Quest for the Enchanted Book

by Colleen S Myers

  The Quest for the Enchanted Book

  Colleen S. Myers

  Aidan Myers

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  About the Author

  Dedication

  Three years ago, I lost my husband and my son lost his father. It was rough goings. One of the ways we dealt with that loss is through these stories. We wrote this story with a different ending than real life. My son loves the idea of saving his daddy but he knows this is fantasy. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish for magic powers or a different outcome and this is the result.

  We meant the story to be quick easy to read and still delightful. I hope we succeeded.

  And thank you to all my friends and family who helped with this process. You know who you are. Love you guys.

  Colleen and Aidan.

  Go team ACE!

  Chapter One

  I don't know why dad made me do chores. Magic was easier. I could snap my fingers and thework was done. But no, I had to make my bed, pick up my clothes, and clean. Plus, my dad didn't even give me an allowance. That's not right. My best friend got an allowance when he did chores.

  Quickly, I shoved the fluffy white pillows to the top of the bed and threw the blue blanket over them. Little lumps distorted the surface of the cover where my iPad and the TV remote rested under the sheets. I smoothed the top. He would never notice. I kicked my Xbox remote under the bed and shoved the charger for my tablet into the corner. Lastly, I grabbed my clothes before heading to the hamper and dumping them in.

  I brushed my hands off, satisfied. Job well done, and in the nick of time. I heard the distant thud of footsteps. A second later, my dad popped into my room.

  Dad wore what I like to call his church duds: a smartly pressed white shirt, red and blue striped tie, and navy slacks.

  Was he planning to go to a meeting or something? He'd even shaved. No longer scruffy, his cheeks were smooth, and his sandy hair combed neatly.

  We didn’t dress up in this household. What was up? Before I could ask any questions, I noticed the raised eyebrows and hands on his hips.

  Uh, oh.

  That wasn't a good sign.

  My dad gestured around the room. He shoved the top drawer of my dresser closed completely. It had only been gapping like an inch.

  “Aidan, this is not clean. Make your bed.”

  Bah! He did notice the lumps.

  “I did make my bed.” Kind of.

  “Make it neater.”

  Oh man. “Dad,” I whined. My voice even broke. Man, I straightened and crossed my arms.

  “Aidan, if you are going to do it, do it right.”

  “Why can't I just use magic? Poof.” I snapped my fingers. “Like that.”

  “That would be too easy.”

  Duh. “Exactly,”

  Dad rolled his eyes and put his hand on my head. “Make the bed. And remind me, you have to take a bath tonight. You need to wash your hair.”

  “Dad.”

  “Seriously, you’re so sweaty, your hair looks brown.”

  I slapped his hand off my head. “Dad.” Not cool.

  Mom walked in at that moment.

  While dad looked dressed up, Mom appeared the opposite in black sweats and a red t-shirt with her strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. This was how we dressed. We were a pajamas all day every day kind of family.

  Dad kissed her on the forehead when she moved to his side. Her arms went around him. Dude, I turned my head away to the sound of their kissing.

  “What are you two talking about?” she asked.

  “Aidan needs to take a bath tonight,” he replied.

  “Dad!”

  Mom laughed. “I don’t know, both of you look pretty spiffy to me.”

  Dad adjusted his tie. “I know I look good.”

  Mom winked. “You two look so alike. Same red hair, identical blue eyes, and annoyed expression.”

  “I may look like Dad, but I act like you, Mom.”

  “I know.” She kissed my forehead.

  “Make your bed,” she said before walking out of the room after Dad.

  Now I knew I had to do it or face both their wraths. Dad got mad easy. Mom on the other hand took a bit more, but when she got did get mad… Blam. Look out!

  Hrm. I contemplated the pile of covers. With a sigh, I grabbed the corner of the blue comforter and pulled it off the bed and then the fuzzy blanket. And the next one and the next. Man, I got a lot of blankets.

  When I was down to the sheets, I wiped the toys and the crumbs from the pop tart my parents didn't know I snuck last night off the bed. Back went the covers, flat this time. I adjusted the corner and studied the bed. It looked off. I glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then I used a little puff of power, and my blankets were smooth.

  There we go. No way he would yell at me this time. I turned from the bed to the dresser across from it. All the drawers were closed, no dishes in my room. I’d dusted earlier. My desk appeared organized. My laptop closed.

  Time to play. I grabbed my Xbox controller from under the bed and sat on the floor to start a rousing game of Call of Duty when I heard a shout and a thump.

  What was that?

  Chapter Two

  My bedroom was on the second floor next to my parents’ bedroom and the master bath. There was nothing in the hallway. “Dad? Mom?”

  I stopped and waited. Another thump.

  The noise came from downstairs. I ran down the hallway to the back stairs and the kitchen below.

  Stainless steel appliances and wood floor gleamed at me. There was a milk carton out on the table in the middle of the room with an empty glass next to it. The back door was open.

  What made the noise? I ducked around the kitchen table and saw my father lying face-down on the floor.

  No! “Dad!”

  My heart thumped hard in my chest. I ran and leaned over him.

  At first, I thought he was dead, he was so still. My stomach cramped but then I saw a slight movement. Breathing. My heart resumed its beat at a gallop.

  “Dad. Come on, this isn't funny.”

  He lay there silent.

  I nudged his body with my toe.

  “Dad? Are you okay?”

  I dropped down to my knees and rolled him over. I slapped his face lightly. That would wake him up and most likely get me in trouble. It would be worth it. Something was wrong. My hands shook. I curled my fingers. Come on. I slapped him again.

  Nothing.

  What was wrong with him?

  “Mom!”

  I bolted from the room looking for my mother. They'd left the room together. Where did she go? She would know what to do. She was a doctor after all.

  “Mom, where are you?”

  Our house was two stories high with a basement. The top floor was the bedrooms. The bottom floor held the dining room, kitchen, living room, and a small study.

  Sometimes, my mom caught up on her paperwork in the study, but she wasn’t there. I headed back to the stairs which led down to the basement. We had an elliptical downstairs. She might have gone to exercise. She’d been wearing sweats.

  I flicked the lights, our universal signal for attention from the occupants of the basement.

  “Mom,” I sho
uted again.

  “What do you need, Aidan?” She sounded out of breath.

  Finally, a reply. My knees went weak. There she was.

  “Dad.” That was all I could get out before my voice broke.

  I heard another thump and my mom joined me at the top of the stairs. Earbuds circled her neck and her cheeks were red.

  “What?” she said as she blottered her face.

  I gestured back to the kitchen as I stepped out of the stairwell. “Dad’s sick. In the kitchen.” That was all I said and she was flying past me.

  She ran into the kitchen and knelt next to my father.

  “Eric?”

  No response.

  I could feel tears leak down my face.

  She leaned over his chest, tilted her head, and put her cheek over his mouth, checking his breathing. “What happened, Aidan?”

  “I don't know.”

  She put her hands on his chest and it crackled distinctly. She yanked her hands back. “What was that?”

  Mom glanced at me then reached into daddy's shirt and pulled out a piece of notepaper from his pocket. She threw it to me and checked his pulse.

  “He's breathing. He has a pulse,” she said absently as she ran fingers down his face and shoulders.

  Her hands settled over his chest again and a blue glow emanated from her fingertips. My mom was not only a doctor; she could actually heal.

  In these times, we had to hide our magic, but not when we were at home. Chores not withstanding, I wish I could heal, but mainly I threw things around. My dad use to say once I got control I could do more things with my telekinesis, but right now I was a menace. Holy crap, I just thought of him in the past tense. My chest hurt and my eyes burned.

  What was wrong with him?

  “Mom?”

  “I think he's been poisoned.” She turned daddy's head and I saw two holes bleeding a little bit up near the top of his neck. “Snake bite.”

  Both of us shuddered.

  Gross.

  I couldn't stop myself from looking around. Was there a snake loose in the house?

  Mom stooped and looked under the refrigerator and stove. “I don't understand what is going on here. I don't see a snake.”

  And that did not make me feel better.

  I squeezed my hands into fists and the note crinkled in my hand. The noise gave me pause. I’d forgotten about it.

  “Mom.” I held out the paper.

  She sat next to dad and grabbed the note. “It says to get the family bible and deliver it to them if we want the cure for daddy.”

  “What? Who?”

  “I don't know. It’s not like they signed it, Aidan.”

  “So, we give them the bible and Dad will get better right?”

  Mom sighed. “It’s not that simple. That bible contains the family spells. We can't just give it to whoever asks. Some of those incantations are dangerous.”

  “So, we give up on dad? Let him die?” That was not acceptable. My dad couldn’t die.

  “No, of course not. What do we do in hard situations?”

  I rolled my eyes. My family and their mantras. I replied dutifully when she didn’t continue. “We think our way out.”

  “Yes, so let me think.” She turned and leaned over Dad. “Call Mr. Bane. We need help.”

  I grabbed the phone off the wall. Since we lived in the coven, we had direct lines for everything. The magic interfered with signals so we had a traditional home phone plugged into the wall and cable modems, direct lans. No wireless for us.

  No dial tone. “Phones down.” I said and put the receiver down.

  She cursed, voice tight. The blue glow around her hands intensified. “Just run next door and get him.”

  Okay, I could do that. Run next door and get Mr. Bane.

  “Go Aidan,” Mom said with a bite in her voice. Her hands resumed their motion along my dad's chest.

  Please don't die, Dad. I thought before rushing out the door.

  Chapter Three

  So, I needed to get Mr. Bane. I could do that. His son, Matt, was one of my best friends. They lived through the woods, near the playground about five hundred yards away. Everyone in our coven was close technically, most within walking distance.

  I took off towards his house. It was only six o clock, but the path seemed especially dark for fall. I shivered and sped up a little.

  The branches of the nearby oak trees swayed in the breeze.

  My heart picked up.

  I started to walk faster. I don't know why.

  My chest hurt.

  I needed to get to Matt's place.

  The more I stepped, the further the path stretched.

  Branches. Breeze. Grass crumpling.

  I heard a snap behind me and spun.

  Nothing.

  I shook out my hands.

  Stop being silly, Aidan. Let's go.

  It really did seem to be taking more time than it should. Our houses were next door to each other, a few hundred yards. Only a couple of football fields.

  This wasn't right.

  Another minute passed.

  I started to run.

  My breath came in pants. My legs hurt. Why was it taking so long?

  The path never changed. I saw our hiding spot in the trees where we left messages to each other.

  I was close. The house should be right around the corner.

  But there was no corner.

  I ran another minute and stopped. My breath wheezed out.

  This wasn't right.

  I examined the ground.

  It was getting darker by the minute, but I could see how the soil was burnt, like a spell had been cast on it. I hadn't noted that in my rush to find help.

  Stupid.

  Now I was stuck in a repeating spell, I couldn't get to Matt's house without breaking the pattern.

  I'd just started learning about this type of magic. The spell was easy. A simple case of déjà vu placed in a memory on the ground and people were stuck on it. They couldn't get off. I don't think we’d gotten to the section on how to break them yet.

  Dang it. Think, Aidan.

  I put my hand to my head and concentrated.

  Yeah, that didn't help. Déjà vu spells were placed on an item. So, if I could locate the item and erase the spell, I could get out right?

  Right.

  Hrm.

  I glanced around again. Mainly rocks and grass, some mud. Wait! What was that there? The corner of something white.

  I reached down and stuck my hand in a surprisingly deep puddle and pulled out a tiny round stone, almost marble-like and glistening. I rubbed it against a nearby rock and the surface. When the spell broke, my ears popped and some indefinable pressure released in the atmosphere.

  Who had set up the spell and why. None of this made sense.

  I threw the rock. That wasn’t important right now. I squeezed my hands into fists and continued onto Matt's house.

  That turn finally arrived and I saw his place. The home was about as big as mine but had a large front and back porch with these huge black shutters and, for real, a white-picket fence.

  Their back door was always unlocked. I sprinted up the steps and burst into the homey kitchen with the huge center island.

  Matt was in basketball shorts eating cereal at the counter. We called him the tiny dynamo as he was the only one in our group of friends with any athletic ability. I loomed over him by a foot or more. He had dark hair, perpetually tanned skin, and a ready smile.

  “Hey, Aidan. What are you doing here?”

  “We need your help. My dad’s sick.” I panted.

  Matt placed his bowl in the sink and ran to get his father as I regained my breath.

  I paced in the doorway and glanced back toward my house.

  Come on.

  They all appeared in a group. Matt's dad shrugged into a University of Pittsburgh sweatshirt. The fabric stretching across his massive chest. He pulled it down to meet his jeans, shoes already on. Matt's mom wore a
pristine jogging outfit and her black hair smooth and straight. She was almost as short as Matt.

  “Let's go,” Matt's dad said.

  Chapter Four

  When we got back to my house, my dad lay on the floor in the same position. My mother wasn't nearby. His skin had turned this awful gray color. I stopped by his feet and Matt's dad ran around me.

  “Dang,” Matt said and skidded to a halt behind me.

  Mr. Bane crouched and touched my father’s temple. He was a psychic, like the carnival kind but cooler. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Matt asked.

  “Snake bite.” I pointed to the wound on his neck.

  Matt vaulted onto the counter nearby, his voice high. “Snake?” He looked closer. “Looks like a vampire bite.”

  Matt's mom smoothed his hair and pulled both of us close and out of the way. “Vampires are not real.”

  “We are witches,” Matt said. “How can you say that?”

  “I didn't say magic wasn't real but vampires and werewolves.” She snorted. “That’s crazy.”

  “We live in a coven,” Matt added.

  My eyes burned.

  Normally, I was good with his sense of humor but not right now. “Can we focus on my dad?”

  Matt's dad's eyes popped open. “I can’t feel anything. It’s all blank.” He exchanged a look with his wife before he started to search my dad’s body.

  She squeezed my shoulders. “It will be all right.”

  I stepped closer to my dad. “The person who hurt him left a note on his body.”

  “Where is it?” Matt’s mother asked.

  “My mom has it.”

  Her eyebrow’s went up and she looked around the kitchen.“Where is she?”

  Good question. “She was just right here. The note said something about the family bible.”