Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set

by Sheryl Steines

  Spencer finished sorting through the clothing, finding nothing. Gibbs was on his knees pulling up the carpet in the corner.

  “Hey. Gibbs. What are you doing? You can’t do that!” Jack ran to the wizard guard, but Gibbs ignored him.

  “Jack we’ll fix it. Don’t worry.” Annie said, her hand on his shoulder to calm him. “What did you find, Gibbs?” she asked, kneeling down beside him. He pulled out a secret stash, a wooden box carved with ancient runes and symbols, usually sold in the trinkets section of the black market. Gibbs opened the box to reveal a passport in Jordan’s name and money, both American and Avrum, the rare wizard gold.

  “Okay. If he came back, why didn’t he come back for this? For clothes, money, and his passport? Why did he come back and is it worth killing for?” Jack asked.

  “Maybe he had a black magic object, and they were after it? I guess that’s possible. But why kill the princess?” Annie responded.

  “Hey. That athame. Your Golden Athame. Would that be worth killing for?” Jack asked.

  The four wizard guards exchanged worried glances. “It… maybe it would be worth the risk. I can’t imagine Jordan got inside Wizard Hall, but it’s easy enough to find out.” Cham held up his crystal. “I’ll call Bucky and see if anyone matching Jordan’s description has been around wizard hall in the last week.” Cham said and headed from the room to make the call.

  “So why didn’t they kill Jordan?” Jack asked. Why do you keep someone alive?

  “They didn’t need Amelie, so they killed her immediately. They need something from Jordan.” Spencer answered.

  “That would mean an inside job—or that someone from your organization killed her. Right.” Again, Spencer, Gibbs, and Annie exchanged glances. “You think so, don’t you?” What are you hiding, Jordan? Are you why Amelie died?

  “Yes.” Annie watched Gibbs put Jordan’s belongings inside an evidence bag. Jack stood in awe as Gibbs shrunk the package and shoved it inside the back pocket of his pants, which already seemed one size too small.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this. So what now?” Jack asked Annie.

  “Now we compare these traces to anything weird at Wizard Hall.”

  “I’d like to come, if that’s okay.”

  Annie sighed. “It takes special permission. I can’t just expose everything. Let me see what I can do.”

  Gibbs grimaced. Jack took a deep breath and wondered if it was worth it.

  Chapter 8

  Annie woke up in the afternoon and ambled down to the kitchen where her Aloja fairy had left some stew warming in a pot on the stove. Filling a bowl, Annie grabbed the newest edition of The American Sphinx and headed toward the den.

  The headline read:

  Princess Amelie of Amborix Murdered by a Curse!

  After nonmagical Princess Amelie of Amborix was found murdered in her hotel suite early Tuesday morning, Wizard Guard experts have been brought in to assist the FBI in their investigation. Believing her death may have been caused by magic, our brave warriors will find out who murdered the lovely princess…

  Annie dropped her spoon in the bowl, splattering sauce on her shirt.

  Damn it! Annie groaned and scrubbed her shirt roughly, attempting to remove the stain.

  “Annie, dear?”

  Turning around, Annie saw Zola standing at the threshold with a warm smile on her face. Her Alojan fairy’s wings fluttered behind gently as she reached for Annie’s stained shirt. “Have you ever heard of magic? You should try it some time.”

  “Hilarious. I have to meet with Milo soon.”

  Zola waved a hand across the stain and flicked her wrist; the stain faded and disappeared. “You look lovely, dear. Did you do something different?” Zola touched Annie’s hair. It was normally a frizzy mess, but today the curls hung from her head in soft waves, pulled back by the barrette Zola had given Annie when she was a child. It had been polished, and the diamonds shone nicely against her dark hair.

  Annie blushed. “Maybe. You think it’s okay? Not too much?”

  “You look beautiful. Now eat and then go. This case is a big one. You need your strength.”

  Annie looked at her fairy. “How did you know?”

  Zola held up the paper. “It’s all over the news, dear.”

  While Zola cleared the dishes, Annie left for Wizard Hall, bracing herself for the reaction to the news. Already, it had taken on a life of its own. The courtyard of Wizard Hall—surrounded by the four buildings of the Wizard Government, the school and hospital branches as well as other departments—contained several onlookers enjoying a beautiful day. With the sun out and the blue sky clear of clouds and smog, the courtyard felt rather packed with people, more so than normal. Annie felt their stares as she teleported in; their eyes followed when she entered through the glass doors into the back hallway.

  Piercing eyes followed her through the first floor of the government wing. Not just the stares, but the whispers. Annie sped up her pace to the back of the room and turned down the small hallway that housed the bank of elevators.

  Impatiently, Annie attacked the up button until the doors finally slid open. Annie jumped inside, repeatedly pressing the “close doors” button as if it could speed up the process. As the doors glided closed, a hand reached in, the doors popped back open, and a short, thin man bounded inside. After pushing his floor number, the man, whom Annie didn’t recognize, peered at her before positioning himself on the opposite side of the elevator.

  Filled with awkward tension, the elevator crawled to the third floor. When the box finally stopped and the doors opened up, the man flew out not looking back. Annie sighed as the doors closed again. She exited two floors later and headed toward her cubicle.

  All employees of Wizard Hall referred to it simply as the Hall. The large stone structure was comprised of four individual buildings connected by passageways at the corners. Each building housed the many departments of the Wizard Government as well as those that made their community successful. One building held the day care, elementary schools and higher education colleges. Another building contained a large medical center. The other two held the government, law enforcement, legal, and history.

  Annie and the Wizard Guard worked the fifth floor, which was laid out like most of the other departments. Several rows of cubicles filled the large space that supported hundreds of employees. At first glance the office looked like any other in the world—until a file or a stapler flew through the air. Annie ducked out of the way as several zoomed past. She headed down the center aisle toward Milo’s cubicle and knocked on the wall.

  “Come in.”

  Ugh… Stacks of books sat beside his desk, several falling to the floor and resting open. Paperwork and empty sandwich containers littered his desk. Family pictures and cursed objects lined the bookshelves on the side wall. Annie never understood his filing system, though Milo knew where to find everything. She flicked away garbage and sat on the empty chair.

  In a chair beside her sat Ryan Connolly, known to most as the grand marksman and head of the Wizard Council, and known to Annie as her godfather. Where Milo was short and dumpy and wore his shirt a size too small, wrinkled and untucked, Ryan wore his khaki pants pressed and neat. His collared shirt fit nicely on his tall, well-toned body. Since elected Grand Marksman, his sandy blonde hair had lightened with gray, and the circles under his blue gray eyes had widened and darkened—making him look constantly sleep deprived.

  “How are you?” Ryan asked when she sat. His wary smile offered little warmth.

  He’s worried.

  Though they typically refrained from more familiarity while at work, right now Annie needed her godfather.

  “Can I say freaked?”

  Placing the FBI evidence box on the floor, she inadvertently knocked over a book from one of Milo’s piles. It landed at her feet; she kicked it under the desk. Ryan smirked, and Annie shrugged as they waited for Milo to begin the meeting.

  “Don’t think of Amelie
as a famous nonmagical person. Think of the murder as a regular old vampire attack. It’s just a case,” Ryan said.

  I wish I could. But it wasn’t “just a case.” Annie sighed. Though Ryan once worked as a wizard guard and had partnered with Jason Pearce, Annie’s father, he didn’t generally interfere in cases. Without his support, Ryan’s presence in the Wizard Guard department only compounded the growing weight on Annie’s shoulders.

  Milo finally glanced up, his heavy cheeks red with embarrassment for keeping the Grand Marksman waiting. “So?” he asked.

  “Murder by magic. Boyfriend seemed like a good suspect until we saw the crime scene. We’re thinking they were ambushed,” Annie replied.

  “Why?” Milo asked. He summoned a pen and paper from the pile on his desk and tapped the end of the pen, which Annie knew would begin to write when she spoke again. Just beyond Milo’s cubicle entrance, a flying object landed on the floor with a puff of smoke bursting through a tiny opening in its flat top.

  “Sorry. Sorry.” It was Emerson Donaldson, the newest member of the Wizard Guard. She must be examining an object, offering insight and suggestion as part of her training. For some reason, the girl couldn’t control the object that began flying away from her as she reached for it. Annie offered a small smile, Ryan grimaced, and Milo ignored her.

  “Um, as I was about to say, there were four sets of magical traces,” Annie continued. “It appears Amelie was killed instantly, and then a fight broke out away from the murder scene.” She tossed her crystal on Milo’s desk and watched him run a palm across it several times, sorting through the various colors and brightness of the glow. Anxious, Annie tapped her foot against the industrial carpeting while everyone gathered their thoughts.

  “She’s from Amborix,” Ryan said, mainly to fill the silence in the cubicle. Everyone knew at this point. “I’m going to call their magical governing body and deal with them. If we have to get involved with the Royal Family or their government in any way, they’ll facilitate it for us.”

  “The family’s taking the body tomorrow,” Annie told him.

  Ryan and Milo exchanged worried glances. Annie could feel their tension; it sat in the pit of her stomach.

  “Is there anything on the body that should be… removed?” Milo asked cautiously.

  Annie thought back to the corpse lying on the cold steel table: the once beautiful princess’s hair no longer clean and coiffed, the vacant cloudy eyes no longer radiating life, the peaches-and-cream skin that, with death, turned gray and cold to the touch. Was there anything else with the body that needed to come with them?

  “There’s nothing but the residual. They’ll never find anything. We should have planted evidence but there wasn’t time.” Annie couldn’t be sure that her comment appeased their worry.

  “What about the boyfriend?” Milo’s pen scribbled, most likely recording Annie’s words and organizing his own thoughts.

  “Not much to tell. He’s magical. Went to Windmere, same year as Spencer. His name is Jordan Wellington.”

  This roused another glance between Milo and Ryan. They knew something more. Something about the Wellingtons, Annie guessed.

  “Okay. You did it again with the looks. Spill it.”

  Ryan pulled his chair closer to Annie. “The Wellingtons come from old money. The father was once a member of the Wizard Council. He always had one foot in the magical world and another in the nonmagical. You know the kind—events with United States dignitaries as well as Wizard Council elite. Wellington thought himself a leader.”

  “Why’d he leave the Council?”

  “We never knew for sure but the rumors pointed to a disagreement between him and Cyril Stonewell before Stonewell was… shall we say… put in his place. Wellington would rather be in complete control than a leader in a controlled environment. I think the Wizard Council is too restrictive for what he wanted. ” Ryan sat back in his chair, contemplative, his arms crossed.

  “Wellington fought with Stonewell. That strange little man in Artifact Hall?” Annie thought back to the article on the missing Golden Athame.

  “Both Stonewell and Wellington wanted to be Grand Marksman, actually. Though that isn’t relevant here—except that Stonewell’s tied to the suspect’s father, I suppose.”

  “We thought the Golden Athame being missing might have something to do with Amelie’s death. If Stonewell didn’t like Wellington, do you think he’d get back at him and frame his son for murder?”

  “I’ll admit it’s a damn weird coincidence. I can’t imagine how the athame is tied to Amelie, but that is definitely something to look into.”

  Maybe Jordan was coming back for the Athame. How did he get it and who would come after him? Stonewell?

  “Annie, are you okay?” Ryan asked.

  “Yeah. I’m just trying to piece it together.”

  “Sweetie, just be careful with this case. The whole world is watching.” Ryan took her hand as her godfather, not as the Grand Marksman, and gave her a warm, but concerned, smile. Beyond the cubicle, Emerson continued to have difficulty with the object, which at closer glance appeared to be a cursed coffee pot. It was zooming through the cubicles at a quick pace. “Sorry,” Emerson mumbled quite often. Annie chuckled.

  “Do you think she’ll get it?” Milo asked.

  Annie shrugged. “I guess you’ll want updates rather frequently, then?”

  “We completely trust you. What we don’t trust is the FBI and Amborix’s government with our secret. I just need to be aware of everything as it happens.”

  “Here’s the plan so far. We’re searching the magical trace database for a trace match. No hits yet. Bucky’s looking through tapes to see if Jordan came to the Hall to steal the athame, and we’ve decided to wait until Jordan catches his breath before looking for him. He probably didn’t do it but knows who did and what happened. I’ll call you when we know.”

  Annie let go of Ryan’s hand, grabbed the evidence box, and began to leave. “I think we can trust the FBI agent. Can he come to Wizard Hall and help?”

  Milo reflected on her question as he leaned back in his chair. It squeaked when it moved as it adjusted for the weight transfer. “Not yet. Not until we know for sure who killed her. Maybe.”

  Annie left the cubicle. As her steps led her farther away, the comfort Ryan offered waned quickly. Concern and stress filled the void.

  “Stop chasing it and let it come to you,” Annie offered Emerson, poking her head inside the girl’s cubicle.

  “Uh, thanks,” Emerson said.

  Hidden storage containers were scattered throughout the Wizard Guard department. Some held items needed in investigations like modern money from around the world, wizard avrum gold pieces, athames, or amulets. Annie stopped by storage unit 5A, secured the evidence for Princess Amelie’s murder, and headed to her cubicle.

  *

  “Did you get that picture I emailed? I know it’s not great, but I could really use your help telling me if they’re police officers or not.”

  Rebekah Stoner paused to give Arnold Schwartz time to process her request. It gnawed at her—that this police officer was present at two unrelated crime scenes in two different jurisdictions that therefore should be two different districts.

  Why was she at both scenes?

  Rebekah had been awake for over twenty-four hours reporting on the princess. This was the only intriguing aspect of the case, and she was sure these experts would tell her more than the FBI.

  “I got it this morning, Rebekah. You never said what you wanted with them when you sent it.” The sound of his fingers flying across a keyboard reassured her he would help.

  “Um… I really need to get in touch with them for a story.”

  I can’t seem too anxious!

  “What story?”

  “I can’t tell you that yet.”

  “I can get into a crap load of trouble for this. I’ll need something in return.” Arnold’s keystrokes were quick and consistent. He never seemed to stop
typing.

  “What do you want?” Rebekah asked with a great deal of trepidation, afraid he might ask her on a date. His printer whirled as it spat out information.

  “Tickets to the panel discussion at Comic Con. First week of August. They’re all sold out, and I’m guessing someone with press credentials can drum up a few for a friend.”

  Rebekah blew out a sigh of relief. At least it wasn’t a date. “We can work something out. So do you have anything or not?”

  The printer spat out more papers.

  “Yeah, I got one hit. There’s not enough to do the facial recognition on anybody except the girl.”

  “Oh.” Rebekah sighed. “Okay. At least that’s one. Who is she?”

  “Detective Anne Elizabeth Pearce.” Arnold stopped typing for a moment and then added, “P-E-A-R-C-E.”

  “Anne Pearce. Great. Thanks, Arnold. Now do you think you can send me her police file?” As she wrote out the name, the journalist could barely contain her excitement.

  “Rebekah, that could get me fired!”

  “It’s really, really important… please?” She was flirting shamelessly by this point. Maybe that’s too much.

  “Fine. I’ll meet you tomorrow, and we can trade.”

  *

  After spending several long days in the field, Annie could feel the stress and frustration lifting from her shoulders as she walked through her door. Immediately, delicious smells wafted from the kitchen, and her mouth watered in anticipation.

  “Hi, Zola. I thought you were with Samantha tonight,” Annie said, bending low and kissing a patch of her fairy’s peaches-and-cream cheek. The fairy’s familiar scent comforted her. A fixture in the Pearce household since Annie was a baby, the fairy now divided her time between Annie’s home and that of her older sister Samantha.

  “You were distracted earlier. I thought you might need some extra help today.” Zola offered a warm smile.

  Aloja fairies, a rare fairy, lived for thousands of years. Otherworldly creatures born with ancient magic, they evolved into the protectors of children and pregnant women and were the fairy of choice for families requiring magical nannies.