Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  “Thanks. I love you, too.” Annie leaned against the back of the chair and summoned their dad’s last case file. She held it tightly with shaky hands.

  “Sorry. You just need to rest. There’s been so much since the Black Market.” Samantha eyed the folder.

  “I’ll rest when I’m…” Annie was about to say dead and refrained for its inappropriateness. “I’m on my way home after I talk to you.”

  “Okay?” Samantha dragged out the word, concerned.

  Finding out Emily Pearce was alive eight years ago had been such a shock for Annie. When her mom died, she had been three years old and had no real memories of her and really never missed her. It would be different for Samantha, who had been five when Emily died and who still had memories that haunted her.

  Annie took a deep breath and slowly released the air as she held the folder; her grip was so tight, her knuckles were white. “I found the missing folder from Dad’s final case. Before I left for France, actually.” Samantha’s look of concern made Annie’s stomach churn, yet Samantha remained silent as she waited for Annie to continue.

  “Dad’s last case involved the Chintamani stones.” Annie tapped the folder restlessly. “He’d been tracking them in the market, and that was where he met Dr. Arden Blakely and eventually the Fraternitatem of Solomon.

  For Annie, her father’s death had been almost harder on her than on Samantha because they shared a love of learning black magic, understanding it, and stopping it. She had spent so much time with him at work and in the field, learning what she could. Remembering that time broke her heart; she wiped away a lone tear.

  “His notes are very specific. He said they threatened him, forced him to return the stones, which he did. They killed him anyway.”

  Samantha visibly shuddered. “I thought it was Rathbone,” Samantha said.

  Annie shook her head. “He did their bidding. They were behind it.” Tears welled in Samantha’s eyes. Annie pulled out her dad’s note and handed it to her.

  As Annie’s hands did the first time she read the letter, Samantha’s hands shook as she read her father’s words. She wiped her tears from her cheeks. “Why didn’t you show me this earlier?”

  “Because of what else is in the folder. Because I didn’t want to bring up all of this shit until I knew for sure, but now I don’t think I have a choice.”

  Samantha sighed. “Prophecy? Does he say what it is?”

  “No. I didn’t think anything of it until Sturtagaard was at the house when I caught the demon. He said I was supposed to be there and that I had a part to play in this,” Annie said.

  Samantha glanced at Annie. “So how long has he known about this? And what are you going to do to stop this?”

  Annie held the folder out for Samantha to take. “It’s not that simple. I’m supposed to receive a power for completing the prophecy. I think the Fraternitatem is going to come back for the power,” Annie said. She pushed the folder at Samantha. “There’s more.”

  Samantha reluctantly took the folder and opened the front cover. Her face blanched, and her jaw fell when she saw the first picture. Her hands shook and lips trembled as if she were holding back an ugly cry. She picked up the eight-year-old picture of their mother with Dr. Arden Blakely.

  “I…” Samantha’s voice squeaked, she looked at Annie. “When?” she managed to ask.

  “Those were taken eight years ago. I didn’t tell you because I haven’t found her yet. If I found out she was dead, I’d say nothing and leave it alone. Bucky still can’t find her, and now everything is falling into dangerous places. I needed you to know.”

  Samantha shuffled through the pictures, taking in the face of her mother, the woman she often dreamed of and still longed for. Annie knew Samantha couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel the same way. But Annie couldn’t miss what she didn’t remember.

  “Dad noted every contact he made with the Fraternitatem. He was meeting with them to turn over the stones, and that’s where he saw her. He thought the shimmering blue of the Cave of Ages made him hallucinate, but he knew. He knew it was her. When he approached her, she pretended not to know him.”

  Samantha was still trembling and now crying, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Annie lay the folder on the desk and held Samantha’s hands. “I didn’t tell you because of the initial shock. I couldn’t wrap my head around it,” Annie said. “Honestly, I was hoping we’d have something tangible by now, but if Emily’s alive, they’re hiding her well.”

  “Mom died! I remember her body lying in the casket. They didn’t want me to see her. But I did. She was dead!” Samantha insisted. “How did they not know it wasn’t her?”

  “Zola knew there was something off. But because Mom is nonmagical, she couldn’t get an accurate read on her.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? What the hell were you thinking?” Annie jumped at Samantha’s uncharacteristic shouting.

  Annie stood and grabbed the folder, shoving the contents inside. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you until I knew for sure. I’m sorry I hid this from you until…”

  Samantha reached for Annie before she turned to leave. “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m just so furious at you. At her. At Dad for not doing something. It’s just this is a bombshell.”

  “It’s a lie of omission. I’m sorry. I was always going to tell everyone. I just needed time to figure out what to do,” Annie admitted.

  Samantha grabbed the folder again, opened it, and took out the pictures. “Where do you think she is?” Samantha continued to stare at a picture of Emily at the market. The girls looked so much like Emily except for her red hair. “She was beautiful,” Samantha murmured.

  Annie sat back down and bent forward. “Bucky’s searched for credit cards, mortgages, library cards, college degrees, death certificates, birth certificates with her name. There’s nothing. I didn’t expect there would be.” She shifted in her seat.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m going home next. I just wanted to let you know what was going on before I did. I should go.” Annie packed her items away and stood up.

  “So she pretended to not know him. Why would she do that?” Samantha asked.

  Annie summoned the cassette tape. “When Dad finally got her alone, she admitted to leaving willingly. He begged her to come back. She said she couldn’t, she wouldn’t. Something about a greater purpose.” She pocketed the tape and sighed. “I listened to that fucking tape over and over again. She never asked about you or me. Even after Dad told her about us.” Annie wiped away tears. Samantha wrapped Annie in a hug.

  “Why did she leave? Did she tell him why?” Samantha asked.

  “She didn’t. According to Dad’s notes, he spoke with the Fraternitatem and begged them to let her go. That’s when they told him of the prophecy and basically said she was staying. That was the end of it.”

  “So she refused to come home? I’m not sure how that makes me feel.”

  Taking Samantha’s hands, Annie looked her square in the eyes. “Dr. Blakely was brainwashed and became their assassin. That’s probably what happened to Mom. They went to a lot of trouble to kidnap and doctor up a body. She won’t be the same woman after twenty years.”

  Samantha let the tears run down her cheek before she wiped them away. “I’m still furious with you.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll find her.” Samantha reached over and kissed Annie’s cheek.

  “Maybe.”

  If she doesn’t find me first.

  Chapter 8

  “You’re home?” Cham asked Annie over the phone. She plopped on the sofa in her den and rested her head against a pillow.

  “Yeah. Yeah. I had some things to do. I’m home now.” She stared at the grimoire from Mortimer’s that lay on the sofa beside her. “I told Samantha about Mom.”

  Cham was tapping his phone screen lightly but stopped. “How did she take it?”

  “She’s furious at me for not sayi
ng something sooner. I think it’s her way of dealing with the bombshell that Mom didn’t die when we thought she did.”

  “The two of you have a strong relationship. She’ll come around.” Cham began typing again.

  “Maybe.” Annie held the book; it vibrated lightly. “I’m tired. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Call if you need me.”

  “Love you.” Annie hung up before he could answer and tossed the phone on the sofa.

  She stared at the cover of the grimoire.

  It’s very old.

  Still stinging from the bomb sent to Wizard Hall three months ago by a rogue French wizard guard, Annie remained distrustful of Mortimer’s motives for giving her the grimoire, regardless of what he previously had gone through to protect her identity. Cautious, she scanned the book with her crystal and was surprised by the good magical trace that seeped inside the pages. Grimoires weren’t meant for practitioners of good magic; they were created by those wishing to perform or control evil.

  I wonder if he knew this.

  While the grimoire was marked with the symbols of the Fraternitatem, it carried good magic. Annie supposed it could be because their initial purpose was to protect the world from the magical artifacts of King Solomon. Somewhere in the group’s long history, their motives changed. Annie distrusted the good magic, thinking it might be a ruse for the unsuspecting witch. The book generally made her uneasy and reluctant to own it.

  But then again…

  She shuddered briefly, took a deep breath, and opened the book again, returning to the last passage she read.

  Her hand shook as the passage explained what to do with the poisonous herb called “foxglove,” used to ward off evil spirits.

  “There’s plenty of non-poisonous herbs that do that,” she said to herself.

  As she read the explanations on how to control lower magical creatures, her skin began to prickle and her stomach churned at the ease for which these spells were created and used by the Fraternitatem. Her head ached and she felt sick, yet she couldn’t stop. She felt as though she needed more— she needed to know how they “killed” Emily. She began to skim rather than read, searching for any clue how they might have done it.

  Soon enough, she found it there within the pages, how they ferried her mother away from her and Samantha in such a calculated way. They had used the drug potassium cyanide, which was easy to administer to fake her death. That, combined with clever magical glamours, meant that all of them—Jason, Ryan, Milo, the Wizard Guard, and Wizard Council—believed that Emily was dead. Annie reread it in the grimoire; whoever wrote the passage did so with pride and almost glee in how they pulled off the bold move by stealing a beloved mother away.

  She thought of the cassette tape and the coldness in Emily’s voice as she spoke with the man who was once her true and only love. She shuddered and cried.

  “What is that?” Zola startled Annie but gracefully sat beside her; her fairy wings gently waved and kissed Annie’s skin. “It’s a Fraternitatem book,” Zola added as she handled the leather-bound tome.

  “Mortimer claims it will help me face them. I feel a bit tired from the magic inside.”

  “You ought to not trust that man.”

  Annie showed Zola the passage. Zola read the words and asked, “You really think they’re coming for you?”

  “You were alive in the ninth century. What do you know about this?”

  Zola held her hands in tight fists as she stared out the window to the backyard. “I was in Spain at the time.” Wind blew through the yard, bending flowers and bushes in the backyard. Zola sighed. “I… I can go back home and find out what happened in the past,” she offered reluctantly.

  Since the magic in the grimoire left Annie tired, she placed the tome on the floor and snuggled into the corner of her sofa. Zola pulled the blanket up and around her.

  “Maybe. Not now. I do believe they’re going to come whenever I fulfill the prophecy. I’ll need you then,” Annie said. “Unless you know how I can stop the powers from coming to me,” she murmured.

  Zola ignored the request and instead smoothed out Annie’s blanket and held cool hands to her charge’s temples, cradling her head like she had done when Annie was young. She had cared for Annie when the girl cried out for her dead mother, until she stopped because she no longer remembered Emily’s touch or the sound of her voice. Eventually, the only mother Annie remembered was Kathy.

  Zola let the spell warm Annie and wash away the conflicted feelings. She gave Annie a good healing nap because she knew that in a few days’ time, Annie would not have this sleep or warmth or food.

  Annie’s breathing slowed and evened out as she slept. Zola watched her at rest and wondered how much she should tell Annie about what was to come.

  *

  When Annie woke, the sky was filled with thick, gray clouds. It was nearly time for the workday to end. She felt rested, and yet there was something gnawing at her that she couldn’t quite place.

  Zola’s gone.

  It was like a hangover that lingered long after it should. Annie listened for any sound of Zola, but the house was empty. All she could hear were the raindrops that pinged against the window.

  She rested her chin on the back of the sofa as she watched the rain spatter across the deck and muddy the flower garden in the far corner. Hiding in the manicured patches of daisies was a billdad, a rabbit-like creature with the tail of an otter. They were attracted to her magic and spent years digging in the backyard, eating bugs. As a child, Annie had often chased after them, scaring them away and sometimes playing with them, all the while ruining her clothes and getting scolded by the fairy.

  The thick clouds rolled over the house, and the rain became a deluge. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky and the thunder crashed. Annie’s heart pounded as she remembered Sturtagaard’s cryptic words. You’re safe in the thunder.

  She sniffed the humid air and thought she caught a scent that was musky and spicy, warm and familiar. “Dad,” she murmured and turned to see a dark, empty kitchen.

  The clock pinged as the minutes passed. She scratched the sock where she hid her dad’s letter. She pulled it out and reread his words, mostly to see the familiar handwriting, to touch the paper that he once touched. The scent of cologne grew stronger. It was his scent; she would never forget it as she kept his half-filled bottle still in her bathroom.

  She teleported upstairs and opened the medicine cabinet above her sink. The green glass bottle was dusty; it was where he had left it before he died. She picked it up, dusted it off, and took a whiff of the scent. She could almost feel the weight of his hand on her shoulder, the warmth of his touch, the love he had for her and Samantha. She dabbed the top and let the scent linger in the air, then placed one drop on her wrist, and put the rest away for fear she might spill even just a little.

  The thunderstorm raged on. She sat on the window seat in her room and watched the rain pour, watched the lighting. It no longer felt dangerous. It felt… safe.

  Maybe he’s the thunder. Dad?

  But something still lingered in her gut and she couldn’t quite reach it, see it, or determine what it was. Maybe it was that Zola who hadn’t yet told her whatever it was that she was hiding.

  Why do I think that?

  Annie sighed and rested her head against the cool window. The water dripped against the glass.

  “Hey.”

  She turned, a smile spreading across her face. “You’re home!” she said as Cham entered, soaking wet from the rain.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked and kissed her forehead. He frowned. “You okay?”

  Annie wiped water from his face. “I’m fine. Sturtagaard’s gone, and Mortimer gave me a Fraternitatem grimoire to help me fight them when they come. And Zola… I think Zola knows something she’s not telling me. Otherwise, all is good.”

  “You were supposed to rest.” He touched her cheek and ran his hands through her hair. “Mortimer gave you a grimoire?”


  Annie laughed. “Yeah. I’ll show you later. Go dry off and we’ll scrounge for food.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again.

  She nodded and let him kiss her deeply, his hands still in her hair. She had no more pain, no more discomfort as he carried her to bed and huddled with her under the covers. His hands and his kisses warmed her. She trusted him as they made love.

  Tomorrow she’d worry.

  Chapter 9

  It was only 8:45 a.m., which meant the library wouldn’t open for fifteen minutes. Annie didn’t mind. It gave her time to take in the carvings on the library doors. She always found something new when she did.

  The doors had been originally crafted and hung on a Viking longhouse in Jorvik, Northumbria, in what later became northern England. The carvings on the doors were the earliest recording in the Wizard Council of America. Annie always wondered how it had passed ownership from the Viking longhouse to the coven.

  They tracked the history, starting with a battle so bloody and so deadly that the coven left Northumbria for the new world, a little over a hundred years before the first Viking settlement came to Newfoundland in 1000 CE. They remained hidden, their remnants destroyed. The early coven and Vikings had wanted it that way. Over the decades, their ghastly start became folktales, complete with the full, rich images of the Battle of Checkgou, until they established the modern Wizard Council. The story of the Day of First Sun, the mythical magical holiday on September 1, celebrated the closure of the portal between the magical and nonmagical worlds. While the carvings were so accurate and beautifully created, there was one carving that always piqued her curiosity, partially because she was unfamiliar with the tale but mostly because the girl carved in wood looked exactly like her.

  Annie observed the face, the detail of the eyes, the hair, and the mouth. For the first time, she really took in the scene surrounding the girl. The demon lying at her feet appeared to be Annie’s demon that was locked in Tartarus.

  The regenerating demon?

  The girl stood alone, her left foot resting on the demon, her arm raised as she held a long sword.