What Goes Bump In The Night

by C. R. Jane

  "Revenge."

  Maeve groaned, "No. Please tell me you are not going to start a prank war with your partner, mentor, and father-figure?"

  "You bet your tasty butt I am. Sam won't know when. And he won't know how. But I will have my revenge."

  Bishop's eyes were fever-bright and though Maeve was concerned for poor Sam, she was just so glad to see Bishop in high spirits again. She threaded her fingers through his thick, shaggy hair bringing his mouth up to hers and rocking her core against his quickly-hardening body. She felt as well as heard his answering rumble, the alluring scents of her other two men hitting her and making her head spin. Oh, yes. She was very glad to have all of them together for the next few hours. But just as Bishop's hands were getting busy under her shirt, and two other pairs of lips were nibbling their way up her neck, the doorbell rang.

  Bishop growled and swore simultaneously. "Seriously? Can't a horny werewolf catch a break here?"

  The other two men laughed and Maeve giggled as well. "Babe, it's Halloween, remember? It will be trick or treaters." Maeve pointed out, pushing herself off the pouting wolf and jumping to her feet. She was excited to give out her first bunch of goodies.

  "Tell them to fuck off," Bishop suggested, causing the other two morons in the room with penises to laugh hysterically once again and clutch each other.

  Maeve pursed her lips, hands on hips. "Bishop! I will do no such thing. This is my first real Halloween, remember? Besides, have your learned nothing this past week? Maybe naked-hobo-ear-licker-man … um, Gregory," she corrected, "was onto something; maybe you should try to find the real spirit of Halloween."

  Bishop eyed her, wolfy eyes flashing. He glanced at Lucian and Gabe - who smiled in encouragement. He sighed, pushing himself up and striding toward her with his long, powerful legs. "Fine. Give me the candy. This will really prove my love for you. You know that, right?"

  Maeve smiled, placing soft hands against his bristly cheeks. "You don't ever have to prove your love to me. I see it. I feel it. In every part of me."

  The last vestiges of tension oozed from his broad shoulders and he pecked her affectionately on the lips. "How'd I get so lucky?" He asked, giving her a roguish wink before walking to the front door. Bishop looked over his shoulder one last time, love shining in his eyes, encompassing herself as well as Lucian and Gabriel in the non-physical embrace, before opening the door.

  Bishop smiled at the tiny X-men replicas standing on the porch, "Happy Halloween."

  THE END

  If you enjoyed Forbidden Hex, book 1.5, by Montana Ash and T.J. Spade, be sure to check out book 1 in the Forbidden series,FORBIDDEN HYBRID, before book 2 hits your kindles!

  Maeve, Bishop, Lucian, and Gabe will be back in Forbidden Mating in 2019.

  OTHER TITLES BY MONTANA ASH AND T.J. SPADE

  Montana Ash

  The Elemental Paladins Series (paranormal/urban fantasy romance)

  WARDEN

  PALADIN

  CHADE

  RANGER

  CUSTODIAN

  REVOLUTION (Coming soon)

  The Forbidden Series (paranormal, mystery reverse harem/polyamorous romance)

  FORBIDDEN HYBRID

  The Familiars Series (paranormal reverse harem/polyamorous romance)

  IVORY'S FAMILIARS

  Also by T.J. Spade

  The Forbidden Series (paranormal, mystery reverse harem/polyamorous romance)

  FORBIDDEN HYBRID

  The Everett Files (crime fiction/thriller/romantic suspense)

  TAKE YOU APART

  TAKE YOU TO HELL

  TAKE YOU HOME

  Tucker PI (romantic suspense)

  SWEET DREAMS: A TUCKER PI NOVEL

  SKULL ISLAND: A TUCKER PI NOVEL

  FOLLOW MONTANA

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  Conjured Shadows

  by Joely Sue Burkhart

  Copyright © 2018 by Joely Sue Burkhart

  All rights reserved.

  No portion 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, and except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Conjured Shadows

  Available exclusively in

  What Goes Bump in the Night

  She's conjured from poison to be the perfect killer.

  Determined to save the world from demons, four wizards resort to black magic to conjure the perfect assassin. The spell is cast with the poison of a black widow, a scorpion, and a cobra, onto an onyx blade with a drop of blood from each wizard to bind the assassin to their will.

  There's only one problem: their conjured killer is a woman, and they're falling in love with her.

  Chapter One

  The door crashed open against the wall, startling Ian Gyles so much he dropped his book.

  "Are you mad?" Lord Leonis Barrington threw his wool greatcoat down on the settee as if it had personally offended him. "How dare you read at a time like this?"

  Ian shot a glare at the man and started to reach down to retrieve the soft-bound book, but Barrington snatched it up.

  "Of course." He sneered, flipping through the flimsy pages carelessly. "Another one of your useless penny dreadfuls about love andhonor." He said those last words like a filthy curse. "Meanwhile, grimdark overrun the world and destroy everything."

  Ian settled back in his chair and picked up his wine glass for a leisurely sip. "Which is exactly why I read. It relaxes me."

  He'd put up with Barrington's tirades for more than a decade. The man was all bite and snark. Even in bed.

  At heart, Barrington was a decent man despite being an aristocrat from one of the oldest and proudest families of Malwyrd. Though gods help you if you dared say so to his face. The man had been generously blessed with wealth, prestige, looks, and so much power he'd almost destroyed himself time and time again as he learned to control the fierce tides of magic that poured through him.

  Barrington deliberately paused to shake his silver hair back from his sculpted face. His dark eyes flashed with turmoil, even as his sensual lips taunted. "I can recommend a better way to relax that involves both of us."

  "After we cast the spell," Ian agreed, removing his glasses to set them on the side table. He flicked off the lamp and held out his hand.

  Barrington winced as he handed the book back to him. "Not that it'll help a fucking thing."

  Standing, Ian slipped the book into an inner coat pocket the tailor had added at his request. "You're late. They've already started setting the grid."

  Barrington grunted. "Traffic out of Scarbarrow was a bitch. The roads are clogged with farmers forced to seek refuge in the city. Not that it's much safer inside the walls surrounded by people. Who did you manage to convince to join this farce?"

  Never mind that this "farce" was his idea. Without answering, Ian stepped over to the massive fireplace and laid his right hand upon the stone carved with the circular rune for orbis. The other stones also carried runes that represented various places throughout the world, though only someone with his gift would actually be able to use them. Even Bar
rington, for all his impressive evocation ability, wouldn't be able to open the gate, let alone direct it to Ian's private spell chamber. Which was exactly the reason Barrington had been forced to arrive via horse and carriage.

  Ian didn't mutter any words, wave a wand, or make any gestures. Magic formed like a fist in his stomach and reached out to drag his desired location to his waiting gate. Sometimes his intestines felt like knotted up sausages. Or he might feel nauseated and achy, as if he'd been riding roughshod over the worst road in the county for days. Tonight, his stomach pitched as hard as if he'd jumped off a cliff into a murky, bottomless pit. He very nearly vomited on his friend's finely polished boots.

  The grimdark taint was spreading every day. Soon…

  He didn't dare acknowledge the thought, though his hand trembled as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  The soot-streaked stones forming the rear of the chimney shimmered and went black, turning the massive fireplace into a cave. Barrington strode through like he was going on a Sunday stroll in the park, and Ian followed. For a moment, everything disappeared into perfect, empty silence, and then he stepped into a circular room.

  Seamless wooden walls stretched upward as far as he could see. There were no windows or doors, other than the black hole through which they'd stepped. Lanterns circled the large room, carefully hung so as not to damage the wood itself. There were few lingi remaining in the world, and this tree had grown for nearly one thousand years.

  "Hell no," Barrington retorted, whirling in a swish of silver hair to glare at him. "I refuse to cast any spell with him."

  Ian had no idea what had happened between Barrington and Rodon, but their animosity for one another was mutual. Compared to Barrington's shiny knee-high boots, finely tailored skin-tight breeches, and crisp white linen shirt, Rodon's worn leather pants and loose, rough shirt looked more suited for a peasant than a powerful wizard. Even Ian's outdated coat and ink-stained shirt looked like high fashion compared to Rodon's attire.

  But looks could be deceiving. Lord General Commander Rodon was the highest-ranking military officer of Malwyrd and could command even King Rupert himself for his own protection. He wore a heavy broadsword strapped to his back, even while preparing to work some magic. Ian was sure the man slept with the sword in his hand.

  Rodon met Ian's gaze with a sardonic tilt of his head, but he said nothing. Ian had already convinced him of the need to join their unique gifts in this last-ditch spell to stand against the grimdark. Ian hadn't told him that it had been Barrington's idea all along, though a man of Rodon's intellect would have quickly put two and two together.

  Who better to summon a demonic killer than the best summoner in the land?

  The fourth man in the room knelt alongside shallow rings that had been carefully carved into the heart of the tree. Three larger rings lay with an overlap in the exact center of the room, with smaller rings and notches around them. A large stone bowl darkened from many previous fires sat inside the nested circles. Depending on the spell, different patterns could be laid out quickly and easily to help guide the focus of the magic.

  Sir Garrett laid an onyx the size of an egg into the shallow dip and slowly stood. The youngest of the four, he was also of the humblest origins. His father, a merchant. His mother, a nobody from somewhere north. Certainly not a proud lineage that had been traced generation after generation. Yet there was no one more skilled in potions, and Sir Garrett had an innate ability with setting crystal grids.

  Scanning the layout of crystals, Ian arched a brow at the man. "Onyx, jasper, and hematite I understand perfectly, but garnet, carnelian, and bloodstone…?"

  Sir Garrett shrugged sheepishly. "Black and red felt right for this. We needed something to counteract the heaviness of the grounding stones, and the passion and energy of the red crystals does that."

  "So you want me to conjure a demon with feelings," Barrington drawled. "Fucking perfect. There is no such thing."

  Sir Garrett stared at the floor without responding. Ian thought he might be reconsidering, but despite his youth, Sir Garrett was always confident in his grids and potions. The way he put patterns and crystals together was unorthodox and often uncanny in how brilliantly they powered the spells.

  Ian closed his eyes and held out both of his hands, letting his third eye open to the magic flowing through the lingum.

  First, he saw the soft white glow from the selenite pendant he wore beneath his shirt. Years ago, he'd recommended all wizards begin to wear the shining brightness of the crystal. Grimdark spawn couldn't bear the soft white light, making it easy to identify people who'd been tainted.

  He focused on the floor and shivered. Magic grids never ceased to amaze him. Seemingly innocent rocks, laid in a particular pattern, began to multiply their energy. Different angles and positions magnified that power exponentially. A wizard could lay a spell without a grid, but why would you be satisfied with a gentle breeze when you could conjure a raging hurricane?

  Sir Garrett had laid the black stones in an outer ring of containment and protection. Garnet sparkled like passionate fire inside that heavy circle, sprinkled with the vibrant energy of carnelian and the courage of bloodstone. Grounded, but blazing with passion and courage. A contained inferno.

  "Fight darkness with darkness," Ian whispered as he opened his eyes. "It's exactly what we need. A fiery, vibrant shadow that will stand against the grimdark."

  "Bah," Barrington shook his head. "It's a waste of time to try and imbue courage and passion into a shadowed conjure."

  "Will such emotion damage our ability to control the conjure?" Rodon asked, his deep voice echoing through the chamber.

  Sir Garrett met Ian's gaze. "What do you think, Professor?"

  "I would think not." Ian slowly walked around the grid so he could examine it from all angles. "We need something dark, so it can get close to the grimdark spawn without alerting them. We want to induce a positive outcome from something inherently shadowed, while keeping its dark qualities. Obviously, something like selenite or moonstone would negate those very dark qualities we're after."

  "It seems a risk to me." Rodon shook his head with a frown. "I know we can't conjure a pure grimdark and expect to control it, but courage? We can't guess how the conjure will use such emotion. What if it turns on us?"

  Ian patted the crystal hanging over his heart beneath his shirt. "We have our protections, yes? And if we must, we'll dispel the conjure at the first sign of danger. If anyone can control it, Barrington can."

  "I can indeed," Barrington stated, for once without an ounce of pride or arrogance. Only a steely confidence.

  Ian stripped off his coat and tossed it aside. "Then let us begin."

  Chapter Two

  Ian fed the last branch of oak into the fire cheerfully burning in the stone bowl. Sir Garrett set the cast-iron grate on top and positioned the cauldron over the heart of flame. Barrington and Rodon stood on either side of Ian, marking the four directions.

  A thick white circle of salt enclosed the entire crystal grid and the fire inside. In case anything went wrong with the summoning, the conjure wouldn't be able to leave the lingum. A smaller salt circle waited for the summoned creature's appearance. Rodon had laid a small but very sharp and finely made knife inside with a faceted onyx gemstone embedded on the hilt. Their weapon of choice for this spell.

  Everyone had agreed that only Barrington would break that circle, if he approved of the resulting conjure and could control it. Even now, the reality of what they were preparing to do made Ian's stomach churn. They were planning to summon a demon, imbued with all the killing power they could give it, and then deliberately loose it on the world in the hope it would only kill other grimdark. Gods forgive us.

  The sacred woods burned quickly. Flickering flames cast shadows on each man's face, tense with concentration.

  "Begin the offerings," Ian
said.

  On his left, Rodon pulled a small, wadded-up handkerchief out of his pocket. Ian's eyes immediately watered, and his stomach clenched in protest at the smell.

  "A piece of grimdark." Unbothered by the odor of rotting demon flesh, Rodon shook the cloth over the cauldron. A lump fell with a splash. "An ear, I think, though it's hard to tell."

  Pinching his nose with his left hand, Sir Garrett held a small glass jar over the cauldron with his other hand. A black widow spider scrambled inside. Holding his breath, he quickly unscrewed the lid and dumped the spider into the bubbling liquid.

  Barrington sprinkled powder into the cauldron. "Cobra poison from the jungles of Aleada, brought back by my great-grandmother if the family legends are to be believed."

  Bending down, Ian picked up the small wooden box at his feet. The creature inside scratched vigorously at its prison as if it knew its end was nigh. "Deathstalker scorpion."

  He slid the lid back and quickly dumped the scorpion into the boiling liquid that hissed and popped with his offering.

  Rodon unsheathed a wickedly sharp silver knife that he always carried on his hip. He punctured his thumb and allowed three drops of blood to fall into the cauldron. Each man quickly followed suit.

  Ian didn't even feel the slice of the blade itself. The knife was too sharp. Each drop of his blood into the cauldron echoed inside his skull like a gong.

  Sir Garrett offered him an ornate silver goblet. Tendrils of steam rose from the liquid as he lifted it toward his mouth. "At our midnight hour, we call upon the spirits of the darksome night."

  Braced for a foul taste as rank as the smell still bubbling up out of the cauldron, Ian took a sip and passed the cup to Rodon. Actually, it wasn't bad at all. More like mulled wine with cinnamon and cloves. Very nice. Maybe a touch of something bitter. Myrrh? He wasn't sure.