by Alicia Rades
“And I for you,” she whispered. “Which is why—”
“Hang on,” I said, suddenly realizing something.
She tilted her head curiously as I raised my hand and curled it into a fist.
“It’s your birthday,” I pointed out. “I got you something.”
I conjured her present and unfurled my fingers. It was a brass key, but it wasn’t like the antique one she’d given me. This was old, but still modern.
She reached out and took it. “What does it go to?”
A smile spread across my face. “The abandoned mansion behind the school.”
She stared down at it, gaping like she couldn’t believe it.
“I went back after that night,” I admitted. “I found it upstairs in one of the bedrooms. It works on all the doors.”
She blinked a few times. “I don’t get it, Lucas. Why are you giving me this?”
“Because that place is ours, Nad,” I said. “It’s our special place, and this is me promising you we’ll be making lots of memories there.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she curled her fingers around the key.
“I love it!” she cried, before throwing herself over me. I winced as her weight pressed into my broken ribs.
Nadine kissed me gently, and my stomach flipped in my abdomen. Kissing her was never going to get old.
“This is amazing, Lucas,” she said as she drew away.
I smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
Nadine sat back down and took a deep breath. “Look, there’s a reason I couldn’t sleep—a reason I came to visit you.”
“Uh, oh,” I said, my guts sinking.
“It’s not bad,” she said quickly, and I relaxed. “It’s… complicated, I guess. I was lying there in bed, thinking about being a Curse Breaker, when it hit me.”
“What hit you?” I asked when she paused.
Her eyes brightened. “Lucas... we could break the Reaper’s Shadow curse.”
Her words thrilled me. What a blessing that would be!
But my thrill only lasted a split second. This curse was one of the darkest I’d ever known. She couldn’t break it on her own—especially as a novice. Breaking this curse… well, it could consume her before she managed it. The magic was so strong and so dark, it could overpower her. She could die in the attempt, and I’d lose her all over again.
That wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
“Nad, I don’t think that’s possible,” I said solemnly.
“Why not?” she argued. “I’m a Curse Breaker.”
“Yes, but you’re the only one,” I pointed out. “A curse this big could hurt you. I don’t want you getting mixed up in magic you can’t handle.”
“I’ll practice,” she promised.
“I don’t want to lose you,” I replied firmly. “I thought I was going to lose you tonight, and I don’t want either of us to go through with that again. Magic like this… it could be too much for you. You could get yourself killed.”
“I was willing to go to the Abyss for you,” she reminded me. “I’ll risk this, too.”
“But you don’t have to,” I assured her. “We agreed we’d live with the curse, to work around it.”
“That was before we knew I was a Curse Breaker,” she said. “The least we can do is try.”
My heart sank. The last thing I wanted to do was risk losing my Nadine again. She didn’t know how much magic she could handle or what breaking this curse could do to her.
“Curse Breaking is a complicated process, Nad,” I said.
She tilted her head to the side. “Don’t you want to get rid of it?”
“Of course I do,” I insisted. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t,” she promised, but I wasn’t sure I believed her. “I’m going to figure out this curse, and I’m going to break it. I don’t care how long it takes me.”
My lips tightened. “You’re going to do it with or without my help?”
“I hope you’ll help me,” she said quietly. “I want this for both of us.”
“I do, too,” I replied. “I just… I can’t watch you put yourself in danger.”
She stared at me under long lashes and spoke softly. “You know me, Lucas. I don’t run from danger.”
“And that’s why I’m here—to drag you away from it,” I teased.
Nadine dropped her gaze. Apparently, she didn’t find that funny. “Maybe we should take some time to think about it.”
“Agreed,” I stated, though I wasn’t planning on changing my mind. I just hoped she would.
“I don’t think I’ll be around for winter break,” she announced, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine.
“What?” I gasped. The thought of being away from her killed me. “Why not?”
“I need to go home,” she said.
“Octavia Falls is your home,” I reminded her.
“I know. But I want to visit my parents’ graves.” Before I could suggest coming along, she added, “It’s something I need to do by myself.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. I didn’t want her going anywhere alone, but I couldn’t force her to take me with her.
She nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stay with a friend from high school. When I get back, we can figure out this curse and what to do about it.”
“Okay,” I heard myself agree, though I was thoroughly against all of this. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m going to miss you, too,” she said, choking up.
I couldn’t stand to see her like this. All I wanted was to make her happy.
I reached an arm out. “Come here, Nad.”
She leaned onto the bed and curled into me. Her head rested on my shoulder, and though her weight put pressure on my ribs, I didn’t care. Because I had my Nadine with me. We could handle this curse later. Right now, all I could do was be grateful that Nadine and I had both survived the night. All was good in the world.
Or it would’ve been—if I hadn’t been hit by the most debilitating nausea in the next moment. A brick slammed into my guts, and bile shot up my throat. I sprang upright in bed, throwing Nadine off of me. I leaned over and heaved. A sharp, searing pain radiated across my side.
Nadine gasped. “Lucas!”
I was pretty sure she said something else, but I didn’t hear her over the high-pitched ringing in my ears. I’d never felt anything like it in all the time I’d been a Reaper’s Apprentice.
A child’s voice played in my mind as if he was sitting at my side.
“Playtime is over. No child in the coven is safe.”
The air sucked out of the room. This thought was shockingly similar to another I’d heard months ago—the one that left me curled on the bathroom floor between classes. Is it playtime?
But this new one came with a warning.
A dark, ominous cloud seemed to swirl around me as realization hit. These two kids’ deaths were connected. The warning was clear: someone had murdered these kids.
And there was no telling who they’d come for next.
END OF BOOK ONE
Continue on to read a special excerpt from book two: The Reaper’s Shadow!
HIDDEN LEGENDS
Read more from the Hidden Legends universe! Each Hidden Legends series takes place within the same world, but in separate and unique societies. Every series stands on its own, and they can be read in any order.
SHIFTERS, FAE, & SORCERESSES
University of Sorcery by Megan Linski
WITCHES, DEMONS, & REAPERS
College of Witchcraft by Alicia Rades
SUPERNATURAL PRISON
Prison for Supernatural Offenders by Megan Linski & Alicia Rades
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The Reaper’s Shadow: Sneak Peek
Lucas
A Year Ago
The coven had lost a child.
Two days ago, a six-year-old boy named Caleb Thomas had
gone missing from his bed in the middle of the night. There was no evidence left behind—just an open window he’d been snatched through. He came from a prominent Alchemy family, so the chances he’d run away were slim to none.
But that was all anyone knew. That, and no magic could track him.
We had Seers on every corner, and not one of them had a vision of the missing boy. The coven must’ve had dozens of psychometrists—people who got visions through touch. They were experts at finding things.
And yet the child was still missing.
I didn’t know that was possible.
The dark skies outside the school crackled with lightning, and thunder shook the walls. The Main Foyer was deserted, except for Grant and me. We sat in front of the empty fireplace, balking at the absurdity of it all.
“I don’t get it,” Grant remarked. He lounged across one of the plush red chairs, his legs hanging over the armrest. He flipped through the school newspaper.
“I know. It’s crazy,” I agreed. “Maybe you’ll get Seer at your Evoking Ceremony this weekend. Maybe we can find him.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Grant shifted in his chair to sit up straight. His eyes darkened as he waved the school paper in the air. “I don’t get how the coven can be in an uproar about this whole thing and there’s not one mention of it in the school paper.”
“What?” I balked.
Grant tossed the paper onto the coffee table between us, and it made a hard smacking noise as it landed.
I scrambled forward and snatched it up. The paper’s name, The Epitaph, was scrawled across the top in big, bold letters. Below that was a headline highlighting this year’s top fashion for the Midnight Formal.
What the hell? The Formal was two months away. Little Caleb Thomas was missing now!
I started flipping through the newspaper, but there was no mention of the boy at all. I crumpled the paper in my fists.
I must’ve got a look on my face, because Grant narrowed his eyes at me. “What are you thinking?”
I took a couple of shallow breaths, my nostrils flaring. “I think I’m going to have a chat with the head of the paper.”
I shot up out of my seat and stomped past the grand staircase.
“Lucas, wait!” Grant called, but I ignored him.
I clutched my copy of The Epitaph tight in my fist and stormed down the hall to Professor Carlisle’s office. He was my conjuring professor and the faculty advisor for the paper. Rumor had it, he spent twenty years as a journalist at the Miriamic Messenger before becoming a professor, and that’s how he landed the role as the school paper advisor.
I passed through his classroom and stomped straight through the open door of his office. He sat at his desk, scribbling away at something.
“Your paper is garbage!” I raged, slamming it down on his desk.
The ancient gray cat lounging nearby jumped so high it fell off the edge of the desk. Professor Carlisle gave a start. He looked up to me and adjusted his glasses. His bushy gray eyebrows shot up, nearly touching his hairline.
“Mister Taylor, how may I help you?” He looked delighted to see me, but I was more than a little ticked off.
“I want to know why you’re letting the school paper publish this garbage,” I demanded. “Why isn’t there one mention of Caleb Thomas in here?”
“The missing boy?” Professor Carlisle asked, looking surprised. “I believe the Miriamic Messenger has that topic covered.”
“The town paper has shared the facts—which isn’t much, to be frank,” I pointed out. “Why isn’t the school paper doing a feature? Talk about the implications this has on the coven. Analyze what this means for our magic—or run a study on what types of magic might be able to cover this up. Discuss what we can do as students to contribute to the search for the child. The possibilities are endless!”
Professor Carlisle’s eyes brightened. He leaned back in his chair, looking intrigued. “Those are all good ideas, Mister Taylor. If you want to submit a piece for consideration, I’m more than happy to look at it.”
My stomach dropped. That wasn’t my intention for coming to him at all.
“I’m not a journalist,” I stated bluntly.
“Well, why not?” Professor Carlisle asked brightly, spreading his arms wide. For a guy pushing eighty, he had a lot of energy. “You seem to have a lot of ideas. The paper could use an opinionated view like yours.”
“What the paper needs is an investigative journalist,” I said. “Someone has to figure out how this boy went missing without a trace.”
“That’s what the Imperium’s for,” he reminded me. “Unfortunately, the newspaper club is very small, and I encourage all my students to report on the topics that matter most to them.”
My eyebrows shot up. What kind of idiots were in the newspaper club if they thought some stupid dance was more important than a child’s life?
“If you’re going to go digging on this, I’d love to bring you on board,” Professor Carlisle offered.
“That’s not what I was suggesting,” I told him, rather harshly. “Like I said, I’m not a reporter.”
Professor Carlisle shrugged, like there was nothing more he could do about it. “Well, then, Mister Taylor. I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave this matter to the professionals.”
“I thought you were a professional, Professor Carlisle,” I growled before turning on my heel and storming out of the room.
As I walked down the hall, I couldn’t get this single thought out of my mind: Protect the coven.
I wanted to find this little boy. I wanted to help.
Problem was, I didn’t know how.
Present Day
Another child had gone missing. Same story, different kid.
One moment, ten-year-old Isaac Miller is at home in his bed, sleeping soundlessly. The next he just… vanished. Nothing but an open window beside his bed remained. His family was high-profile like the last, though they were Mentalists instead of Alchemists. Like last time, no magic in the coven could trace him.
After Caleb Thomas went missing, the coven sort of gave up on him. There were no leads, nothing we could do. His case was a total dead end, and we didn’t know if he was dead or alive. How could you search for a missing person when the only evidence left behind was their absence?
But this time, I knew something. I was the only one who knew anything. It wasn’t much, but I knew one thing.
Those children were dead.
And whoever killed them was going to strike again.
I’d heard them die. They used the same word, like it was some sort of code.
Caleb’s last thought echoed in my mind. It was the child’s voice I heard last semester… the one I couldn’t match to an obituary.
Is it playtime?
No, it wasn’t, and Isaac knew it.
Playtime is over. No child in the coven is safe.
The similarities frightened me to my very core.
I didn’t have proof these voices were those of the missing children, but deep down in my gut, I felt it.
At the time I heard the second voice, no one even knew Isaac was even missing. It wasn’t until morning that word got out about his disappearance. He was older than Caleb by a few years, but the similarities between the disappearances were too coincidental to dismiss.
The one thing that didn’t seem to fit—and the thing that frightened me most—was that little Caleb died a year after his disappearance. Isaac Miller was killed the same night he was taken.
Don’t ask how I knew it was murder. It wasn’t like the kids had told me.
But I could feel it in their thoughts—the way my guts twisted when I heard their voices, the way I heaved and shook and felt hot and cold at the same time. It was dark. It was sinister. And it wasn’t an accident.
As soon as I was discharged from the hospital, I marched straight up to the Imperium’s doors. They met on the top floor of Octavia Hall. I pounded on the heavy door, and it swung open under my wei
ght.
Their meeting quarters looked more like an attic than anything—with a vaulted ceiling, fireplace, and huge window overlooking the town—but it was really big and clean. There were books stacked neatly along all the walls, along with potion vials, crystals, and endless decks of tarot cards. A large round table sat in the center of the room.
The four priestesses were crowded around the table. Each one spoke over each other so loudly that their voices spilled out into the hall. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. They stopped abruptly when they heard the door creak open.
“The missing children are dead,” I said bluntly.
A woman with a cauldron tattoo on the back of her neck whirled around, eyes wide. Technically, all priestesses held the same power, but she was the oldest of all of them and looked like she naturally took on the role of leader.
I recognized her as Priestess Margaret. She had long silver hair tied into a braid that hung over her shoulder to show off her tattoo, and she wore a gray shawl around her shoulders. Like all the priestesses, she was very pretty.
“Lucas Taylor,” she said breathlessly, recognition crossing her features. “The Reaper’s Apprentice.”
I nodded firmly.
She reached out a hand to invite me inside. “You have heard the child pass?”
“Not just one,” I said as I entered the room, my heart racing. “Remember Caleb Thomas, the boy who went missing last year?”
The four priestesses exchanged a terrified glance.
“I think I heard him, too,” I admitted.
Priestess Margaret took my hand and dragged me to the table. “Sit. Tell us everything you know.”
It wasn’t much—and I could tell the priestesses were disappointed by that as I explained to them what I’d heard.
“This makes no sense,” one of them protested. She had a wild mane of dark curls and a tree tattooed on her shoulder. I recognized her as Priestess Lilian, Chloe’s grandmother. “Why would somebody wait a year to harm one child, only to hurt the other the day they’re taken?”