Break the Spell: An MM Paranormal Romance (Mages and Mates Book 1) Read online

  I released my counter the moment the demon opened its mouth. My magic redirected the fire, making it swirl around the creature. I wrestled control of the flames and fed it more energy. The demon tested the swirling fire and snatched its hand back upon contact. It wouldn’t hold it at bay for long—the flames would soon consume my magic—but I was ready.

  “What the fuck?”

  Anton Brador, head of Utrecht’s security. He and I had a mutual dislike going, but I could work with him. Which was good, because he was an alpha mage, and I needed his help.

  “Declan summoned it,” I said between clenched teeth, not taking my gaze off the demon.

  Brador eased into the room and pointed his stone at the nightmare in front of us. “Holy shit!”

  My thoughts exactly. Thankfully the man had been a mercenary before he came to Utrecht and didn’t lose his nerve.

  “The flames won’t last much longer.” As if on cue, they flickered and grew dimmer. “We don’t want to fight it if it takes Declan.”

  “Fuck, no,” Brador said, as he slipped behind me and crept closer to Declan.

  The seax shook in my hand. An image—myself, throwing the blade at the demon—formed in my head, as if the sword sent it there. Was it . . . sentient? Something to explore another time.

  “Not yet,” I whispered. “I need a better opening.”

  A pulse of blue light quieted the blade. If I survived, I needed to examine it more closely. The weapon jerked and I heard an old teacher’s voice in my head. Fear was the killer. It clouded the mind and led to poor decisions. I stared at the seax, waiting for it to communicate again. It didn’t, and I cleared my thoughts.

  The demon followed Brador’s movement with quick glances but kept its attention mostly on me. Good acting, but I wasn’t buying. The way it shifted its weight telegraphed its next move. I forced myself not to let on I knew what it planned as I readied my counter.

  The flames died with a puff and the black nightmare lunged toward Declan. Brador hadn’t been fooled, either, and he hit the demon hard enough to stunt its momentum. Using the opening Brador gave me, I loosened my grip on the seax and fired energy from my stone.

  Blue light bathed the room and the Orme Seax shot forward. The point embedded itself between the creature’s shoulder blades, and the demon’s shriek shattered the classroom windows.

  A flaming blue aura crept slowly from the blade, crackling as it inched out in a circle. The creature strained to reach the hilt, but it was futile. The seax was in the perfect spot to evade removal.

  Fire expanded evenly from the blade, and the pace quickened as the area grew. Once it spread across most of the demon’s back, the gem pulsed once, and the flames charred the rest of the body.

  The carcass slammed face down, kicking up soot and ash on impact. Brador and I exchanged glances, and he edged closer.

  “Hold up,” I said, raising my now-empty left hand. “The summoning circle is still intact. It might be able to call up another.”

  Without waiting for an answer, I dropped to a knee and carefully directed mage fire from my stone onto the nearest glyph. Working as quick as I could in case the demon wasn’t dead, I erased the symbol and created a gap in the circle.

  Standing, I nodded to Brador. “It’s safe now.”

  With my stone pointed at the creature, I touched its charred body with my shoe. The tiny contact caused a cascade of ash as the form collapsed in on itself.

  The Orme Seax kept itself upright, as if it had imbedded itself in the stone. I reached down and it flew into my hand. It was cold now, and the blue light in the heart of the stone was gone.

  “Interesting weapon,” Brador said.

  I ignored him. I didn’t fully understand it myself.

  My ex had revived enough to glare at me with a hatred I didn’t recognize. Something was off. Declan had his faults—we all do—but he’d always had a spark of mischief in his eyes. It was part of why I’d been drawn to him.

  This Declan had none. His expression was cold and vacant.

  I kept his gaze for another second before I picked up his mage stone. The place would soon be swarming with inquisitors, and I needed time to sort out my thoughts. Brador stepped beside me; he turned his hand over, and I placed the yellow orb in his hand. Without a word, I spun on my heel and headed out of the ruined classroom.

  Chapter Two

  FOUR MONTHS LATER

  BARTHOLOMEW

  The detection spells went off as I pulled my tray of cookies from the oven. Crap. What the fuck was he doing awake at 8:47 a.m. on the last day of his vacation? Baking was my Zen time, and I needed that before my scheduled guest arrived.

  I’d tried several times to get my siblings to come over at the same time, and one or both always made an excuse. The one time I didn’t want them here together, it happens.

  The universe clearly hated me.

  Ignoring my shitty luck, I placed the cookies on the cooling rack and slid the sheet of apple strudel in to bake.

  “Oh my god,” Jannick said. “This place smells like heaven. Are those peanut butter?”

  My brother had a knack for showing up whenever I made something he liked. It had to be more than mere coincidence that one of the only times I didn’t want him to come by, he appeared.

  I stitched on a happy face. “I bought a new brand of organic peanut butter and thought I’d try it on cookies.”

  He eyed the cookies greedily. “I’d eat your baked goods anytime.”

  I snorted at the overused joke. “You need new material.”

  “Why?” He plunked himself on a stool at my breakfast bar and nicked a warm cookie. “It still gets a rise out of them.”

  We were seventeen when he first said it and half the assembled family hissed in a breath and clutched their pearls. Given we’re half-brothers, their reaction was fucked up. It spoke to a larger issue we’d spent most of our lives battling.

  And bonding over.

  “You’re up early.” I tried not to sound too probing.

  “I need to get an early start so I can take a nap this afternoon.”

  Jan never wanted an early start on a day he wasn’t working. It took me a moment to connect the dots.

  “Ah right. Maintaining traditions requires work. We could always pass on it this year.”

  He snapped a bite of cookie and shook his head. Strands of brown hair flopped onto his face; he swept them aside with his free hand. “Part of the tradition is we stay out all night.”

  That part of our ritual I could do without. When we’d moved up to the university level of Utrecht Academy, we left behind the strict rules and curfews of the high school side. To celebrate our newfound freedom, we’d gone to the Trade Den, Philadelphia’s trendiest and hottest club. The Den always held their “College Welcome Night” party the Friday before the start of the new term. Teachers and legal age students got a discount and priority admission. Jan had talked me into magically altering our IDs so we could go.

  I’d been so scared we’d get busted and our pictures would be plastered all over the news, but I did it anyway. When we were kids, he’d talked me into crazy stunts all the time. Most of them were harmless, but some . . . Dad almost sent him to a different school after we got caught sneaking off campus at fourteen to see a Black Veil Brides concert. Which might have been one of the few times I was totally into one of Jan’s schemes. I mean, Andy Biersack set my teenage hormones on fire.

  “What’s that amazing smell?” Jan asked. “And why are you smiling?”

  “Thinking about the BVB concert you took me to for an early fifteenth birthday present.”

  He frowned. “We remember things differently. I remember us being booked and sentenced for wasting Mage Council resources. I remember being sent to build houses for a summer.”

  I remembered all those humiliating things, too, but they didn’t dull the shine of the concert. “You also got to see the world, and I remember you and a cute guy hooking up half the summer.”

  “Titus was hot.” He smiled and took another bite.

  Thirteen years later and that night was still the best gift anyone had ever given me. Jan and I were practically twins. I was born six weeks before him, and he came to live with us when he was five. He knew me so well he had no trouble finding the right gift.

  “See, it wasn’t so bad.”

  Jan nodded toward the oven. “What are you making now?”

  He also never let me avoid a hard answer. Turning on the oven light, I peered into the glass opening. “Apple strudel.”

  “Seriously?” He put the cookie down. “And you didn’t tell me?”

  And sometimes we were so close, he forgot I didn’t need to clear everything with him. Especially when I didn’t invite him to join me and the sibling he didn’t want to spend time with. I turned around and busied myself moving the cookies off the baking sheet.

  “Come on, Jan. When was the last time you were up this early on a day off?”

  “You thought you could sneak her in and out without me noticing?”

  I hated their stupid feud. They were both so stubborn, neither would budge. “First this is my home, so I’m not hiding anything. Second, I didn’t invite you to come over. And last, she’s our sister. She’s welcome to visit any time she wants.”

  My sensors went off again. Great. No time to get rid of him. Not that I wanted to. I just wanted peace.

  “She’s here.”

  “Fuck.”

  My sentiments. Now that she was here, Jan wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of leaving. “Be civil.”

  “Easy for you to say—every time. She likes you.”

  If he didn’t take every chance to needle her, she’d like him, too. I didn’t need this today. “Try for me, please?”

  “One day you’ll learn we can’t all just get along.”

  “Bartholomew?” Avelina called.

  Jan made a face and mouthed my full name. I snapped an angry finger at him. “Kitchen, Avie.”

  Our oldest sister, all five feet three and one hundred pounds of her, swept into my kitchen and took over the room. Next to Jan, she was my favorite sibling. If only they could do more than tolerate each other.

  “How did I know you were baking?” She smiled and opened her arms.

  “Probably because your big nose could smell the aroma from Hollen Hall.” Jan said under his breath, and Avie and I tensed.

  Ignoring him, I bent into the hug and kissed her cheek. “Good to see you, Avie.”

  She glanced at Jan. “I didn’t think you’d be here this early in the day.”

  “Hoping to avoid me?”

  I didn’t get Jan’s bitterness. Enough of the family treated him like a bastard child, which technically he was, but she wasn’t one of those relatives. It was his flippant, snarky attitude that rubbed her wrong.

  “I don’t avoid you, Jan. That would mean I cared enough to take action.”

  And it was her uptight, all-business attitude that drove him to needle her. The worst part was, they weren’t so different at their core. Kind, loyal, and compassionate were words I used for both.

  “Stop!” I held up my hands. “I know you’re never going to be great friends, but could you please not snipe at each other in my house? For me?”

  The last bit was my trump card. They both loved me as much I loved them. It wouldn’t last forever, but I only needed a couple of hours of peace.

  I directed my gaze at Jan. Getting him to stop usually calmed things; Avie would be cool but polite as long as he didn’t toss grenades at her.

  Fortunately, much like I usually went along with his crazy plans, he usually did what I asked. “Fine.”

  I turned to Avie. She nodded. “Of course, Bartholomew. I’m sorry I disrupted the energy of your home.”

  If you didn’t know my sister, you’d hear that as condescending. But it wasn’t. She understood their constant bickering sucked the life out of me.

  The buzzer went off and I grabbed my oven mitt. Through the glass, I saw the turnovers had the right golden color; Avie stepped back so I could whisk the tray out of the oven and onto the cooling stand. She scanned the kitchen as I shut the door and turned off the heat.

  “Is there more?”

  Avoiding her gaze, I moved to the stove where I had the milk in a pan and the sugar in a bowl. Because I had my issues, too, I pretended I misinterpreted her question. “Don’t worry, I’m about to make the icing.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean. You made my favorite and Jan’s but didn’t make anything you like.”

  It wasn’t about making things for myself. Baking calmed me. And I’d been under more stress than usual the past four months. Plus, Avie and I needed to have a serious discussion. If making something she liked put her in a better mood, I wasn’t above plying her with goodies to make her happy. “I like them both.”

  “No,” Jan said. “You’re okay with peanut butter cookies, but you like chocolate chip or white chocolate macadamia. And you don’t like apple turnovers, you like cherry.”

  The morning was not going well. I hadn’t told Jan about Avie’s visit because I didn’t want him to bicker with her. It never occurred to me he’d take her side against me. The day had two strikes already, and we hadn’t gotten to the craptastic reason Avie had come to see me.

  “I can’t make everything, so I make what my guests like.”

  “Except you didn’t know I was coming this morning,” Jan said. “But you made my favorite cookies anyway.”

  Avie stunned me when she nodded. If the two of them could agree on something, maybe there was hope for them. At that moment, however, I gave them an annoyed expression. This was my house, and I could bake whatever I wanted.

  “Do you ever think of yourself first?” she asked.

  “All the time, just not when baking. I’d gain too much weight.” My small laugh didn’t change their sour moods. I turned on the burner under the pot and added the vanilla extract. “Jan, if you’re staying, make coffee while I finish the icing. Avie, you know where I keep my tea so find what you like, and I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Jan shoved the rest of his cookie in his mouth and took a second one as he got up. “What am I staying for?”

  Avie stiffened next to me. She’d asked to meet early because she expected Jan wouldn’t be awake, much less at my house. Now that he was here, she wouldn’t suggest I exclude him. I loved Avie and most of my siblings, but Jan and I had a special bond. Losing his mother at age five and coming to live with a father he never knew had been hard. He’d been so petrified when my father brought him home. Half the family hated him on sight because of family politics. I promised him that day I’d always be there for him, and I’d kept my word.

  My conversation with Avie, however, wasn’t about him. I should’ve given him a to-go bag and said I’d see him later; I didn’t, because I didn’t want to hurt him. “She wants to talk about the incident at the end of last year.”

  He pulled his head from the cabinet. “Did something else happen?”

  Jan knew we were going to discuss Declan. What he really wanted to know was why I’d tried to have breakfast with Avie without him. “No. Avie wants to discuss . . . protocols.”

  “Right, because you woke up early to bake for Miss . . . our dear sister to talk protocols.”

  “This is why I don’t include him.” She turned her back on us and pulled out my teapot.

  As much as I loved Jan, there were times I needed him to stop being himself for a few hours. Not everything was personal and not everyone saw him as a bastard trying to get something that wasn’t his. “She’s not wrong. Snark has its place, and then there are times when you need to stuff it.”

  “Sorry.” Shockingly, he sounded sincere. “What’s really going on?”

  “That’s what we’re going to talk about,” I said. “Still want to stay?”

  Jan grabbed the coffee filters. “Where’s your regular? I don’t do decaf in the morning.”

  Once the coffee and tea were ready, we moved to my sunroom. Despite the early hour, the dog days of August had a grip on Philadelphia. Even with the air conditioner and the ceiling fan running on high, the room would be too hot to use in an hour. The trade-off was it faced east, so it was cooler in the afternoon when I was usually home.

  Compared to the ancestral Hollen Hall where I grew up, my house was tiny. Not that I cared about size—words I couldn’t voice in Jan’s presence without him derailing the conversation with middle school, locker room quips. It had been built in the late nineteenth century, just outside the Philadelphia city line. I’d bought the house because it had retained almost all its Victorian details. The dumbwaiter still worked, no one had taken away the servant’s staircase, or converted the small, third floor live-in staff rooms into a loft or other horrible concept. It also had a library and a solarium. Well, not a true one. Who wanted a glass roof?

  An awkward silence followed as we sipped our drinks and nibbled our food. Since I had things to do before Jan and I went out, I set my cup down to signal we should start.

  “Did the investigation finally uncover something useful?” I asked.

  “It’s not finished. I made the mistake of assigning the case to Kleinman. He’s thorough, but sometimes painstakingly so. He’s still gathering evidence and identifying witnesses.”

  As the Deputy Inquisitor General, Avie technically reported to the Minister of Public Safety. In reality, she answered to our father, the Chancellor of the Mage Council. He trusted her more than any of his ministers.

  He also set the rules.

  Avie wanted to handle the case, but Dad said she was too close to me to be objective. She might be salty about the decision, but it was the right call.

  “Has he found out who was controlling Declan?” I asked.

  “Bart.” She frowned. “There’s no evidence someone manipulated him. I spoke to the forensic examiners personally. They did a thorough check.”