Page 21 of Magic of the Damned

In my book, peculiar was right up there with exotic. Definitely on the wrong side of normal but not interesting enough to be considered quirky and not unique or winsome enough to be weird.

He whispered something; the door illuminated and opened. I followed him down the spiral stairs, holding close to the rough stone walls of the stairwell faintly lit by warm yellow sconce lights that ran along the walls.

A dungeon. Significant parts of the footage were dedicated to the supernatural prison. My expectations were squalid conditions and minimal amenities. A stone-walled antechamber with harsh unforgiving lights and what looked to be poorly cleaned bloodstains on cement floors led to a large room, divided into two rows of twenty-by-twenty smaller rooms, each with a full-size bed and a small door that I assumed led to a bathroom. The front of each room had frosted glass instead of bars.

It was far better than any prison I’d seen on TV, but for occupants who spent their days causing chaos, killing, and pillaging, a mundane existence in a small room must’ve been torture.

“This is where you keep the worst of the worst?” I asked, still surprised by the decent conditions.

“The only sentence in the Perils is life.”

“Once they’re sentenced, they die here?” I frowned. “Aren’t vampires immortal? And shifters and witches can live to be close to two hundred. This is where they stay for whatever infraction landed them here until they die of old age? What happens to vampires?”

He seemed surprised by my breadth of knowledge.

“The Discovery of Magic,” I reminded him.

Nodding, he frowned. “I obtained a copy. That book is grossly inaccurate and I urge you to be very wary of the information within it. The only thing that was correct was the information about the existence of vampires, shifters, and witches. Vampires can only be killed with a stake through the heart. It failed to mention that if they feed before they meet true death, they live. Best way to kill a vampire is to subdue them with a stake to the heart and take off the head.”

I took a shuddering breath. As detailed and explicit as the book was, I wasn’t disappointed with that being left out. I’m sure if it were included, pages would have been dedicated to ways of murdering a vampire. “Shifters?”

“In that book, magic is underestimated and everything about shifters is wholly incorrect. They don’t require the moon to change—as you witnessed during your encounter with the wolf. They heal extremely fast. Silver weakens them, but to kill them, other than beheading them, silver must puncture the heart and remain there until it stops beating. Their dominant magic is their ability to shift into animals and advanced healing, which makes them particularly dangerous. They are immune to magic but have the ability to sense it, even through cloaks. The immunity to magic also prevents them having it. Or so we thought. One anomaly exists. Vadim—the wolf shifter you released?—”

“I didn’t release him,” I interjected, refusing to be assigned culpability to an offense in which I was made an unwilling participant.

He continued. “Vadim has proven to be immune to silver and to possess magic. When one possesses such power, they don’t believe they must adhere to any rules. He didn’t. I tracked him for decades. He escaped twice until we found a way to contain him.” His eyes flicked to me. “Until he was released.” There wasn’t any accusation in his voice but it was potent in his eyes: whether or not it was intentional, he held me at the same level of guilt as the person truly responsible for the spell.

Despite needing to figure out how much disinformation was in The Discovery of Magic, I was in desperate need of a small break. I moved toward one of the enclosures to get a better view of the markings on the wall. Up close, they looked exactly like the ones on my finger. There were no grounds for denial. This was proof of my link to the magic that released the prisoners.

“What happened the day they were released?” I asked.

“I felt the magic. It was hard to miss, but by the time I got down here, they were gone and in their place were the sigils from this casted spell. It broke all seven spells we had on each cell to keep them restrained.”

“Seven?”

“Yes. That one spell broke a myriad of magical spells that took decades to perfect. When you are dealing with the most powerful and ruthless of the supernaturals, it’s prudent to be cautious.”

“I don’t have magic. I didn’t cast the spell.”

“You were used as a conduit. This magic resembles the work of a Dark Caster. One who is smart about going undiscovered, which is why they used you.”

“I’m still confused as to how I can help.” Magicless and used as a conduit, what exactly could I do?

“You are the common link.” His eyes dropped to my marked finger. “The magic needs to be removed from you. Once it is, I will be able to trace the location of the Caster without it being skewed by you.”

A dark delight flitted across his face. Although this was problematic for him, he held the look of a man who found exhilaration in the chase and the mystery. Or maybe it was the promise of reprisal. I was pretty sure the Dark Caster’s punishment wouldn’t be a stay in the Perils. Dominic’s earlier comments about their old ways of torture and murder haunted me.

This made me think of Peter’s constant affirmation of Winston Churchill’s adage “History is written by the victors.” Were the prisoners as bad as Dominic and the others wanted me to believe they were, or was I getting my information from the victors? I was willing to concede that among the supernaturals, there were their own degrees of awfulness, present company included.

I couldn’t afford to delve into this philosophical minefield, I thought as I touched the wall with the sigil.

“Undo,” I whispered. Then I said, “Stop it. Bring them back.” It devolved to me just tossing out any words that I thought might reverse the spell. How could it hurt? The spell that I invoked was just a mishmash of senseless words, so my hypothesis wasn’t necessarily ridiculous. Or at least I didn’t think so until I turned to find Dominic with a look of bemused incredulity.

“You are an odd one, aren’t you?” He frowned and turned toward the stairs. “Come,” he ordered.

It was said with such indomitable coolness that my instinct was to follow. Until I decided that this was a perfect time to set boundaries for a man who seemed to expect full compliance without challenge. He needed me just as much as I needed him. We were partners in this. And even if we weren’t, Learn some damn manners.

I didn’t move. He’d walked several feet before realizing I wasn’t with him.

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