Christina Bauer [Bauer - Cherished

First Published by Monster House Books, LLC in 2017

Monster House Books, LLC

34 Chandler Place Newton, MA 02464

www.monsterhousebooks.com

ISBN 9781945723001

Copyright 2017 by Monster House Books LLC

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Dedication

For the Special Education Teachers at the Countryside School in Newton, MA.

Because they work real magick every day.

Contents

Chapter One

In the last three months, I hadnt raised the dead, animated any skeletons, or cast a single kill spell. For me, that was an achievement. After all, I was a Grand Mistress Necromancer turned farm girlAnd I loved my new life.

Mostly.

Sometimes.

All right. In complete honesty, I was dying to cast a silencer spell right now. The reason was simpleGail and Lizzie Dunkel had joined me for a wagon ride into town.

Who do you think well meet in the village? asked Lizzie brightly. She and her twin sister flanked me on the drivers bench. The pair both had big blue eyes, tanned skin, long blonde hair, and curvy figures. They even wore matching green gowns. I was their opposite: long dark hair, brown eyes, porcelain complexion, and slim build.

Perhaps the widow Feyer or the Hartmann boys, replied Gail. The two went on to list other farm families we might encounter. Their chatter was high-pitched and soothing, like a pair of happy birds. Still, I ached to cast my spell. Why? Without it, the sisters would eventually ask me to join their conversation.

In my life, magick came easily. But small talk? Not at all.

My horse Smokey took a familiar turn into an orchard. Bright morning sunlight gleamed off the trees.

What beautiful apples, sighed Lizzie.

They look delicious, added Gail. She rubbed her stomach. How Id love to stop and try one. She stared at me pointedly. After all, I was holding the reins to Smokey.

Even so, we werent stopping. The fruit looked too waxy and perfect, which meant this orchard had been hit with freeze blight. Sure, the apples looked gorgeous. But once you bit in, youd find the colorful shell was filled with foul white goop. Yes, there was still an apple in the milky slop, but it wasnt anything youd want to eatmore of a small, gray and disgusting lump. Most decidedly not delicious. I gently flicked my reins so Smokey would move a little faster.

Lizzie fluttered her lashes at me. Cant we please stop, Elea?

I pretended not to hear her question.

Gail nudged me in the ribs. You do talk, dont you?

I straightened my spine. What was I afraid of, exactly? Not so long ago, I rode through far more dangerous woods than these, all in the hopes that bandits would attack me. Plus, I raised thousands of Necromancers from the dead. I even exiled none other than Viktor, a fearsome mage who could wield the hybrid magick of both Creation Casters and Necromancers. Back then, I feared no oneI was a Grand Mistress Necromancer on a mission. Now, I was merely an ex-mage trying to chitchat with some other farm girls.

Small talk. How hard could that be?

We arent stopping. I nodded to the trees. Those are covered in freeze blight.

The girls began gasping and waving their arms in panic.

I ground my back teeth. As it turned out, small talk was rather hard.

Freeze blight, cried Lizzie. Oh, no! It couldnt have hit our shire.

This is terrible, added Gail. There will be no food this winter. Were all going to die.

Lizzie gripped my upper arm. Youre just teasingArent you?

A long pause followed in which I silently cursed my friend Philippe. This had all been his idea. Hed urged me to transport the Dunkel sisters in what he called his Elea Stops Frightening The Locals plan. Id tried to argue my way out of it, but for some reason, it was impossible to win a verbal battle with Philippe. Now, I was stuck answering Lizzies question.

I kept my features carefully level. My Necromancer training taught me to mask my emotions. Im sure well all be fine. Mostly I said this because I could always cast spells that would kill the blight and speed the harvest. But Id only do that if things got really dire. One rotten orchard wasnt enough to break my vow against magick.

Here was my issue. My parents left me Braddock Farm. It was all I had to remember them by. I wanted to honor their legacy and become a farm girl once more. My best chance to do that was in giving up on magick altogether. Perhaps we should talk about something else? I asked.

I love this idea, said Lizzie. How delightful that you wish to join our conversation. Lizzie looked so please, I almost felt guilty for not wanting to chat with her. Almost.

Let me think. Gail tapped her tiny pointed chin. Ah, I have it. Elea, whats your favorite way to bake a barley loaf?

Barley loaf? Thats a thing?

I dont bake.

Lizzie stared me, slack jawed. Surely youve made apple tarts?

No.

Bran muffins?

No.

Spiced pie?

No. How many things did most farm girls bake? For my part, I ate whatever Mabel and Sam had ready. The pair had been watching over my farm while I was out adventuring this past year. Theyd stayed on after I returned, mostly because they were excellent farmers. Mabel kept a perpetual pot of stew over the hearth.

What about porridge? asked Gail.

Relief washed through me. I was about to answer that, Yes, I know how to make porridge, when Lizzie elbowed her sister in the rib cage. Hush, Gail. Everyone knows how to make porridge. She leaned forward on the drivers bench in order to catch my eye. What do you make thats special?

Nothing youd like to hear about, Im afraid. I was trying to keep my stories about Necromancer spells to a minimum. My tales tended to frighten everyone except Philippe.

Please, said Gail. We know you arent a witch these days.

Ive never been a witch, I said slowly. Im a Grand Mistress Necromancer.

Right, said Lizzie. She and Gail shared a long look. I got the feeling Id made a social blunder somewhere along the line, but I couldnt think where. No self-respecting Necromancer tolerated being called a witch. Witches were hacks who performed black magick at travelling faires. Mages like me spent years mastering our skills, and we never used our powers for evil.

Well, said Gail. Tell us what things you made as a Necromancer.

My mood lifted. Fine. If they want the truth, theyll get it.

Im quite good at animating skulls.

Lizzie popped her hand over her mouth. Skulls.

The shocked look on her face was just too precious. Thats right. And I always cover mine with gemstones. It makes for a nice effect, especially when the eye sockets glow while theyre talking.

More silence. I may have pushed that too far. It was all part of my Zuchtlos nature, which was what Necromancers called someone who was impetuous. I decided to steer the conversation onto safer ground. Philippe said nice things about both of you, by the way. Im so glad he suggested we spend time together.

Another long and meaningful stare passed between the sisters. I almost wanted to offer to let them sit side by side. After all, they had to lean forward to gawk around me.