by Simone Pond
Exodus of Magic
The Mysterium Chronicles Book 1
An Urban Fantasy Novel
by Simone Pond
Ktown Waters Publishing
Copyright © 2017 Simone Pond
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Ktown Waters Publishing, Los Angeles, CA.
ISBN-13:978-1542980968
ISBN-10: 1542980968
Cover Design: Rebecca Frank
Editing: Peter Stier Jr., Emily Nemchick, Kat Deloian
Formatting: Polgarus Studio
For more information about Simone Pond, visit: simonepond.com
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
Author’s Note
BY SIMONE POND
CHAPTER 1
The third glass of champagne probably wasn’t my smartest move of the night. Sure, the first two glasses had so far helped me endure the mingling portion of my mother’s Charity Ball, and had even assisted me in bluffing my way through a few hands of poker, but now the tiny bubbles were scattering my thoughts. I threw down my cards, folding before I lost the stack of gold coins I’d acquired over the last hour. One of the men grunted disapprovingly, but I wasn’t about to keep playing just because he wanted to win back his money. He cleared his throat and was about to lay into me when the familiar sound of steel-capped boots against the cold marble floor interrupted him. The purple velvet curtain that separated the back room from the main hall flew open and Prime Master Bachar barged in. His presence alone sent all four men fleeing the poker table, leaving me with their gold.
The Prime Master squared his bold chin and looked down his long nose, scowling. “Can you at least show a bit of respect and class? This is Charity’s special event … for you!”
Grandfather had a way of not beating around the bush. I took a sip of champagne and braced myself for another volley of his insults. But before he had a chance to speak, in drifted Charity Bachar, her light blue eyes twinkling like those of an angel.
“There you are! Father, are you spoiling my daughter with kindness?” She swooped past the Prime Master in a breath of etherealness and stood in front of me, fussing with one of my dark brown waves so it gently brushed my cheek.
My grandfather’s face reddened. He frowned, stiffened, and adjusted his tie, then snatched the champagne glass from my hand. “No more. You’ve already made an ass of the Bachar name tonight.”
My mother faced him and calmly removed the glass of champagne from his overbearing grip and placed it on the table. “Oh, Father. Stop it. It’s not like every single Oligarch here tonight isn’t with the fairies. I’ve never seen so much alcohol consumed in such a short amount of time! Jordan is no more undignified than any of your governing council members or the Oligarchs.”
I stood up, making sure not to sway or wobble. “It’s fine, Mother. The Prime Master is right. I should be out there celebrating with the other graduates.”
I adjusted the pastel blue skirt flowing from my dress, and with every molecule of focus and determination, I walked away from the table. Leaving behind my gold. But not my dignity.
Back in the ballroom, my grandfather, mother, and I returned to our assigned seats at the head table. All eyes were on me. I plastered on a polite grin and said my greetings. I kept things to simple yes and no responses to avoid saying something inappropriate—which I’ve been known to do at these types of functions.
The Oligarchs and council members of Mysterium had been scoping me out for the better portion of the evening, which is why I sidled off to the back room in the first place. Their obtrusive stares cut across the room. They expected nothing but greatness from the newest graduates of the Academy. Because of my family’s high position, the expectations on me were even greater. Throughout dinner, the finely dressed men and women guzzled their red wine and gobbled up juicy bites of roasted lamb as they gawked in my direction. They had a special talent for silent scrutiny.
Sitting there with my head getting lighter, I thought about calling on my magic to straighten myself out, but using unsanctioned magic—of any kind—was a big no-no in Mysterium. Definitely not worth the risk of ruining my mother’s celebration. I’d suck it up and behave like the rest of them. Even though I wasn’t like the rest of them. Most of the Oligarchs on the right bank of Mysterium made that abundantly clear. Especially my grandfather.
Stuck at the family table, I was bored out of my wits. The other recent graduates were sitting across the room, laughing and celebrating together. I glanced over at Nils Fox, his blue eyes so clear they gleamed like ice. He grinned, giving me one of his sly winks—the kind that would make most women melt, but it only made me chuff with reassurance. My partner at the Academy knew me better than anyone in the ballroom. He could smell my discomfort through the overflowing centerpieces of fragrant pink and white roses. He had incredible senses; one of his strongest magical gifts. Maybe even more advanced than my own.
Congrats, he mouthed, raising his glass.
I held up my empty champagne glass and smirked.
He looked handsome in his black tux, much different than our stiff navy jumpsuits at the Academy. We’d spent the last three years training to be operatives, and Nils Fox would be my assigned partner in the Jade Division where eventually we’d track down terrorist mages on the left bank, keeping the city of Mysterium safe from black magic. I liked Nils. He knew how badly I wanted this. To finally prove to my grandfather I was worthy of the Bachar name.
The clinking of metal on a crystal glass announced an oncoming toast or speech. I sucked in a deep breath as I watched my grandfather’s right-hand man and only advisor, Counselor Pierce Magnus, an exquisite-looking man with a scar above his right eye, rise up from the table. He adjusted his black ponytail and smiled with confidence.
“Ladies and gentlemen of Mysterium’s right bank, thank you for joining us in celebration this evening. It’s always a pleasure to welcome our newest operatives into the division. These men,” he said, pausing and glancing down at me for a quick second, “and one woman … will be putting their lives at risk to protect our city. To keep peace and order between the left and right banks. Let’s celebrate them tonight before we release them to the wolves.”
Magnus chuckled, getting some laughter from the crowd. I peered over at my mother. Her soft smile lit up her angelic face, but I knew she was seething. She loathed Counselor Magnus.
With a sudden grunt, my grandfather backed his chair away from the table and began to rise.
“Sir?” Magnus mumbled under his breath.
My grandfather rarely spoke publicly, so the room immediately grew still. He towered over Magnus, his long white hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. The entire room waited with a silence so pregnant it was palpable.
“I have something to say,” my grandfather said to his counselor.
A faint glint of confusion flashed across the counselor’s calm demeanor; something n
obody else would notice.
“Ladies and gentleman, the great Prime Master Bachar would like to address his guests,” he told them.
The room of men sporting tuxedos and women in gowns with enough jewels to outshine the starry sky stood up and clapped.
“Thank you, but please be seated,” he said.
Grandfather was not one for praise or feigned pleasantries. His pale blue eyes darted my way, causing my stomach to lurch and the champagne in it to start carbonating again. I clenched my jaw tight, waiting for the inevitable. My mother smiled at me, and I heard her voice softly whisper: Everything is going to be okay. She hadn’t spoken the words, but I knew. It was a special gift I had.
“Mysterium is the most powerful and magnificent city of the Confederated Six. We’ve maintained this status for well over a century,” my grandfather said. “And though twenty-two years ago the Oracle foretold the prophecy of our desolation … yet it has not been fulfilled. Nor will it. We can attribute much of our success to the generations of operatives protecting our city. It starts within our own silver walls.” He looked at me for a moment, then to Nils and across to the nearby tables of other graduates. “And it will be the responsibility of our newest operatives to continue maintaining order and peace between the left and right banks.”
The room burst into cheerful applause. My grandfather held up his large hand to silence them once again.
“As you know, one of the new operatives carries the Bachar name—although by adoption only. I want you to know that Jordan will not be granted any special privileges. She will perform her duties to protect our city just as the others.” He lifted his glass of red wine upward so the light from the many chandeliers made a spectrum along the crystal edge. “With that, I ask you all to raise your glasses to Mysterium, and our enduring reign!”
I had been waiting for him to say “adopted” at some point in the evening. Grandfather found a way to fit it into nearly every conversation that involved me. He detested the fact that his dear daughter, Charity, had gone against his wishes and adopted a stranger without any knowledge of my history or blood lineage. Regardless, Charity Bachar saved my life and raised me as her own daughter. Had it not been for her generosity, my story would’ve ended twenty-two years ago, a hundred miles outside of Mysterium.
As the guests drank to their beloved city, my grandfather kept his gaze straight forward and sat back down. I wanted to leap across the table and sock him in the jaw, but decided to save my energy for putting away the black-magic terrorists who claimed to be freedom-fighting zealots for the left-bank Ancients.
The band started playing a quick-paced jazzy tune and many guests began to dance. Nils got out of his chair and approached my table.
“Can I have this dance?” he asked, touching my elbow.
“Yes, please!” I said with maybe too much enthusiasm as I eagerly welcomed the escape from the coldness of my table.
As I stood up, my mother came over and softly whispered, “I’m so proud of you, Jordan. I love you.”
I hugged her, inhaling her beautiful rose scent. “I love you, too.”
Her blue eyes glistened as she smiled with pride and joy, making Charity Bachar look like an angel. I marveled over how someone so heaven sent could have a father like Prime Master Bachar. She had always been so good to me. And if my mother wanted me to be a part of her world, I’d do my best to fit in. Even though it was the last place I belonged.
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a buzz on,” Nils said, taking my hand and leading me to the dance floor.
“It was the only way I was getting through tonight without killing someone,” I said.
I swished my way toward the dance floor in my pastel blue dress, which happened to be the perfect below-the-knee length for swing dancing. And despite the disapproving looks from some of the high-society women in the crowd, we stepped into the middle of the floor and began bopping around to the quick beat.
I grabbed Nils’s hands and pulled him close. He grinned and we began bouncing to the beat, kicking and hopping to the rhythm. The freedom of movement felt downright liberating. Dancing was pure magic.
“Wow, Jordy. You’re lighting up the entire room with those jade eyes of yours.”
I blushed. “Please, keep it professional!”
Nils laughed. “It’s a party.” Then he lifted me and I swung my legs from side to side. “You’re really good at the Right-bank Swing!”
“Learned from the best,” I told him.
One, two, three, four … Feel it in your toes … Be light on your feet … Feel it right here … I remembered my boyfriend, Joshua, placing his hand over my heart. He’d taught me how to flow with the music. I loved Joshua. But he wasn’t good enough for the Bachar family name, and Grandfather had him assigned to a base in the most dangerous city of the Confederated Six. That was five years ago.
“Well, your magic is working!” Nils panted into my ear.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He flipped me over his shoulder and swung me back around. We clasped hands and stood chest to chest, skipping sideways toward the back of the room where a group of young women in magnificent gowns gaped at the two of us. One redhead in particular gave me a spectacular glare. And Nils loved every second of it.
“You’re using me to provoke jealousy?” I laughed.
“I know you don’t mix business with pleasure, so if I can’t have you, I’m going for second best.”
I spun around and pulled Nils with me, our feet clapping against the shiny floor. He was keeping up. Dexterity and agility came easily to my partner. I had my suspicions that Nils Fox was a descendant of left-bank Ancient blood, but if so, he was keeping a tight lid on that. He’d been born and raised on the right bank and was sticking with that story until he was ready to take it to his grave. Either way, he was a special breed with some incredible talents.
“You think dancing with me will make your dream girl want you?” I asked.
“Think? I know. Just look at her face. It’s almost as red as her hair.”
I glanced back around during one of my spins. If looks could kill—which they still could in some cities—I’d be splattered on that dance floor. But Dreamgirl didn’t intimidate me. Neither did the women in her pack of tigresses. I’d endured this group’s mind bullets since I was a kid. They couldn’t break me then, and they certainly wouldn’t break me now.
The tune came to an end, then the music shifted to a slower song. Nils and I faced each other awkwardly. Fast swing dancing I could do. Slow, intimate dancing was another story.
“Should we keep going?” I asked.
“I’m hoping to get an invitation back to Red’s place,” he joked.
As uncomfortable as it was to slow dance with Nils, I wanted to help his cause. As his partner, I felt I owed him that. I rested my head on his muscular chest and gazed toward the group of women. Red’s arms were crossed over her chest and steam might’ve been blowing from her nostrils. He was right—jealously is the great motivator. I considered giving her a wink, but then I stopped cold.
Behind one of the many marble statues of the god Ashtar, a waiter was cowering. He was pretty well camouflaged, but I sensed trouble. Sweat had soaked through his white shirt, and his eyes were wired and bugged out.
This was a terrorist mage.
My heart quickened. Their latest trick was using themselves as human bombs to release their black magic, unleashing an explosion of deadly pestilence. If I didn’t stop him, every Oligarch and council member in the city of Mysterium would be annihilated.
I slipped away from Nils.
“Song’s not over,” he called out.
I ignored him and brushed past the fuming redhead, who took my departure as an opportunity to move in on Nils. Everything around me became static, like I was walking inside a bubble. As I got closer to the sweat-drenched waiter, I realized I actually was inside a bubble. My magic—unbeknownst to me—had manifested a protective shield. I quickly s
hut it down before anyone noticed. Hopefully I could tackle the mage before he detonated himself.
He had spotted me. His widened and fearful eyes locked with mine. Why did the Leftbankers allow their youths to sacrifice themselves like this? It’s not like they had it bad over there. They were citizens of Mysterium and fully protected by our government. What more did they want? Everyone needed a special permit to conduct magic in the city. I don’t know why they were always fighting to reinstate magic when it mostly caused harm and destruction.
The boy—holding up his right hand—glared at me. All he needed to do was swipe his hand in a circle and pound his fist down onto his chest to activate his magic explosion. It was that simple. I quickly advanced toward him, but he darted out of the corner straight into the middle of the ballroom, knocking into some of the dancers.
I didn’t have time to worry about using unsanctioned magic—I had to stop the mage before he destroyed everything. Before he killed the one person in the world who loved me. I’d expose my magic for Charity Bachar in a heartbeat.
I sprinted after him, reaching down and calling on the source of my magic. The powerful magic I’d kept hidden from everyone my entire life. Deep within my soul, a tiny violet light flickered. I breathed into it, kindling the glow. Energy churned in my middle, burned up through my chest and down my limbs. Every part of my body trembled. The floor vibrated under my feet. This powerful magic was something I had only practiced when I was alone. Never in the presence of others—especially right-bank Oligarchs. No choice here, though. I had to stop the mage.
The dancers began to scream as they cleared the floor. The band stopped playing. Some guests stood along the perimeter, watching in frightened panic, whilst others frantically looked around for an exit that wasn’t crammed with other guests rushing to escape the ballroom.
I leaned forward, pulling in a mouthful of air. I didn’t know if my magic would be enough to contain his, but I had to try. I reached into the force deep within me, raised my hands, then hurled my magic forward toward the mage just as he swiped his hand over his chest …
