Read Legacy Of Magick (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 1) Online
Authors: Ellen Dugan
Legacy Of Magick (Legacy Of Magick Series, Book 1)
Table of Contents
Copyright
Copyright © Ellen Dugan 2015
Edited by Barbara Goffman and Meg Garey
Cover Art by Kyle Hallemeier
"Legacy of Magick" logo by Kyle Hallemeier
Formatting by Libris in CAPS
All rights reserved to the Author
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events 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.
Legacy of Magick
By
Ellen Dugan
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to all my friends who have offered support, enthusiasm, and encouragement on this adventure. A special thank you goes to Tess and Katie for being my super, speed-reading, Beta readers, and to my editors Barbara and Meg. To Kyle for the fabulous cover art, thanks to Lenora and to Jeanne for talking me through the reality of revisions.
To CH and LH who had both once asked me, “Why in the world aren’t you writing fiction?”
Finally, this book is dedicated with love to my husband Ken and our children, Kraig, Kyle and Erin. Who each reminded me to never let anything stand in the way of a dream.
CHAPTER ONE
Now that’s a house with charm.
I’d just jogged back into my neighborhood, and over the tree line my aunt’s house came into view. Jeez, it wasn’t a house. It was a manor. Silver gray, trimmed in contrasting burgundy and white, and painted gingerbread. It had two towers shaped like pointed witch’s hats.
It was views like this that made me love William’s Ford, Missouri, my new home as of two weeks ago. The old, uneven, brick sidewalk beneath my feet, however, was another matter. I really had to mind my footing here— I snapped my head up. A man had stepped right in front of me.
“Hey!” I tried to step to the side to avoid him, but I was in mid-stride and we smacked solidly into each other. I shouted out a few choice words as I felt myself falling to the bricks.
I automatically put my hands out to stop my fall, and they fortunately hit the grass while one of my knees met the bricks. The only thing that kept me from fully face planting on the brick sidewalk was the man, who had wrapped his arms around me and angled us for the grass instead. We landed in a heap, and my breath rushed out in a solid thump. My sunglasses bounced and sat crookedly on my face. For a few seconds, we stayed down there with his arms wrapped around my waist.
With a groan, he rolled over and off to sit on the sidewalk next to me. I was still down on the ground, my right hip and knee had taken most of the impact. I glared at him. I started to move, and my initial fury at someone being stupid enough to get in my way, changed the moment I adjusted my glasses and got a clear look at him.
Oh, wow. If I had to be knocked flat by somebody, this was the one I would have chosen. He looked to be in his late twenties. He wore a coordinated jogging shirt and shorts in black and royal blue. His sandy blonde hair was short and a bit tousled. Bright blue eyes smiled at me as he started to apologize. Like me, he was wearing work out clothes and earbuds.
He pulled out his own earbuds to ask, “Are you all right? I’m sorry.”
He looked me straight in the eyes. Well, okay, technically he looked straight into my sunglasses, but let me tell you, his
look
packed a punch. He climbed to his feet and stood up. Let’s add tall to the list. He offered his hand in a friendly way, as I shifted off my hip to put one foot down flat so I could get to my feet.
I automatically took the offered hand, and he tugged me the rest of the way up. I weirdly felt a jolt of energy when our palms connected. “Thanks.” I said. Flustered, I did my best not to stare open-mouthed at this incredibly gorgeous guy... who still held onto my hand. He was toned with a summer tan. Wow. He apologized again.
“I am really sorry. I had my music up too loud and I didn’t see you until the last minute. Are you sure you’re okay?” He looked down at my knee. It was skinned up, but nothing major.
While I stood there trying to catch my breath, I felt little currents of energy rush up my arm from the hand he still held. As I belatedly pulled my hand away, the sensation stopped.
How weird is that?
“Yeah, thanks to you throwing us mostly to the grass — instead of letting me fall on the sidewalk.” I huffed out, as I brushed off my mismatched bright orange top and purple shorts. I was a little out of breath, both from the jogging and the collision. My own earbuds were dangling crazily, so I grabbed the ends and tried to act natural. As if running into gorgeous men, skinning my knee, and ending up tangled in their arms on the ground happened to me on a regular basis.
Who could blame a girl for being a little flustered?
“I’m Duncan Quinn.” He introduced himself, and I felt my heart thump hard against my ribs.
“Autumn.” I tried to introduce myself as smoothly as possible. But what could I do? Sweating, out of breath, and with no makeup on — I could only cringe as I imagined how I must look and smell. Crap. Was my deodorant working? Did I smell? Suddenly I realized that he was still talking to me and I almost missed what he was saying.
“—on the estate with my mother’s family until I settle on a place of my own.” he said.
“Oh,” I replied lamely. Apparently falling to the ground had knocked the power of speech from my brain. I tried again.
Come on, Autumn,
focus.
“So, you live around here?” I asked casually. Yes, I know I basically repeated what he said, but it was the best I could come up with. I reached up to pull my long brown hair into a tighter ponytail, and prayed that my hair was not sticking out all over the place.
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and gestured to the large gothic-style stone manor house behind him. “Yeah, I live right there in the big stone mausoleum.”
I peered up at the house, and it did seem a little creepy. It also seemed familiar, somehow. “Well, it was nice running into you,” I said with an attempt at humor.
He laughed and I grinned at him. Hurray! My brain was working again. I was able to make clever conversation with an attractive man!
“So, do you live around here too?” He asked.
“A couple of blocks up the hill. It’s not far.”
“Why don’t I walk you back to your house?” He asked me. “It’s the least I can do.” He glanced down at my knee with a frown.
“I think I’ll live,” I assured him.
“I’d feel better if I made sure you got home okay. It’s not every day I knock a girl off her feet. Literally,” he said straight-faced.
“You’re a funny guy, Duncan.” I chuckled, and started slowly walking back down the sidewalk as he fell into step by my side. At first, he seemed to be hovering, watching to see if I was alright, I supposed. For the next couple of blocks we walked easily together. I was sort of impressed when he commented about some of the other historic homes in the neighborhood. He knew his stuff, I realized, as he pointed out a federal style brick cottage and a few Queen Anne-style houses to me.
“You must be really into architecture,”
“Yeah,” he admitted, “I studied architecture and historic preservation in college. It actually comes in handy in my line of work.”
“What’s your line of work?”
“I flip houses. Remodel and repair broken down homes, and I also restore older historical homes. My family is into real-estate,” he pointed at a real estate sign in a yard across the street, with the agent’s name listed as ‘Rebecca Drake-Quinn’. “My mom backed me on my first flip a couple of years ago; I made a decent profit on the sale. I paid her back, and then bought my second house to flip on my own. And then I just kept on going.”
Wait, the family name
Drake
rang a bell. He had said that he lived on the family
estate
. After living here a couple of weeks, I thought about how many times I had seen the name ’Drake’, both on local buildings and in the title of local businesses. There was even a hall named after the Drake family on the University campus. Which meant that, through his mother, he was part of the family that, apparently, had fingers in every business in town. A wealthy, connected family. I bet he’d be curious as to who
my
family was next. I wondered what his reaction would be when he found out I was a Bishop.
“I thought I knew most people in the neighborhood. Are you new here, a student maybe?” He asked, as I predicted.
I tried to sound casual and confident when I answered. “I recently moved here to stay with my father’s family while I go to grad school.”
He stopped walking and looked at me intently. “Who’s your family?”
“The Bishops.” I was braced for his reaction as my father’s family was a little bit —
different.
So I watched him carefully.
“You’re related to Gwen Bishop?” He seemed surprised as he studied my features.
“Yes, she’s my aunt. Do you know her?” I asked.
His expression stayed neutral. “That means your father is Arthur Bishop.”
“Yes, he passed away about a year and a half ago.” I informed him.
“I’m sorry.” He said gently.
“Thank you.” I said.
We walked along quietly for a few moments. Well that was interesting. He seemed a little surprised, but other than that, very little reaction to the family.
I was relieved when he cheerfully picked the conversation back up.
“I know your cousin, Bran. I’ve been working with him. He’s been helping me track down the original blueprints, at the university library, for some of the historic buildings I have been rehabbing.” He said cautiously, as if he expected
me
to react.
I considered as we walked together. He had said buildings. As in more than one. This wasn’t merely an average guy, or a general contractor. I peeked over at him as he pulled an expensive looking cell phone out of his pocket to check an incoming text. While he answered that, I discreetly checked him out again. That was name brand athletic apparel he was wearing and top-of-the-line jogging shoes too. The runner in me approved of the brand, even though I knew it was hideously expensive.
Rich guy. Definitely.
“Have you always lived here?” I asked.
“No. I went to an East coast prep school, and then Yale. After I got my degree, I ended up moving back to town permanently.” He sounded resigned but grinned at me as we kept walking towards the manor.
I felt another little jolt of power and a connection as I smiled back at him. So he was living with his family too. What a weird way to meet someone, but I was glad I decided to run this morning.
As we walked up to the front gates at the end of the manor’s driveway, I pushed the black wrought iron gate open and turned to look up at him. His dark blonde hair was casually mussed, and his blue eyes were smiling. I almost sighed out loud. He seemed like a great guy, nice and friendly. I wondered how I could work out seeing him again.
Then it dawned on me that maybe he was simply being kind, and wasn’t interested in me at all. He was probably being polite, with all that wealth, breeding, and so forth. It made me wonder if he had taken classes for these types of situations at that prep school? You know, “Damsel in Distress? Here’s how to be a gentleman and still look hot!”
