Veiled Enchantments Read online

  Titles by Deborah Blake

  WICKEDLY DANGEROUS

  WICKEDLY WONDERFUL

  WICKEDLY POWERFUL

  DANGEROUSLY CHARMING

  DANGEROUSLY DIVINE

  VEILED MAGIC

  VEILED MENACE

  VEILED ENCHANTMENTS

  Novellas

  WICKEDLY MAGICAL

  WICKEDLY EVER AFTER

  Veiled Enchantments

  Deborah Blake

  INTERMIX

  NEW YORK

  INTERMIX

  Published by Berkley

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014

  Copyright © 2018 by Deborah Blake

  Excerpt from Wickedly Dangerous copyright © 2014 by Deborah Blake

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  INTERMIX and the “IM” design are trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  ISBN: 9780399585951

  First Edition: March 2018

  Cover design by Sarah Oberrender

  Cover Photos: Woman’s legs © Kiselev Andrey Valerevich / Shutterstock

  Woman’s upper body © Kiselev Andrey Valerevich / Shutterstock

  Forest © Piotr Krzeslak / Shutterstock

  Tree stump © janos.bombicz / Shutterstock

  Rocks © Cegli / Shutterstock

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Version_1

  To Magic, Mystic, and Minerva—the best furfamily any Witch could ever hope to have.

  Acknowledgments

  Huge thanks to my wonderful agent, Elaine Spencer, who saw something special in the first Veiled Magic book and in me as well. I wouldn’t want to be making this journey with anyone else. Thank you for believing in me! Thanks as well to all the folks at Berkley who have helped my work look good before it reached the world, including editors, copy editors, proofreaders, and the cover artists who created the perfect art to represent my books. And thanks to my readers. You’re the best, and I look forward to continuing this journey with you, in whichever form it takes.

  Contents

  Titles by Deborah Blake

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Excerpt from Wickedly Dangerous

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Donata stared at the man standing in the hallway in front of her apartment, torn between the desire to slam the door in his face and the equally strong impulse to jump into his arms and kiss him until he cried uncle. She compromised by taking a deep breath and saying with a calmness she didn’t quite feel, “Hello, Magnus. Long time no see.”

  Uncharacteristically, the blond giant of a man hesitated, holding back on his usual exuberant greeting. He clearly wasn’t quite sure how to proceed either, although he couldn’t suppress his grin at seeing her.

  “Hello, Donata. Aren’t you going to ask me in?” He held out a slightly battered bouquet of flowers that looked like they might have been plucked from someone’s garden and probably had been. Although where he’d found them this far into fall, she wasn’t sure.

  She also wasn’t sure if she felt like letting him in. She hadn’t had much luck with men lately and wasn’t really in the mood to deal with another one. But her cat, Grimalkin, settled the question for her by strolling into the hallway and winding around Magnus’s legs, purring madly.

  “Traitor,” she muttered, opening the door wider to accommodate her old lover’s ridiculously wide shoulders. Then added to Magnus, looking up all six foot four of him to meet his ocean-colored eyes, “Fine, but consider yourself warned. I’m off men at the moment, so don’t expect me to fall for your charm and the old stolen-flowers routine.”

  He chuckled, handing her the blooms, and wandered briefly around the living room before plopping onto the couch and putting his feet up on the scarred table in front of it. “I like your new place.” He paused. “I take it I don’t have to worry about Peter coming in and challenging me for your hand then?”

  She gave a small growl through clenched jaws. “No,” she said flatly. “He was around for a bit, but it didn’t work out. He’s gone.”

  Magnus raised an eyebrow. “‘Gone’ as in left town, or ‘gone’ as in he pissed you off and you killed him?” He didn’t sound as though he thought either outcome was a problem.

  “‘Gone’ as in left town without a forwarding address,” Donata said, grabbing a couple of beers out of the fridge and handing one to him as she settled into the chair opposite him, intentionally keeping a safe distance between them. She hadn’t seen him in over seven months, but they’d always had a dangerously tempting chemistry. “I killed the other guy.”

  The eyebrow moved higher. “Is that a joke?”

  A small hand appeared out of nowhere holding its own beer; the hand was attached to a three-foot-tall man wearing a long, neatly trimmed brown beard and matching brown overalls. “Not at all,” the Kobold said. “But it’s okay. The bastard had it coming to him.”

  Magnus choked on his beer, sputtering slightly. Ricky helpfully handed him a handkerchief to mop up with. “You killed someone, ’Nata? I’m impressed.”

  She rolled her eyes. Only an Ulfhednar, descended from a race of shapeshifting berserkers, would consider murdering a former boyfriend to be a kudos-worthy achievement. “Don’t be. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d had any choice.”

  “It looks like I missed a lot in the last few months.” He reached out for her hand but sat back again when she made no move toward him.

  Donata held herself stiffly upright. There was no way she was going to go down that road again. She’d learned her lesson.

  “You could say that. It’s a long story; one for another time, perhaps. After you’ve told me how you’ve been, maybe. I know you had to leave to finish your Ulf training at home.” It had been tough, watching both him and Peter walk away. “It would have
been nice to have gotten, oh, I don’t know, a phone call or something to tell me you were still alive.”

  She hadn’t even known for sure about Peter’s continued existence until recently. She sure could pick ’em: a half-Dragon forger with anger-management issues and a disgraced Shapechanger, both of them with enough baggage to fill an airport carousel.

  “I’m sorry, ’Nata. The Ulf training is incredibly intense and requires complete focus. We’re supposed to avoid all distractions during the training.” He grinned at her over the top of his beer. “You know I’ve always found you very distracting.”

  Donata huffed out a breath. “And you know I hate that nickname,” she said automatically. “So, does your presence here mean that your training is finished and you’ve finally become an Ulf?”

  She knew it had been important to him to learn how to control his inner berserker, and after avoiding the training for years he had returned home to take up where he’d left off when he was much younger. He’d intended to triumph over the arduous tests that would make him one of the elite warriors of the Ulfhednar. Or die trying. Until he’d shown up at her door looking like a modern-day Viking with a scruffy three-day beard, she hadn’t known how worried she’d been about the possibility he’d failed. Those who did rarely survived. She felt like she’d let out a breath she’d been holding for almost eight months.

  “Not exactly,” he said, draining the beer and putting it down with a clunk before meeting her brown eyes with his own blue ones. “I’m actually still in the middle of training. I got special permission to leave briefly, just long enough to drive here and talk to you. But then I have to head right back.”

  Donata had to suppress a flash of involuntary disappointment. Great. Another one who wasn’t going to stay. Men. Who needed them? She ignored Ricky’s sympathetic look.

  She stood up. “Okay, then. You’ve talked to me. It’s been swell catching up. Have a good trip home.”

  Magnus didn’t move, other than to stroke the back of the cat, who was draped over his large lap, purring.

  “You don’t understand, Donata,” he said. “My people are in trouble. I’m in trouble. And I’ve come to ask for your help.”

  Donata could feel her mouth drop open. Magnus was one of the proudest, most stubborn men she knew. Until this moment, she would have sworn he wouldn’t have asked for help if he was drowning and she was standing by with a boat, a life buoy, and three friendly dolphins. Whatever the problem was, it must be bad.

  Chapter Two

  “What do you need from me?” Donata asked, sinking back into her chair. Not that she was going to do it, whatever it was. Not after he’d disappeared without a word and then shown up just to ask for a favor. Still, she was curious. Maybe intrigued, even.

  The big man leaned forward, his expression open and earnest, although she could swear she saw a hint of laughter lurking in the depths of his gaze.

  “You know how you’ve always been curious about my family?” he said. “How would you like to come meet them?”

  What the hell?

  “Um, why would you want me to do that?” she asked. “And what does this have to do with the trouble you’re in? Is your mother trying to marry you off to some nice Ulfhednar girl with strong thighs again?”

  It had been one of his major complaints, back when they’d spent time together, that on the rare occasions his mother had been able to sneak out to a pay phone to call him, she’d spent most of their precious conversation trying to convince him to come home and make grandchildren for her. Ulfhednar were very big on children.

  “Always,” Magnus said with an exaggerated sigh. “But that’s not why I want you to come back with me.” He looked longingly at the fridge, and Ricky jumped up to get another beer. Glancing at Donata’s scowling face, he brought two.

  “I’m listening,” Donata said. “I’m not going home with you, but I’m listening.”

  “Well, as long as you’re keeping an open mind,” Magnus said, laughter in his voice. “I assume you remember the basics about the Ulfhednar.”

  “I went to Witch School,” she said. “And I went out with you for longer than any sensible woman should have. So yes, I know that the Ulfhednar are strong, aggressive, and live in small, insular communities, usually in isolated rural areas where they can best avoid interference from Humans. And the Alliance Council that rules all the Paranormal races.”

  “Few Ulfhednar have the genetic makeup and the will to become Ulf, a kind of super-warrior, if you will. Usually about one in a hundred, although my town has an unusually large number,” he said, a hint of pride in his deep voice.

  Donata thought about that. “Doesn’t that number stay pretty much the same from year to year?” she asked.

  Magnus shook his head. “Not at all. There is a lot of attrition among the existing Ulf. They tend to work the high-risk jobs: everything from Navy SEALs to firemen to SWAT teams. It’s in their blood to fight hard, and their skill sets are usually pretty specialized.”

  “Alpha males,” Donata said, rolling her eyes and trying not to envision Magnus going out on some kind of mission and never coming home.

  “And alpha females,” he said with a chuckle. “Ulfhednar women occasionally make it through the Ulf training too. Not as many, because it is incredibly physically demanding, but there are no rules against it, and those who make it through are as fierce as any man. Fiercer, maybe. There are two women in the group training with me right now. At least one of them kicks my ass on a regular basis.” He grinned, clearly not at all bothered by the idea. That was one of the things Donata had loved about him, back in the day. He’d always treated her as an equal.

  Donata took a swallow of her beer. “Fascinating as this lesson on Ulfhednar society is, I don’t understand what it has to do with me. Unless you were hoping I would come to whatever the closing ceremonies are and hold up scorecards while wearing a tiny skirt and high heels.”

  Magnus waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively in a way that sent shivers down her spine. He’d always been able to have that effect on her with the smallest of gestures. “Much as I’d love to see that, I’ve actually come to you for your professional expertise.”

  “You want me to arrest someone?” she said.

  “Not exactly.” Magnus set his empty bottle down on the coaster Ricky had produced seemingly out of thin air. The surface of the table was beyond saving, but Kobolds liked a neat house.

  “We have an issue that is more in line with your other area of expertise.” He took a deep breath. “We’re being visited by our beloved dead. And it isn’t a pleasant experience.”

  Donata blinked. “You’re being haunted?” So he wasn’t so much interested in the cop part of her Witch-cop talents as he was the Witch part. Interesting. “Why are they haunting you?”

  Magnus sighed and sat up straight. She could see that he was struggling to talk about what the Ulfhednar considered private matters. Even when they’d been going out, he hadn’t been all that forthcoming about his people.

  “We don’t really know. Our dead normally stay properly dead; they should be off happily carousing in Valhalla. Instead, one by one, most of those who are involved in the Ulf training process have seen manifestations of someone they lost. But the ghosts don’t speak, or if they do, none of us can hear them. It’s very disturbing.”

  “I can see why it would be,” Donata said. She talked to ghosts all the time in the course of her job at the precinct. As the resident Witness Retrieval Specialist (more commonly referred to as a “Ghost Yanker”), she used her ability to speak to the dead to elicit testimony from the deceased victims of violent crimes. But that was different from having people you were close to showing up from beyond the veil.

  Something occurred to her. “Wait, did you say these ghosts are only appearing to the prospective Ulf candidates? That’s kind of odd, isn’t it?”

  “Odd. Sus
picious. Freaky. Pick a term, they all apply.” Magnus rubbed one large hand over his face. “Not to mention dangerous. They only appear at night, dawn or dusk, but some of the training exercises take place after dark, usually deep in the woods. One of the guys nearly died when his brother suddenly appeared on a narrow ledge of the mountain he was climbing. Fell about thirty feet into some bushes, broke a bunch of bones, and cracked his head. Only his Ulfhednar healing abilities enabled him to survive it at all, and he’s out of the running until next year.”

  “You climb mountains in the dark?” Donata said. “Never mind. Of course you do.” She shook her head. And she’d thought the police academy was tough. “Have you tried asking Odin or one of the lesser gods for help?”

  Magnus bit his lip. “That’s part of the problem. Odin has stopped responding to any of our prayers or offerings, and he hasn’t appeared at the ceremonies held in his honor for the last three months.”

  A grim look shadowed his normally cheerful expression. “This has never happened before. The people are worried that someone in Gimle—that’s our town—has done something to offend the gods and our ancestors. The residents are blaming each other and fights are breaking out, some of them dangerously violent, due to our natures. A town full of angry Shapeshifters isn’t a good thing, ’Nata. And the unsettled atmosphere is disturbing the concentration of those trying to finish their Ulf training and pass the tests that mark each level of achievement. That’s why I convinced our elders to let me come ask you for help.”

  Donata considered her response. Half of her wanted to send him away. After all, he’d disappeared on her for months without any contact at all, and her heart and spirit were still feeling pretty battered from recent events. She really didn’t want to get involved in a complicated matter in a culture she didn’t understand with a man who had always been too much of a temptation. Hell, she mostly just wanted to hide in her apartment with her cat and her Kobold and avoid anything else that might cause her more pain.