WARNING: The Events of Magic Mishaps take place after Collateral Damage and right before book 3...
Stupid. Idiotic. Moronic.
That’s exactly how Ricky felt as he remained seated cross-legged on the floor of his sitting room. Having cleared away the coffee table, rolling up the rug, and then drawing a pentagram with white chalk on his solid oak floors, Ricky happened to be at a loss for what to do next. He’d listened to his buddy, turned out all the lights, lit some candles that made him feel slightly uncomfortable and then just sat there like a lemon.
“How did I let myself be talked into this?” he grumbled to himself. His power had been fluctuating as of late, the anger and terror he’d felt when Melanie had been kidnapped simmered under the surface. Ricky found it hard to suppress the rage and it caused his newer powers to lash out. The blue flickering of lightningesque fire constantly itched below his fingertips. He knew he needed to get a handle on his anger, but he felt like a goddamn idiot sitting in the dark trying to meditate.
When Ricky explained to one of the few friends he had still within the covens, Draven told him that in order to control his power, he must first learn to control his mind. Ricky, always quick with a joke, asked Draven when he turned all grand master Yoda on him. Draven simply shirked off his joke and asked Ricky when his new powers had started to display; what triggered them?
His throat dry, Ricky replayed the story of Melanie’s abduction, her newfound vampirism, and her visceral reaction to him in the station. His friend had listened intently, telling Ricky that his reluctance to use his magics, and then his sudden pull on suppressed power, had created a vacuum inside him where the magic wanted to take control and not be withheld once more.
“You unleashed the dragon, old friend, and now it does not wish to be chained again. You can only show it who its master is. Or the magic will consume you.”
And that’s how he ended up drawing a pentagram on his floor and trying to free his mind and shit.
He wasn’t having much luck.
Determined, on a rare night off, Ricky scowled, closed his eyes. As soon as he did, the images of Melanie hanging from the ceiling, her torso slashed to bits, her life so close to death and he felt the magic shoot from his fingers.
Gritting his teeth, he opened his eyes, and focused on the flames darting from his fingers and curling along his palm. Commanding the fascinating flames to stay in his palm, sweat began to bead on his forehead, concentration wavering. His mother’s words popped into his head then, “If you do not learn to use your magic, then it will use you, Richard. Those with strong connections to their magic must embrace it; or it will destroy them.”
And of course, thinking of his mam shattered his concentration and the flames jumped from his palms, lashing out angrily at his furniture. The coffee table burnt to cinders in minutes, giving Ricky no time to try and douse the flames.
Yanking back the magic, he grunted at the sudden punch of pain as the flicker of blue dulled, the heat travelling up his veins and thrumming against his brain. But damn, Ricky was stubborn, using every ounce of his strength to reel in his magic. Draven warned him that this might happen, that Ricky and the force in him needed to come to a mutual understanding, learn to live in perfect sync with one another. Or the magic would consume him.
“I have never known a warlock with such a natural ease of magic, but refuses to acknowledge it.”
“Well,” Ricky mused to his friend. “If you’d grown up in my house then you’d understand my need to be normal.”
“But you are not normal. If you do not learn how to be one with the magic, then it will burn you from the inside out.”
Relentless in his quest to master his new skills, Ricky blew out a breath, rolled his shoulders, and prayed that he didn’t end up burning down his place. He loosened the reins on the magic and let it slowly simmer from inside to his palms. After a few minutes of calming himself, and forming a ball with the flames, Ricky couldn’t help but think, What now?
He clapped his hands together and the flames vanished. Grinning stupidly from ear to ear, Ricky gave himself a mental pat on the back. He imagined what it would have to have had control over his power when they’d gone after Stephen Donnelly, imagined what it would’ve been like to unleash the fire and burnt him to ashes.
His temper flared again as did his power. Flames licked at his couch without him even having to summon them to his hands. Ricky began to wonder if he could actually control the magic inside him. Sure enough, the couch brunt to ashes just like his coffee table.
Not sure the insurance will cover this. Like what are you gonna say. Hi there, I set my couch on fire with my magical powers. Can you send me a check please? Of course, Mr Mister Moore, but your policy only covers if the entire house burnt down, not individual items.
Instead of thinking about Donnelly, he tried to focus his energy on nicer things, more pleasant. Of course, his mind reverting to thinking of Melanie, his smart, pretty, sassy, tech girl turned vampire. Closing his eyes, he remembered the feel of her as she clung to him in the station, growling ‘Mine’. Yeah, he liked the sound of that and so did his body as it reacted to the sexy little imagines playing in his mind.
The flames engulfed him, racing through his body, burning his clothes and singing his hair before he yelled, grabbing a hold of the magic and dousing it. The snap of it going back hurt like a bitch, and Ricky scrambled to his feet swaying slightly.
Stomach rebelling against the use of his powers, Ricky managed to swallow back the bile that weaved its way up his throat before he up chucked all over the floor. glancing down he realized he was naked as the day he was born. His blood still ran a little hot under his skin, the lightening flames still flickering every now and then.
So, that was a no to thinking about Melanie. He wiped away some of the chalk outline of the pentagram with his now bare feet. Glancing around Ricky heard the faint sound of his phone vibrating. Spying his leather jacket hanging off the back of a chair, Ricky dug into the pockets. He saw Sarge’s name on the caller Id and answered.
“Hey sweetheart. What’s up?”
“I swear you get more annoying as time passes.” The bear growled down the phone.
“Or else you just love hearing my terms of endearment and that’s why you always ring me first when we gotta case. We got a case?”
“Yes,” Sarge sighed. “Get your ass over here right now so I can go deal with some political B.S. I’ll text the address.”
His boss hung up, a text coming through a few seconds later. Ricky busied himself with getting dressed, and making sure that no sparks of fire remained on the furniture. Once he was dressed, the warlock grabbed his keys, ready to hurry out the front door, when he passed by the mirror and gasped.
His long silky black hair had lost more than a few inches, the length clipped to just under the juncture of his chin. He looked like a boyband reject!
Tugging on his jacket and storming out the door, he tried to ignore the sting of losing his hair as well as the smell of fire on his person. Ricky also reminding himself to have a word with Draven, curse him out.
But then again, the magic mishap was his fault and his fault alone.
And he would master it before he BBQ’d something other than his couch.
That’s exactly how Ricky felt as he remained seated cross-legged on the floor of his sitting room. Having cleared away the coffee table, rolling up the rug, and then drawing a pentagram with white chalk on his solid oak floors, Ricky happened to be at a loss for what to do next. He’d listened to his buddy, turned out all the lights, lit some candles that made him feel slightly uncomfortable and then just sat there like a lemon.
“How did I let myself be talked into this?” he grumbled to himself. His power had been fluctuating as of late, the anger and terror he’d felt when Melanie had been kidnapped simmered under the surface. Ricky found it hard to suppress the rage and it caused his newer powers to lash out. The blue flickering of lightningesque fire constantly itched below his fingertips. He knew he needed to get a handle on his anger, but he felt like a goddamn idiot sitting in the dark trying to meditate.
When Ricky explained to one of the few friends he had still within the covens, Draven told him that in order to control his power, he must first learn to control his mind. Ricky, always quick with a joke, asked Draven when he turned all grand master Yoda on him. Draven simply shirked off his joke and asked Ricky when his new powers had started to display; what triggered them?
His throat dry, Ricky replayed the story of Melanie’s abduction, her newfound vampirism, and her visceral reaction to him in the station. His friend had listened intently, telling Ricky that his reluctance to use his magics, and then his sudden pull on suppressed power, had created a vacuum inside him where the magic wanted to take control and not be withheld once more.
“You unleashed the dragon, old friend, and now it does not wish to be chained again. You can only show it who its master is. Or the magic will consume you.”
And that’s how he ended up drawing a pentagram on his floor and trying to free his mind and shit.
He wasn’t having much luck.
Determined, on a rare night off, Ricky scowled, closed his eyes. As soon as he did, the images of Melanie hanging from the ceiling, her torso slashed to bits, her life so close to death and he felt the magic shoot from his fingers.
Gritting his teeth, he opened his eyes, and focused on the flames darting from his fingers and curling along his palm. Commanding the fascinating flames to stay in his palm, sweat began to bead on his forehead, concentration wavering. His mother’s words popped into his head then, “If you do not learn to use your magic, then it will use you, Richard. Those with strong connections to their magic must embrace it; or it will destroy them.”
And of course, thinking of his mam shattered his concentration and the flames jumped from his palms, lashing out angrily at his furniture. The coffee table burnt to cinders in minutes, giving Ricky no time to try and douse the flames.
Yanking back the magic, he grunted at the sudden punch of pain as the flicker of blue dulled, the heat travelling up his veins and thrumming against his brain. But damn, Ricky was stubborn, using every ounce of his strength to reel in his magic. Draven warned him that this might happen, that Ricky and the force in him needed to come to a mutual understanding, learn to live in perfect sync with one another. Or the magic would consume him.
“I have never known a warlock with such a natural ease of magic, but refuses to acknowledge it.”
“Well,” Ricky mused to his friend. “If you’d grown up in my house then you’d understand my need to be normal.”
“But you are not normal. If you do not learn how to be one with the magic, then it will burn you from the inside out.”
Relentless in his quest to master his new skills, Ricky blew out a breath, rolled his shoulders, and prayed that he didn’t end up burning down his place. He loosened the reins on the magic and let it slowly simmer from inside to his palms. After a few minutes of calming himself, and forming a ball with the flames, Ricky couldn’t help but think, What now?
He clapped his hands together and the flames vanished. Grinning stupidly from ear to ear, Ricky gave himself a mental pat on the back. He imagined what it would have to have had control over his power when they’d gone after Stephen Donnelly, imagined what it would’ve been like to unleash the fire and burnt him to ashes.
His temper flared again as did his power. Flames licked at his couch without him even having to summon them to his hands. Ricky began to wonder if he could actually control the magic inside him. Sure enough, the couch brunt to ashes just like his coffee table.
Not sure the insurance will cover this. Like what are you gonna say. Hi there, I set my couch on fire with my magical powers. Can you send me a check please? Of course, Mr Mister Moore, but your policy only covers if the entire house burnt down, not individual items.
Instead of thinking about Donnelly, he tried to focus his energy on nicer things, more pleasant. Of course, his mind reverting to thinking of Melanie, his smart, pretty, sassy, tech girl turned vampire. Closing his eyes, he remembered the feel of her as she clung to him in the station, growling ‘Mine’. Yeah, he liked the sound of that and so did his body as it reacted to the sexy little imagines playing in his mind.
The flames engulfed him, racing through his body, burning his clothes and singing his hair before he yelled, grabbing a hold of the magic and dousing it. The snap of it going back hurt like a bitch, and Ricky scrambled to his feet swaying slightly.
Stomach rebelling against the use of his powers, Ricky managed to swallow back the bile that weaved its way up his throat before he up chucked all over the floor. glancing down he realized he was naked as the day he was born. His blood still ran a little hot under his skin, the lightening flames still flickering every now and then.
So, that was a no to thinking about Melanie. He wiped away some of the chalk outline of the pentagram with his now bare feet. Glancing around Ricky heard the faint sound of his phone vibrating. Spying his leather jacket hanging off the back of a chair, Ricky dug into the pockets. He saw Sarge’s name on the caller Id and answered.
“Hey sweetheart. What’s up?”
“I swear you get more annoying as time passes.” The bear growled down the phone.
“Or else you just love hearing my terms of endearment and that’s why you always ring me first when we gotta case. We got a case?”
“Yes,” Sarge sighed. “Get your ass over here right now so I can go deal with some political B.S. I’ll text the address.”
His boss hung up, a text coming through a few seconds later. Ricky busied himself with getting dressed, and making sure that no sparks of fire remained on the furniture. Once he was dressed, the warlock grabbed his keys, ready to hurry out the front door, when he passed by the mirror and gasped.
His long silky black hair had lost more than a few inches, the length clipped to just under the juncture of his chin. He looked like a boyband reject!
Tugging on his jacket and storming out the door, he tried to ignore the sting of losing his hair as well as the smell of fire on his person. Ricky also reminding himself to have a word with Draven, curse him out.
But then again, the magic mishap was his fault and his fault alone.
And he would master it before he BBQ’d something other than his couch.