A fellow indie author recently posted the first chapter of one
of his novels on his blog in its entirety. Those of us Kindle readers know we
can download a sample of any book that interests us, but not everyone owns a Kindle, and it takes a minute to go out of your way to do that anyway; then, of
course, once you have the sample, it’s easy for it to get lost in the backlog
of books you intend to read or check out, if you’re like me!
So I’ve decided that I’ll go ahead and do the same for Emaline’s Gift. The chapters in this
book are not long—it’s simply the rhythm that I found worked best for this
story—so I’m going to go ahead and post the first two chapters. If you’re
curious, go ahead and check them out. There’ll be more info on Emaline and The
Magi Chronicles here in the future, as well as some tidbits about The Book of the Harvest, the short story
I have published, but this blog’s never going to be exclusively about promoting
my own work, so there’s plenty else in the works as well. But, for those who are interested. . .here’s how our story
begins:
The Magi Chronicles:
Emaline’s Gift
by Brad Francis
1
The alley was deserted, save for an old brown tabby that crept
stealthily along the concrete. The tabby, which no one had ever bothered to
name, used to have vibrant orange fur, but years of living on the street,
soiled from the exhaust fumes and picking through dumpsters, had turned it a
matted brown. It had been raining, and the tabby was careful to navigate around
the puddles. There was a fish market off this alley, and the dumpster usually
had a selection of tasty morsels.
From deeper in the city, behind it, there came a sudden commotion.
The cat darted behind some pipes. Hidden in the shadows, in the most
rudimentary way, the tabby considered its dilemma. Its stomach ached for want
of food, and the dumpster was not far. But the banging and clanging was growing
louder, and the cat was scared of the noises.
In the end, hunger won out. Even as the commotion—sounds of
struggle, of conflict, not that the cat could know—drew ever closer, the tabby
darted from behind the pipe and sprinted for the dumpster. Just as it hurried
to within paces of its goal, golden sparks lit up the still night air and the
cat began to howl in pain. Its tail was on fire.
Moments
later, the cause of the disturbance burst into the alleyway. As the cat soaked
its charred rear in a nearby puddle, mewing in discomfort, a tall boy with dark
black hair came running along the pavement. “Sorry, kitty,” he called out,
twirling around to face the darkness he had just come from and sending another
stream of golden sparks flying from his hand.
He stopped for only a moment, then turned back and took off down
the alley again. Purple sparks soared through the air where the boy’s head had
been seconds before. The stream hit brick on the right side of the alley and
mortar exploded in a small blast of brick and concrete.
The tabby cowered in the shadows. Its tail throbbed in pain, and
the dangerous strangers were not done coming. Emerging from the darkness at the
other end of the alley, the cat heard whistling and footsteps.
Three figures emerged from the shadows: two boys and one girl. The
boys were big and thick, and could have been twins. Both had brown hair, a mix
of muscles and fat and no neck. The girl was skinny and pretty, with a
smattering of freckles and long red hair, pulled into a ponytail. The girl was
the one whistling.
The girl stopped at almost the exact same spot that the dark-haired
boy had stopped maybe a minute ago. The thick boys, who flanked her on either
side and walked half a step behind, stopped as well. She finished her tune and
called out.
“Oh, Anthony!” The red-haired girl called out, but didn’t move.
Whether she expected a response or not was unclear, but none came. “Do
you have to run? Why not come out and face us like a man?”
Now, a reply came. The boy’s voice bounced off the walls in the
narrow alley and could have come from anywhere. “Three on one? Is that your
idea of a fair fight?”
The girl shrugged. “I’ll tell Simon and Brutus not to interfere.”
Her eyes darted around the dark alley, looking in vain for her prey. Then, in a
singsong, she added, “Promise, promise, porcupine. . .”
Anthony scoffed. “Your word means nothing, and you know it.”
She smiled in response. “Well, I can’t argue with that. Not that
you’d face me alone. I think you’re too scared to fight a lady. Afraid of being
beat.”
Laughter echoed from the shadows. “You’re no more a lady than
Brutus there.”
The thick boy on the girl’s left raised his fists and took a step
forward. “You want to come out here and say that? You’re pretty tough when you
know we can’t see you.”
The girl put a hand on Brutus’ shoulder and he backed down. “Don’t
worry about our scared little mouse, boys. No sense in rushing him. Maybe
we’ll just wait patiently. Bide our time. Maybe we’ll follow him back to that
little secret base of his and burn it to the ground.”
When she said this, she raised her left hand with the palm up. A
flame hovered there, just above the skin. It was a very deep purple, closer to
blue.
Anthony didn’t respond. The girl lowered her hand and the flame
went away. She waited another few seconds, then started moving again.
“Come on,” she said to the thick boys. “He’s gone.”
They followed her out of the alley. The tabby stayed put for
several minutes, every nerve on end. The alley was silent again. Finally, the
cat slinked out of the shadows—moving more gingerly now in deference to its
tender backside—and crept toward the dumpster for its reward.
After tonight, it had earned it.
2
Emaline shivered in the damp, but perhaps not entirely from the
chill in the air. She didn’t like to be out this late, and certainly not alone.
Nothing bad had ever happened to her, but this neighborhood took on a spooky,
deserted look after dark. Everyone was shut up in their houses, watching TV and
getting settled in for the night.
Which is precisely what Emaline wished she could be doing. She had
been in her room, listening to music, when her Mom called for her to come
downstairs and run an errand. It was nearly 10 pm, and Emaline had been
thinking about reading for a bit before bed—until she was summoned, that is.
Her baby brother was sick, and they needed milk. There was money on the table,
and wouldn’t Emaline walk down to the convenience store and pick up a gallon?
After all, it was summer vacation, so if she didn’t get to bed right away it
wasn’t a big deal. Just sleep in tomorrow.
The milk was in a green reusable grocery bag that Emaline had grabbed from the hook near the door, and it swung gently around her knees as she walked, perhaps a little more quickly than she would have during the daytime.
Stop being silly, she told herself. You’re thirteen years old, and
you’re acting like a child.
She shook her head as if responding to something spoken aloud and
her long brown hair swished from side to side. Despite her chiding, Emaline
quickened her step. She had actually just begun to settle her nerves when the
arm reached out and grabbed her.
The three strangers seemed to have come out of nowhere. She
couldn’t see the one who had her in a tight grip with an arm around her chest,
but there was a large, brutish boy with dark hair and a tall, pretty girl with
red hair.
“Hello there,” the girl purred. “I’m Violet. This is Simon and the
one hugging you over there is Brutus.”
Simon and Brutus both grunted something that could have been a
greeting. Maybe a half-greeting.
Violet took a step forward and took Emaline in with her eyes. “My,
my. You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Well, don’t worry, beautiful.
We’re just using you as a bit of bait, that’s all. You’re very unlikely to be
hurt—or killed.”
A shiver shot through Emaline, and she had the distinct impression
that it would be foolish to believe any word that came out of the redhead’s
mouth. Emaline kept her mouth shut and stopped struggling. Brutus’ grip was
firm and strong and she had no chance of escape.
“Silent treatment, is it?” Violet asked, then shrugged. “No
matter.” She turned and took several steps into the deserted street, raised her
voice and called out, “Are you there, Anthony? Do you see? We’ve got ourselves
a hostage.”
It wasn’t long at all before a boy a little older than Emaline
emerged from the shadows. He had dark black hair, but a kind face. He seemed
different from the others, and Emaline decided that they were likely enemies.
Anthony stopped far from the group and glared at Violet. “A
hostage? Really? Why do you always feel the need to involve civilians?”
Violet laughed, and it was a cold, humorless sound. “Lighten up,
Anthony. It’s just a bit of excitement in their otherwise dull, pointless
lives.”
“I’m sorry,” Anthony said, and Emaline realized with a bit of a
start that he was speaking to her. “This doesn’t involve you, and I’m sorry you
got dragged into it. I want you to know that I’m going to help you, and I’m
going to make sure that nothing happens to you.”
Emaline felt her cheeks flush with color, and was glad it was
dark. Despite the danger, she couldn’t help but notice how cute Anthony was.
She couldn’t quite make out his eye color from this distance, but Emaline
thought she saw a glimmer of light blue.
She was snapped back to the reality of the situation when Violet
grabbed her by the hair. Brutus did not relax his grip, and Emaline’s head was
yanked to the side.
“How sweet!” Violet exclaimed. “Anthony’s going to be your knight
in shining armor, pretty one. Maybe I should kill her in front of you, Anthony,
would you like that? Make a liar out of you? Be careful—start lying and you’ll
cut off your connection to the Almighty, and we all know what happens then.”
Emaline felt real panic surge through her, and she began to sweat.
Her hair hurt, and she was very scared—very scared and very confused. What in
the world was that about the Almighty? Did she mean God? Was this some sort of
religious debate?
Anthony took a few steps forward. “A dead hostage is no good to
anyone,” he said.
Violet jerked Emaline’s head forward, and extended her other arm.
Emaline couldn’t believe her eyes. Indigo flames seemed to ignite from Violet’s
palm, and then hovered just above her skin. Despite Brutus’ grip and the pain
from Violet grabbing her hair, Emaline began to struggle again.
“Violet.” Anthony called her name in a warning tone and stepped
forward again. Out of the corner of her eyes, Emaline thought she saw golden
light, as if Anthony had conjured his own flames.
“You’re absolutely right, Anthony,” Violet said, and she brought
the purple-blue flames toward Emaline’s face. “A dead hostage is no good to
anyone. But a little torture. . .”
What happened next happened so quickly that Emaline surely would
have doubted it all if not for the events to follow. Violet was so focused on
bringing her flames nearer and nearer to Emaline that she didn’t see Anthony
prepare to attack. Simon shouted something, and Violet jerked up, releasing her
hold on Emaline’s hair, but in that moment, something very strange happened.
Brutus released his hold completely and fell to his knees,
grasping at his wounded arm. Emaline saw two red handprints embedded on his arm
before he covered them up. Her jaw dropped. She didn’t move. Brutus was sobbing
and Violet and Simon were focused on Anthony, but Anthony was focused on
Emaline. She became aware of his gaze and met his eyes.
“Run,” he said. He didn’t even shout it; there was a slight
movement that indicated the direction opposite of the one she was facing, and
Emaline did not stop to think. As she turned, she saw that Anthony was running
her way, and he shot a golden stream of light in both directions, at Violet and
Simon.
Emaline ran, blindly. She ran as fast as she could, but Anthony
still overtook her after a matter of moments. “Follow me,” he murmured before
passing her, and she was glad that someone was telling her what to do. Coherent
thought did not seem possible at the moment.
They twisted and turned through dark alleys and shadowy streets.
It seemed to Emaline that the pounding of their feet on blacktop was so
deafening that it would pose no challenge for Violet and the others to pick up
the trail. She had no idea if they were following close behind and didn’t dare
risk a look back.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity and as Emaline was just
wondering whether her burning lungs would be able to keep up with the pace much
longer, Anthony grabbed her hand and pulled her into an abandoned storefront.
Putting a finger to his lips to instruct her to be silent, Anthony led her
deeper into the store, and they ducked down behind a counter.
She trembled with fear and excitement. Anthony leaned in and
whispered quietly into her ear, “I know you have questions, but we can’t speak
now. The obeah are not far behind.” She had no idea what the obeah were,
but this was not the time to argue, so Emaline nodded her head. “I’m going to
get us out of here,” Anthony continued.
He leaned back again and turned away from her. With his left hand,
Anthony began tracing a golden circle in the air. The circle shone brightly in
the dark store.
“This takes a couple of minutes,” Anthony whispered to her. “And
the bright gold circle isn’t exactly subtle. We’ll have to hope that Violet
isn’t searching this area right now, or she’ll see the light from the street.”
Emaline turned and slowly peered over the counter, toward the
front of the store. Everything was silent and still, but the store was filled
with a yellow glow. Given how dark the rest of the street was, they would be
easy to spot.
She turned back. Anthony had stopped drawing in the air now, but
the large golden circle was still there. A small pulse of golden light traveled
around the circle clockwise. As Emaline watched, the pulse sped up until it was
speeding around the circle and leaving its own trail in the light.
“Just a few more seconds now,” Anthony muttered, but a commotion
from the front of the store captured their attention. Brutus had stumbled into
some of the rubbish and it clattered across the floor. He froze when he saw
them, and ducked out of the way as Anthony shot a stream of gold sparks in his
direction.
“Violet!” Brutus called. “They’re in here!”
Anthony turned back toward the circle of light, but Emaline kept
watching as Violet and Simon ran up to join Brutus at the front of the store.
Violet cursed loudly. “They’ve got a portal.”
Panic started to set in again for Emaline, and a hand on her
shoulder almost made her scream. It was Anthony.
“Don’t worry about them,” he said. “Portal’s almost ready.”
“Portal?” Emaline echoed.
She glanced back anyway and saw Violet and the boys making their way across the
small store.
Anthony pulled her back down behind the counter just as Violet
sent a stream of indigo sparks at her head. “Portal’s almost ready,” he said,
“but that’s no reason to give them an easy target.”
Emaline’s cheeks flushed pink, and she muttered an apology, but
Anthony didn’t hear her. He was focused on the circle of light, which was no
longer just an outline. It had filled in with waves of glimmering gold. It was
strikingly beautiful, but Violet would be reaching the counter any moment.
Anthony grabbed her hand. “It’s time,” he said. Without any
further warning, he darted through the portal and pulled Emaline behind him.
The last thing she remembered before blacking out was a sea of
gold.
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