Her Stolen Magic Read online

  The girl was small and young, a Freshman. Her response was strange. “The Red Scare,” she said with wide, terrified eyes, coughing wracking her waif-like frame.

  “Breathe,” said Ava. In response to Ava’s word, the girl took in one shaky breath, gulping fresh air into her lungs.

  Blood pooled beneath the injured girl carrying glittering shards of glass on red rivulets toward our shoes.

  “Stop the bleeding,” I told Ava.

  Ava’s brow creased with worry and she shook her head. “It’s black magic. I don’t know how to stop it.” There was panic in her voice. Ava had never failed at anything. She couldn’t fail now, not when someone’s life was on the line.

  “It hurts,” moaned the girl coughing up blood.

  “Levitate,” commanded Ava. The girl’s body hovered in the air, just high enough for me to see a gaping wound on her back. Blood poured from the hole.

  “Crap,” I said. “What did this to you?”

  “Werewolf,” gasped the girl.

  “They said we were safe here,” whispered Ava, casting a terrified glance toward the library windows.

  Lowering the girl back to the ground, Ava redoubled her efforts to save her.

  “Breathe,” Ava commanded, her hands on the girl’s chest. “Heal. Clot.”

  I knelt in the glass next to Ava, helpless, magic-less.

  The pool of blood continued to grow.

  “Her heart is slowing,” Ava cried. “I can’t stop the blood. Breathe. Beat. Regenerate. Repair.” She used every word she knew, commanding the girl to live, commanding her body to work.

  The girl went pale, then gray. Her lips turned blue, and she stopped breathing.

  “Life,” shouted Ava through tears, pushing on the girls chest, but the girl was dead.

  By now a crowd had gathered, including the new headmaster, Dr. Knavish. He looked at the blood on the ground flowing toward his brown leather shoes and his lips curled with revulsion.

  “Spotless,” he said. Immediately, the sight was cleared of glass and blood. Even the girl’s body became pristine, all blood and soot magically erased. I thought he should have preserved the crime scene. That’s what non-magicals always did on television, but I had never witnessed a magical death, so maybe magicals did things differently.

  Ava wiped her face free of sweat and stood shakily. “I did everything I could.”

  Knavish threw a worried glance at the students gathered around and then at Ava and me. “Thank you,” he said uneasily.

  “Sir, she was bitten by a — ”

  “BIND!” shouted Knavish. Ava’s lips pressed together.

  “The Red Scare sent a warning this morning,” Knavish spun on his heels to address the group of students. “They are responsible for the death of this poor girl. If you know of anyone with connections to this dangerous group of terrorists —”

  A murmur went through the crowd at his use of the word terrorists.

  “Make no mistake, they are terrorists. A group that performs violent acts to fuel a spirit of fear. That’s the definition of a terrorist group. If you know of anyone with connections to this group, for your safety, for the good of the school, turn them in.”

  He glanced at the dead girl and shuddered. “I don’t want the school to suffer any more loss of life. Dismissed.”

  The crowd broke up. I was sure he had added magic to his command to push the students away. He set up a visible barrier around the girl’s body, Ava, and me.

  “You need to understand,” he growled at us. “I am forbidding you, binding you, to keep you from uttering the word werewolf. I know what happened here. It was a fluke. A one-off thing. The Red Scare recruited a bad agent, a werewolf mercenary, to come here and terrify students. I won’t cave to them. You are safe from werewolves here. I’m adding additional magical wards around the Slip. You will not be able to speak about this to anyone. I’m doing this for your own safety and for the good of the school. Is that clear?”

  Ava nodded, her lips still bound to silence.

  “I don’t understand why it’s safer not to tell people,” I began to say.

  Knavish cut me off. “That’s why you’re not the headmaster. I bound you from saying anything about a werewolf on school property,” Knavish said. “I also bound you from telling anyone that I bound you.” Then he waved us away. “Dismissed.”

  Our feet carried Ava and me past the library and away from the accident.

  “He’s horrible,” complained Ava.

  “He’s probably a wah—,” I said. I tried again. “Wee.”

  I couldn’t say word ‘werewolf.’

  2

  Barron drank deeply from Congresswoman Fanny Belle’s neck, an intimate act of lobbying for a vote on a fatty piece of pork barrel legislation.

  “Sir,” Barron’s secretary, Helen Highball, brusquely interrupted her boss.

  Barron flicked his red-tinged eyes toward Highball but did not break his kiss on Fanny’s neck.

  “Here’s the bill. I’ll leave it on your desk to sign. I’m leaving early, National’s tickets. Behind the dugout.”

  Barron Von Koffle finished feasting on Fanny’s pale neck and removed his teeth. Two perfectly round holes punctured her skin. Rivulets of blood trickled from them. Barron placed a piece of white gauze over the wound and brushed Fanny’s hair from her closed eyes.

  He dabbed his mouth with a crisp white handkerchief. “Is it werewolf night at the stadium?”

  Helen snickered and allowed her body to phase in and out of her wolf form. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose it is. It’s nice for my pack to get out and enjoy an evening every once in a while.”

  Barron stretched. “I hear the Nat’s are doing pretty well.”

  “Manny Gonzalez is back in, and the pitcher — what’s his name?”

  “Ron Kinney. Heck of an arm on that guy.”

  “Might see a no hitter from him tonight.”

  Barron smiled and nodded revealing two long, pointed canines. He pushed himself up from the black leather sofa and patted Helen on the back. “Don’t be late tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do now that the count is in our favor again.” He smiled at Fanny. “Thanks to our friend, Ms. Belle.”

  “That reminds me. You have a nine o’clock with Charles Knavish.”

  Barron stroked his chin with long, pale fingers as he racked his memory. “Knavish. Remind me who he is.”

  Helen tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear, from which dangled a large earring shaped like a dreamcatcher. “The new headmaster at Illysian.”

  “Ahh. Yes. Knavish. How are things going at our finest educational institution?”

  “Terrible,” said Helen with a smile. “We started a fire in the library, destroyed a collection of rare books, killed a girl, framed the student group. Knavish is cracking down as you instructed.”

  “Brilliant work!” Barron chuckled. “I love it. These high schoolers are putty in our hands.”

  His face became serious. “Has he found the girl yet?”

  “Knavish wouldn’t say, but knowing what a simpering egoist he is, I would guess not. If he had found her he’d trumpet it from the rooftops.”

  Barron Von Koffle strode to the large window overlooking Capitol Hill and put on a pair of sunglasses. The city was ablaze in afternoon light. “If we don’t find her before she turns eighteen, it’s game over.”

  “I understand, sir. We are doing everything we can.”

  Barron rubbed his temples, not turning away from the window, “Can’t see a damned thing in this afternoon sun. Is the boy back yet?”

  Helen joined him, gazing out of the window, surveying the scene below. “He’s standing at a tree in the park down below.”

  “He’s alone?”

  “Yes. He’s wearing running clothes and a red cap. Blends in perfectly with every other jogger in the city.”

  “Give him his next task on your way out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Barron stepped away from th
e window and removed his sunglasses, rubbing his eyes painfully. “The sunlight kills my eyes and gives me a pounding headache. What I wouldn’t give to plunge the world into eternal darkness.”

  Helen shrugged. “You get twelve hours of darkness, more or less, every day. Do your best with what you have.”

  “True. True. We have to play the hand we’re dealt.”

  “Speaking of,” Helen gestured to Fanny Belle. “I should let you get back to your negotiations.” Helen gave a curt nod and started to close the door to Barron Von Koffle’s office.

  “Leave it open,” grumbled Barron. “The whole #metoo thing is getting out of control. Don’t want to be accused of something untoward going on behind closed doors.”

  Helen and Barron exchanged knowing smirks. Something untoward had gone on. Ms Fanny Belle had been seduced by promises of political power and bitten by a vampire with a political agenda. She had made a deal with the devil she knew and now had to face the devil she had become.

  Barron poured two glasses of Scotch, neat.

  “Have a lovely afternoon, sir,” said Helen, grabbing her purse from her desk outside Barron’s office.

  Fanny’s eyes fluttered open. “I need a cawfee,” she said with thick Long Island accent. “I’m dizzy.”

  “You fainted,” clucked Barron handing her a Scotch. “I’ve always found that a bit of Scotch is a remedy for lightheadedness.”

  “Of course I fainted. You were putting the moves on me, tawll, dark, and handsome.” Her artificially plumped lips curved into a seductive smile.

  Barron surveyed the older woman on his sofa. She was dressed in a low-cut, red Ann Taylor blouse. Her breasts bragged of having drank deeply from the fountain of youth, but her hands told a different story. Hands didn’t lie, and they told Barron that Fanny was well into her fifties. Tight pants showcased her toned body. Real jewels dripped into her cleavage, and dangled from her wrists and ears. A gold Tiffany’s watch counted the seconds slipping away on her wrist.

  Barron gazed upon his newest conquest. He loved this moment. She had no idea death had already come and gone for her, just when she was getting everything she had ever wanted.

  Time would never mean the same thing to her. The Tiffany’s watch was a glittering handcuff, a ticking timepiece turned shackle. Fanny Belle was now undead, like so many other Congressmen in D.C.

  “I hate Knavish,” growled Ava, throwing her backpack to the ground. We had just finished our Magical Transformation class. The campus was buzzing with the news that a girl had died. Other than that detail, no one had much of it right.

  Some said the Red Scare had been staging a protest. No one could remember seeing it. Some said the girl was a member of the Red Scare. Never mind that she was Freshman and new to the school. Some said there was dark magic involved. This was true, but it was like saying ‘the sky is blue.’

  “It wasn’t the Red Scare,” I said to Ava from the privacy of our shared dorm room.

  She nodded. “They don’t blow stuff up. They never have. They’re non-violent.”

  “Upper classmen always frighten the Freshmen with crazy stories about them. The Red Scare is a student group of magic haters. They don’t use magic. It doesn’t even make sense that they would stage an attack like this.”

  Ava sighed. “I know. I wish I knew what was going on. Something is not adding up.”

  A knock on our bedroom door stopped the conversation cold. It was our suite mate, Tabby, with a sly grin.

  “I hear Greta has a date.” She waggled her eyebrows at me and punched me in the shoulder.

  I blushed, the Red Scare all but forgotten.

  Ava’s grin could not have been any wider. “Details! How did you not tell me about this already?”

  I shrugged, trying to downplay the invitation. “I’m just going running with Jeremy.”

  Tabby gave a low whistle. “Guuurrrrl he’s a hottie.”

  I was desperate for help decoding the male psyche. “I don’t know. I mean, yes, he’s a hottie, but is it a date? Can running be a date?”

  Tabby and Ava exchanged knowing glances.

  “Isn’t a date dinner and a movie?” My dating life was less than zero. I was living in the friend zone, no game, no admirers, not a single spark of interest from the male species. I’ve crushed on plenty of guys. It didn’t take much, a smile and my heart was gone. This was the first time a guy had ever asked me to do something with him - just him and me.

  “People go on running dates,” Tabby smiled. “They’re like pre-dates, sort of. So it’s a way for the guy to get to know you. Jeremy is thinking, ‘I need to get to know her better and see if her cuteness extends to her soul.’”

  I rolled my eyes and laughed. “That was way too deep, Tabby, plus you’re wrong. Look at me.” I motioned to my short, stubby legs and held up a strand of my limp brown hair. “I’m not the type of girl who catches the eye — especially not a guy like Jeremy.”

  Tabby and Ava both shook their heads. Ava spoke up, “Greta, you need to get over your low-self esteem. You’re beautiful. You have a ton of amazing qualities. Any guy would be lucky to have you for a girlfriend.”

  “Or a running partner,” added Tabby.

  A thrill went through my body. If Tabby and Ava thought it was possible that someone like Jeremy could like me, maybe it was true. Maybe he did like me.

  “So you really think this counts as being asked on a date?” I still felt insecure.

  Ava smiled. “I do, but it doesn’t matter what I think. Go running with him tomorrow and then give us a full run-down.”

  “All the details,” said Tabby with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows. “Including when he pulls you off the trail to make out.”

  “Stop it! He’s not going to do that.” I protested, but inside my heart was fluttering with the hope of my running date ending with an epic make-out session with the god of the basketball team.

  “We’ve got to get to class,” said Tabby with alarm. In a rush, the three of us gathered our books and headed to Madison Hall, where our next class was being held.

  We hit the front doors in tight knot, pushing underclassmen out of the way. We weren’t being mean, but we weren’t exactly polite either.

  Tabby and Ava conversed quietly. I trailed them, lost in fantasies about my running date with Jeremy.

  The lobby of Madison Hall was filled with students, some heading to class, others heading to the dorms. Our school was more like a university than a high school. We registered for classes each semester and carried credit hours, not full days of classes. The school founders wanted to give us plenty of time to practice our magic and socialize with other magicals.

  Jeremy and his group of basketballers burst into the cavernous lobby throwing basketballs to each other. Oliver split off from the main group and headed toward us.

  “Hoop,” he called.

  A hoop appeared hanging from the balcony right above our little group of three.

  “For the assist,” yelled Oliver.

  Jeremy shot, the ball arcing over the sea of people. Oliver leaped in the air with the grace of a cat, grabbed the ball, hit the ground in a low crouch, and then sprung forward. He hit the rim of the hoop and dunked the ball, making it look as easy as dunking a donut in a cup of coffee.

  “Greta,” Jeremy called my name. I thrill went through me. I turned, watching the basketball god released another ball.

  “Move,” yelled Ava.

  I didn’t listen to her. Jeremy shot the basketball and then pulled his sunglasses on top of his head. My eyes locked on Jeremy’s gorgeous brown ones. The basketball dropped through the hoop with a swish. A perfect shot, drilling me right in the head.

  I dropped to the floor, my backpack falling off my shoulder with a thud. Or maybe the thud was my head hitting the floor. An explosion of pain erupted behind my eyes.

  Ava and Tabby yelled. Jeremy and Oliver argued with them. I stayed on the floor, unable to shake the stars whirling around my head.

 
A gentle hand closed around my upper arm and a male voice said, “Are you okay?”

  The warmth of healing magic rippled from his fingers into my body. It was — a nice feeling. I had never had a guy perform magic on me before. Ava probably had, but not me.

  My head cleared, and I opened my eyes into a sea of turquoise blue, like every picture of the Caribbean you’ve ever seen. Rubbing the lump on my head, I pushed myself to sitting. A sea of legs milled around me. Ava and Tabby engaged in a heated argument with Oliver and Jeremy, the rest of the basketball team massed behind their captain and their top scorer.

  “Are you okay,” the guy next to me repeated.

  “I think so,” I stared at Jeremy, confused. Why hadn’t he come to my aid? If I had hurt a guy I liked, I would help him. Unless he was one of those super immature guys who flirted with girls by picking on them. It’s pretty crappy smack a girl in the head with a basketball.

  “My name is Chase,” said the guy offering me a hand as he stood.

  I placed my hand in his and he helped me to my feet. “I’m Greta,” I said. He didn’t look familiar. “Are you new here?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “It’s that obvious?”

  I laughed. “Not at all. I just didn’t recognize you. It’s not like Illysian has a ton of students.”

  “No, but the campus is big and confusing. I’m trying to get to Magical History.”

  “I’m heading there. You’re welcome to tag along.”

  He shot me a grateful smile.

  “I can introduce you to a few people. Come on.”

  “That’s okay,” he said backing up. “I’m fine.”

  “What?” I teased. “You don’t want to meet any cute girls?” I motioned for him to follow me over to Ava and Tabby.

  He caught my eyes and smiled. “I met you. Seems like a great start.”

  I blushed. Was this new guy flirting with me? Is this what life would be like if I didn’t have to live in Ava’s shadow?

  “I have a —” I stopped myself. I was about to say ‘boyfriend’ but I reconsidered. Jeremy and I were only going on a pre-date. I didn’t want to mislead Chase or give him false hope. Once he met Ava, any interest in me would go right out the window.