Between Lies and Secrets

By Kimberley Hoar

Aisling Smith is a fairly normal young Witch. She lives in Ashbrook village with her beloved aunts, frequently practicing her crafts while fitting in seamlessly with the human inhabitants of the village. When her Aunts move her to Thorneside City, the largest magical run community in Britain, her life takes several unexpected turns. She meets a variety of magical beings, the Under-realmers, including Vampires, Pixies and Werewolves, along with several other Witches her age. One such Witch is Drake Taros, son of Mathir Taros, King of all things magical, the Under-realms. Aisling begins to break down the lies that have been built up around her all her life, and unravels the secrets of her past, present and future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781491895030

Kimberley Hoar

Kimberley is a young Author and resides in Hertfordshire England. As a child she was read too regularly by her parents and soon took a keen interest in reading herself. This quickly developed into a passion for writing, mainly for her own enjoyment. Later on she decided to write seriously and this book is the result.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

As the trees began to loose their leaves and autumn’s bitter tear drops ran down the window, a woman entered a house. Neither house nor woman were quite ordinary. The house being particularly large and very old fashioned for this part of Thorneside, filled with mysteries the youngest of inhabitants knew nothing off. The woman was also old fashioned, quite Victorian in fact. What wasn’t covered by her long black dress was covered by leather boots or delicate gloves. Over her dress was a dark blue cloak, concealing her once beautiful face, now worn and lined with both stress and scars. With a mutter her bright green eyes flashed beneath the cloaks hood, illuminating a mass of black hair, and she disappeared from view. A flash of lightening dramatically enlightening the space where she had just been. The woman only reappeared when she’d reached the bedroom on the fifth floor. Inside lay three children, snuggled up to each other on a four poster bed. All asleep, all peaceful, all innocent. With a sweep of her hand the still crackling fire disappeared, as if being hit by a strong gust of wind. That could be dangerous. Even by the pale moonlight, just about making its way through the clouds, she could make out their faces. Tomorrow, the triplets lives would change forever, all would be separated with no memory of each other. It wouldn’t stay that way for long though, at some point Mathir would find them, and then they’d have to fight for their lives. Not because of some cruel fate, not because of a destiny thought up by a malicious God, it just would. Not even this woman knew the exact details, but she knew she had to protect the children, for her best friend. She began the spells, the memory spell, and the concealing spell. No one would be able to trace their magic, nor their life energy or heritage, not for years. She lifted two of the little girls into her arms, and took them to their new houses, their new lives. The other one would be found here by an aunt. They would reunite, eventually, but for now they were oblivious.

Chapter One

HER PARENTS HOUSE

I waved goodbye to my school mates, my teachers, the little white fence that surrounded the small village school, the trees that flowed gently in the wind, and the tweeting of the birds. The weather was just as I liked it, warm, but with a slight April breeze. Clouds floated across the brilliant blue sky, outran by birds, and the odd aeroplane. Fish swam gently through the ice cold lake, while frogs hopped off the bank. Children cheered and laughed, while parents walked calmly along the pavement, enjoying the soft wind of spring in Ashbrook village. I might have relished in the beautiful day, in the songs of the birds and the flutter of the butterflies, the warmth of the sun and the coolness of the breeze, but not today. Today I was to leave behind my childhood home, my friends and neighbours, and everything I had ever known, and move to Thorneside city. My name is Aisling Smith, I am a Witch.

The cottage looked so bizarre, so foreign. Almost as if I hadn’t lived here for the past eleven years. Almost as if the space had never been occupied, and this was a brand new house to be sold on the market. The floor looked so cold and empty without Aunt Daisy’s eccentric rugs, the walls were stripped of Aunt Lucy’s beloved floral wallpaper, and left horribly barren. Five burly men had hauled the antique furniture into the van, and had already left. We were left in the hollow house to say our last goodbyes, and take the last few boxes. It felt so lonely, standing here in the vast emptiness of my childhood. Memories of running across the wooden floorboards, searching for various creatures, from mice to nymphs, playing with the other children of the simple but beautiful village. I dreaded leaving it, I was so used to living in Ashbrook. I loved the feeling of security, of knowing everyone else. I’d lived here since I was four. I moved in with my aunts after my parents died. Murdered in a mugging, a strange occurrence, really, I’d heard little of it. I had a few newspaper clippings of it though. Susan and Chris Smith, knifed down by a hooded hooligan. Since it was in the rich side of Thorneside, where we were to return, the news reporters had a field day with it. I did remember my parents, vaguely, but honestly, how could I forget Mum’s deep red hair, when me and my aunts all shared it, my blue eyes were my fathers though, while hers were brown. I feared the city. Visiting was fine, but living there… As I said it was the very place my parents were murdered. An unfamiliar place, filled with unfamiliar people, and the unknown. I had to admit it was rather exciting though, the prospect of all the people I could meet, the places I could visit, I wondered what my new home would be like, my school, would I make lots of friends? Or would I become the outcast, little village girl in the big city. I paid little attention to fashion, nor any trends. Would I fit in? That wasn’t really my problem, I could live with being unique, my Aunts always told me to be myself, but I’d like friends. In Ashbrook everyone liked each other more or less, there were of course arguments but people looked past them, ignored them or sorted them out. From what I had heard few places were as tolerant and friendly as Ashbrook.

I still didn’t understand why we were leaving, my aunts constantly evaded my questions.

‘Don’t fret dear, the new house is huge,’

‘Oh, yes, did we tell you it was the same house your parents moved into when they got married. It’s been in the family for… Oh, I don’t know, several centuries.’

‘Your mother had a stable she was quite fond of, how about we get you a horse?’

Why would anyone want to leave here, I mean, it wasn’t especially spacious, nor was it particularly grand, but it was home. Where I grew up, where I’d been practising Witchcraft since I was a small child, and my mother before me. I often wondered what she had been like as a child. Had she been like me? My aunts? They were younger than her, they remembered her more in her teenage years, and even better as an adult. Still, I longed for more. I wasn’t ungrateful to my Aunts, I loved them, and they treated me as their own daughter, perhaps even kinder, I just… I suppose everyone wishes for their parents, whether they admit it or not blood and love are two inseparable forces.

‘But Aisling, you know Thorneside City is the heart of magic don’t you. There are many other witches there, and vampires, werewolves, pixies, every type of Under-realmer. Have you ever met a pixie, dear?’

That wasn’t strictly speaking true. England is the ‘country of magic’ as many Under-realmers (An Under-Realmer being a human like creature with the ability for magic) liked to call it. The majority of Under-Realmers lived in England, of course they were scattered about the earth, Asia was a popular home for Werewolves and Germany had become home to many Elves, some countries had few Under-Realmer inhabitants at all, America for example attracted few Under-Realmers. Perhaps if they had any Under-Realmer history they might have been a little more popular, our pinnacle of magic was Nexina, our heart of magic, although it was a curse in this house. When the Queen of Nexina died, she had no living heir, so the council took her will into account, no one knew why she chose the current King, although the two were friends few trusted him, many believed the will to be a forgery, but with no proof who could stop him? Mathir Taros, King of Nexina and previously Lord of the Witches (Now a position filled by his sister) was a most unhonourable man, driven by power. Ever since he had been King, the council had basically been stripped of all the control they once had, and all the races who had not signed the treaty two-hundred years ago were named criminals unless they stepped forward and signed now. Of course, the Kings and Queens of each of the five races who hadn’t signed the treaty (Werewolves, Mer people, Pixies, the Fae, and Sirens) had not complied. They refused to be bullied by anyone. While the heads of each race may have had distinctly different views and opinions they all had their stubbornness in common. They hadn’t signed the treaty while the fair Carrysa Caine was Queen, they weren’t about to sign it for this tyrant. Although there was little proof of any tyranny on his part, he was subtle, careful in everything he did, like many dictators throughout history, he kept his motive hidden and his nose clean for as long as possible, lulling the public of the Under-Realms into a sense of false security, until he was prepared to strike. At least that’s what my Aunts said, he was just waiting to find the races. No one knew where the majority of these races hid at this current time, but few had been caught by Mathir. Individual members of these races were given the opportunity to sign a separate agreement, but with those who followed the King loyally and without question (which was unfortunately a vast amount) treated them like second class citizens. Of course, having lived away from Thorneside for the majority of my life I knew nothing of this personally, but my aunts told me about it, and I also read several Under-realmer blogs and online newspapers. Another thing I’d heard on these blogs, worried me greatly. Not only was the school I was to attend far bigger than the little school in the village, and much more structured, I would be in at the same school as Drake and Alyxia Taros, Princess and crown Prince of Nexina. I hoped to God they would be nothing like their father.

After my final dinner, my final meal at our little cottage in Ashbrook. I wondered who would move into our house now. Perhaps an elderly couple, looking for a relaxing place to retire to. Or another witch, looking to spend his or her days in the peace and comfort of a simple cottage, where one could practise the craft in peace, as long as no human noticed. There were no distinct laws against telling a human of the Under-Realms, although if an Under-Realmer did share our secrets to a human then it was then for them to deal with the consequences of whatever actions that human may set in motion. With a sigh I threw my last few boxes in the back of the car, the ones containing my most treasured books and items of the craft. I would have to be careful in Thorneside, I had a secret to keep even from other Underrealmers. Within Witchcraft there are four separate paths, Brewism, Artefactrianism, Spellcasting and Elementalism. Brewists created potions, Artefactrians merged their magic with solid items, Spellcasters used spoken word and runes to control their magic, and Elementalists could control and produce one, or several of the four elements. Now whilst most Witches are born with the ability for one, two or even three of the paths, they usually pick one to pursue, and their other abilities die with age, I had been born with the ability for all four, and had not lost this in puberty. Occasionally a witch keeps two abilities, but never three, and certainly never all four. If anyone was to find out, I could be in great danger. I possessed a power greater than the Underrealms, and the world, had ever seen, although I did not yet know the extent to which this would affect my life. People would go to great lengths to yield that power, even aged fifteen I was sure of that.

‘Aisling! It’s time to go!’

* * *

My Aunts were right, the house was huge, in fact it was a mansion, painted white with blue details. It had quiet a bit of land, though how much exactly I didn’t know, and attached to the left of the mansion was a stable. The house hadn’t been emptied since my parents had died, Aunt Lucy said nobody had been inside since, so although it was fully furnished everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, I guess eleven years of abandonment could do that to a place. I wondered if this was the fate our beloved cottage would be left to endure. I missed home already. While my aunts argued over whether they should get a cleaner or not, I climbed up the grand staircase that stood in the middle of the hallways marble floor. I had a little look around the second floor, but after realising it was made up of dining rooms and other rooms made for entertainment I soon skipped it. The house was mainly furnished in bright reds, whites and golds, with the odd hint of orange or yellow. It seemed whoever had decorated last had a thing for fire as that’s what the interior to the mansion made me think of. Paintings lining the hallways also included flames, each and every one, whether it was one of a beautiful forest or a beautiful woman contained at least a hint of fire. It was all too much, who needed a house like this anyway? It was ridiculous, ten families couldn’t possibly use all of these rooms, and they were far too big anyway. Why were we here? Why did we have to leave Ashbrook. I felt rather childish thinking these thoughts, I should be grateful to be able to live in a mansion like this, but I felt uncomfortable. Something about this place gave me an uneasy feeling. Almost as if I was being watched, followed, as if the memories of this house had been so great they left a fragment of the emotion of the moment behind to haunt my thoughts. I was sorely tempted to choose the attic as my bedroom, when I came across a small room (smaller than the others, at least). I pushed the door open, tentatively. The floorboards were white, with a fluffy blue rug in the middle. The walls were also blue and white, and lined with shelves filled to the brim with various toys. Directly in front of the bed stood an outdated TV, fat and grey, much different than today’s plasma screens. Attached to it was an old DVD player, along with a games console from my early childhood. There was also a huge fireplace on the left, and a huge window to the right, one of those padded ones that you could sit on. I rushed to the window, it was at the front of the house. The stable was to my right, empty and abandoned. I imagined my mother out there years ago stroking the soft mane of her white horse. What had she been called again? I couldn’t remember. My imagination drifted back further in time, to the image of ornate carriages led by decorated stallions driving down the gravelled pathway, to be greeted by the Lord and Lady of the house (My ancestors?) as they entered the house for a large ball. Only the most respected families from all over the countries would be invited, dressed in their absolute finest, filled with the bitter emotions of jealousy and greed while they smiled and made polite conversation, while only the most gifted could see behind their facade. I imagined a young serving girl, younger than myself, sneaking a piece of bread or two downstairs to her family. The vividness of my daydream told me they were given little in return for their services. For eleven years the house had been empty, I wondered what we would find.

I threw my bags on my bed, and placed one of my boxes next to it. I looked back to the shelves, I’d had so many toys. From the cuddly variety, that were scattered all over my bed, to boardgames, to little plastic things that made creepy sounds. On one of the shelves stood a large dolls house, as I opened it up I found within it lots of miniature furniture, and people, each made for specific rooms, but it seemed I’d mixed them up a little as a kid, in what I assumed was the bathroom, stood a giraffe (from a different toy set) standing on an upside down fridge, and the living room was chock-a-block with kitchen appliances. The detail was so specific, from the separate, real working lights for each room, to the tea bags in the kitchen, someone had clearly put a lot an effort into this, not just some toy manufacturing factory. I discovered I was correct when I found, painted on the inside of the attic, ‘Lot’s of love, Mummy and Daddy’. My parents had made this? I never knew they were ones for arts and crafts. I imagined them staying up late into the night, both of them slowly and carefully fitting the separate pieces together, or painting pieces of furniture or fitting in the lighting.

Although it was barely evening, I fell asleep on my old bed.

Chapter Two

WELCOME TO THORNESIDE ACADEMY

When aunt Lucy dropped me off outside the school, I couldn’t help but gawk. It was huge, ridiculously