Medial Candidate

Book 4: Spellcrest Academy

by Michael Pierce

Genres: Young Adult; YA Contemporary

Synopsis

Maeve and her friends start their second year at Spellcrest Academy, where they've advanced to the class of medials.

On day one, Maeve finds a mysterious crystal skull on her bed. When she touches it, she’s instantly transported to the lonely tower with six other mystified Master Classmen.

During that meeting, Maeve is introduced to a secret society made up of Spellcrest’s elite, positioned to make profound impacts on the world after graduation. The only problem is the fact she’s a medial tapped to join a secret society intended for Master Classmen. Naturally, Maeve’s presence isn’t universally appreciated.

As the candidate challenges mount and secrets are revealed, Maeve suspects she may not have been chosen for her elite status, but for a much more sinister purpose. And when she discovers the truth, it may be too late to save herself, her friends, and quite possibly the entire Academy…

A whole new adventure is about to begin with the thrilling fourth book of the Spellcrest Academy series.

Buy now!

Release date: December 20, 2019

Publisher: ParousiaSix Press

Print pages: 324

Sample

Prologue: Tamara

 

 

“Tamara, open your eyes,” a soothing voice said in the great dark void.

 

I couldn’t remember the last thing anyone had said to me. Time seemed to stretch on forever yet move infinitely fast at the same time. There had been light at times, but there was nothing amidst that light. It was still a void. But no one had talked to me while I was floating in the emptiness. I simply was.

 

I felt a strange tingling sensation like someone touching the appendages I used to have—back when I had a body. There were no bodies in the void, only energy I still couldn’t explain. Trying would be futile. The only explanation was immersion.

 

Then the great dark void wasn’t so dark anymore. A blurry vision appeared before me, a swirl of blinking shades, and then colors.

 

“Welcome back, Tamara,” the voice said.

 

Tamara. That was my name. Though it didn’t feel like mine anymore.

 

The images before me slowly sharpened until three faces condensed to one smiling brunette woman with bright red lipstick and her hair pulled into a tight bun. She’d been leaning down, and now stood straighter to give me more space.

 

I blinked hard, finally realizing I was controlling my eyes. Long white bulbs shone overhead from where my body lay. I was on a bed—or a gurney—and dressed in tight clothes with bright colors, like nothing I’d ever seen. My feet were bare. And darkly tanned…

 

“Where… am I…?” I managed to croak out. My vocal cords felt strained and weak. And my voice was not the same one I heard in my head.

 

“Where you’re supposed to be,” the woman said. “Spellcrest Academy. How do you feel? It takes time to adjust to a new body, though it’s difficult to determine how long. Typically, a few days to a few weeks.”

 

“Adjust? A new body?” The words she was saying weren’t making sense to me.

 

“Were you not told the risks?”

 

I tried to push up from my lying position but felt so weak I could barely move. All I could successfully do was turn my head so I was looking at her instead of the drab concrete ceiling. “I—I guess not.” I glanced down at my feet again, now realizing why they’d seemed so alien. They weren’t really mine.

 

“We are much better at preserving the bodies today, but when you were crystallized—back in 1933—there were substantially more risks. We lost many with technological failures and magical inadequacies. We’re still learning but have gotten much better. Unfortunately, your body was lost nearly forty years ago. I’m very sorry. But per the pictures I’ve seen of the girl you were, I believe we’ve found you a very nice replacement body.”

 

“What year is it?” I asked, trying to remember what I’d committed to.

 

“1983. The fall quarter is just about to start. You’re fully enrolled and have been assigned a room in the first-years’ dormitory—Windsor Hall.”

 

My math skills had slowed too, and it took me a few moments to calculate that I’d been gone for fifty years. The weight of that reality quickly set in, and I had to imagine that I’d considered it when I’d signed the contract while my family was greatly struggling in the worst depression the country had ever faced—at least, I hoped that was the worst of it. Despite their objections, I’d been their ticket to salvation. But everything was fuzzy now. It didn’t seem like a past life or a dream, but another person’s story.

 

“Your sacrifice did not go unnoticed—or unrewarded—as you’ll soon learn,” the woman said.

 

“Are my parents… are they still alive?”

 

She shook her head. “I’m sorry to say they’re not, but you knew that would be a very real possibility going in.”

 

It was still hard to remember exactly what transpired when I’d stumbled upon the Spellcrest Academy donation program. My family was in dire straits and on the verge of losing everything. But so were many families at that time. Our silver lining came with the discovery that I had special abilities… and an elite magical institution was willing to pay for them.

 

Well, that wasn’t exactly true. The Academy was willing to pay for my services for fifty years in exchange for my family’s financial security and the promise that once my contract was fulfilled, I’d be granted admission, also paid for by the services rendered.

 

Now, I had to live with the consequences of that choice, having to accept the world had moved on without me.

 

“What about Mary and Timmy?” I asked, referring to my two younger siblings.

 

“Timmy was drafted and died in the Second World War.”

 

“There was another… Never mind. I’m sure a lot has happened since I’ve been gone. And Mary?”

 

“She died more recently—lost her own war with heart disease.”

 

“So, I’m alone,” I said, returning my gaze to the ceiling. I didn’t think my return would have been this depressing.

 

“Mary had a daughter, Tammy, who is in her thirties now—named after you. She’s married with two children of her own.”

 

I wasn’t really sure what to say to that, so I didn’t respond. Though it did feel good to find out that my sister thought enough of me to name her only daughter that.

 

“Mary hated the fact that your parents gave so much to the school even after learning what had happened to your body,” the woman said. “I think they felt they needed to give themselves a little more assurance that you would be brought back before they passed. But we always keep our promises. That’s why you’re here now, about to start the most amazing year of your life. The world’s changed a lot in fifty years, more so than any time in history. But you’re young—you’ll catch on fast.”

 

I returned my gaze to her. “I hope that’s part of the curriculum.”

 

“We’ll get you up to speed with the traditional world and introduce you to a whole new world of magicals.” She walked to the edge of the room and retrieved a wheelchair. “Are you ready to get out and see your new home?”

 

I nodded as she helped me into the chair, then wheeled me to the door and into a busy hallway.

 

Most of the people I saw as we continued through a hospital of some sort were adults, but there were a few students who looked around my age, all of whom wore brightly colored clothes and had strange haircuts.

 

I hadn’t been shown what I looked like, but judging by the tight pants and vibrant pink top I was wearing, I was given clothes to match the era. I pulled a strand of blonde hair before my eyes and ran my fingers down the curls. My real hair had been dark and straight, but this new hair did smell good.

 

As we approached a pair of glass doors, they opened by themselves to let us exit the building, which I assumed was a byproduct of the magical world I’d soon learn about.

 

There was a scattering of brick buildings outside, sprawled across massive, lush green grounds with interweaving sidewalks and bushes trimmed to resemble animals and people. Out here, there were more students walking to and from the various buildings. The pinnacle of the Academy seemed to be one building that loomed over all the others with a steep roof reminiscent of a church or mountain range.

 

Beyond the buildings and the grounds was a brick wall that encircled the whole campus, shielding the Academy from the rest of the world.

 

A shadow passed over me from something moving through the sky, and when I gazed upward, I noticed a man with white wings flying overhead, heading toward one of the rectangular brick buildings and touching down on the roof.

 

“Is that an… angel?” I gasped, recalling what I heard about them from Sunday school.

 

“Or some relative thereof,” the woman answered. “Most likely, Nephilim. We get a fair amount of them in attendance.”

 

I couldn’t believe my eyes and it felt like I’d awoken in another world—one in which not only magic was real, but also the supernatural walked among us. If I was attending school with angels, what other types of beings would be in my classes?

 

“Here we are,” she said, nodding to the brick building ahead of us. “Windsor Hall, the neophyte dormitory. This will be your new home for your first year.”

 

Above the main entrance was the hall’s name in large, elegant letters, along with a brightly colored coat of arms positioned between the two words.

 

We were greeted with a large multi-floored foyer with the biggest chandeliers I’d ever seen hanging overhead. Instead of having electric bulbs, the chandeliers had lit candles like some noble’s European estate from another era.

 

“Good morning, Cathleen,” a tall and angular woman said, standing at the base of a curved wooden staircase. She wore a long black dress that looked more similar to what I’d been used to from my previous life. Her hair was dark and short, barely spilling over the tops of her ears, and her smile was kind. An oblong crystal hung from her neck, shining a pale blue. “This must be our newest donor, eager to start her magical education.”

 

“Yes,” Cathleen said, rolling me toward the woman in the black dress. “This is Tamara Rainley. Tamara, this is Professor Maria Windsor, the head of Windsor Hall.”

 

“My daughter, Clarice, attends the Academy too and is only a year older than you—a medial.”

 

“A what?” I asked.

 

“A second-year,” Professor Windsor said with an amused smile. “Has she received a tour of the campus yet?”

 

“That’s not typically my job,” Cathleen said, stepping around from the back of the wheelchair. “We came straight here.”

 

“I know. Just with her situation and all, I didn’t know how much you told her.”

 

“I didn’t want to overwhelm the poor girl. She’s been awake for less than an hour to a world very different from the one she left behind.”

 

“What’s special about my situation?” I asked. “Is it that I’m a donor? Is that rare?”

 

“Not for your time,” Professor Windsor said. “There are a number of revived donors just this year.”

 

“All from 1933?”

 

The professor nodded, then reached for my hand. At first, I thought she just wanted to shake it—as in us being formally introduced—but I quickly realized her intention was to pull me to my feet.

 

“I can’t—” I began, but my body obeyed her guidance. Before I knew it, I was standing. My legs only shook for a moment, then it felt as natural as it ever had.

 

“Never say you can’t do something,” Professor Windsor said. “It shuts off the part of the brain that can do it. Your legs are strong, and though it takes a little time to acclimate to a new body, your body and mind will find its groove. Thank you, Cathleen. I will take it from here.”

 

“And I better get back to the next donor. It’s going to be a busy day,” Cathleen said.

 

“The beginning of the school year typically is,” the professor said and released my hand, so I was now standing under my own power.

 

Cathleen left and Professor Windsor led me up the curved staircase, and we continued all the way to the third floor.

 

“Will I get to meet the others?” I asked as we walked down a long hallway of closed doors.

 

“Yes, once they’re all revived. You were the first.” She pointed out the communal bathroom I’d be sharing with the rest of the girls on the third floor. She explained that all the first years resided in Windsor Hall—that her family had watched over the first years for generations. I’d have the weekend to get acclimated, then classes would begin at 8 a.m. on Monday. Then she stopped before the door for Room 324. “Welcome to your new home.”

 

When the professor knocked on the door, it opened almost immediately, like the girl in the room had been waiting to answer it.

 

The girl standing in the doorway was about my height and thin. The tight outfit she wore was almost entirely black, accented by her hair, which was an unnatural shade of red. She had more earrings than I’d ever seen on one person and makeup that made her angular features look overly severe. I was intimidated by the mere sight of her, forcing me to cower behind the professor.

 

“Tamara Rainley, this is Dawn Carmichael—your roommate for your tenure in Windsor Hall.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

I was just getting used to being called a neophyte when that label no longer applied. I finished my first year at Spellcrest Academy in the most normal way possible and would be returning in the fall as a medial.

 

Finley would also be returning to school with me, but he’d be repeating his first year since he’d missed so much. He didn’t gripe too much because I was three years older than him but would only be one grade ahead. In some strange way, he thought he was catching up.

 

We spent the summer together, closely resembling the family I dreamed of as my brother and I had been bounced around group homes for the better part of a decade. With Mom and Dad back, and Quin joining the clan, we were a nearly nuclear magical family unit.

 

Try saying that three times fast.

 

Razielle and Nym had come to visit several times. Ben and Trish drove down from Hollywood and into the O.C. even more. I wasn’t ready to tell him everything yet, so the most plausible story was that my brother and I had been taken in by another foster family. He hadn’t seen a picture of my parents in years, and Mom looked totally different anyway. I knew Ben wouldn’t make the connection between Dad and the old photos he’d seen when we’d lived together all those years ago. And Quin was their biological daughter.

 

Ben never even questioned the story. In some ways, it was a relief, but in others, it made me sad—sad that I had to keep lying to my friend, and sad he couldn’t seem to call me on my bullshit. It was becoming obvious that we didn’t know each other as well as we used to.

 

Guy and Lisbon also crashed at our house numerous times over the summer.

 

Quin always got them by way of her Seam Dagger, which I then had the pleasure of sowing up, giving me loads of practice.

 

But now, with the fall trimester only a few days away, the house was quiet again.

 

I was ready for a whole new start—one where I was no longer at the bottom of the totem pole. I was a long way from a Master Classman, but medial had a nice ring to it. And I’d be moving into Rainley Hall, which I’d learned in the middle of last year was named after Mom’s family. They were filthy stinking rich and donated tens of millions of dollars to the Academy.

 

Supposedly, there was still a lot left in my mother’s name, but she was keeping a bulk of the wealth securely hidden. Unlike Razielle’s and Nym’s families, from the way we were living, you’d never guess we were multi-millionaires.

 

However, since I’d never known that life, it wasn’t something I could miss. The perk of having my family back together and back in the exact house of my childhood was more than enough. I’d Googled our house on Zillow and discovered we’d paid double what the house was worth, apparently to coax the family living there to move. That kind of premium certainly did the trick.

 

The temperature seemed to increase for the start of every school year, and this year was no different. As the summer had progressed, Finley, Quin, and I spent more and more time in the backyard pool. I had just been learning to swim when my parents had disappeared eleven years ago, and a preschool-aged Finley hated getting anywhere above the neck wet.

 

Quin was treading water as Finley barreled down the curved slide. Even after eleven years, the built-in water jets had never been fixed, so we tied the backyard hose to the top of the slide to keep from burning ourselves on the hot plastic.

 

I was sitting on the edge of the pool with my feet in the water, drying off so I could check my messages when I received a text from Dad.

 

Is your mother’s phone in the house? he asked. They were out running errands.

 

Whenever they left together, there was always the inkling in the back of my mind that they weren’t coming back—a fear ingrained in me since first grade. But I wasn’t a helpless child anymore. And in the age of smartphones, I was slightly comforted by the fact they were merely a phone call away—as long as they didn’t forget their phones. And as long as they weren’t traveling to some other world, which I now knew was a very real possibility.

 

I’ll check, I texted back, then stood, grabbed the towel I’d been sitting on, and wrapped it around my body as I made my way inside.

 

There was a fifty-fifty chance she’d left it in the kitchen, so I started there. When I didn’t find it on the counter, I headed to the master bedroom to check her dresser. It wasn’t there, either.

 

As I returned to the hallway, thinking about where to check next, I heard a distinct phone buzz from behind me. I turned and noticed Mom’s phone on the master bathroom counter.

 

Found it, I said, then Dad texted back with a thumbs-up.

 

I assumed the message that had come through on Mom’s phone had also come from Dad, but I checked it out just the same. I tapped the screen to bring up the lock screen and the latest message.

 

I found a lead. A.

 

“What do we have here?” I said to myself, setting down my phone to pick up Mom’s. I’d gotten pretty good at discovering alarm codes in my past few group homes, and smartphone passwords were no different. Mom’s had facial recognition, but a six-code password was also enabled, which was good for me. Mom didn’t know I’d figured it out two months ago. I wasn’t usually one to sneak around on other people’s mobile devices, but this message caught my attention.

 

The contact was only listed in her phone as A—the initial and a phone number. No additional information.

 

The conversation between my mother and A extended back to shortly after Finley and I had been brought here, but none of the information was straightforward. It was mostly stuff like we need to talk, or I’ll give you a call in a few. As vague as the texts were, they didn’t sound romantic in any way, though with Mom’s ignominious past, even I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. However, the latest text sounded work-related.

 

I also ran across a link about halfway through the chain, so I clicked on it to see if it would provide any additional insight. The link went to an online article about a small-town murder in southern Maine. A woman in her mid-thirties, Pamela Goddard, had been attacked in her home and shot in the chest by an unknown assailant. Her husband was questioned, but not charged with her murder.

 

Not knowing why the article was important, I scanned through the text for some relevant detail to jump out at me, but nothing did.

 

What’s the point of this? Sure, it was sad. But what did it have to do with Mom?

 

When I scrolled back to the top of the article, the detail I’d been looking for finally emerged. I hadn’t paid much attention to the picture of the smiling woman at the top of the page. It was Mom—or rather Pamela Goddard. This was the body Mom had been given.