Corrupted Magic is the second book in the Grimoire Society of Dark Acts series. Episode 37 is up on my Patreon—it’s pay-what-you-like—and it’ll go up three days later on Kindle Vella. Here’s an excerpt from this latest episode.
Knox takes his last opportunity to visit Babble. What he finds will change the course of everything.
In my Patreon post, you’ll get exclusive content, including the real handwriting that inspired Grimoire Assassins’s magic book’s handwriting.
What Corrupted Magic is about:
Grimoire Society of Dark Acts’s hard-won defeat of the brutal Harpe brothers should have been a relief… But through a forced double blood-binding, Gertrude disappears right in front of their eyes. The Ruin Rats, a vicious magical street gang, is out for Dark Acts’s blood. Knox calls on the deadly gang from his past for help, but is the physical cost too high to pay? As if that’s not enough, a new corrupt form of magic is throwing the entire magical universe off balance.
Episode 37: Last Chance
As soon as the group disappeared, off to that godforsaken place no magical went except out of desperation, Knox turned to the remaining men. There was every possibility things would spiral out of control once Carmichael returned. He had something he needed to do first.
“I gotta head out. Be back within the hour.” To his men, he said, “Watch the place.” He looked at Luther. “Watch him.”
Luther rolled his eyes. “What harm can I do without magic?”
“Don’t forget, boys, this is the Grimoire Society of Assassins,” Knox continued to his men, ignoring Luther. “Don’t let him talk ya into thinkin’ he’s harmless.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Morton said. “It’s three to one. That should be enough. Speaking of which, excuse me while I retrieve my swords from the basement.” Morton left the room, glancing quickly at Luther on his way out.
“Wouldn’t you like some company?” Finnegan asked Knox.
He hesitated. He wanted to go alone, only because it was a personal task and it meant something to him, but at the same time, perhaps it would be good to have a friend by his side.
“Ya good for a walk?”
“Fine. But the rest of ya just stay put.”
O’Sullivan picked up a small wooden box off a table and opened it, getting ready to spit his tobacco chew.
“What kind of low-life behavior is this?” Luther said. “Go into the kitchen or out back. That’s disgusting.” To nobody, he mumbled, “First he spits on the floor, then he breaks a vase, now he’s got to spit in a box.” He plopped onto an armchair, slumping down in it, and rubbed the blonde stubble on his face. “You have no respect for anything.”
“Got no respect for you, ya buttered bun,” O’Sullivan said.
Luther rubbed between his eyes. “My God, the idiocy.” He sat up straight and removed his hand from his face, pointing a finger at O’Sullivan. “Don’t insult my intelligence when you’re the one—”
“Play nice, Luther,” Knox interrupted him. “Ya don’t have to like ’em, but don’t forget how ya hid behind ’em when Fenn was here. They’re protectin’ ya just as much as they’re keepin’ ya in place.” To Finnegan, he said, “Let’s go.”
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© Christie Stratos 2023