Forgotten Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 3)

by Melinda Kucsera

  “Well, dang it. My own mother drugged me …” My body wobbled, and I started to fall.

  I barely saw my mother grab the mug in my hands before a set of strong arms wrapped around me.

  “I got you,” Braxton whispered before scooping me in his arms.

  A soft kiss caressed my temple before everything went black.

  Chapter Four

  What woke me first was the unbearable heat. Heat? What the heck? My eyes snapped open. I gasped. Looking down, I could see the tiny flames reaching out to lick at my feet. I tried to kick at them as if I could put out the fire that way. I tried to run but found that I was bound.

  Bound? Why am I tied up? Did Willow and her father kidnap me and I just don’t remember? Where is Braxton?

  Starting to panic, my eyes fell on the sea of screaming people.

  “Kill the witch! Kill the witch!”

  That was when I noticed all the people were dressed like they were in the late sixteen hundreds.

  I’m being burned at the stake for being a witch! This is the Witch Trials. How did I get here?

  “Took you long enough to figure this out,” a condescending voice said over the screaming people.

  I struggled against the ropes that held me while searching for the voice.

  “What are you talking about? What’s going on?” My voice was still filled with panic at the idea that the fire would turn me to ash.

  “By the Great Divine, are all witches in your time this uneducated and dimwitted?” the scathing female voice asked, stepping out in front of the crowd as though they were nothing. “Are you not a witch whose main power element is fire? Just will the fire away.”

  She was right. I should be able to will this fire to do whatever I wanted. Why is it not listening to me? Why can’t I control it? It’s my power element. My breaths came faster, and I had a feeling I would hyperventilate.

  The crowd moved for this new person, this woman dressed in fine Victorian-style clothing. She was clearly upper class with her black dress and black lace from her neck to the boots on her feet, her brown hair pinned back in a chignon. I couldn’t make out the color of her eyes because of the flames dancing in them, but I knew who this was.

  With the pain of the fire climbing towards me, I hissed out a name.

  “Regan Fall.”

  She gave me a broad grin and began to clap.

  “Bravo, my dear. Bravo.” Her face turned somber. “Maybe not so dimwitted after all. Do away with this fire, would you? It makes things hard when trying to carry on a civilized conversation.”

  I stared at the woman in front of me, the woman who had been put on trial for killing her father and grandmother with a pickaxe. The woman who had a children’s sing-song for hopscotch made up about her.

  “Yes, yes, yes ... fifty whacks and all that rubbish. Would you get on with it? I have better things to do with my time than wait on you,” she huffed, her arms crossing over her chest. “Besides, it was only thirty-one whacks, but it didn’t rhyme well enough I guess.” She sniffed in disdain and glanced away.

  I could only gape at her. Had Regan Fall just admitted to killing her family to me? Was this real? What was going on?

  “Put. Out. The. Fire.” She spoke each word on its own as if she was speaking to a simpleton. Of course that simpleton was me. “I’m beginning to think you deserve to be burned at the stake. Why did the Great Divine ever choose you?”

  She really was starting to get on my nerves. Thunder clapped from above.

  She glanced up. “That’s more like it.” She beamed at me.

  It started to pour, dousing the flames that were surrounding me. The ropes and the stakes disappeared. Another disorienting feeling blew threw me, blackness shrouding my vision before the scene changed. Sitting in the parlor of what I could only assume was her home, she poured tea. I was in a lovely royal blue dress, which had me twitching because the corset was far too tight as I studied Regan.

  Have I become Alice and slipped through the looking glass into Wonderland? Because this has to be the maddest tea party I have ever been to.

  “Milk? Sugar?” she asked, hand posed to place either in my cup.

  “No, thank you,” I replied, taking the cup and saucer she handed me.

  She smiled, fixed her own cup as she sat across from me in a similar wing-back chair, only the small mahogany serving table between us.

  She watched me as she sipped her tea. Finally pausing, she placed it on her lap.

  “Do try your tea and I’ll do my best to explain what’s going on here,” she said after several moments of silence.

  “That would be lovely indeed.” I picked up my tea, daintily taking a sip of what turned out to be my favorite kind. My eyes went a little wide with surprise and she started to laugh.

  “What did you expect, my dear? This is a magically-induced dream, of course, so of course it’s going to include your favorite tea.” She continued to chuckle while taking another sip of her own.

  “So why are you here? I certainly would not have dreamed of burning at the stake or of you. Sorry, but it’s true.”

  She grinned, waving me off. “I know, and no need to worry. My feelings aren’t hurt in any way. I go where the Great Divine sends me and she sent me to you. Do you know why?”

  I paused, my grip on the teacup and saucer getting tighter. I tried to relax, but then it hit me. The Great Divine was granting my birthday wish.

  “You’re the last weather witch.”

  She paused mid-sip, placing her cup back on the saucer and leaning forward to slide it on the table.

  “What did you call me?” Her eyebrows were in a scrutinizing frown as she spoke.

  “You’re the last weather witch. The Great Divine said I had to find the last weather witch and retrieve her charm to defeat the demons,” I blurted out.

  She stiffened, her features going rigid as she sat straight in her chair and appraised me once more.

  “One so young being involved with demons? And they say I’m a murderer,” she said in such a belittling tone that I felt small, insignificant, and had the need to defend myself.

  “It’s not like that at all. A demon under the guise of a witch came to Fall River, stole my ex-boyfriend, and took the great book of the coven,” I muttered, reaching for my tea again.

  It was her turn to gape at me. She sucked in a deep breath before speaking again.

  “A demon made it into the inner workings of the coven in Fall River?” she asked for clarification, an appalled look crossing her features as she considered me.

  I nodded at her.

  “Well, then. I never thought I would see the day that it would happen. Then again, I never actually lived to see it happen, now did I? I guess I better help a fellow weather witch out,” she muttered. “I assume you’ve been trained.”

  I cut her off. “I haven’t been trained at all. These powers only started to manifest in the last few months.”

  Once again it was as if I had struck her dumb.

  “An untrained weather witch and the coven never killed you straight out of the gate?” She was dumbfounded. “My how things have changed since I was alive.”

  I frowned at her. “My parents helped me gain some control.” My voice sounded whiny and petulant as I clutched the pendant around my neck. “Besides, I found my balance to help me with it all.”

  Her face softened at that. I never would have expected that from her. Her stare went distance for a moment, as if she was remembering something lovely.

  “I found my balance too,” she whispered, her sweet voice full of love even though her gaze was still far away, like she could see him in that moment. Then her rage-filled gaze snapped to me. “My father and grandmother disapproved of him. They had him killed because he wasn’t what they felt should be upper-class society and good enough for me. Sadly, my father always listened to whatever my grandmother told him—such a mommy’s boy.” She sneered in disgust before picking up her tea again and took a sip. I didn’t dar
e move a single muscle while I waited for her to speak again. “I killed them for it. I couldn’t live without Steven; he was my everything. Nothing else mattered after he was gone, so I gave up my powers as a witch,” she said matter-of-factly.

  I could only stare. Her family had killed her balance? Killed her perfect match? No wonder she had lost her mind and killed them. Without Braxton, I would be lost. No way would I want to be part of a world that he wasn’t in. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she had gone through when it happened. The pain of it must have been astounding.

  Am I sympathizing with a killer? I think I am. How odd.

  “I am so sorry Ms. Fall,” I told her.

  “Regan, please. If the Great Divine has brought us together and we’re talking as we are, I believe you’ve earned the right to call me Regan.”

  “Sky.” I smiled at her.

  “Perfect name for a weather witch.” She chuckled. “So, my charm, you say? The Divine told you to get it to defeat the demons?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded. “The charms are extremely powerful, and having one that belonged to any of the former weather witches just helps amplify the powers. And”—She dragged that word out—“I can only assume the Divine sent you to me because I gave up all my powers as a witch—weather witch and all—and placed them within my charm. My charm would be rather invaluable with all that power.”

  “So, what is your charm and where can I find it?” I asked, almost giddy that I was finally getting somewhere.

  She gave me a rather mischievous grin. “It was my pickaxe, of course.”

  I sat back stunned. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but I didn’t know what to say to that.

  She watched my reaction and burst into peals of laughter.

  “What did you expect it to be?” she managed to say between giggles.

  “I don’t know. A bracelet, a necklace, or even a hair clip,” I replied, rather appalled that it would be the weapon she had used to kill her family with.

  “My dear, the charm of the weather witch changes to the need of the witch. In my hour of need, it changed into a weapon.” She shrugged. “So, you need to find it. I have no idea where it would be now.”

  I groaned, my hands covering my face as I realized I knew exactly where to find it.

  “I assume you know where to find it then?”

  “Just kill me now. Because that would be easier than trying to get the pickaxe.” I sighed. Shaking my head, I looked up to see her expectant face. “It’s part of a museum piece in the town hall.”

  She paused and then laughed again. “How poetic. I’ve become a part of the town history then?”

  I nodded, picking up my tea again and finishing it in one gulp in an attempt to calm myself. She continued to snicker, covering it up behind her hand.

  “That really is priceless.” She chortled, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to get herself under control. “How will you get it? Can you just go in and ask if you can borrow it?”

  It was my turn to laugh. “Umm ... no. That wouldn’t work at all.”

  “Well, that is inconvenient. The coven just can’t give you access to it?”

  “No. Fall River is not just run by the coven anymore. It’s a community with humans, too.”

  When I saw her eyes go wide at that comment, I was quick to continue.

  “They don’t know they’re living with witches, of course, and the school is considered a posh boarding school, though it really isn’t.”

  “My how people forget magic and decide to live openly with those that will fear and rise against them. Ridiculous. I’m glad I’m not living there anymore.” She gave another dismissive wave, leaning forward to pour herself another cup of tea. She looked at me in question while holding the teapot.

  “Thank you.” I politely held out my cup and she poured. “Forgotten magic? Do you really think so?”

  I had never considered it. It was just the way things were done. It was how I had grown up. We lived and mingled with humans or the non-magical every day. Was the coven and the witch community as a whole forgetting the magic from whence they came by living the way we did?

  “Hmmm ... who am I to judge? But the coven allowed a magical artifact to be placed in a museum and not be accessible to witches. The charm of a weather witch no less. That you can’t just walk in and take it to use is absurd. That demons moved into the area and no one saw it coming? Yes, the coven has forgotten itself and its magic. That never should have happened,” she said decisively.

  I really couldn’t argue with her when I thought about it. She was right. Townhall had a magical artifact that I needed, and if the coven was actually in control, I should be able to walk inside and get it. Add the whole demon issue ... well, it was a total sour note for me considering Nick. But it made sense, people forget, place things away never to be thought of again.

  How had it happened? I always thought witches were a little bit better than nonmagical folk, but I was starting to rethink that assessment after this. We had been bested, but not only that. We had also been left wanting, and that more than anything else scared me.

  “You should be scared.” She shook her head. “We need to defeat these demons and get the book back.”

  “Agreed, and that leads me to my next question: even if I do manage to get your charm, how do I use it? I can’t just wander around with a pickaxe.” I rolled my eyes at that thought. I’d be arrested quicker than melting snow in hades, for that one.

  “Oh, the things I could teach you young weather witch Sky.” She smirked. “But since we don’t have that much time, I guess we’ll have to settle for tea.”

  I paused, having just taken another sip. I looked at my tea and it was swirling with iridescent colors.

  “I thought you gave up your magic?” My voice shook as I eyed the cup and then her. Had she just killed me with tea?

  She sighed dramatically. “As if the Great Divine would allow something like me killing you happen. And why would I want to? Silly chit. No, the Divine is allowing me to pass on my knowledge, and this is the fastest way to do that. Drink it down girl. Drink up!”

  Staring at her long and hard one last time, I tried to find deception hidden in her gaze, but there wasn’t any. With a sigh, I downed the rest of the tea. Thankfully it tasted normal. I looked up to her when I finished.

  She smiled. “I wish we could have met in another time. I think we might have been good friends. I hope I’ve helped you and that maybe, just maybe, you’ll come talk to me again.”

  Once again, I was feeling sleepy. She grabbed the tea and saucer from my hand before it crashed to the floor.

  “Good luck Sky. Though I don’t think you’ll need it. You’re far stronger than I ever was.” Regan’s voice grew softer as she pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then the world went black again.

  Chapter Five

  As if waking up from another dream, I thrashed against whoever I was holding and screamed as I tried to sit up. “Regan!”

  “I’ve got you. Sky. I’ve got you.” Braxton was holding me tightly in his arms on my bed. I kept struggling, kept trying to get away while I searched for the witch that was no longer there.

  My eyes finally fell on my mother, who looked flustered and concerned, wringing her hands, her eyebrows furrowed. I went completely still in Braxton’s arms as I stared at her.

  When I spoke, my throat was so dry it was as if I had never had any tea at all.

  “You drugged me,” I croaked as I pointed an accusatory finger her way.

  She flinched but she quickly stiffened her spine before speaking. “It was for your own good. You couldn’t figure this out without getting some rest. It was only a short spell,” she tried to explain.

  If I hadn’t met Regan in my dreams, I might have been more upset. Then again, did I really? It was a drug-induced dream, after all. One that my own mother had put me under. I sat upright in my bed, realizing Braxton was directly beside me, although his ey
es were narrowed as if he was irritated.

  “You knew she was going to do it,” I said, and it wasn’t a question. The fact that his gaze dropped to the ground before it landed on my mother spoke volumes. Jerking away, I almost toppled over when he let me go.

  “First off, how long was I out? Time is a major factor, remember?” I spoke in a sarcastic tone.

  Both of them winced, but it was my father who stepped out of the door and into my line of view. “We did it for your own good. You need to be at top performance to be able to figure this out. We knew you needed sleep, so we made sure you got it.” His eyes pleaded with me to understand.

  “How long?” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Two hours,” Braxton told me, his voice gentle as he turned his still-bowed head my way.

  I groaned, closing my eyes and covering my face with my hands while I mumbled calming chants under my breath.

  “Too bad it wasn’t a calming sleep,” I grumbled without looking up.

  “What do you mean? You should feel well rested and refreshed. It’s a potion I’ve used for years,” my mother said as she went to sit on the bed beside me, though she stopped mid-motion when I met her eyes.

  “Guess you didn’t take into consideration that the Great Divine might be intervening on the whole thing then, did you?” I spoke, arching an eyebrow at her.

  They all looked a little stunned. My mother’s gasp formed a perfect O, but she tried to cover it with her hand.

  “What do you mean?” my father asked.

  “What I mean is I woke in the dreamscape being tied and burned at the stake,” I replied, eliciting even more shock-filled sounds from them. I kept going. “Having flames that feel absolutely real licking at your feet is not fun believe you me.”

  “Oh, sweet goddess,” my mother cried. “I would never send you into something like that.”

  My father took her in his arms, and when she wrapped hers around him, her shoulders shook as if she was crying. I tried not to feel aggravated by the fact that I was the one who had gone through something and she was the one that was freaking out. It didn’t feel fair. Why should I have to be the one to comfort her?