City of Magic: The Complete Series by Helen Harper (book club recommendations TXT) 📕

months since the British government had built their walls and closed off the wild magic of Manchester from the rest of the world – but it was bloody irritating. Especially given the trouble we’d gone to in order to maintain running water in the first place. The last thing we needed was overflowing sewage and outbreaks of cholera on top of everything else. And it was nice to be able to get clean, even if hot water was nothing more than a dim memory.

Jodie crossed her arms and stared at me as if it were all my fault. ‘I wanted to wash my hair. Anna was going to do the laundry.’

Lizzy appeared from behind Jodie. Her normally blonde locks were dripping with bright red ooze. ‘The taps…’

‘Yeah, I got it,’ I said drily. ‘I’m about to head over to the reservoir.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

I shook my head. The blood clinging to her skin and hair would only attract predators. Her company would be more hassle than it was worth. ‘You get yourself cleaned up,’ I said, not unkindly. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

Lizzy looked relieved more than anything else. I didn’t blame her; last time it took several hours of muttering nonsensical incantations and waving my hands around before I fixed the problem. Even then I couldn’t say what I did to clear up the water, so goodness only knew what it would take this time.

I still didn’t have a proper handle on the magical powers that had been bestowed on me after I’d spent the night curled up with the little sphere that a crazy faery had planted on me – and which had almost caused the destruction of the entire world. You’ve heard of a learning curve? Well, as far as magic was concerned, this was a learning cliff face and I didn’t possess so much as a single rope.

I grabbed my handy backpack, which these days always sat by the front door ready for the emergencies that seemed to occur on an hourly basis, and scooted past the small assembly. I took care not to brush past Lizzy on my way out and end up plastered in the same gunk that she was.

Jodie called out after me, ‘If you could make the water drinkable this time, that’d be fab.’

Unlikely. I’d try my best though – and everyone loves a trier. Or so I liked to pretend. I gritted my teeth, steeled myself against the growing lump of cold lead that seemed to be constantly expanding in my belly, and closed the door behind me.

I took a bike. There were still plenty of cars lying around with usable petrol in their engines but these days it was usually faster and more convenient to cycle. Teams of people had been clearing the roads of abandoned cars for weeks and, for the most part, they’d done a grand job. It was getting to the point where the stationary vehicles were looking less like forlorn reminders of all that we’d lost and more like relics from a bygone age. All the same, I couldn’t stop myself feeling a twinge when I passed the odd car with a tree sprouting through its roof. Every month Mother Nature had a growth spurt and the trees and bushes stretched upwards and outwards by another few feet. Winter might have been almost upon us but no one had told the trees.

Thankfully my journey was uneventful. I caught sight of the odd passing shadow, indicating that I was being watched by a few of the magical creatures that had appeared from nowhere to inhabit this new world. Shadow beasts, hell hounds, giant rats, mammoth pink elephants, swampy canal monsters. There was no end to the nasties that lived in Manchester these days. Right now we were working on a live-and-let-live theory: if they left us alone, we would do the same. It worked most of the time. I pretended not to notice anything out of the ordinary and pedalled slightly faster. Every day I wasn’t chomped on by a monster was a good day.

When I finally arrived at my destination, I propped the bike against a wall by the main waterworks building next to the old reservoir and craned my neck upwards. I couldn’t see anything malevolent or dangerous. In fact, I couldn’t see much at all.

‘What’s the betting,’ I muttered to myself, ‘that whatever magical beastie is causing all this crap is hiding somewhere and laughing at me?’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘Three to one. Easy.’

‘You know that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness,’ drawled a familiar Scottish brogue.

I half-jumped out of my skin and spun in Monroe’s direction. I’d barely seen him for weeks. We’d met up a few times initially, and he’d given me some basic fighting lessons as he’d promised, but they were a distant memory. We’d both become too busy doing other things. The fact that he’d decided to show up here could only mean that his half of the city was also affected by the water problems – and that for once he actually gave a shit.

I wanted to be able to say that he was looking good, but there were heavy dark shadows under his eyes and faint bruises across his jawline. Given what I’d learned about the fast recovery time of werewolves, he must have taken a hell of a beating in the last few days to still be showing the effects. Worry flickered through my belly, although I knew he wouldn’t thank me for the sentiment.

‘Been in a fight?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.

Monroe ignored my question and walked over, stopping a few centimetres before our bodies touched. ‘How have you been, Charlotte?’ He tilted his head towards mine and inhaled. ‘You smell good.’

Gah. Even though he looked like he’d spent the last three days in a ditch, he possessed the skill to make my heart skip a beat. Those eyes were too damned blue for their own good. ‘I’m fine.’

He didn’t