Seacursed: The Mage Circle Trilogy: 1

by L. A. McGinnis

  At her startled glance, he smiled gently. “Kieran and me,” he murmured, “we are all but immortal. Gods in name only, since we don’t reign over anything these days.” He held out a hand, and a small flame glowed in midair. “We have no lands, no titles, no country, to call our own. But it would be an honor, Victoria, to share immortality with you.” He closed his fist and the flame disappeared. “That is, once we kick Devlin’s ass and bring the Mage Circle to their knees.”

  Silence, absolute and bone-chilling, hung between them as she tipped her head and seemed to consider—seemed to reject his proposal as Lucas held his breath for a long, brittle moment.

  And then she grinned, cunning and slightly evil. “It seems there’s more Devlin has to lose than his precious position at the Circle. How about we steal his book, kick his ass and bring the Mage Circle to their knees. Then we live happily ever after. How does that sound?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” He tucked her against him again, and she burrowed in deeper, wrapping her arms around him. Lips pressed to his throat. The slightest bite of teeth. Lucas groaned. “Aw, Vic…” She undulated against him, casting the blankets off. Her skin shimmered with a slight silvery glow, as if lit from within.

  With the storm roaring around them and the rain hammering on the half-rotten roof, Lucas let her roll him onto his back, her hands braced on his chest. “So many lovely places to explore,” she said, sliding her palms up and down his abdomen.

  He wound a strand of white hair around his finger, tugging slightly. “How do you want it, my queen?” he teased. “I told you before, I wanted time to learn what you like. And now…we have the time.”

  At his words, her nipples peaked, brushing against him as she leaned down to place a kiss on his lips. Lucas tangled his hands in her hair and held her there, nibbling her mouth open, sliding his tongue in, invading her mouth the same way he intended to invade her.

  Thoroughly and deeply.

  The heat from the fire only reached one side of them; the other was freezing cold as Lucas traced her hip, then her ribcage, then finally brushed her breast, sending her jolting. “You like that, do you?” he murmured, circling her nipple with his thumb, watching her skin pebble. “Hmmm, good to know.”

  In a flash, Lucas rolled them onto the pile of blankets, and she looked up at him.

  “I have to warm up my other side,” he explained. “It’s freezing here.”

  “You warm-blooded creatures are so needy.” Victoria laughed, relaxing beneath him. “But it is freezing.” She sighed. “The fire is nice. You come in pretty handy.”

  “Sassy, are we?” Lucas chuckled, capturing her face in his hands then nibbling at her lips again. They were so soft, so sweet, that he didn’t want to stop kissing her. And the way her body fit under him felt perfect. As if she knew where his mind had gone, Vic wrapped her legs around him, and then they were tangled together in a furious explosion of touching and kissing, like they couldn’t get enough of each other. It was heady to know he made her like this. That what he was feeling, this overwhelming need to be with her, was reciprocated in every way.

  “Lucas.” Victoria moaned, her head thrown back as he sucked on her nipple. “Please…I can’t wait any longer.”

  He drew back, taking her in, from her puffy lips to her glazed eyes, to every trembling breath she drew. “You are mine,” he told her fiercely, placing a hand over her heart. “And nothing and no one is going to take you away from me.”

  This time his kiss was wild, possessive, claiming.

  Lucas’s breathing was uneven as he positioned himself then sank into her—in and in until he was all the way to the hilt. She shuddered beneath him, and he pulled out, then plunged in again, and again, harder than before, until Victoria began to pant, digging her fingers into his shoulders as she held on.

  She was a vision, her hair spread out like a halo, her eyes never leaving his, as if connected not only by their bodies, but also by their souls. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear as she began to orgasm, her body shaking, little sobs of pleasure coming from her mouth. “And I will never leave you. No matter what.”

  He held her as she climaxed, then wound his hand into hers. “You are mine, Victoria Monroe,” he said, driving into her one last time.

  His climax hit him like a truck, his entire body tightening up, his thighs shaking as he emptied himself into Victoria, his cock jerking as he came. She shivered and pulled him tighter against her, their ragged breathing sending puffs of steam into the air.

  “Good thing you have the cuffs on,” he teased her as their breathing evened out. “I don’t know if I can trust you without them.” Then he kissed one palm, then the other, before shooting her a wicked smile.

  “Don’t know if I can trust myself,” she replied, pulling the ragged blankets over them the best she could. “But I’m sure going to try.”

  28

  They stood in front of the gate one more time, and this time, when they stepped through, they emerged into a host of waiting guards with guns pointed at their hearts. Victoria merely shrugged and flourished the leash around Lucas’s neck. “I’m back. And I have him. Send word to Devlin. I’m bringing him in.”

  A flick of her cuffed wrist had Lucas trotting obediently along. She whispered, “Don’t get used to this whips and chains thing,” and he half smiled. The barrage of soldiers kept their guns out, and kept a tight formation around them.

  They’d timed their arrival close, to within minutes of Victoria’s now-expired deadline. If Devlin was greedy enough, that would be the last thing on his mind. And since what he really wanted was Lucas served up on a silver platter, they’d decided the deadline wouldn’t be an issue. Once Devlin knew he had Lucas in his grasp, Victoria would be the icing on the cake, and they’d be right where they wanted to be: inside the walls of Obsidian Hall. They only had to make it look like Devlin was getting everything he’d ever wanted.

  The alley seemed especially tight, what with the horde of armed soldiers, and the doorway was even tighter as they jostled about, trying to all get through at once. But Lucas knew what to expect this time, as the wards stripped the essence of his magic away. His magic, but not his power.

  He couldn’t tell what effect it had on Vic, but from his last look at her bored, faintly contemptuous expression, she was holding up. His vision faded away, the bright light dimming as he was blinded by the protective wards. Victoria’s hand propelling him forward was a calming, soothing weight. A creak as a door opened, and then the smell of limestone, undercut by the acrid odor of smoke.

  He wasn’t worried, because Victoria had outlined the procedure—the most likely scenario—once they got inside.

  We’ll go through the entry, down through three levels of dungeons, and if we’re lucky, very, very lucky, end up in Devlin’s office, in the catacombs. But remember, magic doesn’t work down there. Your powers won’t work, not like you’re used to. So don’t take any stupid chances.

  She’d kissed him then. Sweetly. He could still taste her lips.

  Down and down they went, Victoria humming, the leash around his neck slack, her hand gripping his shoulder tightly, the scuffling of the guards shoving about, trying to maintain positions. From the sound of it, they were in complete disarray. If these were his men, he’d dismiss them. Sloppy. So very sloppy.

  At the final level, where the silence was louder than the screaming had been on the last two levels, their escort slowed, then stopped. Lucas heard the groan of iron as a heavy door was pushed open, then he shuffled a few more steps, Vic never letting go. There was a snap of fingers, the harsh click resounding off what sounded like a small, tight space, and then he could see again.

  They were inside one of the cells. Lined with iron, thick bars instead of a wall, the floor slick and shiny with gods knew what, they were facing Devlin’s back, and Luc’s hands curled into fists. Another squeeze from Victoria had him loosening his grip, drawing a deep, bracing breath.

  Devlin turned, his robes hiked up
off the floor in one hand, a look of utter disgust on his face. “Finally. You must have been hard to catch. Sent a full squad after you, plus a couple Trackers. Still waiting on a report.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I have a feeling I won’t be hearing from any of them again, am I right?”

  Victoria didn’t so much as blink, pushing Lucas down to his knees. “Here he is, as requested. I’m tired and cranky. So let’s get on with it. Who do I hand him over to? You?”

  Devlin reached out for the leash, and Lucas sent out feelers along the stagnant, damp walls. The dungeon was mostly empty. The guards, six total, plus Devlin. And he and Victoria. Head bowed servilely, he watched Victoria pull her hand out of Devlin’s reach, a smile growing on her face.

  “I’ve been thinking, Devlin, I’d like to renegotiate my terms. Starting now.” Tipping her head so the torchlight caught the bruising, she shifted her gaze to the guards, their eyes now tracking the exchange closely. “Since it seems you want more on your end, there’s no reason to think I can’t demand a bit more on mine, right?”

  Rage trembled through Lucas with every word, with every innuendo, with every image hurtling through his head. Hate and anger tangled together in ways he hadn’t imagined they would. But he stayed still. This had to play out. Victoria had to play Devlin.

  Taking a step back as Devlin’s eyes narrowed to slits, Victoria taunted him sweetly, “Do you really want an audience for this little discussion?”

  Lips tight, Devlin nodded, and the men hustled off, eager to get as far away from this as possible.

  “Good. Here is what I want. Five full days of downtime between jobs. A better apartment. Triple the pay, and I’m not going to fucking America again. It stinks and it’s hot.”

  Lucas dipped his head a little lower, his lips twitching.

  The outer door, the one with the thick iron bars, slammed shut, as if driven by an invisible wind. “Slaves don’t dictate terms,” Devlin said. “Not to the Mages. Certainly not to me. Now stand down, you little bitch.”

  Lucas watched as Victoria tipped her chin up, eyes swirling with hate, and slipped her cuffs off one at a time. Then she snapped the leash from Luc’s throat. “You know, Devlin, when they brought me here, I was a scared child, and that’s what Worton bought that day—a child. You people trained me. You tried to break me. There were times, I think, you did.”

  A wall of darkness hit them and sent her reeling backward as Lucas rose to his full height. She staggered back a step before Luc sent up a wall of fire between them. From the other side, Devlin leered.

  “Iron on the doors, and stone walls ten feet thick,” Devlin said. “You don’t stand a chance against me. Neither of you are leaving alive.” But Lucas noted he glanced at the broken iron cuffs where they lay on the floor. “I should have known. You were gone too long. Too long…” Eyes narrowing, Devlin quickly calculated backward. “Impossible. You should already be dead.”

  “Yes, about that. It appears I’m”—Victoria shot a blinding smile at Luc—“immortal. How about that, huh? I left here a slave and came back an immortal. Pretty good trade-up, wouldn’t you say?”

  Her skin glistened in the torchlight, sending shimmers of blue and green dancing down her arms, her neck. Her eyes became larger, all seeing as she turned her rapacious gaze to the man in front of her. Power practically poured off her, the last of the iron’s hold fading away, her own magic rising.

  Another dark rush of Devlin’s power forced them back another step, and Luc’s flame burned hotter. Lucas raised a hand, and it filled the space between them, Devlin’s face shining with sweat.

  “So, here’s the thing, Devlin.” Victoria’s eyes reflected the flickering light of Lucas’s fire. “You might be immortal. But you’re still made of water.” Now her smile turned serpentine as she showed long, pointed teeth. “I—as it so happens—am a water goddess. And for once, you bastard, you are going to do my bidding.”

  It only took a flick of her fingers and his face went slack.

  At her command, Devlin lowered his shield of darkness and unlocked the iron door. He marched down the hallway ahead of them and descended the spiraling stairs to the catacombs, his robes dragging on the dirty, disgusting floor the entire way.

  When they reached Devlin’s office, Lucas put out a hand to stop Victoria before she shoved straight through. “It’s sure to be warded. You can control his body, but not his mind, Vic.” Lucas trailed his fire along the edges of the door, the locks, the hinges, seeking out the hidden spells locking the room tight. “We walk through there and his spells will paralyze us. He’s got to lower it himself.” He swore the asshole tried to smile, despite Victoria’s tight grip on him.

  She frowned. “Ideas?”

  Lucas inspected the door, then sized up to Devlin. “Well, I’ve heard the brain is ninety-eight percent water.”

  Wicked glee—that was how he would describe the look on her face. Gleeful and just a little evil. “So true. Well, Devlin, are you willing to bet your life on the fact that two percent of your brain can prevent me from controlling you? Or are you going to open that door for us?”

  When the door didn’t so much as budge, Lucas glanced to Vic. And while she didn’t move a muscle, Devlin did. His eyes bulged; his breathing grew erratic. A few seconds and the door swung wide, the interior dark and forbidding. The tightening in Lucas’s gut told him there were about a million other traps inside, every bit as dangerous as the viper they had right in front of them.

  Devlin’s wet gasping made him turn, and he found the man on his knees, Victoria peering into the black doorway before ordering him, “Remove everything. Every last ward, every last spell.” The wheezes grew slower, more desperate. She crouched down, hands hanging loosely before her. “If you die,” she purred softly, “your wards die with you. I’m not above killing you right now”—she risked the barest glance to Lucas, and he saw a hint of doubt in her eyes—“but I’m afraid you’ll be needed later. My friends have questions. And my father has a bone to pick with you.”

  Devlin’s face was turning blue.

  “However, the choice is yours. You trained me for this. And I’ll remind you”—the sharp points of her teeth appeared from between her lips—“I have never failed this Circle before. Not once. And this time, I have everything to gain by succeeding. So ask yourself, in these final seconds of consciousness, do you seriously think I’ll allow you to stand between me and what I want?”

  When a shiver passed through the damp air, the indication that the wards were lifting, Lucas smiled.

  She’d done it.

  She’d gotten the bastard to give it up.

  Lucas had half a mind to see if Victoria could actually kill him, despite what her father said. But they didn’t have much time before the guards came snooping back down here.

  When Victoria went to cross the threshold, Lucas stopped her. “Let me go first,” he told her, pulling her close enough they wouldn’t be overheard, just in case Devlin decided to screw them over after all. “Anything happens to me, get out of here. Leave me and go to Kieran in New York. He’ll be waiting.” Lucas didn’t have time for anything else—they didn’t have time—as he stepped toward that beckoning darkness, felt the creeping presence of Devlin’s magic there, slumbering, dampened.

  As he stepped inside, the cold wash of stagnant, wet air brushed across him, laden with the smell of rot, airless damp, crumbling books. Two of which they would be carrying out of here.

  “All right,” he softly reassured Victoria. “It’s okay. Come in.”

  A lift of his hand set the torches burning, their flames barely a flicker against the crushing humidity in the room. And still…

  “Can you feel that?” Victoria asked him, nervously scanning the desk, the shelves of books rising above them. “Something’s in here.”

  Not Devlin, who was slumped in a heap outside. But something else. Something aware. Something sentient. Up and up through the bookstacks Lucas searched, until he saw it. At the top, near to
the carved-out ceiling, it sat. With its black, diamond-scaled cover, bound by thick iron locks, it could only be one thing: a book he hadn’t thought still existed. A book Luc had to have, no matter what.

  “What is that?” Victoria whispered, following his gaze. “I can feel it, as if it’s alive.”

  “That, my love, is the Book of Worlds,” he whispered, not taking his eyes from it. “Devlin’s book, the source of all his magic, the source of…many things.” He couldn’t bring himself to say what things. Not here—not with Devlin still so close. The thing thrummed, as if it were speaking. Or perhaps calling, trying to rouse its master.

  “I was in here…before. I looked right at it and didn’t feel what I’m feeling right now. It feels alive, but it’s just a book, right?”

  “I’m not surprised you didn’t feel anything,” Luc said, circling the desk to get a better look. “Your magic was dampened by the iron, which prevented you from sensing the thing’s power.”

  She pulled him backward. “My father warned me the book is dangerous. Maybe…maybe we should just leave, while we still can.” Her gaze swung between the book and Devlin, still crumpled on the floor.

  Lucas pushed against the incessant hum, which set the air vibrating against his eardrums. It was unpleasant, to say the least, but he wasn’t leaving without that damn book. Not after what Kieran went through. Luc’s gaze settled on Victoria. And certainly not after what you went through.

  No, he would take away Devlin’s most precious possession, and the bastard would damn well know who did it. “I know it’s dangerous; Kieran told me the same thing. But we can’t leave, not without it—not when we’re so close, Vic.”

  She was hanging on to him now, her hands like claws, her feet digging in as he half dragged her toward the sagging shelves. “Let’s take the binder with the Tracker records, instead. We can use those to free the others, and there might be something valuable in there for you, as well. Or take the prisoner records, Luc. That one has Kieran’s blood in it, his DNA. And yours, remember? I don’t like this. That thing’s making me feel weird, as if my magic is unbalanced, and we still have to make it out of the building and to the portal.”