The Magic Legacy: An Urban Fantasy Action and Adventure series (The Witches of Pressler Street Book 1)

by Martha Carr

  A huge yawn escaped her, and she turned from the bookshelf toward the long work desk in the center of her museum-in-a-closet. “We don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow.” She pried the silver ring from her thumb and put it on the desk. “Just one more hour. That’s it. If I can’t figure out what you do by then, I’m going to bed.”

  Setting her purse down on the desk, she pulled out her wand and held it at the ready. “Okay, Hadstrom ancestors. Let’s see what you got.”

  8

  Emily lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark and turning the copper ring around and around on her thumb. An almost-silent hiss of air came from the foot of her bed. “Oh, come on, buddy. I’m trying to get to sleep, here.” She sat up and eyed the chubby bulldog that had been in their family since the beginning of time, as far as she knew. “Speed, I’m serious. There’s only one rule for you being allowed in here with me, and that’s to keep the farts out of my room.” Pointing to her bedroom door, she raised an eyebrow. “Do you need to go?”

  Speed eyed her with droopy eyes and grunted, his jowls squashed on top of his front paws.

  “Okay. Just remember, I’m trusting you to hold up your end of the deal. I didn’t put a magical dog door there for myself, you know.” Emily flopped down onto her back, but the stench worsened. “Jeez!. How does an immortal dog as cute as you end up smelling like a swamp beast on steroids?” She waved her hand in front of her face. The copper ring on her thumb pulsed with a golden-brown light, and a gust of air exploded from her hand.

  “Whoa.” Swiping the blown hair off her forehead, she lifted her hand with the ring and stared at it. “Strengthening our magic, huh? Dad should’ve said it responds to every little thought. Gotta be careful with this thing.” She took a deep breath, then paused. “Hey…the smell’s gone.”

  Speed grunted at the foot of her bed.

  “Don’t push it, bud. I am not gonna follow you around like your own personal fan just to keep you from stinking up the place.”

  The glass of water on her bedside table started glowing, followed by a high-pitched ring like tiny wind chimes. Emily grinned. “Well, who’s calling me now?” She sat up and shifted to the side of her single bed to peer over the rim of the glass.

  Nickie’s face rippled a little in the surface of the water, and she grinned at Emily with a little wave. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” she whispered.

  Emily shot Speed a warning glance. “I was trying to sleep. Speed’s making that a little hard.”

  “He has his own dog bed by the couch, you know.”

  “I know. He just really likes being in here. Before I made him the dog door, he kept whining in the hall all night.”

  Nickie smirked. “It’s either whining or farting, huh?”

  “I guess. Why are we whispering?”

  “I don’t wanna wake Laura up.”

  Emily stifled a giggle. “I get that witches have had magical FaceTime forever, but I really don’t think Sister Soup was invented so you could call me from the next room.”

  “It’s more fun this way.” Her sister winked. “I can’t sleep at all. Up for a talk?”

  “A talk without waking Laura?” Nickie nodded. “Okay. Clubhouse?”

  “You’re giving me crap for Sister Soup from my bedroom, but you’re fine with popping into the Clubhouse?”

  Emily shrugged and glanced at Speed. “Laura won’t hear us. And Speed can’t get in, so…”

  “Okay. See you there.” The water rippled in the glass, and Nickie’s face disappeared.

  Speed let out a pitiful whine.

  “Sorry, bud. Even if we couldn’t always count on you to gas-bomb the place, only three people are allowed in the Clubhouse. You’re not one of them.” Emily reached onto the bedside table and grabbed her car keys. She had two keychains on it; the first was a rubber chef’s hat Chuck had given her as a gag when she got the job at Meadowlark Tavern. The second looked like a large silver coin, but its value wasn’t monetary. On one side was a perfect thumbprint—Emily’s thumbprint. They all had the exact same keyring. “Dunno how long Nickie wants to chat,” she told the bulldog. “So, don’t wait up for me.”

  Speed huffed.

  Emily fingered the keyring, then slid her thumb over the coin until it fit into her thumbprint. A second later, her entire body tingled, and the Clubhouse magic did its thing, transporting her to the one place in the world no one but the Hadstrom sisters could enter.

  She appeared in the center of the room, sitting in the exact same position as in her own bed. A paper lantern hanging from the ceiling filled the room with a purple glow, punctuated by tiny, floating orbs of light the sisters had conjured years ago. They never went out.

  “Nickie?” Emily glanced around, then pushed herself to her feet and straightened out her pajama shorts. Her keys jingled in her hand.

  With a little popping sound, Nickie appeared next to her and grinned. “Sorry. I had to put some clothes on first.”

  Emily laughed. “Okay…” She stepped across the room, which they’d decorated as kids in strands of colored lights, pictures ripped from magazines, and a few ridiculous origami pieces they’d made right after making their wands. “Man, I love this place.”

  “Always feels like being twelve again, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, I was ten when we made this…but yeah. It’s kinda the only place that hasn’t changed.” Emily slumped onto the cherry-red futon and kicked up her feet.

  Nickie fell into the brown rattan chair with the lime-green cushion and crossed her legs beneath her. “Mom and Dad were weird tonight, huh?”

  “Yep. I thought they were just there for the graduation ceremony. I did not expect this whole ‘let’s reveal a secret we’ve kept from you your whole life’ conversation. Plus this.” Emily stuck her thumb in the air and eyed the copper ring on it. “I think these actually work magic.”

  Nickie leaned back against the round cushion and somehow made lounging in a bull-shaped chair look comfortable. “Dad said they’d make our magic stronger.”

  “Yeah. And I’m pretty sure they channel it, too. Like instead of a wand.”

  Looking at the black ring on her thumb, Nickie frowned. “For real?”

  “I think so. I’m guessing yours hasn’t done anything weird yet?”

  “Not yet, no. Did yours?”

  Emily shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it super incredible or anything. Speed ripped one on my bed”—her sister snorted—“and I was trying to wave it out of my face. Little copper ring here flashed and whoosh. Aired out the whole room.”

  “That does sound like something you’d use your wand for.”

  “I know, right?”

  Nickie raised an eyebrow and shook her head, trying not to laugh. “Which it really shouldn’t be, by the way.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Laura’s already given me enough speeches on that.” Emily sighed and clasped her hands behind her head on the futon. With one bent knee on the cushion, she crossed the other leg over it and bounced her foot. “I mean, I get that we can’t just use magic whenever we want, especially in front of humans. Not until their little peabrains wake up, at least. But, seriously, if nobody sees it and nobody’s getting hurt, why does it matter? Like, what’s the point of having magic if we can’t use it to make our lives easier?”

  “I don’t think that’s the point.” Nickie studied the black ring on her thumb and shook her head. “Magic’s meant to be a tool. Not a crutch.”

  “Whoa.”

  Nickie’s head whipped toward her sister. “What?”

  “You sound like Laura sounding like Mom.”

  “Whatever.” Nickie smirked and brushed her hand through the air like swatting away a fly. A black glow pulsed around her ring; the futon’s front legs jerked into the air and sent the entire thing toppling backward with a thump. Emily let out a muffled shout of surprise.

  “Oh, my god.” Nickie stared at her ring.

  The red cushions flopped around until Emily dragged herself out fr
om between them. She rose onto her knees and grabbed the front panel of the futon’s frame—now sticking up sideways in the air—to stare openmouthed at her sister. “That’s what I was talking about.”

  Nickie gaped at her ring. “I wasn’t trying to do that, I swear. I mean, if you were sitting next to me, I totally would’ve pushed you or something. For fun. But this thing just…”

  “Yeah. Unintentionally channeled your magic.” Emily pushed herself up and grunted as she dragged the heavy futon cushion toward her.

  “My much stronger magic, apparently.”

  “Hey, I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.” Emily flashed Nickie a goofy, exaggerated grin and stepped over the red cushion to lift the back frame of the futon.

  Nickie laughed and uncurled herself from the rattan chair to come help. “Sorry. You know I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  They righted the futon frame and struggled to drag the heavy cushion back before slumping it where it belonged. Sighing at the same time, they flopped onto the futon beside each other and sat there a few seconds.

  “I think you might be right,” Nickie said, staring at her ring.

  “Probably” The youngest Hadstrom sister smirked and cocked her head. “Right about what?”

  Nickie laughed. “That we might be able to cast spells with the rings instead of our wands. Which would be pretty convenient.”

  “Yeah…but then I have a whole bunch of wand-length pockets in my pants for no reason.”

  “They’d be good for spoons, though, right? Or a spatula? ‘Hey, line cook, where are the tongs?’”

  Emily scoffed. “I’m not gonna walk around the kitchen with utensils sticking out of my wand pocket. And I’m not a line cook. The correct term in Chef Ansler’s kitchen is commis chef.”

  “Well, you should choose a better name than ‘wand pocket’, too.” They both snorted. “Or use it for something completely different, if these rings are gonna replace our wands anyway.”

  “Hey, until we know for sure, I’m keeping the wand pocket. Wait.” Emily glanced at the ring on her sister’s hand and frowned. “That one was Dad’s.”

  “Yeah…”

  “I’ve never seen him do magic without his wand.”

  “You’re right. I guess we should figure out how to put a lid on it. The last thing I need is to be rockin’ out at a show and accidentally blast the audience over.”

  “Every musician’s dream, though.”

  “Yeah, metaphorically.”

  “I mean, this could be a huge break for you.” Emily lifted her hands and spread them out like a news headline. “‘Forget standing ovations. ‘Blues musician knocks fans off their feet. Literally.’”

  “Please. I could do that even without a family-legacy ring. If I played death metal instead, I could get away with it.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Emily thumped her head back against the futon cushion, which really wasn’t soft enough for that to feel good. “You think Laura’s ring did anything weird yet?”

  “Probably not. She probably passed out.”

  A laugh bubbled up from Emily’s throat. “When it does…she’s gonna lose it.”

  “Oh, my god.” Nickie barked out a laugh. “She’s gonna lock herself in her workshop and not come out til she’s picked that thing apart.”

  Between exploding giggles, Emily caught her breath enough to say, “I don’t…I don’t think she can…with the…ring.”

  “Then she’s never coming out!”

  Emily mocked Laura’s scowl she aimed at any item that didn’t act the way she wanted it to; Nickie stabbed at an invisible workbench with an invisible wand. When their fit of laughter died down, one of the origami butterflies—complete with antennae and six legs—detached itself from its place on the Clubhouse wall and fluttered onto Emily’s lap.

  “Well, hello.” She stroked the thing’s gold-and-red wings, then it took off.

  “Hey, I wanted to ask you about something else.” Nickie ran a hand through her hair, tossing the ends of it over her shoulder, and leaned sideways against the back of the cushion, facing Emily.

  “Sure. I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow. You don’t have to beg or anything.” Emily rolled her eyes.

  “Okay.” Nickie chuckled. “But that’s not it.”

  “Threw myself under the bus, didn’t I?” Emily wrinkled her nose.

  “I just wanted to ask if you’re okay.”

  “Uh yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Nickie tipped her head side to side a few times. “Well, I saw you and Jeremy talking after the ceremony. It looked kinda serious.”

  “Hmm.” Emily clenched her eyes shut and grimaced. “I think it was a lot more serious for him than it was for me. I’m pretty sure we broke up.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Emily shrugged. “He got accepted into a culinary institute in New Zealand. He’s leaving at the end of the summer for the fall semester.”

  Nickie blinked. “And he doesn’t want you to go with him?”

  “Oh, he definitely wants me to. I’m the one who doesn’t wanna drop my whole life and move to a different country.” Emily scratched her head, then tossed the hair out of her face. “I know that working at Meadowlark Tavern is gonna get me exactly where I wanna be. In my own kitchen. My own place. And until I’ve learned everything I can there, I can’t start over again somewhere else. Not even for Jeremy.”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. Still, you guys were together for a while, right?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “And you’re not…upset? Even a little?”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “I mean, yeah. A little. I definitely care about him, but it’s not like we had anything close to something like you and Chuck. That’s without looking at the whole career part of it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, Chuck’s your manager. But it’s not because he just gave up trying to be a musician. And he’s not trying to compete with you in a weird way.”

  Nickie snorted. “Yeah, his only musical talent is finding talented musicians.”

  “Right. Jeremy and I have the same passion, right? Food. I want to have my own place. I don’t think he could handle all the extra stuff that comes with that. I mean, he’ll probably end up being a head chef somewhere in a fantastic restaurant, creating whatever he wants. But there was just always this weird kind of competition going on. Mostly from him. I think he was hoping I’d change my mind.”

  “So, he broke up with you?”

  Emily winced and laughed. “Not really. I said we still had the summer to spend time together before he leaves, but he basically shot that down. I guess…‘cause it would be too hard for him? Kinda felt like I had to break up with him just to let him off the hook.”

  “Bummer.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Emily peered at her older sister and smiled. “All good.”

  “Okay. Well, if you wanna talk at all, I’m here.”

  “Yeah. I’ll just Sister-Soup you in the middle of the night and drag you here. Way too much work to walk across the hall.”

  “Ha ha.” Nickie stuck her tongue out, and Emily was attacked by a massive yawn.

  “I think I’m ready to pass out too.”

  “Yeah, it’s late.” Both sisters grabbed their coin keyrings—Nickie hadn’t put any keys on hers—and held them at the ready. “I’m gonna hold you to that breakfast thing, though.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “Fine. But just waffles, so don’t expect anything fancy.”

  “Em, your waffles are never ‘just waffles.’” Nickie grinned, then slid her thumb over the thumbprint on her keyring and disappeared.

  “Great.” Emily snorted. “That’s like saying I should just open my own magical Waffle House and call it good.” She shook her head, then thumbed her keyring and returned to her bed in her own room.

  Out cold at the foot of he
r bed, Speed snored through his squashed nose.

  At least it doesn’t smell like something died in here. Emily squirmed under the covers, dropped her head onto the pillow, and fell asleep in less than a minute.

  9

  The minute Laura woke up the next morning, she slammed her hand down on her bedside table and grabbed her phone. “Seven-thirty? Jeez, did I stay up later than I thought?” She rubbed her cheeks and sat up in bed. Glancing at the silver ring on her right hand, she frowned. “You’re a tough one to crack, aren’t you? Don’t worry. We’ll get there.”

  She tossed the covers off and swung her feet onto the floor. After tying her hair into a loose ponytail, she grabbed her zip-up hoodie from the dresser beside her bed and pulled it on. “Just until I can get some coffee to warm me up.”

  The smell of Emily’s waffles filled the upstairs hallway and made her mouth water. “How are they awake before me?” She went downstairs and turned left past the sunroom and into the kitchen, stepping into her sisters’ conversation.

  “Really, Em, it’s okay. These are great.”

  “No. It’s not okay.” Emily swiped her hand across the spice rack against the full length of the long kitchen counter beside the stove. All her bottles of spices, herbs, powders, and salts moved down the line away from her on a magical conveyor belt; the new bottles closest to her popped into existence at the front, and those at the end of the line disappeared into the far kitchen wall when she sent them that way. “It’s not okay, because I didn’t even put mint in the batter.”

  Nickie turned in her chair and raised her eyebrows. “I said it was refreshing, Emily.”

  “Refreshing means minty. Cooling. Airy. And I tasted it myself, Nickie. It’s not minty.” Emily whirled around from the counter, her never-ending spice rack clicking at high speeds as the bottles appeared on one end and disappeared on the other. She caught sight of Laura standing in the entryway and slumped her shoulders in defeat. “I don’t know what I did.”