Secrets The Walkers Keep: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Casters of Magic Series Book 1)

by J. Morgan Michaels

  A few quiet weeks later, I stood in an empty room in my mother’s house. In one hand, I had a piece of paper, and in the other a lighter. Slowly, the page I had ripped from my mother’s book burned away. On it was the spell that had suppressed my powers.

  We could no longer be a family that lived in constant fear of being who we were born to be, it was too sharp a contrast to the tenacity and grit that makes the Walkers who they are. We would take care of each other, always and without question, and when change disrupted our world, we would again rise from the ashes and fight on. That is who we are, who they raised me to be.

  “Give me that before you burn the damn house down,” Max said, taking what was left of the paper into the bathroom.

  Summer weather hit the city early that year, and we had just finished clearing out the last of my mother’s things from a house I once knew as home. In a few days, the sale would be final, and a new family would move in to start their own memories here.

  Max came up behind me and wrapped one of his arms over my shoulder and the other across my chest, clasping his hands together and leaning into me. “Gonna miss it?” he asked quietly.

  “I miss her. I guess the rest of this is just an empty box.”

  There was a certain peace and closure that came with seeing my mother’s house empty. Max and I had been talking about it a lot and knowing who killed her wouldn’t change her being dead, nor would it change how I felt about her being dead. But it would keep me from moving on. It could also turn me into someone neither of us wanted me to be, someone who lived in constant fear and worry about what the Opalescence would bring into my life.

  I twisted around in his grip to look at my favorite feature, those big gray eyes. We kissed and the world around us slowed. I enjoyed another perfect moment with him, learning that I didn’t have to be sad when it was over, because with Max, there would never be any shortage of perfect moments.

  “You made a mess,” Max said, pointing to the ashes on the floor.

  As I bent down to sweep up the ashes with my hand, the familiar lights and sounds of my life brought me to my place of weightlessness and a vision unfolded.

  My mother followed the sounds of knocking to her front door and behind it was Withers.

  “So, what was so important that I had to come all the way over here, eh?” Withers said as the door opened. He pushed past my mother without invitation and walked into the house.

  “These,” she said, pointing to her coffee table and closing the door. On top of the table were dozens of little totems carved from wood. Each had a unique face, and intricate zigzag markings all over.

  “And what is it that you plan to do with these, Amelia?” Withers asked.

  “I need you to help me break them,” my mother said.

  “Pfft. I will do nothing of the sort. It took me months to find that spell for you and countless years off my life.”

  “Things have changed now,” my mother said softly, picking up her book of spells. “Test not the force of a Caster’s power, but the reach of their heart,” she read aloud. She quickly flipped through the pages and held the book up to Withers. “Look at this.”

  Wither’s squinted as he read the page. “The Trials of Truth? You don’t want to go there.”

  “I already have,” she said quietly.

  “What would possess you to go to a place like that? What could you have needed so badly that you’d risk that? Hmmm. I always thought you were one of the smarter Walkers, or at least more cautious.”

  “What I saw in there was . . . big. Bigger than this. And not just for me, not just for you—for all of us. I don’t have much time at all. I have to reverse the suppression on the kids’ powers before it’s too late. And I can’t do it without you.”

  “What of your family, eh? You’re lousy with Casters. Pick one of them and leave me out of this.”

  “My family can’t know what I’m doing. They wouldn’t understand and there isn’t time to explain it all to them. And knowing could hurt them, I think, especially right now.”

  “You Walkers and your secrets.”

  “It just happened again, didn’t it?” Max asked as he watched me come out of my vision. “What did you see?”

  “My mom,” was all I said.

  “Okay,” he said, turning to walk toward the door.

  “Hey,” I yelled, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him back to me. I gave him another kiss and felt him laugh a little under my lips. “Love you.”

  * * * * *

  Max and I had a busy day planned. After a quick shower together to wash off a day of acting like moving men, we hauled ourselves to Paige’s house for a bigger than usual Walker Family party. In our family, there were simply too many things to celebrate for too many people so parties had to be lumped together. That day we were celebrating two different birthdays, a college graduation, and Paige’s engagement to the man she finally decided to introduce to all of us.

  “Wanna be my date for a wedding?” I asked Max as we gathered by the table of cakes, plural.

  “I better be your date,” Max laughed and looked around uneasily at my family. He was still getting used to the sheer quantity of them.

  “Know anyone for me?” Damon asked.

  “I’m sorry about Talia,” I said.

  I had told him that Talia quit Cartwright & Company and took off but that she hadn’t told anyone where. The truth was no one had seen her since I left her in Storage, and I wasn’t expecting that anyone would.

  “Wait . . . is he your boyfriend?” Finn pointed to Max and asked me.

  Poor Finn. With a family as big as ours, news always traveled fast, but it also always inevitably missed someone along the way. That someone was usually Finn. Laughter erupted from the group as Damon tried to fill Finn in on everything he had missed.

  The feeling of eyes watching me pulled me away from the group, and I wandered over to the side of the house to join Gloria. “Hey, Auntie,” I said, sitting down in a lawn chair next to her.

  “Hi, honey,” she said. “You still mad at me?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that,” I said with a smile. “Ask me again later.”

  “Are you still mad at me?” she asked and we both laughed.

  “Things are complicated in this family, that’s for sure. And I don’t think that’s going to change any time soon.”

  “Probably not,” she said, looking off into the throngs of family in the distance. “But either way, I hope you know I’m really proud you. For what you did. And I think your Mom would be too.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  When she noticed me watching Charley as she walked by, she said, “Hat . . .”

  I shook my head at Gloria and she stopped talking.

  “Hey, can I talk to you?” I asked Charley, pulling her away.

  “What’s up, Bitch?” she asked. “By the way, I’m glad to see you’re still with Hotness over there. I’d hate to hear that you two broke up and he was up for grabs,” she licked her lips a little and watched the back of Max’s pants tighten as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

  “We’re close, right?” I asked.

  “Mmm hmm,” she turned her face toward me but her eyes stayed on Max, “and because we’re close . . . we should learn to share better.”

  I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “Charlotte! Focus.”

  She finally gave me her attention, animatedly pointing her eyebrows in toward her nose. “Whoa. Why are you full-naming me? And you’re being all serious . . . we’re never this serious together. What’s wrong? Oh god, are you sick?”

  “No, I’m not sick, Freak. But, yeah, I guess it is serious. Okay, listen. If I knew something about you that you didn’t know, but I wasn’t sure that it would make your life better to know, would you want me to tell you?”

  “What the hell are y
ou saying?”

  “Just answer me.”

  “I guess so, especially now that you’ve got me all worried.”

  “Okay,” I pulled a sealed envelope out of my pocket and handed it to her. “Here.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Just read it. I’m hoping it’ll be easier to read than hear,” I said. She took the envelope and retreated to the house to read it, passing by her mother who was flirting so hard with a man that one of her sisters brought that she didn’t even notice Charley.

  Max came over to me and rubbed the back of my neck gently. “How do you think she’ll take it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “If anyone knows how much it sucks to find out stuff so long after the fact, it’s me. But even if she doesn’t like it, she has the right to know. Right?”

  He pulled me into a rough hug. “Right.”

  “Do save all that for the bedroom,” Cooper said. He walked toward us with a stunningly dressed Liv on his arm, both looking happy and rested.

  “You made it,” I said from Max’s shoulder.

  Cooper shook my hand and then brushed a chunk of his messy hair back. “Smashing party, really.”

  “How are you?” Liv asked Max, kissing her brother on the cheek and pulling him a few feet away to start their own conversation.

  “The Playground certainly doesn’t feel the same these days,” Cooper said to me. “You’ve been avoiding us . . .”

  “Not avoiding, just resting. I needed a break from everything. I’ve been busy finding a place for all my mom’s things before her house was sold, and then spending some overdue time with my family.”

  “The club should reopen soon though. You’ll be there?”

  “As long as the Blue Ice still pours freely, sure,” I joked. “So . . . you and Liv?”

  “Right. We thought we might give it another go now that things have settled down a bit.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad it’s all over too.”

  “For now,” he stated with a smile and shifted his eyes.

  “We were just saying that the four of us should take a trip together next month,” Liv said, coming back with Max to join our conversation.

  I took Max’s hand in mine and said, “Sounds a little too ‘couple-y’ for me, but it could be fun.”

  “Speaking of fun, I have some interesting news for you,” Liv said, pulling Cooper’s arm around her waist. “I wanted to tell you before we have to go back to work, but . . .”

  “The suspense, Liv. The suspense. Haha. Just tell us.”

  “I’m pregnant,” she said.

  “Wow,” I said, hugging her. “Congratulations!” I reached out and shook Cooper’s hand wildly. “You two are having a baby? That’s amazing. Congratulations . . . really.”

  Liv closed her eyes and giggled through her nose as I released her. “No, no,” she said quickly, “we are having a baby,” she waved her finger in between the both of us.

  My neck practically snapped I whipped it so hard to look at Max. His mouth was hanging lower than mine. Neither of us could say anything.

  “That’s right . . . you and me, a mom and a dad,” Liv said.

  I shuddered as I felt all the color drain from my face.

  Holy shit. Is she serious? How did this happen? Fuck, Hat, you know how this happened . . . you were there. A kid. Me having a kid. Can I handle that?

  “I think you can,” Liv said out loud.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing a book is . . . well, hard. But having wonderful people around me makes it worth it. They give my life purpose, perspective, and flavor.

  First, there’s my family. There can be no question that this book would not exist without them. They provided the inspiration for many of the characters you’ve met. They’re similarly large, loud, and twisted . . . and I love them.

  My mother deserves first billing—in fact, this entire book is dedicated to her. She’s been my champion, my sounding board, and my friend. She was my first reader, and remains my biggest fan. She taught me how to dream, but more importantly, she raised me to actually believe that dreams can become reality. If I were to ever question these teachings, all I’d have to do is look back at this book.

  I have much to be grateful for in my aunt, Donise, and my respect and love for her are deep. She has taken many roles in my life: second parent, confidante, spiritual leader, friend. She gave me a home when I needed it most. And, of course, she was an early reader of this book, looking past the imperfections of a draft to offer encouragement while still asking the tough questions.

  Now, if I continue on like this about every family member, you’ll need to read another novel (I have more family than Hat Walker). But there are a few others you need to know about.

  My brother, Doug, who has a self-confidence and strength that I have always admired and will continue to try to emulate. Without him, I’d have no one to chase after the waitress when our food is taking too long.

  My sister (in law and in spirit), Charlene, who is a beautiful person inside and out. Without her, I’d have no one to calm my brother down when the food is taking too long.

  My sister-cousin, Rebecca Cheryl, whose friendship spurred some of my favorite dialog in the book. If I were going to jump off a bridge, she’d be the first person I pushed off in front of me.

  My cousins, Yvette, Megan, and Dan, who were all early readers of this book but late friends in life. There are no three people I’d rather dig through the trash with.

  And all the family who were here with me, offering support (and plugs for characters to be based on them), even if I couldn’t always see them. My dad, Aunt Joan, Uncle Kenny, and Lucky.

  Then there’re my friends.

  The first you need to know about is Lisa, who has been the most involved in this book’s creation, production, re-creation, and re-production. She has been my accountability partner, my grammar consultant, my business strategist, and the mediator for the voices in my head. Her support in this process has meant everything to me, but her opinions and insights have meant everything to this book. When the person who doubted the story the most was me, she was the one that gave me the perspective I needed to shut up, get working, and get better. I could not be more thankful.

  Rebecca “Lemon” Lambertstein is both a close friend and this book’s proofreader (if you find a typo, her email is on the next page . . .) She is my partner-in-crime and the perfect currency when bartering for freedom in a random city.

  I’m going to get gushy about my friends if I don’t stop. But before I do, I have to thank a few others for being amazing. Claudine, Leah, Andrew, Monique, Kristine, Travis, Mike, Sara (but not Sarah), Jackie, Jen, Carson, Tim, and Chris.

  And, I’m not done yet. There are also so many others who have contributed meaningful things to this project.

  Kimberly Peticolas, my editor and publishing consultant, who didn’t try to kill me for using British-English words or constantly changing my mind about formatting.

  CJ Anaya, my writing/publishing consultant, who ended up becoming a mentor (whether she wanted to or not), talked me through some of my crazier ‘author’ moments, and taught me to trust my gut.

  Fiona Jayde, my cover designer, who held up in the face of my intense distaste for all things normal or standard, and created unique artwork that gave Hat Walker form.

  My cat, Cat (yes, that’s his name), who reminds me daily about the powers of persistence, relaxation, and humor.

  Tom Sommerfield, who gave me the tools and patience (his . . . I don’t have any of that) to tackle tough areas of the book.

  Michelle Ciccaglione, who took on the role of my spiritual sherpa without begrudging it and is helping me navigate the pothole-filled journey of my life.

  Brené Brown, the researcher/storyteller who showed me why creativity cannot exist without vulnerability. E
ven though we haven’t met (yet—hey Brené, call me!), I am certain that without her work I never would have, in her words, stepped into the ring.

  Gary John Bishop, the author of Unfuck Yourself, whose book emerged from a sea of mostly bland and homogeneous self-development material to become my unofficial guide to life (I have it in print, digital, and audio).

  Lastly, and most importantly, I have to thank one more person. It’s that person I didn’t forget, but whose name I didn’t add here, and is reading this going, “What the hell, man?” This is for you.

  No, really.