Don’t Judge a Book By Its Magic
Don’t Judge a Book By Its Magic
(Book 1 of The Convergence series)
By Kate Policani
Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Paranormal
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Links to all the wonderful reviews of my book can be found here: http://katepolicanisreviews.wordpress.com/2012/10/27/dont-judge-a-book-by-its-magic/
I’m a normal girl. I am. I love shoes, fragranced body care, and hair products. I love all the chick flicks that have come out in the theaters in the last 2 years (and a lot of the old ones) and I obsess about my wardrobe. I respond positively to most of the marketing directed at females in my age group.
My name is Colleen Underhill, and the only abnormal thing about me is that I just discovered I am, or I transformed into, a magician; not the disappearing bunny kind, but the power-shooting-out-of-your-hands kind of magician.
My problem now is that I do NOT believe in magic. Well, I believe in it. I have seen it shoot out of my own hands, but I oppose it in a moral sense; no hexes, no spells, no incantations, no potions, no amulets, no tomes, no casting circles, no eye of newt, none of that. I have to be very clear because people pressure me about it. Whatever they say about “how it’s done,” this is a morality issue for me and I will not cave in to their pressure.
But what do I do now?
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“Well, hello!” A little half-grin broke across his amazing face just for me. “What are you doing here?” His voice was naughty and gorgeous. It purred low and enticing, like a tiger that probably wouldn’t eat me. The tiger even liked me a bit, but might choose to eat me in the future. Also, I would enjoy it very much if he did.
It kind of surprised me that the brother alarm hadn’t gone into overdrive already. I half-expected to see my burly older brother and scrappy younger brother punch their way through the magic to get to me. This was the third hot guy who had acknowledged my existence and I hadn’t ever managed to avoid the bro-bomb like this with so much flirting going on.
Now, I felt hyperaware that I was sweaty, tear stained, red eyed, red nosed, and horribly disheveled. It was not an attractive moment. Naughty Hottie looked messy in a planned way that I liked even more than if he looked tidy and put-together. Every movement and line of him seemed natural and comfortable. And he smiled at me as if he was the Wolf and I was Little Red Riding Hood with a giant basket of goodies for Grandmother.
“I…” I couldn’t think of any way to explain. “I can’t get out!” Naughty Hottie looked at me, puzzled in an attractive way. “Honest! Whenever I go that way, off campus, I somehow end up turned around and headed in again.” Naughty Hottie gazed at me with understanding. Of course he knew all about Teimnydd restrictions and punishments because he was so bad. He studied me at his leisure, in a bold way that made me worry that some Teimnydduus might have x-ray vision. Then he turned and walked with confidence down the path until he stood “off campus”. He held out his arms in a graceful gesture of completion. He could get out. So I followed, and then I didn’t and I walked back where I started.
“Yep, that’s a Capio spell just for you, Kitten. You know, you don’t look like a bad girl.” He came back to me, languid and sleek.
“Um, I’m not. I’m just…new.”
“Care to elaborate?” I had piqued his interest, but in a easy, feline way that could evaporate at any moment.
I shook my head. I did not want to elaborate. Though at this moment I felt desperate to break a “stay here” spell by The Drop herself, I couldn’t bring myself to cross the line to reveal information about my unique status. I wanted to keep the secret, even though Joel had just ruined it and the whole campus probably knew about the Baby Teimnydduus Freshman by now. Naughty Hottie did not appear to know and I didn’t want him to know.
“OK.” My refusal to enlighten him didn’t bother him in the slightest. Then he held out his hand. I stared. He moved his hand in a way that beckoned. He wanted me to take his hand. I reached out toward him, mesmerized somehow to obey. But then I hesitated. I looked into his face for confirmation, explanation, or assurance that he would return my hand to me at some point, whole and uninjured in any physical or spiritual way. He pulled that little gut-melting half-grin again and his eyes softened into a catastrophic mixture of a lure and a reprimand. I slid my hand into his. Whooo, baby! He led me toward the “off campus” spot. And then he remained and I appeared back on campus again. Our hands had slipped apart in the blink of an eye.
He looked at me again, communicating with his eyes. (As I quickly learned, he held the title of Grand Master of Eye Communication.) This time, he approved of my impressive level of badness, since even he couldn’t thwart the “Capio” spell that The Convergence needed to contain naughty, naughty me. He faced the challenge again, because no spell designed to prevent rule-breaking could stop him.
A moment later he had returned to my enforced position and swept me up into his long, muscular arms. I rested in the “princess carry”, heart fluttering, as he walked me toward freedom. Then we both stood back on campus.
“Who are you?” he asked in a sexy whisper. He didn’t put me down.
I panted, breathless, and my brain had completed its evaporation. “…Colleen,” I whispered. His eyes reprimanded me (sexy!) and demanded more. I didn’t want to tell him, but I couldn’t help myself. “Colleen Underhill.”
One eyebrow lifted. In a lot of popular books I have read, people can either do this or can’t and feel pride or shame about it. I have never met anyone who has any deep feelings whatsoever on the raising of eyebrows. You can or you can’t. So what?
Naughty Hottie could and, of course, it looked dangerous and sexy. Even more dangerous and sexy, he looked me over like a tiger who embraced a new kind of meat he might like to devour. “You’re the new one, aren’t you?” I somehow managed to nod (evaporated brain, remember?). “Mmmmm,” he said, which I could interpret as “Mmmmm, I see,” or as “Mmmmm, delicious.” My knees evaporated too, which I didn’t mind because he still held me in his arms.
“Well, Colleen Underhill, I’m London Vadoma. Nice to meet you.” (Insert all previous sexy descriptions here.) Tracy’s high school that she went on and on about during my “orientation” was called “Vadoma High”. Weird!
“Mmmmm,” I replied, which I could interpret as “Mmmmm, your wish is my command,” or “Mmmmm, take me, London Vadoma, I’m yours.” That little half-smile appeared again and evaporated my internal organs.
Then he set me down. It surprised me that I could still stand without my knees, but that must have worked because the weight of my brain or internal organs hadn’t returned yet.
“Yeah,” he said, “I’m not really disappointed you’re stuck here. See ya!” And with that, he sauntered away.
When he left, my brain returned first, followed by my organs. That made me tipsy because the weight of my brain overset the hollowness of missing organs and no knees. Next, my heart appeared back inside my chest cavity, well chilled by the way-too-bad-for-Colleen-ness of London Vadoma. The appearance of my knees followed a little too far behind for comfort, but at least I didn’t fall down. Yes, Naughty Hottie London Vadoma was waaaaaay too dangerous for a little suburbanite Skupdyn like me. I should adore him from afar. My brothers would have kicked his butt, possibly with pal backup, if not for supernatural intervention and the lie that I was in Maine. My dad would re-sharpen his knife collection if he even smelled London’s cologne near me.
I was late for class.
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Book 2, Sorcery Loves Company is started!