by Elena Lawson
Soul Bound
Arcane Arts Academy - book 1
Elena LAWSON
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Copyright © 2021 Elena Lawson
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s
imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events is strictly
coincidental.
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Cover designed by MiblArt
1
Harper
That thieving bastard.
Did he really think I hadn’t seen him stuff the necklace into his sleeve? My teeth clenched and a furious heat sizzled down my spine, pooling in my stomach like acid. And who the hell wore a long-sleeve shirt in this weather, anyway? Even in a tank top with a headband holding back my long hair, my forehead was still varnished in a tacky layer of sweat.
The creep peeked up at me under his black and blue hair, smirking, before going back to leisurely ‘browsing’ through the wares at our booth. He picked up another necklace before placing it back down to fiddle with the potions, reading their attached tags.
They told me it would be easy when they left this morning. Putting me in charge of our tiny stall right at the heart of the French Market. It shouldn’t be too busy, they said. You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.
But they were wrong. The city square had come alive in the few hours since dawn. The sun came out to play, and with it came the morning shoppers and the fanny-pack-toting tourists. I groaned miserably, wishing to be anywhere but here.
Any excuse to go to New Orleans had my guardians here in an instant, speeding the old caravan down I-65 while singing about country roads and open highways. Lots of witches made New Orleans their home. It was easier to blend in when there were palmisters, psychics, and occult shops all over the place. Made it harder to decipher fakes from the real thing.
It was accepted here—more than that, both the locals and the tourists had come to expect it over the years, so long as the money kept raking in.
So, I understood why they liked it so much. Less hiding. And even the earth under the soles of my flip-flops seemed to buzz with power like nowhere else, eagerly waiting to answer a witch’s call.
Where are they?
I looked over the heads of the throng of people, the heady scent of roasting meat and the tang of fresh oranges wafting over from the food vendors. The smooth rhythm of sax and guitar rose from where two buskers played for nickels and dimes in the square. I couldn’t see them anywhere.
Damn. I set my jaw. Guess I’d have to deal with the douche myself.
Clenching my hand into a fist, I drew in a deep breath, squashing my body’s instinctual reflex to draw magic.
“Uh, hello? Anybody home?” The nasally voice broke my concentration and I cleared my throat, turning to find two chicks in their early twenties. Both icy-blonde with honey-colored eyes and showing off a generous amount of their perfectly bronzed skin. They looked like they belonged on the streets of Beverly Hills rather than a noisy square in New Orleans.
“Did you hear what I said?” the one on the right whined.
I eyed the guy still sifting through our booth, running his immoral fingers over the rings Leo had crafted the week before, lifting one to inspect the topaz gemstone.
Don’t even think about it…
He put the ring back down. But the weight in his sleeve seemed larger than it was a moment before. I took a steadying breath.
I’d deal with him in a minute.
“No, I’m sorry, what did you say?” I answered blonde number one in a rush, keeping a wary eye on the thief.
She huffed, holding up a potion bottle filled with a shimmery red liquid, matching her perfectly manicured crimson nails. “Does this stuff work?” she asked haughtily. Her eyes narrowed as she shook the lust potion in front of my face. “And, like, did you brew it? Or was it brewed by—you know, like, an actual witch?”
An actual witch? Was this bimbo serious?
There were true Alchemists and then there were those who attempted to replicate our natural abilities with crude science. They made some admirable attempts, but never quite accomplished the things they set out to do.
Metal into gold? Even I could do that with a simple sigil, and I was only seventeen and technically not allowed to practice underage magic—at least not without proper adult supervision.
But alas, it was frowned upon to use our abilities for direct monetary gain in mortal society.
Pretty much all the fun stuff is forbidden.
Philosopher’s stone? Well, once our people had the knowledge and the formula to do it, passed down through generations, but it was lost somewhere along the way from our homeland of Emeris to our new home in the mortal lands. But I really don’t think people should live forever anyway, and we live longer than most already.
I smiled sweetly at the pair of them, pitching my voice to match my expression. “Of course I didn’t brew it.” I clasped my hands together at my front and batted my eyelashes. “It was made by the Wicked Witch of the West at the stroke of midnight under the light of a full moon.”
Blonde number one sneered at me, curling a pink lip over blinding white teeth while blonde number two’s eyes widened, backing away from her friend. “You think you’re so edgy in that baggy tank top with your stubby nails and your pale skin and that obviously dyed red hair? Well, you’re not. And you just lost a paying customer.” Blonde number one sniffed, tossing the potion back onto the table. “Come on Fiona, lets go get a smoothie.”
I wanted to shout after her. Tell her my bright red hair wasn’t dyed, and that I could see her ass hanging out of her shorts as she walked away. But it wouldn’t be worth my time. Ignorant humans. Must be nice to not have to live in hiding. Afraid to be yourself. Avoiding discovery at every turn.
They were probably born and raised here.
I didn’t even know where I was born. And I was raised in the back of Leo and Lara’s caravan after a human woman begged them to take me when I was barely six months old. All I knew was what she told them. That my father was a witch and he was dead. That she was my human mother and didn’t know the first thing about raising a witch. She never said how she knew Leo and Lara were witches.
The woman left me with them, and she never came back.
It was no wonder I’d lost all respect for humanity. Girls like that just solidified my views. Selfish, cowardly creatures.
And they thought we were the monsters. What a joke.
Scowling, I turned back to the booth and my spine went rigid. Where did he go? Magic
buzzed in my veins—an innate defense mechanism I shoved deep down, attempting to bury it before it got me into trouble.
I scanned the crowded market space, spotting a black haired head with a streak of blue running through it.
Got you now, sucker.
I darted after him, throwing a half-assed warding spell up in my wake to try to keep shoppers away from the booth. I weaved through the bodies in my way, almost losing sight of him as he neared the food vendors.
The guy looked back, catching sight of me chasing him. Our eyes locked. And then he bolted.
“Hey!” I shouted after him, spurring myself to go faster. “Hey! Thief! Stop that guy!”
A hundred sets of eyes turned to the sound of my shouting voice, but none moved to help me. Useless.
Sweat dropped down my back, and my flip-flops slapped the pavement. Nearing the exit to the market, he sped up. No! If he got outside, I’d lose him for sure.
And who knew how much more stuff he stole while I wasn’t paying attention. Stupid.
I moved to cut him off through the fruit market and ran smack into a pyramid of apples, scattering them to the floor and almost slipping on them. My hands flew out to my sides, catching my balance.
“Sorry!” I called back to the shopkeeper, who shouted obscenities after me as I wound between the stands.
Crap, crap, crap!
Why did I always have to mess shit up?
My chest squeezing, I darted between two booths and missed him by a hair. He blew past me into the main square, shoving people out of his way without a care.
“Stop!” I screamed at him, beyond furious. The familiar crackle of energy under my skin wouldn’t be soothed, no matter how much I tried to swallow it down.
He was too fast. I’d never catch him. And then I’d have to deal with their disappointment again. I’d have to explain how I messed up. They wouldn’t be surprised. They’d say they knew I wasn’t ready to have the responsibility of running the booth.
My body opened to the energy running through the earth like blood through veins. Hauling it in like the first breath after coming up from the water. It came rushing to me with the slightest thought, like it was only waiting for permission.
“Stop!” I shouted again, and the ground shook beneath my feet. A great groan had me skidding to a stop. My hands shook.
Crack! The pavement split. A fissure slicing through it from where I stood, skittering out over the square. Chasing the thief down faster than I ever could.
Someone screamed.
The sky darkened, and my blood boiled.
The fissure reached him, and he grunted as the ground heaved under his feet, sending him sprawling into the street. The jewelry jolted and bounced from his sleeves to land unceremoniously across the street beside him.
Cars screeched to a standstill. Their horns blaring. People everywhere were shouting. Running. Earthquake, they said, but they were wrong.
The magic I’d used still coursed through me, slowly waning. Leaching out of my bones to return to the earth, leaving me shivering against a sudden chill.
The ground still pulsed beneath my feet. My fists clenched.
What have I done?
Across the street stood two men. They weren’t running away. Or trying to film the scene. They weren’t even looking at the giant gash in the pavement.
They were staring at me.
2
Harper
The thief stumbled to his feet before scurrying away like a rat, leaving the jewelry behind.
But he didn’t matter anymore. And neither did the few hundred dollars’ worth of silver and gems glinting in the sunlight that had come rushing back to life. I didn’t dare make a move to retrieve any of it with their eyes boring holes into my face.
The taller of the two men turned his wrist to face me. The golden tattoo shimmered in the warm morning light. A triangle with two crossed arrows. My breath hitched, and I worked to quell the tremble in my knees.
Arcane Authorities.
Bad luck seemed to be as irrevocably attached to me as my own shadow, but this really took the cake. Forget the cake, this took the whole damn party. Was there any way they hadn’t seen what I did?
The shorter one with the tight jaw and thick brows met my wide-eyed stare. He tilted his head toward a shaded alley before the two of them stepped out of the light and into the shadows, waiting for me to follow them.
Nope. They definitely saw.
I could run, but chances were I wouldn’t get far before they caught me. And then what? Running would only get me into more trouble.
No, running wasn’t an option. I sighed and stuffed my hands into the pockets of my shorts. Leo and Lara were right. It was only a matter of time before my magic got me into trouble, but I’d make sure they didn’t go down with me.
The traffic started to move again once I’d crossed the street. The people had gone back to their shopping and gossiping, avoiding the split in the pavement. The split that I’d caused.
They’d fix it. Fill it in. It would be like it never happened for them.
I had a feeling I wouldn’t be so lucky. I steeled myself before stepping into the alley, a million thoughts tripping and swirling through my mind.
I’m too young to be sent to Kalzir Prison. And besides, that place was reserved for murderers and dark witches, not for people who accidently cleaved the earth in two… right?
It was true being underage would save me from Kalzir, but it would be Leo and Lara who were punished for my unsupervised use of magic. My stomach rebelled at the idea, twisting uncomfortably until I thought I would lose my breakfast.
“We haven’t got all day,” a deep accented voice rang out from the alley. I hurriedly stepped inside, feeling the kiss of energy against my skin as a ward snapped into place behind me, effectively sealing us off from the curious eyes of the outside world.
I jumped at the sensation, turning in time to see the taller of the two flicking his finger as he finished drawing a binding sigil in midair, the swirling, looping pattern glowing a bright orange. He shoved his palm against it and the sigil expanded and then vanished, settling over me like a wave of concrete.
My hands flew behind my back, my fingers clasping of their own accord. The spell was even stronger than the time I accidentally crazy-glued my hands together. I couldn’t move them at all. There was no sense in struggling and yet I couldn’t help trying.
“Wait, please!” I said, my voice wavering. “I can explain—”
“And you will,” said the one with the thick brows. “But it isn’t us you’ll need to do your explaining to.”
Neither moved to take hold of me, but instead maintained their distance at about ten paces away at the dead-end of a brick wall. The taller one swallowed, his gaze darting from me back to his partner. He seemed… afraid? Of what?
Surely, they weren’t afraid of me?
I mean, my magic hadn’t ever caused a minor earthquake before. I mostly did simple spells, but even I had to admit they never turned out how I intended. Like the time I tried to use magic to extinguish a candle and put out every fire at the campground instead. Or when I made potions that didn’t work exactly like they were expected to.
“Where are your parents?” the shorter one asked.
I looked away, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. An image of my guardians flashed in my mind. Of their disappointed faces when they were told what happened. Of them being escorted to that horrible place, their kindness being ripped apart by the monsters that inhabited the prison.
Lie, my subconscious screamed.
“I don’t have any parents,” I told them, weaving honesty into the lie. “They’re dead.”
Thick Brows scowled. “So, you’re all alone, then?”
I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. My eyes burned.
They’d be so worried when they saw I was gone. Would I be able to return to them? I didn’t know what happened to underage witches with no parents or guardians. But I could n
ot, under any circumstances, bring the authorities back to our booth.
Selling potions to humans was illegal, and though I had no problem with it—especially since they were weakened versions of the real thing—the Arcane Council would see it a little differently. If the Arcane Authorities saw their booth, it would earn my guardians a one-way ticket to Kalzir.
My hands came apart and I looked up to find Tall Guy frowning, a gleam of pity in his eyes. “You won’t give us any trouble, will you?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I swear I didn’t mean to—”
“Didn’t mean to?” Thick Brows interrupted. “That was strong magic. Not just anyone could’ve pulled that off.”
“What’s your name?” the other one asked, inching closer, looking more at ease than he did before.
My skin bristled. “Harper. Just Harper.”
“Well, ‘Just Harper,’ I’m afraid your fate is now in the hands of the Arcane Council.”
My blood chilled and the spark of magic reignited in my blood.
“Try to stay calm,” the taller one added. “Everything will be fine.”
Why did I get the feeling he was lying to my face? How could things possibly be fine when the Council was in charge of my fate? Everyone knew how these situations ended.
I didn’t dare object, though. Afraid I’d burst into tears or wind up begging for freedom I knew they wouldn’t give me. Tall Guy was right; I had to stay calm. Bad things happened when I wasn’t calm. I didn’t want to add any more to the list of crimes I’d already committed.
And to think, it wasn’t even noon.