Dragons in Preschool: Enchantment Avenue

By Chrissy Wissler

When the magical world and the Normal one collide, bad things happen. World-ending kinda bad. Mina, a Magical Boundaries Investigator, keeps those bad things from happening.

She now faces her biggest challenge yet: finding the right preschool for her four-year-old daughter.

Just... not this one.

Set in the dazzling world of Enchantment Avenue, "Dragons in Preschool," weaves together motherhood and magic, and the sizzling first sparks of attraction... and, a possible future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blue Cedar Publishing
• Release date: Sep 19, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386743323

Chrissy Wissler

Chrissy’s short fiction has appeared in the anthologies: Fiction River: Risk-Takers, Fiction River Presents: Legacies, Fiction River Presents: Readers' Choice, Deep Magic, and When Dreams Come True (writing as Christen Anne Kelley). She writes fantasy and science fiction, as well as a softball, contemporary series for both romance and young adult (Little League Series and Home Run). Before turning to fiction, Chrissy also wrote many nonfiction articles for publications such as Montana Outdoors, Women in the Outdoors, and Jakes Magazine. In 2009, Inside Kung Fu magazine awarded her with their ‘Writer of the Year’ award. Follow her blog on being a parent-writer at Parents and Prose.

Book preview

1

Mina’s back pressed against the white-plastic gate that guarded the exit and kept the tiny, toddling children inside (really, from escaping). Her buttoned-up black suit pulled tight across her chest. Instincts kicked in, warning her…to run .

A single drop of sweat slipped down from her forehead. Already, the morning’s heat warned just how hot today would be.

Especially for running.

Even if that meant running in her classy, heeled boots.

And if that weren’t bad enough, a sun-sized, yellow smiley face glared at her from behind the front desk. Not to mention the desk itself was anything but inviting. Not with its perfectly arranged, perfectly placed vase of fake red and purple blooms and a box of (mostly-gone) Kleenex. There was even a sign in bright bubble letters saying, Welcome to: Days Are Sunny Preschool!!

Again with the smiley face.

In fact, the smiley faces covered every inch of white space on the banner and, where they didn’t, the glitter made up for it. And the glitter was everywhere. Great globs of it that looked like a child her daughter’s age had gotten the container open and dumped the whole thing on a mountain of glue.

And the whole thing was meant to entice her, to drawn her in.

The brightly lit fish tank with its glowing purple- and yellow-tailed swimmers who were making a run for it in and around the double-masted, sunken pirate ship. Never mind the giant sign above the tank, which declared, quite boldly (and with necessary smiley faces): DO NOT TOUCH.

In fact, most parents would nod their head in approval, understanding, and agreement. Would automatically relax at what they saw here—the gate, the sign, the plastic coverings over electrical sockets—and would be convinced and reassured that these fears and silly mommy-and daddy-worries were unnecessary, that leaving their small, precious daughter or son in their loving and absolute care was the right choice. That he or she would be welcome, and safe.

Not Mina, though.

Her skin tingled, the tiny hairs on her arm prickling as they stood straight up.

Something…off.

Leila, her beautiful little daughter, just stood there; waiting, yes, but clutching Mina’s hand as if she were going to drown if she set a single toe here. It didn’t matter that she was wrapped in her favorite Disney sweater—all pink and complete with each princess ever created—her usual shield of comfort.

Leila barely reached Mina’s stomach, short as she was for her four years, but her springy curls and dark hair made up for it. An unruly gift from her father, but one that was better than the alternative.

Still, neither Mina nor Leila moved from their spots by the baby gate.

Not even when they heard a sudden burst of giggles and laughter and high-pitched squeals from the outside. As if seeped through the walls and rebounded off the tiny, escape-proof entrance. Mina strained to see—to confirm—that those sounds came from actual living children, not recordings, not even some spelled illusion-charm concealing a bunch of crusty, chain-smoking ladies in their late sixties who styled themselves as caregivers but whose actual expressions were more along the lines of angry and alone.

Which was silly thinking, as her husband…ex-husband…would have declared, and quite angrily.

Silly.

Foolish.

It was how she’d gotten into this mess in the first place. Sent away from family and friends. Sent here, of all places. Enchantment Avenue. Here, where they were a mere stone’s throw from the busy, bustling Los Angeles. Surrounded by concrete and metal and the ever-constant, flow of cars. It was the Normals’ world, and it was powerful. And yet, Enchantment Avenue was right here, clinging to this southern strip of coast. Here, because of the pulsing power of the Pacific Ocean, the thundering and quaking power living beneath their feet.

A place of true and deep magic.

It just also happened to be right smack in the heart of the Normals’ world. And it was the one place where people like her, liaisons between the magical and the Normal, the Magical Boundaries Investigation, were seen with a barely-above-snarling tolerance.

The MBI wasn’t wanted.

But…it was needed—regardless of what the Detectors and those governing the Board of Enchantment Avenue thought.

At least, that’s what she told herself when she tried to calm and quiet her mind enough to actually fall asleep at night. Yes, she’d made a mistake. Yes, she’d jumped the gun (as per the Normals’ speech) on her last investigation…but that did not mean she’d been wrong or that her intent had been wrong.

Except, she had been wrong. And if there was one place fitting for punishment of an MBI screw-up, it was here.

And, truth be told, she was lucky to still be here at all. Still working with the MBI and not being given her outright notice.

They’d wanted to. Desperately.

But she’d fought them off. So they sent her here.

Here, where there were no illusions or charms or talking dragons. Just like there were none in this preschool that was perfectly normal for Normals, and as soon as she got it through her thick skull, she could report to work and get transferred to a place that actually wanted her help. Some place else, any place, where she could make a difference.

Except right now, her traitorous, unruly Time magic prickled at the something off.

It certainly didn’t help her unease that she couldn’t see much through the black-tinted, three-inch-thick (and probably bulletproof) windows blocking her view of the playground outside. Actually, they looked almost like the same windows as the Magical Borders Investigation vehicle.

Minus the curse-and-tamper-proof charms, of course.

Still, she thought she spotted one child running barefoot, a glimpse of red hair, and a whole herd of them following after as they raced up what looked like a plastic tower before pounding across a drawbridge. They slid, one, then two, then in great clumps, down a bright, hunter-orange slide before streaking across the ground in a very important, elaborate game of chase….

But the ground looked like it was rubber-foam. Not sand. Not even dirt or grass created by the great and powerful Oberon himself.

Rubber.

The white gate pressed harder into Mina’s back. She felt herself tensing, wanting to run.

The tingling continued. It crept up her arms, buzzed at her shoulders like persistent fireflies with a light-up problem. She shifted her vision, and the world went slightly out of focus, but just a bit. Just enough to cast a shimmering overlay, making each color and shape brighter and bolder…but no…no gold.

No golden strands connected magic to Time, and back again.

At least, none that she could see.

And her Sight, well, it wasn’t exactly bulletproof these days. Not anymore.

And seriously, everything looked fine. Even the children were laughing. Enjoying themselves. That, at least, was clear. That counted for something…right?

But try as she might, she couldn’t take another step onto the preschool’s cold tile floor that shone with a sparkle and smelled as if someone had doused the whole thing in lizard’s fire and gave it a Mr. Cleaner-Upper spit shine to cover the stench up—and the ash—afterwards.

Mina’s severe suit pulled tight again about her chest as her breathing came faster, harder, fuller.

Her unruly, opinionated Time magic or not, this couldn’t be the right place. She couldn’t leave Leila.

Not here.

Her wand, tucked in the secret, inside pocket of her jacket, dug hard into her side.

Pinching. Poking.

As if it, too, had an opinion—and it agreed with her.

Leila certainly had one.

Leila’s whole body, her whole being, usually had the same springy steps, like spring just waking up from a long nap and barely able to contain itself. Certainly not to sit still long enough for a