The Sunken Tower Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Sneak Peak The Cursed Knife

  About the Authors

  Other Works

  The Sunken Tower

  Book 1 of the Justicariate Magus

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © 2019 by J.A. Campbell and Rebecca McFarland Kyle

  Cover Design © 2019 by Shoshanah Holl

  All rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the authors’ imaginations and or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Dark Ladies Press

  An Imprint of Inkwolf Press

  P.O. Box 251

  Severance, Colorado

  80546-0251

  PRODUCED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Julie’s Dedication

  To Carole and Mike McLaughlin.

  For so many reasons, thank you.

  Becky’s Dedication

  To my three favorite “dragon” creators:

  Jody Lynn Nye

  Elizabeth Ann Scarborough

  Ann McCaffery

  The authors want to express a deep gratitude to their many beta readers, Tracy and Dorrene, and anyone else who helped with this project. This novel wouldn’t be what it is without their assistance.

  We would also like to extend a huge thank you to Valerie Gwynn for her work as our editor.

  All remaining mistakes the authors must take credit for.

  Neutral Zone and Boring, Colorado

  “Use your emotion to fuel your magic,” Hagatha said.

  Elise, shivering in the crisp winter air, stared at her cousin aghast. Of all people, she should know better. Their student was purebred faery, direct descendant of King Oberon himself, and still a neophyte to magic.

  “No!”

  “I am not his property!” Melanie scrunched her eyes shut and clenched her fists. Despite the fae girl’s petite stature, nothing the tiny force of nature did was small. Her fae magic could be awesome and terrifying.

  “Melanie!” Elise ducked just as the tree stump the smaller woman had been trying to petrify exploded. The effect was like knocking over a domino. Adjacent trees caught the wave and went off like huge firecrackers. The earth quaked, knocking the trio to the ground.

  Shrapnel bounced off of Elise’s hastily erected magical shields and rained down around the three women, along with a blizzard of snow. They huddled together, covering their heads despite the shields.

  “Hagatha!” Melanie turned in a quick circle and brushed her black hair out of her eyes as she looked around, once the snow settled. Her dark blue eyes were wide and shocked, and a slender, long-fingered hand flew to her mouth. “I think that was too much emotion.”

  Hagatha—a woman a foot taller than Melanie whose hair had gone prematurely white from a magical battle in when the cousins were teens—shrugged. “That’s why we have Elise. She’s good at shields.” She sounded completely unconcerned. Elise stared at her incredulously. What on Earth was she encouraging, anyway? Hagatha was certainly oriented toward chaotic, but Elise was starting to see a truly dark trend in these lessons that concerned her. Elise needed to get her in private and have a talk.

  “But...I leveled almost an acre of forest.” Melanie spread her hands out, as if she could use magic to fix the destruction she had wrought. Remorse colored her expression, and her voice shook with grief. “All those trees...”

  Hagatha shrugged. “I know Neutral has a building project coming up. I’ll tell them to use this section of the forest instead. Come on, it’s tea time.”

  Elise dropped the shields and stared after her cousin as she picked her way through the wooden wreckage, humming—badly—an ’80s tune.

  Wincing, Melanie turned to Elise, speaking softly. “I’d get her voice lessons, but I’m afraid she’d sing even more often.”

  “Maybe next time, don’t use emotion to fuel your magic, Melanie. It’s unpredictable enough as it is. And who were you talking about?” Elise started after Hagatha.

  “Who else,” Melanie grumbled, the Scottish burr stronger in her voice. “Lord Marcus Macrow.”

  Elise laughed. “You know, he wouldn’t want you to think that he thinks of you as his property.”

  “He’s always telling me what to do!”

  “Well, he does that to everyone. He is Lord of House Macrow, after all.” And my father, so he’s always telling me what to do as well, Elise thought, but she didn’t say it aloud. Their relationship was a closely guarded secret, and she hadn’t decided when she should tell Melanie. The secrecy was for Melanie’s protection as much as Elise’s. She would have to reveal it soon, though. Melanie and her father were engaged, and she would need to know.

  Muttering under her breath about arrogant House Lords, Melanie stomped off after Hagatha.

  While Elise and Hagatha weren’t the most experienced of teachers, they were both practiced necromancers, and teaching Melanie about her newly-developed powers shouldn’t have been as difficult as it was turning out to be. Hopefully, the town of Neutral Zone and Boring, Colorado would survive her tutelage.

  They caught up to Hagatha near where she had parked. Fortunately, she had parked the ancient, white-over-avocado-green camouflage-painted VW Microbus behind a large rock outcropping. While a few new scrapes from flying wood marred the less-than-perfect paint job, it had escaped most of the damage. She slid into the driver’s seat and Elise, saying a quick prayer to the Goddess, got into the passenger seat. Melanie climbed into the back. Both of them fastened their seatbelts with resounding clicks.

  Hagatha gunned the engine and took off down the curvy mountain road at illegal and completely unsafe speeds while Elise clamped her eyes shut. She didn’t need to see the mountain rushing past, or the sheer drop-off on the other side of the narrow, winding road, and she didn’t need to think about the snow covering the ground. The bus skidded around a corner and jarred her teeth with the washboard texture of the dirt they flew over. They probably wouldn’t crash: Hagatha was actually an extremely talented driver, just reckless. Still, El
ise drove whenever she could get away with it.

  Opening her eyes when the bus slowed, Elise sighed in relief as they entered the outskirts of their hometown. Neutral was a small community hidden away in the Colorado Rockies. Very few people were natives; most came because they wanted to get away from something else—their past, the outside world, the modern rat race. Elise and Hagatha had come to escape Valonna, one of the few remaining ancient members of House Macrow and a giant thorn in their sides. She wanted them dead, but wouldn’t act outright against them. Not yet, anyway. As an added bonus, Valonna was Elise’s mother. Marcus wouldn’t talk about how that had happened, but she knew it was arranged by the House “breeding” program, which, thank the Goddess, was quite different under Marcus’ leadership.

  Hagatha quickly navigated through the small town to their favorite establishment, Greta’s Tea Shop.

  “Just what we need on a cold winter day. Nice, hot tea.” Hagatha grinned.

  “How do you stand the winters here?” Melanie shivered. She was so heavily bundled with layers of clothing inside a wool full-length coat that she almost looked pregnant.

  “Magic,” Elise said, not joking at all. “And at least we have sun. If we still lived at the Manor house in England, well...no sun and cold.”

  “And Valonna,” Hagatha chimed in.

  “As far as Old Blighty, I lived in Scotland for years while I was going to University. The dreich got to me. I can’t imagine a manor house in the country, and I hope never to meet the woman.” Melanie had heard some of their stories.

  “Unfortunately, you will.” Elise got out of the Microbus as soon as Hagatha parked and headed for the entrance. Despite the scents of fresh-baked scones drifting out on the cool air, her stomach felt queasy at the thought of Valonna. No doubt the psychopath would come after Melanie. Marcus may have redressed some of that by acting dismissively toward her after the formal announcement, but Valonna knew him, and she would likely suspect he would not make the offer to wed Melanie if he didn’t care. Elise couldn’t tell Melanie that. At this point, Melanie’s hurt and anger about having been forced into an arranged political engagement might yet save her from the evil woman.

  Elise used magic to tunnel through over a foot of accumulated snow in front of Greta’s Tea Shop, in order to clear the walk so it was safe. Too many people came to Greta’s for her to leave the snow, and, despite the dark reputation Elise and Hagatha had cultivated in Neutral over the years, she cared about the town and its people.

  The bell jingled on the door when she pushed it open, warm air bringing a flush to her skin. Hagatha and Melanie hurried in while she held the door, and they went back to their normal spot. A couple of the patrons tipped their hats or nodded nervously as they walked past to the small room in the back. It was practically reserved for Elise and Hagatha, and they only ever found it occupied when the place was packed.

  It was an odd room, with purple painted walls, gleaming hardwood floors, and one of those ’70s prints of a bug-eyed starveling kitten predominant on the wall. Plastic flowers sat in a makeshift vase, which had once held designer water. Four chairs, each painted a different color, sat around the spotlessly-clean oak butcher block table. Silverware, cups, and plates never matched. Elise often wondered how Greta managed to have ten or more patterns of the items in her shop.

  Greta, a round, cheerful woman with a white apron over her long dress and crow’s feet at her eyes, came in with a plate of scones. “What can I get for you?” She set the plate on the table between the women.

  “Pot of chai,” Hagatha said.

  “I’ll have Irish Breakfast,” Elise said. “A pot as well.”

  “Hot cinnamon, please,” Melanie ordered. “With a spot of milk.”

  “I’ll have that right out, m’ladies.” Greta gave a quick curtsey and hurried off.

  “Do they know the two of you are actually really nice?” Melanie whispered. “The entire town acts terrified of you.” She had only been training with Elise and Hagatha for a few weeks and hadn’t gotten used to their home yet.

  “Well, there was that time...” Elise fell silent as Greta returned with their tea.

  Once she left, Elise shrugged. “You know, we decided early on it would be better if they were cautious of us. Hagatha played it up. It just kind of happened.”

  Melanie shook her head and took a bite of her cinnamon orange scone, groaning in pleasure. “I can see why you two like it here.”

  “Greta is a treasure,” Elise agreed as she sipped her tea.

  “What should we try next?” Hagatha devoured a scone. She was rail-thin and could eat a dozen of the scones in one sitting. Elise had no idea how she managed it.

  “What do you mean?” Melanie glanced at Elise with a slightly desperate look in her dark blue eyes.

  “Well, we can’t give up. What sort of magic should we try next? You need to get a handle on your spellcraft.” Hagatha’s eyes glinted.

  “I think blowing up an acre of forest is enough for today.” Elise shook her head. “Let’s finish tea and head back to my tower for some theory lessons.”

  Melanie nodded, her eyes downcast and liquid with unshed tears. Prior to the beginning of her instruction, the only manifestation of her gifts was charming man and beast with her song. Elise recalled her own shock when her magic manifested and ghosts followed her everywhere and offered a sympathetic smile when Melanie spoke. “It’s the only part of this tutelage which is making any sense so far.”

  Hagatha groaned. “Boring.”

  “But non-explosive,” Elise said firmly.

  “M’lady, this arrived while you were away.” Slade, Elise’s ghostly servant, held up a letter in his translucent hand.

  Frowning, Elise took it from him. The thick vellum and golden wax seal with JM stamped on it could only have come from the Justiciariate Magus Council. What did they want with her? She and Hagatha occasionally worked cases for them, solving magical problems, but Marcus usually made sure they didn’t get involved. He was trying to protect them, she thought, but it was extremely irritating.

  Hagatha crowded close, looking over her shoulder. “What does it say?”

  Elise cracked the seal and opened the letter.

  Assistance required in Mediterranean Sea, cruise liner sunk in what appears to be a magical attack. Report to Athens, Greece, to interview survivors and begin investigation. Proceed with haste, avoid detection.

  Justiciariate Magus

  The missive also provided a separate slip with a GPS coordinate.

  “Huh,” Hagatha said.

  Elise raised her eyebrows. “I would have expected orders like this to come from Marcus. Maybe we should check with him?”

  “He’ll tell us not to go.” Hagatha crossed her arms.

  “Let me see.” Melanie held out her hand, and Elise gave her the letter. “Oh, I like Athens. It’s also considerably warmer there. Let’s go.”

  “A magical attack on a cruise liner? That seems a little strange.” Elise glanced at her companions.

  “Exactly!” Hagatha smiled. “Very strange and interesting. Besides, we’re trained to handle JM cases. Just because Marcus keeps us from the more dangerous ones, doesn’t mean we can’t do them. We’re adults. He can’t tell us what to do forever.”

  “He’s the head of our House,” Elise pointed out. “Yes, he can. But I agree. Maybe if we prove ourselves again, he’ll stop sheltering us as much. Besides, he’s also on the JM Council. Surely he’s seen this?”

  “Probably,” Hagatha said. “Come on, let’s get packed. I need to work on my suntan.”

  Elise glanced at Melanie, who nodded. “Besides, the letter makes it sound like there might be injured people, and we may be able to assist.”

  “I agree. Slade, pack my things for a trip to Greece, please.”

  “Yes, m’lady.” The ghost materialized for a moment before vanishing.

  “I’ll check to see what the news sources are saying while you two pack. Meet here in an hour.”
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  Melanie, who was staying with Elise, started toward the spiral staircase that circled around the outer wall of Elise’s tower while Hagatha headed for the door. Elise went to her study and turned on her computer. She didn’t use it much, but now and again the thing came in handy.

  What she saw when she looked into the shipwreck had her heart pounding. It reminded her of the wreckage scenes from the Titanic. They had to get there to help—and soon!

  “GPS coordinates? That’s peculiar. The JM’s never given GPS coordinates before.” Elise’s green eyes narrowed at the JM orders. “They’ve always given us a contact.”

  Melanie read off the numbers, looking thoughtful. The girl had an eidetic memory. Anything she saw, she would recall.

  “Hurry up, Elise. Let’s go!” Hagatha raised her hand, preparing to gesture and open up a WayGate that would get them from Colorado to Greece in a matter of moments. Standing around in Elise’s tower in her summer clothes gave her goosebumps. When Elise hesitated, Hagatha went ahead with the gesture, and a portal appeared. “It’s the JM, after all—what could possibly go wrong?”

  With those fateful words, she strode forward, knowing her two companions would follow—if nothing else, on Elise’s part, to keep her out of trouble. Hagatha smirked to herself.

  The Ways surrounded them in a mist. Then they stepped through the gate into a room full of people, which was perfumed with the intermingled scents of fine liquor, chocolate, and cinnamon. A deep baritone voice crooned to a jazzy number on the sound system, offering love so deep you could lose yourself.

  “Good thing I’m full,” Melanie commented. They very seldom went through Just Desserts, the combination bar and dessert shop presided over by one of the handsomest incubi Hagatha had ever seen. Xocolatl wore his long black hair today cascading down his back in gleaming waves. His deep brown skin gleamed from the light of a spotlight. He held a soft cloth in his hand, polishing a spotless crystal bar glass.