Illicit Magic (Book 1, Stella Mayweather Series)

by Camilla Chafer

CHAPTER ONE

  For the first time in six months, I woke up without the shaking after-effects of a nightmare. Instead, my first thought as I edged my eyes open, had been peace. I stretched out on my bed – in my bedroom, in my home, as I had to remind myself frequently – while I listened to the quiet of the outside world. I spread my hand out hopefully across the covers as I did every morning and felt... nothing. No Evan.

  Pushing sleep away, I opened my eyes fully and yawned. I strained to hear sound, any sound but, as per usual, there was nothing. This was as close to bliss as I could possibly get right now, which was good because by this afternoon, my short lived peace would be blown to smithereens. If I’d known that when I woke up, I might have stayed in bed.

  I lived on the fringes of a little town called Wilding. Situated just a few miles out of town, my home was completely isolated but for the only other house within screaming distance, which happened to be right across the road. As we were well off the highway, few cars came this way, and, as such, few people either; bar the mailman, whom I’d yet to actually see.

  As far as close company went, my neighbours were it, of course, and I was fortunate that they were a friendly pair. They made me feel very welcome right from the day I first pitched up, unannounced, on my doorstep. I had to dissolve the wards that protected the house for two decades before I could enter.

  My neighbour, Annalise, who was only a few years older than I, seemed positively overjoyed at some close company and made it her business to be my friend. However, Gage was the first one I’d seen, on the same day I moved in. Though he seemed less enthusiastic about getting a new neighbour, he was pleasant enough, even if he hadn’t gone way out on the welcome committee.

  Though I had been in Wilding for only six months, it was already one of my longest ever residences. I moved around a lot as a child, thanks to a long stream of foster homes. Even when I got out of the system, I still moved around a lot through a series of icky house shares. All that was thousands of miles away both from my memory, as well as geographically now. I left all that behind with barely a blink of an eye. I hadn’t even gotten homesick.

  My new home was a much appreciated refuge from the horror and terror of those final days. I was nearly scared witless by what I had seen – and what I’d done – at the safe house where I’d been ensconced for my training. I’d been there only a few weeks and barely escaped with my life... And I was one of the lucky ones! Not that I really considered myself lucky when I thought about what and whom I left behind.

  “Get a grip, Stella,” I groaned, getting ready to give myself a firm pep talk. So much for finally overcoming my nightmares; I couldn’t help but rehash those memories every single time I woke up. It was always the same – what could I have done differently? What if the outcome were different?

  What if wasn’t getting me anywhere.

  I pushed back the covers and slid out of bed, my feet hitting the cold hardwood floor. On auto pilot, I turned around to smooth the covers flat again and padded into the adjacent bathroom where I went about my morning routine. Afterwards, I pulled on jeans and a cotton shirt plus a pair of bright Havaianas suitable for plodding around the house.

  In the kitchen, I flipped on the coffee pot, a vice I picked up at the safe house, to make my morning fix. There was always a competition for priority in my veins – coffee, magic or blood. Today the coffee was probably going to win.

  Just like every morning, I pulled out my map from where I kept it folded in a drawer, and spread it across the table. I was careful to smooth out the fold creases that made the thin paper buck against the smooth grain of the tabletop.

  I held the long ribbon loop of the crystal I’d bought and be-spelled and dangled it over the centre as I did every morning. With a flick of my wrist, I set the crystal in motion to spin clockwise while I willed it to find Evan and give me his location. The crystal was supposed to lurch to a spot on a map but after a few seconds of fading momentum, it petered out and hung limply in the middle, giving me no direction or indication whatsoever that Evan was anywhere to be found, at least not in the States. Perhaps it was time I widened my search, or gave up crystal scrying. One thing was for certain: I had spent months looking for him and I wasn’t giving up until I had an answer, one way or another.

  I folded the map and placed it back in the drawer, returning the crystal to its pouch and tossing that in on top. With a sigh of annoyance, I cast a glance out the kitchen window. This side of the house overlooked the back of the property. There wasn’t a lot to see, just the bushy shrubs that badly needed pruning back for the winter months and a dark tangle of trees that signified the beginnings of the tree line. That ran for another mile or so alongside the road heading north and goodness-knows-how-far back.

  All I could hear was the sound of the pot bubbling away next to me, and nothing from outside at all. Just the thought of that was niggling at my subconscious in a way I couldn’t quite fathom. Lately, it had begun to strike me as weird. Sure, no traffic was great, but where were the birds? Why did I never see a dog or a stray cat? Or a groundhog? I really wanted to see one of those funny creatures, or at least something native... except skunks. I’d give those a miss.

  Occasionally, I heard howling in the woods that bordered the back of my property but I’d never seen any animal close-up in the day time so I had no clue what might be living out there. Come to think of it, I don’t recall ever seeing an animal in Wilding, which seemed odd for a town that had several thousand people. Compounding that was the fact that the environs was rural, so there should have been something mewling or stirring up a racket. I shook my head. I was being silly. Of course, I was struggling to adjust: I was a city girl who was used to lights and noise, a constant barrage of unwelcome sounds at all hours.

  Anyway, yeah, I was the lucky one, not that it really felt that way, I thought. I stirred two level sugars into my steaming mug. When Evan’s face lurched into the front of my mind, I had to grip the counter to hold myself upright, the force of the sudden memory almost making my legs buckle.

  Evan. Oh, Evan.

  His name alone felt like a vice squeezing my heart, leaving me breathless and disorientated. Even the thought of him could still reduce me to tears, after all these months. What was worse was the speculation that I replayed in my head a thousand times. What happened to Evan and where was he? He saved my life, but had he lost his? I just didn’t know and it was not knowing that made everything so unbearable. After all this time, waiting for news or some kind of sign, I didn’t know if I would ever know the answer but that didn’t stop me looking. It was solely that determination that gave me strength.

  All I knew was that the last time I saw him, Evan had been badly injured and I poured all of my energy into him in a bid to save his life. He had been alive, barely, when our friends Etoile and Seren took him to safety. All I could do now was cherish my thoughts of him, and keep searching for him when it didn’t reduce me to a puddle of sobs.

  I glanced towards the front of the house when an engine roared to life outside – finally, a sign of existence – and I recognised it as the sound of my neighbour, Gage’s, motorbike. I figured he was heading out to work and wondered if that meant Annalise would come by soon. She worked from home and could pick and choose her own hours, so she often came by for breakfast. I enjoyed her company. I eyeballed the coffee pot; there was plenty more. All I had to do was take deep breaths, put on my happy face and pretend that everything was normal... that I was normal.

  A quick rap at the front door jolted me from my maudlin thoughts and I moved through the house, from the kitchen at the back through the living room, pasting a smile on my face as I went to answer it. Annalise waved through the window at me and her sweet, perky smile automatically gave me an energy boost. I privately thought that the phrase “a sight for sore eyes” must have been coined right after meeting her. She was one of the nicest people I’d ever met and I couldn’t have picked a better neighbour.

  I unlocked the doo
r and let her bound in like a new puppy, blonde curls bouncing all over the place, streaks of pink flicking out like carnival candyfloss.

  “Oh good, you’re up. Have you had breakfast?” she asked, her eyes bright and shiny.

  I shook my head. “Just on my first coffee. Come on through.”

  “Uh-uh,” Annalise said, grabbing me by the hands, her eyes alight with mischief. “I’ve come to invite you over to us today. Gage has just gone to get pastries and we thought we’d eat on the porch, if you’d like to join us?”

  “Sure, thank you,” I said, pleased.

  “Oh, it’s no thanks at all! I practically eat you out of house and home as it is.”

  “You know I don’t mind.” I’d happily have Annalise for lunch and dinner too, her company was so nice. She had helped me settle into town in such a joyful, gracious way. Out of all the potential neighbours in the world, I was glad I struck lucky with her. Plus, she had no idea how grateful I was to her for not letting me live my life in a terminal fug.

  “Well, you’re sweet but today breakfast is on us. You’ll need a sweater,” she said looking down at her jeans and padded coat. “We’re kissing goodbye to the sun today.”

  “Just let me put my mug back in the kitchen and I’ll come on over.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait on the porch for you.” She skipped back outside, leaving the door open. That was the thing out here. No one came this far out of town so it didn’t seem totally necessary to close the door all the time. Plus, there had been wards on my house for years – when it was my parents’ house. They left it under a stasis protection spell during their absence, a spell which faded as soon as it recognised me. Lately, I’d begun to spin new ones of my own for protection. It had been very much trial and error.

  The first spell I created caused my house to throw out a “go away!” vibe. At least, it didn’t take me more than a few days of watching Annalise approach only to turn right around and go back to her house again for me to realise my error.

  I undid the spell and tried again. I thought I’d finally gotten it right, though I didn’t really have anyone to check with. Anyway, what would be the point of protecting myself if I called up the Council and asked them to check out my wards? In angry moments, I rather thought I was protecting myself from them.

  I went back to the kitchen and put my mug in the sink to deal with later. I grabbed socks from the drawer in my bedroom and kicked off the Havaianas by the front door and sat on the floor to pull on my socks and sneakers. I picked up my jacket and zipped it up. I didn’t pick up anything else – I wasn’t going anywhere far and hadn’t troubled myself about getting a cell phone as no one would ring. Then I shut the door behind me and locked it, my fingers leaving a few boosting sparks of magic as I touched the lock. I wasn’t sure why I bothered, but it was habit that was hard to break.

  Annalise was standing on the path waiting for me. “You know you should think about painting this place,” she said when I caught up to her. I looked back at the house and saw it through Annalise’s eyes. The paint was starting to peel in places. The stasis spell had held it suspended in time for more than twenty years, and now that it was gone, I wondered if time was catching up to the house as quickly as it could. Quite a few things seemed to be breaking an awful lot lately and the peeling exterior was one more item to add to the list.

  “I don’t think I can do it myself,” I said, thinking of the sanding and painting and the sheer volume of work. At least there was only one story to deal with.

  “I bet one of Gage’s friends could probably fix it for you,” Annalise said. I thought she was referring to one of the gaggle of guys that seemed to come over to their place a couple of times a week. I was invited over one Friday night and arrived in the middle of a rowdy poker game that looked to be on the verge of breaking into a fight. But mostly, they seemed like a nice crowd and shared a common history in the way that residents of small towns did. They knew everyone and everyone knew them. By the same token, they had all heard about the new girl in town so I was new blood to look over and gossip about. “Come over tonight and maybe you can ask one of them to take a look.”

  “You think they’d have time?”

  “One of them would make time for a pretty gal like you,” Annalise winked at me and I knocked her playfully on the arm. She pretended to wince.

  Knowing there wouldn’t be any traffic to look out for, we crossed the road and stepped onto the grass that signified the edge of her property. Her house was a little different from mine, being that it faced out onto the road and had two stories to my single.

  The wide wrap-around porch, painted in a creamy white, was my favourite spot of her house. With a big swing and lots of colourful plant pots, it was a welcoming space and I could often hear the tinkle of the wind chimes from across the street. I had never been upstairs in her house, but I knew the downstairs had a similar floor plan to mine.

  We both had a big living room straight off the front door, an eat-in kitchen and another smaller room that Annalise used as a work room. Mine differed by having a dining room-sized space – currently empty – off the living room and bedrooms beyond that. I also had a sun room that was really anything but at the moment, given that fall was making way for winter.

  Annalise had already laid out a little table on the porch. There was a tray with glasses and a big pitcher of juice. Plates and napkins lay on top, each a mismatch of colour and pattern that spoke to me of Annalise’s eclectic style.

  “How long have you lived here?” I asked as we settled next to each other on the swing. I thought that I should get one for my house. It would be nice to sit out and kick up my heels next summer. As it was, I hadn’t really done much with the furnishings inside or out yet. There was a lot of tired decor that really needed to be dealt with if I were going to stay here long term. The repairs had more urgency now that it was getting colder. It wasn’t easy getting to grips with homeowner complaints after a series of rentals that I could have done nothing about even if I wanted to, but I was trying to relish it. Begrudgingly, anyway.

  “Oh, always. This was my parents’ house.”

  “You’ve always lived here?” Well, duh, she had just said so. For a moment, I imagined living in the same place forever. It sounded lovely. If my parents had lived, I might have had those kinds of roots. They were killed when I was young and I had to bear that cross even though I had, finally, made peace with their passing. At least I had the answers now.

  “Well, I moved away for a few years then I just came on back.” Annalise shrugged like her years away were nothing more than a blip in her existence.

  “It must be nice having Gage around,” I said conversationally.

  “Sure is. Always good to have a big guy in the house, right?” Annalise was slightly shorter than I, but even so, I knew what she meant.

  My heart tried not to sink a little and I leaned forward to pick up my glass, mostly so my eyes wouldn’t betray my pain, and took a long drink. In the stillness of the morning, we heard the engine’s throttle long before we saw Gage skirt around the corner onto the driveway. His feet dropped onto the blacktop, stabilising the bike as he came to a stop. Annalise stood up to wave and I noticed her glance down at me curiously, like she couldn’t quite work me out. Some things were just best left that way.

  Gage kicked up the motorbike supports before swinging one powerful leg over the seat. He raised a hand to wave, then eased off his helmet, shaking his crop of hair out with a swing of his head. He tucked the helmet under his arm and came towards us carrying a big rucksack. Taking the side steps up to the porch two at a time, he unzipped the bag to pull out two large brown paper bags. When he bent down to kiss Annalise on the cheek, he caught her in a quick hug and I felt that familiar pang of sadness, deep in the pit of my stomach.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had been touched with affection. I shivered and shook out the pity party that was going on in my head. I couldn’t grieve forever, and I couldn’t be sa
d at other people’s happiness. It just wasn’t right.

  “Danishes,” said Annalise with undisguised glee as she cracked open the bag and spilled the big pastries onto plates. “Help yourself. There’s no such thing as formal eating here, as you know.”

  Gage sat down on the rocker across from us and stretched out his long legs. They seemed to go on forever. He was a lovely looking man, tall and broad with a dark crop of hair, wide brown eyes and perpetual day-old stubble. He was built lean and strong, with a broad chest and neat waist. He kept his jacket on and the well-worn leather creased in supple lines as he reached forwards. “Plate, Stella?” he asked, interrupting my gaze.

  I accepted the plate with a quick nod and, at once, dropped my eyes. What was I thinking of in admiring Gage’s physique when my friend, his wife, was sitting right next to me? When I coupled that with being wrenched apart from Evan only six months ago, I felt more than a little ashamed of myself. There was no excuse for being a rubbish person.

  “Got any plans for today, Stella?” Annalise asked and I gulped. Feeling guilty should take up most of my day now, damn it.

  “Uh, no, not really,” I mumbled.

  After my first month of wallowing here, struggling to even get up every day, I slowly started to explore the area, first tentatively venturing into Wilding and, occasionally, beyond. Annalise introduced herself within a day when she came bearing a steaming casserole to welcome me. That had been the first of our many suppers together. She had also been incredibly useful recommending stores to go and get new bed linens from and crockery to update the ones in the house.

  Though I was careful with my money, I had to spend quite a bit of cash on these necessities to make the house liveable, especially as things snapped, tore, and just plain broke.

  Strangely, I’d found myself enjoying it in the moments when I could stuff my pain far away from my consciousness. As such, Annalise helped me become the proud new owner of smart sets of bed linen, kitchenware, crockery, new cushions – pillows, as she called them – and other bits and pieces. She introduced me around town as well. At first, she was simply a useful guide for me – though one whose company I enjoyed – and now I was happy to call her my friend.

  Gage, who I thought was her husband, although she didn’t wear a wedding ring and neither did he, was much more of an enigma to me. I saw him from time to time and he was always polite and nice but a bit more reserved. He seemed to be pretty popular when their friends came over for game nights. It might sound parochial, even hokey, but their game nights seemed like real fun and they always had a lively crowd over. Though I had been a couple of times, I didn’t want to just assume I could pitch up whenever I saw the lights were on, so mostly I stayed to myself and didn’t try and wedge my way into their lives.

  “You could keep me company. I’ve got a few more things to sew. Then I need to package up my stuff to take to the fair tomorrow.” Annalise was a whiz at sewing and crochet and her business was creating pretty home things that she sold at fairs. Right now, I knew she had stockpiled a huge collection of things to sell and I knew she would be successful because she hardly ever came home with anything. Even her pricier stuff was so beautifully made that she never had to worry about not selling it.

  I ended up staying for the rest of that morning and well into the afternoon. Annalise tugged her baskets of goods out onto the porch and we sat there, bundled up, drinking coffee. She was much better at hospitality than me, but then she’d had a lifetime of doing it. It was well into the afternoon by the time I left, and I had an invitation to their house for game night, and strict instructions to remember my list of repairs.

  “See you,” I called, skipping down the steps, waving over my shoulder at Annalise as I cut across the grass. Gage was flat on his back on a tarpaulin on the driveway, tinkering with his motorbike, a deep frown of concentration creased his forehead. I looked over my shoulder as I started to cross the road and he looked up briefly before waving a hand at me. I smiled and waved back then jogged along the path to my door.

  If I’d been more alert, I might have made something more of the feeling I got in the air as I took the steps up to my porch. Just as my body was getting soft, and my magic rusty, my senses had also gotten sluggish over these past few months. Even when the idea that someone had entered my space, someone with a signature that I should recognise, trickled into my thoughts, I didn’t bother to turn it into fully fleshed curiosity.

  I paused at my door, my hand on the knob, and turned around, hesitating for a few seconds. I had the faintest sense that someone had been here and might still be here, but when none of my senses gave me anything to work with, I shrugged and let myself in.

  I still locked the door behind me.