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

by Ilana Waters

  “Oh, we’d hate to have that happen, now, wouldn’t we?” Cunningham threw back her head in a laugh. She blasted a spell from the amulet at Titus and Abigail simultaneously.

  They barely managed to take cover on the other side of the container, least of all because Abigail dragged Arthur and Richard after them. They tried combining their magic and blasting the shield again, but without a third person to fire a crossbow, the effort was futile.

  “This isn’t working!” Abigail gasped. She flattened her back against the container as another burst of magic nearly took off her shoulder.

  “No shi—” Titus started. He was silenced by a shot of magic that sounded like a small bomb hitting the container. The high-pitched squeals from inside were unbearable to his ears.

  “So,” he called to Cunningham. “You went after Arthur and Richard on purpose, leaving Abigail and me free to team up against Sybil. You used us to destroy her.” He paused. “As the English say, ‘good show.’ ” Abigail made a sour face at him.

  “But tell us one thing.” Titus winged a bolt of magic off the container to try and hit Cunningham. It weakened the shield a fraction, but ultimately bounced off. “Why have you decided to do away with both your confederates, now?”

  “Please,” Cunningham scoffed. She tried coming around to Abigail’s side of the container, only to have Abigail hit the ground in front of her with magic. A lifeboat-sized hole appeared, and Cunningham almost fell in. She took cover behind the container’s other side. “With this amulet, I’m worth more than all my colleagues put together. Besides, you heard Sybil. Her measly spell shielding me and my gun might not hold. It was the only way I could guarantee my safety.”

  Titus heard groaning beside him. He looked down. One of the mortals was waking up.

  “Wh-what the . . .” Richard adjusted his now-broken glasses. He lifted his eyes and saw Titus staring at him. “Vampire!” Richard’s eyes started to roll back.

  “Clearly, the PIA hired you for your powers of observation,” Titus remarked drily. “Though possibly it was your archery skills that swayed them. Fine shot there, I must admit,” he said. For all the good it does us now.

  Richard squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to maintain consciousness. “My head hurts.” He reached back and rubbed his skull. “Ow.” He saw Arthur next to him, blood pooling under his neck. “Arthur!” he cried.

  “Here, wait.” Abigail put her hand to Richard’s wound. “I think I can heal that.”

  “No, I’m fine.” Richard glanced at the hand he’d rubbed his head with. “Not even bleeding. Arthur . . .” His voice faded. “Take care of Arthur.” He glanced up at Titus again. “Vamp-pire!” Richard mouthed. He promptly fainted.

  “Listen, if you both come out from there,” Cunningham said, “I’ll make it quick and easy. Promise. Your deaths will be practically painless.”

  “Tempting offer,” Abigail said. “Here’s one from us.” She sent a shower of flaming magic sparks over the container. Titus heard Cunningham work furiously to stamp them out.

  “Girl,” she seethed, “if you accidentally set any part of this thing on fire, you’re going to—”

  “Shit, Titus.” Tears welled in Abigail’s eyes as she turned Arthur over. “Richard was right. He’s in bad shape. Really bad.” Arthur moaned softly, the crack in his skull clearly visible. The blood seeping out. The brain matter.

  “Oh God,” Abigail choked, one hand over her mouth. “This is nothing like being a midwife. I thought I’d seen gore with babies being born, but this . . .” She looked at Titus. “Can we even heal this? How did you get through it on the battlefield all those times?”

  Titus grimaced. “By causing a fair amount of it, I’m afraid.” A spray of painful magic cascaded over them; Cunningham had stolen Abigail’s idea. Titus barely had time to throw his own, weaker shield up to prevent them catching fire. “Now pay attention. Concentrate. You can do this.”

  Another burst of sparks—more like needle-sized lasers—came down. Titus pushed up on the shield and sent a few back over the container at Cunningham. “It’s up to you, Abigail. I have to deal with this other . . . witch.” To Cunningham, he called out: “I thought you didn’t want to set this thing on fire.”

  “If it will destroy you two,” she growled, “I can always put it out later.”

  Titus leaned toward Abigail. “Visualize the energy around the wound. Manipulate it. The body will try to heal itself automatically.” Bullet-sized pellets of fire were coming down now. Titus lifted his fist and punched into the shield, which sent several of them flying. “It’s just a matter of speeding up a process that’s already taking place.” He glanced at the growing pool of blood under Arthur’s head. “Far too slowly.”

  Abigail nodded. “Sort of like Sybil’s amulet being drawn toward other magnets. Got it. I can do this. I can do this,” she repeated. She held hands over the sides of Arthur’s head. “Okay, magical energy. Where are you?”

  Lemon-sized fireballs descended from Cunningham’s side. Some of them ripped holes in the shield. Titus quickly put them out by drawing the fire energy from them. So many, too many. I won’t be able to get them all.

  “Hurry, Abigail,” he urged. I can’t believe I’m about to die for a common mortal, he thought to himself.

  “Trying . . . I’m trying.” Her face tensed; her lips drew back. With shaking hands, she pushed the magic around Arthur’s injury back into itself. Titus saw it swirl and combine with the healing magic she sent. Arthur made soft grunting sounds, and his fingers twitched.

  “It’s a bad wound,” Titus said. “You have to go deeper.” A baseball-sized circle of fire punctured the shield and landed on his back. He gave a quick cry of surprise and pain. “Go deeper, Abigail!”

  “It’s working!” she cried with glee. “I can feel it! It’s sort of like tectonic plates held together with wire. C’mon magic, keep going. Keep going . . . got it!” she yelled. Arthur’s body gave a jerk, but he did not wake. The wound stopped bleeding and closed, leaving a tangle of blood and graying hair where it had been.

  Titus exhaled in relief. “Praise the gods.” Now, maybe we can get back to the fighting. He reached up through the shield—barely a thin film, now—and snaked a shot of magic over the top of the container. He knew it wouldn’t penetrate Cunningham’s spell, but perhaps it might weaken it, as Abigail’s magic had done.

  “Just out of curiosity, how do you think you’re going to gain immortality now that Carver’s dead?” Titus asked Cunningham. “I’m sorry to say, whatever’s in that amulet won’t do the trick. And if you think I’m turning you into a vampire, you’ve got another think coming.”

  Cunningham laughed. “Do you know how many vampires there are in London? In the world?”

  “I do not work for the supernatural census bureau,” Titus snarled.

  “It’s comical how easy it is to find people who’ll do anything for money,” said Cunningham. “Including grant eternal life. With my connections, I’m sure I won’t have any trouble.” A fireball the size of a grapefruit slammed between Titus and Abigail. It missed Arthur’s body by inches. So much for weakening Cunningham, Titus thought.

  The lightning was right above them now; the shipping container shook with the force of the thunder’s riposte. If only it would rain already, Titus thought, Abigail and I could put out these fires. Of course, then we’d have no defensive fires of our own . . .

  “You don’t happen to have another one of those magic rocks, do you?” he asked Abigail. Wordlessly, she ripped one from her hair and handed it to him. Titus lobbed it overhead, where he heard it hit Cunningham’s shield—and bounce off. “Blast it,” he swore. “That was a weak one.” Another fireball hit. Abigail gave a shriek; Titus stopped the fire from igniting her shirt just in time. “I’m surprised she doesn’t try to shoot magic straight through the container,” he grumbled.

  Abigail snorted. “With her precious merchandise inside? Don’t be ridiculous. The Po
pe would sooner piss in the Holy Grail. Money is this woman’s god.”

  Titus cocked his head to one side. “We, however, are not so constrained.” A ball of magic formed in his hands. He backed up and prepared to shoot it into the container. He tried his best to judge where Cunningham might be standing on the other side.

  Abigail slapped his shoulder. “Don’t you dare!”

  “What? I’ll shoot it just above the girls’ heads, but low enough to hit Cunningham. Your damsels will be perfectly safe. Probably.”

  Abigail didn’t have time to reply. Circles of fire the size of bowling balls were pummeling them. They covered their heads. Only the thinnest of shielding spells kept them from being burned alive.

  Then, Abigail got a look in her eye. It was one Titus was becoming all too familiar with. She threw a protection spell over Arthur and Richard.

  “I’ve got a better idea.” Abigail called one of the still-burning fireballs into the space just above her hand. Titus saw her strengthen the shield around her and march to the other side of the container.

  “Abigail, no!” he hissed.

  Too late. She’d disappeared around the bend. Titus got there just in time to see Cunningham thrust out her arms and hit Abigail with two bolts of magic.

  “No!” Titus cried. Abigail’s body careened back toward the ship. Titus’s heart leaped. His stomach froze.

  Is she . . .?

  The blast from the spell died down. Inside her protective shield, Titus saw Abigail, the look of steely resolve still on her face. But the spell’s momentum was hurling her above the ship. Without stopping, she raised her feet in the air, flipped over, and landed on the deck.

  Cunningham let out an enraged cry. Despite her shield, Titus instinctually dove for her throat. But his fangs and fingers clamped down on empty air. He glanced up.

  Damn stolen magic is fast. Too fast. Cunningham was already on deck, her face made of pure viciousness.

  Abigail was up there. Alone. With that fiend. He had no choice.

  Titus followed the two women onto the ship.

  Chapter 21

  “That was your big idea?” Titus asked as he landed next to Abigail. “To get yourself killed?”

  “I thought maybe her own magic could hurt her.”

  “That only works in fairy tales,” Titus bellowed.

  “I thought we were in one!” Abigail shouted.

  “I suppose that makes me the evil witch?” Cunningham’s palms sparked with the magic growing around them. “How cliché.” She sent a bolt of magic through the top of the diagonal boom. With an earsplitting crack, it broke in half and swung down, nearly swiping Titus’s and Abigail’s heads off. Titus felt his body lurch forward as Abigail grabbed his collar. She launched them both to the top of the wheelhouse.

  “In that case,” Titus huffed, “I’d like to get off this Brothers Grimm merry-go-round now.”

  “Like hell you would,” Abigail spat.

  “Excuse me?”

  She squared her shoulders at him. “Face it, Titus: you live for this. I know you still have some fire in you. You want the thrills, the life-and-death scenarios. And more than that: you want to see the marvelous and terrible changes the world will undergo. Your heart hasn’t turned to stone just yet.”

  For once, Titus was at a loss for words.

  “You’re quite the sitting ducks up there, you know.” Cunningham gathered more magic in her hands, readying for her next attack. “If either of you had any brains, you’d . . . never mind.” She shook her head. “Easier for me this way.”

  Titus still couldn’t take his eyes off Abigail: “You, you . . .” he stammered, “you haven’t lived the centuries that I have. Haven’t seen all your endeavors come to naught.”

  He tore his gaze away from her just in time to blast a hole in the deck in front of Cunningham. She tumbled in halfway, lodged between the broken planks. Titus waved his hand, and several strands of cable fell on top of her and tangled themselves.

  But due to the shield’s magic, she was still unharmed. That won’t hold her for long, Titus thought. Cunningham was already magically slicing cables off herself and threatening him and Abigail furiously.

  Lightning flashed on and off. Every time it did, Titus could see Cunningham more clearly. Thunder pounded its fists above them. Rain started coming down in fat droplets, blown about by the vindictive wind. Titus had to be even louder to be heard above the din.

  “The people you put your trust in will betray you,” he shouted. “The cities and roads and monuments you worked so hard to build will crumble to dust. It will all be for nothing.”

  “I know,” replied Abigail.

  “And none of your goodness and love and faith will ever be enough to—wait.” Titus blinked. “What?”

  “I said, I know.” Abigail gave a sad smile. A drop of rain splashed on her cheek, looking like a tear that trickled down and dissolved. “You expected me to argue with you? To tell you that love conquers all? That it’ll be okay and we’re here for a reason? I don’t know any of that. I mean, I believe it, but I can’t confirm it as fact. There’s only one thing I do know: I need you to do this with me.” She grabbed his upper arms and held on tight. “All the craziness, the misadventures. The good deeds. The bad ones. I need you by my side, whatever happens.” Her voice broke. “To live this life with me. I need you, Titus.”

  Everything around him went instantly silent. They say that, during key moments in life, time stands still, Titus thought. But that is inaccurate. Time does not stand still. Time ceases to exist. Was the wind still flinging rain back and forth? Was the air around him even moving? He couldn’t tell.

  “I’m not going to stop caring,” she said. “Or helping. Not because I’m some naïve little puppy dog who can’t see what’s coming. It’s because, deep down, I have the same heart as you. I’m not going to burn out. I’m going to die trying to make something of this life.” She stared hard into his eyes, with a fierceness that burned even a fire witch. “I’m going down in flames.”

  In a corner of his mind, Titus was vaguely aware that Cunningham had disentangled herself from the cables. She wrenched her body out of the hole in the deck. Tearing a tarp off the side of the ship, she set it on fire and sailed it over him and Abigail. Abigail ripped a stone off her bracelet and threw it at the tarp. It disintegrated within inches of them.

  “Goddamn you both!” Cunningham furiously called more magic into her hands. She swiveled her head left and right, searching for something to use as a weapon.

  There is a distinct possibility we could die right now, Titus thought. He threw a quick invisibility spell over him and Abigail. If Cunningham couldn’t see her target, she couldn’t hit it. But he knew that wouldn’t stop her. She was already screeching even more than before.

  Abigail’s shoulders were heaving as she gasped for breath. “And when that day comes, Titus,” she panted, “when I am finally beaten, you can either be by my side, or you can—”

  He grabbed the sides of her face and kissed her.

  The intensity of the pleasure shocked him. It tasted like the flow of blood. Like hearts pounding. Like a jolt of electricity.

  After twenty centuries of death, kissing Abigail felt like life itself.

  They broke apart. Abigail was staring at him, all wide brown eyes and wild curls.

  “Whoa,” she whispered.

  She felt it, too. After all those tedious millennia, Abigail was the one thing he never thought he’d never see again:

  She was a surprise.

  “Gods alive, woman,” he coughed. “Do you ever shut up?” Abigail laughed.

  Titus sighed. This was the worst possible outcome. The culmination of everything he’d tried to avoid for two thousand years. The unthinkable had happened.

  He’d fallen in love.

  Meanwhile, Cunningham had gotten hold of enough magic for another go. She threw her arms forward and fired off two shots, hitting the wheelho
use. But not the roof, where Titus and Abigail were standing. Instead, the magic shattered the windows just beneath it, causing the top of the wheelhouse to drop down. Titus held onto Abigail as they were knocked off. Cables and poles sagged around them. The invisibility spell dissolved.

  “Aha!” Cunningham cried. “There you are.” She gave a wide smile, eyes glinting with malice. Magic built around her hands as she slowly stepped toward them.

  Titus and Abigail struggled to their feet. There was the quickening call and answer of lightning and thunder. Rain tapped their shoulders and heads like insistent fingers. The entire ship swayed and creaked in the wind, moaning like some dying animal.

  “It doesn’t look good,” Titus said grimly.

  “We’ve come this far.” Abigail called magic until her entire body was outlined in it. “We can’t stop now.”

  Naturally. He saw how foolish he was to think Abigail Silver would ever back down. From anything. She was as stubborn as he was. Were they a match made in heaven, or hell? He couldn’t decide, and didn’t care.

  But now, they were several feet closer to the certain death that was Cunningham.

  Abigail threw a glance over her shoulder. “She is damn near invincible with the amulet. We can’t get it off her—not by hand, or mind, or magic.”

  “And the amulet itself is protected from outside forces, outside magic.” Titus willed energy around himself till his outline matched Abigail’s. Below him, Cunningham did the same. “We need to get magic into something that is already touching the amulet, like Cunningham. But Cunningham is protected from every conceivable form of magic by the amulet! By the almighty All—what a catch-22.”

  He saw Abigail’s eyes lock on the amulet. Heard her remember something Sybil said:

  Lightning never strikes twice.

  Abigail grinned at him. “Not every form of magic. Some are like love.” She winked.

  “There’s no escaping them.”

  ***