by Logan Byrne
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About the Author
Awakened Guardians
Awakened Spells Book Four
Logan Byrne
Copyright 2018 by Logan Byrne
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances of characters to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. The author, Logan Byrne, holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Book Five Excerpt
About the Author
1
Thirteen seconds.
Thirteen long seconds dragged between each drip of the leaking pipe in the kitchen. I counted them, over and over, listening to the soft plop of water against metal.
Two weeks had passed since I’d left the camp, and each day I thought more and more about what leaving meant. It had given me a certain sense of freedom, a feeling of pure adrenaline that came with every night sleeping here alone, in the dark, with the cold creeping in through the shattered windows and broken boards.
I was hiding out in my parents’ old house, biding time until I figured out what to do next. I’d placed enchantments on the home with Mirian’s help, so that Kiren and his men would never be able to find me here. The resistance camp was protected by enchantments, so I’d never had to worry about Kiren’s men somehow tracking me there, but I gave up those comforts when I left.
My accommodations weren’t exactly luxurious—even my old motel had more amenities—but this was enough for now. When I left the camp and needed somewhere to go, I tried to think of the place in my life that had molded me the most. When my magic brought me here, I began to understand why. This place held more meaning to me than anywhere else. Seeing my parents murdered in front of me as a child forever altered the course of my life. There was no way I would be in this position, a former auditor, part of the resistance, if I’d grown up with my parents alive until this day. I would’ve lived a fine life, a normal one, and I would’ve gotten an education and a normal job. Who knows if I would’ve ever found out I was a witch, and I certainly would never have become an auditor. My parents wouldn’t have allowed it, no matter if I were an adult or not.
The cold floorboards creaked as I walked across the living room, stopping in the kitchen to check my rations. They weren’t plentiful. I pulled out my bag, rummaging through the last of my money. It wasn’t much.
My stomach growled, clenching a little. It had been days since I’d eaten anything substantive. I had beans and toast, and some cheap noodles I found, but there wasn’t much else, and those meals were few and far between. In the camp the resistance took care of everything, and before that I’d had M.A.G.I.C. to feed me. Taking care of all my own meals, cooking, was a domestic task that I really hadn’t been prepared for.
I knew I either needed to steal or find a job to pay for things. But stealing felt so wrong now, given all that I’d been through. I was a cop! How could I turn to a life of crime when I’d been arresting those very same people I used to commune with? I at least had to get out there and see what I could get with my money.
I put on a thick jacket, the hood deep like a witch’s cowl, before wrapping a scarf around my neck and mouth. It would keep my face mostly hidden, and the colder weather at least gave me reason to be so bundled up. I scraped together my last coins, pushing them deep in my pockets, before sheathing my wand and hiding it inside my jacket.
I saw two beat cops standing on the corner as I made my way downtown. They were talking to a shifter, one wagging his finger at him as they gave him the third degree. What I would give to swap places with them right now. As I walked, I smelled something, a meaty smell. My stomach gurgled loudly before I grabbed it and rubbed it a little.
I walked around the corner and saw a kielbasa cart sitting there with a dwarf manning the station. There were a few people standing around eating, some in suits. I noticed one man toss half of his sausage into the trash and walk off. I skulked closer to the trashcan, seeing the half-eaten sausage still resting on the paper plate, before I reached in and grabbed it. A certain amount of pride-swallowing accompanied this lifestyle, but I didn’t have a choice. It was either this or not eating, and my stomach hurt too much not to eat.
I walked into the alleyway, out of view, before pulling down my scarf and chomping on the sausage. As I was eating I noticed something sparkle, shimmer really, on the ground, so I bent over and picked it up. It was a pocket watch.
The golden shell was a little bruised, the glass inside shattered, but it was something. I stuck it in my pocket, knowing nobody would miss it since it was near the trash, and pulled up my scarf before hopping around the corner to the old pawnshop I used to frequent.
The smell inside was as familiar as it was foul, the sweaty ogre behind the counter wiping his nose with his hand as he grunted and coughed up some phlegm. I winced. “Show yourself,” he said, looking suspicious.
“I’m diseased. It’s better you keep your distance,” I said, talking lower to mask my voice.
“Eh, alright. Selling or buying?” he asked.
“Selling,” I said, before sliding over the busted watch.
“Heh, I hope you’re not hoping to get much. Not exactly pristine condition, but I might be able to fix it,” he said.
“Just need to get by,” I said.
“I’ll give you a silver coin for it,” he said, looking up at me.
“That’s it? Not even a gold?” I asked.
“A gold?” he snorted. “Girl, this is barely even worth the silver. Even when it has new glass and is polished, it’s old and dented. Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it,” I said, knowing that this was essentially free money and I needed what I could get.
He slid over the silver coin and I snatched it so he couldn’t try to steal it from me. He’d done that a few times in the past, and it wasn’t always fun to take on those calls at the precinct.
“If you have anything else, you know where to find me,” he said, looking over the watch.
“Will do,” I said, before walking out of the shop.
I looked at the M.A.G.I.C. headquarters looming in the distance as the wind tossed around the end of my scarf. I could just use Obscurio and sneak in, but I knew the building was enchanted and they’d catch me. Those types of spells didn’t work in there, at least not for visitors who weren’t employed there. If I had my old wand, sure, but even
this new special one didn’t quite do the job. It was powerful, but not that powerful.
I hadn’t seen my friends, or Blake, since before I’d left the camp. Mirian knew where I was—he’d helped me with the charms, after all, but I’d asked him to give me space and not to tell anybody unless it was an absolute emergency. I wasn’t sure if he’d told them where I was, because they hadn’t stopped by.
I felt bad, mostly because I missed them and wanted to see them, but I knew what they’d say. They’d all tell me to go back to the camp, hang out there, and at least be taken care of. I’d have a bed, hot food, and lots of things to do, but I just felt so stifled there. Pote wanted to keep me caged like a dog, but I needed to spread my wings and be free, at least for a little while.
•••
I walked into my old pub later that night. The bar was still the same law-free zone I’d grown to love during my tenure as a thief. Officers of the law weren’t allowed here, which was one of the main reasons I hadn’t been back since I left that life that night when Mirian tracked me down.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked, polishing a glass.
“Whiskey and cola, on the rocks,” I said, handing over some coins from my now emptying pocket. Sometimes you just have to treat yourself, even when you’re down to your last dollars.
I kept my disguise up, pulling down my scarf just enough to suck down the drink. It burned on its way down, just like I remembered. I looked around the room, the sound of clanking pool balls being drowned out by the hearty laughs of the bikers and other not-so-law-abiding patrons they were talking to.
I got up, walking towards a board on the side of the pub that listed ads for various, well, services. They were always written in code, a way of wording that would never outright say what they wanted, but I knew what they meant. You were indoctrinated into it if you hung around long enough.
“Quick job for quick cash. Fifty gold,” one flyer said, catching my attention. “Need something picked up for delivery.”
The job was simple—a steal, or possibly a heist, judging by the wording. I considered it, my stomach rumbling, as I weighed the good and evil inside me. I thought about the money, all fifty gold coins, but then I remembered where I came from. I left this life, abandoning it for something much better. I helped people as an auditor, and I would be hurting them if I took this job. How could I make a switch like this?
I tore off the flyer, stuffing it in my pocket, before polishing off my drink and setting it on the counter. “Hey, girl,” slurred a slobbering, stumbling man as he grabbed my arm and squeezed tightly.
I glared at him, my eyes piercing, before I looked down at his hand on my arm. “Let go of me,” I said, in a calm yet stern tone.
“Take off that disguise and let me see you. I want a kiss,” he said, laughing, as the other guys from his table joined in.
“I said to let me go,” I said, my voice rising.
The bartender heard the commotion and came over. “Let the girl go, she don’t want to be with you,” he said, waving his hand.
“I get what I want, and I want her,” he said, taking another gulp from his stein of lager.
“Have it your way,” I said, pulling out my wand. Before he could react, I shot a bolt at him. The spell hit him square in the chest and blasted him back against the wall. He fell like a sack of potatoes, grunting and staying down. “Anybody else?” I asked, looking at his friends.
They all shook their heads, and the bartender shook his head at them too. “They never learn,” he said, before going back to polishing glasses. Yeah, you’re right, I thought as I went out the door. They never do.
“Lexa,” I heard someone call softly as I walked outside. Startled, I reached for my wand, before noticing it was Charlie. He was standing in the shadows next to Britta, who was peeking her head out as well, as the two of them motioned for me.
“How did you know where I was?” I asked, a little paranoid, looking all around.
“As if I didn’t catch your scent when you got near the precinct. Besides, Mirian—” Charlie said.
“Mirian, of course. I asked him not to say anything, but I guess he couldn’t help himself,” I said.
“He didn’t tell us where you’re staying, although I think I have an idea. I believe you and I visited there, didn’t we?” Britta asked.
“I can’t talk about it,” I said, looking away. “Why are you guys here?”
“It’s Pote, she wants to talk. I think she wants you back, or has a job for you or something. She’s worried about you,” Charlie said.
“Worried about me? She just wants to keep an eye on me,” I said.
“What’s so bad about that? Having somebody who cares about you and your safety isn’t exactly horrible, you know. Maybe she’s a little overbearing at times, but Mirian will talk to her about it. He already said as much,” Charlie said.
“At least meet with her and see what she has to say. Maybe her terms are good and the job she has for you could be interesting. Besides, it isn’t like she’ll keep you there against your will. If you really don’t want to stay or work with her, then leave,” Britta said.
They both looked at me intently, hanging on my every breath, as they waited to hear what I had to say. I rummaged around in my pocket, feeling the flyer for the gold, and realized as I crumpled it in my hand that it wasn’t what I wanted, at least not anymore. I didn’t want to be a thief, especially not to get by. I didn’t think that I would stay in the camp, but if Pote had a job for me, a legitimate job that paid well, then I would take it.
“Fine, but only if you guys come with me. I won’t do it alone,” I said.
“That’s fine!” Britta said, excited.
“We’re more than happy to,” Charlie said.
“One thing, though. Why isn’t Blake here right now?” I asked.
“We didn’t want to tell him we were speaking to you,” Charlie said, scratching the back of his head.
“And why not?” I asked.
“He, you know, wants you to find your way. If he knew we were talking to you, and persuading you to see Pote, he wouldn’t be happy,” Charlie said.
“He just doesn’t like to see you upset, and he wanted you to go back on your own, without any kind of enticement,” Britta said.
“Good man,” I said, my arms crossed.
“We can get away tomorrow and pick you up to take you to the camp. I take it Britta knows where you’re staying?” Charlie asked, looking back and forth between the two of us.
“Do I?” Britta asked.
“Yeah, you guessed right,” I said, realizing that my hideout wasn’t that amazing if one of my best friends knew of its existence.
“See you around noon,” Britta said, before pulling out her wand and grabbing Charlie. They vanished in front of me, leaving the cold dark alley vacant, aside from me and my thoughts.
I took the crumpled advertisement out of my pocket and tossed it in a trashcan before closing the lid on it, literally and metaphorically. Maybe I grew up a thief, and in the past I would’ve jumped at the chance for fifty gold coins, but no more was I that woman. I couldn’t be. I might not have had an actual position with M.A.G.I.C. anymore, but I was still an auditor, and I would always uphold the law and never break it again.
That was my vow.
2
My kettle whistled loudly as I walked into the kitchen and turned off the heat. I’d found my grandmother’s old kettle hidden deep within one of the broken cupboards two nights ago, and I was finally getting some use out of it. Setting an old chipped cup on the counter, I put in a used teabag from yesterday and poured the scalding hot water over top.
I wiped the crust from my eyes and yawned, scratching my side as the color of the water slowly began to change. My toes curled on the cold floor as my bare feet turned pale and blotchy. I took my tea and sat down in the front room on top of my sleeping bag.
The room was eerily quiet; the sound of children playing off in the distance was
the only thing I could hear. I looked at my phone, seeing it was thirty minutes until noon. I had to get ready.
I took a few gulps of my hot tea before grabbing my wand and standing up. Being a witch came with many luxuries, such as the ability to mostly clean myself and change clothes with only my wand. I didn’t do it often, because the process left what felt like a thin film over my skin and hair, so I preferred the old-fashioned mortal way of getting it done. They’d figured that one out perfectly.
After getting dressed I surveyed my outfit: thick wool socks tucked into my brown boots with a thick pair of black leggings accented by a burgundy knit sweater I’d bought when I was still employed. I took my scarf from yesterday, wrapping it around my neck, before sitting back down cross-legged and finishing off my tea.
“Lexa, this isn’t great,” Charlie said, walking through the door a few minutes later with Britta.
“Charlie,” Britta said sharply, slapping him. “It’s her childhood home, not some house by the train tracks she’s holed up in.”
“It’s okay, Britta. I know it’s not exactly up to par with most things these days. It’s a roof over my head, though,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s going to collapse at any moment,” Charlie mumbled, and Britta slapped him again.
“Does Pote know I’m coming?” I asked, standing up.
“We got word, yes. Mirian knows as well, though he can’t be there,” Britta said.
“Should we go?” I asked, rubbing my palms against my legs. I was nervous, but I didn’t know why. I’d lived in the camp, twice, and I’d been there so many times before. It was like going to meet up with somebody you had a falling out with—it was exactly like that, actually—and I wondered what Pote’s demeanor was going to be like. She could yell at me, telling me how stupid I was to leave, or even tell me that I was never allowed in the camp again. She could be loving and caring, begging me to come back and offering me whatever I wanted, including free rein of the premises. Would I come back if she did? I didn’t know. The thought of staying there and being able to come and go as I pleased was a tempting thought that I couldn’t ignore.
