The First Wave

by Lana Melyan

  THE FIRST WAVE

  THE WEIGHT OF MAGIC BOOK 1

  Lana Melyan

  Copyright © 2019 by Lana Melyan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual locales, organizations, events, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Lana Melyan

  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

  Also by Lana Melyan

  1

  It was the end of the summer break. The streets of our small town were emptier than usual. Families were still camping, visiting their grandparents, the luckiest spending the last days of their vacations at some exotic beach.

  This year Connie and I didn’t go anywhere. We, two besties, spent the summer in each other’s company. Connie’s dad had to work. And my mom and dad had a busy summer, too. Something bad was brewing in the magical world, and the two of them had been away a lot.

  There were only two days left before the start of school. Connie and I stepped out of the town mall after a few hours of shopping, each carrying a few bags with pencils, highlighters, a few notebooks, and of course, a new clothes.

  “Any plans for tomorrow?” Connie asked as we headed to our cars.

  “Gran said she could use help in the store. She has a few boxes of books that need sorting. Wanna come?”

  “Why not?” Connie stopped next to her car. “You know I like those old books.”

  “Yeah.” I chuckled. “Their dust is really special.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Connie grinned. She threw her bags on the back seat and got into the car.

  I looked around the dark parking lot and slid onto my seat, and the two of us took off, one after another.

  Another car followed behind mine. I noticed it a few minutes after Connie and I separated at the crossroad. I was wondering if it was one of our neighbors but couldn’t see the model of the vehicle, only the headlights in my rearview mirror.

  When I drove into our driveway, the car stopped next to the neighbors’ house, but no one came out. Could be some stalker, I thought. Or, you’re paranoid. Mentally sneering at myself, I grabbed my bags, got out of the car, and marched into the house.

  “Gran, I’m home,” I called from the hallway. I took a few steps, but then turned around, went back, and locked the door. Just in case.

  Following the delicious smell of fried onions, I walked into the kitchen. My Gran Bree stood at the stove with a spatula in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

  “I see you found something.” She smiled, eyeing the bags in my hands. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” She pointed the spatula at me. “Wash your hands and start setting the table.”

  I was nearly eighteen, and I didn’t need a babysitter. But my parents refused to leave me alone in the house. My grandma lived at the other end of the town, and during their absence she arrived to keep her witchy eye on me. I didn’t mind. I loved my Gran.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I said, heading to my room. “I’ll just put away the bags.”

  I threw the bags on my bed and, without turning on the light, hurried to the window. The car was still there, and so was the driver.

  But when I checked after dinner, I was glad to find the spot now empty. Thank God. I’ll sleep better.

  When I woke up the next morning, Gran was already gone. She said I could come to the bookstore after lunch, so I slept longer, enjoying the last day of my holidays.

  Still in my pajama shorts, I shuffled down to the kitchen. The coffee pot was empty, but the maker was fixed with beans and water. I pushed the button, and while it was brewing, I dropped on the chair and picked up the newspaper Gran had left on the table.

  The police report on the front page saying A man was found dead at the edge of the road next to the Misty Grove caught my attention. News like that was a big deal in River Stones. Our town was small and safe; there wasn’t much going on here.

  I ran my eyes down the short article. It didn’t give any details about what had actually happened, only that the man had a wound on his neck and died from blood loss.

  I jumped in my seat at the sudden loud honk of a passing-by car.

  “Really?” I grumbled as I got up to get my coffee.

  Gran’s store for used books was placed in a hundred-year-old building, between a coffee shop and a hairdresser’s parlor. I’d spent a lot of time there when I was a kid. Mostly I came after school and curled up with some old book on the small, soft couch until Gran kicked me to the back room to do my homework.

  I pulled the sunglasses on the top of my head, glanced at the familiar logo—an image of owl wearing glasses—and pushed the heavy wooden door. As the doorbell tinkled, both Gran and the man standing in front of the cash register turned their heads.

  “Hello, Mr. Lancaster,” I said, walking inside.

  “Hello, Nicky.” He smiled.

  Mr. Lancaster was a member of the town council. He also was the town historian and had a big library at his mansion. As a regular customer, he was the first to receive a call from Gran whenever she got something rare that could be of his interest.

  “Well,” he said to Gran, “thank you for your time, Bree. And thanks for this.” He tapped the two leather-bound books, or more like journals, in his hand.

  “You’re welcome, Alan,” said Gran.

  I dropped my handbag in the chair behind her and picked up an antique book with stiff, dark-brown binding lying next to the cashier. It had a pentacle on its cover and no title. When I pulled the cover aside, I saw a few words written on the first page: To my dear friend Bree. From Alan.

  “Wow, Gran. This looks like a very special present.” I grinned. “Isn’t he like more than ten years younger than you?” I looked at her playfully.

  “It’s nothing like that, silly.” She pulled the book out of my hands and closed it. “We just share the love—”

  “Aha! Love,” I cut her off, raising my index finger.

  Gran rolled her eyes. “Love for old bindings that hold together pages of valuable content.”

  The doorbell tinkled again. It was Connie.

  “Hi, Mrs. Callahan,” she said.

  “Hi, Connie,” said Gran. “Thanks for coming. Are you sure this is how you want to spend the last day of your summer break?”

  “Absolutely, Mrs. Callahan.” She glanced at the glass case with Gran’s collection of wooden, metal, and ceramic owls of all sizes, running her eyes along the shelves and inhaling the smell of old books. “I love your store.”

  I glanced at the boxes stacked next to the back room’s door.

  “That’s a lot of books. Who did you get them from?”

  “From the Robinsons,” said Gran, making some notes in her journal. “They’re moving back to England, so they’re selling everything they can find a buyer for.”

  Connie and I pulled the boxes to the PC sitting on the table in the far corner and started unpacking them. As I cataloged the books, Connie placed them on the right shelves.

  We were done with two boxes and were about to open the third one when the smell of coffee Gran had just brewed in the back room hit our noses.
>
  “Me want some,” I said, getting up.

  The back room looked like a magic shop. In the middle stood a long wooden table with chairs. The walls were lined with shelves. One small shelf contained tableware, and the one next to the door was stacked with journals, books, and folders, but the rest were stuffed with glass jars filled with herbs and powders, different shapes of crystals, and bottles with oils and other strange looking liquids. There was also an old-fashioned cupboard in the corner where Gran kept tarot cards, bundles of sage, candles, and a few different-sized chests that held something of magical value and were always locked.

  My skin hummed from the atmosphere in the room, and I wished I was already a witch. But I wasn’t. My magical powers hadn’t kicked in yet.

  With a sigh, I pulled out from the shelf three mugs, filled them with coffee, and headed back.

  Gran treated us to dinner at a nearby restaurant after we closed the store. It was pretty late when we got home, and I spent the rest of the evening in preparation for the first day of school.

  When I finally got into bed and reached for the lamp to turn it off, a notification lit up my phone where it lay on the nightstand.

  It was my mom, telling me that since I didn’t reply to the previous two messages, she asked Gran about my day, and she missed me.

  I glanced at the framed photograph on my nightstand of me with my mom and dad. Then I sent her a heart emoji, said sorry and that I missed her too.

  2

  Oh, I love this song, I thought, my eyes still closed as my radio alarm went off. I got up and pulled open the curtains, letting the sunlight into my messy room. I’d tried on all my clothes the night before, trying to decide what to wear. And, as always, I ended up with my first choice: a pair of jeans and my new creamy blouse over a purple tank top, which now hung on the back of the chair.

  I’ll clean up after classes, I thought, dancing my way into the bathroom.

  “Hi, Gran,” I said, walking into the kitchen.

  Gran sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in her hand. She looked young for her age, and I suspected she used magic to stay in good shape.

  “Good morning.” She put her cup down on the folded newspaper in front of her and looked at me with a bright smile.

  “Gran, you look perfect, as always.”

  “Thank you, honey.”

  “So, are you going to tell me which spell you use to keep yourself fresh before I catch up with you? Or do you want us to look like girlfriends in a few years? What ingredients do you use?”

  She chuckled. “It’s called five minutes with a little bit of m—”

  “Aha! Magic,” I rushed in, lifting my index finger. I liked seeing her annoyed gaze every time I did this.

  “Make-up,” finished Gran, rolling her eyes.

  I grabbed a cup from the shelf and poured myself coffee.

  “Are you sure you need that? You seem pretty hyper already. Never seen you so happy to go to school.”

  “It’s different now. I’m a senior. My last year, and then, goodbye high school. Any news from Mom and Dad?” I sipped from my cup.

  “Yeah. Your mom called.” She became serious. “They’ll need to stay a bit longer.”

  “Why? I thought you said it was just a coven meeting.”

  “Something came up.”

  “Gran, you can go home if you need to. I’m not a kid. I’ll be okay by myself here.”

  “What are you talking about?” She frowned.

  “You look a bit . . . I thought maybe you miss your place.”

  “Why would I? I have everything I need right here.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Witchy stuff. It’s nothing you should worry about.” She smiled, but her eyes remained thoughtful. “Now, go. You don’t want to be late on your first day.”

  I grabbed my bag from the chair.

  “See you later, Gran,” I said on my way out.

  The closer I got to the school, the more nervous I felt. Right before the summer break, I broke up with my boyfriend Jess, and it didn’t go well. He got drunk, got in a car accident, and ended up with a cracked arm bone, concussion, two broken ribs, and lots of stitches. After a month of recovery, his parents took him to Europe for the rest of the holidays. I wasn’t sure if he was back yet, but I didn’t want to be unprepared.

  Usually, the question on everyone’s lips was, How was your summer? Now, with this question off the list, I was searching for another to ask him, but all I got was, How are you?

  What the hell do people say to each other after they break up? But then, maybe after what happened, he would hate me so much that he wouldn’t even look at me.

  I arrived at the school’s parking lot and glanced around. Connie’s car was already there, and I drove into the free spot next to it. I’d only taken a few steps toward the entrance when I felt this annoying tingle on the back of my head. After a few more steps, I stopped. Someone was watching me. Curiosity took over, and I turned around.

  There was no one behind me. My eyes searched farther, past the parking lot, and I found that piercing gaze.A guy next to his car under the trees. As I looked at him, he leaned on the hood and pushed his hands into his pockets.

  He wore jeans and a black shirt. The fact that he was extremely handsome caught my attention, but it didn’t fog my wariness.

  He chuckled and raised his eyebrows that translated as, Yes?

  “Dumbass,” I muttered under my breath, walking away. You’re the one who hypnotized me. What was he doing here? He looked far from high school age. More like a college senior. Maybe he was someone’s brother, or maybe a boyfriend. Ah, boyfriend, I sighed, returning to my thoughts about Jess.

  “He isn’t back yet,” said Connie, noticing my searching gaze.

  “How do you know?”

  “I eavesdropped on the conversation between Dave and Leia.”

  “When is he coming back?”

  “That I don’t know. And why do you care?” As my best friend, she was sure it was her job to make me feel better.

  “Right.” I took a deep breath and opened my locker.

  The smell of freshly painted walls hung in the air. Some students looked happy, some nervous. The confused freshmen, pressing their timetables to their chests, slowly moved down the hallway looking for their classrooms.

  “Nicky, hi,” said Leia, beaming. “Hi, Connie. Oh, I missed you girls.”

  “Hi,” I smiled back. “Your tan looks different. The River Stones' sun doesn’t make it glow like that. Where did you get it?”

  Leia beamed. “I was in Greece, but only for a couple of weeks.”

  “Really?” Connie released an artificial sigh. “I’m not jealous at all.”

  The bell rang, and the three of us headed to the classroom.

  I picked a desk next to a window, and Connie occupied the desk beside me in the next row.

  My classmates shone like new coins with their bright smiles, new clothes, stylish haircuts. They also looked older, more mature. I glanced at Connie, who probably had changed too, but it would be hard for me to notice, since we’d spent the whole summer together.

  Connie didn’t look back at me. Her attention was somewhere else. She was watching Neil, her last year’s crush, who was trying too hard to impress the tall, blond Suzy with his jokes. Judging by Suzy's ringing laughter, it was working.

  Everybody dropped into their seats the moment the English teacher, Mrs. Donovan, walked in.

  “Good morning,” she said, putting her bag on the table, “It’s good to see you all fresh and rested.” She smiled briefly, then said, “This is an important year for you, and I hope you’re all ready to dive into . . .”

  I felt another stare on my neck. This time it was Dave, but as I turned my head, he looked away. He and Jess were best friends, and he probably blamed me for everything that happened.

  I looked out the window, and my thoughts returned to the parking lot, to the mysterious guy. Was he trying to attract my attent
ion, or was it just a frivolous game? He stood pretty far away, and it seemed strange that I felt his gaze at such a distance. I couldn’t explain the vibe. Maybe my magical senses were finally breaking through. Or maybe I just wished they were, and it was just a normal human reaction to a normal human gaze. I sighed.

  I was descended from a long line of powerful witches. But not everyone in our bloodline could use the inherited magic. It might take a long time for the powers to kick in. Sometimes it skipped a generation, and after I turned sixteen, I started to worry that might happen to me.

  My father was the most powerful warlock in the coven, and he was the head of it. I wanted to be a witch. To be as powerful as my parents. But when I told that to my mother, her face darkened.

  “I wish it would never happen to you,” she said. “Then you could live a normal life.”

  I was nearly eighteen now, and I still wasn’t a witch. Magic could burst out of me at any moment. It could happen anywhere, which was why my parents taught me how to recognize its presence the moment it hit me, and how to control it. But even though I knew the theory, it didn’t mean I would be able to suppress all that energy. I would probably freak. Or worse. I might be so happy it finally happened I wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to use my powers.

  What if it happened in the middle of class? We had to keep the fact that our family was different a secret. It was okay if I ended up breaking some glass or catching papers on fire, since that couldn’t be traced to me. But what if I did something worse? What if I hurt someone by accident? No one could predict the strength of the first wave. Mom and Dad knew that. That was why they also explained that the first and best thing to do was to get away from people.

  Connie was the only one who knew our family’s secret. Her mom had powers too. Our mothers were friends. Connie’s mother died when she was twelve. And that’s when her powers kicked in. Unlike her mom, Connie had limited skills, but that could change with time.