Dark Magic

By Kayci Morgan

They said he was evil.
They said he was dangerous.
But he was just trying to survive...

Parker's biggest problem in life was getting the boy he liked to notice him. Now, after discovering he's a warlock, the life he once knew is gone. Now he must contend with a mother that lied to him, a brother that hates him, and a father that doesn't know him.

And if that wasn't enough, a group of fanatical witch hunters have set him and his family in their sights. In order to protect those he loves, Parker must embrace his dark powers while not becoming the monster the witch hunters say he is. But the ability to bend the world to his will is an alluring temptation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kayci Morgan
• Release date: Mar 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393158899

Kayci Morgan

Kayci Morgan has had a passion for romance and fantasy for as long as she can remember. She lives in Chicago with her family. In her cozy apartment, she spends endless nights tapping away at her keyboard and playing computer games unheard of by normal people. Her English Literature degree serves as a superb coaster for her 20oz mug of coffee. Follow her sleep deprived ramblings at her website: http://www.kaycimorgan.com Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kcmwriter Twitter: @kaycimorgan

Book preview

1

Parker balled up his pullover and tossed it into the pile with the other rejects. He stood in front of the mirror and considered the next shirt in line. From the corner of his eye he could see Liz sprawled out on his bed, her dark hair blanketing his navy pillows. She looked bored; incredibly, unapologetically bored. This caused Parker a twinge of guilt. He had spent the last hour trying to pick out a shirt, but he couldn’t wear just anything to Brad’s birthday party. It had to be memorable. Nothing about him was ever memorable, not even his hair. He ran his fingers through his brown strands which fell limp over his dark eyes.

His focus drifted back to the shirt, a black button-down he’d normally never wear. People who wore black were stuffy and pretentious, but maybe he’d seem a bit sexy in it.

What about this one, Liz?

Liz glanced at the shirt, then returned to staring at the ceiling. It’s fine, Parker. All the shirts you’ve pulled out your closet and tossed into that massive pile over there have been fine. I doubt Brad cares what clothes we stalk him in.

We aren’t stalking. We were invited to the party, Parker argued as he considered the black button-down with a white tank.

A flyer on the school bulletin board is not an invitation. The people attending this party are the same ones we make every effort never to speak to. We are stalking stalkers who stalk.

Parker’s shoulders slumped. Liz, in her unbearably harsh way, was probably right. They had no business at that party, but Parker really wanted to see Brad outside of school. He’d even bought him an expensive gift: a $150 sports watch. Parker wouldn’t be able to afford another comic book for a while, but he remembered seeing somewhere that expensive watches were intimate gifts that weren’t overly romantic. A way of expressing his feelings without coming out to the entire school.

With a sigh, Parker decided to go with his favorite plaid shirt. After all, what did it matter? Brad was probably unable to tell him from the lunch lady. Okay, I’m ready.

Liz stood in front of the mirror to reapply her lip gloss. Parker recalled the day in the mall where he’d had to sit and watch her try on thirty different lip glosses until she found one that accented her burnt umber eyes and mahogany skin. Suddenly, his guilt over dragging her to a party she didn’t want to go to abated.

An hour later, Parker and Liz stepped off the bus half a block away from Double Helix. The place was Parker’s second home, being both a restaurant with good food and an arcade. He had yet to meet a game he didn’t like. At seven, he had discovered his mom’s Atari in the attic and wouldn’t stop playing Pong for a week straight.

Upon entering Double Helix, the first thing he saw was a long table filled with his classmates. The only chairs still available were at the end of the table furthest from Brad. Parker claimed a seat by placing his jacket on a chair, then headed over to Brad, gift in hand. He jutted the box in Brad’s direction, offering up a nervous, Happy Birthday.

Brad looked up at Parker, his smile showing off his perfect white teeth. Thanks, man. He took the box from Parker’s hand and stacked it with the rest.

As Parker retreated back to his chair, he wondered if Brad actually knew his name. Liz, who did nothing to hide she was somewhere she didn’t want to be, flipped through the pages of the menu. She hadn’t even brought a gift. While the food was delicious as usual, Parker’s stomach flopped so much he couldn’t enjoy a bite of it. They began opening the gifts, and Parker held his breath as he waited for Brad to reach his.

Brad pulled off the wrapping, tossing it aside. He clicked open the designer box and said, Oh, a watch. He looked out at the crowd, mumbling his thanks, then moved on to the next package.

Rebecca Richardson, on the other hand—the girl sitting next to Brad—showed more interest in the watch, Brad, this is a really nice watch. It looks expensive.

Brad was already cooing over the autographed football he’d just opened as Rebecca pulled the watch from the box and tried it on. Parker’s vision went red. He stood up and turned to Liz. Let’s go play some games.

Liz responded by stuffing a handful of French fries in her mouth, trying to chew the wad as she followed Parker away from the table. Ten dollars’ worth of quarters later, he had played enough games to lessen his woes. Things weren’t that bad. Just because Brad didn’t fall to his knees, weeping at the sight of the watch didn’t mean he didn’t like it. And even though he’d clearly forgotten who’d given him the watch, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t cherish it. Parker would just have to remind him at a later time. Maybe ask him about it at school. That would even give them an excuse to talk. Things would work out in the end.

Parker grabbed a joystick on one of the games and came back with a hand covered in something sticky and gross. The place was a restaurant, so there was a chance it was some form of food. He didn’t want to think too hard about it. He turned to Liz. I need to go wash this off my hand. I’ll be right back.

Mmhm. She wasn’t listening to him.

The sludge seemed determined to stay where it was. Parker was on his second scrubbing when he heard the stall door at the end open. He hadn’t realized anyone else was in the bathroom. Glancing at the mirror, he saw Rebecca behind him adjusting her mini-skirt. She lifted her head and their eyes met in the reflection. She smiled and winked as she headed for the door. He noticed his watch was still on her wrist. What was she doing in the men’s room? Was the ladies’ room out of order? Was there something under her skirt he didn’t know about it?

His musing was cut short by a flush coming from the stall she’d just left. She hadn’t been in there alone. The moment the realization hit Parker; Brad stepped out of the stall. He walked right up to the sink next to Parker and turned on the faucet. And then they had their first meaningful exchange.

Brad’s eyes met Parker’s in the mirror and he said, Best. Gift. Ever. A goofy grin stretched across his face.

Parker tried to smile back, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Brad didn’t seem to notice. He slapped Parker’s shoulder, then headed for the door.

Parker couldn’t breathe. It took all his control not to retch in the sink. He needed air. He burst from the bathroom, running at full speed through the restaurant, past Liz who yelled something at his back, out the front door, and into the night. He took off in a random direction and just ran, trying to get the image out of his mind.

Best. Gift. Ever.

He didn’t want to go to school the next day. Or ever. Maybe he could convince his mom to transfer him. He hated Rebecca Richardson more than he’d ever hated anyone in his life. She wasn’t even Brad’s girlfriend. She just did it because she could, and if she was still wearing the watch on Monday, Parker would rip it from her wrist and see if he could get a refund.

The sound of traffic had become distant. The lights that lit up the city at night were few and far between, leaving Parker in darkness. The air reeked of old fish and a sickly sweet smell he couldn’t place.

He had reached a dead end. All around him were abandoned factories — old, decrepit buildings unlike those he was accustomed to seeing. He had no idea where he was. He was lost, but he was not alone.

Two men approached him. They seemed to come out of nowhere. One was a guy about Parker’s age, but was much larger in stature. He stood with an older man with similar features, short blond hair, round faces, and gray eyes. They could have been related. The menacing stare copied in both their expressions left little question as to their intent.

Are you sure he’s one of them? the younger one asked.

Yeah, I’m sure. I can sense it.

Parker looked back and forth between them. He had no idea what they were talking about. He wanted to argue that whatever they thought he was, he wasn’t, but no sound would come from his throat. His heart pounded in a cold panic as he pressed his body harder against the wall behind him, trying to make himself as small as possible. But it didn’t matter; they continued their approach, hate in their eyes.

Then there was blackness.

When Parker woke up, his vision was filled by orange-red strands. He felt comforted by the sight of Mom’s long locks as they surrounded his face, blocking out the view of everything else. She was kneeling. He must have been on the floor. Why was he on the floor? With great effort, he turned his head. Black and white tiles stretched out in every direction. What was he doing lying on the kitchen floor?

He tried to sit up, but his body wouldn’t allow it. His hand slipped across the floor when he tried to put weight on it. He examined it. Red. Not the red of mother’s hair, but blood red. He was covered in blood. And his clothes were gone, leaving only scraps stuck to him. How strange.

Every part of him felt sore, but he didn’t think the blood was his. He looked up at Mom. Was it her blood? No. She seemed fine. She was talking to him. He squinted, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. She seemed so very far away, like at the end of a distant tunnel. But she looked incredibly concerned. That was nice of her to worry like that, even though he was pretty sure he wasn’t even bleeding.

There was a pounding sound. Was it in his head? No, it was the door. Someone was pounding on the door.

Darkness overtook him once again. But it was okay. Mom was there. She’d take care of him.

The next time he awoke, things were a bit clearer. He felt clean and warm, which made him realize he was now wrapped in a terrycloth robe. As his vision came into focus, there was little question as to his location. The striped blue blanket that rose to his neck, the oak bookcase behind his bed, the vintage Pac-Man arcade game in the corner—he was in his bedroom.

Parker could hear yelling from downstairs. Mom yelled a lot, not at him, but at everyone else—the grocer, the paperboy, and her students. From the amount of yelling she was currently doing, it was as if some grad student wanted to do his thesis on the rise and fall of MTV. Grad students got yelled at the loudest.

Parker stumbled out of bed. Maybe he could help calm her down. Solve whatever issue had made her so upset.

He padded softly down the stairs and couldn’t make any sense of what he saw. He immediately recognized the person arguing with Mom. The square jaw with light stubble, the jet-black hair, the piercing cobalt eyes—he’d seen that face every day of his life in the pictures throughout their house. Mom was arguing with his dad, which was odd, since he’d been dead fifteen years.

His father’s appearance explained everything. Parker must be dead. That was why he felt so out of it. Dying was probably a confusing and exhausting process. That was why he was covered in blood, but not hurt. Those guys must have killed him. But why was his mom there? Was she dead too?

You had no right! his father yelled.

Parker’s mother folded her arms over her chest. And what would you have had me do, Cedric? Get rid of him? Beg you to break off your engagement? Oh, wait, I did that!

Amanda, he’s an untrained warlock. Do you have any idea how dangerous he is? To himself? To others? You’re lucky he only killed two Keepers.

What were Keepers, and why was it okay to kill them? Were the men Parker saw Keepers?

As Parker re-evaluated the situation, his parents noticed him standing there.

Suddenly the house began spinning and Parker lost his balance. In a flash, his father reached the base of the steps and caught him. It was an actual flash. His father had disappeared from the living room and reappeared at the staircase.

Strong arms carried Parker up to his bedroom. He rested his head on his father’s shoulder, deciding his dead dad was kind of awesome as the darkness reached out and enveloped him.

2

Parker lay in bed, wondering how much of the day before had been a dream and how much of it was real. He feared all the parts he hoped were a nightmare were his actual reality. The clock next to his bed kept ticking down, letting him know time was up. He could no longer hide under his covers in blissful ignorance.

The morning seemed normal enough. He stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower. The smell of bacon hit his nose the moment he stepped out the bathroom. Mom was cooking breakfast, just like she did every morning. After getting dressed he headed downstairs. Parker stopped in his tracks at the sound of Mom’s laughter. She wasn’t alone. He could hear a man talking. But was that