This is a YA Gay Paranormal novel. This is book 1 in a trilogy. All three books will be posted here, throughout the year.
Evander’s School for Enchanted Personage only takes the best in extraordinary students. Mermaids, Phoenix, Dragons, Vampires…the school has seen many exceptional creatures, all with their own talents. But this year they will meet a new generation of students, who could change the face of Evander’s school forever.
Meet a banshee who gets caught up in a love triangle, two jealous vampires, one fairy, a witch, two warlock twins and a werewolf. All in the one class. Things are about to get a whole lot more interesting for the children of Evander’s School for Enchanted Personage.
Hirum Evander sat at his office desk, mulling over the files in front of him. Each of the twenty-four children in the files showed some potential in their craft, but very few stood out. All had just come of age and turned sixteen. Once again, he was afraid that not many would make the cut. Sadly, each year seemed to bring less and less new talent to his table. And each year Hirum feared that it would be the end of his school.
The previous year, only five candidates had made it to the final stage of being accepted; this year was barely better at seven. He was certain of those seven, but in an attempt to make sure his tired mind wasn’t failing him at the late hour, he cast his eye back over the remaining profiles. He didn’t want to miss anyone who showed potential that could be expanded upon. Some only showed hints of what they were capable of and would have to wait another year before he could decide if the school had anything to offer them or not. With some, their gifts were so well crafted, and their family network so well informed that schooling wasn’t necessary; others needed that extra push.
It was ten o’clock on a Saturday night, about the only free time he had to spend on such a worthy matter. And as strange as it was to be perusing potential student’s files at that time of night, Evander wasn’t a regular man and didn’t stick to regular schedules. But then, Evander’s School for Enchanted Personage wasn’t a regular school either.
Students studied from nine am until four thirty Monday to Friday and optional one-on-one classes were available with any teacher from noon to two o’clock on Saturday’s. School assemblies were regularly nine to ten am on a Saturday, over breakfast and any other concerns could be addresses to him at any hour, on any day of the week.
Considering the range of talents and children he had in his school, flexibility was absolutely necessary. If he wasn’t in his study, a ring of the bell on his desk would summon him from his in-school boarding rooms in the East Wing. That was where all teachers lived; the children resided in the South and West wings, while classes took place to the North and North East. Location was a matter of delicate composition, timing, moon phases and magical forbearance. It wouldn’t do for a student’s magical energy to clash with that of their classroom. Hirum had to take into account each of the delicate, unique conditions that could afflict his students, to keep everyone safe and well guarded.
He was pondering how his seven chosen students would fit into the school, when he noticed another name in the pile he was sifting through. He had stalled on that particular photograph four times during his initial investigations and always found a reason to put it aside, despite the nagging sensation he had to add her to the pile of accepted students. Something was obviously trying to tell him that the young girl deserved a place at his school and if anything, instinct was not something he went against. In all his years it had never really led him astray, so he trusted the gut instinct and added the girl to his accepted pile, and continued his casual glance through the rest of the prospective students.
Finding no-one else who inspired his attention, he set the remaining pile back into order, alphabetically arranged by their surnames, into a folder labelled ‘next year’ and closed the drawer. He would continue watching those students until their twentieth birthdays, when their talents would become settled and they were no longer eligible for his help.
Turning his attention back to the pile of eight portfolios he had chosen, Hirum picked up his fountain pen and began writing eight copies of identical letters to each of the prospective students. He hoped they would be as excited by their admission to the school as he was to see their talents develop. His school had become quite the breeding ground for exceptional people. He hoped that, although the number of students diminished, his ability to produce fine students with the right amount of etiquette, talent, humility, intelligence and compassion, never changed.
Some of the students had parents, grandparents, aunt and uncles who had previously attended the school throughout the years. Some of the new students he was writing to, had generations of family members who had attended Evander’s School for Enchanted Personage. Those children, he knew, would be informed of the benefit’s the school could offer them as they learned to control and adjust to their new lives and gifts.
Hirum held out hope that as he wrote, some semblance of inspiration seeped through his words and gave the prospective students the courage to attend his school. He needed young, inquiring minds to mould, and he was genuinely impressed with the range of talents the children had already displayed. Reports from their public and private schools, already told him that the twins he was writing to, and the girls he had spotted talent in, were displaying a range of magic beyond that expected of their age range.
It was just after six o’clock in the morning when Lane climbed through his bedroom window, still dressed in his pyjamas, soaking wet. It had been raining all night, and he thanked the Gods for the little warmth his pyjamas gave him as he shivered from the cold night air and perched down on his bed, for a moments rest. It was no surprise for him to find himself in that situation, yet again, but he just wished it would happen on a warm, clear night, not when it was teaming down with rain and blasting freezing winds.
He lifted his duvet from the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders, fully intending on drying himself off, just as soon as he could stop shivering and gather up the will to move.
When his bedroom door squeaked open and his dad walked in, dressed in a dressing gown, and smiling, Lane let a returning smile creep onto his own lips. He accepted the dressing gown and the extra blanket his father carried in his arms with a nod.
As soon as his dad left the room again, he stood up, rushed out of his cold, wet clothes and slipped into the dressing gown. He padded across to the en-suite bathroom and ducked under a warm shower. For the longest time he just stood there, under the warm spray, cursing his luck.
At sixteen years old, his abilities were at their most unpredictable, and if he only knew how, also at their most adaptable, where he had the possibility of taming them. Of course, he had his dad who shared his gifts. But being a single parent, working full-time with a sixteen year old coming into his powers and a year old baby to take care of didn’t leave him a lot of time to ask questions. Lane knew that the more time he took to ask his father about his gifts and seek learning on how to control them, the more time he had to spend away from Rex, his baby brother. And he was old enough to look after himself; Rex needed their dad more. Unless that ever changed, he would keep learning from experience only.
It only took him a few minutes to dry himself off and get dressed in a clean, warm pair of pyjamas and head through to the kitchen. His dad, Cyril was waiting for him with a cup of hot chocolate.
“Go anywhere interesting?” He wondered casually as they crossed into the living room and sank into their favourite seats for a little while. The fire was already going and Lane could feel the warmth spreading through his bones in the most delightful way. He smiled as he thought back to his night of roaming and tried to pinpoint the landmarks he had spotted on the way.
“Just around the park, I think. And I have a feeling I might have stopped by the butchers on the way home.” Lane laughed to himself at the memory. It wasn’t very clear, but then he was lucky he remembered anything at all. Sometimes when he tried to think back on what he’d done or where he’d been, it would all be a complete blank.
“Congratulations. You’re getting more control.” Cyril smiled at him warmly, acknowledging that more control was the only way he would have remembered anything.
“Yeah, well I’m trying. Anything interesting on your end?” He asked in return, unsurprised when his father sighed and shrugged. He never liked disappearing from the house at night, especially since he knew that Lane was also out. He hated thinking that he was leaving Rex on his own, vulnerable, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“I woke up outside Rex’s window, so at least I didn’t go far.” He replied with a smile, thankful that his fatherly instincts were seeping through to his other life. Rex was just a baby, he needed protecting and looking after, and it seemed that Cyril’s alter ego had finally realised this, after having a hard time adjusting to the events of the last year.
Losing his soul mate, Lane and Rex’s mother, had been bad enough, but as Lane and Cyril sat together in front of the fire, they were both well aware that his alter ego had blamed Rex for her passing. Candy had died giving birth to him and Cyril had a hard enough time dealing with a fifteen year old and a newborn, without his alter ego deciding to flat out refuse to accept Rex into his life. It hadn’t made it any easier on Lane either, and the guilt weighted heavily on Cyril’s shoulders.
“So…fancy skipping school tomorrow? I think we should both get some sleep.” Cyril beamed brightly.
Lane let out a sigh of relief and nodded his agreement. He hated his public school just outside of Dundee, and he knew that pupils and teachers alike were beginning to talk about why he always missed a day of school after a full moon. But it was necessary.
Lane knew as well as his dad did, that if he didn’t get enough sleep after a full moon, he could easily drift off into exhaustion after only a few hours and be completely incapable of thinking properly. The full moon took all of his energy from him. He could feel the lethargy sinking in as he sat by the fire. He waited until he had finished his hot chocolate and said goodnight to his dad before heading off to his bed.
His dad would take the day off work and with a day off school, they would get one day, at least, to pretend that they were a regular happy family. One day to be thankful that Rex was just a baby and wouldn’t grow into his powers until he was five years old. They had a few more years yet, before he joined their early morning talks. A few more years before Cyril would have to adjust to having two children dependent on him to keep them safe and guide them through a difficult transition. Until then, Lane would try to take all the responsibility he could. But first, he needed sleep.
Sheldon laughed as Lachlan threw a curse at him and it whizzed harmlessly past his ear and hit the tree behind him. It was the weekend and they had school tomorrow, but until then they were enjoying themselves as much as they could, without feeling like they were different. They were different, but only to the kids at their school who had no clue that real magic existed. Kids that didn’t know they had two wizards for class mates.
Sheldon and Lachlan were twins and they did everything together, but when it came to magic, they were as individual as snowflakes. Whenever they hated the thought of going back to school, on Sundays and days before the holidays were over, they let off steam in the back garden of their house. Sheldon would practice his curses and spells, while Lachlan preferred to transform things, make inanimate objects come to life and of course, torment his brother. That afternoon, that was exactly what they were doing.
Sheldon stood in front of the Yew tree, whispering spells under his breath, sending them to towards his twin. If Lachlan was quick enough, he could dodge the shimmering, glittering spells that shot towards him. If not, Sheldon enjoyed the game even more. He had already turned Lachlan’s short, spiky hair a dozen shades of green, so that he blended into the bush behind him. In return, Lachlan had waited until Sheldon took a step forward to dodge one spell, before sending a patch of ice onto the ground right where he was stepping. The look on his face when he suddenly thumped to the ground was priceless, but he recovered and retaliated quickly.
The game was exciting, fun and most of all, a stress reliever. Being wizards was bad enough, but doing magic by accident or on purpose when at a school with people who had no idea magic existed, was torture for the boys. They knew schools of magic existed, but they were either in different countries or cost a fortune to go to. Either way, the boys weren’t willing to compromise. They had no friends at their school, and no-one outside their immediate family knew about their gifts. Having each other was enough. They would never leave behind their family and neither had the patience to learn another language to live in another country. Until they changed their minds, they were stuck at Karton’s Public School on the outskirts of Edinburgh.
“Gotcha!” Sheldon whooped as his spell hit Lachlan square on the chest. Instead of making him laugh madly at the tickling spell, he just patted his chest in confusion.
“I didn’t feel anything.” He frowned, wondering what happened as Sheldon suddenly looked disappointed. Then, to their surprise the bush behind Lachlan sparked alight with a great whoosh that shocked them both into staring. Lachlan looked back at his twin and knew that he hadn’t meant to do that.
Sure, Sheldon occasionally blew things up by accident, like the toaster and his computer, or ornaments that their grandmother gave them for Christmas that he didn’t like. But nothing so serious had ever happened before, so as one they rushed forward to put the fire out. Sheldon had to remove his jumper to beat some of the flames, while holding back Lachlan with his other arm. When that didn’t work, and only fanned the flames, Sheldon and Lachlan shared an unspoken realisation that as the fire had been caused by magic, maybe magic could put it out.
Staring at the bush and muttering under their breaths, it only took them a few minutes to put the fire out. And once it was done, both boys collapsed onto the lawn in exasperation.
“Whatever that spell was, don’t ever do it again.” Lachlan sighed to himself as he lay back on the grass and struggled to contain his previous panic. Their mother had warned them that their magic would be erratic until they took their learning seriously. But as all the spells Sheldon had ever done turned out exactly how he wanted them to, neither had ever taken the warning seriously. Now, they both knew what she meant.
“It was just a tickling spell. But don’t worry…never doing it again.” He complained before sitting up, sure that he was hearing things.
“You never try out new spells where it’s safe. You’re such a hot head.” Lachlan started scolding him. But he had heard that lecture before. He shushed him and stared at the bush that had only just been on fire. Noises were coming out of it that shouldn’t have been and he was beginning to worry.
“Do you hear that? It sounds like…laughing.” Sheldon admitted in surprise. He shifted onto his knees and crawled forward until he was sitting right in front of the bush.
“Should you be sitting so close? What if it’s about to go up again?” His brother cautioned as he moved closer, sitting just a little behind his brother. As usual, Sheldon wasn’t listening to him. He reached forward and used both hands to create a gap in the bush; he pushed his head into the gap and suddenly started laughing. “What is wrong with you today?” He wondered with a sigh of disapproval. He edged closer and was almost head butted when Sheldon extracted himself from the bush and began rolling around the grass, holding his stomach as he laughed uncontrollably.
With a frown, and a curiosity that always got him into trouble, he peeked through the bush and was shocked to see one of his mothers garden gnomes doing a jig beneath the bush. He had been lost for weeks and everyone assumed the neighbours dog had stolen him. Now that Lachlan knew he had only been kicked under the bush, he was able to realise there was something very wrong with what he was seeing.
The gnome was alive.
“I’m alive…I’m alive.” He sang to himself, laughing and talking to himself giddily. “I’m going to the beach and the park and the movies. I’m going to find a beautiful young gnome,” He talked to himself, rhyming off all the things he would do now that he was real.
Lachlan would have been rolling around laughing with Sheldon about it, but the logical part of his brain said that neither of them had spelled the gnome. So how come he was now alive? Something was going very wrong with their magic and he seemed to be the only one to see it.