Magic For Dummies: A Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (God Fire Reform School Book 1)

by Lacey Carter Andersen

  Magic for Dummies

  God Fire Reform School 1

  May Dawson

  Lacey Carter Andersen

  Magic for Dummies

  By May Dawson and Lacey Carter Andersen

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Also By Lacey Carter Andersen

  Also by May Dawson

  About Lacey Carter Andersen

  About May Dawson

  Chapter One

  Izzy

  My alarm buzzes and my head jerks off the book in front of me. Did I really fall asleep? Sighing, I pick up my phone and glance at the screen, then do a double-take. Midnight? Wait, no. My alarm was supposed to go off just before nine, when the library closes.

  How did this happen?

  I turn off the alarm, then look slowly around the darkened shelves of the library. Yes, I’m in my usual corner, tucked away from all the noise, but someone should have seen me before locking up the library.

  The librarians do a sweep at the end of the day, right?

  The truth is, I don’t know, because I don’t make a habit of passing out face-down in my books, in public, while researching. But I’m exhausted. Studying has been hard enough, but following my last lead had me dragging my butt right back here.

  Freaking bad luck. Just what I needed during finals week.

  The library has always been the one home I can count on. I might bounce from family to family, but every new town has a library to lose myself in. But now? With the silence and the deep shadows, for the first time in my life, the library doesn’t feel like an old friend. It feels...dangerous.

  When I stand, my chair scratches noisily across the floor. I freeze, heart pounding. The sound seems to echo through the darkness, and a chill runs down my spine. Calm down, Izzy. You’re not a kid. You know monsters don’t exist. You’re fine.

  Taking a deep breath, I will myself not be scared… but it doesn’t work. I just need to grab my stuff and run for the door. Maybe an alarm will sound, but hopefully I’ll be halfway home before the police arrive.

  Actually, I need to be long gone by then. The last thing I want is to give my foster parents a reason to think I’ve decided to be a trouble maker. Right when they’re no longer legally required to keep me around.

  My mind starts turning. It’s midnight on a school night, but my foster parents haven’t called. I’m kind of hurt that they didn’t notice I never came home, but at least I’m not in trouble. So I better get back before I am.

  I stuff my books into my bag and zip it up. Picking up my phone, I check the time again, then notice the date. Oh boy, it’s officially my birthday.

  Happy freaking eighteenth birthday to me.

  Sighing, I grab the mountain of microfilm and try to stack it in a neat pile at the edge of the table. My hands, shaking ever so slightly, knock the entire pile on the floor.

  “Shit,” I mutter, kneeling down.

  There’s easily two hundred slides, all of newspapers from the day of the fire, the day our house burned down in flames.

  It’s the same day my mother disappeared, abandoning two six year old girls. But no matter how much time I spend in the library, I’ve never found anything about my birth mother, the fire, or my twin sister Eleena.

  As I gather up the pile, tiny flames on one slide catch my eye, and I freeze. Reaching for that one slide, I hold it up beneath the thin glow of the emergency light. I see the outline of a woman holding two children with a house burning behind her.

  Heart racing, I slide into my chair and pull the microfilm reader closer. I put the film in place and turn the machine on. Looking down at the magnified, brighter article, I read:

  Firefighters responded to the scene of a fire at 417 Mayfield Drive in the early morning of October 7th. They tried to control the blaze, however, it spread to four neighboring homes before it could be extinguished. No lives were lost in the fire, but the cause of the fire is still unknown.

  There was more, continued on another page. A page I didn’t have.

  I stared, my gaze going to the image. My mother and I—we look so alike. The same mousy brown hair. The same brown eyes. And yet, her expression takes my breath away. It’s the one I remember so well… a look of complete and utter misery. Except it wasn’t just on the day of the fire. She wore her misery like a cloak every day of my life.

  Suddenly, the vague memories of her sharpen. This was my mother. A tiny woman holding two girls as our entire lives burned to the ground.

  We’re all covered in ash and soot in the photo. Distant memories come back to me.

  When Eleena and I woke up, our room was already so hot and we were choking on the smoke. The two of us hid in our bedroom closet, trying to get fresh air. Eleena was crying so hard she couldn’t even talk to me. And then my mother ran into the room, shouting for us, frantic… the memory of her fear lances my heart all these years later.

  When she dragged us out of the closet, the fire was everywhere. Smoke billowed along the ceiling and flames raced through the walls. The flames beat on our skin painfully and I could barely draw a breath.

  And yet, my mother half-carried, half-dragged us through it all and out the door, somehow avoiding the wood and beams falling in the smoke and fire around us.

  I’m shaking, fighting back memories that make no sense. We didn’t walk through the fire. We couldn’t have. So why do the memories feel so real?

  Then, my gaze goes to my twin sister. She looks so small and frightened. Just the way anyone would expect a child would look during one of the most terrifying moments of their lives. And then, when I look to myself, a strange sense dances along my spine. I don’t look scared. I look determined.

  Maybe even angry.

  My stomach flips. That was so long ago, and yet, now I have an address. A place to start this investigation. My mother’s name has always turned up nothing. It was like she didn’t exist. But I had to keep searching. Even if she vanished, I had to find my sister. And now I had a clue to finding out just where she ended up.

  A sound rolls through the library like a wave. A sound like a creaking of tile.

  Everything inside of me tenses. Is someone else here with me?

  Heart pounding, I flick off the microfilm reader. And then, even though I shouldn’t, I put the film gently into my backpack and zip it up softly. I want to search through the rest of the pile to find the other half of the newspaper article, but a terrible feeling twists through my gut.

  If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to get hurt.

  Inching around the table, I hear the sound again. Not footsteps exactly. Almost like a hoof on tile. It’s strange though. It sounds like the person making the sound
is moving slowly.

  One step.

  Two steps.

  Three steps.

  He’s slowly creeping closer to me.

  Sweat rolls down my spine. I grab my backpack and slip it silently over my shoulders. The person is between me and the elevator, but I can make it to the stairs. I just have to be quiet enough and fast enough that they don’t catch me.

  I head through the shelves, moving away from the sound that continues to fall softly. Whoever it is doesn’t walk like a security guard. Those sound like the steps of someone who’s hunting something.

  The thought enters my mind and makes my stomach turn. That’s exactly it. The person sounds like they’re hunting. Like they’re searching for something.

  Is it a creep? A thief? Someone who knows I’m here alone?

  I don’t know, but I need to get away. The instinct crawls over me like ants creeping over my skin.

  When the red exit sign over the stairs comes into view, a wave of relief moves through me. I’ve almost escaped. Just a little further.

  The clomping sound continues. And now, now I think I hear the person breathing. Deep, ragged breaths that sound threatening for some reason.

  I reach the door to the stairs, my heart racing. Please don’t make a sound...

  Sweat has gathered at my brow. My hands are shaking. Looking down at the bar across the door, I take a deep breath, then push.

  It makes a horrible creaking sound, and my entire body freezes.

  And then? Then, I hear the sound of the person clomping towards me. Fast now. He’s locked onto his target.

  I don’t think. I just act. I start running down the stairs. I round the spiraling steps with a recklessness that’s driven by my panic, when I hear the door smash open above.

  The clomping steps follow me down the stairs. Quickly now.

  Heart in my throat, I reach the bottom floor, panting. Exploding out the door, I race through the shelves, turn one corner, running like mad, then realize I’ve gone the wrong way. God, I’ve actually gone the wrong way.

  There’s no other exit out of these shelves. I have to go back…

  And then I hear the person explode out the door. I can’t go back now. I just have to hide.

  I have to hide.

  Slowing my steps, trying to stay silent, I search for anywhere I won’t be found. As I weave deeper into the shelves, I spot a back corner where two bookcases meet oddly. The way the books are arranged, I might be able to hide in that slight corner, behind the books.

  Without hesitating, I rush forward, push the books aside, and take my backpack off. Shoving my back into the shelf, I don’t stop until it hits the wall. Then, placing my backpack on my lap, I gently push the books so that they hide me as much as possible.

  Then, wedged against the wall, where the shelf didn’t quite fit flush, I wait, breathing hard. Time seems to tick away. Did the person go toward the door? They probably assumed I ran out.

  Are they outside somewhere looking for me even now?

  And then… then I hear it. The clomping. It draws ever closer.

  Heart in my throat, I hunch over. I try to make myself as small as possible. I consider pulling my phone into my lap to call 911, but I’m too scared the noise will alert my hunter.

  The clomping draws closer. And closer.

  I stop breathing. The person has come to stand in front of where I hide. There’s nowhere else to go. This is the end of the maze of books. They have to know that if I went this way, I’m somewhere here.

  A strange thought comes into my mind. He’s been hunting for me for a long time. He was always going to find me. It doesn’t make sense, and yet it feels true.

  Time ticks by. As I listen to the sound of their rough breathing, sweat coats my flesh. My legs and arms keep shaking. I’m trying not to breathe. I’m trying not to look through the books at the dark shape there, too scared they’ll feel my stare.

  And then, after a painfully long time, the person turns, and I hear them clomping back the way they came.

  Finally, finally, I take a deep breath. My muscles loosen ever so slightly. I’m still not free. They could come back at any moment. I still, somehow, need to get to the door. Past them.

  But at least they didn’t find me.

  I’m sitting there, feeling terrified, and the strangest thing happens. I see a book on the shelf I don’t remember seeing before. It’s like one minute nothing was there, and the next it had appeared.

  It draws my gaze in a way I can’t explain. Maybe it’s the old leather binding that is so at odds with anything you’d find in a library like this. Whatever it is, I find myself reaching forward without thinking.

  Silently, I draw the book off the shelf. It feels warm in my hand.

  But when I try to open it, it doesn’t budge.

  I frown down at the plain leather cover, then look back up, ears straining to be sure the person hasn’t come back. With a gentle touch, I stroke the smooth surface of its cover. Suddenly, the book begins to glow.

  My jaw drops. Glowing books?

  What the hell is going on?

  I want to throw the damn thing. I don’t want anything near me that might draw the attention of the person hunting me, but the books opens silently, and the glowing brightens, tickling my flesh. I can’t seem to throw the book. I can’t seem to determine what the hell is happening.

  As the glow moves over my arms, a symbol suddenly appears on my wrist. I frown down at it, rotating my arm. Is the book beaming the marking onto me? Somehow it seems like it’s under my skin.

  And then, the light fades and the symbol disappears.

  Again, I feel myself shaking. But it’s different this time. And my skin feels strange. Prickly. Achy.

  Not knowing what to do, I cautiously unzip my backpack and stuff the book inside, listening for the strange person yet again. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll look at the weird book later. For now, I just want to get out of here.

  Pushing the books on the shelf gently aside, I glance out of my hiding place. Nothing is in the darkened shelves.

  Creeping out, I drag my bag with me, put it on my back, and start back through the maze of shelves. Silent. Careful. Looking every second for any sign of the other person in the library.

  When I reach the end of the shelves, I see the front door. It’s out in the open. If the person is anywhere here, they’ll see me. But outside the door I see freedom. And that makes me want to take a chance.

  Taking a deep breath, I will myself not to be terrified out of my mind. Then I tense my muscles and start running.

  Somewhere behind me, I sense the person. I hear the clomping growing closer. It’s running along the tile floor now.

  My heart’s in my throat, I’m scared out of my mind, and my muscles are screaming to go faster.

  I reach the door, explode outside as the alarm bells ring, and keep running. I’m in a courtyard. The pavement and trees are a blur; I’m focused on the sidewalk far ahead by the road. The streetlights shine down on the pavement like it’ll be safer there.

  Running with all my might, putting all my power into my legs, I race for the street. The space between me and it seems to be an impossible distance, taking an eternity I don’t have. But I don’t stop.

  I hit the sidewalk, but I don’t slow, knowing I’m not safe yet. Not far down the street I know there’s a gas station, one I can get help at.

  I hope.

  But when I turn the corner, I slam into a hard chest. Hands grab me, and I scream, punching out as hard as I can.

  Even though in my heart I know it’s over.

  I’m caught.

  Chapter Two

  Izzy

  My fist slams into rock-solid abs, and I stomp on his foot, trying to get loose, before I catch a glimpse of a shocked--but gorgeous--familiar male face staring down at me.

  Noah Wilder grabs me even tighter, wincing, his big arms wrapping around me. “Izzy! Izzy. What’s going on?”

  For a second I
continue struggling against him, then look back, expecting something terrible…but there’s nothing there. Nothing at all except the overwhelming knowledge that whatever was chasing me is real. That it’s somewhere, even if I can’t see it right now.

  And if it was hunting me for a long time, I don’t think it’s ever going to stop.

  “Someone was chasing me.” My voice comes out broken, raspy.

  His body tenses and his head snaps up as he looks behind me at the quiet, empty street. “Who?”

  But as my gaze searches the shadows, I still find nothing.

  My heartbeat still races in my ears, but that sense of impending doom eases. Maybe whoever it was saw Noah and ran?

  Taking a shaky breath, I feel myself calming down. It’s not that I feel completely safe now, but there’s something about having a big guy like Noah beside me and no sign of something scary that makes what happened in the library feel like a bad dream.

  I look up and meet Noah’s hazel eyes, and the tension between us changes. There’s nothing like finding yourself wrapped in the arms of the boy you’ve had a hopeless crush on since the fourth grade.

  Even if it’s just because you’re losing your mind and he feels sorry for you.

  Funny, because that was how we met back in fourth grade, too.

  “I don’t know wha--who was chasing me,” I say.

  He frowns and looks behind me again, but the street’s eerily silent. Slowly, he pulls away from me, but his hand lingers on my shoulder. “Come on, I’ll walk you home, make sure you get there safe.”