First Magic

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I was a child, my mother would tell me a bedtime story. At first I loved the dramatic tale, but after hearing it night after night, I grew bored. I often asked for a different one, a book even, like other children, but she always insisted on telling our Auran history. Sometimes she would introduce new characters or change the scenery, but the plot remained the same:

“Once upon a time, thousands of years ago, Light lived among man as intelligent beings. Their presence brought equality and harmony to the humans, and the world was at peace. There was no sadness, pity, or pride; it seemed the righteousness of the people had banned evil from the earth. But when an older prince became jealous of his father’s love for his younger brother, he murdered the young prince in cold blood.

“This deliberate evil brought the once-forbidden darkness to the prince’s heart where he allowed it to remain. There he entertained it; fed it, until darkness overtook his thoughts and mind. Eager to corrupt others, he spread this darkness to those whose minds were open to greed, power, and lust. These new dark ones, Vykens as they were called, were unable to stand in Light’s presence without feeling unbearable pain. Hidden within the shadows of night, Vykens hunted and attacked the Light-filled beings at their weakest moments, almost to the point of extinction.

“To preserve themselves and maintain balance between good and evil, Light hid within the DNA of human females. These women passed Light on to their female offspring, and they became known as Auras. Auras protected their identity for many years, and even learned to use Light’s power to fight against the Vykens. But then the Vykens made a terrible discovery. They found that if they drank the blood of an Aura, they were no longer bound to the night. Not only did the sun no longer pose a threat, but Vykens learned they could manipulate an Auras’ power, and they used it to grow stronger than ever before.

“For this reason, Auras gathered from all over the earth to learn how to protect their human form. They created a council to oversee their safety, and to ensure Auras appeared no different than others.”

I’d heard this story so many times that when my mother reached this point, I was usually asleep. I never knew why she had insisted on telling me the same story over and over until I had it memorized. Even my father had asked her once, “Can’t you tell her a different story, Ella?”

“No,” my mother answered. “Llona needs to know Light’s history. The truth.”

“She will know the truth because she has us.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Their hope had been in vain.

Cries rose in the darkness, but they were no longer the angry voices of a mob; they were cries of surprise. The doors on both sides of the gym opened, spilling light from the hallways into the blackened gym and onto the basketball court. This time when a teacher yelled to exit, students listened.

“Was that insane or what?” May asked.

I couldn't answer. Mentally shutting the lights off had weakened my body.

May touched me in the darkness. “You okay?”

“Yes,” I mumbled.

Students on our bench stood up to leave.

“Let’s get out of here,” May said.

She followed the others out, but I remained still, allowing some time for my strength to return. A tall male form stepped up the bleachers. He looked like a muscular shadow, floating gracefully toward me. His movements seemed so fluid, I was surprised to hear the bleachers shake from the weight of his footsteps.

“Are you all right?” a voice in a heavy English accent asked. It dripped with concern.

My head began to swim, swirling in a sea of muted colors. It was going to take a lot longer to recover than I thought.

He touched me on the shoulder. “Do you want help down?”

I shook my head, unable to speak, but I did manage to stand. Just barely.

“Can you see okay in the dark?” he asked, beautifully and perfectly.

“I think so.”

I followed him down the bleachers as if walking a tightrope. When we entered the crowded hallway, the man, probably a teacher, disappeared into a swarm of students.

After a few deep breaths, I turned the opposite way and slowly headed toward my locker. Like always, I kept my head down and followed the steadily moving line of students. All of a sudden, for a reason I couldn’t explain, I glanced up. Standing against a row of lockers was the same guy who had caught me earlier. He stared at me with a furrowed brow. Maybe he was just noticing how strange I looked.

I knew my appearance was different, shockingly so. My ghostly pale skin appeared to melt into my blonde, almost white hair, making my eyes stand out like the blue of an Arctic wolf’s. The only half-compliment I’d ever received (other than from my parents) was from one of Jake’s friends. He said I was really pretty, in a freakish, Tim Burton sort of way. A compliment? Highly unlikely.

Dropping my gaze, I continued forward, the only way past the guy. When I thought I’d walked far enough past him, I turned back around. He still ogled, but not the good kind. More like gaped at me with his mouth open, like I’d kicked his dog or something.

Could he have known what I’d done back in the gym? I thought about it the whole way to my locker, then to my next class and well into Mrs. Simmons’ lecture on Shakespeare. Impossible. No one could have known. He must be mad for some other reason. Maybe he was upset I’d fallen into him.

I shrugged it off. Oh well. One more person who thinks I’m mentally deranged.

Mrs. Simmons, who always wore pantsuits with shoulder pads, said, “Shakespeare wrote, ‘So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.’ Can anyone tell me what you think he was trying to say?”

For the third time in my school career, I raised my hand. I couldn’t help it. This was one of my favorite quotes.

“Yes, Llona?” The whole class turned and looked at me. “It means you can’t find light in darkness, and if you keep looking for it, you’ll lose your soul.”

Erica, a popular girl, maybe even a cheerleader—I couldn’t remember—laughed. “Are you for real?”

A couple of students snickered.

“That’s a good question, Erica,” Mrs. Simmons said.

My head snapped back to the teacher in shock. Did she just side with Erica?

“Is Llona’s answer real?” Mrs. Simmons asked. When no one answered, she added, “I’ll give you an example. Do you think it’s possible for a person to continually attend parties where people use drugs? They have no intention of ever using themselves. They just want to go and have fun with friends. Is there anything wrong with that?”

The room fell silent. I could practically here the grinding sounds of a faulty engine as their brains searched for an answer. Finally, the silence broke when another guy I didn’t recognize raised his hand.

“I think her answer is real and happens all too often. Though a person’s intentions seem good in the beginning, if they allow themselves to be a part of an environment that obviously ruins lives, they will first endure it, then pity the people involved, and eventually embrace the lifestyle themselves.”

“Exactly. Thank you, Matt,” Mrs. Simmons said. “I see you know Alexander Pope’s work. I agree entirely.”

Matt bowed his head as if a subject to a King in an English court. His long fingers swept sandy blond hair behind his ears. He looked to be a little taller than me and skinny, but the good kind. Lean and muscular—the body of a runner.

After the bell rang, I gathered my stuff and moved to stand. I practically ran into Matt, who was suddenly standing directly in front of me. My pulse raced as an intense feeling of being trapped washed over me.

“I like what you said about Shakespeare,” he said. “Not many people understand what he’s all about.”

I swallowed a growing thickness in my throat. “I’m not sure I do either. He’s the master of cryptic.”

Matt laughed, a very non-threatening sound. “Very true.”

Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I tried to relax my tense muscles and stepped to the side of him, but he blocked me again. What the hell?

“Listen,” he said, “I’m trying to get a group together to study the writings of the great ones, sort of like a book club. You interested?”

I shuddered and searched his eyes for any deceit. I hated that I couldn't trust people, but I had to be careful. Things like this, being social, connecting with strangers, is what got our kind killed.

Matt noticed my hesitation. “It’s okay if you can’t. I was just asking.” He turned around and walked away, his mouth tight.

The Light within me sparked, wanting to go after him. It was not in Light’s nature to make others feel bad, and it coursed through me now, anxious to relieve any sadness I may have caused him.

But I kept my feet firmly planted and closed my eyes. Survival first. It was my mother who would’ve gone after him. She loved being with others in any setting and they loved her in return. Then she was murdered.

“Do you need something?” Mrs. Simmons asked me.

I blinked. “No, sorry. I’m good.”

I bolted out of there and headed to my locker where I replaced my English book with my Trig book, then zipped up my backpack. Most students didn’t take their bags to every class, but there was something comforting about having it on my back. Without it, I felt naked.

The bell rang just as I closed my locker. Freak me.

I hurried down the almost empty hallway to my math class. We were getting a new teacher today. My old one officially went on maternity leave yesterday. I didn’t know why she even bothered starting the new school year.

After a couple of left turns, I found the classroom at the end of the hall. Before I turned the door’s handle, I sucked a deep breath. I hoped whoever this new teacher was wouldn't be upset I was late. I pulled open the door, and like I expected, heads turned my direction. I hurried to the nearest vacant desk at the back of the room and dived into it.

I casually glanced to the side. Matt sat next to me, grinning. I wrinkled my nose. What was he doing here? Granted, it was only the first week of school, but he hadn’t been in here the few days previous.

“Do try to be on time, please,” the teacher said to me in a familiar English accent. I glanced up and met the gentle eyes of the same teacher who had escorted me from the gym.

All thoughts of Matt left me.

My new teacher was the most gorgeous, perfect man I’d ever seen. His thick, short hair was blacker than a moonless night, and his full, arched eyebrows hung above deep-set green eyes, shading them as if they were treasured emeralds. He was tall, almost towering, or maybe it was his overpowering presence that made him seem so. He wore a black silk shirt tucked into grey trousers and whenever he moved, disrupting the air around him, the thin material pressed against his stomach, revealing a tight six-pack of bulging muscles.

“As I was saying . . .” he said.

The string of words that followed were like one giant, single word. I should be paying attention, but my thoughts were too busy tripping over itself.

As far as I was concerned, this man had only one flaw: he was my math teacher and by the looks of him, at least four years older. I glanced at the chalkboard to read where he’d written his name. Mr. Steele. His name couldn’t have been more perfect, like a shiny metal gun sculpted just right for my hand. I shivered.

Sighing, I continued to watch his mouth open and close as he explained some complex math problem. Occasionally his eyes met mine and when they did, my cheeks grew hot and my breathing quickened. I swallowed hard. This must be love at first sight. I always thought it would happen when I was older and with a guy more my age, but I guess love has no age restrictions. Too bad my infatuation is for an off-limits man. Didn’t matter that I was turning eighteen soon. I sighed again.

Mr. Steele walked by me, and the faint smell of his cologne sent my head spinning. My knees weakened, but gratefully I was sitting down so I did nothing but slump further into my seat.

I removed a pen from my backpack and attempted to write, but when I looked down there was nothing on the paper. I shook the pen hard and began to write again, but still nothing came out. I stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, until I realized I hadn’t been writing with a pen at all. In my hand, I gripped my mascara.

I looked up hoping no one noticed, but I wasn't that lucky. Mike Miller was staring at me as if I’d just shaved my head. He rolled his eyes and looked back toward Mr. Steele, who had returned to the chalkboard to continue his math dance with a piece of chalk. I quickly shoved the mascara back in my bag and felt around for a real pen.

My fingers grazed something soft, yet stiff. Wondering what it could be, I took hold of its small form and pulled it out. It fit in my palm like a lucky rabbit’s foot, but there was nothing fortunate about it.

My teeth clamped down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. It was the only way I could keep from screaming.