Magically Bound_An Urban Fantasy Novel

by Rachel Medhurst

Justina moved the slide and went over to another apparatus. Fiddling around, she did something that I couldn’t see.

  “I’m extracting the DNA. After I’ve done that, I’ll see how much DNA I have so I can amplify it to make copies. If I do that, it’s easier to characterise. This part is all science. Magic is too unreliable.”

  Her back was turned to me, but she spoke to me as she did her work. If Justina knew how to find DNA matches without magic, she must be super intelligent. The process intrigued me.

  “What next?” I asked, for the first time genuinely curious in something other than magic.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she raised her eyebrows. “I wouldn’t take you for someone that would be interested in how science works.”

  Shrugging, I leant against the wooden bench, not quite tempted to go and watch. There was no point, I wouldn’t understand what she was doing.

  Turning back to her work, she laughed softly to herself. “Well, I’ll separate it to help me permit identification. Once I’ve done that, I can compare it to the DNA profiles I already have. The witches on our system also have a magic DNA, so that makes it extra easy. I can even match it to a family line.”

  “You can?”

  Nodding without turning around, Justina slipped something out of the apparatus and went over to the computer. “Yes. If a member of a certain witch family has their DNA profile on the system, we can match it to new DNA. We can see if it’s a perfect match to that person, or a relative match, so they’re not that person, but they’re related to them. Makes it so much easier to find people.”

  Clicking buttons and things on the computer before I could even notice what she was doing, she sat down and stared at the screen as profile pictures spun next to a funny picture. Everything she was doing went straight over my head.

  “Boom!” she shouted when a picture of a woman froze right next to the DNA picture. “We’ve got a family match. I’ve already done the sample of the victim that you got from the tent, but this was the blood on the door of the warlock shop.”

  “So, someone in her family is the killer?” I went over, looking closely at the picture.

  She was middle aged, her skin olive and her brown curly hair perfectly styled. Yet, she was in the system, which meant she had probably been arrested at some point.

  “Lucia Camos. She’s from an Italian witch coven that settled here in London five years ago. And, no, they’re not necessarily the killer, but they were there that night.”

  Ah, it wasn’t as easy as pinpointing it on someone as soon as a DNA sample was done. That kind of sucked, but made sense at the same time.

  “I recognise that name.” Justina’s eyes widened, her hands starting to shake as she reached forward and traced the jawline of the woman.

  “What is it?” I asked, looking down at her as she turned her face to look at me.

  My hands clenched when I saw the sallow paleness of her cheeks. I might have only known her for a moment, but the fear in her eyes was evident.

  “Camos is the surname of the boyfriend who kidnapped me. Luis Camos. He was there…at the kidnapping.”

  Chapter 6

  “It seems that Justina’s ex hasn’t given up his little kidnapping scheme. Little bastard!” I muttered to myself as I approached the pub door. “Hey, kitty!”

  Bending down, I stroked the purring cat as it wound its way around my legs. My fingers sizzled with energy as I tickled under its chin. Ah, it was someone’s familiar.

  My spine went stiff as I felt the presence of another being in the street. Why did I always pick the back streets of London? The dark and dingy places where only a few people went?

  Stroking the cat one more time, I straightened and went into the pub. I couldn’t be bothered to get involved with another supernatural creature today. My first workday was over, and I deserved a beer.

  “Devon!” The barman greeted me, his eyes lighting as his gaze roamed over my figure.

  The pub was two streets away from home, so I didn’t have far to stumble when I’d had a beer or six. My friendship with the human male who served me alcohol was purely platonic, although he was always trying to get me to have a sneaky kiss over the bar.

  “Three lagers,” I ordered, taking off my leather jacket and putting it over a seat.

  There were a handful of old men cradling their drinks at the bar. A small group of young lads played pool at the other end of the room. They hadn’t noticed me come in, which was a plus. Eighteen-year-old drunk English boys were a pain in the arse.

  “How are you, sweetie?” Finley, the barman, asked.

  Uncapping the bottles, he placed them in front of me, one at a time. Leaning over when he was finished, he kissed my cheek when I offered it. There would be no kissy kissy on the mouth from a barman who tried to snog every woman who walked through the door. This girl needed some loyalty. Not only that, he was human. They were pretty rubbish at kissing. Not that I’d kissed many humans, or men in general. It wasn’t high on my To Do list.

  “I’m…a working woman now,” I said, taking a swig from the cold glass bottle.

  His dark eyebrows rose, his interest piqued as he leant on the bar to talk to me. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Ugh. If my local human barman was shocked that I had a job, it must seriously show how sad my life had been up until this point.

  “I know, I know. I may have been a little too cool to work before now, but I decided that I needed to give back to society.”

  “So, you work in a homeless shelter? No, wait, you’re better with animals. Do you work at the rescue?” He was genuine in his reply.

  “No, I’m not volunteering, I’m working. I have an actual job. Jeez, is that the impression you have of me? I need to change my game.” Downing the drink, I slid him the empty bottle and picked up the next one.

  “You don’t need to change your game. You know I’m game, anytime you’re game. You just play hard to get.” His eyebrows wiggled as he fluttered his eyelashes.

  Oh, wow, was that how I had looked when I tried to sweet talk Gerard the first time I met him? Groaning, I put my forehead on the bar, my hair fanning out around me. The handle of the dagger in my jacket dug into my thigh where it rested over the seat. My life had got very sad. And, getting my new job had shown me that.

  “Devon!” The sharp bark was joined by the sound of the pub door slamming open.

  Ah, crap, Maxwell Maddocks had caught up with me.

  Sliding off my seat, I stood in the little area between the bar and the booths on the left hand wall.

  “Maxwell, I’ve been meaning to call you.”

  His tall frame filled the entire doorway. He had a fair amount of fat to widen him, too, so it wasn’t all about the height. However, the vision of him, his tanned skin and blue eyes made me drum up the energy to invoke my magic. I was not in the mood for a fight, but it looked like he was bringing one.

  “I challenge you to the leadership of the warlocks.” His big voice boomed across the pub, drawing the attention of all the humans in there.

  Oh, great, there would be a magic fight in front of those who knew nothing about us. Which meant we would be in violation of the rules. Which meant my job would be on the line. When I had just bloody got it!

  “Not here,” I said, about to usher him outside.

  “Here!” A flash of light passed my ear as I bent to pick up my jacket. A smash behind me had the punters screaming.

  And, there went one of the mirrors. Ducking, I scooted backwards until I was behind the concrete pillar in the middle of the pub.

  “Get out!” Finley shouted at Maxwell, desperately waving his arms from behind the bar.

  When a dark blue ball of light headed for him, I whispered a dispersing curse, sighing in relief when it disappeared right in front of Finley’s head. He would’ve been dead…because of me.

  This had to happen. Maxwell had obviously grown bored of me dragging my feet, which meant I had a problem to solve. I hated solving proble
ms, which was why I had pretty much been in denial about the warlock situation since it had happened.

  “You’re putting these humans at risk. Come out and fight like a real warlock.” He was still near the exit, obviously wanting to make sure he had a sure-fire escape. Clever man.

  My blood boiled at his audacity to put, not only the humans at risk, but us, too. I had never fought in front of anyone other than supernaturals, and I wasn’t about to start. Although, it looked like I didn’t have much choice.

  Closing my eyes, I drew my witch energy up from the ground. Casting an illusionary spell over the bar, I hid the humans from Maxwell and us from them. I could still see them, their eyes widening as we suddenly disappeared.

  It still wasn’t safe enough, but at least Maxwell wouldn’t see exactly where they were. Spinning out from behind the column, I threw a ball of red fire. Maxwell wasn’t as fast as me in his movements. He cursed as it skimmed across his head, leaving a tiny bit of his hair singed.

  Getting to the floor, I crawled under the table in the booth, cursing when something brushed against my foot, the hit stinging my skin.

  “Why are you hiding?” the warlock shouted.

  There wasn’t a lot of room to manoeuvre where I was, or in the pub at all. If the humans weren’t there, I would’ve done as he said, but they were still at risk. They were slowly backing up to the exit out the back. My breath rushed out of me when Finley ran to join them, making them file out, away from danger. An instinct in him must have realised that something still wasn’t right.

  My eyes stung as I conjured a spell of pulsing power that would shove Maxwell onto his butt. Pulling on the earth as much as I could, I blinked when the power didn’t come. What was happening?

  The table above me shattered to pieces as Maxwell’s dark blue magic obliterated it. Holding my hands over my head to protect it from the flying debris, I switched back to warlock magic.

  Throwing myself up into the air, using the seat as a propeller, I pushed my arms forward, unleashing two strands of bright red magic, the tips aimed straight at Maxwell. He backtracked, the door slamming shut behind him. My magic smashed it, forcing it to come straight off its hinges.

  My muscles shook as I kept walking forward, the streams still extended in front of me. Jumping over the fallen door, I thrust my way outside.

  “Come on, then!” I screamed.

  He had come for me when it was unexpected. I had been unprepared, which showed me my weakness, just like Justina had said. And, yet, something was up with my witch’s magic. Which meant I only had one option. To use my warlock magic. Oh, and the challenge had been accepted.

  Maxwell was in the middle of the road, his arms up and his head thrown back. The shape of his hands alerted me to his intention. A ball, big enough to wipe me out completely. Did he want to kill me?

  Before he could go any further, I pulled harder on my magic and shoved my arms forward as far as they would go. The streams of magic released, causing me to stumble to the ground. Looking up as my hair fell over my face, I grinned when the long strips of magic wrapped around Maxwell, pinning his arms to his side.

  A couple of warlocks were on the other side of the street, watching our fight unfold. I stayed on the ground, the damp concrete seeping through the rips in my jeans and cooling my hot skin. My breathing was heavy as I tried to control it.

  “You little bitch!” Maxwell huffed, his face contorted as he struggled against the binds.

  I hadn’t wanted to hurt him, only maim him. The magic would burn his skin, but he would survive and recover.

  “I’m the leader of the warlock coven,” I said quietly to myself as I pushed up from the ground.

  My energy was returning and so was my conviction. There was a reason witches were going rogue. Something was going on with the underworld, something that I wanted to understand before I gave up my position of power.

  Tucking my hair behind my ear, I approached Maxwell. He might have been trained by Isaac, but my magic was stronger than his, for now. “You will give me time to contemplate my position.”

  He opened his mouth to protest. “You’re not a warlock. You cannot rule us.”

  Flicking my wrist, I tightened the swirling strands of red magic, forcing him to utter a cry. His face was starting to bulge, the pressure too great on his chest.

  He couldn’t deny my warlock inheritance. The physical magic that formed from the mind came from a darker source than witch magic, but it still flowed through me easily. No witch could create coloured balls of power or streams of magic. Their power came from the earth, pure and balanced. I was both, which meant he had no right to deny my heritage.

  “Do we have a truce until I’m ready to decide what’s best for the warlocks?”

  At first he squirmed, the power almost too much for him to handle. If he had been a little quicker, he could’ve taken me out with his ball of magic, but I was willing to let that go. Only because I needed peace while I settled into my new job. Fighting with the warlocks was not helping my cause. Or there’s.

  Looking at the other warlocks as my chest rose and fell, I raised my eyebrows. “What about you? Will you accept that we’re in a time of transition and a leader will be picked…very soon?”

  Slowly nodding, they kept their hands by their sides, their stares penetrating into me. I should have taken a moment to recognise the signs of a threat the moment the cat came to me outside the pub. But, I was too hyped up and too tired, all at the same time.

  “Okay,” Maxwell choked.

  I tilted my head to the side and opened my eyes wide. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you?”

  He gasped for breath, his eyes bulging. A tiny ping of guilt popped into my chest before I shoved it away. I had to play hard if I wanted to get the better of him.

  “Okay!”

  Swirling my hand in the opposite direction, I unwound the strands of magic, not quite ready to disperse them completely. If he tried anything once he was free, I could trap him again.

  Falling to the ground, he hung on to his throat, trying desperately to get air into his lungs.

  “You threatened innocent life in there, that’s not how we work. I’m the leader of the warlocks, and you will not come looking for me again. I will come to you when the time is right. Until then, keep the warlocks under control. You know what you’re doing. Believe it or not, I’m trying to help the underworld.” I was composed again, standing as tall as my five feet would allow.

  Goose bumps rose on my arms as a cool wind whipped through the street. A high pitched giggle made me backtrack towards the pub. The others glanced up the street to where the sound had come from.

  Dark Crawlers were night stalkers, always looking for humans to jump into and suck their life-force. Most supernatural beings rubbed along fine with others, but Dark Crawlers? Everyone hated them. They were evil spirits, disguised as humans, although it was pretty obvious when one came near because they stank of rotting flesh.

  “I think that’s our cue to leave,” one of the warlocks said, coming forward and dragging Maxwell to his feet. “We don’t want to dally with those idiots.”

  The man who had challenged me stopped his friend from walking him away. “Okay, you proved yourself tonight, but I won’t give up my right to the leadership.”

  Nodding, I glanced up the street when a bunch of Crawlers came around the corner. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to. You will take over from me when it’s time. I just get to decide when.”

  Walking towards the entrance of the pub, I waved my hand, repairing the door. Once inside, I would lock it, retrieve my jacket and hightail it out the back. My bed was calling me.

  “Devon?” Maxwell called as the others went to walk away. “You better decide soon. Witches or warlocks. You can’t have both.”

  Chapter 7

  Witches or warlocks. I had never looked at it as a choice before.

  Jumping out of my skin when someone banged on my front door, I shot up from my bed and traipsed over. Who was k
nocking before nine in the morning? I was not a morning person, so why did anyone else have to be?

  “Kingsley, is it safe to open the door?” I whispered as I got near to his cage.

  The rat was psychic. He would nod when it was safe, but stay still when it wasn’t. The little man had saved me an uncomfortable conversation or two in the past. I had even managed to cast an invisibility spell over myself before some pissed off person had come barging into my home.

  Kingsley nodded his head quickly, nudging my fingers when I stuck them through his cage to stroke him. He was my best friend.

  Another bang on my door made me grunt to myself.

  “I’m coming!” I shouted before lowering my voice. “You pain in the arse, morning person.”

  “I heard that.” The deep raspy voice of Gerard came from the other side of the door.

  Throwing it open, I spread my arms wide. “Welcome to me casa.”

  Going into the kitchen as he glanced into the bedsit, I flicked the kettle on. “I only have normal teabags, or highly caffeinated coffee. What’s your fancy?”

  Sticking my head out, I frowned. He still stood in the doorway, not entering my beautiful home. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly…yeah, it was pit. But, still, he should show a bit more respect than hanging out in the doorway.

  “You’re letting all the heat out, come in.”

  He cleared his throat as he stepped inside, his gaze skimming over me before quickly looking away. “You have no heating on.”

  His gruff response made me look down at myself. Oh, yeah… I had been so tired last night, I had only managed to get the top half of my PJ’s on. And, that was kind of see-through.

  “Erm…” I slunk back into the kitchen, searching for some bottoms to shove on, any kind of bottoms.

  My cheeks warmed as I came up empty handed. Aw, man, he had seen my granny pants and probably my boobs. The top might as well have been invisible.

  “Justina asked me to take you to the agency building and show you around. We can check out the gym, swimming pool and well, you know.”