Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  I sense a bit of a freak.

  I roll my hand around to the small of her back and push her toward me as I sit up straighter. Our faces are inches apart. Blurs of movement from her chest rising and falling graze my vision.

  I decide to play. I run my finger up to the back of her neck, trail it around, and trace a line down to her navel. By the time I get there, her breath is as uneven as my own.

  Raising my leg, I force her down my body a few inches and lean in, grazing her neck with my lips. I close my eyes, listening and feeling her responses.

  I drag my lips to her sternum, then drop my head into the valley of her breasts. Her hands dig into my loose dreads. I pinch my fingers around her dime-sized nipple, rolling them back and forth.

  She half squeals and half gasps like a confused little pig.

  It’s cute. I smile.

  “What are you..?”

  I place my hand between her legs, and she gasps outright. Sure this time. Then I slide my fingers inside her. She squirms and lets her head fall back.

  Shutting my eyes, I enjoy how she feels. Like thick honey dripped over my fingers. I enjoy her noises. A clipped moan here. The swell of an “oh, god” there. Moments later she tightens around me. My jaw clenches because I start to think she might rip off my fingers.

  She loosens, then tightens back up a few more times. My fingers are safe. I slid them out and up to her clit. She almost brays and slaps her palms into my chest.

  “N… no.” Grabbing my hand, she pulls me away, and I smile. She sits trembling with my hand clasped under her chin, eyes closed as if in thought. I squirm, wanting her so bad it’s starting to feel wintry blue in Pike Jr. land.

  Then she forces my hand between her legs. I only hesitate a moment. Then I play some more. This time she sounds almost like she’s in pain. On the verge of crying out. Then she sucks in a breath and holds it.

  I think to lay her back. I’ve always loved kiwi fruit, but she comes again. Hard. My muscles tense, trying to keep her steady on my lap. I give her a moment. Just long enough so I can lay her back without rushing, when she rears back and smacks me across the cheek.

  My head snaps left, and I freeze. Then, my mouth stretches open. I press a hand to the sting in my face as I slowly turn back toward her.

  She’s postured on the bed like a fucking cheetah. Her teeth are bared. I scoot my ass back until I’m pressed against the headboard.

  “What the hell was that?” My voice comes out half drunk and turned on, and slightly pissed the frick off.

  “That was… amazing.” She breathes. Then her eyes narrow and something flickers in them. “But I still hate yo ass.”

  I laugh. What else can I do? This female is get-you-fucked-up crazy. I try not to read too much into the fact that I still want to pound her all night long.

  Before I can say anything, she launches at me. She smacks into me and my head cracks into the headboard. Tears well in my eyes. Teeth gritted, I grab her wrists and jerk her back. She rips out of my grasp, grips my hips, and drags me down. Then she climbs back on top, and my breath hitches.

  For a moment I worry for little Pike. Slowly, I reach for her wrists again. I hold on tight. She yanks my arm toward her mouth and sinks her teeth in.

  “Ah!” I jerk away and glare up at her. “Goddamnit, girl.”

  “Don’t be a little mitch.” She smiles. It’s the lightest I’ve seen her look.

  Godamned sadist.

  As a one hundred percent real nigga, I hit her with my warning face. It says stop playing. I don’t look at the bite mark ‘cause I’m not, as she cautions, a man that acts like a bitch. Or a mitch. Her thighs tighten around me. A slow smile reaches my lips.

  I decide not to get into it with her. Not when I can fuck the crazy right out of her. I ready myself for a full night when she slides on top of me.

  Gently, thank god.

  And oh, my damn.

  Maybe it’s the possibility of her being my last lay but I’ve never felt anything this good in my life.

  My face contorts with an oh, oh, oh, on my lips. I can feel my expression get dumber with each thrust of her hips.

  I try to think through the buzz. I clench my jaw around a groan and squeeze my eyes shut. She leans over and sinks her teeth in again. A shot of pain rips through my neck.

  I throw my arms around her and hold her against me. She tries to rear back, but I hold her tight. With a grin, I press my lips to her ear.

  “The safe phrase,” I say. “Is greasy snow plough.” I grab a handful of her sculpted ass. “Greasy snow plough.”

  She giggles. It sounds out of place, but kind of nice. I let my arms loosen, and she straightens.

  “I don’t give a shit about safe phrases.”

  So much for my mandom.

  It’s the last moment of clear thought I’m allowed before she rides me into a stupor.

  The whisper of a familiar song drags me away from sleep I don’t want to leave.

  “Let the bodies hit the floor…”

  I let out a lawn mower sound and flip over onto my stomach.

  “Let the bodies hit the floor…”

  I wave my arms and swat something at my ear. A booming knock jostles me wide awake.

  “Hello?” I shoot up in bed, a sheet over my head, glancing around in blank-eyed confusion. The door creeps open. I pull the sheet down in time to spot Tripp’s smiling face.

  For a moment, I panic. Another quick glance around soothes me. Kiwi is gone. Last thing I need is to acknowledge whatever we did last night. It was great, but also terrifying.

  “Time to get it moving.” Tripp’s voice is crisp, like he’s been up for a while.

  I rest my gaze on him and nod through a yawn. “Thanks, man.”

  He sniffs the air and throws me a question with his eyes. His hands plant on his hips. I sniff like it’s as involuntary as watching someone yawn, and a grassy, sweet smell greets me. I glance at my nightstand and notice Oscar for the first time. A swirl of smoke rises at his back. The flaking remains of a bundle of what smells like white sage sits in a fan-shaped blue shell.

  “Why you burning incense?” Tripp’s voice snaps me back from trying to remember the last time I saw that shell.

  As I focus on his suspicious expression, I realize it must have been with the shit Juliet brought here.

  I’ve always run with witches. We seem to have an affinity for one another. Kiwi must have found it in my stash of herbs given to me by a good friend. A witch that died saving my life.

  “Uh, just trying to relax. To be on my game,” I lie as I climb off the bed. I let out a short whistle, and Oscar swoops to my shoulder.

  “Uh huh.” Tripp’s way of calling out my bullshit. “See you downstairs in twenty.” He softly closes the door behind him, and I sigh relief.

  “Let the bodies hit the floor…”

  The song that crept in my head through sleep echoes from Oscar’s beak. I turn to him. His beady eyes are inches from my face.

  “Can you not be a dick when you know I’m leaving in a few hours?” I rest my hands in the praying pose against my lips. “Or is that too much to ask from my lifelong wingman?”

  He cocks his head. Finally— “Let the bodies hit the floor…”

  He used to sing that every time he caught me the morning after. Oscar’s idea of a joke, rude little bastard. His song hangs in the air until I’m laughing.

  It is a good one.

  You know, because usually females don’t make it anywhere but to the floor after a night with me.

  It shouldn’t be funny, but my shoulders shake with laughter. It almost gushes out of me. I can’t even explain to him that Kiwi made it through the night because she isn’t human. I didn’t sing for her. I don’t bother to explain it because I enjoy the laughter rippling through my body.

  I enjoy the memory of how he used to sing up the pretty girls in the park of downtown Oxford for me. How he’s always felt like a brother despite being a blessed African Grey parrot. To me
, he’s just Oscar. The brother that used to fret around my shitty two bedroom apartment like an OCD remix. So I stand and laugh with him.

  And he lets me.

  He knows that I have to leave him here with Sadie. He knows why, and he knows I’m depressed about it. So, he lets me laugh through it. He lets good memories fill me and doesn’t say a word to interfere.

  Whatever I shovel into my mouth is mushy and lands with a plop on my tongue. Some egg product that’s hard around the edges. After I finish them off, I pile in something else without bothering to look at it.

  I’m head down, shoulders hunched over my breakfast, trying to avoid eye contact and the scolding glare of sunshine streaming in through the small window.

  Tripp buzzes in my ear with polite conversation, while Kiwi and I mumble and grunt, eyes averted, making it obvious that something is up.

  I’m betting we’ll both deny it.

  Oscar pecks seeds from the wooden table, adding rhythm to the grunts, mumbles, and murmurs.

  Compound Six pulled out all the stops for our last meal. Okay, the eggs are nasty, but there is fresh fruit. I shovel it in, but barely taste it.

  A blur of movement across the table catches my gaze. Wooden legs scrape on linoleum, and Kiwi’s chair clacks back into the wall behind her. She scurries out like a raccoon after a trashcan dinner.

  Tripp clears his throat, then drives a foot into my shin.

  “Mm!” My leg jerks back. I glance up, and throw my hands in the air. “The fuck?”

  He’s leaned over, face pinched and flushed. “You two… You fucked last night?” He scoffs.

  I drop my fork onto my plate and wipe my mouth. “Burn one this morning?” Turning to Oscar, I ruffle his plume of grey feathers and chuckle. “And also, mind your business.”

  “You two,” Tripp stammers. “So stupid. Why not stick it to one of the skank army all over you last night?”

  I gaze back over at him, my lips pressed tight, eyes steady. “Mind your business, shoestring.”

  His mouth gapes, big ass ears flushed. “Do you. . .” He laughs. “Do you like her?”

  I just stare. The longer I gaze at him, the tighter his face pinches together. He starts to look like a skeletal Cabbage Patch doll. I whistle, scratch Oscar’s head, and then look away.

  Tripp sighs. “Look, songbird. Don’t get attached to her, okay?”

  No emotion twitches in my face, but it takes effort. I want to ask why. Then, I shake the question off because it’s not an issue. She hates me. I’m a little scared off her ass.

  I’m good.

  I still want him to explain, but instead he stands up. A throat clears behind me. I twist in my chair, and something presses against my chest.

  Juliet is standing in front of me. she motions Sadie toward me. A half smile is on the kid’s lips, and she inches forward.

  “You’ve got fifteen minutes,” Juliet says. “And Tripp…” She removes an envelope from her front pocket. “Can you deliver this to Ms. Grunder?”

  I notice Juliet never uses Kiwi’s first name. She likes to use first names with everyone else. Maybe it’s the stripper origin of names like Kiwi. With a sigh, I try to stop thinking. Try an easy smile as I stand, Oscar swooping to my shoulder.

  “Come outside with me,” I say, placing a hand on Sadie’s narrow shoulder. As I lead her toward the front porch, my Kevlar suit, designed to feel like part of my skin, is hard to move in.

  Sitting next to Sadie, I tap my fingers against my knees. My mouth flops open. Closed. Open. Closed. I stretch out my fingers, then turn to her. She stares at me, mouth twisted to the side, and I laugh.

  Her features drop. Eyes roll. “Are you having meltdown?”

  I shake my head and hold up my hand. Expelling a quick breath, I force out the rest of the laugh.

  “Willyouchangeyourmind?” A hiccup bounces from her throat.

  I lower my hand and sigh. “I can’t.”

  She hugs herself and I reach out and lightly shake her. I don’t want to hurt the cyborg arm.

  I half grin. “Your new limb looks badass.” I cup my hand under her chin and force her to look at me. “I need to tell you something.” My voice doesn’t come out as even as I want. I clasp my fingers together and sniff. “Shorty… you deserve to know that killing your mother…” Something thick coats my throat, like maple syrup. I clear it out and say, “I’ve never regretted anything more in my life than—than taking her away from you.”

  I manage to say the words without my voice shaking, but I feel raw. Exposed. Sadie pushes my hand away, then leans over and toys with her shoes. Her tongue clucks in her mouth, and I wait.

  Engines explode in the air. Our surroundings rattle as the noise sputters down to a tiny roar. I glance at the armored convoy. Buzz cuts load black duffels. Cased weapons. Food rations.

  “It was easier to hate you for it.”

  Sadie’s voice guides my attention back to her face. I tilt my head to the side.

  “Because I couldn’t hate her… She was fuc…”

  My eyes narrow, and she clucks her tongue again.

  “She was dead. So I couldn’t…”

  I scoot over and drape my arm around her. “It’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling.”

  She shakes her head.

  I lick my bottom lip. “Well, you do whatever you need to. But I’m a grown man, and I was angry. So, if it’s hard for me to understand suicidal people… I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. And when I saw you, and her… I thought I could help, so I…”

  “Called her.” Her lips twitch with the start of a smile, before pressing into a hard line. “She was the best she’d ever been after. Attentive… Not always in tears.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Maybe I hate you both.”

  I pull her against me. “That’s okay.”

  She turns to meet my gaze. “You promise me.” Her face struggles between expressions. “You can’t leave me alone here. You make it back.”

  The door creaks behind us. Bumbling footsteps. Long shadows loom in front of us. Sadie seals herself in closer to me.

  “It’s time, Pike,” Juliet says.

  “Wait!” She fumbles in my pocket and pulls out the aquamarine bracelet. “Take this. You’ll need it more.”

  I start to shake my head, but she forces the bracelet onto my wrist. She lifts her head and smiles as her hand reaches and tugs at her ponytail. A move I’ve watched her do after each of her competitive skates. Right before the scores were given.

  I reach out to ruffle Oscar’s feathers. “You take care of each other.” As I struggle to my feet, I pull her with me and up into my arms.

  She pushes her face into the side of my neck. Lose strands of hair tickle my face.

  “I don’t hate you.”

  Her words light a flash of clarity in my mind. The reality that those are the last words I might hear from her.

  For a nano second, I consider telling her I might die. I lower her to her feet and ruffle her head. I smile, big. Goofy. Chill. She turns to Oscar and giggles as he pecks her ear.

  Tripp mutters something. Kiwi clomps down the stairs. I wave at Sadie; an Enforcer leads her off. Then, Juliet is pulling me away. I feel heavy, like I’m wrapped in a layers of free weights.

  My thoughts swarm like worker bees. Then something falls away. I’m pushed inside one of the vehicles. My teeth dance from the engines vibration. We start to move, the wheels rolling over gravel, and everything comes to me in a haze.

  The buzz of the front gates lock mechanism. The squeal as the gates open to let our convoy through. My hearing doesn’t sharpen until those gates close behind us.

  I feel the weight of not being behind those gates.

  A slight sting digs into my neck.

  “Ah!” I raise my hand to inspect. Cool metal digs into my wrists. I jerk both my arms. I’ve been cuffed to my seat. “Fuck is this?” I spray saliva everywhere. Before I can go off, I sink into a hole of Arctic pain. The pain jabs at me. Into my sides. I
twist in my seat, my vision clouding, my thoughts rush from here to there.

  “I’m sorry,” Kiwi says in a hushed voice.

  “What did you inject me with?” I squeeze my armrests until my knuckles start to cramp. I try and turn my head. I try…

  Kiwi leans over me and places a rectangular device in front of me, and then taps the screen.

  I blink, trying to focus my eyes on her. “You dosed me with monkshood? Why?”

  Her answer fizzles out under the weight of the burning under my skin. I open my mouth. My throat burns. Agony.

  Colonel Jax flickers onto the screen. His baldhead and trench coat flicker a few seconds before they sharpen.

  My eyes widen. What is this?

  “Hello, Mr. Richards,” he whispers.

  My mouth twists down, hard.

  “Now that this mission is active, I just wanted to tell you a few things I neglected.” He leans back, and a table comes into view. “One, the tracker in your neck will release a surprise into your blood should you decide to go off mission.” He smiles. “And last.” He lifts his hand and waves forward someone off screen.

  Two buzz cuts appear at his side. They wrangle with a smaller, flailing form. Jax stands. Sadie’s face, lips twisted in defiance, takes his place.

  My mouth gapes. What is this? Something bad. Something…

  Colonel Jax lifts a needle. Sadie’s head is slammed down, and the screen slows.

  “No! No!” My voice thunders out of me. I jerk against the restraints, snapping the left one. “You motherfuckers!”

  He lifts her head. Her eyes are gone, turned to blind, white marbles.

  “She’s infected. The virus was taken from one of the tamer specimens. The ones we can most likely salvage.” He grins again. “Toe the line, Mr. Richards. Sadie needs you to remember where you stand.”

  I slam my head into the tablet. The glass spider webs, then goes blank. For several moments, I sit in stunned silence.

  “Juliet,” I say, my tone like the edge of a razor. “You knew about this?”

  She turns from where she’s seated beside Tripp. “Yes.”