Beautiful Magic_An Urban Fantasy Story Read online

  Beautiful Magic

  Must Love Dragons Book 1

  Devyn Jayse

  This ebook is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only.

  This ebook may not be sold, shared, or given away.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Beautiful Magic

  Copyright © 2018 by Devyn Jayse

  Cover Art by Andrei Bat

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my Dragons

  Contents

  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

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Devyn Jayse

  One

  I'll never forget the day that I almost died. After all, it changed my life forever.

  I didn't know it at the time, but it would be the first of many such days.

  I was walking around the Gothic Quarter in Barcelona as usual, looking for new gargoyles to photograph when something shoved me aside. I fell to my knees as a loud crash erupted near me. Dazed, I glanced back and saw pieces of shattered stone where I had just been standing.

  Shaken, I got to my feet and looked around me to see who had pushed me out of the way, but I was alone. I raised my head to the tall cathedral facade to see where the stone had come from. I couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary. There didn't appear to be any broken architecture or missing gargoyles. I looked back at the stone that had nearly crushed me. A flyer had landed near the stone. I walked over and picked it up.

  An ice cream vendor ran over to me, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, I'm fine," I lied, still shaken by the near miss. I clutched the flyer in my hand. "Thank you."

  His eyes roamed over me as if searching for something to contradict my statement and his gaze hitched at my knees. I glanced down and saw the tear in my brand-new jeans. A small patch of dark blood was beginning to bloom through the denim. I forced myself to smile at the vendor. My face felt tight and I wondered what I must look like to him.

  "There's a small fountain around the corner. You can clean off the dirt there. Take care of yourself," the ice cream man said finally. He walked away, peering back at me one last time.

  I allowed myself to wince. After having seen the injury, I could feel the throbbing of my scraped knee. I bent down and cursed softly. There wasn't much blood, but my stepmother was going to call me wasteful because I had managed to rip my jeans so soon. I'd have to figure out a way to convince her that they had always been like that. But first I'd have to wash out the telltale blood.

  I made my way to the fountain that the vendor had told me about. I realized I still clutched the flyer. I shoved it in my back pocket. I cleaned away the bloodstain and sat down, trying to stretch out the growing stiffness that was already in my knees. I watched as people milled around me, taking in the sights of the famous Barcelona Cathedral.

  I had been coming here nearly every day since I moved to Barcelona only a few months ago. The rest of my family seemed to have adjusted faster than I had. My father was busy with his new job while my stepmother went out to network for her consultancy. My brothers seemed to thrive in this new location. Being away from my mother was doing wonders for them. Not that they saw her much anyways. She was my mother, not theirs, but my stepmother made them visit from time to time. She had wanted my mother to feel that she still had a family.

  It was difficult to see my mother often with her restricted visiting hours in the mental facility. She had entered it so long ago it had just added strain to our family. My father forbade me from visiting her alone after the second time she tried to kill me. To be fair, he hadn’t known about the first attempt. And then he had made the decision to uproot us and start over in a new city. It seemed my father was right; moving away was the best thing for our family.

  Part of me still felt conflicted about leaving her behind with only my aunt to visit her. She may have tried to kill me but she was still my mother.

  Apart from leaving my mother, moving away didn’t make as much of a difference to my life as it had for my brothers. I had always been a loner. I preferred it that way. My loneliness started with my mother's troubles, but then I just became comfortable with not having friends. I preferred to bury my nose in a book or go explore. I loved wandering the streets of Barcelona, discovering the different neighborhoods and finding out who lived there. There was so much to do that I could never get bored.

  I shifted and I remembered the flyer still tucked away in my back pocket. I pulled it out and smoothed over the crumpled paper. In large bold letters it read, MUST LOVE DRAGONS. Below that, it said:

  Do you love dragons?

  Do you seek adventure and excitement?

  Are you ready for your life to change?

  The Dragon Research Initiate Program is a youth initiative aimed at young members of the community.

  To be eligible for the program, applicants must be between the ages of 16 and 17 and must be residents of Barcelona.

  Visit the Dragon Research and Authority Center for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  I looked at the date and time on the flyer. I checked my watch; I had half an hour before they closed. The address was nearby, less than fifteen minutes away. I glanced at the words one more time and decided to trust in fate.

  I got to my feet and ran.

  Two

  The address on the flyer led me to a huge castle. I stood there and gaped. It was made of brick and iron and clearly very old. The building’s facade was an architect's dream with its intricate carvings and archways. It had four towers at the corners and battlements along the top. All it was missing was a moat. The palm trees that surrounded the castle further ruined the illusion.

  I made my way closer to the entrance. The wooden door was easily twice my height. A bronze plaque near the door said Dragon Research and Authority Center. Gargoyles covered the building, more than any other building I had seen in the Gothic Quarter. Almost all of the gargoyles were dragons. I wanted to study them, but I only had five minutes before the Center closed.

  I pulled back the wooden door by its metal doorknob, expecting resistance due to its size and weight, but the door was surprisingly light. I stepped inside and blinked, my eyes adjusting to the dimness of the foyer. A strong scent of sandalwood tickled my nose. I breathed it in. There was a large ornate desk in front of me. A boy not much older than I was sat behind the desk. He didn't look up at my entrance. He had wavy brown hair that reached his shoulders. To my left there were three hallways. I briefly wondered where each one of them lead.

  "Hello. I'm here to apply for this program." I walked forward to the boy and raised the flyer so that he could see it.

  He made me wait a few uncomfortable moments before he raised his head. He ignored the flyer and his hazel eyes studied me instead. Awkwardly, I placed the flyer on the d
esk. He glanced over my head. "Cutting it pretty close, aren't you?"

  I looked behind me and saw a large clock over the door. I was one minute away from the end-time stated on the flyer. I turned back to him and didn't know what to say. Did he want me to leave? My expression must have conveyed my question because he sighed heavily.

  He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. "Follow me," he said as he stepped away from his desk. He moved quickly, and I had to double-step to keep pace with him. We rushed through the hallway, passing almost a dozen closed doors. In our hurry, I didn't have the chance to read each name plate.

  I nearly crashed into him when he came to an abrupt stop at a door where the hallway curved. He pushed it open and I followed him inside to see a room with chairs pushed back against the walls. Three seated people looked up at us, curiosity clear on their faces. They all looked to be my age, so they were probably there for the same reason I was. On my right, a woman sat at the counter peering at paperwork, her pen tapping against her mouth. We were obviously in a waiting area of some kind.

  "What's your name?" my guide asked me.

  "Vanessa Garcia," I said.

  "Have a seat. They'll call you when they're ready," he said.

  He walked to the woman at the counter. They exchanged words, he pointed at me and she gave me a disapproving frown. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was clear that she was unhappy with my late arrival. I sat in the nearest empty chair which happened to be next to a girl with short purple and blue hair. She openly appraised me while the other applicants only snuck glances.

  "Fill out this application and return it to her when you're ready." The boy had returned with sheets of papers on a clipboard and a pen. He gave me one last glance and left.

  I began filling the form out. The girl next to me said, "They have some funny questions on there."

  I skimmed the application form and thought I saw the ones she meant:

  Do you like magic?

  Do you believe in the supernatural?

  "What is this program about? Do you know?" I asked her.

  "Not really, but a friend of mine recommended I apply. She got in last year and said it's worth it." She stuck out her hand. "I heard you tell him you're Vanessa. I'm Maribel."

  I put my pen down and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you. Have you been waiting here long?"

  She twisted her lips in a wry smile. "Depends on what you mean by long. It's been half an hour by my count. If my friend hadn't threatened me if I ditched this opportunity, I would have left already. I hate waiting."

  "What did she tell you about the program?" I asked.

  "She said it would change my life." Maribel tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear. "Things were getting boring, so I decided to listen to her."

  I tapped on the form. "Why do they ask if we can commit full-time to the program?"

  "Once you're accepted, you live here at the Center."

  My eyebrows knit together. "Here?"

  She shrugged. "I'm not so sure where, but my friend said it's kind of like a boarding school except you can see your parents over the weekend. I'm fighting so much with mine, I thought it would be a great chance to escape."

  It looked like Maribel and I had something in common. I gave her a smile and returned to filling out the form. I did as the boy requested and gave it to the woman at the counter when I finished. She didn't so much as look at me when she grabbed the sheet.

  As soon as I returned to my seat, the woman called out, "Maribel, you're next. Go on in."

  "Good luck," I told the girl as she stood.

  She gave me a lopsided grin. "You too."

  I watched her make her way into the room. Then there were three of us. I looked at the two other applicants. The boy was slouched in his seat, his long legs splayed out in front of him. His fingers were steepled together against his lips and he appeared lost in thought. The girl had her arms crossed and looked angry. I wondered how long she had been waiting.

  Within half an hour both of them had disappeared through the door. Maribel had never come out, so I assumed that there was another exit within the room.

  "Vanessa," a voice called, snapping me out of my reverie. I looked up to see the woman pointing at the door. She kept her head down, still intent on paperwork.

  I got to my feet and crossed the room. As soon as I stepped through the door, I realized this was a mistake: I hadn't prepared. I'd come here on a whim.

  "Hello," a man greeted me. He was one of three people sitting behind a long table. The man smiled and gestured to the empty chair across from where they sat. The two women looked bored.

  I slipped into the seat.

  "Vanessa, is it?" He waited until I nodded and continued. "Let's get straight to the point. Why did you apply for this program?"

  "I thought it sounded interesting."

  He tilted his head. "Which part?"

  "To be honest, I liked the dragon part. I love dragons and that's what the flyer asked for."

  The women exchanged glances. My heart sank as I realized I wasn't making the best impression. My foot came to life and began tapping on the floor.

  "How old are you?" the lighter-haired woman asked.

  "Seventeen." Almost. It would be true in five months.

  "Are you a Barcelona resident?"

  "Yes."

  "How long have you been living here?" she continued.

  "A month."

  "A month?" A thin eyebrow rose.

  My throat felt dry. I licked my bottom lip. "Yes, I just moved here."

  "Where were you living before?" the other woman asked.

  "I grew up in a town just outside Malaga."

  "Do you plan on living in Barcelona for the next ten years?"

  "I'm not sure. Maybe?" I fidgeted in my seat. I barely knew what I was going to do in the next year. How would I know where I would be living for the next ten years?

  The light-haired woman frowned. She turned to her colleagues then back to me. "Thank you for coming in to see us. Unfortunately, it appears that we're unable to enroll you in the program."

  "Uh, thank you." I stood up from my chair. I gave them a nod and stumbled out of the room.

  I couldn't help but feel that I had lost the chance to be involved in something extraordinary.

  And I hated myself for messing it up just like I always messed up everything.

  Three

  "What are you moping about?" my stepmother asked me.

  "Nothing." It wasn't exactly true. I was still upset with myself for messing up the interview the day before. The more I thought about it, the more upset I became. I could have had the chance to escape and live away from my family. I loved my family and all, but whenever I was around them I just wanted to be away from them. It made me feel guilty to be around them when my mother was alone and far away. I felt like I was betraying her by spending time around them.

  My stepmother scoffed at me. "Go take a walk and change your energy. Your aura is particularly negative at the moment." She walked over to the coffee table and picked up a small bottle.

  My father was sitting in his armchair watching the news. "Use the floral one. The incense one makes my head hurt."

  She returned the small bottle she had picked up and reached for another.

  "My aura is fine," I said as she approached me.

  "No, it's not." She spritzed the fragrance around me.

  I sneezed as the smell of tuberose reached my nose. My stepmother was a big fan of aura cleansers. She got a new one every week or so. They didn't seem to do much except for making me sneeze.

  She put the bottle away and said over her shoulder, "Stop moping and go get some fresh air. A walk would restore your balance."

  I kept myself from rolling my eyes. I sensed my father watching us and things were already rocky enough with my stepmother. I didn't need more lectures in my life about how I had to be respectful and a good role model to my brothers.

  I'd known since I was young that
my family wasn't like others. The only thing that I had in common with my half-brothers, other than the same father, was that we had kooky mothers. I remembered shards of my life when my parents had been together, and things were peaceful. Our family had become turbulent when my mother went to the mental facility. My father did his best to take care of me after that, but he simply wasn't a nurturer.

  He remarried soon after, but I always felt separated from my "new" family. I loved my half-brothers, and my stepmother was okay, but I never really felt like I belonged. Part of the time I wondered if I would inherit my mother's madness and end up locked away. I swear sometimes I could feel my father thinking the same thing when he looked at me.

  His second wife was chipper and always prattled on about positive energy and forces. His first wife, my mother, used to talk about hidden elements and opening your eyes to reality. Clearly, my father had a type.

  I left the apartment and began walking the streets of Barcelona once more, my thoughts still with my family situation. It would have been great to get some space away from them, but I hadn't been accepted into the program. The more I turned the interview questions over in my head, the more I came up with better responses I should have said. It was frustrating. Before I knew it, I found my feet taking me back to the Center.

  As I looked up at the stunning building again, I realized I could use the opportunity to study the gargoyles more carefully. I hadn't had time yesterday to see the Center completely, so I decided to walk around it. The building seemed to be five stories high. There were beautiful balconies along the upper windows. I raised my eyes to the roof and admired the intricate gargoyles. They peered down at me. A shiver ran up my spine. It almost felt like they were really watching me. I wondered how many people they had seen pass this building and the stories they could tell.