CHASING THE DRAGON (Boundless Magick Book 3)

PROLOGUE

Salem, Massachusetts

March 24, 2014

Near Midnight

GILLIAN PRINCE SKIRTED past the white tombstones sunken at jaunty angles in the graveyard. Shivering, she zipped her parka to her chin, and not just because of the cold. Thanks to her studies of Salem, she knew the fate of every soul buried in Howard Street Cemetery. Though she didn’t see any ghosts drifting across the landscape, she sensed their presence, and as the headwinds moaned in her ears, she imagined the dead echoing her best friend Sarah’s sentiments: This outing is a fool’s errand.

Gillian was headed to meet with Abigail Stone’s primary protector and former intended, Prince Sebastian Williams. In his written summons, he didn’t explain why he wished to meet with Gillian, merely that they couldn’t gather in Adehya for lack of anonymity.

Sarah couldn’t believe Sebastian had summoned Gillian at all, let alone for a secret purpose in another dimension. The two of them hadn’t spoken since she danced with him at Stone Manor, when Abigail had swiveled her into his path while he was trying to ask Abigail to dance. He wasn’t one to waste his time courting commoners. Now he wished to hold a conversation with one in a far-off land. It didn’t make sense, which is why Sarah suspected him of toying with Gillian for a laugh.

Gillian was starting to fear that Sarah was right.

Weeks had passed since Sebastian had approached Gillian in Salem to request her help with an important mission he had yet to reveal to her. He’d since limited their correspondence to exchanging countless personal messages through a single post office box in Salem, ordering her never to speak of their arrangement to anyone, and forbidding her to address him in person for any reason.

So far, Gillian had defied him twice. She’d confessed their understanding to Sarah and later winked at him after answering his written summons to meet up tonight. (The look he gave for that!) Yet despite her own reservations, Gillian wouldn’t refuse his call. Sebastian was South America’s future king and heir to the emperor’s throne, and he’d petitioned a lowly commoner like her for help.

Besides, Gillian, like every other girl with two working eyes and a pulse, was crushing on him, whether she cared to admit it or not. The only thing Gillian disliked about Sebastian was his fondness for innuendoes and his habit of entertaining half-naked women in his chambers at all hours.

As a Wiccan royal, Sebastian could amuse himself in countless ways, but if he lost his virginity to anyone other than his intended, he risked that the gods would pummel him with misfortune. Not even Sebastian would gamble his future for a night of passion if, by some miracle, Abigail Stone might realize his worth and leave Nikolas to become his bride.

So if Sebastian were toying with Gillian, she could rest easy knowing he wasn’t out to steal her virtue, her most valuable asset, second only to her wit, which she didn’t think he was interested in either. No, this meeting was a solid investment. It was important to him; right now, so was she. Oh, the thrill in that!

Gillian quickened her pace. Her destination, the Bit Bar, stood at the edge of town, and she had quite a way to go. Sebastian had instructed her to cut through the cemetery to avoid the king’s undercover guards, who’d been patrolling the streets in search of Circe and Samuel since the Dragon King’s demise. This same route would have also reduced Gillian’s travel time, were it not for her black pumps sinking into the muddy earth and the headwinds blasting her back two steps for every third stride she took. At this rate, she would be late for her meeting with Sebastian. She would also miss last call and another chance to show off her flawless fake ID. So much for that drink he’d promised her. If the tone in his latest message were any indication, she would need every drop.

Then, up ahead, the full moon cast an ethereal glow upon a withered oak tree, where a tall figure came into view. “Quarter past eleven, on the dot,” the figure announced, pressing off the trunk and stepping into her path.

“Sebastian!” Gillian gasped, clutching her chest. “I thought you were a ghost.”

He breathed a laugh.

“What are you doing here? Your letter said to meet you at the Bit Bar.”

His black eyes flashed at her with suspicion. “That was a decoy destination in case you couldn’t hold your tongue. Was I right? Did you blab?”

His probing set her cheeks ablaze. Okay, so she’d come by the nickname of The Bullhorn honestly, and he’d rightly anticipated her loose lips. To her credit, she’d only divulged their meeting to Sarah; otherwise, she would have burst from anticipation. Besides, Sarah was a secret keeper, especially when threatened with a hex that would roll her tongue like a ball of yarn if she dared betray Gillian’s confidence. Sebastian could rest easy; word of tonight’s rendezvous wouldn’t leave Sarah’s lips.

“No matter,” he said. “This setting will suit us better.”

“What makes you say that?” Gillian’s gaze drifted from the gnarled oak trees rising from the earth like Grim Reapers to the spacious graves that could easily house an extra body. Noting the absence of a single living witness, she backed slowly away from Sebastian. She hadn’t thought of this angle. “Are you planning to murder me and bury the evidence, all in one convenient location?”

He smirked. “Tempting, but…no.” Slow and measured, he slinked toward her.

She froze.

God, he was gorgeous, despite his unkempt, dirty blond hair and half-past-five o’clock shadow. He was tanned and muscular. His fitted white t-shirt layered over leather pants took his sex appeal off the charts. The hypnotic way his pecs flexed and relaxed with his every move resonated with her in places her freewheeling mother had neglected to warn her about. In Gillian’s opinion, Sebastian wasn’t an ordinary royal; he existed entirely on his own astral plane. Not even a master astral traveler could touch him.

She let her gaze linger on him for a beat longer. He was taller than she remembered. Then again, the only time she’d stood this close to him was when they’d danced together during Abigail’s birthday bash at Stone Manor, and she’d been so focused on impressing him with her moves that she hadn’t taken an accurate inventory of him. He was, however, oozing with the same confidence that made her head whirl and her knees buckle. And now she stood still enough to notice the veins throbbing in his neck. Close enough to smell his intoxicating peppery-violet scent, and close enough to jump him—if he so desired.

He grinned like a sadistic pig, a clear hallmark of his delight. She was putty in his hands, and for once, Gillian didn't mind. Heck, she would draw him a map of the innermost workings of her being if she thought it would help him achieve his desires.

When he next spoke, something sinister in his tone captured her attention. “The king has eyes and ears everywhere,” he said, “and I know how to elude them all. This graveyard is the only place in Salem our kind won’t touch, as they consider it sacred ground. We won’t be bothered here, at least not by the living. Besides, I wouldn’t be caught dead at the Bit Bar.”

Gillian frowned. “So, no drink?”

“Yes, yes, drinks all around.” With a lazy flourish of his hand, he conjured a full bar stocked with spirits—the kind that didn’t haunt the living—and two glasses. Then he plucked a bottle of whisky from the glass shelving and poured himself a shot.

“You know, I find it rather ironic how you wouldn’t be caught dead at the Bit Bar, yet you have no qualms about drinking among the dead,” Gillian said.

“I don’t hear them complaining.”

“You’re sick.”

Sebastian smirked as he raised his glass. “A toast to the dearly departed. Namely, Mister Giles Corey.” He gulped down the drink and turned toward the bar to prepare another. “Did you know old Giles was pressed to death for refusing to plead guilty to practicing witchcraft, despite his innocence?”

Gillian nodded, her mouth drying out. Boy, she could really use that drink, as she knew precisely where Sebastian’s little tale was headed.

“The Historical Society has erected a memorial plaque for the old chap at the Charter Street Cemetery, despite that his eternal resting place lies here, beneath our feet. Can you sense his energy?”

Yes, she could—and the cold, eerie clap of his painful death. She shivered as a red hatchback zipped past them with its high beams ablaze, as if to call them out for imbibing atop a tortured man’s grave.

That wasn’t all that troubled her.

“You told me not to perform a shred of magic tonight, aside from using my Enchanted Key to reach you. Meanwhile, you’ve just conjured a full bar in the middle of a cemetery, atop the final resting place of a man who was executed over a town’s hysteria. I didn’t even cast an All-Weather Enchantment on my clothing for fear the guilt would eat me alive. It’s eighteen degrees out. I nearly froze to death in my travels here.”

Sebastian pivoted slowly to face her. In his hand, he swirled a glass of cranberry vodka on the rocks—her favorite drink. The sly dog didn’t miss a trick.

“But you’re not freezing now,” he said.

Too right. If anything, she felt like she was roasting over a fire pit—bundled up like a sausage in a down-filled hide, while he didn’t wear any outerwear at all.

“I cast a Protectorate Spell that only you and I are included in, partnered with a Warming Charm,” he said. “We’re invisible to the outside world, and it’s a balmy seventy-five degrees where we stand. I’m surprised you didn’t sense it on your approach. You’re an Empath, after all.”

An understandable oversight due to the cringeworthy setting and his sublime hotness.

“Are you sure no one can see us?” She glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Not even the king’s guards?”

Sebastian conjured a bistro set and motioned for her to take a seat. “Not unless we leave the circle.” He set her drink on the table. “The spell I cast extends about fifty feet from the trunk of the great oak you spotted me leaning against on your arrival. Stick to my boundaries and you’ll be fine.”

Nodding, Gillian shrugged out of her coat to unveil her strapless black mini dress. If she’d known she would be partying among rotting corpses, she would’ve worn a hazmat suit.

Sebastian let out a low whistle as his focus settled on her bust, the top of which heaved over the fitted neckline of her dress.

Gillian primped her wavy chocolate tresses with her palm. “You told me to dress like a contemporary party girl. So, here I am.”

“Here you are.” Retrieving his drink from the bar and sipping the contents, he let his gaze wander to the sharp curve of her waist (the mark of a stubborn corset), to her short but shapely legs, and then to her pumps, which were caked in mud to the point their velvety black color was lost. He frowned at the imperfection. “I should have warned you of the bog.” With a sweep of his hand, he banished the filth, then once again motioned for Gillian to sit. “Beauty before age.”

With his compliment, she melted into the chair, her legs suddenly useless. She reached for her beverage and took a swill, hoping it would help her regain her composure. “So…” she began before the contents had cleared her throat, triggering a hacking cough.

Sebastian chuckled softly as he eased into the chair across from her.

“Sorry.” Blushing furiously, she stole another sip of her drink. This time, she waited to speak until the cool burn settled into her stomach, flooding her body with warmth and soothing her nerves. “Why did you suggest we meet undercover like this?”

Sebastian polished off his whisky and set the glass on the table.

A long pause ensued.

Oh boy, Gillian thought, he’s about to reveal our mission. This is going to be big. Epic big. Off the hook Drake ‘the Dragon King’ big! She wiped away the drool seeping from her lips.

Leaning in, he answered, “I want you to keep an eye on Abigail for me. Apprise me of her daily activities outside of her tutoring lessons with me. I want to know where she goes and whom she sees—that sort of thing. If she catches me following her at every turn, she’ll grow suspicious. We aren’t exactly friends, you see. You, on the other hand, apart from being one of her dearest chums, are always on the prowl, poised to capture the latest gossip. If she happens to spot you lurking about, she won’t think anything of it.”

Gillian could practically hear the air escaping from her balloon of anticipation. Her face soured. “This is the secret mission you peddled to me weeks ago? The one you refused to reveal until I unloaded all sorts of personal information about myself so that you could decide if I was trustworthy or not?”

He nodded.

“I’m out of here.” Slamming her cocktail on the table, she shot to her feet and snapped up her coat.

Sebastian shot up beside her, grabbing her by the wrist. “Hear me out.”

“Don’t you get it?” She wrenched out of his grip. “Abigail doesn’t want you. She’s engaged to Nikolas, the two of them are madly in love, and nothing you do will change that. Deal with it.”

“Please stay.” He formed a steeple with his hands and pressed the peak to his lips.

Swoon!

“My need has nothing to do with my feelings for her,” he said. “Will you hear me out?”

Gillian heaved a sigh. “I’m listening.”

“Abigail visited Drake’s rooms at three o’clock this morning.”

Gillian’s eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“Mind you, she didn’t go in, but it’s only a matter of time before she crosses the threshold.”

“How exactly do you know this? She spent the night with Nikolas last night. What were you spying on them or something?”

“No, not spying exactly.” He arched his right brow. “I would tell you how I know, but then I would have to kill you.”

“Very funny. Who else knows?”

“As of now, no one but you, me, the knights guarding the front gates at Fire Manor Palace…and Drake.”

How dare Sebastian joke about the beast that had murdered an innocent boy in his rise to power and would have axed her and the rest of her friends, too, had Abigail not snuffed him out in time. Drake was dead, yes, but the memory of his short and terrifying reign would haunt Gillian and her friends forever. Anyone with half a brain knew this. Wise as Sebastian was, he had no shame. Gillian didn’t expect him to suffer an attack of morality anytime soon, but if she wanted answers, she would have to play his game to get them.

And she would get them.

Calmly, she asked, “How did Abigail reach Drake’s rooms without alerting the king’s guards, not to mention the Council? Fire Manor Palace can probably be viewed from space with all the enchantments the emperor has cast to monitor it.”

“Apparently, she bribed the guards to conceal her.”

Gillian glanced up at the moon as it ducked behind a patch of clouds, out of sight. She likened the movement to an answer for the question that evaded her: “After everything Abigail went through to escape that monster, why would she do such a thing?”

“Closure?”

Gillian snorted. “Drake’s dead and buried. How much more closure could she need?”

“Clearly more than anyone realizes.”

An uncomfortable silence brewed between them as Gillian contemplated exactly what that closure might entail. The possibilities were endless, and none of them were any good. Drake may have physically departed this world, but Travis had made it quite plain a few weeks ago that evil like that didn’t die so easily.

“Nikolas will hit the roof when he hears about this,” she said.

As she moved to leave, Sebastian stepped in front of her.

“Let’s not involve him. Not yet, anyway.”

She blinked. “Nikolas is Abigail’s fiancé and secondary protector. He has a right to know she’s playing with fire. Literally.”

“But I’m Abigail’s primary protector. I say if we back her into a corner, she’ll run straight into whatever trap Drake has laid out for her. He may be dead, but you understand as I do that his spells aren’t, and if she finds a way in, allowing those enchantments to escape his rooms, they could pose a threat to us all.”

Gillian retrieved her cocktail from the table, pausing to sniff the contents before gulping them down. “All right,” she said, banishing the empty glass with a snap of her fingers. “Mum’s the word. I’ll help you, but if things get sticky, I’m telling Nikolas.”

“Sticky?” Sebastian waggled his brows. “I like things sticky…and sweet.”

She grimaced.

“I’m kidding.” He reached for her hand and pressed it to his lips, holding her in check. “Do we have an accord?”

“Y-yeah,” she said, struggling to keep upright. Sparks raced up her arm, turning her legs traitorous. How was it that Abigail could resist him—and with such disdain? Gillian would have followed him into a dragon’s lair and thanked him for the invitation.

“Perfect.” He smiled and released Gillian’s hand. “Going forward, we’ll meet up in Adehya. I’ll find us a secure location. Also, going forward, we should exchange our messages through our personal letterboxes in Adehya, but only to arrange our meetings, during which we’ll discuss any pertinent information you have on Abigail for me. We must never put the details of our mission in writing. Finally—and this is very important—don’t message me until I confirm that I’ve secured my letterbox from prying eyes. Agreed?”

She nodded and lowered her lashes. “What about our public interactions?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you treat me like an alien lifeform if I so much as wink at you. I know we can’t be seen galivanting around the kingdom together, but—”

“I promise to show you a greater kindness from here on out.”

She bit her lip to hide her delight.

“Shall we return to Adehya together then?” With a clap of his hands, Sebastian banished their amenities and bowed his arm for her to take.

Gillian stared him down. “You want us to march through the main portal, into Adehya. Together. Won’t that blow our cover?”

Sebastian tweaked the underside of her chin, smiling with quiet satisfaction as she shivered beneath his touch. “What of your Enchanted Key? The one I gave you to smuggle Abigail into Salem when my uncle locked her in her rooms after falsely accusing her of defiling his wardrobe. The one I promised to let you keep in exchange for a handful of favors.” He let the words hang for an uncomfortable stretch. A reminder that he wouldn’t hesitate to collect on her debts to him.

“Exactly how many favors are we talking here? I already let you borrow it to go gods know where with all the Circle Casting goods I smuggled into Salem for you, and I still don’t know what you needed half that nonsense for.”

“That key was no small gift, Gillian. And I paid you more than handsomely for its use as well as the Circle Casting goods.”

“True,” Gillian said, trying to keep her face from souring. That key had been a godsend for her in terms of coming and going at all hours without her parents noticing. She’d spelled it to take her to and from her bedroom to wherever she desired to travel.

“Wouldn’t it be easier on us both to allow me to use the enchantment with you?” Sebastian said. “While I’m there, I can pick up those additional Circle Casting goods you gathered for me—the ones you charged me a king’s ransom for and for which I tipped you equally handsomely. It will save you a trip for having to deliver them.”

Gillian felt her cheeks warm. “That makes sense, I guess...”

He raised his hands in surrender. “My intentions are honorable, I swear. I merely wish to return to Adehya as soon as possible without drawing attention to our mission. Once we reach your bedroom, I’ll collect my ingredients and then use a Transport Spell to return to my chambers. No one will be the wiser.”

She nodded, but something in the way he’d delivered those last words left a knot in her stomach. Add that to the Cheshire grin stretching across his face as she dutifully retrieved her secret Enchanted Key from her coat pocket, and she really began questioning his motives. Briefly, she considered probing his thoughts for answers, but Sebastian Williams was a mind warder of the highest caliber. Even if she could read his thoughts, she wouldn’t dare question him aloud. He outranked her by a mile and could make her life a living hell if she dared to refuse him.

Enchanted Key in hand, she pierced the space before them. Then, slowly turning the metal instrument clockwise, she conjured the portal that would take them home—but deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was opening a door she might never be able to close.

© 2020 Lowvee Cole. All rights reserved.

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