by Ann Macela
Unexpected Magic
Ann Macela
Book 5 of The Magic Series
Copyright 2011 by Ann Macela
Cover illustration Copyright 2011 by Winterheart Design, http://winterheart.com
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the express written permission of Ann Macela, the copyright holder and the publisher of this book, except with the exception of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews and where permitted by law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, organizations or businesses is entirely coincidental.
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Unexpected Magic
What if you could cast a spell to help you do your everyday job? But … there’s more to living than work, and you’ve lost your soul mate to death? What if an ancient force brings you together with another? And throws both of you up against the worst, most evil magic item around?
Magic practitioners always find their soul mates and live happily ever after. Always.
What if the unthinkable happens, however, and a mate dies young? Is the living mate doomed to a life alone? After a perfect love, does the mate even want another life partner?
Defenders and Swords form teams to destroy evil magic items by sharing their energy. Sword Johanna Mahler and her team have developed a revolutionary method for combining magic energy—now they need to know if others can use it. Johanna has also vowed never to let a student Sword destroy himself by taking on a powerful item the way her young mate did—and died for his recklessness when they were teenagers.
The Defender Council sends widower Sword Saxton Falkner to demonstrate a new apparatus for measuring magic energy output. Equally important is determining how to best use those independents not affiliated with a team.
Neither expects to find a new soul mate in the midst of political practitioner arguments, bullies among the young—and older—Swords, a totally new method for generating magic energy, and battles with a disgruntled Sword determined to prove his superiority, especially to Johanna.
Before Johanna and Saxt can live happily ever after, they must survive not only all these problems, and come to terms with their losses and gains, but face a return of the Cataclysm Stone, a tremendously powerful evil crystal that wants the Swords’ blood.
Unexpected Magic is the fifth book in The Magic Series. The series, in order, are:
The Oldest Kind of Magic
Do You Believe In Magic?
Your Magic Or Mine?
Wild Magic
Unexpected Magic
Legendary Magic
Unexpected Magic
Prologue
Seventeen Years Ago
“Billy? Where are you?” Johanna Mahler looked down from the balcony of the small arena under the Defender training building. Only one light was burning in the stone-walled arena itself, and none of the usual magic barriers to protect the balcony from the magic cast below had been activated. She leaned over the three-foot-high railing to see the floor. A sole spotlight illuminated the center of the darkened space.
Where was Billy Johnson? Where was her absolutely marvelous soul mate? Soul mate! The words still thrilled her eighteen-year-old self, and the thought of her nineteen-year-old lover, soon to be her husband, practically sent her into ecstasy.
Billy had told her to meet him there. He had a secret, something good to show her, he said. Although he’d laughed delightfully at her wheedling, he wouldn’t give her even the smallest hint, except to say, “No, it’s not that!”
She smiled wider as she pictured him, tall and muscular and handsome. His light brown hair with golden highlights that she loved to run her fingers through, his dark green eyes that saw into her soul, his roughened hands that found exactly the right spots to caress.
Oh, yes, he was her soul mate, the love of her life, the only one she’d ever have, ever want, ever need.
Oh, yes, he was her “Beej,” and she was his “Jo,” forever. Or, that’s what they called each other in public. In private—that was another matter altogether. Then they were Arwen and Aragorn from Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, which they had both read and loved. He was, literally, her hero, and they were champions in a great cause.
Oh, yes, they were both Swords, capable of destroying evil magic items. She and Beej would be able to destroy evil magic items together, maybe even lead their own team someday. Something else to have in common. No, more than simply “in common.” Working in a team created an enormous connection among all its members. The only bond stronger was that between soul mates.
She’d been a Sword since her thirteenth birthday. Billy had come to his blade after they mated. He was learning quickly and, while justifiably proud of his progress, he worked extremely hard to become as good as she was. As if he could catch up with her. That was impossible. With their mating, he’d risen to level eleven and she to fifteen. They’d remain at those levels for the rest of their lives. He’d never be able to cast spells of equal power. Well, that really didn’t matter. They were together.
Or, they should be. Where was that man? She hadn’t seen him when she entered the building, or in the halls, or in the lower levels.
Although, ugh, she had seen Phil Bellman by the elevator. He was a Sword, too, three years older than she was, and thought he was God’s gift to women and to Defenders. Phil was tall and pretty good-looking, although she always thought his eyes were a little too small and close together. He’d actually asked her out before she met Billy. No way did she want to even have a cup of coffee with the egotistical creepy braggart.
But why was she thinking about Phil instead of her soul mate? Where was Billy? She called his name again, but her voice only echoed around the arena.
Then a door opened on the other side at floor level, and in he came.
“Hi, Jo!” her mate called. He was wearing his black Sword robe and carrying something.
“Beej! What are you doing down there?”
“I have a great surprise for you.” He stepped into the spotlight and put on the floor in its center a crystal bowl.
A dark lump—a crystal? a rock?—lay in it. From up here, she couldn’t tell exactly how big it was. Maybe smaller than a ping-pong ball?
“What’s going on? What’s that?” When she peered intently at the object, a nasty, unsettling, burning sensation hit her magic center right below her breastbone. Oh, no. That only happened when she confronted …
“Oh, Beej, what have you done? That thing is evil. I can feel it. Don’t move. I’m coming down.” She spun around to run up the stairs to the balcony door.
“No. Stay there.”
His call stopped her. Facing him again, she leaned against the railing. “Why?”
“Wait,” he said. “I want you to watch me destroy it.”
“How did you steal it out of the vault? You have to put it back.” Although her magic center was churning to repel the evil, the burning sensation in her middle grew worse. “That’s a strong item, and I can feel it reaching out for a victim. You’r
e not used to one this powerful.”
“I don’t feel anything, and I’m right next to it,” Billy stated firmly. “I’ve been thinking about destroying an item by myself ever since … uh, never mind, it’s not important. I really want to prove to you how worthy I am to be your soul mate, and this is the best way.”
A twinge of nausea caused her stomach to do a flip. Her magic center fluttered and filled with dread. “You don’t have to prove your abilities or your worth to me. We’re soul mates. Of course we’re worthy of each other.”
“I have to show both of us, Jo. For my sake, too. It’s been tearing me up to watch you working with your team, actually destroying real evil, while I’m still taking baby steps. My lightning bolt sucks, and my fireball fizzles. The only item the masters let me tackle is half the size of an aspirin. I need to know I can take on a bigger one. What kind of man and Sword would I be if I don’t prove my ability?”
He sounded so certain, so brave, so … bullheaded. Hadn’t she been thinking about his pride a few minutes ago? His competitiveness? His frustration? Had she been that unaware of his feelings? Why hadn’t she recognized what was going on in his head? Understood how dissatisfied he felt? She was his mate. She was supposed to be able to almost read his mind. Why hadn’t she seen this foolishness coming?
A flood of icy apprehension washed over her when she realized that her blindness could result in disaster.
“This is crazy. We’re not in competition. Can we first talk about what you’re doing?” she pleaded. Her magic center trembled, grew more anxious and frantic with each sentence. She had to make him understand how dangerous his actions were.
“I’ll get you an invitation to practice with my team, not simply observe,” she promised. “You’ll see how we have to work together in real life. It’s very different from the classroom. Remember, we’re all about teamwork. None of us act individually.”
She took a deep breath, tried to speak calmly, appeal to his reason. “I’m the one with the experience here. The rock in that bowl is much more powerful than the practice ones you’ve been using. Yes, the masters have been letting you act by yourself. They need to test your ability, and they’re with you if you have a problem. Training is the only time you’ll act alone. You’re really making great progress. We all think we suck at your stage. Let me at least come down before you try to shoot a beam at it.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve sat through the lessons. You sound exactly like one of them. Can’t you understand, I have to do this?” He was beginning to sound exasperated, like he did when his mother pressured him not to do something he wanted to.
She, however, wasn’t his mother. Why wasn’t he listening? Could it be … Was that rock in the bowl strong enough to influence him? Make him think he was stronger than it?
She couldn’t see his face clearly because the spotlight left it in shadow when he bent toward the bowl. She didn’t have to. She knew exactly what his expression would be—the arrogant one he always wore just before trouncing an opponent in chess. He truly believed he could kill the evil object.
The words of one of the training masters came back to her: “Beware Sword arrogance. It’s a trap for the unwary.”
Before she could speak again, he pointed at the floor, and a pentagonal fortress sprang up around him, green and blue walls shimmering brightly. From the colors, she calculated it offered level eight or nine protection. The gleaming structure was supposed to hold in the evil magic.
It didn’t. Johanna could still feel the evil oozing out, searching for a victim. She could even smell its awful stench. “Oh, my God, Beej! Your pentagon is not strong enough. Give it more power!”
Billy must have been paying some attention because the blue in his fortress walls darkened and indigo streaks appeared. The addition of energy brought the pentagon up to about level ten. Still not enough, because the evil emanations did not diminish. From the way her center was reacting, that rock must be at least a level twelve, maybe higher.
Her mate assumed a stance and brought his hands together. Oh, my God! He was going to draw his sword, cast the spell for a magic blade.
“Beej, don’t!” she shouted. Why wasn’t he listening to her? She was the one with the experience. She was the proven Sword.
This time, he shook his head and concentrated on the bowl before him, obviously blocking her out deliberately.
She yelled with every ounce of authority she could force into her voice, the way the masters did, “Don’t cast your blade! Wait for me! I’m coming!”
It would take too long to go out the balcony and down the stairs to the lower level, so she climbed over the railings. She glanced over her shoulder at him before starting to lower herself.
Billy cast his sword, and a bright blue blade of magic energy rose from his clasped hands. He squared off against the item in the bowl.
“Noooo!” Johanna maneuvered until she hung by her hands from the railing. When she let go, the drop to the stone floor was greater than she thought it would be, and she landed heavily. Her ankle twisted, gave way under her weight.
Despite a sharp stabbing pain, she scrambled to her feet somehow and limped toward the pentagon as fast as she could. “Don’t attack it! Let me help you!”
“Trust me, Jo, I can do it! I’m Aragorn!” He grinned at her and sent a blue beam of energy at the rock. Blue light splashed around in the bowl—to no effect that she could see.
“No! Your beam has to turn white when it hits the item! You can’t produce enough power to do that by yourself!” She tried her best to hobble faster. After she almost fell, she vowed she’d crawl if she had to.
Johanna was about twenty feet from the pentagon when the rock shot a black beam at Billy’s blade.
With a blinding flash and a lightning-strike crack of thunder, his sword and his pentagon exploded.
The shockwave threw Johanna backwards almost to the wall.
Screaming Billy’s name, she forced herself off the floor and struggled through her pain to reach his crumpled body.
He wasn’t moving.
Alarms screamed, long undulating wails of sounds that matched the cries coming from her own throat. A smell of something burning filled the air.
She knelt beside him, pulled him into her arms, and cradled his head in one hand. When she saw his totally white face, her heart and her magic center seemed to freeze. Then his eyelids fluttered when she pushed his hair gently off his face.
Oh, thank you, God, he’s alive.
She leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t try to move, Beej, help is on the way.”
He opened his eyes, those wonderful dark green eyes, gazed straight into hers, and whispered, “Love you.”
Although she tried with all her might to tell him she loved him, too, her throat tightened so much she couldn’t get the words out.
And he died in her arms.
***
Six weeks after the funeral, Johanna visited Billy’s grave. She really needed time with him by herself.
Her parents and his meant well, but they hadn’t let her be alone since that day in the arena. She’d also been to the Defender counselor every single day. The results? She was extremely tired of everybody stepping on eggshells around her, of them watching her every expression, her every statement, her every action.
Yes, when some practitioners lost their soul mates, they killed themselves. No, Johanna wasn’t going to do that, although where the strength to keep going was coming from, she didn’t know.
Suicide, however, wouldn’t help Billy, and she had to think of both sets of parents who needed her.
After all the counseling, she knew the stages of grief by heart—by her broken heart. She figured she was past the denial stage and into the anger part. Anger at Billy for letting his competitiveness overrule all he’d been taught, for ignoring the danger, for not believing she loved him no matter what. Anger at herself for not realizing how he felt and then not doing more—whatever ‘more’ was—to stop hi
m.
She was a Sword. She was supposed to take charge in emergencies. She should have gone to the arena floor right away. She should have shot a bolt or a fireball at his pentagon to distract him, to show him how unprepared he was. Or she should have helped him by attacking the rock. Between them, maybe they could have defended themselves until help arrived.
She knew her feelings were irrational—even though the knowledge didn’t help soothe her anger or lessen her guilt at the moment. Billy had been determined. She couldn’t actually have stopped him altogether. At some point she’d have to let those feelings go, work her way through the stages, and concentrate on the future—or so the grief counselor said.
Dear God, it wasn’t going to be easy.
Surprisingly—because she didn’t expect it at all for a long time—she had made some progress. After a lot of talk and thought and soul-searching, she’d come up with a plan, a new purpose for her life.
She knelt by the headstone. His wonderful parents had it inscribed “William Thaddeus Johnson, Beloved Son of James and Grace, Soul Mate of Johanna Mahler.” She laid her single red rose on the grass at its base and traced the engraved letters with her fingers.
“Beej, my Aragorn, I don’t know if you can hear me. I hope so. If you were here in front of me, I’d smack you in the face for trying that stunt. Then I’d love you all day and all night, and when we woke up, I’d love you some more.”
She sat down and made herself more comfortable in the peaceful green surroundings. Her magic center vibrated in an encouraging manner, and a soothing calm enveloped her.
“But you’re not here,” she sighed, “and I have to get used to that. Everybody tells me it’s going to take time. Yeah, right. It’s going to take forever. No matter what, I will love you all the days of my life. Nobody will take your place in my heart, ever. You are my one and only soul mate.”