Claimed By Magic Page 5

“Has my Grandson explained the purpose of this place to you?” Carbrey asked, once she had sufficiently recovered. “I can sense this is your first time to the island.”

  Jasmine eyes shifted nervously towards her friend but he was staring into the fire. Did the old man know she wasn’t a magic wielder? If he did, Twitch didn’t seem worried. Jasmine kept her drink cradled between her hands in her lap. There was no fucking way she was drinking more. But she liked holding the weight of the glass. It gave her something to do.

  “Just that it’s a hidden city a bunch of magic wielders live in.,” she admitted, feeling a little awkward.

  The old man gave a disappointed sigh. “It is much more than that. The founders of this place were the descendants of Merlin and Morgana Le Fey.”

  Disbelief lit Jasmine’s face. “From the King Arthur stories?”

  Holding up his glass, Carbrey studied the crystal clear liquid thoughtfully. “They were no stories child, but our history. Although it was never written, Merlin sired a son. Morgana also bore a daughter as well as Mordred. Those surviving offspring each bore three children of their own. These were the founders of the six houses, three under Merlin and three under Le Fey.”

  “Didn’t they fight though…I mean aren’t you all enemies?” Jasmine asked, now fascinated.

  Stories of Merlin and the Knights of the Round Table in Camelot were something her father had read to her as a child. Jasmine had always found herself spellbound by the tales. It had been easy to daydream she was one of the Knights out on a quest. Being a lady in court had never appealed to her even when she was small. Adventure had been something she had always craved.

  The old man shook his head with a smile. “We made a truce a very long time ago. The founders came to this mystical isle, fought together to make their home, and we have lived here in peace ever since.” Raising his glass, he took a small savouring sip.

  “There are others here too…other types of magic wielders.” Twitch piped in. “You saw some of them on the way.”

  One leg crossed and resting on his other knee, he was playing with his glass idly between his hands. He seemed to be making a conscious effort not to shove back his hair. Loose strands had already fallen into his eyes.

  Jasmine noted the contents of his glass looked untouched. Twitch was staying sober. This was probably a good thing. She had never seen him drink and from what she knew magic wielders could become easily addicted to things. Her friend already had an addiction to anything with sugar.

  “Yes, my Grandson is correct. Others with magic in their souls were drawn here too,” Carbrey continued. “We have witches, warlocks, elves, and a whole host of others possessing magic living here now. They are mainly peaceful and respect the Council’s rule. We number in a few thousand or so, although many more visit from your world each year which increases our numbers for some months.”

  Jasmine’s eyes drifted to the Jinn. It was watching her again. A strange pleasurable heat gathered in her loins. Alarmed at the sensation she darted her gaze away.

  “Now you can understand why we needed peacekeepers.” Twitch grinned.

  The old man laughed gruffly. “We mostly do not need them, and things are usually settled amicably, but there is always one bad apple among the crop.”

  “Which house do you fall under?” Jasmine asked, turning to glance at her friend.

  He wasn’t looking her way. Instead he was inspecting the contents of his glass intently. “Le Fey.” The reply was a mumble. “Grandfather is the Grand Master of the three houses.”

  Jasmine’s eyes widened in surprise. For some reason she hadn’t seen that coming. “You’re a descendent of Morgana?” In the stories she had read, the Enchantress had been evil. She had manipulated Arthur’s knights and used her powers of sorcery to try and destroy them.

  Twitch sighed, returning his attention to her face. “My father was Le Fey. My mother is from a house of Merlin. Don’t look so shocked. Just because she’s my bloodline doesn’t automatically make me bad.”

  “It is a matter of free will, Jasmine.” Carbrey told her with calm measured confidence. “No one is born evil. We all make choices… sometimes we have to live with. Besides, stories are always written by the victors. The truth is always a little different. Our ancestor was not as awful as they make her out, although they will never admit that.”

  Jasmine guessed that was true. There were always two sides to a story. “But your magic needs technology…” she queried, feeling confused again. “They didn’t have that around in medieval times.”

  Approval shone in the old man’s gaze. He looked pleased at her quick grasp of things. “Our magic adapts to the things around us as the centuries pass. Each generation finds something new.”

  “So that’s why you’re a techno mage?” She was looking at Twitch again. He seemed to have relaxed even more. Had he worried that she would find his ancestry disturbing? Jasmine didn’t care about that. He had a good heart. More than once he had proven his bravery and loyalty.

  “A lot of my family found an affinity for technology.” Giving into the urge, he thrust some chaotic curls out of his face. “That’s why most of our magic now only works when we have some tech in our hands or around us. It has its advantages and disadvantages. The older generation like Grandfather don’t have that problem.”

  “And the other houses?”

  His green eyes twinkled with delight, enjoying her curiosity. “Merlin’s lot stayed with the old ways of nature and earth magic. Like us, they need to hold something linked to it.” Leaning forwards, he discarded his crystal glass on the floor beside his chair.

  “Can I ask now why you summoned me back? You made it sound like you were at death’s door or something,” the mage asked, focusing warily now on his Grandfather.

  “Can’t an old man see his Grandson from time to time?” Carbrey asked innocently, smoothing one side of his snow white moustache with a finger. “You have been away so long. I decided it was time you visited.”

  Twitch blew out his cheeks in annoyance. “I should have known this was all manipulation. I have forgotten how good you are at that,” he muttered, youthful features now stoic.

  The old man chuckled. “Your mother will want to see you, boy.”

  The mage rolled his eyes. “Yes, Grandfather.”

  “Take Jasmine with you and both of you come back for lunch here with me,” Carbrey suggested, as he struggled to his feet. Twitch was up and out of his chair before Jasmine could blink. One hand under the older man’s elbow, he gently helped him up.

  “All right,” He agreed with a small hum. “You could have just asked me to come and visit, you know.”

  Carbrey’s white eyebrows rose in disbelief. “And would you have come willingly, Morgan?”

  Twitch wrinkled his nose. “No...probably not.”

  “Well then,” the old man replied, a twinkle of amusement now in his own shrewd sea green gaze. “I did what needed to be done. Now off you go.”

  Eric heard the bang of the front door as it closed. Even this far, he could hear the beat of their hearts as they departed. Slipping the mask from his face, the veil of gold he had been seeing through vanished. The disguise worked adequately. Jasmine had not sensed who he truly was. Neither had she detected his scent.

  He knew though he would have to be careful with his gestures and mannerisms. The girl was sharp. Eric could not allow her to suspect his true identity. Yet on some level, he suspected she already knew who he was. He had felt her lust. The intense attraction between them was still there. Its pull was just as strong. In her lovely eyes, there had been shocked confusion. Eric knew he would have to move carefully. Posing as a Jinn would suffice for his task at hand.

  The old man had surpassed himself this time. No one would recognize him or sense a vampire among them. Eric would be able to move around unhindered. There was only one concern he held.

  “Your disguise is perfectly adequate, apart from the fact I cannot use my vampiric abilities while wear
ing it,” he informed the old man dryly. He had been unsettled to find his powers suppressed. This was something that had never happened before.

  Carbrey raised a white eyebrow innocently. “If you use them Eric, you will be discovered this time.”

  Eric’s eyes narrowed to blue, glittering slits. “How precisely am I supposed to protect myself then when faced with danger?”

  The old man was once more seated. Absently, he swirled the alcohol in his crystal glass. “Your powers of winter and your persuasion may be bound, but your magic is not.”

  Surprise lit the vampire’s features for the merest of seconds. “My magic...”

  “It’s rusty from not being used, I know.” Carbrey’s knowing gaze met his with calm patience. “You inherited it from your mother, boy. It is time you started to accept it properly and use it.”

  Eric eased his tall form into one of the chairs. The one Jasmine had vacated. “I have no need of magic,” he informed the sorcerer stiffly. Bending, he reclaimed her untouched glass from where it sat on the floor.

  “You do while you are here. I suggest you start getting familiar with using it again,” Carbrey advised.

  Eric sighed. The old man was definitely up to something. This was a game Eric was not sure he wanted to play.

  “Very well, if I must.” Raising the glass, he swallowed down the contents in one long gulp. The strong liquid trailed a pleasing heat down his throat. Little wonder Jasmine had found it overwhelming. Eric had suspected as much. This had been the reason he had given her such a smaller amount.

  “There is something between you and the girl Jasmine?”

  Carbrey’s quiet question did not shock him. Eric had observed how much knowledge the old man had imparted to the girl. The sorcerer was secretive by nature. This was not like him at all.

  “We...have been close on several occasions,” he answered carefully in a deep rumble. Eric was not about to share the details. It was better to leave them vague. The old man was not the only one who enjoyed his mystery and secrets.

  “You will not reveal yourself to her now then?” Carbrey enquired with mild curiosity.

  Eric sighed, discarding the empty glass back on the floor. “We parted on bad terms. I do not believe it is wise for her to know. Besides, it could impede my task to thwart whatever danger threatens Avalon.”

  He also did not like the fact she was here. Jasmine had the tendency to blunder into situations with a naivety that sometimes amazed him. Did she ever think things through?

  The old man was watching him with shrewd thoughtful eyes. “Hmm- very well, my friend.”

  Rising from his seat, Eric gave his host a small, cold polite smile. “I should like to reacquaint myself with the isle. It has been many years since I was last here.”

  Carbrey waved his hand dismissively in the air. “Go then, take the afternoon. I shall see you in the evening.”

  “He tricked you into coming, didn’t he?” Jasmine asked warily. She was squelching along in her wet trainers, which had become more than uncomfortable.

  “Yeah,” Twitch replied, pulling a face. “Manipulative old bastard.”

  They were heading back down the winding maze of streets. The mist was just as thick as before. It was dancing across the ground in playful swirls of ghostly white. There did not seem to be many people around and the streets were practically empty.

  “Is your whole family like that?”

  The mage hummed in his throat before answering. “A few. I have two aunts on my Grandfather’s side, as well as cousins. Everyone in the houses of Le Fey calls him Grandfather. It’s kind of his title, although he really is mine. Only a few of us have ever left the island though. I think they just had enough of all the pompous shit that goes on here, like I did.”

  Jasmine frowned. “Don’t you get along with your mother’s side of the family?”

  “The houses of Merlin and Le Fey rarely marry across.” Her friend explained in a tired murmur. “They don’t mind you marrying other magic wielders, just not from the other houses. Even though there is a truce, there’s still a lot of bad blood between them. They are really snotty bastards.”

  “So they didn’t like your Mum and Dad getting together.” She concluded, sympathy shining in her gaze.

  Twitch shoved away some loose reddish hair almost savagely. “My Mother is a healer, yet socially she’s pariah, an exile because she married my Father.” His purr was angry, but he couldn’t hide the pain. “That’s what it’s like here. Image is everything, even if it means shunning your own blood.”

  “And your Dad?” she asked as a tram went rattling by.

  The hand holding one strap of the backpack on his shoulders became white-knuckled. “He died when I was small...I don’t know the details...some kind of accident.”

  They had veered off the path they had taken to Twitch’s Grandfather’s. The houses here were less grand but no less impressive. Medieval arches graced many of the buildings and the windows were narrower, as black brick work stretched up to dome roofs. The whole place seemed to be a weird mix of architecture. Yet somehow it all worked.

  Jasmine was glad the mage knew where he was going. She was completely disorientated. Walking through unnatural smog was a new experience and it still felt abnormal.

  “Well look who has come crawling back.”

  Inhaling sharply, Twitch whisked around. His long black coat stirred violently around his legs, disturbing the mist as he moved. Jasmine turned a little slower, not sure why the female owner of the voice had startled him so much.

  The young woman was tall and slender. Apart from the softness of female features, she was the mirror image of Twitch. The same cinnamon curls were cut and styled around her slim face. Her skin was smooth and flawless, lacking the faded burn marks which her friend bared. Peridot green eyes, the same as the mage’s, were watching them with distaste.

  The tan bustled skirt she was wearing fell to below her knees. A black corset with silver latches up the front encased her slim waist, beneath that she wore a white shirt. Tan lace up boots with a little heel adorned her feet. A pair of goggles, similar to the ones Twitch had been wearing, was perched on her immaculately brushed head. She had a Victorian look about her. Jasmine guessed it made her a Le Fey descendant.

  “Hello Melinda,” Twitch muttered irritably, as his shoulders slumped. “Why am I not fucking surprised you’ve found me already.”

  “It never was hard to find you Morgan.” The woman’s gaze flicked suspiciously over them. “Who’s this with you?”

  The mage straightened his shoulders and stood a little taller. “This is Jasmine…my friend.”

  “Friend?” Melinda snorted. “We both know you don’t have any of those, little brother,” she replied snidely. “Who would ever want to be friends with a freak like you?”

  “I take it this bitch is your sister?” Jasmine enquired mildly. It had been more than obvious the moment she had seen her. There was no escaping the physical similarities. The fact was, Jasmine wanted her off balance. The bitch obviously liked putting Twitch down. That was not about to happen while she was around.

  The female visibly bristled. Gaze flashing her with displeasure, she looked Jasmine up and down, as if she were nothing.

  “My twin actually,” Twitch replied smoothly. He was glancing sideways at Jasmine, with a spark of humour.

  “Look Melissa...Miranda, or whatever the fuck he said your name was, back off. It’s been a long fucking morning and neither of us needs a brat giving us shit,” Jasmine snapped.

  Melinda’s mouth gaped open and shut like a fish out of water. “How dare you speak to me like that.” One of her hand’s curled around a square device that was hanging from a chain around her neck. It looked suspiciously like a smart phone. “You’re just some little nobody that should learn her place.”

  Magic rose swiftly. Jasmine felt it snapping against her sixth sense. A warning was ringing soft in her head. Unlike her friends, this stung with little painful jolts that
made her take a step back. Jasmine’s hand flew to the bracelet on her other wrist. The solid shape was reassuring. If her friend was right then one tap on the blue gem and a force field would protect her. The question was, did she need it now?

  Twitch stepped in front of her. His own magic danced just beneath the surface of his pale skin like little flashes of electricity. He had one of the smart phones from his back pack clutched in his hand. His energy washed across Jasmine’s senses soothingly, sweeping away his sister’s spells.

  “You leave her alone, Melinda.” His voice was low in warning. “Don’t even think about fucking touching her or you will have me to deal with.”

  “Or what? You’re going to blow yourself up?” Melinda laughed with a sneer.

  A hard look settled over Twitch’s face. “I’ve been away a long time and things are quite different now.”

  His sister didn’t seem deterred by his words. “That might be, but you’ll never be as powerful as me. I was the oldest born, not you.”

  “By three shitty minutes.” The mage groaned in angry frustration. “But you’re never going to let me forget that, are you fuck nugget?”

  Out of the fog, two black forms emerged. Moving slowly, they ambled closer. Jinn. The peacekeepers approached, golden eyes fixed on the three of them with a creepy intent.

  Melinda’s expression became wary. Her green eyes flashed for a moment with annoyance and then with an angry growl, she hastily hurried off in the opposite direction.

  “Is your sister always a bitch?” Jasmine asked, watching as her form was swallowed up by the shrouding white.

  The Jinn had abandoned advancing. They too were now moseying off in another direction. This made Jasmine wonder how they had known trouble was coming. Had they sensed the building magic? Or maybe the aggression in the air had drawn them.

  Twitch shoved the smart phone into the pocket of his long velvet coat. “Trust me, she’s just warming up.”

  Eric watched the interaction from the shadows and mist. He had been unable to keep away even though he had vowed to himself he would. Even this far away he could smell Jasmine. Flowers and sunshine, her own unique perfume. Her scent was a drug to him. He could never get enough of it. Longing poured through him.