by Gregory Heal
Jen furrowed her brow, worried about what would happen next.
“I discovered the burglar walking up the stairs and I tried to head him off, but was lifted off the ground by some invisible force and thrown across the hallway.” Her father’s eyes went wide and he raised his arms incredulously.
Jen felt the cold sensation of goosebumps rolling down her arms, thinking back to how Malcolm had lifted her off the ground with a spell just two days before.
Richard continued, “The noise must’ve alerted Charles, because he came out of the guest room and started fighting with the intruder, who shot him with a . . .” He paused, trying to think of the right words. “A ball of light? That’s the best way I can describe it. It slammed him into the stairs railing, but before anything else could happen, Jocelyn ran out to see what was going on.” Richard squinted, as if still not quite believing what he was saying after all these years. “Her earrings were glowing, and she pointed at the intruder, who immediately disappeared, leaving only dust in his place.”
“That night your birth parents told us that they were sorcerers and that magic is real,” Beth said to Jen. She picked up her full cup of coffee and took another sip.
“And that intruder was a Dark Watcher or something.” Richard looked to Victor for confirmation, who nodded, remaining silent. “They left a few hours later, after realizing that they had put us in harm’s way.”
“We didn’t see them again until two years later, when they showed up at our front door,” Beth said, putting down her cup and stroking Jen’s cheek. “With a beautiful baby girl.”
Jen put her hand over her mother’s, closing her eyes. “Why did they give me up?” If there was a chance for her to find her birth parents, Jen wouldn’t hesitate, but she needed to know why they left in the first place.
“They told us it was safer that we didn’t know, just that they trusted us to look after you until it was safe for them to return,” Richard replied.
“You remember how you got that ring on your necklace?” Beth smiled, quickly glancing at her husband before looking back at her daughter. “It was actually from Charles.”
Jen slowly nodded and took the Ring of Lancaster out from beneath her shirt collar. It seemed heavier as she stared intently at its grooves and patterns, trying to imagine what her birth parents had looked like all those years ago.
“Both Charles and Jocelyn were grateful, and they promised to return as soon as they could,” Richard said.
“But days turned into weeks, and weeks into months,” Beth recounted. “Almost a year later . . .” She was beside herself with grief, finding it hard to finish her thought. “Victor knocked on the door and . . . and explained that Charles and Jocelyn had . . . had died.”
Jen’s heart shattered. Her birth parents . . . gone?
“Charles and Jocelyn were the bravest sorcerers I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing,” Victor said. “And I vowed to help look after you—from a distance—as Richard and Beth raised you.”
In an instant, Jen’s newfound hopes in finding her birth parents were dashed like a ship on jagged rocks. “What . . . ?” she breathed. Tears began to sting her eyes, but Jen didn’t care any longer.
“I’m so sorry, honey,” Beth consoled, offering a clean tissue.
“I’ll never get to meet them.” Taking the tissue, Jen dabbed her eyes, then looked at her parents. “Or even talk with them.”
Victor said firmly, “They live through you and your family ring.”
She was trying immensely to process what she was being told, but Jen couldn’t think straight. She managed to say, “I don’t remember ever living in Arizona.”
“That’s because Victor suggested we move to a more heavily populated area, so it would be next to impossible for any Dark Watcher to find you,” Richard said.
“That’s why we moved to New York,” Jen whispered. She closed her eyes to steady her whirling mind. Jen felt as if her world had been turned upside down. As if her strength had been sucked out of her. Jen weakly put her hands on her knees. It was unbearable to think that she would never be able to meet her birth parents. Not knowing what to say next, she stayed quiet as tears streaked down her cheeks and left dark stains on her jeans.
She sniffled, looking at Victor through puffy eyelids. “Since I have the ring, that means I’m a target, right?”
Victor responded, “Your warding spell was only good until your twenty-first birthday, when your birth parents believed that you’d be strong enough as a sorceress to protect yourself. They had no idea that they’d never see you again and not be able to instruct you themselves.” He took a deep breath. “I can still pick up some of the spell’s traces on you, but it’s bound to vanish any day now. At this point, you have two options: run . . . or face this threat and fight it.”
Jen looked up at him through a veil of tears.
“You have a strong nexus, Jen,” he continued. “I can feel it. If you’d like to fight, I would be honored to train you.”
Jen turned her head when she heard her father’s voice: “Born or thrust.”
She smiled. That was her dad’s way of paraphrasing the old adage by William Shakespeare: Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. He would say that to Jen when she was faced with a tough decision—and today was no different. Perhaps the toughest decision of them all.
“Born,” Jen said quietly.
Richard smiled at his daughter, pride shining from his eyes, then turned to Victor. “Can I speak with you privately, Victor?”
Victor silently gestured, letting Richard lead the way.
Her father rose, squeezing her shoulder as he passed. “Be right back, Jenny Jasmine.” He walked into the adjoining room with Victor close in tow, and Jen could just faintly hear her father start, “Have you told her—”
“Well, my coffee is too cold. Would you like some fresh coffee too, hon?” her mom said over her father’s muffled voice. She was trying to sound chipper, but her body language said otherwise: her hands were shaking, nearly causing the cold coffee in her cup to spill.
“My appetite is next to nothing, but thanks,” Jen said, standing up and taking the coffee cup. “Let me get more coffee for you, though. Cream and sugar?”
Her mother nodded and smiled sadly, touching Jen’s right cheek again with her hand.
Jen was about to enter the kitchen when a high-pitched sound pierced the window. Something from outside . . .
Skarmor! she realized. A warning call!
A few seconds later, a bright orange light burst through the study’s windows and a distant blast rocked the house. A few drops of cold coffee splattered on the ground as the door flew straight back and hit the stair railing, splintering it into sharp pieces.
Jen heard a scream and dropped the cup, which shattered on the hardwood floor, spilling coffee everywhere as she ran back into the study to see her mom completely frozen in horror. Around the staircase, Jen caught a glimpse of her father, also frozen in place, and Victor, unconscious and sprawled in a corner of the family room, laying in a wreck of wood that was once a vintage radio cabinet.
In the destroyed foyer stood Malcolm, his evil smile stretching the width of his face. When he noticed Jen rush into the study, his malicious smile vanished and his body slightly relaxed.
A jolt of confused sadness hit Jen as she saw Malcolm. She still thought of him as Alex—her Alex. She shook the thought from her head—“Alex” was nothing but a mask that Malcolm had worn to get the ring from her.
Malcolm broke her gaze and shook his head himself, as if the same thought had crossed his mind.
Wait . . . could my Alex still be in there somewhere?
Jen froze as she saw the hazel eyes into which she had once looked so deeply turn wicked as Malcolm brushed debris off his shoulders.
As Jen wrestled with her emotions, Skarmor swooped inside and started pecking at Malcolm’s eyes. He swatted at the halcyon until he got so irritated that he sh
ot a gust of wind that brought Skarmor crashing into the wall next to Victor. Lightning then began to crackle around his left hand, which was now pointed at his former master, still prone and unconscious. Before he could release his high-voltage spell, his focus was shattered—much like the vase that had just hit him across the head.
Malcolm wailed and staggered back a few steps. “Nice throw, Jenny.” He wiped a trail of blood out of his eyes, which was running down the right side of his head.
Hearing his voice reminded her of all the good times they’d had together. All she wanted to do was clean up the cut on his temple, but it took every ounce of concentration to remain poised and focus on saving her parents, Victor, and Skarmor instead.
Alex is gone. It’s only Malcolm, she reminded herself as her heart broke all over again.
“Ever thought of going pro?” Malcolm asked, sneering at her. “I heard the Washington Wizards are looking for a point guard!”
Just then, a trail of white lightning streaked toward Jen, barely missing her as she dove behind the couch. Unhurt, she looked at the wall and saw a smoking crater the size of a basketball, and she smelled burnt drywall. As she heard Malcolm’s cackling laughter, the ring around her neck started to glow for the second time in as many days. The pale purple light pulsated as her emotions swirled.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are . . .” Malcolm said in a sing-song voice.
Huddled behind the couch, Jen peered over the armrest to see Malcolm looking back over his shoulder, making sure Victor wouldn’t blindside him if he were to regain consciousness. She quickly ducked down before he turned toward her, but she heard broken glass and masonry crunching beneath Malcolm’s boots as he stepped closer. Her heart was racing as she held the ring up to eye level and looked deep into it, desperate to find an answer inside.
I don’t know what to do!
She made a split decision, and it took every ounce of courage for Jen to stand up to face her ex-boyfriend. “Malcolm, stop . . . please!” She was clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles were turning white.
“I won’t let down my dark lord again,” he said, fully ignoring Jen’s plea.
Frustrated and scared, Jen tried to focus on Malcolm’s chest, and suddenly she felt a surge of cold energy shoot out from her own. He was expecting some sort of attack, so he deftly blocked the weak spell, letting it ricochet into the ground. Not knowing what she actually did, Jen felt the coldness leave as quickly as it had come. She felt her chest; her shirt was as cold as if she had just pulled it out of a freezer.
What did I just do?
“Wow, your first spell—without even one lesson! You’re a natural.” Malcolm lunged toward Jen in an attempt to grab her, but as soon as he took his first step forward, he immediately slipped on something on the hardwood floor and came crashing down.
Seizing this opportunity to get to Victor, Jen sprinted out of the study. As she passed the prostrate Malcolm, she found the reason for his fall: a frozen puddle of the coffee she had spilled earlier, turned to ice by her spell that Malcolm had deflected.
Kneeling down next to Victor, she picked up Skarmor and panted, “Vic—wake up!” She frantically looked behind her shoulder, expecting to see Malcolm whip around the corner at any moment. “Vic!” She rocked him from side to side, trying to wake him up; she had no clue how to break the spell that her parents were under.
Malcolm groaned, still in the study.
Victor’s eyes fluttered open and Jen started breathing again. He shook his head and the cloudiness in his eyes vanished. With all of his senses reawakened and heightened, he put a large hand on Jen’s forearm. “Get behind me.”
Victor stood to his full height as Malcolm staggered around the corner, warm blood staining his right temple. Jen held Skarmor tight to her chest.
“Well, well,” Malcolm chuckled, trying to hide his defeat. “If I can’t capture you or your ring, Jen, I guess I’ll have to settle for a consolation prize.” He snapped his fingers and he and Jen’s parents, still under Malcolm’s mannequin spell, vanished.
“No!” Jen screamed. Victor tried to hold her back as she reached for her parents, but she pushed past him.
It was too late. They were gone.
Chapter Eight
“Jen, they’re gone,” Victor said, rubbing a tender bump on the back of his head that he had sustained from Malcolm’s surprise attack.
“Then let’s go after them!” Jen yelled, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks.
Victor seemed dazed and confused. “How did he know we were here?” he said, mostly to himself. Stiffening, as if he had just realized something, he picked up his staff and held it over Jen.
“What are you doing, Vic?” Jen sniffled, staring up at the staff, which was now glowing and making a humming noise. Feeling a tingle, Jen looked down to see goosebumps prickling her forearms. Seconds later, she felt an invisible veil lift off her.
Tapping his staff on the ground, Victor said, “Malcolm placed a location spell on you sometime in the past couple days.” He shook his head. “I should have known.”
Jen looked around where she stood, expecting to see the spell like shed skin. “Is it gone?” she said, worried.
Victor nodded. “Yes, you’re free from it. That type of location spell is easy enough to break, now that I knew what to look for.”
“Well, now that it’s gone, he won’t be expecting us. Let’s go after them!” Jen repeated.
Victor took Skarmor from Jen’s cradled hands, which were shaking. “Malcolm probably took them back to the Dark Watcher lair, Feralot. It’s too dangerous to break in without a foolproof strategy. Plus, no one knows where it could be. It’s a nomadic fortress.”
“But . . . then . . . how are we going to rescue Mom and Dad?” Jen pleaded. She didn’t know what to think now; her mind was spinning.
“If there’s one thing for certain, Malcolm will return. If anything, now he has more bargaining chips to get what he wants from you.”
“They’re not ‘bargaining chips,’ they’re my parents!”
“Shh . . . I know, Jennifer.”
“But I don’t know—I don’t know anything!” Jen crumpled to the ground; it felt as if the life had been drained from her body.
Alex—my Alex—would never have done something like this . . . he really was just pretending when we were dating. He’s not Alex . . . he’s Malcolm, and he’s a monster.
Victor stood over her solemnly. “He’s toying with you, Jen, to get you to turn over the ring.” He knelt down beside her. “I know you feel like the world is against you right now, but I need you to never forget that when life throws you obstacles, as unfair as they might seem, you and only you have the power to let them define you.”
Jen met his gaze with her own, but said nothing.
“Question is: Will you let each obstacle break you apart, or make you stronger so you can overcome them?”
Jen sighed as he brushed a stray curl behind her ear.
“Just know that I’ll be here with you every step of the way, never leaving your side . . . until you’re absolutely sick of me, of course,” Victor said, hugging her close.
They both were silent for a moment, until Jen’s eyes widened suddenly, and she remembered. “Tyler!” She shot up and ran upstairs to her younger brother’s room.
It was empty.
Oh no! Did Malcolm kidnap Tyler too?!
A phone alarm trilled from the kitchen. Still shaking from the adrenaline, she grasped the hand railing and sped down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. She made it to the kitchen island and picked up her mom’s phone. Turning off the 9 p.m. alarm—for Beth’s nightly medication—she then scrolled down to see an unread text from Tyler.
Relief washed over Jen as she quickly read his message, time-stamped at 8:53 p.m.:
We r back @ Sam’s house! Just picked up the pizza. Thx for letting me sleep over tonite :) Luv u
Victor was hovering in the background like a shadow, giving
Jen some space. Skarmor’s eyes began to flit open and he softly chirped. Victor looked down and said, “Welcome back, old friend.”
“Okay,” Jen said finally, turning to Victor. “Tyler’s safe at a friend’s house. I need to see him.”
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
Victor grimaced. Skarmor flapped his tiny wings and fluttered above his head.
“Thank you,” Jen said. Her body was tense as she looked around, trying to focus. She turned on her phone, which was marvelously unscathed, and dialed her aunt’s number.
Luckily, her aunt was still awake and took her call. After answering all of the questions she had as to why Tyler needed to stay with her after his sleepover, she agreed.
It was time to see Tyler one last time before she went back to Azumar.
Making their way through the destroyed foyer, Victor repaired what he could with a wave of his staff, but Jen, unlike her childhood home, still felt completely shattered, unable to pick up the pieces of her former life. She silently vowed that she would find her parents and take Malcolm down any way she could.
Jen and Victor made a stop at Sam’s house to see Tyler. He was glad to see her, but put on an indifferent air since Sam was just around the corner. “’Sup?” Tyler said as he stepped outside and closed the front door.
Jen softly smiled and said with a wink, “The door’s closed now. No one can see or hear us.”
Tyler sucked in his cheeks and quickly looked from side to side and behind him before quickly giving his big sister a hug. Jen tried her hardest to keep tears at bay as she pulled away and looked into Tyler’s eyes.
“Mom and Dad needed to visit Grandma and Grandpa, so they’ll be down in Arizona for a bit.”
Excited, Tyler stood on tippy-toes. "Does that mean I get the house all to myself?”
Jen tried her best to conceal her heartache by giving him a sweet smile. “No, you’ll be staying with Aunt Karen until they come back.”
“Man.” Tyler sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He nodded. “She does make really good chocolate-chip pancakes . . .”
