Bones and blades smoke a.., p.1
Bones and Blades (Smoke and Shadows Book 3), page 1
Bones and Blades
L.L. Gray
Heroic Rose Publishing
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2023 by L.L. Gray / Heroic Rose Publishing LLC
All rights reserved.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
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A killer pair of shoes, a party of a lifetime, and a demon.
What could possibly go wrong?
Cameron Blaze owes a demon a favor and what better way to pay off a debt than to have a girl’s night out? The plan was simple. Find a killer pair of heels, go to a great bar, and party into the early hours of the morning. Cameron thinks that she has everything planned. The shoes on are, the drinks are poured, and the party is in full swing. She just forgot to account for one small thing. Magic going haywire.
Suddenly, gods are out of control, myths are throwing punches, and Cameron is running for her life. Will she be able to stop the magical mayhem in time or has the clock run out for Cameron and her friends?
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Contents
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
45. Chapter 45
46. Chapter 46
47. Chapter 47
48. Chapter 48
49. Chapter 49
50. Chapter 50
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Tempest and Treason
Also By
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
I was a born hunter, with a sharp tongue and an even sharper blade. I had always been able to take care of myself, but now I needed to learn something new. I needed to learn magic. And the only being that could teach me was a disembodied voice at the other end of a mysterious charm who claimed to be a djinn. An ancient creature of fire and smoke who was not only familiar with my unusual brand of shadow magic, but also willing to tutor me.
Barqan.
How did I know all this? Because I wasn’t any better than Pandora when it came to not opening ancient magical secrets. Hey! I did my due diligence and researched the hell out of the djinn online. I’d even discretely asked around about them. Nothing I’d uncovered had disproved his claims. If anything, the information I’d dug up reinforced them.
But does that mean I trusted him? Far from it. I wasn’t an idiot. However, he had two things I desperately wanted—information about my mom and knowledge about my unique brand of shadow magic. Despite years of looking for answers to both, the mysterious possible djinn, but definitely dangerous sorcerer, was the best source of information I’d found. I was determined to find out the truth about my mother’s death, and if that meant learning magic from a dangerous djinn, then so be it.
“Have you practiced your shadow cloaking?” his deep voice rumbled out of the tiny charm in the palm of my hand.
I tried to imagine what he might look like, but the only image that sprang to mind was something akin to the feeling you get when you are walking alone down a road at night and you hear ominous footsteps behind you. Add in some menacing, glowing eyes peering intently out of the darkness, and that about summed up my impression of Barqan from our chats.
I cleared my throat, speaking directly into the charm. “My shadow cloaks are getting stronger. It helps that I’ve had a chance to heal after that thing with the vampires. Now, when I cloak, I’m only a hazy smudge in full light and nearly invisible at night. It’s getting much easier to pull the shadow magic to me when I need it.”
“It sounds like you are close to mastery of that skill,” Barqan observed, his resonant voice reverberating out of the charm and making it vibrate slightly in my hand.
I closed my eyes, imagining that I was on that lonely road. Barqan’s voice echoing out of the darkness made me shiver and my heart rate ratcheted up. It felt like I was being stalked by a dangerous predator and I didn’t have my knives.
“And what about the smoke form we’ve been working on?” he asked.
In my mind, the glowing eyes flared to life in the fog behind me, turning their full, unwavering attention towards me.
“I have been able to, I don’t know how to describe it. Fade out? Dissolve? But not completely,” I said.
Barqan grunted. “You have to fully commit to the smoke form, or it won’t work. Either you do it or you fail.”
“Do or do not, there is no try?” I said, quoting my favorite green movie character of all time. Kermit was cool and could play the guitar, but he had nothing on Yoda in my mind.
“Precisely,” Barqan said crisply, either ignoring or not recognizing the reference.
I inhaled deeply as the glowing eyes seemed to creep closer. “What if I dissolve into smoke and can’t return?” I asked, finally giving voice to my fear about this spell.
His voice was cool. “We would know that you are not very good with shadow magic, wouldn’t we?”
“That doesn’t sound very comforting!” I protested indignantly.
“There would be one immediate positive that would come from such a situation,” Barqan mused, as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Which is?” I asked. The glowing eyes blinked at me in my mind.
“I wouldn’t waste any more of my time,” Barqan replied matter-of-factly.
“Great! Good for you!” The sarcasm dripped thickly off my tongue.
“I agree,” Barqan said, ignoring my tone. “Which is why I said it.”
I rolled my eyes, but in my mind, the glowing eyes grew larger with every passing moment. The predator was creeping closer.
“Well, if you do not want to proceed with the smoke form, I suppose I could always teach you another spell,” Barqan offered. His voice was overly casual.
My heightened senses started blaring an internal warning at air-raid siren level. Supernatural survival tip: Never, ever interact with a sentient, inanimate object. You found a talking book? Great! Burn it. Throw the ashes in the deepest lake you can find and run the other way. A sword whispers about making you the King of England? It’s lying! Leave it in the stone to rust! You find a charm engraved in an ancient language that supposedly connects you to a mysterious, powerful being? Run away. Which is what I knew I should do now. But…
“What kind of spell are we talking about here?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
“How to make a shadow blade.”
“What was that now?” I asked, excitement burbling to life within me.
“I can teach you how to pull on your magic to form any kind of weapon you can imagine with a mere thought.” Barqan said it simply, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
As soon as he said it, a burning desire to know the spell lit within my gut. To never be without a weapon? To magic any blade out of thin air? Cool didn’t even begin to cover it!
“Now that is my type of spell! Why hasn’t that been on the syllabus before?” I asked hungrily.
Barqan’s chuckle was that of a spider drawing a willing victim into his web. “Because it is very advanced magic. Nothing as simple as a shadow cloak or a smoke form. To teach you, this would require… remuneration.”
I knew a negotiation when I heard one. “What kind of payment are we talking about here?” I asked cautiously.
The glowing eyes in my mind blinked and I imagined a Cheshire Cat smile appearing out of the fog. One filled with jagged, razor-sharp teeth. “A trade. A favor for a favor,” Barqan said.
I wasn’t an idiot. I saw the trap. He’d lured me in with knowledge and les
“What do you want?” I asked.
The Cheshire smile grew. “An even trade, that’s all. You desire information so ancient it has nearly been lost to the tides of time. As do I.”
When he didn’t elaborate further, I scoffed, “Really? That’s all you’re giving me?”
I heard the smile in Barqan’s voice. “For now.”
A lump formed in my throat. He’d played his game well. I really wanted to know that shadow blade spell, but I wasn’t ready to agree to an unspecified favor for it. Regretfully, I shook my head. “No deal.”
If Barqan was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “Very well. Back to your training, then. To master the smoke form, you must be able to dissolve completely and reform in an instant should you so choose. This will not be easy,” the supposed djinn said.
“I’m ready for it,” I said confidently.
“No, you are not,” Barqan said with equal confidence. “It is going to hurt.”
And then my training began in earnest.
Chapter 2
I dragged myself out of bed the next morning and limped toward the shower. Barqan hadn’t lied, which I guess was something. I hurt. Even though I hadn’t moved from my bed during my entire training session, my muscles screamed at me with every moment. I ached all over. It felt like I’d been a lifelong couch potato, content to let my only exercise be surfing channels and then, one day, just decide, you know what? Instead of heading to the fridge to get myself a beer, I’m going to run a marathon. Right now. No prep. No stretching. Just shoes on and go.
Yeah. It wasn’t a good choice. Neither, apparently, was jumping into the distance learning of advanced shadow magic with a testy teacher. I hoped, for everyone’s sake, that Barqan’s day job had nothing to do with educating children. Unless the goal was to break their spirits and make them cry. Then, he’d do great.
Despite, or perhaps because of, his harsh teaching methods, I’d partially dematerialized into a slightly hazy version of myself. Barqan told me he knew children who could manage better smoke forms than I could. Repeatedly and creatively. On time twenty-seven, I told him to shove it where the sun didn’t shine. He didn’t like that at all and ended our training abruptly. I had the feeling the repercussions would have been worse had we been face to face.
Towel drying my long hair, I headed towards the kitchen and the promise of breakfast and caffeine. I flicked the kettle on and pulled my favorite mug off the shelf for my morning tea. I tossed the towel on the table and pulled open the fridge to figure out what I could put in the gnawing pit that used to be my stomach. Bare wire racks met my eyes. I groaned. I’d forgotten to go shopping. Again. Aside from half a stick of butter, some mustard, and a nearly empty carton of milk, there was only bright light and empty cold air in my fridge. I sighed and banged my head lightly against the door. Before I could decide what to do, my phone rang in the other room. I hurried to answer the call, ignoring the angry grumbling of my stomach.
When I looked at the caller id, I smiled. This might solve my breakfast problems in the best imaginable way. I flicked the accept button and answered the call.
“Hello Mama,” I said.
“Cam, child. So good to hear your voice. How are things?” Mama Atli’s warm, Southern drawl eased me into a better mood. She wasn’t really my mother, but everyone I knew called Atli, Mama. Maybe it was because she had a natural, motherly way about her or because she baked for half the city of New Orleans, but she was and forever would be simply ‘Mama’ in these parts.
I tugged on some clothes as I talked. “I’m doing just fine, Mama. Beautiful morning, the sun is shining, what more could you ask for? How are you today?”
“I’ve been better,” Mama said distractedly.
“Oh, no! What’s going on?” I asked, concern rising. Mama was usually the very definition of cheerfulness. You could probably open a dictionary and see her picture right next to the word.
“It’s just that silly old fool of a necromancer! He’s exasperating, that’s what he is,” Mama said. I smiled, the image of Ben’s wild white hair and perpetual grin dancing in front of my eyes.
“What’s he done now?” I asked.
“Well, I asked him to run to the grocery store for me because I had a hankering for some blueberry and cream cheese Danishes. You know the ones I made for the Fourth of July last year? Well, instead of two punnet boxes of berries, Ben showed up with two pounds. Pounds! What am I supposed to do with two pounds of blueberries?”
“Make a lot of Danishes?” I asked with a smile.
“Ben said the same thing! You two are peas in a pod, you are!” Mama exclaimed. “But who’s going to eat them before they get all soggy and lose their flake?”
“Me!” Ben’s voice sounded faint over the phone. He must be shouting from a safe distance away from Mama. “They’re delicious, by the way, Cam!”
“Shush you!” Mama hissed.
I suppressed a chuckle that this was the big emergency of Mama’s morning. I was already convinced that Ben’s ‘mistake’ had been nothing of the kind. “What about this, Mama? I’m low on provisions myself and need some breakfast, anyway. I’ll swing by and take a couple off of your hands. Any others that you have going spare, I’ll take down to the local shelter for you. How about that?”
“Oh, Cam, what a wonderful idea! Would you? That would be amazing! I know those folks down there do such good work and I’m going to have Danishes coming out of my ears before long. That Ben!”
I imagined her shaking a wrinkled fist coated in flour at the necromancer and barely held back another giggle. “I’ll be there in about a half hour. Make sure you set at least one out of Ben’s reach for me,” I said.
“Impossible! She’s too short for that!” Ben shouted at the phone.
“Aren’t you already in enough trouble without opening your mouth, mister?” Mama’s voice was faint. She’d obviously tried to muffle the phone and failed. Her voice came back louder over the line. “That’d be splendid of you, child. A real savior in my time of need. Thank you kindly!”
“I’ll see you soon Mama,” I said, barely keeping my chuckles in check as I hung up the phone. The promise of blueberry Danishes on an empty stomach spurred me to get out the door as quickly as possible. So fast, in fact, that I was halfway to Mama’s before I realized I’d forgotten to grab my trusty karambits. Oh well. It was a sunny morning and Mama’s wasn’t that far away. Besides, the lure of pastries was strong.
I was still chuckling at Ben’s ploy when I knocked on their front door, but knew enough to school my features before Mama opened the door. There was no way I was going to risk upsetting her. Not with blueberry Danishes on the line.
Mama swung the door wide for me. A flour-dusted apron covered in bright pineapples wrapped around her plump midsection. A smear of the white powder streaked from her cheek to the corner of her eye. “Oh, good! There you are! I was running out of places for these pastries to cool, and I really want to get the next batch in the oven.”
“Hello to you too, Mama,” I said as I bent to give her a hug.
“Yes, yes. Hello to you too, child.” She patted my back distractedly. “Come inside. You know I can’t leave Ben alone in a kitchen. Not with sweets on the line. They will either be devoured, or he will have found a way to upend them all over the place, the clumsy man!”
I chuckled. “Still in the doghouse, is he?”
“Of course!” Mama led the way through their cozy house into the kitchen, from which was drifting the most delicious smells of hot pastries. “And he knows it. Although I have my suspicions that this was an honest-to-goodness mistake,” she grumbled.
“Call it dishonest-to-goodness then,” Ben called out as Mama swept into the kitchen. “Because from my dishonesty sprang all this goodness.” He swept an arm around the room. “You’re welcome.”
My mouth gaped open. Cooling pastries covered every available surface, looking flaky, sweet, and delicious. If I could imagine a perfect paradise, this would be it. “He’s not wrong, Mama. These look amazing,” I said almost reverently as I took in the decadent display of Mama’s talents.
