Blackwood: The Dynasty Series Book One Read online

  Blackwood

  Book One of the Dynasty Series

  Marian Gray

  Gray House Romance

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2017 Marian Gray

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Gray House Romance

  Cover design by Kay Simone Creative

  First edition

  Description

  He’s the reigning hero. She has a destiny to fulfill. Together they’ll find there are bigger things than failure to fear.

  Kim Blackwood hails from a dying wizard family. Magic used to appear every generation, and then every other generation. Now it has become so rare that some would like to forget the magical bloodline ever existed. But with the arrival of an acceptance letter, the truth can no longer be kept hidden.

  Sucked into a secret society of wizards and witches, Kim is forced to navigate a world of fame, glory, and legend—all while learning how to wave a wand. Everyone is watching and waiting for her to break.

  Fortunately for Kim, she has caught the eye of an adept wizard—Elijah Harlow. He’s talented, successful, and unattainable. At least that’s what Kim was led to believe. A twirling romance soon entwines the two into a delicate charade that cannot fail or else Kim’s future as a witch is at an end.

  For everyone who has ever wished for a bit of magic in their lives.

  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

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Thank You for Reading!

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  James wrapped his small hand around my wrist and tugged. His palm was hot. “Open it,” he whined.

  I shook my head as fear filled my belly. “We’re not even supposed to be in the basement,” I muttered. My eyes glanced to the stairs behind me. “We should go back up.”

  He ignored me. “Then, I’ll do it.” His ‘th’ sounded like a ‘d’ as always.

  “No!”

  His chubby fingers slid across the engravings, smearing the old layer of dust atop the hardwood case.

  “No, James!” I yanked him away. He stumbled toward me, tripping over hem and feet before falling to the cold cement floor. He rolled over and lifted his elbow. A stripe of pain crossed his face as he stared at the bright red point. “I’m so sorry.” I rushed over to him. “Please, don’t cry.”

  His lower lip folded over into a pout.

  “No.” Panic built in my chest. “Don’t cry. Please, don’t cry,” I begged. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  “Anythin’ I want?” His eyes went wide.

  My eyes shifted to the stairs and back to James. “Yes, anything.” Momma couldn’t find out we were down here.

  He hopped back onto his feet just as quickly as he had met the ground. “Open the case or else I’ll cry.”

  I shook my head. “But Momma doesn’t let me play with it.”

  His bottom lip stuck out once again and fluttered into a whimper. A cry began in his chest and threatened to break from his mouth.

  I threw my hands up in surrender. “Shhh! They’ll hear you!”

  The sounds grew stronger, and his eyes glistened.

  “Fine,” I hissed in surrender. “We can open it, but it has to stay down here. Momma can’t find out.”

  His soft cries ceased. One foot struck out in front of the other as he marched over to the small chest. His chin lifted high with pride. He gripped the sanded side and lifted, but it didn’t budge. “It’s stuck.” His arms shook as he pushed up on the lid. “It won’t open.”

  “It must not want to be opened then.” I shrugged. “Let’s put it up.”

  “You try.” He pushed the case toward me.

  I shook my head.

  “I’ll tattle,” James threatened.

  “I’ll tell them you just tripped.”

  “I’ll ‘em you pushed me while we was wrastlin’.”

  “Well, Momma let’s me wrastle.” My hands wrapped around my hips in defiance.

  “Does not.”

  “Does to.”

  “You’re still gonna get in trouble for hurtin’ me.” He stuck out his tongue.

  The impulse to slap him whipped across my arm, but I kept it tucked by my side.

  “Open it or else I’ll cry.”

  Fear squeezed me. If he tattled, Momma would come down to the basement and see we were playing with the secret chest—the one I had been told many times was off limits.

  My eyes dropped to the ornate oak box. “I’ll try, but if it doesn’t open, we let it alone.” I took a step forward and squatted. My slender fingers slid across the cool surface. A tingle tickled my hands.

  I yanked them away, hugging them to my chest.

  “Do it,” he urged.

  I glared at him before placing my hands back on the case. A buzz hummed up my arms. I pushed against the lid and it reeled back on its tiny brass hinges with little effort. The chest coughed, releasing a warm gust of dust. I swatted and blew at the air to clear it away.

  James crouched beside me with his eyes popping out his head in awe. He clasped his hands together and wiggled his fingers in anticipation. “I want it to hold it,” he squeaked with delight.

  Lush purple velvet rippled across the bottom and crawled up the sides. I swallowed hard. My heart raced in my chest at the sight of my great grandmother’s wand lying there, sleeping. It stretched long and arched like an old woman’s finger with notches for knuckles and cracks for wrinkles. In the center was a large knot, tied as though the wood were simple rope. I glanced over my shoulder once more to check and see that Momma and Uncle Hank were still upstairs before I withdrew my hands from the chest edge. They shook from the busy prickle that spread across my pudgy palms.

  His hand dashed forward, too excited to wait a moment longer. “No.” I slapped it away. “It was my great grandmother’s, so I get to play with it first.”

  He nursed the stinging skin close to his chest. “That’s not fair.”

  “Well, if you cry now, then we’ll both get in trouble,” I snorted, puffing out my chest.

  His face crinkled with a rebellious frown, but he said nothing.

  My attention swept to the wand. I stretched out my arm and wrapped my fingers around the handle.
The wood was warm, as though someone had just held it moments before me. I lifted it into the air, and James leapt up from the floor. He clapped his hands over his head in joyous celebration.

  But as soon as the wand was in the air, the handle heated.

  My palms sweated. “It’s getting hot.”

  “What?”

  Just before my fingers unraveled to drop the gray stick, an explosion of radiant white sparks sprayed from the tip with an angry screech. Bursts of light popped into the air, howling through their ascent. The fire from their scorching tails pelted my forearm. I screamed in agony. My body strained to break from the wand, but my fingers couldn’t move. My hand was glued to the handle. “Momma!” I shrieked as the fireworks continued to rage and bite my skin. The blaze grew in brightness.

  Deep blue flashed before me, swallowing the white craze. A force knocked the handle from my grip. The wand flew from me. It smacked against the wall and fell to the floor, calm and quiet.

  Momma rushed to me and wrapped her arms around my shaking body. Warm tears hit the top of my head as I nestled my cheek against her chest.

  “What the hell was that?” Her throat vibrated, emitting the shrill sound.

  My singed arm hung out in the arm, throbbing from the burning pain. Red welts erupted along the olive skin. Tears dripped down my cheeks.

  “She had the wand,” Uncle Hank answered.

  “I understand that.” Momma’s hand pressed my head to her chest. “It’s okay, Kim. I’m here. I can protect you now. Nothing else will happen to you. And you come here too, James.” He sprinted to her from the corner of the basement, crying.

  Uncle Hank mumbled to himself as his eyes stared off into the distance. “The wand reacted in her hand…” His words drifted off. “Has she ever held the wand before?”

  “What?” Momma’s voice was sharp. “Of course not.”

  Uncle Hank glanced to me, his face full of hope.

  “Are you two all right?” She asked, releasing us from her tight grasp. I nodded. “And you, James? Did it get you too?”

  His face was the color of a cherry. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Oh, Kim. Your arm!” She held out the angry pocked limb for everyone to see. “Can you mind her while I get something to bandage her arm with?”

  Uncle Hank nodded, but his thoughts absorbed his attention.

  Momma kissed my forehead and sat me beside her. “Wait right here with Uncle Hank.”

  I nodded my understanding and glanced to my uncle. He paced to the window and stared out the two dirty panes. He didn’t blink once.

  “I’ll be right back.” She rose from the floor. Her pale pink flats tapped across the hard floor as she jogged up the stairs.

  “Are you all right, Kim?” James whispered.

  I held out my arm and whimpered in response. The heat still pulsed across my arm.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears rained down his cheeks. His eyes were filled with guilt. “I’ll make it better. I promise I’ll make it better.”

  James took a deep breath. His hands hovered just above my red, swollen arm. Without saying a word, without waving a wand, the pain drained from my arm and the skin sunk into its normal olive color.

  Chapter Two

  I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed the dark breakfast tea, but drinking it was like sitting at the children’s table for Thanksgiving when you’ve already moved out of your parent’s house. The other three had coffee, black as pitch. But they were the adults. And the adults drank coffee after brunch while the children had tea.

  “More tea?” My mother eyed me as I stirred my small cup.

  I mouthed a ‘no’. No, I didn’t need another refill on my cup of adolescence.

  “How’s the new position at work coming along, Kara?” Uncle Hank turned to my mother. His thinning strands of charcoal hair climbed over his shoulder, revealing a small bubble ponytail.

  “Well, it’s still HR, but the paycheck is bigger, and I have fewer people to answer to, which is always nice. But I’m still listening to the same stories from the same people. And instead of documenting it and passing it along, I now am the one that has to pass judgment regarding how to handle the matter.” She lifted her cup to her dry lips and sipped on the steaming coffee. “And to be honest, things are a bit of a mess—I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I inherited an ongoing sexual harassment case and a department head wants to deny a woman maternity leave because it’s not a convenient time for him.”

  “That’s disheartening.” Aunt Margot’s wide mouth upturned into a frown.

  “What about you two? Have you found something that interests you or are you still… supplementing your income?” My mother’s great brown eyes shifted between my uncle and aunt.

  Aunt Margot leaned back in her chair. It groaned beneath her weight. “Supplementing our income?” She repeated with an ounce of sauce in her tone.

  Uncle Hank placed a hand on Aunt Margot’s arm and gave it a gentle pat, reeling in the bulldog of a woman. “I’m actually applying for a specialist’s certification. I’m hoping to hear back in a few months. I’ve been assured by others in the field it will get approved but only time will tell.”

  “A certification for what?” I glanced up from my cup. For as long as I could remember, Uncle Hank had never had a job let alone demonstrated any sort of specialized skills.

  “An inventor’s license of sorts.” he relayed with a furrowed forehead.

  “You need a license for that?” I cocked a skeptical eyebrow. He was hiding something. Perhaps he was lying to appease my mother. We couldn’t get through a family brunch without her barking at them to get jobs.

  “It appears so. Kim—” My mother turned to me, steering the conversation away from my uncle. “Have you received an official date yet?”

  I examined her with a cautious gaze. “For what?”

  “Graduation.”

  “They’ve told us the eighteenth.”

  “Early or late May?” Aunt Margot’s second chin wobbled from jaw to neck.

  “Late.”

  “I swear, schools are releasing later and later every year.” Aunt Margot shook her head. “Are you planning on doing anything in celebration?” Her round eyes rolled to my mom.

  I extended my arm in search of my porcelain tea cup but halted. My skin brushed against something odd. It felt like paper.

  My eyes lowered.

  There, sitting square on the pineapple and jungle leaf place mat before me, was a pristine white envelope. Its surface remained blank for only a few seconds before pine green ink emerged, staining the paper with words. My fingers pinched the edges and tilted the letter toward me.

  To:

  Kim Blackwood

  The Dining Room

  4709 Brookwood Dr.

  Roanoke, VA

  “What have you got there?” Uncle Hank’s voice swam into my ears.

  I looked up. All three pairs of eyes stared at me. “I-I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I went to grab my cup and felt this instead. Then, my name appeared on it—like disappearing ink but in reverse.” I turned it outward so they could see the address. “It even has the room I’m currently sitting in listed on it.”

  My uncle and aunt shared a knowing glance. “That’s a particular shade of green,” Aunt Margot commented.

  “How did the envelope just appear? Was it maybe underneath the—” My mother cut herself short. “Why do you say that, Margot?”

  “Open it, Kim,” Uncle Hank prodded me. His eyes twinkled with an expectant joy as he leaned forward in his chair.

  “Just an observation.” Margot folded her hands in her lap.

  I scratched the back of my head, unsure of whether my mother would approve of me opening the letter here and now. Normally when I received mail, she opened and read it first, then passed it on to me if she deemed it appropriate.

  “Does the color signify something I should be aware of?” My mother continued to press.

  “Don’t be afraid.” Uncle Hank
encouraged me with a soft voice. “Open it up.”

  “One of you knows what’s going on and I demand to be told.”

  I swallowed a deep breath of air and slid my finger under the white flap without her permission. The wax seal pealed with ease from the paper. It was still warm. I withdrew several sheets of folded paper and pressed them flat upon the dining room table. Running my hand across the sleek surface to smooth out the creases. “Ivory University of Magics, established 1616,” I read aloud. “Dear Miss Kim Blackwood, it is with great honor that I offer you admission to the Ivory University Class of 2022.”

  The letter was snatched from my fingertips. “How did you apply to this?” My mother’s thin-plucked eyebrows climbed to the middle of her forehead.

  “I didn’t.” I wasn’t even aware of its existence until now. But the concept of a magical university grabbed my imagination and flew away. A bubbling excitement warmed my stomach, and goosebumps pricked across my skin. The idea of going to Ivory thrilled me.

  “Oh, no?” Her tone implied I was lying. “If you didn’t apply, then how could you have been accepted?”

  I shrugged.

  “Answer me.”

  “I can’t,” I huffed. “I don’t even know how I got this letter.”

  She eyed me with a doubtful glance. “So this—” The acceptance letter stood high in the air, supported by her thumb and index finger. “Was not your doing? You know nothing about this?”