Fate's Call
Fate’s Call
A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Reverse Harem Collection
Angelique Armae
Shelique Lize
Elena Gray
Kelli McCracken
Erica Gerald Mason
Athena Phoenix
Brantwijn Serrah
CJ Beaumont
Valia Lind
Crystal Ash
Julie Trettel
Candace Sams
AJ Anders
April Canavan
Daniella Clark
Heather Marie Adkins
Contents
Angelique Armae
A Flock of Magick
Soho, New York…
About the Author
Shelique Lize
Vampyre Doll
1. Justice
2. Justice
3. Calvin
4. Justice
5. Justice
6. Dante
7. Justice
8. Justice
9. Justice
10. Marquis
11. Dante
12. Justice
13. Justice
14. Justice
15. Justice
16. Justice
17. Justice
18. Justice
19. Justice
About the Author
Elena Gray & Kelli McCracken
Consumed by Magic
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
About the Authors
Erica Gerald Mason
Margot at the Door
Chapter 1
About the Author
Athena Phoenix
Chasing Tigers
1. ~Chase Reede~
2. ~ Arcadia DeLuca ~
About the Author
Brantwijn Serrah
Playing Hard to Get
Chapter 1
About the Author
C.J. Beaumont
Outfoxing the Alpha
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
About the Author
Valia Lind
Shared Dreams
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
About the Author
Crystal Ash
Raised By Wolves
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
About the Author
Julie Trettel
Waiting For You
1. Kelsey
2. Kyle
3. Kelsey
4. Kyle
About the Author
Candace Sams
Mythic Hearts
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
About the Author
AJ Anders
Interrupted
Also By Aj Anders
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
About the Author
April Canavan
Cursed Beginnings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
About the Author
Heather Marie Adkins
His Living Kiss
Chapter 1
About the Author
A Flock of Magick
Angelique Armae
A Flock of Magick © copyright 2019 Angelique Armae
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
A Flock of Magick
A FLOCK OF MAGICK
A short, short story prequel to
A FLOCK OF DARKNESS
An alternate prequel—A FLOCK OF OMENS—is available in the anthology FIERCE AND FATED.
Soho, New York…
There’s a lot to be said about magick. Especially the kind that dwells within the souls of the members of the McKinley clan, an ancient Celtic tribe from which I hail. Save for the surname, I know nothing about who I am or where I come from. Even my given name of Reagan fails to jar my brain, fails to recall who named me and why. Which leaves me in quite the pickle where my otherworldly abilities are concerned.
Apparently, my magick hasn’t yet figured out the finer details of how it should react to the world around it. For starters, my supernatural talents seem to only appear at the worst of times, and then only to flash me half-way across the world into a realm that may or may not exist. And while I’m no expert on the subject, I have read enough on the matter to know if not nurtured properly, magick can do more harm than good. And as of late, my untamed talent falls clearly in the former category.
I huff as I scurry along the sidewalk, my target a small, enchanted looking place at the end of a hidden alley on a side street off West Broadway.
It’s a magickal haunt, to be precise.
Amid the tall, cast-iron buildings of the neighborhood, Madame Cethlenn’s little gem of a tarot shop gives off a rather soft vibe. Unfortunately, once cast, that vibe is also cunning, entrapping, and all-around damning. But it’s where I make my living, so I deal with it. That, and I can’t deny Cethlenn anything as she pretty much owns me since having rescued me from being a street kid ten years ago when I was eleven. Though I’m no longer certain I’m only twenty-one. Yes, I look the part, but everyone knows looks can be deceiving. The reason I’m unsure is because my age recently came under dispute thanks to the freakiest dream I’ve ever had. A dream I haven’t mentioned to Cethlenn and have no intention of doing so. Said dream also brought up a lot of other questionable things, such as the fact I’m supposedly a mythical queen, I have three hotter-than-hell guardians—who apparently are also raven shifters—and last but definitely not least of all, the woman who I’m beholden to might not even be human. There’s a fairly good chance my boss is a vile Fae queen, married to one son-of-a-bitch mythical ruler.
Really, I can’t make up this shit if I try.
All I know is one moment I was about to steal a pair of ungodly priced designer shoes from Saks—as per order of Cethlenn—and the next minute I flashed to a mythical realm, landing my ass in a graveyard on the grounds of a castle owned by three raven shifter hotties.
Apparently, I’m able to travel through time and space. How and why, I haven’t a fucki
ng clue yet. The hotties in the castle didn’t exactly reveal all to me. Though one did leave my lips hungering for more of his kisses. A little treat that in itself is worth putting some serious time into figuring out how to flash back to that damn castle.
But right now, I have to keep Cethlenn sated. The woman goes bonkers when I don’t follow her orders to a T. And since today is Wednesday, it’s my turn to open the shop and scam the day’s latest batch of wounded and suffering patrons.
Guilt seeps into my soul.
I really hate doing false readings, especially when I’m forced to also pluck the pockets of Cethlenn’s unsuspecting customers. Though I’ve been ordered to only steal from walk-ins as repeat patrons wouldn’t return once they caught on. But with my life on the line thanks to Cethlenn’s threats, I have no choice but to do what she orders until I can figure out a way to escape the woman. Her threats are never to be taken lightly as I’ve seen what she’s done to some of the other transients she’s employed over the years.
Since having my freaky dream, I’m thoroughly convinced the last girl was turned into a mouse, then fed to one of Cethlenn’s cats. The scene I happened upon a few months back was total chaos. There were mouse guts all over the store’s hardwood floor and among the shredded body parts was the ring Amelia couldn’t take off due to her fingers having swelled.
I shutter even now just thinking about that mess. But I won’t dwell on it as doing so will get me nowhere. I can’t bring Amelia back.
The whistle of a familiar song echoes behind me.
Betty.
The widowed shop cleaner always joins me on Wednesday mornings.
Glancing over my shoulder, I home in on the paper cup clutched in Betty’s right hand. Her bright red nail polish clashes against the container’s plain white surface. “Please tell me that drink has my name on it.”
With a grin as wide as the sea, Betty beams back as she jiggles the cup, the swirl of ice hitting ice reaching my ears. “Jasmine Blackberry tea, extra ice cubes, just the way you like it.”
Betty never forgets a thing.
Cethlenn may have picked me up off the streets, but it’s this petite, gray-haired granny-like woman who’s the surrogate mother in my life. She catches up to me and hands over the tall cup. “Sleep any better last night, Sugar?”
“A tad, but overall, no.” I flick the tab on the tea’s lid and then down a gulp.
“Maybe you need to listen to those dreamy men in your head.”
I elbow Betty in jest. “Are you really telling me to make nice with a trio of mythical hotties?”
“I’m just saying you never know if you don’t take chances in life. How do you think I met my Stewie?”
“This is not about me meeting my soulmate, Betty. Besides, Stewie was real. These guys aren’t.”
“Are you sure of that? Didn’t you say they told you their realm does exist in this world but has barriers to block it from the human eye?”
They did. But that does not mean the three guardians I met two days ago were real. Dream characters can tell you anything. “Let’s save this conversation for after work. I’ll buy you dinner.”
Betty nods. “Fine. But if you’re paying, then I insist we only do hotdogs on a corner.”
I know better than to argue with the woman.
I turn and enter the welcoming little alley filled with ivy-covered trellises and massive terra cotta pots giving rise to the most beautiful smelling pink and white Phlox my nose has ever encountered. Maybe the fragrance is bewitched. It’s a possibility if what the guys in my head said about Cethlenn is true.
Retrieving the keys from my jeans back pocket, I notice the shop’s door slightly ajar.
A zing races through my veins.
It’s only a quarter to ten and I’m the sole card reader in on Wednesdays.
“Stay behind me.” I stretch out my arm to protect Betty but know full-well I can’t do much if the thug is a big guy or worse, some deviant as wicked at Cethlenn.
I inch closer to the entrance, despite the nervousness rising in my throat.
“I’ve got my purse ready to smack the deviant little bastards,” Betty whispers.
I don’t have the heart to tell her a purse isn’t going to cut it if we’re up against serious criminals.
She grabs the back of my sweater. “Maybe we should call the cops.”
So much for granny’s armored purse. “Cops are not what I need. They’ll just call attention to the shop, which in turn will only earn me Cethlenn’s wrath.”
“But what if the thieves are worse than her?”
I doubt any soul could be viler than our boss. “I can handle this.” I keep my voice as low as possible.
With a deep breath, I take another step forward.
Silence greets me.
I straighten. Maybe I’m worrying over nothing as thieves don’t usually hang around a place they’ve raided. They get in, get what they want, and get out. At least, that’s how I operate when I’m pinching high-priced goods for Cethlenn on my days off from the shop.
A burst of wind blows down the alley.
I wipe the hair from my eyes as the creak of a door hinge teases my ears.
Just as I start to relax a bit, a massive, squawking raven flutters out of the shop and skims my head, its claws catching in my hair.
I gasp and drop my cup of tea as I flail my arms overhead like some psychopath going schitzo.
Even Betty gets in on the action by swatting at the bird with her prim and proper firm-handled purse.
The raven pecks my forehead.
I continue to fight the feathered beast. Finally, it flies away, but not without first plucking several strands of my hair.
Turning away from the soaring bird, I face Betty. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, Sugar, I’m fine.” She frowns as she smooths out the front of her red cardigan. “I can’t say the same for your head, though.”
My scalp hurts, but no more than do my frozen toes which are now soaked thanks to the spilled iced-tea seeped into the canvas of my favorite sneakers. I can only imagine the mess that I must look. “It’s nothing.” I wave my hand, dismissing the aches assaulting my body.
A whiff of stench and decay comes barreling out of Cethlenn’s vile little store.
I slam my nose with my hand, but it does little good. The waft of rot slides right through the spaces between my fingers.
My nose burns.
I gag.
Betty pokes her head into the shop, her senses obviously better equipped to deal with the odor than mine. She sniffs. “Smells like someone’s left rotting meat fat in there.”
A chill creeps up my spine.
I don’t need this shit now because the second Cethlenn learns her shop has been vandalized, she’ll be on my ass for getting here too late. And even if I swear to her that I was on time, she’ll know I didn’t arrive at nine-thirty like I’m supposed to. She has a knack for knowing things no one else knows. Even without surveillance cameras hooked up to the building.
I don’t want Betty anywhere near the intruders I may still find inside. “Maybe you better wait out here while I make sure it’s safe.”
Betty huffs but stays put.
Leaning forward, I glide my hand over the shop’s door and push it fully open. “Hello?” As if a burglar is going to answer.
The shop appears quiet, nothing out of place.
I scan the front area before walking inside. My gaze settles on the far right corner where a second raven sits perched on the table Cethlenn uses for her tarot readings. Scattered papers are spread out beneath the bird’s claws.
“Hey!” I dash over and swat at the bird.
It caws. Then twists its head in that freakish manner only a bird can manage and pecks at my hand.
I pull away on the instant, a bead of blood already pooling on my knuckle.
The bird gives me the nastiest one-eyed glare ever.
Goosebumps pucker on my skin.
“Are you okay, S
ugar?”
Crap. I do not want Betty getting hurt. “Don’t come in yet.” I scowl at the raven and point my finger. “You better stay away from her, here me bird?”
The raven caws again, this time with a bit more of a shriek than last.
I want to block my ears but have no desire to let the feathered little fiend know he’s getting to me.
With a flutter of its wings, it lifts off the table and flies out the door, but it doesn’t leave empty-handed. Its claws are clutching a strip of torn paper, probably from the papers it had been sitting on.
Leaving the bird to take off with its prize, as I have no intention of hunting down a soaring raven, I inspect the table.