Magic Rising
Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series, Book 4
Camilla Chafer
Also in the series:
Illicit Magic
Unruly Magic
Devious Magic
Magic Rising
Copyright: Camilla Chafer
Published: 6 June 2012
ISBN: 978-0-9569086-8-1
Publisher: Audacious
British English version.
The right of Camilla Chafer to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
Visit Camilla online at www.camillachafer.com where you can also sign up to her mailing list for the latest book news.
ONE
Fire crackled through the undergrowth as the acrid stench of smoke, entwined with pure magic, filled the air.
It was an illusion, but terrifying nevertheless as the gun-metal grey plumes spread, forcing the oxygen into submission. If it was designed to smoke me out of my hiding place, it was doing a good job. In seconds, my eyes would sting and fill with tears. In minutes, I would be unable to breathe. Shortly after that, I would be forced out of my hiding place whether I liked it not. I didn’t like it, and I wasn’t going to be forced into the open without a plan.
I pressed my back against the rough bark of the towering oak and held my breath as I angled my head first to my left, then my right, pulling back as magic shot past me on both sides. Brilliant, powerful, deadly. The bursts had all missed me by a wide margin. This was good. They weren’t entirely sure where I was hiding.
From my narrow vantage point, I tried to fathom how I could outrun my pursuers. To my right, there was a long tangle of weeds and thorns that would not only slow me down, but scratch my skin through my thin cotton shirt, although my jeans and boots would give me some protection. On my left was a clear path to the house. At first glance, this was the most direct and easiest route to safety, but to break from the dense cover of the trees and shrubs would mean revealing myself. I’d be putting myself in harm’s way as I would be spotted instantly. Unfortunately, I had to get to my house to be on safe ground; to be enveloped inside its protective magic. Nothing could harm me or penetrate its invisible barriers. I had to get there.
“Stella, I know you’re there.” I tensed as the male voice echoed from somewhere behind me. Then there was a noise that made me look up suddenly, and shrink down low, where the air was clearer. I rolled my eyes at seeing the birds perched on the branch far above me. One had launched itself off and swooped low, cawing to its brethren. In a series of shrieking clucks and calls, the others spread their wings and followed their flock. They were probably wondering what all the nuisance was about, ejecting them from the safety of the high branches. Nothing was safe from this smoke. Wisps of it reached to me, coiling towards my body. I couldn’t let it touch me; who knew what would happen if it were a supernatural mist, rather than simply the product of a fire illusion? Placing my palm in front of me, I used it to channel my magic, forcing the smoke up and around me, creating a bubble to hold it back. I felt it press against my screen. I hoped it would drift away. Instead, I felt it pulse, as the atmosphere grew thicker and heavier. I sighed at my mistake. The magic within the smoke transmitted my position to its master.
I had to leave. I had to risk it. Now.
I angled my head left again, seeing the safety of my porch, its white railings acting like a beacon. Just as I tensed my muscles to run, planning to shimmer, a witch stepped out from the tree line at the far side of the house. Although she was across my driveway, where my car was parked, her sudden appearance made me halt. Her short, almost-black hair was swept back, revealing her lovely face as she searched for me with all her enhanced senses. She was cocky to step out into the open. She knew I was close and that I was in trouble. I glanced backwards at the smoke, poised to surge at its master’s command. I found myself trapped between the pursuer at my back and her at my front.
Pausing, I reassessed my hasty, half-baked plan. I could shimmer to the house, forcing myself through air and space, but the chances were, the witch would anticipate that. Or she might have laid a trap already. I forced myself to relax and let my vision blur. Yes, there was a noticeable vibration in the air ahead of me. Magic. The most direct route to the house was blocked off; and clearly, the witch thought I wouldn’t notice until it was too late. My new plan would require me to be fast and effective. I focused on the magic, keeping an incantation at the ready. Behind me, something crunched in the undergrowth. Whatever it was, it was too heavy to be a small animal. Not that there were any around here. This was werewolf territory and any mammals entered at their own peril.
Once again, I had the uncomfortable feeling of being stalked. I held one hand behind me, keeping the protective barrier in place to cover my rear, even though I knew anyone searching for traces of me would detect the signature quickly. It didn’t matter. My pursuer knew where I was. I would only need the extra protection for a moment. If I had any chance to escape, I would have to do it before my pursuer caught up with me. If he caught me, it would all be over. I would fail.
Turning away from the noise of crunching on the forest floor, I focused on the trap intersecting my path. Confident that my protection magic was stable, I channelled more magic to the trap; surrounded it, infused it and broke it down piece-by-piece. As I felt the last bit of the magic disappear, I could hear the rustle of shrubbery behind me. I focused my energy on the porch and shimmered, my body dematerialising so I could move faster than light.
A moment later, I appeared on the porch. Grabbing the little silver bell from where it was on the padded seat of my newly-installed porch swing, I held it aloft and rang it loud and clear. “I win!” I yelled triumphantly into the long stretch of garden in front of me. “In your faces!”
Across the driveway, the witch snapped out of sight and re-materialised on the ground beneath the porch, with a broad smile on her face. “You’re such a sore winner, Stella,” she said, laughing. “You spoiled my trap!”
“I nearly didn’t see it,” I confessed. “What would have happened if I had walked into it?”
Étoile bit her lip and tried to conceal the smile. “I don’t think you want to know.”
Behind me, the door to my house opened. “It involved slime,” said Kitty, stepping outside. “Étoile has been giggling about it for days.”
I gaped at her and wrinkled my nose. “Gross! Is that what you’ve been doing in the kitchen?”
Étoile doubled over with laughter. She grabbed her knees and hooted, “It was green and gooey and…” she hooted again “… and it smelled disgusting.”
Yippee. Now I knew why she’d banished me from the kitchen for the past two days, and why Evan and I had to eat in town instead. Not that I was complaining. Any time spent alone with my darling boyfriend was welcome. Much as I loved a full house, I loved him more. I laughed and shook my head at Étoile’s juvenile booby trap, if I had failed to notice it. I turned to look across the lawn at the large oak tree where I’d been most recently cornered.
“Where’s Evan?” Kitty took the words from my mouth. Her eyes searched the woods.
“Evan?” I called, resting my hands on the porch balustrade and leaning forward. I couldn’t resist giving the bell another shake
, the peal of clanging echoed across the lawn. “Where are you?”
“Here.” His voice sounded before we ever saw him. My sixth sense registered a disturbance in the air, then Evan materialised at the tree line, very close to where Étoile had stood minutes ago. He limped forwards, wincing, and didn’t look very happy. With a sigh, he disappeared. A moment later, he was at the porch steps, standing next to Étoile. She didn’t look at all ruffled. His shirt pocket was ripped, and given his dishevelled appearance, he looked like he’d had a fight with a bobcat. I wasn’t sure who won.
I grimaced. “What happened to you?”
“That little power blast you sent my way ten minutes ago knocked me on my ass right into a thorn bush.”
“Oops?” I fought to keep the smile off my face.
“Let’s get back to the main point. Stella won, right? She disintegrated all your traps and got back here before you could catch her!” Kitty was jubilant. She bounced up and down and threw her arms around me, forcing me to jump and turn in a circle simultaneously. I wasn’t usually a big celebrator, but even I could get into this moment of victory. Even though it was only a game, their pursuit was relentless, and they hadn’t spared me any quarter with their traps and deceptive magic.
Taking one look at the three-inch thorn Evan pulled from his thigh, I felt a twinge of guilt. I hadn’t held back either. They told me not to! All the same, the thought of causing Evan pain, even momentarily, made my stomach do a little flip. I tripped down the steps, skidding to a halt between Evan and Étoile. Evan slid an arm around my shoulders. “You owe me healing,” he said, pulling me closer to his side.
“You can heal yourself. You probably already have.”
He straightened up and grinned, dropping the thorn into my palm and smoothing a hand over his leg. “Maybe.”
Relief flooded me as we started up the steps. “Did you know Étoile was going to slime me?”
He grinned again and squeezed me, then planted a tender kiss on the top of my head.
“What would’ve happened if I got caught in one of your traps?” I asked, as we followed Kitty inside. Behind us, Étoile shut the door. Evan leaned down, his lips a hair’s breadth from my ear and whispered precisely what would’ve happened. My mouth went dry. My cheeks flushed. And I blinked twice.
“Look.” Kitty nudged Étoile. “Stella’s blushing beet-red.”
Étoile raised an eyebrow. I felt her mental feelers stretching toward me and I rebuffed them instantly. It took a lot of practice, but that was something I’d had plenty of during the last couple of weeks. Étoile sent her mental feelers my way on a regular basis, attempting to sneak into my head when I least expected it. Now, however, I could not only recognise when she was trying to invade my thoughts, but I could shut them down effortlessly.
“So?” I said, leaning into the warmth of Evan’s body. I was bursting with happiness. The moment felt perfect. I had the people I loved most around me and if I guessed correctly, I was about to get the very thing I’d been working toward ever since discovering my true nature as a witch. “I won, right?” I persisted.
Evan and Étoile exchanged glances. Evan gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head. A spray of coloured streamers appeared from nowhere and exploded over my head. He grabbed me, twirling me around. His magic wrapped me up and we levitated a foot off the floor as he twirled me again. “You won,” he said, setting me back on my feet, so Étoile and Kitty could offer their congratulations. “And you know what that means?”
“That the stabilisers are coming off my broomstick?”
He nodded. “I don’t think I can teach you anymore.” Evan sounded pleased, despite the resignation in his voice; and that’s when it hit me. I looked up at my boyfriend, my proud, handsome, daemon boyfriend, with a mixture of surprise and jubilation; but as I listened to his words, there were new tremors of trepidation that were creeping in. After months of daily lessons in magic, Evan believed I was ready to be unleashed to the world as a fully-fledged, accomplished witch. Actually, unleashed is a bit strong. I’d never felt more in control of my powers, or at the helm of my life. Once, a lifetime ago it seemed now, my magic intimidated me; I didn’t even know what I was capable of. Under the wonderful tutelage of Evan and Étoile, now my magic was strong and true; it came to me like another sense that I could easily wield to do my bidding.
The Witches’ Council Summit was on the horizon, so it wasn’t a moment too soon. Getting the invitation surprised me, since I wasn’t a member of the hierarchy, and I could only wonder what was on their agenda. Neither Evan nor Étoile ever said anything to give me cause for concern, but since we’d returned to Wilding, they had definitely stepped up the lessons. We’d spent a brief sojourn in the English village of Hawksley — home to the Brotherhood, as well as one of the most powerful English warlocks — and it was not an adventure I cared to relive any time soon.
Now I was ready. Finally ready.
“You passed with flying colours,” agreed Étoile. If I didn’t know her better, I might have thought I glimpsed the mischievous sparkle in her eye that told me she really wished I hadn’t escaped her slime trap. Although she was one of my very best friends in the world, I certainly wouldn’t agree with her on that count. “We’re very proud of you, Stella,” she told me warmly. “You’re a good witch. You’re going to be a great witch.”
From Étoile, that was praise indeed, and I warmed even more as my eyes caught the framed photograph of my parents. I barely remembered them. What little I did remember might have just been my imagination from studying their photos. They were both witches right up until their deaths. I wanted them to be proud of me, wherever they were now, whether they watched over me or had their peace. But this was no time for sadness. Now was the time for celebrations and parties. I passed the final exam in a long stream of challenging skill tests that Evan and Étoile created for me to prove my mettle.
I beamed. “Thank you.” Slipping from under Evan’s arm, I crossed over and hugged her. “Thank you for everything,” I said softly.
“My pleasure.” Étoile stepped back, placing her hands on my shoulders. “You’ve been an excellent student.”
“You’re a good teacher.”
“Never again,” she said emphatically. She adjusted the lapel of her jacket and thrust her chin upwards. “I’m going out on a win.”
I hugged her again. She had served me as my rescuer, my teacher and my mentor, and sometimes at her own peril and great cost to herself. Now she was just my friend. Words couldn’t possibly convey what she meant to me. When I stepped back, I noticed the bags by the door. It was funny really, the way we often kept to old conventions like leaving our bags by the door when we prepared to depart. Except Étoile wouldn’t even need to open the door; she never did if she didn’t want to. She would shimmer with all of her luggage wherever she needed to go.
“Are you really leaving?” I asked, looking at the suitcase. The briefest moment of panic made me want to insist that she stay, but Étoile never shied from her duties and I knew the Summit meant a lot to her. As one of the leading families, the last generation of the House of Winterstorm, she took her role very seriously. Lately, I’d been wondering if it might be far too seriously. She was going to the city at every opportunity. Part of me was a little afraid she might not ever come back. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I liked having her as a roomie.
Étoile looked resigned as she pursed her lips. “You know I have to. There’s a lot to prepare before the Summit.”
“I wish you would tell me what’s going on. All these trips to New York…” I trailed off. I’d asked before, but it hadn’t gotten me anywhere. Kitty was just as puzzled, and Evan didn’t seem too certain either, except he pointed out that Étoile came from a long line of witches and one of the highest houses. She probably had to keep up appearances, especially given the political storm that was brewing ever since the last leadership was disposed. Although I wondered if there were other problems I didn’t know about, I knew I h
ad to be supportive. The Winterstorms offered their protection to me when I was threatened, and without a family. Now it was a time of great uncertainty and the only leadership from the Council was a skeletal government. It made me a potential target for other witches who were seeking power in the run-up to the Summit. Or, in the case of Georgia Thomas, bullying her way into power. I shuddered. Seeing the necromancer again wasn’t up there with any of the things I looked forward to most about the Summit.
“You mustn’t worry.” Étoile drew me to the sofa and we sat. Evan took the armchair opposite, stretching his long legs, studiously pretending not to take an interest in the discussion. I watched as he plucked another stray thorn from his leg. The shrill blast of the phone made us all jump, then laugh. Apparently, we were all on edge.
“I’ll get it,” said Kitty, heading into the kitchen in search of the offending handset.
“I just have to help with some preparations,” explained Étoile. “Do you remember Steven Haller?”
I nodded. Steven was one of the first witches I’d ever met. He was a dapper, old gentleman and the executor of my parents’ affairs when they passed. If it weren’t for the box he’d given me when we were first introduced, I would never have received the deed or key for my parents’ house. In my mind, that meant I owed him a debt of gratitude.
Étoile continued, “He said he looked forward to seeing you again.”
“I didn’t know you saw him.” I reached for the cardigan, which was draped over the back of the sofa, and wrapped it around me.
“I’ve seen lots of people. We’ll visit him when you get there. You have the instructions?”
I called the invitation that was sitting on the mantelpiece, and smiled as it materialised in my palm. Opening it, I withdrew the card inside. Tucked beside it was the address Étoile had given me, along with my travel tickets. “Are you sure you don’t mind me staying in your apartment?” I asked. Despite being more than a little curious about Étoile’s space, a place I’d never been, it was only polite to ask again, although I hoped she wouldn’t change her mind. Staying in my friend’s home seemed a lot nicer and cosier than taking a room at the hotel where the Summit was being held.
Magic Rising (#4 Stella Mayweather Paranormal Series) Page 1