Magic Undying (Dragon's Gift: The Seeker Book 1)

by Linsey Hall

  Magic Undying

  Dragon’s Gift The Seeker Book 1

  Linsey Hall

  Bonnie Doon Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Thank You For Reading!

  Excerpt Of Ancient Magic

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Glossary

  About Linsey

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Consciousness came slowly as heat seared my skin. Every bone in my body ached, like I’d been stomped on by a dragon. Groggily, I forced my eyes open.

  Walls of fire surrounded me, brilliant red and orange flickering up into the sky. My heart jumped into my throat, nearly strangling me. The flame was only a dozen feet away on all sides. I scrambled up, stumbling before righting myself on wobbly legs.

  “No, no, no,” I muttered as the flames flickered toward me.

  There was only one place this could be. But I didn’t want to believe it. “I am not in hell. I am not in hell. I am not in hell.”

  My sword lay on the ground. I stooped and grabbed it, comfort rushing through me as I gripped the smooth pommel of my sidekick. The ache in my chest tugged my gaze downward, toward the pain. My lucky black shirt had a puncture hole straight through it—right where the sword had sunk into my chest, who knew how long ago.

  Dying was the last thing I remembered, and this black shirt was definitely no longer lucky.

  My heart thudded, loud enough to deafen me.

  If I was dead, should I have had a heartbeat? Just the thought made that wayward organ race. Was I dead?

  “Get it together, Del,” I muttered as memories flooded my mind. I’d been in battle, fighting with my friends and allies against an enemy so fierce that I hadn’t had a chance. I’d died by the sword.

  I touched the sliced fabric of my shirt and looked around at the flame.

  Shit. With a wound like that, I had definitely died.

  And was in hell. Or at least one of the hells. From what little I knew, there were multiple heavens and hells called underworlds, one for each religion.

  Gingerly, I poked my fingers through the hole in my shirt. When I found only a raised scar, I almost collapsed in relief.

  I had enough to deal with without gaping wounds. My chest hurt, but not enough to keep me from running for it.

  And I had to get out of this place. Dead or not, I wasn’t hanging out here.

  I turned in a circle, eyeing the walls of flame. The heat seared my skin, which felt hot enough to start peeling off at any second. My head grew woozy from it.

  I needed to lay down. For just a moment. The ground looked as comfortable as my bed back home, and it called to me.

  I shook my head to clear the wooziness.

  No. Not an option. Forward motion was the only way. After all I’d been through—dying for fate’s sake—if fate thought I was going to lie down and give up, it had another thing coming.

  I knocked on my head for good luck, then sucked in a ragged breath, tried to concentrate, and called on my magic. Before I’d died, I’d had the power to transport myself anywhere in the world with a thought. I’d lost that power in the battle—but perhaps I hadn’t lost all of it?

  I tried to call on the gift, imagining myself at home instead of here. I could almost see myself standing in my apartment. But instead of the usual tug, I felt nothing.

  My heart clenched, disappointment dropping my stomach to my feet.

  So I had lost it all.

  That was gonna take some getting used to.

  But I wasn’t stuck. I wouldn’t let myself be. I had a heartbeat, for fate’s sake. I didn’t belong here.

  I might be one of the most despised species of supernatural—a FireSoul, one who shared the soul of a dragon and could steal other supernaturals’ powers—but a seer had prophesied that I possessed a strange power related to death. It was magic I didn’t understand and a power that could probably get me killed if anyone discovered I had it. But it was my only chance at getting out of here.

  That meant adopting my Phantom form, and fast.

  If that was possible in hell. Would my magic even work here? I’d never been to hell, and I didn’t know the extent of my power anyway. The Order of the Magica and the Alpha Council, the two magical governments on Earth, imprisoned anyone with powerful magic they’d never seen before, so I only used it when absolutely necessary.

  The flames flickered toward me.

  Yeah, this qualified.

  I closed my eyes and called upon my odd magic, envisioning my body turning pale blue and transparent as it did when I adopted my other form. A few months ago, I’d turned into a Phantom for the first time when another Phantom touched me. I’d learned a couple weeks later that I was a half blood, but that shouldn’t even be possible. Phantoms didn’t reproduce—not through touch or any other way. They were normally insentient beings that brought misery to anyone who touched them.

  So fun. If I actually let others see what I could do, I’d be a real hit at parties.

  As a Phantom half blood, I was something different, though I had no idea exactly what or the extent of my powers. But nothing could hurt me in my Phantom form, and I needed some of that right about now.

  I let my magic rise within me, and a tingly chill followed it. Slowly, the heat licking at my skin began to fade. As the chill traveled over my flesh, my arms turned transparent blue.

  Jackpot!

  I moved toward the row of flames. Whatever was on the other side had to be better than this.

  Right?

  My heart climbed into my throat as I passed through the fire. I felt nothing, but it was so bright that it blinded me, forcing me to close my eyes.

  When I opened them, I almost wished I hadn’t.

  A barren hellscape stretched ahead of me, jagged black rocks and crevasses reaching deep into the ground. More flames flickered up, dotting the miserable landscape here and there. Were they cages made of flames, holding other people as that one had held me?

  The air shimmered with a weird gray haze. It was opaque in places, but the fog occasionally cleared to reveal a beautiful meadow. Like another world overlaid on top of this one.

  Though there was beauty, it was mostly hell.

  Shivers ran across my skin.

  I wanted to go home.

  Longing filled my chest as I reached up and touched the golden comms charm around my neck. My touch ignited the magic and I grinned.

  “Cass? Nix?” I hoped either of my deirfiúr would hear me through their identical comms charms.

  Deirfiúr was Irish for sisters, though they were my sisters by choice. My team. I prayed to magic that they’d survived the battle that had killed me.

  And just because I was in hell didn’t mean they wouldn’t have my back. If they were somewhere in this godforsaken wasteland, I’d find them.

  The charm crackled, its magic no doubt interrupted by the fact that I was in hell. I didn’t even know where this particular Underworld was located, but it had to be far away from our home in Magic’s Bend, Oregon.

  The charm continued to crackle, but no voices came through.

  “Nix? Cass?”

  Still silence.

  I was on my own. Okay. I could handle that.

  “Escapee!” a deep voice roared.<
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  I jumped, losing control of my Phantom form and turning back into my normal self. My heart thudded in my ears as I spun in a circle, searching for the voice.

  Three massive figures charged toward me, leaping over the crevasses in the rock. They were some kind of demon, dark gray with massive horns. Weapons hung off their bodies, clipped to leather utility vests. As if they had so much killing to do they needed to dress up like deadly Christmas trees, with pointy things hanging all over them.

  “Shit!” Time to go!

  I spun and raced in the other direction, careful to keep my footing on the rocky ground. One fall and they’d be on me. My lungs burned as I sprinted, jumping over ditches and dodging rock outcroppings.

  Damn, I needed to work out more. I was a mercenary and a treasure hunter—I normally did the pursuing. Being chased really wasn’t working for me. Although to be fair, dying might have slowed me down a bit.

  Something heavy slammed into my legs, wrapping around them so I tripped and crashed to the ground. My skull slammed against the rocks. Pain pierced my head as my vision turned gray. The jagged black rocks tore at the side of my face. Warm blood trickled down my skin.

  Panic sent shivers through me. I needed to reach my legs and cut off whatever bound me, but my head was spinning like an overpriced ride at a carnival.

  Through my hazy vision, I caught sight of a massive figure looming overhead. It bent down and grabbed the back of my jacket, yanking me up. I’d barely maintained my grip on my sword—an ingrained habit—but a big, booted foot kicked it from my hands.

  “No!” I reached for it as it flew away and clattered to the ground.

  “You don’t need that where you’re going,” a deep voice growled.

  “Jerk!” I thrashed in his grip, my head still spinning from my fall, but he had almost two feet and a hundred pounds of muscle on me.

  When he swung me over his shoulder, my stomach slammed against his back, knocking the wind from my lungs. This close, I could get a sense of his magic. It smelled like rotten eggs.

  Ugh.

  “Take her to the Warden, aye?” a voice said from my side.

  “Aye,” said the demon who held me. “This one is strange. No one has ever escaped the holding cells.”

  I blinked, trying to get my wits about me, but it was slow going with my pounding head.

  The demon shook me, probably for the sheer joy of it. My brain rattled in my skull.

  “What were you expecting to accomplish, girly? Make a run for it? You want the Warden hunting you down?”

  No, I really didn’t want to be hunted by some dude called the Warden. But I wasn’t going to hang out here, either.

  The demon holding me started to jog, and I bounced against his back as I tried to catch my breath and get my bearings. My sword glinted silver against the black rocks, growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

  Damn it, I loved that sword.

  Even farther away, something blue swooped through the air. It was too big to identify, but probably just another hellbeast I didn’t want to encounter. A distant shriek sounded and I shuddered.

  Nope, I didn’t want to run into whatever that thing was.

  Or the Warden. I needed to get away from these bastards before they reached the mysterious Warden, whoever that was.

  But my pounding head made it hard to focus on my magic. It wasn’t easy to turn into a Phantom, but I’d been growing more practiced with it. If I’d ever needed to adopt my Phantom form, now was the time. I’d have to kill these bastards to keep them from telling anyone what I was, and I was willing to do that. But could I even kill them in the Underworld?

  I had no idea. I’d have to worry about that when the time came, because I didn’t want to end up wherever they were taking me.

  When I caught the thread of my magic deep within me, I pulled on it, envisioning my Phantom form. The power flickered within me, growing stronger as I fanned the flames.

  A headache pounded in my skull as I watched my arms, which hung down toward the ground, turn blue very slowly. Too slowly. Bright red blood dripped from my head wound, landing on my arms, stark against my pale skin. The sight of it relieved me, though. If I was bleeding and I had a heartbeat, I couldn’t be truly dead.

  “She’s doing that weird thing again,” a gravelly voice said.

  “Don’t let her.”

  Pain exploded in my skull, and the world went black.

  When I came to, the world was just as dark and terrifying as it had been before I’d lost consciousness. Had the demon knocked me over the head? I still hung over his shoulder, his every footstep jarring pain through my middle. The same jagged black rocks passed beneath us as the demon ran.

  But the magic in the air felt different. Stronger. Weirder.

  I shivered.

  Every supernatural’s magic had a signature that was conveyed by one or more of the five senses.

  Whoever possessed this new magic I was sensing was powerful. Really, really powerful.

  Carefully, I shifted to see where we were going and to get a better sense of the exact nature of the strong magic. I moved a millimeter at a time so as not to alert the demons. I didn’t want another knock on the head. If I was going to escape this, I clearly needed to do it through cunning rather than the brute strength of my Phantom form. My injuries made me too slow to shift.

  Ahead, I caught the barest glimpse of a castle. It was a massive, hulking structure made of black stone. Tall walls gave way to a huge keep with towers at each of the four corners. Steam rose up from the base of the wall. A moat? Probably. I shuddered at the idea of what was in there.

  The power came from that castle.

  From the Warden.

  Okay, I definitely did not want to meet him. His power was so strong that it cloaked the castle. Not everyone could sense another’s magic, but strong supernaturals could. The more powerful you were, the more completely you were hooked into the magical grid. Some supernaturals worked to keep their signature repressed, like I did. No way I was gonna let anyone know the extent of my forbidden magic, and he was probably strong enough to sense what I was if I let my guard down.

  Not this guy—repressing his signature wasn’t on his agenda. This guy wanted everyone knowing he was the strongest dude in the land.

  Weirdly, his magic didn’t feel explicitly evil. Often, dark magic had a signature that fit—like the taste of death or the smell of rotten eggs, like the ugly bastards now hauling me across hell.

  But the magic cloaking the castle smelled of fresh sandalwood and tasted like wine. Red wine. A nice one. Personally, I was partial to boxed wine, but I could at least identify a good one.

  The Warden’s magic was probably strong enough to register with more of my senses, but I’d need to be closer to find out.

  I didn’t want to get closer. Because sometimes, the greatest evil was cloaked in something palatable. Any guy who lived in a castle like this was probably one dark son of a demon.

  We were nearing the moat now, and I could smell the brackish water that was letting off so much steam. I did my best to breathe shallowly. We were nearly to the main wall.

  This close to the Warden, I couldn’t use my Phantom power. Not where strangers could see me. I’d have to kill them if they witnessed that. And the Warden was too powerful to kill.

  Normally, I threw myself at danger.

  But this? This was enough to give even me pause.

  So yeah, stealth was my best bet.

  I called upon my dragon sense, hoping that I hadn’t lost that magic when I’d died. The odd power that was a gift from my FireSoul half. FireSouls were said to share the souls of dragons, though no one knew exactly what that meant because dragons were long dead. FireSouls possessed the dragon’s ability to find treasure.

  Treasure could be anything we wanted badly enough—even another supernatural’s powers—and what I wanted was a way out of this Underworld. There had to be a portal around here somewhere—most likely inside the castle.<
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  I reached out with my magic, focusing on what I desired and letting my dragon sense flow through me. When the familiar tug about my middle pulled, I had it.

  There was a portal within the castle wall. And wherever it led had to be better than this place.

  As much as it made my skin prickle to think of going into the Warden’s stronghold, this was the easiest way in. I forced myself to stay limp as the demons carried me across the wooden bridge. Through the wooden slats, the moat bubbled and hissed below.

  I’d love to kick these jerks into it.

  Instead, I darted my gaze between the three demons, taking stock of their weapons. An assortment of daggers and oddly shaped blades hung off them, more than enough to get the job done.

  I was ace with weapons, considering that I didn’t usually use magic on my mercenary jobs, but some demon weapons couldn’t be wielded by any but their own kind. Probably why this guy was wearing them out in the open where I could grab them. Still, I hoped my weird death magic would allow me to manipulate his Underworld weapons.

  I stayed silent and still as we passed under the massive gate into a courtyard. Dark gray cobblestones covered the ground, reaching all the way to the curtain wall. I caught a glimpse of the castle, which loomed large and dark.

  “I’ll get the Warden,” one of the demons said before he jogged off.

  This was it. I was down to two guards.

  I sucked in a steady breath, then darted my hand out, grabbing the dagger strapped to the demon’s thigh. I pulled the wicked-looking blade free. It burned in my palm, but I could hold it.

  I jammed the deadly metal into his side.

  He hissed, his grip loosening slightly on my thighs. I kicked out, pushing myself away from him. I crashed to the ground, pain streaking through my shoulder.

  “What the hell?” the other demon said.

  I scrambled to my feet and lunged for him, slamming the blade into his chest. His wide black eyes met mine. I shoved him backward, yanking the blade free. He collapsed to the ground, crashing like a great redwood.