The Black Veins (Dead Magic Book 1)

by Ashia Monet

  Her phone slips past her arm. Blythe looks behind her. There is no one. But her phone has vanished—along with the pressure in her chest.

  “Uh…” Blythe’s voice trails off. “Guys, where’s my phone?”

  The Guardians look around. “Wasn’t it right there?” Daniel asks, pointing.

  “Yeah?” Blythe agrees. “And now it’s not?”

  A missing phone wouldn’t be too terrible (she’s got bigger things to worry about) but she doesn’t even know how it disappeared.

  Storm sits up bolt right. “Wasn’t Cordelia’s wallet right there?”

  “What?” Cordelia blurts. Storm points to a blank spot on the table. Cordelia pales. Blythe takes that as a yes.

  Their waiter doesn’t stop scribbling on his notepad. “Yep,” he says. “That’s Caspian.”

  The Guardians gape at him. “I didn’t know he could steal phones,” Blythe says. “Now I’m scared.”

  “How…how did he do that?” Antonio asks.

  The waiter clicks his ballpoint pen. “He’s a ghost.”

  Daniel screams. “Boy, you got some lungs,” Storm mutters.

  “A G-G-GHOST?!” Daniel stammers.

  “Jinkies,” Antonio mutters.

  Blythe chest tightens again—there’s that feeling again. She barely hears their water continue. “Yep. He takes stuff all the time. We locals have just come to accept him, eh?”

  “What does he do with the things he takes?” Cordelia asks.

  “Not sure. But he’s been moody these past couple months. Best not to approach or provoke him.”

  There is a presence behind them—Blythe can’t see him, but she can feel him, moving in time with that odd feeling behind her ribs.

  The others are oblivious, but Blythe can almost see his invisible movements as he hovers toward the left side of the table—toward Daniel’s grimoire.

  “We’ll have to—”

  Blythe slams her hand on the grimoire, interrupting Cordelia. “Chill OUT!”

  Caspian—or whatever the invisible force is—freezes.

  “Yeah!” Blythe yells. “I can feel you! May as well make yourself visible now—”

  His form disappears—but only from Blythe’s sight. The tug in her chest is barely detectable now, and if she weren’t paying attention, she probably wouldn’t even notice.

  He has gone somewhere far, but not so far that she can’t track him down.

  “Uh…Blythe?” Antonio asks.

  The Guardians are staring at her, their faces sliding scales of worry (Antonio) and confusion (Storm). None of them look as disturbed as their waiter. To them, she’s been talking to thin air.

  Blythe holds up a hand. “Okay, I know that looked weird, but contrary to popular belief, I am not crazy. I just found Caspian.”

  Not a single look is interchanged. They all know what that means, and so they rush out of the restaurant with Blythe in the lead. “Sorry we couldn’t stay, I’m sure the poutine’s great!” Blythe shouts. The waiter seems too flabbergasted to stop them.

  The force in Blythe’s chest feels like an invisible string: one end is tied around something inside her, and the other is tied to Caspian. She is now sure how, or why, but at the moment, she doesn’t quite care.

  The other Guardians are close behind her as she traces the string through Lavender Heights, all the way to the Victorian gates enclosing the town’s graveyard.

  It reeks of the grey and the dead. The grass is dead, the cracked headstones are various shades of grey, and the weeping willows hang grey and dying.

  The gates yawn open to a trampled dirt path. It is the exact opposite of a welcoming place.

  Blythe charges in. “Caspian Compton, give me back my phone!”

  She only comes up with a plan when Cordelia asks what the hell they’re supposed to do. Caspian keeps moving—disappearing and reappearing in various parts of the graveyard. He’s avoiding them.

  “Split up until we find him!” Blythe declares.

  “H-H-How are we supposed to find a ghost?” Daniel asks.

  “He can’t stay a ghost forever!” Blythe snaps.

  Storm sighs. “That’s not how ghosts—nevermind.”

  Daniel doesn’t move as everyone scatters. “I-I-I…don’t do well in…g-g-graveyards,” he stutters.

  “You don’t do well anywhere,” Cordelia retorts.

  Storm, however, outstretches a hand, and Daniel grabs hold like a drowning man to a lifejacket.

  Blythe weaves between tombstones as quickly as she can, but Caspian’s weird teleportation happens too quickly for human legs to keep up.

  Maybe he’ll want to talk if Blythe finds his grave. Morbid, yes, but it may work.

  She slows her pace, scanning every name she wanders past.

  Cordelia runs up, out of breath. “Do you have a destination in mind or is this just aimless, angry wandering?”

  “I’m looking for his grave.”

  “I thought you said he wasn’t dead.”

  “If he’s invisible and stealing people’s shit, he sure as fuck isn’t alive.”

  “And what, exactly, are you going to do if you find it? Spit on it?”

  “Maybe! I want my phone back and I’m not gonna let some asshole ghost bully me! Fuck him!”

  “I suppose it’s better than all your other plans,” Cordelia sighs.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be nicer now?”

  “This is me being nicer.”

  An orange blur rushes up to them and melts into Storm. “I just ran the entire area and I got nothing,” she says. “Or maybe that’s just ‘cause I don’t fuck with ghosts.”

  “Wait, where’s Daniel?” Blythe asks. The poor boy is probably having a heart attack if he has to endure this place alone.

  “I had to split with him to run,” Storm explains. “He’ll be fine.”

  A faint noise rises into a scream as it nears them. “…..aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

  “Nevermind,” Storm says.

  Blythe whips around. “Daniel?”

  He looks more terrified than Blythe has ever seen him. His whole body trembles, his eyes gone huge. “CASPIAN COMPTON’S GHOST IS REAL AND HE TRIED TO SELL ME MARIJUANA!”

  The girls are silent. His lip is quivering.

  “Daniel, are you tryna said a ghost tried to deal to you?” Storm asks.

  “Yes!”

  “Deadass?”

  “I-I don’t know what that means…b-but yes!”

  Storm considers this for a moment. “What were his prices?”

  “Storm!” Blythe yells. “Daniel, ignore her. Where did you see him?”

  Before Daniel can answer, Antonio joins them. “I found the Compton grave,” he says, hands stuffed in his pockets. “It’s like a…one of those tomb thingies. He wasn’t there, but it’s this way…”

  His voice trails off. He’s looking over Blythe’s shoulder.

  Daniel’s hysterics distracted Blythe from the sensation in her ribs. It is only now that she realizes the feeling has centered.

  Caspian is right behind her.

  “Antonio,” Blythe says as she turns around. “I’m starting to hate when you do that…”

  A body rises from the ground. It is not solid; it is the suggestion of a form, a slight coloring of the air.

  First comes a pale head with coal black eyes, heavy with bags and hair as dark as night, moving without disturbing a single blade of grass.

  Then comes a torso clad in a black t-shirt, spindly legs in faded, ripped black jeans, bare feet.

  Caspian Compton floats before them. He holds no expression in his face nor his voice.

  “Do not go anywhere near that tomb.”

  Daniel runs behind Storm at the speed of light. But Caspian isn’t looking at him, or any of them. His eyes burn into Blythe.

  She holds out her hand expectantly. “My phone.”

  Caspian does not blink. Wisps of smoke echo from his skin, his clothes, his hair. His aura sends chills up Blythe’s spin
e, as if she is looking into the eyes of something human beings are not meant to see—not without it being the last thing they see.

  “I have a phone,” Caspian holds up what looks like a generic blue Zadis phone. Blythe’s case is gone. “I can give it to you. For fifty dollars.”

  Jesus Christ. The Guardian of Death is not a psychopath or a sweetheart. He’s a conman.

  “Wh—no!” Blythe yells. “Are you trying to sell me back my own phone?!”

  Caspian does not react. He simply hovers there, echoing with ethereal dark energy. “I also have this case.” He holds up a Sailor Moon phone case.

  Blythe nearly loses her mind. “That’s mine!”

  “It can be yours,” Caspian says. “For ten additional dollars.”

  “I’m not giving you sixty dollars for my stuff!” Blythe snatches her case—but her fingers go straight through the plastic. Its touch feels like pure ice.

  She yanks her hand back with a startled gasp. Caspian only stares.

  “We can call the police for theft of property,” Cordelia snaps. “You’ll get arrested.”

  “Go ahead,” Caspian says. His form folds in on itself, dissipating into a ball of black smoke that wisps and fades.

  “Good job threatening a ghost, dumbass,” Storm snorts.

  But Blythe can feel his presence. “He’s still here,” she growls. “He just hid.”

  A ball of black smoke appears to her left, and, like the reverse of his appearance, folds back into his pale body in all of his smoky glory.

  Two objects drop from his hand, tumbling into the grass: Blythe’s phone, with its case, and Cordelia’s wallet.

  Blythe snatches them up before he can change his mind. “God, you’re the worst,” she glares up at him, but nothing she says can earn a reaction from him.

  “How can you tell where I am.” Even his questions are flat—it takes Blythe a moment to realize she’s supposed to answer.

  “I don’t know.” Even if she did, she wouldn’t tell him. He doesn’t deserve to know.

  Caspian floats toward her without shifting a single muscle. The others back away, but he keeps coming, until he is inches in front of Blythe. The chill of his presence crawls up her skin.

  He stares at her with genuine confusion. “Who are you?”

  Why does this mean so much to him? Strange things like this happen in the world of magic all the time. It doesn’t mean anything, not really—it may even just be because their magic is linked, or connected, or God-knows-what. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.

  Blythe clears her throat. “I don’t know if dead people need personal space, but I do, so can you um…” She gestures for him to scooch back a bit. Caspian obliges, so Blythe answers his question. “I’m Blythe and these are the Guardians.”

  “Hey, that could be our band name,” Antonio says.

  Cordelia clenches her teeth. “Please, for once in your life, think before you speak.”

  “I do think before I speak.”

  “I can read minds and I know you don’t.”

  Blythe rolls her eyes. “I’m Blythe and this is Cordelia, Antonio, Storm and Daniel. We are the Guardians. You…you know you’re a Guardian too, right?”

  Caspian’s head bobs. A nod. At least Blythe won’t have to explain that.

  “Good. We came all the way up here to find you, so you should feel bad about being such a dick. This trip cost a ton of money.”

  Of course, Caspian does not react.

  “Yeah, maybe I was asking too much,” Blythe mutters. “Anyway, here’s the sitch. There’s a magician governmental called the Trident Republic and they’re basically trying to kill us. They mind controlled me, Cordelia, and Daniel, they sent monsters after us, basically a ton of crazy shit. We were supposed to be going to Frost Glade to keep safe, but that plan got scrapped after we left Katia, who was basically our babysitter. Instead, we’re going to Electric City to save my family because the Trident Republic kidnapped them.” Blythe pauses. “I think that’s everything.”

  Caspian stares at her.

  “That’s your cue to speak, bud,” Blythe prompts.

  “Oh,” Caspian blurts. Blythe waits, but nothing happens. “Mm, yeah, I checked out, repeat it all over again.”

  Blythe groans. “Oh my God.” She breaks it down again, slower this time.

  “Those monsters,” Caspian says this time. “They were here.”

  “Wait, what?” Blythe asks. She thought the Trident Republic sent monsters after them because of the shard. Why would they care about Caspian? “Did they attack you?”

  “Whoa, dude, is that how you died?!” Antonio asks.

  Storm pinches the bridge of her nose. “Antonio, you can’t just ask people how they died.”

  “They came looking for me,” Every word out of Caspian’s mouth is spoken as blankly as the last. “Wraiths. They left when they couldn’t find me. Other people came looking for me too.”

  “Were you…are you okay?” Blythe asks.

  Caspian cocks an eyebrow. He is an incorporeal being who can teleport and turn invisible.

  “Nevermind, you were definitely fine,” Blythe decides.

  “And I’ll continue to be fine,” Caspian says.

  His form starts to fade.

  “Wait, wait!” Blythe yells. “What about my family?”

  “How am I supposed to help.”

  “I don’t know!” Blythe says. “You’re the Guardian of Death, you could do anything! Electric City is dangerous; you could help us get through there.”

  “I’m flattered, truly,” Caspian doesn’t sound like it, but he nevertheless continues. “But there’s nothing I could do.”

  “You’re a literal ghost who can teleport and steal without detection,” Blythe insists.

  Caspian shakes his head, his hair swaying in its own wind. “You need to leave,” he says. “And don’t come back.”

  Just like that, he’s gone. But Blythe can feel his presence lingering, even though she can no longer see him. She refuses to just give up and let him go.

  “I know I’m a total stranger to you, and you have absolutely no reason to care about helping me, but family could die, Caspian. That probably means very little to you, but it means the universe to me. My mom and my dad and my sisters are all I have. And if I lost them…I-I just can’t lose them. This wouldn’t take long. As soon as I get my family back, you never have to speak to me again. You could hate me if you wanted. Just help me this one, single time.”

  Caspian fades back into view. But, for the first time, he is not looking at her. He stares off to some far corner of the graveyard. His fists are balled at his sides as his gaze snaps back to Blythe.

  “I’m not responsible for what happens while I’m with you,” he says.

  “Oop, nope, I don’t like that,” Storm says. “Blythe, don’t you agree to that shit.”

  Blythe ignores her. “Nobody’s going to die, right?”

  Caspian stares off again. This time, he shakes his head no.

  Blythe should ask more questions. She knows she should. But she doesn’t want to bite the hand that feeds her. An agreement is an agreement.

  “Well, on those grounds, we’d be happy to have you,” she says.

  “Cool,” Caspian’s form starts to fold in on itself again. “Just don’t expect me to be there the whole time.”

  He curls into a tiny ball of smoke and blinks out of sight. This time, he takes the presence in Blythe’s chest with him.

  He has actually gone.

  A weight lifts from Blythe’s shoulders. She has every Guardian now, all of them, on her side. Cordelia and Daniel and Antonio and Storm and Caspian—excluding the missing Guardian, but they don’t count and hardly matter.

  Blythe doesn’t even need them. With the team she has now—a hacker, a thaumologist, a thief, a vigilante, and, uh, a chef?—Electric City won’t know what hit it. Nothing can stop them—

  “You dumb bitch,” Storm reprimands. Her arms are crossed, jaw clen
ched.

  “What?” Blythe asks. “I know it was shady but he said no one would die.”

  “Not just that,” Storm snaps. “This was all too easy. He was getting’ at something and it had nothing to do with his magic. Something’s up.”

  Before Blythe can ask her to elaborate, she skates toward the exit. Getting a warning about the future from the Guardian of Time leaves a rock in Blythe’s stomach.

  Daniel, Antonio and Cordelia are giving her looks. Blythe doesn’t know them well enough to judge what they all mean, but she can tell Cordelia is bewildered and ready to leave.

  As they go, curiosity takes over Blythe, and she looks to the far reaches of the graveyard, where Caspian was glancing.

  Through the fog, she glimpses a man in a suit. Watching, as the Erasers do. Always watching.

  Seventeen

  Cordelia falls in step beside Blythe, eyebrows raised. “Electric City?” she asks.

  If Blythe had considered this back home, when all she had was a destroyed café, a yellow Volkswagen, and her own determination, she would’ve instantly rejected the idea that she could ever find the other Guardians, much less convince them to help her.

  Now she travels with five other pairs of feet, five people with their own distinct strengths and talents. They have left their homes and their families to help Blythe reunite with her own, and they are willingly traveling into a city where unspeakable dangers await them.

  “Grateful” is an obscene understatement for the powerful emotions swirling in Blythe’s heart.

  “Electric City,” she agrees.

  Storm pulls a piece of beef jerky from her bag—this girl has infinite snacks—and Antonio stares at her until she rolls her eyes and produces a second beef jerky for him.

  “If we can find a car, I can hotwire it,” Storm offers.

  “What?” Blythe asks. “Who showed you how to do that?”

  “My brother.”

  “How did he know? Why did you want to know?!”

  Storm cocks her head to the side. “Do you want a car or not?”

  Theft isn’t Blythe’s preferred route, but they don’t really have a plethora of choices, so she groans and shouts for Caspian.

  He materializes beside streetlamp, arms folded, legs crossed lazily in front of him. Blythe asks if he knows of any available cars.