Phoenix Incandescent (Endeavor Series Book 1)

by A E M

  “It looks like you are in time for a hot breakfast.” Charlotte finally looked up and smiled.

  Mr. Chesterfield peeked over the counter. “What devices do you have hidden back here? Haven’t I been a customer long enough to know your secrets?”

  Charlotte laughed and smiled. “This is why you aren’t allowed in the dining room until after the food is delivered. You would find us out.”

  “You are far too kind.” Mr. Chesterfield smiled back. “I will check out shortly after breakfast.”

  “Of course.” Charlotte said. “Let me know if I can do anything for you.”

  Charlotte looked over at Josef, who was still tapping the pen softly. His eyes stared absently across the room. Charlotte reached over and placed her hand near his. “You sound excited to be free of danes.”

  “No offense, Lottie, dear.” He put down the pen and patted her hand in condolence. “You are half magical, even if you aren’t, um, magical.” He hopped down from the stool. “There will be a grand celebration tonight. The last check out is at noon; I want all jobs done by then so we can rest and prepare.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Josef disappeared with a pop and Charlotte found herself busy with checkouts of the human kind and check-ins of the magical kind. It was half an hour before she had the lobby to herself again. She frowned at the paperwork in front of her. What was with the influx of weavers? Were they celebrating her parents’ return? She doodled on the side of the notebook she kept at the desk for notes.

  The celebration in itself was nothing out of the ordinary. Hobs loved to party. They partied for holidays. They partied for birthdays. They partied for unbirthdays. Occasionally one of the older hobs would come down for breakfast and announce, “Today let us celebrate Monday!” As part of the business was entertaining guests, this worked very well for everyone. The hobs were also skilled musicians. They not only had a band, but also an orchestra. Isaac and Audrey loved to sing, and everybody loved to dance, even if they were not good at dancing. Many nights of her childhood she had fallen asleep in the dining room and been carried to her bed in the middle of the night in her father’s arms.

  Charlotte flipped the page of the notebook. Was her father hosting a weaver event? No. Not yet anyway. Her father was one of the founding weavers, the term adopted when Wizards from other countries integrated with the magic users already present in the Americas. Isaac’s mother had been a mystic in her tribe, while his father was from a wizardry family overseas. He spent a lot of his time in his classroom teaching a combination of university level and apprenticeship level magic courses. They did host dances and lectures and gatherings throughout the year, but they happened at regular intervals; it would be a month before the first one.

  Would her mother be planning a function? Not likely. She did throw a few events at the castle for advertising, but they were also fixed events. Charlotte wished again that her mother had stayed for the summer. She had wanted to spend more time talking to her about her own past, for Audrey had given up nearly everything to marry Isaac. Her home. Her family. Her memories. Only Ebby remained of her past.

  Charlotte grinned at the thought of Ebby. Where was she, anyway? Ebby was a short, tiny woman who preferred to wear nothing on her feet and outfits that made no sense at all unless you were a two-year-old girl or attuned to the young at heart. She had long red hair that she wore in a braid that danced as she did, and light violet eyes that twinkled in the light when she was happy and flashed like thunder when she was upset. She was rarely upset, for anybody who had seen her upset was sure to impress on those who hadn’t seen it that it was best not to have that experience. Ebby was no longer her governess, so she taught classes on daydreaming, daredevilry, and delicacies.

  Charlotte slid off the stool. “Chime.” She called out. Chime, Josef’s youngest child, appeared in slacks and a button up shirt. Her blonde hair was in its usual ponytail with a ribbon tied in a bow around it.

  “Morning.” Chime smiled up at her.

  “Morning, friend.” Charlotte smiled back. “Could you cover the lobby for me while I visit with Basil and have some breakfast?”

  “Of course.” Chime answered.

  Charlotte crossed the lobby and halted in front of one of the archways that opened to the dining room. Many of the humorously inclined hobs preferred to take their meals in the dining hall to the delight of the guests. They would always return for the hobs’ evening coffee and treat time with stories of the guests, who were quite unaware that they had been sitting by a real hob. Spindle, one of those storytellers, was sitting in the middle of one of the tables with a tray of muffins balanced on his knees and a story on his lips. His jet-black hair, dark brown eyes, several tattoos, and irresistible charm made him a favorite amongst the human guests. Spindle had been a wild, abandoned hob child who Isaac and Audrey brought home from one of their trips. Josef had worked wonders with him. Charlotte secretly concluded that Josef must have been a bit wild in his youth. He had, after all, spent years with her father in adventures that neither one would divulge.

  Now that she was older, Charlotte yearned to know her parents more. What adventures had her father gone on? When did her parents meet? How did they meet? How long had they dated? How did they know they were right for each other? How did her father tell her mother the secret of his powers? How did he know he could trust her? She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. And why did she not know all of this? Why did her parents keep quiet about so much? She had asked questions over the years, but the answers were always short and vague.

  Charlotte exited the south wing, circled around the pool in the courtyard, and headed for the kitchen, which was the hub of the hobs’ wing of the castle. The kitchen encompassed nearly the entire first floor of the north wing, with a mighty fireplace at each end and a long table in the middle with stools tucked underneath. Dried herbs and flowers hung from the beams, and abundant sunlight from the many windows covered the room. The only part of that wing’s first floor that was not the kitchen was the hob’s library, which held its own grand staircase leading to the second story.

  Charlotte found Basil wearing his trademark blue jean apron covered with the day’s food and faded cowboy boots. She bent down to kiss his head. Basil, like his brother Josef, had been one of many constants of her childhood. She could always find a pot of soup simmering on the stove, dough rising as it waited its turn in the oven, cookies baking, and tea or coffee brewing.

  “Last day of work?” Basil asked without turning around. He grabbed her favorite mug off the shelf.

  Charlotte nodded and grabbed a stool while Basil set a cup of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and fruit on the old oak table for her. She thanked him and busied herself with breakfast while listening to the conversations around her. Crispin, Tomas, and Matches were having a hushed, yet animated conversation at one end of the table.

  Basil sat down across from her with a cup of tea. “So are you leaving us?” He asked softly. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he took a slow sip from the worn teacup with a missing handle.

  “It doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.”

  “Such is life, Lottie.” He took another sip from his cup. “Sometimes we have to chose the rock or the hard place.”

  Matches got up from the table without cleaning. Basil raised his voice. “I cook. I don’t clean. You know that.”

  “Sorry, Father.” Matches said. “I got distracted by—” He looked at his cousins.

  “Hmph.” Basil interjected. “I was young once. I don’t want to know and you’d be wise to make sure you don’t get caught. Josef will have you three mucking out the stalls for a year if you do anything stupid again.”

  “Yes, Uncle.” Crispin and Tomas said together.

  “What did they do?" Charlotte asked once the three had left the kitchen.

  “A couple of years ago they made the staircases escalate.”

  Charlotte snickered before taking a bite of her fruit.

  �
��Backwards.” Basil added with a hint of a lip twitch.

  “I thought it was an improvement.” Beau Winguard said from outside the kitchen. He was standing, windboard in his right arm, behind the engraved Dutch doors that led to the rear grounds of the castle. His father, mother, and sister landed behind him. They were bronze eagles, a magani with a bronze colored body and wings and the attributes of an eagle, such as improved eyesight. Beau and his family loved to surf the wind. They had a permanent suite above the garage since they had lived at the castle off and on for as long as Charlotte could remember.

  “Welcome back.” Charlotte greeted them. “I’ve had your rooms readied.”

  “It’s good to be back.” Wynn replied. “We have an extra guest joining us later, by the way. She’ll stay in our apartment.”

  “Of course. I’ll let Josef know.” Charlotte responded.

  Beau scooped Basil up in a bear hug that was returned with his usual greeting of, “Put me down, you winged nuisance!”

  Beau laughed heartily and placed Basil down by the stove. Basil gave a half smile with a grunt and handed him a plate full of eggs.

  Beau’s father, Wilder, set his windboard against the wall. He was a tall, broad man with a chest full of large muscles. He shook his hand through his short, white hair, and winked his gold eyes. “Good to see you all!”

  Basil offered him a plate and looked up at him with twinkling eyes. “Will you be staying for a while?”

  Wilder took the plate of eggs from him and nodded. “How about tomorrow we get you out of the kitchen? Everybody will be eating too much and staying up too late tonight. Tomorrow they can fend for themselves.”

  Basil nodded. “I’d like that.” He served Wynn and Bliss.

  Charlotte cleaned up after her breakfast while the others settled down at the table with some of the hobs.

  “Charlotte, must you go so quickly?” Wynn looked up at Charlotte with her gold eyes. She snaked her arm around Charlotte’s arm and tugged her close. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I’m sorry, but yes.” Charlotte leaned into her and picked the leaf out of Wynn’s white pixie cut hair. Being snuggled against Wynn’s warm wings was one of her favorite childhood memories. “I expected all the check outs today, but not the surge of check-ins.”

  “Our Lottie is too busy running things to stand still for pleasantries from her adoring fans.” Beau wagged his fork at her. “You know, you might be able to do more if you would remember to put your shoes on.”

  Bliss snorted into her cup from across the table. “Are you going to let him talk to you like that?” She and Charlotte shared a smile.

  “Like what?” Beau flashed a teasing smile and shrugged. “All I did—”

  “Careful, son.” Wilder chuckled softly.

  Beau turned to face Charlotte. “All I did was point out that Charlotte was being a little rude—”

  Charlotte reached over his plate, grabbed his glass, and dumped the ice water over his head.

  “Catch up later?” Charlotte said sweetly and left while Basil scolded Beau and told him to clean the mess up.

  Charlotte headed back to the lobby. The mermaids were already sitting by the pool, awaiting the final class of the season. The dining room was half full of guests eating breakfast. Chime was sitting at the front counter, batting her eyelashes at Spindle between guests.

  Charlotte leaned against the counter. “Thanks for filling in for me.”

  Chime waved her away. “Ebby is looking for you. I’ve got things covered here.”

  Charlotte nodded her thanks and walked down the right hallway. She held her breath as she pushed open the double doors that led to the library. The smell of books and ink and parchment and frankincense crashed into her. The two-story library and classroom was her favorite place in the castle. She walked along the bookcases, fingers trailing across the books. Since nobody was watching, she grabbed the ladder attached to the wall. She climbed up and swung her legs over the railing and fell to the floor of the loft with a laugh. It had been years since she had last done that. Would this be the last time?

  Charlotte made her way to the front of the loft where there was a door to one of the castle towers. This tower was made up of five stories. Audrey and Isaac’s room was the first floor, followed by a living room, Ebby’s room, Charlotte’s room, and an attic. She entered the tower and climbed the stairs that circled the tower until she reached the attic. When she was young, her mother created a playroom for her here. As she grew older, it became her hideaway when she wanted a break from living in a castle full of magic. She pushed the door open and coughed through the dust that assaulted her entrance. She tiptoed through the dust and forgotten toys in the room until she reached her swing. She sat, took a few steps back and let go. Memories scrubbed away time.

  “Mama, what would you be if you could be anything you wanted? Would you be a weaver like Papa?” Charlotte had asked as a child.

  Her mother had paused, paintbrush in hand and sunlight gleaming behind her. She had been quiet for a long time, but smiled eventually before answering. “Sweetheart, I don’t have an easy answer for you. Sometimes I think that I want to be more like your Papa, but most of the time I want to be me.”

  Charlotte had replied angrily, “Well, I think you should have both been weavers so I could be one, too.” She stomped her foot with frustration and stared furiously out the huge round window. Charlotte had grown more frustrated as each birthday with no magic awakening passed by.

  “Oh, Lottie, life isn’t always that easy.” Her mother walked slowly over to the window. She brushed the tendrils of Charlotte’s hair behind her ears and gently placed her hands on her shoulders. “We have to do the best we can with the things we have control over as well as the things we have no control over.”

  Audrey sighed and kissed Charlotte on the head. “I wish I could snap my fingers and make us both weavers. While it would seem that it would make life easier on all of us, I can’t help thinking that I am who I need to be right now. I have the choice to be happy or unhappy about that.” She stared out the window and closed her eyes. “Most days it’s easy to choose happy.” She whispered.

  “It’s not easy for me.”

  “Charlotte, even if both your father and I were weavers, there would still be a very small chance that you would still be a dane-weaver.”

  “I highly doubt that,” Charlotte responded with a huff before asking, “What is a dane-weaver?”

  “A person born with one or two magical parents who doesn’t develop magical abilities.”

  Charlotte had shaken her head angrily and stomped her foot. Audrey had responded with a lift of her eyebrows in a silent warning of caution.

  “Charlotte, I am very content being a dane. Someday, my darling, you will want to be who you are supposed to be. If you don’t, then I’m afraid you will be quite miserable throughout life.” Audrey had wisely left the room at that point.

  Charlotte blinked and the memory faded. The magic had never come. At her age, the chance of it happening was gone. She knew what life was like being in and out of the magical world, but there was no one thing that made her want to choose one over the other. She crossed the room and slammed the attic door behind her. The weight of her decision dangled above her like a faulty chandelier. Marry into the magical world, or have her memory erased.

  2

  Racy Red

  “You can still attend classes.” He said with a half smile, but his eyes were sad.

  “But you will have to stay on the loft,

  and you won’t be able to interact with me or the other students.”

  She watched from the loft for years.

  Then one day she stopped coming; she stopped waiting.

  From that point on she started doing.

  Charlotte sighed softly as she looked through the dresses in her walk-in closet, which wrapped around the outside of half of her room. One end of the closet held a full three-sided mirror. The other end held one of two
doors to her bathroom. She passed the sections of casual clothes and informal dresses. Tonight would be a full ball gown night. She walked back and forth in front of the numerous ball gowns she owned. Little black? Racy Red? Innocent White? She shook her head at them one by one. Would she still fit the ball gowns? She was muscular like her parents, but she had larger muscles and lots of curves. She most definitely could not eat whatever she wanted like her mother, who could easily shock strangers with her large appetite in a tiny frame.

  Charlotte padded back to the front of the closet where the mirror stood. It had been four years since she had worn a ball gown. The human world had far less need for formal dresses, but she had never grown out of enjoying dressing like a princess now and then. She turned side to side in the mirror, gauging her curves critically. How did two skinny parents produce a not so skinny daughter? If she wasn’t going to get her father’s magic, then surely she could have inherited her mother’s figure. But no. She made a face at her self and shook the silly thoughts away.

  Today she needed to focus on her decision. She was fairly confident that she had made the right choice, but she let both choices dangle in front of her in case a last minute argument might present itself with enough weight to justify a change of heart and mind.

  Ebby, dressed in pink tights under a black dress, slipped in the closet and interrupted her internal debate. “What are we staring at, lovey?” She tickled Charlotte’s ribs and danced to the back of the closet for a glance at the dresses. “Nope, not a one of them will do.” She grabbed Charlotte’s hand and pulled her downstairs to her room. “We will worry about the dress later. First let’s get ready for the dress.”

  “Ebby, I need to be back at the front desk soon.” Charlotte insisted from Ebby’s doorway.

  Ebby’s room was dark and cool. The stone tiles under her feet were chilled, the windows covered with thick curtains. Charlotte shivered a little. Ebby flipped all the lights on and raised her eyebrows with a grin. “You never did like coming in here.”