Night Troubles (Midnight Magic Book 2), page 1
Contents
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Also by Richard Amos
Contact the Author
About the Author
Copyright © 2022 Richard Amos
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover by Vanesa Garkova
One
I kissed my cat on the head. She was my rock, my universe, my unparalleled bestie. A soft meow of approval, and lots of purring, followed. All the good sounds that made me happy.
“You okay, honey?” I asked.
Yeah, she was okay, curled up in my lap on this journey down to Brighton.
“Almost there,” Tae, our vampire driver, announced.
A few minutes later, Tae’s car turned into a lane at the top of a cliff along the coast. I glanced at the dark sea, not seeing much as the rain lashed at the vehicle, the outside world smothered in darkness. I heard the waves, though, all angry and scary below.
I just wanted to get inside. Gosh, it was so cold in these early morning hours, the new November air really showing its Arctic side.
We passed a few detached houses along the lane, all with views of the sea. Four in total, the fifth one at the end being our final stop.
The big reset. Starting this demon-hunting thing again. Getting away from some majorly dodgy drama that’d gone down.
A two-story brick house with balconies on the upper rooms, it wasn’t what I’d been expecting. In my head, we were set to pull up at some gothic mansion in the middle of nowhere, passing through iron gates, making our way up a long driveway through woodland or something until we reached the house itself. You know, like Batman’s mansion.
I was glad that wasn’t a reality. I liked the look of this house. It spoke of shelter, of warmth. Somewhere that wasn’t the cold outdoors, but a haven. The lights were on in the windows, like jewels amongst the brick, really selling the place.
Sign me up, I thought.
“We’re here,” Tae said, his deep tones comforting.
I sighed with relief as the engine died. We’d made it to Brighton without incident. No one had followed or attacked us.
Thank the bloody heavens for that.
Fizz meowed at him, wanting some Tae time. He accepted her request, scooping her up and cradling her against his chest. He kissed the top of her head and sheltered her under his jacket as he slid out of the car.
Within seconds, he opened my door, standing under an umbrella.
How the hell did he move so fast and get a brolly up?
“Thanks,” I said, getting under the big umbrella with him.
We walked together through a small gate and a small garden, stepping into the house. Its warmth welcomed me with toasty arms.
I came face to face with a silver Marilyn Monroe.
“Wow. Is this a real Andy Warhol?” I asked the billionaire vampire, immediately blushing and hanging my head in shame. “Course it’s real. Stupid me. You’re loaded and can afford loads of them and, you know, I…” I stopped before I went deeper into one of my humiliating rambles.
“It is a real Andy Warhol,” Tae answered. Fizz stared up at him, so content in his presence. “My wife was a big fan of pop art, particularly Warhol’s work.”
I looked up, heat still in my cheeks. “Oh?”
His wife. His murdered wife. Killed by a demon along with their six-year-old son fifteen years ago.
The vampire gazed at the painting for what felt like an eternity, his hands by his sides. I stood with him in the small entrance hall of his Brighton home, my eyes on his alabaster profile.
Gosh. He took my breath away. His black hair hung in curls to his shoulders, the blue tones shimmering. His brooding expression was enough to get my clothes off and break my heart.
“Tae…” I went to reach for him, then paused.
No. After he’d told me about his family, I’d decided to back off after our couple of, erm, moments. As much I wanted more of him, for his hands to be back on me, for my body to surrender to his will, I couldn’t go there. Not now. We both wanted to keep things professional as demon hunters. Him my trainer, me his charge with the lost power of Arcana that could kill demons and get me in trouble if the wrong people found out.
Like the witches.
We were still trying to figure out why this long-gone magic had returned inside me. So far, we’d come up cold.
We’d come down to the Brighton house to hide out. To let things blow over after a demon tried to kill us last night, after his London penthouse took a serious battering. And after the button-eyed demon didn’t die from me hitting him with Arcana. Demons were supposed to be killed by the ancient magic—the only thing that could do so.
Not him. Oh, not him. He still terrorized London, still stalked the streets, probably killing some people as we spoke. He’d terrorized the city for too long. And here I was without a clue of how to stop him.
Yet. Nothing was impossible. Tae and I would figure this out. Just like we’d figure out who killed his family. That was my task in working with him, in being a demon-hunting warlock. To bring justice to that murdering scumbag who’d killed his wife and son, and to other pieces of demon shit along the way. So many demons hid in plain sight, up to all sorts of no good. A plague on our world I wanted to help sort out.
Tae looked at me and smiled gently. It beefed up his already startling masculine beauty.
Before my knees were completely jelly, I tore my eyes away. Back to the Warhol.
“Impressive,” I said, clearing my throat after. “A guy like me can only dream of having one of those.”
Until recently, I’d been homeless, trying to find a better road to drag my life down. And I’d ended up in this situation. Scary, yes, but interesting. Better than being out on the streets trying to make a living with my warlock tricks, shivering in my hovel. As much as I tried to spin things into sunshine, life was tough. Always had been.
Now I lived with Tae, worked for him, and tried not to stare too much at the delicious piece of man-candy I wanted in my mouth at all times.
Ahem.
Rain battered the front door and the strips of window either side of it. There were stained-glass white roses in those windows and real white roses in a vase on a table in the hall—just like there’d been back at the penthouse. His attention was now on that vase, silence falling between us. Well, aside from Fizz purring in his arms and the rain.
“It’s November,” I said, not really expecting an answer but unable to stand the quiet. I don’t know why I felt so awkward.
But he did answer. “It is. Again.” He spoke so sullenly.
It’d been Halloween yesterday, now three in the morning of Sunday, November 1st, with me miles from sleep. I mean, who could sleep after what we’d just been through?
“Glad we’re indoors,” I added, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Are you cold?” he asked, moving closer to me.
I looked up into his dark eyes—his six-something height to my five-nine making me do that. “I, erm, I’m fine. It’s nice and warm in here.”
This house stood as the complete opposite of his London penthouse. Small and packing a colorful punch bordering on gaudy. Man, I loved that. Give me all the colors—the brighter, the better.
The carpet was a vibrant royal purple with a silver rose pattern woven into it, the walls striped white and gold. Nothing like the minimalist grays, whites, and blacks of the Raven Tower penthouse.
“Come with me,” the vampire said.
I followed him, passing a living room of blue and yellow décor, the color so rich and popping. More expensive pop art hung on the walls inside that room—Warhol, other stuff. I didn’t know much about art, only bits and pieces.
“This house is not what I expected from the outside,” I said. “Or from you. Not that I really know your taste and I’m not being judgmental or—”
“Clay?”
“Yes?” I sucked in a breath.
“It’s okay. This house is to my wife’s tastes. She liked to make a statement in every room.”
“Good for her. I love it.”
He didn’t respond.
The purple carpet continued up the staircase and into the upstairs level—the stripey walls, too. And there were more white roses in vases sat on tables beside each of
“This was my wife’s favorite place,” he said, pausing
“Did she like the seaside?”
“She did.”
It surprised me to hear him mention her again. He’d gone from never even acknowledging she’d existed to this. Not exactly opening up to me, but more than I’d ever expected him to say. Would he pull back the curtain on his past? Reveal her name and their son’s? Go into deeper details?
I doubted it.
I wanted him to, being greedy for more from the vampire. Wanting to explore him within and without, to be… I don’t know. Be something extra.
Yeah, I needed to get a grip.
You make it different. He’d said that. The words replayed in my mind, me analyzing them almost hourly. He’d said that whenever he fed, he didn’t feel like he’d been unfaithful to his wife. Vampire feeding was a sexual experience, apparently, but nothing more than that. But with me, he did feel unfaithful? Because I made it different?
I so didn’t want to make him feel that way. Ever. Hence the backing off.
He took me to a door at the end of the corridor. He opened it, allowing me to step inside the room first.
The bedroom was a combination of canary yellow and orange wallpaper, the carpet the same with the orange part a rose pattern. What a sunny room, bright and full of warmth. It housed a huge bed with yellow sheets, and a large teddy bear sat between the pillows. There was a small gold sofa, a desk, TV, laptop, and closed gold curtains. There were also paintings of beach scenes and meadows on the walls—a far cry from the pop art downstairs. These were cute and twee, and I was so here for them.
“Sunny statement,” I said, smiling at the room.
He moved past me, nodding at a closed door next to the bed. “Your bathroom.”
“Is this room for me?” I asked.
“Yes. I think it matches you perfectly.” He smiled at me again.
After everything we’d just been through, he still gave me his version of warmth when he smiled. It made those obsidian eyes kind of shimmer.
“T-thanks,” I answered nervously.
Now kindly take me on the bed, please!
Bloody behave!
His smile dropped. “I can show you other rooms if you like. There’s no need to settle on the first one I show you.”
“No. It’s great. Thanks.”
“Good. I’ll bring your things up to you.”
“I can do that.”
“It’s fine. Get yourself settled.”
“O-okay.” I licked my lips. “Are there staff here?” I asked the question because someone looked after those roses, kept the carpets and surfaces clean.
“Not at the moment,” he said.
“Right.” A billionaire with barely any staff. Yes, he did have people working for him, but not in the whole Downton Abbey kind of way. More like Archie for cleaning up tricky messes or mysterious employees doing his shopping for him. No butlers and maids or any of that stuff.
“Those who tend to the house have been given time off while we’re here,” he added.
“Oh.”
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
I need you. “Some warm milk? I can come down and make it.”
“I’ll bring it to you.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“It’s fine, Clay. Settle in. Relax. Archie is due to arrive shortly.”
“Oh, cool.” I liked Archie. He seemed like a nice guy. “Am I…” I rubbed the back of my left arm nervously. “Am I allowed out of my room?”
“Of course, you are.”
“Really?”
“Why would you think you can’t leave your room?”
“Well, erm, I’m getting Beauty and the Beast vibes.”
“Sorry?”
I licked my lips. “You know, not allowed in the west wing and all that jazz. You ever seen the Disney cartoon?”
“No. I have the read the original fairy tale, La Belle et la Bête, by Gabrielle-Suzanne de Villeneuve. And the Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont version, which is the most famous version of the tale.”
Okay then. “Well, erm, you should watch it.” Why was I talking about this?
He handed me Fizz rather than deep-dive anymore Beauty and the Beast, our fingers brushing in the exchange. Our eyes met, me ready to dive into those mesmerizing pools of obsidian. Heat flushed in the back of my neck, a shudder spiraling up my spine.
“I’ll get you that milk.” He turned away, heading for the door.
“T-thanks.”
He closed the door gently behind him. I sat on the bed, released a long breath, my body a riot of trembles and tingles.
“This guy, Fizz,” I said to my silver tabby, gently rubbing her head.
She meowed, so in sync with me.
Her front left leg was still recovering from a break after a demon literally threw her through the air. But she was getting better quickly, thanks to the amazing skills and meds of her vet, Elizabeth. Tae had called her to fix my honey pie.
The demon who’d hurt my best girl now pushed up the daisies or whatever demons pushed up when they died.
Did ashes push up daisies?
Fizz’s curiosity piqued for the bedroom. She wanted off my lap to get her exploring on. I put her down on the plush carpet, letting her limp around.
“Are you sure you don’t want to snuggle on this bed?” I asked, bouncing on the thick softness.
Nope. She sniffed. She studied her new surroundings. I kept an eye on her, constantly in concern mode. I would be until she fully recovered. I needed her. She kept me warm at night, kept my soul strong with a simple meow, with a purr, with one look from her lovely blue eyes. She was my family, my ride or die.
I blew her a kiss. She didn’t notice, too busy sniffing the golden sofa.
I explored too, taking in the paintings, having a peek in the bathroom—a yellow and white concoction with a huge bath and shower. Wow, the shower head was a massive square. Weren’t they called rain showerheads or something? Because it would be like standing in the rain, I guess. Man, I thought the shower at the penthouse was divine. This would blow it out of the water.
Fizz still examined the sofa when I stepped out of the bathroom, the shower definitely taking the crown as the best one ever. I went over to the window, fingering the curtains, hesitant to open them. After the attack on the penthouse, magical guns destroying the windows and almost making us Swiss cheese, the trauma anchored my temptation to peek. As much as I wanted to see the sea, the world could stay out there with its cold night and rain and pain.
The morning would be different after I slept my anguish off. What would I see anyway? Nothing but shadows is what. The moon was blocked by rain clouds, for starters. Watching a dark sea wasn’t my idea of a good time right now.
I released another sigh.
I’d been betrayed by my friend, Kelly, seen so much death in a short space of time, got kidnapped by a demon, and failed to kill Buttons (A.K.A the button-eyed demon). I really needed some R and R before facing drama again.
Fizz meowed. I looked down to see her looking up at me as if to assure me things would be fine when the sun came up.
“I love you,” I told her.
Meow, meow.
I sat down on the sofa she enjoyed rubbing against so much, a bookcase to my right catching my attention. No Stephen King on there—my favorite author—but plenty of Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and a shed load of Dickens. And some Proust.
Not my cup of tea, though I did quite like A Tale of Two Cities.
I stretched my legs out, slumping into the squishy golden softness. Less than a minute later, I dozed off, sleep a lot closer than I thought.
A throne of twisted black vines sat on an outcrop a few feet away from me.
Huh?
I stood inside a cavern of dark stone, a ring of fire circling me. No, not fire. Lava. An actual river of lava trapping me and cutting me off from that throne.
Oh, shit.
There was no one in here but me and no sign of an exit or a bridge over that scary river. I certainly wouldn’t be attempting a jump over the damn thing. Only the throne provided a landing spot anyway.
