Phantoms of Dusk (Society of Magic Book 1) Read online

  Table of 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

  An Exclusive Look at Half-Blood Dragon Chapter One

  An Exclusive Look at Half-Blood Dragon Chapter Two

  Phantoms of Dusk

  Society of Magic Book One

  K.N. Lee

  Copyright © 2017 by K.N. Lee

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  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

  An Exclusive Look at Half-Blood Dragon Chapter One

  An Exclusive Look at Half-Blood Dragon Chapter Two

  About the Author

  Also by K.N. Lee

  More Great Reads

  Chapter 1

  I am free.

  A smile rested on Elora Snow’s lips as she recited those words inside her head. Her alarm went off, and she sat up in bed, ready for the adventure that awaited.

  It was Saturday; move-in day at Westerly College. The first day of Elora’s post-high school life. Sure, she’d graduated a couple of months ago, but that didn’t mean much. She wasn’t eighteen yet, so not old enough to get a place of her own. Classes wouldn’t start until fall. She’d worked hard to keep her grades up and had scored a scholarship to Westerly. She hadn’t applied anywhere else.

  Her parents had met there when they were students, and they had always wanted her to attend. Elora’s foster parents had “encouraged” her to apply to the community college instead. They didn’t think it was worth it for her to continue her education. A job would be a better idea; she could be a secretary at Westerly if she had to go there.

  As if they would be paying her tuition. They had never come right out and said Elora wasn’t good enough to get into a prestigious school like Westerly. Madge’s shock made that clear when Elora received her acceptance letter. Elora hadn’t bothered to tell her about the full-tuition scholarship. She didn’t much care if she never saw Madge and Jim Walters ever again. They weren’t cruel or evil but neither were they particularly caring or supportive.

  Flinging back the covers, Elora swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched. She had showered the night before. Finger-combing her long platinum blonde hair, she finessed the few tangles she ran into. She’d pull it back into a ponytail and call it good. It took her less than ten minutes to dress in a t-shirt and shorts. Her last few incidentals – toothbrush, deodorant – she packed into a plastic sandwich bag in her purse. With one last look around her room to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, she turned and headed for the front door.

  The house was silent. Her fosters knew her cab would be there at six. Jim was the one who’d called to order it. He had never offered to drive her the two hours to Westerly. Elora had always ridden a bicycle to work and school, but that belonged to her fosters’ real daughter. Elora couldn’t take it with her.

  “What do you want me to do? Walk?” She had never been so frustrated. She’d wanted to scream but forced herself to stay calm.

  Do not engage.

  “Fine. I’ll pay for a cab.”

  When Elora walked down the hall to the front door, Daisy raised her head. Her tail thudded on the tile, growing faster as Elora squatted to rub her ears and make one last fuss over her. The little black and white mutt was the only Walters she’d actually miss.

  “Here to see me off, sweetheart?” Daisy stretched to first sniff and then lick Elora’s chin. “I’ll miss you, too, baby girl.”

  Elora straightened. Something was missing. She’d set two boxes in the foyer before she’d gone to bed the night before, but they were gone. She pulled a sour face and looked down at Daisy.

  “I guess I know where I rate, huh, girl.” The dog’s long tail thumped on the floor once. Shaking her head, Elora stepped over Daisy and walked out the door. For half a second she thought about leaving it unlocked but decided against it. That wasn’t her.

  The boxes waited for her, one atop the other, on the concrete slab that was the front porch. Jim must have put them there when he went to bed, which was usually well after Elora. At least he hadn’t shoved them out onto the driveway; it looked like it had rained overnight.

  The songbirds were starting to wake, and the air smelled damp but fresh. It promised a humid day later, but it was nice. Pleasant. A red glow spread across the sky, turning the wispy clouds overhead to a brilliant rose. Elora checked the time on her phone. Her cab wouldn’t be there for another fifteen minutes, so she sat down on the porch swing to wait.

  In a few minutes, she would leave this place, never to return. Elora smiled at the thought and turned her thoughts to her first foster mother, Jane. Jane had died a little over a year after the state had placed Elora with her. And that had set her on a path that bounced from home to home. None of them had lasted more than a few months.

  The only foster home she’d felt she belonged in was Jane’s. The others had been nothing more than places to sleep. She hadn’t belonged in any of them, and she never belonged here, with the Walters. Seven homes in as many years. That’s how long it had been since the fire that had killed Elora’s parents, leaving her alone in the world.

  It’s better this way.

  She’d only end up hurting anyone who got close to her, just like Sophia. Elora’s fingers curled around the arm of the swing, closing over the front edge, turning into a death grip. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the birdsong. She willed away the images burned into her brain of the last time she had seen her only friend.

  Tires squelched on the blacktop driveway. Headlights turned Elora’s vision through her eyelids red until they moved away. Her ride had arrived. She pushed all thoughts of Sophia from her mind as she opened her eyes again and stood. Her purse dropped like a lead weight to the porch. The driver got out of the car and opened the trunk lid before striding with assurance up to Elora.

  “Miss Walters?”

  One dark eyebrow rise. Her eyebrows had always seemed to have mi
nds of their own. “Snow, actually.” Elora smiled at the man.

  “Miss Snow. This all you have?” He nodded at the two boxes.

  “That’s it.” She bent to retrieve her purse. “I travel light.”

  He nodded again, his shock of white hair bobbing. “I guess you do.”

  When Elora started to pick up one of the boxes, he tutted and she took a step back, following him to the car empty-handed.

  “Got anything breakable in these?”

  She shook her head, and he shoved the box he held into the trunk before opening the back door for her. As Elora settled into the backseat and the driver retrieved the other box, Daisy barked. Elora glanced back at the house, at the dog in the front window who looked straight at Elora.

  “I guess somebody might miss me.”

  Chapter 2

  Elora stepped out of the car close to the pair of boxes the driver had already set out on the curb. A light breeze curled around her, picking up strands of hair that had slipped free from her ponytail. She stared at the spectacle around her.

  There were people everywhere. They scurried across the Westerly campus, lounged on the manicured lawns between buildings. The loungers were all young women and men around Elora’s age, fellow students no doubt. Those who moved with purpose were a mixture of young and old and those between. Students. Parents. Younger siblings. It seemed the rest of Elora’s incoming class had friends and family to help them settle in. For a heartbeat, she pretended the cab driver was her dad. When she was a kid, she used to pretend she was an exiled princess waiting to be called back to her real home.

  And like her days as a pretend princess, the illusion shattered.

  “That’ll be twenty-three dollars, Miss Snow, and I’ll be on my way.”

  Elora’s heart skipped a beat. “I thought the ride was already paid?” She had the money, but she would need every bit she had saved from her summer jobs to live on while she went to school. Jim was kind of a cheapskate, but she couldn’t recall him ever actually lying to her before. Twenty bucks or so wouldn’t break her, but how many times would surprises like this happen in the coming days?

  “I guess the college is a little farther than your dad counted on.” The man sounded apologetic.

  Elora dug through her purse for her wallet. “He’s not my dad.” Her response was more of a reflex than anything else. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things that she and Jim Walters weren’t related. She handed the driver two tens and a five. He didn’t give her any change.

  Hitching her purse higher on her shoulder, Elora glared down at her pair of boxes. She couldn’t carry them both at the same time. What are the chances whichever one I leave behind will still be here when I come back for it? Bending, she hefted the smaller of the two, the one with her books and a few other things she’d collected over the years. The clothes in the other box she could replace over time if they disappeared on her. Her mom’s cardigan and her dad’s Farscape ball cap were irreplaceable. With a sigh, she straightened and headed toward the building that held her new home.

  Her dorm room was on the third floor of the building in front of her. Dark brick with white trim around the door and windows, the rough brick held a blanket of bright and dark green ivy. It covered the south side of the building. The living blanket was solid save for the square holes that were windows. Elora stared up at those windows. Had her parents lived in one of those rooms? Looked down at this same street?

  “You’ll find yourself at Westerly, sweetie, just like I did.”

  Mallory Snow’s voice echoed in Elora’s memory, softened and blurred by time. Elora had only been nine or ten when her mother told her about Westerly. She’d met Randall Snow, Elora’s father, at Westerly and fallen in love. Elora hadn’t understood any of it, but neither had she forgotten it. And now that she was old enough to understand, it didn’t much matter. She had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, what she wanted to be. Who she wanted to be. Maybe there was some kind of magic at Westerly that would make everything clear.

  She snorted. There wasn’t much use in dreaming. What had dreaming ever gotten her? She had no family and no friends. She was alone. Whatever. She’d figure it out somehow, magic or no. Elora shook her head and took the first step up the stairs to the front door. The box she balanced on her right shoulder was unwieldy at best, and it slipped as she reached for the doorknob.

  “Here, let me get that for you.” A tanned, long-fingered hand accompanied the masculine voice. The young man reached around Elora to twist the knob and give the heavy wood door a shove. He pushed past her into the building, a familiar box in his hands.

  “Hey! That’s my stuff!”

  He turned around with a grin. “You’re welcome, m’lady.” Light brown eyes seemed to dance behind glasses rimmed in heavy black. “Where to?” He was long and lanky and at least a head taller than Elora’s five foot six.

  “Uh...” She tore her gaze away from his gorgeous eyes, wanting to kick herself for her oh so eloquent response. What was her room number again? “Room 303. It’s on the–”

  “Third floor. Got it.” Nodding, he carried the box with her clothes and shoes to a staircase at the far end of the hallway. And walked right past what looked like a perfectly good elevator. She debated with herself whether to take it and try to beat him to the third floor. Or should she keep her belongings within sight? When he didn’t stop to wait for her, taking the stairs up two at a time, prudence won out and Elora hurried after him. Dressed like her in t-shirt and shorts, she couldn’t help but notice from her vantage that he had nice legs. A runner’s legs, sleek muscles rippling beneath tanned skin with each step. He had freckles, too, the spots a little darker than his skin.

  The door to room 303 was open. Elora’s helper stopped in the hall in front of it. He said something to an older man standing inside the doorway, but she was too far away to hear the question. The man’s response was clear enough.

  “And who are you? The paperwork said Angie’s roommate is Laura Snow.”

  “Hi. I’m Elora.” She hurried between them, having no idea what the guy holding her box might say. She didn’t want to start on the wrong foot with the girl she’d be living with for the next several months, if not years.

  The older man was tall and pale with blue eyes and sandy hair. He looked as though the sun might cook his skin even on a cloudy day. Filling the room beyond were three girls who ranged from Elora’s age down to about ten. A boy of six or seven stood with an older woman with dark hair and olive skin. The others were as pale as their father with hair of varying shades of red. The oldest of the obvious siblings gave a tiny squeal of excitement and bounced over to Elora.

  “Dad, let my new roomie in!”

  With an indulgent smile, the man stepped out into the hallway and gestured for Elora to pass. He side-eyed the bespectacled young man with her but didn’t protest as he, too, entered the room. After setting the box on the floor between twin beds pushed against opposite walls, he bowed low to Elora. The flourish at the end was more suited to a medieval courtier than a college student.

  “It has been a pleasure, m’lady.” He glanced at the man watching from the hallway and then turned back to Elora with a wink. “Gotta go.”

  “Wait.” She didn’t even know his name, hadn’t thanked him for helping her. But he had already hit the stairs, disappearing before she could call after him. Oh, well. It wasn’t as though she could introduce him to “Angie” and her family or anything like that. Hi, this is some guy I picked up off the streets. Now he knows where two young women live in a building with no visible security, but that’s totes okay, right?

  The bubbly redhead stuck out her hand for Elora to shake. “Hi. I’m Angela Eklund from Wisconsin.” Of course she was. Elora wondered if she lived on a dairy farm.

  “Elora Snow.” Elora hesitated but then took the girl’s hand, which was very warm. Could that fiery hair have something to do with it? Angela pulled her back into the room, and Elora knew she wasn’
t going to let her go. There was a look in Angela’s eyes that said she wanted to be Elora’s new best friend. BFFs forever! But that was not part of Elora’s plan. She couldn’t afford to let anyone get too close. She slid her hand from Angela’s grasp and stepped away as smoothly as she could. She didn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings but better that than something worse.

  Luckily, Angela didn’t seem to notice. Or if she did, she wasn’t offended. She introduced Elora to her family as though the two of them had known each other for years. The Eklunds, in turn, treated Elora almost immediately as one of the family. It was all a little overwhelming to a young woman who’d been alone for so long.

  Around noon the entire clan left to get something to eat. Angela invited Elora to go with them, an invitation the rest of them echoed in some way or other, but Elora begged off. She liked them well enough, but their chattiness and sheer friendliness was exhausting. Besides, with them gone she could put her things away and set up her half of the room without tripping over anyone.

  Besides the bed, her half held a dresser and a desk with a small brass lamp. There was a large window centered on the wall between the beds and beneath it a long, low wooden bookcase. It was real wood, too, not particle board covered with a thin veneer. Elora ran her hands over the golden oak. There were rough spots worn into the wood by who knew how many students with their books and knickknacks. There were two small closets, one on each side of the room, mirror images of each other. Angela’s was already crammed full, but when Elora hung her things, they took up less than a third of the space.