HAUNTED BY MAGIC -Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Boxset Sampler

CURSED MAGIC - MARGO BOND COLLINS AND REBECCA HAMILTON

Chapter 1

Breathe.

Was it in through the mouth, out through the nose? Or the other way around?

Some way or another, breathing was supposed to ease my anxiety. Except it didn't. I must've been doing it wrong. Every breath felt as though I were breathing under water. Which would have been fine if I were a mermaid.

But I'm not.

I'm a witch.

And I was about to find out my fate.

"Come on, Harper. We're going to be late." Lacey grabbed my hand and pulled me from the tall grass to my feet. Of course she was excited about today. No one in her family had ever failed the Choosing. "And we can't be late to the Convocation Circle."

I brushed the soil from the back of my black dress and forced a smile. "Oh, goody," I said, under-enthusiastically. "I can't wait."

"It'll be fine. Just breathe."

Oh, Mother, not her, too. "Breathing," I said through my teeth. "In and out, all day long." And it's not working. "Any other tips?"

"Yeah." She strode across the clearing and started on the path to the Convocation Circle, the Gathering place the witches had used for the annual Choosing for hundreds of years. "Don't be a smart ass."

I tipped my head back to stare up at the Mother's sky as I followed her. Great advice. Why didn't I think of that?

I rolled my eyes, certain that Lacey would barely notice if I didn't keep up with her. She—along with all the other witches on the island—were rushing to the Circle for the most important day of the year.

The words echoed in my mind, taking on an ominous cast and interfering with my breathing. Convocation. Choosing.

All the witches in my crèche swirled around me, their voices bright as they rushed forward, chattering in the chill autumn air.

I could barely concentrate on what any of them were saying. As I stumped toward the clearing, dread settled into the pit of my stomach, as if I had eaten a cursed apple. One of the kind the littlest witches practiced trying to slip by the magic monitors—not rough enough to truly hurt anyone, but not pleasant if what you really wanted was a nausea-free day.

"Harper." Lacey's voice was even more impatient than before. Apparently she wasn't going to forget me at all. Not this time.

Not today.

Despite her concerns, we were far from the last ones to arrive. It was a short hike to the Gathering, and when we arrived, more than half the girls from the island were already there, with even more flowing in after us. The older girls from the wild, unruly third crèche came stumbling and tumbling into the clearing with seconds to spare before Mother Jonas began the ritual.

Lacey and I sat side-by-side on one of the split logs made into a bench around the central clearing—the space that held the stone altar for most Gatherings. Dusk was rolling in; it wouldn't be long before the elders arrived and we began.

"Don't listen to them," Lacey said, taking my hand and smiling at me.

I figured she meant all the whispering going on around us. I'd already blocked them out. Plainly, I didn't need to listen to them. I already knew what they were saying: Will she pass? Or will she be marked and banished from island, the way her parents were?

Five of the elders moved into the clearing, wearing full robes and carrying the traditional fire starters. Oak, elm, aspen, apple, and the final stick, not yet glowing like the others. The one that no one talked about—the one we were supposed to find out only about after our formal initiation. After the Choosing.