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

by Melinda Kucsera

  There began an odd, squirmy feeling in her stomach, as if something was moving inside her. It was an awful feeling, like her insides were being torn up. No, like they were shriveling up and dying. This wasn’t her pain; this was coming from him. What was wrong with this kid that was making him so sick, and what were the doctors doing to him that made it even worse, all these drugs and poisons they gave to kids? She hated all the medicines, all the ‘procedures’ that really meant pain, all the ‘treatments’ that made you even sicker when they told you it would help. It never helped. Didn’t they know that?

  The look on Reis’s face was changing now. He had stopped singing. He was staring at her, pulling away, his face somewhere between shock and disbelief and confusion. She was beginning to understand that, somehow, he could sense what she felt, the same as she could sense him. They were connected. He knew she was really angry and thought it must mean she was angry with him. And now he was afraid of her.

  Stunned, she dropped her arms. He scooted up to the end of the bed and pulled the covers over himself in that age-old ritual of protecting yourself from the boogeyman, who everyone knew couldn’t get you if you stayed under the covers.

  Aamira was wet with sweat and tears and she was scrunched up carrying his pain as well as her own anger, but she wasn’t mad at him, and she tried to tell him that. He wasn’t listening, just tucked himself up a little further away from her. She was dismayed; how could he think she hated him? She loved him! She had just given him something special, hadn’t she?

  But the pain, oh, the pain; she needed a way to get rid of this pain inside her. She felt as if the world was crushing her, as if she couldn’t last one more minute with whatever was happening inside her. Before she vomited in his presence again, she ran to the bathroom and slammed the door, fell on her knees more than knelt, and upchucked into the toilet. She couldn’t stand it, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She grabbed the bowl and screamed her anger, her pain, her fear, her dismay at her love being misunderstood, felt as if she was glowing hot and would burn through everything she touched.

  And at that moment the toilet bowl broke apart, shattered in sharp pieces of flying shrapnel in that tiny, enclosed space, water gushing from the broken connection. Suddenly Aamira was soaking wet, her overheated body sprayed with cold water. The shock was startling, followed quickly by confusion combined with guilt that she had somehow busted a toilet.

  The bathroom door flew open and nurses came crowding in and the world tipped sideways. Someone hoisted her off the icky floor and deposited her on the empty bed next to Reis, who was still cowering. Concerned faces appeared and disappeared before her. Gloved hands were touching her, poking at scratches that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Voices were discussing everything from the shattered toilet to the mess on the floor. All Aamira wanted to do was go to sleep.

  Aamira became the talk of the entire wing but feigned innocence, and no one was the wiser. Nothing Reis said made sense to anyone and his version of the story was quickly dismissed as the effects of profound illness compounded by heavy medications and too much excitement. Aamira was secretly pleased she had given the nurses and attendants a bit of fun debating everything from a defective toilet, to a sudden spike in water pressure, to a well-placed cherry bomb.

  Reis never went near her again, made a point of staying far away, in fact. That part made her sad because she knew she could never hurt the boy she loved, but she found out from one of the nurses that he was going home, too, so maybe this health-sharing, illness-gathering thing had worked. She didn’t know where Reis lived, so she might never know for certain, but was definitely feeling better now that she knew (kind of) what to do with the sick feelings that weren’t really hers.

  Aamira couldn’t tell anyone what she had really done, not even her mother, because grown-ups never believed things like that. (Although her mother believed in all sorts of gods and other silly crap that her grandmama had taught her.) If she even tried, she knew she wouldn’t have the words to make it sound believable, and for someone to not believe her might spoil the magic of it. That idea made Aamira laugh; maybe she wasn’t so different from her mother after all.

  Since that last stay in the hospital, Aamira no longer played like the other children, didn’t like being touched, and no longer engaged in rough housing for fear she would ‘absorb’ someone else’s sickness again. She overheard Mama tell Papa that even if it had been a god that had cursed her only child, she was now forgiven and the spell released because Aamira was home again. But Mama was often silly.

  All Aamira had to say on the matter was “I am never going into the hospital again. Ever.”

  It didn’t quite work out that way.

  Now a hospital volunteer in the children’s ward, teenage Aamira’s magical talent as a budding Healer greatly improves their chances of ever going home again. What she doesn’t expect is the mysterious entity who comes to take them: you should never argue with someone possessing that much power. Join us for the next exciting installment in Aamira’s journey in Wayward Magic !

  About the Author

  As a newspaper reporter, Realtor, and paralegal, Barbara Letson told other people's stories. Now she tells her own, writing tales filled with magic, mayhem, monsters and ghosts.

  Her urban paranormal fantasy series, Fort Hopeless, follows Bobbi Harwood, a reluctant witch who returns to her ancestral home to discover she is next in line to inherit the family curse and is charged with protecting the town from ancient harm. ‘Aamira’ is the origin story of one of the main characters. The first novel in this exciting new series, Fortress of Fear, releases in Fall 2020. For more by Barbara Letson, visit www.ghost-stalkers.com.

  Don’t forget to grab your copy of our next anthology, Wayward Magic, featuring another chapter of Aamira’s story.

  Parallel Princess

  The Siege

  C. K. Rieke

  “Parallel Princess: The Siege” fits into Hidden Magic because the protagonist, Princess Fallon, is swept into the Fae where a fairy leads her off to a strange looking character who’d been waiting for her.

  She’ll be stuck in the Fae for ten years before she’ll be back to get to her castle. It was a wizard’s spell that gets her to travel back and forth.

  I wanted to write this story as a sort of dark fairy tale where things don’t end up the way you might think. I wanted to send the reader to the Fae with creatures familiar and new as they try to figure out with Fallon why things are happening the way they are. Oh, and there’s lots of magic, especially at the end…

  C. K. Rieke

  Everything she thought she knew about reality is about to turn upside down . . .

  Princess Fallon’s life in the castle has been dreamy, but now her castle lay under siege by an army and she must make a choice: Should she stay at her home to face the encroaching army or use a spell that will sweep her off to another world?

  There’s a catch though… why is there always a catch…? In this dark fairy tale, things aren’t always as they seem— especially when magic is involved.

  Chapter One

  Her father always told her there were things in this world that were evil, wretched, and vile.

  Fallon never wanted to believe it, though. She was a princess after all…

  Her world was so lovely.

  That was, until the siege…

  “Hurry, princess, up into the keep.” Her handmaiden ushered her.

  An explosion roared out from the eastern wall, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

  “I don’t want to go; I don’t want to… I want to be with my mother, I want this to all go away, Celeste,” Princess Fallon said, clinging to her handmaiden’s soft dress.

  Celeste knelt, looking her squarely in the eyes. She was a tall woman with kind, knowing eyes and curly silver hair that fell down her back.

  “It was your father who told me we’re going to the keep, so we’re going to the keep.”

  Fallon heard men down the circ
ular staircase, their shouts and bickering echoed up through the torchlit chamber. A stark dread grew in her chest and she found herself short of breath. They were running in a long hall up from the lower parts of the castle.

  A single thought ran through her head as the men below yelled in barbarian yells; if I have to use it, I can, but I don’t want too… So much will be lost…

  “Come!” The handmaiden grabbed her by the wrist.

  Fallon didn’t resist, there was no way to go but up—below only spelled a certain kind of grizzly death or torture. She hadn’t even reached her twenties, and her waiting prince wouldn’t want her to die at the hands of such heathenish men with cheaply forged swords.

  They turned a corner and she was startled to find the piercing blue eyes of her mother glaring at her, as she’d almost run into the handmaiden.

  “There you are, Fallon!” Her mother took her hand with a hardened grip. “Hurry now! You’re always running behind.”

  The queen pulled her, and Fallon found it difficult to keep her mother’s pace as they ran up and out of the gray stone tower, along its wall, and toward the keep which loomed high above the rest of the castle. While running upon the wall’s path, Fallon looked back to see hordes of invaders looming upon the outskirts of Norwinder Castle—her home for as long as she’d drawn breath.

  “Why are they here, Mother?” she asked as they ran. “Why do they want to hurt us?”

  Her mother paused and glowered at her. “They want to hurt us just because they can. They’re mad, and they’re after you and your father. Now—we have to get you to your room. Do you remember what to do if the time comes?”

  Fallon hesitated, with her long blond hair waving in the strong wind. Another explosion erupted along the wall. The catapults slung fiery balls of raging blasts upon the outer walls of the city.

  “Come now,” her mother said with glassy, red eyes. “We’ve got to get you to safety.”

  Upon the wall that led to the inner keep of the castle, Fallon pulled her hand free. “No! I’m not going! Leve needs me. We’re going to wed next month and there’s naught to stop us. Our soldiers will fight them till there’s no more breath in their lungs.”

  “There’s going to be no more breath in your lungs if you don’t come, now!” the queen said, staring deeply in Fallon’s eyes, grabbing her wrist and jerking her urgently up the pathway as the men’s voices grew from behind.

  Then she could see them—men with wretched faces, with eyes full of a reddened, berserker fury. They were coming… they were gaining on them up the wall.

  Fallon gasped as her handmaiden tripped behind them.

  The queen had a moment of panic as she clutched onto Fallon’s hand like a vice. She also looked at the armored men running at them as they grunted and yelled out. Then another explosion ripped through the city.

  Her mother pulled Fallon’s hand, running up the wall.

  “No, we can’t leave her!” Fallon screamed, fighting to break free of her mother’s grip.

  The queen didn’t reply, only pulled her daughter up the wall’s edge as the men roared toward the handmaiden.

  “Mother, stop, mother, we have to help her…”

  The queen glared her icy blue eyes upon Fallon quickly. “Do you want to live? Or do you want to die this day? She’s lost. But you don’t have to be.”

  They ran up the length of wall to the keep’s gate just as the sun dipped down over the western mountains and the sky was cast in a gloomy, red hue.

  Just as the soldiers on the other side of the gate let them through, closing the keep’s thick, dark-wood doors, her mother knelt to look up into the princess’ eyes.

  “You remember what to do if the time comes? Right?”

  Fallon resisted but, after a long thought, nodded to her mother. “Yes,” she said, but it wouldn’t come to that. “My prince needs me.”

  They continued up the keep, striding up long stairways and gliding through torchlit corridors that smelled of peat and moss.

  They arrived at Fallon’s room soon after.

  Fallon’s eyes were wet with tears and worry as smoke billowed up from the city behind them. Frightful screams of pain and misery had filled her ears ever since Celeste had found her down in the flower-filled courtyard hours before.

  Her mother opened the door with a brass skeleton key and led them both in. Fallon was surprised to see a handful of soldiers already in her room, with the king standing behind them with weathered eyes. Beyond him was a thin window with the last breath of the red-glowing cascading sun within it.

  “Hurry,” the king said with a low, yet worried tone. His eyes were wide and wild, and he scratched the side of his face. “There’s no more time. They’re nearly here!”

  “No.” Fallon shook her head. “I won’t go. I won’t go!”

  The queen again knelt as the soldiers locked the door behind them. “Listen, my dear…” her icy, yet loving blue eyes stared into her daughter’s. “This is why your father did this. It’s for your protection. It’s to keep you safe. You’re the sole heir to all of this. It’s your duty to protect the realm. That’s why he did this. This is why your father entrusted Shadine to do this for us. He did this as a last resort for you to escape if the need ever came.”

  “I don’t trust him, though,” Fallon said, with tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t want to go. I can’t go!”

  “You must,” the king said, walking through his guards to her. He wrapped his large, callused hands around hers. “I’ve done this all for you, because you’re my only daughter. I have no sons, no other heirs, and I don’t need any. I love you, and only you. I need no others. But you have to live, Fallon my sweet. You have to live, no matter the cost.”

  Fallon sobbed then wiped away the tears as she tasted the saltiness in her mouth.

  “They’re not here yet,” she cried. “There’s still time, there’s still hope.”

  Then, the sounds of metal sword upon metal sword rang out from the other side of the door, with the sounds of grunting accompanying it and a bone-curdling feeling settled deep within Fallon. The soldiers swayed, ready for a fight as a black obelisk statuette gleamed by the back window.

  They’re here… at my door… they’ve gotten this far… I don’t want to die…

  “My baby,” the queen said as she wrapped her arms around Fallon, pulling her to the back windows of the large bedroom.

  As the skirmish ensued beyond the dark-wood door, her mother sobbed, holding her tightly. The soldiers within the room moved closer to the door in a line, holding out their spears, or gripping their swords tightly.

  “I don’t want to die like this,” Fallon said as her father looked back at her in frantic worry beneath his golden crown.

  Outside of the door the sudden shock of silence shuddered into the room.

  As the worry within her room grew like wild vines, a slow tapping resounded through the room as Fallon’s heart sank. It continued as a solid hilt of metal thunked on the solid door.

  “No one gets through this door!” the king thundered, with spit flinging from his lips and his fists clenched.

  The soldiers in their light armor shimmied, moving from side to side, unsure of what was on the other side of the door.

  “Don’t worry sweetie,” her mother said. “We’ll get through this.

  We’ll—”

  The door burst open with a thunderous roar, and through the splintered, swinging door the enemy came bursting forth.

  Fallon screamed as they ran into her room. They collided violently with the king’s men, ensuing in a vicious battle that overtook the room in a blood bath.

  She felt a fervent shaking of her shoulders as she watched the men battling in wild swordplay, then striking for the kill. “You need to go,” her mother said. “You need to go. You need to do it now!”

  “I don’t want to leave you,” Fallon said, watching as the soldiers fought valiantly against the invading men, her father even had his sword drawn, and her mo
ther cradled her in her arms.

  Fallon unsheathed a dagger from under a lavender-colored pillow in the corner of the room, which the queen snatched up immediately.

  “You’re not fighting!” the queen said. “You’re not a fighter. You’re a survivor.” The queen’s cheeks were streaming with streaks of tears. “You’re going, and that’s that. It was all planned for you like this.” She wiped the tears away as the soldiers fought for life and death. “Your father and I did this for you. I never dreamt it would come to this.” She choked up, barely able to speak the words. “You are our golden girl. You are everything to me, to us. If you don’t survive, then nothing will. You’re the best of us. You’re the only true blood left of us.”

  The brutal fighting continued as the soldiers on the king’s side fought brilliantly against the invading forces.

  A horrifying swipe cast its deadly strike into a soldier’s side; casting him down, as he clutched his side in agony; screaming and crying.

  “Now!” the king yelled to Fallon. “It’s not for us, it’s for you. Now!”

  Fallon looked up at her mother with longing eyes. “I don’t want to… I don’t want to leave you!”

  “You are going,” her mother said with her glaring blue eyes staring deeply into hers. “You’re going, and you’re going now.”

  “But you’ll die,” Fallon cried, wiping her tears away in horror. “You’ll both die.”

  Her mother clasped her hand over her cheeks as the horrendous fight ensued; and enemy troops flooded into her room.

  “Listen, Fallon,” she said. “You’re the last hope for us. You’ve got to do this. Even if your father and I die. You’re too important. Your brother and sister died. You’re the only Gregon left. You’re our last hope. If you have to sacrifice, then you must. But while you’re gone, remember all the while your mother and father love you greatly. Now go, go!”