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Girls of Might and Magic: An Anthology By Diverse Books with Magic
Girls of Might and Magic: An Anthology By Diverse Books with Magic Read online
Girls of Might and Magic
Diverse Books with Magic
Contents
An Introduction…
Preface
1. Heartburn
About the Author
2. Wind and Silk
About the Author
3. Grace and Ghosts
About the Author
4. Faith
About the Author
5. The Outside
About the Author
6. Chasing Waves
About the Author
7. Funnel Cake
About the Author
8. A Meeting in the Woods
About the Author
9. Outcast
About the Author
10. Daughter of Soil and Gold
About the Author
11. Pretty Young Things
About the Author
12. Sight
About the Author
13. Serenity Dawn
About the Author
14. The Cursed Gift
About the Author
15. Memories of Magic
About the Author
16. Check Yourself
About the Author
Afterword
Girls of Might and Magic
An Anthology by Diverse Books With Magic
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, uploaded, or transmitted in any form without the authors' written consent. This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
Cover Art: Christine Gerardi
Formater: Alice Ivinya
Copyright@ 2021 E. M. Lacey
Copyright@ 2021 Alice Ivinya
Copyright@ 2021 K. R. S. McEntire
Copyright@ 2021 Sudha Kuruganti
Copyright@ 2021 C. C. Solomon
Copyright@ 2021 Kendra Merritt
Copyright@ 2021 Amanda Ross
Copyright@ 2021 Nicole Givens Kurtz
Copyright@ 2021 D. L. Howard
Copyright@ 2021 Meghan Rhine
Copyright@ 2021 LaLa Leo
Copyright@ 2021 Tamika Brown
Copyright@ 2021 C. I. Raiyne
Copyright@ 2021 Courtney Dean
Copyright@ 2021 Ashley Ford
Copyright@ 2021 Kat Zaccard
Created with Vellum
“If you ever find you’ve nowhere else to go,
you come here to these books and find yourself.”
― J. Elle, Wings of Ebony
An Introduction…
When we launched the Diverse Books With Magic Facebook community, we had no idea that it would grow into what it is today. As an active group of 1500+ speculative fiction fans, we knew we could create something magical together. Within these pages, you’ll find stories featuring witches, fae, ghosts, vampires, dragons, werewolves, sea beasts, jinn, and more.
The authors of the Girls of Might and Magic anthology are at various stages of their writing careers. Some have multiple publications under their belt. For others, this is one of their first projects. We are indebted to the diverse, female voices who paved the way in speculative fiction, ranging from the late Octavia Butler to emerging voices such as N. K. Jemisin and Tomi Adeyemi. We aim to put characters of color, characters with disabilities, and LGBTQ+ characters front and center in stories about strength and resilience. We appreciate your support and hope this collection of young adult and new adult speculative fiction reminds you of your own might and magic.
Sincerely,
The Diverse Books With Magic admins (K. R. S. McEntire, C. C. Solomon, Amanda Ross, LaLa Leo, and D. L. Howard.)
The collection includes:
Heartburn by E. M. Lacey
Wind and Silk by Alice Ivinya
Grace and Ghosts by K. R. S. McEntire
Faith by Sudha Kuruganti
The Outside by C. C. Solomon
Chasing Waves by Kendra Merritt
Funnel Cake by Amanda Ross
A Meeting in the Woods by Nicole Givens Kurtz
Outcast by D. L. Howard
Daughter of Soil and Gold by Meghan Rhine
Pretty Young Things by LaLa Leo
Sight by Tamika Brown
Serenity Dawn by C. I. Raiyne
The Cursed Gift by Courtney Dean
Memories of Magic by Ashley Ford
Check Yourself by Kat Zaccard
“They don't hate you, my child. They hate what you were meant to become.”
― Tomi Adeyemi, Children of Blood and Bone
1
Heartburn
E. M. Lacey
If someone knocks, don’t answer.
Don’t open the door.
Don’t even look out of the peephole.
No one can know you’re inside. It’s best for us this way.
Those were the laws of the Aarshin household. Rules nine-year-old Anala lived by until she didn’t. She made a friend, though she wasn’t supposed to. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, school wasn’t so crowded. Smaller classes shed light on the little shadow that was Anala. It surprised her when the popular girl, Summer Shea, started talking to her. It wasn’t long before they laughed and built their own secrets. Secrets like the one that drew Anala to break house rules. A secret she later learned was a lie. One that landed her inside the back of an unmarked blue van.
It made a hard-right turn. Screeching tires drowned out her yelp as she slid across the floor. It jerked sharply, then straightened without reducing speed. The driver lay on the brakes, propelling her into the divider wall. The force of it snatched the breath from her lungs. She crawled unsteadily to a corner, grateful it was slowing. Once there, she pulled her knees to her chest. The muted crunch of house keys inside her fanny pack deepened her longing for home.
She teased the zipper, sliding it back and forth as she examined her surroundings. The van had no windows, and it smelled new. It slowed again, easing to the right. Rocks popped under tires as it pulled off the road. It rocked as it moved along a new path. Anala endured the rattling and shaking as the vehicle trudged along for several long minutes before it stopped.
Engine still running, handles clicked, and both driver and passenger doors swung open. Rocks crunched beneath the weight of the men who stepped out. One was a stranger. The other was her science teacher, Mr. Bland.
What did they want with her?
She was broken. Her skin was brown. She wasn’t pretty like Summer with her pale blond hair, sky-blue eyes, and luminous porcelain skin. Summer was well fed, not skinny like Anala. Anala’s skin had the consistency of wax paper with some scaling in places from eczema. The only feature Anala liked about herself was her dark green eyes.
Anala itched like crazy as her teacher and the stranger neared the back of the van. Her stomach gurgled. She scratched her forearms, worrying already cracked skin. She had medicine that would stop both the itching and reflux, but it was in her backpack, which lay useless in Summer’s backyard.
Her stomach acid surged, rising to her throat, ebbing at the base of her sternum. She braced herself as a loud burp burst forth as the doors swung open.
Anala was grateful for the darkness. Her eyes were not good with the sun. Plus, if she could stop shaking, the shadows would keep her hidden, if only for a little while.
A hot beam of light passed over her skin. She threw up her hand to shield her eyes.
&nbs
p; “See!”
Mr. Bland punched the stranger on his shoulder as he pointed excitedly at her corner. The stranger lowered the flashlight.
“Did you see her eyes?” Mr. Bland bent slightly, laying his hands on his thighs as he tilted his head in different angles. He grinned wide, straightened, and punched the stranger’s shoulder again. “I told you.”
“Tapetum lucidum.” The stranger said as he waved the flashlight again. Anala jerked away from the light, turning her head to the corner.
“They got that green glow like a dog or a cat.” Mr. Bland pointed again.
The stranger grunted, sidestepping Mr. Bland’s next punch as he turned off the flashlight and slipped into the waistband of his pants. The stranger clapped his hands together lightly. Mr. Bland snapped out of his weird fixation.
“We need to get her into the facility.” The stranger reached behind his back, dug around in his pocket, and pulled out a black square that fit neatly in the palm of his hand. He shook it out. It was a bag.
Mr. Bland snickered as he climbed into the back of the van. The stranger followed, keeping a careful distance as Mr. Bland crept forward.
Anala couldn’t believe she’d thought Mr. Bland was nice! He always had a ready smile and a stupid dad joke.
“Look, Anala, I know you’re scared.” He used his teacher's voice. He approached her like an equation. Sizing her up, holding his hands out as if he were trying to keep her from running. He didn’t need to. Where would she go?
“We’re not going to hurt you,” Mr. Bland said as he took the black bag from the stranger. He crept forward. “My friend here wants to help you.”
He reached for Anala. She screamed, pushing deeper into the corner.
Mr. Bland retreated. He looked over his shoulder at the stranger, who hadn’t recoiled. It was hard to make out his features, not because it was dark—her vision was fine in the dark. It was because she’d started crying.
The stranger patted Mr. Bland’s shoulder and offered her a smile. “Don’t cry, dear.” He pressed his free hand on his chest, using Mr. Bland for balance. “I’m a doctor.”
Anala sniffled. “I don’t need a doctor.” She scowled at the stranger. The bitter taste of stomach acid lingered on her tongue.
The stranger checked his watch, released Mr. Bland’s shoulder, then jerked his chin toward Anala. Lowering his voice, he whispered something in Mr. Bland’s ear, then backed out of the van.
Mr. Bland apologized to her before darting forward. He slipped the bag over her head, then dragged her out of her corner. She kicked and screamed as her stomach burned and her heart broke. There was a pinch in her neck. Her limbs numbed and so did her mind. Soon the darkness inside the bag became absolute.
Anala woke on the floor of a small, square room with no windows. Head pounding, she rolled onto her stomach, surprised it didn’t protest. It hurt to move her eyes, but she needed to figure out where she was.
She glanced around the silver room. No furniture. Not even a toilet. She looked up, mindful of the sharp pressure along her temples. Carefully, she examined the corners for the tell-tale lights of cameras. She’d seen it on television, prisoners locked in rooms with cameras. There! She spotted a small one, the same silver as the room. A tinted plate lay over the face, dulling the light beneath. She checked the other corners, finding only one more near the front of the cell beside a thick glass wall, or was it a door?
Anala checked both sides of her cell, noting the gleam to her right. A sheet of glass separated her from another cell, which was pitch-black. A sliver of light streamed inside from the hall.
“Hello,” Anala whispered then broke into a fit of coughing. Her throat was still raw from her screams. She waited for the fit to pass before trying again. “Is anyone there?”
A squeak of rubber soles against the floor startled her. She turned in time to catch a glimpse of powder-blue fabric. It sparkled in places as her neighbor moved deeper into the darkness.
Masculine voices closed her mouth and drew her eyes upward.
“The older woman’s blood is being tested.” It was the stranger from the van. She heard him move around overhead. “Depending on the results, the girl is going to be paramount to the development of our line of serums.”
Mr. Bland giggled like a kid. “We’re going to be rich.”
“Years of research validated.” The stranger sounded distracted. A tender clink of glass bridged the momentary silence.
Their voices floated down through a grate in the ceiling. Anala tilted her head, pulled back a nest of dark hair, and turned her ear toward it.
“Well, you know there are all kinds of creatures in Africa.”
“The woman and her grandchild are Ethiopian. Do you have any idea what they are?”
“No. I’ve compiled a list noting the particulars of various species. I’ve got someone running their ancestry. Surnames and geographical regions could prove helpful. Might narrow down both the lore and tribe.” Mr. Bland sounded frustrated.
“But you’ve observed the girl.”
“She’s just a kid.” Mr. Bland must be sitting. His foot began tapping incessantly. “She’s extremely shy, barely talks.” He stomped his foot. “She doesn’t break the rules and has no friends.”
“Good at staying under the radar,” the stranger commented. He murmured something else, but she couldn’t make out the words as papers flapped like wings. “Maybe the girl’s physical issues are particular to her kind.”
My kind? Anala’s brows sank as she digested the conversation. Her grandmother, Emebet “Eme” Aarshin, was an Ethiopian national seeking citizenship in the United States. She was very human, just like Anala. Neither of them was a monster like Mr. Bland suggested. Anala had a few issues that made her feel abnormal, but she was normal.
“Well, the senior subject will be harvested for Project Sovereignty. Once the tests are complete, we will do an autopsy.”
“Autopsy?” Mr. Bland sounded like he was going to be sick.
“Of course, how else are we going to learn what makes them tick? There’s no other way to discover what parts are good for what if we don’t perform an autopsy. Maybe harvesting will force a shift?” The stranger moved around overhead.
“You killed her?”
The stranger gave a how-absurd kind of laugh. “Of course not. We’re still taking samples and running tests. Once our donors are satisfied, there will be an autopsy.”
“You never said anything about killing anyone.”
The silence turned Anala’s stomach. Mr. Bland and the stranger were going to kill her grandma! Her hand fell from her hair. Maybe they were going to kill her too?
Mr. Bland and the stranger began speaking again. Tones were harsh, but she stopped listening. What were they doing to her grandma? Were they hurting her? Her stomach sloshed with bile, and gas bubbled into her chest. She rubbed her chest, hoping it would stop.
Despair lodged in her throat, forcing its way out as a loud burp. She wrinkled her nose at the rotten egg smell. That was new. Her burps were always odorless. Maybe her medicine stripped away the odor?
“Gross.”
Anala spun in the direction of the voice. Her heart leapt at the familiar face.
“Summer!” Anala crawled toward the glass. Summer remained motionless in the darkness.
“They took you too?” Anala rested her butt in the curve of her heels.
“It’s your fault!”
Anala drew back, brows drawn. “I...”
“You’re a freak! Your grandma’s a freak!”
It took Anala a few seconds to find her words. “I’m not a freak. I’m like you.”
Summer crawled into the light. She pressed her face against the glass. Dark circles were under her eyes. Her swollen lips had a cut on the top. The palms of her hands were an angry red. “No, you’re not.”
“Why are you saying that?” Anala looked around her cell, her fingernails laying into her skin as she scratched. “We’re friends.”
> “I’m not your friend.” Summer’s venomous words cracked like a whip. Anala flinched under their sting.
Summer sat back, aiming a finger at the ceiling. “Mr. Bland introduced me to that man. He had already met up with my adoptive mom. Offered her money. She took it, of course, and made me be nice to you.”
“But you were going to show me the fairy forest and...”
Summer tossed an unkempt braid over her shoulder and locked her arms across her chest. “Mom figured you liked fairies because of the stickers on your backpack, so she told me to tell you we had one.”
“But...”
“There is no fairy forest!” Summer screamed. “I can’t believe you’re so simple. My mom will do anything for a buck, but she forgot the rule of easy money.” Summer seemed to deflate. “It comes with a lot of strings.” She leaned against the glass. “Like all her stupid plans, she got me tied up in it.” She waved her hands wearily around her cell. “Now I’m stuck in this stupid cage.” She slapped the glass and pressed her head against it.
“I didn’t mean...”
Summer leaned away, tilted her head, mouth ajar as she studied Anala. She shook her head then pointed at Anala. “It’s your fault your grandma’s gonna die.”
Her words stripped the breath from her lungs. Anala backed away from Summer and faced the wall. She stared at the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She was breathing, so why did it feel like she was suffocating?