Mystical (The Mystical Trilogy Book 1)

by Michael Weekly

  She struts over to him. I can’t see her face clearly, but I can see her markings glowing a vibrant silver. She wraps her fingers around his neck, dragging him away from me. He hisses, kicking her against a wall. She kicks off the wall as if she’s had parkour training. Collecting herself, she swipes one of the ends of her weapon across his face, cutting his cheek.

  I rub my eyes. There are silver lines around the object. I know, for sure, that this weapon is a broomstick and the lady is a witch. The creature gargles in pain. He aims to punch her face, but she ducks to the ground.

  She gets back up, weaving through and dodging the creature’s strikes. She twirls her broomstick around her body with her hands once more. Then she cuts a piece of skin from his other cheek.

  His markings are glowing more than ever now. He staggers toward her, but the lady kicks him across the space between them. His back slams against the hard wall and his mouth opens as if he’s lost his breath.

  The witch then rushes over and jabs the end of her broomstick right underneath his right nipple. As she yanks her broomstick out of his body, rainbow mist spurts out and lands on her clothes.

  “How dare you attack my daughter?” She jabs her knee into Alex, grabbing his glowing hair and slamming his head against the wall.

  Daughter?

  She executes the same attack, only this time puncturing underneath the left nipple. I can hear his bones crack and grind from the dagger inside of him. The red button is beaming as she swings it back and forth. I squint to get a clearer view of what’s going on. The creature gives one last twitch. She removes her broomstick and turns around as he bursts into rainbow mist.

  She presses the button. I hear the scrape of metal as the daggers on each end of the bar slide back into their little holes. It resizes itself back to normal. The lady turns her head to face me, her hair whipping away from her shoulders. She glares at me.

  A white cat leaps off the stairs from behind her, walking toward the scene, paw in front of paw, and slowly waves its tail in the air. I hear the sound of her boots press against the gravel.

  “Who’s the crazy witch now?” she says.

  Chapter 5

  I can’t believe what I’m witnessing. My mother just vanquished the creature that almost murdered Dawn and I. She flipped around the place with ease and didn’t even hesitate to stab him in the chest. She showed no mercy at all. This wasn’t my mother. This was a trained assassin, and a good one at that.

  She stares down at me and then walks away.

  “And you wonder why we say to get your ass home before eight,” Jared says.

  “Fairy blood is the worst,” my mom mutters, wiping wet glitter off her jacket.

  She looks at me and says, “Get up, Liza.”

  I recollect myself, shrugging off the pain from the fall, and try to catch up to my mother. Is that what my broomstick can do? Turn into a deadly weapon to kill things with? I guess Mom is sane. What just happened explains why she’s so serious about me keeping my broomstick on me at all times and why she’s always pushing for me to be in before eight.

  The lady in front of me doesn’t seem like Mom, though. She’s a fearless fighter who shows no mercy or emotion. Back at home, she’d be anything but fearless, merciless, and emotionless. She’d be nervous and talking to imaginary things alone at night.

  Dawn slumps on the ground with her head against the rocky wall. She seems to be asleep. Her chest is slowly moving up and down. I start to help her up, but mom smacks my hand with her leather gloves.

  “Are you insane?” She spits. “Do you not see the glowing marks on her neck and skin?”

  I take a closer look at Dawn and see what looks like colorful hickies scattered across her skin, glowing. Dawn’s fingers continue to twitch.

  “Fairy hickies are contagious, Eliza. The toxic saliva on her skin is seared into her blood stream. The saliva enhances emotions and numbs reactions, and a victim is stuck in a seductive trance until they die, or possibly become corrupt,” she explains, annoyed. She fixes her gloves and ties her chocolate brown hair into a ponytail.

  “Was that the mystic you were talking about that night?”

  I know she knows what I’m referring to. I can tell, just from looking at her eyes, the memory of what happened in front of that bookcase is replaying in her mind. She was on the ground in pain, her arm burning. She looks away immediately, refocusing on Dawn.

  “You should be glad you didn’t die. I figured something like this would happen since you’re going through your transformation,” she mumbles, disappointed. “You don’t need to be out here alone without me. I told you to get in before eight.”

  “We both told you,” Jared chimes in.

  “You never listen! You hid this from me the entire time! Maybe, for once, just tell me the truth about who I am,” I yell at her. Forcing myself away from the scene, I trudge down the path toward my car.

  “Are you going to cure her here or back at Eliza’s place?” Jared asks.

  I hear a zap and a rush of air blowing my hair in front of my eyes. I turn around to see Jared and Dawn gone.

  Overwhelmed by everything that has happened this night, my hands begin to shake and my heart beats frantically. I rush to my car, but it’s not opening. I hit the car door in anger. I jerk my hand back from the pain it causes.

  “Eliza, now is not the time to show weakness. Toughen up and give me your keys.”

  I glance up and see my mom wearing a jacket with a hood, her leathery black pants glowing with the moon’s light.

  I’m emotionally unstable right now. One person can only take so much until they explode. I reach for my purse that’s beside me on the ground and hand it to her. She takes the purse and finds my keys.

  “Get in.”

  “Where’s Dawn?”

  “Safe, at your place.”

  My mother drives my car back to my condo. We enter, and to my surprise, Dawn is already there. The hickies on her body are still glowing, beaming across the room.

  My mother glides to where Dawn is lying on the couch. She pulls out a silver glowing syringe and inserts it carefully into her neck. As she injects her with a glittery fluid, the hickies begin to fade away and Dawn stops twitching.

  Exhausted, I open my bedroom door and plop on my bed, face first. Jared pounces on the foot of my bed.

  “You’re in trouble,” he nags.

  “Not now, Jared. Please, I don’t want to skin you alive,” I mutter through my bed sheets.

  “What were you thinking going after a fairy?”

  “It had my friend. That thing definitely wasn’t Tinkerbell.”

  “Wake up and pay attention to what’s going on around you.”

  “Oh, so you knew about my mom being some bad ass, sexy ninja monster killer too?” I laugh sarcastically. “What else is there that I don’t know already?”

  “Eliza, this isn’t a time for you to be making jokes.”

  “Shut up, you thing! What are you? A devilish cat that can talk?” I snap.

  “No, and yes, I can talk, if you haven’t noticed already.”

  He mutters something under his breath and jumps out the open window into the night.

  ***

  As I lie on my bed starfish style, I exhale a huge sigh, replaying the scene I saw tonight in my head. I close my eyes.

  My mom’s voice taunts my head. “It’s part of your transformation,” my mother said. “Fairy hickies are contagious and poisonous.”

  I think of all the things Mom’s broomstick was able to do when she waved it. Now I understand why she was paranoid whenever I didn’t have it, but I actually had the broomstick with me this time. It just didn’t work or activate like hers did. It was dull and useless when I clicked the button. The silver lines around the stick didn’t glow. When I pressed the red button, it didn’t morph into a deadly weapon.

  It was just a stupid stick.

  I get up to look for the broomstick in my purse. I pull it out and glare at it.

 
; “Do something, you thing,” I mutter.

  Jared sneaks back inside from the window.

  “Become a deadly weapon!” I yell, hitting it.

  “It’s not going to do anything with you yelling at it,” he mocks. “Your transformation isn’t done yet.”

  Transformation?

  My mom also said something about my transformation back at the dark path.

  “What transformation?”

  “I don’t know if—”

  “Please, Jare. I almost got killed by a fairy. My mother vanquished it in front of me with her broomstick. She didn’t seem like herself. I’m so confused. I need answers,” I plead.

  He glances at the door and back to me.

  “Close the door, quickly,” he whispers.

  He starts talking as soon as the door is closed. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. You’re in more danger than you think. The more you know, the easier it’ll be for them to find you.”

  “Who? Who’s trying to find me, Jare? What’s the point of you even telling me now?” I asked impatiently.

  “Because you asked me to. That creature in that alley is called a mystic and the more you know, the more likely they are to seek you out. Anyway, no questions,” he snaps, glancing at the door again. “Your transformation is like…think of it as going through puberty again. As a witch, you have to go through a transformation that will allow you to possess skills you didn’t have before.”

  His beady eyes frantically glance behind me at the door.

  “What...?

  “Would you shut up?” He walks across the window’s edge slowly. “Look, your eyesight is messing with you because you’re in the middle of the transformation. It’ll get better, like your hearing did, later.”

  That’s the reason why I’ve been having such a hard time seeing things. My mother knew about the transformation and took me to the doctor to get my glasses anyway.

  Nice cover up, Mom.

  I think about how agile I was when I ran down the dark path, how good I was at dodging all the trash cans. I had no idea I could run that fast. Everything is gradually starting to make a little more sense.

  Just a little...

  “Basically, I’m becoming like a ki—”

  The door in my room suddenly opens. My mother enters my room. Her eyes dart between Jared and I.

  “I would love some cat food right now,” he mutters, clearing his throat as he leaps pass Mom. He glides through her legs and runs down the stairs.

  She squints her eyes at him, then glances back at me. She purses her lips together and puts her hands on her hips.

  “Why didn’t you use your broomstick to protect you?”

  “Like I know how to use it.”

  “It should’ve come naturally to you. It’s instinctual.”

  “Like I know what that’s supposed to mean.” I glance at my broomstick on the ground.

  “It’s worse than I thought.”

  She turns around and struts out of my room.

  “You should be following,” she spits.

  I jump up on my toes and follow my mom military style. She walks into the living room, which still has boxes in it, and strides toward one of the boxes on the floor. She mumbles to herself as her hand hovers over one of the books.

  The book is old and dusty. She pulls it out, blowing the dust off of it. The cover is silver and dark purple. The same silver lines on my broomstick tangle across the spine. The pages aren’t crinkled. They look brand new. This was the book I saw back at home on the bookshelf.

  She carries the book to the couch, sits down to cross her legs, and pats the seat next to her.

  “What’s that?”

  “Well, it’s a grimoire, of course. When you get a chance, I would like for you to read this. I have to go. I’m meeting someone and I’m a few hours away. Please don’t get yourself caught up like you did tonight.”

  She’s probably meeting that man she was talking to earlier. Why hasn’t she just told me about him yet? She opens the book and tosses through the pages. With a deep sigh she places it in my lap.

  “Don’t worry about Dawn. She won’t remember anything that happened tonight.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I fixed her memory with my syringe. It’s sort of like a broomstick, but you can only get one at certain places, like Witcher’s Place, a store for witches.”

  She gets up and walks to the door. “I love you, and remember, I’m only a few hours away.” She yells, “Jare take care of my daughter!”

  Suddenly, memories from when I was young start shooting through my mind. I rub my forehead as I watch my mother leave.

  I hear a knock on the front door. I start to get the door, but mom slips ahead of me and gets to the door first. She turns around and gives me one last glance and a wave before heading out. I hear mumbles outside, but the sound of Jare coming down the stairs grabs my attention.

  “Ah, the good ole grimoire, the old book that’s been passed down, generation to generation.” Jared bounces into the living room and leaps on the arm of the chair. He flips the pages with his paw and places it on a particular picture. The picture is of what looks like a teenage girl with a bunch of silver tattoos leading up to her neck.

  Her red hair looks like it’s blowing in the wind and she’s holding a sharp knife. In her other hand is a broomstick. She’s in a fierce fighting stance. Jare’s whiskers tickle my skin as I pet his back.

  “Uh no, hands off.” He clears his throat and says, “Mellissa Morolov. She’s your great grandmother, and yes, she’s a witch.”

  Jared flips the pages until he reaches a page titled Mystics. The subtitle is Magical Creatures. My mouth is dry, and there’s a lump in my throat. Now I can finally see what Mom’s been mumbling to herself about. Just thinking about that fairy my mom fought frightens me. Jared’s tail flops on my thigh as he lifts up his beady eyes.

  “The fairy Mom killed was a mystic, right?”

  “Correct.” He sighs. “I’m supposed to be helping you with all of this stuff. You’re different than other witches. I know this is all new to you. I just hope you can grasp it, okay?”

  “I’m getting there, Jare.”

  “Fairies, Elves, and Mermaids,” he says. “These are the few you need to worry about around here. Now that your transformation is starting, they’ll sense your presence. Try not to react to any strange events at school and keep yourself out of the crowd.”

  “Not like I get attention anyway,” I mutter, looking at the book.

  I remember how mom acted when I noticed her witch markings earlier today. After seeing her in action, I understand why she wanted to hide the tattoos from me. She was trying to protect me from what the tattoos represent, even though I’m still not certain how the tattoos relate to her witch abilities. I don’t have any tattoos.

  “I know this is the book you leaped on to keep me from seeing it a while ago.” I turn to look at him. “Why are you guys telling me everything now?”

  “Mystics are going to come after you no matter what, Eliza. They’re blended in amongst many normal people here in this world.” He gazes at the book. “You just have to know how to prepare yourself for them.”

  “How can I do that?” I open the book back up, flipping through the pages.

  “By being yourself.” He sniffles and leaps into his cat bed by the TV.

  I hold the medium-sized book in my hands and reiterate to myself what I already know. First things first, I’m a witch and I don’t cast spells. I have a broomstick that doesn’t fly, but turns into a deadly but awesome weapon. Second, my mom’s, like, some sort of ninja witch, and the creatures witches fight are called mystics. After seeing that fairy, I can only imagine what the rest of the creatures look like.

  Finally, I’m going through some kind of ‘second puberty’ for witches. I don’t know what it’s doing to me, but I feel sort of excited and terrified. I don’t know how I’ll react to it, but from how I saw my mom act tonight while fighting a
mystic, it seems like I’m being morphed into a mystical assassin too.

  Fairies definitely aren’t like Tinkerbell. They’re not pretty and definitely not nice. They have sharp, scary wings and if they kiss you…well, you’re dead.

  Chapter 6

  The crisp, warm wind blows the pages of my psychology book around. I place the palm of my hand in the middle of the crease of the book. Then I cross my legs on the bench I’m sitting at. Today is club day, and a bunch of members from different organizations are standing outside, advertising how cool their club is.

  “Join our dance team! We teach hip-hop and other styles!”

  A girl waves a bunch of freshmen to her stand. A mixture of guys and girls are dancing to the music blasting from the boom boxes. A bunch of students form a crowd around the dancers and begin to clap.

  I notice Dawn running to the crowd and disappearing into the ant pile. I close my book, shocked that Dawn would just run into the crowd like that. Then again, dancing is her thing. There’s a roar of applause when I walk over.

  Dawn’s hips slowly sway from right to left, ending with a sharp hip tick as she rolls her body to the center. She crisscrosses her legs and gracefully circles in place. She claps with the crowd to pump them up as she executes a bunch of different formations around a guy.

  “Go Dawn!” I know she can’t hear me cheering her on, but it’s the thought that counts.

  The guy pushes against her as they collide with the beat. She purses her lips and places her index finger on his chest. She shakes her head, bends over, and then does a round-off flip. Students race over to sign up to join the dance club. The leader is standing on a picnic table wearing a hot pink crop top and high-wasted white shorts. Dawn’s wearing a huge smile. I can tell she’s in a great mood. I smile and shake my head, happy for her. The guy she was dancing with hugs her. They high five each other.

  I feel a light poke on my back. I turn around to see Eric standing behind me. Immediately, he stares into my eyes. He must have also been watching the little dance battle.