Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem Book 2)

by K. F. Breene

  “You stole his Lamborghini?” I asked with awe.

  “Can’t you hear? I said I borrowed it.”

  “Yeah. Without asking. That means stole. He’s going to be pissed.”

  “Probably, but he’s in the doghouse for keeping secrets lately, so I don’t really care.”

  I took a deep breath and shrugged it off. I had my own problems…I didn’t need to jump in the middle of theirs.

  “I didn’t think magical people used human cops for magical issues,” I said, pausing by the Lamborghini, almost afraid to touch it lest I mess it up somehow.

  “You set off a great many explosions and ruined quite a bit of his house. Not to mention blew the door off. Hats off for that, by the way. My kinda girl. Get in.”

  The car beeped and the lights flashed, unlocking it.

  Red and blue played across the leaves of a bush at the corner. There had to be a lot of cops over there.

  “How is Darius dealing with all of this while…mending?”

  “Darius, Moss, and Ja are all tucked away in the vampire chambers on the third floor. The doorways are hidden. Marie is dealing with the human element.”

  “Wait—”

  “You’ll want your seatbelt.” Reagan looked pointedly at my lap while starting up the car.

  She pulled away from the curb, and I stretched the belt across my body.

  “Ja isn’t dead?” I asked as she meekly drove the car out of the area.

  “No. Well…Marie couldn’t tell. You did a number on that ol’ broad. She probably rues the day she accepted Darius’s invitation to visit his lodgings in the Brink. That thing was sliced, diced, and fried.”

  “Could you tell what the spell did?”

  Reagan glanced at me as she got onto the freeway. “You don’t know what spell you used?”

  “No. I made it up. The idea was to protect Marie.”

  “Well, you certainly did. From what I could tell, Ja was blackened by an explosion, strangled by something resembling a flower, and she also had razor slashes, and missing fingers—that broad was torn up.”

  “The last spell didn’t do all that. She went through quite a lot.” I stared out the window as Reagan shifted gears and stomped on the gas. The car shot forward.

  “She did go through a lot. A lot.” Reagan sounded troubled, and I looked over in time to see an anxious expression cross her face. In a moment, it was gone.

  18

  I couldn’t remember ever seeing her anxious. “What?”

  “Well…” Reagan drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “That old broad went through some sort of ‘washing machine fluffy razor’ spell of yours, as Darius described it—he was delirious at that point—before going through the two of them.”

  “My spell must’ve been weak for a vampire to get through it.”

  “Has no one told you that vampires can cut through magic if they’re in their monster form?”

  “It’s actually called a monster form?”

  She frowned at me. “That’s what you took away from that question?”

  “Well, I mean…” I shrugged, clasping my hands in my lap. “They do actually look like monsters, but I didn’t think they’d actually call themselves monsters. They seem much too vain.”

  Reagan huffed. “You’re a nut. No, they probably don’t call it that, but I have no idea what they do call it. Because I don’t care. ‘Monster form’ is a good description. I suggest you use it. To their faces. Especially when they’re angry. You’ll appreciate the fireworks in their eyeballs.”

  “No, thanks,” I said, somehow not at all concerned that she was weaving in and out of cars at over a hundred miles an hour. Clearly my brain had shut off at this point. I’d been through too much. “No, no one told me that. I killed that one last night, so I just assumed…”

  “Well, here’s the thing. It depends on the age of the vampire and the power of the mage. The older the vampire, the stronger their ability to cut through magic. So Darius might be able to cut through one of your spells, but I doubt Moss could. Moss might be able to cut through a Callie and Dizzy spell, but Marie couldn’t. Get it?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Are shifters the same?”

  “In a way. They don’t cut through spells, but they can withstand them. Shrug them off, is how I’d describe it. It’s weird.”

  “That stands to reason. It seems like it’s basically all about where you are on the power grid.”

  “Yeah, basically.”

  “And where are you, Reagan? No one will tell me anything about your powers.”

  “It’s a secret.”

  I stared at her for a count of three, realized she wasn’t going to crack, and looked away. With fatigue pulling at me, dragging me down, I didn’t have the energy to get it out of her. And honestly, I probably wouldn’t be able to, anyway. “Cool.”

  Reagan exited the freeway, barely slowing down to do so. Hopefully, this thing had great brakes.

  “Before Marie ran you out,” she said, thankfully downshifting quickly and slowing the car, “Darius instructed her to organize blood for Ja. It was a precaution in case your spell was nasty, and in case he and Moss had to finish subduing her. Darius clearly had no idea how powerful a riled-up, old-as-sin vampire could be. No idea.”

  “Is there a point in there somewhere, or are you uncomfortable with silences?”

  She turned and smiled at me, her eyes glimmering in the red dash lights. “Aren’t you fun when you’re at your wit’s end?”

  “I don’t feel very fun.”

  Reagan crawled through a run-down neighborhood. The car wouldn’t have fit in even if it was missing both bumpers, its tires, and was peppered with dents. “You’re a hoot, trust me.”

  “Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?”

  “Possibly. We’re going to my house, where you’ll get to crack open some very advanced books and take a few spells for a test drive. I’ll be running interference so you don’t kill yourself or the whole neighborhood. I can’t wait to start. Anyway, I did have a point buried in there somewhere. Marie got the blood and locked Ja into a vampire chamber with two guys that really should evaluate their life choices.”

  “But you said Marie didn’t know if Ja was alive.”

  “Right. There was none of that black sludge they usually exude when they die, but Ja is in really bad shape. So, she might die, which will, in essence, be Darius’s fault. Ja has mostly removed herself from all vampire politics, but she is still an elder vampire. The other elders won’t like it.”

  “Then I guess we should hope she lives…and suffers from amnesia.”

  Reagan turned down a street with houses on one side, all small, broken-down hovels with chipping paint and weeds struggling through walkways. A large concrete wall lined the sidewalk on the other side. After passing an opening in the wall, I saw that it was a graveyard. The large gravestones rose in rows, a couple lightly showered by a weak street lamp, the rest stewing in the darkness. The vast space felt like an enormous black hole, pulling at lost souls with the intent to trap them within its confines forever.

  That, or my imagination was going haywire again. I really needed to get some sleep.

  “The thing is…” That troubled expression crossed Reagan’s face again as she turned left, keeping the graveyard on our left side. She parked in front of a little house with fresh paint, flowers blooming in a box in front of the raised porch, and two unbroken chairs facing the graveyard entrance across the street.

  “What a dismal view,” I muttered, seeing the same pool of darkness at this opening. The light from the street lamp didn’t reach far before dissipating into murky oppressiveness.

  “What?” Reagan followed my gaze before shooting me an incredulous look. “Dismal?” She shook her head and pushed open the door. “That is a great view. You’ll see. Anyway…” She came around my side and stood next to the door as though waiting to see if I needed help out. After realizing I didn’t, she trudged up the nearby porch steps to the
door.

  “Shouldn’t you lock the car?”

  She pulled open the screen door before pushing open the interior one, then waited in the doorway for me. “I don’t want some idiot to break a window out of some misguided hope they’ll find something of value. This way, they can have a look, take anything I was stupid enough to leave behind, and go on their way. No hassle.”

  “But…what if they steal the car?”

  Her lips curled ruefully. “Anyone in this neighborhood knows better than to steal a car, nice or otherwise, parked outside of this house. Any outsiders that try to boost cars from these streets will find a world of hurt waiting for them on the other side of theft. A world of hurt, and not just from me. My neighbor does not like people invading his territory.”

  “Right…” My body was starting to shake again, a sign that I was still horribly outside of my comfort bubble. “And we’re positive I can’t stay with Callie and Dizzy?”

  “You’ll be fine. Promise. C’mon.” Reagan gestured me in. “As I was saying, it makes me nervous that Darius was blindsided by Ja’s power. Hell, it makes me nervous that a vampire can be that powerful. An elder is no joke. Ja is clearly far beyond that.”

  Her entryway opened up into a small living room with plush furniture, a giant TV on the wall, an expensive rug, and paint and decorations that perfectly accented the space. It was cozy and comfortable while still trendy and top of the line.

  “Want a drink?” She disappeared through an archway into a kitchen that had received the same treatment as the living room. The various gadgets would be at home in a rich person’s kitchen. Even Callie and Dizzy would’ve been envious of all the state-of-the-art appliances, though probably not of the tiny quarters into which they were all systematically crammed.

  “Water, please.” I sat at a small, round table in the corner, with artfully aged wood, each strip a slightly different color than the other, but all blending into a really neat piece. “Did you decorate?”

  She laughed as she pulled down a bottle of whiskey. “Yeah, right. No, Marie came through and did all this up after my house was burned out by a ridiculous mage hopped up on—” She stiffened before continuing, “Painkillers. Never mind.”

  I sagged into the chair as she got to work on our drinks. A suspiciously short time later, she delivered a glass with a lime floating among the ice cubes.

  “That’s my version of a margarita. You’ll love it.” She sat opposite me with a darker liquid that was almost certainly whiskey, her version of water.

  I ignored the glass in front of me. “I don’t understand how I made Ja react like that. Darius said my magic was doing it, but…” I shook my head, at a loss.

  Reagan set down her glass and leaned forward. “Marie said your magic acted as a catalyst. It pumped out a sort of aggression that said, in essence, get lost or I’ll kill you.” She leaned back again and took a sip of her drink. “Elder vampires use a similar approach with newbies, I guess. They exude a sort of…mood or something that gives them control. I don’t totally get it, but you must’ve shoplifted the ability without knowing it. The problem is, elders are the scary ones, not the ones who are scared. Darius thinks Ja felt your intention, and it stripped away all the layers of dust collected on her personality. You, in essence, woke up the beast.”

  Shivers ran through me as I remembered that red, white, and black thing jerkily walking toward the top of the stairs. She’d been through hell, and refused to sit down for a rest. “Will she go back to sleep, or whatever?”

  Reagan stared into her whiskey. “That’s what has me concerned. If she lives, and she doesn’t slip back into a dormant state—which is basically a vampire’s version of a vacation from life and intense introspection—there’s no telling what it’ll mean. We might be introducing another, very intense, player into the supernatural game of politics.”

  I took a sip of my drink, then sputtered and shook, immediately putting it back down again. “That’s straight tequila.”

  “No! It has a lime and a little sugar. I said it was my version of a margarita.”

  I pushed the glass away. “So what will Darius do if Ja wants to get back to life?”

  Reagan shrugged. “That’s the real question, isn’t it? What will Darius do. Because honestly, it has nothing to do with me. Unless that she-bitch tries to kill him to steal his interests. Then it very much has to do with me, and I’ll get to see how hard it is to kill an ancient vampire. Otherwise, it’s Darius’s problem. Tomorrow we’re going to hit the books. You have the power to be great. I’m going to help you blindly stumble into actually being great. It’s a foolproof plan.”

  “Certainly seems so.” I stood and went to the cabinet.

  “Oh good, you’re already used to waiting on yourself. We’re gonna get along fine. Bottom line: we’re in unknown territory, and if anything makes vampires itchy, it is unknown territory. So we’ll avoid them for now, especially the old one you drove crazy, hole up here, and do some magic. Easy.”

  If there were any certainties in life, one was that Reagan’s and my versions of easy were vastly different.

  19

  Emery turned off the fast-track path in the Realm. Ever-blooming flowers lined the side of the cobblestone track, giving the slight breeze a floral fragrance. A green meadow stretched away, dotted by small huts with grass roofs in the distance.

  He’d picked the fastest possible route to the gateway into the Brink, on pins and needles the whole time.

  After that first foretelling about Penny’s possible demise, he’d received two more of the black mist visions in quick succession. He couldn’t totally make out the situation based on the fits and starts of the scenes, but in the end, it seemed like she was battling vampires in a very nice house.

  He’d rarely seen vampires engage in open battle in the Brink unless defending themselves from the shifters, and one of those vampires had looked very old, which was even rarer, yet—if he had made sense of the images—that was exactly what had happened. In that very nice house.

  Trust Penny to engage in something that made very little sense.

  There had been a pause after that, long enough to lodge his heart in his throat. Had all of those close calls eventually ended in her death?

  But then he’d had one more.

  A dark area outside. A leafy tree leaning over a weed-choked patch. And a shape sitting within the shadows, its identity obscured.

  There had been no movement, and no sense of urgency. Just an open letter of warning.

  He’d never experienced that type of foretelling before. Usually the situation was immediate, and if he didn’t react, he was done. But this…

  He didn’t know what was happening, but it was unfolding on a large scale, and it involved Penny.

  He’d been walking before he knew it. She needed help, and he would offer what help he could give.

  It had only belatedly occurred to him that she might not want his help. He’d left her in the lurch, after all. He’d walked away with a “Good luck, I traded my monetary freedom to an elder vampire so he’d watch over you, which will probably shackle you to him for life. Bye-bye, you’re welcome!”

  By now she either hated him or wished he’d just leave her alone already.

  But he couldn’t. That was the bottom line. He couldn’t, not only because she was in danger, but also because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  On the walk through the Realm, trying to get to the Brink gateway closest to her whereabouts, he’d made a compromise with himself. He’d just check on her. That was all. She didn’t even have to know he was in the area. He’d get a glimpse of her beautiful face (possibly from a distance, like a true creep), maybe talk to the Bankses, and calmly assess the situation.

  If he wasn’t needed, fine. But at least he would know she was safe and happy. He couldn’t offer her a single thing, but he could ensure things were going well for her. That, at least, was in his power.

  A white, fuzzy line jagged through the air
up ahead, indicating a gateway into the Brink. To the side was a bench with an old-fashioned street light next to it. On the bench sat an old and slightly deformed creature. The elves had designed all of the gates to be especially beautiful—an ego thing—and this being’s ugly appearance and stunted growth made it an eyesore. Based on its characteristics, Emery guessed it was some form of goblin, which was odd.

  Goblins almost always crossed to the Brink in darkened places, like mines or deep forests. Though some could take the form of a human, most could not, and if they went into more populated areas, they’d be noticed immediately. A big no-no in the magical community. So for this one to be hanging out here, by the gate that let out closest to New Orleans, meant something was amiss.

  Emery slowed, on his guard.

  The goblin, whose head had been nodding like it was asleep, jerked up and blinked its knobby eyes. It looked around and smacked its slobbery lips, only then noticing Emery’s presence.

  “Oh.” It shifted in its seat and stretched out its legs. “Oh.” It bent one leg, then the other. “Forgive, master. Forgive.” It stood up stiffly, as though it’d been sitting on that bench for days. “I must’ve dozed off within such a lovely area. Forgive me.”

  The creature stomped through the row of flowers separating itself from Emery, who narrowed his eyes. Goblins, as a whole, did not cherish flowers, meadows, and soft breezes. They’d prefer dark, dank little caverns filled with unsuspecting humans carrying valuable trinkets ripe for the stealing.

  Clearly this goblin assumed Emery knew very little about the creatures of the Realm. Something that got many a Realm creature killed.

  At the end of a newly created dirt trail, the creature stopped and looked up at Emery.

  “You are the Rogue Natural, are you not?” it asked.

  Emery started slowly weaving an attack spell he knew worked particularly well on goblins and the like. “Who’s asking?”

  It nodded, as though that was answer enough. “I’ve been posted here to stop the Rogue Natural from using this crossing. My great master believes this crossing is too near New Orleans. A crossing at this point will likely have devastating consequences, since mages are continually setting up spells on the other side. The Rogue Natural should, therefore, choose a crossing in another part of the country. One of the coasts would be ideal—the busier the better. Should the Rogue Natural agree to follow these precautions, intended to keep the Rogue Natural and the creature Penny safe, the Rogue Natural may call my great master from whatever location it uses to enter the Brink, and my great master will send its jet to collect the Rogue Natural.”