Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  “So what's this…Well…like?” Her eyes narrow, and she burrows her hands deeper into her crossed arms.

  “It's home. A consecrated gathering ground. Neutral. The protections around it have teeth; Eren and I have worked hard enough on them.”

  “If it's so safe, why are you here?”

  “Because I wasn't there when I was attacked. I was getting fresh air.”

  “Stupid you,” she says bitterly and bites her lip. I can't blame her.

  An engine revving behind us draws my attention. A motorcyclist is pulling up alongside us, with others near him. Something smells off, even to my human nose. Alisa lets out a little cry and screws her eyes shut.

  “What's wrong?”

  “I think I'm hallucinating. Does he look right to you?”

  I take another look at the biker and finally see what she was talking about. Though he's less decayed than the Reaper we fought off, he's obviously another corpse-rider, just one in a fresher body. I veer into the next lane, and he follows a second behind. “Shit. More reapers. Whirlwind, I think.”

  “Whirlwind?” she asks, her voice raising.

  “Yeah. Mercenaries. Rejected from the official Reapers, usually for insubordination issues. Think they usually roam in a gang. We don't let them into the Well, since they sometimes take bounty hunter gigs. I've never heard of Morena enlisting them, but the way things are going, I imagine the Reapers aren't too happy with her leadership.”

  “I think I only got one word in three. Say it again for those of us who live in the real world, and use real words?”

  “Look. Just—switch seats with me. Drive. Keep driving, no matter what.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I try to keep my foot on the pedal and the wheel steady as I wiggle out of my seat. Thankfully, she takes the hint and slides into the driver's seat. I reach into the back for the weapons. Alisa glares at me. “What're you—”

  The bike tries to cut her off, force her to slow down. He pulls out a gun, aiming it at her. She stiffens and swears, then changes lanes. Once she's out of his sight, she speeds up again. I need to slow them down, and there's no way I have enough ammo to do it properly.

  “No matter what, just drive. You have the address. When you get there…” I grimace. I don't have time to craft an entry charm for her. But it's linked to the sigil for protection—all of the sigils for protection. With my signature and her power… I reach up to my head and yank out a single hair. “Here. Keep this.” She looks at me like I'm crazy, but I wait for her to take it before continuing. “When you get there, eat it. And then walk in that shape you did earlier. It'll recognize you're with me and let you in. Eren'll probably ambush you with questions, but—”

  “Eren?”

  “My brother. Don't let him push you around.”

  “I hardly think there's a danger of that,” she answers dourly. He's probably in for an explosion if he tries.

  “You can remember all that?” I ask, dragging my legs under me so I'm crouched on the seat.

  She stares at me. “Can you get down? You're hanging brain in front of my face whenever I try to look in the side mirrors.”

  “Do you remember all that?” I roll down her window, not daring to waste a second more.

  “Yeah, yeah. Eat the hair and walk weird. Bitchslap Eren. Got it.”

  “Good.” I take a swig of the makeshift holy water I prepared, swishing it against my teeth so they'll hurt more, and jump. I transform as I go, first into a smaller dog so I can fit through the window, then into Ballad's body in midair.

  Her scream echoes behind me, but my jump was true. I land on the first biker's motorcycle, knocking him off-balance. Before he's recovered, I tear as much tissue as I can away from the back of his neck. It'll make it harder for him to wield the body. The foul-tasting poison is already slowly burning my mouth. It's not as devastating on demons as it is on incubi, who the dead-walking reapers are closely related to, but it'll do the trick. As the bike spins out of control, I leap onto the next one. Two other Whirlwind hunters are too slow to avoid the careening bike, and they go down in their own bloody crashes. There's two left.

  I tense midair as a gunshot nearly deafens me, but there's no accompanying agony. He missed me. He only has time for the one shot before I land on the next bike. I manage to throw him off his bike before he's figured out what's going on. Before my brain can take over for my canine instincts, I throw myself at the bike next to my victim. I have to trust my agility and reflexes, rather than letting fear make me second-guess myself.

  This one's fast and manages to stick a knife into my leg as I land. Then he draws a shotgun, sawed down to a nub, and before I get my balance, he raises it at Alisa. I tear bloodless flesh from his cheek with my teeth while we wrestle for the gun. She turns in time to see it and swerve before he empties the first barrel into the air. I manage to twist his arm away from her. I'm stronger, and I break his arm at the elbow, then the shoulder, but the stubborn bastard won't drop the gun.

  Another shot reverberates in the air, and pain blooms in my shoulder. I lose my grip on my body automatically and barely manage to keep ahold of the biker to steady myself. But if my recovery time is bad, his is worse. With the mangled arm, he's still at a disadvantage, and I manage to throw him off his bike before he's figured out how to compensate. The air whips my naked flesh painfully, but I keep his pace, alongside Alisa. The pain is so much worse.

  I've got no use for the bike, and I can't protect Alisa as, um, exposed as I am. Even if the rest of the drive goes quietly, someone's going to report me for public indecency or the blood. I aim my trajectory and tense to jump. “Keep it steady,” I yell at Alisa, uncertain whether she'll hear me.

  She glances over, and then her eyes widen as I jump.

  I land on the hood of the car, and she screams. I have a grip on the frame on either side, and I'm not going anywhere for the moment. But that could change.

  “Slow down gradually,” I call, and the engine's revving quiets. When I have a handle on the air whipping me, I pick my moment to crawl across the hood and thread my legs back through the window. I climb inside. “You can speed up again.”

  She obeys, her face gray with anxiety and her cheeks wet with tears. “You did well,” I tell her, trying to comfort her. Her cheek's soft under my fingertips as I wipe the tears away, but my fingers leave a red streak across her. It doesn't go unnoticed.

  “Shit. We've gotta get you to a hospital.”

  “No. We've gotta get to the Well. There'll be more of them along soon enough. Keep driving.”

  23

  Alisa

  My heart's racing like it's about to burst. Away from the violence of a few minutes ago, the situation seems both surreal and nightmarish. There's so much goddamn blood, it seems like Reza's bleeding out in my front seat. And that leap—the man's got a death wish, that's for certain.

  I'm being chased by motorcycle-riding zombies with a naked man who jumps out of and onto moving cars. What the fuck happened to my life?

  If I ever get out of this, I'm taking a simple nine-to-five job and being grateful that the most interesting thing in my life is the feud with Beth in Accounting.

  I loosen my grip on the wheel. There's still more blood streaming down Reza's chest. And I can't even look at his thigh. “You're gonna fucking die if I can't get you to the hospital. You can still die, right? If you're really a demon?” I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I believe that he's…something…far beyond the rational, but I thought demons were The Exorcist and Ghostbusters.

  “Yeah, I can still die. But I'll get treated when we get there. We don't dare lose the time—they could already be closing on us again. Plus, hospitals are full of people, and if we stop, there'll be an incubi on us in minutes. And they're a lot harder to kill than me. Not to mention presenting lots of opportunities for reapers.” I'm not sure I believe him, but he fixes me with his eyes. “I'll be fine, Lis.”

  I glare at him, gasping for some way to continu
e the argument. Finally, curiosity wins out. “Does it hurt?” I've never been shot before.

  “What the hell kind of stupid question is that? Of course it hurts.”

  “Then we should get you to a hospital.”

  “Faith, woman. You don't give up, do you? We're not going to a hospital.” He walked right into it. It was a clumsy attempt to get him to see reason, but an attempt, nonetheless.

  “Then take the wheel and at least let me try to bandage you.”

  “Fine. If it'll make you put it out of your head.”

  We trade places, though I end up in his lap at one point in the process, made all the more surreal by his nudity. Maybe I am dreaming this whole thing, or maybe I'm still drugged.

  I don't have a first aid kit, but I have paper towels in here. I tear a few off and wet them with an old water bottle. I doubt it's especially sanitary, but it's not like I intend to plug the wound with it, either. There's no way I can reach across him from the front seat, so I climb in back and half stand to wedge myself between his seat and the window.

  I wipe away as much blood as I can from around it to get a sense of how fast the new blood flow is coming. I wish I'd gone to nursing school like Annie wanted me to. Maybe then I'd feel less helpless watching a—whatever Reza is to me; a friend?—bleed from a nasty looking gunshot wound.

  He winces as I work. It's already starting to close. Perhaps he was right to not be worried about it. Still, it just seems overconfident. Shouldn't he be more concerned? Is it shock? Should I be afraid of him driving if it is shock?

  I'm not cut out for this. Not by a long shot.

  He glances my way with raised brows, and only then does it hit me that my fingers were moving on top of the paper towel I was holding on the wound. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “You don't know what you just did?”

  “Hunh?”

  He brings his hand to mine and peels both it and the paper towel away from his skin. I jerk my hand away from him; there's still a subtle electricity that warms my blood at his touch, and it's the last thing I want to be reminded of now. “Keep your hands to yourself—” I start.

  “Just look.”

  I obey on instinct, though it's hard not to peek at his cock when I do. The wound is all but gone, barely more than a red scar. My knees go out from under me, and the window thumps against my back. Somewhere in that little freak-out, I let out a shriek.

  “Shit, Alisa. That was in my ears.”

  I collapse into the backseat, in tears. He thinks I did that?

  I saw the blood. It's still on my hands. On my face. I didn't imagine his wound. It's still easier to think that I have been hallucinating every time I've seen him become a dog. But I couldn't have made this up. And he thinks it's me.

  “No—no. What'd you do? I didn't do shit. There wasn't, I dunno, pixie dust in that water. Just whatever ChapStick I left on the rim—”

  “It was your touch, Lis. You've got power in it. And you know the sigils, even if you don't know what they are or how to use them, beyond instinct. You drew one. A powerful one that should have taken years to learn. But you belong in the Well, where you can learn. We can use you.”

  “No. I'm going home. When we get you there and things die down—”

  “If they die down. I'm gonna keep you safe, Lis. You've saved my life now, multiple times over. I'm gonna return the favor.”

  “You held me hostage.”

  “Trying to return the favor.” His eyes seek mine out in the rearview, pleading for understanding. “I'm not a bad person—”

  To not feel quite so powerless, I climb into the front seat. “No, just the one who wrecked my fucking life.”

  He looks away, hurt, and we lapse into awkward silence.

  24

  Reza

  “Do you see that?” I've been trying not to worry her, but there's a car on our tail. He's been there for about ten minutes, but we were close enough to our destination that I'd hoped I might be imagining things.

  “The silver SUV? Yeah.”

  “Tell me if he changes lanes when I do.”

  “You think he's after us, too?”

  “It's a possibility. Maybe even a probability. I'm not familiar with the Whirlwind's tactics, but corpse-jackers—incubi reapers—are only good for some kinds of tasks, so they usually don't send them after people on their own.”

  “So what now?”

  “Drive fast and hope like fuck we can make it out. Oh. And do you still have that gun?”

  She sends me a nasty look. “I don't think me and guns mix.”

  “Fine. Give it to me. But we may need to buy ourselves time.”

  She casts another glance over her shoulder as I change lanes. “Yep, he's still on our ass.”

  “Damnit. If he's cutting it that close, it must mean he expects backup. Otherwise, he'd be more careful about being spotted when he's on his lonesome.”

  A hoarse gasp escapes her throat. I reach out to take her hand, the noise upsetting me on a primal level. “It'll be fine, Lis. You'll see. We're so close to home. You'll meet the others and see what the world's really like—”

  “That's what I'm afraid of.”

  “As you should be. But you'll see things no human's ever dreamed. New worlds, creatures your mythology couldn't dream of—”

  “All ready to kidnap or kill me.”

  That stings. I understand her frustration, but it doesn't make it any easier to not let it raise my hackles. “Among other things.”

  Tears are glistening on her cheeks, but just now, comfort wouldn't be welcome. It's infuriating. The woman is stubborn as a fucking mule. I'm just trying to take care of her. But oh, no, she couldn't make it easy—

  It's the turnoff. Well, not a turnoff so much as a gap between the trees lining the highway. Ordinarily, I'd pull over and walk, but that's not an option just now. I swerve off the road, and she jerks straight in her seat. “What the fuck—”

  “You want to meet that thing on foot? Trust me. No.”

  She grits her teeth but doesn't respond. Instead, she clenches the handhold above the car door and clings for dear life.

  “We're almost there. On the count of three, get out and run. The entry will open for me, but you need to go through first.”

  “What entry? We're in the middle of the goddamn woods.”

  “Trust me. You'll know.”

  Sensing my presence, the ground around the gate is revealing itself. Around us, glowing patterns cut through the leaves and detritus. She makes an indescribable noise.

  “One, two, three—”

  I slam on the brakes as she opens her door and throws herself out of the car. She runs toward the center of the pattern in the ground, and as soon as I've yanked the car out of gear, I follow. Our stalker is still riding our ass, and he crashes into the car as soon as I've cleared it.

  I raise my hand to the gate, and it calls to me, recognizing its master. It opens wide, and Alisa falls through the hole opening in the ground as it accepts her. I jump in a second later, and demand that it close. The car's driver is still hot on our heels, and I pop off two shots to slow him down. It closes before I can see whether the shots hit. It doesn't matter. We're home.

  We land hard on the floor. I stare at the Well's ceiling before turning to see whether Alisa's okay.

  Every inch of the Well is familiar, sculpted carefully out of the ether using the power in our Anguis grandfather's bones, the same ones that are implanted into my back to give me access to the rest of his power. From the wood-paneled walls to the Polaroids largely put there as a joke when Eren said it looked like we were recreating a Tom Waits song.

  There's the sound of chairs scraping and people walking over the creaky floor to lean over us. Most notably, Eren, my better half. The cunning brother, the one who didn't get a whole contingent of Reapers on his tail. He offers me a hand up, and yanks me hard enough to pop my shoulder. He's all but wagging his nonexistent tail. Shit must have been bad here. “Imogene, some clothe
s, please. From the room next to mine.”

  “Really? You're asking the woman? This better not be a sexist thing. I was just starting to like working here—” The woman speaking is familiar to me in a very vague way. Perhaps I've passed her in the Hub before. She's a powerful-looking little thing with cold eyes and a sarcastic demeanor. Even in the old days, I wouldn't have dared flirt with her. She looks like she'd take a man's head off for glancing at her wrong, despite her alluring features.

  “How long's it been?” I ask. Sometimes, time's passage between worlds isn't exactly a one-to-one ratio.

  “Seven months. I thought you were dead.”

  “I would've been. Maybe even should've. Reapers on my tail, and I had a run-in with the Whirlwind on the way here.”

  “I assume that explains the—” he jerks his chin at Alisa, who's moving much slower than me. She still seems to be somewhat stunned, sitting on the floor with her head in her hands.

  “Before you say a word, she saved my life. I owe her a blood debt. I couldn't leave her behind. It's not—”

  “Not another one of your flings?”

  That makes Alisa look up. I wince. “I have fun sometimes, but I'm not—”

  “Sure you are. You've always been a goddamn puppy where women were concerned.” He nods at Alisa. “Watch yourself, little one. My brother's a manwhore.”

  “Now that's hardly fair—”

  “Speak for yourself,” another voice chimes in. I grimace. Abel. Three hundred years ago, I tempted a woman he was working away from him, right out from under his handsome nose. No—he may have been working her, but he cared, too. And it was a stupid thing to do. It was a dare. And she had a sexy laugh. He'd stolen a woman I loved from me not one hundred years earlier, and I wanted payback. Abel must have said something to Eren, since I'd only ever told Eren about the woman he wooed from me, not the woman I stole from him. But neither is anything I want him rubbing Alisa's nose in with her already pissed at me.

  “Oh, this is getting good,” she says, her voice an irritable rumble.