by Linsey Hall
“Hey, guys.”
Rowan turned. Confusion flashed in her green eyes, and she shoved her black hair back from her cheek. “Oh hell. What happened?”
“Fired.” I looked down. “Sorry.”
Bree rolled out from under the car. Her dark hair glinted in the sun as she stood, and grease dotted her skin where it was revealed by the strappy brown leather top she wore. We all wore the same style, since it was suited to the climate.
She squinted up at me. “I told you that you should have left that job a long time ago.”
“I know. But we needed the money to get the buggy up and running.”
She shook her head. “Always the practical one.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Any word from Uncle Joe?”
“Nope.” Bree flicked the little crystal she wore around her neck. “He still hasn’t activated his panic charm, but he should have been home days ago.”
Worry clutched in my stomach. “What if he’s wounded and can’t activate the charm?”
Months ago, we’d forced him to start wearing the charm. He’d refused initially, saying it didn’t matter if we knew he was in trouble. It was too dangerous for us to cross the valley to get him.
But that meant just leaving him. And that was crap, obviously.
We might be young, but we were tough. And we had the buggy. True, we’d never made a trip across, and the truck was only now in working order. But we were gearing up for it. We wanted to join Uncle Joe in the business of transporting outlaws across the valley to Hider’s Haven.
He was the only one in the whole town brave enough to make the trip, but he was getting old and we wanted to take over for him. The pay was good. Even better, I wouldn’t have to let anyone pinch me on the butt.
There weren’t a lot of jobs for girls on the run. We could only be paid under the table, which made it hard.
“Even if he was wounded, Uncle Joe would find a way to activate the charm,” Bree said.
As if he’d heard her, the charm around Bree’s neck lit up, golden and bright.
She looked down, eyes widening. “Holy fates.”
Panic sliced through me. My gaze met hers, then darted to Rowan’s. Worry glinted in both their eyes.
“We have to go,” Rowan said.
I nodded, my mind racing. This was real. We’d only ever talked about crossing the valley. Planned and planned and planned.
But this was go time.
“Is the buggy ready?” I asked.
“As ready as it’ll ever be,” Rowan said.
My gaze traced over it. The truck was a hulking beast, with huge, sturdy tires and platforms built over the front hood and the back. We’d only ever heard stories of the monsters out in Death Valley, but we needed a place from which to fight them and the platforms should do the job. The huge spikes on the sides would help, but we’d be responsible for fending off most of the monsters.
All of the cars in Death Valley Junction looked like something out of Mad Max, but ours was one of the few that had been built to cross the valley.
At least, we hoped it could cross.
We had some magic to help us out, at least. I could create shields, Bree could shoot sonic booms, and Rowan could move things with her mind.
Rowan’s gaze drifted to the sun that was high in the sky. “Not the best time to go, but I don’t see how we have a choice.”
I nodded. No one wanted to cross the valley in the day. According to Uncle Joe, it was the most dangerous of all. But things must be really bad if he’d pressed the button now.
He was probably hoping we were smart enough to wait to cross.
We weren’t.
“Let’s get dressed and go.” I hurried up the creaky front steps and into the ramshackle house.
It didn’t take long to dig through my meager possessions and find the leather pants and strappy top that would be my fight wear for out in the valley. It was too hot for anything more, though night would bring the cold.
Daggers were my preferred weapon—mostly since they were cheaper than swords and I had good aim with anything small and pointy. I shoved as many as I could into the little pockets built into the outside of my boots and pants. A small duffel full of daggers completed my arsenal.
I grabbed a leather jacket and the sand goggles that I’d gotten second hand, then ran out of the room. I nearly collided with Bree, whose blue eyes were bright with worry.
“We can do this,” I said.
She nodded. “You’re right. It’s been our plan all along.”
I swallowed hard, mind racing with all the things that could go wrong. The valley was full of monsters and dangerous challenges—and according to Uncle Joe, they changed every day. We had no idea what would be coming at us, but we couldn’t turn back.
Not with Uncle Joe on the other side.
We swung by the kitchen to grab jugs of water and some food, then hurried out of the house. Rowan was already in the driver’s seat, ready to go. Her sand goggles were pushed up on her head, and her leather top looked like armor.
“Get a move on!” she shouted.
I raced to the truck and scrambled up onto the back platform. Though I could open the side door, I was still wary of the Ravener poison Rowan had painted onto the spikes. It would paralyze me for twenty-four hours, and that was the last thing we needed.
Bree scrambled up to join me, and we tossed the supplies onto the floorboard of the back seat, then joined Rowan in the front, sitting on the long bench.
She cranked the engine, which grumbled and roared, then pulled away from the house.
“Holy crap, it’s happening.” Excitement and fear shivered across my skin.
Worry was a familiar foe. I’d been worried my whole life. Worried about hiding from the unknown people who hunted us. Worried about paying the bills. Worried about my sisters. But it’d never done me any good. So I shoved aside my fear for Uncle Joe and focused on what was ahead.
The wind tore through my hair as Rowan drove away from Death Valley Junction, cutting across the desert floor as the sun blazed down. I shielded my eyes, scouting the mountains ahead. The range rose tall, cast in shadows of gray and beige.
Bree pointed to a path that had been worn through the scrubby ground. “Try here!”
Rowan turned right, and the buggy cut toward the mountains. There was a parallel valley—the real Death Valley— that only supernaturals could access. That was what we had to cross.
Rowan drove straight for one of the shallower inclines, slowing the buggy as it climbed up the mountain. The big tires dug into the ground, and I prayed they’d hold up. We’d built most of the buggy from secondhand stuff, and there was no telling what was going to give out first.
The three of us leaned forward as we neared the top, and I swore I could hear our heartbeats pounding in unison. When we crested the ridge and spotted the valley spread out below us, my breath caught.
It was beautiful. And terrifying. The long valley had to be at least a hundred miles long and several miles wide. Different colors swirled across the ground, looking like they simmered with heat.
Danger cloaked the place, dark magic that made my skin crawl.
“Welcome to hell,” Bree muttered.
“I kinda like it,” I said. “It’s terrifying but…”
“Awesome,” Rowan said.
“You are both nuts,” Bree said. “Now drive us down there. I’m ready to fight some monsters.”
Rowan saluted and pulled the buggy over the mountain ridge, then navigated her way down the mountainside.
“I wonder what will hit us first?” My heart raced at the thought.
“Could be anything,” Bree said. “Bad Water has monsters, kaleidoscope dunes has all kinds of crazy shit, and the arches could be trouble.”
We were at least a hundred miles from Hider’s Haven, though Uncle Joe said the distances could change sometimes. Anything could come at us in that amount of time.
Rowan pulled the buggy onto th
e flat ground.
“I’ll take the back.” I undid my seatbelt and scrambled up onto the back platform.
Bree climbed onto the front platform, carrying her sword.
“Hang on tight!” Rowan cried.
I gripped the safety railing that we’d installed on the back platform and crouched to keep my balance. She hit the gas, and the buggy jumped forward.
Rowan laughed like a loon and drove us straight into hell.
Up ahead, the ground shimmered in the sun, glowing silver.
“What do you think that is?” Rowan called.
“I don’t know,” I shouted. “Go around!”
She turned left, trying to cut around the reflective ground, but the silver just extended into our path, growing wider and wider. Death Valley moving to accommodate us.
Moving to trap us.
Then the silver raced toward us, stretching across the ground.
There was no way around.
“You’re going to have to drive over it!” I shouted.
She hit the gas harder, and the buggy sped up. The reflective surface glinted in the sun, and as the tires passed over it, water kicked up from the wheels.
“It’s the Bad Water!” I cried.
The old salt lake was sometimes dried up, sometimes not. But it wasn’t supposed to be deep. Six inches, max. Right?
Please be right, Uncle Joe.
Rowan sped over the water, the buggy’s tires sending up silver spray that sparkled in the sunlight. It smelled like rotten eggs, and I gagged, then breathed shallowly through my mouth.
Magic always had a signature—taste, smell, sound. Something that lit up one of the five senses. Maybe more.
And a rotten egg stink was bad news. That meant dark magic.
Tension fizzed across my skin as we drove through the Bad Water. On either side of the car, water sprayed up from the wheels in a dazzling display that belied the danger of the situation. By the time the explosion came, I was strung so tight that I almost leapt off the platform.
The monster was as wide as the buggy, but so long that I couldn’t see where it began or ended. It was a massive sea creature with fangs as long as my arm and brilliant blue eyes. Silver scales were the same color as the water, which was still only six inches deep, thank fates.
Magic propelled the monster, who circled our vehicle, his body glinting in the sun. He had to be a hundred feet long, with black wings and claws. He climbed on the ground and leapt into the air, slithering around as he examined us.
“It’s the Unhcegila!” Bree cried from the front.
Shit.
Uncle Joe had told us about the Unhcegila—a terrifying water monster from Dakota and Lakota Sioux legends.
Except it was real, as all good legends were. And it occasionally appeared when the Bad Water wasn’t dried up. It only needed a few inches to appear.
Looked like it was our lucky day.
~~~
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Author’s Note
Thank you for reading Gods of Magic! If you’ve made it this far, you’ve probably read some of my previous books and know that I like to include historical places and mythological elements in my stories. Sometimes the history of these things is so interesting that I want to share more, and I like to do it in the Author’s Note instead of the story itself.
First, the setting for the supernatural neighborhood in Edinburgh is a real place. The Grassmarket is a very cool part of the city located near the massive and amazing Edinburgh Castle. Edinburgh city proper contains both an Old Town and a New Town. The Grassmarket is located in Old Town, and as such, it is full of rich history and all kinds of cool places.
As you probably guessed, Old Town is the oldest part of the city and still contains much of its medieval street plan, whereas construction on New Town started in the second half of the 1700’s. While New Town is a masterpiece of city planning, with broad roads and beautiful Georgian buildings, Old Town is a super cool section of the city that is ancient, twisty, and cobblestoned, with narrow alleys and underground tunnels. The perfect setting for my sort of story, frankly.
Rowan’s favorite pub in Edinburgh is called the Whisky and Warlock, and it’s located next to the current (and real) White Hart Inn, which is supposed to be the oldest pub in Edinburgh. It’s a very cool little place with a big fire, a low ceiling, and copper mugs that dangle from the beams. I was looking for something a little bigger and more ancient, however, so the interior of the Whisky and Warlock is based on an old Devon pub called the Lydford Inn. It’s bigger, with more small rooms and narrow halls. Fireplaces decorate each room, along with old wooden bars that serve all variety of Real Ale, an English staple.
One of my favorite elements of the book—The Vaults—is based on a real place. Edinburgh actually has several underground places, including the real life Vaults. They are also called the South Bridge Vaults and they are a series of chambers built in 1788 underneath the South Bridge in Edinburgh. Initially, they were used as workshops and taverns, but later they were a hotbed of criminal activity. As the vaults fell into disrepair, Edinburgh’s poorest members of society moved in. By 1860, they were in such terrible shape that they were empty. Mary Kings Close is another one of Edinburgh’s underground districts. It is an alley that was closed off overtime until it eventually became an underground street (buildings were built right on top, closing it in). It was occupied between the 16th and 19th centuries and in the 17th century was named for Mary King, the daughter of a wealthy advocate (something similar to a 17th century lawyer).
The Vaults as they appear in this book are a combination of these two places, set right under the castle in Edinburgh, which is located on a rock outcropping about three hundred meters high. Steep stairs from the Grassmarket lead up to the street in front of the castle.
Other history in the book can be found in the scene that was set in the Amazon jungle. Eloa’s small steamship, the Kilbourne, is based off of a real steamboat called the F.H. Kilbourne that served during the Klondike Rush at the end of the 19th century. The boat was nearly identical to the A.J. Goddard, a boat that was mentioned in Del Bellator’s series (Dragon’s Gift: The Seeker, published 2016). I just love my boats, and these two in particular. The coolest part of the A.J. Goddard and F.H. Kilbourne’s story is that they were carried over a snowy mountain by men, women, and mules. Albert and Clara Goddard, who built the two boats, were so determined to reach the Klondike gold fields as soon as the ice on the river melted that they broke the boats down into pieces and then took the shortcut through the mountains, hauling the pieces up and over and reassembling them on the shores of Lake Bennett, which is located at the headwaters of the Yukon River. As soon as the ice melted on the lake, they took off, shooting across the lake and down the Yukon river. Talk about determination, huh?
Other fun elements in the jungle scene come from mythology. The Caipora appeared in this book as a ghost, but depending upon where you are in Brazil, it could appear as something else all together. In most cases, however, they haunt lost travelers. The Boitatá is a mythical snake in Brazilian folklore, massive in size with eyes that could possibly blind one who looked too long. It is not always a bad creature and occasionally is viewed as a protector of the forest. In this book, however, it is definitely dangerous.
Last, while the Caipora’s Den is not a historical place, the small town did play a role in one of my paranormal romances. I thought it would fun to include it in this series as well. Though the worlds of the Mythean Arcana (my romance series) and the Dragon’s Gift do not formally intermingle, it’s fun to revisit them occasionally. For reference, that book is called Rogue Soul.
I think that’s it for the history and mythology in Gods of Magic—at least the big things. I hope you enjoyed the book and will come back for more of Rowan, Maximus, Ana and Bree!
To Neil and Yoshi, with love.
Acknowledgments
Thank you, Ben, for everything. There would be no books without you.
Thank you to Jena O’Connor and Lindsey Loucks for your excellent editing. The book is immensely better because of you! Thank you to Richard Goodrum and Eleonora for you keen eyes with spotting errors.
Thank you to Orina Kafe for the beautiful cover art. Thank you to Collette Markwardt for allowing me to borrow the Pugs of Destruction, who are real dogs named Chaos, Havoc, and Ruckus. They were all adopted from rescue agencies.
About Linsey
Before becoming a writer, Linsey Hall was a nautical archaeologist who studied shipwrecks from Hawaii and the Yukon to the UK and the Mediterranean. She credits fantasy and historical romances with her love of history and her career as an archaeologist. After a decade of tromping around the globe in search of old bits of stuff that people left lying about, she settled down and started penning her own romance novels. Her Dragon’s Gift series draws upon her love of history and the paranormal elements that she can't help but include.
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All reference to events, persons, and locale are used fictitiously, except where documented in historical record. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright 2018 by Linsey Hall
Published by Bonnie Doon Press LLC
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form, except in instances of quotation used in critical articles or book review. Where such permission is sufficient, the author grants the right to strip any DRM which may be applied to this work.
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ISBN 978-1-942085-75-1