their homes—memories wiped—and the dead buried or reburied, that we can tend to our own wounds. The pain has settled in, and it’s made me too lightheaded and ill to eat. William rubs nightshade into the large wound in my back. I wince, and he lightens his pressure, his touch so tender than it’s almost sensual. I close my eyes and try to ignore the feeling.

  Suddenly, Adrian appears at our side.

  “I can’t say long,” he says. I look up from where I sit to take him in. His dark skin is reddening and peeling.

  “I thought—”

  “Tess’ blood is wearing off. I won’t be able to stay in the sun now.” He turns his attention toward her.

  She shakes her head, arms crossed. “You—” She presses her lips together, and her eyebrows furrow and her fingernails dig into her arms. “No, Adrian. Never again.”

  This is all she says before she stalks off.

  Charles strolls over, and I ease William’s hand from my back, away from the wound that has mostly healed. William helps me stand, then gets up beside me.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “Fine,” I say. “Maybe you should gather some supplies for our travels?”

  Charles places his hand between Adrian’s shoulder blades. “Come, my friend. Time to go.”

  “Before you go...” I say, touching them both on the arm.

  They both look me in the eyes, and this time I influence them. The spirit of the Forever Girl is with me, and she washes through their memories, crashing through the mind like rapids, carrying any trace of us away.

  Erasing memories from a Cruor is something only a Forever Girl can do, as only Forever Girls are able to cross the mental planes to where the dead have their thoughts. I must work quickly if I am to succeed before they realize what I am up to.

  Within moments, I am in their heads, my energy washing through their memories like the roar of a strong ocean wave.

  Hodie viderunt memini. Forget all you have seen today.

  Grant. . . in saecula saeculorum. Forget us. Forever.

  Memoriam ablue. Memories wash away.

  As I near the end, I feel them starting to fight back. But as their memories are sucked away, I also steal their energy, and within minutes, they crumple to the ground. It’s best we don’t leave a trace of our presence with anyone. Not even our allies. They can’t remember this day, and they can’t remember any of us. I leave them only with the memory of their friendship and the knowledge that the Maltorim cannot be trusted.

  Tess runs over and pushes me to the ground. “What have you done? Cordovae, how could you?”

  My hands slide into the mud, and she jumps on top of me before I can get back on my feet. “They aren’t dead,” I say defensively. “I just took their memories of us.”

  Her face contorts like this is somehow worse. She pounds her fist into my chest, and I grab her wrist and push her off of me.

  I wipe the mud from my hands on my shredded dress and glare at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  She points her finger into my chest. “You just don’t want anyone to have their life because you can’t have yours!”

  William rushes over. “Slow down, Tess. What happened?”

  Tess shoulders past him. “Ask your stupid girlfriend,” she says, and she storms off.

  William’s turns his puzzled expression my way. “What was that about?”

  My face and ears are burning. “I’m not entirely sure. She’s mad I wiped our presence from Adrian and Charles’ memory.”

  His expression softens. “Oh,” he says softly. “I better go talk to her. You will do the same with Grace, Verity, and Vanessa when they return from their last burial?”

  I nod. Verity will be the hardest, but it must be done. Only William, Tess, the Maltorim, and myself will remember what happened on this day. It has to be this way; we cannot risk Adrian, or anyone else, turning on us ever again.

  It’s funny that the only people we can trust not to talk about this are the Maltorim, but that’s only because they would never want to admit their defeat. And with their resources so rapidly depleted, it will be a long time before they can try something like this again.

  Maybe next time, they’ll think twice.

  True night is soon app
roaching, and it can’t come soon enough. William’s skin is already starting to peel as Adrian’s had. We need to act fast, so it is with haste that we move Adrian and Charles to a cave nearby, and Vanessa, Verity, and Grace to an abandoned cabin in the woods. They will be disoriented and confused when they wake, but they will be safe. I left them each with one memory from this all: that the Maltorim can never, never be trusted.

  Tess still won’t talk to me. I try to tell myself that I don’t care, that I’m going home soon and how she feels about me means nothing. But I can’t convince myself of the lie any more than I can understand why I feel this way.

  William offers me some nightshade, but I can’t consume anything right now. My stomach flutters are making me ill. Anxiety over finally being able to return to Anna bubbles in my chest. As soon as we get to safety—get to where the Maltorim can’t send anyone to kill us—I can travel away from this time and place and back to my own. Back to Anna.

  I wish I could be excited. But I’m afraid. I’ve been racing time since I arrived here, and only now can I learn if I was fast enough, or if I’m trapped here forever. I could find happiness here, I know, but it would be clouded with the sadness of losing my daughter and trampled by the guilt of finding love in a world where she doesn’t exist.

  Unwelcome tears trickle down my cheek and salt my lips. Some of joy, some of sorrow. And it’s the latter that bring the tears of guilt flowing next.

  I need to get away from William and Tess before this gets any harder. I need to get back to Anna before it’s too late.

  Finally, I am free to leave.

  So why, in my heart, do I still feel like a prisoner?

  36

  April 1692

  Night has returned. Truly and completely. And I hope what I have seen here is hell, for I can’t stomach that there could be anything worse. The Morts are like the very demons Mama told me about as a child. They walk the earth, they possess the pure. If hell exists, its prisons must not be well guarded.