Academy of Magic Collection

by Angelique S Anderson et al.

  Outside, I heard Mum’s car engine rev and Da yelling. A moment later, gravel crunched as the vehicle pulled away.

  “There now,” Granny Al said, putting her teacup back on her belt. She clapped her hands then looked at me, her wide blue eyes studying my face. “Now, your test. What did you see?”

  “The cups mended themselves.”

  “No, they didn’t. I mended them.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mended them. With magic.”

  “Oh,” I said, then stared at the cupboard. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

  “Wonderland.”

  “Like in the story?”

  “Like in the story.”

  “Is it…is it a real place?”

  Al laughed. “More real than this place.”

  “Can I go there?”

  “Oh, yes. You must. You have an important job to do in Wonderland.”

  “What is it?”

  “You must protect the princess. That’s your job. To protect the princess.”

  “Who told you that?” I asked, not feeling so happy to learn I had to look after some princess.

  “The Caterpillar, of course. It’s your destiny.”

  “But I don’t really like princesses.”

  “Doesn’t that funny little man in your video game save the princess? The Italian chap?”

  “Mario?”

  She chuckled. “Is that his name?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Then you be like Mario and protect the princess.”

  “But Granny Al, you didn’t tell me.”

  “Didn’t tell you what?”

  “If I passed the test.”

  “You, my boy, were born to see colors. All of them. Even the secret ones no one else sees but me,” she said, then kissed me on the head once more.

  And while my heart was a confused mess about my mum, knowing then that I was special meant everything to me. What Al neglected to tell me was that special people like us had a death sentence hanging over our heads. And in a year’s time, Granny Al’s ability to see all the colors, even the secret ones, would cost her life.

  The rev of an engine across the street pulled my attention away. I went to the window of the old service station and looked out.

  The girl’s mother was on her way somewhere.

  No sign of Lacey.

  Never a sign of Lacey.

  Why did the girl keep herself locked up like that? I grinned, thinking of Al’s words. My own Princess Peach. But Lacey was a recluse, a recluse who was about to be sucked into a very mad and very dangerous world: Wonderland.

  Chapter Three

  Cork

  Around three o’clock, she finally emerged. Lacey got back into her car and headed across town. Night shift. Like always. Same routine, day in and day out. They drove to the restaurant, passing over the bridge above Tuxedo Creek once more. It was raining—still. The skies were gray. I hadn’t seen the sun all day. As we drove over the creek, I looked down to see the mermaid sitting there. She stopped combing her hair long enough to watch Lacey’s car pass by. And then she looked at me. Smiling coquettishly, she waved.

  No way, lady. I know how that ends up.

  Driving across town, they reached the bar once more. They pulled their car into the parking lot. I circled the block once, giving them a chance to get inside, then parked my truck in the back.

  At this rate, I was beginning to become a barfly. Not a habit I wanted to encourage. But my stakeout snacks were running thin, and I‘d been thinking about the steak and fries salad all day, despite my hesitations.

  I headed inside.

  They were watching American football—again. The crowd cheered loudly when I entered. I headed to the back once more, taking up the same seat. I was protected from the back and could see the door and the kitchen from this vantage point. Thanks to a divider, Lacey wouldn’t likely notice me.

  The same waitress appeared at my table. “Haven’t left yet?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Unfortunately, no.”

  She chuckled. “What can I get you?”

  “Steak salad and a Guinness.”

  “Keep this up, and next time you can order the usual,” she said with a laugh, then headed off.

  I scanned the room. A couple of the locals eyed me over. I gave them a hard look. They turned away. While Granny Al had taught me to see all the colors, even the invisible ones, what she hadn’t readied me for was life without her—or Da. No one could have prepared me for what was to come or that hard edge I was going to have to build around me to survive it.

  The bus dropped me off at the end of the lane. Da, Al, and I had been living on the Isle of Skye for a year, moving there from South Wales right after Mum left. The driveway to Granny Al’s crooked little house was at least two miles long, but she liked it like that. No one ever came to visit. No one ever bothered us. Her house, buried in the woods, was virtually unseen. Which was why no one had noticed the day it caught on fire.

  I smelled smoke in the air long before I even saw the flames. From the moment I got off the bus, I could feel something was wrong. I raced to the house to see the entire place engulfed in flames—blue flames. Black smoke twisted up into the sky.

  I was about to shout for help when someone grabbed me, placing their hand over my mouth.

  “Stay silent,” Da whispered in my ear. “They found us.”

  Da picked me up, and we rushed through the woods away from the house.

  Behind us, I heard hounds braying.

  “But Al,” I whispered.

  “I’ll go back for her, but I need to get you safe.”

  Da carried me through the woods to the creek in the valley. Behind us, the sound of the dogs drew closer.

  “Da,” I whispered, terror in my voice.

  “Look into the water. See how it’s like a mirror? A mirror. Remember that you can always get around through the mirrors. Here, take this,” Da said, pushing the wand Al always carried my way. “Now, take my hand,” Da said. He grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight. “Cork,” he said, then tugged me into the water.

  I was about to protest when a weird feeling swept over me. I felt like someone had tugged me by the front of the shirt and flung me across the room. Colorful light whirled all around me. A moment later, I felt a weird snap. I tumbled forward, falling onto the pavement. Nausea swept over me as I picked myself up. Our feet still wet, Da and I stood on a busy city street. I cast a glance behind me. There was a mirror on a pole in the corner to help the drivers see around the blind spot.

  I swayed.

  “Don’t move for a minute, or you’ll be sick,” Da told me.

  “What happened? Where are we?” I asked.

  “Cork.”

  “Cork…Ireland?”

  Da nodded, then bent down and looked in my eyes. “I’m going back for my mum. You see that coffee shop over there? Go get something to eat. Stay there ’til I come for you. Understand?” he said, then pulled out his wallet, removed the bills, then stuffed them into my shirt pocket.

  “Da,” I protested.

  “Do as I say, boy. And keep this close,” he said, tapping my hand holding the wand. “Now go,” he told me. “Watch for cars.”

  Bewildered and scared, I did what he said. There was a gap in the traffic, so I rushed across the street. Only when I was safely on the other side did I look back.

  My father was gone. I was alone with a fistful of bills and a magic wand. At seven years old, I would never see my da or Granny Al ever again.

  Chapter Four

  Some People Have it Coming

  “Those legs, man. See that?”

  “Forget the legs. Check out that ass.”

  “Tight as a tin drum.”

  I gritted my teeth and leaned back into the shadows, willing myself not to beat the two men at the table nearby to death.

  American football was blasting on the TV, the bar patrons cheering. The pub was busier tonight. Everywhere I look
ed, people were eating pizza, chicken wings, and fries. The men at the table beside me had been here longer than common sense dictated. They’d spotted her an hour ago when she’d come to the bar to get a fresh cup of coffee. Since then, watching Lacey had become their personal spectator sport.

  “Janet looked like that in high school. Remember? And now…I’m married to Jabba the Hutt,” the guy in the camo jacket said, his eyes firmly glued on Lacey who was working in the kitchen.

  “At least you had Janet when she looked like that. Peg has always been fat. More cushion for the pushin’. But still,” his buddy said, making both of them laugh.

  Were some men just born assholes or was it bred into them? If Al had heard a man say something like that, she would have used her magic wand to shrivel their nuts off. I missed that mean old bird.

  The light went off in the kitchen.

  I pulled out my watch. Midnight again.

  The men looked at one another, their disappointment too evident.

  At least the show was over.

  Pots and pans banged once more. Lacey tidied up the kitchen with practiced ease. It wasn’t long after that she emerged at the bar once more. Her mother wasn’t there tonight. Lacey filled a to-go cup with hours-old coffee then headed toward the back.

  I was just pulling a bill from my wallet when my senses tripped. The two men at the table beside me started talking in low tones. Their gazes shifted toward the kitchen. They rose, the guy in the camo teetering, and headed toward the door.

  Quickly dropping my cash, I followed a discreet distance behind them.

  The rain had caused a thick bank of fog to cover the town. The parking lot was drenched in mist. As I made my way behind the two men, I listened as they whispered. The words I caught on the breeze made a sick feeling grip my stomach. Moving silently, I went to the back of my truck and grabbed the tire iron. Turning, I headed toward her car.

  Golden light gleamed from the back door of the bar. She stuck in her earbuds, the blue light of her cellphone screen casting a glow on her face. Standing in the doorway, a pizza box in one hand, a coffee cup in the other, she called, “Night, Ron,” then closed the door behind her. She headed down the back steps toward her car.

  From the other side of the parking lot, I saw two shadows make their way toward her.

  A murderous rage swept over me. Dodging between the other parked trucks, I moved quickly toward the men.

  “Grab her before she gets in,” the guy in the camo hissed a split second before I dropped the crowbar on his head.

  He yelped in pain, clutching his head.

  “What the fu—” the other man, who’d been wearing a cap, said as he turned around to see what was happening. His word was cut short when I punched him the mouth.

  Behind us, I heard the rumble of the engine and rattle of the rusty muffler on Lacey’s car. Her headlights flicked on.

  Turning, I shoved the man with the hat between two parked vehicles. He swung, but he was drunk. I kicked him in the stomach. He stumbled backward.

  Cursing, the guy in the camo rushed me from behind. I whacked him hard in the side with the iron. And this time, I heard a crack as the man’s rib—or ribs, I really didn’t care which—broke.

  He let out a yelp and recoiled. His buddy rushed me, grabbing my arm. He yanked my hand, slamming it down on the side-mirror of a parked car. The mirror shattered, cutting my hand. I dropped the iron. Turning, I met the guy’s eyes. Blood was trickling from his mouth. Had I broken some teeth? Pulling back, I bashed him with my head. He stumbled and fell.

  I turned as he faced his friend once more. Nursing his ribs, the camo guy rushed me like he was going to throw a punch, but when I lowered my gaze and lifted my bloody fist, he stopped.

  In the parking lot behind us, gravel churned as Lacey pulled away.

  Safe. She was safe.

  “Jesus, Billy. Let’s get the hell out of here,” the man on the ground called as he struggled to his feet.

  I grabbed the man in the camo by the front of his jacket. “You come back here again, you die. You look at that girl again, you die. Both of you. Understand?”

  The drunk winced. “Yeah. Yeah, man. We got it,” he stammered.

  I gave him a hard push. Both men fled. I listened as they retreated into the darkness. A moment later, their tires squealed as they pulled onto the street—in the opposite direction of Lacey.

  Breathing hard, I stood there for a moment, letting my heart calm once more.

  I should have killed them both.

  Assholes like that were always lurking everywhere. She needed to be more careful. Why wasn’t she more careful?

  “Fuck,” I swore. Grabbing the tire iron, I headed back across the parking lot to my truck and hopped in. Clicking on the engine, I pulled out onto the street and headed across town. My head was swimming. Bright dots of light appeared before my eyes. No time for that. No time for any of this. I had to make sure she was all right. I gunned the gas, hoping like hell I hadn’t lost her. What if she stopped somewhere? A shop? A friend’s house? No. That wasn’t her. I knew where she was headed.

  Driving down the same familiar roads, I clicked off my light as I pulled up outside the drab gray house once more. The porch light was off, but to my surprise, I caught the blue glow of a cellphone. She was sitting on the broken front porch swing. At one in the morning, she sat there, sipping coffee and eating pizza by herself.

  Her face buried in the screen of her phone, she hadn’t noticed me.

  I exhaled deeply. She was fine. She was safe.

  My hand ached and was bleeding profusely. Grabbing a T-shirt lying on the seat, I wrapped it around my hand. I’d clean the cut later, after she’d gone to sleep. After she was safely inside.

  “Lacey Crane,” I whispered to the girl. “You owe me one.”

  “Hit him again,” Tommy yelled. “Kick his ass.”

  I’d let Archie hit me the first time. At this point, I was getting pretty good reeling in the big-mouthed, small-brained boys. Let them think you’re a punk, and then smash the shite out of them.

  Like all the others, Archie swung once more.

  And then, I let him have it. I heard the sound of his nose breaking as the boy flew off his feet.

  The cheers from his friends died in their throats as I pounced on the bully. I grabbed him by the shirt and punched him again, and again, and again.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what’s happening here?” Sister Katherine called, pushing the other boys aside. “Liddle! Liddle, get off of Archie right now,” she said, pulling me by the back of my shirt.

  I struggled to get in one more smack before Sister Katherine pulled me to my feet.

  Archie lay in the dirt, blood trickling down his nose. That would teach him to talk to me like that.

  “Corbin,” Sister Katherine said, exasperation in her voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Beating Archie’s face in,” I replied.

  At that, she grabbed me by the arm and yanked me toward the rectory.

  I shrugged her hand off and followed along behind her. Without another word, she led me to Father O’Toole’s office. She pointed to the seat in front of his big desk, then turned and slammed the door behind her.

  I inhaled deeply, closed my eyes, and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  The door opened and closed. I heard the seat at the desk squeak as Father O’Toole sat down. He shuffled some papers but didn’t say anything. After a few long moments, I looked up. He was filling out some forms and ignoring me completely.

  “Well?” I asked.

  “Well what, Corbin?”

  “What’s my punishment this time?”

  Father O’Toole harrumphed then shuffled some more papers. He signed his name to some forms, removed his glasses, then sat back in his seat. “The way I see it, I have three options. Keep you here until you turn eighteen, send you to juvenile detention, or emancipate you as you have repeatedly requested. Given it is two months from your majority�
��” he said, then slid some papers across the desk to me.

  He had signed off on my emancipation request.

  “The next time you beat someone up, it’s on your shoulders, not ours. Get your things, and get out.”

  Without another word, I grabbed the papers off his desk and headed out of the office.

  “Corbin,” Father O’Toole called.

  I stopped.

  “I hope, one day, the Lord sees fit to fill that hole inside you. Until then, try to stay out of trouble.”

  Without looking back, I turned and left.

  I had been living at Saint Joseph’s School for Boys since the garda picked me up the day Da left me on the streets of Cork and never came back. Everyone assumed I was an orphan. And I never told them otherwise. My da, I guessed, was dead. My mum missing—might as well have been dead. And Al? Well, even though she was strong, she was old. If Al was still alive, she’d have come for me years ago. But she never did. No one did. At least, no one came that day. But it wouldn’t be long before Wonderland found me once more.

  Chapter Five

  Curiouser and Curiouser

  I woke with a jolt before dawn the next morning to the sound of someone tapping on my window. I opened my eyes to find an old woman looking at me through the glass.

  Her. It was her. Lacey’s grandmother, whom everyone called Nan, was standing on the street beside my truck. But I knew who she really was, even if Lacey didn’t.

  She made a motion for me to roll down the window.

  I inhaled deeply, feeling the massive pressure in my temples. My head ached. I rolled down the window.