Table of Contents

  Spell Guide:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Acknowledgments

  Follow Me

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright  2023

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  First published May 2023

  Book cover design by S. Frasher using Canva

  ISBN: 9798391456131 (paperback)

  Self-published via Kindle Direct Publishing

  For the cuties who grew up loving Practical Magic and Harry Potter who wished magic was within their grasp.

  Spell Guide:

  Warning: Misuse or mispronunciation could result in disastrous outcomes.

  Practice your craft with great care.

  Unlock – fhuasgladh (fuh-oo-ass-guh-laa-did)

  Lock – glasadh (guh-laa-ss-did)

  Reveal – nochd (no-k-dee)

  Conceal – Falaich (fuh-li-sh)

  Protect – dìon (dee-on)

  Freeze – Reothadh (ree-o-th-at)

  Chapter One

  Dearest daughter,

  I hope your first month back at Gabalter is going well, and that you are adjusting to your new dormitory. Knowing that classes start next week, I sent an owl to the headmaster about your course schedule. I heard back this afternoon, and it seems that despite your being only a third-year student they will be admitting you into the fourth-year advanced potions class! Your excellence has proceeded you, as I so suspected it would.

  Do your family proud, Evangeline.

  Other housekeeping bits include notice that I shall be sending an owl over with your monthly stipend tomorrow – don’t spend it all on gummy toads or eye of newt again. Which brings me to my next order of business, sorry to cut to the chase, but I have many a thing to attend to and this is a semi-urgent request.

  I have something of a mission for you. There is an ancient relic said to be housed in your school, one that only students can find. We’d like to add it to the museum at the capital and I’d be eternally grateful if you found it. It is known as the Relic of Gabalter, owned and once protected by the very powerful Witch who founded your school. I will not be sending another stipend until this item is found. Once you find it, portal it to me post-haste – I don’t want to wait for Nokia to fly back and forth before I can retrieve it. Speaking of which, that owl of yours is rather sluggish and pudgy these days – please tell me you haven’t been feeding it gummy toads as well. Those things go straight to the thighs.

  I digress, find the relic expeditiously.

  All my love and then some,

  Mother

  “Nothing like a healthy dose of body-shaming and guilt-tripping to start off the week, right Nokia?” Nokia blinked her big golden orbs at me, assessing my big, dark green eyes with curiosity while twisting her head to the side in a way that only owls can. “You’re not pudgy either,” I scratched her head. “You’re perfect.” Nokia screeched happily and snatched the treat out of my hand, flying up into the exposed wood rafters above to perch while she enjoyed her snack.

  “Talking to the bird again, Evie?” Joey teased as she sauntered into our shared dorm room. “You know she won’t talk back, unless you became a zoolinguist over the summer.” I eyed my roommate with faux disdain, sizing her up from head to toe in an act of teasing intimidation. She was dressed in her normal attire, thrifted earth tones that complemented her ebony skin and hair.

  “You know,” I used both hands to brush my wavy hair off my face and tuck some behind my ears before continuing. “As I was sitting here reading this wonderful letter from my mother all I could think about was how some sass from Josephine would really help improve my mood.” Joey laughed maniacally.

  She tossed a loc of braided hair over her shoulder before tossing a wrapped cinnamon bun toward me. “Does this make it better?” The baked good landed in my lap with a thud, wafting the delectable scent up into my nose.

  “Is this from Crumby Day?” It was our favorite bakery, located in the town just outside our school. It was owned by the grumpiest elf you’ll ever meet. Once, after visiting the mortals outside our glamoured magical hideaway, I discovered cookies in a human store that featured a cartoonish elf in a green outfit who baked all day long. I showed the cookie package to Mr. Graham when I returned, and he banned me from his shop for a month. Grumpy old thing…but he sure knew how to bake.

  “Obviously.” Her lug-soled combat boots hit the floor with an unforgiving thud. My eyes jerked to my tasseled loafers sitting primly next to a matching satchel – parting gifts from my mother this term. Joey’s parents were witches, just like mine, but unlike mine they didn’t belong to the upper echelon of witch society. My mother was the head of the Witches’ Counsel, while Joey’s was a hippie witch who lived in a cottage in the mountains. My father was a field-leading crypto-zoologist, while hers grew herbs to sell in their family-ran shop. I was told my appearance and behaviors were a reflection of my family, while Joey was free to be anything she wanted.

  I eyed my loafers with disdain, wishing I had the freedom to buy rebellious footwear like Joey did. But no. Mother couldn’t have me looking like an individual when I had been placed on the Crawley Conveyer Belt of Success. Like my mother, grandmother, and sister before me, I was to attend Gabalter, study at the Bureau of Enchantment, and then join the Witches’ Counsel. I gave my attention back to the cinnamon-flavored treat in my lap.

  “Then yes, it does.” Paper crinkled in my hands as I worked the pastry free of its wrapping. Cinnamon floated into the air around me, wrapping my senses in a warm hug as I took my first bite. Buttery dough and sugary filling spread across my tongue, helping me temporarily forget the annoying letter on my desk.

  Without her boots on, Joey moved like an assassin, snatching the letter off my desk before I even knew she was there. “What does Madam Margaret want now?”

  “One thing I love about our friendship is how we respect one another’s privacy.” Despite the mouthful of pastry, I was still able to convey the sarcasm in my statement. I’m sure the rolling of my eyes helped as well.

  “Same, sis. Same.” She puckered her lips at me, kissing the air in a jestful act. Joey’s face contorted with annoyance, lips sucking against her teeth so hard a sharp smacking noise came out. “So, let me get this straight. Nokia is fat and lazy,” Nokia squawked in protest from the rafters. “You need to take harder classes and stop eating junk food while also finding some antique for her?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.” My tongue swiped icing from my thumb, cleaning my hands enough to take the letter back into my own hands without smudging it with grease. I snapped my fingers, delivering a molten cup of black coffee into my hand to cut the sweetness that had invaded my mouth from the cinnamon roll.

  “She sucks. You’re sixteen for coven’s sake. If you’re old enough to have a witch’s license then you’re old enough to make your own decisions.” Joey rolled her eyes before walking back to her side of the room and plopping down into her bed.

  “She means well.” And she did. She was loving and supportive – but she also made her agenda known and all her opinions were colored with a heavy coating of bias she refused to acknowledge.

  “Bleh.” She stuck her tongue out.

  Desperate for a new conversation I asked an unrelated question, “Want to walk to dinner with me and Circe in an hour?” I took another drink of coffee, letting it warm my soul.

  Joey nodded a yes, and with a flick of her wrist called her headphones out of her backpack – floating them through the air before snatching them down and blasting rock music into her heavily pierced and slightly pointed ears. Music on typically meant conversation over.

  While I waited for the hour to tick by, serenaded by Nokia’s soft cooing and the faint sound of Joey’s music, I tried to figure out where I would even begin to search for an ancient relic.

  Chapter Two

  “Do either of you remember the dinner options?” Circe asked. Gabalter Academy was strict about everything, including the food schedule. Though most of us with magical parents were used to eating whatever we wanted to conjure up at any given moment – the school kept us on a regimented routine like a mortal academy would. And with it being Thursday, that meant we would have all manner of Asian Cuisine available to us and nothing else. Which was fine for Joey and Circe, but not me (hi, extremely picky eater here).

  “It’s Asian Cuisine night,” Joey answered. “Last Thursday they had sushi, dim sum, satay, and pho.” I could practically hear her salivating, but my stomach was turning. Last Thursday I had gone to bed hungry after futilely attempting to beg the lunch gorgon to make me something else. I hate being a picky eater – and believe me I’ve tried to be different. Even my mother has tried to for ce it away, but no matter what I do anything too spicy, sour, or tangy makes me nearly ill. One flavor I can always palate though is bitter – hence my coffee addiction.

  “Yum!” Circe danced, her sprite heritage clear in the nearly floating way she danced through the dining hall doors.

  “Maybe they will have white rice tonight?” Joey offered with a small smile, knowing I’d be risking being frozen in stone if I begged the lunch gorgon one more time for a change in menu.

  “Hopefully,” I returned her smile, only to have it smacked from my face as I bumped into the firm back of a fellow student.

  Hushed whispers echoed around the room, but from my petite body’s position behind the hulk-ish guy in front of me, I couldn’t see a thing.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, pushing up to my tiptoes to try and see what could possibly be causing such a crowd during that early dinner hour. Circe shrugged, she was just as vertically-challenged as I was. “Joey, can you see anything?” She towered above me, but still wasn’t tall enough to see over the kwailing team in front of us.

  “Nope.” She replied passively, clearly disinterested in discovering the source of chaos. We all flattened our feet and relaxed our posture, settling into the line as we waited to get our food. “Did you figure out how you’re going to start looking for that relic?”

  “Something needs finding?” Circe’s eyes sparkled with delight.

  “Some old antique the founder of the school owned, Mother wants it for the museum.” I shrugged, not really wanting to talk about my marching orders again.

  “Ooo, official Witches’ Counsel business, how intriguing.” Circe’s dainty hands rubbed together mischievously.

  “Hardly, I’m sure it’s barely important, she said it was an antique, not a talisman of high coven security clearance. If it were important, Mother would have had her favorite daughter in charge of it instead of me.” Blair had always been my mother’s favorite.

  “Blair can’t do it, the letter said only a student could find it.” Joey corrected.

  “True, thank you for pointing out I was her only option.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s probably why she’s taking away my stipend until I find it – she thinks I need external motivation to achieve.” My arms crossed swiftly around my chest in a physical attempt to shield myself from the emotional toll of the conversation. “But no, I have zero ideas. I’ve never even heard of this thing before.”

  “What’s it called?” Circe asked.

  “The Relic of Gabalter.” Joey flicked her hands in the air, flashing a glitzy marque of the words above our heads.

  “I’ve heard of that,” Waller said, a physically imposing, though not terribly bright, kwailing player who was standing in front of us. He had always had a crush on Circe and took every opportunity he could to talk to her. Of course, she was oblivious to the whole crush. He turned around, inserting himself into our conversation, which he had obviously been eavesdropping on.

  “Is that right?” Joey rolled her eyes. “Then tell us what the item we're talking about is called?”

  “The-urm-” He cleared his throat, cheeks reddening. “The relic of the alter.”

  Cue another Joey eyeroll, though Circe giggled like she found his misspeaking cute.

  “It’s Gabalter, like the name of our school.” Joey sassed, no tolerance for him. “Get your ears cleaned out, Waller.”

  Now it was his turn to roll his eyes, “Whatever, Josephine.”

  “Stellar comeback, I’m not worried at all the kwailing ball has hit you too many times in the head.” Joey snapped.

  “Smoke grass, hippie.” Waller snapped back, turning around with a huff, his adolescent pride injured by her confident comebacks.

  “I assure you that would be eons more fun than talking to you.” Joey huffed, joining me in my arms-crossed stance.

  “Anyway,” Circe drew out this word, clearly uncomfortable with the turn our conversation had taken. “I’ve never heard of that either.” Disheartening considering she was our resident history buff. “But most of the time I’d say a safe bet would be to start your research in the library.”

  “As good an idea as any, I suppose.” The crowd around us had cleared out some, finally allowing us to see just what had caused the commotion. More like who had caused the commotion.

  Milo Lancaster.

  There he stood, wiping dumpling dough off his dark green sweater with one hand while the other magically pulled broth from his dripping wet shaggy, black hair.

  “I can’t believe it,” Circe whispered.

  “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Joey scoffed. “Last year he was the captain of the kwailing team and now he’s a dude who gets his face squished into xiao long bao.”

  “Joey, keep it down. You don’t want him as an enemy.” Circe scolded.

  “I’m not afraid of him.” Joey sneered. “Or his parents.” I snapped my eyes to her, speaking of the banished was almost as bad as speaking of the one they served.

  Milo was a year ahead of us and had spent the last two years that we’d known him strutting around campus – dating pretty witches, killing it on the kwailing team, and charming every one of his professors. But that was all before.

  Before his parents betrayed the Witches’ Counsel and the Bureau of Enchantment by working for Gideon – the darkest warlock our realm had seen in a millennium. He dealt in heinous magic, taking from the world around him and never giving back – including his lifespan. Many of his followers had given their lives so he could outlive generation after generation of witches – all in an aim to rule the realm with an iron fist. And Milo’s parents had helped him.

  I remember the day the Counsel came for Milo. My mother personally came to Gabalter, yanked him from World Relations class and portaled to the capital. He was there for weeks being interrogated and questioned, finally being released to the care of his aunt after they decided he knew nothing of his parent’s subterfuge. And after he had, seemingly, never spoken a word about his interrogations or his parents again.

  “He’s not dangerous, Circe.” I defended him, trusting my mother’s judgment. Having grown up and bore witness to her methods of extracting truth from someone, I knew there was no way he could lie to her. There was also no way she’d let him go if he were dangerous.

  “Still…I can’t believe they let him back here.” Circe responded, uncharacteristically terse.

  “His aunt is on the Witches’ Counsel, I’m sure she used some pull to get him back in.” Joey hated nepotism. “And remember, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “He hasn’t done anything wrong.” I don’t know why I defended him, we weren’t friends. He had made that abundantly clear last year.

  I had approached him after potions class, one we shared despite my being a year behind him. He had forgotten his mini cauldron in class, so I ran up to him to give it back to him. Admittedly, I was a little bit excited about the opportunity to talk to him. Who wouldn’t love to have the attention of an attractive, athletic, all-around beloved upperclassman for a few minutes? Upon tapping him on the shoulder, he turned around and laughed, saying he wasn’t interested in dating one of his underclassman fans. My face had turned beat red, and after that day I vowed to hate him forever. But it’s kind of hard to hate someone who is actively covered in soup dumplings and has no friends.

  “Get out of here, traitor.” Milo’s bully taunted. But Milo ignored him, and promptly grabbed his backpack, threw it over his shoulder, and began his march out of the dining hall.

  For the briefest of moments our eyes met, and I allowed my lips to turn up in a friendly smile. His ocean-blue eyes glared back at me as his pouty lips pulled into a scowl. My mouth dropped open in shock. One would think he would accept any kindness offered to him, they would have been wrong though.

  Maybe I could still hate him.

  Chapter Three

  “Anything?” I slammed the book closed, centuries of dust flurrying around me. My head cast back in a sneeze, the force sending my glasses flying from my face and onto the table. Of course, I didn’t use contacts the day I riffled through ancient books for hours on end.

 

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