Magic Awakening: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Spirit War Chronicles Book 1)

by Stephen Allan

  Then I heard a loud clang, like a metallic air vent dropping to the ground. I quickly whirled around, but I saw nothing.

  “But of course.”

  Suddenly, freakishly, out of nowhere, a man in a dark red suit, slicked-back hair, a black button-down shirt, and a red tie appeared.

  “Forgive me, I assumed the effects of the Devil’s Eye were still affecting you. I can see that I was wrong.”

  What. The. Fuck. Is going on!

  “Who the hell are you,” I said, pulling out Ebony and Ivory and pointing them at the man now no more than four feet away from me.

  “Please, do away with the questions, child, I—”

  “I am not a child!” I grunted, thrusting the pistols into his chest.

  The man—demon, monster, illusion, whatever the hell he was—took one step forward and put his hands on the guns, pushing them down but with a surprisingly calm touch.

  “You and I both know that you’re not going to use your guns in a public place like this and that if I wanted to harm you, I could’ve dragged you to the spiritual realm right now. But then, what fun would that be for Mundus and the rest of our crew? Taking over the world is boring if there’s not a fight.”

  I bit my lip and let the guns stay at their side, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to holster them back as long as this asshole was in front of me.

  “What do you want?” I sneered.

  “I want you to tell me who you are,” he said. “Not many humans take Devil’s Eye and get back to the real world. None, as far as we’re aware, have managed to kill one of our allies while in the spiritual realm.”

  “You sound surprised,” I mockingly said.

  I also had a feeling he knew who I was, and I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of answering his questions.

  “Wouldn’t you be if no human had ever accomplished what you just did?”

  I didn’t respond. The less I gave this asshole, the better.

  “Now, I am going to make this clear to you right now, little girl,” he said, ignoring the clenching of my mouth. “You have seen things and survived that you should not have. You are getting involved in a spiritual cold war that will soon turn into an ugly, bloody, soul-binding mess. You would be wise to stay out of it. If we cross on the battlefield, then I will be forced to kill you.”

  “And why not now?” I sneered. “You have all the advantages.”

  “Ah, I do,” he said, adjusting his tie as if preparing to meet someone of importance. “But like I said, what’s the fun in that? You’re different, Sonya Ferguson.”

  “So you do know my name.”

  “Of course I do, I’m a demon very close to Mundus. It is not hard to know what goes on in the human world.”

  “Nice to know. But now you tell me who the hell you are.”

  The man sighed, a mocking sigh that didn’t convey frustration.

  “If you really want, consider me the personal messenger from Mundus to you. He saw you survive your trip to the spiritual realm, and he is rather curious. But what you saw was just the start. If he wants to kill you, he wants entertainment. He wants a fight.”

  He then suddenly patted my shoulder firmly, which left a burning sensation on my shoulder. I reached for it, and he just laughed.

  “I am Tyrus, messenger of and second-in-command to Mundus. And Sonya?”

  I stopped patting my shoulder long enough to look at him.

  “Be careful who you associate with. You might just wind up like me.”

  Then, with a wink and an evil smile, he vanished into thin air once more.

  “Hey! What do you—”

  But the door behind me swung open. I quickly holstered my guns before someone turned the corner. I turned on the faucet and smiled. I did my best not to drop the smile when I saw Nadia approach.

  “You OK?” she said with an accent that had become more grating than a smoker’s voice. “DJ and Brady are worried about you. They thought you might be sick.”

  “I’m fine,” I said dismissively as I splashed water once more on my face before putting my glasses back on. “Just… I’m tired. But I’ll be fine.”

  “OK,” she said. “They went ahead and ordered the main course. Brady said you love salmon, so he got you that.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I walked away.

  Brady was right. I loved salmon. I knew he meant it as an apology. But it would take more than just a good dish to make up for the way he’d try to interrupt my flir… my conversation with DJ.

  Of course, after running into this Tyrus character, I didn’t know what could put me back in a cheerful state. At this point, I had to accept that what I’d seen under Devil’s Eye was real. The spiritual realm… it was real. The demons, the angels, the Cerberus, the serpent, Tyrus, Mundus, Yevon. It was all real.

  And I just had to hope that it didn’t drag me in any further than it already had.

  I sat down at the table. To my surprise, the salmon had already shown up. I curtly said thanks to Brady, who just nodded in return. Clearly, time in the spiritual world and time in the human world didn’t match up perfectly.

  We ate in silence. I don’t think anyone wanted to spoil the other person, especially since Brady’s gesture had thawed much of the ice at the table. It still felt terribly surreal to be eating with a guy I’d met that afternoon and Brady with a girl he’d met maybe fifteen minutes ago.

  When we finished, DJ placed his utensils down and stretched his arms out.

  “So, now that we have finished eating in silence, I propose that we go out drinking in conversation. Who is with me?”

  “Yes, please,” I said immediately.

  “Thanks, but we’re gonna go chat on the couch,” Brady said, words which immediately elevated my mood. Thank God—Yevon? Whatever, it was an expression—that he was smart enough to realize we probably shouldn’t be around each other while flirting.

  Flirting? Nah, playful banter.

  I followed DJ out to the balcony as I left Brady and Nadia inside. Whatever was about to happen with DJ—and whatever would happen between Brady and Nadia—it couldn’t go worse than my encounters with the forces of hell.

  Chapter 5

  As soon as I stepped outside, I realized we hadn’t actually paid our tab. I hurried inside, annoyed at Brady and Nadia already cozying up on the couch. But no one seemed concerned from the wait staff. No one looked around the restaurant, and no one peeked out at the balcony. I went outside to lecture DJ but just found him casually hanging on the railing, a new drink in his hand.

  “You know we didn’t pay our tab, right?”

  DJ snorted in response, maintaining that casual demeanor about him.

  “I think three hundred euros did the trick, don’t you?”

  I didn’t understand what he meant at first, but when my eyes widened and he smirked back… I was at a loss for words. How much money did this guy have? How… well, honestly, how generous was he? This was nothing short of crazy.

  Goddamn, it was hard to stay mad at the guy. I could’ve paid for my own meal, but could I really be that girl who became angry when a guy paid? It was one thing to be patronized into letting the man pay, but DJ had just done it and I hadn’t had the chance to interject. I wasn’t about to let philosophy get in the way of practicality.

  “Gorgeous, ain’t it?” he said once the point had sunk in. “Most modern cities like to build up, just be as big as possible. Dubai, New York City, Shanghai. It’s all the same. But you don’t feel quite so in touch as you would here. You’re right on the water. The buildings are small. The—”

  “Don’t try and dodge what you just did, buddy,” I said, but I had to agree with him. As much as I enjoyed Boston, I sometimes envied the quiet serenity people living in states like Maine and Montana had. “You… you’re crazy, doing that.”

  He slowly brought the drink to his lips, keeping his eyes carefully locked with me as the whiskey passed down the barely tilted glass and through his lips. His arm moved down slowl
y. His smile remained unchanging through the whole process.

  “Am I, Sonya?” he said casually. “Or are you just projecting your craziness for me on to me?”

  “What?” I said, laughing as I talked. “You’re ridiculous. No. I’m not crazy for you. Sorry.”

  DJ just shrugged, again taking a sip of whiskey slowly. The silence left me a bit unnerved. I needed to get away from the dangerous conversations.

  “How long are you in Europe for?” I asked, desperate for an easy topic, even as I realized he’d already mentioned his traveling plans earlier.

  He shrugged in a manner that reminded me of my brother, but instead of accepting defeat, it seemed more casual. More go-with-the-flow.

  “I flew out here a couple of days ago from New York, as I said. Honestly, darling, I’m just—”

  “DJ, please don’t call me darling,” I said, not interested in flattering nicknames that hadn’t been earned.

  Or desired. Mostly desired.

  “Does it bother you?”

  “It makes it sound like I’m yours, and I’m not.”

  “You’re not?” he said, his voice far too confident for my liking. “Or not yet?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, bud,” I said, turning my body toward downtown Amsterdam. “You’re handsome, you’re clearly wealthy, and you’ve got style, but if you’re presumptive, none of that other shit matters.”

  But you know he’s a deeper person than his cool persona lets on. He wouldn’t have dropped 300 euros without even glancing at the bill if so. Nor would Nicholas and Richard have kept talking about him the way they did.

  “There’s a difference between presumptive and just fairly certain,” he said, which made me cold once more. “But, fair point. So, Sonya, I will wait to earn ‘darling.’”

  “You’re gonna be waiting a while,” I said, but I couldn’t entirely hide the smirk. I did enjoy this banter. At least I didn’t continue with “but not indefinitely at this rate.”

  “Anyways, as I was saying… Sonya,” he said for emphasis, which drew a short chuckle and genuine grin. “I just came from New York and flew out here. At this point, I just figure, screw it, I’m going to hang out here until I get bored. I am blessed to be able to stay here or travel as I please for at least the next year.”

  “Damn,” I said, and I couldn’t help myself. “That wealthy?”

  It felt rude to ask, but he clearly had something in the coffers.

  “I’m not Bill Gates or Zuckerburg, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. “As much as I am a successful writer, the richest writer will never be as rich as the hundredth-richest businessman in the world. Or maybe even the thousandth. But I have everything I need, I don’t have to check the price of whatever I want, and I don’t believe I’ll ever develop a habit for rich things that provide maybe ten percent more happiness than the average thing.”

  “Apparently, since you’re in a hostel,” I said, gently teasing him.

  “Oh, I could afford a Ritz right now if you said let’s go,” he said, using word choice that I found a bit… well, to be honest, exciting. Just because I was choosing to say no didn’t mean I didn’t think long and hard about saying yes. “But hotel rooms are boring. It’s a private space where you don’t meet anyone. Hostels are great for that. You’re practically guaranteed to meet new people… new people who are worth keeping around for some time.”

  Some time? What is this, going from a potential fling to something more?

  OK, slow down. I can play the flirting game. I might even touch you. But I’m not going for “some time.”

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, DJ,” I said, but now I had turned back to face him. “You are certainly worth getting to know more, but we’re only here three nights total. After that, we’re on to Berlin. And we already bought the tickets. Drawback of living middle class lifestyle.”

  I said it more to tease, not to passive-aggressively criticize him, but I worried as soon as I’d said it that’s how he would take it. Which was funny to think—apparently I did care a bit more than I thought.

  Not good.

  “Which isn’t the worst, honestly, fame is far too overrated,” he said. “Why do you think I’m enjoying myself so much here? I can go out and hang out with you and not get blasted with questions and selfie requests and all that other nonsense in Australia.”

  For the first time that day, I felt I was seeing a slightly vulnerable side to DJ. He wasn’t just cheerful and perfect. He had desires that he couldn’t quite get. He had things that annoyed him.

  It was kind of nice. It humanized him.

  Not good!

  “It’s nice to get to hang with a group like you all, even if the Brits aren’t here. Although I did invite them, but I think they went a little bit too hard in recent days. But, regardless, why would you and Brady going to Berlin make a difference?”

  How could it not?

  “Because we’ll be in separate cities, and—”

  “I just said I’m going to hang here until I get bored,” he said, a smile on his face as he came slightly closer, close enough now that “accidental” bumps were sure to happen. “Here being Europe. Not Amsterdam. Heavens, I have an entire continent to explore, you think I’m going to do it in just one city? Besides, I would have to say, being in this city without you or the Brits sounds just terrifyingly boring.”

  Suddenly, things took on a whole different meaning. I wouldn’t just be hanging out with DJ for three days. I wouldn’t just be telling people about the time that I hooked… met with an internationally renowned author.

  No, if things went at this rate, for at least a month…

  No! I couldn’t date right now. I wasn’t in the right mind to. And even if I was, what would happen once I went back to America?

  When have you ever been in the right mind, though?

  “Well, that’s all good, DJ, but I don’t think I’m the type of girl you’ll want to follow. I don’t do… this over the long-term. I get into dangerous things. I’m a bit crazy, Devil’s Eye made me—”

  His eyes flickered, but I kept going.

  “—a bit nutty today.”

  “So,” he said with a warm, empathic smile. “You don’t work at Morgan Stanley then.”

  I smirked, putting my hand on my hip. I thought about fighting his call out, but what was the point?

  “What gave it away?”

  “The fact that you didn’t deny it when I said you don’t have to tell me what you do,” he said. He had me there. “But if you get into dangerous things… and you’re mysterious…”

  Oh my God. He’s going to guess—

  “My guess would be you work for the government in some form. Security, maybe.”

  He might as well be right. CIA agent. Government security. Same thing.

  “I’ll wait for you to say that I’m right.”

  “If I did, why would I ever confirm that?” I said.

  “You don’t have to do it verbally,” he said, and then he patted his sides. Immediately, my face blushed. “I could see your guns at dinner.”

  Shit. Fuck. Damnit!

  “Don’t worry about it, I don’t understand gun culture in America, but I’m not scared of it. What I am curious about, though, is what danger does to you. Does it excite you? Does it entice you?”

  “I—”

  His hand went to my hand, feeling it, caressing it, gently running his fingers all over it.

  “Does it arouse you?”

  I couldn’t lie. This was incredibly arousing. I’d never had this happen to me. And I liked it.

  “Your hands are warm to the touch,” he said. “You are turned on by the idea of adventure, aren’t you?”

  I was, of course. But this…

  I had to stop. I felt out of control. I didn’t like feeling out of control with anyone, let alone a handsome stranger I’d met this morning.

  I pulled my hand away, and for once, DJ looked surprised, but it was only momentary, and he quickly g
ot control of himself.

  “I do, but not the kind of adventure you’re looking for, and even if I was, tonight is not the night for an adventure,” I said. “I’m exhausted, dealt with some awful shit today, and just need to crash.”

  “But of course,” DJ said, his voice soft but in a sexy way. “I can only imagine based on the things I’ve heard about Devil’s Eye that that’s not the kind of thing your typical person can recover from in a day. I know some of the stronger people might be able to recover quickly, but if you can’t, hey, that’s how it goes.”

  I knew exactly what he was doing. And typically, it would work. If ever there was a way to get me to do something, it was to challenge me and say I couldn’t do it. The need to show I could do anything surpassed the feeling that I was doing it just because someone told me to.

  But tonight was not that night.

  “Indeed, it does. Listen, Mr. Jordan. I am going to grab Brady and we’re going to go. I will see you tomorrow. Don’t… don’t get false expectations here.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said, adding nothing more as I quickly turned away before I could change my mind.

  Yes, that guy was tempting. The thought to just sleep with a guy that hot, that apparently famous, that Don Juan-ish… I mean, it killed me to know that I’d gotten taken for a ride, though at least not yet literally. He could make it happen. I could want it to happen.

  But then I told myself that he’d said he would follow me across Europe. That was a good reason to cut it short. Leave it in Amsterdam. Nothing more. Not even in Amsterdam. No false hope.

  I had to avoid him. It hurt a bit, but I had lost myself in his presence and begun contemplating sleeping with him. Not just contemplating—seriously considering. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fall for someone like him. I had too much baggage to give anyone right now, and I knew if I slept with him, a man like that, it wouldn’t end in one night…

  Go home, Sonya. You can get yourself under control when you’re away from him and with your brother.

  I turned the corner and groaned as I saw Brady and Nadia pressed together, their hands all over each other’s bodies. Great, now I had to go back to the hostel alone before going to bed. After this afternoon, the last thing I needed was another solo battle with demons and Ceberuses and God, Yevon, knows what.