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A TOUCH OF MAGIC

Book 8 of the True Mates Generations Series

 

Prologue

The call came at three o’clock in the morning, and anyone who’s ever been woken up by their phone at that time knows that such a call would be important. That’s why Cross Jonasson immediately picked up the cell on his bedside table and answered it.

“It’s me.”

The sound of his father’s voice made him sit up. As hybrid—part Lycan, part warlock—his eyes naturally adjusted to the darkness so he didn’t need to reach for the light. His wolf too, heard the urgency in his father’s voice and was immediately on alert.

“What’s wrong? Is it mom?”

“No, it’s Gunnar.” The words came out short and clipped, his father’s accent becoming more pronounced. “Come now.”

“I’ll be there.”

Rolling out of bed, he grabbed his discarded clothes from last night and quickly shrugged them on. From the dead seriousness of his Daric’s tone, he knew there would be no time to wash up or even gulp down a cup of coffee, even if he could make it himself on the go. Of course, while most people “made” coffee by brewing grounds, he could literally make coffee from thin air, via transmogrification, one of the powers he inherited from his warlock father.

As he grabbed a rubber band to tie up his messy blonde locks, he focused his thoughts on Gunnar’s location. He’d been there numerous times so it wasn’t difficult to transport himself there, using, again, the other power he’d inherited from his father—teleportation across long distances.

In seconds, he transported himself from his Lower East side apartment in New York to the middle of nowhere in the Shenandoah Valley. He appeared in the corner living area of the sparse cabin, a spot he and his father had designated as their transport spot. Teleportation, after all, was a tricky power. He needed to have been somewhere before to transport there, or have a clear idea of the location and view of the place. Even then, it was dangerous as he could accidentally materialize inside a tree or piece of furniture. It was so dangerous that he didn’t even attempt it until he had been studying with his father for at least a decade.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he strode into the cabin’s lone bedroom.

Daric stood by the bed, his hand on his son’s shoulder as he looked to Cross with those blue-green eyes so much like his own. “It happened again.”

Though Gunnar had his face buried in his hands as he sat at the edge of the bed, Cross could tell from the way his body tensed that something was very wrong. Not as bad as the last time—the incident that lead him to live like a hermit in this remote cabin—but this seemed grave nonetheless. Moving closer, he mirrored his father’s gesture and placed his hand on his brother’s other shoulder. “Gunnar, are you okay?”

Slowly, he turned his face up. His skin was pale and his brown eyes had that glazed-over look. “It was awful, Cross. Terrible. We … you … Dad … Mom … everyone dies.”

Daric’s eyes turned stormy. “He’s had another premonition.”

And that was the gift his younger brother had inherited from their father. The ability to see the future. However, unlike Daric’s power—which relied on touch—Gunnar’s was more spontaneous. He didn’t need to touch anyone to see their future. He just saw it.

Cross knelt beside him. “Was it clear?” He nodded. “Have you told dad?” Another nod. “Can you tell me?”

There was a moment of hesitation in Gunnar’s face, but he took a short, sharp breath and began to speak. “It was so clear … so many there … you, Dad, Mom. Astrid. And Nick Vrost …” He shook his head. “No it wasn’t Nick, this guy was younger. Maybe one of his sons. One of the twins or the eldest one. Also … Julianna Anderson and Elise and two more men I don’t recognize.”

“What were they—we doing?” Cross asked.

“A white marble table. Two things on top—a small sword and a pendant. There were hooded figures all around. Red robes. Red eyes.”

Gunnar became even paler, and Cross knew why. Though he’d never seen one before, he knew his history well. Red robes and red eyes. It could only mean one thing—mages. “And then?”

“There was a ceremony or something. They were chanting. You came up, trying to stop them but you couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because they had … there was a woman. White blonde hair. Unusual eyes. Blue—no, they’re like amethysts. And she’s wearing a ring. It’s silver with a small red stone in the middle. She takes the sword and the pendant and then … and then …”

Daric’s grip tightens. “Go ahead, tell him.”

Gunnar’s lower lip trembles. “She falls to the floor. You’re holding her and whisper something in her ear. There’s fighting around you. A man with long white hair wearing a red hooded robe slips the ring on his finger, raises the dagger and the necklace over his head. Then everyone’s dead … you’re dead. She’s dead. Mom. Dad. Astrid. Everyone dies. The man takes all the three objects and disappears. And they take over … armies … cities burned to the ground … humans in chains … death. I can’t … stop!” His fingers gripped his short blond hair, pulling at it. “I can’t—”

“It’s all right, son.” Daric rubbed at his back. “Why don’t you lie down?”

Gunnar lay his head on the pillow and curled up into a ball. When he closed his eyes, Daric motioned for Cross to follow him out to the living area.

“Was anyone hurt this time?” Cross asked when he shut the door behind him.

“No, but that’s why he stays out here.”

Since the accident over three years ago, the first time Gunnar’s premonition powers manifested. He’d been at the club in The Village he co-owned and the magic he bled out was so powerful it knocked everyone unconscious. That’s why he’d been living here. Well, that was the short version. “He’s never had another bad episode since the first time. Why now?”

“I think the more important thing here is what he predicted.”

He glanced back at the door to the bedroom, wondering if Gunnar was all right. These horrific visions he had … it tormented him. But Daric was right. What he saw was concerning, because Gunnar’s visions had never been wrong yet. “The mages are back.” He never thought he’d say such words out loud. “Or they will be.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” His father’s brows drew together. “We must warn the Alpha.”

“Grant Anderson is no fool.” Cross rubbed his temple. “I don’t think he believed us entirely when we said Gunnar had an accident with some potions that mixed together in his pocket. If he finds out about what really happened— ”

“He won’t,” Daric said. “I’ll make sure of it. We’ll make sure of it.”

Cross swallowed audibly. If Grant Anderson knew Gunnar’s powers were out of control, he would have no choice but to tell the Lycan High Council. And the council—who were already prejudiced against hybrids in the first place—could order his brother put down if he were deemed a danger. However, Cross also knew that the situation was so grave enough Daric was willing to risk exposing his son.

“What will we tell him?”

So they came up with a plan, and by sunrise, they were back in New York. Though they could easily pop into Grant Anderson’s office, they opted to go through his assistant, Jared and they were shown in right away.

“And what was this matter you needed to talk to be about?” The Alpha asked. “It must be important enough for you to come all the way to see me.”

“Alpha,” Daric bowed his head with respect. Although not a Lycan himself, the warlock had pledged to the clan long ago. “I’ve had a vision, and my mother, she had the same one as well.”

And they relayed to him what Gunnar had seen, under the guise of Daric and Signe’s powers; as non-Lycans, they would not be subject to the Lycan High Council’s influence.

The Alpha listened to them, not saying a word until they finished. The silence in the room was thick and heavy, until he did speak. “You haven’t spoken of your visions in a long time, Daric. And neither has your mother.”

“Anything we’ve seen in the last couple of decades haven’t been important enough to share.” The lie slid out of Daric’s mouth so smoothly that Cross would have believed it too.

“All right.” Grant folded his hands over his massive oak desk. “There’s nothing else you can tell me about your vision? How far into the future is it? Where did it take place?” Daric shook his head. “No clue at all?”

“I’m sorry … I’m just relaying the vision to you. I can’t control it.”

Grant’s jaw hardened. “I can’t just act on a vision—reliable as it may be. But, I think we need to learn more.”

“I completely agree, Alpha,” Daric said. “That’s why I’m going to send Cross on a mission. To find out more about the objects in the vision.”

The Alpha turned to him, his emerald green eyes turning dark. “And you’re okay with this? What about your work at Lone Wolf?”

Like most of the people in his extended family, Cross worked at his uncles’ private security firm, Lone Wolf Security, which was an offshoot of the larger Creed Security Corporation. “We’re going to tell them that Dad is sending me on an extended training session to help me gain more control of my powers,” he replied. The lie would be believable enough. After all, because his gifts were so complicated, he’d been studying and training with his father since he was thirteen. Daric himself had started when he was much younger, but then those were different circumstances. “I’m sure Uncle Killian and Sebastian will understand.”

Grant thought for a moment. “All right. You can go on this fact-finding mission, but this needs to stay between us. While we don’t want the same thing to happen last time, we can’t get everyone into a panic. The Lycan High Council should be notified as well.”

“You’re right of course,” Daric said. “But maybe we should wait until we have solid proof before informing the council.”

“Hmmm.” Grant tapped his fingers on the desk. “All right, proof first.”

After conferring on a few more details, Daric and Cross left, reappearing back in Gunnar’s cabin.

“Are you ready for this, Cross?” Daric asked.

If he were honest—not really. “You’ve trained me well, Dad.”

His father cracked a genuine smile. “And you’ve been an excellent student. I have every confidence in you. Now, let’s go see if Gunnar feels well enough to tell us more.”

When they walked into the bedroom, his brother was walking out to the bathroom, freshly showered and shaved. “How about some breakfast, son?” Daric asked. “What would you like?”

Gunnar rubbed a towel down his face. “Chinese food. Emerald Dragon’s egg rolls.”

“We’ll have it ready for you by the time you finish getting dressed.”

So so they did, and as they ate, Gunnar gave them as much detailed as he could about his vision. When they finished, Daric stood up. “I think I may have an idea where you can begin looking, Cross. But I need to check something out first. Don’t worry we’ll take care of all of this.” With that, their father disappeared.

“Do you need me to stay or get you anything, Gunnar?”

“Cross.” His brother’s hand snaked out and grabbed his wrist. “There’s something …”

Gunnar’s grip was deathly tight. “What is it? What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

“I … I didn’t tell you everything. About the vision.”

“What? Why would you keep anything from me and Dad?”

“It’s not you … it’s Dad.” He withdrew his hand and curled his shoulders inward, bent his head down. “I thought … I wasn’t sure if I should have told you but I think you should know something.”

“What is it?”

Gunnar slowly lifted his head. “Cross … that woman. In the vision.”

“What about her?”

“She’s there because of you.”

“Why?”

His eyes whiskey brown eyes turned dark. “Because she’s yours.”

“Mine?” His heart thudded in his chest. “What do you mean mine?”

“Your True Mate.” 

***

Three months later ….

Despite being called The City That Never Sleeps, Cross knew that New York, did in fact, sleep, at least pockets of it did. On this particular September early morning, this part of the Upper West Side was waking up—the garbage truck was chugging along, collecting bins left on the street, workers at the corner coffee shop were coming in for their morning shift, and of course, right on time—Deedee Creed, was hopping down the steps of her brownstone home, about to head into work. It had been months since he’d seen his best friend or even talked to her, so he thought he might surprise her and take her out to breakfast. Then maybe make plans for dinner with his sister Astrid. Growing up, they’re been a tightly-knit trio, and he’d missed their company after being away for so long.

She was just across the street, walking toward the subway stop on 86th, so he crossed the street and stepped onto the sidewalk, making a beeline for—

“Whoops! Pardon me.”

Someone had bumped right into him as he tried to cross the street. He whipped around, and saw that someone walking away from him, going the opposite direction as Deedee. At first he turned back to chase after Deedee, who was now turning the corner, but something made him turn around. It was the scent of apple cider and fresh snow. It made his inner wolf freeze, then raise its head in the air, sniffing for more of that delicious scent. The person that bumped into him—a woman, he realized—was nearing the other end of the street.

Before he knew it, he was walking toward her. She was wearing a light trench coat, and her hair was hidden under a cap. She turned uptown, and he followed her for a few more blocks, taking the trace scents of her, following it like breadcrumbs leading to … what exactly?

He stopped, realizing that he’d walked over ten city blocks following this woman. Some might say he was acting like a stalker. Rubbing a hand down his face, he made a motion to turn around when she stopped, then walked into one of the coffee shops along Amsterdam Avenue. His wolf urged him forward and he found himself reaching for the shop’s door when he looked up at the sign overhead. “Wicked Brew,” he muttered to himself. The logo of the coffee shop had, of all things, a silhouette of a witch on broomstick.

Instead of going in, he withdrew his hand and stepped aside when someone behind him cleared their throat. However, he couldn’t help but glance inside the shop. He saw the trench coat draped over the back of a chair in the corner, but no sign of the woman.

Quickly, he pivoted on his heel and walked away. His wolf scratched and whined at him. What is it? But his wolf didn’t exactly talk back. As he moved further and further away from the coffee shop, it quieted down, so he continued to walk, trying to clear his head of the apple cider and snow scent. He didn’t realize how far he’d walked or how late it was until he saw Columbus Circle up ahead.

“Damn.” Checking his watch, he knew he was going to be late for his meeting with his father and the Alpha unless he left right this moment. He ducked into the Time Warner Center, then headed towards bathrooms and into one one of the stalls. He pictured the Alpha’s office in his mind, imagining that spot behind him with the large windows that faced Central Park. And in seconds, he was there.

“Apologies, Primul,” he said, using the traditional honorific a Lycan used for his Alpha. “I was running late.”

The leather chair swiveled around to face him. “No worries Cross,” he said. “Have a seat.”

Daric, not surprisingly, was already there, sitting on the chair opposite Grant Anderson. He merely lifted a blond brow, but said nothing as Cross sat next to him. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to it. As you know, I’ve been looking through the archives of several libraries around the world.”

“Did you find any more information?”

He looked at Daric, who gave him a slight nod. “Yes, Alpha. And I have reason to believe that the things that were in G—grandmother’s and dad’s vision are three artifacts that were owned by a powerful mage named Magus Aurelius.”

“Magus Aurelius?” Grant’s brows snapped together. “Never heard of him.”

“He lived over a thousand years ago, according to the texts I’ve read, though we can’t really take ‘thousand’ literally as the English translations can be tricky. It could be much older than that.”

“All right, so tell me more about this Magus and Aurelius and those artifacts.”

“A long time ago, Magus Aurelius controlled a large chunk of what we know now as Central and Eastern Europe. However, his subjects were rising up against him, with the help of the Lycans. He knew his reign was about to end, and so he hatched a plan to infuse his magic into three objects.”

“Why three?” the Alpha asked.

“Three is an important number in magic,” Daric said. “But please go on, Cross.”

“Magus Aurelius chose three objects and then sacrificed three hundred humans and three hundred Lycans so he could bind his powers into these objects.”

The Alpha leaned forward. “Then what happened?”

“I haven’t found the exact answer, but it seems he was defeated by the Lycans and the humans, but the artifacts were lost. However, they seem to resurface every now and then, and I’ve narrowed it down to three possible objects—a necklace, a blade, and a ring. Each one on its own has different properties and powers.”

“What kind of powers?”

Cross took out his phone and lay it on the table. He opened up his photo library and expanded an image he had taken from St. Catherine’s in Egypt of a pendant on an ancient papyrus scale. “The necklace is said to be able to to control a person.” Swiping to the next image, he zoomed in on a drawing of a short sword on delicate yellowed paper. “This was from the Khizanat al Qarawiyyin in Fez from one of their oldest books. The blade can create portals that can cross the world.” His finger hovered over the screen.

“And?” the Alpha  said. “The ring?”

“I don’t have much on the ring.” Cross swiped to the next image. It was a picture of a large book propped up against a shelf that was filled with chained books. “But this book written by a monk from the 1200s talks about a ring found in a village in Gaul. The people reported some mysterious events that no one could explain.”

“What kind of events?”

“Little things. Crops dying overnight and then a few hours later it was like nothing happened. Farm animals being found dead in the fields, but the next day they’d be roaming around again. They traced it to a woman in the village, whom they saw out in the middle of the woods. Witnesses say she had her hands over a dead deer, when the animal suddenly jumped up and ran away. They rounded her up and accused her of witchcraft. Said she had found a ring in one of the ancient cemeteries. Unfortunately, she mysteriously died and that was the last we’ve heard of the ring.”

“So this ring … it has the power of death?”

“Not just death,” Daric began. “Death and life.”

“If we’re even sure this the ring.” The Alpha rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. “You’ll need to find out more.”

Cross nodded. “I already have some leads.”

“But, good job on the rest, Cross.” Grant rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I thought we had this mage business done and over with. But, we need to start making plans. Now, I haven’t to spoken to anyone else about this except Frankie and Lucas, but I’m thinking it’s time for me to retire.”

“Retire?” Daric seemed taken aback. “But the Alpha is a lifetime position.”

“It’s rare for an Alpha to retire, but it’s not unheard of. You have to remember, in the past, with so many wars and battles over territory, not many Alphas survived very long. Though if there is trouble brewing ahead …” His expression turned dark. “Frankie and I will have to have a long talk.”

“I’ll do my best, Primul.”

“I know you will, Cross. If anyone can find the ring, its the two of you. And once we have the artifacts,” the Alpha’s eyes grew dark. “We need to destroy them.”

Something about his words made Cross uncomfortable. But he knew it had to be done.

“But now.” Grant picked up his phone. “If you don’t mind …”

“Not at all, Alpha.” Daric gave him a quick bow of the head and turned to Cross. “Son, shall we head home and go over a few things?”

“I … need to take care of something at my apartment.” he said. “I’ll come by for dinner and surprise Mom, and then I’ll be here for a couple more days.”

“All right son, I’ll see you later.”

Cross waited for his father to disappear before he himself left. However, instead of transporting himself to his apartment, he reappeared in a small alleyway between a Chinese restaurant and a supermarket on 83^rd St. He traced his way back to Wicked Brew and hurried inside the door. The smells of coffee, pastries, sweat, and various colognes lingered in the air, making it hard to ferret out the scent of apple cider and snow. His wolf whined in disappointment.

It was silly anyway. Walking out of the coffee shop, he intended to fo back alleyway where he first appeared, but then changed his mind and walked toward the subway. After three months, it was nice to be back in the city. Truth be told, he’d never used his powers as much as he did while he was away traveling, so it was nice to just take his time. A long subway ride could be just the thing he needed.

His wolf didn’t like the dark, confined space of the underground station, but it was comforting in a way. There was a lot more to be done; his job wasn’t finished and he couldn’t be distracted now. 

***

“Good morning, welcome to Wicked Brew.” The cheerful young woman manning the cashier smiled as Cross stepped up to the front of the line. “Oh, welcome back. Just the usual?”

“Yes, please.”

“How about a pastry?”

He shook his head. “Just the coffee, please.”

She picked up a cup and scribbled on the side. “Black brew, no sugar, and just a bit of cream,” she repeated.

Cross handed her a bill. “Keep the change,” he said as he stepped aside. When the barista called out his order, he grabbed his cup and sat down on the empty chair in the far corner of the dining area.

This was crazy. He told himself that over and over again. He told his wolf that this was insane, but still, he found himself coming here every morning, for the last four days. It was a long way to come for a cup of coffee, but when he tried to reason with his wolf, it just wouldn’t listen.

You don’t even know if she’ll come back here. She might have gone in here on a whim. Still, the animal didn’t care.

He sipped his coffee, the minutes ticking by. By mid-morning after he’d had his second cup, he decided it was was time to leave. Not just the coffee shop, but New York. He had dinner with his parents every night since he got here, and Astrid even made an appearance last night when they all went to see Gunnar. Of course, she and their mother spent half the night bickering, but Cross knew it was because they were too much alike. When Astrid had to leave early because she worked night shifts as a security guard, Meredith started to moan and complain why she can’t just hold a regular job or go back to school, which of course irritated his sister. Astrid led an unconventional lifestyle, to say the least, but she had always marched to the beat of her own drum.

Yes, it was nice coming back and spending time with his family, there was work to be done. His contact from the Maletestiana Library in Italy had found that book he’d been searching for and asked him to come right away.

Ignoring the pleading whines of his wolf, he tossed the empty cup into the trash and strode toward the door. He pushed it open, but he was so distracted he didn’t see that someone had pulled on it from the other side at the same time.

“Whoah!”

Objects clattered to the ground as he collided into the other person, who stepped back. Peering down, he saw an easel, an empty canvas, and a bag that had fallen over on its side and spilled various paintbrushes and tubes of paint.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmured as bent down to pick up the various items.

“No, it’s my fault,” said the feminine voice. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. I had this spark of inspiration, you see. The sky, it’s so blue and it made me think of pansies. My thoughts tend to wander, but that’s how I get my inspiration. Like I said, it just came to me. Like a spark. Ever had one of those?”

They reached for the same tube of paint at the same time and their fingers brushed together. A strange bolt of electricity ran up his arm. His wolf suddenly perked up.

“Oh. No. Not quite that kind of spark. Must be static, though.” She swept the tube back into the bag. “Damn. I hope I didn’t miss anything.” Long lashes blinked as she glanced around her. “That yellow ochre was my last tube. They always run out of it. You’d think Van Gogh and his sunflowers were coming back in vogue or something.”

“Miss?” The sun shone behind her, momentarily blinding him. However, the familiar scent of cider and freshly-fallen snow entered his nostrils and his wolf howled in delight. It was her.

“Hmmm?”

He hadn’t seen her face the other day and even now, her features were obscured by the large sunglasses she wore and a large hat covered most of her head. But that perfume was all he needed to recognize her. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He picked up the easel and canvas. “Are you an artist?”

“Well, trying to be,” she said. “Uhm, thank you.” She tried to get the easel and canvas from him, but he held it firmly. “Uh, can I have my things back please?”

“No. I mean …” God, what was wrong with him? While he wasn’t smooth with the ladies, he never was tongue-tied around them. “I’m really sorry for knocking all your things over. Can I get you a cup of coffee as an apology?”

Her tongue darted out of her mouth to lick at her lips, a move that send a surge of desire straight to his gut. “I suppose so.” She nodded. “Okay. If you don’t mind carrying—”

“Not at all.” He gestured for her to go in first, and he followed behind her. She headed for one of the tables in the corner and took off her trench coat, draping it behind the chair before she whipped her hat off. Long, lustrous locks of white blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders.

A strange feeling came over him—something like deja vu, but not quite. It was something else gnawing at him, or had been gnawing at him all these months. And that something was Gunnar’s voice, ringing in his head.

White blonde hair.

Surely that wasn’t an unusual hair color. He gripped the back of the other chair so hard he heard the wood creak. “What would you like?”

“Hmmm … I don’t know what I’m in the mood for. Something sweet maybe. I always need something sweet.” She sat down and put her bag down on the floor beside her, then took off her sunglass, placing it on the table.  “Caramel macchiato. Yes, that’s it. A caramel macchiato, please,” she said as she looked up to him. Her porcelain skin made her light eyes—a true violet color—stand out even more. “Uhm, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

Unusual eyes. Gunnar’s voice grew louder in his ear. Blue—no, they’re like amethysts.

He pivoted and headed for the cashier, giving her his order. Time seemed to slow down and there was a pounding in his temple as a vice-like grip wrapped around his chest. It was like walking in a dream, he couldn’t even remember picking up her drink and walking back to the table.

Her eyes went wide as he sat down and pushed the cup toward her. ”Thank you.”

You’re holding her and whisper something in her ear.

“Uh, are you okay?” Her soft voice knocked him out of his daze and he stared down at her. She was so lovely it made him ache. Softly rounded cheeks, delicate brows, sweeping lashes, and a straight, pert nose. The only imperfection marring her face was a mole under the right side of her mouth, but that only seemed to add character to her face.

“You have interesting eyes, you know,” she began.

“I do?”

“Hmm-hmm.” A dreamy expression crossed her face. “I’m trying to figure out what colors I’d use to get them just right. I think turquoise … no azure, with a touch of emerald. I’d have to try a couple of times to get the shade just right. And—” Her hand went to her mouth. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I? I always do that when I’m nervous … er, you know, you uh, you don’t have to sit here with me … I mean, unless you want to.” A blush swept across her cheeks. “You’re more than welcome to, ah …”

“Cross.” He sat down on the empty chair in front of her. “My name’s Cross. And you are?”

She’s there because of you.

“Sabrina.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Cross.”

She’s yours.

Taking her offered hand, he squeezed it firmly. He ignored the frisson of electricity racing up his arm because he could only focus on one thing.

On her ring finger was a silver band with a stone in the middle the color of blood.

Everyone dies.

 

A Touch of Magic

Releases March 25, 2020

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