Arise (After the Reign Book 1)

by CK Dawn

  Mordecai chuckled and shouted after her over his paper. “You two have fun.”

  As Mira turned to see if her unwelcome shadow was indeed following, her stomach growled. “Are you coming?” She snapped in embarrassment.

  Casually, Sawyer pulled his hand from his jacket pocket, stepped away from the table exactly where she’d been standing, and walked past her. “Waiting on you now, Princess.” He snapped back.

  She tsked, wishing she’d taken him up on his deal to stop calling her the inaccurate title. She had another thought and her eyes began to sparkle. She gave a sly smile to his back, savoring the moment the portal just might reject its newcomer and expel him from entering the Spree. She’d be rid of him, at least temporarily. But knowing her uncle, and Sawyer’s arrangements-have-been-made comment, she began to have her doubts of enjoying any slight reprieve.

  Her portal, as her uncle liked to call it, wasn’t just for her use, he used it as well. But it did diligently discriminate on who was allowed through. The Spree witches had created it that way. Before Mira was born witches had to summon their Mirror every time covens and fae wanted to portal between realms. Then, when she was very little, Mira’s mother and her favorite professor had the idea of making certain portal points within the Mirror permanent and always open, hence her portal in Crimson Hollow was born. Only a very select few were ever trusted enough to simply walk through it, though. Most still had to use a witch’s traditional Mirror and elaborate summoning spell to travel. And that took at least two to four willing witches.

  Hugging her school books tight, she stepped past Sawyer, and walked to the glimmering oval of shimmering light. The portal floated in the Hollow’s grand room like a translucent fluidic looking-glass with no frame. Its edges were soft and frayed, as if the realm beyond the Mirror was slowly melting into the space it was floating within.

  As Mira neared, the view bent to her thoughts and showed a glimpse of the Spree beyond through air distorted by heat and magic.

  Mira stepped through and quickly turned to face the portal once inside the Spree. With a smug look on her face, she watched with anticipation as Sawyer crossed over, hoping the Mirror would knock him on his ass and block his entry. She’d never seen it done but was quickly disappointed when he stepped through right behind her with an equally smug look on his face.

  Looking directly at her, he sauntered in like he’d been there a thousand times before. “What?” He faked an attempt at acting innocent.

  “Arrangements?” Annoyed at her uncle’s planning, she rolled her eyes.

  “Aren’t you a clever one?” He taunted. “Mordecai called it a Mirror ring?” He pulled the spelled artifact from his coat pocket.

  “Yes, I know what a Mirror ring is,” though she’d never seen one before. The thick gold band looked Egyptian, ancient, with its hieroglyphic-style engravings and large round deep-blue lapis stone. “It goes on your finger, not in your pocket, you know?”

  “Couldn’t pass up seeing your reaction when I got through your members’ only portal. But you’re right,” he slid it onto his right index finger. “Best not to lose it or Mordecai will cut off one of my digits for every minute it’s missing.”

  “My uncle would never cut off your fingers.”

  “Sure about that?” He raised an eyebrow reminiscent of her uncle’s gesture. “And who said anything about fingers?”

  Mira gasped.

  “You and I know two very different Mordecais.” Sawyer scoffed.

  “Maybe my uncle just knows who he’s dealing with.” She scowled.

  “Ouch!” He crossed his arms over his chest. “And here I was going to scrounge up some breakfast for you before getting out of your hair.”

  “You--” His response surprised her. “What? Aren’t you supposed to watch me like every second of every day and make my life miserable or something?” She spat.

  “Something like that.” He agreed. “And never leave your side.”

  Mira harrumphed at the thought.

  Sawyer leaned in close, “Do you always do everything you’re told to do?”

  Yes! She yelled to herself as if it were a shameful trait to have.

  “Anyway,” Leaning back, he didn’t seem to have to hear her answer. He’d sized her up the moment they’d met. “You don’t want a babysitter, right? So--”

  Just then, seven tiny glowing balls of white light buzzed past them, right behind Sawyer’s backside. As they whizzed away down the street, he watched the tails of pinprick lights disappear like the wakes were magical trails of breadcrumbs. “Were those--?”

  “Sprites? Yeah.” She finished his sentence, forgetting he’d probably never seen so many different types of magical beings in one place before.

  “Just,” fighting the urge to look around the entire Spree, he focused on Mira. “Keep to your classes. And definitely don’t go back to the Hollow without me on your heels first. What do you say? Keep Mordecai happy while you have at least some freedom and normalcy? I’ll be around, just admiring you from afar. That’s all.” He held out his hand. “Truce?”

  Mira rolled her eyes but was taken aback by his offer. Before she took his outstretched hand she held her finger in the air. “Deal. But we keep the ribbing, though.” She enjoyed their good-natured teasing far too much to give that up.

  “Oh definitely.” He agreed with a smile.

  “Fine.” Mockingly, Mira rolled her eyes again. “We have a truce.” They shook on it.

  “Um?” All of a sudden, Sawyer put his other hand on top of hers before she could let go. “Mira, your skin is, you’re burning up. Is this normal? Are you alright?”

  “It’s nothing really.” Unlike most fae that couldn’t lie, she and fae-born vampires could. But at that moment, she didn’t want to. “But no, it’s not normal. Please don’t say anything.”

  He let their hands fall. “Mira--”

  “Mordecai’ll overreact, my parents will come home early, and I’ll never get a chance to be on my own. To do this on my own. If it’s what I think it is--” She trailed off.

  “To do what on your own? What’s going on?”

  “I, It’s--” Mira shook her head. Being the only hybrid ever born, she couldn’t be sure what was going on, not really. But she had her suspicions and wasn’t ready to share them with anyone. “It’s private.”

  “Can you at least tell me it’s safe?”

  She nodded.

  He looked at her for a long time before responding. “Alright. You’re secret’s safe with me, breakfast girl.”

  “Ha! Breakfast girl. That’s original.” She chuckled remembering the similar moniker she’d given him earlier.

  “I thought so.” He smiled at her and their agreement.

  Even though she had his undivided attention then, she could tell he was eager to explore the Spree. Mira couldn’t blame him. It truly was magnificent. And she knew the perfect place for him to start. Her eyes followed her nose as the delicious aromas from Hilgrid’s shop came toward them. Coveting one of the witch’s masterful breakfast pies fresh out of the oven, she turned back to Sawyer and gave him a sly smile. “Waiting on you now.”

  The old-fashioned chalkboard floated in the air in the front of class. White chalk feverishly scribbled the professor’s main points all by itself on the board’s black slate surface. Mira saw such magic every day and took it for granted, not seeing it for how unique and special it was. But Sawyer did.

  She tried to concentrate on her professor’s lecture about incantations but couldn’t. With her professor’s back turned, Mira looked out the window with a renewed appreciation for the Spree and its magic. She watched as Sawyer walked down the cobblestone street lined with brownstone buildings toward Hilgrid’s shop. Gone was a boy that seemed at home hiding in the shadows, replaced by a carefree tourist on a leisurely morning stroll. Mira had to giggle to herself at the contradiction of a massively muscular boy being so enamored by such tiny things as Sprites.

  Sawyer was in absolute awe, th
ough, soaking up the wonder of the witches’ veiled world. Every detail was admired and lingered upon, from more Sprites darting by on the wind to Ogres barreling past him with their heavy hairy feet. He stopped for a moment and enjoyed the sun’s rays shining down through the trees lining the street and admired a family of woodland elves as they entered Hilgrid’s potions and bakery shop. The mother and father ushered their two young children in, giving Sawyer a cheery nod hello as they went.

  Mira knew woodland elves most represented what humans thought all fae looked like. They were eternally ethereal with their long lean bodies, translucent dewy skin, flowing white hair, and long pointed ears, just like Finn.

  As if on cue, Finn shot her a glare from his usual seat at the front of the class.

  Mira drew her hair around her face and inadequate short tipped ears, slouching over her open book with her chin in her hands. But still, she couldn’t concentrate. And her soaring fever and empty stomach were making matters worse.

  Half an hour into her professor’s lecture, something started tickling the tip of Mira’s left ear. She looked out the window and found Sawyer and Hilgrid chuckling to one another across the street. Hilgrid didn’t like many people, especially Mira’s father if she was being honest, so to see the old witch laughing and sharing magic with a virtual stranger was quite odd. She was helping Sawyer project the tickling sensation from his ear onto Mira’s.

  After gaining Mira’s attention, he held up something wrapped in brown paper and motioned for her to catch it.

  My breakfast! Mira exclaimed to herself. She couldn’t believe he had actually gotten her something to eat.

  Looking both ways down the street, Hilgrid gave him the go-ahead to let it fly, and the witch directed the projectile straight toward Mira’s head.

  Through the open window, Mira plucked it from the air and tucked it under her desk. She could feel the warmth of the buttery breakfast pie through the paper. The smell was even more heavenly.

  Wanting to thank them, she looked back out the window only to find they had already gone. They must have scattered just as Professor Putnam stopped talking. The elder witch was looking out the window and had begun waving her hand in the air. With a flick of her wrist, the window slammed shut. Clearing her throat she turned back around and continued her lecture but seemed to allow Mira to quietly eat her treat as long as she paid attention that time.

  Throughout the day in most of her classrooms’ windows, Mira caught glimpses of Sawyer helping shop owners up and down the cobblestone streets. He’d be fixing a leaky pipe on the roof of one of the weathered brownstones or greasing a rusty stubborn wheel on a cart in front of another, making himself acquainted with everyone he came into contact with. He was constantly coming away with armloads of shop specialties as he went along too. At one point Hilgrid brought him a bowl of soup and an empty basket to carry his bounty in while he did a little tinkering for her. The witch’s shop door had an intolerable squeak to it that she could never get out, even with magic. She always said magic couldn’t beat good old-fashioned elbow grease and determination. Mira watched as Hilgrid’s weathered black hands polished the silver handle of one of her heirloom spoons on her long matronly skirt before handing it to the mortal. She even straightened the messy bun of black and gray peppered hair sitting on top of her head while her tiny Bengal kitten, Bast, rubbed his cheeks and body against Sawyer. Weaving back and forth between his legs the black and silver striped familiar gave his approval of the human. Mira didn’t have the heart to tell Sawyer the tiny innocent-looking kitten was over three hundred years old, more fierce than a wild tiger, and could rip his arm off if ever the need arose.

  Sawyer reached down and scratched Bast behind his ear.

  She’d warn him about familiars and fingers later. Mira giggled.

  She swore she could hear Bast purr through the window. He never let anyone besides Hilgrid pet him. Witch and familiar must have both taken a true liking to Sawyer. Mira smiled to herself. They all had.

  As promised, she found him after the school day was finished. He was sitting at the far end of the street waiting for her under the canopy of a large tree reading a book and drinking what she knew had to be Hilgrid’s delicious lavender cream soda.

  Barely with a moment to wonder if he was missing out on school himself, Finn pushed past her. He brushed her shoulder just hard enough to make her lose her balance without toppling her over. Clenching her books to her chest, and composing herself, she was then subjected to chuckles and snide comments from him and his friends as they made their way down the street toward the Mirror. It was also where Sawyer was waiting for her.

  Oh no! She thought to herself, horrified at what might happen next.

  Rage seemed to surface in Sawyer then. Mira watched him mouth the words ‘there’s always one!’ as he slammed his book shut and stood up. He’d seen what Finn had done. Elbows bent, hands clenched into fists, he stood directly in the group’s path on the cobblestone street. His mass occupied all the space his large body could hold, even the air around him seemed to quiver under his intimidating stance. It was as though he was a dominant beast threatening another. He didn’t look at Finn, he didn’t need to. He merely looked at the ground in front of Finn’s feet. It was warning enough. Uncharacteristically, Finn and his gang gave Sawyer a wide berth, stepping over one another to be the farthest away from him before they headed through the Mirror into Fae. They didn’t look back.

  “Are you crazy?” Mira’s eyes went wide as she reached Sawyer. “Finn could have killed you.” It was an exaggeration, but still, it wasn’t a good idea to mess with that specific group of elves.

  “For what? Standing up?” He harrumphed and his posture softened. “Can they tell I’m only human?” He feigned a gasp.

  “Uh, yeah.” She nodded feverishly.

  Sawyer was flippant, “I don’t like bullies.”

  Mira looked toward the Mirror, hoping Finn wasn’t still on the other side watching or laughing at her.

  “He’s afraid of you, you know?”

  “What, me?” She whipped her head back toward Sawyer. “Why?”

  “People fear what they don’t understand. Human, fae,” he pointed at the Mirror, “Keebler elf there, it doesn’t matter. Bullies are the same everywhere.”

  Mira recognized the vintage television commercial reference and gave a little chuckle.

  “People like him vilify what they fear. I bet you, you are ten times more powerful than he could ever be. And he knows it. But you choose to make yourself small, taking up as little space as possible, clinging to your books. You hide instead of shine. Why? And to put up with that?” His anger grew as he pointed in the direction where Finn had shoved her. “That’s the real question.”

  3

  What Goes Around

  Days turned into weeks and Mira’s and Sawyer’s routine had become comfortable. She even looked forward to their time together.

  On days she was late for breakfast, which was usually every day, he handed her something he’d stashed away from the other hungry hyenas, as he liked to call the boys. Or he threw her one of Hilgrid’s pies during her first class in the Spree.

  As promised he left during her classes, sometimes staying around the Spree, sometimes not. Even Finn seemed to be on his best behavior...usually.

  In the evenings Sawyer vanished beyond the red door to New York, though. With a basket full of Spree treasures, he slipped into the night, while Mira sat on a sofa with her preoccupied uncle. She would practice a particular weaving spell she’d grown quite fond of. Enamored with trying to reverse it, she practiced all the time. She nearly had it mastered. And she knew exactly who she’d test it on.

  In the mornings, Sawyer would return to the Hollow with his empty basket, greeting her with a smile. And in the afternoons he greeted her with another warm smile. Just like that day.

  “So, remember that first morning, over the rudely empty breakfast table?” Mira quizzed him as they neared the portal back to Cr
imson Hollow. “Did you think I didn’t eat because I’m some sort of strange half-fae? Or am I supposed to watch my figure because I’m a girl?”

  “And here I thought I was the grumpy one because my bike won’t start today.”

  She should have known the motorcycle she saw that first day parked on New York’s city street hadn’t been Conor’s.

  Sawyer didn’t answer. His mind was elsewhere. A miniature Rubik’s Cube tethered to his keys swung in the air as he flipped its chain around his hand over and over. “If I could only get it running for a second, I could figure out--” He thought out loud.

  “Well?” She demanded, cutting him off.

  “Yeah, I’m not going anywhere near an answer to that one.”

  “Ha, chicken.”

  “Yep, and definitely not stupid.”

  “Jerk.” She teased.

  “Yep, that too.” Another smile lit up his face. “Speaking of jerks--” He cleared his throat and his smile turned to a disapproving scowl.

  Waiting for her in Crimson Hollow, Conor Lane caught Mira’s eye through the floating Mirror.

  “I’ll leave you to him.” Sawyer’s tone was short.

  It was obvious his broken bike had him distracted. But Mira knew he didn’t want to be around Conor, especially if the guy decided to make any sort of move. She however had a thought.

  A split second before she slipped through the portal, Mira made other plans.

  “Um, Mira, what happened? Where are we?” Sawyer asked, following her through to a location that was definitely not Crimson Hollow.

  “Uh, Bremerton?” Her voice lifted as though it were a question. But she knew that’s exactly where they were.

  “Why?”

  “I uh, I thought about something I wanted to show you, so I brought us here instead. I’m sorry.”