Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  Juliet trudges toward the bookcase. She starts to pull it across the floor. Books thud to the ground, kicking up dust. Kiwi rushes forward.

  “Wait!” she says, bending over to pick up the books. She piles them neatly in the space formerly held by the bookcase, then stands and removes the five or so remaining books on the shelf and does the same with them.

  Juliet stares at her. “Do you mind if I go now?”

  Kiwi waves her off and slides to the floor beside the books. With a yawn, I cross the room to help Juliet move the bookcase in front of the door. We find planks of wood and use those to hammer up to the holes in the wall the best we can. Once we’re satisfied that the place is secure enough, I plop down on the worn, rat eaten couch and close my eyes.

  In front of me, Juliet’s feet whisper against the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. She mumbles something into her wrist comm. Behind me, pages shuffle. Turn. Turn. Turn. Without opening my eyes, I pull out my canteen and take a sip of water. I let my head fall back onto the couch. It isn’t what’d I’d call comfortable, but it’s better than being on my feet.

  As soon as I start to feel relaxed, images of Tripp screaming stab into my brain. Memories like bullets shoot me. Tripp screaming. Tripp being ripped apart. Eaten. I snap my eyes open and sit up straighter.

  In front of me, Juliet stops and places her hands on her hips. “We’ll have to start out early in the morning. For now, eat. Rest. I have supplies and transport on the way.” She reaches over and grabs her pack, then heads up the stairs.

  With a sigh, I let my gaze sweep the room. I locate my own pack, then stand up to go get it. When I yank it from the ground, something thuds out. I’m too tired to see what it is and figure it will be there in the morning.

  I dig through the pack, pull out a ready-made meal, army style, and dig in without tasting, which is probably for the best. I chug a good portion of my water, then let out a belch.

  Behind me, Kiwi scoffs.

  I’m so tired it’s easy to ignore her. I pull out my sleeping bag and settle on the floor, leaving Kiwi the shitty couch. I am, after all, still a gentleman. I’m only laying down for a few seconds before sleep finds me and rips me into dreams.

  I don’t know how long I sleep for. I don’t even know if I’m awake. I might be dreaming the sound of pages rustling. I can’t tell if my eyes are open, or I’m looking into a dream. Just inches from me, a tiny cone of light bobs up and down. I blink, or at least I think I do. Then either a real me or a dream me frowns.

  I lay there for several moments trying to figure this shit out. The knowledge that I’m not dreaming that light comes swiftly, like blinds being snapped open.

  I sit up in my sleeping bag.

  There is a gasp.

  My eyes narrow. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Kiwi, who was hovered over a book, hides it behind her back like a child caught posting a questionable selfie on a social website.

  I lean forward. “I asked what you’re doing.”

  She shrugs. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

  I whip the top of my sleeping bag off. I don’t like the vibe she’s giving. I mean, more than usual. “What’s behind your back?”

  “Nothing.” She’s too snappy about it. Her gaze falls. Means she knows I care what she’s hiding. Means it’s not one of the books she rescued from the case. I drop to my hands and knees and scoot over to her.

  She backs away on her butt. “Back off.”

  “Just show me what you have.” I slip my hand around her side, trying to nab the book. She twirls, jumps to her feet, and darts across the room. I roll my eyes.

  “Are you shitting me right now?” I lift myself up and follow her, hand extended. “Give it here.”

  “No.” She backs into the wall.

  With a smile, I reach for her arms and jerk the book away from her. I expected more of a fight. When I glance down at the book, my insides tighten with anger. It’s my journal.

  “It fell out of your pack,” Kiwi says quickly.

  I glare over at her. “And that explains why you’re reading my journal?” I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you shitting me?”

  She says nothing. Just sways back and forth on her feet.

  I hold my worn journal up in the air. “You had no right.” As I turn to head back to my sleeping bag, she hisses.

  “You know, this is your fault.”

  I swing back around and widen my eyes. “Say what?”

  She nods, then juts her chin in the air. “You heard me.”

  I tilt my head to the side and stare at her. Finally, I say, “How is it my fault that you’re snooping through my shit?”

  She stalks forward and actually jabs me in the chest. “I was just trying to get to know you.”

  My mouth drops open. Too many smart ass responses come to me. I can’t pick one, so I just stare at her with my mouth open.

  “You think I just sleep with guys I don’t know?”

  I’m still just staring. She keeps going.

  “I can’t do that. Sleep with some guy I don’t know. And since you won’t talk to me, I figured this was my only option.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh. This chick is off the nutter scale. I have no words.

  “What’s so funny?” she says in a pointed tone.

  I turn my back to her.

  “You are,” I say, leaning down to tuck the journal back into my bag. I sit down on my sleeping bag. “You’re real funny.” I point at the bag. “You shouldn’t have read that.”

  She sits in front of me on the bag. I raise an eyebrow. Clearly, Kiwi has no idea how to feel a room. Before I can tell her to get the hell away from me she asks, “What are all those names?”

  “None of your damn business.” I point up to the couch. “Get away.”

  She doesn’t budge. “And why are there three words after each name?” Her nose wrinkles. “It’s kind of creepy.”

  I laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, wow. You know what I think is creepy? Yo ass.” I wave her off. “Get. Away.”

  She shakes her head. A bit of hair falls across her eye. “Not until you tell me what it means.”

  I stare at her for several moments. Slowly, her full lips curl into a smile. “I can make you, you know? Furies can make people admit their deepest secrets. Their shame.” She reaches out and trails a nail down my forearm.

  I hate that she makes me shiver with desire and tremble with anger at the same time. I match her smile with my own. My monster smile. The one that sends bitches running.

  “And I can kill you with a whistle.” I bat her hand away. “Or worse.”

  Her smile doesn’t falter. She holds up her hands. “Go ahead.”

  I chuckle and shake my head. I can’t stand her, but she’s impressive.

  “Look, girl. You don’t want to know what those names mean. Just let it go.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  I peer at her. “Why?”

  She glances down. “I already told you why. I don’t know you. I don’t know why you went back to bury Tripp. Or why you care so much about Sadie.” Her gaze raises back to mine. “Are you a good guy… or are you a monster?”

  There is a tenderness in her eyes that raises hairs on my arms. It makes me uncomfortable. I might like it. And I don’t think that’s good.

  I lean forward and pierce her gaze with my own. “That journal… All those names… They’re people, mostly women, that I’ve killed.” My voice comes out flat and detached.

  Her eyes widen. Then she slowly nods. “A… And the words under the names?”

  I clear my throat. “Memories of them.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  I slam my hand down on the floor. She jumps.

  “You don’t have to understand! Why the hell do you want to?”

  For a split second she looks frightened, then her face tightens and she glares at me. “Because we’re this together, dumbass. And Tripp saw something in you. And I know Tripp was a goo
d guy.” She sniffles and seconds later, tears run down her cheeks. “He was a good guy.”

  I freeze. I don’t know what to do. So I just sit there.

  At length, I nod. “Yeah, he was a good guy.” I sigh and close my eyes. “But, I’m not. I’m the monster that turned all those people into what you saw in that journal. They’re names. Just names now.”

  My mouth tightens, and I stare down at the dusty floor. Tap my fingers against my thigh.

  Kiwi sniffles again. “Are you a coward, too?”

  I scoff. “Probably.”

  I don’t see her looking at me, but I feel it. Feel that gaze that probably sent more than one man past the point of madness.

  “They’re just impressions… Impressions of who they were when they came to me.”

  I still feel her gaze. She wants more from me, and for some reason I want to give it. To get it out of me.

  “Who they were when they came to me… or I came to them. Who they are when they hear the call, and who they are when they go to the other side.” I flex my fingers in the air. “Being. Becoming. Passing on.”

  She wipes her face. “That’s what you said to Juliet when you… You know.”

  I smile. “Enslaved her?” I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Is she going into your book?” She asks the question so casually that it stumps me.

  I clear my throat and decide not to answer. It’s her turn now. “So, what did Tripp mean,

  when he said you had to do what you did to Sadie?”

  She glances away and shrugs. “Exactly what he said.”

  “You can give me a better answer than that.”

  She looks back at me. “When my sisters died, my only purpose became finding out who killed them. These people know, but they won’t give me a name until you get this cure for them. I knew, from my sisters, that you wouldn’t cooperate unless Sadie was in real danger. I’m forced to make sure you cooperate.”

  “By what?”

  “My sisters. They’re always in my head. It burns when I’m not on task.”

  I nod, unable to think of anything to say. I’m familiar with burning. I’m familiar with doing things I don’t want to.

  “Look, I’m not excusing it. Using children is just…” She shakes her head. “But I had to.”

  I nod again. “And, what happens when you find their killer? Will the voices go away?”

  She takes her turn to nod. “Everything goes away.”

  My eyes widen. “Not sure what you mean.”

  “When I find my sisters’ killer… I join them on the other side.”

  I stare at her so long she finally looks away from me. Something turns in my stomach. I don’t know what. It’s something else uncomfortable. Something not good. Tripp’s voice echoes in my head. Don’t get too attached.

  This must be why.

  Kiwi is going to die.

  I feel like I should comfort her, but what do I say? Ain’t that a bitch? Sucks to be you? Rattle off the five stages of dying?

  The awkward moment stretches on until Kiwi clears her throat. “Wanna have sex?”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  She’s going to die, but she’s still crazy as hell.

  “It’s the only time the voices stop.”

  I tilt my head to the side.

  She sighs. “When we fuck! When we fuck I don’t hear voices.” She shakes her head. “Damn, you slow.”

  I laugh. “And you’re bad at pillow talk.”

  “But I’m good at everything else.”

  “Not in the mood, girl.”

  She starts to peel off the Kevlar suit clinging to her body. I try to look away, but let’s get real. By the time she lowers her top to her midriff, I’m in the mood.

  “Don’t really feel right,” I say. My voice is weaker than the first time I said I’m not in the mood.

  Moments later, she’s out of the suit and crawling toward me. I lean away from her until I’m on my back. She slithers on top of me, smooth as a snake. Her head lowers, and she presses her lips against my neck.

  I shiver. It’s a good shiver and a bad shiver all at the same time. Her fingers wrestle with my suit, trying to take it off. Trying to get her skin against mine.

  I grab her wrists and squeeze my eyes closed.

  “What’s wrong?” she says against my ear.

  What’s wrong is it doesn’t feel right. She knows too much. Knows I’m the bad guy. I feel like an exposed nerve. Too much feeling. It’s my worst nightmare.

  I force her body up gently so she has to look down at me.

  I shake my head. “Why the hell would you want to be this close to someone who’s done so much…” I bite down on my lower lip. “Bad shit.”

  She shrugs. “To get peace from the other side.” She brushes one of my dreads off my cheek. “I’ve done bad shit too.”

  I stare at her, unable to reply. I want to tell her the whole truth. That sometimes I liked it. That most of the time I like it. Turning all those physical bodies into words on paper.

  But I don’t tell her.

  I am a fucking coward.

  I close my eyes and pull her close. Minutes later, I’m out of my clothes. I force her as close to my body as I can. We don’t fuck around with any foreplay bullshit.

  I grab her around the waist and have to force myself not to slam her down on my sleeping bag. Sliding inside her, I let out a groan. It’s a relief not to be able to think. She pretzels her legs around me and lifts her hips up to meet me.

  I’m not gentle. I stare at her long enough to make sure she doesn’t mind. She grabs my head, entwines her fingers in my hair, and pulls.

  I take her harder.

  Her mouth gapes open, and she lets out a scream. Her body shakes.

  I take her even harder, pressing my hand roughly over her mouth so her moans don’t reach Juliet upstairs. She bites the palm of my hand. I grunt, but I don’t move it. I might even press down harder. And I fuck her harder. So hard I can barely breathe. I rain down sweat on her body.

  Each passing second makes it harder to keep everything bottled in. I want to explode this orgasm.

  I put all my pent up shit into my thrusts. The second she comes, I let myself go, then fall on top of her.

  We lay, drenched in sweat and silence, breathing heavily. The only word spoken the rest of the night comes from her.

  “Dayum.”

  I half smile, a gesture she can’t see, and then slide down into twisted dreams.

  20

  Kiwi and I barely sleep and are up and dressed before Juliet comes strolling down the stairs. Her ice blue eyes skim the room and land on me, then Kiwi, then back to me. I wave a plastic spoon covered in greasy peanut butter, the last of my foodstuffs, at her.

  “Good morning Pike. Kiwi.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. Something about the tightness in her features makes me suspicious. It’s not like her. As far as her face tells, nothing ever gets to Juliet. This is the face of a woman who can get gotten to.

  I raise my eyebrow. A moment later it comes to me, and I lower my head and chuckle.

  “Is something funny this morning, Mr. Richards?”

  I snort. Mr. Richards. “Nothing funny, Ms. Burke.”

  Other than the fact you felt me fucking the shit out of Kiwi last night.

  My smile widens. One of the downfalls of a being a siren’s slave. She’s much more aware of me than she’d like to be.

  But, at least she isn’t dead.

  Yet.

  From in the corner, Kiwi stands up. Her mouth opens, but before she can say anything, the house starts to shake. A loud thump sounds from outside the front door.

  I jump to my feet and reach behind me for my trident.

  Juliet waves her hands at both of us. “That’s probably our supply drop. Listen.”

  I perk my ears. Loud gusts of wind reach them. I eye Juliet as she reaches for her side piece and creeps toward the door. I cross the room and remove the furniture barricading it before she has
to ask. Once it’s out of the way, she opens the door slowly. Her yellow hair rushes away from her face and her eyes squint up toward the sky.

  I follow her gaze. “Is that a helicopter?”

  Juliet nods, and her gaze drops to the ground. Three large, brown boxes, dented in on the sides, lie a few feet from the front door.

  “The only helicopter left in the world that we know of. Only used in Compound Six emergencies.” She glances back at me. “Cover me.”

  I nod, pulling out my gun. Kiwi brushes past me to help Juliet slide the boxes into the house. As they do this, I scan the area, ready to take out any threat anywhere near us. As soon as they are done, I slide backward into the house and block off the door again.

  I turn to find Kiwi and Juliet already slicing open the cardboard with knives and lining up supplies on the floor.

  When Juliet makes her way through the last box, she stands and rubs her hands together. “As you know, we’ve lost our support staff. The loss of Lee was major. As such, I’m going to need you two not to die.”

  I shift my gaze in her direction and try not to laugh. “You mean until we get to the crossroads?”

  She shoots me the same look she always gives me. The look that gives nothing away. We stare each down for several seconds before she casts her gaze somewhere between Kiwi and myself.

  “I received a comm from Colonel Jax. We’re on our own from here on out. If we needed to be on our guard before, that goes double for now. I will not lose any more assets. We will not fail this mission.”

  It’s as keyed up as I’ve ever seen her, and her voice still sounds like lukewarm water. She eyes both of us in turn, then nods her head as if our silence satisfied her in some way.

  She claps. “Now, pack as much of this as you can carry. Our transport will be here within the hour. We move out as soon as it does.” She leans over and grabs a few items, then heads back upstairs.

  My gaze follows her until she disappears from sight. When my eyes sweep back to Kiwi, she’s kneeled in front of her pack, rubbing her temples.