Wizard Hall Chronicles Box Set Read online

  The Day of First Sun

  Copyright 2016 Sheryl Steines

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. With the exception of fair use excerpts for reviews and critical articles, no part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Table of Contents

  The Day of First Sun - The Wizard Hall Chronicles Book 1

  Black Market - The Wizard Hall Chronicles Book 2

  Wizard War - The Wizard Hall Chronicles Book 3

  Prophecy - The Wizard Hall Chronicles Book 4

  Rise of the Black Market (The Wizard Hall Chronicles Book 5

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Foreword

  This book came at a crossroads in my life. I was going through personal changes, trying to find a job, and turning forty-one. When I didn’t get the job, I had a serious talk with myself about what I really wanted to do with my life. It occurred to me that I hadn’t accomplished certain goals that I had wanted to, one of which was to write a book. And with that, I set myself on one of the most amazing journeys I’ve ever embarked on.

  So why did I rewrite the book? It was simple: I hadn’t taken the time figure out this whole publishing process, and I didn’t give myself enough time with the book to really understand what the story should be.

  After a year of not reading it or editing it, I came to this final edit with new eyes and, most importantly, a new vision for this story and for the entire Annie and Cham series. As I edited, I rewrote, added storylines, and removed scenes and insignificant plots that added nothing to the story. As I hit my stride, I found renewed enthusiasm for my book, and I stopped being stubborn about keeping ideas because I thought they were cool.

  What you’ve just read was a result of a lot of hard work, a journey I set myself on, one which I came out of with a newfound career and a new confidence. I didn’t get here on my own. There were a lot of people who helped me on this journey, and I owe them a lot of thanks. My brother, Brad Aronson, was my first editor. He kept me on the right path and made sure my book was my own voice and not someone else’s.

  To the rest of my family—my husband and children who read the book, listened to my ramblings as I wrote it, and who put up with me pulling the car over to take notes when they popped into my head—I thank you. Thank you for being my first publicists in getting your friends and teachers to read the final product.

  To my friends who bought and read the book, read my blog, follow my Twitter account, and like my Facebook page, I appreciate the support and I thank you.

  To Pavarti Tyler, Melissa Storm, and Bri Clark, thank you for teaching me a little something about publicity. To Ashley Egan and Kira McFadden, I will never be able to fully thank you for your support. It means everything to me—all of your time, kind words and encouragement.

  We don’t get to where we want to go by simply waiting for things to happen, and we don’t do it alone. It takes a lot of help and support from friends and family. I thank them all.

  Chapter 1

  Steam wafted from the cauldron as bubbles popped and pinged against the iron sides. The boiling potion gave off a pungent vapor that moistened Annie Pearce’s face and frizzed her massive wave of curls. She wiped away the sweat with her sleeve and checked the heat beneath the oversized cauldron, reducing the blue and orange flames. Though the heat was lower, the flames still danced and pulsed as they cooked the holy water.

  Stirring the potion calmed her apprehension and siphoned some excess adrenaline she always felt before facing a vampire. But then, this wasn’t an average vampire.

  The timer beeped and, standing on bare toes, Annie peeked inside the pot. The clear liquid bubbled softly, so she shut off the fire before dumping a bucket of ice into the mixture. As cold met hot, the potion hissed like an angry snake, sending more steam in the air. Unfazed, Annie sang along with P!nk’s “Who Knew” as it blared from the small radio near the stove.

  As the potion cooled, Annie loaded supplies into a field pack. First came an abridged version of her Book of Shadows. The tome contained potions, spells, and notes—an accumulation of Annie’s life experiences with magic. The book had grown exponentially over her five years with the Wizard Guard; thumbing through the book, she was amazed and maybe a little proud by its thickness.

  The book fit nicely beside several ash stakes, each whittled to the sharpest point, good for piercing the skin and the breast bone of a vampire. On top of those lay a rolled map of Chicago tied with a scrying crystal necklace.

  Three songs played on the radio by the time Annie finished gathering and packing her supplies. After closing up the pack, she poked her head into the cauldron and immersed a pinky finger in the potion.

  Perfect!

  Rummaging through the kitchen cabinets belonging to her best friend and Wizard Guard partner Bobby “Cham” Chamsky, she found a stash of small glass vials, grabbed a handful and placed them in a haphazard cluster on the counter. Filling twelve—more than enough to take down the vampire—she tucked half of the bottles deep inside her field pack to prevent shifting during teleportation. The rest she left for Cham.

  “Isn’t the potion done yet? It smells like it’s burnt,” he complained from the dining room.

  Rolling her eyes and arching her back Annie glared at him. His scrying crystal glowed bright white, and he marked another location on the map next to the several already drawn that night.

  “I’m a potion master. It’s not burnt. Haven’t you found him yet?” she asked defensively.

  Cham glanced up and offered a grimace. “Yeesh. He’s never in one place long enough to confirm his location.”

  Burn my potion, right.

  “So where would you hide a zombie army?” Cham asked, still pushing the crystal across the map.

  “Someplace large and discreet, I would think. Any location fit that so far?”

  After weeks of rumors flying around the wizard community, the magical police department known as the Wizard Guard could no longer ignore the vampire’s zombie army, no matter how useful the snitch was. As a result, the vampire, a creature that’s a subset of the larger demon world, became Annie’s and Cham’s problem.

  “Nothing that accommodates that many bodies.” Cham’s curly blond hair sat high and wild above his head from running a hand through it. He glanced up again; Annie was still watching him. He offered an exhausted grin. “Need something?”

  Annie started, caught like a child with hands in the cookie jar. Her cheeks burned red.

  “I didn’t burn the potion. Your apartment smells like boy,” protested Annie.

  “Okay,” he replied awkwardly before resuming his search.

  What the hell? Embarrassed by the hot blush in her neck and cheeks Annie hid herself in the kitchen, cleaning up spillage, storing excess holy water, and straightening up the herb cabinet. Cham after all was her best friend and her competition in grades, broomstick racing and the Wizard Guard. There was no reason for her to disrupt their easy friendship with strange comments. Still, her busy work did little to assuage the unfamiliar exchange with her partner.

  Not wanting to engage in conversation, Annie turned her attention to the only item left— the cauldron.

  I hate cleaning these. But the repetitive nature of scrubbing, the backdrop of running water, and the dumping of the grayish sludge gave her time to ponder and collect her thoughts.

&n
bsp; “Damn it!”

  Cham’s voice released her from the contemplation and confusion. Curious, she joined him in the next room and found him on the floor administering a sticking spell to keep the table leg from collapsing. As with all the other spells they tried in the past it didn’t work, and the table continued to sway precariously.

  “Where can I find a screw?” he asked, his freckles hidden under deep scarlet.

  “A nonmagical solution?” An amused smile broke across her face as she put a finger on the swaying table to stop its motion.

  “Anything’s better than this.” Cham found his way back to the seat and steadied the table with one arm while grabbing the scrying crystal. Familiar with the feel of his rock, he rolled it easily through his busy fingers.

  “Conjure one?”

  “I don’t own one to conjure.”

  Annie shrugged as Cham returned to scrying. “Maybe we should give it a rest for tonight. It’s getting late.”

  “I almost have him,” he said, irritably. But the crystal remained still without having confirmed a location more than once. Finally, Cham yawned, “Maybe I should,” and moved to put away the scrying crystal.

  Just as Annie opened her mouth to agree to call it quits for the night, a phone rang, cutting through the early morning silence. They glanced at each other, and Annie tugged her cell free from her back pocket.

  “This can’t be good,” she said into the phone. Milo Rawley, the Wizard Guard department manager, never personally called, not even in the event of an emergency. Annie’s stomach lurched.

  “You with Cham?”

  “Yeah. We’re tracking Sturtagaard.”

  Cham’s face contorted in a mock scowl, causing Annie to stifle a laugh.

  “Stop searching for that shithead. I need you out in the field.”

  “I gathered that, Milo. What’s up?”

  “Smartass. The Vampire Attack Unit arrived at a scene, but the FBI’s there.” Annie’s adrenaline replaced her weariness as her fingers gripped the phone so tightly it might crack.

  “Why? How did that happen?” No longer holding her breath, Annie blew out the stale air that burned her lungs. The Vampire Attack Unit never missed their window in which to clean a scene of all evidence.

  “That’s why I’m calling you.”

  “Why would I know?” Annie asked, but she already knew his answer. Spending her childhood living amongst nonmagicals apparently qualified her more than the others in the Wizard Guard—or so thought Milo. Though most of her colleagues now lived in nonmagical communities and could easily work any investigation, all cases involving the Chicago Police Department came to her.

  This is federal, not local.

  Annie felt a gnawing in her stomach at the realization of what the wizard secrecy laws would require of them on a federal case. Her heart pounded in anticipation.

  “You know the reason, Annie. Just do it,” Milo ordered with finality.

  Through the phone, a keyboard clicked as Milo typed. She sighed loudly for his benefit and glanced at Cham with worry lines deeply entrenched into her forehead.

  “Fine, we’ll check it out,” she said.

  “Good girl.”

  “You’re a pig, Milo.”

  “I sent you the coordinates.” He was ignoring her insubordination. This left Annie wondering if he respected her for the ability to hold her own in a mostly male profession or if he ignored her on purpose because he lacked respect. In the end it didn’t really matter. They had a new job to do.

  Ending the call and turning to Cham, she said, “We’re on. The FBI beat us to a crime scene.”

  “Has that ever happened?” Cham casually tossed the crystal; it rolled several times before landing on the edge of the table.

  As he stood, his knee crashed into the table apron, and the weakened leg buckled. The table collapsed, and Cham’s scrying crystal flew through the air, crashed against the wall, and split in two.

  “I’ll fix that later,” he muttered.

  *

  Annie thought of her location, and within seconds her body became weightless and detached from earth, drifting through space and landing on the edge of a wooden palette. Her arms flayed wildly, reached into the semidarkness of the alley and caught a sleeve on a rusty metal dumpster. With a quick spell, she stopped falling and hung in midair over a pile of garbage.

  “Need help?” Cham chuckled, unscathed by his own landing.

  “No, I’m good.” With a flick of her wrist, Annie removed the spell and stood upright.

  Damn, my favorite jacket. Annie tugged on the rip, which was long and deep enough to reveal her blue shirt sleeve. Waving a palm across the tear, she repaired the rip, leaving no visible mark.

  “You need to see this,” Cham said.

  Jumping over garbage and avoiding boxes of assorted junk, she peered around him. Hundreds of people mulled through the vicinity, investigating the scene, collecting evidence, interviewing witnesses or patrolling the area.

  “Wow,” Cham responded. He seemed just as bewildered as Annie felt.

  “Where do we even begin?”

  Where do we begin? The sheer enormity of the scene left Annie with an overwhelming sense of dread. It outsized anything they had ever investigated in the magical world.

  They were separated from the crime scene by an east-west thoroughfare, a well-travelled road at any time during the day. However, this morning, police cruisers cordoned off the road at both ends of the block while traffic barricades created a perimeter keeping the general public from interfering, though the patrol officer was keeping busy warning nosy outsiders away.

  And rush hour’s in a few hours—will they be done? Thought Annie.

  “I’m not sure how we’re gonna pass through the barrier. It’s pretty tight.” As an excuse to stave off growing unease, Annie fiddled with the lenses on her binoculars and scanned the crowd for the Vampire Attack Unit. Either they hid themselves well or they were waiting at Wizard Hall.

  “Do you know what types of cases the FBI works? I mean, besides the federal cases?” Cham asked.

  Annie lowered the binoculars. A police officer forcibly removed an observer from near the traffic barrier. The man, boisterous and drunk, was escorted to a police car and locked inside.

  “As far as I understand it, they work national security, cybercrimes, civil rights, and public corruption–type cases. Not sure how this relates to their jurisdiction.”

  “Personally, I think they’re on a stake-out, tailing someone at the bar, and it’s a coincidence.” Cham reached for the binoculars, tugging them from her tight grasp.

  “Do you believe in coincidence?”

  “Not usually, but you didn’t mention occult crimes. So why do you think they’re here?”

  “Okay, fine. This time I’ll buy the coincidence theory. I know we would’ve gotten here before the Chicago police.”

  “Annie. Look at that over there.” Several men and women with cameras and gloves snapped pictures and collected evidence. “The ones in the ERT shirts. They’re looking for evidence. And that guy all the way on the far end found something. I just… can’t make out what it is.”

  When Annie smacked him for the binoculars, Cham pulled away from her, twisting to get a look at the object. The item, too small for a clear look, was bagged and taken away. “I don’t like it. They’re messing with our case,” Cham said, annoyed. He passed her the binoculars.

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  In the alley between the night club and the tire store, the medical examiner, a woman in her late forties wearing scrubs and boots, scribbled in a notebook while an FBI agent in khakis and ERT across the back of his shirt, snapped pictures of a body tossed carelessly in the garbage. “One body over there,” Annie said.

  “A vampire victim?”

  “Can’t see.”

  A man in a suit with salt and pepper hair wrote copious notes while interviewing an animated witness who motioned wildly with his hands. Unable to read l
ips, Annie moved on to view a nearby woman framed in a business suit, hair in a tight bun, and slim kitten heels on petite feet.

  Annie grimaced, thinking of her own outfit. It was neither polished nor clean, and her hair was still frizzy from preparing the potion earlier that night. Absently, she smoothed her hair to no effect and offered Cham the binoculars.

  The first of the SUVs pulled away from the curb and headed east to the labs. Police escorted witnesses from the crime scene to their cars.

  “The medical examiner!” Cham’s voice rose, nearly drawing the attention of the nearby crowd. If the street hadn’t been packed with noisy onlookers, they would’ve heard him call out.

  Annie turned her attention to the medical examiner, who was unfurling a plastic blanket. It blew uncontrollably in a gust of wind. A cameraman ran over to help, placing the blanket over the victim. But the doctor noticed something requiring a second look and removed a long strand of brown hair, revealing an unobstructed view of the neck.

  Annie smiled.

  Now how do we get the bodies?

  “Did you bring your badge?” Annie summoned her Chicago Police Department identification, glanced at the picture taken five years ago, when she started with the Wizard Guard at eighteen years old. She snapped it shut, placing it in her pocket.

  “Really? You had to ask that?” His brows furrowed.

  “Sorry. I’m wondering if we should track the bodies to the morgue and break in—not even engage now.”

  Surprised, his face softened. “Are you scared?”

  “Not scared… just apprehensive.”

  *

  Cham squeezed her shoulder before leaving. He headed east, following the perimeter of the crime scene. Once he disappeared into the shadows, Annie left the hiding spot and ducked under the crime scene tape. She entered to the west, avoiding a male agent who was still interviewing a witness, and pretended to search for evidence.

  “Man, it was a big fight. The big guy looked mean and happy like all at the same time. Oh, and his teeth came out like this.” The witness wiggled two fingers, one on each side of his mouth.