Absurdly Inappropriate Magic - Preview

Prologue

When Destiny failed to knock on Chauncy Little’s door for a full year after his last adventure, he was quite relieved. After all, he was more than happy to settle into his pleasantly boring life in Borrin, especially after the excessive excitement of battling Zella Trek. But as a second year passed – and then a third – he found himself a bit antsy for Destiny’s return. For Chauncy’s son Chaos was now three years old. And as such, he was – as any parent of a three-year-old could predict – a bit of an asshole.

So it was that, three years after Chauncy had vanquished Zella – his father’s estranged wife, and the woman whose body Chauncy’s wife Valtora now inhabited – Chauncy found himself desperate for Destiny’s fateful knock.

But alas, as with any good story, this particular one began not with a knock, but with a bang.

“Get it baby!” Valtora whisper-gasped, in the midst of an act too graphic to describe. One that involved a hot-pink bed, his magical demonic mod Tip, and then all the rest.

“Oh I’m-a-gonna,” Chauncy vowed, also in a whisper. While terrified that his vow had still been vowed a bit too loud. But he proceeded to do his very best to make good on his promise, though terror practically guaranteed he would not.

“Get it!” Valtora exclaimed far too loudly, deep into the drama of it now. Chauncy cursed, rushing ‘round the corner to the final act, desperate to get what Valtora had instructed him to get. And hoping beyond hope that he finally would. For every other time he’d gotten this far – in the last year, at least –

The door burst open with a bang…after which banging promptly ceased.

“Mooooommmmmmy!” a high-pitched voice whined, making Chauncy’s heart leap in his throat. He swore, leaping backward and covering himself as best he could. Which to be honest was easier than he might’ve preferred. None other than Chaos barged into their room. A rather small, gangly toddler with a shock of short hair and eyes the color of…

“Crap!” Chauncy blurted out.

“Hi pop-pop,” Valtora greeted, smiling at Chaos and even giving him a little wave. Whilst remaining in the compromising position Chauncy had hoped to fill a mere moment ago.

“What the hell?” Chauncy snapped. And immediately regretted it. For Chaos’s little face scrunched up into a big ol’ frown, and went red almost immediately. “I mean, what…” Chauncy blurted out. But it was too late.

“Waaaaaaa!” Chaos cry-shrieked. As if he’d been set on fire and was presently being put out with a rake.

“My baby!” Valtora gasped, leaping from the bed and grabbing Chaos, clutching him to her chest. Or rather, her breasts, for she was quite spectacularly nude. She shot Chauncy a dirty look.

“He’s supposed to knock first!” Chauncy protested.

“You didn’t have to yell at him,” Valtora argued.

“It’s the billionth time we’ve told him!” Chauncy shot back.

“Don’t exaggerate,” Valtora chided.

“We’ve told him a lot,” Chauncy corrected. “And it hasn’t worked.”

“You should’ve locked the door,” Valtora said.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Chauncy shot back. “He should follow the rules.”

“He’s a child!”

“He knows exactly what he’s doing,” Chauncy snapped. And he knew without a doubt that it was true. Mostly because Chaos smirked at him after he said it. But the smirk vanished the instant Chauncy opened his mouth to point it out to Valtora, who as usual took Chaos’s side.

“No he doesn’t,” Valtora argued. Arguing used to be her favorite thing to do. In good fun, of course, for the enjoyment of the battle. But Chaos had made her arguments mundane, taking all the enjoyment out of them.

“Yes he does.”

“He’s a toddler,” Valtora insisted.

Chauncy opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it. For the reply he’d formulated – while true – promised to send their little spat into parental and marital territory he wasn’t prepared to endure. So he bit his tongue and swallowed his pride. As usual. A bitter thing to swallow, one’s pride…and as the saying goes, you are what you eat. Thus Chauncy felt bitter indeed.

“Say sowwy to poor widdle pop-pop,” Valtora ordered, pouting prettily. Chaos pouted as well, mirroring her. Chauncy grit his teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists. And then clenching them again, while imagining them being wrapped around little Chaos’s neck.

“F…ine,” he muttered. “Daddy’s sorry he snapped at you,” he stated. “But you’re supposed to knock before you come in Mommy and Daddy’s room.”

Chaos’s lower lip trembled, and he clung to Valtora, burying his face in her substantial cleavage.

“I…just wanted…to say…I…love…you,” Chaos stammered, crocodile tears streaming down his cheeks. Chauncy grit his teeth, for he knew damn well what this was:  a performance to pit husband against wife. A tactic Chaos wielded with remarkable skill, particularly considering he still shat his pants.

Chauncy considered mouthing a few choice words at Chaos then, one of which involved a verb that, not to be too graphic, had resulted in him being conceived. But he bit his tongue, as much to stop himself from teaching Chaos yet another bad word as to spare himself Valtora’s wrath.

“I just wanna wuv you too pop-pop,” Valtora gushed, giving Chaos another squeeze. And a smattering of smooches. Chaos smiled triumphantly at Chauncy, making Chauncy’s blood boil.

You little…

“Shit,” Valtora swore, pulling away from Chaos. “We’re late!”

“The anniversary party!” Chauncy blurted out, terror gripping him. For it was the three-year anniversary of Chauncy’s magic school, the first – and only – school of its kind in all of the vast country of Borrin. A school situated one floor above A Little Magic, the shop that Grandma Little had founded so many years ago. They’d promised to open the shop an hour early today, then have the party at five. “Shit!”

“Language,” Valtora scolded, even though she’d said it first. Once again, Chauncy found himself in the unenviable position of having to suck it up and just take it. He swallowed this bitter pill with regrettable expertise, having had to do so ever since Chaos had turned two. The age when evil had reared its ugly head within the little bastard’s brain. Chauncy yearned for a return to the first year or so of Chaos’s life, when he’d been a joy to be around rather than a pain.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll make breakfast.”

With that, he put on some underwear – the ordinary kind instead of the special ones he’d once been forced to wear – and hurried downstairs, leaving Valtora and Chaos behind. He bounded down the stairs to the foyer, then turned ‘round to make his way into the kitchen. His chef’s apron – which he’d once donned in the nude, to Valtora’s delight – hung in the closet now, away from sight. Instead, Chauncy put on his wizard’s robe, white and sinfully silky on the inside, and sparkling purple on the outside. A robe that declared him a wizard to all that beheld it, as long as Valtora was at his side.

“Frickin’ asshole,’” he muttered, stomping into the kitchen and starting up the stove. Safely under his breath, of course. For he dare not say what he really felt out loud, not with Valtora so blindly in Chaos’s corner. His partner in crime had found a new partner, one that enjoyed nothing more than to conspire against him. “Lousy piece of shit.”

He heard a gasp, and he whirled around, spotting Valtora standing in the foyer, Chaos in her arms.

“I was talking to the stove,” he blurted out. He grabbed a pan, slamming it on the stovetop for good measure. “Frickin’ fire wouldn’t start.”

“Oh,” Valtora replied. To his profound relief, she seemed to accept this. “You sure we have time to eat?”

“I’ll be quick,” he promised. “Sausage and eggs?”

“Yes and yes,” she agreed, carrying Chaos to the kitchen table. They sat down together, Chaos on her lap. As if the little bastard couldn’t sit in his own goddamn chair. “Is this the good stuff?”

“I got it from Addie last night,” Chauncy replied. The wife of the late town grocer – and Chauncy’s childhood crush – Addie had given Chauncy the choicest sausages for free ever since he’d given her a magical rod that had bestowed the confidence she’d needed to expand her business.

“Reminds me of our wedding night,” Valtora quipped. Chauncy didn’t reply, though he remembered that night well. A night he’d been thinking of more and more ever since, in fact. In return for Addie giving Chauncy her choicest sausages for free, Valtora had insisted he repay Addie in kind. An idea he’d eventually gotten quite literally behind.

He found himself recalling that night fondly as he prepared his sausage and eggs. A bit too fondly, in fact. For his sausage and eggs were quickly preparing themselves in a rather different way. He squirmed, tearing his mind away from visions of that night while busying himself with sizzling sausage and cracking eggs, then seasoning them to practiced perfection. Just the way Valtora liked them. Then he doled out portions to each member of the family, sitting down opposite his wife and son. And Chaos promptly shoved his plate away from him, glaring at Chauncy.

“Too hot,” the boy protested.

“Wait a bit,” Chauncy advised.

“We don’t have time,” Valtora pointed out.

“Then blow on it,” Chauncy said.

“I can’t,” Chaos lied.

“I’ll do it,” Valtora offered.

“He can do it,” Chauncy insisted. Which he immediately regretted saying. For while it was undeniably true, deny Chaos did. In the form of scrunching up his face, turning red, and then promptly losing his shit.

“Waaaaa!” he cried, his pitch rising until it was a shriek. Chauncy shuddered, the sound going straight to his bones. Just as it had when Chaos had been a mere baby, in fact. The sound inspired thoughts of violence, which Chauncy had once found himself horrified by. Now he had no such hang-ups, finding himself often wishing he’d acted on them much earlier.

“Chauncy!” Valtora protested.

“He can!” Chauncy pressed. “He’s got frickin’ lips and frickin’ lungs,” he added. “He can blow his own damn sausage!”

“Waaaaaa!” Chaos continued.

“Stop it!” Chauncy scolded. Digging himself an even deeper pit.

“Be nice,” Valtora scold-retorted, clutching Chaos to her breast. “He’s just a child!”

“He’s old enough to blow air,” Chauncy retorted. “He’s doing it right now!”

“Waaaaaa!” Chaos whined, proving Chauncy’s point. Or rather, it should have. Valtora remained maddeningly unconvinced, as usual.

“Chauncy,” she said. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Good sense?” he replied. “Reason?” He glared at her. “Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.”

Valtora’s eyes widened, her pupils growing disturbingly large. She put a hand on her hip, her lips drawing into a thin line. The classic setup for one of her patented jawline-ripples…a rare act that usually inspired sphincter-spasming terror. But Chauncy found himself in a rare mood, and glared back at her instead.

“Do it,” he urged, building up a big ol’ dose of crazy. “I dare you.”

And so she did. Not just one ripple, but two back-to-back. Chauncy felt his sphincter snap shut reflexively, his body preparing for a glittering diamond-fist to the head. But this time, he welcomed it, for death would be a sweet release indeed. Which was both cowardly and brave…cowardly in that he was giving up in the face of a toddler’s wrath, and brave in that he was facing certain death with a smug ol’ smile.

Valtora blinked, clearly taken aback.

“What’s gotten into you?” she repeated. Chauncy hesitated, then sighed. For as quickly as his brave psychosis had come, it quickly passed. He glanced at Chaos. Who was still clinging to his mother as if he’d been horribly traumatized. By being asked to exhale.

“Nothing,” he grumbled. And focused on his own sausage and eggs. Something he’d been forced to do much more often since Chaos had turned two, metaphorically speaking. For the little brat had seen fit to throw a fit whenever Valtora showed Chauncy the slightest bit of affection, and as such, they’d never gotten an opportunity to perform what had once been their twice-daily routine. Not in the last year or so, at least not to a satisfactory conclusion. It was a routine that Chauncy missed terribly, for he’d very much enjoyed it. Back when life had been simple and carefree, and they’d had no one to take care of but each other.

What was even worse was the fact that Valtora didn’t even seem to mind the lack of what Chauncy so desperately craved. Chaos had come between them, and as he’d grown, they’d grown steadily apart.

The good ol’ days were long gone, seeming like a lifetime ago. For Chaos Little had lived up to his name, introducing more than a little chaos into Chauncy’s perfect little life. By demanding far more than his fair share of Valtora’s attention…and as a result, depriving Chauncy of his share.

Chauncy glanced back, seeing Valtora blowing on Chaos’s sausage…and Chaos eyeing him with a smug little asshole smile on his smug little asshole face.

Asshole, Chauncy grumbled to himself, scarfing down his breakfast without enjoying it one bit, then standing up from his chair abruptly. He put his dish in the sink, then went right for the closet to grab his wizardly weapon:  the Staff of Wind. With the ability to store and release powerful gusts, it was his signature weapon. One he hadn’t had the occasion to use since his battle with Zella Trek, what seemed like an eternity ago.

He glanced back at Valtora, who of course was Zella Trek, at least in the flesh. And that flesh was just as enticing as it’d always been. For in switching bodies with the evil wizard – and bedazzling it with her magical power – Valtora had fashioned herself a body that was beyond compare. One covered in intricate tattoos, and possessed of a glittering diamond left hand with the faintest purple hue. He found himself gazing into her gorgeous purple eyes longingly, and marveling at her long, beautiful black hair.

He sighed again, watching as she cuddled Chaos close, blowing his sausage, then cutting it in little pieces, as if he didn’t have teeth. And then fed each little piece to him by hand, as if he didn’t have hands. Until at long last the laborious, parasitic process was complete.

“Mamma I’m thirsty,” Chaos complained, cupping her cheeks and turning her head so that she was facing him. And promptly gave her puppy-dog eyes.

“Awww,” Valtora cooed. “You want the boobies?”

Chaos nodded, adding a pout for good measure. Exquisitely designed to manipulate her to maximum effect. Which it did. For she released said bedazzled dairy conveyance device, and Chaos happily suckled. All while Chauncy watched, feeling quite put out. For he had once been the center of Valtora’s world…and he hadn’t had to resort to slimy manipulations to get there.

So he stood there, watching as Chaos continued to suck all the love – and milk – out of Valtora, leaving none for him. Which of course only made him ever-more irritable. For while Valtora had once been his loving wife, now she was akin an artifact in a museum. Something to look at but not to touch.

He found himself thinking of Addie again, imagining her gentle sweetness that night long ago. Thoughts that, not to be graphic, quickly became so.

“Keep going,” Tip whispered from underneath his wizard’s robe. For Tip was a firm believer in being firm. Chauncy shot the demonic mod for his rod a warning glare.

“Shut up!” he hissed back.

“Later?”

Chauncy paused, then nodded, which seemed to satisfy Tip. For he fell…and fell silent. Chauncy fidgeted, eyeing the grandfather clock against the wall in the foyer.

“The school?” he reminded Valtora, tapping his foot on the floor. Chaos whined a bit. While still drinking.

“Shhh,” Valtora shushed, shooting him a look. Chauncy rolled his eyes. And waited. And waited. At length it became quite clear that Chaos was taking his sweet ol’ time. On purpose, of that Chauncy was quite sure.

“Right,” Chauncy declared, having had it at last. “I’ll meet you there.”

With that, he turned about, opening the front door and storming out of the house. He slammed the door behind him…and heard Chaos start to cry again.

“Chauncy!” he heard Valtora complain from within.

“Frickin’ frackin’ friggity flippin’ fuck,” Chauncy swore to himself, stomping across the front porch and down the stairs. He turned right on the sidewalk beyond, beginning the mile-long walk to the city center. A walk he used to enjoy, not as a means to a destination, but as an activity to enjoy for its own sake. But now he found himself in a foul mood, and even worse, in a hurry. As any wizard could tell you, being in a hurry was the surest way to miss out on the here and now.

And as here and now was where magic could be found, Chauncy’s walk held no magic at all.

He found himself replaying the morning’s events in his mind’s eye, and building up an unhealthy dose of resentment as a result. To the point where he stopped, suddenly sick and damn tired of having to walk.

“Wizards don’t walk,” he grumbled, gripping his staff with both hands. “They fly.”

He thrust the butt of his staff down and back, shooting a blast of wind from it. In an equal but opposite reaction, he found himself flying upward and forward, sailing a good thirty feet up in the air. Again and again he thrust, until his destination came into view ahead and below:  the city center, with its grassy courtyard forming a green circle around which a wide road – and beyond that, a ring of buildings – stood. In the center of the courtyard was the state of Archibald Merrick, founder of the city and of the Evermore Trading Company, the largest distributor of magical goods in the world. Lousy goods, for the most part, sold at ridiculous profits. In contrast, A Little Magic sold real magical goods at a reasonable profit. For it was well known that, the larger the company, the smaller its customers appeared to it.

Chauncy continued to thrust at regular intervals, guiding himself expertly toward his destination. It wasn’t long before he found himself landing on the grass on the far edge of the courtyard, right before the street. He stormed across it, hurrying toward his shop:  a narrow three-story building straight ahead. He glanced up at the sign above the door on the first floor, which said “A Little Magic.” With the word “Little” larger than the rest, oddly enough. And above this sign was a newer sign. One that read:  “Time to Learn.” For it was on the second floor that Chauncy had founded his magic school, the first of its kind in Southwick. And in all of Borrin, for that matter. In a black-and-white world, it was a singular source of…

BAM!

Chauncy flew sideways through the air, his right hip exploding in pain. Before he knew it, he was tumbling sideways in the street, the world spinning madly around him. And then hooves were trampling him, stepping on his groin and his chest. Followed by the wheel of a carriage rolling over his belly.

Chauncy gasped, lying on his back on the street, gazing up at the blue sky. Dark spots floated in his vision, his ears ringing. He barely registered the carriage stopping, or people shouting frantically. Or a crowd of people gathering to peer down at him.

“Is he okay?” a man’s voice asked.

“I think he’s dead,” a little girl replied.

“He’s not dead,” a woman retorted. “He’s breathing.”

“For now,” the little girl conceded.

“He almost killed my damn horse!” another man complained. A moment passed. “Great, now my wheel is wobbling.”

“A human being has been hurt!” the woman’s voice protested.

“It’s his own damn fault,” the driver of the carriage proclaimed. “The moron walked right in front of my carriage.”

“Ooo, he’s bleeding!” the little girl exclaimed, clearly excited by this development. “What’s that white thing poking out of the meaty stuff?”

“That’s a broken bone,” an older man’s voice replied.

“Cool!” the girl breathed.

“Well, if he’s not dead, he’ll wish he was,” the man mused.

And that, dear reader, was how the end of Chauncy’s world began.

Chapter 1

Chauncy woke up, which was nice.

He opened his eyes, finding himself lying in bed. Not in his own bed, but in an unfamiliar one. Or rather, not a bed, but a gurney placed in a rather tiny room. There was a door to his left and a wall to his right, with various tools that looked like they belonged in a doctor’s office. Chauncy blinked, having absolutely no idea how he’d gotten here…and then the door burst open, none other than Valtora barging into the room. Her eyes widened when she saw him.

“Chauncy-poo!” she gasped, leaping onto the gurney atop him. He grunted with the impact, and was instantly assaulted by smooches. On his lips, on his forehead, his cheeks, and even a few on his neck.

“Poopy-dooz,” he greeted back. “What…where am I?”

“Doctor’s office,” she replied, gesturing at all the doctor stuff in the room. “Duh.”

“How did I get here?” he pressed, rubbing the back of his head.

“You got run over by a carriage,” she explained. He frowned, wracking his brain for this particular memory. But it’d apparently been trampled out of him.

“Huh.” He paused, checking himself for injuries. But to his surprise, he didn’t seem to have any. “Guess I got lucky.”

“Lucky that I hurried after your grumpy little ass,” Valtora retorted, crossing her arms over her chest. As opposed to under it, which meant she wasn’t happy. “I had my Inkling doppelganger fly back to the house and get Rooter, then fly him back to heal you. If I hadn’t, you’d like, be totally dead right now.”

Her Inklings were the name of her magical tattoos, which she’d inherited from Zella’s body. With a thought, she could bring them out of her skin. One of these was a tattoo of a winged woman on her back, one that she could control as if it was her. A fact that Zella had used to enjoy her first meeting with Chauncy back in the Great Wood. It’d been a most memorable introduction.

“Oh,” Chauncy replied. “Um…thanks.”

“So you basically owe me your life,” she continued.

“I’m grateful.”

“And I’m totally gonna cash in,” she pressed. “I want three wishes.”

Chauncy blinked.

“Wishes?” he asked.

“Three things that if I ask for – and I say it’s one of my wishes – you have to do, no matter what,” Valtora clarified. With her arms still crossed over her chest. Chauncy grimaced, knowing full well just how dangerous consenting to such an open-ended oral agreement might be. The last time he’d done so had been on his wedding night. A night involving an entirely different kind of oral agreement, among other things.

“Um…” he hemmed.

She arched an eyebrow.

“…ah…” Chauncy continued, adding a haw to his hem.

She raised the other eyebrow.

“…okay?” he replied.

“Promise me Chauncy,” she ordered. He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I promise.”

“YES!” she cried, pumping her diamond fist in the air in triumph. Then she cackled, which was a bad sign. Chauncy rolled his eyes, slipping down from the gurney.

“Can we go now?” he grumbled. “We have to open the shop, remember?”

Just then, a man stepped into the room behind Valtora. It was, Chauncy discovered, the doctor. The same doctor that had delivered Chaos Little in their magic shop three years ago, in fact. By doing just about nothing, other than catching when the time came.

“Ah, awake at last,” he declared authoritatively. “I trust you feel better? Does anything hurt? Can you walk?”

“I’m fine,” Chauncy answered. Which both answered the doctor’s questions and didn’t answer them at the same time. But the doctor seemed satisfied with this.

“Talk to my receptionist on the way out,” he instructed. And then made his way out. Chauncy smiled, grabbing Valtora’s hand and walking with her out of the room. They went down a short hallway into the waiting room, stopping at the receptionist’s desk. He spotted Chaos sitting on one of the chairs there, waiting for them rather impatiently.

“Name?” the receptionist asked.

“Chauncy Little.”

“Insurance?” she pressed.

“Um…none?” he answered. Having Rooter at home, they’d dropped their pricey insurance policy. It hadn’t made a lick of sense to pay so much money when Rooter could heal any wound they might incur.

“That’ll be…five thousand gold,” the receptionist declared. Chauncy blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Five thousand gold,” she repeated.

“Um…” Chauncy mumbled. For it happened to be an astronomical sum.

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Valtora proclaimed. Which was the substance of what Chauncy had been thinking, if not quite the manner in which he’d have communicated it. “You didn’t even do anything!”

“The doctor stopped the bleeding,” the receptionist pointed out.

“By pressing on his leg for five minutes!” Valtora shot back.

“Thus saving his life,” the receptionist argued.

“Anyone could’ve done that,” Valtora insisted.

“They wouldn’t have known where to press.”

“Five thousand gold is more than our house is worth,” Chauncy pointed out.

“You don’t have a discounted rate,” the receptionist replied. “You’d need insurance for that.” She gave them a sour look. “You shouldn’t have ended your insurance policy. Very irresponsible.”

“We’re not paying,” Valtora declared, putting a hand on her hips. Which was, Chauncy knew, a prelude to her legendary jawline-ripple. The receptionist, not knowing any better, was nonplussed by this.

“Fine,” she said snappishly. “We’ll garnish your wages and your bank account then.”

“For pressing on his leg!” Valtora blurted out.

“Expertly,” the secretary replied.

“That’s sixty-thousand gold an hour,” Valtora calculated. “Ten houses an hour. Eighty houses in eight hours. For pressing.”

“Expertly,” the receptionist repeated.

“We won’t pay.”

“One way or another, you will,” the receptionist vowed. Valtora glared at her…then executed a perfect jawline-ripple. But the secretary happened to glance at Chauncy at that very moment, rendering it utterly powerless. Valtora’s eyes widened at this development, and she resorted to more reliable measures. Which involved leaning over the counter and wrapping her diamond fingers around the woman’s throat.

“Honey!” Chauncy gasped in horror.

“Drop the charge,” Valtora warned, “…or I’ll press. Expertly.”

Just then, the doctor emerged from one of his treatment rooms, his eyes widening when he beheld what was transpiring. Which was technically a crime in progress.

“What in the blue blazes!” he blurted out. Valtora turned her glare – and another jawline-ripple – his way. And, seeing as how he happened to be watching as she executed said ripple, he froze instantly, the blood draining from his face. Much to Valtora’s obvious satisfaction.

“Sixty-thousand gold an hour?” she inquired. “For pressing?”

“Ex…pert…ly,” the secretary gasped.

“Well…I did save his life,” the doctor pointed out.

“No, Rooter did,” Valtora retorted. “You just postponed the dying.”

“Which saved his life,” the doctor argued.

“Fine,” Valtora replied, letting the receptionist go. The poor woman gasped, clutching at her throat whilst suffering a terrible coughing fit. Which the doctor, being a family physician and therefore rather useless in an emergency, did nothing about. “We’ll pay,” Valtora decided. “By using Rooter to heal everyone in the city, for a super reasonable fee.”

The doctor’s face paled even further, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

“Gosh, wouldn’t that be great Chauncy?” Valtora pressed, turning to him with a smile. “Imagine the entire city, without any sick people in it, ever again!”

“Perhaps we can waive the charges, just this once,” the doctor offered.

“Doc…tor!” the receptionist gasped in horror.

“That would be lovely,” Valtora replied, giving the doctor – and the receptionist – the fakest smile one could imagine. Chauncy watched all of this in stunned silence, which was his usual response to unexpected crises. “Let’s go babe,” Valtora added, grabbing him by the hand and hauling him out of the office.

“You won’t get away with this!” the receptionist yelled out after them, shaking her fist. Valtora ignored her, exiting the building and pulling Chauncy with her. A wide street greeted him, then the circular courtyard, beyond which A Little Magic could be seen. For the doctor’s office was right across the center of town from his shop.

“Honey,” he began his protest.

“Shhh,” Valtora replied.

“You threatened that poor woman!”

“She threatened us first,” she pointed out.

“With a standard fee!”

“Which was ridiculous,” she insisted.

“We have the money,” he argued. After all, Mrs. Thimblethorp, their late customer, had left them a ludicrously enormous sum in her will. Bless her lovely, but now thoroughly decomposed, heart.

“And they don’t,” Valtora declared triumphantly.

“They could’ve called the authorities,” he pointed out. “You choked that poor woman.”

“She’ll get over it,” Valtora replied. Which was probably true. Still, Chauncy preferred to live a blameless life, being naturally quite lawful and good. In contrast Valtora was chaotic, and while good at heart, often evil in her methods. For in the end, she believed that the ends justified the means. Which were often mean.

“Still,” he continued to protest, stepping out onto the street.

“Stop!” Valtora snapped. Chauncy did so, and a carriage zoomed by, narrowly missing him…and very nearly generating another ludicrously inflated doctor’s fee. “Go,” she added. And so they did, crossing the street safely this time. Chauncy sighed, approaching the door to the shop glumly. He felt her purple gaze upon him. “What’s wrong baby?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “Just tired,” he added, which was also a lie, at least literally. But figuratively, he was tired. Of Chaos, and of his current relationship with her, or lack thereof. For the umpteenth time, he longed for life the way it used to be…which made him feel horribly guilty, for it was the life he’d had without Chaos in it.

They reached the shop, and Chauncy just stood there, shoulders slumped. Valtora took the key from his robe pocket, unlocking the door and ramming it open with her shoulder. Then she gestured for him to go inside. He did so glumly, and found a familiar layer of dust on the floor, with dust-bunnies scattered all around. The mere sight of them was overwhelming, and he stood there, staring at them, feeling absolutely hopeless.

Valtora must have sensed his despair, for she pushed him to his usual stool behind the counter, where he sat with a considerable slouch.

Dong!

The front door opened, an inky-black woman entering it. One with wings that she’d folded on her back…and holding none other than Chaos Little in her arms. It was Valtora’s Inkling doppelganger, naturally. The doppelganger deposited Chaos, then opened the broom closet, getting to work sweeping the floors.

Chauncy watched this in dejected silence while Valtora picked Chaos up, sitting down beside Chauncy with Chaos in her lap. At length the Doppelganger was done, and put the broom away. To Chauncy’s dismay, the Doppelganger had done as good a job as he usually did.

He sighed again, slumping over even further, if such a thing were possible.

“What’s wrong Chauncy-poo?” Valtora asked, looking at him with concern.

“Mamma, watch this!” Chaos interjected, little shit that he was. He slid down from her lap, then crawled back up. And not well, Chauncy noted with petty satisfaction.

“Good job pop-pop!” she exclaimed, applauding this pathetic accomplishment. Chaos beamed, and Chauncy slumped even further, forgotten yet again.

“Watch this,” Chaos repeated, and repeated his performance. To more unwarranted applause, of course. Chaos got back up. Then did it again. And again. Until the phrase “watch this” made Chauncy entertain some truly evil thoughts.

“I’m going up to the school,” he announced, having had quite enough.

“Okay,” Valtora agreed, even as Chaos performed for her again. “We’ll man the shop. Or woman it,” she corrected. He gave her a weak smile, then left the shop, taking the side-door on the left. This led to stairs going up to the second and third floors. He went to the second, unlocking the door and swinging it open.

And there, laid out before him, was A Little Magic School.

A former dance studio, Chauncy had spared no expense in transforming it into the kind of place that he would’ve found magical as a child. Indeed, he’d made his inner child the lead designer of the project, so to speak. Gone were the dance studio’s wall-to-wall mirrors and dull wooden floor. In their place, Chauncy had created the very definition of a wizardly place. A deep brown-red floor, distressed just-so. Beautiful walls and ceiling of similar wood, with bookcases built into the walls. And a big ol’ desk for each student, surrounded by more bookcases, as if it were a wizard’s study. Which it technically was. For what better place to study magic than a magic study?

Chauncy closed the door behind him, gazing at his dream come true. He took a deep breath in, and – utterly alone, with no one interrupting him and with his obligations cast off for the moment – he let out a sigh of relief.

“Hello school,” he greeted, even managing to smile. For even three years after opening the school, it brought him joy to come here. It was, after all, the mission he’d given himself after becoming a wizard during destiny’s first call:  to spread magic throughout Borrin, turning its black-and-white world into one colorful to behold. He’d had no shortage of people eager to join, but only eight could fit reasonably in their little school. So he’d created two classes attending every other day, bringing the total number of students to sixteen. At least in the beginning. Every slot had filled up almost instantly, people eager to become wizards like him.

It’d proven more difficult than Chauncy had imagined, figuring out how to teach magic. He’d tried books and demonstrations of his own power, and all sorts of other means. But none had proven very effective, to his consternation. Most of his students had quit, frustrated at their lack of success. So they’d assumed they had no magic at all, and had accepted a life without. All but one of them, in fact:  Olivia Drake, nineteen-year-old daughter of Addie, Chauncy’s childhood crush.

So, while more students had filled in the holes in Chauncy’s class, only Olivia had stayed from day one, trusting that she’d find her magic one day. A day that hadn’t yet come, but would one day, of that she was convinced. Even if Chauncy had privately begun to doubt that.

Chauncy sighed, gazing at the school. It made him happy to see it, even though it’d technically been a miserable failure. A monument to wizarding, and his childhood love of magical things and scenes. Why, if he even managed to teach one student to become a wizard, he’d be perfectly content.

“One day,” he murmured to himself. “One day.”

In the meantime, the school served as a sanctuary from Chaos…which he needed now more than ever.

Bang!

The door flung open behind him, and none other than Chaos himself barged in. Chauncy jumped…and shrieked.

“Daddy!” Chaos blurted out. “Watch this!”

And then he jumped up a good inch, then landed with a stomp. And beamed up at Chauncy, as if he’d done something quite exceptional. Chauncy sighed inwardly, then flashed his best “A Little Magic” smile.

“Wow,” Chauncy breathed. “Amazing!” He knelt down, spreading his arms wide and leaning in. “Do you want a hug little buddy?”

“No,” Chaos replied backing away. “I don’t like you daddy. I like Mommy.” And promptly turned and left.

Chauncy watched Chaos go downstairs, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“Asshole,” he swore. And then did his best not to slam the door behind Chaos, with little success. “Punk-ass assity-ass shit.”

“Chauncy!” he heard Valtora call out from downstairs.

“What!” he shouted back.

“Come down!”

“F…ine!” he nearly swore. He stormed out of the school and down the stairs, going through the front door into the shop. And found Valtora behind the counter, with Chaos in Chauncy’s seat beside her…and Addie with her daughter Olivia standing near the counter.

“Hi Chauncy,” Addie greeted, giving him a shy little wave. Chauncy smiled, giving her a little wave back, then blushed. For no matter how often he saw her, he still felt that peculiar awkward shyness of a childhood crush.

“Oh hi Mr. Little,” Olivia greeted, giving him a little wave in turn. Tall and slender, with long blond hair down to her lower back and wearing a simple green dress, Olivia looked almost exactly as her mother had as a teenager. Quite lovely and kind and bashful and just so gosh-darn pleasant to be around…just like her mother.

“Morning Olivia,” he greeted back. “Excited about the anniversary party?”

“Oh yes,” she breathed. “I could barely sleep!”

“It’s true,” Addie confirmed. “She was tossing and turning all night.”

“Oh,” Chauncy murmured. For the party was really nothing much. He’d planned on doing a little magic show using the inventions he’d made, along with some of Valtora’s magic tattoos. Nothing particularly spectacular compared to the magic he’d seen, but to the citizens of Southwick, it promised to astound. For in living their lives without magic, their souls were starved of its power. Thus, whatever Chauncy and Valtora showed them would be a feast indeed. He hoped it would stir something deep within them, as Nettie and Harry did for him. For the journey to magic started with wonder…as the Cave of Wonder had taught him on his last journey three years ago.

“I can’t wait to see it!” Olivia declared, giving him a sweet smile. He smiled back. Olivia truly was his most dedicated pupil, never giving up while everyone else came and went. He desperately wanted to bring out her magic, more for her than for him.

“I can’t wait to show you,” he replied.

 Olivia beamed, then blushed, and lowered her gaze to the floor. And there was something so darn nice about her that Chauncy felt a burst of affection for her. It was easy to love a person that made it easy to love them, and like her mother, Olivia was just that kind of girl.

He found himself thinking of his wedding night once again, and of the time he’d enjoyed with Addie. But his mind’s eye made the sudden decision to play switcheroo, putting Olivia in the scene instead. He blinked rapidly, startled by this unexpected development…and furthermore, by the resultant, powerful stirring of Tip.

“Yesssss,” Tip hissed, to Chauncy’s horror. And to his further horror, the demon began to make himself noteworthy. Something that now occurred with terrible frequency and ease, considering the demon’s dastardly desires had not been met. After a year of said treatment, the demon’s inner fire had grown, its eyes glowing with an intensity that was downright disturbing.

“Mamma watch this,” Chaos demanded…from the other end of the shop. And for once, Chauncy was thankful for the interruption. Chaos climbed up one of the shelves containing rows of potions…and it began to tip over.

“Son of a…!” Chauncy blurted out, leaping over the counter and rushing to the rescue. Just as bottles of potions slid off and fell to the floor, shattering all around Chaos. He yanked Chaos away from the falling shelf in the nick of time, saving his son from certain death…and Chaos screamed, thrashing his arms and legs. He shoved himself away from Chauncy, nearly falling onto a pile of broken glass at Chauncy’s feet. Chauncy managed to hold on, but lost his balance, falling onto his back with Chaos in his arms.

On broken glass.

He laid there, waiting for the pain to start…but it didn’t. For it appeared his magical wizard’s robe had protected him.

“Let go!” Chaos yelled, continuing to thrash. And whacking Chauncy in the eye in the process. Chauncy swore…and Chaos stopped thrashing, bursting into tears.

“My baby!” Valtora exclaimed, rushing to their side. She took Chaos, clutching him to her bosom while Chauncy got carefully to his feet.

“Are you all right?” Addie gasped, rushing to Chauncy’s side.

“I think so,” he replied. “Watch out for the glass.”

“You saved him!” Olivia gushed, gazing at Chauncy in wide-eyed wonder. As if he was a hero. Which in a small way, he was. A fact that Chaos understood not at all. For he’d stopped crying, and was glaring at Chauncy.

“Daddy hurt me,” he accused.

“I did not,” Chauncy protested.

“It’s okay baby,” Valtora cooed, snuggling Chaos. While not coming to Chauncy’s defense. The fact that Addie and Olivia had recognized his heroics and cared for his health – while his own wife and son had not – made a familiar bitterness rise within him.

“Your daddy saved you,” Olivia told Chaos, in that sweet way she had. Chaos promptly ignored her, clinging to Valtora. Like a big ol’ festering tumor, sucking all the attention and affection out of her so she had none left for Chauncy.

No good little…

“Shit,” Valtora swore. “Now we have to clean up all this glass.”

“I got it,” Chauncy grumbled. Everyone backed away, and he picked up the fallen shelf with Valtora’s doppelganger’s help. Then he grabbed not the broom, but his Staff of Wind. Setting it butt-down in the middle of the mess, he spun it gently like a top. A tiny tornado appeared, sucking up all the glass so that it rested in a pile at the base of the staff.

“Wow,” Olivia breathed, gazing at the staff, then at Chauncy, with naked wonder. He thrust his chest out heroically under her adulating gaze, then got the broom, sweeping up the mess and depositing the glass in the trash.

“Done,” he declared with wizardly flair. “A Little Magic was all we needed!”

Olivia applauded, as did Addie…while Valtora ignored him, cooing at Chaos. For to her, his heroics were mere parlor tricks. He glared at her, feeling quite put out. For Valtora had once been his greatest ally, congratulating his deeds great and small. But for over a year, all she’d seemed to care about was little Chaos Little. And Chauncy was getting sick and damn tired of it.

He found himself gazing at Addie then, who was smiling at him quite sweetly. And he found himself suddenly wondering what life would’ve been like if he’d married her. And had sweet children like Olivia instead of an annoying, manipulative little brat like Chaos. And not just wondering, but rather wishing it were so. For whatever magic he’d had with Valtora seemed to be all but gone…and he was suddenly quite finished with waiting for it to come back.

I’m done, he declared to himself, for the very first time. But it would hardly be his last. For while he’d once cherished his relationship with his wife, that feeling – starting with this moment – had finally passed.

So, dear reader, we come to the very moment of peril, the turning point in this particular tale. For destiny, having taken quite a long slumber after the death of Zella Trek, was about to awaken once again. And this time, it promised quite a change for Chauncy Little, for better or for worse. For love, like destiny, could not be deferred forever without terrible consequences. And if it was lost, then it would inevitably be found…if not where it’d been, then somewhere new.

Chapter 2

It wasn’t long before four-o’clock came, and Chauncy closed up shop. There was only an hour until the anniversary party, and he wanted to make sure he was good and ready. Valtora left with Chaos to make the boy some dinner, leaving Chauncy by himself. It was the company he preferred now. For it was far less painful to be alone by himself than feel alone with others present.

So it was that he found himself upstairs in A Little Magic School, rummaging through a closet full of magical doodads he’d created. Another Wetstone, the Sunstone, and a Firestone, an artifact he’d created a few months ago. It absorbed heat and emitted it on command, which had proven quite useful during the winter. He’d put it atop a long red metal rod, for it’d proven too hot to handle with his hands. One made of tungsten, which had the highest melting point of any metal, according to Harry. The last item he took from the closet was not his creation at all, but a magical book. The Magic of Magic, in fact…one that always fell to the right. A neat parlor trick for him, but sure to astound any citizen who held it. For in Borrin, even the most boring magic was anything but.

He paused then, eyeing the book with its glittering purple cover and title with words so large they fell off the page. It brought back fond memories of his adventures…and when he and Valtora had been over the moon with each other. Good times. No, the very best of times. For while they’d been filled with terror and danger, they’d provided an equal amount of joy and love.

Good times. The best of times. But now all in the past.

He sighed, putting the book in his left robe pocket, then taking his stones down into the shop. He closed his eyes, then, going through his upcoming performance in his mind’s eye, over and over again. Until at last the clock read four-forty-five, and he ventured downstairs, then outside. He crossed the street to the courtyard, where the anniversary celebration was to be held. Right next to the state of Archibald Merrick, the founder of the Evermore Trading Company…a corporation that had done more damage to magic than any other. Mostly by attempting to control it…and in doing so, threatening to destroy it.

Valtora was already there with Chaos in her arms. Probably pretending that his legs were too tired to stand, the little bastard. And as usual, Valtora fell for his charms, utterly oblivious.

“Hey Chauncy-poo,” she greeted, waving at Chauncy as he reached them. He ignored her, feeling terrible that he was doing so. But considering she’d ignored him for the last year or two, he felt it was more than justified. She blinked, clearly taken aback, but he turned away before she could say anything, eyeing the crowd that was starting to form.

“Get ready,” he prompted. “Just like we rehearsed.”

And then he realized that the crowd was quite odd. For it consisted of a whole lot of city guards. And what’s more, an equal number of men clad in all-too-familiar green suits and golden ties…the official uniform of the Evermore Trading Company. Who were all rushing toward them…and quickly surrounded them.

“Oh,” Chauncy blurted out, turning in a circle. “Um…”

“What the hell?” Valtora blurted out.

“Mamma, what’s hell?” Chaos asked. And had Chauncy not been otherwise occupied, he would’ve told Chaos it was here and now.

“Valtora Little?” one of the city guards called out. Chauncy turned to the man. It was none other than Benjamin Quill, the captain of the City Guard. A tall, burly man in a tight gray uniform, with a clean-shaven face and unkind eyes.

“Yes?” Valtora replied.

“You are hereby under arrest,” Captain Quill declared. Valtora blinked, giving the man a blank stare.

“Huh?”

“You’re under arrest,” Quill repeated.

“For what?” Valtora asked.

“For assaulting a healthcare worker,” Quill answered.

“Huh?” Valtora repeated.

“We can explain,” Chauncy began, but Quill shot him a glare…and Chauncy, ever the meek and lawful citizen, shut up. One of the Evermore employees stepped up beside Captain Quill then, an older gentleman with bone-white hair and piercing green eyes. Someone who looked an awful lot like…

“Gavin Merrick,” the man introduced. Chauncy blinked.

“Huh?”

“Gavin Archibald Merrick Senior,” the man clarified. “President of the Evermore Trading Company.”

“Oh,” Chauncy mumbled.

“It seems my son made quite the mess of things here in Southwick,” Mr. Merrick declared, eyeing Chauncy and Valtora with disgust. “Allowing two unregistered wizards to sell unlicensed magical goods in an improperly licensed shop. And then retiring without warning, forcing me out of retirement.”

“But…” Chauncy began.

“The city will be confiscating all of your magical items,” Mr. Merrick interjected. “And, as the only company with enough expertise to handle them safely, Evermore will be storing them.” He eyed Chauncy shrewdly. “Your shop is guilty of engaging in anticompetitive practices,” he added. “You’ll be hearing from my absolutely enormous team of lawyers soon.”

“Anticompetitive?” Valtora shot back. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black. You’re just mad Evermore’s not the only game in town now.”

“We welcome competition,” Mr. Merrick replied coolly, which everyone in the world knew was a lie. “As long as they don’t engage in price-gouging. You’re selling powerful magical items at anticompetitive prices.”

“Bullshit,” Valtora swore. “We make a profit…you just can’t compete, ‘cause you can’t make your own magic. All you can do is steal it from people.”

“The Evermore Trading Company does not steal,” Mr. Merrick replied. “We operate entirely within the law.”

“You mean the laws Evermore writes up and hands to the government to sign?” Valtora pressed. Mr. Merrick’s jawline rippled…but after years of suffering Valtora’s expert ripples, Mr. Merrick’s was meager in comparison. On balance, however, the implied threat of dozens of guards and Evermore goons more than made up for it.

“Enough,” Captain Quill declared. “Valtora, you’d best be coming with us.”

“Like hell,” Valtora shot back. “Chauncy, tell these assholes off!”

“Um…” Chauncy stammered. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Do better!” Valtora urged.

“A big misunderstanding,” Chauncy clarified. Valtora glared at him. “Awfully big,” he added. Lamely.

“The misunderstanding is yours,” Mr. Merrick shot back. “Valtora is under arrest…and you will be too, Mr. Little, if you try to intervene.”

“Honestly, this is all just a very, very big misunderstanding,” Chauncy pressed.

“Detain her,” Captain Quill ordered his men. A few guards closed in on Valtora. “Don’t try anything stupid,” Quill warned her.

“I’ll make you stupid,” Valtora vowed, making a diamond fist. Captain Quinn backed up, just as a few guards rushed in to grab her. “Chauncy, attack!” Valtora cried, swinging her diamond fist at the nearest guard’s chest with a clang. The impact sent the guard flying backward into a few of his fellows, and they tumbled to the ground.

“Mr. Merrick!” Quinn blurted out. But Mr. Merrick was already bursting into action. The man threw a ring down on the ground at Valtora’s feet.

“Portus!” Quinn barked…and the ring expanded, opening a portal underneath Valtora. She fell right into it, vanishing from sight…and the ring shrank as quickly as it’d grown, resting on the grass. Quinn picked it up, placing it on his ring finger, while Quinn rushed to his fallen guard’s side. A fist-sized dent had been punched into the poor guard’s chestplate.

Chauncy watched all of this in typical stunned silence, his mouth hanging open.

Quinn stood then, staring down at the fallen guard for a while. Then he sighed, turning to Chauncy.

“I’m afraid your wife just earned an additional charge against her,” the man declared.

“What’s that?” Chauncy asked numbly.

“Murder,” Captain Quinn replied.

Absurdly Inappropriate Magic will be available this Fall!

To read the first three books in the series, click here!