Basics of Spellcraft (Ember Academy for Young Witches Book 1) Read online

  Basics of Spellcraft

  Ember Academy for Young Witches, Volume 1

  L.C. Mawson

  Published by L.C. Mawson, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BASICS OF SPELLCRAFT

  First edition. July 24, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 L.C. Mawson.

  Written by L.C. Mawson.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Author’s Note

  Other Series by L.C. Mawson

  Thank you to all of my supporters on Patreon for helping me buy the coffee I needed for the very long days writing this. (Seriously, it's pretty long for one of my books.)

  Special thanks go out to Seph De Busser!

  Thanks also go to fellow author Emilia Zeeland for helping out when I could no longer see the wood for the trees on this project.

  Cover by MoorBooks Design.

  Chapter One

  “Another headache?”

  I did my best to ignore the pain, my hands clutching my phone so tight that I might have worried that the screen would crack if I’d had the wherewithal to worry about anything other than my head potentially exploding.

  I eventually managed to pry my eyes open to see my mum giving me a worried look from the front seat of the car.

  “Yeah,” I said as I managed to force a sheepish smile despite the throbbing behind my eyes.

  She sighed. “Maybe we should go back to the doctor and get them to adjust the dosage of your medication. They warned that headaches could be a side-effect.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. And I’m sure it’s not the pills. My last dosage adjustment was six months ago, and these headaches have only been happening for the past two months.”

  In fact, as soon as my mum had started to suggest that my medication might be the problem, I had started recording and tracking every single aspect of my life, trying to find a different trigger.

  I wasn’t willing to give up my newfound freedom so quickly.

  It hadn’t taken long to figure out that the headaches had started when my Auntie Jess and cousin Nightingale had moved back to town, and that the headaches usually happened around seeing them.

  Which meant that they were probably stress headaches.

  But I wasn’t going to tell my parents that.

  I doubted that there was any way to phrase the problem that wouldn’t sound like I was being rude.

  Like I was saying that I didn’t want to see my auntie and cousin.

  Which was ridiculous. I loved them.

  But that didn’t mean things hadn’t been stressful ever since Auntie Jess had announced her new job.

  “It’ll be the stress about starting Sixth Form,” my dad said as he pulled the car into the high street’s car park.

  My mum sighed as he shut off the engine and she opened her door to get out of the car. “I suppose. But you know that there’s nothing to be stressed about, right, Amy? You’ve been studying since before you even got your GCSE results. In fact, if you are stressed, it might be because you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  I gave her a wry smile as I left the car, straightening my mustard yellow shirt and black jeans. “So I’ve heard.”

  She shook her head. “Well, if you’re not going to listen to me, then I’m going to keep repeating myself until you do.”

  My dad smiled as he made his way over and ruffled my short puff of platinum blonde hair. “You know, there are worse things she could be doing than studying too hard.”

  My mum glared as we headed toward the restaurant, and I got the feeling that the ‘worse things’ were what the conversation had become about, not the studying.

  Specifically, my hair.

  An old classmate had invited everyone from school to a party at their new place. They’d moved to Newcastle and it was meant as a goodbye. I hadn’t known them that well, but my mum had insisted that I go.

  She didn’t get that most of my classmates hadn’t really liked me all that much.

  Anyway, being out of town, and wanting the last impression my old classmates had of me to be a good one, I’d gone to a hairdresser on the way, and used up a good chunk of the meagre savings left from my birthday to have my hair cut off and dyed.

  My mum hadn’t been impressed, and there had been more than a few sly comments about how I should at least buy more skirts and dresses.

  “You look like a lesbian,” she’d said bluntly, and I’d spent the rest of the day in my room ‘studying’.

  By which I mean, trying not to cry.

  Which was ridiculous, it wasn’t even that cutting of a comment, but then...

  I pushed that thought aside before it could fully form, not wanting to dwell on that stupid party. In the end, the haircut had been the only positive of that trip.

  And something I probably wouldn’t have done before the medication.

  Maybe that was why my mum was so eager for it to be a problem. She didn’t like the fact that I no longer had to rely on her for everything.

  That I was finally capable of doing something as basic as booking a hair appointment on my own.

  I was pulled from my thoughts as we arrived at the restaurant. I’d been so distracted, I hadn’t realised we were almost there until we stopped.

  A stark reminder that my pills had now worn off. I didn’t take them when going out in the evening. As much as it made it harder to follow conversation, I didn’t like not drinking. Even though Dad wouldn’t be drinking either, it made me feel like a little kid.

  Auntie Jess and Nightingale were standing outside the restaurant, and as soon as I saw them, a sharp burst of pain shot through my skull.

  I gritted my teeth and did my best not to show it. Again, I knew that it was just stress over what was to come.

  Hopefully, a glass of wine would sort me out.

  “Ryan, Margaret, it’s so good to see you.” Auntie Jess grabbed her brother in a tight hug, the proximity to my parents highlighting the stark difference in their styles.

  Dad was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, but it was a nice t-shirt that my mum had picked out from some department store designer range for Christmas.

  Mum was wearing a smart black dress with a black and white bag – again, department store designer – and matching heels.

  But Auntie Jess was wearing baggy jeans, along with a baggy t-shirt, a leather jacket, more necklaces than I could count, and Doc Martens that were similar to my own, though hers were far more worn.

 
And then, where my mum had her hair dyed blonde, Auntie Jess had dyed the ends of her mousy brown hair bright blue, though it was a different colour every time I saw her.

  Nightingale’s style of dress drew slightly less ire from my mother, with a sleek crimson top to match her plaited hair, and form-fitting black jeans, but she still had heavy, sensible boots on, and a lip ring that my mother had warned me I was never allowed to emulate.

  I’d never had piercings before – not even my ears – too afraid that I wouldn’t remember to keep them clean. But maybe now I could manage it. Though the hair might have been testing the bounds of my mum’s patience a little too much.

  Maybe a lip-ring was something for uni, after I’d moved down south.

  Hopefully to Oxford or Cambridge...

  And yes, that did make me a potential Oxbridge student who until six months ago couldn’t master basic life skills. And in my Auntie Jess’ words, if that’s confusing to you, then you’ve never met an academic.

  “Come on,” my mum said. “Let’s head inside. I’m starving.”

  IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG into the meal for the suspected source of my headaches to rear its head.

  I was just glad that it was at least after the wine had arrived.

  “So,” Auntie Jess said, “I went to Ember Academy today to check out my new place. The teachers’ houses are surprisingly spacious.”

  My mum sighed, shaking her head. “Here we go again.”

  Auntie Jess raised an eyebrow, though the small smile she wore told me that she knew exactly what she was doing. “What do you mean? Am I not allowed to talk about my new job?”

  “You’re allowed to talk about it as long as you can do so without bringing up the idea of Amy going to this school.”

  “Well, I wasn’t the one to bring it up this time.”

  Mum glared at Auntie Jess and I took a large gulp of wine.

  “It’s a good school,” Auntie Jess said with a shrug. “And Amy has her sights set high when it comes to university. This would help her.”

  “She’s not going to a boarding school.” Mum took a moment before continuing. “I have friends who sent their kids to private schools on scholarships, and their kids hated the fact that they couldn’t afford to have the lifestyles of their peers. They were bullied relentlessly. Amy would be better off if she stayed at home.”

  I just kept drinking. You might imagine that this was something that I should have a say in, but no, no one ever asked me.

  “Ember isn’t like that. Most kids are there on scholarships.”

  “Why? Because they can’t get people to pay to go?”

  “Because Gail is committed to every young girl getting a good education.”

  “And that’s another thing. An all-girls school? Really, Jessica? Amy should be able to date and socialise with boys.”

  The unspoken implication there being that I’d never really dated before.

  The most I’d ever done with a guy was at that party, and I dismissed that thought as soon as it came, not wanting to think about that night.

  My glass was almost empty...

  Auntie Jess shook her head. “It’s not all-girls by design. It just happens that no boys have enrolled yet.”

  “But why? I’m sorry, Jess, but this all sounds a bit fishy. I know the headmistress is your friend, but I don’t trust a school that just opened last year. Maybe if you’d already been working there, I’d be more inclined, but you don’t know this school that well, either.”

  I put my glass down with a little more force than I intended, sick of listening to this argument.

  My mother gave me a warning look, but I just glared right back at her.

  Why did she keep trying to decide everything for me? I wasn’t a child anymore. I wasn’t broken. I didn’t need her help.

  “I think I should go.”

  Everyone stared at me, and I couldn’t blame them.

  I’d never found the courage to admit my feelings on the topic before.

  Though I wasn’t sure that I would label this courage, as my head continued to throb.

  It was more that I had reached the end of my patience, and the mix of pain and alcohol had eroded what little restraint I usually had.

  “My current school is terrible, and we all know it. The teachers know that I’ll pass my subjects no matter what they do, so they don’t have time to focus on helping me reach the top marks when the other kids need their help not to fail. At least if most of the other students at Ember are there on scholarships, then all of the teachers’ focus will be on helping us hit those top marks.”

  My mum glared at me. “Amy, you are not going to a boarding school, and that’s final.”

  “I’m sixteen! Don’t I get a say in my own education at this point?”

  “No. I am your mother and as long as you live under my roof, you will do as I say.”

  “I wouldn’t be living under your roof if I went to Ember.”

  The gleam in my mother’s eyes told me that I had perhaps gone too far with that one.

  Auntie Jess looked like she was going to say something, but then the waiter arrived with our food.

  “Let’s talk about something else for a while,” Dad said firmly, and thankfully, no one argued.

  “MUM’S STILL MAD AT me, isn’t she?” I asked Dad as we waited for the waiter to come with the card machine for the bill. Auntie Jess and Nightingale had gone to the loo, and Mum had gotten a work call she’d needed to take outside.

  He sighed, running a hand through his thinning brown hair. “You did yell at her in a restaurant.”

  “I didn’t yell.”

  He just raised an eyebrow and I folded my arms.

  “I didn’t mean to yell,” I eventually muttered.

  “I know, Amy. I just wish that you had brought this up at home, where we could have had a real conversation about it. It’s going to be a lot harder to convince your mum now, you know?”

  I nodded, but then raised an eyebrow as I realised what he’d said. “Do you think I should go to Ember Academy?”

  “I think that your Auntie Jess knows what’s best for you here.”

  “Better than Mum?”

  He sighed, focusing on his wallet, though he’d already gotten his card ready on the table. Eventually, he met my gaze again. “I think that you want to go, and I think that that’s all that matters.”

  Before I had a chance to let that vote of confidence really sink in, everyone arrived back, quickly followed by the waiter.

  “Well, I guess we should get going.” Mum said before turning to Auntie Jess. “I suppose you two got the bus?”

  Auntie Jess nodded. “Yes, but we’ll walk down with you to the car park. The bus stop is just further down.”

  “I can run you home, if you want,” Dad said.

  Auntie Jess smiled. “Thanks, Ryan. Are you sure it’s not too far out of your way?”

  “Yeah, it’s just five minutes.”

  I braced myself, hoping that this wasn’t another chance to argue about Ember Academy.

  Dad was right, arguing wasn’t the best path here.

  I would apologise to Mum when we got home, and hopefully we could have the conversation again in a couple of days when we’d both had a chance to calm down.

  Thankfully, everyone stayed quiet as we made our way to the car park, though it seemed darker than it should have for the middle of summer.

  I hugged my arms tight around my chest, a chill running through me as my ears pricked up, as if waiting for something.

  I was being ridiculous, I told myself. But then I looked over to Auntie Jess and Nightingale.

  Both of them were standing straight, their eyes scanning the environment.

  Before I could figure out exactly what that meant, my legs froze, refusing to move.

  What the hell?

  I tugged, thinking my shoe must be caught.

  But no.

  My legs were stuck, my muscles ignoring me.

  I tried to force
myself forward, straining with everything I had against whatever force held me there.

  But it was futile.

  I tried to look down, to find the issue, but my head wouldn’t budge either.

  Every inch of my body was frozen.

  Trapped.

  Including my mouth, a plea for help unable to leave my throat.

  The strangled cry I’d made was matched by two more to the side of me as I realised that neither of my parents were moving, either, though it was tough to make them out from the corner of my eye.

  All three of us were frozen stiff, held hostage by some invisible force.

  “Shit,” Auntie Jess said, still moving. “Nightingale, watch my back. I’ll try to break the curse.”

  Nightingale nodded, her arms coming up to a defensive position as Auntie Jess reached down to her boot, pulling out a stick of wood.

  How the hell did she think a stick would help?

  But then she started to mutter something and the end of the stick glowed blue as the wind whipped up around us.

  Before stopping dead.

  “Mum!” Nightingale cried, just as several figures appeared around us.

  They were cloaked in shadow, but I could just make out paper white skin and glowing red eyes.

  Something primal inside of me reacted to the sight, screaming with warning.

  Get out.

  Danger.

  But no matter how I struggled, my legs refused to move.

  And with every spike of fear, I swore that the crimson eyes glowed brighter.

  “Shit,” Auntie Jess muttered again before raising the stick to the sky and yelling something I didn’t catch.

  A purple light shot from the end before exploding in the sky above.

  The figure with glowing eyes closest to her smirked. “Call for help all you like, it’s too late now.”

  More strained noises came from next to me, more frantic this time.

  I struggled to look, just barely able to see my mum from the corner of my eye.

  My vision swam, but when it came into focus, my blood ran cold.

  I hadn’t seen much, but the glint of the blade at my mum’s throat was enough.