Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  “Yep. Me and Cham.” She smiled and showed him the ring.

  “All those times I took the two of you out on vampire runs and training. I always knew.” He chuckled at the memory.

  “No, you didn’t,” Annie replied.

  “Yes, I did,” Jason said.

  Annie and Jason fell into an easy silence for several minutes, the only noise from her television. It was enough for Jason to see things he never would have known if he remained dead. “Can we switch off the television? I don’t want to know these things,” he said.

  Obliging, she shut off the television and turned to her father. “I don’t remember Mom. I have no emotional attachment to her. When I think ’Mom,’ I see Kathy,” Annie said.

  Jason hummed. “That could bode well for you. No attachment to her means you can see clearly. She won’t be able to trick you.”

  She watched the pain in her father’s eyes. “You’re advocating that I kill your wife. How can you do that?”

  “She’s not the woman I fell in love with. I knew that when I saw her eight years ago. I want you to fully understand that.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have conjured you,” Annie said.

  “It’s done. So I was thinking. I haven’t eaten in eight years. I’m kinda hungry. Got food?”

  Annie chuckled and dragged him to the kitchen for dinner.

  *

  “I never got to say congratulations. I wish Cham had told me after you left.” Samantha sat beside Annie and pulled her into an embrace.

  “There were a few other things to worry about.”

  Samantha reached for Annie’s left hand and examined the ring. “It’s beautiful. He’s got good taste.”

  Annie began to scratch at her arm and stopped when Samantha watched.

  “It’s not getting better?” Samantha asked.

  Annie shook her head and returned to watching the television.

  “So Mom’s alive and Dad’s here. Have you talked to him?” Samantha asked. She ran her hands through Annie’s newly washed hair.

  “Yeah. He lives with me. We talk. I fed him. Have you ever watched someone eat for the first time in eight years?” Annie lay her head on Samantha’s shoulder.

  “No. It couldn’t have been pretty.”

  Annie enjoyed the silence after a long, emotional day. She didn’t want to be around those who worried about her safety, and she especially didn’t want to think about the woman who was coming for her.

  “Mom’s coming after you.” Samantha broke the silence between them and Annie rolled her eyes.

  “No. Emily Worthington Pearce is coming to kill me or trap me for the powers. My mom died when I was three,” Annie said defiantly.

  “She gave birth to you. She’s still Mom,” Samantha argued.

  Annie pulled away from her sister, waved her hand across the lamp, bringing up the light. She took Samantha’s hands and looked her sister in directly in the eyes. “Listen to me. I was barely out of babyhood when she ‘died’. I don’t remember her. The only mom I remember is Kathy. She was the one who took me shopping, cleaned my skinned knees, brushed my massive curls. Kathy and Zola. They raised me. Not Emily. I can’t think of her as my mom. If I do, she’ll be able to hurt me,” Annie said and leaned against the sofa cushion.

  “How can you shut it off?” Samantha asked incredulously.

  “I don’t remember her. I’m sorry. But I don’t. She’s nothing but an image on paper. I have to keep it that way. I have to,” Annie said.

  Samantha kissed her cheek and settled in beside her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “There you two are.” Jason entered the den and sat beside his girls for the first time in eight years. For a few hours, they pretended nothing was going to happen.

  *

  “Is your answer still yes?” Cham asked.

  Annie turned her head and kissed him. He pulled her into him and pulled the covers to their chins. “Yes,” she whispered.

  She closed her eyes and sighed, comfortable under the white comforter on her bed and beside her love. It was a few minutes’ respite when she didn’t feel the prickling under her skin, like a thousand crawling ants. When she felt her scratches burning, she was reminded of the itch that couldn’t be satiated.

  Dr. Christine had left her with a sleeping draught. It was warm and Annie felt the effects, nearly ready to fall asleep.

  “I missed you terribly.” Cham kissed her ear, pulled her long hair off her face, and returned his arm around her waist as if he could protect her from the outside world.

  “I was gone less than twenty-four hours your time,” Annie murmured.

  “It was a long twenty-four hours. Did you have a nice time with your dad and Sami?”

  “Yeah. Thanks for giving us time. It wasn’t real, but it was something.” She lay her hand on his bare chest.

  “Rest now. I’m afraid it’s going to get bad soon,” he said.

  “I can handle her.” Annie took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “I have no doubt. I’ll be here anyway, whether you like it or not.”

  Her breath slowed and evened out. “I know. I wouldn’t want it any other…” sleep overtook Annie, and for now, it was good.

  *

  Cave of Ages, Middle East, 2019

  Blue light radiated from the cave walls without the help of artificial lights or even the sun. It illuminated their skin making them appear ethereal. It scared most who saw them.

  Melichi, in his robes, looked menacing. To Emily, he once had been. She no longer feared him, only knelt down and bowed her head when he entered the large cavern. She took his hand and kissed the ring that had once belonged to King Solomon.

  She knew Annie Pearce had returned it to him.

  Anne Elizabeth Pearce.

  Emily knew the name; it was a whisper from the past.

  She knew the girl was once her daughter, but Annie had been abusive of her power and needed to be stopped. She had stolen a great power that belonged to the Fraternitatem. It would be Emily’s responsibility to seek her out and take the power from her, at any cost.

  “You may rise, my child,” Melichi said.

  Ever obedient, Emily rose and straightened out her robes. “What may I do for you, Melichi?” She bowed her head and waited for her direction.

  “It is time, Emily. The girl has received her powers.”

  Emily nodded and smiled. “I’m ready.”

  Prologue

  Middle East 1347

  Sturtagaard ran wildly through the black market, hiding himself in the horde of traders and buyers. He didn’t dare turn to see his pursuers, though he was tempted to gauge their distance. While he ran, he stumbled against a customer and pushed himself off of him. The vampire couldn’t care less, even when the man glowered at him and sent a fireball in his direction, barely missing his dark, black hair.

  The vampire was stronger, faster, leaner than the men that followed. Though he didn’t possess their black magic, he was cocky and therefore certain he would make it through the portal before they could reach him.

  Those in the market knew he was a vampire. Perhaps it was the icy chill that radiated off of his skin as he skimmed against them that gave him away, or perhaps it was his incredibly pale skin, which seemed to glow in the shadows. Either way, everyone around him steered clear of him and stepped out of his path, making room for him and the men who were bearing down on him.

  Sturtagaard had been alive for over two centuries. It had been plenty of time for him to learn survival tactics. But more importantly, he had learned how powerful he was as a vampire and how much his presence instilled fear in those around him. Because of that, he had never worried about what they could try to do to him. Until today.

  He forgot himself and anxiously glanced behind him, sure they couldn’t possibly be gaining speed—and yet there they were, less than five tents behind him.

  Damn! They’re vampires, too!

  He hadn’t thought of that possibility
, he realized as he crossed into the market center. Here, men, women, and evil creatures looking to do wicked things conducted private business, rested from a day of trading and buying or consumed food from stands that lined the perimeter of the open park. Sturtagaard jumped over a small cart and continued running for the other side of the market. He slipped inside a passageway teeming with customers.

  The vampires chasing Sturtagaard lost sight of him as they spun around the market center searching for him, leaving Sturtagaard what could have been considered a bit of breathing room, had he actually breathed. Once ensconced in the crowd, he jumped over a table covered with merchandise and lunged inside the owner’s tent, pulling the flaps closed.

  The tent owner, whom Sturtagaard recognized as a man named Ezra, startled. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Sturtagaard ignored the question and peered through the slit in the tent flaps, guardedly watching Asher and Raziel searching the crowd for him—more specifically, searching for the Chintamani stones that weighed down his pockets.

  The magically imbued stones were so ancient that they were said to have belonged to King Solomon. While Sturtagaard generally doubted the truth of the story, he now couldn’t help but consider it, given that these men were so doggedly chasing him in order to retrieve them.

  Absently, Sturtagaard placed his hand in his pocket and rolled the cool, smooth stones around his fingers. He wasn’t about to lose valuable artifacts when he had a perfectly willing buyer waiting for them.

  “I asked you, what are you doing here?” Ezra demanded. He glared at the intruder with crossed arms. If he was trying to appear menacing, it wasn’t working. Sturtagaard returned his glare, revealing his black eyes and fangs.

  “You’re a va… va… vampire,” Ezra stammered.

  “Shut up, pig,” Sturtagaard growled and looked back through the tent flaps. Raziel and Asher were one tent over.

  Sturtagaard glared at Ezra, placed a finger on his lips, and ducked below the tent’s back wall, shimmying his way into a narrow alley that separated the tents along the next passageway. He crouched low and slunk toward the end of it. There, he peered out and glanced down both sides of the passage to see clear aisles. Believing he had escaped, the vampire stepped onto the main thoroughfare and ran to the left, away from the Fraternitatem of Solomon.

  Just as he was almost to the portal exit, so close he could see the shimmering magic, Sturtagaard made a grave mistake and glanced back, if only to confirm he was truly free of the them. Seeing no one following him, he slowed his pace. When he turned back toward the portal, he crashed into David.

  Shit!

  Even with Sturtagaard’s vampire strength, speed, and smarts, he was no match for the leader of the Fraternitatem of Solomon. David was a formidable wizard, who practiced the darkest of magics.

  In two centuries, nothing had truly frightened the vampire—nothing until he met the Fraternitatem. A stake he could avoid, but the Fraternitatem had a far reach across the continent. Not wanting to become snared in their web, Sturtagaard scrambled away from the wizard, sliding across the silky dirt and hiding himself under the table. Not ashamed by his retreat, Sturtagaard slithered from booth to booth, dragging himself through the dirt. David, undeterred by the vampire’s hasty departure, patiently strolled along the passageway.

  At the end of the row of tables, Sturtagaard scrambled up and ran into Asher. To his left, Raziel closed in on him, trapping him.

  “I do not have what you seem to think I have,” Sturtagaard pleaded.

  David seized the vampire’s arm, ignoring the icy cold that radiated from the demon. He yanked Sturtagaard’s arms behind his back and tied them with a magical rope. Sturtagaard struggled against the bindings and was rewarded with a jinx to the shoulder.

  “I think you are lying,” David said. He shot another jinx, Sturtagaard fell to the ground, unconscious.

  “That was easy,” David said as he teleported the vampire from the black market.

  *

  Sturtagaard woke with his hands bound behind his back. He struggled to release the rope and found his shoulder was stiff from being held so long in that position. He stared at the stone floor beneath him, gingerly turned his head, and spit out a mouthful of dirt.

  “It’s about time,” David quipped. As ruler of the Fraternitatem of Solomon, David surrounded himself with the trappings of wealth and power. His wooden throne was built with wood from the farthest reaches of the world and hand carved with the Fraternitatem seal: a six-pointed star surrounded by four dots that created the shape of a square. He crossed his legs under his heavy velvet robes and glared at the vampire.

  “Untie me!” Sturtagaard grunted through his fangs.

  David held out his hand and showed Sturtagaard the four Chintamani stones he had been hiding in his pocket. “I don’t think you are in any position to demand anything.”

  Sturtagaard looked on with horror at the stones he worked so hard to steal, which glistened in the dim blue light of the cave. “I… I was not aware those rocks were the ones you sought. See? You can let me go. You have what you want.” Sturtagaard rolled over, still pulling on the magical ropes binding his arms together. The magic was impenetrable. He stared at the cave ceiling.

  “I do not think it is wise to let you live.” David gracefully stood, then knelt beside Sturtagaard. He summoned an acacia stake and tossed it in the air. When it hit his palm, Sturtagaard jumped.

  “No. No. You see, I know people and places. I can get you whatever you want. I can kill for you. Please let us not have it come to that,” Sturtagaard pleaded.

  David looked thoughtfully at Sturtagaard and stood. He paced along the back wall of the cavern known as the Cave of Ages, a cave system that once belonged to King Solomon, once held his vast treasure. He stopped after traversing the path several times. “What do you have to offer in exchange for your life?”

  Sturtagaard smirked. He had lived a long life, collected much knowledge, and had filed away his secrets in his brain like a filing cabinet; information to be used when it suited him the most. There was only one piece of information he believed would save him from the stake. He jerked his body as he tried again to loosen the ties that bound him. Still stuck, the vampire jeered, extended fangs. When David didn’t respond, Sturtagaard asked, “You hoard power, yes?’

  David’s eyebrows rose. “Go on.”

  Sturtagaard sniffed the iron-scented air. As David’s blood coursed through his veins, his heartbeat pounded in the vampire’s ears, a sign of his anxiety and curiosity. The vampire felt the upper hand had shifted.

  “Release me and I will give you the ultimate power,” he said calmly.

  David shook his head and laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “I do not expect that a scum vampire such as yourself would have any knowledge of an ultimate power.”

  Sturtagaard studied his adversary carefully as he contemplated his options. Not many people or creatures had an opportunity to find themselves inside the Cave of Ages. As Sturtagaard lay on the stone floor, he scanned the cavern; the iridescent blue of the walls shimmered and played tricks with his eyes. To his left, an open entrance in the side of the cliff showed the way outside. Two passages on either side of the stone room led deeper inside the cliff. As he took in his surroundings, he wondered if it were true about the Fraternitatem, that there were hundreds of members across the continent, or if those numbers were exaggerated. He glared at David.

  “It is the strength of power that will allow you to control the entire black market, maybe even the entire continent,” Sturtagaard explained.

  With wide eyes, David stared at the vampire. “And how did you learn of this… ultimate power?”

  Sturtagaard pulled on the ropes. “I will tell you when I’m released.”

  David frowned. “And what guarantee do I have that you will not run out when you are released? You have not given me a crumb of information. No. I do not think it wise to let you go. Now tell me where this power is and how I can retrie
ve it. Maybe then, I will discuss the possibility of releasing you.”

  Sturtagaard cringed and rocked himself upwards, struggling to right himself. Once upright, he stared at David. “A girl will be born in a future time. When she is of age, she will accept her destiny. In return, the ancient ones will bestow upon her a power unlike any other.” Sturtagaard glanced at David; his face was stony and controlled. “With this power, she will have control of water, earth, air, and fire. But most important of all, she will have control over the dead: the ability to conjure and turn ghosts corporeal.”

  David listened patiently. With his hands behind his back, he took several steps while staring at the vampire. “I do not think you are smart enough to know this,” he finally said.

  Sturtagaard laughed.

  David watched the vampire, assuming he was mad.

  But Sturtagaard knew the truth. He had been in Jorvik when Anaise arrived. His family had died because she did not act quickly enough to save them. When she finally fulfilled the prophecy and killed every last demon across the land, she did receive that ultimate power. While he hadn’t physically watched it happen, he had heard how she rose in the air, sputtering and flying above them. He had scoffed when he heard, but the Vikings who regaled him with the tale were frightened by the events, and those warriors were not easily frightened by little girls. Anaise’s power had scared them.

  For years after, they whispered about her conjured ghostly father and how she turned him corporeal before she went back to her time. They believed it, so he believed it. More than anything, Sturtagaard hoped the Fraternitatem would believe it too.

  “I was there when she received her powers. I saw a dead man come to life.” He kept his voice calm and steady as he wove the lie.

  “There is no such power that allows all of that,” David said with disbelief.

  Sturtagaard stumbled up and walked to David, their eyes now level. “Yes. There is. Anaise was sought from the future to rid the demons from England. There are now no more regenerating demons in England, and she received her powers before returning to her own time. She has done these things.”