Spellbound (the Spellbound Series Book 1)

by Rene Lanausse

  The sound of footsteps pulls my attention away from the paintings, and I crane my neck a little to see Nick rounding the corner. He leans against the wall, and asks, “How are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been worse,” I lie. I pull myself up into a sitting position, and am immediately tempted to lie back down. I’m even more tired than I thought. Nick’s face is clear of all the blood from earlier, but I can still see where his lip was split, the line above his eyebrow where his face had been cut. He seems fine, but just to be on the safe side, I ask, “Are you alright?”

  “I’ve been worse.” Nick smiles at me, and despite his recent injuries, it’s a pretty adorable smile. “I’m more worried about you, though. You passed out right after you blasted the guy that was about to kill me.”

  “Wait… I did what?”

  “Your hand flashed blue for a second, and then the vampire right in front of me blew apart. I still have to wash parts of him out of my coat.”

  Something inside of me sinks like a stone at Nick’s words. I took a life. Both Nick and I are alive, so the results of my actions weren’t all terrible, but the fact remains that I killed a sentient creature. Then again, vampires aren’t technically alive, which means that I shouldn’t be too upset. There is also the fact that he was trying to kill Nick, and looking back, I’m sure he was one of the vampires that tried to kill me as well. Even so, I can’t help feeling a pang of guilt over what I’ve done.

  I must have taken too long to answer, because Nick asks, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. What happened next?”

  “I took advantage of the confusion that followed to break free, grab you, and bring you to the condo. I know, a guy you just met bringing you back to his place sounds a little sketchy. But since I don’t know where you live, it was either this, or leave you out in the cold.”

  “Well, thanks for not choosing option two. How long was I out?”

  “Only half an hour.” Nick pauses, as if deciding whether or not to speak his mind, then says, “Thanks for saving me, by the way. I doubt you meant for things to end up the way they did, but either way… I might not be here if it weren’t for you.”

  “It’s fine. At least we’re even now.” I lean my head back against the leather couch, and rest my eyes for a few seconds. I’m more awake than I had been a few minutes ago, but I still don’t feel back to normal just yet. Without opening my eyes, I wonder aloud, “What am I?”

  I jump when I feel Nick’s weight pressing on the couch beside me. His steps are so silent; I didn’t hear him coming towards me at all. “I have an idea,” he says, “but I live with someone who’d be able to explain it better. She should be back in a few, if you want to stick around.”

  “But I’m already late for school.”

  “Exactly, you’re already late. What’s a few more minutes?”

  “…Yeah, good point.” I look over at Nick, and ask, “What were you doing by my school this morning?”

  “Honestly? Hoping I would see you again. I figured you must go to school near that building, since class would have just let out when we met.”

  “And those homeless guys that attacked you…”

  “Payback for yesterday. Remember the vampires that came after you?”

  I nod; I’m not about to forget that experience any time soon.

  “Well, when I fought them, I ripped out their fangs in the process,” Nick explains. “It’s not just the ultimate insult, for a vampire it’s a death sentence. We can regenerate any part of our body but our fangs, and since they’re what we use to hunt… it’s only a matter of time until a fangless vampire starves to death.”

  “So that’s why they tried to kill you?”

  “Yeah. There aren’t a lot of vampires in their little gang, but they know how to stick together. Although, now that their leader is dead, who knows what will happen to them?”

  We sit in silence while I digest this information. I’m interested to know more about the vampire world, but all that I really take away from the exchange is how eager Nick was to see me again. I don’t know why he would be; I’m not all that interesting. Whatever his reasons are, I know I’m glad to see him again, even if the circumstances that led to us sitting on his couch aren’t ideal. This strikes me as an opportunity to learn more about him, so I ask, “Where are you from?”

  “Born and raised in New York City,” Nick answers. “I used to live in Park Slope with my parents, but when I got bitten… let’s just say they weren’t very understanding.”

  “Oh.” I don’t know what else to say on the subject, and I don’t want there to be another awkward lull in the conversation, so I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “What do you do for a living?”

  Nick: “I do research and development, sort of.”

  Me: “Sort of?”

  Nick: “I’m working with a small team to create synthetic blood that functions as an alternative food source for vampires that want to ‘go green’.”

  Me: “That’s cool. How’s that going?”

  Nick: “Not very well. We’ve nailed the taste, but it doesn’t seem to satisfy our hunger. The formula’s lacking something.”

  Me: “Life?”

  Nick: “How do you imitate life?”

  Me: “Ask anyone with a Tumblr.”

  I’m not sure whether Nick is young or hip enough to know what I mean, but he lets out a small laugh at my response. We fall into a comfortable silence, and I look around at parts of the room I haven’t inspected for a conversation starter. For the first time, I notice the massive window behind the couch. It extends from the floor to the ceiling, and offers a breathtaking view of Central Park from above. We’re high up enough that the people walking around and through the park look like tiny specks to me. There’s nothing going on outside that catches my attention, but I remember the paintings hanging around the room, and ask, “Did you paint these yourself?”

  “No, my art skills peaked in the fifth grade,” Nick says. “My roommate Landon is a natural, though. It’s amazing, people pay thousands of dollars for his originals, but he still doesn’t think they’re any good.”

  “I think that’s how most artists feel. I know I hate everything I write.”

  “You write?”

  “A little, but nothing I would publish. I do it for fun.”

  Nick opens his mouth to say something, but something seems to distract him, and his eyes dart from my face to the front door. Seconds later, a woman steps through, carrying several bags full of groceries. She’s young, only a few years older than me it seems, with light caramel skin that can barely be seen between her hat, scarf, and enormous coat. She puts down her load in what I assume is the kitchen, then starts shedding her outermost layer of clothing, revealing wavy dark brown hair that reaches the small of her back. Without even looking into the living room, she asks, “Nick, can you help me bring in the rest of the groceries?”

  Nick rolls his eyes, and asks, “Can you come in here first?”

  “For what?” The woman turns into the living room, takes one look at me, and says, “No.”

  “Krys, come on.” Nick stands up, and offers me his hand to help me onto my feet.

  “I’m not going through this again. Every few months, either you or Landon brings in some kid that you think I can help, but you already know what my answer’s going to be.”

  “But she’s different. I don’t think any of the others could make a vampire explode without training.”

  The woman looks me up and down before asking, “Did that really happen?”

  I shrug, and say, “Apparently. I passed out right after that happened, though…”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Heather.”

  “Oh… so you’re that girl Nick wouldn’t shut up about. I’m Krystal. And if what you guys are telling me is true, then I guess I’d better take a closer look at you. Is that alright?”

  “Sur
e.” I take an unsteady step towards Krystal, who closes the gap between us, and gently places her hands on either side of my head. She closes her eyes, and I stand awkwardly while she does… whatever it is she’s doing. After a few seconds, her eyes snap open, and she takes a few steps back. She seems impressed, but isn’t being very forthcoming with information, so I ask, “What am I?”

  “You’re like me,” Krystal says. “There’s been a lot of debate over what exactly to call us, because hardly anyone can agree on how we do what we do. Some call it magic. Some call it the power of God. Some try to force a scientific name for it onto the rest of us, but it never takes. Most people like us keep it simple, and refer to themselves as a member of their clan, but since neither of us belongs to one, we’ll stick to the most widely accepted term; you’re a spellcaster.”

  I have my answer, but I’m just as confused as ever. “So, what, does this mean I’m like a witch? I can do magic?”

  “Not exactly. Witches exist, but their power relies on potions and incantations. Spellcasters can alter reality in any way they see fit. The only limits are your power, your knowledge of how to use it, and your imagination.”

  “So, what I did to that vampire…”

  “Was what we’ll call a spell, for the sake of consistency. You reserves of power have been building up for such a long time, that it’s bursting out of you under stressful conditions. You may also be having premonitions, or making objects around you float without meaning to.”

  I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. Twenty four hours ago, I could have sworn I was completely normal. Now, I know I’m a spellcaster, and even though I’m still not sure what that entails, I’m getting the feeling that nothing will ever feel normal again. It’s a lot to take in all at once.

  Nick clears his throat, and asks, “Do you really think you can say no this time?”

  “You suck,” Krystal replies with a smile. “But I don’t think I can. She’s already dangerously strong. I have to at least offer…”

  “Offer what?,” I ask.

  “The chance to unlock your potential, and learn how to use your power properly. I would feel better knowing that you’re not going to kill someone accidentally because you don’t know what you’re doing, but ultimately, the choice is yours.”

  I glance at Nick, and he shrugs in response. Surely, he has an opinion on what my course of action should be, but he offers none. Not that I need his input; I already know my answer.

  Unlike most other little girls, I never had any interest in being a princess. My mom would buy me tiaras and wands, but they would end up getting stashed at the bottom of my toy box. What I really wanted, more than anything, was to be a superhero. Wonder Woman, Hawkgirl, Black Widow… they were my idols. And I never really grew out of my love for them, or the ideals they stood for. I still want to be able to help people in need, I just haven’t really thought about how. And now stands an opportunity to learn how to use the power I’ve discovered within myself for the greater good.

  Yeah, there was never really any question.

  I turn my gaze back to Krystal, and ask, “When can we start?”

  Chapter 5

  As it turns out, we can start right away. Nick and I sit on their couch while Krystal briefly explains the history of spellcasters; he’s as much in the dark as I am, and he’s always been curious. I find it hard to pay attention, however. Rather than distracting me by making any sort of noise, it’s Nick’s absolute silence that rattles me. I theorize that he isn’t even breathing, and after a few glances at his chest to see if it’s moving, I’m certain of it. I try to imagine leading a life that doesn’t require me to breathe, but it’s difficult. I make a mental note to ask Nick how it feels in the near future.

  From what I do catch of Krystal’s history lesson, the power I possess actually flows through everyone on Earth. Only a select few are able to access it consciously, however, and I happen to be one of the lucky ones. Thousands of years ago, a group of people like me banded together, and formed the first clan, who called themselves the Anu Ummani. Through the ages, they helped educate those who could tap into their power, protected each other, and kept their talents a closely guarded secret from the world.

  Eventually, the Anu Ummani split into two clans, and those two clans continued to split until there were dozens, spread across the globe. These new clans continued the tradition of passing on and their knowledge and maintaining secrecy, though they usually specialized in a particular set of skills. Some clans became dedicated to healing, or combat, and a select few abused the gifts they had for personal gain.

  I ask Krystal which clan she once belonged to, which renders her silent for a few seconds. Her excitement is briefly replaced by melancholy, but she clears her throat and continues with the lesson as if I hadn’t interrupted.

  “In the early days, our power was limited to being able to heal bruises and make dandelions grow, but that was until Thalassa the Great discovered the awakening process. In order to restrict our potential destructive force, large portions of our power are sealed off until we reach certain levels in our training. Heather, you’re at a point where your power is overflowing, which means you’re ready to remove the first seal.”

  I’m still a little lost, and slightly distracted by Nick’s breathlessness, but I ask, “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “I suggest you stand up.”

  I slowly rise to my feet, and try my best to hide how tired I am; I still haven’t quite recovered from exerting myself earlier. Krystal asks me to close my eyes, and find the source of my power within. “There will be a sort of wall there,” she says, “a wall that you should be able to break down. Once you do, I can begin teaching you properly.”

  I groan inwardly; this isn’t going as expected. I want to get to the interesting stuff immediately, not go through Krystal’s weird initiation process. Regardless, I close my eyes, and focus my energy inward as instructed. After only a few seconds, I find what Krystal was talking about; I can feel a massive current of energy flowing through me, but the majority of it is being blocked by some invisible force. I press against this “wall” tentatively, and it gives a little, so I press a bit harder. I break into a sweat, and almost lose my concentration more than once, but I push and push, until finally, the wall begins to splinter. Bits of energy trickle through the cracks, until the wall shatters completely, and it all washes over me in one massive wave. I can feel the power pulsing through every part of my body; I’ve only felt this in short bursts in the burnt-out building by my school, but never to this degree. It’s becoming clear that I have much more strength than I had ever dreamed.

  My eyes fly open, and for a moment, I’m blinded by a bright blue light. I realize it’s coming from the flat-screen TV across the room, reflecting the light blue aura that now surrounds me. A terrifyingly strong wind rips through the room, blowing papers and magazines all around, and tearing paintings from the walls. Krystal and Nick gaze at me in awe, their hair being blown to and fro as well, and slowly, my aura begins to dim, and fades back into nonexistence.

  My feet touch the ground – I must have been floating an inch or two above it – at which point, I realize that I no longer feel fatigued at all. In fact, I feel like I could run laps around Central Park. I want to say something profound to make the moment feel more significant than it already is, but what actually comes out of my mouth is, “Sorry about the mess.”

  Krystal laughs, and assures me that it’s fine, then instructs me to follow her onto the roof while Nick carries in the groceries. We take the elevator up to the top floor, and walk up a flight of stairs, and then we’re outside. We’re high up enough that no one could possibly see us from the surrounding buildings, which is to our advantage, but just a peek over the wall surrounding the roof is enough to make me want to head back inside. Krystal leads me over to an unsurprisingly barren rooftop garden, where we find nothing but tiny rocks and the signs that told everyone which vegetables were being
grown and where. Krystal picks up a pebble at random, and says, “We’ll start small. I want you to try and lift the pebble from my palm.”

  I ask, “Don’t I need to say the magic words? Or wave my wand, or something?”

  Krystal shakes her head. “The power comes from you. We don’t need twigs and made up words.”

  “So, what you’re telling me is…”

  “No, there will be no foolish wand-waving, or silly incantations in this class.”

  I stare at the pebble in Krystal’s palm, and focus intently on making it move, but the best I can do is make it shudder. I try again, and it floats for about a second before plopping down on her palm. “I can’t do it,” I say. “But… I just destroyed your living room, this should be a breeze.”

  “It’s alright; you’re doing better than most people on their first try. Lifting the pebble is an exercise in both focus and precision. You need to concentrate on every spell you ever perform, or the end result may be disastrous. And you’ve already shown a flair for destruction, so this is an important lesson for you.”

  Nick, who had been watching from outside the garden, comes up beside me to get a better look, and any hope I had of focusing goes out the window. Krystal seems to sense this as well, and glares at Nick as she says, “I want you to take this pebble home, and practice with it. Then, make your way back here when you can make it move from one point to another with precision. I’m sure Nick will keep in touch with you, and bring you back when you’re ready for your next lesson.”

  Krystal offers the pebble to me, and I slip it into my pocket. I remember that Nick doesn’t have a cell phone, and ask, “How am I supposed to stay in contact with you?”

  “I’ll add you on Facebook,” he answers.

  “Aren’t you a little old for Facebook?”