Gods of Magic Read online

  Gods of Magic

  Dragon’s Gift: The Amazon Book 1

  Linsey Hall

  Contents

  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

  Thank You!

  Excerpt Of Death Valley Magic

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  About Linsey

  Copyright

  1

  The alley stank of dark magic and death. I crouched behind a trash can with my sister Bree, trying to breathe shallowly. Black magic swirled on the air, almost invisible but obvious from its stench.

  “Remind me what the heck we’re doing here, Rowan?” Bree asked.

  “You keep poking into my business, so I’ll show you.” I peered out onto the darkened street. We were in The Vaults, the underground dark magic district of Edinburgh. The twisty-turny cobblestone streets were located right below Edinburgh Castle, and if one were inclined, they could find all manner of dark magic there.

  But I wasn’t inclined to find dark magic.

  I was inclined to find a murderer.

  I shifted, trying to keep my black leather boots out of the mucky puddle, and debated if we should actually be on a different street altogether.

  “How’d you know to come here?” Bree whispered from beside me. “Doesn’t look particularly murderous.”

  Without removing my gaze from the street, I dug into my pocket and withdrew the little slip of paper, then passed it to Bree.

  This had to be the correct alley. Right?

  Paper rustled as Bree opened the note. I could hear the frown in her voice. “It says to come to the crossroads of Evil and Despair, and there you will stop a murder.” I glanced over to see her gaze shoot toward mine. Her dark hair glinted in the light, and her black leather jacket helped her blend with the shadows, just like mine did. “Who the heck sent this to you?”

  Actually, that was a second mystery I needed to figure out. “I don’t know. But I can’t ignore it, can I?”

  She frowned. “No, I guess not.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But it’s dangerous.”

  I shot her a scowl. Bree had so much magic that she was basically a god. A Dragon God who had fully come into her power, to be precise. She had been gifted the powers of the Norse gods, a transaction made possible by dragon magic. She had more than a dozen powers. Our world was full of magic, and Bree was one of the most gifted of all.

  Me?

  Not so much.

  I had basically no power—not anymore, at least—but that didn’t mean I’d turn away from something dangerous. Especially if it meant stopping a murder.

  My glare worked, and Bree got the point. Contrition flashed on her face. “Sorry.”

  “I know.” She worried because she loved me, but it still stung. Not only did I have Bree, my mega-powerful sister, I also had Ana, my second mega-powerful sister. I loved them so much that I’d die for them, but it was still a little tough to live in their shadows.

  I shoved the thought way.

  That way lay madness. And I wasn’t here to mope about my crappy magic. I was here to stop a murder.

  Only two people could possibly know a crime was about to go down—the perpetrator or a seer. I really hoped my info came from a seer.

  I fingered the dagger strapped to my thigh and frowned. The crossroads of Evil and Despair, the note had said. “This street is named Evil and this alley is called Despair, but I don’t think it’s the right location.”

  “How do you know?” Bree asked.

  “Just feels wrong. Too quiet.” Maybe it was instinct. I had pretty good instincts after learning how to operate in a magical world without magic.

  Unbeknownst to humans, the world was full of magic. Shifters, Magica, vampires, and demons all existed right under their noses, either walking in disguise or sticking to all-magic cities and neighborhoods. The Great Peace, the most powerful bit of magic ever created, hid us from human eyes. They could see us but not our magic—which we tried not to use around them anyway.

  Edinburgh had one of the biggest all-magic neighborhoods in the world, located right in the Grassmarket. The Vaults, where we were currently located, was situated right next to the Grassmarket and stuffed full to the gills with dark magic and questionable individuals.

  “Don’t you have class in the morning?” Bree asked. “Should you be out so late?”

  I scowled at her. “Off topic.”

  “Not really. You’re about to officially start at the Undercover Protectorate’s Academy of Magic, and you can’t miss class.”

  I huffed. The Undercover Protectorate was a secret organization dedicated to protecting vulnerable supernaturals and keeping magic in check. My two sisters and I lived at their castle headquarters in the Scottish Highlands, and they were both full members. Six months ago, Bree and Ana rescued me from five years of captivity—just the memory made me shudder—so I lived there with them.

  To fully join the Protectorate, you had to pass their Academy. The only reason I even had a chance at starting at the Academy was because Bree and Ana had gone there and done so well.

  Except I currently had no magic, so I was the pity add.

  I’d done a few informal classes there, but tomorrow was my first full, official day. Considering that I’d lost all my power during my captivity, class was going to be a doozy. I was damned good with weapons and potions and never, ever gave up, but even that wasn’t going to get me through.

  I ignored the thought and focused on the street in front of me. On the possible murder that was about to occur.

  This I could control. With my actions here, maybe I could do some good.

  “I won’t miss class,” I said. “And I have to do this.”

  “This isn’t the first note you’ve gotten, is it?” Bree asked.

  “No. I’ve gotten a few others, slipped right under my door. The first was a robbery. I thought it was crap, but it wasn’t. I went to the assigned place and time, and stopped old Mr. Amos from having all his pygmy toads stolen.”

  “The old guy who has the shop at the entrance to The Vaults?”

  “Yep. Then it was stopping an arms deal, and a black magic mob beating. But this is the first time one of the notes said murder.” And now I was definitely sure we were at the wrong place. It’d been too long, and it was too quiet. I stood. “Come on. We’ve got to try Option B.”

  “What’s that?” Bree whispered as we hurried out onto the street.

  “There’s a shop called Evil and a bar called Despair located right on a little square at the back of The Vaults. Maybe it’ll happen there.”

  “You sure know this place well,” Bree said.

  It’d taken a lot of practice to learn the ins and outs of The Vaults, but it had paid off. I’m still alive, right?

  But there was another reason, too, one I didn’t want to share. Not even with my sister.

  I liked the place. Something in the darkened streets reached into my soul and soothed. I shouldn’t have liked such a place, one that was full of dark magic and evil.

  But I did.

  I hadn’t always been that way. On bad nights, I thought that something in my soul was changing, maybe. Turning dark.

  I shivered and shoved the thought away.

  We headed down the street, a narrow cobblestone affair that had been built hundreds of years ago. The Vaults had been carved right out of the huge
cliff beneath Edinburgh Castle. The old buildings down there were pressed cheek by jowl, each rising about three stories tall. Though they looked like they were built of regular materials, they were actually carved right from the rock itself.

  We passed a trio of shops that sold potions, each looking nastier than the last. Bottles full of acid-green liquid lined the window of the first shop, while a massive cauldron bubbled away in the second. The third had windows that were entirely blacked out, and that was scariest of all.

  And though it was scary, something in me liked it.

  Nope. Don’t think about it.

  There were still a lot of people out and about despite the late hour. Every magical being in the world had a signature—something that hit up one or more of the five senses—and most of the people down here had gross signatures. Dark magic came with disgusting scents, sounds, and tastes. The smell of burning tires or the taste of rotten meat, that kind of thing.

  I didn’t make eye contact as we slipped by mages and shifters who would spit on us as soon as talk to us. Bree stuck close to me, eyeing everyone suspiciously. They would have no idea how powerful she was, since she suppressed a lot of her signature.

  I didn’t blame her. Better to fly under the radar. We’d spent most of our childhood running from the Rebel Gods, a fanatical cult that had hunted us because we were Dragon Gods. It’d taught us to be wary and try to blend in with our surroundings.

  They’d eventually captured me, keeping me prisoner for five horrible years. But now I was free. I’d lost my gift of telekinesis and had no magic left, but I was free.

  Free.

  I focused on that, determined not to fall into the darkness.

  I skirted around a witch selling fortunes, then hurried toward the back of The Vaults.

  “It’s quieter back here,” Bree said.

  “Yeah. Perfect for a murder.” I slowed as we neared the bar called Despair, then slipped into an alley nearby. The small cobblestone square was surrounded on all sides by old three-story buildings. Across the square, the shop named Evil stood quiet and empty. Stars sparkled overhead, but they were just an enchantment. There was only rock above us since we were underground, with the castle sitting on top of that.

  Bree and I crouched in the alley, sticking to the shadows. The darkness soothed me, which was both weird and probably bad.

  “It’s here. I can feel it,” I whispered.

  There was no commotion, no blood, no body. It hadn’t happened yet, thank fates. Damned if I’d let the murder actually happen.

  Why had I been chosen for this, though? Why would they give me—No-Magic Rowan—this clue?

  I peered into the darkness, searching each doorway and alley that led off the square. “You see anything? Hear anything?”

  “Nothing unusual.”

  “Good.” One of Bree’s gifts was enhanced senses. The Norse god Heimdall had given them to her.

  Theoretically, there was a Pantheon of gods out there waiting to give me their magic, too, just like they had with Bree and Ana.

  But it hadn’t happened.

  Maybe I wasn’t worthy.

  Maybe it was the darkness I could feel growing slowly inside me.

  Nope. Not going to think about it.

  If I didn’t think about it, maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe I was even imagining it.

  A shout sounded from an alley across the way. I stiffened, my fingers tingling where they touched the hilt of the dagger sheathed at my thigh.

  Next to me, Bree leaned forward, peering into the dark. “Two people. Young men. Pissed, from the sound of it.”

  I grinned at the British slang. Pissed equaled drunk. We might live in Scotland now, but our roots were in Death Valley, California. We’d only been in Scotland about six months, but we were already changing to fit it.

  At the other side of the small square, the shadows shifted. “See that?”

  Bree squinted in that direction. “A man. Big. He’s—”

  The two drunk men we’d heard stumbled into the alley at that point, cutting her off. They were young. No older than us, and we were only twenty-three. Laughing and joking, they turned toward Despair, their eyes glued to the bright lights in the windows.

  Movement from the roofs caught my eye, and I glanced up. Demons jumped down, at least six of them. Each was armed to the teeth, with massive horns spearing the sky. They were a variety of species—all sizes and shapes—and their dark magic rolled off them, stinking of sulfur and death. I didn’t recognize any of their species, which meant I wouldn’t know what magic they were going to throw at us.

  In the sky above, a creature cawed, loud and fierce.

  “A bird?” Bree flashed confused eyes toward me.

  “What the heck is a bird doing underground?” I looked up, then gasped. It had to be the size of a car. “It’s freaking huge.”

  The massive creature dived, headed for the two men in the middle of the square. It didn’t look exactly like a bird. In fact, its image flickered so much it was hard to tell what it was. The demons surrounded the men, but the creature was headed right for them.

  Bree looked up. “I’ve got this.”

  Magic swirled around her as her silver wings flared from her back. In addition to having the magic of the Norse gods, she was a Valkyrie. It came with some pretty sweet perks. She leapt into the sky, her huge wings carrying her toward the massive winged beast. She drew her sword as she flew.

  As awesome as it was to watch Bree fight, I had to stop these demons. There were six of them. Possibly too many for me to fight without magic, but I had my potions.

  I drew a potion bomb from the sack at my side, and I hurled it at the nearest demon. It exploded against his back, blue liquid splashing everywhere.

  He roared, then fell flat on his face, the paralyzing potion freezing his muscles until he couldn’t move.

  The two young men stood frozen in the middle as I raced out, sprinting for the demons who were closing in on them. I drew another blue potion bomb—I color coded them according to spell—and hurled it at another demon.

  He roared and fell, stiff as a board.

  I neared the first demon that I’d paralyzed. He lay face down on the ground, frozen. I drew a sword from the ether, using a bit of handy magic that I’d bought rather than owned myself, and stabbed him in the back of the neck. The cut was quick, and I felt no guilt. Demons were evil, usually taken from hell by black magic and hired to do awful deeds on earth.

  I wasn’t even technically killing him. When a demon died on earth, their body disappeared and they woke up back in whatever hell they’d come from. Eventually, he’d probably make his way back to earth.

  In a way, this was a win-win for both of us. Or at least, not a major loss for the demon.

  In the sky, Bree and the giant beast fought, darting around and clashing violently. I looked back to the ground, where my fight was happening.

  Two of the demons had grabbed the young men and were holding them, but they weren’t actually hurting them. I frowned. Were they holding them for the monster that Bree was trying to drive off?

  Another demon lunged for me, sword raised. His skin was a pale gray, and he was about six inches taller than me. His horns were a pale white that matched his long fangs and claws. I dived low, narrowly avoiding his steel, my reflexes practiced and quick. I’d worked my ass off at this when I’d realized my magic was gone. If I didn’t have power, I’d sure as heck be the fastest, most skilled fighter.

  On the ground, I rolled onto my back and popped up onto my feet, swinging my sword for the demon. It sliced toward his middle, but he sucked his stomach in, dodging my blow.

  “Lucky bastard.” I grinned, darting toward him.

  I moved so quickly that his yellow eyes widened in surprise. Then I swiped my blade across his neck. Blood sprayed, and I ducked.

  Still, it hit me in the forehead, warm and sticky and gross. I was fast, but not magically fast. Avoiding arterial blood spray was almost impossible. It was
one of my least favorite parts of the job.

  I kicked the demon in the chest so he fell backward, then whirled to face the fight.

  The shadow at the edge of the square moved.

  A man stepped out.

  Power hit me in the face, magic so strong that I gasped.

  And his face.

  He looked like a fallen angel. One who’d gotten in a brawl as soon as he’d hit earth. Dark hair waved around his face, and his lips were full, his eyes a brilliant blue. His perfect nose was just slightly crooked, as if he’d broken it once or twice. The flaw should have made him look less divine, but somehow, it didn’t.

  And his body. Holy crap, with those arms, he could break a semitruck in half. He had to be six and a half feet tall, if he was an inch, his shoulders broad and his waist trim.

  Time seemed to stop as I looked at him, shrouded in shadow. His magic rolled out from him in waves, complete with every signature in the book. It lit up all five of my senses, something so rare that only a few supernaturals possessed it. It meant he was strong. Really strong.

  His magic tasted of fine whiskey, burning the back of my throat. It smelled of cedar, fresh and bright, and sounded like the roar of a waterfall. Rarest of all was his aura. Supernaturals almost never had auras, but his was gold, and shaped vaguely like ancient armor, covering him from neck to knees. It shimmered in front of him, there but not, one of the strangest and most fabulous things I’d ever seen.

  But strongest of all was the feel of his magic. It felt like a caress against my skin. Almost like a kiss. I shivered, trying not to lose myself in the feeling.

  This was a fight. One that I wouldn’t lose.

  I turned away from the man, ignoring the tugging sensation I felt pulling me toward him.

  He could be a bad guy—he might be fighting on the side of these demons, after all—but I’d have to deal with him after I took out the massive red demon who was bearing down on me like a freight train. The monster was at least seven feet tall, and covered in so much muscle that I wondered how he wiped his own butt.