Turvy Topsy

by Larisa Long

  Turvy Topsy

  Young Adult Paranormal Fantasy

  By

  Larisa Long

  Copyright ©2019 by Larisa A. Long

  This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents are fiction. Any similarity to any real persons, characters, events or incidents is entirely coincidental. All Rights Reserved.

  Any trademarks, service marks, or product names are assumed to be property of their respective owners. No endorsement is implied.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Summer

  Fall

  Winter

  Spring

  Thank you

  Other Books by Larisa Long

  Prologue

  Some of the curses were just for spite. I think my cousins were bored. I wouldn’t taste anything blue. Seriously?

  The other curses? They were more dangerous. The curses that made me forget.

  If I really knew the curses were hiding something dangerous, would I have done anything differently?

  If I remember all the curses, I’ll die. If I don’t remember, everyone I love will be sacrificed. I’m the only one who can stop what’s about to happen, but I’m cursed not to remember.

  Where are my parents? Who am I really? What did the King do to me? Who can I trust? Why do I get the feeling that bad things are about to happen?

  Summer

  Chapter 1

  My name’s Zalia, and I just turned sixteen. Witches rule my world, and I’m what everyone calls a good witch. I’ve never broken the rules, never dated, never even been kissed. Not by choice. Let me make that perfectly clear. Not. By. Choice.

  Four years ago, my cousins cast a spell which made all witches hate me. Even the most powerful witches can’t reverse the spell. They hate me because of the spell.

  Last count the cousins have thirty-six curses on me. Each one conveniently has been lost to the ages with antidotes impossible to find.

  “Fae it all.” Fell into the toilet for the fifth fae time today. Curse Number 8. I hate dipping the girly parts in toilet water. Sure, I’ve heard some have that fetish, but I won’t judge. Pixies me off about the falling into the toilet. What faehead thinks of that as a curse? Even if you don’t have evil cousins who have cursed you, always look around to get your bearings before the panties drop. That’s just good sense.

  “Zalia!”

  “Fae!” I jump a thousand feet when my name is screeched. Another splash. Yep, make that the sixth time today for falling in the toilet. I’m going to make the newsletter at The Royal Fae Academy. Again.

  I wait silently in the stall. Even though the door is closed, the handle has been broken for the past eight hundred years. Even saw the requisition to fix it in the admin office. Dated eight hundred years ago. What the fae would take eight hundred years to fix a jiggly lock on a bathroom door?

  I close my eyes so I don’t get a migraine since the bathroom is painted eye gouging lemony yellow. Floors. Ceiling. Stall. Even toilet. As my mind wanders to questions for which there are no answers, I’m hoping the offenders give up and leave. Maybe they didn’t hear me. Giggles answer that unspoken question. The King and Queen’s triplets. My cousins.

  Technically I’m witch royalty. The King and my father were brothers, and the King and Queen raised me after … I’m sorry. I’m not getting emotional. Curse Number 3. I forget my own origin story. I think of my parents, and a different story pops up in my brain to overwrite the last story. I have no idea what’s real.

  I think my uniform’s dry enough now. Although, nothing would hurt this uniform or the current colors of the nightmare cousins. Each season, one of them gets to choose the colors for the Academy. Last quarter it was tangerine and plum. This summer it’s lime green and the same eye gouging lemon which has desecrated the bathroom.

  I know the cousins are out there waiting to torture me some more. I move glacially slow to adjust my lime green skirt which falls just above the knee, and I ever so slowly pull up my bright lemon socks which go over the knee. Our nondescript, unfashionable slate grey shoes look like we work in an undertaker’s cavern, but they’re comfortable and provide good slidage when late for class.

  Anything else I can stall with? Since it’s summer, our black vests are made of the slightest material with the school logo over one side and the royal emblem on the other. Why each one has to be perfectly positioned over the titties is anyone’s guess. Perv tailors.

  Each of the buttons on my yellow top are buttoned. One of the former spells made all my buttons turn inside out so I looked like a drunken water curmajeon. Trust me, that’s not a look anyone could pull off.

  I throw open the stall door, slip on some of the toilet water that splashed out during spills four and six and face the cousins.

  We were born only six days apart. Unfortunately they were born first. I would have loved those extra six days. I could have looked back fondly at that bliss.

  The cousins stand with their backs to me. Each have long hair with chunky strands of black, brown, white and, of course, lime green and eye destabilizing lemon. They wear way too much makeup, kaleidoscope contact lenses must make everything wonky, and they tap the left foot of their four inch heels.

  They turn around slowly and in perfect unison to face me. They manage to tie their shirts in weird knots to show their belly rings which almost made the King set their room on fire.

  Blayde, Blayne and Blayke. I call them B1, B2, and B4. They were originally quadruplets, but somewhere along the line B3 was lost, ran away or escaped. No one’s quite sure.

  “Oh, hey, Zalia,” Blayde, aka B1, smirks as she looks me over. She’s the oldest by two and a half seconds. Her long curly hair falls to the floor which I wish she’d trip over to her death.

  I grab my throat as searing pain makes my eyes water.

  Blayke, aka B2, giggles as she applies another layer of lemon glitter mascara cement to her already punished lashes. “You thought something bad about us.”

  I nod enthusiastically. Curse Number 6. “Totally worth it,” I hiss.

  They whisper things which they all squeal at. “You should be grateful we can withstand the curse and even look at you.”

  Curse Number 18: no witch can look directly at me without severe consequences. They had to make it a kingdom wide rule. Several were taken ill and a few are still in a coma after dares. They put it in the newspaper and even hired banshees to scream it across the realm.

  “No witch dare look directly at the cursed and dreadful Zalia by orders of the honorable King and Queen!”

  Hearing that shouted every thirty seconds for three days straight truly tested my self-worth.

  I stare at my own reflection. Waist length blonde hair, fair skin, one green eye and one blue eye. I don’t think I’m hideous. Maybe I’m just used to myself.

  The incessant giggling echoes around the bathroom like a malicious stench.

  “The fae is this about? Thought a group of crazed hyena shifters had been unleashed and needed to be put down.”

  I smile at my salvation. Xury. One of my best friends stands in the doorway. She’s two feet taller than the cousins. She’s also prettier and smarter. Smarter than the cousins isn’t exactly a major accomplishment. This morning I tripped over a clump of grass. In the center was a tiny discarded fly’s wing tip. That tiny piece of wing held more brain cells than the cousins combined.

  I bow my head as pain jabs at my eyes.

  “Ha,” B4 points with her wickedly pointed claw. “You thought something naughty about us again.”

  Xury moves around the cousins to get to the mirror. “She thought somet
hing honest about you. Don’t say words like naughty. Sounds like she’s plotting with your nether regions.” She gags a bit. “Creepy.”

  The cousins glance at each other. They rarely understand what Xury says or means.

  I always feel better around Xury. She’s a pixie and the best friend anyone could ever have.

  The cousins study Xury’s reflection as their lips curl in unison. I can’t tell if it’s the lip curl of disdain or envy.

  Even I study Xury’s reflection. She has the type of flawless skin which should be studied. She also has bright, flaming red hair which the B girls have never been able to replicate in their spells.

  Xury notices the cousins glare. “No matter what spell you conjure or how naughty your fantasies about me are … I’ve already told you. Pixies, faeries, shifters, ghosts, vampires, goblins, horiks, yanti beasts, hybrids, danger mites, manichins, and every other living, non living, unliving thing first in this world and every other world, realm, region before I ever lowered myself to be with you.”

  Two of the cousins snort, but B1 screeches, almost breaking the mirror. “We are witches. We have no interest in a lowly creature of pixie blood. We are your princessessess… ” She frowns at herself.

  Xury glances at me and grins. “Still having trouble with those hard words, aren’t you?” She pouts and then leans down next to them like she was speaking to tiny witchlings. “Maybe next week, if I have time, I can give you tips on plurals. Can you say plural?”

  The cousins grimace or frown. It’s hard to tell with all their makeup and the fact they usually appear confused. Not quite sure if they even know the proper facial expressions. “We are attached to the Penn brothers,” B1 hisses.

  Xury grimaces. “Sounds super painful. If a rash starts and it’s extra red or oozy, go to the pharmacy immediately.”

  B1 sighs. “You remember the Penn family, don’t you, pixie?” She throws her spiny shoulders back and juts her nose in the air as her sisters giggle.

  B2 smirks. “Don’t most of your kind…” B2 pauses for emphasis and to look Xury up and down. “Your kind? The doomed Pixie nation. Don’t they work in the Penn factory?”

  Witches rule our world which I never thought much about until three years ago. I thought all the species got together and claimed the witches could lead. I didn’t realize the other species weren’t exactly privy to the forced coup, and most were relegated to certain jobs and parts of the realm the witches declared undesirable.

  B1 leans close to B2 in order to whisper but ends up shouting louder than if she were on a football field cheering the devious warlock team to another trounce. “I hear her mom is about to get fired cause she keeps hooking up with the filthy shifter janitors, and her dad is always drunk on the pixie juice.”

  Xury’s skin starts to glisten and glow.

  “Uh oh.” Blayne, aka B4, steps back. “What if she goes full on pixie?”

  I want to grab Xury, but I can’t touch anyone without them bursting into flames. Curse Number 12. Probably the only witch in this entire realm still untouched. Unkissed. No one’s even held my hand. I’ve been in the Witch’s Too Bizarre To Believe newsletter sixteen times. Okay, sorry for the detour into my normal daily pity party where drinks are three times the normal price and there’s a dozen warlocks ready to sear madness into my soul.

  Xury glances at me and then settles herself down. She winks, and I know exactly what she’s going to do. I step back quietly.

  Xury moans and grabs her stomach before she projectiles yellow and green ice cream all over the mirror.

  “Ew,” the B girls scream in unison. “Fae’d up pixie! You’ll wish you weren’t!”

  Xury shivers at the confusing threat.

  The cousins tiptoe backwards, and then turn around and flee.

  I wave my hand to remove the ick from the mirror.

  “Thanks, Z. Why were they here?” Xury asks casually while studying her reflection. “This is one of the reasons we use the scary bathroom on the second floor.” She looks me over. “Sorry, Z. How could you be related to them?”

  As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she grimaces. “Sorry. Did not mean to say that.”

  I think about how I’m related. Can’t help it. The curse.

  Xury glances at me as she puts on as much red lipgloss as she needs to match her hair. “Which one is it this time?”

  “Raised by crabs.” I cringe as the curse compels me to continue. “The King and Queen rescued me when my crab family deliberately wrecked their yacht.” I wipe the requisite tear away - part b of the origin curse. “I return to crab when the clock strikes twelve.”

  Xury slams her lips together and pretends she’s just making sure her gloss is evenly distributed.

  “It’s okay,” I whisper.

  “What’s okay?” Blist screeches into the bathroom, puts his finger to his lips and hides in a stall.

  Blist is my other best friend. Empath and Jaguar shifter. He can feel everyone’s feelings so he stands up to the bullies. This, for some weird reason, freaks out the witchlocks.

  Okay, for clarification … I belong to the witch species. There are good witches and bad witches, usually known as warlocks. Warlocks have witch powers but don’t care about the consequences. Those of us without our full powers or who haven’t decided yet whether to be witch or warlock are called witchlocks.

  Of course, I’ll be a witch. The cousins were born warlocks. Doubt they even be able to scrape enough material for half a soul.

  Xury angrily drops her gloss back into her purse and folds her arms over her chest to wait. “Did I ever say that I was over witchlocks except for you, Z?”

  The sounds of boots moving fast towards us echoes around the bathroom. I can only hope it’s not Raks. He and I were fated to be together for all eternity. Were.

  Dray Penn runs into the bathroom like he’s being chased by a horny mandrake. He’s from the infamous Penn warlock family which owns half the town and are cursed to marry my cousins. Cursed? Yes, I think that’s the right word.

  Dray Penn looks at Xury and then glances in my general direction before he grunts.

  I look to Xury for clarification.

  She shrugs. “Don’t speak witchlock grunts.”

  Dray Penn sneers at us. Normally I’d just call him Dray, but the Penns insist that their full name be said at all times.

  He makes some sort of half hiccup and half growl noise. The Penn brothers are gorgeous but lack everything else - imagination, intelligence, souls, and even good hair. Poor hair just languishes on their heads like a goop of wilted kale.

  While Dray Penn thinks of another noise to make, Raks arrives.

  I actually sigh out loud.

  Raks. He’s all witch. I quickly touch my face as I feel the heat rise to color my skin. I hope I’m not too blushy. He’s still gorgeous.

  Raks glances close to me. He’s mastered the art of looking near me which means about three feet above, over or off to the side. I can’t blame him. The curse.

  I’ve known Raks since we were five. He just keeps getting more gorgeous. His hair is longer. His muscles now have muscles. I can imagine my fingertips tracing over every single curve of him. His eyes are even greener.

  Xury clears her throat and shakes her head at me. “Oh my pixies. Are we safe anywhere? You know how my kind have been hunted for centuries.” All pixies have the ability to charm their enemies into a pile of goo brain. I just wish I had popcorn.

  Raks widens his eyes and backs up. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Xury.”

  I almost faint right there. Each word drips slowly from his full lips. Not sure why he has an Australian accent. The Academy is nowhere near Australia or even the human world, but I’m not complaining.

  Xury stomps her foot to break my brain loop.

  I flinch a sorry at her.

  Dray Penn doesn’t back down. Nothing scares a warlock and especially not a pixie. “I didn’t do anything. Yet.”

  Creepy how he paused before he sa
id, ‘yet.’

  “Yet?” Xury backs up further. “Per the accords, pixies are protected.”

  “We didn’t mean to …” Raks grabs Dray Penn and backs up. “We’re sorry for interrupting you. I’m sorry, Zalia.”

  I blow out a breath. He said my name.

  They start to leave, turn around and run into each other. Dray Penn whips back around. “I assume you haven’t seen the cat, have you?”

  “A shifter?” Xury puts her hand over her heart. “Not a shifter. They hate pixies. They take pieces of us. I hear they make us do the most unspeakable things.” She puts on a huge show of shaking her head and backing up. She even throws in a few tears for emphasis.

  “We’re going.” Raks pulls Dray Penn out of the bathroom.

  I have to stop myself from chasing after Raks. “Fae.”

  The toilet flushes, and Blist comes out of the bathroom smiling. “That was fun. Thanks, X.” He skips to the sink and washes his hands.

  She nods and grins at me.

  “What?”

  She smiles at Blist who blushes.

  “What the fae is up with you two?” I look down at my uniform. Nothing peeking out which shouldn’t be. I haven’t been turned inside out again. True story. Last year.

  Xury grabs her heart. “I can imagine my fingertips tracing over every single curve of him.”

  Son of a wyre demon. “Why are my words just tossed out for all to hear?” I think about it. I don’t remember saying them out loud. It was in the dark corners of my demented brain. “Oh, fae.”

  Xury nods enthusiastically.

  “You could hear …”

  Xury tries to stop herself from laughing but can’t. “Every word, Z.”

  “The cousins.”

  “That’s an entertaining curse.” Xury picks at her hair to make it even larger and somehow it becomes even more red.

  “I always forget I say my thoughts outloud whenever Raks is around.” I pace back and forth as my thoughts emerge. “Talk amongst yourselves. I have to remember everything.”