Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4)

by Melinda Kucsera

  But I couldn’t help but wondering if it was all a set up. Was this part of a bigger plan? He didn’t like magic out in the open, but then why patronize the store?

  How had he found the principal to start dating, anyway? And the odds that he just happened to visit the school at the same time as the enchanted pencils were placed was slim.

  And now, I had just welcomed him into my home, but what was the saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  Living under the same roof was as close as you could get.

  Roman had said we were in for an adventure.

  Boy was he right.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By noon the next day, I was back in business. As soon as Roman and I arrived home, I wrote that newspaper article about the pencils at the school, stating that the police were still looking for the perpetrator, but they had some suspects and it was only a matter of time until the guilty party was apprehended. In the end, no true harm was done, but there were a lot of people caught in the crossfire.

  The paper published my unmanipulated editorial right beside a front page spread of a giant image of Brittany Fleming being lowered to the ground on a ladder. Right there on the side of the photo was a photo of Roman and me snapping. The title was, “Local Witches are Heroes.”

  I had never been called that before, but the Mayor’s secretary called, stating that City Council overruled Mayor Raab and Ettie’s could open again.

  As I arrived at the store, the crowd of people outside had my stomach turning. Were they back to protest? Or was it something else?

  After I parked, I approached the building to find Officer Gates and Officer Duncan standing in front of my entrance. I expected a protesting mob chanting boos and curses, but instead, there were smiles and claps.

  My cheeks heated, not expecting this welcome. The crowd made way for me to unlock my door.

  “They were all going to leave when they saw the closed sign,” Officer Gates explained as the three of us slipped inside, keeping the customers outside for a moment. “But I told them to stay put. I was certain you’d be informed of the revocation of the Mayor’s order on your building.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “We came down here to give you an update on the suspects in the ‘pencil plunder.’” Officer Duncan snickered, giving me a different view of him. Perhaps he was a bit of a goofball after all. I could get to like him.

  I chuckled at the name they gave the crime. “Did you find out who did it?”

  “No, but you were right with all your suspects. Mayor Raab lost one of her children to a magic addiction a few years back and has despised magic ever since, Brittany Fleming recently made a purchase from the magic community, but it was shielded pretty well. We’re working on figuring out what it was for, and Natalia Young? Well, she’s not from Watersedge. She lived over in Crystal Caverns until she was arrested for protesting a magic store there. She was forced out of their community.”

  I shook my head. “That’s not all your suspects. You still have Roman’s dad, Joseph Sunward…err…Joseph Sun. He changed his last name to keep himself separated from all the Sunwards who were out of the broom closet. Joe hates it that magic is out in the open. He visited the store twice—not telling me who he was.” I cringed, turning in a family member, but if someone was sabotaging me, all niceties were off.

  “We’ll look into him as soon as we get back to the station, but for now, we’ll take off. It looks like you have a pile of customers who can’t wait to get inside.”

  I looked out the window and smiled. Sure, we didn’t know who was sabotaging the store, but thankfully it wasn’t working. I had a bigger crowd now than ever before and even ended up with good press out of the situation. The culprit would be revealed, and it was only a matter of time.

  Until then, I had a store to tend.

  And a life to concentrate on here in Watersedge…with Roman.

  This whole adventure had taught me that it’s easy to give up, but it’s harder to stay focused.

  And if Ettie’s Enchanted Effects was something I wanted to succeed, all I had to do was stick with it. People would come.

  Just look out my window.

  The Mail-Order Witch series is not over yet. Help Ettie and Roman solve the mystery of who is sabotaging their enchanted objects shop in “The Mail-Order Witch, Episode 2” available exclusively in Wayward Magic.

  About the Author

  Joynell Schultz manages the family zoo (literally!) and writes paranormal fantasy, mystery, and science fiction in her (nearly non-existent) free time. She's a pharmacist by training (boring!) but prefers to hang out with zebras and bears or some imaginary characters. Oh, and she (finally!) hit the USA Today Bestsellers list.

  Grab the FREE pilot episode to The Mail-Order Witch (showcasing how Ettie & Roman met) or learn more about the author’s other books on her webpage:

  http://www.joynellschultz.com

  Don't forget to grab your copy of the next anthology, Wayward Magic.

  Great Sun Trilogy, Part I

  Bands of Gold

  William C. Cronk

  “Bands of Gold” centers around the Sun based culture of the Seven Peoples. A young boy from the wadi tribes, and his older cousin, fight against accusations that could have dire consequences. Along the way, they discover that one of them has a hidden magic that has never been seen before. Old enemies become allies as the climatic conclusion reveals truths best left hidden.

  The idea of a hidden magic called me to this story. In some places, the characters wrote themselves. But as a first-time writer, I struggled to get most out of every page. The story here has evolved so much from the first draft. Working with Melinda Kucsera and Magical Mayhem Press has been an amazing learning experience. I am a far better writer for having joined this anthology.

  William C. Cronk

  An attack without warning drastically reduces their village’s herd, leaving two cousins to face the wrath of their elders. But their leaders might be looking for a scapegoat, not for the truth, and those two cousins might be it. If the rest of the villagers doesn’t get to the cousins first. When the same politics and prejudices get between the two boys, which will triumph—blood or friendship?

  Bands of Gold

  Though the clouds hide its face, the Great Sun Anuu is still there.

  Its Light shines in hidden places.

  Old proverb of the Seven Peoples

  The screams of the goats jerked Finyaka from a daydream. He smelled blood and heard growls. He grabbed his freshly cut shepherd’s staff and scrambled to his feet. A flash of black-and-tan raced by him. Vice-like jaws snapped around the neck of a wide-eyed doe as the muscular ghost dog dragged its prize into the dust and chaos.

  His cousin, Matasa, shouted profanities that were barely audible above the bleating goats and snarling hounds. He whistled, then shouted, “Finyaka! Nahrem!”

  There was no time to answer. A goat behind Finyaka screamed. Blood splashed the pale straw on the hill. The hound’s prey was already gone by the time Finyaka reacted. Despite his shaking, he took a defensive stance. The only buck in the herd backed the does he could gather into a tight group and pointed their short horns at the encircling pack.

  The odds were against them. Finyaka prayed to the Great Sun Anuu. I am only sixteen summers old, I don’t want to die! Terror gripped him, but he fought the urge to flee.

  “Finyaka! Nahrem!” Matasa yelled.

  Out of the swirling dust, a leaping hound materialized, and Finyaka swung his staff. The wood bent in his hand from the weight of the hound, but the blow sent the hound into the bunching herd.

  The growling hound struggled to keep its footing as the buck lunged, driving its horns into the hound’s belly. Finyaka slammed his staff down across the back of the impaled hound. The wood cracked as the hound fell onto the blood-stained sod.

  Another goat screamed then another. The hounds attacked en masse now. Finyaka retaliated. His world narrowed to a whirlwind of
blood, dust, and bodily fluids, punctuated by slavering hounds and screaming goats until his staff shattered.

  What remained of the herd was covered in blood. Karas, their faithful herd dog, limped between the hounds and the bristling goats. Blood ran down her leg.

  “Finyaka! Nahrem!” Matasa shouted again.

  “Here.” Finyaka waved a hand through the dusty air. Where’s Nahrem? He should be here. But there was no time to think about his missing brother.

  The remaining ghost hounds were still circling them. The alpha, a female by her ruddy back bristles, crouched before Finyaka. She was large, nearly the same size as him. He readied himself for an attack and gripped the remains of his staff. I am going to die like a goat in the jaws of a ghost hound.

  The alpha sprang. Finyaka ran ten strides before he’d realized it. The alpha had missed him. He wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised.

  The hound’s head shot up as she turned, and her ears laid back. A snarl emanated from her muzzle as she glared at him with intelligent black eyes that unnerved him.

  Finyaka tightened his grip on the broken haft of his staff. The alpha dog lunged. He struck with everything he had, thrusting his broken staff deep into her side. They tumbled to the ground. Warm blood gushed over his hand.

  Finyaka scrambled to his feet. He was between her and the herd now. The alpha fixed her gaze on him. Karas limped to his side. Finyaka knew she stood little chance against the larger, more muscular hounds.

  The alpha yowled in pain as she rolled to her feet. Blood marked the spot where she’d fallen. The broken staff still protruded from her flank. The remaining ghost hounds ceased their attack and rushed to their wounded alpha’s side. Finyaka forced himself to stay calm as he faced five of the beasts.

  Not sure what else to do, he yelled, “By the Light of the Great Sun, run you beasts, or I'll end you!”

  The pack stepped back. Finyaka tensed. The alpha whined then the pack vanished.

  Finyaka blinked, and they were gone. But they had been there. His body ached, and the turf around him had been upturned and stained red with blood. Karas growled softly beside him, reminding him she was also hurt. There was a nasty gash in her left flank. Karas sniffed the ground where the alpha had bled.

  The goats bleated. Carcasses lay everywhere. Nearby lay the body of the ghost hound Finyaka had killed. He tried to still his trembling as he whistled for Karas to gather the goats that had broken off from the herd during the attack.

  “By the Great Sun, what just happened?” His older brother, Nahrem, gasped as he crested the hill.

  Matasa turned on him. “By the dark, where have you been?”

  “Fetching water, cousin,” came the defensive reply, but Nahrem didn’t have any water skins to show for it.

  “We nearly died, you idiot. Look at the herd!” Matasa pointed at it.

  “The Great Sun be praised. You’re still standing.” Nahrem snorted.

  “May the Sun burn you!” spat Matasa as he limped toward Karas and the remaining strays.

  Finyaka crumpled to the ground. Nahrem jogged to his side. “Get up, Finyaka. We need to gather the herd.”

  Finyaka couldn’t stop shaking as silent tears fell uncontrollably down his dusty face.

  “Grow up, you ant. What kind of a man are you?” Nahrem shook his shoulder hard enough to hurt. “Do you want Matasa to see you like this?”

  Finyaka shook so violently he couldn’t stand. Nor could he talk through the tears clogging his throat. Pain blossomed along his left cheek. Stunned, Finyaka stared at his older brother.

  Nahrem’s face was contorted by rage as the older boy grabbed him by the collar and jerked him to his feet. “Listen, you little pile of goat excrement. Get up and help Matasa, or else you’ll be another carcass to count.”

  Finyaka blinked at the threat, but he found the strength to stand. His body trembled, but he wiped his eyes and blew his nose. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?”

  “Yes! You lost part of the herd. I walk away for a few moments to get water and come back to this.” Nahrem waved a hand to take in all the carnage.

  “You’ve been gone most of the day.” Finyaka hunched his shoulders.

  Nahrem drew back his fist.

  “Strike him, and I’ll end you.” Matasa raised his staff to make good on that threat.

  Nahrem released Finyaka’s collar. “Try it, cousin, and we’ll see who ends who. Did you gather the rest of the herd?”

  “No thanks to you.” Matasa lowered the staff, but he still gripped it hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

  Nahrem laughed. He whistled for Karas as he made for the bleating herd.

  “What’s the final count?” Finyaka asked Matasa as he followed Nahrem.

  “Two dozen does are dead or missing, and three are badly wounded. We’ve lost all but a dozen of the kids. Karas has a bad gash. I’m hurt too. How about you?” The taller boy looked at Finyaka with concern.

  Finyaka ducked his head. “I’m sore, I broke my staff, and I can’t stop shaking.”

  “Because you’re a doe.” Nahrem smiled evilly. “What a sunless mess. Those two wounded does—you two can carry them back. This one here is beyond help.” He drew his knife from its sheathe and slit the animals throat. “What a waste.” Nahrem pointed the knife at Matasa. “Now if you and the doe there,” Nahrem pointed his knife at Finyaka, “don’t want the lash tonight, you’d best follow my lead.”

  Nahrem crossed to the carcass of the ghost hound and removed its ears. He shook them at Finyaka as he passed. “Proof of the attack. You two take the herd home. Yaka, send Dah and the family back to help skin the dead. Oh, and show him the ears.” Nahrem tossed them at him.

  Finyaka grimaced but caught them, and his older brother cuffed him. Finyaka fought a fresh onset of tears and cowered before his brother.

  “Take my staff, Doe. Now get while I clean up your mess.”

  Finyaka ducked his head and skulked back to the herd. Matasa whistled for Karas, and the two drove the herd from the slaughter ground in silence.

  Matasa was scowled and muttered to himself but kept his left hand pressed tight to his right side. Blood stained his tunic there.

  Finyaka’s arm and face throbbed, and his tunic was sticky from sweat and blood. Frustrated, he said, “What should we do?”

  “We need to tell the elders. That was a large pack.” Matasa said.

  Finyaka nodded. They had lost a quarter of the herd.

  “Your brother should have been there.” Matasa shot their cousin a glare.

  “I know,” Finyaka whispered.

  “Where was the sunless son of a goat?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Matasa stopped and stared at his younger cousin. “Seriously? You have no idea?”

  Finyaka shook his head and his gaze. Why are people always mad at me?

  Matasa grunted something and rolled his eyes. He tapped a goat with his staff to keep her in line with the herd and winced when that movement pained him. He spat blood, and his breathing was ragged.

  “Are you okay?”

  Matasa nodded, even though he was pale and sweating far more than he should be. “Let’s get the herd home. I’ll be okay.”

  “By all that is holy under the Light, what happened?” demanded Elder Yorumo as he swept his arm toward the tired, blood-flecked herd.

  The Great Sun hovered on the hazy horizon, casting its warm glow on the outskirts of the oasis village. The bleating herd drew the attention of the people caring for the date and olive trees. They rushed to see what the commotion was.

  Matasa closed his eyes and lifted his head skyward to pray to the Great Sun Anuu. His side was on fire, and he could hardly breathe because of it.

  His brother, Harinda, gave him a concerned look as he took the wounded doe from Matasa’s aching shoulders. Barking dogs and shouting men ushered the bedraggled herd off the hard dirt path to the night pens as the seven elders mobbed the two boys.

  Finyaka produc
ed the ghost hound ears to stave off questions, and the elders exchanged glances.

  “How big was the pack?” Elder Akmalo snatched the proffered ears from the trembling Finyaka and examined them then passed them on to the other elders.

  “Over a dozen,” gasped Matasa. It was hard to focus because the pain was getting worse.

  Finyaka took a knee in the shade of a date palm to inspect Karas’ side.

  “Where is Nahrem?” asked Elder Nuroimo, first among the Council as he leaned on his staff. His assistants stood nearby, waiting for instructions.

  “Skinning the dead. He’s trying to salvage what he can of the day.” The pain was making it hard to speak, but Matasa had to get it all out.

  “Natam, Hursuh, Nyrud, go to grazing hill and tell Nahrem to return, quickly. Finish what he started and report to me when you return. I want to know what you see.” Elder Nuroimo waved for his three assistants to be on their way.

  More villagers took their place and congregated around the two boys. In the back of the crowd, arguments erupted while others murmured, trading false rumours of what had happened. Everyone had a different take and was ready to defend it.

  “Elder Nuroimo, Matasa’s hurt. So is Karas.” Finyaka daubed at the wound in Kara's shoulder with the end of his ankle-length wrap.

  “How bad is it, boy?” Elder Nuroimo squeezed Matasa’s shoulder.

  “My right side… hurts. One of... the hounds… tackled me.” Matasa was starting to see spots.

  Someone pulled his stained tunic over his head, and cold hands gingerly examined his side, which blossomed with pain at each touch. Matasa gasped and almost fell, but the hands kept him standing. His head lolled as he closed his eyes.

  “One of the horns caught you. It’s not deep, but it bled a great deal, and you’re bruised where the hound struck you. You have bruised ribs, no doubt.” Elder Yorumo removed his hands and cleaned them on his sash, staining it with Matasa’s blood. “Minan, find the wise Sinaya. We need her healing arts.”