Read Online Never Again by Michele Bardsley - Free Book Online Page A

capable of much more than merely closing your place of business and bespelling you into leaving.”
    This time when fear flashed in her eyes, Gray knew it was because of him. She stepped back from the counter, her expression uncertain. It was as if she’d realized the puppy she’d been teasing was really a hellhound. He had no doubt she was remembering that he was not only a Dragon but also a wizard who’d literally been to the domain of the Dark One—and returned to tell the tale.
    “You wouldn’t disappear me,” she said, her voice thin with terror.
    His lips split into a feral grin. “The hell I wouldn’t.” He turned to go, and then he paused and looked over his shoulder. “Just so you know, I’m extending Lucinda Rackmore magical privileges and residency in Nevermore. The next time you see her, I suggest you be polite.”

Chapter 3
     
    “We’re fucked.” The panicked voice echoed through the dimly lit basement as the big man clambered down the stairs, scuffling toward the table filled with magical objects. “We gotta bolt.”
    “No, Lennie.” The black-robed figure reached out and stilled the movements of his friend, who was gathering up the items and stuffing them into his pockets. “We’ll move up the timeline.”
    “Two days!” screeched his companion. “Are you shitstupid? The portal—”
    “Is already starting to open.”
    “It is?” He paused. “We’ll be rich then. Right?”
    “You’ll be showered with gold,” he lied. Oh, there would be wealth galore, but not the kind that could be spent. Magic. He needed it. Craved it. Deserved it. And demon magic was the most powerful. All he had to do was call forth a demon lord and barter for it. Soon, Gray Calhoun would be in hell where he belonged . . . and the Guardian’s magic would belong to him.
    It had taken him five long years to gather the items so carelessly stuffed into his friend’s pockets. His power had been too diluted with mundane blood to use without some sort of amplification. Once he had the magic, he wouldn’t be so gods-be-damned weak. Then he could close the circle. What had been started in his childhood could be finished. When he was strong, stronger than any of them , they would all know the truth, and they would bow before him—no, scrape and beg. He would make a far better Guardian than whiny, pathetic Gray Calhoun.
    “I’m worried.”
    His big, dumb, naive friend was such a nuisance.
    “No need. Everything’s under control.”
    “Miss Ember said—”
    His sigh cut off the statement. “I told you not to listen to Ember’s ramblings.” He patted Lennie on the shoulder. “Is that why you tried to run the witch over?”
    “Thought I could take care of her, you know? We don’t need a Rackmore here messing things up.”
    We don’t need you messing them up, either, he thought. Bringing his old buddy on board had been a mistake born from sentimentality. Had he not learned his lessons about hardening his heart? His friend had been useful, but he feared he would soon be nothing more than hindrance.
    “Put the objects back. I have another errand for you.”
    Reluctantly, the man put back all the items he’d taken, straightening them out in neat rows. “I thought we had everything we needed.”
    “We did.” He looked down at the table, at the power that glowed among the magic-made artifacts. He needed only one more—the key to making them all work. The one that had been taken from him. “You must promise not to hurt the witch. I need her.”
    “For what?”
    His gaze flicked over his friend’s suspicious expression. So many ignorant people believed the Rackmore curse was like the plague—if you touched a witch, you might lose your money, too. They didn’t understand the intricacies of the demon magic, the beauty and precision of the spellwork required to divest thousands of Rackmores of their wealth and keep them from it forever. He appreciated the artistry of the curse, the cruel orchestration