by Linsey Hall
“We won’t let them,” I said. “We’ll find a way.”
Like Caro had said—we had to. The Protectorate was made up of some of the strongest supernaturals in the world. Dozens of us, all with amazing magic, now at the control of the Fates. With people like Caro at their beck and call, they could do anything. Wreak any kind of havoc in the world.
It was a nightmare.
That night, after showering and tending to our wounds, we sat in the kitchen at the Protectorate. No one could leave the castle grounds—at least, not those who had been branded. Hedy had confirmed that as long as they stayed on the ground, the magic that protected the castle would protect them. The Fates couldn’t control them.
But we needed a plan, because they couldn’t stay inside the Protectorate forever. Magicless.
Hans served bowls of stew and bread to everyone gathered around the table. The FireSouls were with us, and Jude had joined us after having her wounds tended to. I sat next to Lachlan, our hands grasped under the table.
There was a heaviness in the air. Word of what had happened to our friends had traveled fast. Since we didn’t have a plan yet, it just made things even scarier.
“We’ll fix this,” Jude said. “Together, we’ll come up with a plan to get the tattoos removed and to destroy the Fates.”
Everyone nodded, their faces grim.
“We’ll help,” Cass said. “Now that most of you can’t leave the castle, you’ll need more boots on the ground.”
Jude nodded. “Thank you.”
“Anytime,” Del said.
The other FireSouls nodded.
I squeezed Lachlan’s hand, drawing strength from him. I was glad he was here. My partner, in a sense. It hadn’t been long, but I felt it, strong and true.
Near the fire, the Cats of Catastrophe sat with Boris, the Celtic rat. Mayhem, the winged Pug of Destruction, sat next to them. They were plotting something together. Maybe a heist. Normally it’d make me nervous, or at least intrigued, but now, I could only focus on the problem at hand.
Jude had begun to make suggestions for how we might fix this, but I could barely hear her. My mind whirred with memories of the fight against the Fates.
Half a Dragon God.
That was why I hadn’t been able to defeat them.
My mind buzzed with the knowledge while my chest felt empty.
Then my druid sense pulled, tugging me hard. I stiffened. What the heck?
But it pulled harder. My head began to buzz. All I could focus on was the pull. It made the chatter at the table disappear.
I obeyed the call, squeezing Lachlan’s hand and then slipping away from the table. I muttered some excuse—I didn’t even know what—and climbed the stairs up to the main level. The halls were quiet as I walked, my boots thudding on the ground.
My druid sense was pulling me toward the library, tugging hard toward the collection of books that was the heart of this place.
Florian was nowhere to be seen as I entered. The fireplaces burst to life, sending a golden glow over the colorful paintings and leather-bound books.
I went straight over to the book I’d found earlier this week, the tiny volume that had caught my attention when we were searching for the location of Orvieto.
Despite the exhaustion that pulled at me, I moved quickly, my druid sense growing stronger and stronger. With a trembling hand, I reached for the book. It fell open to the same page.
The crow stared out at me, dark eyes bright.
I gasped.
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Excerpt Of Death Valley Magic
Death Valley Junction
Eight years before the events in Undercover Magic
Getting fired sucked. Especially when it was from a place as crappy as the Death’s Door Saloon.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” my ex-boss said.
“Screw you, Don.” I flipped him the bird and strode out into the sunlight that never gave Death Valley a break.
The door slammed behind me as I shoved on my sunglasses and stomped down the boardwalk with my hands stuffed in my pockets.
What was I going to tell my sisters? We needed this job.
There were roughly zero freaking jobs available in this postage stamp town, and I’d just given one up because I wouldn’t let the old timers pinch me on the butt when I brought them their beer.
Good going, Ana.
I kicked the dust on the ground and quickened my pace toward home, wondering if Bree and Rowan had heard from Uncle Joe yet. He wasn’t blood family—we had none of that left besides each other—but he was the closest thing to it and he’d been missing for three days.
Three days was a lifetime when you were crossing Death Valley. Uncle Joe made the perilous trip about once a month, delivering outlaws to Hider’s Haven. It was a dangerous trip on the best of days. But he should have been back by now.
Worry tugged at me as I made the short walk home. Death Valley Junction was a nothing town in the middle of Death Valley, the only all-supernatural city for hundreds of miles. It looked like it was right out of the old west, with low-slung wooden buildings, swinging saloon doors, and boardwalks stretching along the dirt roads.
Our house was at the end of town, a ramshackle thing that had last been repaired in the 1950s. As usual, Bree and Rowan were outside, working on the buggy. The buggy was a monster truck, the type of vehicle used to cross the valley, and it was our pride and joy.
Bree’s sturdy boots stuck out from underneath the front of the truck, and Rowan was at the side, painting Ravener poison onto the spikes that protruded from the doors.
“Hey, guys.”
Rowan turned. Confusion flashed in her green eyes, and she shoved her black hair back from her cheek. “Oh hell. What happened?”
“Fired.” I looked down. “Sorry.”
Bree rolled out from under the car. Her dark hair glinted in the sun as she stood, and grease dotted her skin where it was revealed by the strappy brown leather top she wore. We all wore the same style, since it was suited to the climate.
She squinted up at me. “I told you that you should have left that job a long time ago.”
“I know. But we needed the money to get the buggy up and running.”
She shook her head. “Always the practical one.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Any word from Uncle Joe?”
“Nope.” Bree flicked the little crystal she wore around her neck. “He still hasn’t activated his panic charm, but he should have been home days ago.”
Worry clutched in my stomach. “What if he’s wounded and can’t activate the charm?”
Months ago, we’d forced him to start wearing the charm. He’d refused initially, saying it didn’t matter if we knew he was in trouble. It was too dangerous for us to cross the valley to get him.
But that meant just leaving him. And that was crap, obviously.
We might be young, but we were tough. And we had the buggy. True, we’d never made a trip across, and the truck was only now in working order. But we were gearing up for it. We wanted to join Uncle Joe in the business of transporting outlaws across the valley to Hider’s Haven.
He was the only one in the whole town brave enough to make the trip, but he was getting old and we wanted to take over for him. The pay was good. Even better, I wouldn’t have to let anyone pinch me on the butt.
There weren’t a lot of jobs for girls on the run. We could only be paid under the table, which made it hard.
“Even if he was wounded, Uncle Joe would find a way to activate the charm,” Bree said.
As if he’d heard her, the charm around Bree’s neck lit up, golden and bright.
She looked down, eyes w
idening. “Holy fates.”
Panic sliced through me. My gaze met hers, then darted to Rowan’s. Worry glinted in both their eyes.
“We have to go,” Rowan said.
I nodded, my mind racing. This was real. We’d only ever talked about crossing the valley. Planned and planned and planned.
But this was go time.
“Is the buggy ready?” I asked.
“As ready as it’ll ever be,” Rowan said.
My gaze traced over it. The truck was a hulking beast, with huge, sturdy tires and platforms built over the front hood and the back. We’d only ever heard stories of the monsters out in Death Valley, but we needed a place from which to fight them and the platforms should do the job. The huge spikes on the sides would help, but we’d be responsible for fending off most of the monsters.
All of the cars in Death Valley Junction looked like something out of Mad Max, but ours was one of the few that had been built to cross the valley.
At least, we hoped it could cross.
We had some magic to help us out, at least. I could create shields, Bree could shoot sonic booms, and Rowan could move things with her mind.
Rowan’s gaze drifted to the sun that was high in the sky. “Not the best time to go, but I don’t see how we have a choice.”
I nodded. No one wanted to cross the valley in the day. According to Uncle Joe, it was the most dangerous of all. But things must be really bad if he’d pressed the button now.
He was probably hoping we were smart enough to wait to cross.
We weren’t.
“Let’s get dressed and go.” I hurried up the creaky front steps and into the ramshackle house.
It didn’t take long to dig through my meager possessions and find the leather pants and strappy top that would be my fight wear for out in the valley. It was too hot for anything more, though night would bring the cold.
Daggers were my preferred weapon—mostly since they were cheaper than swords and I had good aim with anything small and pointy. I shoved as many as I could into the little pockets built into the outside of my boots and pants. A small duffel full of daggers completed my arsenal.
I grabbed a leather jacket and the sand goggles that I’d gotten second hand, then ran out of the room. I nearly collided with Bree, whose blue eyes were bright with worry.
“We can do this,” I said.
She nodded. “You’re right. It’s been our plan all along.”
I swallowed hard, mind racing with all the things that could go wrong. The valley was full of monsters and dangerous challenges—and according to Uncle Joe, they changed every day. We had no idea what would be coming at us, but we couldn’t turn back.
Not with Uncle Joe on the other side.
We swung by the kitchen to grab jugs of water and some food, then hurried out of the house. Rowan was already in the driver’s seat, ready to go. Her sand goggles were pushed up on her head, and her leather top looked like armor.
“Get a move on!” she shouted.
I raced to the truck and scrambled up onto the back platform. Though I could open the side door, I was still wary of the Ravener poison Rowan had painted onto the spikes. It would paralyze me for twenty-four hours, and that was the last thing we needed.
Bree scrambled up to join me, and we tossed the supplies onto the floorboard of the back seat, then joined Rowan in the front, sitting on the long bench.
She cranked the engine, which grumbled and roared, then pulled away from the house.
“Holy crap, it’s happening.” Excitement and fear shivered across my skin.
Worry was a familiar foe. I’d been worried my whole life. Worried about hiding from the unknown people who hunted us. Worried about paying the bills. Worried about my sisters. But it’d never done me any good. So I shoved aside my fear for Uncle Joe and focused on what was ahead.
The wind tore through my hair as Rowan drove away from Death Valley Junction, cutting across the desert floor as the sun blazed down. I shielded my eyes, scouting the mountains ahead. The range rose tall, cast in shadows of gray and beige.
Bree pointed to a path that had been worn through the scrubby ground. “Try here!”
Rowan turned right, and the buggy cut toward the mountains. There was a parallel valley—the real Death Valley— that only supernaturals could access. That was what we had to cross.
Rowan drove straight for one of the shallower inclines, slowing the buggy as it climbed up the mountain. The big tires dug into the ground, and I prayed they’d hold up. We’d built most of the buggy from secondhand stuff, and there was no telling what was going to give out first.
The three of us leaned forward as we neared the top, and I swore I could hear our heartbeats pounding in unison. When we crested the ridge and spotted the valley spread out below us, my breath caught.
It was beautiful. And terrifying. The long valley had to be at least a hundred miles long and several miles wide. Different colors swirled across the ground, looking like they simmered with heat.
Danger cloaked the place, dark magic that made my skin crawl.
“Welcome to hell,” Bree muttered.
“I kinda like it,” I said. “It’s terrifying but…”
“Awesome,” Rowan said.
“You are both nuts,” Bree said. “Now drive us down there. I’m ready to fight some monsters.”
Rowan saluted and pulled the buggy over the mountain ridge, then navigated her way down the mountainside.
“I wonder what will hit us first?” My heart raced at the thought.
“Could be anything,” Bree said. “Bad Water has monsters, kaleidoscope dunes has all kinds of crazy shit, and the arches could be trouble.”
We were at least a hundred miles from Hider’s Haven, though Uncle Joe said the distances could change sometimes. Anything could come at us in that amount of time.
Rowan pulled the buggy onto the flat ground.
“I’ll take the back.” I undid my seatbelt and scrambled up onto the back platform.
Bree climbed onto the front platform, carrying her sword.
“Hang on tight!” Rowan cried.
I gripped the safety railing that we’d installed on the back platform and crouched to keep my balance. She hit the gas, and the buggy jumped forward.
Rowan laughed like a loon and drove us straight into hell.
Up ahead, the ground shimmered in the sun, glowing silver.
“What do you think that is?” Rowan called.
“I don’t know,” I shouted. “Go around!”
She turned left, trying to cut around the reflective ground, but the silver just extended into our path, growing wider and wider. Death Valley moving to accommodate us.
Moving to trap us.
Then the silver raced toward us, stretching across the ground.
There was no way around.
“You’re going to have to drive over it!” I shouted.
She hit the gas harder, and the buggy sped up. The reflective surface glinted in the sun, and as the tires passed over it, water kicked up from the wheels.
“It’s the Bad Water!” I cried.
The old salt lake was sometimes dried up, sometimes not. But it wasn’t supposed to be deep. Six inches, max. Right?
Please be right, Uncle Joe.
Rowan sped over the water, the buggy’s tires sending up silver spray that sparkled in the sunlight. It smelled like rotten eggs, and I gagged, then breathed shallowly through my mouth.
Magic always had a signature—taste, smell, sound. Something that lit up one of the five senses. Maybe more.
And a rotten egg stink was bad news. That meant dark magic.
Tension fizzed across my skin as we drove through the Bad Water. On either side of the car, water sprayed up from the wheels in a dazzling display that belied the danger of the situation. By the time the explosion came, I was strung so tight that I almost leapt off the platform.
The monster was as wide as the buggy, but so long that I couldn’t see wher
e it began or ended. It was a massive sea creature with fangs as long as my arm and brilliant blue eyes. Silver scales were the same color as the water, which was still only six inches deep, thank fates.
Magic propelled the monster, who circled our vehicle, his body glinting in the sun. He had to be a hundred feet long, with black wings and claws. He climbed on the ground and leapt into the air, slithering around as he examined us.
“It’s the Unhcegila!” Bree cried from the front.
Shit.
Uncle Joe had told us about the Unhcegila—a terrifying water monster from Dakota and Lakota Sioux legends.
Except it was real, as all good legends were. And it occasionally appeared when the Bad Water wasn’t dried up. It only needed a few inches to appear.
Looked like it was our lucky day.
My heart thundered as the beast circled, undulating in the air in that signature snakey way. Its eyes pierced me as it waited to strike, and I raised my hands, ready for it.
“Use your shield!” Bree shouted.
“I’ve got to time it!” I didn’t have an endless supply of magic, and wasting it at the beginning of our crossing was a bad idea.
“How do we defeat it?” Rowan cried. “You can’t hold it off forever.”
My mind raced. Uncle Joe had said something about that. Something…
The creature struck. Light glinted on its fangs, and its breath smelled like week-old garbage as it hurtled toward me.
“Ana!” Rowan cried.
I stifled a gag and called upon my shield magic, envisioning a protective barrier between me and the beast.
It burst from my hands, shining and white. The monster’s head slammed into the shield, so hard the collision vibrated up my arms. My magic faltered, weakening.
Damn it.
I wished I had offensive magic—fire, ice, a sonic boom like Bree.
Instead, I was a shield. Destined to react, not act.
The monster reared back and slammed its head against the shield again. It hit with such force that I went to my knees, my arms trembling from the strain of keeping the shield up.
“Drop it so I can hit him!” Bree screamed.
