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

by Linsey Hall

  “It took me a few years to visit each king of each hell—there are a lot. And with some well-placed threats, they all agreed to stop their wars and keep a better eye on the dead and demons in their realms who were trying to get to Earth.”

  “Just like that?”

  “I made it clear that I could tear through space, enter their bedroom, and rip their heads off any time I liked.”

  “Fair point. But I can’t imagine the Order or Council like knowing that you can do that.”

  “No, and they don’t know exactly how I keep the peace. Just that I do. And they pay me well for it.”

  I put down the mug of wine I’d been holding, suddenly dumbfounded. “So with all that on your plate, why did you come after me, specifically? I’m no big deal.”

  His gaze turned serious. “But you are, Del. You’re a very big deal. I don’t know why, but you are.”

  Of course I couldn’t sleep.

  Not after what Roarke had said. Or after the weirdness with the blue cloud thing that had swept me away.

  I spent the night tossing and turning, only getting an hour of sleep here and there. By 6:00 a.m., I was going out of my mind. Roarke was out in my living room, sleeping on a too-short couch while my brain did the whole dog-chasing-its-tail routine.

  I had answers about Roarke, but not very many. I had almost no answers about myself and even more questions than before. Why had the Phantoms turned me and no one else? Why had I liked it? And why had the blue cloud swept me away instead of Roarke?

  When I’d turned into a Phantom for the first time a few months ago, I’d thought maybe it was just a cool new power. But it was more than that, and my magic was related to death in a way that I didn’t understand. The seer who’d prophesied it had said almost nothing about it. And never directly to me. Only to Cass.

  I needed answers.

  Unable to take it anymore, I climbed out of bed and pulled on some clothes, then debated whether to write a note for Roarke or not. But what if he was a super light sleeper?

  I didn’t want him coming into my bedroom, so I settled on posting a sticky note on the outside of my bedroom door—Gone for coffee at P & P.

  Hopefully he’d sleep another hour and find me at Potions & Pastilles with an espresso when he woke.

  I grabbed a jacket and my borrowed sword, then searched the dresser for the keys to Scooter, my motorcycle. They peeked out from beneath a T-shirt that definitely had to go in the wash.

  Jackpot.

  I grabbed them, then realized my helmet was out in the living room. Dang. I couldn’t go get it with Roarke out on the couch. I’d just have to be careful.

  I climbed out the window and hopped down to the ground silently. It was still dark out as I raced through the alley between the buildings and out onto the main street.

  It took me a moment to remember where I’d parked Scooter. Up past Potions & Pastilles, because it’d been the only spot available. As I hurried up the street, I reached up and pressed my fingertips to the charm at my neck.

  “Cass?” I asked.

  “What?” Cass’s groggy voice sounded through the charm.

  “I want to go see Aethelred to get some answers. Can you tell me where he lives?” Cass had been to see him a few times, but I only knew about him through her.

  “In Darklane, three doors down from Aerdeca and Mordaca. Blue house.”

  “Thanks. And can you call Connor or Claire for me? Tell them to stall Roarke if he shows up looking for me?”

  “Yeah. Good luck with Aethelred,” Cass said. “Promise him some Cornish pasties if you have to. I’ve bribed him with those before. It works better than money.”

  I grinned, thinking of the savory treats that Connor made. “Will do.”

  I broke the connection with my comms charm when I reached Scooter, the Harley that I’d saved up for when we’d first moved to town. The thing was a beast, but I liked the name Scooter.

  I climbed on, cranked the engine, then took off, navigating through the business district and the Historic District, both of which were still dead this time of night. The same couldn’t be said of Darklane. Like its name, the dark hours of night were usually the busiest for this neighborhood.

  Ramshackle buildings rose three stories tall on either side of the street as I turned onto the main thoroughfare in Darklane. Ornate gas lamps shed a golden glow. The buildings were as old and ornate as the brightly painted ones in the Historic District, but these were coated in a layer of grime that obscured the bright paint. I’d long been convinced that the layer of dirt and soot had been there since shortly after the buildings themselves had been built.

  Darklane housed those supernaturals who worked with magic’s darker side. The kind that harmed as well as helped. But it wasn’t entirely bad. It was all up to interpretation.

  While a lot of these supernaturals occasionally bent the law, they weren’t total criminals. The Magica would crack down on that. They walked the line with things like blood magic—illegal if you did it without the consent of the donor, but otherwise acceptable. It was still danged creepy here, though.

  I slowed Scooter as I passed the Apothecary’s Jungle, our friends Aerdeca and Mordaca’s shop. They were both sitting on the steps leading to their door. Aerdeca, blonde and dressed in a white silk robe, was drinking what looked to be a mug of coffee. Mordaca, dressed in a black evening gown with a midnight bouffant, was drinking a Manhattan. I waved, and they waved back. We weren’t close, but they’d had our backs when my deirfiúr and I had needed them.

  When I reached Aethelred’s house, a skinny building that had once been blue, I pulled over and parked on the side of the road. I hurried up the narrow wooden steps and banged on the falcon door knocker.

  “Who is it?” a cranky old voice called.

  Shit. The sun hadn’t even risen. I really should have brought coffee or something, because this was seriously rude.

  “Um, it’s Del Hally.” But that wasn’t even true, was it? I was Del Bellator, according to Roarke. Who I still had to grill for info about myself. After I convinced him to let me stay out of the Underworld. But that was a problem for another day. “I’m friends with Cass Clereaux. I have some questions.”

  “Don’t they all,” the voice muttered.

  But the door creaked open, thank fates. On the other side stood an old man with a long white beard that he’d tucked into the pants of his blue velour tracksuit.

  I smiled. “Hi.”

  “Harumph.” He stared at me through shining spectacles. “So you’re friends with Cass. And you have questions. Important ones, too, if you’re coming before dawn.”

  “Yeah, important.”

  He scowled. “I don’t work for free, missy.”

  I winced. He was a seer, so he probably knew I was broke. Sure, I had a trove full of treasure, but that didn’t leave a lot in the old bank account to pay off seers.

  “I could, ah, ask Connor to make you any kind of pasty you want. For a week.”

  “Hmmm….” He considered it as I writhed inside with guilt. Connor was not going to be happy. In fact, I’d probably be the one making the pasties just to make it up to him.

  Oh man, maybe this had been a bad idea. Aethelred would not like my pasties, then he’d be pissed at me. He was the only seer I knew, and I didn’t want to lose his help.

  “All right,” Aethelred said. “Pasties for a month.”

  My shoulders sagged in relief. I could deal with the pasty dilemma later.

  “Great! Thanks.”

  He stepped back and let me into the dimly-lit foyer, then led me toward a living room crowded with shelves of books and trinkets. A tiny iron hearth crouched at the side of the room with its fire burning low.

  Aethelred gestured to a couch as he took the old armchair near the fire. I sat, but just as I opened my mouth, he waved a hand, cutting me off.

  “Give me a moment.” He closed his eyes. “I’d like to see what I can get from you before you speak.”

  I
snapped my mouth shut and waited. His magic swelled on the air as he accessed his power. I got a hint of allspice and whiskey before he spoke.

  “You are part of the Triumvirate. Three women who represent life, death, and magic. The three legs upon which the world stands. You were prophesied to do great things.”

  “Me specifically?” I asked. A seer had once told Cass that we’d been prophesied to do something great, but me specifically?

  I didn’t really feel qualified.

  “Yes. You.”

  “Not just the Triumvirate?” Triumvirate was Latin for three of power. I represented death, Nix life, and Cass magic. Together, we could accomplish a lot. On my own? Not so much.

  “No. You have a role to play. Though I cannot see what, exactly. Not at this moment.” His brow creased as he searched for more answers in the mist of his mind. Seers could not see all, but what they did see was true. “But your power is growing. I can feel that. And you must use it to fulfill your role in the prophecy.”

  “How? What does it even mean that I represent death?”

  “That your powers come from the Underworld.”

  Great. That sounded fantastic.

  “Is that why I turned into a Phantom when they touched me three months ago?”

  He nodded. “They were a trigger. And there may be more triggers. More power, possibly. You must be ready.”

  Oh, that didn’t sound ominous at all. “Is that why I can see ghosts?”

  “Yes. And it won’t be the last new power you develop.”

  “But Phantoms are evil. They feed on misery and despair.”

  “Do you?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. But I don’t want to be like that. They’re awful creatures.”

  He shrugged. “You do have a dark past.”

  My heart raced. “Do you know anything about it? I learned that my true last name is Bellator.”

  He shook his head. “No, my dear. I do not know about that.”

  Dang. “The other day, a blue cloud that may have been shaped like a dragon swept me up and spit me out on Dartmoor.”

  Aethelred’s brows rose, climbing all the way up to his hairline. “Dragons are dead.”

  “I know.”

  He frowned, then closed his eyes. His magic welled, but he continued to scowl. His eyes popped open. “I do not know. That is strange.”

  “Yeah. You’re telling me.”

  “Your questions are finished?”

  My shoulders slumped. I had some info, but not all that I had come for. “Yeah.”

  “Then a word of warning. Be wary. This is a dangerous gift. The Order of the Magica would not like you to wield it. There is too much unknown.”

  “I know.”

  “That is the best I can do for you, my dear.”

  “Thank you. It helps. And if you think of anything else… anything at all, I’d love to know.”

  “I will tell you. But be alert. Things are changing for you now. The way is unclear. It is up to you to determine your path.”

  Chapter Eight

  When I stepped out onto the street, Roarke was pulling up in his fancy sports car.

  Caught.

  I’d pushed my luck.

  He got out and glared at me, looking back to his usual self. No limp, thankfully. And a clean set of clothes, which I guessed he’d gotten from his car. Once again, he looked like a million bucks.

  “What are you doing in Darklane?” he demanded.

  “I had to see a friend.”

  “About what?”

  “None of your business.”

  “This isn’t a good part of town. And I don’t remember us agreeing that you could wander off.”

  “I was coming right back.”

  “Sure.” From the look on his face, he wouldn’t be letting me out of his sight anytime soon.

  “Seriously, I’m not going to ditch you. I know you can find me.” I held up my wrist to show the tracking band he’d snapped on me.

  “Exactly.” From the determined set of his brow and the expression in his dark eyes, he looked like he’d cross heaven and earth to find me.

  “Come on, let’s go get a coffee and then find that demon.”

  “Where exactly are we getting coffee?’

  “Wherever you want.” I’d have liked to go to P & P, but I didn’t want to press my luck after sneaking out.

  Anyway, we needed to get a move on with finding the Ubilaz demon. I was almost out of Connor’s potion, and once that was gone, I was going to turn into a demon real fast.

  Though I should have been used to the Underpath by now, I wasn’t. Roarke had driven us there in no time, zipping through traffic in his futuristic super-car, and the journey to the The Hanged Man in Plymouth had taken even less time. But the moment we stepped out of the Underpath, I was woozy.

  My head swam as I followed Roarke out of the bar and onto the street. Midday sun shined brightly on the cobblestones and Tudor buildings, while the scent of fried fish wafted from the fish and chip place next door. A moment after we reached the main road, Melly’s little green car zipped up to the curb.

  “Hello!” she called through the open window.

  “Hey, Melly.” My head had cleared enough that I felt human again, and I climbed into the cramped back seat of her car.

  “Where to this time?” she asked.

  “Somerset,” Roarke said. “Central part, right Del?”

  I closed my eyes and cleared my mind, focusing on my dragon sense, careful to keep my signature repressed, then said, “Yeah. I’ll know more once we’re closer.”

  “Somerset it is!” Melly stepped on the gas. Hard.

  It took us a couple hours to reach Somerset, during which time the demon’s location changed slightly. Eventually, I pinpointed it to the city of Glastonbury.

  “He’s definitely moving,” I said. “I can feel his location changing slightly.”

  “Slowly?” Roarke asked.

  “Yeah. I think he’s on foot. Or in traffic. We’re close, though.”

  Melly had entered the bustling city streets of Glastonbury a few moments ago. We’d taken a few false turns, so by the time we entered the city, it was late. Whoever was still out on the sidewalks staggered as they headed from pub to pub. I directed Melly through the streets, following my sense of the demon.

  Fortunately, Glastonbury was a supernatural city. Smaller than Plymouth, but still good-sized.

  When we reached a stretch of parkland, I called out, “Stop! We’re here.”

  Melly stomped on the brakes. After we screeched to a halt, she turned to look at me. “Here? It’s a park.”

  I nodded and peered at the expanse of open grass and woodland, then climbed out of the car into the chill night air.

  I turned to the car. “He’s in the park somewhere.”

  “Good,” Roarke climbed out of the car and leaned down to peer at Melly. “Thanks, Melly. We’ll call you if we need a ride back.”

  “Not a problem!” She waved, then zipped off.

  “Let’s go.” I set off across the grass.

  Roarke followed and we made our way quickly across the park and through a small patch of woods. When we popped out on the other side, a massive ruined cathedral appeared in the moonlight.

  I grinned. “Bingo.”

  “Makes sense considering they prefer ancient sites. But why this one? It’s not well protected like the cave.”

  No, it wasn’t. The cathedral was a shell of a building and sat in the middle of the immaculately tended parkland. Its broken stone walls and massive arches soared up into the night sky, leaving a hollow shell in the middle.

  “Weird,” I muttered as we moved forward. As we neared one of the doorless entrances, I caught sight of a small iron plaque.

  Glastonbury Abbey, Est. 712

  “That’s familiar.” I searched my brain for why, but came up empty. “You know anything about this place?”

  Roarke shrugged. “No. I like the History Channel, but old
churches aren’t really my thing.”

  “Okay.” I peered inside at the expanse of grass that looked like black carpet stretched between the broken walls of the cathedral.

  Roarke stepped over the threshold and I followed, my skin prickling as I stepped inside. The ruins ran on forever, tumbled down stone walls creating a hundred hiding places. The abbey had once been huge. It was deathly quiet, just the sound of distant revelers on the other side of the park. Kids partying, no doubt.

  Magic thrummed, though, rich and strong. There were a lot of different signatures here—too many. Scents, tastes, even sounds. The demon had grown his army in the short time we’d been recovering.

  But there was even residual magic in the cathedral. Something ancient. It vibrated along my skin, familiar.

  “Del!” Roarke’s low voice was intense. “Move.”

  I jerked, then hopped away, glancing back at where I’d been standing. Horror opened a chasm inside my chest.

  Where I’d been standing, a shimmering blue glow was stretching across the ground. Just like back at the castle. As it grew, flat stone slabs appeared on the ground in place of the grass. Some were inscribed with names and dates.

  The cathedral floor.

  The glow extended up the broken-down cathedral walls. When it reached the top, it kept going. So did the walls, growing into their old form. Stained glass filled the hollowed-out windows, glinting in the moonlight.

  My head buzzed as I tilted it back, watching as the glow raced overhead, leaving behind a ceiling supported by ornately carved stone arches.

  Candles burst to life in their sconces on the wall, lighting the place with a golden glow. A partial wall appeared between us and the massive central part of the church. We were behind the altar now. Maybe. My understanding of cathedral architecture was a bit lacking.

  “What the hell is going on?” Roarke asked. “The same enchantment as the one at Tintagel?”

  Magic shivered along my skin. My mind raced. “Yeah.”

  My magic roared inside me, like it was responding to the enchantment. It thrummed in my chest, vibrating like a massive engine ready to take off on a race to my destruction.

  Was I doing this?

  Roarke’s skeptical gaze met mine. My heart pounded. “Maybe that’s why the demon is here. He’s attracted to ancient places with this type of enchantment.”