Wandmaking 101: Sunshine Mystery Magic Club Adventure, #1

By Tom Crepeau and David Hochhalter

Would school in 1963 be the same with magic???

 

Sarah, Jonnie and Katie, known as the Sunshine Mystery Magic Club in Brookhaven Middle School, certainly can't afford a magic wand. That doesn't mean they can't make one. Right?

 

But when they run into powers beyond their control and vanish, the special forces get called in to investigate who, or what, is behind this sudden magic in their neighborhood.

 

Now the girls must try to figure out if they can trust the wacky lady from Avalon. Can three young ladies take on monsters and forces way beyond their understanding? Will their friendship stand the test of magic? Because it's not all sunshine, unicorns and spells on Avalon or Earth.

 

The Sunshine Mystery Magic Club series is:

Three parts coming of age

Two parts parents running to keep up

One part military backdrop

Two pinches of Lovecraft

One shake of a dragon

Mix well with an Arthurian legend

A recipe for Adventure

No one told them the worlds were the stakes

• Language: English
• Publisher: Goblin Books
• Release date: Oct 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393159865

Book preview

Copyright, 2019, David L. Hochhalter and Tom M. Crepeau.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means—graphic, electronic or mechanical—without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

This is a work of fiction, not a work of history. All characters portrayed in this book are products of the authors’ imagination. Even when a character is modeled and named for a person who really existed, what emerges on the page is a portrayal of a fictional character who did what they did on these pages to create a good story. It is not presented either to praise nor to diminish the actual people. Instead, our characters are used by the authors to present a good story, nothing more, and (hopefully) nothing less.

Cover Art by Tiago Da Silva

Content Edit by September C. Fawkes, septembercfawkes.com

Formatting by Anessa Books

Published by Goblin Books

Burke, Virginia, USA

Table of Contents

Wandmaking 101

Copyright

Prologue

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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Wandmaking 201

Prologue

Acknowledgements

A few notes

Magic, as it is so commonly described, is difficult to measure using standard scientific principles. The origin appears to be a field (or fields) of energy in nature which certain individuals can tap into to a lesser or greater extent. However, if one assumes that these same individuals can apply force to an object using this magic field, those same objects must obey the Motion of Bodies in the natural world. Therefore, working backward, a set of basic principles can be deduced which describes the mathematical field of magic. While the principal of Universal Gravitation states that every particle of matter is attracted by, or gravitates to, every other particle of matter, this is not necessarily true for the field of magic.

—From the Introduction of Principia Magica, 1729,

copied from a partially destroyed original, recovered in 1954

The British Museum; Sir Isaac Newton’s 4th publication

A close up of a fish Description automatically generated

-A student at Spiritavit School-

Along the Coast of Delaware

He’d made it to the third fence.

The Spiritavit School had a dozen guard towers, three fence lines (the middle one electrified), and teachers patrolling round the clock. It had taken six days of planning and over an hour’s work to get where he now lay.

Once he got to the real road, he would make his way up to his Uncle Jimmy and his girlfriend Paula, upstate. He’d had no trial. They just told him how lucky he was to get this opportunity, then shoved him in a car with that silent bitch who smiled at him like he was tomorrow’s lunch. Yes, he was going to make a stink.

He sensed someone. He stopped. He was already down flat. The person was close—too close. He moved away from the person, trying to stay deep in shadow. He relaxed; it wasn’t one of the teachers with those ‘predator’ eyes, like the lady who brought him here. It was just a girl, about his own age, looking around. Maybe she had followed him through the fences, and was also trying to escape. He hesitated.

He tried to figure out what she was doing. She would crouch down, sniff the ground, then stand up again like she was trying to be a bloodhound. Creepy didn’t begin to describe it, but maybe this was her way of figuring things out. Every kid sent here had some magic; maybe this was hers. He had seen crazy things in New York; this was just one more to add to the list.

Sighing to himself, he made a decision. He got up on his hands and knees, then carefully circled around, slipped behind and gently grabbed her, one hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream. Maybe it was the mud and dirt on her, but something felt really wrong. She was cold—really cold, and she wasn’t really trying to resist. Turning her around so she could see him, he made a universal shushing sound to tell her to stay quiet. He swallowed hard when he saw her eyes. Moving his arm up to her neck, he swallowed again. He couldn’t find her pulse. Her eyes were weird: the pupils were way too large. Was she dead? At least it hadn’t been one of the teachers with ‘predator’ eyes. What was going on here? He never heard of any drugs that could do this. Was it magic that had done this to her? It felt evil.

Fear made his heart beat faster. This had gone from annoying, to weird, to crazy, then to terrifying in seconds. He turned to make a break for the hole. When he lifted his hand off her mouth, she started to scream like he had been killing her. The sound was unearthly, like a death wail.

He squirmed through the hole he’d already made, sprang up and started to run. The girl stayed where she was, still screaming.

Damn! Half a mile past the fence line it turned into a swamp! He wanted to relax, but he hadn’t covered enough distance yet. He changed direction and kept up his pace, hoping to edge around it and find a road.

Another minute, and he paused to listen. Footsteps: someone was tracking him. Oh, no. It was one of those weird teachers, from the prison pretending to be a school where he’d been held. They could call it the Spiritavit School of Magic all they wanted, but they simply went through the motions of teaching the same normal subjects taught in any regular school. Although the students who came here all could do magic (it was why they were sent here, since ordinary reform schools couldn’t deal with them), they didn’t have any classes in magic.

With his magical Sight, he could almost see a dark green glowing outline of a person, behind him. These bastards were strange.

He watched a small glowing ball of red-green energy form, outlining the teacher, then streak toward him, barely missing. Just the feel of it passing was like ice in the veins. Shit! He had never heard of magic like this.

He changed direction again, sprinting as fast as he could, while trying desperately to stay silent. Finding an old road, he began following it. He glanced over his shoulder. He felt more than saw another ball of energy forming. Desperation won out. He stopped, raising his hands.

I surrend- he managed, starting to turn before the ball of energy slammed into his back. His legs quit working. He fell, face first. He couldn’t move his body. He could still feel: it was pain and coldness, more than he ever believed possible. As his eyes began to lose focus, he felt something being shoveled over him. Dirt?

The last thing he saw was his Yankees ball cap, lying in front of him, as it and he were being covered. Then everything went black.

Chapter 1

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Miss Cassandra (Katy) Altum,

Ms. Jonnie Puliver, and Ms. Sarah Cognitor

of the Sunshine Mystery Magic Club

are pleased to invite you to

The Birthday Party of Ms. Margaret Decker, Age 9

Friday, August 16, 1963 at 4:30 P.M.

in the Assembly Room of Brookhaven

Middle School, Middletown, Virginia

Mystery and Genuine Magic

to be provided by the Sunshine Mystery Magic Club

It will be a party the friends of Ms. Decker

are unlikely to ever forget

—framed blank invitation in the library of the home

of Lord Nathan and Lady Amelia Altum

-Ms. Sarah Cognitor-

Brookhaven Middle School

It was a Friday in October. After our club meeting Jonnie, Katy and I waited outside the Principal’s office.

The three of us started the Sunshine Mystery Magic Club last year, now fourteen months ago. Our math teacher, Mr. Hort, sponsored us. Before he became a teacher, I think he’d been a scientist. Now, he really seemed to enjoy teaching. He made sure anything magical we did stayed in the club, and that we were both careful and safe.

The door to the Principal’s office opened and Mr. Hort beckoned us in. Principal Calvit welcomed us, shook each of our hands, and invited us to sit in the chairs around his large oak desk. As usual, that desk was empty except for a small frame holding pictures of his wife, Julia, and their two children, way off to the left on the desktop.

What Principal Calvit said, or rather, didn’t say, was a surprise.

Good afternoon. So what can I do for the ladies of the Sunshine Mystery Magic Club today? he asked, smiling. If it’s about money, I have to repeat that all money for official clubs must be earned by the students or donated to the school.

Mr. Hort hadn’t told him?

Our Math teacher shook his head, smiling, a twinkle in his eye.

With a flourish, he placed a silk bundle on the desk, unrolling it to display our wand: a simple, straight piece of polished oak, about a foot long. When I’d seen it last, after our test in the school shop, it had been sprinkled with sawdust and covered with fingerprints.

Now, our wand gleamed.

It works, said our math teacher, nodding to the wand with that same twinkle in his eye. Our principal, Mr. Calvit, stared in wonder at the polished stick on his desk. I could see he was stunned.

A working wand, our principal replied, amazement in his quiet voice, shifting in his chair. Then he looked up from the wand to Mr. Hort, to us, and then back to the wand again. After a moment, Congratulations, ladies. In a stronger voice, a pause, I hoped of course, but... he trailed off again.

In a more serious tone, Mr. Hort said, I made sure the ladies took all precautions laid out in the books, as well as a few others I thought might be prudent. I can’t do magic myself as you know, but these young ladies, here he paused in acknowledgment and nodded to us, can.

Principal Calvit looked at the three of us, this time with a real smile, Remind me; what is the proper method for authentication and registration of a new magic item?

Jonnie looked frozen. Being in the principal’s office always made her squirm. Katy started looking through her magic book, unconsciously pushing her glasses back into place. She never wanted to say anything that wasn’t spot-on perfect, so I spoke up first.

An official State representative must test the item for the length of time it can hold a spell, the complexity of the spell before it begins to unravel, what type or types of spells it can store and, finally, for general craftsmanship, I repeated from memory. I have near-eidetic memory which I can’t help, but my remembering so well sometimes annoys Katy.

Our math teacher nodded as I spoke and continued, Sarah’s correct; I looked it up myself before we came to your office. The wand successfully stored one of the more basic spells, and it activated properly. On my approval, the young ladies were able to charge the wand with a slightly more complex spell. When that also worked, I called a halt to the testing as I thought it would be prudent to have a thorough examination, by someone more capable of knowing what to look for.

Principal Calvit leaned back in his chair, hands steepled together, glancing at our math teacher. After a moment of thought, Who do we know down in Richmond that we can trust?

Mr. Hort shrugged. No one on the Board of Education, that I know of. I don’t think they’re really equipped for this. He paused and continued with, Other than safety, and approval forms, there are no numbers to call, just that one statement in the back of the book.

Jonnie blurted out, Shouldn’t we call Ms. Hale? Wouldn’t she be the proper person? Jonnie was all about proper. She interviewed us after we started our magic club, and wants to know about everything we do.

Katy frowned, I’m not sure. I don’t trust her. After a pause, And neither does my Mom.

I was about to agree with Katy when our principal abruptly leaned forward and started to rummage through his rolodex. Ms. Puliver, he said, glancing at Jonnie while he continued to search, "You are an asset to this school, as are your friends. I would hate to lose any of you. While you are correct, Ms. Hale would be very interested in your successes— and here he looked directly at all of us, if we made that phone call there might be some pressure placed on your mother to have you transferred to a, well, a much larger school. I would rather avoid that."

At that Jonnie looked frightened and started to unconsciously wrap her red hair around her hands, Katy looked worried, but nodded. Me, I crossed my arms and thought, Over my dead body.

But even JEB Stuart High School has a magic club, I blurted out. Why is making a wand suddenly so important; and, what’s going on with Ms. Hale? But I don’t like her either, she’s creepy.

Looking between his rolodex and me the principal continued, Let me see if I can get an old friend on the line, he can probably clarify this better than I can.

Aha, said our principal, pulling out an old card and picked up the phone. Looking between the card and the phone, he dialed each number. After the third ring we could faintly hear a male voice responding, Fort Stonewall main office, how may I direct your call?

Yes, this is First Lieutenant John Calvit, Retired. Please transfer me to Colonel Morgan.

A pause, then: Yes sir; hold, please.

Principal Calvit looked at us, hand over the receiver, and said conversationally, Colonel Morgan was my commanding officer back when he was a Captain and I was a First Lieutenant, before I was forced to retire after I took a bullet in the Avalon war.

I had no idea how to respond to that horrifying revelation. When hit over the head with real-life stuff, I sometimes go into my head to play with math. Since my friends were with me and this was important, I looked at the pictures on the walls to help keep me focused. On the back wall of his office, looking down over him was a picture of our current President, Dwight Eisenhower, plus a painting of General George Washington, who had fought the British to a standstill in the 1770s and 80s.

The pictures on the wall to our left were pictures from his time in the army. The one on the top left was of a younger Mr. Calvit in, I’m told, a uniform of a First Lieutenant. All of them were in color except for the last one: a black-and-white photo of seven weary, disheveled men in army uniform, and of one woman in a long dress. The woman held a wand. Even exhausted, she was absolutely beautiful. The caption was carefully labeled, in ink, Battle of Hurries Bridge, Avalon.

Apparently, Jonnie and even Katy, had no idea how to respond to what Mr. Calvit had said, either. We all kept quiet. But the three of us glanced at each other. Where was this going? I could see Jonnie taking deep breaths. Her father was lost in that war, and I know she still misses him. Katy put her hand out, and Jonnie grabbed it for reassurance.

While the principal waited, he looked at me. Ms. Hale helps run a private magic school in Delaware.

We all gasped at that, but it was Katy who responded. A Northerner, allowed to talk to children in Southern schools? replied Katy, her aristocratic tone coming through, shock in her voice. You could almost hear her add, The Very Idea, even though she didn’t actually say it.

Switching his gaze to Katy, "Miss Altum, I never said she was a Northerner, only that her private school is in Delaware. Who or what she may be, said the principal, stressing the ‘what,’ has been the subject of debate lately. In ordinary circumstances I shouldn’t be telling you young ladies any of this, but you should be aware that Ms. Hale may not be exactly what she appears to be."

We were momentarily speechless at that revelation. "What she appears to be?" I said.

There was a click and an older woman’s voice could be heard over the phone. As I live and breathe, if it isn’t the famous Lieutenant Calvit, she said, in a teasing voice.

Hello Mary, it’s good to hear your voice again, said our principal. Do you mind if I put you on speaker-phone?

Not at all, and suddenly her voice got louder without losing any of its warmth as it came out of the speaker on his desk.

So tell me John, how are Julia and the children? And who, pray tell, is also in the room? Shame on you for not making introductions first, replied Mary.

The principal chuckled. Julia and the kids are fine. With me are three of my students and their math teacher. We were hoping we might have a moment of George’s time.

The Colonel is currently discussing career opportunities with two young Second Lieutenants. I’ll let him know you’re on the phone, but it might be a minute or two. Can you hold?

To hide my nervousness while we waited, I created a small stream of light and wove it around my fingers.

Chapter 2

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Basic education is the right of any young child, although they may not see it as such at the time, and it is the responsibility of the state to provide that education. However as the student begins the journey to adulthood, that right is subject to, and must be tempered with, desire. Additionally, regardless of race, creed, social status or any other factor, the child must be allowed to take the exam or exams which will afford him or her options as befitting their desire and capabilities.

—President Robert E. Lee, 1876, former General, and First President

of the Confederate Republic of America

-Ms. Sarah Cognitor-

The principal leaned back in his chair as we waited, and looked at the three of us. Have you decided which tests you’re going to take in November? he asked us casually.

Now that’s just not fair, I thought, switching the topic like that. I could see Jonnie glance at the door, probably wondering if she could run to the bathroom and throw up. Her Mom can’t afford the full high school fees, much less full college tuition. So in her mind, it’s do well on the entrance exams for a full-fees scholarship for high school, or bust.

Up to and including middle school, education in the Confederate Republic of America is guaranteed by the state, free of charge. In the last year of middle school, in November and in February in Brookhaven, students are afforded the opportunity to take one or more placement tests: General tradesman, specific tradesman, military exams, high school entrance exams and college entrance exams. The idea behind the tests is that those with the ability to rise to the top should have the opportunity to do so. All of the tests are free of charge, and the student is encouraged to take as many as they like. However, they can only take a particular test twice. Whichever test has the highest score is counted. My Dad tells me the state is working on an exam for magic, but that it may be several years before it comes out.

Almost all students are firmly encouraged by their teachers to take the high school entrance exams. If you do well, a high school institution is more likely to waive some, or all, of its fees. The State-sponsored schools will generally let you in if you ‘just pass,’ but then it’s your job to bring the apple for the teacher. The one time I brought up college entrance exams, Jonnie ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.

Katy gave Jonnie a worried look and then faced the principal. Sarah and I are taking both the high school and college entry exams.

The principal nodded a pleased look on his face. I expect both of you will do very well, and then he turned to Jonnie. Ms. Puliver? he asked, in a thoughtful tone.

Jonnie eeped, and gripped the side of her chair. It was her math teacher who spoke first, though. Ms. Puliver, there will be several college institutions competing over you, if you just give them the opportunity to see that you belong there, he said in a soothing voice.

Jonnie’s knuckles had gone all white, but she was given a reprieve when a booming voice suddenly erupted out of the speaker phone. The principal was not surprised by the intensity this man brought into the room: he was still leaning back in his chair. But the rest of us jumped at the impact.

First Lieutenant John Calvit, came the booming voice. Now there’s a pleasant and familiar name. If I’m not mistaken, I still owe you that bottle of whiskey. Are you calling me to collect?

That’s Lieutenant John Calvit, retired, our principal immediately replied, smiling as he spoke. Now Principal Calvit of Brookhaven Middle School, as I think you may have heard.

Damn I miss you John; you were the best Lieutenant I had. You could get a house full of cats organized. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?

Actually there are three young ladies that I would like to introduce to you, students of mine to be precise. They’re in the room with me now. Let me make the proper introductions.

At this he leaned his chair forward and looked at each of us in turn as he introduced us to the voice on the other side of the phone. Miss Cassandra Altum, properly stressing the aristocratic Miss. Ms. Sarah Cognitor, and Ms. Jonnie Puliver, let me introduce you to an old friend of mine, Colonel George Morgan of the Confederate Army, currently serving in Richmond. And their club sponsor, a math teacher, Mr. William Hort is also in the room.

Ladies, Mr. Hort. It is my sincere pleasure. Miss Altum, I have been to one of your mother’s parties before. A good time, and I look forward to getting an invitation for another one sometime. So what can this old war horse do for you, Lieutenant?

Not one of us knew what to say at first. Before I could reply I saw Katy’s posture, always upright and proper, get even more so and I silently nodded; this was her world. It was easy to forget Katy comes from old school money; she never brings it up. Only when necessary does she switch into her ‘Southern Aristocrat’ mode, as she calls it.

A pleasure, Colonel Morgan, replied Katy, now obviously Lady Cassandra Altum, her cultured Southern accent coming through. For less formal occasions, she tones it down. But not when reminding a Colonel of their ‘passing acquaintance.’ Principal Calvit did not give us any warning that he would be calling you, so we can only surmise it is about our magic club. We have had some success just recently and for reasons not known to us, he thought it would be prudent to call you.

Katy continued with, I do remember you at Mother’s summer party last year. You had the opportunity to ride one of Father’s prize stallions. After a pause, The black one, Salire, I believe.

Colonel Morgan laughed in remembrance. An excellent horse—he could jump and run like the wind. It’s not often that I get to ride; too many chair parades. I had mud on my trousers after that ride, but it was worth a few stares at the party to ride such a horse.

Katy leaned forward, I am sure Father would be more than willing to let you ride him again. Invitations for this year’s fall party are being finalized soon. But first we should probably discuss why Principal Calvit decided that our little club should be introduced to a Colonel. Have we done something wrong, or improper?

A good question, replied the Colonel. Fill me in John, on what brings us all to the table today? in a conversational tone.

Mr. Hort was about to jump in when our principal waved him down with a motion of his hands.

We called you for advice, George, he said. Today, the ladies have announced that they have built, and tested, a working magic wand. He let that sink in before adding, Who would be the proper person to call to get it state-tested and certified, without ruffling feathers? There doesn’t seem to be any official person to call.

Hang on a minute, replied Colonel Morgan in a gruff voice. We could hear him getting up and shutting his door, then coming back to the phone. Please repeat that, John, said the Colonel, all joking gone. His voice was still one of command; but it had gone all quiet and soft, as well.

The principal waved to our math teacher to jump into the conversation.

Yes, right. Mr. William Hort here, Colonel, obviously flustered, I am the young ladies’ math teacher, and the sponsor for their magic club. They have been working on building a wand for over a year now. They have succeeded at building one that, so far, has maintained two spells without showing any energy side effects. As such, I thought it would be prudent to bring it to the principal’s attention. And, well, here we are, looking at the principal for confirmation, who nodded back at him forcefully.

After a pause, You still there, George? asked the principal.

Holy reindeer snot! remarked the Colonel, distinctly but softly, immediately followed by: Yes, I am still here, just trying to think. I apologize for the outburst ladies, but we have been looking for a few breakthroughs for some time.

Our principal said sharply, George, these ladies are thirteen years old, not quite fourteen. We need guidance and a way for their world to be maintained without it turning upside down. I may have been under your command at one time, but these ladies are my responsibility and I will not deviate from that.

Katy chimed in, obviously annoyed at the interplay. Colonel, I ask you again are we in some kind of trouble? And, well, we built a wand. From what little I know of other clubs, such as the one in Stonewall High down the road, they are working on a wand as well. Why the excitement? she asked, with a bit of exasperation in her voice.

Some good questions, Miss Altum. Let me paint a larger picture. As you know, we are trading partners with Avalon. They want our technology just as we want items from them, a give and take.

Katy nodded. This was not news. Yes Colonel, she said patiently.

Higher-end technology has a tendency to fail far more often in Avalon than can be explained by just happenstance; but some of our older technology, for instance tube radios and steam engines, live longer. Technology aside, even the basic cotton jeans we take for granted, they are ravenous for. Coupled with there being only a dozen or so individuals that I know of on our side who can so far open and close the gates between worlds, makes for interesting trade discussions. After a pause, Are you with me so far, Miss Altum?

Colonel, it might come as a surprise to you, but my parents do talk to me, Katy replied, some of her exasperation coming through. And, I have been over there once, with my father, on a brief tour.

The Colonel coughed, Yes, well some items they are willing to trade for. Others, like wands, they don’t offer very many of, and then they place a very high price tag on the few they do offer. We have little trading leverage for items we really want, unless we can demonstrate we have other sources of supply. Our thinking is, if we can demonstrate that we, ourselves, have people who can make them...

"Now that I did not know," replied Katy.

Finally I jumped in. "Wait a minute, Colonel Morgan. This is Sarah, here, what do you mean we want their wands? Why not make our own? I mean it’s just not that hard," I said, stressing the last part of the sentence. Both Jonnie and Katy rolled their eyes at me.

There was a rumble of laughter, like a train far away but quickly approaching, which then erupted in volume as it emerged from a tunnel. After a minute, I could almost imagine the Colonel wiping his eyes on the other end of the phone.

Mr. Hort, replied the Colonel, still chuckling. May I assume young Miss Cognitor is the daughter of Doctor Jonathan Cognitor and his eminently respectable wife, the former Ms. Paxandra Harm, who previously headed the Cipher and Encryption section of the Math Department of Duke University?

You would be correct, Colonel, replied Mr. Hort.

And would I be correct in assuming you don’t understand a word of Ms. Sarah’s design equations? questioned the Colonel.

Well, and here our math teacher began to blush, and stammer a bit. I am trained to teach differential equations, field energy trigonometry and basic Einsteinian math, not to mention integral and differential calculus with fusion flux equi-potentials. Here he paused again. And sir, I have not been able to follow her equations for a better part of six months now.

I paused in mid-retort to stare at our math teacher. What?

It was Jonnie who jumped in first. See, it’s not just me. Sarah, you’re smart, really smart.

What I am getting at, Miss Altum, continued the Colonel, is that just about every magic club, both private and public, in every Southern state, is trying to make a working wand. While, I can’t speak for the North, I believe their clubs are as well. We get reports that they are all trying, along with many so-called ‘professionals.’ So if you three have ‘cracked the code’ as it were, there will be many eyes upon you; some to congratulate you, others to get close to you to say they know you, and here he paused, and some to try to steal your work. And that, young ladies and young Miss, is why your Principal called me. I am both pleased and grateful that he did.

I was about to jump in again when Katy held up her hand. Colonel Morgan, thank you for speaking honestly. May I ask plainly, what are your intentions here, and should we be contacting our parents right about now?

Ladies, I agree with John, your principal’s, goals. You are thirteen, and not yet full adults, replied the Colonel. Get your wand tested. I know some people in my chain of command who can do the testing. They will treat you like the young ladies you are. Why don’t I arrange for one of them to accompany me and test your wand, say, on Monday morning? Wait— this weekend is Veteran’s day, and your school will be closed Monday. On Tuesday, will that suit everyone? Additionally I will call your parents, and ask them to be at the school bright and early Tuesday to be with you during this review process. How does that sound?

We all nodded. Not hearing anyone express disagreement, after a moment he continued with, Ladies, please leave your wand and your notes at the school. I will send a few people by, to make sure your wand and papers remain safe.

I was about to protest, but it was almost like he could read my mind. Next he said, ever so politely but firmly, Does anyone else know, ladies?

Well, I said. We test each wand we attempt in the school shop, for, um, safety reasons. Well, when we started shouting all the boys in the room knew it was something big, so probably, but I’m not sure how much they really know.

Outside of your parents, please don’t mention this to anyone you haven’t already told what you’ve accomplished, and even if you’ve told them a little something already, do not confirm or deny anything you’ve already said. He paused letting his comment sink in. What were you planning on doing after meeting with your principal, let us say, if we were to assume none of this ever happened? What I am getting at, is, don’t forget to live your life. After all, you only get one chance to live as a person who is thirteen years old. That never happens again.

Jonnie jumped in, All three of us were to walk to Katy’s house to help sew so I can have a dress for the fall party. And immediately reddened. She doesn’t want others to know how poor she and her Mom are. They don’t own a sewing machine. Katy’s household owns several.

Without a pause he spoke again. Points to the Colonel, I thought. I would recommend you all do so. If anyone asks about your excitement, I would play it down. By all means tell your parents when you get home, they will probably know by then in any case.

What about Ms. Hale? asked Jonnie.

Don’t, replied the Colonel immediately, his voice deepening. "Do not under any circumstances, and no matter what she may have said to you in the past, Do Not speak to her. We honestly don’t know what she is, so avoid her at all costs."

Chapter 3

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No one ever really leaves the Army.

—Any Confederate Army officer

-Mr. John Calvit-

Isat at my desk reading comments and notes left by the various teachers. I preferred to do this in the afternoon. It gives me time to sort out what was really important from mere teacher rants. Now, however, all the notes seemed like unimportant details. It was difficult to concentrate on them. I stared at the wand on my desk, with the young ladies’ club notebooks and papers stacked underneath it. William had left to search the shop and other places where the girls may have left random papers, so they could be stored in my safe along with these items. I was waiting for a phone call, partially dreading that it would come and was not surprised by the ring ten minutes later.

By the third ring, I had all the other school papers back into their proper folder and picked up the phone. I knew who would be on the other end. Hello, George, I sighed.

Do you think it’s real? came the Colonel’s immediate reply. Meaning, the wand.

I paused, thinking back to everything William told me after the girls had left. Whether it’s stable in the long run or just their first temporary success, I don’t know, but, and here I paused again. William tells me the ladies correctly predicted each of their three previous failures, and knew how those wands would fail before they charged each one. And, William says he can’t understand word one of their last equation sets, so we don’t know if the equations would be useful to anyone else. So yes, I think it could be real, I said, looking at the wand.

There was silence on the phone, finally the words I was dreading came to be. No one ever really leaves the Army, replied the Colonel. Welcome back, Captain Calvit, Confederate Army Corps of Reserves.

Gripping the phone, I replied, "Please don’t joke George, it’s been a long day. Besides, its First Lieutenant Calvit, retired," I said stressing the last word.

Experience gained applied toward your new rank.

Colonel, I replied, my voice getting dark. I stand by my comments earlier. These ladies are my responsibility, and I will not shrink from that duty.

John, replied the Colonel in a fatherly voice, "that’s why I am doing this. I have several people who should be arriving in a few hours to make sure nothing untoward happens to the young ladies or their work. As their principal and— here he stressed the next part, as Captain John Calvit, Army Reserves, you have both the power of the Commonwealth and the Nation behind you. If any feathers gets ruffled, they’re going to be somebody else’s, not the young ladies. Or yours, at least not by this."

Dammit, George, I said and was immediately cut off by the Colonel again.

Captain, replied the Colonel in his formal voice. If anyone decides to treat these young ladies with less than the respect they are due, or in any way attempts to forcibly remove them from the proper guidance of their parents, attempts to employ undue leverage against them or their parents, or attempts to steal their work, you may do as you see fit. That’s an order, Captain.

A pretty speech, Colonel, I replied in frustration. But you know as well as I do once word gets out, and it will, things may get messy and some will claim, rightfully so, the Army does not have jurisdiction in internal affairs.

Yes, I agree, John. But I did not write that command, I am merely delivering it.

Good afternoon, Mr. Calvit, came the educated voice that I’d heard over the radio and television as he addressed the country from time to time. That statement, that you are to do as you see fit as a serving officer of the Army Reserve of the Confederate Republic, was issued from me. It is in writing, signed by me, and is now in Colonel Morgan’s hands via a runner. You should have a copy in the next several hours.

The voice paused briefly, allowing my mind the opportunity to catch up to the fact that the President of the Confederate Republic was on the phone. The President, sensing my astonishment, continued with, I am sure the Colonel will find an appropriate way to apologize to you for not informing you I was on the call from my desk in Richmond.

Yes, Mr. President, I said, finally able to speak past my surprise.

"The elevation to a reserve Captain was the Colonel’s idea, but I endorsed it. It should not interfere with your responsibilities of maintaining the school, it’s a reserve commission. However, as a citizen in good standing, you are more than entitled to refuse a lawfully issued command and resign your commission. Do you wish to refuse?"

Cornered, head bowed, I gripped the phone tighter and said, No, Mr. President, I do not. I paused for the right words. Colonel, I began.

Yes, Captain, replied the Colonel, relief in his voice.

You owe me two bottles of whiskey now.

Yes. Yes, I do, Captain, agreed the Colonel.

Now, Captain, said the president obviously amused at our interplay, I could hear his smile even over the phone, Please tell me about these three exceptional young ladies.

Chapter 4

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In conclusion, until Authorities from the Confederate Republic are permitted to enter and inspect the facilities run by Ms. Hale in Delaware, neither she nor anyone associated with her Spiritavit School of Magic are permitted to enter any Confederate school, nor allowed to interview any students. Furthermore, NO further students are to be sent to any facility associated with Ms. Hale and her associates, including this Spiritavit School.

—Closing remarks of the special report of the Director of the Confederate Bureau of Investigation to the Senate Education Committee of the Confederate Congress, Richmond Virginia, October 9, 1963

-Ms. Sarah Cognitor-

Near Stonewall High School

As we left school walking toward Katy’s house, we decided to take the route past the high school. The autumn air meant football tryouts had started in Middletown.

By silent agreement, we limited our discussion to: the upcoming party at Katy’s, the dress we were helping to make for Jonnie, what Katy and I would be wearing, and the people we were to meet there. Katy’s parents were, financially and socially, upper class; pure old-school Virginia aristocrats. Between my Dad’s work as a college professor and Mom’s work as a senior government employee, we had a nice house and I could buy just about any math book I wanted. My Dad and I both shared this hobby. Our collection thus far spanned several rooms and included some very old manuscripts. Jonnie’s Mom was a widow; her Dad was lost in the war in Avalon some seven years ago. With the pension and her work, they kept a small house and had food on the table. The fact that they wore the same dresses each Sunday was never mentioned.

People liked Jonnie’s Mom, and the community would close ranks if someone snubbed a Virginia military widow.

We stopped at the chain link fence facing the track to watch as groups of boys trying out for the junior football team ran by. As they passed, I hoped we might catch their eye, yet afraid at the same time. Being in middle school sucks sometimes. Most of the boys our age are staggeringly obtuse. Mom says they get better, but so far not one date for any of us! I glance at Katy; long blonde hair, longer legs, amazing curves, real social standing. I am so jealous! I know which of the three of us is going to be asked out first.

I decided that it was time to put a toe into the water to get my mind off its current direction.

It’s not fair that we can’t take the wand with us; we made it! I said, raising my hands in the air to emphasize my frustration. Being the shortest of us, I was almost always looking up. Jonnie immediately replied, Not until it’s properly tested! She glanced at me, then surreptitiously looked as the next group passed before continuing, Besides, you heard what the principal and Colonel Morgan said. The Colonel will be at the school Tuesday morning, and we aren’t to discuss this with anyone until then, except our parents.

C’mon, Sarah, replied Katy, let it go. You can’t win every battle. Why do you always want to fight?

"But it was our breakthrough that allowed for the magic to properly infuse the wood, in preparation for holding spells, I insisted. It’s our idea."

Sarah, it was your breakthrough, replied Katy, We just helped. Why are you so afraid people will see how smart you are?

Meh, I said immediately, You and Jonnie did more than just help. You took my ideas and put some common sense behind them, as my Mom would say. Without the three of us working together, I would still be staring at a plain stick.

It was fun working together, but I still can’t follow your latest math yet, Jonnie said with a frown. I wish I had your brains.

Equations immediately popped into my head. This was a place in my mind where I was becoming more comfortable. All the equations just made sense to me. If you take Newton’s principle— I stopped when I caught Katy’s exasperated look.

To you it’s not hard, but to us mere mortals, it is, replied Katy. Let’s just enjoy the day right now. You can explain it again as we work on the dress, okay? Besides, the next group is coming around toward us. Let’s not argue now.

We watched in silent agreement as a group of about ten boys rounded the corner on the track and jogged toward us. They had obviously been outside training for some time, shirts sweaty, hair wet and muscles pumping. We paused in mid-thought as they ran by, a few of them darting a glance at Katy before realizing we were from the middle school. Yeah, no High Schoolers for us. Stupid middle school.

Looking around, no more groups were lined up to run, so we started walking toward the parking lot to take the short cut to Katy’s house.

Did you really just wake up at two in the morning with the idea in your head? asked Jonnie.

Yep, inspiration at 2:00 A.M., I replied. Then the rest of the night to put all the equations together. I sighed, remembering looking at the sunrise through the window and wondering what happened to the five hours in between. Sometimes I get a bit lost in my head. Jonnie is the one who usually pokes me. She says I need a keeper. I sighed. I always have trouble going to sleep when I am working on a problem. Invariably, I would wake up in the middle of the night with the answer. I said, I wanted the 9:00 A.M. inspiration brain, but I got the middle-of-the-night brain instead. Yay, me.

Jonnie snorted, Poor you. I wish I had half your brains.

Katy said, Jonnie told me your Dad was helping you put together a math paper to present; is it about the wand?

There was a hint of annoyance in her voice. Why was she mad at me? Then it clicked. We were a team, even if I was the one who always came up with the new math. I shook my head, Uh no, it’s something else. My Dad doesn’t want me to talk about it to anyone until I present it. When we get to your house, I’ll tell you the story.

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Part of my inspiration was reworking one of those beautifully simple math concepts everyone takes for granted because it’s always been that way. Only it’s not, at least I don’t think so anymore. It was the first real argument my Dad and I ever had. As my excitement grew while explaining my equation groups to my Dad, he started going very quiet. Then we argued, which is really unlike my Dad. My excitement turned to anger. Sometimes when I’m angry I have a hard time controlling myself; I share Mom’s temper. Dad had always pushed me to experiment with math, but now he was acting like some stranger. I remember wanting to cry, and started yelling at him. I fled to my room before I said something really bad.

Ten minutes later, I heard a tap on my door. Mom asked if she could come in. Mom and I had started to really click, recently. When I opened my door, I hugged her. Dad wasn’t around. After I sat down on my bed, she pulled out my desk chair to sit down and handed me a tissue. Sarah. When someone is terrified, sometimes they will do or say things without thinking. Their fear is driving, not their mind.

I shook my head, and blew my nose. I didn’t understand.

Mom sighed. Your father saw the edges of your adult mind this morning, and he wasn’t ready for it. He is afraid you will grow up and leave us.

I blinked back tears. Huh? But I haven’t even gone on a date yet, I said, and threw myself backwards on my bed. I don’t understand men.

Mom smiled. Tonight he will be ready for the part of you that is growing up. You may be correct about your math equation. Talk to your father about putting it in the right format for publication, and then we can discuss when you would like to present it. Mom held up her hand. However, when you do: you will be on an adult stage, and there is no going back. So think about what makes sense for you.

Mom drove me to school. That was three weeks ago. I had told Jonnie most of the story about a week ago, when my parents were out having dinner. Katy wasn’t around that night, or I would have told her, too.

Sarah, Jonnie hissed quietly at me, "Stop it, your fingers are glowing, not here."

I pulled out of my funk and look down to see the glow and put my hands in my pockets. Mouthing sorry to Jonnie, I close my eyes to focus. Deep breaths. Breathe. Breathe again.

Uh oh, Katy stage-whispered, her question to me about the math forgotten. She was looking toward the parking lot, Isn’t that Ms. Hale’s car?

My eyes popped open at Katy’s remark, deep breathing forgotten.

Chapter 5

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Looking back, being thirteen meant we had no real perspective to work from, so first thoughts born from emotion had all the weight of reality. While our responses seemed like good ideas at the time, our parents, I grant you, had good reasons to wonder if we were ever going to make it to fourteen.

—Lady Cassandra Altum, Notes from Looking Back

Original member of the Sunshine Mystery Magic Club

-Ms. Sarah Cognitor-

Following Jonnie, we’d thrown ourselves flat behind some bushes growing beside the low chain-link fence along the edge of the parking lot, getting out of view. I peeped through two of the bushes, squinting at the parking lot. Mentally sorting cars, my eyes froze at the tea-green convertible—there was no mistaking that ugly color. Unconsciously switching on my Sight, the world took on a different hue, subtle shifting fields of energy intermixed with the colors of the physical world, created a pattern only those who can do magic can really describe. I was looking for evidence of Ms. Hales’ black-green swirl energy, which left me wanting to wash my hands the few times she interacted with me. She wasn’t in the car, and wasn’t outside the school.

Parents picking up their kids and teachers leaving for the day walked through the parking lot, blissfully unaware of the horror that was Ms. Hale. I wanted to stand up, wave my arms and shout at them to run away from the evil that lurked nearby.

After a few moments, I mentally flicked off my Sight. Unfiltered in the open sky, it always gave me a headache if I left it on too long.

I don’t see her, I said glancing at Jonnie and Katy.

Neither do I, replied Katy. Her eye lids flickering slightly, she must have been using her Sight as well.

I don’t either, said Jonnie.

The Sight is funny, sometimes the three of us can look at the same person and each of us will see something slightly different, as if we each have our own internal filter. However, when the person we are watching has a strong emotion or conviction, we have a tendency to see the same shifting colors and patterns. Items are different though. If they hold any magical energy, all three of us see the same thing: the matrix of the energy bound to the object. It’s like looking at a math problem on a chalk board. Understanding it, though, is a different matter.

However, with Ms. Hale, all three of us saw the same thing: a blackish-green smoky energy ending in little tendrils wafting off of her. Creepy. Being a perceived authority figure, Jonnie was, up until now, always willing to talk to Ms. Hale. Now all three of us slid back down the rise, backs toward the chain link fence. Down low like this, the small hill hid us from the parking lot.

Jonnie spoke first, M-Make a run for it? It isn’t that far. Meaning, her house. Katy’s family estate was about ten minutes further in the same direction.

We have to go through the parking lot, there is a tall fence on the other side of the road so we can’t go around, I replied mapping out options in my mind. If we continued in this direction, all of our paths funneled through that parking lot.

Backtrack? replied Katy. Head back to our school and call our parents?

What if she sees us? Her car is right there, remarked Jonnie, with anguish in voice. The three of us turned our heads and peeped through breaks in the bushes again. Naturally, the ugly convertible hadn’t moved.

I don’t want to go to another school, away from my Mom, cried Jonnie, hands over her face.

Jonnie, replied Katy in a soothing voice, hand on her arm. That’s not going to happen; we just need to think this through. Take the advice you just gave Sarah. Meaning me, when I was unconsciously calling energy.

At that, Jonnie pulled her hands down and stuck out her tongue at Katy. I hate you sometimes, she said to Katy, then quickly looked down, tightly hugging herself. A half second later, she looked up and was blinking back tears. I hate it that I get so afraid, she said. Then she sighed, still looking at Katy, Sorry. I just wish I had your and Sarah’s strength.

Huh? Katy’s the rock. I just get really focused, and pissed. Mom keeps on trying to get me to tamp my anger down. It never occurred to me before that anger could be strength.

Jonnie took some deep breaths, apparently in an effort not to cry. After the second gulp she said, I hurt so much when I miss my Dad. Tears started trickling down her face.

When she was younger, Jonnie was really outgoing. But after her father died in the war, she has had a hard time expressing herself. She was better with just Katy and me; occasionally, she could let her inner bounciness come to the surface when she was really happy. But in larger groups, she was very quiet.

Katy and I pulled Jonnie into a hug, and she opened up into full scale crying. Jonnie rarely spoke about her Dad; she was five, almost six when he died in Avalon. I have vague memories of her father, a tall, strong, happy red-headed man who carried Jonnie on his shoulders. I remember his funeral; men from his army unit, in their formal gray uniforms, standing at attention. Jonnie and her Mom sitting front and center as the bugles played taps, and a sergeant wearing white gloves presenting the Confederate Battle Flag that had been draped over his coffin to Jonnie’s Mom. Just about the entire town was there; I wish I could have held Jonnie’s hand.

Tears streamed down Jonnie’s face as she leaned forward and grabbed onto us as if for dear life. After a few minutes of crying, she began to take some ragged breaths. Finally she pulled her arms back, wiped at her face and pulled her red hair back into place. I am so sorry, she whispered, shame in her voice.

To me, you’re a vision of strength, I said, while taking her hand. You help keep me focused with the normal stuff. Without you, I would be lost. Which was true; normal stuff just confuses me sometimes. Usually, it’s Jonnie who pokes me when I need to pay attention. Also, Jonnie is our translator; she is really good at breaking my math apart and explaining it to Katy, and in explaining the normal stuff for me. Sometimes when she breaks down the normal stuff in little chunks to help me understand it, Katy breaks out in giggles. I still don’t understand what’s so funny, though.

Jonnie? asked Katy in a hesitant voice, hands reaching for her arm again and stopping.

No, I am so sorry, replied Jonnie in a stronger voice, this time looking directly at Katy. I see you and Sarah so confident, and want to find my own strength. You’re my friends, both of you. You stood by me, always, this time with a real smile.

That’s what friends do, said Katy smiling back; her hesitation gone, she hugged Jonnie.

There was a few moments of silence as we just sat there enjoying being together. Surprisingly, it was Jonnie who broke the reverie.

Okay, panicking completed, replied Jonnie. Now let’s try your suggestion, and turned to look at me. Thinking.

Katy followed Jonnie’s gaze to look at me.

Hey we’re a team here, I said with some exasperation. I am not your fearless leader. The thought of being in charge terrified me.

We are a team, echoed Katy, but new ideas and brainstorming is your strength. So kick that brain of yours into high gear!

Argh. I wanted to channel Jonnie and hide my face. Deep breaths. Okay, think. I started drawing in a little patch of dirt, creating a small diagram of our surrounding area and speaking out loud as I did. Okay, if we go forward it’s through the parking lot, and we don’t know how long Ms. Hale will be in the school. With our luck, she will be walking out as we sneak by.

Agreed, said Katy, and Jonnie nodded.

Continuing, If we go back toward our school, we are no longer under the cover of the bushes. She could see us leaving, but she would have a hard time catching us if we ran flat out.

She has a car, pointed out Katy. It wouldn’t be that hard for her to follow us.

True, but, and here I paused. I was missing something—and then it struck me. I said it out loud, in my best imitation Colonel Morgan voice, Avoid her at all costs.

That’s what we’re trying to do, Jonnie said with some exasperation and paused in mid-frown, eyes going wide. She got it.

What? asked Katy, looking between Jonnie and then me, What am I missing here?

I looked at Katy. You would know this. Would orders from a Colonel of the Confederate Republic supersede orders from our principal? Katy looked confused for a moment, then her expression changed to one of wonder and I could tell she also understood my context. I said out loud what I was thinking: Are we allowed to use magic to avoid Ms. Hale?

Katy thought about it for a moment or two, I would say yes, she said, starting out slowly. We are not under his command, as the Colonel acknowledged, but the principal called him directly as a subject-matter expert. And at the end and even after the Colonel had hung up, Principal Calvit never countermanded anything the Colonel had said. So in this particular case, I would agree with you, we could. Having finished on a firm note, she nodded at me.

In that case, I said with glee, rubbing my hands together, other options are open to us.

What do you have in mind? asked Jonnie, grabbing onto her long red hair again.

My mind was racing with possibilities;