The Mage Tales Prequels, Books 0-II: (An Urban Fantasy Thriller Collection)

by Ilana Waters

  “You heard the man,” Gregson snapped. “Kill them! We can’t risk having them expose us. Let me see if I can repair this . . .” Healing magic formed around his hands as his eyes scanned Beller’s face.

  “Just do something for the pain, you moron!” Beller hollered.

  Johnny and Lee glanced at one another. They ripped two posts off a metal shelf like they were breaking apart candy canes. They beat the posts into their palms and marched toward the crates that hid Titus and Abigail.

  “What’s it look like out there?” Abigail whispered.

  “Not good.” Titus’s eyes darted around the room. They landed on a shelf a few feet away. Titus splayed out his fingers. The shelf rocketed into his hand, screeching over the floor and giving off sparks. Abigail jumped back. Titus wrenched one of the posts off at an angle. It left a jagged edge of metal where the rest of the post met the shelf. Titus narrowed his eyes at one end of the post in his hand and turned to face the thugs.

  Best to fight fire with fire, as they say.

  Titus came at the other vampires so fast, they hardly knew what hit them. They managed to get in a few good blows. Titus heard several of his fingers crack, and knew they were broken. But he ignored the pain and delivered sharp whacks and stabs of his own. In less than a minute, both blood drinkers were on the floor.

  “What the—” Johnny didn’t get a chance to finish before the screaming began. Stumbling along the concrete, he fell to his knees and looked at his torso.

  There was a steaming hole where his stomach should have been.

  The glowing end of Titus’s post cooled from white-hot to orange, and then to a steady red. Johnny’s blood dripped down the post and onto Titus’s hand. As a fire witch, it had been easy for him to heat the metal before the fight started. He’d used the same strategy in previous skirmishes. It was simple enough, and most of the time, it did the trick.

  Except now. He’d been aiming for Johnny’s heart, but that other fool, Lee, got in the way. Titus sighed. This night knows no end of frustrations.

  Johnny’s screams shattered several glass artifacts he’d helped shelve. If Abigail doesn’t go deaf from all this, Titus thought, it will be a miracle. Lee took one look at Johnny, and his eyes bulged.

  “I’m going to kill you, you arsehole!” Lee roared at Titus. Lee knelt on the ground, trying to help up Johnny. The hole in his torso was closing, but slowly. As Johnny struggled to his feet, he left behind a pool of blood on the ground. Not as much as Titus would’ve liked, but at least it weakened him. Damn heat. Always cauterizes the wound. He needed to come up with another battle plan. Fast.

  Titus gritted his teeth. The pain in his hand was distracting. As a vampire, his fingers would heal of their own accord. But not quickly enough for his liking. He willed healing magic into his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Abigail watching him, her jaw slack. Magic of earth, flow through me now, he commanded.

  Fortunately, there was plenty of earth material around to strengthen the spell. The sand and stone that made up the concrete. Wooden planks on the crates. He felt the familiar, aching pain push out from his palm to the tips of his fingers, the bones shifting and fusing. Finally, all the joints connected in the right places. He bent his fingers, slowly at first, then faster, until he was satisfied they’d mended. A crate next to him sagged, some of its planks disintegrating into chips and dust. The floor beneath the crate had holes where chunks of concrete had been only moments ago.

  “K-k-kill him!” Johnny rasped, clutching his abdomen and pointing at Titus. With his arm around Lee’s shoulder, Johnny managed to stumble to a stack of boxes. He sat there, gasping for breath. Lee turned to Titus with murder in his eyes.

  He attacked faster than Titus expected, trying to bring down his post on Titus’s head. But at the last moment, Titus blocked the blow with his own post. The two posts connected with a clang. The sound rang through the warehouse. Titus swung his post around and hit Lee in the side. The hot metal met his skin. Titus heard the familiar sizzling noise. The smell of burned flesh filled the air for a second time that night. Lee roared in pain.

  Magic of fire, come to me now, Titus urged. He tried to heat the metal so it would make a more effective weapon. He needed to do more than wound: he needed to kill. But the metal was cooling fast. Titus couldn’t concentrate on magic and fight Lee at the same time. Lee gave a guttural cry of rage. Titus advanced. Lee bared his fangs. Their posts kept clanging as they fenced for their lives. Titus could all but see the echo of sound waves.

  “I’m gonna show you a world of hurt!” Lee hollered as he struck blow after blow. Titus was annoyed at how many he managed to get in. If I were a mortal, Titus thought, my arms and ribs would all be broken by now.

  But I am not a mortal. His brows came together as he glared at Lee. His upper lip lifted in a snarl. He growled, then punched Lee in the stomach. He brought his post down on Lee’s wrist. Lee doubled over, losing the grip on his post. It landed a few feet from Abigail. Titus saw her drag it behind the crates. Clever girl. Finally, he had his opponent at a disadvantage.

  Time to finish this. Titus struck Lee’s head over and over until all Lee could do was cover his skull with his hands. Titus held the post before him and narrowed his eyes again. The post began to glow. Titus raised it to strike Lee in just the right spot. Then the pain hit.

  He felt it on the back of his head at first. Then, a river of dampness wound its way between his shoulder blades. I’m bleeding, Titus realized. He turned around. Johnny held a half- broken vase in his hand. The rest of it lay in shards at Titus’s feet. The hole in Johnny’s stomach was almost closed, the hem of his shirt soaked in blood and organ fluid. His face was twisted in an ugly, vengeful mask. He punched Titus in the jaw. Titus lost his grip on the post. Johnny grabbed it before it hit the ground.

  Titus was still reeling from Johnny’s punch when Lee got a second wind. He hit Titus several times in the stomach and face. Johnny beat Titus on the back with the post. Titus managed to land a few hits, but then their blows gave way to swipes. He could feel his clothes shredding, then trails of pain where their nails raked him. Johnny and Lee were growling and snarling. Soon, they would tear him to pieces.

  He bared his fangs at Lee and tried to grab his throat. But Johnny was clawing at his back with one hand, and beating him with the post with the other. Then, Johnny struck a devastating blow—one even Titus couldn’t ignore.

  He cried out. The pain made him drop to his knees. Lee was in front of him, Johnny behind. They were going in for the kill. Whelps. I’m about to be killed by a pair of damn whelps. Titus felt the air rushing past as Johnny brought the post down. He gnashed his teeth and braced himself for the death blow. But it never came. Instead, he heard Johnny howl in pain. He turned his head. Abigail was standing next to Johnny, both hands wrapped around the metal post she’d picked up. Johnny’s hands were around his kneecap. Titus could hear the bones drawing back together as it healed.

  “You sodding bitch!” Johnny twisted around and pulled his arm back to hit Abigail with the post. Titus’s eyes widened. He jumped to his feet.

  I’m not going to reach her in time.

  He didn’t have to. Just as Johnny’s blow was about to land, debris from the floor began swirling around him. Stray nails, splinters of wood . . . all manner of sharps pierced his clothes and skin.

  “What in—?” Johnny pulled his post back, waving his free hand at the shrapnel that engulfed him. Through the whirlwind, he tried to hit Abigail again. She used both hands to lift her own post. Each time Johnny’s post almost connected, she blocked it. Their makeshift swords clanged over and over. Johnny cursed and twisted through his razor haze; Abigail heaved her weapon with all her strength. Lee had momentarily stopped swiping at Titus. He, too, was staring at Abigail.

  She’s using magic to distract Johnny. Titus grinned despite his pain. He watched the look of determined fury on Abigail’s face as sweat plastered curls to her forehead. S
he was actually managing to hit Johnny in parts that were quite sensitive—even for a vampire.

  Right. Abigail’s got Johnny. Time to take care of the other whelp. He turned back to Lee with a darkened look.

  “I’m done fucking around with you, boy.” He brought up both fists and hit Lee in the face with one after the other, then kneed him in the stomach. Lee groaned and dropped his post. But not before he bent it nearly in half.

  This time, it was Titus who caught it before it hit the ground. He stared at the piece of twisted metal. Cunning little bastard. He couldn’t use the post as a weapon now. He’d have to kill Lee with his bare hands. Which would be difficult, given his bruised and exhausted state, even as an ancient. Unless . . .

  Titus stared fiercely at the post, levitating it in the air. It began to glow red, then orange, then white. Lee—still catching his breath—lifted his head. Blood poured from his nose down his lips and chin. Before he could move, Titus telekinetically wrapped the post around Lee’s throat.

  The iron squeaked and groaned. Lee’s eyes bulged as the searing metal melted the skin on his neck. His mouth opened in a horrified O. But he did not even have time to scream as Titus narrowed his eyes and mentally pulled at the two ends of the post. The twisted iron made a neat little bow as it lopped Lee’s head off. Bow, body, and head fell to the floor.

  Titus smiled with satisfaction as he stood over his fallen enemy. Target eliminated. Then—behind him—he heard a woman scream.

  He whirled around so fast, he was a blur. Johnny was using both hands to jerk his post out of the floor. Must have gotten lodged there after his last blow at Abigail. Meanwhile, Abigail was flattened against a crate, chest heaving in and out. Must have jumped out of the way just in time. Johnny’s clothing and much of his skin hung in tatters, courtesy of Abigail’s spell. But she seemed to have run out of steam, or sharps, because the whirlwind around him was gone. Now, she glared at Johnny, gripping her post with both hands. She turned in a circle and brought the post down on him with a “Hi-yah!”

  Only Johnny wasn’t there. He wrenched his own post out of the floor and leaned back. Abigail’s post made a whoosh as it flew through empty air and came down where Johnny’s body had been. A wicked grin spread across his face. He fixed his gaze on Abigail and threw his post across the room. Then, he effortlessly plucked Abigail’s post from her hands and tossed it to the side as well. Abigail scooted back, eyes bulging, looking around frantically for another weapon.

  She didn’t find one. Johnny grabbed the back of her neck and leaned over her.

  “Let me go, you monster!” she shouted.

  Johnny’s smile widened. With Abigail hitting and kicking furiously, he put his mouth to her throat and opened wide. Abigail squeezed her eyes shut.

  There was a loud grunt and a strong breeze. Abigail waited several seconds. Then, she opened her eyes slowly.

  Titus was standing over Johnny’s dead body, his head plunged into the jagged edge of the shelf where Titus had torn his post off.

  “You . . .” Abigail looked at where Titus had been standing, then at Johnny. “You . . . body-slammed him into that?”

  “Ah, well,” Titus coughed. “It seemed like the thing to do. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She looked at Titus’s bruised face splattered with Johnny’s blood. “What about you?”

  “I’ll heal. But enough about me. What the hell was that circle dance with the post about? There was no need to turn around and around. You should have just hit him.” He motioned to what remained of Johnny, blood and brain matter oozing onto the floor.

  “I was trying to get some momentum!” Abigail protested. “You know, use centrifugal force?” She glanced at what was left of Johnny’s face—mainly a bit of forehead and some chin. The bar of pointed metal had punched through the rest. She covered her mouth and sharply turned away.

  Titus sighed. “This isn’t a competition. You don’t get points for fancy moves.”

  Abigail put her hands on her hips. “So don’t choose a partner whose only knowledge of swordfights comes from Renaissance fairs.”

  “I didn’t choose you as a bloody partner!” he shouted, flinging his arms out.

  “Hold still, for gods’ sake!” they heard Gregson say. “It won’t mend properly if you don’t, though I don’t have much experience in this area.”

  Damn, Titus thought. We still have those two to deal with.

  “I don’t give sod all about your experience,” Beller yelled. “Fix it later. They just killed Johnny and Lee!” His face was only partially healed. Most of it had burned away, leaving only the thinnest veil of pale flesh pulled over his face. He barely resembled a vampire now—more like a fanged skull. Abigail gasped.

  “Get behind the crates,” Titus commanded.

  “Right.” Abigail nodded. “Because that went so well the last time.” But she did as he said.

  “Well,” Gregson turned from Beller to Titus, “it seems you’ve cost me an entire night and two of my best men, in addition to making a mess of my workplace.” He motioned to the blood and other litter surrounding the corpses. “Ordinarily, I’d consider these business expenses, and require recompense accordingly. However, I don’t think you’re the type of man who’d find that arrangement agreeable.”

  “You’re right.” Titus cracked his knuckles. “I’m not.”

  “Who gives a shit what he thinks?” Beller shouted. “He killed my friends, he did. And now, he’s gonna pay!” He lunged at Titus, about to bridge the distance of several yards between them in one leap. But Gregson held up his hand, and Beller stayed.

  “It’s just as I thought,” Gregson said to Titus. “Someone who just doesn’t know when to quit. Too bad that spells ruin for you and your lady friend.”

  “What the hell?” Beller struggled to step forward. “Why ain’t I moving?”

  “Because I’m holding the air around you in place, fool,” Gregson said.

  “Let me go, you blighted arse!” Beller twisted and turned. “I’m going to kill them!”

  “Nothing doing. No doubt it will cost me another employee, and make an even bigger mess. No, this one needs special attention.” His cold gaze locked on Titus.

  Titus’s feet began to feel lighter; and it took some effort to keep from swaying. Still, he did not fall.

  An air witch. Figures.

  “Seems your little tricks won’t work on me.” Titus gave Gregson a superior smile. “Not the way they do with your underling. I’m a bit too old and powerful for that. But let’s see if mine work on you.” Titus focused his gaze on Gregson’s shoes. Tendrils of smoke began to rise from underneath them. Gregson’s eyes went wide, and he grunted. He pursed his lips, and his body started to shake. The rising tendrils pulled back into themselves. Titus’s smile faded, while one plastered itself across Gregson’s face.

  Fate of All, his defensive magic is too strong. Pity. I so wanted to set him on fire.

  “It seems your tricks are not up to par either,” Gregson called, still holding up one hand to stay Beller.

  “What in fuck’s name are you doing? Quit mucking about and let me kill them already!” Beller gnashed his fangs at Titus, jerking his body against Gregson’s spell.

  “I already told you, that’s not going to work.” Gregson took a few steps forward. “But I might have something that will.” Keeping his eyes on Titus, he yanked the cord around his neck. It broke, and out of his shirt he pulled a silver, oval locket.

  “Forgive me,” Titus said. “I didn’t realize we would be attending a jewelry exhibition tonight. I would’ve brought my wallet. Darling,” he said to Abigail, who was still behind the crates. “Do you have any singles?” She gave Titus an exasperated look and motioned impatiently to Gregson. He’d dropped the locket on the ground. He raised his shoe, and brought it down with a crunch.

  Wisps of smoke began rising from it. But unlike the smoke from Titus’s spell, this was brown—and growing la
rger. It turned to a billowing plume as it rose to the ceiling, where it hung like an ominous fog. Titus joined Abigail behind the crates, but knew it would do little good. Now, the brown smoke spanned the entire warehouse, slinking through the metal rafters, pipes, and ductwork. It even blotted out some of the light from the long, hanging fixtures. Abigail lifted her worried eyes. Titus’s jaw tensed.

  Gregson smiled in satisfaction and took a few steps back. He lowered his hand and made no further move to detain Beller. Even so, Beller stayed where he was, staring slack-jawed at the ceiling.

  “What do you think he’s going to do?” whispered Abigail.

  “Damned if I know,” Titus murmured. Although he would probably be damned regardless, he still scanned the ceiling. If I can determine the spell, I can defend against it.

  But there was no time. The smoke was changing now—less wispy, more solid, like a dark, dense cloud. Then, things seemed to move within the cloud. They bumped and shuffled, like bags full of marbles. The smoke rolled over and over itself until it took form. Ruffling and flapping, cawing and scratching, the warehouse ceiling became a sea of birds.

  Angry birds.

  They cackled and swooped past Titus and Abigail. They scratched their skin and clothing. No sooner had Titus’s scratches begun to heal than they came at him again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gregson. His hands were splayed in front of him, his body less distinct—fuzzy around the edges, somehow. Parts of him were transparent, as if all the brown in his suit had gone into the birds. The birds turned even darker. Now, they were black as ravens. But Titus couldn’t get a better look. Just then, one of them dove past him with an angry caw, his beak nearly taking out Titus’s eye.

  Titus and Abigail crouched low and covered their heads, but it was futile. Titus felt blood flow down his hands from the tears the birds made in his fingers. After hearing Abigail shriek for the third time, he hoisted her in his arms and jumped into an empty crate. This was one of the smaller ones the vampires had brought in, with barely enough room to fit them both. He’d just set Abigail down and pulled the crate’s lid over them when birds began attacking on all sides. In the background, Titus heard Gregson laughing triumphantly. Even Beller joined in.