Magic Undying (Dragon's Gift: The Seeker #1)(3)

A headache pounded in my skull as I watched my arms, which hung down toward the ground, turn blue very slowly. Too slowly. Bright red blood dripped from my head wound, landing on my arms, stark against my pale skin. The sight of it relieved me, though. If I was bleeding and I had a heartbeat, I couldn’t be truly dead.

“She’s doing that weird thing again,” a gravelly voice said.

“Don’t let her.”

Pain exploded in my skull, and the world went black.



When I came to, the world was just as dark and terrifying as it had been before I’d lost consciousness. Had the demon knocked me over the head? I still hung over his shoulder, his every footstep jarring pain through my middle. The same jagged black rocks passed beneath us as the demon ran.

But the magic in the air felt different. Stronger. Weirder.

I shivered.

Every supernatural’s magic had a signature that was conveyed by one or more of the five senses.

Whoever possessed this new magic I was sensing was powerful. Really, really powerful.

Carefully, I shifted to see where we were going and to get a better sense of the exact nature of the strong magic. I moved a millimeter at a time so as not to alert the demons. I didn’t want another knock on the head. If I was going to escape this, I clearly needed to do it through cunning rather than the brute strength of my Phantom form. My injuries made me too slow to shift.

Ahead, I caught the barest glimpse of a castle. It was a massive, hulking structure made of black stone. Tall walls gave way to a huge keep with towers at each of the four corners. Steam rose up from the base of the wall. A moat? Probably. I shuddered at the idea of what was in there.

The power came from that castle.

From the Warden.

Okay, I definitely did not want to meet him. His power was so strong that it cloaked the castle. Not everyone could sense another’s magic, but strong supernaturals could. The more powerful you were, the more completely you were hooked into the magical grid. Some supernaturals worked to keep their signature repressed, like I did. No way I was gonna let anyone know the extent of my forbidden magic, and he was probably strong enough to sense what I was if I let my guard down.

Not this guy—repressing his signature wasn’t on his agenda. This guy wanted everyone knowing he was the strongest dude in the land.

Weirdly, his magic didn’t feel explicitly evil. Often, dark magic had a signature that fit—like the taste of death or the smell of rotten eggs, like the ugly bastards now hauling me across hell.

But the magic cloaking the castle smelled of fresh sandalwood and tasted like wine. Red wine. A nice one. Personally, I was partial to boxed wine, but I could at least identify a good one.

The Warden’s magic was probably strong enough to register with more of my senses, but I’d need to be closer to find out.

I didn’t want to get closer. Because sometimes, the greatest evil was cloaked in something palatable. Any guy who lived in a castle like this was probably one dark son of a demon.

We were nearing the moat now, and I could smell the brackish water that was letting off so much steam. I did my best to breathe shallowly. We were nearly to the main wall.

This close to the Warden, I couldn’t use my Phantom power. Not where strangers could see me. I’d have to kill them if they witnessed that. And the Warden was too powerful to kill.

Normally, I threw myself at danger.

But this? This was enough to give even me pause.

So yeah, stealth was my best bet.

I called upon my dragon sense, hoping that I hadn’t lost that magic when I’d died. The odd power that was a gift from my FireSoul half. FireSouls were said to share the souls of dragons, though no one knew exactly what that meant because dragons were long dead. FireSouls possessed the dragon’s ability to find treasure.

Treasure could be anything we wanted badly enough—even another supernatural’s powers—and what I wanted was a way out of this Underworld. There had to be a portal around here somewhere—most likely inside the castle.

I reached out with my magic, focusing on what I desired and letting my dragon sense flow through me. When the familiar tug about my middle pulled, I had it.

There was a portal within the castle wall. And wherever it led had to be better than this place.

As much as it made my skin prickle to think of going into the Warden’s stronghold, this was the easiest way in. I forced myself to stay limp as the demons carried me across the wooden bridge. Through the wooden slats, the moat bubbled and hissed below.

I’d love to kick these jerks into it.

Instead, I darted my gaze between the three demons, taking stock of their weapons. An assortment of daggers and oddly shaped blades hung off them, more than enough to get the job done.

I was ace with weapons, considering that I didn’t usually use magic on my mercenary jobs, but some demon weapons couldn’t be wielded by any but their own kind. Probably why this guy was wearing them out in the open where I could grab them. Still, I hoped my weird death magic would allow me to manipulate his Underworld weapons.

I stayed silent and still as we passed under the massive gate into a courtyard. Dark gray cobblestones covered the ground, reaching all the way to the curtain wall. I caught a glimpse of the castle, which loomed large and dark.

“I’ll get the Warden,” one of the demons said before he jogged off.

This was it. I was down to two guards.