Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4)

by Melinda Kucsera

  Nulthir opened his mouth as Thing’s voice echoed in his head, repeating what Amal had said. Words tripped off Nulthir’s tongue in short staccato sentences like the ones Thing favored, but Nulthir wasn't the one forming them. They must have been the right ones because he heard something that sounded like a dismissal.

  I spoke for you, Thing said.

  “You can do that?” Nulthir asked.

  Yes, but only because you trust me. Don’t move, Thing warned when Nulthir felt hands under him.

  Guards surrounded him. Hadn’t they just dismissed him? Why weren’t they leaving him alone? Nulthir was confused. If he dared to lower his arm, he might catch a glimpse of them and discover their intent, but his arm was a heavy weight pressing against his eyes, and he was so tired and dizzy.

  Don’t move, Thing reminded him mind-to-mind. His friend sounded closer than before, and Nulthir realized the owl-monkey-cat’s plan.

  “Don’t hurt them.”

  Thing didn't reply, but he didn't need to because one of the Guards screamed practically in Nulthir’s ear, but the fellow let go. They all did as Thing circled around for another pass.

  Chapter Ten

  Amal watched in horror as Nulthir fell. Furball screamed, then a flash blinded her, and a loud pop announced the kit’s imminent arrival. Furball appeared out of thin air and slammed into her breast. She snapped her arms closed around him before he could fall. “You’re safe.” She stroked his shivering back. But Nulthir wasn’t.

  Crispin dove after him, but he wasn’t strong enough to arrest Nulthir’s fall. Only Nulthir could save himself, but he wasn’t coherent enough to do that. Nulthir hit the ground and crumpled. Amal scanned his thoughts for any new pains or injuries other than his shoulder wound but didn't find any. Nulthir wasn’t well, but he wasn’t any worse off than he was before he fell. Thank the Creator for that small miracle.

  But they had a new problem. Guards spilled out of the darkness and surrounded their downed friend. Only Nulthir couldn’t concentrate enough to get rid of them. Amal didn’t have her mate’s facility with mind-reading groups of humans, so she zeroed in on the leader, a broad-shouldered man leaning over Nulthir.

  “Zarek,” the leader called, and Amal cursed. Zarek was the healer. That fella had to stay away from Nulthir. A healer would recognize him for a warlock, especially if Amal was reading the leader’s mind right. This healer had a touch of magic himself. But the leader didn’t really want the healer to look at one of his Guard’s either. Amal tried to discover why, but the leader shied away from thinking about that.

  Thing? I need your mind. Amal reached out to him as she thought that, and he linked up with her. He was ever at her service, her knight in feathers and fur. Read this man and tell me what you find.

  Will do. I’m coming. Be ready, Thing replied, but he closed off his mind, giving her no hint of his plan.

  Amal handed Furball to Thistle. He fussed at the exchange then quieted as her adopted daughter stroked his head. Be ready for what? Amal demanded but got nothing back.

  Ornery old owl. Thing could be so damned secretive at times it was maddening. Amal plugged back into the doings below in time to feed Nulthir some lines that should assuage the leader of this contingent of Guards until his mind slipped from her grasp. Damn it.

  Amal waited for Nulthir to parrot back her last instructions until finally he did, but his voice sounded off. His diction wasn't as crisp as it usually was. Then she realized why—Thing had taken over and was speaking through him. Amal hadn’t known her mate could do that. Before she could comment on that, screams erupted from below and a long, eerie, ‘who, who, who.’

  That must be what Thing had meant by ‘be ready’. He planned to chase the Guards away, so they could spirit Nulthir away unseen. Well, Amal couldn’t let her mate have all the fun, and she was tired of hiding in the shadows. Her bum wing made steering difficult, but Amal jumped anyway and joined her son and mate. She kept her claws retracted as she swooped gracelessly down on a Guardswoman. She was too old and pale to be Iraine, and Amal was relieved it wasn’t her. She struck the woman in the shoulder, toppling her. The Guardswoman went down hard and stayed down. The woman had probably been knocked out cold by the stalagmite she’d bounced off. Oops. Well, that Guardswoman shouldn’t have messed with Amal and her family.

  “They’re gone or in the process of going away,” Mixie said from above. “Where’s my baby?”

  “Here, I have him.” Thistle held Furball up as she stepped off onto the floating blanket Mixie, Dale and Yarn were towing. It sank as they flew down but remained three inches off the floor.

  “Wake up, Nulthir. We need you one more time then you can rest.” Crispin gently nudged his non-wounded shoulder.

  Nulthir winced as he opened his eyes. They were black rimmed in a dark blue. Not good. The eyes were the mirror of a mage’s power, and his was sick and twisted, but he saw the enchanted blanket and fell onto it. The blanket dipped down under his weight then again as Amal hopped on beside Thistle, who was still holding Furball.

  “You have to refresh the spells in the blanket. They’re fading,” Amal prompted, but Nulthir just kept looking at her blankly as if she was speaking a foreign tongue instead of the one spoken by the humans who dwelled in this land. Her diction wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t usually have any difficulty understanding her. “Nulthir?” Amal touched his face. He was burning up with a fever.

  Thing hovered over his friend and asked something she couldn’t catch mind-to-mind. What on earth was her mate up to now? Amal would get it out of him later. Whatever Thing had done had worked. Nulthir blinked, and there was more sense in his freaky eyes.

  Amal watched as Nulthir fumbled through his belt pouches, which she’d inventoried earlier, and pulled out a rock with an eye incised on it. What have we here? She almost asked, but Thing grabbed the rock then winged away without a word in the direction of the shattered object that had probably started this mess. “What are you up to, heart of mine?” Amal muttered aloud.

  Thistle gave her a curious look, but Amal just shook her head. This was between her and her mate until she knew what ‘it’ was. Then maybe she’d share it with the rest of the family.

  Thing returned in record time and grasped one of the tassels. Crispin took up the side opposite him. The blanket had six of them—one at each corner and one in the middle of the longer sides. While Thing had been off on that mysterious errand, Nulthir had pulled out a stick of chalk and redrawn the sigils that floated the blanket.

  When he finished, he looked at her. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, let’s go home. Light as a leaf, stiff as a stone,” Amal chanted, and seven voices echoed her. Furball alternated between chirps and neeps that the kit probably intended to help. Amal patted him on the head for trying and watched with anxious eyes augmented by her mage sight as Nulthir reached inside himself.

  He pulled out a ball of light and drove it into the symbols he’d drawn. They lit up as he chanted softly, “light as a leaf, stiff as a stone, fly true to our home.”

  The blanket stiffened and rose. “Higher,” Amal urged. “Hide us in the shadows above.” She pointed up as they all, except Nulthir who didn’t have the gift, switched to mind-speech to continue the chant.

  The cantrip was just as important as the symbols. It focused the will and harnessed its power. Without any warning, Nulthir slumped down into unconsciousness again.

  Is he okay? Thistle asked. Magicking doesn’t usually take this much out of him.

  And that worried Amal, but all she could do was shrug. At least the spell held. Hopefully, the blanket would too. To keep from worrying overmuch, Amal grabbed the fraying threads and tied them off one by one to secure their ride. Thistle copied her while Furball nuzzled Nulthir’s cheek and looked at them both with wide frightened eyes as a black liquid oozed out of the corner of Nulthir’s eyes.

  Had they saved him from dark magic and discovery just to lose him to the aftereffects of that strange magi
cal attack? Fear gripped Amal in cold hands. Her wing still didn’t feel or work right. Amal felt Thing’s worried gaze on Nulthir too, but her mate didn’t say anything as he flew on.

  Thing concentrated on taking the right bends and tunnels to lead them out of the prison and back to their home. His eyes said they’d deal with everything else once they reached safety, and they would. After all, they were a team. If they were together, there was nothing they couldn’t handle.

  We’ll save you, Nulthir. You just rest and leave the rest to us, Amal sent to his sleeping mind. She hoped he heard her. No matter what battle lay ahead, they would face it as a family should, united in love.

  Amal and her family escaped one peril only to fly straight into another one. When her secretive mate flies off on a mysterious errand, Amal must find a way to save Nulthir from the dark magic overtaking him before it’s too late for them all. Read the next installment of Amal’s story in Wayward Magic.

  About the Author

  Melinda Kucsera writes fantastic short stories and books when dragons aren't trying to kidnap her. (Sometimes, her characters rescue her, especially when evil corporations are involved.) Check out all Melinda’s books on melindakucsera.com and meet her characters. They're lining up to meet you.

  Melinda leaves the running of her newsletter to a cast of lovable characters who hog her inbox. They might also star in several of her books. Enough about her, it’s them you’re really interested in, her cast of characters. Join them every week for a new adventure: at mkucsera.com/welcomecharacters. They make house calls.

  For more information about Melinda Kucsera and the characters in her story, please visit: http://melindakucsera.com/hanging-out-with-friends/ Don't forget to grab your copy of Wayward Magic for more adventures starring your new feathered friends.

  Weather Witch Way

  A. R. Johnston

  “Weather Witch Way” is a story about a young witch who is coming into a rare and often hidden power. Learning how to cope and manage this new power would be difficult at the best of times but throw in being a teenager and you have another level of trouble. This story was originally started as a challenge piece to get past writer's block and turned into something far beyond its starting point. I fell in love with these characters and wanted to know more about them and about where these new powers would lead my characters. I hope you enjoy the tale of Sky and Braxton.

  AR Johnston

  Everything was perfect for Sky in her last year at Borden Hall. She was making plans and looking forward to a bright future. But fate deemed it not to be.

  Rare powers awaken in her that could destroy everything she ever wanted as well as her own life.

  Sky’s world is being torn apart, especially with the coven elders threatening to keep her under their thumb. But She will not be controlled so easily. The ace up her sleeve might be a mysterious stranger that comes at the right time. If only she could trust him.

  Can Sky stay under the radar, or will she lose control and end up being used as a pawn?

  Prologue

  It had always been that the Weather Witch was to be feared and often revered. For a weather witch would be able to use all the elements but have one specialty. It would be a simple twist of fate for them to rule over all covens, but only if they are trained properly and find their true balance in the world.

  Teaching them young was the only way, otherwise they would never learn to wield their power in the correct manner, nor would they understand the control needed for that task. And none should ever be taught by a single coven, otherwise there could be fear of bias toward the witches outside of that coven.

  Weather witches were rare and should be coveted. Over the generations, they hadn’t appeared often. For the Great Divine to enlighten one with powers so late in their life was worrisome. Some even wished to keep this witch hidden in fear of execution as there would be very little belief they could gain control at such a late age.

  For a teenager to get this power … Well, it could prove to be interesting indeed. That was where our story began...

  Chapter One

  Was there anything worse than having a teacher drone on and on about nothing? I didn’t think so. And his voice was so monotone I could hardly keep my eyes open. I was hard-pressed to even stay awake that I thought about stabbing myself with my pen just so this would be over quicker.

  “Can this guy get any more boring? I’m not sure how much more I can take before I die,” my best friend, Bess, hissed, her hand coming to her forehead dramatically as she feigned like she might faint.

  I started to laugh but covered it with a cough, catching the attention of Professor Armstrong.

  “Are you okay, Miss Stratan?” He paused in his lecture to stare. The man looked far older than he probably was. His white hair was combed over and thick black glasses sat on his big nose upon his round face. He was the epitome of a college professor with black slacks, white shirt, jacket with patches at the elbows and scruffy-looking black shoes. His only bright note was his teal-coloured tie—the man was known for his ties.

  I coughed again before speaking. “Yes, sir. Fine. Just a small tickle in the throat. My apologies for the interruption.”

  He sniffed as if still annoyed, but pushed his glasses back up his nose.

  “Well then, if I may continue,” he said and I tuned him out again.

  “I don’t know how you do it. I would have told him his lecture was boring as heck,” Bess whispered, leaning close.

  My eyes nearly bugged out and I almost started coughing in my attempt to keep from laughing.

  “Shut up, Bess. You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

  “Pfftt, whatever. That man would never get too mad with his most-favourite student.” She huffed.

  I elbowed her. “Not true.”

  “Whatever. History of magic is boring as heck, yet you always excel in it.”

  I shrugged, continuing to doodle. “What can I say? I find it easy.”

  She sighed, grabbing my paper. “Whatcha doing anyway? Has to be more exciting than this class.”

  “Absolutely nothing, as you can see,” I snapped, snagging the paper back.

  “This is yet another reason why we do not get involved with the issues the non-magical have.” Professor Armstrong finished his lecture just as the bell rang.

  “Thank the goddess.” Bess snapped her notebook closed. “Lunchtime, let's go!”

  The cafeteria looked out over a courtyard and to the game pitch. Bess and I walked into a packed area looking for our friends who had gotten there before us and saved our regular table near the windows. One of them was my boyfriend Nicholas, who seemed to be chatting with another girl I didn’t know. A frown turned the corners of my lips toward the ground as heat stirred in my palms, a mix of both anger and sadness. He shouldn’t have looked so happy while talking to another girl who wasn’t me.

  “Who is that?” I said through clenched teeth, trying not to growl and sound like a jealous girlfriend.

  “Oh, new girl. Transfer from out of state. Her parents were having issues with the non-magical noticing them doing magic so they had to move,” Bess said nonchalantly, plopping an apple on her tray and reaching for a fruit smoothie.

  I grabbed a salad without thinking, staring at Bess. “How do you know all this?”

  She giggled. “I like to listen to my father and his little meetings about new witches moving into the area.”

  I chuckled. “Why does that not surprise me? But be that as it may, why is she at our table with our boys?” I glowered toward said table, then immediately felt bad. Sounding like a petulant child who didn’t like to share her toys was not something I wanted.

  “Oh, does Sky not want to share?” She grinned at me as she picked up her tray, sauntering over to the table.

  “Hate sharing,” I muttered, but a grin stretched across my lips as I followed Bess.

  I saw Nick’s brother, Jordan, kick him under the table to get his attention. Nick stopped mid-sentence, s
cowling at him before he noticed Jordan nodding his head in our direction. Turning in his seat, Nick’s gaze fell on us and a smile lit his face. Just like that, I relaxed.

  He really did make my heart melt. His black locks were gelled to perfection; his cognac-colored eyes sparkled when he saw me. Electricity raced across my fingers and my heartbeat galloped in my chest just thinking about one of his famous hugs.

  The wind suddenly picked up outside, the trees swaying even though the sun still shone as bright as could be, not a cloud in the sky. Surprise gripped me, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking away from Nick to focus on the weather outside, which seemed to turn on a dime. The wind died down, the brightness of the sun returning, only a little duller.

  “So odd,” I mumbled, shaking my head as we headed over to the table.

  “Think about where we live, does it really surprise you that much?” Bess asked, brushing off the weather as though it was nothing.

  I supposed she was right. There were plenty of days I glanced out the window and it was sunny and gorgeous, but within minutes it would cloud over and be raining and miserable. With that thought, I peeked outside only to see a few raindrops hit the window, almost as if I’d thought them into existence. My mouth parted in shock. Shaking it off the best I could, I took my seat next to Nick.

  “Hello, my beauty.” Beaming a smile at me, he tilted closer. His lips found mine in an instant as his arms draped over my shoulders, sneaking to my back to pull me into an intimate embrace.

  “Get a room you two.” Jordan gagged, throwing wadded up napkins at us. “I hear the biology lab is free.”

  Nick laughed against my lips, then angled away from me, taking my hand in his. Eyes landing on the new girl before returning to me, he nudged his head in her direction. “Sky, I’d like to introduce you to Willow. She just transferred in. Willow, Sky.” He gave her the same bright smile he had just given me.