Seeing Magic (The Queen of the Night Series Book 1)

Seeing

Magic

Book One in the
Queen of the Night
Series

Laura Emmons

ISBN-13: 978-1495248610

ISBN-10: 1495248615

SEEING MAGIC

Copyright © 2014 Laura M. Emmons

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any storage  or retrieval systems is forbidden without the express permission of Laura M. Emmons. Contact through Facebook at www.facebook.com/lauraewrites.

All characters in this book are a product of the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to any persons alive or dead. All incidents described in the book are also pure inventions of the author.

DEDICATION

Seeing Magic is dedicated to my creative and loving children, Matt and Chris, and to my wonderfully supportive husband, Jim.

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d like to thank all of the wonderful aspiring authors on Authonomy.com for editing and support.

The book cover is a composite of two photographs. The background on the cover was photographed by Dia Emmons from the scenic overlook at Prospect Peak in Morgan County, West Virginia. It is reproduced by permission. The model was photographed by Johan Larson in an image titled ‘Ocean view’. The model image is reprinted through an agreement with Shutterstock.com.

Prolog

The Unexpected Summer Vacation

“I. Don’t. Want. To. Go.”  I shook my head back and forth.

“You’re going.”  Mom set her jaw and her green eyes flashed, daring me to defy her further.

My resolve started to falter. I plopped down onto a chair at the kitchen table and asked the question which had been most bothersome since she’d made her announcement four days earlier. “Why do I have to go away?”

She stopped drying dishes and took the seat next to me, sighing deeply and rubbing her hand over her brow. “It’s time for you to meet the rest of your family…our family. I used to think we would be better off if we stayed away from them...but circumstances have changed.”

“I don’t even know where I’m supposed to be going, and why you aren’t coming with me.”

“You’re going to Berkeley Springs, West Virginia. Your brother is going to a military school summer camp in Woodstock, Virginia, and well, there are things I need to do here this summer.”

“What things?” I was less angry and more concerned. “Let me stay and help you.”

“I don’t want you here.” 

Her words hit me like a slap in the face. I jerked upright in my seat. The chair slid backwards.

Her face fell and she reached out her hand to caress my cheek, but I tilted my head to deny her touch. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just need to take care of this alone…” she trailed off lamely.

I relented, but tried one last time to learn the driving force behind her decision. “Can you at least tell me what
this
is?”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “No, I don’t want to scare you.” 

Those words scared me most of all.

Chapter One

The Cabin

I’d just taken Corey’s hand in mine as we walked down the long terminal toward baggage claim. He shrugged at me as if to say ‘Fine, if you need to hold on to someone’. At ten, Corey was eager to assert his independence. Nevertheless, he was still my responsibility, even if he had uncanny maturity and intuition for his age.

“It’s gonna be fun, Maggie,” my brother urged. “You’ll see.”

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

“I know, and Mom totally freaked out. Why do you think she did that?”

I shrugged. “Who knows what’s going on with Mom?  I remember saying, ‘I should believe you, because you’re so good at seeing the future, right?’ and…”

“And I said, ‘What if I do?  How would you know?’ and then Mom gasped…”

I picked up the story, “and dropped the plate she was carrying and said…”

Corey joined me as we repeated together, “Don’t joke about things like that!”

He continued, an uncustomary frown on his face, “Why do you think she was so upset?”

“I wish I knew, Corey…I wish I knew. Where’s Aunt Rose? I don’t see her.”

Out of all my relatives, Aunt Rose was the only one I’d ever met. My mother’s only sibling had visited on a few Christmas breaks and one year for Thanksgiving. She was the kindest soul I’d ever known.

Corey was about to respond when, as we walked through the security checkpoint, a guy barely older than me stopped us. His eyes searched mine, yet a scowl marred his handsome face before he spoke.

“Maggie and Corey Stewart?”  He had a musical lilt to his baritone voice. The southern drawl was muted. It didn’t have the harsh twang of the many Texans I knew in LA. Nor did it have the refined slowness of the Deep South. It reminded me of my dad’s voice.
This is what eastern West Virginia sounds like
. Still, I wondered how he knew what we looked like and whether we should trust him, but Corey was quicker to respond than me.

His grin spread from ear to ear. He was instantly comfortable with this complete stranger, shaking his hand and greeting him like they’d known each other for years. “Hey,” Corey started, “I’ve seen you!”

“I’ve seen you too,” the stranger responded. He looked at me appraisingly. “But I’ve never seen you. Why is that?”

“Huh. Where have you seen him?” I asked Corey.

He ignored me and continued to address the stranger as we resumed our trek toward the baggage claim area. “Don’t pay any attention to her. She doesn’t get it. Were you sent by Great-Aunt Fiona?” 

I was used to being ignored by my brother, but it still upset me.

“I work for Fiona. She asked me to meet you guys. I’m Evan.” 

I’d wanted to tell them both off, but Fiona’s name had been mentioned twice and something about it clicked in my mind.

“What happened to Aunt Rose?”

Evan answered briskly, as if irritated by the question. “Your Aunt Rose went to your…I mean, a friend’s home for the summer. Rose is helping them out of a difficult situation. That’s why you’re taking her place in Fiona’s store.”  He looked at me with disdain.

“Weren’t you paying attention when Mom explained this part?” Corey asked, as we retrieved our checked suitcases and headed out to the parking lot.

“I guess not,” I grumbled.

Corey and Evan talked to each other cordially the entire drive to Corey’s summer camp.

“What’s it like where Maggie is going?” my brother asked Evan innocently.

Not content with being left out, I clarified, “It’s called Berkeley Springs, West Virginia.”  To myself I added
population 1,157. There might be more people living in my family’s apartment building.
 

“Berkeley Springs,” Evan recited in an almost tourist guide voice, “is also known as the Town of Bath. It was settled over natural hot springs. George Washington loved the town. Many people up until the early 1900s thought the hot springs healed the sick, so the place became somewhat of a tourist attraction. Now it’s a state park.”  He forgot to be grumpy when he spoke of his home town.

I took it as a good sign.

He continued, “We have the Farmer’s Market every weekend. There are concerts on the village green; the movie theater usually plays something interesting, and there are a lot of good hiking paths in the woods.”

“I’m allergic to nature,” the words slipped out of my mouth before my sense of tact stopped them.

Evan scowled deeper.

I was only partially kidding. I was a natural athlete. Mom said I’d inherited my dad’s genes. I liked hiking…in the mall. We called it aerobic shopping.

“Hey Evan,” I interjected, “is the mall in Berkeley Springs any good?”

“We don’t have a mall in Berkeley Springs. There’s a Goodwill Store on route 522.”

I decided to remove myself from the conversation at that point. Evan clearly agreed because after we’d left Corey at camp, he turned up the radio and made conversation impossible for the rest of the trip.

***

The cold made me shiver as I stepped out of the Jeep. It was a stark reminder that I wasn’t in Santa Monica anymore. Dense trees blocked what was left of the sun. Smoke drifted from the chimney of a rustic log cabin.

A movement in the woods bordering the property caught my attention.
It’s probably a deer, right?  Deer usually live in old forests.
I wouldn’t know, since I’d lived in the city my whole life.

Evan had already pulled my suitcase out of the hatchback and was on the front porch. He gave me a ‘Well, aren’t you coming?’ look so I gathered my courage and followed him into the house.

After emerging from the foyer, the whole place opened to a huge great room with a cathedral ceiling. Along one wall a fire crackled in a huge stone fireplace, and sitting in a comfortable-looking old leather chair, with her back to a wall of windows, was a stern looking woman.

At least she looked sternly at me. Evan had preceded me into the house and she greeted him warmly. They shared a joke about my brother’s exuberance and another about the long drive. So, he could be pleasant…just not toward me, apparently.

“How’s Zoe?” he asked.

“Rather ill, I’m afraid. I did what I could to help her, but I’m not sure what’s causing her symptoms.” 

She turned her attention my way. Her eyes narrowed a bit and she pursed her lips. After a twelve-hour journey I probably looked pretty sad.

She wasn’t a vision of beauty herself
, I thought sourly, as I cringed under her sharp assessment. She had wild gray hair streaked with white. It hung in loose and untamed curls around her face. Her dark violet eyes were shrewd and, I noticed, the same unusual color as mine. She rose from the chair to greet me wearing what looked like a caftan and slippers. The trip across the country had wearied me. It’s not like I’d slept much the night before, just seeing her outfit made me tired.
Mind over body
, my journey was not completed yet. I waited for her to talk first.

“Maggie.”  She announced my name as if it was a sentence unto itself. “Welcome home. I say that, as this is your rightful home, where your legacy lives. I expect you will work hard to embrace that legacy. Your education has been delayed too many years. How old are you now?”

“I’m fifteen,” I croaked.

“Fifteen.”  My age was also a complete sentence. “Well, nothing we can do about that today. I apologize for not being able to meet you at the airport. My presence was urgently required elsewhere. You look dead on your feet. I’ve left dinner for you and Evan in the oven. Afterwards, you may retire. The bathroom is through this door.”  She indicated the door on her far left. “This door leads to your Aunt Rose’s room. You shall sleep there during your stay.” 

While I was being scrutinized, Evan had already deposited my suitcase and backpack in the room indicated.

“First,” she continued, “please join me for the evening blessing.” 

Evan immediately followed her out the back door onto the deck.

I followed hesitantly.

Fiona lit a pure white column candle on a teak coffee table. As she did so, she chanted a short but solemn prayer. “Thank you Llew — the King of the Sun — for your gift of light. Welcome Arianrhod — the Queen of the Night. Blessed are the gifts brought to us by Father Sky and Mother Earth. We honor their grace with an offering. We praise the little people who do the Earth’s good works. We thank them for their toil. We follow the rules of the land, and always strive to keep the balance of nature intact. Blessed Be.” 

She arranged food in a clay bowl similar to a flowerpot, and placed it on the edge of the deck. “We ask that you grant us your blessings for a good harvest.”  She took a bundle of dried herbs, which I recognized as a sage smudge, and lit the tip on fire, spreading the ash in a circle. “We ask that you heal our illnesses, cleanse our spirits, and keep all manner of evil from our home. Blessed Mother, so it is said, so mote it be.”  With an ancient-looking wood and bristle broom, she swept the ash onto the grass beyond the deck.

Evan stood next to her during the entire ritual and echoed her refrains, “Blessed Be” and “So mote it be.” 

I stood just outside the back door and watched the scene with my mouth hanging open, thinking,
oh crap, is this why Mom has avoided our relatives all these years?  They’re nuttier than Californians. I’m gonna be stuck in this cabin with a chanting hippie all summer
. Out loud I asked, “Who’s the food for?”

“It’s for the garden gnomes, of course.”  She turned and looked at me, “I take it your mother doesn’t practice.”

“Practice what?”

She huffed and announced, “I’ll be in my room if you need me. For tonight you may sleep as long as your body requires. When you wake tomorrow I’ll have already left for the store. You’ll find instructions for your day’s work on the table.”  She indicated the table in the dining room, and then exited behind the door to the left with a whoosh of her caftan.
Huh. Way to be rude...and crazy. Seriously…garden gnomes?

While Fiona issued orders, Evan made a beeline for the kitchen. He ran water in the sink. The unmistakable beeping of a microwave oven sounded. He’d already set the dining table.

How was I supposed to enjoy a meal with
Mr. Attractive, Yet Angry
?  I couldn’t begin to understand why she’d asked Evan to collect us from the airport. He’d obviously been resentful about it.

Taking a deep breath I headed into the dining room. Evan was shoveling a Shepherd’s Pie into his mouth as if he couldn’t finish fast enough. I served myself and started eating.

Surreptitiously, I stole a few glances at Evan. He was tall, at least six feet, and extremely well-built. The bulging of his biceps pushed up the short sleeves of his polo shirt. I’d already noticed how the shirt stretched across his back muscles. His black hair dipped down across his forehead and his eyes were a dark blue. He even had a handsome profile. His masculine chin didn’t seem too square. His clear skin had a natural rosiness.

Most people in LA had a slightly gray pallor to their skin, or they suffered from horrible acne. It was because of the smog and couldn’t be helped. I wondered if all of the country boys around here were tall, ripped and gorgeous. Perhaps a few of them might be friendly, and the summer wouldn’t be a complete waste. This guy treated me like I’d just ruined his life, but I hadn’t done anything wrong. I couldn’t sit silently at the table and endure his quiet wrath. “Can I ask you some questions?”

Evan bristled in his seat, but he nodded.

“How old are you?  Are you in school?  You said you worked for my great-aunt. What do you do for her?”

He took a deep breath. “Well, I’m seventeen. I’ll be a senior this year at Berkeley Springs High, and I help Fiona in the store mostly. Sometimes I help with the farm. I mean I do whatever the cov—, I mean, the community needs me to do.”  He glanced sideways at me. I hadn’t missed his verbal slip but I couldn’t begin to guess what word he’d almost used to refer to the people of Berkeley Springs.

“How about you?” he asked hesitantly, as if deciding whether he’d wanted to talk to me at all.

“I’ll be a junior at Samohi in the fall.”  He looked confused, so I elaborated. “Samohi is short for Santa Monica High School.” 

He nodded and said nothing.

“Tell me about the store,” I prompted. “Mom said it was a natural foods store, like the one she works at back home.”

“It is. Well, it’s mostly a herbal store. We grow all kinds of herbs on the farm. Fiona and Rose dry and process them for sale. They sell bulk herbs and make their own herbal remedies, natural cosmetics, teas and stuff. Fiona also sells crafts from local artists, books and miscellaneous items.” 

Except for the part about growing her own herbs on a remote farm, all of what Evan said echoed my mother’s explanation.

“Fiona wants to train you to run the counters, because Rose is away and she needs the help. I mostly stock the shelves and do the heavy lifting.”

I nodded and he continued, “When was the last time you visited Cacapon?”

I tried to adopt his casual tone, “Never.”  I hoped my voice sounded light and carefree, lest it betrayed my fear of this strange place.