Lost Maguire Novel Novels & Stories

Magnus The world spun around me, a disorienting blur of sensations and memories. My body lay before me, possessed by the dark force of Gaius, the ancient sorcerer who had found a way to hijack my very essence. I hovered in the void, a mere spirit, a shadow of my former self, battling the oppressive presence that had taken root within my flesh. Each moment felt like an eternity; the struggle was relentless, the stakes unimaginably high. "Magnus, you can't win," Gaius's voice echoed within the confines of my mind, a sneering taunt that cut through my resolve. "This body is mine now. You are nothing but a ghost."

"We need to help! We are going to hell, where does Roosevelt live isn't it hell? Magnus was throwing questions at me like I was some G****e, rapid-fire, desperate, each one a hammer blow to my skull. My head was splitting, Micha was yelling, gripping Zaki's cloth like he could shake answers out of him. Zaki was sad, broken. I was going mad, rage and panic tearing through my veins. Magnus took over before I could control him and he said, voice like a storm, "Silence!" The room quieted down. The shouting died. Even my heartbeat sounded too loud. Magnus’ voice rang through the room, cold and sharp, "The living book told Levi and Micha not to search for Erin that she would be safe but I don't be

His eyes still on mine, observing me like I’m his case to solve. “Whoever fucked you up this bad I want a one-on-one session with,” he grumbles, turning away from just as our secretary waltzes in with a tray of drinks. Maggie Quinn looks like sunflowers and sunshine. She’s bright and happy — a nice contrast to my gloomy and cynical. Her eyes land on me then Darius, bouncing back and forth between us. “Trouble in paradise?” she hazards a guess. He smirks, eyeing her. “Can’t have trouble in paradise when we never reached paradise.”

Amara and Gabriel stepped through the doorway. The silver light faded behind them. They found themselves inside a small wooden cabin. A fire crackled weakly in the hearth. Rain beat relentlessly against the roof. The air smelled of smoke, wet earth, and medicine. On a simple wooden bed... Lay Magnus. He looked frail. His once powerful frame had been reduced by illness. Every breath was a struggle. Beside him sat Michael. Younger. Broken. Holding his brother's hand.

The name just dropped out of her mouth before she could take it back. "Oh?" Grey tapped the name into his tablet. "Who is he and why did you think of him first?" "Listen, I don't think he—" "Shannon, we have to eliminate people as much as we target them, so give on this Maguire." She sighed. Damn her mouth, anyway. But then an image of Peter Maguire, skinny, with his weird haircut and his habit of chewing on pencils in meetings flashed into her brain. Could he be this vindictive?

I whispered again, wishing those words could truly bring comfort to the tiny life inside me. Before I knew it, my body had a total shutdown as sleep took me, I slumped to the ground, eyes getting closed against my will. “Maggie…..” “The whole moon priestess lineage dies, but you lives” “Maggara” I squinted my eyes open, the moonlight creeping in through the window. I groaned, bringing myself to a sitting position. “Maggie? Are you there?” It was Maverick's voice again but still, I didn't respond.

Maggie held up her hand in a gesture to signal him to stop where he was. “Stay where ya are,” she barked. “No one is going anywhere. Not just yet, anyway.” She looked directly at Tara. “I want ya to sit there and listen to me for a bit while I try to explain what’s been going on here. It’s a bit hard to understand, so I’ll take me time.” Tara reluctantly agreed and took the chair between Brandon and her dear friend. Maggie spoke of times of old with demons and witches and sorcerers; times in her country when people believed in the undead and of possession.

. You can head over whenever you're ready." Simple enough. Cathy thanked him and strode out of the office, her steps fueled by a potent mix of fury and heartache. Magnus had shattered her trust, and the shards felt like they were lodged in her chest, piercing her with every breath. Every step reminded her of what she'd lost. She practically ran across the yard, desperate to immerse herself in work and escape the relentless onslaught of memories. The library loomed ahead, promising solace among the shelves. Books didn't judge. Books didn't lie. Cathy yanked open the heavy wooden door, seeking refuge in the musty embrace of books. She needed to focus on anything else, or thoughts of Magnus wou

“Now do you understand!? Do you understand how it is hopeless for you!?” Magnus laughed. I had been running around the church while barely avoiding the explosions. It felt like my entire body had been pummeled. I had no idea how I could ever win a fight like this. I managed to reach the rest of the group. “How are we going to beat this guy?” Rowena asked. “I have no idea. What is he doing with that book exactly?” I asked.

This includes Declan Heisenberg, the man who inspired Margaux to devise her novel scheme. "What are you thinking, Margaux? Are you planning to seduce me?" Margaux was startled and found herself in the present because of Declan's voice. She returned her attention to the man who was still standing on her room's door frame. "How come you're still here when I thought you'd gone?" "I was about to say something, but you seem to be thinking about it deeply; what is the content of your wet dreams, is that me?" "You stupid man, get out of here!" the girl yells as the sharp intensity of the pain in the middle of both her thighs returns.