Magic and Mayhem

by S. Usher Evans

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Sneak Peek from Book 3

  Free Anxiety Dragon Book

  Also By

  Acknowledgements

  Biography

  The Lexie Carrigan Chronicles

  S. Usher Evans

  Copyright © 2017 S. Usher Evans

  ISBN: 978-1370221585

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  Dedication

  To those who are broken,

  May you come back stronger

  One

  I hit the ground hard, spraying sand everywhere and into every crack I had. But I couldn't linger long, not when a glowing ball of purple magic was flying straight for my head. I rolled out of the way and sprang to my feet, facing the glowing creature on the other side of the dark beach.

  Creature wasn't really a good word for it but magical-representation-of-myself-I-used-when-I-wanted-to-spar was too long to say every time. I'd cleaved half my magic from myself, used a bit more to breathe some life into it, and then told it to come at me with everything it had.

  Right now, it was kicking my ass.

  Seeing as it was still my magic, I could've thrown in the towel and called it back. After all, I was starting my senior year of high school in the morning, and I didn't want to exhaust myself. But as a Warrior, a magical with the unique capability to use my magic in battle, quitting was anathema. The more I trained, the more I wanted to, until it was an itch that wouldn't stop. The only cure was to transport to this beach in the middle of nowhere and spar with myself until I couldn't move.

  My muscles were already aching, but mostly because I'd been distracted and careless tonight. But if I was weak, so was my counterpart, and if I could land one good, hard attack spell, it would be over.

  The problem was landing said attack spell. I was a habitual overthinker; my creature was not.

  The creature moved, and so I did too. I feinted left then right, practicing short transport spells to stay one step ahead of the purple balls of magic flying toward me. She relied on magical memory, or the impression of spells I'd previously attempted, to fight, and I didn't imprint a memory until at least a few weeks of practice. This was a new technique I was trying, and I was fairly sure she couldn't keep up.

  "Crap!" I cried as an attack spell smacked into my left shoulder, stopping me.

  The creature came for me again, and I had to practice defense. I knocked away her attack spell with my own like two pool balls, sending them both across the ocean. It wasn't the best move because it drained me faster, but sometimes I had to stop worrying about efficiency and get the job done.

  I fell to my knees and let a particularly harsh spell fly over my head. While she was recovering, I closed my eyes and let my magic do what it did best.

  Although I felt I had nothing left to give, my magic knew better. It was good at finding the crumbs of power hidden in the tips of my fingers and toes. As magic gathered in my core, I formed an attack spell so powerful it could kill me. I made sure to leave a little behind, so it wouldn't. Then, remembering I had school tomorrow, I left behind a little more. The creature was already low on energy, so it wouldn't take too much.

  I jumped out of the way just as a crackling ball of energy zoomed toward my head, and as I did, released the ball of magic I'd been holding.

  The collision exploded so bright it blinded me. I didn't need to lift my head to know I'd won and was, yet again, alone on the beach. The sound of the waves lapping against the shore came back to me, lulling me into calm. I inhaled the salt air, dug my weak fingers into the soft sand beneath my body until my heartbeat came back to normal.

  Deep down, I knew all my own moves, so victory was always hollow. This was simply a distraction, a way to keep my mind off the worries and fears that had plagued me for eighteen months, when a man from New Salem had killed my aunt and nearly killed me, too.

  It had all started on the eve of my fifteenth birthday, when Aunt Jeanie informed me that I, and the rest of my family, had magic. She'd been pretty light on the details, which, at the time, had infuriated me. But then Gavon had shown up—and ruined everything.

  First, he was kind. He mentored me, taught me how to use this new gift, and was the solid rock I'd counted on during those scary first weeks of magic. If that hadn't tipped me off that he was no good, I should've known when I found out he was from a gang of evil magicals who'd been banished to another world. But no, stupid me thought, "Oh, how interesting!" and continued to follow him like a lost puppy.

  And that was how I'd ended up fighting for my life in a duel with Gavon's apprentice. And how Jeanie ended up dead.

  I tried not to dwell on that last part.

  I sucked in a breath and forced myself to sit up, letting the sand fall from my hair. It would take a few more minutes before I'd recovered enough to transport myself back home. Magic was a finite energy, and although I was much faster at healing than when I'd started sparring, it took a lot out of me to fight with myself.

  Sadly, even though my sisters were a potion-maker and healer, neither one knew about my nightly activities. One because I didn't want her to worry. The other, well…

  Thinking about Marie was enough to force me to stand. I brushed the sand off my arms and legs and found the small bit of my magic I'd kept in reserve. Then, knowing I would crash the moment I got home, I transported straight into my bed, feeling the cool pillow against my cheek before blackness overtook me.

  I was back on the beach, standing beneath the moonlight. This time, I wasn't alone.

  "Oh, don't cry, Lexie," he said, drawing up a deadly-looking spell. "You'll be back with her soon enough. Then your sisters will join you."

  My magic throbbed beneath my skin, remembering what it was to fight with skill and practice, and I let go of control, deflecting and attacking with the grace of a practitioner much more advanced. My body danced as effortlessly as Gavon's had, and I drew up three spells of my own, not to kill, but to confuse.

  "I do like a challenge," Cyrus said. "Unfortunately, I don't have time—"

  I released a bla
st, if only to shut him up, and he blocked with a spell of his own, but the force had knocked him back a few feet. When I saw the confusion on his face, I knew he'd underestimated me, which meant I had him.

  I exploded in purple and fury and power. The spell crashed into Cyrus, pummeling him mercilessly until he fell to his knees. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and he panted, struggling to gather his magic. Somehow I knew, perhaps through the magical memory, that I was going to use the rest of my magic to destroy him, and I was going to die.

  Goodbye Nicole. Goodbye Marie.

  With a loud crack, I released my final magic—

  I awoke suddenly, gasping for air and searching the room for the face that haunted my dreams. But the only sound was my own panicked breathing. Slowly, I sank back down into my pillows, tears mixing with the sweat coating my cheeks. I turned to muffle my cries in my pillow; our apartment was too small, and Nicole was in the next room over.

  I still had no idea what really happened the night I almost lost my life in a duel with Cyrus, nor did I know why he hadn't come for us again. But I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him—or anyone else from New Salem.

  Muscles aching, I rolled out of bed and wiped my face. I cracked open my door to the dark apartment and listened. Our apartment was small, so even from across the hall I heard my sister's soft snoring. It comforted me—but I wasn't quite satisfied.

  I slid on my flip-flops and tiptoed out of the apartment, softly closing the door behind me. Ours was on the second floor of two, so I padded down the concrete and metal stairs as quietly as I could.

  I kept to the shadows of the parking lot until I found a spot next to a tall oak tree. I gathered what was left of my magic and released it into the air, reaching toward the invisible barrier I'd erected. The magic responded in kind, lighting up before my eyes and confirming what I'd already known—nothing magical would get in or out unless I allowed it.

  That was, of course, assuming I'd gotten the damned spell right.

  As the light of the barrier faded and my magic returned, loneliness echoed in my chest. I needed help. Sparring only came naturally thanks to the magical memories I'd retained from before I was born. Everything else was always a question—was I doing it right? Did the charms and spells and enchantments do what they were supposed to, or was I just seeing what I wanted to?

  As much as I hated to admit it, I missed Gavon. Or rather, I missed the Gavon I'd known before I found out who he really was. The man who'd taken me under his wing and answered every stupid question I had, even when I sounded like an idiot.

  But even as I missed him, I couldn't ignore what he'd let happen—or that he'd been absent from my life since. I'd spent weeks parsing out if my feelings for him were because we were both Warriors, or because he'd intentionally made himself more appealing to me, or because he was my f—

  I released a breath. I still had a hard time saying the word, even in my mind.

  Nights like tonight, when my insecurity roared like a dragon, I wished he would appear out of nowhere again, offering a kind smile and a thoughtful response to whatever worry I had that night. But he was why I needed a barrier in the first place. I had to hope that this spell, which I'd enacted about three months after my near-death experience, was the reason why Cyrus hadn't come back for round two.

  Because if I didn't, the fear would eat me alive.

  A wave of exhaustion descended like a curtain, and I leaned into the oak tree. I was sure it was past midnight, and I was also sure that sparring with myself plus this late-night barrier checking meant that extra coffee would be required to get me out of bed in the morning.

  But somehow it seemed fitting to continue to torture myself over the past. After all, had I just told someone about Gavon the first day I saw him, my family would've still been intact.

  Two

  My alarm blared at me what seemed like seconds after I'd put my head down on the pillow. In the darkness, I groped for my phone to mute the offending sound. Then, with a grunt, I threw it back down on the nightstand, hoping for a few more hours of sleep. The previous night's exercise hung heavily on my eyelids and behind my temples. But there were things to do, school to attend, volunteering to complete…

  The list continued in the back of my mind as I pushed myself out of bed. Sand in my bedsheets scratched against my palms, and with a wave of my hand, I magically returned it to the beach. My sister might've had some questions about why I was tracking sand in when I'd said I was volunteering at the animal shelter last night.

  My summer schedule had been jampacked with activities as I tried to fit every last extra-curricular onto my college applications. As long as I continued getting straight As, too, I had to get a scholarship and a spot at Georgetown. That had been my goal for about a year, and I was so close I could taste it.

  But first I had to get myself out of bed.

  With a loud whine, I stood and headed to the bathroom. My bones ached and protested the movement, and every part of me wished to go back to my soft pillows. Gavon once told me that Warriors don't whine, we just do. So I went, but I still whined.

  Because screw him.

  After I showered and dressed, I found Nicole in the kitchen, already hard at work cooking breakfast for the two of us. Of all the lives I'd ruined, hers had been the most affected by my stupidity. Just twenty-two, she'd dropped out of college to work full-time to pay the bills. She never told me much, but I knew things were tight financially. The only thing we had was the house, which we were able to sell to pay off Jeanie's debts. If Jeanie had left anything to us in her will, we didn't know about it, thanks to Gram…

  At times, I had flashes of my grandmother, and I knew that something had happened to make me unbelievably angry at her. But when I stretched my memory for more, it went blank. I sensed there was magic at play, but all I knew for sure was we were completely on our own.

  Nicole grinned when I shuffled into the kitchen. She and I looked a lot alike, with brown hair and pale complexions that burned rather than browned in the Florida sun.

  "Good morning, senior!" she chirped loudly as she bounced around the kitchen, assembling my breakfast.

  "You didn't have to go all out," I said, sliding onto a chair.

  "Of course I did! You're a senior. It's such a fun year. Togas and homecoming and crowns and—"

  "And if you think I'm going to do any of that nonsense…" I yawned as I pulled my phone to me, tapping at the screen to display my calendar for the week. "So I've got volunteer work this afternoon then I'm spending a few hours tutoring at the library. I won't be back until late, but I'll have my phone."

  "Do you really have to keep volunteering?" Nicole asked, joining me at the table. "You should lighten your load a bit now that you're back in school."

  I shook my head. "Georgetown's not going to see it that way."

  Nicole pursed her lips. She wasn't exactly dissuading me from pursuing the college of my dreams, but she wasn't enthusiastic about it. "Georgetown is a lot of money, you know," she said, cleaning the pan in the sink. "It's not just tuition. It's books and fees, dorm and food—"

  "I know," I said, shoveling the eggs into my mouth. "I've looked at all the fees and charges and I know how much I need every semester. And if they don't give me scholarships, I'll get loans."

  "I don't want you saddled with thousands of dollars in debt, Lexie," Nicole said. "Why not try a local school here? You could save all your money and—"

  "I'm not staying here." That was final. Too many memories in this town, none of which I wanted to bring with me. And even though I wanted to protect Nicole, I didn't want to be…so close to her. I couldn't even sneeze in my bedroom without her yelling "Bless you." I'd be lying if I didn't admit that part of my busy schedule was to get away from her, although I felt horrible about it.

  "You're still a kid, Lexie," she said quietly, taking my now-empty plate from me. "I don't want you to have to grow up too soon."

  "I'll take care of my dishes," I said, and, u
sing a quick bit of magic, washed and dried my plate and returned it to the cabinet in the blink of an eye.

  Nicole stared at her empty hands, but said nothing. Ever since…well, all that had happened, she'd been less enthused about the idea of magic. For her, it was simple to pretend she was a nonmagical. Potion-makers lacked the ability to transport, conjure, or even summon. Nicole's healing potions could replenish two-thirds of my magic with a single sip, but her cauldron had disappeared with the rest of our belongings when we'd sold the house. Now, the only thing she brewed was coffee.

  As for me, I could ignore my magic as easily as I could stop breathing. The hum against my skin was ever-present, the urge to practice always there, even overpowering my guilt.

  "I guess I should be going," I said, after a too-long pause.

  "Have a good day at school," Nicole said, a little too brightly, the way she always did when we ventured into uncomfortable territory.

  I walked out of the kitchen and summoned my bag. Then, making sure Nicole wasn't watching, I transported myself to school.

  Transport spells were pretty routine now. The bathrooms in the arts wing were usually unpopulated this early in the morning, so I'd use my magic to find an empty stall and appear there. I'd wait a few breaths to make sure no one was in the bathroom with me then head to my locker.

  Before I did, I checked my phone, just in case. Knowing what the outcome would be, I tapped out a short note to add to the long string of unanswered messages.

  It's the first day of senior year. I wish you were here.

  I waited.

  Read 7:34am

  Marie and Nicole had lasted two weeks in our apartment before their first blow-up fight. I'd come home to them screaming at each other with red faces, and had to play referee to calm them both down. Marie had stormed out—nothing new for my second oldest sister, who had the temper of a five-year-old.