The Mage Tales, Books I-III

by Ilana Waters

  “No business,” John replied, rubbing his throat. “Just saw you sitting up here and thought I recognized you from the history books. You’re Titus Aurelius, aren’t you?”

  Titus paused before answering. “The same,” he finally replied. No use denying it. “Who wants to know?”

  “No one,” the vampire assured him. “Just me—John, that is.” He ran his fingers through his shaggy blond hair. He looked about twenty or so; turned into a vampire while he was still impressionable, thought Titus. “Guess you could say I’m sort of an admirer,” John continued. They watched a vortex of earth swirl around one of the fighters, then burst apart almost as quickly. “Quite a fight, isn’t it?” he remarked.

  “Indeed,” Titus replied in monotone, drumming his fingers on the marble. His eyes flitted between the battling figures. It was difficult to watch the fight and converse at the same time.

  “Been a while since I saw a supernatural fight,” John said. He settled down as if getting ready to stay awhile. “What are they—both witches?” He rubbed his hands together. “This should be good and bloody.” Far below, the opponents traded blows back and forth so rapidly, they seemed a blur.

  “We can only hope.” Titus rolled his eyes.

  “What’re the witches fighting about?” John asked.

  “One of them suffers from a fatal inability to mind his own business,” Titus said. He turned his head and glared at John, but only for an instant. Ordinarily, he’d make the little bugger piss off, but he needed to concentrate—just in case. “And one of them’s a mage, not a witch,” he added.

  “Right—sorry.” John put up his hands. “Let’s just enjoy the fight then, shall we? Maybe make one of them a vampire when it’s all over, yeah? Just think of all the powers he’d have. Ooo—that one there’s getting buried alive. Probably the mage—they’re less powerful. I’d put my money on the other bloke, if I were a betting man.”

  “Just wait. The underdog may surprise you.” Titus stared intently at the earth where the mage had gone under. His breathing got shallower; his drumming fingers now hovered just above the stone. He did not apply any of his own magic, but he was ready. Suddenly, the mage burst out of the earth, and both he and the witch were obscured by flying debris and rock. Titus let out a deep breath and gave a little smile.

  “Unbelievable!” declared John, shaking his head. “That’s really something else. I can see why you put the odds on that one. He’s set to become one of the greatest mages of his age, that’s certain.”

  “Eh?” Titus broke his gaze from the fight and turned to John. “What makes you think so?” he asked.

  “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” said John. “Thinks on his feet, he does. In fact, I’ve no idea how he got out of there. You should turn him soon, before another vampire gets to him.”

  “I’ve no intention of doing anything of the sort,” Titus replied. “Besides, as you so aptly implied, he’s not just any mage.”

  “He’s your son, right?” John asked.

  Titus sighed. “So you’ve heard.”

  John shrugged. “It’s not exactly a secret in the immortal world. But I’ll bet he’ll grow to be as powerful as you—maybe more.” John watched Titus’s face, waiting for his reaction.

  “Or he could just be competition,” remarked Titus darkly. On the ground of the Forum, one opponent seemed to lash the other to a column with invisible rope, demanding something.

  “And yet you let him live?” John raised his eyebrows. “From what I hear, you’d easily kill your own son if you thought he’d outshine you. Or if you’d benefit in another way.”

  “Glad to hear my reputation precedes me.” Titus went back to drumming his fingers, then stopped again. “But there is no point in letting a creature live if it is weak,” he said. “One must be able to face whatever dangers may come.”

  John nodded. “That’s true,” he said. The conversation below had grown more heated, the bound fighter struggling for a way out. “But nowadays there are new technologies, new magics. Sometimes your progeny surprise you. It’s a different world from when you were young.”

  “When I was young?” Titus looked at John, his voice ominous.

  “Erm, I meant—oh look!” John said quickly. “The fight’s over; one of them’s run off. I’ll be going then too. Nice to have met you, Mr. Aurelius.” He disappeared so fast, only another vampire could have seen it.

  “Likewise,” Titus replied to the air, rolling his eyes again. He looked at the wreckage below, and at the last fighter standing. He swallowed hard; things had not gone as he’d expected. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, then flew down. It was time to finish this.

  Chapter 15

  I splayed my fingers and held my arm out to Blackline’s magic as it came at me through the grass. Then I braced myself.

  Bloody hell, I’ll bet this is going to hurt.

  It did. Manipulating magic usually involves effort, not pain. But I was right in thinking Blackline wasn’t going to give up any part of his magic without a fight. I felt the energy come into my palm, my wrist . . . so far, so good. But as soon as Blackline realized what I was doing, searing pain shot through my forearm as I wrestled the magic away from him.

  Oh no, you don’t, I thought. The spell was too far inside me now. I pushed against the pain, even though it felt like someone was squeezing my arm in a vise while setting it on fire. Finally, I drew my entire arm back and whipped the magic around him. It threw him against a decaying marble column, where he writhed and struggled, but was unable to get free. The agony subsided; the spell was mine.

  I won’t bore you, dear reader, with the level of proficiency it takes for a mage to use a witch’s power against him like that. Suffice it to say, I hope you find it impressive. Anyway, I was happy to see Blackline looked about as bad as I felt. His perfect hair was a mess, several pieces of his clothing were torn, and dirt smudges painted his face.

  “Ha! Got you now, you insufferable arse,” I said. “And you’re going to tell me what I need to know.”

  “Let me go!” Blackline roared. He gnashed his teeth, twisting and writhing against his own spell.

  “Do you really think that’s going to happen?” I shook my head. “Honestly, I don’t know how you even got on the Council. You have a way with magic, but let’s face it: you’re not very bright. After all, I have the advantage here.”

  “I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you.” Blackline had stopped struggling for the moment. But his chest was heaving, and if glares are anything to go by, I’m certain he’d have killed me if he could. “If the rest of the Council was here,” he panted, “we’d settle this in a trice, and not in your favor.”

  “Yes, where are your friends, the other Council members?” I asked, tilting my head. “Why not call them? With magic, or your cell phone . . . I’ll unbind you and wait.” I had no intention of doing either, of course, but I was trying to make a point. “Or perhaps you’re not as essential to them as you’d like to believe.”

  “It’s not that,” Blackline said, finally catching his breath. He sniffed and looked at the ground. “It’s just . . . we may have a situation on our hands at the moment.”

  I stood in front of him with my arms folded. “A situation more important than this one?” I asked.

  “Don’t be so naïve,” Blackline said, his face twisting into an ugly sneer. “Your little problem isn’t the only one that exists in the immortal world. The other Council members are busy dealing with what may be . . . that is, she could . . .”

  “May be what? Could do what?” I started to ask. Then I held up my hand. “I changed my mind. Forget it. I have only one question: Does it have anything to do with my mother, the crystal, or Callix Ferox?”

  Blackline set his mouth in a line. “No,” he replied tersely.

  “Fine,” I said. “Then I don’t care. I don’t meddle in the Council’s affairs, and I dearly wish they wouldn’t meddle in mine. N
ow tell me where Callix Ferox is.”

  Blackline gave me a satisfied smile. “Sleeping soundly,” he replied, “in a place you’d never look. Think if you find him, you’ll find the crystal? Or vice versa?” he taunted.

  “Since the Council didn’t believe me when I told them what I was truly looking for, I hardly think it matters,” I said.

  Blackline laughed, a sound halfway between a bark and cough. “People far more powerful and clever than you have been keeping things as they are for centuries,” he scoffed. “They’re not going to risk everything on the word of a half-breed. Though they may do other things to you . . . when I manage to get out of here.” I could feel him gathering magic from the very air around us. I held out my hands to keep a grip on the spell, but my power over it was weakening, and I was growing impatient.

  “Tell me where the goddamn tomb is!” I shouted. “Is it here? Under the Forum Romanum? Is that why you followed us?”

  “You’re close, but not close enough.” Blackline kept grinning, his bonds weakening. Damn—I couldn’t keep a hold on this much longer. But if I didn’t, I was going to lose him—and any information he might provide. “It’s not far off, but you’ll never find it,” he said. “That’s what you get for being an evil . . . thing. You’d have been better off spending more time at church.”

  That was the second time Blackline had mentioned churches, which roused my suspicion. “So Ferox is buried underneath a church?” I probed. Beads of sweat ran down the sides of my face from the effort of holding the spell. I might not be able to detain Blackline indefinitely, but I wasn’t going to make his escape easy.

  “I didn’t say that.” Blackline sniffed again and looked at the ground. That got my attention. I didn’t grow up partly around a casino for nothing; I knew a tell when I saw one. And this idiot couldn’t stop gloating long enough to keep his under wraps.

  “It is beneath a church, isn’t it? Which one?” I demanded. There were hundreds of churches in Rome. Knowing the kind of establishment narrowed it down a little, but not enough.

  “I’m not telling you anything more,” Blackline said, his eyes filled with more defiance than ever. “Let’s just say it’s a place where you—and your father—wouldn’t feel very welcome. Not that you should be welcome anywhere.” And with that, the bonds of the spell snapped, and Blackline was free.

  He manipulated the air around us, moving it so fast that it cracked like a whip across my upper cheek. Yes, reader—witches can manipulate air like that. Just my luck I’d gone up against someone with an affinity for the same element. Actually, I was kicking myself for not thinking of the move first.

  I cried out and covered my face with my hands. Although I was relieved to find he’d only gotten my cheek, not my eye, I can’t say he wasn’t aiming for the latter. Blood ran down my face from the stinging wound. But when I lowered my hands and looked up, Blackline was gone.

  “SODDING HELL!” I screamed, kicking the dirt all around me. I felt a rush of wind on my left side, and saw my father standing next to me, looking completely unperturbed. My eyes scanned the Forum Romanum, and then as a last resort, the sky.

  “Did you see where he went?” I asked. I was breathless, practically wild-eyed.

  “I did not,” Titus replied calmly, surveying the damage to the Forum.

  I threw my arms in the air. “How could you not see? You were watching the entire time! Or were you just sitting up there filing your nails or something?”

  Ordinarily, speaking to my father in this manner would have warranted death—certain and instantaneous. For reasons unknown, Titus just stared at me.

  “I was not,” he finally replied.

  “Great,” I said. “While you were doing . . . whatever you were doing, Blackline got away.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Actually, I was surprised he didn’t stay and keep fighting. Likely, he’s telling the Council our whereabouts at this very moment.”

  “That, or they’ve gone directly to wherever Ferox is to make sure we don’t find him,” Titus said.

  “Coward,” I muttered. “Running away just when the other bloke’s winning. Damn the whole lot of them.” Adrenaline still coursed through my veins; I had been fully prepared to finish my business with that arrogant witch. “Did you even hear any of what went on?” I asked Titus. I briefly recapped my conversation with Blackline in case it had escaped him.

  “So to conclude,” I said, “our only source of information got away—again! Last time it was through death, this time he just ran off.”

  “Nonsense,” Titus said, examining his nails. “We know all we need to know.”

  I furrowed my brow. “We do? I’m sorry—did he reveal the location of Ferox’s tomb while I wasn’t listening?” I asked. “Granted, he gave us clues, but—”

  “I know where the tomb is,” Titus said.

  “You do?” I waited. “Well, go on then—and quickly. I’m all ears.”

  “Blackline mentioned a church where neither you nor I would be welcome,” he said simply, as if that were the answer to the question.

  “I hate to tell you this, Father,” I said, “but you’re a vampire and we both have witch blood. That list pretty much includes every church in Rome.”

  Oh, vampires can enter churches, by the way. All that nonsense about them being burned by crucifixes and unable to tread on holy ground is utter foolishness. What Titus meant was that most congregants would not be thrilled with what they considered a servant of the devil in their midst. Vampires also have nothing to do with the devil, but stereotypes do persist.

  “Yes, but think of one church in particular,” Titus said patiently. “Consider Blackline and how his mind works, his opinion of us—even those barbs he was throwing at you. And he never said it was a Christian church.”

  I put my fingers to my temples. “Father, aren’t most churches Christian by definition? What other kind of church would there—wait. A church. A house of worship. A temple . . .” I began running the words over in my mind, and the look on my face told Titus what I realized.

  “The Temple . . . of Aradia,” Titus finally said. “Where Blackline is sure I would be unwelcome, my witch blood ‘tainted’ with vampire, and you being, well . . .”

  I raised my eyebrows. “A half-breed?”

  Titus pursed his lips. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence. Then, out of nowhere:

  “I mean really, Joshua,” Titus said, looking around. “I could see why you’d fight, but did you have to destroy what was left of the Forum Romanum while you were at it?”

  My jaw dropped. “Surely you must be joking. Your only son worked some pretty fierce magic, managed to stay alive, and finally got the location of Ferox’s tomb. I believe congratulations are in order, or at least a hearty thank-you. Besides,” I muttered, “the Forum was destroyed long before we got here.”

  Titus’s head snapped back towards me. “I heard that,” he said sharply.

  “And you’d think you’d take a little more initiative if you saw your son, oh—I don’t know—being buried alive.”

  “You told me not to interfere,” Titus protested.

  “Yes, I know, but—”

  “But what?” Titus interrupted. “I thought you didn’t want me to treat you as the helpless damsel in distress who always needs saving. So I didn’t.”

  “But . . . oh, never mind.” I closed my eyes and shook my head.

  “What?” My father’s voice turned sour.

  “It’s just . . . why do you always have to be so hard on me?” I asked.

  “I’m trying to make you tougher, stronger. I won’t always be—” Titus stopped.

  “Won’t always be what?” I pressed.

  “I won’t always be here to protect you,” Titus reluctantly finished.

  Well, dear reader, you could have knocked me over with a feather. But then I thought, did Titus want to
protect me as his son, or some kind of an asset? I had no way of knowing.

  Either way, Titus had clearly revealed more than he wanted to. “We should go,” he said gruffly, and started walking in the direction of the temple. “The Council and that cretin Blackline already have a head start on us. I estimate less than an hour till he assembles them all, and they attempt to thwart us.”

  I had to jog a bit to catch up to Titus. My muscles ached and I was covered in dirt. By rights, I should’ve been miserable and exhausted. But something in me was on fire. It was partly anger and indignation that Blackline and the Council were trying to stop us at all. This was my mother, for God’s sake! Did they really think I’d let anything stand in my way if there was a chance she was still alive? The other thing spurring me on was hope. Finally, we’d found the answer we sought. Now, if we could just get to Ferox before the Council did—and Abigail was all right—we might be able to save her.

  Although healed, my nose was still throbbing a little from where Blackline had broken it. The front of my shirt had drops of blood on it. I took a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped my face, hopefully removing what bloodstains I could. I ran my hand through my hair several times and shook my head, trying to get all the dirt out. All of a sudden, I stopped in my tracks.

  “Wait,” I said. “There’s something I need to do first.”

  Titus turned around. “What on earth is it now?”

  “I have to go back to the PIA,” I said. “To leave a note for Arthur, and letters for a few other people. Just in case . . . in case something happens to me while we’re gone.” This wasn’t like going after a single stray vampire in an alley. There was no telling what we’d face if we actually found Ferox or Abigail. There was no guarantee we’d come out alive.

  Titus gave an impatient sigh. “Fine then, but do it quickly. I’ll meet you at the Temple.” And he left the Forum so swiftly, it was as if he’d just disappeared.