by LJ Swallow
Held By Magic
The Demon’s Covenant
L J Swallow
Copyright © 2018 by L J Swallow
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Sign up to my newsletter and download a FREE novella exclusive to subscribers The Four Horsemen: Tricked
Click to sign up
Created with Vellum
Contents
About
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Other Books By LJ Swallow
Books by Lisa Swallow
About the Author
HELD BY MAGIC
The Demon’s Covenant #1
Held by Magic is the first full-length novel in a slow-burn reverse harem urban fantasy series.
I helped the Four Horsemen save the world. Now I'm fighting for my life.
The only people who can help me are three powerful and seductive guys who don't belong in this world--and the Horsemen want them dead.
After the almost-apocalypse, my life as an untrustworthy, half-demon thief returned to normal. But everything changed when my latest job ended in disaster. I'm now cursed with a death mark and, if I don't find the cure soon, I'm facing life under the control of a demon prince.
Not only that, but three sexy and dangerous supernatural guys have also tracked me down. Powerful but seductive elemental, Cillian. Sharp and guarded wizard, Morgan. Their mysterious and passionate companion, Dex.
They need my skills to locate a dangerous magic item, and in return, they'll help find a cure for my mark. We strike a deal: I'll help the guys find the Sunde box if they protect and help me.
Now we're being pursued by demons, I'm fending off my fae ex-lover, and we're trying to stay alive. Even worse, I'm all out of whisky.
And did I mention whoever possesses the dangerous box and its secrets could change the world? I hope this isn't another apocalypse situation, because I've seriously had enough of those this year.
This series is set the world of LJ Swallow's The Four Horsemen series. However, the storylines and main characters are different, and each series can be read as a standalone.
1
I helped the Four Horsemen save the world.
Okay, I didn't face down the crazy god who decided the universe needed a makeover, although I did help the guys find an item or two to stop him. If I had a resume, the achievement would look damn good, but there’s no point since I'm self-employed. Many of my clients aren’t fans of the Four Horsemen, so mentioning my connection wouldn’t be a great idea.
But I did help. And I'll tell anybody who'll listen, although most people don't believe me. Probably because I'm a half-demon thief who spins a good story after a few too many drinks.
Following the almost-apocalypse, the Horsemen and their fifth, Vee, retreated for a few months. Nobody knows exactly what happened the day the five defeated the ancient god, apart from the group. Angels died. The god died. Vee and her Horsemen survived. Now the supernatural races living in the world keep their distance from the Horsemen more than ever. Including the angels.
Despite the fact I helped, I don't catch up with the Horsemen much—we're hardly best buddies, although Vee can be fun. I have a job to do. Money to make. I'm back in the shadows and to my old life: locating magical items for a fee.
Which includes dealing with unpleasant situations like this one.
I duck from the demon as he launches himself at me and the stupid bastard runs straight into a wall. His ugly head bounces off, and he turns as if he hit cotton wool. Well, "where there's no sense, there's no feeling", as my dad would say. Not my real one. I have no clue where he is.
For sixteen years, I believed I was the child of an average couple from Woking, until someone burst my suburban-teen bubble and introduced me to my true, half-demon self. The shock led to excitement that I could have magic powers to take down the people who piss me off. Maybe a spell or two to help in life.
Nope.
Nada. I'm stronger and more skilled with weapons than most people, a useful skill in itself. I did discover one odd skill a few years ago: I can detect magical items, drawn to them like a magpie. Or a dragon—they like shinies, although I'm pretty sure I'm not a dragon. Some people—aka the Four Horsemen—worry that dragons found their way through the portals Crazy God opened last year. I doubt they did—I haven't seen any scaly UFOs flying around. Demonic dogs walking the world, yes. Dragons, no. The portals are permanently closed now.
The demon almost succeeds in tackling me to the floor, but I step to one side. "Dude, your breath is rank." I gag as the rotting teeth bare at me in his pale green face. He smells worse than the times I return from a long assignment and discover I forgot to empty the kitchen bin before I left.
This was supposed to be a simple job: go to the warehouse, find box labelled 'cool magic item' and collect it for my client. Okay, the ‘cool magic item' part might not be true, and by 'collect' I mean acquire by any means. I’ve worked for Malvorn a few times. He collects what he calls ‘curios’ and sells them on. He told me the place would be empty and I expected a human security guard, at most. Instead, I encounter this monstrosity.
I drag both daggers from my heavy black boots and kick out with one leg, landing my foot squarely in the creature's solid stomach. He stumbles for a moment before coming at me again.
Great. I side-step the creature and brandish my long blades in his direction. "Hello? Sharp things?"
Not blessed with brains, the demon launches at me, and paw-like hands grab me around the waist. His build and weight make up for the brains, and he knocks me to the floor with an oomph. The ugly bastard bears down on me, giving me another view of his poor dental hygiene.
I curse my lack of supernatural power. I'd rather 'magic' something to death than end a fight covered in blood. I stab the creature in the neck, and it sits back on its massive haunches, howling inhumanly. Thick, dark blood spills from his neck as he attempts to pull out the protruding dagger, and some splashes on my shirt. And people ask why I wear black all the time?
I struggle from under the distracted creature's body and pull myself upright. This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out job, but the large warehouse is covered in metal shelves stacked high with various-sized boxes. I already took thirty frustrating minutes locating the right shelf, and another five more finding a stepladder. Then this arsehole walks through the door and interrupts me.
The small box I need is jammed between two larger ones, and I balance on the ladder for the second time. As I drag the heavy top box out of the way, something grabs my leg and I look down. The demon glares back with glowing red eyes, my dagger still protruding from its neck. "Dude, you don't know when to give up, do you?"
I haul a larger, heavy box from the shelf and drop it. The box bounces across the ladder and slams the demon on the head, knocking him to the ground.
I eye him for a moment.
He doesn't move.
Huffing, I pull at the item I need. A small box easily carried in both arms and surprisingly light. The words ‘Malvorn Collections’ are marked on the side, and a shipping label with the warehouse address on it peels from the top.
Keeping an eye on my unconscious assailant, I jump down and yank my dagger from his neck. I screw my face up when blood spurts across my boot as I tuck the weapon back inside. Pausing, I listen out in case he has buddies, but the only sound comes from buzzing fluorescent strip lights above me.
I perch back on the stepladder and shake the box. Nothing moves. I'm always curious about packaged items. Usually, I'm employed to retrieve jewellery or weapons with significance to my clients. Curios related to spells. The occasional person. Fae items are the most common, and easier to find as their magic is strong. Boxes cause issues, as the barrier dilutes the detectable magic in the air, but demonic magic stinks and is easier to pick up on.
I pull my dagger out and slice the top before peeking inside. White foam packaging. I rummage around, careful not to touch the item, and discover a black metal container. Is this a cash box? There's a lock on the side.
Tentatively, I place a finger on the metal lid and tense against magic, but nothing happens. The surroundings remain quiet, and I debate whether I have time to follow my nosy nature and open the box. But, I can't return an item with a broken lock or risk releasing what's in there. I pick up and shake this box too. No money rattles, but something heavy and metallic moves. Hmm.
A crack like thunder assaults my ears and a blue ball of energy hits the opposite wall, scorching into the white paint. I stare at the hole in the plaster, and white dust billows around.
Fuck, my heart. I place a hand on my chest.
"Put the box down or the next bolt hits you."
Clutching the box, I slowly turn my head in the direction of the low male voice.
Two men stand in the room beside the prone demon, one looking at his shoes in disgust as he stands in a sticky pool of black blood. The other guy cups a crackling ball of blue magic in his hand. They're dressed in matching black suits and white shirts, shiny shoes, and slicked-back hair. Official-looking—but officially what?
"Is he a friend of yours?" I ask and tip my head towards the floor. "Sorry, was he a friend of yours?"
The second man speaks. "A pet."
"Oh. Nice. I once had a demonic pet. A dog, actually. Spot. I only owned him for a day before he escaped." I size up the situation as I continue my ramble. Buy myself time to figure out my next move, while the pair look at me as if I'm insane.
Some say I am.
"Maybe not a pet. A rescue dog. Maybe he didn't like rescuing," I continue. "I don't suppose you've seen him, he's—"
"Enough," snarls the man with the magic hand. "Box. Now."
"Does it belong to you?" I ask.
The other guy crosses his arms and retorts, "Does it belong to you?"
"No, this item belongs to my client."
The man next to him snorts. "Client."
"Just kill her and take it."
"That's rude!" I retort.
The guy with the balled magic in his hand pulls his arm back. Shit, I'm a sitting duck up here. Tucking the box beneath my arm, I spring from the stepladder. The ground trembles beneath my feet and boxes shuffle on the shelves. As I gain my footing, I look up to see a bolt of lightning heading towards my face.
Fuck.
I duck behind the nearest shelves, box still in my hands, and run into the maze-like warehouse. Footsteps tap as the men follow me. Mine thump thanks to the boots, so I pause and I crouch down, watching for their feet.
I've seen Death kill with crackling energy, but this guy's magic is different. Bigger. Darker.
Who or what the hell are these people?
And why the hell didn't Malvorn tell me someone else was looking for his box? I've fought off a few rivals for items in the past, but not usually two and a pet demon. My heart pounds as the building shakes again, and a box on the shelf close to my head crashes to the floor.
"Come out, sweetheart. Save us all some time," growls a guy.
I stare at the box. Should I stash the item in my pocket and run? I tiptoe and check out my path to the exit. One guy blocks the way.
Exactly how do I get out of this situation?
A pair of black shoes appears on the other side of the shelf, and their owner stops. I tighten my hand around a dagger. If he's not the magic-ball throwing guy, he's muscle, and I'm only strong enough to take one of them down.
"Just destroy the place, Rich," says the man who stood in the blood. "She won't get far if she can't walk."
"Dumbass. How do we find the box if I destroy everything?" replies the magic guy.
I don't hear the low, gruff response.
My shoulders sink in relief as the black shoes tap away again.
"She can't hide in here all night. Take one end of the place—I'll take the other. Stay by the door."
My mouth dries, and I look up, around, everywhere, praying for a window. Nothing, just high shelves and strip lights in the tiled ceiling. Do I climb up anyway? Throw boxes onto their heads until they’re unconscious?
"Ah ha." I don't get a chance, as magic man rounds the corner and smiles as he straightens his sleeves. The intent in his eyes ticks my heart rate up. This guy means business. A silver signet ring on his middle finger flashes. "I did consider letting you go once I retrieved the box, but you pissed me off now. You killed my pet."
I shrink back as he lifts a hand again, palms upwards. More condensed energy appears in his hand, sparking like a plasma ball.
A deadly one.
I drop the box in alarm as the ball rushes forwards, hurtling straight for my head. Swearing, I close my eyes. I can't believe I survived an almost-apocalypse to be killed by a random heavy in a warehouse.
2
There's a yell followed by a cracking sound, but no shock to my body. I snap open my eyes and watch as the blue energy crawls and spreads across an invisible barrier between the guy and me. Through the sparks, I make out three figures—a tall guy with white blond hair, another similar height and build with spiked dark hair, and my suited assailant.
The floor beneath magic dude is now slicked blue, and frosty white spreads up his legs. The man sinks to the ground crying out as the frost engulfs his body, turning him into a gruesome ice sculpture. The frozen ground around him spreads, the ice moving to the edge of the barrier blocking me. A crashing sound and another yell is followed by the noise of boxes toppling onto the floor.
Blond dude continues to stare at the man on the ground, as the freezing effect takes over. I'm stupefied by the sight too—and don't notice the other suited guy run towards the black box on my left. I attempt to grab it before he does, but he curls a hand around my arm. I yelp in pain at the feeling he burned me with a cigarette and loosen my grip. He seizes the box, glances around, then darts away.
"What the fuck?" yells the man and something crashes to the floor. Him?
I peer through the gaps between the shelves, where another guy, taller than all four I've seen tonight, looms over the man with the box, now lying on the ground. As the guy raises his fist to strike, the space containing the suited man empties, followed by a rush of air sucked past me and towards the space.
"Holy crap," I mutter.
The guy turns and catches me watching and strides to the shelves. I shrink back as his face appears at the gap in the shelf between my row and the next. Dark amber eyes, irises rimmed with orange, look straight into mine, and his full mouth curves into a smile. The guy’s dark hair curls into his eyes and halfway down his neck.
My heart skips for a different reason. Again, holy crap.
"Did you get the barrier up?" he calls as he moves his face away
. His voice is low and deep.
"Yeah." A gruff voice from the dark-haired guy replies and I hold my hand out to touch the crackling space in front of me.
"Bad idea, Syv," says the blond.
I touch, and a jolt smacks my palm and shoots along my arm, hurting like a bitch. "Shit!" I cradle my arm against my chest.
"I told you, bad idea." The blond man shakes his head at me. "You can drop it now, Morgan. They've gone."
Morgan flicks his fingers in my direction, and the energy fizzles away, leaving me a clear look at the scene in front of me.
The white-haired guy is dressed in jeans and a black shirt partially unbuttoned across his chest. A blue gem wrapped in wire hangs on a chain against the defined muscle. His skin is as pale as his hair, eyes a glacial blue to match the stone. Demon? I'm damn sure he isn't human, but he's not like anything I've ever seen.
In contrast, Morgan's hair is light brown and fringe spiked. Looks human. He's not as tall as the other guys, but his lean figure looks bloody good in the dirty blue jeans. He pushes a hand through his hair, spiking it further, revealing thick leather bands wrapped around his wrist.
"Uh. Hello." I give a cautious smile and bend to pick up my dagger.
"Don't bother using that," snaps Morgan.
"Morgan, we just saved her life, and I'm sure Syv is aware she'll lose." Blond guy gestures at the man on the floor, whose lips are blue. Eyes fringed by white lashes stare upwards, body completely stiff. Deceased.
