Omega Marked: A Romantic Fantasy Comedy

By Nathan Squiers and Rebecca Hamilton

She’ll need magical help to do the right thing—if she can remember what that is.

When Ana walked into the Ceremony Hall, she expected to be named the next leader of her people—even if she didn’t want the job.

She didn’t expect to end the day carrying the mark of an evil power that whispers dark thoughts of death and destruction to her at every moment. And she certainly never thought she’d be banished from the Sybii, her people.

Now, if she wants to overcome the dark magic she carries, she’ll need the help of a young mage who can banish curses and the sibyl boy who’s loved her for years.

If only they can keep from destroying this world—and others—in the process.

Scroll Up and One Click to start this dark but playful series today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evershade Publishing
• Release date: Feb 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781949112061

Nathan Squiers

New York Times bestselling author Rebecca Hamilton writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance for Harlequin, Baste Lübbe, and Evershade. A book addict, registered bone marrow donor, and indian food enthusiast, she often takes to fictional worlds to see what perilous situations her characters will find themselves in next. Represented by Rossano Trentin of TZLA, Rebecca has been published internationally, in three languages: English, German, and Hungarian.  You can follow her on twitter @InkMuse

Book preview

process.

Prologue

Not here, Alexis whimpered as she vaulted over the hood of an incoming SUV, throwing a little too much magic into the push-off and cringing as the metal dented beneath her palm.

Oops. Sorry, she muttered, more to herself than to the driver, who threw the vehicle into park and yelled angrily after her.

She was already gone, though.

Though an accident, the magic-propelled leap over the hood was enough to carry her over two more lanes’ worth of traffic. The spectacle, if anybody cared to appreciate it, of the enchanting brunette—layers upon layers of long, multi-colored material that billowed and flowed behind her like an exotic bird’s feathers in flight—was short lived, however, and the fourth-and-final lane of the busy city street came up to meet her.

More sensing than seeing the approaching car, Alexis’ magic began to react again. Alexis prayed this time would be less destructive.

Her prayers went unanswered.

The roof of the sedan crumpled beneath the force of her magical barrier, angering yet another driver. The awed onlookers fumbled with their cell phones, seemingly eager to record footage for the inevitable police reports.

She uttered another meek sorry. Were it not for the figure already weaving his way through traffic like a snake through a sugarcane field, she would have liked to stop and offer more. Though she didn’t have much to offer, she was certain the magic—if it would simply behave—might make things right. But if roads were paved with good intentions, then Alexis’ own personal route was likely condemned to be as angry and dented and congested as the street she was already putting far, far behind her.

Not here. The words heaved out more as labored breaths than actual speech. Not here. Not here, not now.

Believe it, witch, her pursuer called after her, his words seeming to fall on deaf ears except her own. This ends here and now.

Down the alley, she instructed herself. Mind the homeless man sleeping behind the trash cans—hide him from the others to keep him safe—and climb the dumpster to—

No. Alexis nearly toppled as the dumpster she was about to jump onto vanished from existence.

Still carried by the momentum of her plans, she watched as the chain link fence that divided the two sides of the alley grew closer. Growling at her situation, she repeated No,—the word sounding every bit as much like a curse as it was—and watched with a rising sense of satisfaction as the chain and padlock holding the gated portion of the fence began to melt.

Careful to avoid stepping through the still-molten steel at her feet, Alexis let her body hit the unforgiving surface with the full force of her would-be fall, then slammed through to the other side.

Don’t notice the homeless man. Please—

A barely conscious life force snuffed out of existence behind her.

Bastards, she hissed, and the magic started to respond. No, she whispered to it. Not like that. I won’t do it like that.

I admire your nobility. The voice was closer now, calmer. But far more noble have fallen victim to the power, and you know full-well we can’t allow—

"Leave me alone," Alexis cried as she waved her left arm back, swatting toward the voice as though it would be as simple to shoo the source away as a common housefly.

A startled grunt and a pained whisper of you’re only delaying the inevitable sounded behind her, the words growing distant as the man was pushed back into the fence.

Not dead.

The words sounded in the witch’s head twice—once as her own, satisfied and relieved, and once as the power’s.

Sprinting out through the mouth of the alley and into the hustle and bustle of the next street, Alexis worked to ignore several people as they cried out at their evening being interrupted by the frantic, wide-eyed woman.

The sorrys and not heres had begun to bleed together as she continued to whisper to herself, and one older woman seemed shocked (and offended) as the words not…sorry were heard instead.

No point in trying to correct herself.

No time to even bother.

Witch.

Alexis felt her spine go ramrod straight as the call, far more demanding and enraged than before, hit her with the same impact as the car she’d left dented in the previous street. She didn’t bother trying to vault the incoming traffic this time. The power was every bit as eager—as desperate—and, though she hated to admit it, it was faster and more reliable than trying to be polite.

Two lanes of busy traffic came to a screeching halt. Not a single driver knew why. Nor did they know why their cars suddenly shifted into ‘Reverse’ and shot back far enough to open a path for the bird-like woman.

A few paces behind, her sugarcane snake of a pursuer ran across the street.

Screw it, Alexis growled, already giving in to the power and focusing its energies. "I’ve already gone this far, right?"

The man, likely catching sight of her running headlong toward the brick wall of Starbucks in front of them, shouted Don’t do it, witch.

But he was too late.

Alexis, barely hearing the last half of witch passed through the door she’d created and emerged several blocks back.

Hope you hit that wall like the coyote chasing the roadrunner, you jerk, she said in a huff, ignoring a stunned onlooker who was probably still trying to make sense of where she’d come from.

Though she would have sooner emerged somewhere else entirely—Fiji sure sounded nice—the power could only take her somewhere she’d been recently—somewhere still fresh in her mind. And, in many ways, somewhere that still held some memory of her, as well.

But the city and its streets weren’t what held the memory of where she’d been, and there were, as it turned out, more snakes in the sugarcane field than Alexis could have ever imagined.

There, one called, and Alexis felt a swell of energy as the predators caught sight of their prey.

Get her, another responded, drawing closer.

Do they all have the same voice? Alexis asked herself as she swallowed her fear and took off in the opposite direction. Who in the blazes are these—

Oh hell, she said aloud, interrupting her own thoughts as a third man cut off her path a few paces ahead.

Traffic to the left, and to the right…

The power had the door of the small café out of her way in the blink of an eye. It hadn’t opened the door for her or even torn it out of the frame. The door had simply ceased to exist. In much the same way the power was pushing Alexis to make them stop existing.

No no no no no, she echoed to herself, unsure whether she was responding to the power’s influences or her situation.

And then the snakes were upon her.

Someone’s feet swept out beneath her. Alexis sailed a short distance before crashing down on a small, wooden table and tumbling over. Pain engulfed her as she hit the floor, one of her skirts tangled in a chair that was likely faded and dinged-up long before that moment.

A flash of silver caught her attention and pulled her back to the moment in time for her to roll free of a twisted, angry-looking dagger as it came down where her leg had been. The table erupted into splinters.

Whimpering, she yanked her tangled outfit free and used the power to propel herself to her feet. Another man was waiting behind her to kick her back down. More daggers flashed their furious silver streaks as they cut through the darkness, whispering their thirst as Alexis narrowly evaded them. For every blade that didn’t find its mark, however, a foot or a fist did. And this, along with being held back for so long, fueled the power.

It was soon too much for Alexis to handle—juggling the dark demands of the magic within her while also fighting to stay alive.

Then the power struck.

In a flash of sickly green light, three of the men seized up—the choked potentials for screams caged within their locked jaws—and, like the café’s door, they were suddenly gone.

And there it is, whispered the voice, sounding as satisfied as the power felt within Alexis.

Then a dagger found its mark.

Alexis, trembling around the explosion of pain and cold that instantly enveloped her, struggled to stay on her feet as she turned to face her killer.

Somehow she wasn’t surprised to see the man who’d been chasing her all along.

It’s not…going to end…with me, she coughed out, a hot moisture trickling past her lips and down her chin. It…it’s not.

The man moved his arms to her waist, holding her as a lover might, to keep her standing in front of him as he retrieved his dagger from her back.

Of course it won’t, he whispered into her ear.

Then he put the dagger back.

Shall we begin scouting for the new carrier, she heard one of the other men ask.

No need, the first answered, still looking down at her and absently wiping his dagger clean with a stolen café napkin. I already have my suspicions as to who it will choose. He paused to inspect his dagger and, pleased with what he saw, slid it back into concealment at his side before turning away. Let’s go.

As Alexis’ vision blurred with her impending death, she strained to follow her hunters’ movements. Death, she was finding, was not unlike that night—not unlike the life she’d had ever since the Magic found her.

As Alexis felt her life drain away, the power gave what she interpreted as a sigh before it, much like her spirit, was gone from her body.

In some ways, they would both pass on to their next life.

In every way, they were both trapped.

Chapter 1

Trapped.

For someone who travelled as much as Ana, the feeling of entrapment never seemed to leave. Perhaps it was because, as they said, wherever you go, there you are. And Ana only ever went where the rest of her Sybii camp told her to go.

It had nothing to do with being free to wander, either. It had to do with escaping the persecution of their entire race. Ana resented that her group, in order to survive after doing so, now spent their days doing the very things they’d wrongfully been accused of doing in the past.

Truth was, they were capable of so much more, and Ana wanted that more than anything. Instead, she’d have this life—if you could even call it that. A life as a sibyl, one of the Sybii people—or, as some called them more simply, fortune tellers. But that wasn’t what she really was.

Ana rolled her eyes—another of many eye movements to add to this morning’s collection: eyes wide at the time upon awakening, narrowed at the realization of what was upon her, clenched against the awareness of what this meant, and—all throughout—teary from being wrenched open against their owner’s wishes.

But the stinging of her eyes unsettling or not, it was a distraction from the reason she had been awakened in the first place, and that made it a blessing, right?

Ana sighed. Truth was, she was late enough as it was, so she could hardly be upset with the bird’s cries for waking her. And while she may have resented every moment of prying herself from bed, it was time to face the real tragedy of getting up this morning. And that wasn’t eyes that stung from lack of sleep—it was the day itself, and what it meant and would possibly bring for her.

Still under the foggy swirl of not-enough-sleep, she dressed in her layered skirts and top, slipped on more bracelets than she needed—she’d sell some right of her wrist, if given the chance—and hurried out the door.

It was no secret that the payoff was always better when their visitors were younger and, better yet, in a group. When youth and numbers were the driving force, it turned out, it didn’t take much to make a sale on much of anything. College kids were no exception. Hand-crafted goods, oddities promising this-or-that, and the ever-popular mysticism that had lines forming with bouncing bodies waiting to be seated at an elaborately decorated table. All to hear a simple "you will find love or a casual success is on your horizon." It was all about the emphasis, it seemed, creating a sense of certainty for something that nobody had any right to declare any sense of certainty toward.

Or maybe it was only Ana who felt that way. She couldn’t bring herself to be certain of much of anything. In that sense, she supposed, she was likely jealous of both the outsiders who were offered a sense of solidarity between what they wanted and what would be, and the fortune tellers in the camp who made it look so simple.

Maybe that was why she was running late. Uncertainty. It was such a crippling thing. It made her feel so…

The bird that had been outside her bedroom window earlier let loose another series of panicked chirps, and before she knew it, Ana had gone around the other side of the building to see why it hadn’t moved. The passing squawks of a bird were common, but this one seemed to be stationed outside her window, and Ana wanted to know why.

Upon coming around the side of the building, she received her answer. Alas, with college kids came college messes, and the bird had tangled itself in one such mess.

Ana quickly set to work on a net-like length of plastic from a six-pack of beer that had first tangled itself to a length of fishing line snagged on a nearby fencepost, and then to this small bird, who’d likely only been scrounging for breakfast when it managed to get itself halfway through one of the unforgiving loops of plastic before trying to double around through another.

Like Ana, the bird was trapped—one of its wings twisted through a plastic loop. Even in her hands, the bird flopped around in sporadic bursts of crooked flight attempts that brought it crashing back down again. It didn’t understand enough to stay still so Ana could help.

Dammit. Ow! Ana flinched and fought the urge to pull away as the bird pecked at her dancing fingers. I know, I know. A moment longer, okay?

It flapped more furiously, pecked more insistently, as if Ana were to blame for its predicament.

Just a moment. Ana narrowed her eyes as she guided the bird’s trapped wing out from its confines before slipping its head under the other. There.

Feeling its previously trapped wing gain new flexibility, the bird’s flapping intensified and, now free of its binds, yanked free of Ana’s grip and rocketed into the air, its eager wings carrying it higher and higher into the glow of the rising morning sun.

Yeah. Ana stuck her tongue out after the fleeing vision. You’re welcome.

Then, with the playful gesture still jutting out, she groaned as she remembered what she’d been doing moments before she tangled herself up in the bird’s predicament.

She’d been heading off to the Ceremony Hall.

Oh man, she muttered to herself. Like I’m not nervous enough already.

Much of their Sybii camp was comprised of the vehicles that made up their caravan whenever they traveled. Strategically set campers and trailers and a few modified portable cargo units created a quaint-yet-otherworldly small town effect, and while the foundations of the buildings were, in their case, replaced with tires and wheel locks, it never seemed to deter outsiders when they came in. In fact, if nothing else, their visitors seemed almost charmed by the familiar sense of structure while simultaneously enamored with the idea of so easily moving to what they likely saw as better places.

Though it was the only life she’d ever known, Ana had