Frivolous Magic

by Kimbra Swain

  “Stiff. In shock. Trying to figure it all out,” I said.

  “In my experience, you’ll never figure it all out.”

  “I just don’t know what to do. Do you want me to let Professor Culpepper teach me?”

  “I want you to do what you think is best. I just hate that you are having to make the decision with so little knowledge about it.”

  I picked at my breakfast and accepted the fact that I wouldn’t be going to classes this morning. Instead, I visited the attic and the trunk of books that started all of this.

  When I walked into the dusty top floor of the house, the memories of my father’s funeral flooded back into my mind. The small service held next to where my mother was buried. There were a few people from town and some others I didn’t know. The faces were a blur to me now. I couldn’t recall who was there or not.

  Someone brought me here, and I rushed up the stairs to the attic where my parent’s remaining belongings were kept. In tears, I knelt at the trunk. After a good long cry, I had opened it to find the books inside. The diagrams, the strange languages, and the scribbled notes in the margins drew me into the magical world.

  Studying the spells gave me an outlet from my grief and fear of the future. If it weren’t for Aunt Clara, I would have withdrawn from the world completely. She reminded me that I was the daughter of two parents who worked their whole life to make a way for me. I had to at least try for them.

  I picked up the one book that I knew how to read and started from the beginning. Pages and pages of incantations and ingredients for potions. There were diagrams with equations relating to science and physics. My brain hurt after spending several hours digging through the pages of the book.

  Closing it, I picked up the dark black book with the arcane circle on the cover. I opened my hand, calling my circle to my hand. When I did, I looked down through it to the book, and the runes shifted. I could read every word.

  “My goodness,” I whispered. “Grimoire and Notes of the High Magus, Mislav. For thought and glory.”

  Slowly opening the book, I watched as the words formed before my eyes. Each intricate page shimmered into my understanding as my circle translated the words. There were spells for love, money, power, and more. Darker spells were marked with black blots of ink to warn of their usage. Each blot was followed by the same words, “Payment with part of your soul.”

  Those were the things that these people wanted. I figured any circle could translate the book. On the last page, I gasped.

  “To you, the third-generation mage, I warn thee of the path ahead. There are those who will use you and your powers to maim and destroy. Stay to the light. Do not stop for the blots, and whatever you do, never give or read the book to another. For thought and glory, Aristocles.”

  I picked up my phone, allowing the circle to fade out. “Who is Aristocles?”

  My phone responded, “Aristocles was the real name of the philosopher, Plato. The name means ‘the best glory.’ Do you have any other questions?”

  “No,” I whispered, as I ran my hand over the pages of the book. The handwriting and words of Plato. A Greek philosopher. “Yes! Did Plato know Ajax?”

  “Plato mentions Ajax in his work The Republic. Ajax is the twentieth soul in the afterlife,” my phone answered.

  “Who is Zeth?” I asked.

  “Do you mean Zethes?” my phone asked.

  “Yes,” I replied, because maybe they were connected.

  “Zethes is the brother of Calais. The brothers were collectively known as the Boreads. They were the demigod children of Boreas, god of the North wind, and Oreithyia.”

  “Name other demigods,” I demanded.

  “Achilles, Hercules, Zethes, Calais, Ajax, Dionysis...”

  “What about Gil?” I asked.

  “Gilgamesh is a demigod and Sumerian king.”

  “Who needs a history teacher! I have a phone!” I exclaimed.

  “I do not understand the question,” my phone spoke.

  I clicked off the phone and stared at the pages of the book again without the circle. I realized that once I had translated them, I no longer needed the circle to read them. I opened my phone one last time.

  “Are there any female demigods?” I asked.

  “Helen of Troy, daughter of Zeus and Leda. Hippolyta and Penthesilea, daughters of Ares and Queens of the Amazons.”

  “I wonder who I am,” I mused.

  “I cannot answer this question.”

  “Ugh.” I closed my phone in frustration. Gently closing the book, I set it back in the chest. Then, I picked it back up to find a spell to protect the trunk.

  I took out a piece of chalk from the small box inside the trunk and traced a large circle around the box. Carefully drawing out each rune, I completed the circle as instructed. I looked over the spell one last time before placing the book and the chalk back in the trunk.

  Inside another box, I’d kept a few items for spells from the ingredients list and removed a small knife. I pricked my finger allowing the blood drop to fall on the chalk circle. It ignited in a blast of light so bright that I thought I had started a fire, but then the light faded. I could still feel the power of the protection on the trunk.

  “Wow,” I muttered. My phone buzzed, and I answered it without looking. “Hello.”

  “You missed class. Are you alright?”

  “Really?” I responded to Dakota. “Stop talking to me. Stop calling me. Just stop. You obviously can’t figure out what the hell you want, so I’ll figure it out for you, Dakota Fane. Leave me alone.”

  I heard his voice as I hung up the phone. I shouldn’t have been so forceful with him, but every time I heard his voice, I hurt. I didn’t want to hear it anymore. No more hurting for him.

  Marching down the stairs, I felt the rush of magic flow through me as I finally let go of my fears. I was a third-generation something, and I intended to find out what exactly that was. I grabbed my backpack as I walked through my room, then rushed down the stairs and out the door before my Aunt could stop me.

  Time to meet the new Librarian.

  The flowers on the dogwood trees showered petals on me while I sat staring at my parent’s old bookstore. I was supposed to meet Professor Culpepper, but I shrugged it off. This felt more important. The open sign on the door taunted me. An invitation to enter. To know. But instead, I sat here in my ignorance wondering what the truth would cost me. How those that hunted me hadn’t found me, I didn’t know.

  “Get up, Lacey,” I told myself. Pushing off the bench, I stepped off the sidewalk to cross the road and almost got run over by a mini-van. Thankfully, the vehicle had good brakes. I profusely apologized to the driver and hurried across the road.

  So much of my life had been spent in this store, and I never had any clue of what had been hidden inside. When I lifted my hand to open the door, I could feel the magic at the door. It must have been protected. The door chimed as I pushed it. Peering around the room, the smell of old books filled my nose. A familiar smell. Home.

  “Come in. How may I help you?” a man said behind the counter. He wore a brown tweed flat cap and a tan sweater vest over a white and navy plaid shirt. His circle wire rimmed glasses reflected the sun behind me.

  “I’m looking for the librarian,” I said.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I’m Lacey Ashcraft,” I replied.

  “By the gods. Come here, child,” he said, waving me to him.

  I approached slowly, looking down the aisles as I went to make sure no one else was here.

  “Are you the new owner?” I asked.

  He stepped out from behind the counter and took my hand. I almost withdrew it from him, but it was warm and comforting.

  “I’m Petros Xenakis, and yes, I am the new librarian. But of course, the white hair and wrinkles are reminders that I am only new here. I was the assistant librarian in the main wing of the library in Greece. I was told there was someone here that needed me,” he said.


  “Who told you that?”

  “The head librarian,” he replied. “She is a wonderful woman and has sight gifted to her by magic. She must have seen you.”

  “Perhaps,” I replied. “I would like to know who I am.”

  “Your father and mother you know, as well as your aunt, who I’d like to meet sometime. But I suppose you are wondering about that third generation,” he said.

  “Yes. How did you know I’m third generation?” I asked.

  “You carry the power with you. It’s not hard to notice when you know what you are looking for,” he said. “Come with me. I will take you to the heritages. We will find what you are looking for today.”

  “There are people trying to kill me,” I said. “I shouldn’t stay long.”

  “You are safe here. The library is neutral ground. The punishment for breaking it is immediate death,” he said. “A mage accepts that when he or she walks through the door.”

  “Even if they didn’t know about it?”

  “I’m telling you now and giving you the chance to leave if you would like,” he replied with a smile.

  “No. I need to know,” I said.

  A rustling to my side drew my attention. Two eyes peeked around the end of the bookcase.

  “Miss Petley, please join us,” Petros said.

  My mousey friend, Harper Petley, stepped out from behind the bookcase. She pushed her glasses back on her face, then looked down causing them to drift down her nose again.

  “Hello, Lacey.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “She is a librarian in training,” Petros answered for her.

  “You knew about all of this?” I asked her, ignoring him.

  “Yes, but I didn’t know you had the gift. I knew your parents were librarians, but I just assumed you didn’t get the talent,” she explained. “Are you here to become a librarian, too?

  “She is not,” Petros answered for me.

  “Please don’t answer for me, but he is right,” I said turning from him to her. She didn’t speak anymore, but her eyes were filled with apology. “Who else?”

  “A librarian must keep the secrets,” she replied.

  “Well, then. Shall we?” Petros asked, assuming enough had been said. He walked to the back of the store where the rear exit led into an alley behind the building. Except when he opened the door, a stone balcony stretched before me bathed in moonlight. He waved his hand to get me to walk through, so I did. I walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down on the city below us.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “Athens,” he said.

  “Not Georgia,” I replied.

  “The other Athens,” he laughed. “The key to enter the library is your circle. Can you conjure it?”

  I lifted my hand and the purple circle appeared above it. He raised his eyebrows. “Impressive. This way, Miss Ashcraft.”

  Following him into the stone building, I held my circle open through the doorway, then closed my hand making it disappear. He walked swiftly through the stacks of books to a stone stairway. We went down into a large open room with more books. I inhaled the heavenly smell.

  He took a sharp right into a section of books, then looked at the edges of the books as we passed. I couldn’t read any of them. I wondered if my circle would translate them like it had the other books.

  “Ah! Here,” he said, stopping suddenly. He pulled out a dark blue book. On the spine, I saw the name Karasavas.

  “My mother’s last name was Karas,” I said.

  “Yes, many Greek families changed their names when they moved to America. The Anistons used to be Anatassakis,” he explained, as he flipped to the back of the book. “Ah yes, here we are. Chantilly Lace Karas, daughter of Christos and Evelina Karas. Evelina was known as Evelyn when the family moved to the United States. Evelyn was a skilled first-generation mage trained by Gilgamesh of the Arcania.”

  “Professor Culpepper,” I said.

  “How do you know his identity?” he asked.

  “He kinda had to show me. I’ve been pretty stubborn about the magic stuff,” I admitted.

  “That’s your mother in you. I had always heard she could have been a brilliant mage, but she chose the librarian life because she chose your father who didn’t have the bloodline that your mother had. A third-generation mage is a blessing,” he said.

  “Blessing? It seems like a curse. Everyone is trying to take me,” I said.

  “I think you have something that belongs to the library,” he said. “It’s not my place to ask for it back, but come, let me show you.”

  We walked under the stairs into another room. There were four Greek columns on each side of the room. In the center of the room on a red carpeted floor stood twenty stone pedestals. Three of the holders were empty. I had two books, and they belonged here.

  “What is missing?” I asked.

  “Proto Vivilio tis Mageias. The first book of magic.” He ran his fingers over the empty pedestal. “This one was in English. Basics of Magery. And finally, this. This one was the prize of them all.”

  “The Grimoire and Notes of the High Magus, Mislav.”

  His eyes shot to me. “You read it?”

  “Some. It made my head hurt,” I said.

  “Too much too quickly for you. You should have proper training. The books go out on loan to different mages throughout the world. Those three were requested by Gil Culpepper, but never returned,” Petros explained. “But somehow you have them.”

  “I only have two. They are protected.”

  He sighed. “If someone wants them, I’m sure nothing you could conjure would stop them.”

  “I beg your pardon? I got the spell from the English book,” I replied. “The barrier is safe.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean to offend. Did you find what you needed here?”

  “There is so much here,” I said. “There are things I need without knowing what they are.”

  “I suggest you go back to Professor Culpepper and allow him to show you. He is a good man and teacher.”

  “I think you are right. Especially if he ordered the books. I have to think that he ordered them so that I could have them, but that doesn’t explain the missing book. What is in it?”

  “Much of the first book is wrong. The spells are incomplete and harmful. If someone is tinkering with those spells, someone will die. There are spells for producing abominations to the craft. Things that should have been protected,” he said, getting angrier by the moment.

  “I need my books. My parents left them for me. Mislav left a note for me in the back of the grimoire,” I said.

  “What note?”

  “For a third gen mage,” I said. “He signed it with his real name.” I was testing him now. Instead he turned it on me.

  “What was his real name, Lacey Ashcraft?”

  “Plato,” I replied.

  He shook his head in astonishment. “Perhaps the note was for any third gen.”

  “That makes it for me.”

  “Let’s get back to the store. We need to get the books back here where they are safe. We need to locate the third book,” he said, as he left me alone in the room. I wanted to crack open each one of the books and see what they had for me. However, I knew more than ever that the two I possessed had been chosen for me by my parents. It seemed that Professor Culpepper had more explaining to do.

  Taking one last look at the moon rising over Athens, I stepped back into the humid warmth of my parent’s old bookstore. The door closed. I tested it, opening it up to see the alley behind the store.

  “You cannot go there without a librarian,” Petros said.

  “Miss Ashcraft, I’ve been looking for you,” a man’s voice filled the small bookstore. I knew the voice and it made me tremble.

  “Clanton Stanwick, the terms of the library are that it is neutral ground. No violence here,” Petros informed him.

  “I know the terms, you fool. Tha
t’s why I left her friend outside with an associate,” he said.

  I ran to the door. Across the street in the bench where I had sat earlier, Isaac Denton sat with a hooded person. A bright flash caught my eye. A silver-plated gun in the hands of the unknown man was jammed into Isaac’s side.

  “What are you doing?” I exclaimed. The truth I had feared rushed in on me. Mr. Stanwick knew about magic. He knew the rules of the library. Braxton was his son. Was it possible that Brax didn’t know? That he didn’t have the talent?

  “You will come with me,” he said.

  “I won’t,” I said.

  “Then your fiancé dies.”

  He wanted me to fear him. I couldn’t give him that, so I laughed. “That’s so funny. Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?” I asked while giggling.

  “Why is it ridiculous?” he huffed.

  “Isaac isn’t my fiancé. We only said that in the hospital, so he didn’t have to be alone. He has no family here, and his coach hadn’t come yet,” I said.

  “He is still your friend,” Stanwick pointed out.

  “He is.” I looked back out at Isaac who seemed to be keeping his composure fairly well. More movement caught my eye. A man in a black cloak stood behind them in the alley. I knew that was Ajax. I just hoped he had brought Zeth with him. Perhaps even Professor Culpepper.

  “Within the confines of the library, a librarian can use the craft to protect the books and the people inside,” Harper said behind Stanwick. She held her hand up with a green glittering circle floating above it.

  “Very good, my apprentice,” Petros said, holding his hand up to reveal another bright green circle.

  “I mean no harm to the books or the people inside of this building at this moment. Miss Ashcraft will come with me. This display is not needed,” Stanwick said.

  “Where is Brax?” I asked.

  He laughed. “My son? Do you honestly care about that misfit?”

  “Misfit? He is your son,” I replied.

  “He does not have the talent,” he snarled.

  “Guess your bloodline wasn’t as thick as you thought,” I goaded him.

  “I am a third gen like you, Chantilly Lace Ashcraft. A fourth gen mage is an impossibility,” he said. “I knew my son would be impotent.”