Peculiar Magic

By Leslie Claire Walker

Death. Resurrection. Hope.

Beth died at seventeen, helping to save the world. Her boss, Malek—the serpent from the Garden of Eden in human form—brought her back.

She hasn’t been the same since. She can’t recall the details of her death. The missing memory haunts her.

When the supernatural creature who killed her hunts her down once again, Beth must face the mystery of her death head-on. If she can’t solve the puzzle of her hidden memory, she may lose something infinitely more valuable than her life.

If you enjoy mystical YA urban fantasy with an apocalyptic twist, you’ll love Peculiar Magic.

Peculiar Magic is a stand-alone story set in THE FAERY CHRONICLES series. For more FAERY CHRONICLES magic, visit leslieclairewalker.com.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Secret Fire Press
• Release date: Apr 29, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311627605

Leslie Claire Walker

I live in the lush (humid and green) and darkly magical (crazy insane) bayou country of southeast Texas with various companions, including a Doggie Ranger and two cats, one older and distinguished and the other young with hellion ambitions. I am a legal secretary by day and a fiction writer at all other times. In my rare spare minutes, I play the lever harp (mostly Irish tunes) and enjoy gluten-free baking adventures. I write in the fantasy, science fiction, mystery, and young adult genres. I love to sit in my writing chair in the early mornings with the world's biggest mug of coffee and have no idea where the story will take me next. My fiction has appeared in Fantasy Magazine, Chiaroscuro, Electric Velocipede, GUD Magazine, and DAW Books anthologies.

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Also by Leslie Claire Walker

THE FAERY CHRONICLES

Novels

Hunt

Demon

Faery

Short Story Collections

Faery Tales, Volume 1

Faery Tales, Volume 2

THE SOUL FORGE SERIES

Novels

Night Awakens

Night Rises

Night Falls

(Coming Later in 2016)

PECULIAR MAGIC

THE LATE SEPTEMBER SUN sank behind the rows of growing pines in front of me, streaking the sky with the orange and gold fire of its daily death throes. A sundown breeze kicked up, whipping the grass around my black combat boots and the torrent of braids in my brown hair, cooling my sunburn. The air tasted of brine carried from the Gulf of Mexico, perfumed by Houston rush hour traffic. I could hear the steady roll of tires on concrete and the low hum of engines from the nearby freeway, always there, like my heartbeat.

The city had its own peculiar magic. Real magic. Not a metaphor.

The park bench I perched on dug into the backs of my thighs through my black cargo shorts. My new electric blue glasses slid down my nose. I pushed them back into place with my index finger. I shifted my weight forward, resting my elbows on my knees, catching sight of a couple of stubborn hairs I’d missed while shaving this morning. My sweat-dampened T-shirt, cunningly patterned to look like the Black Widow’s uniform, clung to my skin.

The shadows of the pines grew long, reaching for me, wanting to draw me in. Wanting to make me one of their own.

I felt it deep, that desire. Part of me answered it. I couldn’t be sure which part, but somewhere in the recesses of my mind—no, let’s be honest, my soul—I wanted out of the heavy blanket of misery that had cloaked me since we’d saved the world again.

I’d never wanted to be a hero at seventeen. My life plans had included continuing to have too much money and time on my hands, too much curiosity, and too much big, snarky mouth. I’d figured on going to college, getting a first class education, and living a charmed, geek girl life. Instead, I’d ended up apprenticed for the rest of eternity to the Serpent from the Garden of Eden in human form, Malek.

My name was Beth, and I belonged to Malek, not to myself. I’d come to terms with that, but I hadn’t managed to get right with what had happened to me in the last fight, in the royal hall in the Realm of Faery.

I’d died, and not in a nightmare-in-hell-you-can-wake-up-from way. Those, I understood. This was no pulse, no oxygen, white-light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel dead. For. Twelve. Minutes.

If I’d gone to Heaven or someplace like that, I didn’t remember it. I remembered exactly nothing about being dead. I feared what I couldn’t remember. Just thinking about it made my heart pound.

Malek had brought me back to life. That, I remembered. It had been agony.

A familiar voice with a subtle drawl interrupted my train of thought. Heya, Beth.

I glanced up to see Scott ambling toward me along the deserted red clay path in the deserted clearing in Memorial Park where I’d chosen to quietly freak out all by myself. He stood right at six feet tall, his