Fairy Tales of the Magicorum E-Book

Christina Bauer

• Herausgeber: Monster House Books
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Serie: Fairy Tales of the Magicorum
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Seitenzahl: 976

Beschreibung

Fairy tale princesses fight back! Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty are best friends and jewel thieves who can't stand Philpot, aka His Highness of Hedge Funds. It's the best-selling fairy tale retelling that USA Today calls “must read paranormal romance!" This valuable ebook collection includes:
WOLVES AND ROSES (Book 1)
Bryar Rose is supposed to live by a fairy tale life template: sleeping beauty. So why does she dream of ancient Egypt and a handsome young werewolf?
MOONLIGHT AND MIDTOWN (Book 2)
Bryar Rose and her bestie Elle (never call her Cinderella) go shopping in hidden Manhattan stores run by faeries. Mayhem ensues.
SHIFTERS AND GLYPHS (Book 3)
Bryar Rose discovers the secret behind her connection to the pyramids of ancient Egypt ... and to the heart of a certain werewolf.
“Bauer’s unique voice blends magical fantasy, swooning romance, and a bucketful of teenage sass.” – Booklist
Fairy Tales of the Magicorum
Modern fairy tales with sass, action, and romance
1. Wolves and Roses
2. Moonlight and Midtown
3. Shifters and Glyphs
4. Slippers and Thieves
5. Bandits and Ball Gowns
6. Fire and Cinder
7. Fairies and Frosting
8. Towers and Tithes
9. Mirrors and Mysteries
10. Rapunzels and Powers

Leseprobe

MAGICORUM BOX SET

BOOKS 1-3 OF THE FAIRY TALES OF THE MAGICORUM

CHRISTINA BAUER

COPYRIGHT

Monster House Books

Brighton, MA 02135

ISBN 9781946677037

First Edition

Copyright © 2021 by Monster House Books LLC

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Collected Works

1 - WOLVES AND ROSES

2 - MOONLIGHT AND MIDTOWN

3 - SHIFTERS AND GLYPHS

Also By Christina Bauer

Appendix

DEDICATION

For All Those Who Kick Ass, Take Names

And Read Books

COLLECTED WORKS

Fairy Tales of the Magicorum

Modern fairy tales with sass, action, and romance

1. Wolves and Roses

2. Moonlight and Midtown

3. Shifters and Glyphs

4. Slippers and Thieves

5. Bandits and Ball Gowns

6. Fire and Cinder

7. Fairies and Frosting

8. Towers and Tithes

9. Mirrors and Mysteries

10. Rapunzels and Powers

Angelbound Origins

About a quasi (part demon and part human) girl who loves kicking butt in Purgatory's Arena

1. Angelbound

2. Scala

3. Acca

4. Thrax

5. The Dark Lands

6. The Brutal Time

7. Armageddon

8. Quasi Redux

9. Clockwork Igni

10. Lady Reaper

11. Angry Gods

12. Phantom Corsair

Angelbound Lincoln

The Angelbound experience as told by Prince Lincoln

1. Duty Bound

2. Lincoln

3. Trickster

4. Baculum

5. Angelfire

6. Rixa

7. Mordred

Angelbound Offspring

The next generation takes on Heaven, Hell, and everything in between

1. Maxon

2. Portia

3. Zinnia

4. Rhodes

5. Kaps

6. Mack

7. Huntress

8. Gage

* This is a completed series.

Angelbound Xavier

Xavier’s story

1. Archenemy

2. Archnemesis

3. Archangel

Pixieland Diaries

Sassy pixie Calla loves elf prince Dare. Too bad he hasn’t noticed her. Yet.

1. Pixieland Diaries

2. Calla

3. Dare

4. Winter Prince

5. Ley Queen

*This is a completed series.

Dimension Drift

Dystopian adventures with science, snark, and hot aliens

1. Scythe

2. Umbra

3. Alien Minds

4. ECHO Academy

*This is a completed series.

Beholder 

Where a medieval farm girl discovers necromancy and true love

1. Cursed

2. Concealed

3. Cherished

4. Crowned

5. Cradled

*This is a completed series.

1 - WOLVES AND ROSES

1

CHAPTER ONE

BRYAR ROSE

I wait in the bottom level of the Denarii League in Midtown Manhattan. As basements go, it’s not too bad. The space is snug and clean with concrete block walls, a linoleum floor, and hardly any cockroaches. For New York, that’s a big deal. I fidget on my chair. The plastic seat is so cockeyed my left butt cheek has gone numb. And that’s not the worst part of this situation.

Any minute now, my Magicorum Teen Therapy Group will begin. Yay.

The metal door slams open, and our group facilitator, Madame Grimoire, swishes into the room. As always, Madame looks like she fell out of a kitchen appliance ad from 1952. She’s middle-aged with wavy brown hair and perfect makeup. Her A-line dress is sky blue and stops mid-calf. She tops off the look with pearls, red lipstick, and white gloves. No, I am not kidding. White gloves.

I hate her. So much.

“Greetings, children.”

No one answers her. Looks like I’m not the only one who hates Madame.

After slipping onto her chair, Madame folds her hands neatly on her lap. “I am Madame Grimoire, your facilitator. If you were assigned to this group, that means you’re part of the Magicorum.”

I inwardly groan. Here she goes again. It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve heard this spiel, Madame always gives the same speech.

“That means you’re one of the three magical races: shifters, witches, or fairies. In addition, you could be a non-magical human in their immediate family. But however you came to be classified as such, being a member of the Magicorum makes you a very rare commodity. Magic is disappearing from our world, and the Denarii League is committed to saving it.” Madame pulls a tablet from her pocket. “Now, let’s begin with roll call. Bryar Rose?”

I raise my pointer finger. “Here.”

“Cinderella.”

“I’ve told you a million times. It’s Elle.”

I scope out Elle and smile. Today, she came to group dressed like a street urchin, complete with ratty blonde hair and rags. Huh. Elle must be working a new con that involves dressing like she’s homeless. All her scams are for good causes, though, so I shrug it off.

“Scarlett?” asks Madame.

“Present.”

Scarlett gets her name from the Red Riding Hood fairy tale. She’s got ebony-dark skin, a punk-rock wardrobe, and a firm commitment to avoid talking in group. That’s typical for werewolves, though. Weres are notorious for being silent, grouchy, and fashion forward.

“And last but not least, we have a new girl here.” Madame slaps on the fakest smile ever. “What’s your name?”

A long pause follows. When the girl speaks, the word comes out as a peep. “Avianna.” She has straight black hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. Considering her long dark dress and the crow perched on her shoulder, Avianna is definitely a witch.

“You’re new to group, Avianna.”

“I am.”

“How much do you know about what we do here?”

“Nothing.” Avianna’s big brown eyes seem to take up half her face. Poor thing is terrified.

“Why don’t I give you an example?”

“Sure.”

My shoulders slump. Oh, damn. Madame always chooses me as her “example of why we’re here.”It’s super-embarrassing.

“Now.” Madame’s face beams with a sick sort of glee. “All the Magicorum have lives that follow a fairy tale template. Since you’re here, that means you’re failing miserably at that template. Now, who should I choose as an example?” Madame scans the room while tapping her chin.

Don’t say Bryar Rose. Don’t say Bryar Rose. Don’t say Bryar Rose.

Madame points right at my nose. “Let’s use Bryar Rose.”

She said it.

I raise my hand. “Maybe someone else wants to be the example this time.”

Madame keeps right on going like I haven’t said a word. It’s super-irritating. “Bryar Rose is a non-magical human who should follow the life template for Sleeping Beauty.” She eyes me from head to toe. “There are some ways in which Bryar Rose is an excellent illustration of that template. To begin with, she’s the adopted child of three fairy aunties who named her Bryar Rose. Also, she’s an attractive girl with brown hair and blue eyes, so she does somewhat look the part. And finally, she’s afflicted with a magical illness that makes her fall asleep whenever she’s overexcited. Show them your inhaler, Bryar Rose.”

This is so humiliating. “No.”

Sheesh, does she ever listen? “Bryar Rose is embarrassed about her condition, so she keeps an inhaler close by to help her stay awake. The easiest way to explain her ailment is that it resembles a disease where you spontaneously fall asleep such as narcolepsy. However, Bryar Rose stays frozen—usually while standing—with her eyes wide open.It’s odd, but still very much in accordance with the Sleeping Beauty life template.”

“Did you get permission from my doctor to tell everyone my medical history?” I’m just speaking to hear myself talk at this point. The whole “legal permission thing”has never shut up Madame before. Even so, you can’t blame a girl for trying.

“According to her life template, Bryar Rose should reach her happily ever after by the age of eighteen, which is almost here, isn’t it? Today is Wednesday, and your birthday is…?” She stares at me expectantly.

“Saturday.”

“So your birthday is only three days from now. And according to your life template, you should be marrying your handsome Prince as the sun sets this Saturday, shouldn’t you?”

“According to the template.” And that’s a bunch of crap. I don’t want to be Magicorum. I want to be a regular human. Who cares if I don’t match up to their idea of a Sleeping Beauty?

Madame sighs. “Alas, your happily ever after is nowhere in sight, is it?”

Answering Madame isn’t helping today, so I keep quiet and check my manicure instead. Yup, still there.

“Let’s review the key ways that Bryar Rose fails her life template. Her aunties have found her a wonderful Prince in the form of Philpot; I’m sure you’ve all heard of him. The papers call Philpot His Highness of Hedge Funds.”

I’d explain that we’re all seventeen and don’t give a crap about hedge funds, but that would only make her launch into a speech on how important money is. I’ll pass.

“In any case, Philpot is a darling, yet Bryar Rose hasn’t warmed to him.”

Translation: I can’t stand Philpot. The man is the definition of a douchebag.

“He offered to marry you this weekend,” says Madame.

“I remember. I was there when he proposed.” And I said no. Talk about awkward.

Madame’s voice turns all dreamy. “Any woman would kill to marry Philpot.”

I roll my eyes. Madame is always going on about how super-awesome Philpot is. It’s super-creepy. The way she talks about him, you’d think she was the one marrying him. Only, you know, willingly.

“Enough about Philpot.” Madame clears her throat. “We need to discuss Bryar Rose’s other shortcomings.”

I hold back a moan. More shortcomings? “I thought we were here to learn how to follow our life template.”

Madame keeps right on ignoring me. Instead, she continues talking to Avianna like I’m not even here. “Bryar Rose also fails to show any interest in birds and woodland creatures.”

Now I won’t admit this out loud, but Madame is spot on about this part. Birds do nothing for me. The only thing I really care about—of all things—is finding papyri from ancient Egypt.

I know. Strange.

“Because of all this, Bryar Rose has been declared unfit for a typical school with normal humans. Instead, she receives a combination of home tutoring and group therapy.”

In other words, my life is the fairy-tale equivalent of the Island of Misfit Toys, and it’s all thanks to a spell cast on me by the powerful fairy Colonel Mallory the Magnificent. Jerk. He’s the one who gave me this sleeping condition. I hate him even more than Madame.

As Madame drones on about all the ways I suck, I force myself to focus on the bright side. With any luck, my sleeping condition ends in three days. June the first. That’s when I turn eighteen and the spell from Colonel Mallory goes buh-bye. Come the fall, I could be caught up on normal human stuff and should pass for a typical non-Magicorum girl. I might even attend the exclusive West Lake Prep School, so I can spend my senior year with other non-magical teens.

A normal high school. I want that so badly, I could scream.

Madame clears her throat, which is a sure sign that she’s done with her speech. I catch the tail end. “And that, my children, is why Bryar Rose is a total disaster. Any questions?”

No one responds. Elle starts yanking bits of string from her frayed skirt. Since she’s my best friend, I know what that means. She’s pissed for me and planning to derail Madame the first chance she gets. I love Elle.

Madame keeps glaring at Avianna. “So, my child, if you’re here, you’re a reject. A failure. Do you understand?”

Avianna’s lower lip quivers. “Yes.”

“Excellent. I’m glad I made that so clear for you all.” Madame is a spiteful woman, but she’s the gatekeeper of my future. I can only attend West Lake Prep once she signs off that I’m no longer magically challenged. She turns to me again. “And one more thing.”

Don’t let her pick on my clothes. Don’t let her pick on my clothes.

“Bryar?”

“Yes?”

Madame’s nostrils flare as she looks me over. “Your outfit this week is slightly improved.”

And there, she did it. Nothing like a half-compliment, half-insult to cut someone down while you’re seeming to be nice.

I keep my face calm. It’s important not to let Madame see that she got to me. “Thank-you for sharing.”

Here’s what that final bit of nastiness was really about. In some ways, Madame and I are similar. We’re both what my aunties would call “put together.”My long brown hair is styled in fashionable waves. My clothes are tailored black pants along with a fitted cashmere sweater. I even have funky jewelry to jazz things up. What can I say? I like to shop. However, Madame thinks we’re in some sort of fancy-pants competition.

Whatever. I cross my fingers, hoping Madame is done fixating on me. Unfortunately, she keeps right on going.

“Since Avianna is new to our little group, I have an idea.” Madame turns to acknowledge me once more. “Why don’t you tell her about your strange dreams? Get the conversation started.”

“Like I said, maybe someone else wants to share.” Madame always dives into my dreams as soon as she has the chance. It’s a little weird.

“But I’d like you to talk,” says Madame. “Or don’t you want to go to West Lake?”

And here comes the great challenge of my life. On the one hand, we have normal high school. Oh the other hand, we have the satisfaction of mouthing off to Madame.

Guess what always wins?

I lower my voice, which is a sure sign I’m about to kick some verbal butt. “As a matter of fact—”

“Nah, I’ll go first.” Elle raises her hand, silencing any further discussion. She’s trying to save me from another verbal run-in with Madame. Elle is awesome like that.

“I asked Bryar Rose,” says Madame.

“You sure did. I’m answering, though.” Elle glares in Madame’s direction. When Madame backs down, it’s only because Elle made her do it. Some days, I wish I were Elle. Instead, I settle for being her best friend.

“Fine.” Madame lifts her chin. “After you’re finished, I have big news to share with you, Cinderella.” The way she says Elle’s fairy-tale name, I know it’s trouble.

Elle shrugs and turns to Avianna. “I’m watched over by an evil fairy godmother. Other humans get too close and—BAM—she takes them down. That’s why I’m on the streets instead of in a regular high school.”

Avianna’s brown eyes go wide. “Did you say other humans? Madame just said you’re a member of the Magicorum.”

“Sure, I’m a member. It’s like Madame said—you can be human and still be a member of the Magicorum. You just have to be related to a fairy, wizard, or shifter. In my case, I live under the watchful eye of my fairy godmother.” She elbows me in the ribs. “It’s the same deal for Bryar Rose, only she lives with three fairies.”

I lean back in my chair and kick my legs forward. “Yup, three magical kooks and a penthouse overlooking Central Park. That’s my life.”

Madame’s nostrils flare again. “That’s quite enough sass, you two.” She focuses right on me. “Especially you.”

There’s almost an audible twang as my restraint finally snaps. Madame has gone too far. “Technically, I was being sassy, and Elle here was just sharing.”

“Oh, you both think you’re so clever.” Madame rounds on Elle. “How about we discuss what I found out about you, Cinderella—or shall I call you Abigail?”

I roll my eyes. “So,we’re having this conversation again?” Bring it on.

“Once again, my name is Elle. E-L-L-E. No one calls me Cinderella.”

“Cinderella is the name on the forms you submitted to the Denarii Institute in order to join this therapy group,” says Madame. “Perhaps it’s even your criminal moniker. But all this talk about a Cinderella life template is just that: talk. There’s never been any evidence of a fairy godmother in your life.”

Elle picks some chunks of dirt off her raggedy dress. “Says who?”

“My research.” Madame lifts her small handheld and scrolls through various screens. “I just obtained some additional back records. Your birth name is Abigail Smythe. It seems that Cinderella is your outlaw nickname.” She taps the screen with her long pink fingernail. “Rumors abound that you’re an expert jewel thief and con artist.”

“Not sure where you’re getting that load of garbage,” says Elle. “I’m just plain old Elle, or in a pinch, Cinderella. Got the evil stepfamily to prove it.”

“She does,” I offer. “They suck.”

“You’re both lying.” Madame folds her arms over her chest. “I’ll have you expelled from this group, Abigail. You belong in a regular high school.”

“You belong in a regular high school.” How much would I love to hear those words? Unfortunately, Elle hates the thought. Living on her own means she can hide from her stepfamily. Which is a good thing, considering how they treated her like a servant until she ran away. Now, if Elle attended a regular school under the name Abigail, she’d get dragged back into servitude in a heartbeat. For some reason—Elle won’t give any particulars—her family thinks Elle can only go under the name Abigail. I’m sure some kind of magic is involved, but I don’t push for more information. Like I said, Elle’s family is bizarre. And if it protects my friend, I’ll call her whatever name she wants.

Fortunately, Madame has brought up the whole Abigail thing before. Elle flicks her hair, sending a cascade of dirt to the ground. “Per the Magical Preservation Act, as long as I have a Magicorum witness to my fairy relation, I can keep my official classification. Therefore, I am protected as an endangered species.” This is one minor benefit of being part of the Magicorum. Since magic is disappearing from the world, humans are trying to preserve it. They passed a bunch of cool laws too, like the one Elle’s citing.

Madame straightens in her chair. “That would be true, if such a Magicorum godmother existed. Who has seen this mysterious fairy?”

I raise my hand. “I’ve met her. Tons.” Not sure if this is part of the Sleeping Beauty template, but I’m a really good liar. Seems to go along with my sassy mouth.

Madame glares at me like I just threatened her kittens. “What?”

“We’ve been over this before. I’ve absolutely met Cinderella’s fairy godmother.” I pretend to need to lick my lips. In reality, it’s just an excuse to semi-stick out my tongue at Madame.

“You do realize that lying to me means you’ll never go to West Lake Prep?”

How like Madame to keep threatening me with the number one thing I want. Well, I’m salivating to attend a regular school, but not enough to screw over Elle. “I do. And I’m telling the truth.” Not.

Elle and I bump fists. We so have each other’s backs.

“Really?” asks Madame slowly. “If that’s the case, then what does this fairy godmother look like?”

“Same as the last time you asked me,” I say. “Blackaverre is a small blue fairy with pink wings and pointed teeth.” I smile sweetly. “Any other questions?”

“I suppose not.” Madame looks disappointed. Good.

In truth, I’ve never met Elle’s fairy godmother. I can’t get a straight answer out of Elle if the woman even exists. Still, I need to protect my best friend. And since Elle is a master at the long con, she coached me on what to say when people press for information. Mostly, it’s Madame who asks. Honestly, I worry about how much these two hate each other. But Elle needs Madame, same as I do. Every so often, my bestie gets noticed by the cops. They wonder why she isn’t in school. That’s when Madame can verify that Elle is part of her Magicorum Teen Therapy Group and therefore can’t attend a regular school anyway. Long story short, Madame is a Get Out of Jail Free card for both Elle and me. In my case, I eventually want out of the jail of home tutoring and into West Lake. Elle just needs occasional help avoiding an actual lock-up situation.

Madame returns her focus to her favorite victim. That would be me. “Let’s circle back to my original request. I asked you to share with the group. Are you still having those bizarre dreams?”

“Shouldn’t Avianna and Scar go first? I mean, Avianna is new and has a bird on her shoulder. I think she should share. Plus, Scar is a werewolf who hasn’t shifted yet. Unless she takes her wolf form by her eighteenth birthday, her inner animal could…” I lower my voice. “You know...”

“Die,” says Scar. She doesn’t seem too upset by the prospect. She never does, really. Elle and I have a theory about that. We both think Scar has already shifted, only she doesn’t want anyone to know for some reason. Otherwise, the girl would definitely be freaking out about her eighteenth birthday and all. I mean, I’ve seen shifters who have lost their inner animals. They all have this thousand-mile stare and act like robots. It’s really sad.

Elle leans forward. “For the record, I’d also like an update on Scar’s life.”

“Exactly,” I say. “Everyone is sick of hearing about me and my dreams.”

Madame taps her high heel against the concrete floor. “We’ve had enough interruptions for one afternoon. Bryar Rose, you’re talking. Now.”

I take in a long breath. Remember West Lake Prep.

“Fine. I had the dream again last night. I’m in some crappy hotel room in New York, but the window looks out over the pyramids of ancient Egypt. Across the room, there’s a table covered in papyri.”

“And the boy?” asks Madame.

“Oh, yeah.” I can’t help the dreamy tone that enters my voice. “He’s there too. He has black hair and ice-blue eyes. There’s a scar along his jawline and through one eyebrow.” He’s not necessarily pretty, what with his all his scars and leather. Still, there’s no denying the guy is crazy attractive. I think about him a little. Okay, a lot.

“Anything additional to share?”

I glance around the room, and the other girls seem so open and interested, I can’t help but keep going. “Last night, I saw something else, too.”

Even Scar is intrigued. “What was it?”

“A golden jackal.”

Madame frowns. “You saw dogs?”

“Not all jackals are dogs. Some are actually wolves, like golden jackals. They’re native to Egypt.” Everyone looks at me like I’m crazy, so I decide to clarify. “I looked it up on Google.” That seems to settle things. No one questions Professor Google.

Madame frowns. “A wolf? Why would you see a wolf? Even if it is one of these jackal things?”

“How would I know?”

Madame’s cheeks burn red. “You’re a Sleeping Beauty template. You should see the woods somewhere in Germany, along with bluebirds, mice, and chipmunks. Maybe even a few badgers.”

She lost me there. “Badgers?”

“My point is, this is all wrong.”

“You think I don’t know?” I gesture around the room. “Isn’t that why we’re all here?” I raise my finger as if an idea was just occurring to me. “Hey, how about this for a concept? Maybe you come up with some helpful hints instead of grilling me about my dreams all the time?”

Madame lifts her chin. “I will not be spoken to in this manner. You’re clearly getting worse. That’s all the time I have for you today.” She rises.

My mouth falls open. “But what about everyone else? They haven’t said anything. Scar’s situation is pretty dangerous.”

Scar leans back in her chair and smacks her lips. She still doesn’t look too worried, but even so, Madame should be freaked out for Scar’s safety. After all, the girl is were and she could lose her inner wolf! I’ve heard of shifters whose inner animal has died because they didn’t turn. It’s really sad and tragic. Madame should be concerned about that. For that matter, Madame should be concerned about all of us, really.

Madame starts typing away on her handheld with her thumbs. “I’m making a note about your disobedient attitude, Bryar Rose. Don’t let it happen again.” She quickly pulls some brochures from her skirt pocket and hands them out. “Here’s some reading material for next time.”

I check out the brochure. The headline reads “Mysterious disappearances in the Magicorum—what you need to know to stay safe.” Madame slips out another sheet from her pocket, along with a pen. “All of you must now sign here and acknowledge I gave you a pamphlet.”

Elle and I exchange a confused look. This is weird. Even worse, it isn’t the first time we’ve gotten the safety brochure and a “cover your ass” form to sign. The last time this happened, someone from our group went missing. It was Blanche, a girl with a Snow White life template. I jam the brochure into my purse and stare at Madame. “Are you worried about one of us?”

Considering she just lost it over my wolf story, there’s a short list of who she could be worrying about.

“Of course not.” Madame gives me that 1950’s smile, the one that says, I just love cooking rump roasts in my new electric oven. She makes sure everyone signs the form in quick succession. I watch her every move with interest.

Madame is totally lying. Something about my dream set her off.

Elle rests her hand on my shoulder. “You know, Bryar Rose here is home tutored. One of her teachers is a master in mixed martial arts.”

“Plus I can handle a gun.” For some reason, it seems very important to add that fact into the conversation.

Madame’s fake smile stays firmly in place. “In that case, I’m sure our dear Bryar Rose is perfectly safe.” With that, Madame picks up the sheet of signatures and simply walks out the door. Even for her, that’s a strange thing to do.

2

CHAPTER TWO

BRYAR ROSE

Long after Madame is gone, I find myself staring at the closed steel door. When I finally become aware of my surroundings again, I realize that Elle and I are the only ones left in the room.

My best friend gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Madame is weird. Don’t let her get to you.”

A twinge of fear tightens my insides. “I can’t stop thinking about Blanche, though. Remember how she told the group that her dreams changed, too? She saw pelicans or something.”

“It was falcons.”

“Yeah. And right after that, Madame gave out brochures and sign-off sheets. Then Blanche disappeared.”

Elle’s blue eyes fill with understanding. “So, what do you want to do? I can stay at your side as a bodyguard.”

I chuckle. “Last time that happened, you picked the pockets of my aunties and all their friends from the Summer Fairy Court.”

“What? They had too much stuff. I was just trying to show them what was really important in life.”

“To fairies?” I try to all-out laugh, but I can’t. Instead, my pulse speeds up. Blanche’s body was never found. My eyelids droop. Silver spots cloud my vision. The walls seem to move in closer. Deep inside my soul, I feel that familiar sensation. It’s as if someone placed a lockbox in the core of my being. Inside that impenetrable safe sits the spell from Colonel Mallory. Right now, that lockbox is shifting inside me. It wants to break free. That can only mean one thing.

Another episode is coming on.

Elle grabs my purse and pulls out my inhaler. “Quick, take your medicine.”

I uncover the top of the small device, set it in my mouth, and give myself a puff of medicated air. This stuff tastes terrible, but I start feeling more alert again. “Thanks.”

Elle narrows her big blue eyes. “You shouldn’t be alone. I’m staying in my condo this week. Why don’t you hang with me?” Elle has her own apartment in the Village under an assumed name. “We can do some recon work on my latest target. I’ll even give you access to my good computer. You’re a way better hacker than I am.” My aunties might not have let me attend a regular school, but they did get me a computer with high-speed Internet access. Over the years, I’ve become quite good at being a bad girl online.

“It’s tempting.” I worry my lower lip with my teeth. “But I’m supposed to join Philpot later at his Wednesday night soiree.” I make little quotation marks with my fingers when I say “soiree.”

“Blow him off. Philpot is a total tool.”

“I know, but it’s just easier if I pretend that I’m still considering marrying him someday. Don’t judge. You know my aunties.”

“I’ve met them.” Elle sighs. “No judgment.” She doesn’t need to mention the real reason why I do whatever my aunties say. They’re the only ones who can make my magical meds. Trust me, I’ve tried to find alternate sources. No go. My aunties are it. Until I’m eighteen and don’t need meds any more, I have to deal with them. But once my birthday is over, so is my curse. There will be no more sleeping sickness, no more Philpot, and best of all, no more aunties.

My breath catches. Crap, I forgot all aboutmy aunties.

I stare at the metal door. No doubt, all three of them are waiting in the hallway outside. If I don’t leave soon, they’ll barge in for sure. I have to finalize plans with Elle—and fast. “Want to go with me to the party tonight? Philpot’s penthouse is right next door to the LeCharme Building.” LeCharme is only the biggest and fanciest jeweler in New York. In fact, easy access to the LeCharme HQ is one of the only advantages of fake-dating Philpot.

“I’ll pass.”

“What? You’ve always gone with me before.”

And by “gone with me,” I mean breaking and entering. Elle and I have hit the LeCharme Building a ton of times. The bottom floors have jewels galore, many of which fit Elle’s theft profile. You see, Elle specializes in reacquiring jewels that have already been stolen. She returns them to their rightful owners and collects the reward. She calls the entire process “un-stealing,”which is total Elle-think, but I don’t judge. After all, a girl’s gotta eat and avoid her evil stepfamily. For my part, I’m interested in the top floors of the building. That’s where the LeCharme family lives and keeps their offices. Their eldest son, Alec, likes to collect rare papyri from ancient Egypt. Super-unusual stuff, too. Whenever we break in, Elle gets jewels while I take photos of rare hieroglyphs. It’s always been a win-win.

Elle sighs. “Don’t get me wrong; I’d love to break and enter with you. Just not tonight.”

I shake my head. “I can’t believe you’re taking a pass.”

“Let’s just say I’ve been spending too much time with the LeCharme inventory lately. I need to give them some space. Plus, I have another huge job I’m working on. It’s—”

“I don’t want to know.”

“Probably for the best. Still, you should totally skip the Philpot soiree. Come hang with me at my place. Like I said, you’ll get to use my good computer.”

Which is no small gift. Elle’s so-called good computer is tricked out with every hacking app the black market has to offer. The only system that beats it is the one I built in her cabin in the Adirondacks.

“It’s tempting.” I worry my lower lip with my teeth as I think about the papyri that are supposed to be in Alec’s office right now. “Sorry, I have to pass. Alec just got a new shipment of papyri. You know his system. He only keeps them around for a few days before sending them someplace even I can’t find. There’s no way I can pass up the chance to make copies.”

Elle picks at some stray threads on her torn dress. Her normally bright features droop with fear. “I don’t the idea of you going there alone.”

My eyebrows lift. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid?” Elle’s scared of nothing.

“I’m protective of you.” She puffs out her lower lip. “There’s a difference.”

Now, if Elle told me everything would be fine, I might have skipped the party, hung out at her condo, and hacked the night away. But since Elle worries that I can’t handle this alone, it makes my rebellion-reflex kick in. All my life, I’ve been told that I can’t do stuff because of my episodes. Sure, anything I do is a risk, but staying home and hiding out? That means missing out on my life. Not an option.

“Don’t worry, Elle. I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Will you have my back?”

Elle perks right up. “Always.”

“Thanks. In that case, can you be on phone duty tonight? Say I’m sleeping over at your place?”

This is all part of a scam that Elle and I worked out years ago. I have two phones. My aunties bought me the first cell, which has GPS software on it so they can trace my location. I loaded the app myself and showed them how to use it. As fairies, they aren’t what you call tech savvy. Looking at my location on a computer gives them an unreasonable sense of comfort about me going places without them. Plus, with magic draining from the world, they have to save their spells for extreme situations. The second phone is my latest burner. Only Elle gets that number.

“No problem.” Elle hands me her cell, and I program in the number of my temp phone. These are pretty much untraceable, and I get a new one every week. Once the new number is entered, I give Elle my “official auntie phone”for safekeeping.

Elle slips my main phone into her raggedy pocket. “After the party, are you going to the cabin?” This is Elle’s place in the Adirondacks. She lets me keep my master computer setup there. It’s mighty sweet. I even added a wall of monitors that are perfect for looking at papyri.

“Where else? I’ll want to look through the latest hieroglyphs. Besides, the quiet will be good. My aunties are making me crazy.” I stare at the closed door. Any minute now, they’ll burst through.

“Do you need anything to break into the LeCharme Building? Access cards? Codes?”

“Nah, I’ve got all the stuff from last time. Those should still work, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” When it comes to acquiring tools for breaking and entering, Elle has the best underworld contacts in the business.

“In that case, I’m all set.” I pat my purse, where I carry all my goodies.

Elle doesn’t reply, though. Instead, she winds a strand of filthy hair around her finger. She’s still worried. “If you still insist on going—”

“I do.”

“Just promise me that you’ll take your meds. You can’t have an episode while you’re driving.”

“I always take my meds. You know how careful I am.”

Suddenly, the door flies open, and my aunties rush in. Like many fairies, they are petite with quick, bird-like movements. First, there’s Lauralei. She’s got light gray hair and a body that reminds me of a flamingo: skinny with long legs, a short torso, and a nose that can only be described as beak-like. My second auntie, Fanna, looks pretty similar to Lauralei, except her hair is black and streaked with gray. And third, there’s Mirabelle. To continue with the bird analogy, Auntie Mira always reminds me of a plump red hen. She’s got a round body, small black eyes, and red hair that’s pulled back into a bun. Mostly, she and Fanna cluck about in the background while Lauralei does all the talking.

Speaking of Lauralei, she’s the first to rush into the room. The woman is a flurry of movement with her long legs and pink Chanel pantsuit. “You’re still in here. We were gravely concerned.”

“Nothing to worry about.” My voice sounds fake-calm, even to me. “I was just talking to Elle.”

Lauralei freezes. Since Fanna and Mirabelle were following closely behind her, they almost slam into Lauralei’s back. “You.” Lauralei points to Elle. “You’re in rags.”

Elle grins. “Isn’t it wonderful? I got the lead in the Magicorum Academy production of Oliver.” For the record, Elle has my aunties convinced she goes to a high school for elite Magicorum kids. Don’t ask. “I’m just practicing getting in character.”

Elle is so awesome. I’m sure she made that up on the fly.

“How clever!” Lauralei gasps and turns to Fanna and Mirabelle. “Don’t you both think so?” My other aunties agree, but Lauralei doesn’t stop to listen. “Now, what are you two girls doing tonight?”

“Going to Philpot’s party,” I say.

Lauralei keeps staring at Elle. “I assumed that part, but what about after?”

“We’ll stay at my family’s condo in the Village,” explains Elle. In this case, Elle is her own family—not that my aunties know that. “We’ll watch TV. Maybe indulge in low-fat frozen yogurt. The usual.”

Lauralei shrugs. “That’s fine. So long as she’s back to the penthouse by Saturday at midnight, that’s all I care about.” My aunties are throwing me a birthday party of some kind. Those always start at midnight and end with the penthouse being trashed. Say what you want about my aunties, but fairies know how to party.

“Queen Nyxa is coming and everything,” adds Fanna.

Elle and I share a long look. Queen Nyxa leads the Fairy Summer Court, or what’s left of it, considering how magic is dying and all. But what Nyxa lacks in power, she more than makes up for in crazy. Mostly she asks odd riddles with bizarre consequences for getting the answers wrong. I’ve made it an art form to stay out of her way.

Ugh. But she’ll be at my birthday party again this year. What a disaster.

I lift my chin. Still, it’s a disaster that I don’t have to worry about until Saturday, and that’s all thanks to Elle. Without her vouching for me, I’d be locked in my room to read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland for the hundredth time.It’s the only book that calms me when my aunties are near. I suppose that’s because it’s the story of a typical girl who gets pulled into a land of madness. Alice is my soul sister.

I stand up and stretch my arms. “Guess we better get going. I need to spend a lot of quality time getting ready for the party. Elle’s loaning me a dress and doing my makeup.”

“Good.” Lauralei exhales. “You’ll look presentable, then.”

Anger tightens up my spine. Those kinds of comments always get to me. It’s bad enough that I have no freedom and a fake boyfriend. But the constant sniping about my appearance pushes me over the edge. “I always look presentable.”

Lauralei narrows her tiny eyes. “I’ll be the judge of that. I still don’t understand why you won’t marry Philpot on Saturday. It would fulfill your life template.”

“Not happening, Lauralei. I’m trying to date him. That’s all. We’ll see how it goes. If I like him, then maybe I’ll marry him. But that’s someday far off in the future.”

Lauralei looks down her long nose at me. “As you say.” There’s a gleam in her tiny bird-like eyes that I don’t like at all. She’s up to something. That said, she’s given me that look for years. With only three days left before my birthday, I can’t start letting it get to me.

“And do you have your phone with you?” asks Mirabelle. Actually, it’s more like she clucks out the words from behind Lauralei.

“Always.” It feels good to lie to them. Not sure what that says about me as a person.

“We have to go,” says Elle brightly. “Lots of work to do.”

Elle marches me out the door and away from my aunties. The three fairies watch us leave in awed silence. If there’s any proof that Elle is part of the Magicorum, it’s how she can con anyone, anywhere, and at any time. She’s the best.

As we head out of the Denarii League, all my previous worries melt away. Midtown Manhattan is a bustle of movement as office workers stream out of their skyscrapers and trudge across the sidewalk. The scent of hotdogs and sausage wafts toward me from a nearby pushcart. Big white clouds roll overhead in a deep-blue sky. A sense of calm washes through my soul. What a great night this will be. I’ll get digital copies of some new papyri, which is always good reading. And after that, it’s only three days before my birthday and freedom.

I smile. After Saturday, I’m an adult. No more Philpot. No more aunties. And if I wanted to, I could even move in with Elle. She invites me often enough. I just haven’t wanted to jinx anything by making solid plans.

But who knows? With so many choices opening up, maybe I will find my happily ever after—and soon. At this moment, anything seems possible.

3

CHAPTER THREE

BRYAR ROSE

I’m seventeen. By rights, I should be spending my weekends at parties playing Seven Minutes in Heavenin someone’s basement closet. I should not be wearing a black cocktail dress and standing in a Manhattan penthouse with a bunch of adults who talk about nothing but banking. It’s so boring I want to cry.

“And that’s why the markets became so volatile. Am I right?” That’s Philpot speaking. He’s handsome and chiseled, what with his dark eyes, pale skin, and wavy brown hair. Sometimes he reminds me more of a mannequin than a person. It gives me the creeps. “I said, right?” Philpot looks at me as if I haven’t been paying attention. Which I haven’t. So I smile instead.

For the last hour, I’ve stood around and tried to seem cordial to my fake boyfriend. Three more days. I promised my aunties I’d give it a try, but after Saturday? Once my curse is over, you are toast, Philpot. After my eighteenth birthday, this is over. And in the meantime, no touching.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asks.

“Absolutely, Philip.”

“It’s Philpot.”

“What?”

“My name. Philpot Herbert Utrecht the Third.”

“Right.” He’s lucky I didn’t call him by his unofficial name, Philpot the Turd. It’s not pretty, but neither is fake-dating someone.

Philpot sips his cocktail. “Honestly, Bryar Rose. You need to remember my name. Any girl would be thrilled to date the Philpot Herbert Utrecht the Third.”

Here he goes again. Philpot is forever finding ways to work his full name into conversations, including the bit about being the Third. Like inbreeding is a selling point for the upper crust of Manhattan society.

What am I saying? I’m part of that society, too. I live in a penthouse, drive an awesome car, and enjoy an unlimited shopping account. I just can’t go anywhere on my own without lying my ass off.

Come on, Saturday.

Philpot leans in. “Soon, you’ll agree to be my wife. I can’t wait for our wedding.”

Ugh. Philpot is laser-focused on marriage. For a guy his age, it’s weird. But then again, everything about Philpot is weird.

I take a half step backward. “Not happening. Look, I promised to give dating a try—emphasis on the word try—until Saturday.”

Philpot’s eyes take on an evil gleam, but the look is gone so quickly I’m not even sure it was there. I scan his features carefully, searching for any sign of dark intentions. Nope, nothing. I shake my head. How could I imagine Philpot is anything other than a money-grubbing loser?

“Let’s not argue.” Philpot lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Do you want a martini, babe?”

“I’m seventeen. You’re twenty-five. And don’t call me babe.”

“Hey, I’m cool.”

Ah, no. “I’ll have a Diet Coke.”

“You should learn more about wines and mixed drinks. Cocktail parties are a big part of my life.”

And there it is. The two words of his that I hate.

You should.

I’m about to tell him what he really should do when I spy the thing I’ve been waiting for all night—a clear shot to the back door. The staff have been barring access to the freight elevator, what with all their rolling around food on stainless steel carts. But now, the door is unblocked and unwatched.

My breath catches. This is my chance.

I’m now on the twenty-eighth floor. From here, I can take the freight elevator to the basement and use the connecting tunnel to reach the LeCharme Building. With all my IDs and access cards from Elle, I can then sneak into LeCharme, get pictures of the new papyri, and return before Philpot notices anything.

So I lie again. “You know what? I’d totally love a martini. What an awesome idea.” I’ll never drink a drop of it, though.

“Right.” Philpot purses his lips. This is clearly an attempt at a sexy face. Ugh.

“Just don’t rush. I have to hit the bathroom and freshen up.”

“You got it, babe.”

I let the second babe comment slide. As he heads off to the bar, Philpot spots one of his investing buddies. Perfect. They’ll blab for hours about how to make more money in the markets. Because, you know, they clearly don’t have enough already, for some reason.

After I slip out the back door, I take the freight elevator to the basement and use my key cards to get into the LeCharme Building. Once I’m inside the bottom level of LeCharme, I find the private elevator for the family floors. There’s an access keypad by the elevator doors. I quickly enter my special code. These digits are ones that I hacked myself. They shut down all security cameras in private areas for the next hour or so. Turns out, the LeCharme patriarch has a thing for the ladies. He created the code to sneak the ladies in whenever he likes. In my book, it’s poetic justice that Elle and I use it to rob him and make copies of his stuff. Dude should stop fooling around.

Soon, I’m riding the family elevator upward. It only takes you to the top levels, where the LeCharme family lives and works. Alec’s office is number 14B on the fortieth floor.

The elevator doors slide open with a mechanical hiss. I step out and make a quick scan of the hallways. The place looks mostly deserted. Only a few workaholics type away at their desktops. I saunter down the halls, and no one says a word. Fun fact: you can get away with a lot when you wear a little black dress with Louboutin heels.

In no time, I find a heavy mahogany door with gilded letters that read “Alec LeCharme, Vice President.” What he actually does is a mystery. The kid’s my age, so I’m guessing he uses the office to buy papyri and goof off.

I pull out another handy ID card from my bag and swipe it through a nearby control panel. The door swings open with a soft click.

Here it is. Alec’s office.

Inside, the place looks like the showroom for a high-end corporate furniture catalog. It’s dark now, but when the lights are on, you can see tons of couches made from strips of leather on chrome frames. I’m not going to lie. Elle and I have jumped on them a few times. They have good spring action.

Alec’s desk sits against the far wall. Only one ceiling fixture is lit up, and it casts his desktop in a small pool of brightness. Other than that, the rest of the office sits in the dark, which is fine with me. No one needs to wonder why the lights are on in the VP’s office this late on a Wednesday night.

I get right to work. Alec always leaves his papyri shipments out in the open. I rush over to the desk, and sure enough, there they are: two small wooden crates, each one about the size of a shoebox. I dig into my purse and pull out the handy leather zippy-bag that contains my copying kit. It’s got all the basics, including a magnetic staple remover, camera, and X-Acto blade. In a matter of minutes, I open the crates, take digital pictures of the papyri, and close everything up again without leaving a sign.

Mighty slick, if I do say so myself.

I’m feeling really good about my badass-ness when it happens. The hair on my neck stands on end.

Someone’s here.

I slowly turn, and there stands Alec, the heir to LeCharme dynasty himself. He’s a handsome guy, in that clean-cut, laid-back, surfer-dude kind of way. He’s all tanned skin, blue eyes, and sun-lightened hair. Even though he’s wearing a black suit, Alec still rocks a young and casual vibe. I’ve spent enough time with Elle to know my best move is to play it cool.

I give him a little wave. “Hey.”

“Hello. I’m Alec.” And he smiles. There’s no calling the guards. No yelling his lungs out.

Interesting. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad. Either way, I should get out of here.

“I came here to take pictures of your papyri. I’ll just leave now.”

The smile disappears. “I was waiting for the jewel thief. Normally, she comes here with you.”

My spine straightens. He’s after Elle. Even worse, he knows who we are and what we’ve been up to. That leaves one option. Lie my ass off.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alec holds his hands up, palms forward. “Your friend isn’t in any trouble. I’ve started running checks on the pieces she takes, and they’re all stolen jewels with a bounty on them. LeCharme would have returned them if the company were aware.”

If Alec knows this much, I figure there’s no point holding back. I set my fist on my hip. “Your parents totally knew.”

I heard all about this from Elle. When she started off, Elle tried to inform LeCharme of the thefts and split the reward. Alec’s parents wouldn’t hear of it.

“You’re right. My parents knew. But I didn’t.”

“And?”

“I’m ready to work with her.”

Sure, he is. “And why would you want to do that?”

“Every time she steals something, she leaves a little pile of cinders on my desk. The cleaning staff have been complaining.” He works that surfer-dude smile again. I’m not buying it.

I step toward the door. “This is me leaving.”

Alec moves to block my path. Another creepy sensation seeps up my scalp. Alec isn’t the only one here. Damn. One guy I can handle in a fight, especially if I can see him coming. But two people, and with one of them hidden? Not so easy.

I glare at Alec. “Back off. I said I was going.”

Alec rakes his hand through his sandy-blond hair. “How come you want to steal my papyri anyway?”

“I make digital photos of them. There’s a difference.”

“Why not ask my office for access?”

“I did. Many times.”

“Let me guess. Your requests got routed through my parents.”

“That they did.”

“Well, ask me this time. You’ll get a different answer.”

A growly voice sounds from the shadows, making me jump. “No one else should look at those papyri. They’re ours.”

The tone of voice sets off alarm bells through my brain. I scan the darkness, trying to see something, anything. I don’t get so much as an outline of this man.

“If we’re having a group discussion, why don’t you come out of the shadows?” I ask.

Alec hitches his hand into the right pocket of his black suit. It makes him look like he fell out of a menswear catalog. He eyes me carefully. “Oh, I like her. We should work with her directly.” The way he says the word “directly,” it’s like he knows everything that Elle and I have been up to.

The growly guy growls again. “No.”

That voice. It makes me a little crazy, I guess. I glare at the darkness. It’s really my only option at this point. “Quiet, you. I’m talking here.”

Alec chuckles. “Oh, we’re definitely working together.”

Part of me wants to run for the door. More of me is interested in getting access to papyri. I can’t help but ask the obvious question. “Working with you on what?”

“The papyri, of course. There’s a code in them. We’re trying to break it.”

“A code?” Whoa, I thought I noticed a strange pattern in those hieroglyphs. They all start off telling the history of magic and then go into a bunch of nonsense sentences. Could you rearrange those words and get a secret message? It’s possible. Suddenly, my burner phone starts ringing. Crap. It’s Elle, and Elle never calls unless there’s an emergency with my aunties. I raise my pointer finger. “One sec. I have to get this.”

“You’re taking a call?” asks Alec. “Right now?”

“You always this fast?” I say it with a smile and a wink, though. Another fun fact: you can get away with a lot of insults as long as you have the right delivery and outfit. After pulling out my burner, I take the call.

“Hey, Bry.” Elle’s voice sounds all crackly on the phone.

“Hey.”

“Your aunties are on hold right now. I told them you’re in the shower at my place. Normally, that would make them hang up, but they wanted to stay on the line until you got out. I said I’d take them off hold once you were done. You ready?”

“Sure. Patch them through.”

“You got it. Oh, how’s it going with the heist?”

“It’s going.”

“That good, eh?”

I look over to Alec, who’s grinning from ear to ear. Somehow, I have no doubt he realizes I’m talking to Elle. “I’ll explain later. Patch them through now, or they may actually be tempted to use magic.” That could get ugly.

“You got it.”

On the other end of the line, my aunties are all on speakerphone and chattering at once. I make out the words“episode” and “homework.”Alec is still smiling in my direction. Who cares if he looks all sneaky? As long as he doesn’t say a word, I can handle this.

“Look, aunties. There’s no need to freak out. I was just in the shower. I haven’t had an episode. Plus, my homework is done already, so drop it. Elle and I are late for the soiree.”

Next my aunties start going off on Miss Chang, one of my tutors. They’re all yammering at once again because apparently, Miss Chang trains one of their friends in jiu-jitsu. Now they’re all freaked that she’s teaching me street self-defense, too. Which she totally is. Not that they know that. I groan. This is just what I did not need. Their voices rise to ear-splitting levels.

“Guys…guys…GUYS!” Finally, they quiet down. “Miss Chang is not teaching me mixed martial arts. We’re working on table etiquette.”

“That’s a relief,” says Lauralei. “Where are you, anyway?”

“Right where I said I’d be. Over at Elle’s, getting ready. We’re leaving for the party any second now.”

With that, Lauralei launches into a lecture on how irresponsible I am. For what, I don’t know, but it seems like she needs to hit this speech at least once a day. Listening to it always gets me worked up. Without realizing it, I pace the floor. Evidently, I get too close to Growly Guy because he lets out another unhappy rumble. I pause.

“What’s that noise?” asks Lauralei.

“Oh that? We’re watching Animal Planet.”

“It was terrifying.”

“I know. We’ll turn down the volume.” As long as I listen to them complain for a few minutes, they’ll leave me alone. And—happy me—those two minutes are now up. I can end the call with abandon, so that’s just what I do. “Love you all. Buh-bye.” After hitting the End Call button, I turn to face Alec. I still can’t see Growly Guy at all. “Sorry about that.”

Alec remains very amused. “Can’t they trace you?”

“Duh. This is a burner. My friend has the real phone.”

“Your friend named Elle.”

Okay, I shouldn’t have let that slip. Still, it’s not as if he wasn’t aware anyway. “Like you didn’t know.” I slip my hand into my purse and pull out my mace. “I’m going to leave now. This is the last time I’ll say it.”

“Please. I waited patiently while you rifled through my things. I didn’t even call security. The least you can do is answer a few questions before you mace my face off.” He stares pointedly at the bag. “I can see it in your hand, you know.”

Oh, that. “Fine. Ask your questions.”

“How old are you?”

“That’s rather personal. How old are you?”

“Eighteen. And you are?”

I shrug. “I’m eighteen.”

Alec doesn’t seem convinced. “You’re eighteen?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Right now?” That’s Growly Guy again.

“My birthday is in three days.”

Growly Guy steps into the light. He stands only a few feet to my left and—oh damn—this is the man from my dreams. Literally. He’s over six feet tall with black hair, ice-blue eyes, and scars along his brow and chin. He’s wearing low-hanging jeans, a fitted black T-shirt, and a long leather jacket. And yes, there’s that raw magnetic something that seems to vibrate around him. I want to throw my arms around his neck and rub myself all over him. It’s really disturbing, actually.

I was pretty calm before, but now? I’m starting to lose it. I drop my mace back into my bag and swap it out for my inhaler. Sure, I don’t feel an episode coming on, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.

“What…what’s your name?” I ask.

“Knox.” He steps closer. His scent wraps around me. It’s a mix of sandalwood and musk. Delicious. Dangerous. In fact, I should leave.

This is me, going for the door.

Any second now.

Nope, my damn body won’t do anything but stand around and inhale more of his yummy scent. Dumb limbs.

“Knox. Like the gelatin?” Leave it to me to make a bad joke at this point.

“Like the fort.”

“Oh.”

Eloquent, Bry.

He takes in a long breath, and I swear he’s sniffing me as well. Which brings me back to the question: why does this guy smell so good? That just shouldn’t happen.

“What’s your name?” Knox asks.

“Bryar Rose.”

“You’re not safe here, Bryar Rose.” Knox’s voice goes growly once more.

Did I mention that I hate it when people tell me I’m helpless? Well, I do. “I can handle myself.”

“No, you need to leave.” Knox points to door. “Don’t ever come back. You got me?”

That settles it. I turn to Alec. “You wanted to talk?”

“Yes, I did.”

Does this guy ever stop smiling? “Well, I’m listening.”

“When you were on the phone just now, you said something about tutors. Are you one of the Magicorum that can’t go to a regular school?”

Well, that little question has me interested. “Why do you ask?”

“I attend a school called West Lake Prep. Heard of it?”

“Maybe.” I’m obsessed with it.

“I’m a student there. Going into my senior year, as a matter of fact.”

“And?” It’s an effort not to start salivating. This is everything I’ve wanted.

“My parents are on the school’s board. You want in? You’re definitely accepted, so long as you join the summer internship program at LeCharme.”

Knox rounds on Alec. “You don’t have a summer internship program.”

“Quiet, Knox.” Alec maintains his perma-smile. “I just made it up. But I assure you, my parents will do this for me. They’re dying for me to take an interest in the business. They’ll be thrilled if I organize some interns.”

“But what if someone says I’m not qualified for West Lake?” Like Madame.

“We have ways around that. We’re a private institution and not subject to all the government rules and regulations. Plus, if you were awarded a scholarship…” He allows the logic to hang out there. And I must admit, I like where it’s hanging.

Knox’s face darkens. “You don’t have a scholarship program, either.”

“I said, quiet.” Alec focuses on me again. “So, what do you think?”

“If I take your internship, are there more papyri I can read?”

“Sure, I’ll even give you everything we have on the code.”

I want to cheer, but I keep my face calm. “How will you do that? You ship all the papyri away.”

“They’re shipped, but to another floor. All the original samples of my papyri are stored right here in this building.”

Huh.