Bound by Sorcery: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (The Half-Goddess Chronicles Book 1)

  Contents

  Copyright

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  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Thanks For Reading

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  About The Author

  Also by Antara Mann

  Bound by Sorcery

  A New Adult Urban Fantasy (The Half-Goddess Chronicles)

  Book 1

  by Antara Mann

  Copyright © Antara Mann (2017). All rights reserved.

  http://www.antaraman.com

  Edited by Elayne Morgan: serenityeditingservices.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author. Reviewers may quote brief passages in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Prologue

  Daniel Stone stood by the window of his luxurious office on the 18th floor, staring at the panoramic view: Manhattan immersed in light — the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building, Central Park in the distance, and a multitude of other buildings all sparkling in the cool fall night. He glanced at the moon. A few nights ago had been the new moon, and it was now only a tiny crescent. He smiled — it was indeed the perfect time for new beginnings. He glanced impatiently at his wristwatch. At any moment his master and teacher would arrive to impart his knowledge. Daniel envisioned himself becoming all he had recently dreamed he would be — powerful and glorious. His dull and trivial existence would be a thing of the past. The almighty sorcerer Daniel Stone — that’s how future generations would remember him.

  A sudden crack caught his attention and he turned around. Then he saw him: a tall slender man dressed in black and shrouded in shadows.

  “On time as always.” Daniel grinned at the man. The stranger approached Daniel and stood by the window, taking in the view of the nighttime city.

  “Watching the night, I see,” the newcomer said, still staring through the window glass. “The biggest mystery is hidden in the night. As Goethe wrote, ‘Night is the other half of life, and the better half.’” The man turned to Daniel, putting his hand on his shoulder.

  Daniel said hastily, “Master, I'm ready. I did everything you requested of me. I’m ready to receive the knowledge you promised.” His eyes glittered with excitement.

  The man nodded. “Of course. You have worked very hard and you shall have your reward. Before I pass on my knowledge, however, let us drink to your progress in the occult mysteries. You have brought wine, I trust?”

  “As you requested, master.” Daniel turned to his desk, where a bottle of wine stood waiting next to two glasses. He opened the bottle and poured an equal amount in each of the two glasses, then handed one to the master.

  “To your initiation night,” the man said as they clinked their glasses. “Isn’t it amazing what a year can do to a man? When I first met you, you were just an ordinary banker working hard for your seven-figure income. But look at you now. I’m speechless. You have far exceeded my hopes for you.”

  At these words from his master, Daniel felt an unexpected rush of pleasure. “I… I’m flattered, master. I can’t tell you how much your approval means to me.”

  “I know, Daniel, I know.” He set down his wineglass and patted Daniel on the shoulder, then, in one swift motion, drew a silver knife from his thigh sheath and sank it into Daniel’s chest. The movement was so fast and so skillfully performed that Daniel had no time to react. He fell to the floor, mortally wounded, a trickle of blood dripping from his mouth.

  “Your glory is now beginning, my child — right after your death.” The dark man gave a sinister laugh and twisted the knife into Daniel’s heart.

  The last thing Daniel saw before he died was his master’s wicked grin forming the words, “The order is greatly indebted to your sacrifice, my friend. You will be always remembered. You will live forever.”

  Chapter 1

  “Our business is dying, Alexandra.” Naomi’s loud voice interrupted my reverie. The clock on the wall in front of the register in our small bookstore showed a few minutes past nine a.m., and I was drowsing. I turned to her, surprised that she had used my full name. She must really want to get my attention, I thought.

  I turned to her, startled. “What?”

  Naomi and I were best friends from the Magica Academy, where we had both completed our magic training, I as an elemental mage and Naomi as a hedge-witch. Not long after that we became roommates and then gone into business together running an occult bookshop, The Steaming Cauldron.

  Although the name invoked associations with witchy love potions and that sort of thing, those items weren’t our primary focus. In addition to the potions and various herbal remedies and concoctions — Naomi's specialty, as a hedge-witch — we offered occult literature and items, as well as tarot card reading and divination. And for our wealthier customers, we offered special magical artifacts. I had obtained some of them by chance, and others on various adventures. But there were very few customers who could afford them — most of the artifacts were priced in the four- or five-figure range.

  Our shop’s name had been Naomi’s idea, and in all honesty, it was simply a marketing trick — but an effective one. Just as Naomi had predicted, an awful lot of teenage girls visited our shop because of the name. We were young to be running our own business — I was twenty-four, Naomi a year younger — but we had done all right for a while.

  “The shop’s not doing well, Alex,” Naomi sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “It's the beginning of October and we’re making less than half of what we were making last year. Unless a miracle happens, we’re going to be several thousand dollars in the red this month.”

  Her remarks revived my own dormant anxiety. Our joint enterprise had actually been doing well until another magic store moved in. Who would have thought that in a small town like Ivy Hills, Connecticut, there would be competition for our occult shop? And Naomi and I lived above the Steaming Cauldron, each of us in her own room, so our situation was doubly worrying: It wasn’t just our business that was in trouble; our home was on the line, too.

  “Magica World. Deborah mentioned it yesterday when she was picking up her incense. Alex, we need to find a way to bring in more money. I’ve been thinking about this for a few days: Why don’t you apply for a position as a mercenary in Chaos Corporation? With your talents and magical abilities, they'd probably pay you crazy money so we could support ourselves — paying the shop’s bills, buying food, and covering the shortfalls. I can stay here and take care of the shop.”

  I glared at her, now wide awake. I was not in the mood for discussing such s
erious issues so early in the morning.

  “Don’t you think I’ve considered it? Since even before we opened the bookstore. But it’d be dangerous for me to be among so many other supernaturals — chasing and fighting vampires, demons, and all sorts of other evil, magical troublemakers,” I said.

  In our supernatural world, just as in the human one, there were criminals and troublemakers. That was the job of organizations like Chaos Corporation — to handle these supernaturals when they misbehaved. This was of utmost importance to maintain the trust between human and supernatural governments. Except for the very top levels of leadership, humans were unaware of our existence, and the Magic Council, our governing body, wanted to keep it that way.

  Naomi was right that in Chaos Corporation, the largest and most powerful magic clean-up guild in the States, my talents would be highly valued and I would be paid well, but there was a catch, as always. Although I came from a long line of elemental mages on my father’s side, my own magic was unique and didn’t fit into the elemental mage package: I could heal on or around the full moon, and sometimes — rarely — could read into an object’s past.

  I was different from my mother’s line, too. She had been a fleeting presence in my life, and I’d only seen her a few times before she finally disappeared for good when I was seventeen. I never got to know her; I didn’t even know what kind of supernatural she had been. The only real connection I had with her was through Awen, my guardian, mentor, and close friend, who had raised and trained me until I went to the Magica Academy. He was the only one who had ever really known her.

  He'd warned me not to reveal my talents to outsiders or strangers, only to trusted friends lest I risk attracting monsters and ill-wishers. Naomi knew about them, of course — we lived and worked together, after all — but she seemed oblivious to my mixed feelings about joining Chaos Corporation. After all, it was my problem, not hers. But if I worked for Chaos Corporation, there was no way my peculiar magic wouldn’t draw other mercenaries' attention. Besides, I wanted to stay in my hometown. If my mother ever returned… I knew it was foolish, but I still cherished that hope. I didn’t know if I truly believed she ever would, but it was always in the back of my mind.

  “If you don’t think it'd be safe, then okay,” Naomi sighed, seeing my worried face. “But if we don’t find another source of money, we won’t make it. We have to find some way to survive.”

  The Chinese amulet over the front door jangled, notifying us of the arrival of new customers, a young couple. Judging by their accents when they greeted us, they were from Boston. They walked around our cozy shop, looking at the displays.

  “Oh, you do divination?” the girl exclaimed, seeing the sign that hung over the cash register. She looked at us with a mixture of curiosity, skepticism, and uneasiness. I wasn’t surprised — that was a typical human reaction.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Naomi gave her a silky smile. Tarot reading was her specialty. She offered three different services — a simple card reading, a reading of the cards and the customer’s aura, and the deluxe reading, where she lit incense and communicated with the person’s inner spirit or guardian angel. Driven by her curiosity, the girl chose the most expensive reading. I saw Naomi purse her lips when she started the divination, and I smirked. Naomi connected with the girl’s guardian, a unicorn, and she was able to sketch out the girl’s weaknesses, strengths, and possible dangers she had to look out for.

  The couple bought a few figurines — witches riding broomsticks and stirring potions in cauldrons, our shop’s trademarks — and it was only after they left that I turned to my friend. “I saw you pursing your lips. You always do that when you’re seeing something bad.”

  Naomi waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, just a small misfortune – they’re going to have a little accident on the way home. Nothing like last month. Remember when I gave a divination and saw the customer murder someone.” She sighed and clasped her hands. "Anyway, that’s over a hundred dollars’ profit.” She chuckled.

  “You see, the situation isn’t as bleak as you described it,” I pointed out, and Naomi gave me a look that asked whether I believed what I was saying. But to be honest, I knew we couldn’t survive on what we were making.

  “Well, if you don’t want to bail us out, I could move to New Haven. I know a few hedge-witches there who run a bigger magic shop — and much more profitable,” Naomi said, then headed into the storeroom, leaving me to ponder her words. Was that a threat?

  When she came back out, I said, “And what about Brendan? If he calls me to investigate some supernatural criminal case? You know the Magic Council pays quite well.”

  Naomi snorted skeptically. “Please. Brendan Sax hasn’t phoned you even once since they moved him to NYC.”

  I bit my lip while I doodled absentmindedly on the back of our expense book. She was right. Since Brendan had been summoned to New York City — the city with the most supernatural activity, according to the Council — he hadn’t phoned me at all, not even to ask how I was. So much for ex-lovers! Or, as he had called our relationship, “friends with benefits.”

  “No, he hasn’t. But I can call him, anyway.”

  Naomi gave me a look.

  “Oh, come on! There still has to be some need for my help.”

  “Yes, so long as sweating under the sheets is involved,” she chuckled.

  I was just about to fling my pencil at her when I heard the jangle of the amulet at the door again. Aside from announcing the arrival of customers, the pottery fragment with its Triple Spiral of Life design also chased away evil spirits and brought good luck to our store. We had bought the charm from an old Chinese Tao master a couple of years ago. Maybe it would have been a better idea to get something that attracted money.

  “Hello, girls!” Mrs. Stokely, who had been a regular customer of ours since we had opened the our shop, came bustling in, followed by her snow-white poodle. She was a plump middle-aged woman with a pleasant chubby face, and was always very talkative. She often amused us — and sometimes annoyed us — by telling us all the local gossip or simply complaining about her husband. Ever since the other occult shop had opened up in our small town, she had visited it regularly and reported back to us about its products. From her we had realized how popular it had become.

  “What a dreadful week, girls! Rob, come here.” She tugged on the leash of her poodle, who was sniffing an African statuette of a warrior three times his size. I’d acquired it about a year ago, but because of the steep price, we hadn’t been able to sell it. The upside was that it gave an exotic upscale feel to our humble shop.

  “Now, as I told you, I barely made it through last week.” She kept on talking without waiting for a response. “George hasn’t spoken to me for three days, and has locked himself in his man-cave — it always stinks of his cigars. Men! And my colleague at the medical center was kicking up a stink about some bullshit, why I hadn’t given her some papers — she kept me on the phone for half an hour last night blabbering about it, just as I was heading to bed. Can you imagine? Rob, come here.” She pulled at Rob’s leash; he was now sniffing around the table at which Naomi did her divination. “I think someone has put a curse on me,” she announced melodramatically, then added, “What do you think, girls?”

  Naomi and I exchanged looks, and I cleared my throat. “Well, it is possible…”

  “I knew it!” She clapped her hands, dropping the poodle’s leash. Rob dashed around joyfully for a few moments before Mrs. Stokely’s iron hand snatched the leash back up. Adjusting her peculiarly old-fashioned hat, she asked, “Do you have something to attract positive energy?”

  I smiled at her. “Yes, ma’am, we have just the thing for you — superb quality, handmade by Naomi.” I opened a drawer under the cash register and pulled out a neatly folded bag full of green grasses. “A magic potion to attract positive emotions and respect from others. Works like a charm.”

  Mrs. Stokely beamed. “Sounds perfect! How much is it?”

  “It
’s a hundred and twenty dollars — a bit steep, but worth it. I guarantee you that once you’ve tried it, you won’t experience the sort of tension you’ve had in the last week, nor any fights — neither with your husband nor any of your colleagues.”

  The lady pursed her lips, squinting her eyes. I could clearly see that she thought the price was a bit high and was wondering whether it was worth it. Finally, though, she smiled and said, “Okay, girls, I’ll take it. All your potions are foolproof. They may be more expensive than Magica World’s, but they’re better — and I think they’re worth it.”

  Naomi and I glanced at each other at the mention of our competitor’s prices. I packed Mrs. Stokely’s potion and we sent her and her poodle off with our best wishes. When the door closed behind them, followed by the rattle of the Chinese trinkets, Naomi turned to me.

  “Did you hear what she just said?”

  I nodded. “Yes. And it was the second time she’s mentioned that our competition’s prices are cheaper.”

  Naomi spread her hands helplessly. “I don’t get it. How are they doing it? We buy from the cheapest supplier in New Haven; where is Magica World getting their merchandise from?”

  I shrugged and said, “I have no idea,” then turned to the computer to check our company email. We had a few emails about various supplies, but that was all.

  “It's strange,” Naomi mused, leaning on our cash register. “We have to learn who this guy’s supplier is if we want to survive. If we buy from the same place we can afford to be more competitive.”

  “He’s probably buying at the same price we are. I don’t think there are any cheaper alternatives. He’s probably selling at a loss to gain customers, with the hope of recovering his investment in the long run.” I frowned, looking at the invoice for South American statuettes — three hundred dollars. We had to stop purchasing such expensive stock; almost nobody bought it anyway. With a sinking heart I did the calculations, realizing that after we accounted for our expenses for the month, we were quite likely to be in the red. The month isn’t over yet, said the voice in my head. It spoke up only in moments of difficulty, though not always, and quite often its unpredictability irritated me. I hadn’t heard it for quite some time. As I thought about that, it chimed in again. Well, if this isn't a difficult situation, I don't know what is.