Sorcerers, Spirits, and Ships
by Katherine Gilbert
Table of Contents
Title Page
Sorcerers, Spirits, and Ships (More in Heaven and Earth)
Katherine Gilbert’s More in Heaven and Earth Universe
Author’s Note
Chapter 1 | Armand
Chapter 2 | Annabella
Chapter 3 | Armand
Chapter 4 | Annabella
Chapter 5 | Armand
Chapter 6 | Annabella
Chapter 7 | Armand
Chapter 8 | Annabella
Chapter 9 | Armand
Chapter 10 | Annabella
Chapter 11 | Armand
Chapter 12 | Annabella
Chapter 13 | Armand
Chapter 14 | Annabella
Chapter 15 | Armand
Chapter 16 | Annabella
Chapter 17 | Armand
Chapter 18 | Annabella
Chapter 19 | Kitty
Chapter 20 | Annabella
Chapter 21 | Kitty
Chapter 22 | Annabella
Chapter 23 | Kitty
Chapter 24 | Armand
Chapter 25 | Annabella
Chapter 26 | Kitty
Chapter 27 | Armand
Epilogue—Two Months Later | Annabella
Author’s Note
About the Author
The characters and events in this book are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons—living, dead, mythological, ghostly, former feline or otherwise—is entirely coincidental.
While the Queen Mary, its ghostly legends, and bits of its history mentioned here (such as its war bride runs, the wreck with the Curacoa, and its current berth as a hotel and museum in Long Beach) are real, everything else is entirely fictional.
If there’s a Queen Mary Historical Society as portrayed in this book, the author is unaware of it and apologizes. There is a Queen Mary Association which does good work and is worth checking out, but it is not being referred to here. There is no intention of trespassing on the good name of this association or the ship with this work.
Also, as far as the author is aware, there has never been a single murder on board the Queen Mary, either in modern times or during its life at sea. This is purely a work of fiction.
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All Rights Reserved
©2021 Katherine Gilbert
Cover Art by MiblArt
DEDICATION:
For Armida, who understands and encourages all my weird fascinations (such as, well, sorcerers, spirits, and the great ocean liners)
Katherine Gilbert’s More in Heaven and Earth Universe
(While there are some recurring characters, these are all stand-alones and can be read in any order you choose):
Unearthly Remains
Protecting the Dead
Moonlight, Magnolias, and Magic
(These first three are also available in the More in Heaven and Earth, Box Set 1, along with the short story at the end of this list and one other prequel short story)
Cursed in White
A Wild Conversion
Children of the Gods
Sorcerers, Spirits, and Ships
“Things to Do at the British Museum When You’re Dead: An Unearthly Remains Prequel Short Story”
Author’s Note
Although many of the characters in this novel first appeared in Moonlight, Magnolias, and Magic, this story can be easily understood without starting there. Consider that novel a prequel. If you enjoy this work and wish to spend more time with these characters, you can always go back to it later. Any events required for understanding will be explained here.
Chapter 1
Armand
As introductions went, it was somewhere around the level of greeting the harpy who had just eaten your mother at a polite tea party.
Armand—the newly-chosen, and utterly fake, Duke of Winchester—watched his beloved Annabella staring at Sheba, as the ex-cat, now in human form, ignored her.
Sheba was in her full “once a cat, always a cat” mode today, stretched out full-length on the back of a couch in one of the palatial sitting rooms of the castle. How she didn’t roll off, he had no idea. Occasionally, she would lick her arm but mostly looked to be taking a short nap.
She was also entirely naked.
This would have been fine, had Sheba still been a Persian cat. As a human, and utterly voluptious, Middle Eastern woman . . . not so much.
Armand had only himself to blame for this, of course, as he’d been the one to transmogrify her when she’d been about to die from old age. Eighteen was quite elderly for a cat. As a human, it was only the beginning. It was rather a frowned-upon practice in the magical world, but that didn’t mean it didn’t happen.
Sighing, he heard his friend Hubert trying not to chuckle and couldn’t really blame him. That man’s ex-mastiff sidekick had adapted to clothes much more readily and less embarrassingly than Armand’s Persian.
Proving this now by wearing a brown suit, even if it were one which didn’t quite work for him and was always a little rumpled, Brutus let out a small whine. The dogman had been much too fond of Sheba when they had both had four legs. Now that they were the same species . . .
Armand decided not to go there.
Trying to reason with her, and knowing she was probably doing this on purpose, he sighed, “Sheba, haven’t we discussed how important clothes are for you now?”
Annabella had come up to take his hand, but he could sense her trying to hold back her laughter, too. He supposed he should be grateful that she was so understanding. Most new brides—which, in witch terms, she was—would not take quite so calmly to discovering a naked woman lounging around her husband’s house.
Sheba raised her head to stare at him, her sage-green eyes no longer catlike but still rather intense. For a moment, there was a noise in her throat like a “mwreor.”
“Don’t like clothes. They hinder me.”
Sitting up further on the sofa’s back—in a way which would have made nearly anyone else fall off—she looked down at her human body.
“Still miss my other nipples.”
Looking over to Annabella, Armand saw her biting her lip, trying desperately not to laugh, her whole form shaking with it, her lovely hazel eyes alight. The beautiful hair he saw as blonde—and she always demanded was brown—was slightly mussed from travel, and she was so perfect he could barely stand it. That she was so understanding of Sheba’s ex-cat show of wilfulness just made him love her more.
There really hadn’t been enough time for a proper honeymoon yet.
Of course, Hubert was also amused. The older man’s light blue eyes shone, his long, if receding, blond hair shaking slightly, as he tried to hold back his laughter. Although dressed in his usual, impeccable style, ready for any legal negotiation or magical spell which might prove necessary, he looked as though—had he not been trying to be polite—he would have been howling.
Poor solid, squat, bald Brutus was also watching, although, in his case, he was whimpering
and looked like he wanted to drool.
Staring back at Sheba, Armand sighed. Sometimes, he felt very guilty for having transformed his former feline companion. He wondered how much of her complaints were meant to keep the upper hand and how many were real.
Clasping Annabella’s fingers more firmly, he tried to bring his former pet to heel. “Sheba, behave.”
She just raised a delicately-formed eyebrow at him. Her long, black hair flowed magnificently, blocking absolutely none of the view of her flesh.
“This is Annabella. She’s my partner now.”
One of the best parts of his memories of the last three months had been their partnering ceremony, informal though it had been. Among other things, it had been a lovely break from Tillie and Errol’s lessons about how to be a duke, which was a role he was still unhappy being forced into, not that the Magical Council cared. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Errol seemed only too happy to turn the, entirely imaginary, title over to him.
“She’s not going anywhere, no matter how outrageously you behave . . .”
I hope.
“. . . so you need to get used to her.”
Sheba finally stood, which only showed off her body more completely. Armand tried not to stare at the ceiling, making himself keep watching her face. Although Sheba would always be a cat to him, having her stroll around as a naked woman could be very disconcerting—which she clearly knew.
The ex-cat sauntered toward them in a strut straight out of Seduction 101—but, then again, that walk had always been fairly feline. Finally, she stood inches away from Annabella, her green eyes watching her calmly.
To her credit, Annabella didn’t flinch or challenge her or even blink. She just smiled calmly and said, “I’m pleased to meet you, Sheba. Armand is very fond of you.”
Oh, sweet Hecate. Please don’t let Sheba spit at her.
His ex-pet had never been quite so uncouth before, not in human form, but there was always a first time.
Sheba just watched the woman, although she did take in a visibly deep breath. From talking to Brutus, Armand knew that she didn’t retain her catlike sense of smell, but it was still more refined than a normal human’s, mostly because she knew what should be there and could find the small traces from habit. He was certain that she would pick up his bond with Annabella, then—probably already had, which would account for this particularly pointed display.
The standoff lasted for maybe a full minute, although it certainly felt longer. Hearing Brutus audibly whining, he wasn’t certain whether it were from tension or lust.
Finally, Sheba raised an eyebrow at Annabella, her face twisting a little. “Meh!” she murmured then turned to walk, very slowly, away.
It was a rather mesmerizing sight, as it was meant to be. Armand had to shake his head, thankfully distracted by his partner’s words.
“I see she found the red pumps Errol gave me.”
Glancing down, Armand now noticed the ankle-aching stilettos the ex-cat wore. Somehow, she still moved gracefully in them.
Although they were a dubious gift to pass on to a secretary—which had been Annabella’s role for the last “duke”—Errol had explained. Apparently, they were only one of several such presents the man had given, thinking—once he got her and Armand together—that Armand would enjoy them. Clearly this whole soul-mate-finding gig—which was all the dukedom really was—could lead to some pretty serious misunderstandings, if he weren’t careful.
Thankfully, Annabella had just thought Errol insane and hadn’t responded to what seemed to be his obvious come-ons. Given that his other supposed secretary—and actual life partner—Tillie, had enough sorcerous powers to turn him into a small gray squirrel if she chose, Errol was lucky that she was so understanding.
He would have appreciated Annabella’s unflappable reaction even more, as well, had he not known that it was all part of her rather-too-frequent tendency to underestimate her beauty and worth. It was a path established by her extremely-neglected past and one he spent every moment trying to teach her to let go.
More than this, though, Armand rather questioned Errol’s taste, the heels meaning nothing to him. He liked Annabella best when she was just in a comfortable pair of jeans and a shirt, although she’d been dressing more professionally ever since he’d had the dukedom turned over to him. As his primary “secretary,” she had a role to keep up.
She looked good now, but he missed the jeans.
Either that or naked. Naked definitely worked for him, too.
“It’s fine,” Annabella turned to him, once Sheba had left the room, clearly misunderstanding his thoughts. “I could never have pulled them off without breaking a leg, anyway.”
Brutus just whined.
To Armand’s surprise, Hubert came and clapped him softly on the shoulder.
“She’s attached to you. Give her a while. Besides . . .” The barrister smiled. “You just left her for . . . how many months? You knew she would get her revenge for your desertion somehow.”
Sighing, Armand wanted to defend himself. It wasn’t as though he could have taken her on his last job as an akuma karyuudo. Being an akukar was dangerous—demon hunting requiring total focus—as Annabella had discovered when they’d rescued her from her evil family home and the demon who resided in it. His cover working for Beatrix, the woman who had kidnapped Annabella as a young child—the woman he was unfortunate enough to have as his great-grandmother—had not made his demon-hunting job any easier. Even had Sheba behaved as the perfect human, Beatrix would have destroyed her at the first opportunity, for so many reasons.
He wrapped his hand more tightly with Annabella’s, hoping it didn’t look to Hubert like what it was: a plea for strength.
Annabella would understand, but, then, Annabella always did. In just the first week after they had rescued her from the demon, she had gone from confused and overwhelmed by the very fact that magic existed to completely competent and well on her way to understanding every lesson which led her closer to her conversion into her full sorcerer’s powers.
It was an amazing transformation and a heartening one to see her magic no longer being drained away by Beatrix. That she would soon have at least twenty times his strength only made him prouder of her.
Hubert and Errol had even taken to calling her “Maitre,” which was a title reserved for those witches who were very close to converting. Armand didn’t think she was actually there yet, but he recognized that the day was coming when he would be the much weaker partner.
Looking at her, loving her, he smiled. She was wearing a raspberry suit, her brownish-blonde hair a little wild but more under control than it had been anytime during those first few days of horror he had known her. He especially enjoyed the way the lighter streaks would catch the moonlight. Later tonight, he had every intention of taking her out into the garden to enjoy it in full.
He only hoped they could without naked cat interferences.
He didn’t get a chance to answer Hubert, hearing an amused, “Well, that went better than I expected” from the wall behind him.
Sighing, he turned to see a familiar, beautiful Indian face in a large, ornate mirror. Mahima Tejasvini Patel, the sorcerer better known as Tillie, had returned to The Magical Council—possibly partly to wait out her pregnancy in a less-dangerous place than in the field—but she definitely kept an eye on them.
“You never did believe in cellphones, did you?” he asked.
There was a little whatever! wave to her hand. “Technology is such a bore. Besides, if I can’t use the Council’s power to make this calling more secure than a cell, I should just retire as a sorcerer.”
Errol poked his sandy head in, blue eyes shining, waving behind her. It was no surprise he was there, as he was never far from the woman he loved.
Annabella waved back, as Tillie went on.
“I see you’re settling in just fine. Remember the basics I taught you. For now . . .”
Armand tried manfully not to roll his eyes,
finishing for her. “. . . study the list of names of those who do and don’t know about the dukedom and get ready to ignore or bespell away any confusion in the mundanes.”
There tended to be a lot of that, given that the “dukes” were switched out whenever it was convenient or necessary, with no mention of the previous ones.
“Pick back up on the parties and places Errol had chosen before and start matching up those who should meet,” he continued.
Managing not to sigh, he reminded himself that his role as “love connector,” as Errol referred to it, was important. Magic—and the world—worked better when there was more true love in it. Still, it just wasn’t as exciting as demon hunting.
“And I can check out the rumors about some dangers with the Queen Mary so long as I’m back for the monthly Council meeting at midnight on the 15th.”
Annabella looked confused—an expression he hadn’t seen for a couple of months now. It was adorable, and he’d kind of missed it.
“Wait. Queen Mary? Is this a person or the cruise ship?”
“Ocean liner,” Armand, Hubert, Tillie, and Errol all said at once.
“O-kay, whatever. Isn’t it docked as a hotel now?”
“In Long Beach, California,” Tillie nodded.
“And there are dangers with it?”
Armand sighed. He’d kind of forgotten that he hadn’t told her about it. Apparently, he’d been way too focused on taking over the dukedom.
“It was supposed to be my next job as an akukar—my last one now, I guess.”
Admittedly, in those first few weeks together, it had been very difficult to remember to talk about normal, everyday things once they were alone.
Okay, so we did KINDA have a honeymoon.
Trying not to get lost in the very pleasant memories, he continued explaining. “There are some rumors about the ghosts there. There seem to be even more of them than usual, and they’re apparently getting out of hand.”
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