Of Magic and Lies

  OF MAGIC and LIES

  NOLA Wars I - RESURGENCE: Book 1

  Caia Daniels

  April Canavan

  Contents

  Of Magic & Lies

  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

  About the Authors

  Of Magic & Lies © 2019 Caia Daniels and April Canavan

  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.

  Created with Vellum

  Of Magic & Lies

  NOLA Wars I - RESURGENCE: Book 1

  Three men want her. Two nations need her. One wrong decision could destroy them all.

  Adrien Falcão is torn between the magical nation she was born to rule and a war-ravaged country she has chosen to protect. When NOLA grows restless without a queen, Adrien’s sister performs a precarious ritual to claim the throne that Adrien refused, ultimately forcing the duty-bound witch to return home.

  Demon prince Eitan St. James has conspired for five years to bring his witch home, and now that Adrien’s back, he won’t give her up without a fight. Even if it means taking on Declan Gael, a fae incubus that catches Adrien’s eye, and her curious human boyfriend, Pierce Cole.

  When three men vie for her affection, Adrien becomes entangled in a web of deception. With an impending catastrophe at her heels, the clock is ticking to save her sister from making a mistake that could cost them everything.

  Lying lovers and a Voodoo Queen reluctant to reign can only lead to one thing: A supernatural disaster.

  Of Magic and Lies is book 1 of the Reverse Harem Urban Fantasy Series, NOLA Wars I – RESURGENCE.

  Chapter One

  ~ADRIEN~

  Obliterating bad guys gave me a magical high that lasted for days, although leave it to dead sisters to ruin that buzz. Whoever thought death was the end had never met Tris.

  “You cannot escape your fate, Adrienna.”

  Tris gave new meaning to the term, ‘ghosted.’ I’d been hearing her warnings incessantly. Her haunting voice had been following me around for nearly a week now, which was a bad omen for an ancestral witch trying to avoid her magical legacy.

  “Orisha.” Tris corrected.

  The word tumbled around in my head. Orisha. It was an ominous revelation I dreaded because it meant my five-year reprieve from the supernatural world was coming to an end.

  As much as I wanted to stay out of New Orleans Witch politics, I knew that ship was sailing from port now that the ancestors had assigned an Orisha. Basically, Tris is responsible for ensuring I fulfill my magical destiny. Sometimes an Orisha is a dead relative, like mine, and it’s a double-edged sword because she won’t find peace in her afterlife if I don’t fulfill my purpose here.

  Kind of unfair to us both since I had no intention of becoming the Voodoo queen of New Orleans.

  “Not going back. Can’t you just let it go?” I knew talking to Tris sounded crazy, but I had nothing better to do while sitting in the Cobra waiting for the human traffickers to show.

  Peering into a pair of binoculars, I looked out into the dark alley. The west side of Chicago was mildly preserved, one of only a handful of neighborhoods not condemned after the last civil war tore the United States into three independent countries. There was one for the pious nut jobs, mostly responsible for these disgusting human trafficking busts, one for the normals who just wanted to live their lives in peace, and one that unbeknownst to the humans, was led by supernatural beings not of this realm.

  “Go home, sis. Duty calls.”

  “Fuck duty. You’re dead. Go haunt someone else.”

  As much as I wanted to stay neutral, I couldn’t deny that another storm was brewing. And I didn’t have to be an ancestral witch to feel the energy darkening all around me. Between the buildings crumbling around us, the cracks in the pavement threatening to give way beneath them, most of the city had been abandoned. The darkened sky was just the icing on the cake.

  Tonight’s weather was particularly foreboding. Felt like a merciless omen hunting me. Either storms or droughts plagued the earth now. Effects of both too many wars and too much environmental disregard that had set the world on an irreversible path toward destruction.

  Ironically, it was the supernaturals at the forefront of environmental intervention. Having left their own realm in ruins from the same path as the humans here, saving this planet was now front and center on their agenda. Unfortunately, their methods left a lot to be desired if you asked me, and any other hybrid-supernatural being.

  As I sat in my car, the sky was dark and ominous, threatening to shed its tears on the city I was intent on saving. And while I knew I couldn’t save the planet, I could at least save some lives.

  Chicago was one of the few remnants of what used to be America. I rather liked the city I’d called home for the past five years. But humans had a way of destroying what they’d created. Something I’d sadly discovered after escaping New Orleans following the brutal deaths of both my mother and sister. I left the magical part of my life behind me then and never looked back.

  Well, sort of.

  A raindrop landed on my windshield as I peered out, arms resting on the steering wheel. It was winter, the first week of January, yet there was no longer snow. Not even in Chicago which was once known for its brutal winters. Now, there was only rain. Lots of it. I watched with scrutiny as a single raindrop slid down the windshield. The sky was dark as nightfall took over the deserted city streets.

  One good part about waiting was being in my car, the only thing I held on to from my past. It was a gift from my father whom I sent packing for his own good. Not being of the magical variety, he left the country after the last war tore it apart. Fortunately, Dad found happiness in Canada after it merged with the states that now encompassed what I called the normals. New America now consisted of Canada, Chicago, New York, most Northeastern states, the Pacific Northwest and California.

  After waiting for nearly an hour, I was getting bored. I blamed the adrenaline junkie tendencies of being a witch. These stake outs could sometimes take hours. My contact was a federal agent I knew as A.J. She would give me times and locations, and I’d wait. When the missions went down, she sent people to take the girls to safety while I eliminated the problem.

  A dormant witch had to expend energy somehow, may as well be eradicating baddies.

  I’d gotten my hair colored earlier that afternoon, a necessary evil to hide the premature silver streaks that gave away my pos
ition in NOLA Witch circles. A position I had no interest in accepting.

  Hands on the steering wheel, I watched out my windshield as the rain pelted the glass. Storms never lasted too long, but hopefully this one would last long enough to wash away the mess I was about to leave behind.

  My job as a DOI agent had much different duties since the last war. Or so my human boyfriend, Agent Pierce Cole told me. The war was before my time, but a story still playing out in front of me. Tonight, however, I was on a different mission altogether. Not working for the Department of Investigation secretly hiding the supernatural affairs gone wrong in New America, tonight’s focus was on the human ones.

  Fucking Zions.

  Those hypocrites preached the sanctity of life but had no problem destroying children’s lives to further their cause. Just another unfortunate side effect of their dream country that basically enslaved women and children, forcing them to bend to the will of men who wouldn’t think twice about raping, torturing, or killing them in the name of their religious freedom.

  As you may have suspected, most of the mothers and even many fathers got their kids out because those who were left became nothing more than breeders and slaves. Which explained the ever-rising number of human trafficking busts, too many for what was left of New America to actually do anything about.

  Thus why I seemed to be working twenty-four, seven since I arrived.

  Saving children became my personal mission after finding A.J., a woman who, after getting lost in the system, managed to escape Zion herself.

  We’d never actually met, just spoke on the phone. A.J. wasn’t the sharing type. I couldn’t blame her considering what I did know of her past. We worked with a small, secretive group, doing our part to rid the country of as much of that shit as we could, doing whatever we could to keep young girls safe and free.

  “Your people need you at home.” Tris cut through my mental ramblings.

  “There are plenty of witches in Nola.” I rolled my eyes and tried to tune Tris out. Out of sight, right? She didn’t even have the decency to show herself.

  “Not Falcão witches. Only you can rule NOLA.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” I grumbled.

  Before the Neimhe created us, witches didn’t even exist. Falcão witches are the originals.

  The first witch line came from my mother’s Falcão bloodline. Created by the Neimhe celestials to fight the same supernaturals they were responsible for bringing to our realm in the first place. But the Falcão witches never asked for that power, and when humans learned of our existence, it instigated more than 200 years of witch burnings. So many witches died due to their blind loyalty to protect the Neimhe, because along with our powers, came fierce loyalty to the celestials that sired us.

  Burning at the stake wasn’t what anybody signed up for, so my ancestors fought for their freedom and by the late 1800s, we were no longer under a supernatural spell to do the Neimhe’s bidding. As reparations, it was decided that witches would be the leading faction of metas, AKA ambassadors of all supernatural beings. As natives to this realm, our magic was a mixture of celestial and elemental.

  Being one of the few pureblood original witches left, it’s also why I was personally expected to lead them now. I’m the eldest living Falcão witch, so by default, I’m next in line to be High Priestess.

  I just don’t want to be.

  There’s a whole sordid history of wars between the metas that once lived in a different world, but that’s a conversation for another day. Today, I just wanted to forget about the whole thing, especially since my sister wouldn’t shut up.

  “I will shut up… when you go home.”

  “You know, most people take a vow of silence when they die.”

  My arguing with my sister was interrupted when my cell started ringing. I was supposed to meet Pierce for dinner a half hour ago, and this was the third time this week I’d skipped out. Shit.

  “Hey, babe. Sorry. I know I’m late.”

  “Been calling you for an hour now. Everything okay?” Pierce’s low voice echoed.

  “Yeah, I’m heading out soon.” Lie.

  “We missed our reservation. Just come by my place, we’ll get takeout.”

  “The ancestors need you now, Adrienna. You cannot ignore this.”

  I let out a sigh, irritated by my Orisha’s nonstop prodding. “Girl’s gotta eat, Tris. Lay off.”

  “Who’s Tris?” Concern rung in Pierce’s tone.

  “Sorry, ignore me.” I fake laughed. So far, I’d kept my witch heritage a secret and only told Pierce what he needed to know, which wasn’t much.

  Rumors of witches were always floating around the human world, especially thanks to murders like the ones I was about to commit. Of course, I didn’t consider my contributions to humanity murder, but rather, justice. And maybe a little revenge. So, although fictional tales of demons, angels, vampires and werewolves spun endlessly, pop culture had nothing on the truth.

  “You’ve been distant for days,” Pierce’s voice broke through my musing. “It’s getting hard to ignore.”

  “It’s just… some stuff going on that I don’t want to drag you into. It’s probably best for me to go home and sleep it off. I’ll see you at work tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “G’night.” I pressed end, tossed my cell on the grey leather seat beside me, then laid my head on my arms for a second. Sucking in a breath, I closed my eyes and exhaled.

  “Nia needs you. It’s your destiny.”

  “If I go back, there’s a chance I’ll start a war. I won’t be held responsible for that.”

  “The war has already begun. Staying neutral will only make things worse.”

  “Stop pretending this is about me.” Lifting my head, I peered back through binoculars, anxious for the fun to begin.

  “You’re right, it’s not just about you. It’s also about a celestial demon you still love.”

  Even a reserved allusion to Eitan St. James made my chest ache. I didn’t just walk away from a legacy when I left NOLA, I also walked away from a man I deeply loved.

  “It’s also about innocent humans you live amongst. Innocent witches you’re responsible to protect. That’s not even counting the vampires, werewolves and Fae. Each faction has a part to play. The Witches need you. Don’t turn your back on them.”

  “I can’t get involved, and you know it. That damned prophecy said, ‘A royal line will fade from the light and embrace the darkness within.’ That’s me. Us. Our entire family, or what’s left of it.”

  “So, you will… what? Just leave Nia to fend for herself?”

  “Our sister is fine.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  I’d spent a lot of time in denial, even I knew that. Nia, my younger sister by almost ten years, was anything but fine.

  Since our ancestral power was linear, I took power when Tris died. All the power. My family’s and the other ancestral witches whose powers were hidden safely away inside the mausoleums behind the Basilica in NOLA. In my own head, I believed I could resist the temptation to meddle in dark magic simply by leaving the legacy of lies, betrayal, and destruction that I believed loomed over my childhood home. And it had worked pretty well so far.

  Five years as of Mardi Gras.

  “Much is happening you know nothing of.” Tris intruded on my thoughts. “This is not a choice. You can’t hide from this, no matter how many colors you dye your hair.”

  I glared out the tinted window and pursed my lips.

  “You’ve already been given the throne,” Tris said. “You are sovereign of the Witches, whether you want to be or not. If you don’t believe me, just look in the mirror. You can’t deny what’s staring you in the face.”

  Twisting the rearview mirror, I could barely make out my freshly colored hair in the low light of the streetlamps. There they were, two silver streaks already showing through the purple I used to cover up the evidence of my royal lineage.

  Rage built i
nside me, but thankfully, my cell rang just in time.

  Grinning wickedly, I peered out the binoculars one last time and saw two men leaving the back exit of the salon, dragging six poor girls behind them. I pulled my keys out of the ignition, then got out of my car and locked it before creeping down the alley toward my prey.

  The rain had slowed to a mere drizzle, and the temperature was probably in the low fifties.

  A quick glance behind me shows two huge men, A.J.’s crew, are ready to jump to action. Foiling human trafficking rings was serious business, but damn, it was fun.

  “These Zion fuckers haven’t learned a thing. Have they?” I mumbled.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I held out my hands, drawing in power from the elements around me. The energy building inside me was addictive as wind whipped relentlessly through the broken concrete street, growing stronger as I stalked closer to my prey, not even hiding myself anymore as A.J.’s men followed behind me. Just ten feet from my target, the bastards stopped in their tracks and started shaking in their shoes.

  They felt it too, the energy I was summoning. With the stench of dumpsters surrounding us, I inhaled and grinned in spite of it. Staring fiercely, I used my magic to subdue them, compelling the men to obey, simply with a focused stare. Gotta love magic.

  “Says the witch who doesn’t want to take her throne.”

  “Shut up, Tris.” I growled before glancing at the girls. “Don’t be afraid, we’re here to help.”