Mates & Magic: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance Box Set Collection

by Jade Alters

  Yet again, Victoria starts to go through the motions. I feel such an emotional tie to her now, it’s as if I can feel exactly what she’s feeling, and right now I can tell she’s mainly frustrated and confused. It’s sort of amusing, really. It’s almost as if she wants this all to be over even if that means she’s dead. It’s a dark thought, I suppose. But now, Victoria rubs her eyes and seems to psych herself up. This must all be so incredibly stressful. She takes a deep breath and points at Ian and commands him to quack like a duck.

  Ian doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t even appear to be resisting.

  Well, that’s interesting. Potentially. Hopefully.

  She tries to get him to bark and nothing. Then she tries to get me to hop, and I don’t feel that compulsion I felt before when I had to resist. I don’t feel any compulsion at all. I just stand there. She tries it with each of us, giving us all a few different commands and nothing happens.

  This is good news? Right?

  Sidjus looks very unhappy anyway, which is always a good thing. Once again, the Inquisitor, Sidjus, and the other DMA people start conferring. They reference their tablets. I can’t follow what they’re talking about. Something about “spells of persuasion.” I don’t know spells per se, so I have no idea what those are. Meanwhile, I wrap Victoria in a hug and she just sort of collapses against me, clinging so hard that it breaks my heart. I might be dangerously optimistic, but I’m starting to think of all of this as just something awful that we need to withstand. When we have this all sorted out, Victoria will be fine and we can all just fall into bed together again before going on with our lives as the full realization of the Love leash.

  The little conference the DMA people are having takes longer this time. There’s a lot of arguing back and forth, and it’s a long and arduous wait. It goes on so long that they allow us to sit on the grass while we wait for them to reach some kind of conclusion. Meanwhile, the shield they cast around the house seems to be holding up well because the post carrier stops by and seems baffled because she can’t reach our mailbox. It doesn’t look like she’s bouncing against an invisible wall. Rather, it looks like she can’t make herself cross the barrier of the shield to reach it. She stands there frowning with her bag of mail, looking utterly confused before sighing and just dropping the mail there on the sidewalk. I make a note to myself to pick that up later, though most of it is probably junk.

  “We have an idea,” the Inquisitor says, and all of us stand up again. She looks so annoyed as if this just an annoying little bump in her day that’s holding her up. I hate all of them. “There is a subset of spells called spells of persuasion. These spells are not forbidden and they’re not even widely used, even by those with nefarious intent, because they can’t make anyone do anything. They can only highly suggest they do something, and even then, it only truly works if the caster of the spell has very deep ties with those she is casting the spell on.”

  I do my best to follow her words, but it only makes my head hurt. Brendan looks like he gets it, but then Brendan always looks like that.

  “The spell can’t make anyone do anything against their nature. This is what’s at stake here,” the Inquisitor says, sighing. “It cannot remove one’s inhibitions. And even only works at all if the caster has this connection with the recipients. Connections this deep are quite rare. The only example I can even think of would be if Ms. Pruitt was a shared fated mate to this leash of shifters. In that case, their love bond would be so strong, they would feel compelled to do what Victoria asks of them. It would not be enough to make them do anything that might hurt her. I believe this is why they wouldn’t move out of the way when she commanded them to. They were protecting her. On the other hand, once they realized that following innocuous commands like barking or hopping was further evidence of her guilt, they were able to easily resist.”

  At that, I can’t help but grin, feeling sort of proud. It feels like some kind of wonderful proof of our love for each other. Ian seems to take this as good news too, and he leans over to squeeze Victoria’s shoulder as Brendan kisses her hair.

  The Inquisitor continues by saying, “If we investigate this connection, perhaps we can unravel this mystery. We’ll have to test the shared fated mate theory. That is, unless Ms. Pruitt would like us to execute her instead?”

  She looks at Victoria as if there’s a chance she might rather be executed and Victoria sputters, “Investigate! Yes, the test, please. Don’t… don’t execute!”

  “Very well,” the Inquisitor grumbles.

  “Can we take a break or something?” Sidjus says, rubbing his temples. “This process is rather tedious, and I was forced to skip lunch.”

  Darren blurts a laugh at that. Yet, somehow the Inquisitor allows it. Apparently, the DMA people are all just positively exhausted from having to decide whether or not they should put Victoria to death. The four of us can’t quite believe it, but at least we get a minor reprieve from all of this. With the magical shield up, we can’t go anywhere anyway, so the Inquisitor allows Victoria to go inside for a few minutes under the watch of a guard. We all take restroom breaks, and then we hang out in the kitchen for a few minutes, drinking coffee and talking about how absolutely absurd this entire process has become.

  Victoria is positively clinging to us, and my heart goes out to her. We spend most of our time hugging and whispering in her ear how much we love her until she’s all teary again, and we have to go back outside. She wipes her eyes and puts on a brave face. I wrap an arm around her and kiss her cheek.

  “You’re doing great, ya know,” I tell her. “If it were me, I’d be out of my mind by now.”

  “Thanks, Mitch,” she says, smiling fondly.

  “Are we all ready now?” The Inquisitor says, giving Sidjus a dirty look. “Is everyone quite well-rested?”

  “Please continue,” Sidjus says, looking annoyingly bright-eyed again. “We’re testing for the shared fated mate?”

  “Yes, yes. Uh, wizards?”

  The DMA wizards all step forward. She asks them to make a spell circle in the ground and begin a spell that is supposed to prove whether Victoria is our shared fated mate. I guess this would be evidence that the spell that’s been making us alternately bark and hop is one of those spells of persuasion rather than The Saddle. Although it still wouldn’t explain why Victoria had the mark of The Saddle on her forehead. I still think that’s got something to do with Hardhum, the son of a bitch. If I ever get my hands on that guy, I’m going to rip his goddamn throat out.

  The spell circle ends up pissing me off too because it makes a big, ugly burn mark of a circle on our nice lawn. It will take a while for the grass to grow over it. Although, I suppose it’s not our biggest problem right now.

  Then they start drawing blood. My stupid fox nature is pissed that these strangers, who wish my mate harm want to draw her blood, but since it’s in her best interest, I tell my stupid fox nature to kindly shut the hell up. The Inquisitor does a super creepy thing with her wand, drawing the blood out magically and apparently. painlessly. Drops of Victoria’s blood are just hanging in the air like little globules hovering in place. The Inquisitor guides the drops with her wand so that they fall in the middle of the circle in the grass.

  She looks at us all expectantly. “Now I’ll need your blood?”

  One by one, they draw our blood. This time, they place the blood at four different points along the rim of the circle. When they cast the spell for the test of the shared fated mate, our blood on the circle is supposed to be drawn to the center and join with Victoria’s blood. That means she’s our shared fated mate. I have no doubt that she is, and now, I find myself enchanted by the idea of seeing a visual representation of it. When one of those DMA wizards draws my blood, it doesn’t hurt, but it does feel weird and it looks even weirder to see it floating in the air before it falls into the grass.

  I kind of figured that the Inquisitor would just chant a few words and that would be it. The spell would be cast. But there are a fe
w more steps left. She, Sidjus, and the wizards have to walk all around us constantly chanting. The rest of us have to stand around the circle in a very particular way. Apparently, they screw up the chant a few times, and they have to start over. The spell is very tough, the Inquisitor assures us. Apparently, that’s because the shared fated mate thing is so incredibly rare. It’s old magic, and old magic is weird and quirky.

  Finally, they successfully cast the spell. It must have been successful because the Inquisitor looks satisfied, Sidjus is annoying, and a ring of sparks rises from the circle. Then, we’re all staring and waiting. The blood around the circle is supposed to move to the center, proving our love bond.

  But nothing is happening.

  They give it a while. It’s minutes on end of us patiently waiting for something to happen, for the blood to join. Sidjus gives up first and seems impatient for everyone else to give up too. I suppose it’s a good sign that the Inquisitor and everyone else seems fairly convinced that Victoria might be our fated mate. I take comfort in the fact that they’re willing to wait so long and give us a chance.

  But the minutes drone on, and still, nothing happens.

  My heart feels like it’s cracking in two. It’s not just because Victoria’s fate hangs in the balance either (although, that is most of it), but it’s utterly unthinkable at this point to accept that Victoria is not our fated mate. I don’t understand how we could feel any more strongly that she is, be any more assured, have any more love for her than we already do.

  Everyone tenses as the Inquisitor heaves a sigh. She’s about to give up. It’s all over.

  But just then, I hear Brendan say, “Wait a minute…” He’s sniffing the air, having caught a scent. He steps forward, shoving Ian out of the way, and turning his head one way or the other. He’s scowling as he sniffs something out. “Wait. He’s here. That bastard is here.”

  I can’t smell it, but apparently, Ian can. Apparently, they both smell Hardhum nearby, and the two of them shift and run off down the street to find him. Since the DMA wasn’t holding them officially, they don’t stop them, but it’s just another bizarre wrinkle in all of this. Darren and I look at each other and shrug. It seems Darren didn’t catch the scent either. Anyway, I don’t want to just leave Victoria alone with these DMA assholes if I can possibly help it.

  Victoria speaks up and says, “They’re talking about the man who I’ve been saying was stalking me. They can smell him. They’re police, and there’s an official case on this. My coworkers can attest to it!” I don’t know how much they’re listening to her, but it’s enough to make the Inquisitor change tack yet again. She whimpers slightly when she checks her watch.

  “Alright,” the Inquisitor says. “Guards, follow those shifters. See if they come across anyone. I need spells to reveal any rogue magic on the premises. Not counting the shields. Let’s see if there’s been some kind of sabotage.”

  There’s a whole new round of spells while the three of us just watch. I’m still trying to see if I can sniff out Hardhum, but I don’t smell a goddamn thing. The spells reveal the protective circle around the house that we all cast a few days ago and the protective circle in Victoria’s room. It shows everything the DMA has cast and then…

  There are red halos everywhere. Apparently, a red halo is the rogue magic the Inquisitor was talking about. Any red halo means somebody’s been sabotaging us the whole time. The Inquisitor and even Sidjus and all the wizards look like they’re about to tear their hair out now. They discuss what this means, and who must have done it. Now, I see the Inquisitor looking over at Victoria like maybe she actually believes her. Finally. I guess that’s something.

  Ian and Brendan eventually return, dragging Hardhum along with them. He glares at us, his mouth a tight little line. My breath is short, and I’m practically seeing red. I want to tear this man apart for how he’s hurt my mate, but I contain myself, clenching my fists at my side.

  “Get your hands off me!” Hardhum spits, but I don’t miss how his eyes immediately go to Victoria. When he sees her he looks hungry. I don’t like that at all. “Get off me!”

  Sidjus orders a guard to take Hardhum’s wand because of course, he has one. They cast another revealing spell, and it shows a red halo that matches all the halos on the grounds. That proves the spells came from his wand, and I’m angry at him, but I’m also more hopeful than I’ve been this whole time. The guards put invisible shackles on Hardhum’s wrists and force him to stand well away from Victoria while they question him as the rest of us look on.

  “What have you been doing here?” Sidjus demands. “You have sabotaged spells cast by the Department of Magical Authority. The punishment for that is quite severe. You are also the man who reported Victoria Pruitt to the DMA. Explain yourself.”

  “I have to have her,” Hardhum says slowly. He looks almost sick. “I have to. I can’t help. She won’t have me. So I had to ruin her! Don’t you see?”

  He almost looks as if we should be convinced of this, and Victoria bursts into tears.

  “It was my spell!” She cries. “The one I screwed up after he bothered me at the store! It must have made him this way-”

  “No!” Ian says, throwing up his hands. “He was already after you to begin with.”

  “Everyone, be quiet!” The Inquisitor says. “Ms. Pruitt. Show us what spell you’re talking about.”

  Victoria proceeds to look up the original spell she intended to cast to repel Hardhum and men like him in general. She explains how she put the wrong herb in at the end, and that she couldn’t figure out exactly what the effects were from her mistake. Sidjus and the rest of them confer yet again, referencing their tablets and discussing all of this. Finally, they all nod in agreement.

  The Inquisitor talks to them, nods, and clears her throat. “It appears what you cast, instead of repelling or attracting anyone, only heightened the emotions of everyone around you,” she says to Victoria. “To an extreme degree. That means men with a…” She sneers at Hardhum. “Predatory interest in you were only more inclined to act that way and become more obsessed with you. As well, your fox shifters most likely felt an increased attraction to you. It exaggerated their feelings.”

  Ian snorts at that. “Are you trying to say if the spell is broken, we won’t be just as attracted to her? Because I find that hard to believe.”

  “Not at all,” she says, with a wave of her hand. “Only that it likely brought you together. If this man here sabotaged our fated mate spell and you truly are fated mates, no attraction is as strong as that. It’s notorious.” She glances at her other wizards and they all nod in agreement.

  Victoria

  I’m just so tired. I feel like sorting out this whole mess has gone on for days. I’m on the verge of asking the Inquisitor to just off me and get it over with already. Not really, but I am exhausted. My eyes are sore from crying, I’m hungry, and my arm itches from where they drew blood earlier. Now, with Hardhum, shackled in front of me, I’m starting to hope again just when I thought all hope was utterly lost.

  Now he’s the one on trial as he’s questioned and his wand is linked to all the spells he cast. They continue to question him, but he keeps deflecting and staring at me, even pleading with me that we must be together. He does admit that his feelings became much more intense after that day he talked to me, looking for the blue book. That would have been after the spell. I guess that proves my spell intensified his feelings. But according to the Inquisitor, he’s still responsible for his actions. The spell doesn’t make you do a goddamn thing. It’s still his fault. He followed me and pulled all that hacking bullshit. I have an urge to laugh in his face. I also wouldn’t mind spitting.

  The wizards do a kind of spell history showing all the spells that Hardhum has cast since the one I screwed up. They discover that he burst my tires. He didn’t mess with my social media, but I think it’s clear now that somebody else affected by the spell must have done that too. Maybe it even affected people who only know me online.<
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  But the kicker is when they discover that Hardhum cast something that made it look like I cast The Saddle on the Loves. When they find that spell, as they read the halos coming out of Hardhum’s wand, I start crying. This is it. I think. I hope. Does this mean I live? Hardhum tries to defend himself while the guards hold him. He kicks and flails. His whining is annoying enough that the Inquisitor throws a hex at him to silence him.

  Ha, ha.

  “Did you have a cold sensation recently?” The Inquisitor asks me. “Something you couldn’t explain?”

  I almost say no, and then I remember that feeling like cold water washing over me when were casting the circle of protection the other day. I never did find out what caused it. “Yes, I did.”

  “Yes,” the Inquisitor says, nodding. “That was the mark of The Saddle hitting you. That’s it then. He did this. It is slightly complicated by your little screw-up, but he is still responsible for his actions. Unmute Hardhum?”

  The wizards allow Hardhum to speak, but he just sputters on about how he must have me, and that if he can’t, I need to die. It doesn’t do much to disprove the case against him.

  “Mr. Hardhum!” The Inquisitor shouts over him. “Mr. Hardhum, do you have any response to the allegations against you?”

  “I did it,” he says, hissing. “And I’d do it again if that bitch rejected me. Why should she get to fuck those shifters and leave me wanting her like this-”

  “God, mute him again, would you?”

  Hardhum goes silent, and the Inquisitor takes a breath. “Alright. We will not execute Mr. Hardhum.” She speaks directly to him then, even as he silently moves his mouth, still spitting angrily as he twists in his invisible shackles. Two guards hold him on either side. “But by order of the Department of Magic Authority, Mr. Hardhum, I’m going to have to strip you of your license to practice magic.” Upon hearing her words, his face turns red. Phlegm collects at the corners of his mouth. His messy, black hair is all askew. “If you attempt to cast any spells of this nature again, or any spells at all, you will be executed.”