Hidden Magic Trilogy Box Set

by Jayne Hawke

  Resigned to do things Sin’s way, I took a deep breath and started hacking at the guy’s back with all the speed I could muster, clouds of black death magic flying in every direction even as he struck at Sin with increasing urgency. There was a limit to how much of this he could keep up with, there had to be, and I was going to find out how many slashes it took. He was apparently ignoring me, and while that was infuriating it was also an opportunity to do as much damage as I could. I got into a rhythm of fast, efficient strikes that I knew I could keep up for as long as I needed to without punching – or rather slashing – myself out. Again and again I tore at him, putting everything I had into the rhythm of strike and recovery, a black-clad moving meditation in combat proficiency.

  Suddenly, everything changed. One of my strikes missed, the oatmeal squish of death magic replaced with the clean swing of air. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement, but before I could recover I felt a long gash open along the back of my neck and the oak shaft of his weapon collided with my temple. I instinctively threw my head forward and felt the weapon slide through my hair, over my head, and disappear. I knew immediately what had happened, saw the entire thing in third person. He’d waited for me to lose focus, and the second I did he’d struck. Sin was never his first target.

  He was giggling at me, I realized, a handful of my hair that his scythe had gotten in place of my head held up to his nose. I looked to Sin and found him looking impressed. I hadn’t expected concern, exactly, but he could at least not have been toasting the asshole. I didn’t rise to the bait, pushing the fear I’d felt in the second I was trapped within his ridiculous grim reaper scythe aside along with the anger at myself and at him. I saw what we’d been missing. The nexus of the fight must be tangible. All of my training and thinking relied on controlling, hurting, disabling, and ultimately killing my opponent, but an opponent that could phase into the lands of the dead was not an effective nexus.

  My face a picture of outrage, I struck out at the weapon with both of my blades. He easily caught the strike, smiling at me. Behind him, Sin’s face went from surprised to thoughtful to confident in a breath. I continued the attack, a picture-perfect rage fighter coming up against the necromancer’s guard again and again. Sin’s strikes swept through his body with the same sleepy effortlessness as always, each strike passing through his body and ending with a thunk in the scythe. Between us, we maintained constant pressure on his weapon, slashing through his magic again and again but never focusing on it. Each time he went to strike, he had only milliseconds before one or the other of us landed a blow on the weapon, and even as we did so his magic was slipping away in gouts and globules where our strikes had to pass through his body to get to the scythe.

  When the killing blow came, it was a surprise to both of us. Torso bisection and beheading had become commonplace in that fight. The staff of his scythe was in worse shape than he was, by far, his model-worthy face agonized but unblemished whereas it was notched and gnarled, whatever enchantment kept it together not enough to altogether save it from the work of two dedicated killers. When crimson blood sprayed out of an arterial strike, it was like striking oil after a lifetime of digging. We could finally kill him.

  Outraged at the sight of his own blood, he made one final attempt to finish us, a whirlwind of death-black blades sweeping out towards us, but his magic was gone. The weapons dematerialized before they even reached us, black smoke washing over us just as we shared the killing blow. The fighting behind us stopped as well, Dean’s forecast borne out. We all kind of looked at each other for a moment, almost unsure what to do with ourselves after the sudden ending. Kerry came over and sat by his corpse, closing her big, pretty cat eyes and humming as her magic came out in seven tendrils, each seeking through the necromancer’s effects until it found what it was looking for and then swirling out of sight. The liches flashed into sight, ghostly shifters and witches with huge chunks missing from them where the others had eaten away at their essence, and then drained into nothingness with looks ranging from relief to outrage to disappointment.

  It was a moment of quiet reflection for me, a realization that life after death wasn’t just a thing, it was a thing that my pack was intimately tied to, one that I could only ever be on the periphery of. They were boatmen; I was just a passenger.

  It passed when the four of them returned to human form and Cade started teasing Kerry about how silly she looked trying to fight as a cat. By the time we got back to the safe house, we were all bantering about the fight and filling each other in on parts we’d missed – one of the benefits of half the fight being invisible was more to talk about on the way home.

  “Right, sure, but we were outnumbered the entire time!” Ethan was saying, laughter in his voice. “You fought him two on one and still took forever.”

  “You were fighting lackeys, that’s absolutely not the same. We had to face down the actual necromancer,” I replied.

  “Ok, but picture this. I’m fighting with this huge pair of wolf shifters–“ Cade started.

  “–rolling around in the dirt like a dog fight in a cartoon no less,” Kerry interrupted.

  “Right, and then something grabs me from behind and just starts shaking me by the spine like it thinks candy’s going to come out. I can’t even stop to fuck with him, I have to keep my focus on these wolves who suddenly see this as an opening. Next thing I know, I hear hissing in my ear and Kerry drops down in the dead centre of it and just paralyzes all three of them like she’s going to give them some peaceful conveyance to the other side.”

  “Well I couldn’t exactly swat them on the nose, could I?” Kerry said.

  “I saw them all go still,” Dean said. “I really wanted to go over and take advantage, but that fire witch was incredible. I know the liches have weird levels of power, but that one had to have been a serious heavy hitter when it was alive.”

  “All three of those witches were pretty impressive. If their teamwork had been better, we’d have been done for. The blade adept was a whirlwind. Even with my death magic binding her up she was quicker than she had any right to be,” Ethan said.

  “What’s a blade adept?” I interjected.

  “Basically just a witch that does sword things,” Matt replied, walking into the room. “It’s not as much a thing as it sounds, not the way necromancers or blood witches are.”

  “At least I got a big bite out of the gator shifter. I hate those guys,” Dean said.

  “Yeah, I feel like all reptile shifters are a little off, and lich-ifying doesn’t appear to do them many favours,” Cade said. “Wait, is that what was grabbing me?”

  Laughing, Matt replied, “Do you really think you’d be telling this story if an alligator shifter lich grabbed you by the spine?”

  “Hey, I’m hella sturdy. I could survive that no problem as long as someone came in and paralyzed it halfway through.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind you need a sick day when paperwork’s due to be filed,” Ethan cut in.

  “Whoa, paperwork sickness is so much more dangerous than gator shifters. No comparison.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Everyone was on top of the world. We’d killed the necromancer. Cade was convinced that a gator lich had latched onto his spine and he’d been badass enough to survive it. No one was going to convince him otherwise.

  Sin played with the enfields in the darkness outside, remaining a little outside of the group.

  “Everything ok?” I asked as I stepped out into the cold.

  “The pack is very nice, and it is good to sleep in a real bed again.”

  He threw a chicken carcass for the enfield, which flapped its great wings and caught it in mid-air.

  “That wasn’t really what I asked.”

  “I’m concerned about your father’s potential role in this. Perhaps we were wrong and his presence at the site was coincidental.”

  “But...?”

  “But if he was tightly involved then we will need to deal with him sooner rather than l
ater.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  “I’m going for a walk,” I called back into the kitchen.

  I wasn’t sure if the others heard. They were busily arguing over what the most badass lich would be and who would kick its ass first.

  Sin cocked his head slightly and watched me as I headed towards the river.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said.

  “The enfields would enjoy a walk.”

  The huge fox creatures ran over to my side with big goofy grins on their faces. I tentatively reached out and petted one on the head.

  “Do they have names?”

  “Matt named them Robin Hood and Maid Marion,” Sin said with a deep frown.

  I tried not to laugh. Matt had seen that cartoon enough times he could recite the entire script in his sleep.

  “The one with the white tail is Robin.”

  “Come on, then,” I said to the enfields.

  Sin slipped into the kitchen, and I set off towards the river, suddenly needing to clear my head. My father was an increasing weight sitting upon my shoulders, an ominous darkness. I needed to be more proactive and start hunting him down. It pained me to have the ball in his court like this.

  The river was an inky black ribbon in the darkness. Thin cloud cover hid the stars, plunging the area into true darkness. No one dared put streetlights down that particular stretch. The local fae population didn’t want any artificial light. It reduced their ability to hunt.

  Robin’s ears pinned back to his head, and a deep growl rumbled in his throat. Marion flapped her wings and primed her long curved talons. I looked in the direction they were staring and saw a large shape casually approaching us.

  “It’s time to talk, daughter.”

  My father wandered up to me with a smile upon his face and his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. It was so natural, so normal. I hated it.

  “Yes, it is,” I said bitterly.

  “I know that you have questions, but the space was necessary. You have become far stronger for my absence. Now is the time to step up and embrace your heritage. Together, we will rule. You don’t understand how special you are. Your mother was exceptional, and with both of our magic running through your veins you’re almost unstoppable.”

  He oozed pride, and it turned my stomach to hear.

  “What the fuck are you talking about, ‘together we will rule’?”

  He smiled as though looking at a baby duckling trying to fly for the first time.

  “We’re going to reclaim what is rightfully ours. Together, you and I will right all of the wrongs of the world.”

  “You sound like a crazed man.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, truly I am. I know that you’re hurting. Maybe I should have said something before I left.”

  “I thought the hounds had taken you!”

  “It was better this way. I needed to remove the shards of your mother’s magic that remained buried within me. She was not as I had first thought. She bound me. Did you know that?”

  “You killed her,” I growled.

  “It was necessary. She was holding both of us back.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly. He just admitted to killing my mother, the woman who was supposed to be the love of his life.

  “Let me get you a hot cocoa. We’ll catch up.”

  “No. I am not your daughter. I’m not going to act as if nothing has happened. What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m finally as I should be, how I should have been all along. Let me help you, Kit,” he said softly.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  The enfields were snarling at him, waiting for my command to rip his eyes out. I didn’t want to risk him injuring them. He was still a god, after all.

  “Don’t you understand? She buried your magic and poisoned you. I can help you fulfil your full potential.”

  “I have no interest in anything you might have to offer me. Next time I see you, I will kill you.”

  He sighed.

  “I am sorry to hear that. It will be very difficult to make another daughter with as much potential as you. Your mother truly was incredible.”

  He shook his head sadly and walked away into the deep darkness.

  Rage roiled within me. I walked back to the safe house with the deep urge to hit something. It hurt me to have held back and done nothing but spit words at him, but I needed to play this right. There had to be a way to strip him of his magic or something. I just needed to figure out what it was. I needed to kill my father.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “What happened?” Ethan asked as he greeted me in front of the safe house.

  “My father showed up with talk of taking over the world together,” I snarled.

  The enfields sat neatly on either side of me waiting for something interesting to happen.

  “Taking over the world? He’s keeping it classic, then,” Cade said.

  Ethan wrapped his arm around my waist and walked me into the house. The enfields raced off towards Matt’s room as soon as we were inside.

  “Tell me everything,” Ethan said.

  “It was like something out of a movie. He rocked up, casually said he killed my mother, and had all of this shit about how I’m special. We’ll rule the world together, and we’ll reclaim what’s rightfully ours. I mean, seriously? Everyone knows that never works out and they end up rotting somewhere, or dead. I can’t believe this is my father. He really pulled the wool over my eyes.”

  “Did he give any details?” Ethan asked.

  Cade handed me a hot chocolate that appeared to have an even ratio of mini marshmallows to actual hot chocolate. I appreciated it.

  “I don’t remember anything really useful. He said he’d have to have another daughter, but it’d be hard to find a suitable mother to produce someone like me. Who talks like that? It’s like he’s breeding guard dogs!”

  “Any mention of the necromancer’s role?” Ethan asked.

  “No, it was all world domination and how my mother was evil. He disappeared to remove the rest of her bindings.”

  I took a sip of the hot marshmallow and chocolate. It was still hot enough to burn my tongue, but the hit of sugar was worth it.

  “He’s a war god right? So he’ll likely be planning a big war. Has there been any word about upcoming conflicts?” Ethan asked.

  “None, boss. Everything’s all good. The only issue was the necromancer, everyone else has been behaving,” Cade said.

  Ethan frowned. I asked the question everyone was thinking.

  “How do we kill him? I know you’re not supposed to be able to kill a god, but we have to try. Right? I don’t want to hand him over to the hounds, having the gods or the hounds themselves siphon off his magic doesn’t feel right. I know he’s an evil bastard, but he’s still my father.”

  “Gods can’t be killed. He’ll have to be contained somewhere, that’s the only option,” Ethan said.

  I curled my lip before I looked down at my hot chocolate and wished it had a healthy dose of alcohol in it.

  “How do we contain him?”

  “We’ll look into that,” Ethan said.

  The idea of his getting out some day didn’t sit well with me. Everyone knows how those sequels go. The bad guy has time to sit and plot their ultimate revenge, they escape, and then the whole world begins to burn. I wasn’t going to have that on my conscience.

  My thoughts and emotions were beginning to settle again. It didn’t matter that he was my father. He was just another bad guy that had to be put down. Sure, a fallen was a bigger challenge than usual, but we’d do it.

  I spent the next morning digging through Ethan’s library for information on the fallen. There wasn’t much there, as it had taken a good while for people to even admit that they existed. Even now, there are mixed views about them. To have the gods be able to fall upset a lot of people, but it also excited a whole lot more. If the gods can fall, then surely new gods can rise.

 
There were a number of theories batted around about how and why the gods fell. The fallen were never remembered by the broader population. That led to a lot of people thinking they were wiped from the memory of the earth and possibly fae plane when they fell. It would take a lot of magic to pull that off, so one theory was that the gods gathered together and actively shoved some gods out of their plane onto the earth plane.

  The old myths were full of stories of infighting between the gods. It certainly seemed reasonable to me for some of them to gang up on others and remove the thorns from their side. I could see my father being a thorn in a lot of people’s sides. He was clearly a very ambitious war god. That quickly led to strife and trouble.

  No one knew how many fallen were walking the world. Not everyone knew that the hounds existed or what they did either. They were a dirty little secret owned and created by the gods. I knew that the hounds hunted down dark witches and fallen gods, and they then drained their magic and somehow gave it to the gods that had formed them. Each hound was a god touched, someone chosen and attached to a god. That god then gave them a tiny sliver of their magic.

  Closing my eyes, I tried to be logical about it all. Gods were beings of unimaginable levels of magic. So, in theory, if all of their magic could be removed, they would be rendered mortal and thus killable. The problem, then, came from their path into the underworld. I had a niggling feeling that my father had some death ties within him. The magic I’d gotten from him was purely war focused, but I swore there was a note somewhere about his having something to do with death, too.

  My head was beginning to hurt as I tried to figure it all out. The idea of locking him up somewhere just didn’t feel good enough. There was always going to be the potential of his escape. I was not going to be responsible for the world burning.

  THIRTY-THREE