A Resonance of Power

  The Resonant Arcana

  Book Two

  Nicole R. Taylor

  A Resonance of Power

  (The Resonant Arcana - Book Two) by Nicole R. Taylor

  Copyright © 2024 by Nicole R. Taylor

  All rights reserved.

  This book is written in British/AU English.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  www.nicolertaylorwrites.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

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  About Nicole

  Chapter 1

  Vesper stood by the door of Rafe’s Georgian townhouse, her bag slung over her shoulder with the grimoire safely tucked inside. She’d pulled on a comfortable pair of black leggings, a tunic-style green T-shirt, a black blazer, and her black lace-up ankle boots she’d worn to work. Not exactly a magical heroine outfit, but at least it was comfy.

  She wondered what she’d find out there in the city. The mysterious Nightreach, protected by the Fold, that lived alongside London like a page in a book.

  Selene was a member of The Luminous Concordat, the coven of witches who ruled over most of Nightreach, and protected the Fold.

  Vesper shivered, remembering the contorted mess of merging realities and twisting shadows, they’d barely escaped the day before. And it was all because of the grimoire she’d found in the London Historical Library. The magical book that had somehow chosen her life to ruin with its weird hot and cold nonsense.

  It was my fault, she thought, glancing at Rafe. If I hadn’t tried to force another vision out of the book, then I wouldn’t have dragged us and the house into the Fold… And almost killed them both.

  Going to see the witches might be a good thing, despite Rafe’s warning. She could learn how to control her magic, even though she was likely a mage like Rafe, and find out more about Selene and what she’d got tangled up in. And maybe even who was responsible for her murder and who was controlling that shadowy construct in the Fold.

  She had so many questions, her head throbbed.

  “Where are we going exactly?” Vesper asked, watching Rafe slip on his leather jacket—a shorter length than the one he’d worn the other night when he’d swooped in to save her like a superhero.

  “Thornhallow Manor. It’s in Hampstead Heath,” he said, slipping a small pouch into his pocket.

  Vesper’s eyebrows shot up. “Hampstead Heath? I know that place. Kenwood House⁠—”

  “Doesn’t exist here,” Rafe interrupted. “There is a house there, but it’ll be different from what you’re used to.”

  As they stepped out into the crisp Nightreach air, Vesper found herself both excited and a little nervous about seeing a magical version of a place she thought she knew. Not only Hampstead, but London itself. Exactly how different was he talking?

  Rafe’s voice lowered as they walked. “Listen, Vesper. When we get there, keep your head down. Don’t invite trouble and especially don’t mention what happened in the Fold.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her grip on her bag tightening.

  “The Concordat… They’re not exactly welcoming to outsiders. Especially ones carrying powerful magical artefacts.” He nodded towards her bag. “Let me do the talking, alright?”

  “We probably shouldn’t mention the R-word, either, huh?” she murmured, looking from side to side. The street was empty, and appeared rather like London, but the sunlight was tinted lavender.

  “Especially not the R-word.”

  Resonant. The grimoire was one thing, but the power of a Resonant, a rare magical ability that was coveted by all, would be trouble. All caps kind of trouble. Vesper did not want to be one of those, no matter how special they were supposed to be.

  They turned a corner and Vesper’s eyes widened as she took in her first clear view of Nightreach. The city unfolded before her like a dream, familiar yet completely alien. Spires of impossible height reached towards a sky that shimmered with a strange opalescence, their architecture defying the laws of physics. Alleys twisted and turned off the main road in ways that shouldn’t be possible, creating a labyrinth she’d easily become lost in.

  Floating orbs of light drifted lazily above the thoroughfares, lighting dark corners and marking shops and other points of interest. Vesper blinked, trying to reconcile what she was seeing with the London she knew.

  “It’s like it’s built over London,” she murmured. “I know this road. It’s Shaftesbury Avenue.”

  Rafe nodded, falling into step beside her. “You’re not far off. Nightreach uses London as a scaffold of sorts. The magic builds upon what already exists.”

  As if to prove his point, a nearby building shimmered and shifted, its facade morphing to mirror a change happening in the other world. Vesper gasped as a gleaming new structure sprouted from the ground where she knew a construction site had recently broken ground in her London. The Tube station at Tottenham Court Road had been in a constant state of development for years—they must’ve finished.

  “How is that possible?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

  “Illusions and enchantments,” Rafe explained, guiding her through the twisting streets. “They’re woven into the very fabric of Nightreach. The city adapts, grows, and changes alongside London.”

  Vesper watched in awe as the magical city pulsed with life around her, each new sight more fantastical than the last. But the one thing that stood out was the lack of traffic and people. “Where is everyone?”

  Rafe’s lips tightened. “Nightreach isn’t as populated as your world. And many prefer to travel through portals and keep off the streets.”

  As if on cue, a figure materialised from thin air a few paces ahead, startling Vesper. The woman, dressed in flowing robes that shimmered with a magical iridescence, strode purposefully across their path before vanishing into a doorway that hadn’t been there a moment before.

  “Right,” Vesper muttered, trying to calm her racing pulse. “Of course. Why walk when you can teleport?”

  They continued on, Vesper’s eyes drinking in every impossible sight. A group of what looked like living shadows darted between alleyways, their forms fluid and ever-changing. Overhead, a flock of birds with wings that trailed sparks soared past, leaving glittering contrails in their wake.

  As they turned onto a wider avenue, Vesper’s attention was drawn to a bustling marketplace tucked away in what appeared to be a pocket dimension. Colourful stalls drew her attention and she gazed longingly as Rafe led her away..

  “Is that where people get their…magical supplies?” Vesper asked, glancing back over her shoulder.

  Rafe raised an eyebrow.

  “What?” she muttered. “I’m assuming you don’t have Primark or Sainsbury’s here.” She hesitated, remembering the Jammie Dodgers he’d offered her the other night. “Do you?”

  “There are ‘thin places’ where the magical world touches the normal one. Places where we can step across and get our groceries.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Vesper scoffed and hurried after him. “Don’t be mean.”

  “We have our own shops,” he told her. “And for those who can’t travel the threads, a black market for mundane goods. The wards keep everything else out.”

  It was Vesper’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Black market Hobnobs?”

  Rafe shrugged. “A mage without a faction needs to make money somehow.”

  “Really?” she gasped. “You’re not pulling my leg?”

  But he wasn’t keen on elaborating. “The city’s been here for centuries, growing alongside London. Some say it started as a refuge for magical beings during the witch trials. Others say it’s been here since the Romans invaded Britain. But it’s been here longer than that. Thousands of years spent growing and evolving.” He pointed out various landmarks, explaining their significance. “See those aqueducts? They’re from Roman times, but they’ve been modified over the years. Now they’re part of the magical infrastructure that keeps Nightreach functioning.”

  Vesper marvelled at the intricate network of pipes and channels that seemed to pulse with energy. “And the wards you mentioned?”

  “Ancient magic,” Rafe replied. “Some of the most powerful protective spells in existence. They’re what keep Nightreach hidden and safe. And from merging with the Fold.”

  Vesper bristled, wondering if their adventure had caused any alarms to go off at Concordat headquarters.

  As they passed another alley that led to the marketplace Vesper had spotted earlier, her curiosity got the better of her. “What’s that place?”

  Rafe glanced at the alley. “That’s the Bizarre. You can find anything there—rare ingredients, magical artefacts, even cursed objects.”

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  Vesper’s eyes widened. “Cursed objects?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re not in a children’s picture book, Vesper. Nightreach is dangerous. Never forget it.”

  “How could I?” she drawled.

  “It’s not just the Fold,” he went on. “Just like in your world, there are people with bad intentions.”

  Vesper’s gaze lingered on the Bazaar’s entrance, Rafe’s warning echoing in her mind. The once-quiet streets had come alive, a steady stream of people emerging from hidden doorways and shimmering portals.

  “Keep your head down,” Rafe murmured, his hand brushing her elbow. “And try not to stare.”

  Vesper nodded, forcing her eyes to the ground. But she couldn’t help stealing glances at the colourful characters passing by. A man with skin like tree bark. A pair of twins with silvery hair that moved of its own accord. A child clutching a toy that shifted shapes with each blink.

  As they wove through the growing crowd, Vesper became acutely aware of the whispers that followed in their wake.

  Curious glances darted their way, some openly staring, while others tried to be more discreet. Vesper felt exposed, vulnerable. She clutched her bag tighter, feeling the weight of the grimoire inside.

  Were they looking at her, or Rafe? Did they know what she did to the Fold? How close they’d all come to terrible danger?

  Vesper’s wonder began to fade as she noticed more unsettling details. In the shadowy recesses between buildings, darkness seemed to move with a life of its own. She blinked, convinced her eyes were playing tricks on her, but the shadows continued to writhe and twist unnaturally.

  Her heart leapt as she caught glimpses of figures ducking into alleys, their movements too quick and fluid to be entirely human. Whispered conversations in languages she couldn’t understand drifted on the air, but they all sounded either fearful or concerned.

  Something was happening in the city. Something that had people on edge.

  As they passed a narrow side street, Vesper’s breath caught in her throat. A group of hooded figures huddled together, their faces obscured. One turned slightly, revealing eyes that glowed an eerie green in the dim light. The figure’s gaze locked onto Vesper for a heart-stopping moment before the group melted into the shadows.

  Vesper’s growing unease was reflected in the faces of those around her. The once-vibrant crowd now seemed tense, their eyes darting nervously as they hurried about their business.

  Nightreach’s beauty now felt thin, a veil that barely concealed a world of hidden threats. Vesper’s grip on her bag tightened as she realised how far out of her depth she really was. If Rafe hadn’t agreed to help her, she wouldn’t have lasted five seconds.

  Suddenly, she felt a surge of heat against her hip. The grimoire in her bag was warming rapidly. Alarmed, Vesper tugged at Rafe’s arm.

  “Rafe,” she hissed, her eyes wide with concern. “Something’s wrong. The grimoire—it’s getting hot.”

  Rafe didn’t answer, but his pace quickened. Vesper struggled to keep up, her gaze darting around the bustling street.

  “Rafe?”

  “We need to move faster,” he muttered. “But don’t draw attention. And whatever you do, don’t touch the book.”

  Vesper had no intentions of messing with it again. She attempted to match his stride while keeping her movements as natural as possible. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  Rafe’s jaw tightened. “We’re being followed.”

  “By who?”

  “I don’t know, but I have a feeling it might be connected to whoever that shadow in the Fold belonged to.”

  Vesper’s grip on her bag tightened. The grimoire. “How far do we have to go?”

  “I was heading for a portal that would take us close to Hampstead Heath,” Rafe explained, guiding them down a narrow side street. “But we need to lose our tail first. They can’t know we’re going to the Concordat.”

  Rafe led her down a series of increasingly narrow alleys, each turn more dizzying than the last. Vesper lost all sense of direction, trusting that he knew where he was going.

  “Quick, in here,” Rafe whispered, pulling her into a shadowy alcove. They pressed themselves against the wall, barely daring to breathe. Vesper could hear footsteps approaching, heavy and purposeful. She squeezed her eyes shut, silently willing whatever monster it was to pass by.

  The footsteps grew louder, then paused. Vesper’s fingers dug into Rafe’s arm. For a heart-stopping moment, she was certain they’d been found. But the footsteps receded.

  Her eyes snapped open as she realised just how close she was pressed against Rafe…and how hard she was clutching him. He smelled like the blankets on his bed—like sandalwood and magic. For a moment, she glimpsed the purple and gold aura shimmering across his bare throat, the stubble on his jaw sending swirls through the colours.

  But then she blinked and it was gone…and so was the heat in the grimoire.

  “Maybe I should’ve left the grimoire at your place,” she whispered.

  “It’s safer with us for now,” Rafe told her. “At least until the wards reestablish themselves.”

  Vesper lowered her gaze, heat colouring her cheeks.

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it,” he went on. “What’s done is done. Everyone survived and the Fold is back where it should be.”

  “I still feel sick about it.”

  Rafe breathed deeply. “Don’t.”

  Vesper pulled away from him, adjusting her bag. The warmth from the grimoire had faded completely, leaving only questions in its wake. She peered around the corner of the alcove, scanning the empty alley.

  “How much further to this portal?” she whispered.

  “Two streets over.” Rafe checked both directions before stepping out. “Stay close.”

  They emerged onto a wider street lined with shop fronts displaying peculiar items—bottles filled with swirling mists, crystals that pulsed with inner light, and what appeared to be living shadows trapped in glass spheres. Under different circumstances, Vesper would have stopped to examine every window.

  The crowd had thinned considerably, but those who remained moved with purpose, their faces drawn and anxious. Vesper noticed how they gave her and Rafe a wide berth, averting their eyes as if afraid to look too closely.

  Finally, Rafe slowed his pace, gesturing to a random doorway set into a brick wall.

  “This is it,” he said. “Are you ready?”

  “Sure. Let’s just go through a magic portal. What could go wrong?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic.” Rafe placed his hand on the handle, muttering an incantation under his breath. He opened the door, revealing a rippling wall of energy that reminded her of the ocean.

  “Just step through,” he urged, shoving her forward.

  Vesper didn’t have time to take a breath as she stumbled into the portal. The world around her twisted and warped, her senses reeling as reality seemed to turn inside out. For a terrifying second, she felt as if she was everywhere and nowhere at once.

  Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Vesper blinked, finding herself standing beside Rafe on a quiet, leafy street. Before them stood a cosy pub, its weathered sign creaking gently in the breeze. Beyond it, she could see the lush flat of Hampstead Heath stretching out under the late afternoon sun.

  “The grass is purple,” she blurted.

  “It’s magenta,” Rafe drawled.

  But she wasn’t listening. Yet again, Vesper’s eyes widened as they crested the hill, her breath catching in her throat. There, nestled among the magenta grass and ancient trees of Hampstead Heath, stood what she assumed was Thornhallow Manor.

  The imposing Victorian mansion loomed before them, intricate stonework adorning the walls, subtle symbols and runes woven into the architecture. Vesper squinted, trying to make sense of the patterns, but they seemed to shift and change the longer she looked. Spires reached towards the sky, twisting to impossible heights.