The Gauntlet: Earth Angel, #19

By B.C. Burgess

In a fiery tale filled with villains and heroes, this installment of the Earth Angel series takes readers on a magical journey rich with emotion, intrigue, and danger. Fans of Twilight, The Red Queen, The Selection, and Harry Potter will devour this breathless fantasy set in a modern mystical world.

The Dark Guild's nefarious plan to tear the veils and release the Lord of the Underworld draws closer. If Layla has any hope of stopping them, she needs the heavenly knowledge buried in Maganthia's Dark Vault, but the city's council won't grant her access until she defeats the gauntlet and proves she's an angel.

Can Layla survive the magical world's deadliest challenge? And will that be enough to protect everyone she loves from the Dark Guild's merciless wrath?

In a fiery tale filled with villains and heroes, this installment of the Earth Angel series takes readers on a magical journey rich with emotion, intrigue, and danger. Fans of Twilight, The Red Queen, The Selection, and Harry Potter will devour this breathless fantasy set in a modern mystical world.

The Dark Guild's nefarious plan to tear the veils and release the Lord of the Underworld draws closer. If Layla has any hope of stopping them, she needs the heavenly knowledge buried in Maganthia's Dark Vault, but the city's council won't grant her access until she defeats the gauntlet and proves she's an angel.

Can Layla survive the magical world's deadliest challenge? And will that be enough to protect everyone she loves from the Dark Guild's merciless wrath?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bandit Publishing
• Release date: Jun 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781946793607

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Layla held her breath as she watched him cross the field. Then her knees wobbled when he disappeared through an exit, taking her heart with him. A huge part of her ached to break into a sprint, catch him in the corridors and apologize for her outburst, but the fight was over. She’d won, and she wouldn’t let the damage be in vain, so she wiped away the tears and sucked up the sorrow. Take his place, Wey.

Weylin glanced between the exit and Layla. Then he summoned a bottle of water, tossing it to her as he approached. First, you’re going to hydrate, because he’ll kill us all if we don’t get you back to him alive.

Layla ran through two more simulations, and Weylin must have convinced Drexel and Bryce that Quin was, in fact, capable of murdering them, because they dialed back the effort they put into knocking her down.

She came out of her final run dirty, sweaty and moody. Then she silently left the Arena, half-expecting Quin to be waiting outside the exit, but he was nowhere to be found amid the guards and nosy onlookers.

She cried through the flight to the resort, but she took a moment to compose herself before dragging her guilty butt inside the cottage. Quin wasn’t in sight, but she could feel his energy, so she followed it downstairs.

He sat on the sofa, bent over the coffee table with his focus on his hands, but he glanced up when he heard her enter. Hey.

His voice was gentle once more, and Layla’s heart sighed as she crossed the room. Halting to his right, she watched as he finished rolling a joint. Then he lit it with a big hit while pulling the back of her hand to his chest.

After exhaling, he passed over the herb and intently met her stare, his own glistening with moisture. I’m sorry.

She sat so she could face him. I’m sorry, too.

I shouldn’t have left you.

I shouldn’t have told you to go.

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear and took her dirty cheek. We’re both stressed.

So stressed.

And tired.

Exhausted.

And scared.

Tears stung her eyes as she nodded. I don’t think I’m going to find a way out of this.

He pulled her into a one-armed hug and leaned against the backrest. Then you’ll beat it.

I’m not ready.

Then we’ll wait.

I guess we’ll have to. She took a drag from the joint and let it sit in her lungs. Then she took another before passing it back. I’m really sorry, Quin.

He squeezed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Me, too, my love. Me, too.

Will you let me make it up to you?

I should probably reassure you there’s no reason to atone, but I’m intrigued. What do you have in mind?

I’m ready for a break.

His chest expanded as his heart beat hard. You’ll take tomorrow off?

And the next day.

His lungs emptied with a whoosh that tickled her scalp. Then he wrapped his other arm around her and laid his cheek on her head. We need a break.

I think so, too. Plus, Benzio’s birthday is coming up. Can we ship him a gift?

Yes.

Then we’ll need to go shopping. We can do that tomorrow. And on Monday, I’ll let you take me out.

Really?

Yeah. The least I can do is let you spoil me on Valentine’s Day.

His lights brightened and warmed her flesh. I hated fighting with you, but if this is the outcome, I can’t say I regret it.

Maybe, but let’s not do it again.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he swallowed and cleared his throat. I’m trying my hardest to be what you need me to be.

I know. And I understand we won’t always see eye-to-eye, but if it gets to a boiling point like that again, we both need to stop and remember how yucky this felt. I’ll remind you, and you can remind me. Deal?

Deal, he agreed, but I bet we’ve learned our lesson.

I suppose it was one we needed to learn.

She wiped her face, and her fingers came away smeared with dirt, which she showed to Quin. I’m disgusting.

I’ll start a bath, he offered, letting her go. Then he stood and walked to the tub, standing next to the edge of the lake.

Spotting a golden opportunity, Layla took it, casually rising from the sofa before soaring across the room and tackling him into the grotto.

They both went underwater. Then he came up gasping as she came up laughing. Got you.

He grinned and splashed her, but he was quick to pull her near and wrap her legs around his waist. Reaching around her head, he vanished her ponytail holder and released her curls. Now I’ve got you.

She hugged his shoulders and hovered her lips a few inches from his. Don’t let go.

Never, he promised. I don’t care how disgusting you get or how stubborn you are, you’re mine.

She giggled while sweeping her dirt-streaked nose across his. My hero.

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Unbeknownst to Layla, Sunday was the busiest shopping day in Maganthia, so the markets were crowded, and her security only made things worse. The locals didn’t seem to mind, as their curiosity overwhelmed inconvenience, and the shopkeepers went out of their way to greet her with a smile, but Quin stayed on edge as he scanned the parted crowds for shifty auras or eyes.

He’d once again donned armor and a cloak, and she stood out in full makeup and another designer dress. The flowy, purple skirt had a thigh-high split that made the material part around her legs and trail behind her, and lace flowers bloomed from the waistline, covering her stomach before climbing over her breasts to the long, airy cape that hung from her outer shoulders.

Quin had spent the morning taking her on a tour of the district wall, which was like a city in and of itself. The massive border housed the public infirmary and dungeons, a historical museum, guardhouses, an ancient temple, souvenir shops, restaurants, coffee stands, and even a couple of pubs. And there was still room for a wing of private residences reserved for healers, guards, priests and council members.

Layla’s tour had ended in the top tier, so they stopped by an art exhibit serving champagne and hors d’oeuvres, which Layla wasn’t allowed to ingest until Drexel interviewed the caterers. Layla’s embarrassment flared every time her presence caused a scene, but the art was gorgeous, and the curator was thrilled to have the talk of the town at the installation. Indeed, every time Layla gushed over one of the pieces, it sold within seconds.

She was thanked profusely as she left. Then they took a fancy wooden boat to the Central Market in the middle tier. Tension spiked among her security when she stepped into the busiest courtyard in the city, but she did her best to ignore it while following the flow to the vendors.

She scanned all the unique and wondrous wares, but she was on the hunt for Benzio’s gift, so she only stopped at tables offering age-appropriate products. Brietta, on the other hand, was Layla’s opposite when it came to shopping. She barely took the time to skim. Her gaze somehow dialed in on everything of interest, and if she focused on it, she almost always bought it. Skyla was slightly more frugal, spending less money on more important items, which she demanded Weylin carry. He’d rolled his eyes while gathering the bags, but as soon as she turned her back on him, a smile lifted his bearded face. Even Aradia had caved to the market’s temptations, toting a bag while playing with a new bracelet, and she’d let Banning pay for it all, proving she no longer felt as if she owed him something. Perhaps because he was already getting everything he wanted.

As Layla came upon one of the biggest canopies in the square, a raised voice caught her attention, and she looked toward the back of the tent just in time to see the merchant catch a fleeing boy by his wrist. The kid was around ten, but his defiant stare aged him, and he didn’t even flinch when his captor stooped to his level and snatched something from his hand.

Do you plan on paying for that?

The boy set his jaw. No.

Then run along and don’t come back or I’ll call for the guards.

The seller let go, and the boy darted away, slipping around a corner that led to a descending flight of stairs.

Layla grabbed the nearest Crusader and pulled him close. Follow that boy. Then she released him and approached the vendor, pointing out the object he’d taken from the kid. May I see that?

The man beamed while handing over what appeared to be a book, but when she opened it, she found black and white pictures that magically moved across the pages, depicting the story printed along the bottom.

She smiled and flipped to the next page. Fascinating. It’s an animated coloring book.

It talks, too. He touched a finger to the text, and a speaker in the back cover came to life, reading the words as he traced them.

How much? Layla asked.

He answered with the Maganthian price, which was somewhere around twenty to thirty dollars, so she told Quin to pay the man then walked away with her nose in the book.

Quin quickly obeyed then caught up with her at the corner the boy had taken. Where are you going, love?

She lowered the book to her side and continued forward. Where do these stairs go?

Low-Tier.

Then that’s where we’re going.

To find that kid?

Yes.

Why?

Curiosity.

About what?

Why a Maganthian feels the need to steal.

Quin sighed. It’s not a perfect city, angel.

Are you telling me there are people living in poverty down here?

Poverty? No. Everyone here can afford to feed and dress themselves, and they all have a decent place to call home, but as advanced as the city is, it still falls victim to class warfare.

Let me guess, the lowest classes hang out in Low-Tier.

Most of their businesses are down here.

Along with a few shady establishments, Drexel added. Then he spoke to his soldiers. Stay alert.

Layla’s head swarmed with visions of a grungy lane filled with poor people and the stench of oppression, but the walkway at the bottom of the stairs didn’t confirm any of her fears. The ground and canal were as clean here as they were everywhere else, and though the buildings were taller and closer together, creating dark alleys and shadowed corners, the people traversing the cobblestones appeared happy, peaceful, nourished and clean. Their clothes weren’t as fancy as some of the outfits she’d seen on the upper tiers, but most of the gowns would have looked at home in Layla’s community, and the men didn’t dress much differently than the wizards in her family. Upbeat music floated from nearby street performers, and the closest bridge led to a bazaar that was smaller and less flashy than the Central Market, which drew the bulk of the tourists, leaving this one less crowded and more relaxed.

Told you, Quin teased, tickling her nose with a lock of her hair. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s an equal society, but the gap is nothing like you see in some hexless civilizations. Thanks to Willa, there hasn’t been a slave in this city since the LucDre War.

Really? Layla asked.

Yep, Quin confirmed. She started a campaign to free them, and her kids saw it through after her death. That was just one of their many contributions to our world.

Layla spotted the Crusader she’d sent after the would-be thief, who’d been caught and drained of defiance. Now, he just looked scared as he hung his head, his collar stuck in the Crusader’s grasp. They stood to the left of the market, so Layla crossed the bridge and approached.

The boy looked up when her lights swallowed him. Then his mouth fell open when his gaze hit her face. She smiled and motioned for the guard to release him, hoping to ease his tension, but he was too stunned to realize he’d been set free.

Layla held up the coloring book. Why did you try to steal this?

He swallowed as his eyes shifted toward the evidence. I’m sorry, Ma’am. It won’t happen again.

That’s good, but I still want to know why you tried to take it.

He pointed toward the stairs. Because he stole it from my grandpa.

Confusion creased her brow as she glanced over her shoulder. He took this book from your family?

Not that one. He took Layla’s hand and led her through the bazaar toward a table piled with similar books. He took the idea.

The woman tending the booth shot to her feet, her eyes widening on the boy’s grip on Layla’s hand. Bastion Erik Castor, let go of that lady right now.

He obeyed, but he didn’t back down. Look what she bought in the Central Market, Ma. I told you that mean ol’ geezer copied Grandpa.

Hush now, his mother chided, but she followed his advice and reached out. May I?

Sure. Layla passed over the book then gathered one from the table, flipping through it like she had the first. Yours are better. How much are they?

The shopkeeper mumbled an answer as she flipped through the knockoff.

That’s cheaper than the ol’ geezer is selling them, Layla observed.

Bastion snickered while moving to his mom’s side. Told you I saw him selling them.

Her lips thinned, and Layla could tell she was holding back tears. You sure did. She snapped the pages together then tried to give it back.

Keep it, Layla insisted. So you think he stole your dad’s design?

I know he did, but there’s nothing we can do about it.

Why?

It’s his word against ours. I told Dad not to trust him. Why would they sell our goods up there when they refuse to let us get permits to set up shop beside them?

Layla threw a disapproving glance at Quin, who helplessly shrugged. There are some things you can’t change, love.

She glanced around the market, taking note of the upper-class citizens who’d followed her downstairs. Watch me. Then she bolstered her voice while shuffling through the various coloring books. Wow! These are much better than the ones upstairs. Cheaper, too. Look at these, she added, handing two of them to Quin. The illustrations are way better, and they’re not as flimsy. We should get some for the covens back home. She’d gotten everyone’s attention, so she simmered down and turned toward the table. Seriously, though, help me pick out some for Benzio. Alana and Shaylee, too. Their birthdays are coming up. And we should get some for Diamond. We’ll leave them in the guestrooms.

By the time she finished going through the choices, she’d picked out more than a dozen books, lighting up the seller’s face and aura. Then she paid with a wink and a whisper. Here they come.

Sure enough, the moment Layla and her security strolled away, nearby onlookers swarmed the table, anxious to walk in the footsteps of an angel.

You did a nice thing back there, Drexel commended, but it’s unwise to make enemies with rich ol’ geezers.

I’m not worried.

Clearly.

Layla left the market and glanced around. What else is down here?

Ooh! Brietta hopped closer. You could come watch Keg and I get tattoos.

On your shoulder?

Yeah.

Let’s do it, Layla approved, motioning for her cousin to lead the way.

They stopped by a street vendor selling liquor-spiked slushies. Then they walked another block to a tattoo parlor located on the main floor of a tri-level, stone structure.

Wait, Drexel ordered, gesturing toward his soldiers, who filed inside to secure the building.

Once they had troops posted on every floor, door and stairwell, Drexel opened the curtained entrance, and the baffled patrons silently watched the newcomers file into a parlor bathed in tufted, charcoal velvet.

A woman boasting skin art from head to toe shook away her shock. Then she smiled and punched the shoulder of the tattooed man beside her, but her silver gaze stayed on Layla. What can we do for you?

Not me, Layla corrected, pointing out Brietta and Kegan. Them.

They moved to the desk between the lobby and workspace, and Brietta showed the woman her scar as Kegan dug two sketches from his satchel. Following a short discussion and a few final decisions, the artists led them to the back of the shop. Then Brietta sat with her shoulder blade toward the witch while Kegan stripped off his shirt and faced the wizard. Drinks were poured, joints were lit, and Layla and Quin were offered seats near the action, so they witnessed every twitch as needles pierced flesh.

How did you get the scar? the female asked.

Brietta kept her cool, but those who knew her well noticed a shift in her aura. I prefer not to talk about it.

Right, the artist mumbled. That makes sense given you’re here to cover it.

Brietta’s good humor returned. Well, I wasn’t going to point that out, but since you did, I’ll just agree.

The woman lightly laughed while returning her focus to her craft, and Layla leaned closer to Quin as she whispered. Why don’t they use magic?

They are, he answered. It’s a combination. They use the needle for the ink and accuracy. Kind of like how we point when we cast a spell. But they can spread the ink beyond the puncture, so they stab you less than hexless tattoo guns, and the needle stays in longer. That’s why it’s manual.

Layla paid closer attention, watching as the female carefully tapped the needle into Brietta’s scarred flesh then held it there as she used a forefinger to direct the ink.

Do they numb them? Layla asked.

We can, the woman answered. It’s up to the client. Does that change your mind about getting one?

Layla smiled and shook her head. No. Then she looked at Quin. Why haven’t you ever gotten one?

He shrugged. What would I get? Your name?

No.

I will.

She giggled while hooking her arm with his. No.

He laughed through a drink. Would you?

Get a tattoo of your name?

Yeah.

Sure, she agreed, watching him out of the corner of her eye. As long as you’re the one who gives it to me.

He scowled. You know that won’t happen.

Bummer.

Yeah, I bet.

The two of them finished their drinks. Then they gave away their seats and wandered up to the other levels, the second of which held a gambling den, where patrons could bet on hexless and magical sports across the world,