The Sorcery Trial Read online

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  If you enjoyed The Sorcery Trial…

  29. Chapter one

  30. Chapter two

  About J.A. Armitage

  About Claire Luana

  Also by J.A. Armitage

  Also by Claire Luana

  The Sorcery Trial

  Copyright © 2019 by Claire Luana and J.A. Armitage

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  ISBN: 978-1-948947-71-8 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-948947-70-1 (Ebook)

  * * *

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the author.

  * * *

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  * * *

  Cover Design: Covers by Juan

  Created with Vellum

  1

  I noticed two things in quick succession. One—the tips of his ears tapered to a delicate point. And two—his white button-down had been soaked in a tidal wave of coffee. The first meant he was a faerie. The second meant he had the misfortune of running into me.

  My hands shook before me, empty of the carrying tray and the four venti quadruple shot Americanos I had just bought with the intention of ferrying them back to the studio headquarters. My pulse pounded like a jackhammer in my ears, adrenaline coursing through me.

  The perky woman behind the counter goggled at us, adding to my unease.

  I narrowed my eyes at her, hoping she would get the point that I didn’t really need an audience right now. We were in Hollywood for goodness sakes—huge stars of the screen frequented this coffee shop day in, day out. Of course, if it was merely a famous actor I’d thrown coffee all over, my heart wouldn’t be beating like a marching band, and none of this would be an issue. No, the male in front of me was no actor. He was a faerie. Here. In Los Angeles.

  I took a deep breath and tried to keep my breakfast on the inside. Down on the floor, the four now-empty cups with my name misspelled on all of them—Jack instead of Jacq—mocked me, swimming as they were in a sea of black and pale brown liquid.

  The faerie male was hissing in and out, his hands pulling his wet button-up away from his body, rivulets of steaming coffee running down his dark jeans onto wingtip shoes. “An oracle for a cousin, and I did not see that coming!” He barked a laugh, shaking off his shock. “If I wasn’t awake before, I am now. I just expected to get my caffeine hit by drinking it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I stammered, my thoughts racing almost too fast to catch. In the blink of an eye, I took him all in. His honey-gold locks falling over his forehead with a tousled elegance even a Disney prince would envy. Tan skin, tawny and glowing. Angled cheekbones, square jaw, and teeth as straight as a white-picket fence.

  I had seen pictures of faeries every day for the last ten years. Since the existence of the fae and faerie realm had been exposed to all of humankind, they’d been news. Internet headlines, network stories, and viral videos. They were everywhere. And nowhere. Because faeries couldn’t be in the mortal world, not without a visa from the ICCF, the International Coalition for Cooperation with Faeries. And mortals couldn’t go into Faerwild.

  I knew of their ethereal beauty in the way that you know a wildfire is hot. But that knowledge doesn’t compare to standing next to the inferno and feeling it burn.

  To be face to face with one in real life was terrifying. Exhilarating. No, definitely terrifying, I corrected myself.

  “It was a most unfortunate accident,” the faerie said. He looked young, maybe only a couple of years older than me. Twenty? Twenty-one? But I knew that looks were deceptive when it came to those of a faerie persuasion. He could be a hundred. He could be a thousand. However old he was, he was at ease in his skin in a way that few mortals managed. Even drenched in coffee, he was relaxed, friendly. He didn’t seem dangerous. And it was that fact that scared me most of all.

  “It was,” I managed. “It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” It wasn’t technically true. It’d been like a slow-motion movie crash. Once I had caught sight of him, once I had realized what he was…I’d been unable to avert disaster. I could see him there, but my mind refused to believe it. So I just kept walking.

  “I’m more worried about the depth of your coffee addiction. Can a human even drink that much caffeine and live?”

  I wrinkled my brow, silent for a moment before I realized he was teasing me. The murderous creatures could joke?

  Years of resentment and pain bubbled under the surface, so close it made my skin itch. Yet, he seemed so normal. If it wasn’t for those ears of his and that weird aura of confidence that so few could pull off…I wouldn’t have even known he was a faerie in the first place.

  “They weren’t for me. I work at the studio,” I managed, nodding my head in the direction of the headquarters, where right now my high-strung bosses were, no doubt, wondering what was taking me so long to deliver their next caffeine hit. They were not the kind of people that liked to wait, and as I was the lowest monkey on the Hollywood ladder, I was extremely expendable. A fact that I was reminded of on a daily basis.

  “Cool. What do you do?” he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets, seeming to have forgotten the aromatic liquid still dripping down him.

  “I’m a gopher.”

  He cocked his head. “You’re not like any gopher I’ve ever seen. I’d be very impressed to see a human turn into a small woodland creature. Not even most faeries could pull that off.”

  I ran my fingers through my blonde ponytail, a nervous gesture from childhood. “Is that another joke?”

  The faerie chuckled. “If you have to ask, it means it wasn’t a very good one.”

  “Not gopher. Go-fer. Like, go get stuff. I do random odd jobs. Coffee, errands, whatever punishment my boss can dream up for me. It’s just for now.” Everyone in the industry knew what a gopher was. The fact that he had to ask marked him as even more of an outsider.

  “I want to do stunts,” I blurted out. As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to swallow them. Why was I even telling him that? It wasn’t as though I was embarrassed by my job. Plenty of stars started their Hollywood careers in much the same way.

  “You’re going to be a stunt woman?” His green eyes widened and crinkled up at the edges. He seemed genuinely impressed. I guess there wasn’t much call for stunt people in Faerwild. “What kind of stunts do you do?”

  I weighed the question, wondering if he was genuinely interested or if his question disguised some sinister intent. It was so hard to tell. I decided that it didn’t really matter if I told him. It was hardly a state secret.

  “Whatever they want. I can drive, I can ride horses, I can fight. I’ll do it all.” I managed, though I still couldn’t believe his curiosity was ge
nuine. To a faerie, I was as important as a woodland creature. As an insect. That’s how faeries saw us mere mortals. Something to play with. And to squash when they got bored.

  “Sounds like you’re attracted to danger.” A mischievous smile played across his handsome face, and warning bells rang in my mind. That’s what I expected. That’s what I needed to watch out for. That’s what got Cass.

  “I should go,” I said. “I need to place another order and get back to work. I’m really sorry about your clothes.” I wasn’t that sorry. His clothes looked expensive—perfectly tailored to fit his lean, muscled form. He probably had a leprechaun slave or something who could make him another set.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “In fact, I can fix it right up.”

  His hands were out of his pockets before I could protest, moving in an unnatural motion. My heart seized in my chest as his lips moved, mouthing strange nonsense syllables. He was doing magic.

  Every fiber within me told me to run, to flee from him, and not look back. But I was rooted to the spot, fascinated and horrified in turn. I hadn’t been around magic for two years—not since Cassandra and her coven were playing around in the attic with candles and runes. Since she started sneaking out to meet some guy, a guy who happened to have glowing golden eyes and pointed ears. Since she disappeared into the field behind our ranch with him and never came back.

  At the thought of my older sister, my heart squeezed in my chest like a vice. Even as the coffee cups and carrying tray were floating back into the air, the dark coffee pooling and flowing back into them like real-life CGI, I thought of her. I held her in my mind, reminding me. Why, no matter how beautiful they appeared, or enchanting they seemed, I hated them. All of them.

  The girl behind the counter was full on staring now, which somehow irked me even more. It was a detail to focus on. A safe, human detail.

  The blond faerie seemed ridiculously pleased with himself as he took the tray of full Americanos and handed it back to me. “You’re welcome,” he said with a wink.

  I pushed past him, even the words thank you sticking in my throat.

  I hurried back through the lot, past the parked golf carts and a gaggle of extras clad in Viking attire. It wasn’t until I passed into the glass door of the headquarters that I realized I hadn’t even thought to ask the faerie, why was he here?

  2

  My mind was still whirring as I passed through security and headed up to the conference room. My boss, John Ashton, wasn’t a Hollywood bigwig, but he was getting there. He ruled his little corner of the studio with an iron fist, and everyone knew he was just biding his time until he hit the big time—until he found the one. “The one” was a mythical TV show that would become an instant sensation the world over, skyrocketing John to fame and fortune in the process.

  It’s not that his shows had all been flops—a few, like Down Under (a reality show set in Australia) and Psychic Pirates (about, well, psychic pirates)—were several seasons in. But none had catapulted John to the big league where he thought he deserved to be.

  I expected the usual combination of condescension and cursing as I entered the conference room, my coffee run having taken much longer than normal, thanks to my run-in with the faerie. I had a lie ready on my lips—but John threw me completely by thanking me and asking me to put the coffee on a table in the corner. His handsome face was tense with barely-veiled excitement.

  I did as he asked, making sure to empty my pockets of the little pink packets of sweetener he liked, plus some packets of sugar in case his guests turned out to be the only people in Hollywood not on a diet. There were three other people in the glass conference room, two handsome men in Armani suits and a sleek-looking woman in ridiculously high Louboutin heels. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that these three were the big guns John always talked about. I was just about to leave when I heard the word “fae.”

  My ears pricked. It couldn’t be a coincidence. I’d seen a faerie up close for the first time in my life, and suddenly, my boss and his guests were talking about them?

  “How many are we gonna send in?” one of the men asked, his voice gruff.

  John replied. “I haven’t worked out all the details yet. The king hasn’t been very specific, but I’m thinking we do it in teams. One boy and one girl maybe. One human, one faerie.”

  I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, barely able to breathe. If he was talking about a king, it could only mean one thing. They were talking about the Faerie King. They were sending people over the Hedge. Into Faerwild. The faerie realm. Faerwild only ever conjured up one thought in my mind, and it was the same thing I'd been thinking about ever since my run-in at the coffee shop. My sister, Cass. It was like she and the entirety of Faerwild were linked in my mind. It was impossible to think about one without the other creeping in.

  Maybe…it was a borderline obsession. One that I'd kept to myself for a long time, one that had nearly taken over my life before I'd purposely decided to move on with my life and distance myself from it. Literally as well as figuratively. A year ago, the minute I graduated high school, I'd left my easygoing hometown and my parents to try my luck in Hollywood. I knew no one and had nothing to my name but my old Toyota Corolla, the desire to get away from my past, and the thirst to make it as a stuntwoman. Unfortunately, the past had caught up with me this very morning, and I'd thrown coffee all over it. Not that I thought the handsome faerie was the one that took Cass, but he was close enough.

  I’d had to at least try to give up my obsession with finding Cass. For my chances of finding her were nil—if the ICCF couldn’t, what hope did I have? Humans weren’t allowed in Faerie at all. Not until very recently anyway, and I’d heard that even with a good reason, it took months to get through the paperwork and red tape necessary to get a decree from the king.

  I’d tried; of course, I had. As soon as they’d opened the portals to humans a few months ago, I’d turned up at a faerie circle begging to be let in. The ICCF goons guarding the portal had laughed at me. As a gopher at a TV studio—a lowly human—I had no chance. I couldn’t give them a credible reason. Telling them that I thought a faerie had kidnapped my sister was hardly going to get me through.

  “I like the idea, John,” the gruff man spoke again. “This thing could be huge. But I need you to nail down the specifics.”

  “Could be? It’ll be the TV show of the year…of the century! Almost no human has ever ventured over the Hedge before, and certainly, no camera crews have ever been allowed in. Can you imagine how many people will watch the show? Even if they don’t like the idea of a race, they’ll tune in just to see what it’s like over there.”

  “I want to know,” piped in the woman.

  “Fine,” gruff man agreed. “We’ll greenlight the show. I like the premise. I love the danger aspect. But I want you on this quickly. As you said, this is going to work because no one has been there before. If those show-stealing idiots over at NBC get there first, this whole venture will be pointless.”

  I stood silently, hoping none of them realized they still hadn’t gotten their coffee yet. I was afraid to turn around. At the moment, I was practically invisible to them, but if I drew any attention to myself, I might be thrown out before I heard the rest.

  “I’m on it,” John said. I could hear the excitement in his voice. It was a nice change from the hurried anger he usually spoke with.

  “Don’t let me down,” the gruff man replied. I heard the squeak of his chair as he stood, followed by the squeaks of the other chairs. “I want all those details worked out and on my desk before my morning green juice on Monday.”

  “Monday?” John replied, his voice rising a notch. “That’s three days away!”

  “Is there a problem? If there is, I can get someone else on it.”

  John replied hastily. “No, no problem. The crown prince is in town to discuss it. I’m sure we can work out all the details.”

  “Good,” barked the gruff man.

 
; I turned to see the three execs leaving. John caught my eye, leaning back in his chair with a whoosh of exhaled breath.

  “Bring my coffee over to me, would you? Oh and grab me one of those donuts too.”

  I arched a brow. Despite minimal body fat and near-perfect physique, John was always on some sort of paleo-Atkins-keto-whateverthelatestfad diet. I’d never seen a donut pass his lips once in the year I’d worked here. I’d come to the conclusion the man ran on coffee and air.

  I picked up the biggest donut and his coffee and put them on the table before him.

  He had a satisfied smile on his face, and that rattled me too. I was used to snarls and grimaces. This version of John was almost as foreign to me as the gorgeous faerie male had been.

  Curiosity was burning me up, and I was just about to ask him about the show when he spoke first. “It’s the one. The big break I’ve been telling you about! Today, we celebrate.” He tore into his donut with a vengeance, coating his lips with sugar. He handed me back the coffee and pointed to the sweetener packet I’d laid on the table.

  Getting the message, I ripped the package open and emptied the contents into his coffee, swirling it all around until the little white flecks dissolved.

  “What’s the show?” I asked innocently as if I’d not just spent the last five minutes eavesdropping on his conversation. “Something to do with the fae? Are you sending people into Faerwild?”