THE TRIUMPH OF FELIX by Taylen Carver
Magorian & Jones 2.0
Urban Fantasy Novel
More books by Taylen Carver
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He must choose to save himself, or save the world…
Dr. Michael Jones, director of the old races refugee camp in Spain, is pressured to return to England for his own good. Life in Toledo, with Magorian, the first and only wizard of this century, and the old races who live in an uneasy truce with humans, is not good for him. Besides, the siren Aurelius has clearly abandoned his quest to summon the old gods to avenge himself upon the human race.
When Magorian translates the invocation to summon Agrona, goddess of death and carnage, found on a fifth century Celtic shield, Jones realizes Aurelius hasn’t given up his quest at all. Aurelius is looking for the Triumph of Felix—one of the keys needed to summon Agrona, and is weeks ahead of them.
The race to find the Triumph and keep it out of Aurelius’ hands begins…
The Triumph of Felix is part of the urban fantasy series, Magorian & Jones, by Taylen Carver.
The Magorian & Jones series:
1.0: The Memory of Water
2.0: The Triumph of Felix
3.0: The Shield of Agrona
4.0: The Rivers Ran Red
5.0: The Divine and Deadly
…and more to come.
Urban Fantasy Novel
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Excerpt
EXCERPT FROM THE TRIUMPH OF FELIX
COPYRIGHT © TAYLEN CARVER 2020
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
I moved into the parkade and down to the level where I’d parked the Aston Martin. When I reached the end of the ramp, I saw three youths standing with their heads together close by the boot of the Aston Martin. The three were all human, which was a relief. I didn’t like to confront the old races. It felt disloyal. Yet more and more, the human gangs and street kids were learning that the old races could be useful allies.
I moved toward to the Aston Martin and unlocked it with the key fob. The solid thud of the doors unlocking made the three of them jump. They spun to spot me, already pushing at each other, encouraging each other to run. But they didn’t quite break into a run.
I though I knew why.
They watched me approach the car warily.
“I hope you didn’t try to touch it,” I told them. My Spanish was getting better every day.
They didn’t answer straight away. The taller one standing just in front of them said hesitatently, “I know you.” He frowned. “You’re that doctor guy who works with the freaks.”
I shut down the spurt of irritation the epithet always gave me. “Jones,” I said. “And they’re called the old races.”
“Whatever,” the spokesman replied. “You learn how to do magic from them?”
“No, I learned it from a wizard. You did try to approach the car, then.” I bent and slid the double fist-sized rock out from under the back wheel and hefted it.
“He magicked it!” one of the others whispered.
“I didn’t do this magic,” I assured them. “This is wizard-level stuff.”
“It’s just a freaking rock.” The spokesman sounded braver than he looked.
“Is it?” I moved toward them, holding the rock out.
The other two cringed backward. The spokesman held his ground. I put the rock on my hand and held it out to him. “If it’s just a rock, take it,” I told him.
He frowned, his thick black brows scrunched together. He could see I held the thing and that it weighed about what it should for an unremarkable piece of limestone.
“Don’t touch it, Ricky!” one of the others whispered. “You’ll get warts.”
“You might,” I said, my tone judicious. “Or maybe you’ll get a disease that makes your penis drop off. That’s the problem with wizards. You just don’t know what they might come back at you with.” I hefted the rock. “Take it,” I repeated.
“I couldn’t move it, before,” Ricky said sullenly. “Not even shoving with my boot.” The Aston Martin was a prime target for car thieves. It was exotic, for Spain, and had caught their eye.
“You can see I’m moving the rock just fine.” I bent and put the rock on the oil-stained concrete of the parkade and stepped back out of the way, making myself appear to be less of a threat. “Go ahead.”
Ricky was mildly smarter than the other two. He shook his head.
One of the smaller two stepped around him. “It’s just rock.” He sounded disgusted. Then he kicked it.
Bad mistake.
He’d put effort into the kick, intending to send the rock rolling across the floor. His toe, inside his Nikes, rammed with full weight against the sharp angles of the rock.
The rock didn’t move.
The boy did. He howled and hopped about, trying to reach for his toe and stay away from me at the same time.
The other lad, the one who had warned Ricky about warts, bent and shoved at the rock. It didn’t move, of course. It wouldn’t move for anyone but Magorian or me.
“You should go to the clinic to have your toe looked at,” I told the hopping one. “It’s probably broken.” I’m pretty sure he hadn’t heard me, but Ricky had.
Ricky stared at me with narrowed eyes. “The problem with magic, right?” he said, suddenly sounding a lot older than he appeared to me.
“That’s right.” I bent and picked up the rock once more. “Best not mess with the stuff unless you know what you’re doing.”
Ricky rounded up his crew, shoving the limping boy into moving. “I know you now!” he called back over his shoulder.
“And my car!” I shot back. “Stay away from it in the future. And warn your friends.”
He didn’t answer, but I know he’d heard me.
Satisfied, I moved back to the car, tossed the rock onto the passenger seat and climbed in. The boys were nowhere in sight as I drove out of the parkade but I knew they were watching me leave.
