(Illustration)

Alluring Danger

onday morning every cauldron alarm clock in the Shadows’ household flashed twelve o’clock. The storm brewing since midnight whipped branches viciously against rooftops and power lines, sending several garbage cans rolling around yards and down the streets.

Several feet away, on the border of Magian countryside and Downtown Magia, a rooted pinecone fir tree snapped in half and fell against the main power lines. Instantaneously power outage darkened every window and street lamp, as if a Dark Magic spell covered the Magians with a mysterious, velvety black cloak.

As the town slept, a svelte silhouette cloaked in blackish-red, dragon hide lurked just outside the youngest Shadows’ bedroom window. Fingernails of various dragon designs carved into the paint-chipped siding, leaving deep gashes in its weathered wood. As the silhouette moved closer to gaze in through a narrow slit in the curtain panels, the wind sifted through her long, black locks. She stood motionless, watching Amber toss and turn as she called out incoherent names in her sleep.

The woman’s lips curled in hatred as her fingers twiddled in a spherical motion, magically forcing the towel in the opening of Amber’s window to fall inward. Just as the woman was on the verge of vaporizing into a thin, serpent-shaped coil of vapors, the wind viciously shifted. She tilted her head backward to peruse the sky. The heavens stirred furiously, blanketing the entire neighborhood with threatening cloud formations. Thunder boomed magnificently throughout the inky-black sky as rain plopped here and there, and then suddenly, a crack of lighting struck the ground just inches away from where the woman stood, as if to warn her.

Startled by her near death experience the woman transformed into a black and red snake, with a spiked dragon tail and glittering birthmark on its head. Lightning struck again nearly setting her tail on fire as she slithered back into the Wood at full speed, down into a bubbling hole leading to what those living in the Bewitched Forest would call, the Dark Magic Realm.

Rain continuously poured in sheets as lightning struck the earth near Amber’s room three times, waking her from what felt like a heart pounding nightmare. Above the Shadows house lightning cracked as it formed an angel outline, etching it into the clouds. With eyes open wide, yet not totally aware of her surroundings, Amber covered her head and slid underneath her bed, her breathing erratic. She’d never truly been afraid of lightning before, but it was so close above her part of the house she feared it was going to strike the roof and set the house on fire.

Moments later all was silent and the rain stopped instantaneously. Amber peered out from under her bed and noticed a brilliant light beaming through the crack in the curtains. Curiosity overwhelmed her fears as she slowly crawled out from under her bed and stepped toward the window. Staring up into the seven heavens, her fears were replaced by peacefulness and her breathing suddenly shifted into normal, slow breaths. Amber couldn’t help but think that the angel resembled Jocelyn’s face (her late, great-great grandmother).

It must be a warning, thought Amber. Something just happened . . . something Jocelyn wanted me to know about . . . . She looked out into the backyard and saw nothing except wet grass and swaying woods. Plops of rain began hitting her window pane again. Amber glanced upward hoping the angel would remain long enough for her to commune with her inner intuition, but the angel vanished before her eyes, leaving stormy billows in its place.

If something hasn’t already happened it’s about to, thought Amber. She sat down befuddled by the angel and its meaning; then suddenly remembered how she’d witnessed something horrifying in her dreams . . . something that may be linked to the etched angel in the clouds.

Grasping at the covers, Amber struggled to see through the blackness engulfing her surroundings as she shivered from the unexplainable, cold draft invading the room. Being a bit preoccupied with the sign from heaven, she hadn’t thought to check and see if the towel was tucked in the hole of the window, and shivered for several moments before snapping out of her thoughts.

Amber leaned over and twisted the light switch to her lamp twice but it would not turn on. She then gazed down and noticed the alarm clock flashing 12:00. Another power failure, she thought. Sighing, she pulled out a box of matches. As she struck the match, Amber noticed rain spattering on her bedside table and on the edge of the pillar candle. She pulled the candle towards the edge closest to her and got to her feet. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she headed toward the window to see if the towel was not properly tucked in the hole.

That’s strange, thought Amber, where is the towel? She picked up the candle and looked on the floor to see if it had fallen out from the force of the wind. Nearly missing sight of it, Amber noticed something red sticking out from behind her bedside table. She pulled it out after some difficulty only to find it was an envelope with gold ribbon. Amber was about to open the envelope when the room temperature suddenly dropped. Although anxious to read its contents, she couldn’t handle the cold a moment longer. She set the candle down and searched for the towel.

Amber managed to reach further behind her bedside table after a bit of difficulty and grabbed hold of what she thought was the towel, but when she looked at it, it was nothing more than a small square of singed material. Someone was here . . . trying to get in, thought Amber, someone using Dark Magic by the looks of it. After all this time, someone had finally attempted to cause her and possibly her family harm. She pulled out an old pair of sweats and was about to stuff them into the window, when a creaking noise from the hallway drew her attention to the bedroom door left slightly ajar.

Amber swallowed hard. Perhaps it was her imagination working overtime, but the longer she stared at the door, the more her imagination tricked her into believing someone was slowly pushing their way into the room.

She blew out the candle and slipped back in bed, pulling the covers up over her head. Grasping her crystal locket, she prayed that whoever it was would change their mind and go away. Lying still, she inhaled and exhaled long breaths, lip synching, “It’s only my imagination . . . it’s only my imagination . . . the house is just settling . . . yeah . . . yeah that’s it . . . that has to be it . . . it’s just settling . . .“

After several moments had passed and it had become quite clear that no one had entered the room, Amber sat up and pulled the covers from her head. She wiped her forehead with her nightdress sleeve as she sat staring at the door thinking, I must have been hallucinating . . . the door hasn’t budged.

In fact, as Amber looked around she couldn’t help noticing that everything was as still as can be. The only sounds breaking the silence of the room was the expansion and retraction of the heating pipes, the rain pattering against the window, and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway just a few feet away from her bedroom door.

Amber re-lit the candle and glanced around. The room appeared ominous, what with the antique dresser, rickety desk, and chair sitting idle in the flickering candlelight. The spindles at the foot of her bed cast silhouettes on the wall, stretching from halfway up the closet doors to the ceiling in an eerie fashion.

“My imagination should get an award for being overactive,” she muttered. As Amber sat staring into the surrounding darkness, it suddenly struck her why she was getting so freaked out. She remembered in vivid detail what woke her in the first place.

Amber got to her feet and lifted her top mattress. Hidden away with the Legends, Spells, and Enchantment Book was the Emerald Wand of Chrysalis. With a few White Magic words she removed the shield protecting it and tip toed about the house, placing seven protection charms on every window and the front and back doors. There, that out to hold whoever it was out for a while, she thought. Amber was about to tuck into bed when she remembered the red envelope.

She began ripping at the corners of the envelope, hoping to find a message from her late, great-great grandmother Jocelyn, but after several attempts of actually ripping it open and it resealing itself, she gave up. “Must be a protective spell . . .” Amber muttered in befuddlement.

As tired as she was, her curiosity propelled her into thumbing through the Legends, Spells and Enchantment Book twice, but none of spells she tried worked and neither did any of the spells she recited while using the Emerald Wand of Chrysalis.

“Must be some type of Dark Magic unknown to the book,” Amber said under her breath, thoroughly frustrated. She tucked the red envelope inside the book for safe keeping until she could figure out how to open it. Then she tucked the book back under her top mattress and placed the Emerald wand inside her pillow case, her grip firmly on its handle. She needed to salvage what few hours of sleep she had left. Soon, her family would be busying the hallway in their daily morning rush to ready themselves for a new day at school or work, without any knowledge of what happened during the night.

Less than an hour later, Amber was still awake and staring out the window from where she lay. She could not block out the flashes of a deformed, half-dead figure, and several serpent guards with scaly blackish-green skin and feelers on top their heads chasing her in her nightmare, nor could she forget about the angel etched in the clouds and how much she reminded her of Jocelyn. And it certainly did not help to know the attempt of someone breaking into the house justified her reasons of worrying all summer. Now that something finally happened, Amber found herself more concerned about what she was going to do about it, and who, pray tell was it?

It was at that precise moment something long lying at the foot of the bed in the shadows moved. Startled out of her thoughts, Amber huddled up in the upper corner of her bed; fearing it was a snake. Slowly she opened her eyes and outstretched her arm to pick up the candle and relight it. There at the foot of her bed in tousled blankets lay an undisturbed feline; stretched out, purring and pawing at the air, his wizards’ crest birthmark glistening in the darkness. Taking a deep breath, she lowered the candle and placed it back on the bedside table relieved to find she was over reacting. “It was only Zappy stirring about . . . .”

Having had enough of a sleepless night, Amber slipped into her robe and tucked the Emerald wand in her pocket. With the wand at her side, she figured she would be perfectly safe to catch a breath of fresh air while she wrote in her diary. She gathered her writing tools and steadied the candle in a firm grip as she softly tip-toed through the house, out the back door, and gently closed the screen door behind her. Settling on the back porch swing, she noticed the rain was now softer and steady. Amber released the invisibility charm and thumbed through her diary, counting the number of entries she had written. The entry she was about to pen would make the seventh entry to date.

*****

You simply must buy the first book to find out what happened! I refuse to spoil it for those who are still reading the first book or who have yet to purchase it. Until then, I’m sorry to say, this is only a teaser excerpt from Book Two in the Amber Shadows series.

Have a bewitching read.

*****

Wendy Willett

As the largest literary festival in the Midwest, and one of the largest book celebrations in the country, the Printer’s Row Book Festival attracts more than 90,000 people, over 200 authors and 150 booksellers and exhibitors. Located between Congress, State and Clark streets in Chicago, the festival takes place just outside (as well as inside) the beautiful Harold Washington Library. A list of past speakers include: Dan Brown, Neil Gaiman, Jack Prelutsky, Elizabeth Berg, Julie Andrews, Nikki Giovanni, John Updike, E.L. Doctorow, Dave Eggers, Augusten Burroughs, Carol Higgins Clark, Jim Aylesworth… as well as many Illinois SCBWI authors.

The thirty-two SCBWI-Illinois authors who sign up for this event will sit at the SCBWI-IL booth, under a tent (shade is important!) and have specified times each to promote and sell their books.

So come on out on June 8th, enjoy the days’ activities, buy a copy of Amber Shadows and the Missing Wands, meet author/illustrator Wendy Willett and get your book signed!

“She’s living the life of an ordinary fourteen-year-old!” was not what many would say, or even think of saying in passing conversation about Amber Shadows. For you see she was an extraordinary White Magic witch-in-training. Flowing, dark red hair caressed her oval face, her eyes of emerald enchanted those curious about her, and one ruby stud earring in her left ear was never taken out while a chandelier earring dangled from her right. And while she often wondered what it would have been like to experience school dances or un-chaperoned parties, she remained exclusively interested in reading about the unknown and things that she could do magically by experimenting. Above all, journeying beyond her imagination to fantastical places while reading her treasured, fictional books was something she held close to heart.

It was Amber’s fondness for the written word that drove her to writing her unusual experiences in a leather-bound journal. And just as Jocelyn’s journals, this was no ordinary journal Amber kept: faerie wings of rich crimson and emerald hues adorned its front cover; silvery glitter etched her name on the back of the book in a medieval font, and inside were pages filled with sketches and her thoughts. There was only one thing that made this journal different from others (including Jocelyn’s) . . . the pages were enchanted with an invisibility charm.

As soon as Amber was done writing her entries, the ink would instantly dry and disappear upon her closing the book. Anyone trying to read her diary would find empty pages and be naïve to the fact that Amber placed an invisibility charm on its contents that only she could release and seal with a wave of her hand.

Unlike most other households, the Shadows family did not own a telephone and they watched very little television on a small, black and white T.V set.

Owing to the fact that the Shadows did not communicate by telephone, when it came time to send messages the Shadows family used Zappy, the family tabby. He was quite exceptional in that he could transpose into wizard form when need be, and could appear and disappear as he pleased by vapor. This ability made his journeys quite easy when Amber sent him with messages to Marianna Wentworth or Jasper Silverton; her two best friends since the age of five.

Amber, Marianna, and Jasper were as close as three mates could be and were now starting their eighth grade school year. From time to time, several classmates from Candlebury Junior High stared at them as they passed by and made obnoxious wisecracks to whoever was standing in listening range:

“Isn’t it strange how Shadows, Wentworth, and Silverton never attend school functions on the weekends?” a black haired boy with eyes of coal said sarcastically.

Others nodded, pointed, and laughed while the leader of the cheerleading group smirked in reply, “Yeah, they never go out of their way to initiate conversation or make friends either . . . strange is what they are; those three.”

Even though these rude comments happened nearly every day, they got under Jasper’s skin and made Marianna throw daggering glares and think nasty thoughts. Amber learned to brush them off by simply rolling her eyes. And although she grew tiresome of the same routine, she’d pull Jasper and Marianna along; reminding them for the umpteenth time, “Ignore them . . . what goes around comes around. Obviously they have nothing better to do with their time.”

Although this advice took several days for Marianna and Jasper to grasp and practice, they managed to grow thick skin and ignore their ill-mannered classmates, thinking of them as nothing more than sour, outdated milk. When it appeared no one could get a rise out of the three mates, those hanging around the school courtyard stopped staring and whispering unfound rumors.

As school progressed through September, all three mates kept their noses happily buried in some type of Advanced White Magic book (hidden by their text books of course). They ate and studied away from everyone else so that they could chat about anything unusual happening in the Magian world, and after dinner each night, they practiced their Magia Sessions homework: White Magic Spells and Healing Potions.

Of the three, Amber had an unbelievable quirk of craving and memorizing knowledge of magical spells right from the off, a curious nature to extensively study the unknown, and a raw talent for using her endowment of White Magic when needed without referencing her text books.

P.S. Don’t say I didn’t warn you . . . .

Warning!
My dear children, in Magia there are two types of magic—Dark Magic and White Magic. I shall not preach as to which is which; it would be most insulting to your intelligence, and you would most likely put this book down out of boredom. That being said, I must point out the following about the story you are about to read. In Magia things are not always as they should be. Terrible things happen that are not of our choosing . . . things that sometimes befall us against our will, causing loss and suffering.
If you are expecting to read a story about a medieval princess, forced to marry a Dark wizard more than twice her age, or missionary knights setting off to fight and conquer a monstrous dragon guarding two stolen wands of power and glory, then you would be very much mistaken. Although these stories would be exciting to read, they must be left for another time.
It is a terrible thing to be at such a young age in ones’ life, when you find yourself utterly helpless, having your life placed in danger, and living through terrifying situations beyond anything you can possibly imagine. And it is a far worse thing to have to endure the wrath of Dark Magic entities, striving to take what doesn’t belong to them for the sole purpose of revenge, power, greed, and dare I say . . . immortality.
If you find you do not wish to read about the emotional trials and tribulations of a thirteen-year-old White Magic witch-in-training; one that is left in the care of her older sister and brother while her parents are off searching for her grandparents; one who, along with her two best friends, face numerous conjured up beasts and life threatening events managed by the Dark Magic hand of Lady Gondara, then might I suggest you properly place this book back upon the bookshelf, and leave its story for someone else.
As for those of you courageous enough to continue along with Amber and her friends on their magical journey, please keep the following in mind at all times: being born a White Magic witch or wizard is not all wishes granted, wand power, and magic spells to do our bidding as one might believe.