Hands of Fate a Wayward Mage Prequel Read online

  Hands of Fate, A Wayward Mage Prequel

  Hands of Fate

  An Urban Fantsy

  Ann Gimpel

  Contents

  Hands of Fate

  Books in the Wayward Mage Series

  The Myth

  Book Description: Hands of Fate

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Book Description: Jinxed

  Chapter One, Abria

  Hands of Fate

  A Wayward Mage Series, Prequel

  Urban Fantasy

  * * *

  By

  Ann Gimpel

  * * *

  Tumble off reality’s edge into a dangerous world fueled by lore and magic

  Books in the Wayward Mage Series

  Jinxed

  Hunted

  Salvaged

  Hands of Fate (a prequel novella)

  Copyright Page

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © April 2021, Ann Gimpel

  Edited by Kate Richards

  Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or people living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, e-mail, or web posting without written permission from the author.

  The Myth

  What better place than the misty, magical Scottish Highlands to spawn myths rife with dark edges? The ruins of Rait Castle are near Nairn and Inverness. As castle ruins go, this one has a rich history complete with feuding clans and a Romeo and Juliet spin.

  The two battling clans were the Cummings and MacIntoshes. Major movers and shakers in thirteenth-century Scotland, the Cummings rose to power through a series of advantageous marriages. At one point they boasted four earls, thirty belted knights, and the Lordship of Badenoch. Riding high, they took control of lands previously belonging to the MacIntoshes and other clans as well.

  The Cummings fought for King Edward I of England against Robert the Bruce when the Scottish wars for independence broke out in the twelve and thirteen hundreds. The MacIntoshes were staunch Bruce supporters. After Bruce won, the MacIntoshes petitioned to get their lands back—including Rait Castle.

  The petition was unsuccessful; bad blood ran deep.

  Meanwhile, one of the Cummings daughters fell in love with a MacIntosh (ergo, the Romeo-and-Juliet motif). When her father hatched a cunning plan to invite the MacIntoshes to dinner under the guise of improving inter-clan relations, he had a far more wicked agenda. After an evening of merriment and entertainment, when a special phrase was spoken, he and his fellow clansmen planned to mob the MacIntoshes and slaughter them.

  All well and good, except the daughter had a trysting spot with her lover. Next to a large standing stone, she told him of the plan, so the MacIntoshes came prepared to fight back. And they knew the magic phrase that would spawn destruction.

  After the ensuing bloodbath, the laird of the Cummings clan was one of the few left alive. Suspecting his daughter of betrayal, he chased her through the castle. She clambered out a window, hanging onto the sill. Her father raised his sword against his own blood and chopped off her hands.

  The maid fell to her death, and, to this day, a handless woman haunts the ruins of Rait Castle.

  One more aside, and we’ll dive into the story part of things. The Handless Maiden is a German fairy-tale from the 1800s. Many similar stories bloomed from its roots. Like all fairy-tales, they deal with journeys and transformation by going into a forest where the heroine’s deepest fears and most powerful dreams are realized.

  In all the variations of this particular tale, the transformation is from wounded child to whole, healed woman, from miller’s daughter to queen. In the process, her hands are restored, but it’s the least important part. She finds her personal power and comes into her own as a woman. Too bad the Cummings maid wasn’t handed the proper script. She might have kicked her father in the balls and told him what a jerk he was for trying to trick the MacIntoshes.

  But wait! There’s far more to this tale than meets the eye. Twists and turns galore, and a red-hot romance to boot. Catch you on the other side, dear readers.

  Book Description: Hands of Fate

  Fitting in has never been in the cards. Not part of the hand Fate dealt me. My superpower is animals, magical and otherwise. They adore me. Birds and insects too. Back when the Celts still roamed the Highlands, I begged them to shed light on how I came to be since my power is unique.

  You can guess how well that went. They’re a taciturn, entitled lot. I didn’t shed a single tear when they packed up and left Earth.

  Other mages don’t care for me. They don’t trust my one-of-a-kind magic. On my more generous days I don’t blame them. For now, I run a tiny detective agency in the Scottish Highlands. Mortals are quick to hire me because I always solve their problems. Using magic is cheating, but they’ll never find out.

  One fine afternoon, a Sidhe sought me out. His power surpassed mine by a factor of ten, so I was suspicious as hell, but he was too profanely gorgeous to turn away…

  As usual, no one to blame but myself when my life skids off the rails.

  Chapter One

  Scottish Highlands, Early Twenty-First Century

  Mud flew up from churning hoofs, staining the backs of my legs. This is why I seldom ride in shorts, but the sun was out. Impossible to resist a rare sunny day in Scotland’s hinterlands. That’s the thing, though. If I’d tarried long enough to change clothes, the sun could have taken a powder.

  Not could have, most likely would have.

  My cell phone vibrated against my leg. I reached for it but changed my mind. I was having way too good a time to look at any screen. Whoever was calling could jolly well leave me a message. For once, I was mostly caught up. Jumping into my battered old black Range Rover hoping for a riding partner had been a whim. I often have them, but rarely indulge myself. It’s why I wore denim shorts, an old black T-shirt, and ratty running shoes with holes in them instead of more standard riding attire.

  A horn honked from a nearby road. Raising a hand, I waved. If I’d been truly neighborly, I’d have cantered over, but I guarded my painfully few moments of solitude with all the vigor of a gang member protecting his turf.

  I worked way too hard. Between my private detective business and my other, much quieter pursuits, I rarely had even a quarter hour to call my own. Animals adore me. All of them, enchanted and otherwise. It’s my biggest gift on the magical end of things, and why the cream-colored unicorn didn’t hesitate when I raised my mind voice hinting at the prospect of a ride. The bunch of her strong muscles under my bottom said she’d happily maintain our breakneck pace forever.

  She could. We’d been there, done that.

  She’s a pro at hiding her horn, and she fools mortals, but the other horses know all too well she’s nothing like them and give her a very wide berth. Marked with boulders and sodden ground, verdant countryside flashed past. I breathed deep. Spring was in the air, such as it was here. At least the days of ground fog and dense frost were gone for a few months.

  The horn honked again. Fuck. Shading my eyes with a hand, I twisted to get a look at the car and whistled. Shiny. Black. Sleek. A Mercedes convertible I’d never seen before was driving about the same pace Becca and I were moving. After waving once more, I turned my attention forward.

  “Who’s he?” the unicorn asked.

  “No id
ea.”

  “He seems to know you,” she pressed, and then added, “He’s a mage.”

  Double fuck. I hadn’t bothered to check. Magic isn’t common in the modern world. In truth, it’s so uncommon, I never expect to run into anyone who wields power. Not by happenstance. The few of us in the region all know one another. Not that we get together or anything.

  Eh, they might, but I’m not included.

  They don’t like me. I’m an oddball in the magical realm. So much of an outlier, there’s not even a name for me beyond animal wizard. Or the woman who charms animals. I can even turn creatures against their bonded mages, not that I would or anything. Unless I was truly pissed off.

  We were still charging forward. The man driving the Benz had upped the ante on honking. Clearly, he wasn’t going to go away. It meant he probably knew what I was. Even the weakest mage can sense power in others.

  Phooey. On the slim chance I was mistaken about his intentions, I made a show of dragging on the reins. Both they and the bridle were only for show; I drew the line at additional tack and always rode bareback. As Becca slowed, I turned us toward the macadam lane where the Benz was and stopped when we were still a respectable distance away.

  Within shouting distance, but not so close he could snare me in a spell. Not easily, anyway. My power isn’t terribly strong on the face of things, but all I have to do is put out the call. Every bird, animal, and insect in a five-kilometer radius will come on the run to defend me, their mage, their queen.

  “Hello,” I called. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” It was politer than what I wanted to say, which was along the lines of what the fuck do you want.

  The driver killed the engine and opened the door. Tension in my thighs and tense fingers on the reins told Becca to be ready to bolt if he even looked as if he were about to raise power against us. Soothing waves of unicorn enchantment circled me as she signaled assent.

  Unfolding long legs, the car’s occupant got out and nodded a greeting.

  I stifled a gasp and hoped to hell I hadn’t been as obvious as I feared. The dude was Hollywood gorgeous. Slightly over six feet, sleek, and graceful with the same broad-shouldered, slim-hipped build of all his race. He was dressed in an expensively cut tweed jacket, linen shirt, and black pants with shiny loafers peeking out. Inky-black hair had been layered and reached collar level. I bet he’d spent more on that haircut than I earned in a month. With a high forehead, sculpted cheeks, a square chin, and dark eyes with eyelashes any woman would gladly kill him for, he was quite the package.

  And then I looked closer. “For fuck’s sake,” I muttered, “it’s a glamour.”

  Sure enough, a male Daoine Sidhe lay beneath all that glory. Not that he was any slouch. They’re royalty in the Sidhe world. Legends suggest any mortal who lays eyes on one in their true form would be lost forever. They’d fall hopelessly in love, never satisfied with any lesser being.

  The dark hair and eyes were the same. The chin more pointed, and of course, the ears. A pair of black wings set with jewel tones were folded across his back. How in the hell did he manage in the car without crushing them?

  He glided closer, a predatory look on the human version of his face. “Very good, my dear,” he purred in a pure American accent. “You know what I am, and I know what you are. You’re a hard woman to find, Abria MacLeone.”

  “Bullcrap,” I shot back. “No one else has ever complained.” Setting my mouth in a tight line, I went on, “Why are you looking for me?”

  “To hire. Why else?” He sounded genuinely mystified.

  But then, so was I. His power outshone mine by a magnitude of perhaps a hundred. What in the hell could I do that he couldn’t manage on his own?

  “What’s your name?” I started with the simple shit and draped an obvious truth net between us—in case he was tempted to lie. Names hold power. The one he called me was my current alias. My real name is buried so deep no one knew it.

  Except me, and I aimed to keep it that way.

  “Blake Townsend, Earl of Galloway.” He offered a slight bow.

  His words pinged true off my spell, so I reeled it in. “That’s a hell of a long way from the Highlands,” I commented, not bothering to ask why any Sidhe carried a title reserved for mortals. Perhaps he was bored.

  He shrugged. “I have a task in this part of Scotland. You’d be absolutely perfect for it, my dear.” The predatory expression was back in full bloom.

  Oh-oh. I’ve never trusted smooth talkers, and Blake-baby was the original.

  “How’d you find out about me?” I was stalling for time to figure out how to say no and head for the hills. I could tell Becca we were done. Fleet-footed darling that she was, she’d run like the wind. But Blake had hunted me down once. It meant he’d do it again. I had to stand my ground and put this problem to bed here and now.

  “We keep tabs on…everyone,” he replied in response to my question.

  He might be profanely gorgeous, but the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I didn’t care for the idea of anyone “keeping tabs on me.”

  “I’m really not interested in working for you,” I said flatly and picked up the reins. “Find someone else.”

  “But we need you.” Compulsion flowed thick as honey, lacing his words into a convincing mix.

  I reached for my mind voice to tell Becca we were through. Ha. No such luck. The Sidhe had placed a barrier between me and my power. And he’d managed it so sneakily, I’d never noticed. Fury vied with annoyance. I could have kneed Becca and accomplished the same goal. Instead, I jumped off the unicorn and stomped to face Blake.

  Good. We were about the same height. Establishing credibility is simpler when I can stare into someone’s eyes.

  “Now. You. Look. Here,” I gritted through clenched teeth.

  This time, a calming spell rose from him, wafting around me with the scents of mint and rosemary with hints of vanilla. “I mean you no harm,” he murmured.

  Wishing my truth spell were still in play, I glared balefully at him. “Then you will unwind whatever you stuck between me and my power.”

  “Fair enough. On one condition.”

  “What?” I snarled. He might be gorgeous, but I wanted to rip his eyes out and feed them to a flock of crows. Better yet, I’d have the crows grab his eyes, while I—

  He smirked, probably plucking all the colorful murderous intentions from my mind. “The condition is you’ll stick around long enough to hear me out.”

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “Then we might be standing here for a long while. Unless you don’t care about leaving with your power intact.”

  I crossed my arms under my breasts. “Is this the way the Daoine Sidhe usually operate? With threats? I never partner with anyone I don’t trust, and I sure as hell don’t trust someone who leverages magic to bully me.”

  “But you’d have left,” he protested. “I saw it in your mind.”

  “And that’s just plain rude.”

  “What?” He sounded baffled.

  “Helping yourself to people’s thoughts to further your own ends.”

  He narrowed his eyes and fanned his wings. “You do it.”

  “Not to manipulate someone into doing what I want them to.” I flapped a hand in his direction. “What did you want to hire me to do that’s so all-fired important it brought you from the southern end of Scotland?” I could at least pretend to listen and play nice. Once I got my magic back, we’d see what happened next.

  Becca chose that moment to trot forward and poke the business end of her horn into his neatly pressed shirt. “Unhand her magic,” the unicorn whinnied. “Do it now.”

  Interesting development. I hadn’t asked Becca for assistance, but maybe she was sick of the Sidhe’s patronizing attitude too. Hoofbeats thundered across the moor. I smiled. Blake had missed the obvious. He may have shackled my power, but he’d assumed Becca would stand by and do nothing.

  Big mistake for someone who should have known
better. The unicorn could end him if she chose. Not without penalty. She’d draw down the wrath of every other Sidhe, Daoine and otherwise.

  A herd of unicorns masquerading as horses surrounded us. Nine more, some black, some silver white. Their clean horsey smells were a welcome change from the capitulation casting Blake was doing his damnedest to ram down my throat. With an audible clank, the shielding around my power fell away. Guess he knew when he was outgunned. He could kill one unicorn, or even two or three, but the others would gut him.

  Besides, unicorns are sacrosanct in the magical world. Kind of like dragons, they’re revered, treasured.

  Blake held his hands up, palms out. “Apologies. We got off on the wrong foot.”

  “You think?” I inquired caustically.

  “I do. Will you allow me to outline the task I sought you out for?”

  “What if I say no?” I dropped my arms to my sides, waiting. What I needed to hear was he’d figure something else out and not continue to hound me.

  He grinned engagingly. “I’m hoping you don’t, but if you do, I’ll manage on my own.”

  Fuck me. His grin was captivating. It was hard not to smile back, but I held a stern expression. “Right answer. You have five minutes.”

  “Do you still require our presence?” A black unicorn laid his horn on my shoulder.

  I wrapped my fingers around it, soaking in love and magic. “I’m good. The Sidhe has seen the error of his ways.”

  Blake winced. I bet he wasn’t chastised often. For anything. The black unicorn said, “Call us if you need us.” With the exception of Becca, the herd wheeled and galloped away kicking their hoofs skyward and whinnying up a storm. I wasn’t the only one thrilled about the sunshine.