The Black Veins (Dead Magic Book 1)

by Ashia Monet

  Lily is sprawled on the rug, surrounded by her “arts and crafts”, which are little more than colorful pieces of ripped paper. Today, Lily’s project is a circle of rainbow confetti.

  “Hey,” Blythe greets. “Colorful.”

  “Thanks,” Lily smiles down at her handiwork. “I was going for a diverse color palette.”

  “I wanna ask how you learned to talk like that but I’m afraid of the answer,” Blythe replies.

  Amber is already closing tabs on her laptop. “Hey baby, we can go talk in your room.”

  That means she doesn’t want the twins overhearing—which isn’t a good sign. But Blythe doesn’t protest.

  By the time she’s gotten upstairs and changed into her sweats and a Sailor Moon t-shirt, her mother is already opening the door.

  Amber leans against it as it shuts. Her gaze is heavy with an emotion Blythe can’t place.

  “The Sages called us back,” Amber says.

  Of course they did. Blythe tucks her feet further beneath her as if she could sink into her bed. “What did they say?”

  Amber takes a long, slow breath. “Well. I spoke with their main advisor, Sessa. She basically said that the Sages haven’t identified who tried to hurt you, but they are very…concerned. Because the same thing happened to two other Guardians.”

  Blythe’s heart drops to her feet. She wasn’t the only one. The Trident Republic are using three Guardians as pawns, manipulating their minds and their lives, just to get a response from the Sages.

  Somewhere out in the world, two other people are as frazzled and terrified as Blythe. It makes her stomach ache.

  “This situation is…a lot bigger than us,” Amber continues. “We can’t risk them controlling you again. Sessa told me about the precautions the Sages want to take, and I agree. It would only last for a few weeks—or a month or two, at the most. Just until they have the situation under control—”

  “What will?” Blythe asks.

  Amber doesn’t answer. She makes her way to Blythe’s side and sits, slowly, on the bed. “Baby…” she begins. “You’re a good girl. And we’re proud of you. You’re mature, you’re smart, you’re responsible—”

  Amber doesn’t need to finish. There is only one situation where Amber would dance around the truth like this. There is only one outcome that would shatter Blythe.

  “I’m leaving, aren’t I?” Blythe asks.

  Amber’s eyes have gone glassy. The look she wore when she walked in is the same look she wears now: worry. “They’re sending someone to pick you up on Saturday,” she whispers.

  And just like that, the day comes to a final, messy, tragic crescendo. Blythe is used to moving with her family—she’s done that for years. But this?

  “Me,” Blythe repeats, her voice a whisper. “Alone.”

  “I know, I know,” Amber takes Blythe’s hands into her own, intertwining their fingers. “But you won’t be by yourself. They’re taking all of the Guardians to Frost Glade. The Sages didn’t want to take any chances.”

  Amber and Blythe’s fingers cross like they fit perfectly together. Blythe does not want to let her go.

  “I don’t want to move to some foreign city,” Blythe snaps. “I live here. I just—I don’t want to go into hiding.”

  “What do you think will happen if you don’t?” Amber asks.

  The truth clogs in Blythe’s throat. She could be killed if she stays here.

  “We can’t protect you like the Sages can. And we’re strong enough to admit that,” Amber says. “When the Sages offered to make you a Guardian, we had to agree that the Sages would house you if we weren’t able to protect you. Because we knew we were giving you a destiny that was so much bigger than us. And everything that’s happening now? It is more than we can handle. So, we’re letting the Sages take over for a bit.”

  Blythe bites her lip. Hard. It’s the only thing that can hold back the tears.

  Amber grips her hands tighter. “You’ll just be going to Frost Glade. And it’s a great city. We used to live there, y’know.”

  Blythe looks up at her. She is desperate for some positivity, some light. “You never told me that.”

  “That was back when we were a part of the Black Veins. You were about three, I think.” Amber breaks into a smile, so similar to Blythe’s own. “On holidays, we would take you out to see the lights. They had fireworks conjured straight from magicians’ hands, bursting in the night sky. You loved them then. You might love them again.”

  Her voice is warm, filled happiness and love. Like these are cherished memories. “Why’d you leave?” Blythe asks. “Not just Frost Glade, but like…the Black Veins too.”

  Amber deflates a little, looking away. “It…became overwhelming. The world of magic is constantly in strife. There’s always danger looming on the horizon; as soon as you solve one problem, another three appear. And being right there, in the capital city, allied to the largest, oldest magician government…it was too much. I mean, the year we left, some rich family got banished for a capital crime. And it barely made a one-minute segment on the news.”

  She pauses. “But, at the same time, there’s nothing like the Black Veins. And there’s nothing like Frost Glade. I mean, there are no roads because cars fly between buildings. The Sages’ castle sits right at the city center. The whole south side is a beach, and when you’re on the shore at night, you can hear the sounds of the city and feel the waves against your feet. It’s like the whole city is breathing with you. It’s unlike…”

  Her voice trails off because Blythe’s gaze has dropped. She is fighting back tears.

  Frost Glade sounds amazing, it really does. She would rather see it with her family, where her mother can fall in love with that place again, than be trapped on its shores because the Trident Republic wants to kill her.

  Amber pulls Blythe into her arms and Blythe squeezes her eyes to hold back the tears. “I know, I know,” Amber whispers. “It’s a lot. But you’re strong, and you’re ours. You can do this. You could do it in your sleep. You’ll get there, you’ll make good memories, and you’ll be home before you know it. Then you’ll show us all the photos you’ve taken and tell us about everything you did.”

  But that wasn’t promised. Not really. No one knows how long war could last. Blythe could be stranded in that city for years.

  And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, she can do to stop this.

  Blythe doesn’t run from her problems—she runs away from the things she cannot change. She runs from the truth that everything and everyone she loves is going to be snatched away.

  “MOMMY!” Lily’s voice echoes from the hallway. “I think I broke the hot glue gun!”

  Blythe pulls away from her mother as Amber sighs, knitting her brow. “Lil, why are you using a hot glue gun?!” Amber calls.

  She’s already getting to her feet, pointing to Blythe as she heads out the door. “We’ll talk more at dinner. I tried a new cake recipe for dessert, it’s actually really popular in Frost—”

  “I think I’m just gonna sleep,” Blythe interrupts.

  Amber’s brows pinch. She gets worried when Blythe keeps things to herself like this. But Blythe can’t help it.

  “Okay baby,” Amber says. “Just don’t worry too much, alright? You’ll be okay.” She kisses Blythe on the forehead before she leaves, closing the door behind her.

  Blythe stares at the smooth white plane of her ceiling. In a few days, she will be sleeping in a new bedroom, in a new city, surrounded by strangers.

  Her eyes sting. Blythe bites her lip. Hard. She hates crying.

  Her parents’ voices drift in from the hall. “…said she’s just going to sleep,” Amber is saying. “She’ll be alright, she just needs to process everything. You know how she is.”

  Blythe wakes in the middle of the night. On her desk is a plate of cake covered in saran wrap.

  The gesture has her parents written all over it.

  Two

  Amber and Jamal’s anniversary
dinner should be a cause for celebration, but Jamal refuses to leave the girls home alone. Blythe refuses to let him cancel the reservation.

  “In two days, I’ll be gone,” Blythe explains. “And until then, I just…I just want everything to be normal. I don’t even know when I’ll see you guys again. I don’t want to remember us being…sad and scared.”

  Usually, Blythe’s parents take her opinions with a grain of salt. But now, with the knowledge that these may very well be her last days with them for a long, long time, Jamal can’t refuse.

  “But if you hear even the slightest noise,” he says. “Call me.”

  Like most magicians, Amber and Jamal developed their magic during puberty, flaunted it as teenagers, and considered it mundane as they settled into comfortable adulthood. Magicians are more than capable of using magical items, but most stick to the specific, singular ability they inherit in their youth.

  But Jamal has little use for his invisibility these days, and while Amber loves to tell stories of materializing force fields while raising clumsy toddlers, she does not use her magic often either.

  Now, the Fultons are a family of curly-haired, brown-skinned creative souls (excluding Lena, who prefers spending her summer afternoons on a soccer field) with magic being only a small part of their identities. But that doesn’t mean Amber and Jamal don’t remember how to use their magic.

  Blythe does not doubt that they would break out their magic out to protect her. Her family would do anything for her—and she’d do anything for them.

  In the living room, once her parents have gone for the night, Blythe scrolls through her laptop. On the other end of the red leather couch, the twins are playing a very intense round of Mario Kart.

  Their round eyes stare unblinking at the screen, tiny fingers death-gripping their controllers. Blythe tunes them out to focus on her research. See, she tried ignoring the Black Veins and the Trident Republic, hoping the situation would simply dissipate, but it did the exact opposite. It came right to her door, slammed it open, and is now dragging her out by her hair.

  If a potential war is forcing her to leave her home, Blythe wants to know every single detail that exists about this situation. No one will be able to lie to her. The moment the coast is clear, no one will be able to tell her she can’t go home, that she can’t be with her family again. She will control her own destiny.

  It feels like the only form of power she has left.

  Luckily, the political tension has made headlines across multiple magician news outlets, making her search extremely easy. From what Blythe gathers, the conflict began two weeks ago.

  The Trident Republic was laying foundation for a new high-rise hotel in their capital, Electric City. One of their machines hit something small, hard, and radiating with magical energy.

  They sent the object to their head thaumologist—a scientist who specializes in studying magic and magical artifacts—and they realized that the stone was a power source. But not just any power source, like the tiny one used in the Full Cup’s cloaker. No, this was a crystal with enough energy to power any magical spell, regardless of how large…or how destructive.

  In less than a day, the Black Veins army swept into Electric City and took it.

  The Sages explained that the stone held “potentially dangerous amounts of magical energy” and was “unsafe to leave in public hands”.

  The Trident Republic took high offense. As far as they are concerned, the stone belonged to them, regardless of how dangerous it may be. But the Sages neither apologized nor returned the stone.

  Now, the Trident Republic is pissed. And Blythe’s is entire life is being uprooted because they’re throwing a temper tantrum.

  Blythe chews her nails, watching her sisters’ karts fly through colorful race tracks. Couldn’t the Sages just return the damn stone? But if it is as powerful as they say, maybe it’s safer if they didn’t. The Trident Republic is too new, too unpredictable. They wouldn’t know how to properly protect the stone from getting into the wrong hands.

  Or, perhaps, the Trident Republic may very well be those wrong hands.

  “You cheated!” Lily screams. “You cheated again, that’s the only reason why you won—”

  “No I didn’t, no I didn’t!” Lena yells.

  Blythe rolls her eyes as their argument pounds against her eardrums. Lena probably did cheat, but Blythe doesn’t have the energy for this.

  “Alright!” she yells. “It’s my turn. Pass me a controller and prepare to lose.”

  Their race ends with Blythe in first, Lily in fifth, and Lena dead last.

  Lena, pointedly, does not look at Blythe. “You can’t play anymore,” she pouts.

  Blythe raises her chin and sniffs the air. “Hey. You smell that? Smells like…smells like a sore loser.”

  Lena’s face skews. “I’m not a sore loser you’re a sore winner! We let you play with us, you’re not supposed to win!”

  Lily kicks her feet. “Mom said you’re going to live somewhere else,” she blurts.

  The three of them fall silent. The twins stare unblinking at Blythe, but she’s not quite sure how to talk to them about this. They’re too young to truly understand how much danger she’s in. They probably think she’s just abandoning them.

  “Just for a little bit,” Blythe says. “But I’ll be back soon. I promise. I don’t even want to leave.”

  “Are you gonna come back on the weekends?” Lena asks.

  Blythe hesitates. “No. I don’t think so.”

  Lily twists her mouth to the side. “Who’s gonna bring us extra slices of cake?”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I swear,” A smile creeps onto Blythe’s face. “But in the meantime…if you wait until Mom and Dad go to sleep, you can sneak downstairs by walking near the railing so the floorboards don’t creak. Then just use paper plates and forks so you can throw away the evidence. Boom.”

  The twins’ jaws drop simultaneously. Blythe winks. Her parents are definitely going to kill her for sharing this information, but it’s worth it.

  “So...can we have cake now?” Lena asks.

  The answer should be no; the twins are demons when they’re having a sugar rush. But this could be the last time Blythe hangs out with her sisters for a long, long while.

  So she jumps to her feet. “Y’know what? Let’s do it.”

  The twins cheer as Blythe races into the kitchen. Streetlights from the backyard bleed through the curtains and the whole room smells of vanilla extract and icing.

  Blythe peeks out the window. Night has fallen, heavy and dark, drenching the world in shadow. Lena’s soccer goal rests against the fence. And behind the fence is a man.

  He faces their house, the brim of a hat concealing his face. When Blythe sees him, he lowers his head and walks away.

  Fear clogs Blythe’s throat. Who was that? Who was that?

  She rushes to the back door. It opens up to the backyard but it’s locked. Of course it is, they’re a Black family and they always keep their doors locked. Blythe just needed to make sure.

  Blythe returns to the window. There is no trace of a man. It feels like seeing a spider in your bedroom; the real terror hits when you lose sight of it.

  The doorbell rings.

  “I’ll get it!” The sound of Lena’s voice makes Blythe’s blood run cold.

  “Lena, sit down!” she yells.

  Blythe rushes into the living room. The twins sit, frozen and confused on the couch. Blythe never yells at them like that. Ever.

  The cheery video game music plays through the living room as Blythe stares down the front door. If only she could see past its metal frame, out onto the porch.

  The doorbell rings again.

  Blythe walks slowly, carefully. She has no weapons and—what chills her most—no specific magic ability of her own. Not yet. But she will fight to the death before she lets this man get anywhere near her little sisters.

  The knob is ice cold against her palm as she twists it. The hinges sq
ueal as the door eases open.

  There, on the porch, is Jamie Monvarian. “I spent a really long time trying to think of a cool one-liner for when you opened the door, but nothing good came,” they say.

  Shock and relief hit Blythe like a crashing wave. “Jamie! What the fuck?! What are you doing?”

  Jamie’s brows shoot up. They’re dressed in ripped skinny jeans and a sleeveless Nirvana tee as if they’ve just come to hang out—oh.

  “Well, you said I could come by if it rained and uh,” they point upwards. “It’s rainin’.”

  “I did, I’m sorry. I just…forgot,” Blythe sighs, running a hand through her curls. In the messy tangle of everything she’s had to deal with, Jamie’s visit got a little lost. “I know I said it was cool, but now’s not a good—”

  “Whoa!” Lena yells. “Blythe has friends?”

  Blythe throws the door open, smiling at Jamie. “This just in! You can now stay for as long as it takes to convince my sisters—and possibly my entire family—that I am capable of making friends when I feel like it!”

  Jamie chuckles as they step in, a raspy sound that is actually quite pleasant. “Cool, I love social experiments.”

  Blythe looks behind them, out into the street. The figure she saw in the backyard was definitely not Jamie. But there is no one around, not from what she can see. Still, she locks the door when she closes it.

  The twins stare Jamie down, fascinated by this tall, purple haired person Blythe has brought before them.

  “You work at the café,” Lena observes.

  “I do,” Jamie agrees.

  “Does your hair grow out of your head like that?” Lily asks.

  “No,” Jamie answers. “It grows out of a little bottle I buy from Hot Topic for ten bucks.”

  “Hey!” Lena suddenly screams, breaking out of the trance Jamie put her in. “Where’s our cake?”

  Oops. “Oh shit, sorry,” Blythe apologizes. “Jamie, do you want cake? My mom made it, it’s like…buttercream and tapioca or something? It’s good.”