Magic and Mayhem: There's No Place Like Wicked (Kindle Worlds Novella) (Wicked Hearts Book 3)

by Cherie Marks

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Robyn Peterman. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Magic and Mayhem remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Robyn Peterman, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  “I’m not saving your life just to turn around and risk it on nothing but a gamble.”

  My breathing picked up and my heart pounded as he tipped my chin up and his gaze dropped to my lips. He dropped his hand and brushed the back of mine now resting between us on his chest. I ran my tongue along the inside of my teeth to keep my nerves in check, but I couldn’t seem to look away from him. Something like electricity fired between us, and I was sure he wanted to kiss me. I wasn’t so sure I’d say no to that, which confused the hell out of me.

  Voice barely above a whisper, I said, “Maybe it’s not your decision.”

  He leaned closer, his mouth next to my ear, sending a shiver down my back. His lips tickled the fine hairs on my skin as he asked, “What help could you possibly be? You can’t even shift.”

  I reacted by using my hands on his chest to push him as far back as I could. Unfortunately, he didn’t go that far, but when he pulled back so I could see his face, his mouth split into a wide grin. Though I was irritated with the way my body was reacting to his closeness, I couldn’t help but admire his smartassery. I respected a fellow smartass, so he got mad props from me on this one, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

  He wiped his hand over his mouth before asking, “Too much?”

  I couldn’t speak at first. He’d surprised me, but I wasn’t angry. Quite the opposite. My attraction to this man seemed to grow and grow, and that scared me more than anything. He was a stranger to me, even as he felt so familiar.

  Despite the chemistry, I couldn’t let down my guard, though. “Bring it on, Ethan. Throw whatever you got at me. I can handle it.”

  There’s No Place Like Wicked

  By

  Cherie Marks

  Acknowledgements

  Edited so well by Teresa M.

  As always, thank you to my loving family. Thank you for allowing me to make my writing important to us all. Also, thank you to my Adventure-Based Counseling classmates and professor. I was inspired by our time together, and some of the fun we shared has found its way into this book. Good times!

  And, I would be remiss if I didn’t say, once more, thank you, Robyn Peterman. Your zany, brain has produced such a fantastic world, and I’ve loved every minute of my visit to it. Thank you!

  Dedication

  This one is dedicated to those who sacrifice so much for the ones they love. Thank you, Mom and Dad! It made a huge difference in my life that you often put my needs, not necessarily my wants, but my needs before your own. I hope you see the fruits of your generosity.

  Chapter 1

  The creak of a loose board stopped me for a tense moment as I made my way down the hallway toward the dining room. My parents argued in hushed tones on the other side of the door. I’d been sent to bed only ten minutes before, but the strained look on my mother’s face as I turned to go displayed her obvious anxiety, and I knew it concerned me. Naturally, I didn’t go far.

  “Dan, she’s just a girl. How can they expect her to do this?”

  “It’s that damn prophecy! Apparently, she’s the chosen one or something.”

  My mother sobbed, and I edged closer to the door. “No! I don’t care! They’re not taking her away from us.”

  Away from them? What were they talking about? Were they talking about me? They had to be considering I was their only daughter…and that look on my mother’s face. But, I’d never had anything beyond an ordinary life. My parents had never said anything about leaving them or some stupid prophecy. Could they have kept it hidden from me for years?

  “I mean, she’s only sixteen years old. I’m not ready to lose my daughter, Dan.”

  “No! We won’t let them take her. We’ll fight them. I can get the others to stand with us. We won’t let them get near her.”

  In the silence that followed, my mother’s sobs sounded deafening. “You know we can’t win. The Royal Guard is too powerful.”

  Royal Guard? What kind of f-ing trouble was I in? Did they somehow know about the time my friends and I swam in the royal lake? At the time, I’d known better than to follow Darien and Mitzi Walker, but I did it anyway, so they wouldn’t think I was a baby. They were nothing but trouble, and now, I was going to prison because I let them talk me into doing something stupid.

  “You’re right. We can’t successfully resist the royal family when they have might on their side. But we can’t let them put our Toricellia in the hands of a mad man. We have to do something.”

  “What if she is the one, though, Dan? What if the seer was right? What if she is the only person who can keep that poor boy from going completely feral?”

  “Are you willing to take that chance? When it could cost our daughter’s life?”

  Her sobs grew louder, and my father shushed her patiently.

  His voiced dipped, and I inched closer to hear his hushed words, “I don’t trust the seer, but the royal family does, and for some reason, they chose Toricellia. There’s nothing we can do about it. She’ll have to go with them. If the seer is right, she’s his mate, and there’s nothing we can do to change that.”

  My mother continued to cry, but with a fierceness I never knew she had, she rasped, “She should have a choice! Everyone should have a choice.”

  “I’m sorry, Sheila. I shouldn’t have been so dramatic. I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’m sure they’ll take great care of her and turn her into the most beautiful princess. They’ll have to if the prophecy is to be fulfilled. Imagine. Our daughter will be a royal princess.”

  Princess? But I wanted to be a teacher. I’d wanted to teach since I’d set up my stuffed animals and dolls to face me as students would in a classroom. I’d taught them everything I knew about books I’d liked to read and jump rope tricks. Being a pet princess might be a cool enough gig for some, but it wasn’t what I had planned for my life.

  “I still don’t like it. I don’t want her to be scared and alone. Isn’t there something we can do?”

  A loud sigh carried on the air, and I could feel the helplessness of my father. He wanted to do something but clearly felt powerless. But I could do something. I could run away. I could save all of us the pain and the heartache by taking it out of their hands.

  But where would I go? I knew the answer immediately. I’d go to Nana Johanna. She was a distant relative of my father’s, and the family clowder believed she was long gone from the area, and most believed she was dead. Only I knew for sure that she hadn’t gone too far and was still alive as ever. She did live a good distance away in the neighboring state of West Virginia, but I was pretty sure I could still find her.

  I’d hide out with her until the whole thing blew over. Surely, it wouldn’t last more than a week or two, and I’d leave something to clue in my parents, so they didn’t completely freak out and think the worst. They’d come for me when everything was settled.

  I started back toward my room, bouncing around possible ideas for ways to secretly tell my parents where I was. I could leave the magnet souvenir I’d brought back from Assjacket, West Virginia
, but surely the Royal Guard would figure that one out too. Of course, one thing no one else but my parents and I knew about Nana Johanna was that she made the best wild blackberry pie we’d ever eaten.

  Mind made up, I scurried to pack a few necessities I could fit into a backpack. I grabbed a few changes of clotheing, hairbrush, toothbrush, an extra pair of shoes, a jacket, and a few mementos. I flung open my underwear drawer and fished out my life savings of three hundred and twenty-four dollars. I stuffed it into the pack with a determined grunt. I also grabbed my laptop. It would be heavy to pack, but I was becoming quite the techie lately, and it felt wrong to leave it behind. It also felt wrong to leave my cellphone behind, but I knew it had a trackable GPS on it, so, though it hurt my heart, I’d have to leave it here.

  Once everything was packed, I penned the note I would leave behind. I wanted it to be a message to my parents but not too obvious. It had to put my parents’ minds at ease but give me a chance to get away. Finally, I settled on two, clear sentences:

  Dear Mom and Dad,

  Went out for some wild blackberry pie. Be back soon.

  Love,

  Celia

  The name I signed was another clue because, though everyone in our family clowder called me by my full name of Toricellia, Nana Johanna had shortened it to just Celia. My parents would understand.

  Once the house was completely quiet, I laid the note on my bed and snuck down the hallway toward the kitchen. I packed a few snacks, stuffed some bottled water into my backpack, and took a final look around. As a plan began forming in my mind, I grabbed a large, plastic, waterproof bag my mother often used to store items in. I stuffed it into the top of my pack and swallowed hard.

  My heart tightened in my chest. I didn’t want to go. But I didn’t want to face the danger of tomorrow either. My parents had made it sound like my life was in danger if I stayed. That was enough to push me out the door. The knob blurred as I pulled it closed as quietly as I could. Once the door latched shut, I wiped the wetness from my eyes, turned into the inky black night, and bolted for the cover of the forest.

  The urge to shift was strong, but I knew two things would happen if I shifted. One, my heavy backpack would be difficult to balance on my back as I ran, and two, the Royal Guard would have an easier time following my scent. I certainly didn’t want to make it any easier for them to find me.

  I raced straight toward the river that flowed near my house, and thanked the goddess it was a warm, summer night. I didn’t want to swim through the river, but I knew it would help disguise my scent and give me a headstart that would hopefully get me far, far away before they even realized I was gone.

  My mind was racing with ideas, but I decided the best course of action was to swim across. Fortunately, I’d brought that gallon-sized, waterproof bag to put my pack into as I crossed. I swam one-armed as I dragged it behind me. I’d allowed enough air to remain in the bag for it to float on top of the water, even with the heavy pack inside it.

  I switched arms on occasion and was thankful the river was flowing fairly calmly on this night. At about the mid-way point, I decided to see if I could use the bag as a float. After a few awkward moments of nearly rolling underneath it, I found my balance and kicked my legs to propel myself forward, my arms wrapped around the plastic bag.

  When I felt the muddy riverbed beneath my feet, I nearly cheered out loud, but I knew silence was the way to go, so kept my celebration inside my own head. My luck continued as I was doing a little happy dance and noticed a child-sized kayak resting on a small, jutting dock. Though I hated the idea of taking someone’s small boat, I decided it was necessary in this instance. I unzipped the waterproof bag and dug around for some cash. I left seventy-five dollars of my life savings under a heavy rock and rolled the kayak into the water.

  With some effort, I settled myself inside the plastic boat and put my pack inside the zipped up bag at my feet. I grabbed the two-sided paddle and began pushing my way down the river. I felt a small twinge of concern when the kayak picked up speed, and I realized I was more of a dry land kind of girl.

  After a few shaky moments, I got into a paddling rhythm and began making progress through the flowing current. My confidence in the soundness of my plan rose the further down the river I got. I knew I could follow the river as far as the next town and hike from there. Thanks to a father who loved being an outdoorsman, I knew how to rough it in the woods when I had to. Didn’t mean I liked to, but I could do it.

  I knew how to create a quick shelter using fallen branches, and I had a strangely keen sense of direction. Aside from my budding computer skills, it was probably my most significant talent. I just hoped it would be enough to get me safely to Nana Johanna.

  A moment of panic hit me as the speed of the boat picked up, and I no longer felt the need to paddle to gain momentum. The water seemed to get choppier and slight spots of white foam began to form in the water around me. I had forgotten about the short patch of rapids along this part of the river.

  My muscles tensed as I frantically paddled to avoid rocks jutting to my right. Just as quickly, I had to paddle to avoid another massive log caught on a boulder rising in the middle of the river. My anxiety was intensifying as I realized how close to losing control I was.

  The front of the kayak dropped suddenly, and I screamed involuntarily as I followed over the small drop, barely remaining in the boat. I assured myself that there were no large waterfalls along this stretch. Of that, I was completely certain, but the rapids were enough to make my heart pound. Unfortunately, it triggered another involuntary reaction. Not unusual for young shifters, uncontrolled shifting was a reaction to stress in the environment. With no thought for what was going on, I shifted into my bobcat form, the paddle clattered to the connecting clip, attaching it to the kayak, and the boat began to turn on its own. I let out a series of cries, unsure whether being found right now wouldn’t be the best thing that could happen. Sure, I’d have to live my life as someone’s prisoner, possibly forfeit my life, definitely give up control, but I wouldn’t drown in a river tonight.

  The boat began to spin in slow circles as it continued recklessly down the river. With each bump of a rock, I let out a mewling cry and hoped someone would hear. I tried to shift back into my human form, but a fuzziness enclosed my brain, and I couldn’t quite remember what to do. I was panicking, and the shock of my situation was taking over. I didn’t want my escape to lead to my end, but things weren’t looking good right now.

  Suddenly, a hundred yards ahead, on the left side of the riverbank, the bushes parted and a male emerged. Our gazes locked immediately, and I began to frantically call to him for help. His chin dipped and his hands clenched into fists. I got the feeling he wanted to help me.

  You need to shift and get control of the boat.

  The strange voice in my head made me pause. Had I picked up his thoughts? Could he read mine?

  I began to shout in my mind. Help! I need help!

  Again, a stern voice demanded, Shift! Get control of the boat! It’s the only way you will survive. Though I didn’t recognize the voice, and I knew he wasn’t a part of my extended clowder, he felt familiar to me somehow. I felt like he would help me if I just did what he said.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on changing into my human form, but when I glanced down, I still saw the gray fur of my paws, and I began to panic for real—crying out with strained mewls.

  Toricellia, you can do this! Shift!

  The strength of this familiar stranger’s voice filled me, and I felt my body changing in a split second. I watched my claws retract as my fingers formed, and with relief, I realized I was nearly even with his position on the riverbank and picked up the paddle to begin making my way toward him. As I got closer, the river seemed to ease, and I finally got a good look at my rescuer. I blushed in reaction to my first sight. He was fine—very fine. Flawless, even. His dark hair was long, hanging to his shoulders and framing his carved cheekbones. He had a strong chin beneath a
full lower lip. His nose was straight and slightly pointed. But it was his eyes that intrigued me the most. They were an intense amber color that appeared nearly clear as he watched me approach.

  His body was strong even as it was obvious he was still developing and growing. He looked like he was on the cusp of manhood, still a tad skinny but muscular. He had to be around my age—maybe a little older. And he stood tall, waiting for me to pull the kayak into the bank. He reached out a hand to me, waving me forward, but something about the situation felt wrong.

  Who was this person? Why was he here in the middle of the night? And…wait! I stopped paddling and stopped moving toward the bank. In that moment, it occurred to me what bothered me about the situation. He’d known my name. How had he known my name?

  Alarm bells began to ring in my head. I didn’t know him, and I couldn’t trust him, especially knowing there were people coming to take me away. And though he had saved me, I couldn’t help but wonder how he had known who I was. I needed to proceed with caution. I needed to get back on track and get away.

  I began using the paddle to pull myself away from the riverbank.

  “Wait! Don’t go!”

  I stared into his eyes, watching them darken to a deep, rich brown. I asked, “Who are you?”

  But I didn’t wait around for him to answer. I began to pick up speed as my little boat slipped back into the rushing part of the water. Still facing backwards, I didn’t panic as before. I held his gaze as he raised his hand. He didn’t answer me aloud, but he rushed along the riverbank, running parallel to my progress.

  Once the boat picked up faster than he could keep up, he stopped, our gazes still locked. A wild regret seized me as I moved away from him. I had a sudden urge to go back to him. Why was I so drawn to him? It scared me more than the rapids sucking me farther down the wild river.