Incandescent magic unkno.., p.1
Incandescent: Magic Unknown, page 1
Incandescent
Magic Unknown
By Sarah Chayer
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2022 by Sarah Chayer
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: info@sarahchayer.com.
First paperback edition March 2022
ISBN 979-8-4242-4578-7 (hardcover)
ISBN 979-8-4242-4230-3 (paperback)
www.sarahchayer.com
Thank You
I want to give the sincerest thank you for everyone that donated to my GoFundMe to help me achieve my dream! From the bottom of my heart, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for everything you have done for me (including those who donated anonymously).
Dédié à grandmama: toujours dans mon cœur ♥
Chapter 1
Don’t Tell
No light filtered into the cold, humid room, but through the darkness Sofia was able to make out the shapes of the men standing over her. The ropes around her wrists cut into her skin, and her bony knees dug into the cement floor. Despite her restraints, she sat upright, her chin held high.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Her words echoed through the chamber, but the three shadowy figures in front of her remained still.
“Get your hands off me,” a man’s voice said in the ruckus coming from the room next door.
Sofia’s heart sank. “Jacob?” She shuffled, attempting to stand.
Two hands slammed down on her shoulders from behind, forcing her knees back into the cold ground and holding her in place. A hot tear spilled over her cheek.
“Fia,” Jacob called back. “Are you okay? Have they hurt you?”
Before she could respond, one of the men stepped forward and struck her across the face with the back of his hand. “One more word and we start removing fingers.”
His hushed words sent prickles down her spine. She dropped her head, choking silently for air.
“Don’t tell them anything,” Jacob shouted. A series of muffled screams followed from the next room.
A door in front of her opened, and a large silhouette appeared against a dim light, then stepped inside. Three of the men left, leaving only the person holding her down and this new, mysterious shape.
The room plummeted back into darkness as the door closed.
“You must be Sofia Hanwel.” The man stopped a few feet away, towering over her. She couldn’t see his face, but she could sense his grin from the tone of his voice. “You were surprisingly easy to find.”
“Please,” she begged quietly, her body trembling. “Please don’t hurt Jacob. Everything was my doing. He wasn’t involved in any of it.”
After a weighted moment, the large man gradually lowered himself to a squat so they were eye-to-eye. He traced a circle in the air with his hand. A small sphere of light appeared, hovering in his palm.
She flinched from the brightness, but then her eyes widened. They’re Witcans, she realized.
In the light, Sofia could finally make out the man’s face. His eyes were dark and glinting, his hair slicked back, and his jaw strengthened with a short, trimmed beard. Under different circumstances, he would have appeared a handsome, trustworthy man.
She squirmed as she tried to move away, but the grip tightened on her shoulders and held her in place, causing her to wince.
“I’m not here to investigate your history,” the man said. He reached out and squeezed her chin. The ball of light stayed in place, floating in the space between them. “I actually rather admire your work.”
Sofia’s shallow breaths came in pants that made her chest heave. “Then what do you want?”
He chuckled. “I just need your help finding someone. Someone I know you helped hide several years back. A young man by the name of Kye.” Sofia shook her head, and the man released her jaw. “You may know him as Kurt. Kurt Carlsons.”
Her heart plummeted into her gut. She swallowed hard, pressing her lips together and dropping her head to hide her face behind her blonde hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know a Kurt Carlsons.”
His smirk disappeared, and he slowly rose. The blood drained from Sofia’s face as he turned away.
“I don’t think you are being honest with me,” he said.
Sofia shrieked, scalp burning as she was yanked to her feet by her hair. “Stop. Please. I really don’t know! Please.”
The hands that were entangled in her hair jerked her head back, whirled her body around, and slammed her cheek against the cold cement wall. Her jaw immediately began to sting.
The man leaned in over her shoulder. “Just tell me where I can find him,” he hissed into her ear.
Sofia choked back a sob and shook her head. “I don’t know.”
She was pulled back. She staggered to reclaim her footing, but was shoved back into the wall again. Her shoulder crashed into the concrete, and she felt a pop. Sofia wailed, her knees weak, but her body was pinned in place against the wall. Her arm hung loosely, a severe throbbing pain swelling in her shoulder.
“This all ends if you just tell me where I can find him.” He stood with his back turned as his accomplice tossed Sofia down to the floor.
She feebly tried to wriggle away, her arms still tied behind her and her shoulder stinging. A burning sensation erupted between her shoulder blades, and her flesh blazed with a scorching pain. Sofia rolled onto her side to see her captor standing over her, holding a flickering ball of fire. His pale face showed no emotion.
Her side scratched across the floor as she dug her feet into the ground to push away. The young man just watched, undoubtedly waiting for her to tire herself out.
Don’t say a word. You can’t say a word, Sofia told herself, whimpering as she inched away towards the wall.
“Is his life worth your own?” The taller man, still facing away, spoke softly and calmly. “Are you prepared to die for him?”
“I’m not afraid to die,” Sofia muttered, finally dropping her head to catch her breath.
The younger man pulled back his hand and flung the second fireball at her. It burned into her thigh, charring her jeans and skin. The room remained quiet as she contained her cries by biting her lip. She soon tasted blood.
More commotion came from the room next door. Jacob. I hope he’s okay.
A couple of kicks delivered into her gut knocked the wind out of her. Sofia went limp with a deep cough.
Again, the young man stepped back and waited.
They were toying with her, she realized. Sofia twisted over, and the pain in her shoulder returned. Gasping, she peered over at the taller man. He hadn’t moved.
Her entire body levitated, hovering a few feet off the ground before crashing back down with a heavy thud. Then up and back down again. And again.
The man finally strutted over to her. “Where is Kurt Carlsons?”
Sofia’s sobs were much weaker now, intermixed with wheezes. “I . . . don’t know.” She was hardly able to get the words out.
His shoulders went rigid, but with a growl he turned away and knocked on the metal door. The sound echoed for several long seconds until the door finally opened.
Two bodies shuffled through. The first crumpled to the ground with a grunt.
“Jacob,” Sofia cried out. She struggled, unable to sit up, and instead began inching her way towards him.
His reply was muffled by a gag wrapped over his mouth. Jacob slowly pulled himself up, but before he could get to his feet, the towering man slammed a foot into his back and pressed him down into the floor. He held out a fist at Jacob, which began to glow a dark, ominous shade of blue.
“It’s time to see whose life your wife values more.” The man smirked.
Sofia moaned. “No. No, don’t hurt him, please.”
He watched her, and when he finally spoke again, he delivered every word delicately. “Tell me where I can find Kurt Carlsons.”
A hot stream of blood poured from a wound on Sofia’s brow down her cheek, but she didn’t say a word.
Jacob squirmed as he tried to shout through his gag. Rubbing his face against the concrete floor, he managed to work the band out of his mouth. “Don’t give them anything, Fia.”
The man’s fist glowed brighter, revealing the wrathful look in his eyes.
“Wait,” Sofia cried, jerking forward. Her eyes met Jacob’s, and he simply shook his head. Her short, sharp breaths caught in her throat. “Jacob, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said through gasps.
He stared up at her with tears in his eyes. “It’s okay. It will be okay.”
Neither spoke for those few short seconds.
“I love you, Fia.”
Before Sofia could protest further, the glow filled the entire room as the man fired a beam of blue light from his fist into Jacob’s back.
Jacob released a deafening shriek. Then his head dropped as he went silent.
“No!” Sofia screamed, and collapsed forward in sobs.
The man waited, backing away from Jacob’s body, before asking his question again. “Where is Kurt?”
Sofia stayed silent.
Many men came and went, but the leader stayed, repeating the question.
Hours must have passed. Sunlight crept in through a crack of the boarded-up windows. Sofia’s limbs trembled, and her cheeks were soaked in blood and tears. Her eyes had swelled to the point where she could hardly see the golden light illuminating the basement room.
The tall man opened the door and peered out into the hall. “Have you found her yet?” he said to someone outside the room.
“No sign of the daughter,” a woman’s voice replied.
“Well, keep looking.”
Thank God, Kris is safe, Sofia thought with the saddest sense of relief. With the last of her strength, she finally managed to slip out of her binds as the door closed once more.
With her one good arm, she dragged herself across the room to Jacob’s corpse. Her injured arm hung to the side as she stopped over her husband’s body. She moved her hair to gaze down at his face.
“Oh, Jacob.” She sobbed, stroking his icy cheek. “I . . . I’ll be with you soon.”
Sofia lifted her chin and glared at the man as he approached. He scowled, but she was no longer afraid. She collected herself, knowing her next words would be her last. “You’re not going to win. You don’t stand a chance against Kurt.”
chapter 2
Frozen In Time
Kris pushed a cardboard box to the side and opened a bedroom closet filled with dusty shirts and dresses.
“You still haven’t unpacked?” Brie tiptoed around the boxes to the bed.
“How can I? Look at this place,” Kris murmured, dragging a finger down the sleeve of a blue blouse. With all of Mom’s stuff still here, frozen in time since the day she left this hellhole.
“They really kept all of your mom’s stuff exactly the same, huh?” Brie sat cross-legged on the mattress and gazed around at the framed photos and books that lined the room’s shelves. Her eyes settled on the green messenger bag propped up against the bed, bloated as though filled with belongings. She grabbed it and peeked inside, her shoulders slouching with a deflated sigh. “Are you planning on going somewhere?”
Kris sprang over and slapped her bag shut. “It’s nothing,” she muttered as she carried her bag over to the closet and set it against the wall.
Brie cocked her head to one side and crossed her arms. “Come on, Kris. As if I can’t see right through you.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Running away? That’s stupid. Like, where would you even go?”
Kris sighed. “Anywhere.” She bent down and rummaged through a crate of books on the floor of the closet. “Live on the road. See the world. Join the Peace Corps.”
“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Coming from you?” Kris shot her a skeptical look.
Brie stood up from the bed, waving her hands around as she spoke. “However bad you think this is, you have to stick it out. They’re family.”
“Family” that ran her mom out when she was only a teenager and never spoke to her again. “Family” that only did as much as send a couple of measly birthday cards to their granddaughter over seventeen years.
“Family isn’t blood, it’s love,” Kris mumbled, mostly to herself. She continued to dig through the box of books.
Brie hovered over the messenger bag for a moment before returning to the bed. “Okay, whatever, just . . . just stick it out, okay? In a few months you’ll be eighteen, and then you can do whatever you want, right?”
Kris wrinkled her nose at the thought of waiting so long to escape. “So, what’s going on at school? How’s the gang doing?” she asked, eager to change the subject.
“Ian’s been asking about you. He wanted to come with today, but I told him it probably wasn’t a good idea.”
“Good,” Kris hissed under her breath.
“You can’t stay mad at him forever.”
“I can, and I will.” Kris flung some old books on the ground to get to the bottom of the box. “Ah!” she exclaimed, then held up a tattered paperback novel and waved it around in the air.
Brie bounced over, snatching the book and hugging it close to her chest. “Oh, thank God!”
Kris crossed the room and dropped into her desk chair.
“Ian wants to make things right,” Brie continued.
“Well, tell him he can shove it. I don’t need his pity.”
There was a soft knock on the bedroom door. A small, aging woman took a single step into the room, carrying a plate with a sandwich and carrot sticks.
Kris’s shoulders stiffened, and she spun around in her chair to turn her back to her grandmother.
“Hello. Brianna, right?”
“Briella, but just Brie’s fine. We met briefly at the memorial.”
“Oh, yes. Brie. Excuse me. The old melon isn’t what she used to be.” Her grandmother laughed.
Kris rolled her eyes when Brie laughed along.
“Kristen, I noticed you didn’t have any lunch again today.” Her grandmother walked over and held out the plate. “I made you a turkey and cheese.”
“I’m fine,” she grumbled, picking up a pen and drumming it on the wooden desk.
“Oh, okay.” Her grandmother shifted her weight around before setting the plate down on the edge of the desk. “I’ll leave it here for you. You should eat.”
“Yep.”
The air between them was heavy, and Kris could feel the old woman searching for conversation. Just leave, she prayed. Please just go away.
“Another Witcan attack on the west side of town this morning,” her grandmother stated. “Put a young man in the hospital.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” Brie added softly.
“It’s terrifying to see the world changing around us. Those dangerous things hiding in plain sight.”
“You can’t chastise an entire race for a few bad eggs,” Kris muttered under her breath.
Her grandmother turned and faced Brie, but Kris could feel her eyes pierce the back of her skull when she spoke. “There was one living in our neighborhood years ago. Right next door. Sofia used to babysit him. An evil little thing. We had to have the National Witcan Detention Agency come take care of it before he could harm her.”
“He was just a kid,” Kris whispered, squeezing the pen in her hand.
“We tried warning Sofia to stay away from those monsters, but she never listened. And look where that got her.”
Kris threw down the pen, which bounced and rolled across the desk.
“That’s . . . awful,” Brie said.
“I hope you are staying away from those things,” her grandmother warned.
Kris cleared her throat. “Yeah, whatever. Is that it?”
Her grandmother dropped her head and slowly backed away. “You should eat,” she said again before pulling the door almost completely shut behind her.
Brie looked at Kris, confusion twisting her brow. “She seems . . . nice,” she offered, but there was uncertainty in her voice.
Kris slouched forward, her dark hair hanging over her face. She could hear her grandparents whispering to each other from the living room down the hall.
“Just like Sofia,” her grandmother said. “So quick to defend those monsters—I knew we should have had child protective services intervene sooner. Sofia raised her daughter to be just as dangerously naive.”
“I don’t understand her compassion for them,” her grandfather replied. “Especially after what they did to her parents.”
Kris clenched her jaw.
“You should give them a chance. They are trying,” Brie murmured, nodding toward the bedroom door.
Kris blew raspberries. She shuffled her finger around on the touch pad of her laptop to wake the screen. “I’m only here because of guilt.”
She scanned her social media profile, and the feed was flooded with news stories.
Witcan Assaults at an All-Time High, Says NWDA
27-Year-Old Man Hospitalized After Altercation with Witcan Gang
University of Chicago: 13 Students Injured After Witcan Attack
