Hunted Read online

  Hunted

  An Urban Fantasy

  Ann Gimpel

  Contents

  Hunted

  Book Description: Hunted

  Books in the Wayward Mage Series

  1. Abria

  2. Abria

  3. Blake

  4. Blake

  5. Abria

  6. Blake

  7. Abria

  8. Blake

  9. Abria

  10. Blake

  11. Abria

  12. Blake

  13. Abria

  14. Blake

  15. Abria

  16. Blake

  17. Abria

  18. Abria

  19. Blake

  20. Abria

  21. Abria

  22. Blake

  Book Description: Salvaged

  Salvaged, Chapter One, Abria

  About the Author

  Also by Ann Gimpel

  Hunted

  Wayward Mage Book Two

  An Urban Fantasy

  * * *

  By

  Ann Gimpel

  * * *

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

  Copyright Page

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © April 2022, Ann Gimpel

  Cover by Julie Nichols, JMN Art

  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.

  Book Description: Hunted

  Learn magic they said. Or at least shore up your paltry skills. Talk is cheap, and that edict has cost me dearly.

  I had a comfortable life, once upon a time. A quiet life. One where I’d carved a realistic niche for myself. No more. Power is seductive, and a bitch of a mistress. Once I pulled the cork out of that bottle, a million genies sallied forth.

  None of them were nice. No one offered me three wishes, or any wishes at all. I’ve been working my fanny off for the last two years. Most days, I slog along from dawn to dusk and beyond. Sleep has turned into a distant memory. When I do lie down—or fall on my face, which is what really happens—my mind whirls in circles as I relive the failures du jour.

  And the very occasional success.

  I am stronger. So much stronger it scares me. My talent sparkles, flowing bright and clean. Soon, I’ll leave the well-hidden spot that’s allowed me time to claim what’s mine.

  Whether my crash course in sorcery was wise remains to be seen.

  Books in the Wayward Mage Series

  Hands of Fate (a novella)

  Jinxed

  Hunted

  Salvaged

  Chapter 1

  Abria

  Dip. Weave. Whirl. Fire flickered from the fingertips of my right hand. My left controlled air. This exercise always reminded me of dragons with judicious use of air fanning flames and turning them into a blowtorch.

  When I thought I had the air part down, I switched things up and summoned water. As usual, the trickle I requested showed up as a tidal wave drenching me with cold, salty water.

  Huffing and blowing, I let my spell go to wipe water out of my eyes and pounded a fist into the dirt wall. Ouch.

  “Fuck!”

  My practice arena was far underground and impeccably warded. I’d love to claim credit for the ward, but Cailleach had shaped and formed it. Because it never faltered, she had to be funneling a constant stream of magic into its weave.

  Cailleach, crone goddess of winter, witches, and the sea had taken an interest in me. Like everything in magical realms, having her for a teacher has been a mixed bag. She’s wise, knowledgeable, and occasionally tolerant. She’s also impatient with a short fuse. I’m not a witch, but she wouldn’t have treated one of them any differently.

  Actually, she did—treat them differently, that is—since she’s never taken the time to guide any witch’s magical ability. I wouldn’t have known, except she screamed the information in my face one particularly difficult day when I’d accused her of handling me with less respect than she’d have afforded one of her kin.

  The flood of seawater I’d inadvertently summoned had developed a life of its own. Rather than settling into a quiet pool, it formed small whitecaps ebbing and flowing like a miniature tide.

  Grappling for the water end of power, I spun a different enchantment and commanded, “Stop that.”

  Nothing happened. A sigh pushed past my lips before I twisted them into a grimace. Once I formed something magical, altering its structure required a whole lot of work. It would be simpler to start over, but I had to get rid of this mess first.

  “Never time to do it right, but there’s always time to do it over,” I mumbled and gathered my skill to try another tack.

  Half an hour later, the white caps had moved from mid-calf to my knees. Somehow, I was making the problem worse. Water was far from my strongest suit, but still this was ridiculous. I’d had plans for today—supposedly, one of my last in residence with Cailleach—and so far I hadn’t accomplished a thing.

  I caught a whiff of witchy energy. Damn it. I’d hoped to have this predicament behind me before my taskmistress teacher showed up. I was making little shooing motions with both hands before I stopped myself. If none of the dozen spells I’d tried had any impact on the water level, shooing it into submission wouldn’t work, either.

  Cailleach’s wasn’t the only magic heading my way. I stopped, narrowed my eyes, and worked to identify what I sensed. The only ones who’d visited during my tenure here were unicorns, Blake—my Daoine Sidhe boyfriend—and Birgit, another witch who’d helped train me. Jethro, her familiar, had dropped by as well. He’s a shifter seer and spends most of his time as an enormous black cat.

  An idea poked me; I swapped things up. If I was about to have company, I’d much rather they assumed all the water was here at my behest. In a manner of speaking, it was. For now, I’d pretend I’d meant to create the mini inland sea.

  Some things have grown easier. Safeguarding my thoughts is one of them. I tucked shielding around my mind to conceal my shame. If I couldn’t even solve this simple problem, maybe I wasn’t ready to leave after all.

  I can’t stay here forever.

  Correct, but two years is nothing in mage time, I argued back.

  Cailleach splashed toward me after ducking to clear the low lintel that served as entry to my workspace. She was half a head taller than me with a spare, bony build. Stark cheekbones, a high forehead, and a squared-off chin surrounded her beak of a nose. Tangled silver hair hung to her knees. Dressed in one of her many robes—this one a faded green—she looked like witches portrayed in children’s books. All she needed was a pointy hat, a staff, and a cauldron to complete the picture.

  Implacable fog-colored eyes settled on me. “What’s all this?”

  “I was, erm, experimenting.” I resisted the urge to rock from foot to foot or squirm or do anything to suggest I was uncomfortable beneath her scrutiny.

  “I can see that,” she said dryly. “But what was the purpose of this…experiment?”

  Standing straighter, I clasped my hands behind my back. “Water is my weakest element. I was testing various ways to enhance my control over it.” I added a slight guileless smile. My words incorporated enough truth, she might believe me.

  Colors swirled around her as she spun her unique brand of enchantment. Moments later, the water vanished, soaking into
the dirt floor. Even if getting rid of it had worked for me, I’d have been left with a mud slick. Not Cailleach. The floor turned sandy, as if the water had never been here.

  Her gaze returned to me; I steeled myself for the lecture I was certain sat on the tip of her tongue. It never materialized. Instead, she said, “You have visitors. Otherwise, I’d have made you tidy up your own chaos.”

  Oops. Guess she figured it out. Thank all the gods she wasn’t in a mood to belabor my shortcomings. Or to stand over me until I finally got something right—no matter how many days it took.

  To divert her attention away from my flaws and failings, I asked, “Visitors? Who?” Remembering the other magical signature I’d sensed, I searched but couldn’t locate it.

  “You’ll see.”

  If I’d had hackles, they’d have risen the length of my spine. I didn’t like surprises. I started to say I wasn’t in the mood, but the words never made it beyond my throat. I’ve always been a loner—except for the animals, birds, fish, and insects who idolize me. People—magical and otherwise—never held much appeal, but I was lonely. I’ve never had this long a period of enforced solitude where even a trip to the corner market wasn’t on the menu. There was no corner market. Supplies came from somewhere, but I had no say in what showed up or how it got here.

  Cailleach has several dwellings. She’s told me about a few of them. This compound, complete with a castle, moat, drawbridge, and portcullis, occupied a corner of a small borderworld not far from Earth. In addition to my workshop, I also had a bedchamber and access to an expansive library.

  Suddenly self-conscious, I glanced down at my patched trousers, ancient T-shirt emblazoned with “Wolves Bite,” and scuffed boots. “Should I change?” I didn’t have anything nicer, but I could manage cleaner.

  Before we’d ended up here, I’d gathered a few items from my home. I couldn’t live there any longer; it wasn’t safe. During my hasty egress, the winter goddess had created a quarter-hour window and told me to make efficient use of it.

  Efficient equated to racing up the steep stairs to my second-floor living quarters and tossing everything I could lay my hands on into a battered valise. Since I hadn’t had time to pick and choose, I’d ended up with schlocky garments like my wolf T-shirt. Functional but far from stylish.

  Cailleach’s gray brows shot up; a small furrow formed between them. Clearly, changing clothes hadn’t occurred to her. “Perhaps ’tis a decent idea. You’re soaked, and ’twill save explanations.”

  I started to ask, “To whom?” Instead, I nodded and loped for the stairs beyond the cave’s entrance. I’d already asked who these mysterious visitors were. She’d declined to answer. A second query would meet with the same fate.

  A few minutes later, I was garbed in black slacks, a teal sweater, and a puffy black vest. Not wanting to take the time to comb out my mass of tangled hair, I scrunched it into an elastic band and headed for the castle’s formal drawing room.

  It was as good a place as any to start, but it turned out I guessed right. Moving quickly, I bolted into the room and screeched to a halt. It had been hundreds of years since I’d seen Ceridwen and Arianrhod, but I’d know the two goddesses anywhere.

  “My ladies,” I murmured and dropped into a deep curtsy. I’ve never been very good at them and swayed alarmingly until I regained my balance.

  “For the love of Danu, get up,” Ceridwen growled. She’d been sitting facing a roaring fire along with Arianrhod and Cailleach. Now, she stood over me. I hadn’t seen her cross the vast room, but there she was in all her six-and-a-half-foot-plus splendor.

  I rose, not sure what to say. “Nice to see you,” seemed trite. “Been a long time,” was banal as hell.

  Ceridwen looked much the same. Tall and broad, she wore hunting leathers crafted from soft, pale doeskin with boots laced to knee level. Her eyes were dark, her forehead high. Black hair frosted with silver hung to her waist in multiple braids. The only thing missing was her cauldron, and I felt certain it had to be close. The goddess never went anywhere without it. Serving as the seat of her seer powers, it was an integral part of her energy.

  Arianrhod joined her. About the same height, but with a lithe build, she too wore leather garments, but hers were crafted from darker-colored hide. She examined me from multi-hued eyes: one gold, the other silver. Hair like spun gold had been gathered into a bun at the nape of her neck. A bronze torc studded with turquoise circled her neck, and her hunting bow was secured across her back in a battered sheath.

  Questions crowded the back of my mind; I sat on all of them. Had Cailleach sought them out? Seemed likely since so few people knew I was here. The weight of their combined gazes scoured me up one side and down the other. They were taking my measure, but the question was why.

  “You’ve learned to hold your tongue,” Ceridwen observed.

  “Aye, that she has,” Arianrhod agreed. “Particularly given what a chatty little thing she used to be.”

  That did it. I crossed my arms beneath my breasts and said, “I have never been chatty.”

  “Don’t be argumentative.” Ceridwen rebuked me.

  “Aye, ’twould take very little to change our minds,” Arianrhod chimed in.

  “About what?” I tried for a neutral tone but ended up sounding snarky.

  “Independent, isn’t she?” Arianrhod muttered.

  “I am not a she. I’m right here. And I’m…” It took a bit for me to do the math before continuing. “I’m over 700 years old. If I hadn’t developed some independence in all that time, there truly would have been no hope for me.”

  Ceridwen’s eyes widened. Arianrhod made a, “Tsk, tsk,” clicking sound with her tongue against her teeth.

  Oh-oh. I’d been rude. Cailleach didn’t tolerate backtalk. Why would I expect anything different from the pair staring at me. The winter goddess rose from her seat in front of the fire. No wood here; magic powered these flames. It was one of the ways she’d taught me to control that element.

  I expected her to order me out of the room—maybe out of her castle—but she didn’t. That part would probably come later. After she’d chastised me for showing so little respect.

  The cauldron I’d wondered about clattered down in front of Ceridwen. Just as I’d suspected, it had been sequestered somewhere close by. The liquid within bubbled and splattered on the tile floor. The goddess snatched a glass rod from the air, stirring and muttering.

  When she looked up, she announced, “Naught has changed.”

  My tolerance for ambiguity has never been high. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” I demanded.

  Cailleach hurried to where the three of us stood and draped an arm around my shoulders. The gesture surprised me since she’s never been affectionate. More of a business-as-usual type.

  “You’ve known your time with me was drawing to an end,” she said. At my nod, she went on, “Quite a while ago, Blake and I discussed the next steps in your training—”

  “Without me?” I screeched before clapping a hand over my mouth and mumbling, “Sorry.”

  “Of course without you.” Cailleach’s tone was implacable. “What could you have possibly offered that might have been germane?”

  I clasped my hands behind me to squelch a desire to punch her. What could I have possibly offered, huh? Oh nothing much since I was only the topic of their discussion.

  “In any event,” Cailleach went on. After all these months, she knew me well. Surely, she was aware of my inner turmoil, but she viewed it as an inconvenience, not anything worthy of being addressed.

  “In any event, what?” I growled, tired of masking my irritation.

  “The best choice to complete your magical induction is those who created you,” she went on.

  “But you were gone.” I addressed Ceridwen and Arianrhod.

  “Not so far gone Blake couldn’t find us.” Ceridwen grimaced.

  “We’d forgotten what good trackers the Daoine Sidhe are. He cheated, though,” A
rianrhod added.

  “Aye, his first stop was a little chat with the Morrigan in Hell,” Ceridwen said.

  “Not much incentive for her to keep her mouth shut.” Arianrhod made a sour face.

  It was as if they’d forgotten I was here. To fix that, I spoke up. “Blake would have found you anyway. Even without the Morrigan’s help.”

  “What makes you so sure?” Ceridwen asked.

  “He can be quite determined. And he’s in love with me, which means he would have tried even harder than usual.”

  The goddess’s mouth formed an O. She consulted her cauldron and muttered, “Interesting. I’d missed that bit of information.”

  She may have missed it, but Blake hadn’t said a word to me. He could have. He was just here a fortnight ago. I’d take it up with him later.

  Cailleach and Arianrhod were conversing telepathically. Power swirled around them. Ceridwen bent over her cauldron. I felt like an anachronism. My future had been decided behind my back. That Blake had been part of it hurt a lot.

  They simply assumed I’d comply—with anything they outlined. We’d see about that. “No need to take me on as a project if you don’t want to,” I announced.

  Three sets of startled eyes zeroed in on me.

  “She does that,” Cailleach said.

  “Does what?” I was done being deferential. “Since when is speaking up for oneself a crime?” I blew out a breath. “Never mind. Don’t answer that. I can leave, return to Blake. He and I will figure this out.”