Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

I can't contain the chuckles. “I think you're confusing my life for the story of That Darn Cat. Do you even know how delusional you sound?”

  “You have no idea what they're capable of. Even your magic won't—”

  The chuckles morph to an open guffaw. “I'm two seconds away from calling the cops, Harry Potter. You're cute, but I don't go for the crazy ones. I've got enough crazy myself. Get the fuck out of here. Put your address down, and I'll bring the dog by later. If he is your dog.”

  “Alisa, please—”

  I cringe and go for my purse and the container of pepper spray tucked in the side pouch. “I'm serious. Unless you want me to set your eyes on fire, you better get the hell out. And next time I see you, I'm filing a restraining order. On that note, what's your full name? And your address, for whoever serves you that paperwork?”

  He reaches for me, his fingers caressing my cheek. “You're stubborn, I'll give you that.”

  “No. Don't touch me. You're honestly kind of scaring me right now. I'm laughing, but it's not a 'ha ha you're a clown’, laugh, it's a 'if I take my eyes off you, will you club me over the head and chain me in your closet?’ laugh. You don't want to hear a woman laugh like that. I don't know what the hell you're selling, but I'm not buying. Go.”

  I raise my hand, the pepper spray clutched tight. Our eyes meet for a heated moment, both of us torn between laughing and anger at the ludicrousness of the situation. What does he think is so weird about it? He's the one acting like he's on a bad trip.

  He glares at me, then reaches for a paper on the island. How the fuck did he know I kept a pad there? I don't remember him taking stock of the place last time. Has he been stalking me? Maybe he broke in and turned the dog loose last time just to have the excuse to come back.

  No. I have to be overreacting.

  He scrawls an address down. “Fine. Go here. Bring the dog. I promise, it'll all make sense. It'll—”

  “You're talking crazy again, buddy. Get the hell out.”

  His eyes meet mine, fierce and wild, as though he might throw me over his shoulder and refuse to put me down until he'd said his piece. I back up a step. “Now. Please, thank you, and it's been nice knowing you.”

  “Please, Alisa, I don't want you to get hurt—”

  “Right now, the only one hurting me is you, Reza. You're scaring me. You're refusing to leave my home.” I'm not as scared as I'm saying, but I've found that men who're convinced they're always in the right are particularly vulnerable to someone playing the feminine weakness card. “You're scaring me.”

  There's a challenge and an apology in his eyes. I don't know whether to interpret it as him apologizing for something he's about to do while recognizing that I'm pushing him into it, or what.

  He glances away and turns toward the door. “Stay safe, Alisa.”

  “You, too. See a shrink, okay?”

  The door falls shut behind him, and I rub my eyes. I'm already well on my way to a headache. What the hell was that?

  Paws scratch at the back door, and I turn toward it in a haze. Ballad's there. “There you are, you scoundrel,” I mutter, opening the door so he can get in.

  Fuck. My hands are shaking. “Your owner's a real asshole.”

  I tap the address he wrote down into my phone; it's in the middle of the woods about two hours away. And that's not creepy at all. He's obviously luring me somewhere he can hurt me in privacy. No doubt about it, Ballad's not even his. He's just an opportunistic stalker. And I played right into his hands.

  Damn shame, that. My lips are still tingling from his kiss, despite the ugliness that came after. Why're the cute ones always bat-shit? And I don't want to sound like an asshole; my best friends are fucking crazy. The world is fucking crazy. Crazy isn't bad, except when it's existence is enabled with no other perspectives.

  And Reza…he's something special. Did he really think I'd just drop my life and run away because some weirdo said I had a cursed dog, or whatever the hell he was implying?

  I play with Ballad's ears, taking comfort in his softness and his attentive eyes. For not having had a dog very long, I'm already getting to love it. Who needs a boyfriend when you can bury your face in a dog's side? Err, aside from the obvious, naughty stuff. Still, the companionship is nice. It's grounding, when I'm dealing with explosive creepers and clingy clients.

  “Guess you're stuck with me awhile,” I tell Ballad. “Though we've gotta figure out how to keep you from running away.”

  He looks at me with sad eyes.

  “I know, I know. But we don't want you to get hit by a car again. And you seem to have shit luck.”

  I twiddle my fingers on his back, tracing patterns into his fur. He's a beautiful animal, and truth be told, I'm relieved that I caught on to Reza's game before I gave him back. “What're we gonna do with you, big guy?”

  15

  Reza

  My back blazes with Alisa's power. Somehow, her fingers found their way to shape two sigils in my fur: one for healing and the other for protection. I feel better than I have in weeks, my body coursing with adrenaline and a limitless impression of invincibility. I should run. I've given her the gate's address; whether or not she comes is up to her. I'm in the best shape I'm likely to be to evade anyone the Reapers have watching the gate.

  But she's not gonna heed my warning. I knew it when we stared each other down across her pepper spray. I knew it even before she confirmed it afterward. She's a smart woman accustomed to taking care of herself with a healthy dose of skepticism and courage. She faced me down without any hesitation, and even her ploy that I was scaring her was well done. I should wish she was just a little easier to push around, but it's much more intriguing imagining what she might do if someone other than me was the target of her ire.

  I don't dare wait for her to come around, especially since she'll probably call the police next time I turn up. I don't have a mouthpiece to convince her. My only choice is to leave her as well-prepared as I can. I can put off my escape for a day or two to put my plans in order.

  She's given me the opportunity to help her and a window in which to do it. The marks are stronger now, feeding off each other. I should have a good forty-eight hours before it's weakened too much for me to escape notice on my trip to the gate. My skin itches as though charged with the worst static possible.

  She picks up her purse and plants a kiss on my forehead. “See you later, big guy.”

  Two seconds after her car's pulled out of the driveway, I nudge her door open, shift back into the dog, and leave on my own rambling mission, a backpack looped into my harness.

  I don't dare trust the spell enough to risk changing to my own body, and I have no money, besides. But the park near her house yields fruit in the form of several indigenous herbs I can use to create a sort of holy water substitute. It'll be weaker, but it'll give her time to get away if I can treat bullets with it.

  Several times in my meandering, I have to shift to a smaller dog's body to get through a doggy door, but by the time I've robbed every house in a four-block radius, I've managed to get her a handgun and ammo and a variety of knives.

  Feeling well satisfied with the day's work, I return home, slipping inside to mash the herbs into a paste and put my own power into it to bind the mess together. I roll the bullets in it and put them in a Ziplock to let it set. The longer it stays that way, the stronger it'll be.

  I don't know how long she'll be gone, and I don't want to risk coming back while she's here. It's better to not risk the trek to any of the local reagent vendors for stronger ingredients. It's a start. If I just get them somewhere she'll find them…

  I apply the paste to the blades, too. I would put it on her kitchen knives, just in case, but I don't know human biology well enough to know if the mixture is poisonous, and she might accidentally get sick from it.

  Her key clicks in the lock, and I shove the whole mess into the drawer below her oven. I've only managed to get it closed and myself back into a canine form when she steps in, o
bviously in a foul temper.

  She collapses onto the couch, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was glaring at me. “You know how bad things come in threes? I think weird ones do, too. God, what I'd give for things to go back to normal.”

  What happened? Did she notice a Reaper? Are they closing in on me? I sniff her hand as though I'll be able to smell a stalker on it, but that's a fool's errand. Incubi don't have any more substance than they shape themselves. No odor, oftentimes not even anything real enough to touch.

  A tear leaks from the corner of her eye, and I butt her face with my nose, attempting to get close enough to lick it away. Some of it's instinct, but the rest of it is guilt over upsetting her so much. I'll watch over her, just for the night. And then I'll leave a note letting her know where the gun is and trust that she's as strong, as resourceful, as she seems. That she'll be okay.

  She pats my head and rises, pacing that same pattern into the floor as she gets ready for bed. I follow her automatically, her stresses becoming mine. When she lies down, I'm right there beside her.

  She'll be okay on her own. The Reapers who may be circling her will see their mark's moved elsewhere and leave her be. I have to believe she'll be fine. If any harm comes to her because she tried to do me a favor…

  She buries her face in my fur, her breath a damp heat against my skin. She strokes me long into the night, long past when her breathing's evened out and she's obviously well on her way toward dreamland.

  When she's out cold, I let myself take my natural form. All of the distress at how today went down comes back, and my arm tightens around her. She feels so small against me, so fragile. Not the firecracker who threatened to neuter me.

  The soft rise and fall of her chest against mine lulls me to sleep. And that's where the trouble starts.

  16

  Reza

  Alisa sits near me, legs splayed. Her hand's between them, two fingers inside her and her sex blocked from view by the back of her hand. She meets my gaze squarely, her knuckles soaked in her cream and catching the light as her fingers work in herself. Her sensuous lips part, her eyes dark with need. She moans.

  I need her. I crawl between her legs, her thighs falling to the side under my weight, and her head tipping up toward mine as she charts my motions. “Reza, you beast.” She laughs, a sound that's half cutting, half wanton moan.

  My fingers curl to a fist in her hair, cradling her chin at the perfect angle for me to claim her lips. She kisses me harshly, her tongue warring with mine, demanding my very breath. God, her assault releases a primal part of me, the alpha dog used to being in charge. I bite her lip and pull back, using my grip on her hair to prevent her from following.

  Her hand rests on mine, her fingers cool. “How about doggy style?” she asks, a wicked grin playing across her face.

  Her words go straight to my cock but only inflame my mind. She's taunting me. She's not saying it to be sexy. She's saying she knows what I am. The truth is in her eyes.

  Alisa's eyes go dark, not with need, but with the true face of the being wearing her appearance. Black irises, black whites. She blinks, raising an eyebrow. She knows she's in control. And why wouldn't she be? She's an incubus, a demon accustomed to seducing people in dreams. This is her home turf, and this whole dream is entirely to flush me out, to let me know that the Reapers know who my host is.

  Claustrophobic energy overtakes me. I need to wake up, need to wake Alisa. Need to get her the hell out of here. But the creature worming its fingers through my psyche isn't about to let me go. I can hardly breathe, hardly move. She's sapping energy from me, draining me all but dry to keep me there.

  She knows I know. “You want to watch her die, Reza?” Not-Alisa's busy hand's pace picks up, and she moans lustily. “Oh, the things we could do, your girl and I…”

  I try to move my hands, try to back away, but I can't do anything. I can't even support my own weight. I tumble forward, her thigh breaking my fall. With my chin resting on it, I'm all but face-deep in her pussy. Yet another annoyance and violation to add to the pile.

  Wait. That's it. She's an incubus. Or succubus, since I don't actually know who's in there. It might be Barrett, or it might be a woman I've never met. I'd rather not ask. But the connection binding her here, binding my strength to her, is in my reaction to Alisa's sexuality, expressed through Not-Alisa. So long as she has that hold, so long as I'm preoccupied with the erotic sight of her pleasuring herself, I'll be in this creature's thrall.

  There's things I want from Alisa that this illusion can never give me. The casual intimacy of her holding my furry body as she sleeps. The protective impulse that turns even her motions into magic. The way she stumbles and laughs when she's drunk. The way she refuses to tolerate any callousness, cutting out every person who fails to live up to her standards for human decency. The way she can switch between strutting confidently in heels to cleaning a giant dog's injuries. All the things that make her her, none of which are visible in the creature holding sway over me.

  I steel every bit of strength in me to seize the creature's hand, stilling its motions. With each centimeter I pry its hand away from itself, my strength returns. It stares at me, dumbfounded, then licks its lips. “You want to play rough, Reza? You want me to struggle?” It grins wickedly, leaning its weight back until my knee is between its legs and it's all but grinding against my thigh. My strength begins to fail.

  I focus on the deficiencies to break the illusion. The air is sterile, devoid of Alisa's honeyed scent. The creature moans like Alisa, sure, but I doubt it could imitate Alisa's timid titter or intoxicated chuckle.

  The creature's losing its facade, revealing something faceless and malevolent but unrecognizable. The dreamland around us flickers. It's losing its power.

  I direct my focus toward controlling the landscape, putting my own will into it. The ground reaches up to seize Not-Alisa, and it curses. Its eyes fade to Alisa's brown, and it cries out in a disturbing facsimile of her voice. Still, I refuse to let up. It's not Alisa.

  The vulnerable look drops off its face. “Dogfucker, if you think this changes anything… The Hounds are baying, Reza. And tonight, they come for you.”

  “Right,” I tell her and reach out to break her neck.

  Snap.

  I open my eyes. The creature in my dream won't be hurt too much; the incubi can't be killed by such mundane means as a broken spine, especially in dreams. But I'm awake and free. Perhaps her mission was to hold me prisoner until others could come to collect me, or perhaps it was simply to rattle me. Either way, my own mission is clear.

  They know who Alisa is. They'll hurt her to get at me. I have to get her out of here. And if she won't come willingly, she'll have to come as my prisoner.

  I untangle my limbs from Alisa's as she sleeps peacefully. Perhaps there's an incubus in her dream, keeping her docile. What face would it take for her? I can't worry too much if that's true; it just makes it more imperative to restrain her, just in case the creature tries possessing her.

  I can't find any actual rope or handcuffs; I think I'd be heartily embarrassed if I had. Not even any duct tape or zip ties. The best I can do is a silken scarf. I gather her hands as she sleeps and wind it around her wrists. I'm just finishing the knots when her eyes flutter open. They widen, and she screams as she sees me kneeling over her.

  I lean down, covering her mouth. “Shh, shhh. Lis. Let me explain.”

  She rears her bound hands and punches me in the balls, flushing mightily when she realizes I'm naked. Her eyes well with tears, but her struggles cease. I uncover her mouth. “Please don't rape me,” she gasps out, her chest heaving.

  “What? No—no. I'm not gonna…no.”

  Even the thought hurts more than her punch did. And she's right; it looks awful, me kneeling above her, naked, uninvited. “Hang on. I'll throw some clothes on.”

  The moment I turn my back, she screams again. I seize the first item of clothing that comes to hand and ba
ll it up to shove into her mouth. “Stop that. Just let me explain.”

  “Reza? Please, you don't have to do this, you don't—” Her words peter off as I shove the gag in place. I aim right for the back of the closet where the rest of Evan's clothes are stored. Once I've at least got a pair of jeans on, I return to her. This is gonna take some explaining.

  “Alisa, listen. You deserve to know what's going on. Ballad isn't my dog. He's me. I'm an ancient demon, and I'm being hunted by other demons.” She interrupts me with a scream. Shit—I always forget how squeamish humans are about demons. In their eyes, we're the source of all evil. “Not like that. Just an ancient being a helluva lot older and different from you.”

  She struggles and kicks out at me as best she can. I dodge it easily. “I'm on your side, woman. I'm not gonna hurt you.”

  She raises her hands, tears in her eyes. A mute then untie me. I wish I could obey the plea, but I can't. Not until I know she won't run away. I try to explain. “They're gonna come after you. They haven't caught you yet because you have a magical birthright and have been able to protect the both of us. But it won't hold now that they know what they're looking for. I have to get you—get us—to safety.”

  She's shaking her head in denial. Shaking from head to toe. It's enough to make my heart bleed.

  “I'm serious. You have no idea the world that's looking for us. You have no idea the danger we're in.”

  She shakes her head again, and I do the only thing I can think of, letting go of the many emotions her tears inspire in me to focus on the canine protective streak. Though they've only been together a short time, Ballad would die for her. The air stirs my fur.

  She screams again, though it's stifled by the gag. I shove my wet nose against her neck, trying to comfort her as best I can. She thrashes, trying to roll herself away from me. That wounds me enough to make me lose my form. Once again, I'm me, and once again, I'm naked. I grab the pants again, dragging them up.