From the Author
The first installment may be over, but Janis and Scott, as well as the entire XGeneration series, are just warming up. And XGeneration 2: The Watchers is available here.
At a young age, Brad Magnarella discovered the worlds of Marvel Comics, text-based gaming, The Boss, and Stephen King, roughly in that order. The prize, however, was a creek that wound past his suburban neighborhood, providing him and his friends a wooded sanctuary in which to lose themselves while discovering natural Florida. A graduate of the University of Florida and American University, Brad has long aspired to write fiction from the places that colored his childhood. His books include the XGeneration series and the metaphysical trilogy, The Prisoner and the Sun.
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Halloween Magic & Mayhem
Book One
Stella Wilkinson
Copyright Stella Wilkinson 2013
All characters herein are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher or author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book was written, produced and edited in the UK, where some spelling, grammar and word usage will vary from US English.
Description
How on earth did I end up here? I was supposed to be at a party kissing the boy of my dreams, instead I’m dancing naked on the town common, on Halloween, with a Coven of strange women who might be witches, a bunch of zombies that I have to return to their graves, a talking crow, and my pet ghost thrown in for good measure. Just yesterday I was an ordinary teenager…
On her sixteenth birthday Emily Rand discovers that she is a witch. Unable to control her spells she unwittingly raises zombies, and corporealizes the ghost haunting her house. She finds herself in a race against time to put everything right if she has any hope of getting to a certain Halloween party and seeing a certain boy again.
Halloween Magic and Mayhem is a young-adult paranormal comedy romance.
Chapter One
HOW ON EARTH did I end up here? I was supposed to be at a party kissing the boy of my dreams, instead I’m dancing naked on the town common, on Halloween, with a Coven of strange women who might be witches, a bunch of zombies that I have to return to their graves, a talking crow, and my pet ghost thrown in for good measure. Just yesterday I was an ordinary teenager…
One day earlier…
I left school on Friday, thrilled to be free for the weekend. My best friends, Bryony and Kate, were discussing what costumes to wear to Tamsin Warner’s Halloween party tomorrow night, and I was super excited too.
Tamsin seemed to have invited everyone in our year, as well as a few kids from the other school in town, one of whom was Sean Carrey.
Sean Carrey is the boy I like.
I had been in the local shopping centre a few weeks ago with my mates, when a bunch of boys started showing off in front of us on their skateboards. One, in particular, had caught my attention. He had brown hair with a floppy fringe that he kept flicking off his face, big brown eyes, and a dazzling smile. He knew he was cute. What had amazed me most about him was that he seemed to think I was cute too. Despite my being surrounded by some quite pretty female friends, he kept smiling at me. Me, plain, boring Emily Rand.
The only interesting thing about me is maybe my hair. It’s long and dark. But my eyes are dishwater grey, I think my lips are too thin and my nose is too big. My dad keeps telling me I’m going to be “a great beauty some day”, just like my mother was, but I think that day is quite a long way off right now. Plus, my dad is biased.
Anyway, this boy kept looking over, and my friends all noticed and started nudging me. I was embarrassed but secretly delighted.
Despite being nearly sixteen I haven’t had much attention from boys, and this one was perfect for my first serious crush. He didn’t go to our school, which was a major plus point. I’ve known all the boys in my school since we were five and clearly remember the phase where they all thought it was hilariously funny to wipe snot on my back; not to mention that time I spent the night at Kate’s house and my spare knickers fell out of my bag onto the classroom floor and all the boys threw them back and forth whilst I howled in the toilets and refused to come out for three hours.
This boy had not been part of any of that; he was a mystery, without any childish past, and did I mention he was cute?
After about twenty minutes of showing off in front of us, his friends got chatting to my friends, and so naturally we talked a bit.
His name was Sean Carrey, he went to Fairgreen School on the other side of town, he was sixteen, and he liked pizza and he loved the Alien movies. That was about all I learned. Then his mates wanted to push off and he didn’t ask for my number or anything, he just said, “See you around, Emily.”
But I never did see him around.
I kept hoping to run into him again, despite being really nervous about doing so. I made my friends go back to the shopping centre every Saturday after, but we never found them.
Then last Monday Tamsin invited us to her party, and she mentioned that some of her friends were coming from Fairgreen. I didn’t want to ask her about Sean, but I didn’t have to; it turned out he had already asked Tamsin about me.
She was almost green with envy as she told me that Sean had specifically asked her if I was going to be there.
I blushed a lot, but it was a happy blush. He had remembered my name, and he told Tamsin to tell me that he was looking forward to seeing me at the party.
I was terrified that he might not really actually like me, and just as terrified that he might. I had no idea how to talk to a boy I liked. Was I supposed to flirt with him and pretend to be confident? It was far more likely I would sit in a corner and hope he’d come and talk to me. I just prayed I wouldn’t completely humiliate myself by being totally unable to say anything remotely intelligent.
But it didn’t matter, the important thing was that at long last there was a boy who liked me, and I was going to see him at the party.
I did a private happy dance when I got home, and then rushed to ask my dad if we could forget about my big birthday dinner.
Halloween is also my birthday, and this year is my Sweet Sixteen. Dad was going to lay on a “family dinner”, which was nice of him but I don’t actually like my so-called family.
By that I mean my dad’s girlfriend and her son.
My mum died when I was five. I don’t remember her that much, but it meant my dad and I were pretty close as I was growing up. So you can imagine how much I resented it when he starting to date again two years ago. Not only did his new girlfriend move into our house, but she brought her son with her: an immature pain in the bum called Duncan, who is only six months younger than me and is now in my class at school.
Dad’s forever telling me I have to make sure Duncan’s included in stuff I do out of school, but I hate having him follow me around, and I was relieved when he found his own group of idiots to hang with. Unfortunately it seemed they were also invited to the party.
Dad was disappointed about the family dinner but understood that I would rather go to a party.
“Maybe we can all get together beforehand and then you kids could go out after?” he suggested.
Personally I had intended to spend most of the early evening getting ready for the party, so I came up with an alternative.
“How about we have the family dinner on Sunday night instead? That way I can celebrate my sixteenth two nights running.” I gave him an enthusiastic smile and he agreed, actually believing I wanted the family dinner. So we were all happy.
“By the way,” he’d added, “your aunt calle
d and said to remind you to go see her after school on Friday. She’s invited you to stay for dinner. She said to tell you not to forget.”
So school was finally over for the week, we had a party to look forward to tomorrow night, Sean Carrey was going to be there, and I was hoping for some decent money from my relatives for my sixteenth. Everything seemed good with the world.
I separated from Bryony and Kate at the corner of Milton Place and went to see my Aunt Iris.
Everyone in town knows Iris is a witch. Not the kind that rides around on a broomstick in a black hat, but the kind that burns incense and wears a lot of pagan jewellery. She doesn’t make any secret of being a witch. In fact, she says it’s good for business. She runs one of those shops that sells a lot of witchy paraphernalia. Books, coloured candles, silver pentagrams and crystal balls, all that sort of stuff.
Iris is my mother’s sister, the only family I have left on that side, so we’re pretty close. I’d secretly always hoped that she and my dad would fall in love, but they don’t really get on. Mainly because of the witch thing, I think.
The bell tinkled over the door as I entered her shop and her cat, Lyra, jumped down off the windowsill to greet me. Lyra is generally quite unfriendly to most people, but she loves me, and twined around my legs purring hello.
I bent to stroke her, enjoying the dim light of the shop and its wonderful smells.
Iris came round from behind the counter and gave me a warm hug.
“Thank the goddess you’re here at last,” she said.
“I only finished school twenty minutes ago.”
“I know, I’m just eager to see you.” She walked over to the door and flipped the sign from Open to Closed, then locked the door.
“Aren’t you supposed to be open until five?” I asked, confused.
She nodded. “Yes, but it’s a quiet day, and you and I really need to talk undisturbed.”
“That sounds ominous,” I said in surprise.
She gave a strained laugh. “It’s not ‘ominous’, no, but it is important.”
We went upstairs to the flat she lived in over the shop.
Considering how important whatever it was she wanted to talk about apparently was, she took a very long time to get to the point. First we sat out on her roof terrace and drank nettle tea, while she asked me a bunch of questions about school. Then, when it got too cold, we went inside and carved pumpkins together while she told me lots of spooky Halloween stories. It wasn’t until she’d made dinner and we sat down at her old oak table that she cleared her throat and said she had something to tell me.
I twirled spaghetti around my fork and tried to look interested, even though I was actually focusing on not getting tomato sauce on my clothes.
“You’re sixteen tonight,” she said, a bit overdramatically.
“No,” I corrected her, “my birthday is tomorrow. You know that.”
She shook her head, “You officially turn sixteen tonight at midnight. There are things you should know before it happens.”
“If this is about sex, then Dad already gave me the talk; it was embarrassing enough the first time, please don’t make me sit through it again!” I begged her.
She laughed, “It’s not about sex.”
“Well, that’s a relief anyway. What else should I know?”
“You should know about your powers. I think they’re going to be quite strong, and so you mustn’t do anything stupid.”
I looked at her in disbelief. “Powers?”
She nodded impatiently, “Yes, your magic powers. You do realise you are a witch?”
Chapter Two
I ROLLED MY eyes. “Yeah, right, and monkeys might fly out of my butt.”
“Don’t be sarcastic, Emily, it encourages negative energy.”
“OK, Iris, but seriously, I know you are into all…this,” I waved my hand towards her fireplace, which doubled up as an altar, “but it’s not my bag. I mean I like wearing black, it’s better than this cat sick yellow they make us wear in school – sorry, Lyra, no offence,” I apologised briefly to the cat, who licked her nose in response.
“But the black outfits aside, I don’t really dig the image, and I don’t want to be considered a freak at school, which I would be if I went around saying I was a witch!”
“Do you consider me a freak?” Iris asked as if it had genuinely never occurred to her.
I could hardly say yes, even though I wanted to. “Oh, ah, um,” was the best I could come up with.
Mercifully she just laughed. “Thanks, Emily. Listen carefully: you are going to become a witch at midnight whether you want it or not. You don’t have to tell anyone and you really don’t have to wear black. But you do need to know what you’re doing. Please, just humour me in this?”
“Humph, fine, I’m a witch.” I said. “So, do I have some magical destiny to fulfil?”
She furrowed her brow, “No, why would you?”
“Well, I don’t know,” I spread my hands, “Isn't that normally how it works?”
“Not so far as I know. You just get your powers. It’s up to you what you do with them. But you have to be careful; there are rules, of course, against openly using them.”
“Right, yes, rules. Will the vampires rip my head off? Or the Ministry snap my wand or something?” I said, letting the sarcasm creep back in.
Iris sighed slightly but all she said was, “Your wand. Mustn’t forget that.” She went over to the Welsh dresser against the wall, and reaching right up to the highest shelf, she reverentially took down a small grey book and a stick.
Placing them on the table in front of me she wiped a tear from her eye.
“This is your sixteenth-birthday present from your mother. Her wand and her Grimoire.”
“These were my mother’s? She thought she was a witch as well?” I said it sort of jokingly, to cover my emotions. My mother left these for me? I choked back a tear of my own; I would think about that later. I ran my finger down the dusty cover of the grey book.
Iris put her hands on her hips. “She didn’t just think it, Emily, she was an amazing kitchen witch.”
“Kitchen witch?” I was lost now.
“Yes, she was particularly skilled at brewing. And your Grannie Mara is a fantastic hedge witch, so you have it from both sides.”
This time I choked on a laugh of disbelief. “Oh, come on! You can’t tell me that my father’s mother is a witch too? My dad would bust a gut.”
“Your father chooses to ignore the obvious all too often,” she said sadly. “Are you not aware of your grandmother’s unusual herb garden?”
I looked at her in amazement. It was true my grandmother did grow all sorts of unusual plants, and on the rare occasions we visited her she would show her garden to me and try to teach me the names of the things.
I struggled to get my head around it all. Again I retreated into taking the mickey to move past something I wasn’t ready to comprehend. I picked up the wand.
“It’s a stick,” I said flippantly.
“Yes,” Iris said calmly, “in essence it is a stick. The wand has no actual power of its own, but it will give your magic some direction. The crystal in the end will enhance your magic too, making it stronger.”
I looked at the end, and buried in the wood was indeed a small crystal. I waved the wand around.
“Expelli…something!” I intoned, then looked around expectantly.
Iris huffed; I think I was starting to annoy her. “This isn’t Harry Potter, Emily. And secondly, you don’t actually have any magic, yet.”
I put the stick down and picked up the book. “What’s a Grimoire when it’s at home?”
“It’s basically an instruction manual. How to cast a circle, how to create magical objects like talismans and amulets, how to perform magical spells, charms and divination, and also how to summon or invoke supernatural entities.”
I flipped through the pages, a little overcome as I saw it was filled with my mother’s neat handwriting.
“OK, Aunt Iris. Thank you for these presents. Is there anything else I should know?” I wanted to go home now and look at my mother’s book.
Iris stroked Lyra as she jumped onto her lap. “Oh, Em. There’s so much you need to learn, but perhaps you’ve had enough for one night?”
I nodded.
She stood up. “The fact you inherited the craft from both sides is going to make you very powerful, do you understand? But until tomorrow we don’t know exactly what your powers will be, so just be careful not to do anything stupid – and promise you’ll call me if you have any questions?”
She then took off one of her necklaces and put it around my neck. “From Lyra and me, for protection. Happy Birthday, sweetie.” She planted a kiss on my forehead and I gave her a hug, before collecting up my new belongings, stuffing them in my school bag and heading home.
That night I sat up late reading my mother’s Grimoire. It was an amazing book and my mother had clearly taken all this witch stuff very seriously. How could I never have known? Why hadn’t my father told me? I knew he liked to bury his head in the sand, but was I really a witch?
Inside the front cover of the book was a poem of sorts, entitled “The Witches Rede”. It said:
Bide the witch’s law ye must
In perfect love and perfect trust
Eight words the Witches Rede fulfil:
An ye harm none, do what ye will.
What ye send forth comes back to thee
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