Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Margo Bond Collins

  “De-licious,” the necromancer said, pronouncing the word as if it were two. “Welcome to my dark abode. My name is Grimstar.”

  “What did you do? Is this some sort of mindtrap?” I asked. One part of me wanted to attack Grimstar immediately, but, on unknown ground, it was best to take stock before acting.

  “This is much more than an illusion of the mind,” the necromancer said. “You are in the underworld. A simply de-licious world, isn’t it?”

  I shook my head. “That can’t be. I didn’t die.” Or had I? The last thing I remembered was diving for the necromancer.

  Everything around me had a degree of wrongness about it, as if I were seeing the world through an unpolished prism. The trees weren’t trees, and the water wasn’t water, but I could only experience the world by referencing what things were closest to them in my world. And it wasn’t just the visuals that were distorted. Smells, sounds, even the sense of touch was changed. My skin felt like a thousand invisible spiders were marching across it in small circles.

  Harps squirmed his way up the inside of my jacket. He shook himself, spraying oily water against my face and neck. I raised my hand to block the worst of the drops. Harps took one look around, then faced me, his little eyebrows raised. We are going to have to talk, Harps thought. But later. Right now, I’m going to live in denial. And I mean to stay there. He disappeared back into my coat.

  “You are still alive,” Grimstar told me. “I’m afraid you don’t go to the underworld when you die. Death is the end, not the beginning of a journey, unless you are lucky enough to be turned into a vampire or zombie.”

  “I wouldn’t consider that lucky.”

  Grimstar shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. You are a helsing warrior—neither of those fates is possible for you.”

  “How do you know what I am?”

  “I was expecting you,” Grimstar said.

  “You were? Me particularly or just a helsing warrior?” I moved sideways, stepping out of the standing water onto still muddy, but firmer ground. “This can’t be the underworld.” The swirl separated our world from the underworld, and that wasn’t easy to pass through.

  “That’s correct,” Grimstar agreed. “This is a mere reflection of it cast upon your world. It’s still more powerful than you can imagine.” Grimstar gestured up at the dark sky. “Look. You can still see what’s happening outside.”

  Where the necromancer had indicated, the darkness opened out to reveal a tunnel of light. At the other end of the tunnel, the robot was in mid-stride inching ever so slowly forward.

  “Quite ingenious, those mages, aren’t they? Fighting robots controlled by magic. What will they come up with next? But I have a few tricks of my own.” Grimstar waved his hand to the left, and the robot sped up rapidly, its arms and legs pumping. Then he swung his hand back around to the right, and the robot’s speed reverted down to its original slowness. “De-licious,” the necromancer said.

  “How are you able to…” Perhaps it wasn’t a real window into the outside world, just an illusion the necromancer had created.

  Grimstar chuckled. “The robot’s not speeding up or slowing down. Inside this reflection, time doesn’t always move at the same rate. I’m altering time.”

  That was truly frightening. What else was this necromancer capable of?

  “Time is a strange thing,” Grimstar said. “Sometimes it moves fast, sometimes slow. These days, for necromancers and mages, things are moving rapidly. Not for you, I’m afraid. Helsings travel the country in quaint gypsy wagons and think they are still relevant.”

  He was one to talk. I looked Grimstar up and down. As well as the black bowler hat, he wore a white shirt, dark waistcoat and pants, and shoes which were shiny clean despite the muddy goo below their soles. A knife was discreetly sheathed in his waistcoat, only the golden glint of its ornate hilt visible. Everything he wore could have come from a hundred years ago. “Are you out of time? Is that why you are dressed the way you are?”

  “A man’s got to have a distinctive style.” Grimstar lifted his bowler hat, smiling. “Quite striking, don’t you agree?”

  I shifted further to the left, sizing up the distance between myself and the necromancer. Time was something he had more of than I. I needed to act.

  Grimstar watched my movements. “Attacking wouldn’t be the wisest move.” Around me, several trees leaned closer, snake-like vines stretching from their trunks to hover over my head. Large bubbles boiled up along the top of the oily water, unleashing fetid smells when they popped.

  “We don’t have to fight,” I said. “Just give me the magtroller. That’s what I came for.”

  Grimstar smiled. “You mean this?” He plucked a small metal cube from his waistcoat pocket.

  I took a step forward, and roots snaked from the ground, twisting around both my feet, trapping them against the ground. “Yes, that,” I said. “Hand it over, and I might let you go free.” I yanked my right foot upward, snapping the roots, then did the same with my left.

  “I’m not much for fighting.” Grimstar ran a forefinger along the inside rim of the bowler hat. “I don’t like to get my hands dirty.”

  More roots, thicker ones, reached up through the ground, seeking me, and I leaped into the air to get away from them. The vines above sprang into action, wrapping themselves around me, and throwing me down into the mud. I broke through several vines and reached into my coat and pulled out a knife, which I used to cut through several more before my arm was pinned against the ground. Vines from the trees and roots from the ground combined to immobilize me completely.

  “Fortunately, now that I have true power, I no longer need to get my hands dirty to get what I want,” Grimstar said.

  I struggled, wrenching with all my might, but it was hopeless. There were too many of them and they held me too tightly.

  What’s happening? Harps thought.

  I have it under control, I thought. Or at least, I tried to think that. It was harder to lie with thoughts than with words, and the edges of panic colored my thoughts. Which meant I wasn’t sure exactly what I communicated.

  “As you can see, you are powerless here, your gifts counting for nothing,” Grimstar said. “Luckily for you, I admire anachronisms. And I’m told you’ll be useful for what’s to come.”

  In a flash, the squeezing pressure of the vines disappeared, along with the sights, smells, and sensations of the underworld reflection, and I was back in the central chamber of the Dulane Building.

  I stumbled forward, still disorientated from the transition.

  Grimstar opened a door. “Behind you,” he said, crossing through the doorway and out of the chamber.

  Chapter 9

  The pounding footsteps told me Grimstar wasn’t lying. With the underworld reflection’s time effects gone, the robot was almost upon me. I dived to the left, rolling along the floor and out of the path of the robot, automatically wedging a stiff arm against my side to protect Harps as I rolled. I sprang back to my feet, just in time to duck a swinging metal arm.

  Might be safer for you to get out, Harps, I thought. We have escaped the evil place.

  Harps didn’t need a second invitation. He squirmed out the bottom of my coat and scampered down one leg. The speed with which he left made me wonder if he’d be rushing back to my side after this all was over. First, he had been subjected to the mindtrap, then the underground reflection. Would he feel safe inside my coat again?

  Upon reaching the floor, Harps started running. Unfortunately, he chose the wrong direction, moving toward rather than away from the robot’s flailing legs. My breath caught, but Harps saw the foot coming in time and dodged out of the way. I watched with relief as my familiar got away, then I went flying backward as a metal fist hit my chest. My back crashed against the wall. Plaster showered down over me. I gasped for breath, unsure whether it was the fist or the collision with the wall which had knocked the wind out of me.

  I wasn’t given time to force out more than a single bre
ath before the robot sprang for me again, raising both arms over its head, then swinging down. I twirled out of the way, and the robot’s fists smashed through the wall, leaving a hole where my head had just been.

  I shoulder-charged into the side of the robot, knocking it over. It immediately bounced to its feet as I staggered backward, rubbing my shoulder. Hitting the thing was almost as bad as being hit by it.

  The robot struck out at me with fists and feet in quick succession. I dodged as much as I could but occasionally had to block. When I did, I deflected the strikes rather than take anything full on—even so, my body was fast becoming battered and bruised.

  I didn’t even want to fight it; I just wanted to get past it so I could go after the necromancer. So as soon as I got the opportunity, I raced away, and when it followed me, I turned back and sprinted around it, heading for the exit Grimstar had taken. I reached the door ahead of the robot and quickly passed through, then slammed it shut behind me.

  At first, I thought the room was empty and that Grimstar had already gotten away. Then I looked up. Grimstar hovered up close to the high ceiling. No, not hovering, flying. Wings of shadow had sprouted from his back, and they flapped lazily. Above Grimstar’s head, a swirling darkness ate into the ceiling.

  The door shuddered then splintered apart as the robot charged through after me. I backed away, my hands in the air, pointing up at the high ceiling. “Up there.” I nodded above my head. “Don’t tell me you still can’t see him. Look up.”

  The robot’s controller clearly still couldn’t see Grimstar. “Lie on the ground and put your hands on your head,” he said.

  A far door opened and a man ran in, a handgun in his hand. He wore a suit, and a pendant dangled from his neck, and he bore a resemblance to Lionel. A Cressington mage. He stopped twenty paces away, setting his feet and shifting his gun into both hands as he aimed it at me. “It’s over,” the mage told me. “The place is surrounded. Surrender.”

  “Not you too,” I said. “If you can’t see the necromancer flying by the ceiling, use your magic to detect him.”

  “Flying?” The mage looked at me like I was crazy.

  “He keeps talking about a person who I can’t see,” the robot’s controller said. “I’d say he’s crazy, only, I don’t know, Hadrian, there’s something real strange going on.”

  “Hadrian,” I said. “I’m with Lionel.”

  Hadrian’s gun dipped slightly, then steadied. “Lionel’s here?”

  At that moment, a shower of dust fell down upon us, and we all looked up.

  “It’s been fun, gentlemen, but it’s time for me to leave you. Watch your heads on the way out.” Grimstar smiled.

  Whatever magic Grimstar was using to hide himself, it didn’t disguise his voice. “What the—” Hadrian began before a roar of noise cut him off. Splintering cracks spread outward across the ceiling, and chunks of plaster started to rain down.

  Hadrian’s gun arm fell to his side; he still stared upward, trying to grasp what was happening. I grabbed him around the waist, then sprinted back toward the door Hadrian had entered. The ceiling shattered open, and a large slab of concrete swung my way. I skirted wide left to avoid it. Falling rubble stung my skin, and I shielded my eyes from the dust that mushroomed up from the floor.

  My arm tightened around Hadrian’s waist, and I put every last bit of energy into getting as much speed as possible. The thunder of collapsing masonry was deafening. I could no longer see anything due to dust, but I knew where the doorway was and I ran straight at it. There was not enough time to open it; I just raised an arm to barrel straight through.

  The door came clean off its hinges, and I landed on top of it, the door bouncing forward several times.

  Gradually, the noise died away, and I turned to look back. The wall had a lopsided look and several jagged cracks ran through it, but it hadn’t fallen. Rubble was spilling through the doorway we’d just entered, and above the rubble, all that could be seen was a fog of swirling dust.

  I released Hadrian, but he still clung to me, his heart pounding against my side. I pushed him off and clambered to my feet. After the uproar, the silence was ghostly.

  Hadrian stood, dizziness making him stumble, his footsteps crunching on debris. “What are… You’re not a—” he began.

  “I’m a helsing warrior,” I said quickly, not wanting to be confused as a vampire.

  “A helsing warrior. I’ve never met… I’ve always been a big fan of… I mean, thank you. Thank you for what you did back there. If you hadn’t…” He shook his head. “What just happened?”

  “Come on.” I led the way back through the doorway, stepping on top of the rubble. I waved my arms in front of my face to clear the dust. Cold night air pushed downward through the giant hole in the ceiling, and Grimstar was nowhere to be seen. No matter how much I had hoped that he was under the rubble, I knew he had gotten away. With the magtroller.

  The amount of power Grimstar had demonstrated in a short amount of time was remarkable. I had never imagined a mortal was capable of anything like that. What exactly were we up against?

  I stumbled as a piece of concrete wobbled under my feet, and I hopped forward onto a steadier slab. Although the wall behind me still stood, most of the wall in front of me had fallen. Alpha One, the robot whose magtroller Grimstar had stolen, still stood immobile, slightly hunched over, coated with a layer of debris.

  Harps is in that room. The thought hit me all of a sudden and I broke into a run, or as much of a run as I could muster across the churned-up ceiling.

  Harps, I thought. Are you okay, boy?

  Of course not, Harps thought back. I don’t like thunderstorms, never mind whatever just happened.

  It was a good that Harps had only heard rather than experienced the roof collapse. He’d had enough trauma for one day.

  “Stop!” Hadrian called after me. “You can’t just run off.”

  I ignored him, continuing forward. A piece of concrete in front of me shifted, and Alpha Two crawled out of the rubble. With slow, shuddering movements—very unlike the fluid way it had punched and kicked me earlier—it got to its feet.

  “Surrender,” its controller said, then the robot fell back over.

  It felt satisfying to step on top of the robot’s metal chest. “Mage team on,” I said, remembering the rest of the team. “Lionel, Danielle. Anyone hurt?”

  A shrieking scream pierced my eardrums. Not only had Alessa not escaped the mindtrap, she was still in mental agony. She was seeing whatever was the equivalent for her of Harps being in Fierce’s jaws.

  “Slate, do you know what’s going on?” Danielle asked. “It sounded like a bomb exploded.”

  “That was the sound of the necromancer getting away.” I reached firmer ground and sprinted past Alpha One, passing back through the doorway to Alessa, who was on her knees with Danielle’s seeing eye hovering above her.

  Lionel stood beside her. “I’m going to have to push her out of the mindtrap. I just need to summon all my strength.” Lionel held a small notebook open in one hand. With the other, he touched his fingers to his lips and offered it to Alessa. “Hold on, Essa. I’m coming.”

  His voice was tender. Was he seeing the same thing I was? Alessa’s skin, startlingly white, was stretched taut against the bones of her face. Her irises were fully red, blood red, and long fangs protruded over her lips. She no longer looked like a woman at all, rather a monster which had long outstayed its welcome. She looked every inch something that needed killing, every inch a bloodthirsty evil vampire, yet Lionel was going to rescue her.

  “It’s too risky, Lionel,” Danielle said. “If you were at full strength, sure. Not how you are now. Once your life force goes below a critical level, there’s no coming back.”

  “I’ve no choice,” Lionel said. “I can’t allow Alessa to be captured. Whatever the cost.”

  “God, I’ve been seen,” Danielle said. “Two mages are approaching the van. What should I do?”

  “
Try to get away,” Lionel said. “Quickly. You have to stay out of Cressington hands as well.”

  Danielle’s seeing eye disappeared. Lionel took a breath, then stepped forward, pushing his palm against the bubble of magic that surrounded Alessa. His arm shook as he felt resistance.

  What would happen once Lionel entered the mindtrap? Alessa was in a world of her own, in the midst of bloodlust. Could she bite Lionel without realizing it? “I don’t think you should do that,” I said.

  “I must,” he said simply. He got most of his hand inside the bubble of the mindtrap, but the shaking in his body increased. His face was drawn, and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  I heard a shout behind me. “If you must, then hurry,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. Hadrian was approaching fast, and three other men were with him. “Your cousin is coming.”

  “I need more time,” Lionel said. “Delay him.”

  A better solution would have been for Lionel to let me stab the vampire and put her out of her misery. I didn’t make the suggestion, instead returning into the central chamber. From the far end of the room, Harps spotted me and began to scamper my way. He gave Alpha One a wide berth, clearly not trusting that it wouldn’t come to life. No, boy, I thought. Stay back unless you want to risk a bullet.

  Harps came to stop.

  The three men with Hadrian were armed, and all four of them had matching pendants hanging outside their clothes. The design of the pendant consisted mainly of a ship, an oversized twig, and a bird. Lionel’s had been different, I remembered. Hadrian was no longer armed, but the man beside him held a handgun, and the two men on the outside had machine guns strapped across their chests. The four of them spread out as they got closer.

  From where they were, they couldn’t see Alessa, but that wouldn’t last. So I bent down, picked the broken door off the floor, and pushed it against the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” Hadrian asked.