Table of Contents
Title Page
Eternal Magic
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
As You Wish
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Twisted Tides
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Shade Of Danger
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
The Banshee’s Song
Pronunciation Guide
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
The Black Rose
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Lost Imprint
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Agents Of Night
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
Royal Blood
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Turning The Tides
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
From The Shadows
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Spies Like Us
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Assassin’s Match
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
A Note From The Proprietor
Acknowledgments
About the Authors
Copyright © 2019
The Monster Ball Anthology, a collection of stories
Amber Shepherd, Heather Hildenbrand, Nikki Jefford, Wendy Higgins, Karpov Kinrade, Alyssa Rose Ivy, Jennifer Snyder, Stacey Rourke, Meg Anne, G. Bailey, Everly Frost, Randi Cooley Wilson, Heather Lyons, Sophie Davis
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Eternal Magic
By
Randi Cooley Wilson
Chapter One
ETERNAL MAGIC
KATYA
I have never been a fan of those who prey on the weak. Maybe it’s because I see weakness all around me—in every soul I read. Mortals in particular love to prey on one another. Their fragile human souls are flawed. They are always waiting for someone to come to their rescue.
Those of us who are supernatural—well, we have gifts that protect us from weakness.
Magic is my shield.
Ironically, we mages take our magic for granted. Our powers can, and will, eventually run out if we aren’t careful. Eternal magic isn’t guaranteed—something I’ve learned the hard way. It must be protected. Because without our gifts, we are left defenseless against others—weak.
“Katya.” One of the bouncers, Lex, greets as I hand him the invitation I’d received.
“Katya Kim,” his mirror image, Bronx, says next to him. “Is that Chinese? Or Japanese?”
“Korean,” I reply with a bored sigh.
“Korean,” Bronx repeats, intrigued. “North or South?”
“Does it matter?” I snap my narrowed eyes to his.
One thing you’ll learn about me: I don’t pussyfoot around.
I mean what I say, and I say what I mean.
Those around me can take it or leave it. I don’t give a shit.
Nor do I apologize for being who I am. Life is too short to give a fuck what others think.
“Bronx,” Lex warns and tilts his head toward the door. “You’re all set, Katya Kim.”
I press my dark-crimson-stained lips together as I step between them and walk through the doorway, which leads me into a dark hall. Once I’m in, the door behind me slams shut, leaving the twin gargoyles behind in the city alley. Above me, a dim fluorescent light hums and flickers on and off. After a few seconds, and with a loud pop, it goes out, plunging me into complete darkness.
Unimpressed with all of the theatrics, I place one high-heeled boot in front of the other and move toward the thumping bass beat. Using the decrepit hallway as my catwalk, I strut with the rhythm, exuding confidence. With dominant strides, I make my way toward the rainbow of lights guiding me toward the rave inside the warehouse, which promises an exclusive evening of fun.
Once at the entrance, I strike a pose, taking in the large rectangular room lit by fiber-optic lights and designed to appear like a thundercloud. The color
s change and pulse to the beat of the music. It all has a very electric-rave vibe. It’s early, yet the warehouse is packed with bodies.
Lifting my chin, I place on my I-don’t-give-a-fuck expression. For some insane reason, not caring tends to make others gravitate to me even more. My thigh-high, six inch heeled boots give my five-foot-two body height, which helps to intimidate and keep others’ toxic energy and auras at bay.
There aren’t many who know the hell I live with, how their dark energy sings to my blood. I exhale slowly, trying not to let my chaotic thoughts take over and pull me back into my past.
Crossing my arms, I look around, taking in the one and only Monster Ball.
A room full of supernatural beings partying as themselves for one night.
Each one more powerful, more beautiful, more intimidating than the last.
And each hiding secrets under the carefully crafted masks they wear, including me.
Their powers buzz around me, causing my pulse to jump. A place like this is like a feeding ground for my magic. My fingers twitch with the need to read their auras, to manipulate their dark futures and change twisted fates with my magical deck of cards. That is the beauty of my card magic; it’s an external source of casting that produces magic only when I call upon it.
Tucked safely in my boots, my tarot deck hums against my bare leg as it picks up vibrations of supernatural auras. I ignore the deck’s call and instead take in the transformed warehouse.
Smoke floats over the large dance floor, changing colors like a chameleon, mirroring the lights. On either side of the entry, there are sizeable white fur beanbag chairs and white leather couches shaped like beds, strategically placed for comfort and conversation.
My gaze lands on the two cement bars across from me at the front of the dance floor, marked as Left Bar and Right Bar. Each glows with colorful crystals pulsing along with the beat of the music. Industrial metal coil stools line the front of each bar, already filled with guests.
Tilting my head, I focus on a good-looking Viking sitting on one of the stools. I watch as he orders a beer. The pretty blonde next to him has no idea he is about to accidentally spill his drink down her back to pull her attention away from the guy she’s talking to. I laugh to myself; men are so predictable—even sexy-as-fuck Vikings. God, I need to get laid. Exhaling, I look away.
Beside each bar, there are rainbow staircases that appear to lead to an overhanging loft area—and that’s where I am heading. Trying to appear unaffected by the room’s energy, I push my shoulders back. With controlled strides, I walk onto the dance floor toward the two bars to get to the stairs. Rainbow or not, they’re my ticket to the loft and where I’m meant to be.
After only two steps, a pair of lacey green panties falls in front of my Louboutins, stopping me. Scowling, I look up and see Blaze Addington on the balcony. Impressive he’s here tonight, as he’s a wanted wizard. His thin red tie shifts as he winks down at me, seemingly amused that the fabric landed in front of me. I throw him an annoyed glare, followed by a dramatic eye roll, and make a big show of stepping over whoever’s panties he just tossed away.
Who knows where they’ve been, given Blaze’s history.
I make my way past the bars and up the staircase to the loft area. Once upstairs, I examine the large open space. Glowing privacy cubes have been placed in each of the four corners; each one lights up in a different color. Interesting. Along the length of the loft’s walls, there’s more glowing in the form of hanging chairs, which lead to the back of the room and a sitting area. From there, another staircase leads up behind the platform where the band, Dastardly Deeds, is playing thumping dance songs. Our hostess certainly loves a theme, and her ball décor is noteworthy.
I look over the railing, down at all of the creatures dancing and enjoying their night, before a beautiful woman wearing a black feathered gown pulls my attention. My divination gift tells me she is our ball’s mysterious hostess. Slowly, I slide my hand inside my boot.
Holding her gaze, I pull out my deck of cards then lift and spread them so she can see.
With a slight smirk, her eyes slide over to a pink cube in the corner, which is empty.
Guess that is where I can find privacy tonight to read people’s futures.
With an appreciative dip of my chin, I walk over to the cube and slip inside of it.
Once I’m inside, the door automatically closes behind me, leaving me bathed in a pink hue.
I walk over to the one place to sit, a couch, and place my cards on the coffee table in front of me before sitting down and crossing my legs. In the silence, the darkness returns.
It always does.
Alone, I wait for the reason I was invited to this year’s Monster Ball to make an appearance.
Chapter Two
The Dark Wizard
Dragneel
I collect my Pappy Van Winkle—neat—from Ransom, the bartender, who happens to be a fucking fruit bat. I shit you not. He tried to serve me a Bat Company, which I understand is some sort of cranberry and pineapple juice cocktail. Not my cup of tea. I tip him generously before turning to face the rooftop, watching all of the creatures celebrating on it this evening, cloaked from mortal eyes under an invisibility shield. It’s a beautiful evening in the city for a party like this.
The Monster Ball is legendary, and now being here, I can certainly see why.
Between the secrecy, guests, music, and décor, I can’t imagine it not being infamous.
I lean back on the circular white bar, and as I do, it changes colors behind me with the music.
Strangely, I notice these things now. When faced with your own demise, you tend to see things you never really noticed before. Like décor and fruit bat and unicorn bartenders.
Sipping on my bourbon, I look around for my target, disregarding the purple-haired witch on my left watching me with a knowing smirk. Unlike many of the ball’s supernatural guests—engaged in private discussions in the sunken conversation pits—I’m not here to relax and party.
I’m here on business.
And strictly business.
Sex complicates professional outcomes.
It’s just a hunch, but I’m guessing from the way she’s studying me, the purple-haired witch eyeing me is also here on business, not pleasure. It’s a fucking shame. She’s hot as hell.
“Dragneel Estaban?” A seductive voice coos from my other side.
I’m not surprised that whoever she is, she knows who I am.
There are very few who don’t, especially women.
I am a dark wizard. Regardless of how charming I appear, I will always be a dark wizard.
Broken.
Damaged.
Ruthless.
I’m part of the supernatural elite and corrupt. An eligible and powerful dark wizard with more money than I know what to do with, thanks to my lucrative career selling eternal magic on the supernatural black market. That makes me desirable amongst the opposite sex. Well, that and the rumor floating around that I wield both fire and ice magic—a pleasure-and-pain rarity.
And it never gets fucking old. Not ever.
Power.
Dominance.
Their desire.
Paying no attention to her, I take another sip of bourbon and keep my focus forward. The expensive liquor burns the back of my throat as it slides down smoothly, soothing my edginess.
“Pink cube.” The temptress whispers the two words in my ear and sashays away.
Curious, my gaze slides to her disappearing form. For a moment, I watch the black feathers on her dress sway in the warm evening breeze before I look around the rooftop for the staircase.
Pink Cube. If memory serves me, I saw the glowing cubes in the loft area when I first arrived.
Lost in thought, I scan the crowd on the roof.
Why the hell would she direct me to the cube?
Unless . . . she is our mysterious hostess.
That would mean the reason for my presence this evening is waiting for
me in the cube.
I don’t hesitate. With a casual gait, I walk toward the stairs to the loft area.
As I pass, the crowd parts a bit, giving me space. This happens a lot. Most supernaturals feel the dark power seeping off me. They provide me with space either out of desire or fear. When you carry two forms of dark magic, beings tend to be intimidated. Then again, being a well-known manwhore could be the reason for the wide berth. Either way, they step aside politely.
With a little bounce in my step, I head down to the loft. Once there, I pause, taking it in.
A birdlike creature slips into a different colored cube with an eager woman. The darkness radiates off of him. A darkness I can appreciate and relate to—sexual darkness.
The corners of my lips tilt at the knowledge he’s about to get laid. He disappears, and I continue searching for the pink cube. The moment I see it in the corner, I toss back the rest of my drink and place my empty glass on a nearby ledge. With a few strides, I’m standing in front of it.
“There’s a wait,” someone says, grabbing my arm to stop me from entering the cube.
I look from my arm to the soulful eyes of a lion shifter. His long brown dreads and golden skin appear even darker in the lights changing color in sync to the rhythm of the bass.
When he sees whom he’s grabbed, he releases his grip, stepping back.
“Dragneel?” He sounds surprised. “Sorry, man. Didn’t realize it was you.”
The lion looks me over with a peaceful, knowing expression.
“Barassa,” I reply, watching him take me in. “You bartending tonight?”
He winks. “Just delivered my specialty cocktail to some beautiful women.”
I smile, the heaviness in my chest lightening a bit at my friend’s appearance.
Eyeing me for a moment, he laughs.
I like that Barassa isn’t terrified of me. It’s a nice change of pace.
“Something funny?” I ask.
“It’s just, I would never have pegged you as someone who gets his future read.”
“Future?” I repeat.
He throws his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to a small line. “Kat is doing readings.”
“Readings?”
Barassa shakes his head, seeming to find me amusing. “Tarot readings.”
Tarot readings. I try not to crack a smile. “I forget just how spiritual you lion shifters are.”
A deep chuckle falls out of him. “Spiritual or not, she’s the best card mage.”
The Monster Ball Year 2 Page 1