A Spark Of Magic: Chosen Saga Book One Read online

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

  A Spark Of Magic

  Chosen Saga Book One

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2014 J. L. Clayton

  v1.0

  Cover Photo © 2014 thinkstockphotos.com. All rights reserved - used with permission.

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  Book I

  Power

  Power is knowledge, strength and sometimes—pure light or the darkness within your soul. Power is bittersweet love, but oh so cold. With every ounce of power given, it can also be taken away. If there is power in hate—then there is greater power is love. If power is strong enough for revenge; then there is more power in forgiveness. And if power is not used right, it can hurt and break souls.

  Carry the power within you wisely, as you were foretold.

  Stalked

  He stalks her waiting for the right time, a single purpose stirring within his mind. His soul longs for that one deep connation, as his body seeks its final redemption. For he is the hunter and she his prey, her power untouched waiting for the moment to be set free on that final day. One sweet tasted form his lips as death he willed her way.

  Magic

  Magic churns within her, and with a spark she will soon know what has been foretold. Love, longing, and need steal’s her mind, while this overwhelming power steals her soul. With a pull and a tiny touch the magic within her will be set free. Now it is declare, so mote it be.

  Prologue

  Crispin shuddered with pleasure. He’d killed the Cherokee men; however, he decided, out of malice, of course, to spare the leaders life. He left the proud man broken, knowing that he had failed his people. Even as he warned the man with a message of death, Crispin was still unsatisfied. Yes, the battle between his followers and the Indians left much to desire. He clenched his teeth looking down on the now crippled, broken and defeated leader. Crispin smiled thinking that this was far too easy—the battle, if that was what it should be called: no it was more like a slaughter. Crispin shook his head mockingly; he hadn’t suffered a single scratch, while his servants had all perished. Not even that wretched wolf could break his skin. Although, the way in which the beast eradicated his strongest Mages was very impressive.

  The fact was that he needed a toy like that, something that he could bend to his own will. And yet the thought saddened him. Nothing seemed to satisfy the gaping hole that permeated his soul. Staring out at the rolling green hills which were such a contrast to the destruction with which he had surrounded himself: it was once so beautiful. Crispin sighed and with a single thought, he manifested himself back to his Kingdom, and very far from those pathetic humans and their disgusting stench. Exhaling warily, Crispin sagged onto his throne and gazed about. His Kingdom was dark and tedious, with brick and mortar covering the inner chamber, a huge dais right in the middle of his palace. Upon the dais sat Crispin’s throne: a perfect place to see all his loyal subjects. Crispin observed his wary servants out of the corners of his eyes and smirked. They were afraid, and with good cause. He had the power to disembowel them with a thought.

  Crispin scratched his chin, considering. No, he would not destroy them today, seeing that he was satisfied. For now he would let them live—his followers, his sheep, his cannon fodder—they were after all besotted with his power and his beauty, and who could blame them. He was, as usual, amused at the fact that they were willing to do anything for him. Crispin was the most powerful being to ever exist. Crispin was a Traveller—always in search of power—always in search of that one thing he never had.

  “One day!” Crispin shouted, hitting his palm on the armrest of his throne.

  All of his loyal followers gasped, frozen in panic: watching, listening and waiting with a frightful anticipation of what he would do and say next, of what horror he would bring to them this time.

  “One day I will have everything!” He roared. “One day, I will have . . . her!”

  Crispin looked around with a menacing scowl, knowing that everyone was all too well aware of what that meant. Scattering like mice from a cat, they fearfully fled to their rooms, knowing that bad things would follow if they stayed. As for the stragglers, he just snapped his fingers, and turned their bodies inside out. Ten or so beings fell to the floor writhing in agony. Crispin knew this was a painful way to die, so he rarely punished his followers with this kind of torture. But today he felt ‘generous.’ When their screaming became exasperating, Crispin snapped his fingers again, and all at once bliss fell upon the chamber. But the silence did not make him happy.

  “If only I knew who she was,” he whispered.

  The only thing he had to go on was what the Three Hags of Fate had foretold when they foresaw a chosen one, a girl with the power to destroy him. However, Crispin welcomed the challenger—because his experience was greater than her youth.

  “No. She will fall for me and then I will have her. Every last drop of her, body, mind and soul. Then I will take her life and her power!” He howled. “Yes!”

  Crispin laughed. It was a dark sensual sound that vibrated through the halls, wrapping itself around the bodies of his people in a tight embrace, stroking and caressing their insides and sending shudders of pleasure through them. He heard gasps and moans of delight, and some cries of loathing. Some welcomed his touch, while others did not want it at all. Yet Crispin didn’t care, the only thought he had was of her.

  “My unknown, faceless, powerful being!”

  Crispin liked the sound of that.

  Chapter One

  A New Home

  My life in one word: awesome. Well, actually, it sucked. I sighed, gazing out of our car window, and felt my reality crashing down on me . . . again. I couldn’t focus on my surroundings even if I tried. Everything seemed unimportant—the town, the colors that would soon fade away as a distant memory. So why try? Oh crap! Who was I kidding? I wanted to focus! I wanted to try this time and remember at least one place we had lived in with pleasure. My heart, pounded with hope that this would be it, that we’d stay, this time we’d make this new place our home. Never! I mean come on, why couldn’t we just stay in one place? Wouldn’t that be normal? However, my family is far from normal. We moved so much, I couldn’t keep up. Really, we should be in the Guinness Book of World Records. We’re here one month and gone the next. I don’t understand! Why was my life so complicated? Why couldn’t I just be your typical fifteen, soon to be sixteen, ‘yay me’ kind of girl? Ugh! This whole moving thing blows. I wasn’t happy, and my parents wouldn’t explain.

  It makes me so frustrated I want to scream, ‘JUST TELL ME!’

  Is that so hard to do? They would dodge the question, as they always have, and make up some kind of bogus excuse. Did they care how I felt about our situation? Nope, not my parents! Blowing my hair out of my eyes, I slumped down in the back seat. I was hoping they would notice my movement and glance
back to see the sorrow on my face – then finally give me an honest answer to why we move so much. Once again, nothing happened. I mean, God! Here I was all miserable in the back seat, and did they even look around? Hello? What’s wrong with this picture?

  “Charlie, is there something wrong?” Mom asked.

  Ooh, snap! They did see my miserable self; maybe there was hope yet. Yeah right!

  “No, I’m okay, Mom. Thanks,” I grumbled. Like she really cares, I saw Mom shrug; yeah, that shrug said it all.

  I crossed my arms, childish; I know and I buried my chin onto my chest. I shut my eyes. Turtle Creek, Alabama, I pondered miserably. Turtle Creek, Alabama was the place we were moving to. Sounds like a backwater town, right? And get this; I didn’t even know where we were moving until we were already pulling out of the driveway. If they would tell me the truth and be honest for once, well, moving might not be so bad. But I was not a moron, and I’m not going to hold my breath. My parents would never tell me the truth. I gazed out the window and suddenly I saw our new home. Fortunately, it distracted me from all my sulking. Astonished, I couldn’t help but smile. The house looked exceptional, with a long driveway and a massive yard. It was white with dark blue shutters and a huge screened-in porch. There was a cute little swing on the porch.

  I immediately spotted an enormous garden filled with a variety of lavender flowers. Intrigued, I decided to get a better look. I started rolling the window down. I was just so darn eager to see the house. My pace pick up. I could see the house through the car window, but I felt disconnected and trapped behind the thick barrier of tinted glass. I needed to feel the air on my skin. I needed to see the wonderful things surrounding me. It felt like if I didn’t look now there would be nothing, as if it was all a dream. Yeah, so sue me, I liked the house! Whoop-dee-freaking doo!

  Finally, the window was down and my eyes took it all in. I found myself to be very—ugh—pleased that this wasn’t a dream. A gust of fresh, sweet air swooped in, filling the car with wonderful smells from outside. The fragrance was intoxicating. The heady lavender scent was a combination of something syrupy and strong. Suddenly, a surge of joy rushed over me. It filled my whole essence. I’d never felt this strongly about something before in my life; it touched me deep inside my soul. It seemed crazy and way too profound for me right then. Hell, knowing I felt a connection to this house bad, so bad.

  Besides, it wasn’t going to last, this blissful feeling would disappear and once again we’d up and leave just like we always did. Crap! Crap! Crap! I needed to get these thoughts out of my head and deal with it. This was my life! My sucky life and that was how it’d always been. I felt trapped; my whole being was overflowing with all kinds of thoughts and too many questions. And that was so not good! If you could live in my head, trust me, you would pack up and move the heck out. My mind was not a fun place to be.

  Dad stopped the car abruptly. “Well, we’re here.” Dad looked over at me cheerfully. “So, Charlie, what do you think?”

  I looked up at him, annoyed. Why is he asking me? He should know by now! I don’t care. Well, maybe I did care (crap), but that didn’t matter. Besides, we wouldn’t be here long enough for me to care, or for it to matter.

  Sighing, I said, “Uh huh, it’s nice, Dad. Bu-u-ut, so were the other fifty thousand homes we lived in.” I rolled my eyes.

  Mom saw my face. She shook her head disapprovingly. “Sam, let’s not fight. I don’t want our first day here to be upsetting. You know she doesn’t like that we move so much. It’s hard on her.”

  Really Mom? Jeez!

  Dad smiled lovingly at Mom. In a husky voice he said, “You’re right, Janet, I apologize.” Looking over at me with regret in his eyes he murmured, “Sorry, Kiddo. Hope you’re not mad?”

  But, I was ticked. There was so much inside me that wanted to burst at that moment, it was daunting. All this anger was killing me. I could so snap in a split second; and trying to get myself under control was not helping. I did manage to hold back as much anger as I could. Yet, I was mad enough that I wanted to scream at them and throw some kind of tantrum. Yeah, that’s bad. And when I looked over at Dad, all I could see were the constant lies my parents had told me. I couldn’t contain my annoyance anymore.

  “Oh, that’s okay, Dad.” I said exasperated. “It’s not like you didn’t know already!”

  While waiting for a response, I could feel the bitterness towards my parents swell. However, I knew it was going to take more than me getting hotheaded to find out the truth.

  Dad shook his head; he let out a low chuckle and said, “Yeah, right?”

  Like he wasn’t sure of the question! But I know he’s not stupid; Dad was just trying to stop the argument from going any further. I rolled my eyes, again. Mom looked over at me. She saw the annoyance on my face and smiled. It was as if she didn’t know how bad it was for me, but thank God for her smile . . . because if it wasn’t for that little gesture, warming my heart and taming my anger—it would’ve broken free from its massive hold, lashing out at its next victim.

  Right now, my intended target was Dad.

  Mom drew my attention, pushing the anger back into my soul and locking away all the repressed feelings that were swelling up in my body. They were urging, pleading for me to let them surface, but for now it they were controlled.

  “Are you ok, Charlie? Did your father upset you?”

  I gazed over at my beautiful Mom. Her eyes are dark blue, and she has long flowing black curls that cascade down her back. She also has an amazing body for her age. To show off her figure, she wore a short silky dress with colorful flowers embedded deep into the material. It clung to her, accenting her excellent curves. Modesty was not in my mom’s wardrobe.

  I shook my head. “No, Mom, I’m—I’m fine.”

  “Ok, just checking.” Mom tossed her hair to one side, a shimmer of light flashed through her bright blue eyes, illuminating her beauty. All too soon, her look changed. Instead, she had that face. You know the one that parents give you when you’re not being good. Yeah, you know what face I’m talking about! I smiled slightly, letting her know that I got the message. Okay, here’s a random thought that might sound odd. I look nothing like my parents. I have none of their similarities. It was uncanny and kind of gross to think it, but Dad and Mom could be siblings. Dad’s eyes are blue and his hair is the same ‘dark as night’ color.

  The only difference between them—other than the obvious—is my dad’s darker complexion. Although, both of my parents have nice complexions (unlike me: whitey). And, that thought always made me a little curious. Like maybe, I wasn’t theirs! Maybe, I was adopted?! Maybe, that’s why they’ve always lied to me. Or maybe, I’m just foolish. However, if you could see me, then you would understand why I felt this way.

  Me: As white as you could get, with brown hair and brown eyes.

  My parents: Surfer complexions, with blue eyes and jet-black hair.

  So, you see what I’m dealing with. Ugh. Where were the rest of our similarities? And why did they look like siblings? I ask, but who knows. I sure don’t! God, my parents look like brother and sister. Can you say gross?

  I was totally lost in my head (and again not a good place to be) when I heard Mom say, “Okay. Sweetie, let’s get out and see our new home. I’m excited.”

  I heard Dad in my other ear. “I’ll get the stuff. Come on, Kiddo, you can help me while your Mom goes and opens the door for us.”

  “Okay, Dad,” I grumbled. Reluctantly, I got out of the car and walked around to the trunk. I reached down inside to get my things. I pulled out two big bags. Dad looked at me with surprise and amazement in his eyes.

  “Wow, Charlie, you think you can get both of those bags at once?”

  Hah, I looked at him grinning. “Yeah, Dad, I’m stronger than you think.” I flexed my biceps as I tossed the bags over my shoulders. I turned away and headed towards the house smiling.

  Though, before I could take another step, Dad said, “Hey, Kiddo?”


  I glanced at him. “Huh?”

  “If you need any help let me know, okay? I don’t want you to strain yourself.” Dad grinned.

  I scowled. Dad chuckled. I was a little annoyed at him for thinking I was weak. I was so not weak! Didn’t he just see my awesome biceps? I’ll show him that I can do it all by myself.

  “Thanks, Dad, I can manage,” I said.

  Mom looked like she was having a hard time getting the door open. Standing there waiting, I grew more impatient every minute, and all the weight on my back was too much.

  The bags were just so darn heavy. God, am I stupid or what? Trying to look big and strong for Dad, come on . . . lame! I could feel the weight wearing me down. I knew if Dad could see the pain, and that I was about to fall on my face, that would make his day. He would be so happy that he was right for thinking I couldn’t get both bags. Dad would just lo-o-ove that! Still, I didn’t want Dad to have satisfaction knowing he was right. Don’t you just hate when your parents are always right? Well, mine loves to be right.

  “Hurry up Mom,” I say. “I don’t have all day!”

  Mom looked up at me flabbergasted, probably because I rarely raise my voice at her. Dad was the one who always got the backlash of my anger. You know what; I never understood why I was often madder at Dad than Mom. I mean, both were constantly lying to me, but still I always took it out on my dad. News flash - she’s not the one holding the heavy bags: I am. Besides, I was totally not going to put down the bags. Not, that is, until I was in the house. I absolutely didn’t want Dad going into another masterful speech.

  (I could just hear him now, he would probably say – ‘I told you so, Charlie; you do know I’m always right.’)

  Mercifully, Mom just shrugged it off and said, “Ok, Charlie, almost there, got it. I guess it was stuck.”

  And with that I barged past her, set down the bags with much needed relief. I rubbed my shoulders and looked around to see if, for once, there was anything different about this place. One could only hope that this house wouldn’t be like the usual already furnished homes we’ve lived in. However, to my surprise (not), it looked like the other houses.