Crestfallen

Book 2: Spellcrest Academy

by Michael Pierce

Genres: Young Adult; YA Contemporary

Synopsis

Maeve tried to escape and forget all this magic stuff, but when she finds a seam opened in her apartment, she comes to realize that this is her new reality.

Magic exists. And she so needs to move.

There’s no use running, and she desperately needs answers after the bombshell dropped on her in the Crystal Crypt.

Maeve has unfinished business at Spellcrest Academy, but this time will be even harder than the last. Her needle is gone—her powers, nonexistent. In essence, she’s gone from one of the most powerful new students to the absolute weakest.

And it’s important for her to keep up with the rest of her class in order to remain enrolled—and she needs to remain enrolled in order to find the answers she seeks.

This sure as hell isn’t going to be easy.

Maeve's journey continues in the breathtaking second book of the Spellcrest Academy series.

Buy now!

*Beware of spoilers in the reviews below without spoiler alerts*

Release date: July 12, 2019

Publisher: ParousiaSix Press

Print pages: 330

Sample

Chapter 1

 

 

“Are you really gonna wear that tonight?” Trish asked when Ben exited the bedroom.

 

Ben glanced down at his jeans and button-down flannel shirt, seemingly perplexed. “Yeah; why?”

 

“That shirt has a hole in the elbow.”

 

“I like this shirt.”

 

“And it’s nice for lounging around the apartment and running errands, but not going out for New Year’s Eve.” Trish waddled up to him in a tight black dress that was all looks and no function, ushering him back into the bedroom.

 

“I think it’s fine,” I said, though I knew my opinion didn’t matter. Actually, it was discouraged.

 

Trish didn’t even acknowledge my statement. “Why didn’t you put on the shirt I’d laid out for you?” Then the two of them disappeared into the bedroom while I was forced to wait patiently on the couch.

 

My patience had grown by leaps and bounds since arriving back in Hollywood.

 

Ben wasn’t really happy with his new girlfriend, even though he said he was. He needed someone to take care of him. And that was exactly who she was—a controlling mother bird. She regulated everything in his life to keep him clean and in line—and hers. It was obvious she saw me as a threat, not because he was falling for me, but because I challenged her control.

 

And he was naive enough to think we’d get along.

 

I couldn’t deny she was good for keeping him clean, which was what he needed most when I left and he met her. He needed someone because I couldn’t be there for him. But now that I was back, well… let’s just say I wasn’t going to let her freakin’ boss me around. Lately, it seemed like everywhere I went, I was getting hit with freshman status.

 

I’d spent the holidays sleeping on the living room couch. There was only the one bedroom and I had nowhere else to go, so I couldn’t afford to be picky. In truth, the couch was quite comfortable, it just didn’t lend itself to much privacy—not to mention the single bathroom, which was an en suite to the bedroom. We pretty much had to share everything.

 

And if Trish had been less territorial, I would have been cooler with the whole situation. I’d been getting along well sharing a room with Nym and Razielle for several months, so I was confident the problem wasn’t all me. I also knew that Ben had to tread lightly because Trish was his girlfriend and I was a household guest. Ben was the only reason I hadn’t yet slapped her across the face or put a laxative in her herbal tea.

 

I was able to finagle my old job back at the restaurant, but I didn’t return to school. After the New Year, I planned to schedule the GED and get on with my life. Now I was able to work all the time, not simply around my school schedule. So, I did, to keep myself out of the apartment as much as possible and save up some money. And as I worked more regularly, I settled into what most people would consider a normal routine… well, as normal as one could be, living with a pseudo-older brother and his bitchy girlfriend.

 

My normal was trying to forget all about magic and what it had cost me. It had essentially stolen my whole family from me. My parents’ souls were trapped in crystals and Finley had ripped my needle from my finger. I had no more supernatural abilities outside of efficient packing—Finley had seen to that—so I didn’t belong in that world any longer. I didn’t even want to be reminded of it.

 

While I was waiting for the old married couple to agree on what constituted appropriate club attire, I received a text from Nym, wishing me a Happy New Year. Her family lived on the East Coast and it was nearly midnight over there.

 

It wasn’t unusual to receive texts from Razielle or Nym. On several occasions, Razielle had even tried to convince me to fly out to her parents’ house in San Francisco. I typically dodged the offer with a non-answer. However, I convinced myself that my supernatural friends were regular girlfriends I’d once shared a room with at one of the many group homes. I tried to completely erase from my mind what they really were—a half-elf and a Nephilim—because those kinds of beings simply didn’t exist in the real world. Ask anyone.

 

I held the phone out for a selfie and sent it to Nym, wishing her a Happy New Year as well. I thought she’d get a kick out of me wearing the same outfit I’d worn for the Halloween festival at Spellcrest Village, a crimson corset top and black leather pants. I even had the same heels, though she couldn’t see those in the picture. The noticeable difference was the octagram tattoo that was no longer emblazoned across my chest, which had been on full display at Halloween. Now I had no tattoo or soul crystal necklace. See… normal.

 

Nym texted back a picture of herself at the house party she was at. Though I wouldn’t really call it a house. Her parents owned an estate in the Hamptons, so all of their family friends were rich. And Nym wasn’t wearing anything close to what Razielle and I had dressed her up in for Halloween. Her scandalous dress was traded in for nicely-tailored slacks and a cardigan. Her pointy ears stuck wistfully out of her strawberry blond hair. She looked exactly like the Nym we all knew and loved.

 

“See, doesn’t that look so much better?” Trish asked as the two of them exited the bedroom.

 

“It’s stiff,” Ben complained as he walked in my direction. He stopped and did a little twirl.

 

“No holes,” I said. “How very grown up of you.”

 

“It’s like you’ve never owned new clothes before,” Trish said and grabbed a reusable water bottle from the fridge.

 

“Not many,” Ben said. I’d known he’d bought much of his clothing from thrift stores, though he did have a few hookups at specialty clothing stores. It was more that he just didn’t want to buy new clothes. He still had hand-me-downs from our last group home together.

 

“Maeve, you have your fake ID?” Trish asked, strolling back into the living room.

 

“It’s not fake. It just doesn’t have my real age,” I said, sourly, finishing up a text to Nym.

 

“Then it’s fake, but whatever. How old does it say you are?”

 

“Twenty-five.”

 

“You can’t pass for twenty-five.”

 

“It’s worked before,” I shot back, even though I hadn’t actually been carded for anything yet. Ben had put me on the list of a few clubs he DJed at, sneaking me in the back door. And each time I’d gone up to a bar to order a drink, it had been a soda or water. I wasn’t going to start drinking alcohol just because my license said I could. I didn’t need that extra craziness in my life; I had enough with Trish.

 

“Well, if you don’t get in, then you’re on your own,” Trish said, grabbing a black clutch from the dining room table. “Shall we?” She looped her arm through Ben’s and gave an exaggerated gesture for me to get off my lazy ass.

 

Why’d I even agree to come tonight?

 

“Let’s go set the world on fire,” Ben said with a mischievous smile. It was little looks like this that reminded me of him before Trish.

 

On the way down, Ben called an Uber—not because the club we were going to was far, but because the one thing Trish and I agreed on was not wanting to walk more than a block in heels.

 

There were so many drivers out tonight, our car was practically waiting for us by the time we reached the sidewalk. As Ben held the door open, Trish pushed me in first, followed by her, so I wasn’t able to sit beside him. The three of us were crammed into the back of a Prius, and I wasn’t exactly keen on Trish’s leg being pushed against mine. Luckily, I wasn’t wearing a skirt too.

 

Even though the venue was literally a half mile away, it took us over ten minutes to get there. Hollywood Boulevard traffic was always bad, but a typical weekend night couldn’t compare to New Year’s Eve.

 

Because every place would be at capacity tonight, Trish had splurged to get us VIP tickets, so we could bypass the long line and get access to the lounge inside where we might actually have a chance to sit down.

 

To Trish’s disdain, I floated right past security. The guy didn’t even take a second look at my license. I smiled brightly, then glanced over at Trish who was clenching her jaw, holding tightly to Ben’s arm.

 

Once we were inside, I let any homicidal thoughts of Trish subside as I was overtaken by the pounding music and the sea of beautiful people. I could find someone here who could make me forget all about Devon Christi. I still couldn’t forgive him for keeping the secret of my parents from me. I’d felt like he’d betrayed me almost as much as Finley. My feelings were probably hypocritical, but I still felt justified in my resentment.

 

The fact was, after everything we’d been through, he hadn’t tried to contact me once since I’d left. He was obviously over me. He’d said our connection wasn’t based off the crystals of my parents—since we’d each had one—but his actions once I was gone spoke louder than his words from the last time we were together in the Crystal Crypt.

 

Devon not coming after me proved there had been no real connection between us. He didn’t really care about me… or love me. And I wasn’t going to pine over some arrogant asshole from a world I no longer belonged to. That magical world was dead to me. So was Devon and Finley and—I made exceptions for Nym and Razielle. But like I said, I no longer thought of them as magical beings.

 

The three of us hit the dance floor. At first, I was just dancing with myself, but over time found myself pulled toward different guys who seemed to have also come stag. Some of them got a little handsy, but I wanted to forget about the fact that I didn’t have anyone and just went with the flow. It was when a guy wanted to lead me off the dance floor to buy me a drink or introduce me to his friends or make a move on one of the couches, that I drew the line. I just wanted to keep dancing and there seemed to always be another guy ready to take the last one’s place.

 

I lost sight of Ben and Trish several times, but I could understand they wanted their own space. I did too. When I needed a break, I headed over to the bar and requested a water. One guy followed and tried to convince me I needed something a little stronger.

 

“You’re right,” I said. “Scrawny guys don’t really do it for me.” I sipped from the black straw and gazed up at him through my eyelashes, flashing an innocent smile.

 

“You’re a bitch,” he snapped and stormed off into the everchanging crowd.

 

Yeah; there’s that.

 

I downed the rest of my water and headed back onto the dance floor, when I caught a glimpse of Ben making his way toward me.

 

“There you are,” he shouted while he was still a way off. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 

“Where’s Trish?”

 

“Guarding the couch I was able to snag. Come on. It’s nearly midnight.” He grabbed my hand, which at first felt awkward, and led me through the crowd. I was tugged through groups of people that did not want to be separated. But we were gone before anyone had a chance to protest.

 

When we reached the VIP lounge, Ben dropped my hand and guided me to the couch that Trish seemed to be guarding with her life. There were couples and small groups milling about nearby, ready to pounce at the first sign of Trish abandoning her post.

 

Then on the end table, I noticed three glasses of champagne.

 

“Have a seat,” Ben said. “I’m sure you’d like to get off your feet for a few minutes.”

 

I couldn’t argue with that—though I could keep my distance from Trish. I could also question whether or not those glasses were ours. “What are those?”

 

Ben gestured to the glasses. “They’re for midnight. I had to get them early, so sorry if it’s a little warm. But look at the bars now. Plenty of people aren’t going to make it before midnight.”

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked.

 

“It’s a special night. One glass won’t hurt.” He glanced down at Trish, who didn’t look like she agreed, but also didn’t correct him for once in her life. “We need to celebrate.”

 

I didn’t know what Trish had seen with him, but I’d seen enough to know this was a dangerous road. Maybe nothing would happen tonight, but it was opening the door to fall back into old patterns.

 

When the music stopped and the countdown began, Ben grabbed all three glasses and handed them out. The chorus of the crowd grew louder as we all approached one, then a blinding lightshow erupted, timed to the sounds of fireworks as we all shouted, “Happy New Year!”

 

The three of us clinked glasses. I brought mine to my lips and tipped it back, but stopped the champagne from passing my lips.

 

Ben and Trish kissed, and with his hand holding the flute positioned around her back, I noticed it was already empty. As soon as they parted, Ben pushed over to me and gave me a tight squeeze.

 

“Happy New Year,” he said into my ear. “It’s going to be a great one; I can feel it.” And at that very moment, Trish’s gaze was burning a hole into his back.

 

When he let go, he remained standing between us two girls, his attention oscillating back and forth. “Are you going to drink that?” Ben finally asked me.

 

“I am,” I lied and brought the flute to my lips again. I’d have to spill some behind the couch before too long.

 

“Anyone want anything else?”

 

Trish shook her head, still sipping from her glass.

 

“Okay. I’ll be right back,” he said and walked off into the crowd, still clutching the empty flute.

 

“I can’t believe you’re okay with this,” I snapped at Trish.

 

“Like he said, one’s not a big deal,” she said, continuing to drink her champagne.

 

“You’re assuming he’s stopping at one.”

 

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Ben cried as Trish and I literally dragged him out of the club.

 

I didn’t know how many drinks he had, but it didn’t matter. He’d disappeared several more times since midnight. He didn’t seem terribly bad until it was too late, and whatever else he’d drunk finally caught up with him.

 

He had an arm around each one of our shoulders, and we fought to keep him upright as we flooded the sidewalk of Hollywood Boulevard with countless other inebriated clubgoers. The street was still filled with cars trying to avoid the hordes of pedestrians. Honking and hollering filled the early-morning air like battle cries.

 

“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Ben said, then started to heave.

 

I aimed him away from the street and helped him to his knees. Trish knelt beside him, losing a heel in the process, and rubbed his back as he vomited all over the sidewalk.

 

Passersby hooted and laughed at Ben for not being able to handle his liquor. However, as was usually the case, outsiders looking in didn’t know what was really going on, only what they saw, which was only a small part of the whole picture. I flipped off a few of the more raucous ones, but all that did was egg them on.

 

“I’m sorry, guys,” Ben said again once he was done spewing his guts onto the concrete.

 

“Let’s just get you home,” I said, checking my phone for an Uber update. Per the app, our car was less than five minutes away. Just enough time to get Ben back on his feet.

 

“Do you feel any better?” Trish asked.

 

“Loads,” Ben said, then laughed. “I can taste it in my nose. Still kinda bubbly.”

 

“That’s so gross.”

 

Then I laughed from Trish’s exaggerated grimace. At least Ben was still in relatively good spirits. And there was nothing I’d have to dump down the drain when we got home, either. All he’d have to do was sleep it off, then we’d see how irate Trish was in the morning once he’d sobered up. And if it came to that, I’d jump into the fight as well, blaming her for being an enabler. Then we’d really see what kind of shit hit the fan. I guessed I’d better get a good night’s sleep as well.

 

I spotted the black Murano that was picking us up and ran over to it before anyone had the bright idea to steal it from us. I’d be so pissed if I was charged for a ride I wasn’t in.

 

Holding open the back door of the SUV, I whistled and waved to Trish to get her attention. She carefully hobbled over with Ben’s arm draped around her shoulder. As they approached, Ben spit on the sidewalk, then wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his nice new shirt.

 

“Get in,” Trish barked at me.

 

I was tempted to argue, but thought I should save my energy for tomorrow. So, I complied and climbed into the backseat of the SUV, scooting to the far end of the leather bench seat as Ben crawled in behind me.

 

The driver’s concerned eyes appeared in the rearview mirror. “Nobody better throw up in my car,” he warned.

 

I punched the button to lower my window. “No one’s going to throw up.”

 

“I already did that,” Ben said, sounding oddly proud of himself.

 

“Maybe you should keep some barf bags in your car if you’re going to be picking people up at 2 a.m.,” Trish said as Ben laid his head on her shoulder.

 

“I love you,” Ben slurred in a way that made it sound like one long word. It was the first time I’d heard him say that to her. I didn’t know if it was something they were saying to each other now or if it was just drunk Ben talking, in which case, he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

 

The Murano pushed into traffic, turned at the next light, and proceeded to circle around to our apartment complex by way of back streets.

 

At one of the stop-sign intersections, I looked up at the old Victorian house on the corner and realized it had been where I’d found Helena—the dying old woman who’d given me her needle. I’d found her in a heap on the grass, I passed out after she stabbed me with the needle, and when I awoke to the downcast faces of paramedics surrounding me, Helena had vanished. This was another reminder of the magical world I wanted to forget.

 

“Oh God!” Ben blurted out, then proceeded to climb over me and hang his head out the open window as he expelled more of the night’s celebratory drinks.

 

“Watch your knees!” I exclaimed and swatted at his legs to keep them from digging into my thighs.

 

The car continued down the street at an accelerated pace as Ben continued to heave, his whole body convulsing over me. All I could do was sit there and wait for him to finish.

 

“You told me no one would throw up,” the driver said, angrily.

 

“And none of it’s in the car,” I said.