Escape from Magic Read online

  Escape From Magic

  Emily Bybee

  Contents

  Praise for Emily Bybee

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  A note from Emily

  A word about the author

  Other Works by This Author

  Praise for Emily Bybee

  “Bybee writes strong characters with flaws and does a great job developing their personalities and traits that make them unique. The conflicts the characters face make them more interesting and relatable which moves the story along smoothly.”

  ~The Eclectic Review

  “I didn’t look up from the moment I started and to be honest, I didn’t want to leave. Lush with rich detail, I felt like I was there for the epic adventure. This book hit everything that I love and more. Topped off with well-rounded characters and a unique original plot, and you got yourself a top shelf read.”

  ~Don’t Judge Read Review

  Escape from Magic

  by Emily Bybee

  Unstable Magic, Prequel

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Escape from Magic

  COPYRIGHT © 2020 by Emily Bybee

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by Kristian Norris

  Editor ~ Amanda Barnett

  Unstable Magic, Prequel

  Published in the United States of America

  For Sami.

  I couldn’t have asked for a better Roomie, a more amazing friend, and really the only sister I’ve ever had or needed. We’ve been together through hard times and great times and I know that there will be even more amazing times in the future. Thank you for believing in me, Roomie.

  Chapter 1

  A honk from the driveway sent me leaping from my chair like a jack-in-the-box on steroids. Today was the day—auditions for Grease. I dashed from my room to the head of the stairs and paused in front of the mirror to straighten my blouse and poodle skirt one last time.

  Senior year. My last chance to get the lead in the musical. My last chance at my dream. After I graduated it was all betrothal and marriage and trying to have babies. Blah, blah, blah. Being a witch should make life easier, not harder. I shook my head to push the depressing thoughts from my mind.

  With a sigh, I adjusted my headband then paused—to nail the audition, I needed to feel the part. My light brown hair, even with the headband and ponytail didn’t feel like Sandy. I bit my lip and gathered energy on my hand then wrapped my fingers over the end of the ponytail. The hair curled into a perfect swirl.

  That looked a bit better, but not good enough. Might as well go all in. I ran my hand over my head from roots to tip. The hair changed to a golden blonde as my fingers moved over the strands. Giggles erupted from my mouth when the sun glittered off my new look much like white Christmas lights. Nerves tickled my stomach. It was a big change from the light brown, but the effect was amazing.

  My muscles tightened with anticipation. With one last glance in the mirror, I blew myself a kiss and ran down the stairs. No way anyone could make a better Sandy than me.

  “Oh, my goodness, Clara,” my mom gasped from the breakfast table. “You look just like your grandmother, especially with this new hair color.”

  I spun to fan out the skirt which actually belonged to my nana.

  Outside in the circular driveway, the car honked again. Two short bursts.

  “That’s Abby.” I dropped a kiss on Mom’s cheek and grabbed my backpack to rush out to my sister’s waiting car.

  “Tell her to bring my grandbaby back quick. I have some things I want to work with her on,” Mom called after me. Mom and Maddie, my three-year-old niece, had a special relationship, even given the sweet child’s problem with magic. The problem also made it impossible for her to be in daycare, which was why my mom took her during the day.

  “I will.” I carried my backpack, not slinging it over my shoulder as usual. Wrinkles wouldn’t do for my audition. I sucked my lower lip into my mouth. Now I just needed to get through the school day without a hair out of place. For the first time, I doubted my plan to stay in character during school to prepare.

  “Oh, my,” Abby fake gasped and put a hand over chest. “Is that my best gal Sandy?”

  “No, Mama,” Maddie yelled from her car seat in the back. “That’s Auntie Clara. ‘cept her hair is funny.”

  “Well, sweetie, today she’s Sandy,” Abby explained. “Just for pretend.”

  Maddie’s little face scrunched up, and her lips puckered out. “No, it’s Auntie Clara. No Sandy.” She crossed her tiny arms, her stare daring us to disagree.

  I stifled a laugh. The girl was about as stubborn as a mule.

  Maddie reached out to the stack of toys on the seat next to her. “I want my book.”

  “Just a second, honey,” Abby said, concentrating on driving.

  Sparks flashed across the backseat, centering on Maddie’s favorite book. Abby twisted and slammed her magic over the sparks before they caused any damage. “Honey, no magic. Especially not in the car.”

  “But I want my book.” Maddie’s face melted to a quivering frown.

  “Here sugar-pie,” I said and handed her the early reader book. “Ask and I’ll grab it for you.” I let an evil smirk fall over my face. “And I’ll get your piggies!”

  She squealed and pulled her feet up as I tickled the exposed toes.

  Abby’s creased brow caught my eye as I turned back around. “Still no progress?” I whispered as Maddie read her book to herself. She was a smart one. Too bad witches didn’t care about smarts.

  Abby shook her head and focused on pulling out of the gates and onto University Blvd. Our Cherry Hills neighborhood was one of the most beautiful in Denver. “But we’re here to get you ready for your audition. Not talk about if she’s a—” She stopped herself before she said the word.

  Defect was a dirty word in the witch world. And a dangerous one. I swallowed and glanced back at Maddie, happily reading her book. My stomach cramped at the thought of what lay ahead for her. What the council would do to her if they found out she couldn’t do magic right. I faced the street, unable to let the possibility of losing her sink in.

  Abby took my hand. “Now, let’s work on your lines one more time. I really think you should cry when you call out after Danny. I mean, Grease is full of teenage emotion.”

  I let her pull me into our tradition. Every year on the day of auditions she’d pick me up and we’d get breakfast while we went over my lines. And every year I’d ended up in the chorus, not with a lead. But this year I had a good feeling.

  As she drove, I threw myself into the part, singing in full voice even in the confined space.

  “Oh Danny,” I finished my lines.

  “Wow,” Abby cheered as we pulled into a parking place and she handed me my breakfast sandwich. “Wasn’t Clara amazing, Maddie?”

  “Auntie Clara is sad, Mama,” Maddie piped up, her book forgotten in her lap. “Make her happy.”

  “No,
we don’t use magic unless the person wants us to.” Abby sent me a sideways glance.

  “What?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.

  “We could make sure you get the part,” she began.

  “No,” I cut in. “Absolutely not.”

  “Come on, one little spell and they’ll be sure to pick you.”

  I held up a hand. “The director has to choose the best person for the roll. I would never interfere with the sanctity of the theater by cheating my way into a part.”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “It’s not a church, Clara.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “If he decides to cast me as a tree, then I’ll be the best tree I can to support my castmates.” Wadding up the rest of my breakfast, I tossed it in the bag. “Think what would have happened if Shakespeare was bespelled to cast someone else as Juliet? He may never have gotten the accolades he deserved.”

  “He probably gained popularity because of a spell,” Abby countered. “You have no way of knowing. Anyway, it’s time to get you to school then drop this trouble-maker off with mom.”

  Seven years older than me, Abby had already graduated college and was now pursuing her doctorate in History at DU, same as her husband. At least she’d gotten lucky in that department. Justin was as sweet a guy as you could ask for. Not a guarantee with arranged marriages.

  We stopped in front of my private school, and I hopped out of the car with a wave and kiss to Maddie.

  “Remember what we tell her?” Abby asked Maddie.

  “I don’t want to tell her to break a leg, Mama. It would hurt.” Maddie frowned, then turned to me and yelled at the top of her lungs. “Don’t break your legs, Auntie Clara.”

  “Okay, munchkin,” I laughed. “I’ll be careful.”

  The darkness of the side stage enveloped me. Dropping my backpack and books on the floor, I paced in a four-foot area, shaking out my hands to keep them from going numb. I’d managed to keep myself fairly put together, my ponytail had held, and I’d ducked into the bathroom to touch up my make-up. I’m ready.

  “Clara Stark,” called the director from the auditorium seats.

  I sucked in a breath, let a mask fall over my features, and walked on stage. Blinding lights made it impossible to see into the seats. Within seconds the heat of the lights warmed my skin. But I was no amateur. I knew the drill.

  “Miss. Stark, please begin.”

  With a nod to the accompanist, I dove into singing with abandon. Opening with a song was risky, but this was my last chance, so what the hell. I lost myself in the role, forgetting I was a witch with only a few months of freedom before they forced me to marry a stranger. Forgetting the cruel reality of my world that would hurt a child like Maddie. I forgot everything.

  No, I was Sandy, a regular girl heartbroken over Danny. Though I’d never dated, I’d been heartbroken for years. Heartbroken over the love I’d never experience. All those emotions poured out of me like water out of a sieve.

  “Danny.” My last line faded away into the expanse of the darkness. I dropped my hand, not breaking character for several moments.

  “Very good, Miss. Stark.”

  Blinking as if coming out of a trance, I nodded and strode back to the side of the stage, carrying myself with confidence until I was out of sight. Then the trembles in my chest took over. I knew what came next. Nodding at the exclamations of how well I’d done, I hurried to the bathroom and locked the door behind me.

  Lunch and some of the breakfast I’d gobbled down, returned to the trashcan for an encore performance. Hence the reason behind the greasy sandwich’s tradition—it came up way easier than most other breakfasts. I’d learned from experience.

  I patted sweat from my brow and rinsed my mouth, then opened the door to face my competition. Katie Pierce took the lead for the last two years. Abby had offered several times to spell her with bronchitis or something, but I’d refused each time. Getting the lead only mattered if I deserved it. But maybe a secret part of me was hoping she’d trip during her audition. A really small part.

  Katie’s voice carried from the stage, pure and strong as always. I hung on to the curtain and watched. She’d played an amazing Tracy Turnblad in Hairspray freshman year. But I’d been certain I earned the lead last year with my audition for Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. Much to my disappointment, Katie got that role as well.

  Now, as I listened an unfamiliar feeling swept the nausea away. Katie, though giving a solid performance, wasn’t immersed in the role. I didn’t believe her feeling, her heartbreak.

  Glancing around, I peeked out into the audience chairs. Mr. Goldblum, the director, didn’t give anything away but sat and took notes. I bit my lip. I had a chance. This was my role.

  Katie finished and strode off the stage as if she owned it and everything else.

  “Good job, Katie,” I said as she went by.

  She nodded. “Thanks. You too, Clara.”

  Some of the tension melted from my muscles. The first part was over.

  “We have one last audition,” Mr. Goldblum called. “Sam McEwen?”

  My scrunched brow mirrored Katie’s.

  She leaned in. “I thought everyone already auditioned.”

  I nodded and shrugged.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” a male voice said from behind us.

  I turned and froze. Every cell in my brain sputtered to a stop. I stood like an idiot and stared as the epitome of a male heartthrob approached.

  Chapter 2

  “Wish me luck?” Sam took a breath as he slid past us.

  His clean scent, almost like a fresh breeze after a rainstorm, washed over me. Blinking, I snapped my mouth shut. “Break a leg,” I called a few beats too late.

  He glanced back and sent me a quick wink. With his ash-blond hair and blue eyes, he didn’t look the part of Danny. But, same as me, he’d dressed for the audition. He wore a tight white T-shirt that showed off his chest. Man, could he pull the look off—especially with his sleeves rolled up over his toned biceps.

  None of the guys in our theater group could compete with the musculature Sam possessed. He looked more like an athlete or model…or Greek God. I snapped my mouth shut before drool trickled down my lip.

  “Who the hell is he?” Katie breathed. “I’d remember seeing him around.”

  She’d dated her last two male costars. The gears in her head reflected in the gleam of her eye. In her mind, he was already hers.

  Usually I’d walk away. I couldn’t date anyway. My husband had been chosen for me when I was two.

  But this time I didn’t. I stood in place as if my feet had grown roots. Ignoring Katie, I managed to send him a small smile before Sam turned to face the audience.

  He started into his audition, pulling me in with his perfect Danny strut, his flawless delivery of the lines, and his stage presence. Then he opened his mouth to sing.

  I’d heard of people going weak in the knees before, read it, seen it in movies, even acted it on stage. But this time I felt it—like lean-against-the-wall-or-I’d-fall-over felt it.

  “Oh, he is so my leading man,” Katie said and licked her lips—a female lion eyeing her feast.

  For the first time in my life, I had to resist the urge to use my magic to get a part. It would be so easy to nudge Mr. Goldblum’s thoughts in the right direction. Putting Sam with Katie would be a travesty, an affront to the very idea of theater, a sin really. Energy gathered on my fingers, begging to jump off to do my bidding.

  At the last second, I pulled back, reabsorbing the energy into my tissues. I smoothed my blouse and watched Sam finish his audition. I should say something to him.

  As he came off stage, my mouth dried up like the Sahara. Never mind. Better not to talk. I stood stiff as a wooden statue, looking like a moron.

  “Nice job,” Katie said as he rushed by us and made straight for the bathroom.

  We stood in silence for a minute as the auditions wrapped up and the theater kids meandered out the door, Sam’s audition a popular topic of
conversation. Someone mentioned he’d just transferred in from Connecticut.

  “Clara, you did amazing,” one girl called and waved. “Love the hair.”

  I waved back. “Thanks.”

  Katie stiffened, then turned to me and leaned in. “She’s right, you really improved over last year. If you want, I can put in a good word with Mr. Goldblum, so you get to be one of the Pink Ladies. You’d be great as one of my backup singers.”

  Tongue in cheek, I nodded slowly. “Wow, Katie, that’s really sweet of you but no worries. I’m happy with whatever role he casts me in.”

  She wrinkled her nose, thrust it in the air, and turned and walked out the door. I rolled my eyes and bent to gather my backpack and books from the floor.

  “Let me help you with those.” Strong hands reached in front of my vision to pick up several books.

  I blinked and looked up to meet Sam’s gaze—his face mere inches from my own. He ducked his head and broke the contact. Swallowing, I struggled to remember English, Spanish, any language, any word. Nothing. Heat crept up my neck and burned my cheeks. We stood for a moment. His head cocked to the side as if waiting for me to speak.

  My gaze settled on his chest. The plain white T-shirt outlined his pecs perfectly. That wasn’t helping.

  All I could do was nod my thanks and rush away before he decided I was crazy. God, I’m such an idiot. As soon as I rounded the corner, out of sight, I leaned against the wall. My pulse pounded in my ears and drowned out the sound of the few people chatting in the hallway. “Thank you, gracias, thanks, merci, danke,” I muttered to myself and smacked my hand against my forehead. “How hard is that?”