Wayward Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 2)

by Melinda Kucsera

  Robin broke free of her clutches. “Everything we hold dear is why we must go.”

  Having exhausted every other remedy, Perooc’s treasure, reputed to satisfy every desire, is the king’s last chance to get his ship to port and its cargo to his desperate, starving subjects. Find out if he does in Forgotten Magic.

  About the Author

  “What if?” Those two words all too easily send Devorah Fox spinning into flights of fancy. A multi-genre author, she has written a best-selling epic fantasy series, an acclaimed mystery, a popular thriller, and co-authored a contemporary thriller with Jed Donellie. She’s contributed short stories to a variety of anthologies and has several Mystery and Fantasy Short Reads to her name. Born in Brooklyn, New York, she now lives on the Texas Gulf Coast with her writer familiars: two rescued tabby cats and a dragon named Inky.

  For more information about the author, please visit: http://devorahfox.com. Don't forget to grab your copy of the final anthology in the trilogy, Forgotten Magic.

  Spirit Gambit

  Leah W. Van Dinther

  In Wayward Magic, Carol discovers more knowledge about the spirits. On her journey, she connects with the Murus, Freddie Archegon, again, and meets with several colorful characters who have varied gifts to aid her. Is Freddie on the side of good or evil in this world? Will he use her for his purposes... or will Carol turn the tables and use him for hers? Will Carol play the gambit? Read on and see!

  Leah W. Van Dinther

  Carol has the ring... and she has Freddie Archegon's attention as well. But is Freddie good or bad? Carol has yet to deduce the answer. When she does, is she going to like what she discovers? Spirits abound and magic is in the air in this next installation of Carol's story: “Spirit Gambit.”

  “But how did he get your number?” Julia gasped; eyes wide with alarm. “Carol, what did you do? What did you say?”

  Carol Conley and Julia Tallsmudge were eating lunch at Red Kings 2, Julia’s favorite restaurant in Philadelphia’s Chinatown. Julia was one of Carol’s oldest and closest friends, and Carol could talk about anything and everything with her, and often did, including Carol’s ability to sense the spirits of the dead. She had just told Julia about her terrifying encounter with Freddie Archegon the month before. She explained how the spirits had all been so afraid, how the room had exploded, how she had finally stolen the moonstone ring, and of Freddie’s unexpected telephone call.

  “Well, I can tell you I was definitely surprised!” Carol replied, taking a sip of tea from the tall, ice-filled glass in front of her. “I gather Katherine must have told him. He said he’d called O’Katy’s and they said it was probably a mix-up when we were at the register. They must have given him my number too… but he doesn’t know I took the ring. Julia, he couldn’t! I had to get it away from him, but I was circumspect.”

  Julia took a bite of her Szechuan Chicken. Carol could never figure out how such a gentle woman could eat all of those hot peppers. Julia munched away contentedly, as if the heat was just another flavor. Carol preferred food that was not so spicy.

  “I don’t know, Carol. It sounds a little suspicious to me.” She scooped up a fork-full of what looked to be nothing but peppers. “I mean...look, Carol...do you think he likes you? Romantically, I’m saying.”

  “What? No! No, of course not. I mean, why would he? It’s not like that, Jules, why do you always jump to that conclusion?” Carol shook her head.

  “Well, either I’m a hopeless romantic, or I’m cautious like a fox.”

  They ate in contemplative silence for a few minutes.

  “So...?” Julia finally prompted.

  “Well, so I told him I didn’t have it, and I didn’t know where it had gotten to. I think he believed me. I certainly hope he did, because I’m supposed to go to Chicago next week for the Gem Show, and I just know I’m going to run into him. Jules… I’m kind of planning on it.”

  “Oh, Carol! Seriously? Have you lost your mind?” Julia paused in her eating and sat back, eyes wide, staring aghast at Carol. “You’re still going to Chicago after all of this?”

  “Yes,” Carol replied, and then, seeing Julia’s aggrieved look, “I’ll be fine, Julia! I won’t even take it with me. It’ll be alright, I’m telling you. But I have to know more about what is going on here. This Murus business is important, I can feel it. Just exactly how does he trap spirits? And what does he do with them? I’m sure I can learn from him.”

  Carol thought about her experience in the jewelry store, how the spirits had reacted to the very presence of Freddie Archegon. She remembered the taste of that fear in the back of her throat.

  “Well!” Julia huffed and put her napkin down. “I can see I’m not going to talk you out of it; you’ve been talking to me about going to this Gem Show for the last year, after all. Let’s see what I can do to give you a boost for your trip, okay? And then if you run into Freddie, you’ll have enough energy to withstand an onslaught of spirits!”

  “That is just what I was going to ask you. Thank you, Julia.” The knot that had been sitting deep in Carol’s stomach unraveled and dissolved into calmness.

  They finished their lunch, and Carol paid the bill.

  “My treat!” she said, and they walked out into the humidity of Philadelphia in July.

  Julia hooked her forearm through Carol’s elbow, and they walked through the city, arm-in-arm, towards Julia’s apartment. They got a few curious smiles from passers-by as they laughed their way along, but they ignored them and chatted about the daily events in Julia’s life: her work at the hospital, the new nurses, her most recent favorite romance novel.

  They were two completely different, elderly ladies: Carol was petite, dressed in fine clothing and Italian shoes, and had pale skin seamed with wrinkles; Julia was tall and robust, with rosy cheeks in a dusky complexion, a bun of shining, golden hair atop her head, and clothes that were relaxed and comfortable. She had skin that was still soft and smooth, despite her age. Carol had always envied her for that; Julia had always waved it off as an accident of genetics.

  They arrived at Julia’s apartment building on Spruce Street, and climbed the wide, spiral staircase up to the fourth floor. Julia always insisted on walking up the stairs rather than taking the elevator; she said it helped to keep her exercised and healthy. Carol just went slowly, and only had to pause to catch her breath once.

  Julia had lived here, alone, for as long as Carol had known her...since they were both in their early twenties, easily. Julia had been a nurse at the University of Pennsylvania Hospital for most of her forty-five-year career. She had run the Nursing Department there for decades, and it was said that no one had the skill to match her. She had worked with astronauts, assisted the best doctors from all over the world, saved countless lives...and she still lived in this tiny, rent-controlled apartment in downtown Philadelphia.

  They came into the entryway and put their things down on the table. Carol smiled as she noticed the apartment had not changed: There were the dainty, wing-backed arm-chairs they had bought together at that roadside antique shop in New Hope years ago, a French side-table with the familiar knick-knacks of polished stones, a standing lamp, a bookshelf, and a needlepoint, stuffed footstool that Carol had made for Julia long before Carol had become proficient in the craft. They each sat down in a chair, and Julia took off her bulky sandals. She rubbed her feet and put them up on the footstool.

  “Now, Carol,” she began, “I really think you should be careful. You’re not as young as you used to be! I’m going to give you one of my ‘prescriptions.’ I want you to take it to Yao right away. You know Yao, he’ll get you set up.” Julia paused to pick up a handy notepad and pen and sat down in the other chair. “Let’s see here... tulsi... ginseng... calendula? Yes, calendula… for mental fortification as well as physical. The tulsi will be especially powerful, Carol. Remember, legend says it’s made of Lakshmi’s hair, and legend also says it will give you a metaphysical kick in the pants, not just a physical, medical on
e. Be careful with that… lest you seduce all of Chicago!” She chuckled as she wrote a few more things down, pulled the piece of paper off of the pad, and handed it to Carol. “Yao closes at five, so make sure you get there before then.”

  “Thank you, Julia. I knew I could count on you. You know so much! I’m just worried that I’ll get too tired to make it through the whole show. The Rosemont Convention Center is huge, I hear.”

  “Ah, you only love me because I’m a nurse.” Julia waved her hand and joked.

  “The nurse, Jules.” Carol joked back.

  “Yes, I know. But really, Carol, do you think you might be in danger from this fellow? The way you describe him, I don’t know whether to be afraid or intrigued.”

  Carol mused aloud. “I really feel that he might be… what do they call it? A ‘willing actor’? He knows what he’s doing, and I don’t, Jules. It just happens to me. That’s why I’m still going to Chicago. I have to figure this out. It’s something I’ve got to do, do you understand?”

  “Of course I do, Carol. But I still think you’re a fool to go.” Julia crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. Her part-Native heritage showed in her proud bearing as she held her chin up.

  “I’m sure you’re right, my dear.” Carol conceded.

  How can I disagree? Carol thought. It’s not like I think she’s wrong.

  Soon Carol took her leave, exchanging the usual big, soft departing-hug with her old friend.

  “After all, I need to make it to Yao’s in time.” Carol joked. Julia had admonished Carol repeatedly, giving her detailed, nurse-like instructions on how to take care of an old body in a big city. Carol was admittedly glad to escape.

  Yao’s Traditional Herbs was close by, back in the Chinatown area of Philadelphia. It was always busy at Yao’s, with people coming and going through the fragrant bins of piled herbs. Carol loved going there, even if some odors made her eyes water. It was like stepping into another age, with bundles of sticks and leaves hanging from the rafters; richly colored, exotic fabrics; people shouting orders back and forth in Mandarin; and Mr. Yao’s great apothecary-wall, full of drawers of all different sizes. Yao was, as usual, standing in front of the drawered-wall, talking with several people at once in languages Carol couldn’t understand, and handing out bundles of herbs like prizes. He saw Carol and beckoned her over.

  “Mrs. Conley! Come on in, how are yous? Did Julia send yous ova, or did yous just come ova ta see me?” He winked. Even with his traditional outfit, and his fluent command of varying Chinese dialects, he spoke to Carol in a thick, Philadelphia accent.

  “Oh, Yao, you’re so bad.” Carol scoffed, laughing and waving a hand at him. “Yes, Julia sent me over. I’m going on a trip to Chicago. She wanted me to take this.” Carol handed Yao the piece of paper that Julia had given to her. Yao peered at it over his spectacles.

  “Aw, yeah... I c’n make this up in a jiffy. One sec, okay?” And he turned to his wall. Several different packages came out, and the ingredients went into a stone mortar. Yao pounded the dry herbs and spices into small pieces but did not powder them. He poured the contents into a white paper bag, folded it in a peculiar fold that kept the bag closed, and handed it to Carol.

  “Now, Mrs. Conley, yous make this in a tea, awright? Just one cup a day, okay. One sec... lemme see yer tongue.”

  Carol stuck out her tongue. Yao smiled.

  “Yeah. I think maybe just one a day. If yous get really tired, maybe one and a haff. No more, yous hear me? Dis stuff hits like a ton o’ bricks.” Yao wagged a finger at her.

  “I hear you, Yao. Thank you. I much prefer the teas to the pills; those things are enormous!”

  Yao laughed. “Yeah, well... yous gotta get a lotta stuff in those Precious Pills!” He leaned towards her and mock-whispered. “And ev’rybody prefers the teas!” A few people standing close-by heard him and chuckled, nodding their heads in tacit agreement.

  Carol had a quiet drive home, with the late-afternoon, summer sun on her shoulder, and the sounds of songbirds in the air.

  Over the next few days, Carol prepared for her trip to Chicago. She packed her favorite purse, her cream-colored suit, one pair of shoes, her most comfortable, green, Valentino dress and her special, Erte scarf. She was going to be dressed “to the nines” for this event. She packed her golden bracelet with the Assyrian-hunt-scene on it. She packed a gold necklace and the matching pearl ring that her husband had had made for her, oh so many years ago, when they were both still young and in their fifties. She did not pack the moonstone ring.

  She had many arguments with the spirit of Ian, who was very “vocal” during this time.

  “But he lives there!” Ian protested. “Ye know ‘e’s going ta ken ye’re there. Then where’ll ye be, an I canna come wit’ ye?” The Jacobite spirit had swept agitatedly through the room, making the lace curtains swirl and flutter. His thick accent was like the Scottish Highlands he came from, rough and rugged, yet capable of a softness like drifting fog.

  “I have a solution. Ian….” Carol chided him, “Listen to me! Look, I have this piece of tartan.” She pulled a tissue-wrapped bundle out of her wardrobe. She placed it on the bed, and unfolded it into a long, woolen, Black Watch shawl. It was old, she knew. She hoped it would work. She could not just carry a teddy bear with her everywhere, it was much too large and bulky, and this Black Watch tartan was as close as she could find to the pattern that the bear was wearing. One day, she was going to find out if it was the bear, or the bear’s kilt, that Ian was attached to.

  “Look, Ian. It’s your colors, and it’s a great-kilt sett, is that right? I thought that maybe you could just... sort of... hold on to it for the trip. Then you could come with me. I know how important it is to you that you protect me.” Carol held up the material.

  “Oh, Lass...,” she could hear Ian’s appreciative exhalation, like sighing treetops, “That’ll do, Carlie. That’ll do me just fine.” And Carol could feel him ease, comfortably and familiarly, into the garment, like sliding into a favorite, old shirt. She breathed a sigh of relief and finished her packing.

  The next day was hot and humid, without a cloud in the sky, and Carol’s daughter, Susannah, picked her up at home. Susie drove her mother to the airport, giving her the usual, loving lecture about taking care of herself.

  The flight to Chicago was quick and trouble-free; an amazing thing in this day and age. Carol navigated her way through O’Hare with the use of an old shillelagh-style cane she had brought just for this purpose and, after picking up her bag, hailed a cab to her hotel. In the heart of the downtown din and clamor, she was shown to her room, and she gratefully put her bags and cane down on the bed, and her feet up on the ottoman as she relaxed in an overstuffed armchair. She glanced through the brochure about the Gem Show. She wanted to get there early: there were a couple of vendors in particular that she was interested in, and she wanted to have first pick of their merchandise. She checked her wallet to make sure her guest-pass was still tucked inside and saw Freddie Archegon’s card: “Oddities & Rarities.”

  Maybe I should take the initiative when I see him. She bit her lip in thought.

  “Dinnae ye even think it, Missie,” Ian angrily whispered. The spirit had “attached” himself to the shawl, which was currently around Carol’s shoulders, but he seemed subdued, more quiet than usual. He had told her that it made him “...Knackered, Ma’am... but I’ll be sound after a wee kip. I’m sure I’ll be.”

  “Hush, Ian. I’ll do as I please. You had better do whatever it is you do to rest. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.” Carol draped the shawl over the back of the chair and felt Ian’s presence subside into silence. She had not meant to be rude to him, but she was certainly not going to let the ghost of some long-dead Scotsman tell her what to do, no matter who he was.

  She placed her package of tea on the table, along with a tea-strainer she had brought from home. She hung her clothes in the closet and placed her cane by the doorway so she wouldn’t forget it. Then
she ordered herself some dinner and a bottle of wine, and was sound asleep in the bed’s soft, white sheets before she had even finished her second glass.

  The convention center was massive, as they always were, and filled with vendors’ tables piled high with sparkling, eye-catching items. There were necklaces of hanging silver baubles, rings that flashed in the artificial light like miniature suns, gemstones of every shape and size and color…, There were even a few tiara-makers; something that Carol had only seen once or twice before at shows like this. Carol smirked to herself. She knew what it was like to wear a real tiara: it gave her great, almost child-like joy, to imagine these young women (and men, she reminded herself) getting to wear one too in these modern times. She wondered if they wore long, satin gloves as well.

  She poked her way through the tables. There was one vendor who sold Native American jewelry that Carol was particularly drawn to; not only because of the strong sense of Native singing and chanting that she perceived, like sunlight filling just that booth, but because the jewelry was both modern and timeless, with beautiful cabochons of agate and malachite and turquoise. She purchased an artist-signed, silver Medicine-Bag, set with a myriad of different stones. For a moment, the sound of the singing/chanting was all Carol could hear, and she paused with her hand on the counter to steady herself and her cane solidly on the floor on the other side. The rhythmic pattern of the Native language pulled at her: not a language she knew, of course, but a rhythm her body or soul seemed to know very well. It was all she could do to keep from swaying along with it. This was a Good Place; the spirits were praising this particular vendor with their song. Carol could tell by the way it made her feel: peaceful, joyful, honored. She was even more pleased with her purchase now.