Second Chance Fate

  Second Chance Fate

  Book One of the Second Chance Academy Series

  Ella J. Smyth

  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

  Also by Ella J. Smyth

  About the Author

  Disclaimer

  1

  For the first time in my entire high school career, I cut school early. I never did that. Not because I was such a great student, but because the principal would call my parents, and listening to them bitch wasn’t worth it.

  But today I had a good reason. My head was killing me. I’d asked for permission to use the bathroom and had walked straight out of the double doors into the schoolyard.

  Moving as quickly as possible without jolting my aching brain, I half-expected a teacher to call out, “Amber Whitman, where do you think you’re going?”

  The street ahead seemed to stretch to infinity. My school was situated in a wealthy neighborhood. Clematis-covered villas and Spanish-style bungalows hid behind high gates, more akin to a European setting than an American town. The next few blocks contained an upmarket delicatessen, a cheese-specialty store my mom occasionally bought some gross French cheese from, and a few small restaurants.

  I kept my head down. The chance of meeting anybody familiar this time of day was slim, but I wasn’t taking any chances. The sun had disappeared behind a big, black cloud, heavy with the promise of thunder. Light beams making their way through the gloom hit my eyes and cut into my brain. Rubbing my temples, I moaned quietly at the insistent stabs of pain above my eyes. I couldn’t wait to get home and hide under my bedcover.

  The sky had darkened even more, and the rumbling of thunder grew like an angry growl. Maybe it was my imagination, but the spasms in my head seemed to sync with the strobing of sheet lightning above me. I gritted my teeth as another stab hit my forehead.

  And then it suddenly stopped. The pain was gone. Just like that. I straightened up and nearly cried with relief. All noise had ceased, like the entire world had come to a standstill for one blessed moment.

  It didn’t last. A white lance of multi-branched fire shot across the sky, right above me. And there was the pounding pain again. My skin tingled with the buildup of electricity. My long hair moved around my head as static power made the strands jump away from one another. The energy surrounding me solidified into a cocoon.

  I walked faster past some bars that hadn’t opened yet for the evening trade. Only one block to go until I turned into my street. And then it all went to hell in a handbasket.

  A tree to my right exploded in a series of sparks. The shockwave nearly pushed me over. A deep boom assaulted my ears at the same time as the sharp bite of ozone hit my nostrils.

  I knew I’d just witnessed a lightning strike close up, but my brain had cut the connection to my mouth and legs. My feet were stuck to the ground as I stood there, my mouth wide open.

  A flicker of blue-white light bounced off a car in a burst of bright sparks, followed by a plume of smoke erupting from the trunk and the hood. The doors flew open, and a man and a woman emerged, coughing and gasping.

  They ran towards the Italian bistro as lightning danced off the metal legs supporting the red awning over the door. The woman screamed and ducked through the entrance as the fabric burst into flames and showered burning fragments onto her partner. He raised his hands to cover his head and disappeared into the building.

  My head had stopped hurting. For the first time in what seemed like hours, I could breathe freely, even though my breath gusted in and out in shocked gulps.

  A bystander waved and shouted from across the street. I held my hand behind my ear.

  “What? I can’t hear you!”

  Another bolt smashed a large branch of the tree nearest to me.

  “Come over here! You need to get inside!”

  He was right. I scanned left and right for a place to shelter, but on my side of the street, all the businesses were dark. The man was still waving frantically, so I stepped off the curb to cross over. I didn’t get far. The road surface exploded in front of me. The stench of burning pavement from the crater was nauseating.

  Jumping back, I stared at him helplessly. He hesitated, then waved again. This time I shook my head, trembling from the near miss. He shouted something, but it was impossible to make out his words through the din. He gave up and turned to find safety inside the restaurant while I was still stuck outside, exposed to the elements.

  The bolts were descending faster and faster, dancing across every available surface. Where the electricity touched metal, super-heated paint flaked off and burned in arcs of red, and yellow, and white.

  I sputtered as smoke and dust billowed in dense clouds as more strikes hit the street and trees. Breathing was becoming difficult. Covering my mouth with my hand, I coughed violently. I couldn’t stay here a moment longer.

  Just as I was about to run, a hoarse mewl cut through my coughing fits. I hesitated, my body shaking with adrenaline and fear. There was the sound again, so thin and pitiful it barely rose above the racket.

  What was that? Bending down, I looked under the car parked next to the sidewalk. Reflective eyes stared back at me. A dark shape hunkered against the front tire as if it wanted to disappear into the frame of the car.

  It’s gotta be a tomcat, judging by the size. Another fork of lightning sizzled overhead. The cat yowled pitifully and tried to make itself smaller. I can’t leave him here.

  I squatted and stretched out my fingers, fully expecting to be scratched for my effort. Instead, the animal slunk close, pushing its giant head against the palm of my hand. Its damp fur felt sticky, and I grimaced as I grabbed the cat by the neck scruff. You need a wash, buster. If we make it out of here alive. It offered no resistance, allowing itself to be pulled from its hiding place.

  By now, a curtain of white-hot vertical streaks blocked my view of the other side of the street. A lightning strike hit so closely, I felt the heat blast against my skin. Without wasting another moment, I lifted the cat into my arms, grabbed him tight, and ran.

  A gust whipped my hair across my face as I moved along, my arms aching from the weight of the animal. But the farther I got away from ground zero, the more the intensity of the strikes lessened. The black clouds thinned and blue sky reappeared.

  Outside my house, I stopped and looked back. The noise of the storm had receded, but the cacophony of shrilling car and house alarms was deafening, even from a distance. Sirens warbled as first responders made their way to the disaster zone.

  Clutching the beast to my chest, I forced myself to calm down and slow my breathing. My whole body had tensed up, both from fright and disbelieve.

/>   Had this really just happened? I’d survived a lightning storm without a scratch on me. The only evidence of it was a strong smell of smoke on my clothes and the burned-off split ends of my hair.

  And the cat. What had possessed me to take the animal with me? Light-blue eyes stared at me from a mess of bedraggled, matted fur. There were a few angry-looking scars and one ear was damaged. It—I checked—he looked a sight.

  What am I going to do with you? Maybe a rescue shelter will look after you. That’s when he pushed his head against my hand, the same way he’d done before I’d picked him up. A pink tongue slipped out, and he licked my fingers. It tickled but was so damn endearing, my heart went out to him. This cat was a survivor. I didn’t know what had happened to him, but he had made it this far and lived.

  I won’t let you down. The thought invaded my mind. I had no idea where it had sprung from, but I wholeheartedly agreed. Fate had shoved him my way, and now this alley cat was mine to care for.

  Decision made, I awkwardly pulled the key out of my pocket with one hand and inserted it into the front door lock. Once it was open, I stepped into the hallway. Closing the door, I couldn’t even hear the sirens anymore.

  As I walked past the kitchen, my mother was leaning against the fridge, staring absentmindedly at her cell phone screen. Hoping she wouldn’t notice I was carrying a massive tomcat, I tried to sneak past her.

  “What on earth is that? And why are you home early?”

  Yeah, no such luck. She’d looked up from her cell just in time to catch me. I blinked as innocently as I could.

  “That? I can explain.”

  She crossed her arms and waited. My mom had a way of glaring at me that made me feel like I was seven, not seventeen.

  “I found him during the lightning storm.”

  “What lightning storm?”

  “There was an electric storm on the way from school. I couldn’t just leave him there.”

  “Really.” The sarcasm in her voice made my ears burn. Before I could say anything else, she walked into the living room where my dad was watching TV.

  “Josh, could you change the channel to the local news, please?”

  The animal in my arms seemed to grow heavier by the moment. A rhythmic rumble vibrated along my forearms every second or so. Aww, he’s fallen asleep. If he didn’t look so nasty, he’d be cute. From the corner of my eye, I caught Mom grimacing at my new friend and me. I ignored her.

  The flat-screen showed a debate about the one topic everybody still talked about, even a year after the explosion of the magical reactor. As usual, the panel guests were arguing about how to deal with the poor schmucks who’d been exposed to the fallout. Where to house them. Some right-wingers wanted to put them in re-education camps, because they were afraid of their sudden powers. Others argued there were many folks in the world who’d always had magic and never caused problems. Except for the explosion, of course.

  My father’s voice broke through my thoughts. “They denied the building permit to build a facility right here in Butterfield Haven. Just as well. Last thing we need is having the crazies living nearby. Bad enough we don’t know who’s affected until it’s too late.”

  His voice got louder as it usually did when he bitched about our new reality. I’d argue with him that it wasn’t their fault, that the Super-CEMP had just been an accident, but he seemed to think everything that went wrong in the world was down to magic. As if we hadn’t had enough issues before. Like, global warming is still a thing, Dad.

  But he never listened. Neither did Mom. Not even when we found out some people had always had magic, always been part of our world. We just hadn’t known or had chosen to ignore it.

  The pleasant voice of the local anchorman took on an excited pitch. “News has just reached us that an unusual weather pattern wreaked havoc earlier in the area of Butterfield Haven. Witnesses report as many as one hundred lightning strikes—”

  Maybe that was a little exaggerated.

  “—confined to the corner of Meadow and Riverside. As of now, there is no indication the event was magical in origin and anything other than a freak lightning storm. There is no official statement on fatalities, but we understand the local hospital is expecting a large number of burn and crush injuries.”

  My parents first looked at each other, then turned towards me. My mom’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. Her voice shook. “She was right in the middle of this. I didn’t believe her. Oh my God, she could have been killed. I knew this would happen. I wish they’d round up all these mad people and lock them up where they can’t do any harm.”

  She’d obviously missed the part where the news had made it clear it hadn’t been a magical attack. I rolled my eyes, hoisting up the cat for the nth time. His body odor was becoming overwhelming. He must have been sleeping in dirty backstreets, and in the warmth of the house, the stink was making me nauseous. I didn’t want to drop him, but man, my arms.

  The doorbell rang. I took the chance to get away from the parental shock and disbelief. I’d been there, I was over it. I just hoped nobody got killed, but yes, it was a possibility. The lightning storm had been terrifying.

  In the hallway, I finally gave up. Squatting down, I lowered the sleeping feline to the floor before straightening up and stretching my spine. Yikes, I’d feel those muscles tomorrow.

  The bell rang again, accompanied by loud knocking. I looked through the side window of our Victorian-inspired door. Sheriff Webster stood outside, flanked by two deputies. I’d known him since I could remember. But usually he didn’t wear his full uniform, complete with gun holster and star-shaped badge.

  Strange. As I opened, I called over my shoulder, “Mom, Dad. It’s for you.”

  Turning back, the smile died on my face. Sheriff Webster towered over me, his face stern and serious.

  “Actually, we’re here for you, Amber.”

  2

  I swallowed. This was getting more surreal by the minute. Had the school sent the Law after me because I technically cut class early? I hadn’t done anything, yet my heartbeat was ratcheting up, and my face grew hot with anxiety. Before the sheriff could say anything else, I tried to explain. “Look, I felt really sick. The nurse was busy, so I walked ho—”

  My father grabbed my shoulder. “Not another word, Amber. What’s going on, John? Why are you questioning my daughter on the doorstep? Do I need to call my legal counsel?”

  The sheriff shook his head. “No. I’m very sorry, but I’ve been tasked to take Amber into custody as per the Prevention of Magical Accidents Act. The new legislation gives us wide-ranging powers to take whatever measure necessary to contain magical contamination. Unfortunately, Amber may have been the cause of several people being injured and killed.”

  I’d never heard him talk so formally. This was uncle Webster, for God’s sake. I blinked rapidly, trying to find a trace of humor, a twitch of the lips in his expression. But there was nothing but the blank-faced law enforcement officer.

  My father stepped back, his hand dropping off my shoulder. “You cannot be serious. Surely we would have known if she’d been affected by the fallout?”

  I felt like my tether to reality was slipping. Sheriff Webster had just accused me of concealing magical powers. Wouldn’t I be the first to know if I had any? My anxiety grew the farther my father moved away from me. What was going on?

  I protested loudly. “I had nothing to do with this. I literally walked right into the middle of it. I was nearly killed myself!”

  The sheriff looked at me with something like pity in his eyes. "I'm sorry. I’m only doing my job. I’ve been asked to bring you in, and that’s what I'll do."

  My father interjected, "Asked by whom?

  "I'm not at liberty to say."

  "Well, can we come with her?"

  The sheriff shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

  My father tried again. "But she’s a minor. She has rights. At least tell me where you're taking her. I will call my attorney to represent her.
"

  "Amber will be interrogated at the station. You understand that magical crimes are different from regular ones. They exist outside of normal police and legal procedures. I don't need to read her Miranda rights, she won't get a phone call, and she has no right to legal representation. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."

  I didn’t recognize the man who used to play with me while my father got the barbecue ready. Who used to give me rides in the back of the police car. A shiver of fear ran over my skin.

  The sheriff looked straight at me. "You need to come with me now. Please don't make me put handcuffs on you."

  I swallowed. His expression was serious, and there was not even a hint of a smile. I turned around to look at my father, but he avoided my gaze. My mom stood behind him in the hallway, her expression a mix of shock and fear. Neither of them made another move to stop the men from taking me away.

  Looking back one last time, I took two steps towards the police cars parked outside our house. Maybe they hadn't expected me to move quite so fast, but when I brushed past a deputy’s arm, he jumped back as if I’d shocked him with a cattle prod. He stared at me with pure, unadulterated fear. This big, hulking man in the brown deputy uniform was afraid of me. Nobody touched me after that.

  When the sheriff held open the back door for me, something orange flashed past us. I whipped my head around just in time to see the cat disappear behind the trash cans. Somehow, that upset me more than anything else that had happened in the last few minutes. I’d promised I’d look after him. I’m useless. I can’t even look after myself.