Death Magic Rules
(A Raised Novel)
SHARON STEVENSON
Copyright
Sharon Stevenson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Copyright © Sharon Stevenson 2013
All rights reserved. Thank you for buying an authorized edition and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning or distributing any part of it in any form without permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction set in an alternate reality independent Scotland ruled over by a monarchy. This book contains strong and frequent adult language and sexual references.
Cover Design by Your Next Book Crush
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Formatting by Polgarus Studio
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To Graham
Table of Contents
One – Tim
Two – Pete
Three – Kit
Four – Mickey
Five – Tim
Six – Pete
Seven – Kit
Eight – Mickey
Nine – Tim
Ten – Pete
Eleven – Kit
Twelve – Mickey
Thirteen – Tim
Fourteen – Pete
Fifteen – Kit
Sixteen – Mickey
Seventeen – Tim
Eighteen – Pete
Nineteen – Kit
Twenty – Mickey
Twenty-One – Tim
Twenty-Two – Pete
Twenty-Three – Kit
Twenty-Four – Mickey
Twenty-Five – Tim
Twenty-Six – Pete
Twenty-Seven – Kit
Twenty-Eight – Mickey
Twenty-Nine – Tim
Thirty – Pete
Thirty-One – Kit
Thirty-Two – Mickey
Thirty-Three – Tim
Thirty-Four – Pete
Thirty-Five – Kit
Thirty-Six – Mickey
Thirty-Seven – Pete
Thirty-Eight – Nine
Thirty-Nine – Kit
Forty – Mickey
Forty-One – Pete
Sample: Restless Spirits
Also by Sharon Stevenson
About the Author
One – Tim
Britton Rocks is dead. No matter how many times I repeated the words inside my own head this news refused to sink in. I paced the blood-soaked floor of her penthouse suite, studying her lifeless corpse and wondering just what might make this news more palatable; not to me, it was far too late to wash the bad taste out of my mouth. What’s done is done. It’s how it was done that’s the problem.
Her body is cold and stiff and bloodied. She’s been dead for less than an hour. It doesn’t matter. She’s not coming back. Her status would make reanimation a legal nightmare and as amused as the King might be at being gifted this bitch for his army, his smile would quickly disappear when she told him what had actually happened. I was fucked, royally, whichever way I twisted the story.
There had to be some way to cover this up.
I didn’t want to check for Animates, but I had to. My magic was quick to locate them on the floor directly below Britt’s penthouse, all eighty-one of them. My stomach lurched at this new information. I had hoped, rather foolishly, that they might have spontaneously combusted all on their own. Annoyingly, they don’t seem to want to solve my problem quite so easily.
I could sense her small army of animated corpses waiting unsuspectingly for their next orders. They’d survived her death because her magic hadn’t died, it had simply been transferred. They likely hadn’t sensed her passing at all. That was going to make rectifying this situation all the more difficult.
Taking a breath, I stopped wearing down the carpet. Did they know they were free now? I very much doubted it, considering they weren’t bolting for the closest exits. Any magical safeguards she’d installed had disappeared, but they would only know that if they tested them. She had them well-trained so I doubted they would try anything that might incur her wrath.
Should I simply teleport them out into the desert? I sighed. As much as I wanted to convince myself it was a workable plan, I knew that it wasn’t. They were too many of them to dispose of in such a careless fashion.
Taking my medicine would be the easiest option; sucking it up and going straight to the King like a good little soldier was about the best thing I could do right now. I was in the bad books as it was. It couldn’t get much worse, could it?
I let the scenario play out in my head. The King would take her Animates into his army. He’d leave her body to be found by normals. He might ask me to make her death look a little more ‘natural’. That was the easy part.
He’d find out about Nick. There was no way he couldn’t.
He’d use it as an excuse to crawl around inside my head. I pulled at my shirt-cuffs. I reached for a cigarette and found my pocket empty but for my lighter. My shaking hands went un-rewarded. I’d been catatonic for a week after the last of his little trust tests. The King was way beyond the recorded scale for users, his talents endless and varied. He knew ways to kill from afar. Running wasn’t an option; it never had been.
The moment I’d begun to present skills beyond level seven, I’d gone to him. It was in my best interests. I knew that and I always had. The job offer had been instant. I’d been thankful. I’d done everything he’d asked of me. Even when I felt like I was dying it was better than the alternative. I’d gone to him willingly. None of the others had. That had to still count for something.
I forced every apprehensive thought aside. I had to trust he’d forgive. Punishment was inevitable, but I wouldn’t stay in his bad books. He’d need me sooner or later. I prayed it would be sooner, and I knew that would only be likely if I went to him now.
Staring down at Britt’s pale corpse, an unusual feeling settled over me. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to submit to the wrath of my vengeful master. I had only his mercy to fall on. The problem was that calculated risk wasn’t enough, not anymore.
Risking my life to become his right hand when I had nothing to lose had only been the smart thing to do. Keeping his trust had kept me alive all these years. The small mistakes I’d made over the years had resulted in extreme punishments that I preferred not to have dished out, and this was no small mistake.
I’d failed to deliver a hand-picked Animate. The cold quirk of the King’s smile chilled me to the bone even in memory. He’d picked Mickey out of my head moments before his announcement. I’d frozen in terror at what he might order me to do. Split loyalties were not allowed. I’d cut myself off from my sister Janie when I signed up, determined to show I could serve him without reservations. The way his eyes seared through me when he spoke told me something awful was coming. My heart slowed until I was convinced it would stop beating entirely.
I cursed my own stupidity. I should have let Mickey go when he’d pushed me away the first time. Pretending it was a game made it sweeter every time he submitted, but I’d been fooling no-one but myself.
When Pete’s name fell from the King’s thin lips, I sucked in a sharp breath. He just grinned and slapped my arm, gifting me the vision of Mickey’s cousin’s murder. I knew when it would be, I knew who would kill him. My stomach twisted. It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared, but it wasn’t good either.
And now? Mickey might be closer to accepting himself and me by default. That should have been a cause to celebrate, but it had come at a cost I couldn’t afford. Saving Pete had messed everything up. I had no way to make this right.
Britt’s dead eyes gazed past me to the crystal-encrusted light fitting
above.
The clock was ticking, and it would only be a matter of time before my choice was taken from me. The longer I spent away from the castle, the harder it would be to explain. He would know I’d been conflicted. I wouldn’t have the chance to hide my thoughts. If I tried, he’d only shatter my mind to get in.
Realistically, I had two options. I could leave and do nothing. Eventually, she’d be found and it would be all over the news within hours. I could hope the King would find it coincidental. Perhaps if I could find a way to preoccupy him he may not even… Oh, bloody fucking hell, who am I kidding? He’d find out. He’d be suspicious about it, and he’d get it out of me if he had to pull my brains out of my ears to do it. He’d unravel everything, and I was only so damned afraid of the punishment this time because he’d know why I did it all.
If I went to him with the whole truth the outcome wouldn’t be any different. He would do what he thought he had to. I couldn’t let him. What did that leave?
I was still trying to come up with an answer when the double doors to the penthouse suite opened and a petite blonde woman bounded in, singing cheerfully as she did so. Her green eyes widened as she noticed me. Her mouth dropped open slackly as those pretty eyes landed on her master. She shrieked, a shrill sound that set my nerves on edge.
I attempted to smile as I checked her tattoo. “You must be clone number Nine.”
She put her hands over her mouth, taking a step back. The shriek had evaporated into hiccupy-gasps.
“There’s no need to be afraid.”
Britt’s clone stumbled and fell; her platform trainers and her unsteady feet the obvious culprits. “Oh my… Oh my… Oh my…”
This was a complication I certainly didn’t need. Or maybe I was thinking about this all wrong. I looked her over, comparing her to the corpse on the floor. She was almost perfect. It certainly made me wonder. The plan that began to form was a little bit on the crazy side, but there was every chance it could work.
She stared up at me, eyes watery. “What did you…”
“This was an accident. I have a proposal for you.” I realised it was probably going to come off a bit creepy but given that this girl was modelled on a vapid, power-hungry diva, I thought I might have a chance at convincing her to go along with my evil plan.
“Don’t hurt me,” she said, whimpering as she rubbed at her ankle. She was actually cowering.
I took a calming breath and brought out a reassuring smile. “Sometimes bad things happen for a reason.”
Two – Pete
There’s only so much one dead guy can take. I learned that pretty fast when Nick put a horrendous puppet-spell on me and made me go all clunky B-movie zombie on a bunch of hot chicks in the club. The screaming was bad enough, but one of them had taken her shoe off and punctured a hole in my arm. She’d had to be dragged away kicking and cursing. I flipped her the bird when Nick let me have control of my own body back. I doubt she even saw it by then. Glowering at my new User was fast becoming my new favourite past-time, not that he even noticed. He was too busy enjoying the attention he was getting from women who used to ignore him. Power; it drives chicks wild. Who’d have known?
The club was awash with flashing lights, scantily-clothed women and big, buff, irritable-looking men. Practically everyone was wearing leather. It was either a biker joint or a fetish club. I was leaning towards biker bar going by the number of times Nick had used me to fend off attacks from scary-looking dudes in Motorhead t-shirts. I was getting pretty sick of being used like a human Rottweiler by the time Nick was actually on stage and otherwise distracted.
I sank into the shadows at the side of the stage and tried not to think about how much this would suck if this were my life… Oh wait, I have no life; I was revoked entitlement to a life when a crazy bitch decided to go slash-happy on me and paint my kitchen a vibrant shade of O-negative. My snort of laughter drew the drummer’s wary glance. He shook his head at me and kept right on banging away like a possessed monkey.
I should probably explain; Nick’s band is a mix of speed metal and rap metal with a heavy coating of grunge rock. This made for a head-ache forming combo. I doubted they were getting paid for the noise they were making.
It was too warm. The lights burning onto the stage and the equipment beside me were making the room uncomfortably hot. I folded my arms and snarled at a tattooed-girl with pink hair who was peering nosily over at me. She raised a pierced eyebrow and looked away slowly. Bitch.
I had no idea how long Nick spent writhing around on the beer-stained stage, singing mostly out of tune, but I took an interest when he decided to levitate three foot above the stage and perform a guitar solo that the rest of the band clearly hadn’t seen coming. They all stopped playing once he got five minutes into his over-blown, self-indulgent performance. He had women pushing against the stage to get close to him. He was glowing like Britt used to, overflowing with magic he just had to use. I rolled my eyes. It hadn’t been a short night so far, and it didn’t look like it was going to wind down anytime soon either.
I wanted to get home already. The day had been long enough. The thought of sleep made me smile, even if it wasn’t something I strictly needed to do anymore. It was just one of those things that made me feel more human, more like the old me. I needed to feel human, particularly after the way Nick had just had me acting. They were actually afraid of me. Most of them, anyway. The disinterested few had the right idea but the majority actually seemed to think they would turn into an Animate if I bit them. Idiots. Why the hell would I want to bite them? They probably thought I was after their brains too. I snorted.
Nick came back to earth and was instantly mauled by his new-found groupies. His t-shirt was quickly ripped from him. He grinned at their lack of restraint. The tint of red on their wandering hands was more than just over-flow. He was be-spelling them. I frowned at him. The blonde girl pushing the others out the way grabbed Nick by the neck and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss. Her eyes flashed red before they closed.
What the fuck?
The band rightfully got aggravated and abandoned their instruments to go the bar. Three minutes later they were drinking, raising my jealousy. Not being able to eat or drink anymore bit the big one. I’d taken to chewing food for the taste and spitting it out again, but it just isn’t the same. Swallowing is highly underrated.
I watched Nick take turns with a couple of the more ravenous groupies. Their heated kisses dropped away quickly, replaced by hair-pulling and face-scratching when they started to actually bitch-fight each other. This wasn’t funny anymore. Nick was too busy to even notice the havoc he was creating; he was staring at the chest of the blonde who’d managed the climb on to the stage and had ripped her t-shirt off to keep his attention. The flimsy bra she was wearing was completely see-through under the spot-lights.
“You’ve got to be taking the piss,” I cursed, picking up one of the drum sticks the possessed monkey had left on the stage next to his kit. This wasn’t happening. I was not about to stand around and witness a live sex show. Even if the girl hadn’t been out of her head on Nick’s magic, it wasn’t something I’d want to see. I chucked one of the sticks at him, hard. It hit him in the back and made him turn. The girl’s arms closed around his skinny chest from behind. The nipple ring and belly-button piercings she started toying with made me cringe, but no more so than seeing the chain that disappeared from Nick’s belly piercing into his jeans. Yuck. I so did not need to know what that was attached to. “That’s enough,” I warned.
Nick frowned at me, smiling when the girl licked his neck. “What? This is one of your only obligations, Pete. So…”
“I never agreed to stand around and watch you cast lust spells,” I argued, folding my arms.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not doing anything wrong here.” He pushed the girl back. “So don’t get all preachy with me.”
“They don’t want you. You’re just forcing them to like you. It’s disgusting.”
�
��What the fuck would you know?” He stared at me. “You don’t have the first clue about what women really want.”
The girl behind him was glowing almost painfully now. He was pushing too much magic into her. She was going to crash. Her hands wandered as her eyes rolled up in her head. She moaned loudly, fingers following the chain hanging from Nick’s piercing.
“Oh, aye? Well, whatever it is, it’s not in your pants.”
The girl passed out, tumbling backwards and moaning lightly as she hit the floor. Nick turned and gazed down at her, no expression on his face. He knelt and touched her, and the glow of his magic coursed back towards him. He didn’t look at me again until the magic was safely contained within his own body. “It was just a bit of fun. If you’re going to keep over-reacting, I’ll need to re-think your contract.”
I didn’t say anything. The thinly veiled threat wasn’t worth reacting to. Nick had gotten out of control, but he’d stopped when he’d seen the harm he was doing. He just didn’t like being told what to do.
I folded my arms. “What time is this place open ‘til?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Nick said, turning and soaking up the drizzle of magic he’d poured over the crowd. They were suddenly a whole hell of a lot less rowdy. The bitch-fights near the stage stopped dead. Girls who’d been tearing each other’s hair out seconds before started crying and hugging and throwing out absolutes; let’s never fight again, don’t ever let me drink vodka again, you’ll always be my best friend no matter what. It was kind of nice and reassuring after the slip I’d just witnessed from Nick.
“We can go,” Nick said, putting his guitar in its case and picking up his leather jacket.
“What about…”
“The guys will tidy up. Or is asking others to pack shit up against your moral code as well?”
Death Magic Rules Page 1
