Spark (Academy of Unpredictable Magic #1) - Sadie Moss
Chapter 1
A sharp whistle makes me wince.
It’s a busy night at The Den, and a group of loud-talking guys ogle me as I lean over to wipe down the bar top. I can feel their collective gazes crawling over me like ants. They’ve been staring at me all night, elbowing each other like they’ve never seen a pair of boobs before.
I usually wear pretty low-cut tops when I bartend because, I’ll be honest, it makes a huge difference in tips. But the downside of my wardrobe choice is that it draws creeps out of the woodwork and makes them feel entitled to treat me like a piece of meat.
For a second, I fantasize about leaping over the bar and slapping the wolfish grins off their faces, one by one. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten physical with a customer at The Den.
But unfortunately, I can’t give them the lesson in manners they so richly deserve.
I list all the reasons in my head like a mantra as I practically scrub a hole through the bar with the damp rag.
One: you need this job. You’ve got to take care of your sister.
Maddy and I are all alone in the world since our mom died of cancer four years ago. Our dad’s still alive, but he hasn’t been in the picture since I was little, which left me to take care of my younger sister all by myself. My tiny paycheck is the only thing standing between us and a homeless shelter.
Two: you’re on your last strike, and Ajax will fire you eventually.
Ajax owns The Den. He’s a massive earth elementalist with a gleaming bald head and a stoic temperament. I know he likes me—that’s why I still have a job here at all after the stunts I’ve pulled. But he had a long talk with me last week after I dumped beer on a guy who suggested I sit on his lap and “bounce around” like this was a strip club. During that conversation, he made it pretty clear I’m on my last warning. Ajax isn’t a bad guy, but he’s more interested in the bottom line than protecting his employees from dickish customers.
Not that they’re all jerks. We get some interesting people in here sometimes. Portland’s crazy enough on its own, but add in the magic users in the hidden supernatural section of town, and you’ve got a recipe for some wild stories and personalities.
But tonight, I am just so done.
Today started off shitty and has only gotten worse. Dad sent Maddy a birthday card this year, which set her off crying for over an hour. I’ve made a private vow never to shed another tear over that bastard, but Maddy still holds out some hope that he’ll turn out not to be the self-centered asshole he’s proven himself to be time after time. And every time he lets her down, I have to pick up the pieces again.
Congratulations, old man, you actually remembered your kid’s birthday for once. Gold fucking star for you. Sure, it doesn’t make up for skipping out on Mom and us when Maddy was just six years old, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?
Like Maddy needs the stress. She’s already freaking out over her magic not manifesting. Mom and Dad both have—
No. Had.
Fuck. Sometimes I forget, even though it’s been four years, that Mom’s not around anymore.
Both my parents had powerful magic. People always seem shocked when they learn how powerful my parents were and then hear that at age twenty-two, I still haven’t developed any magic.
When I tell other magic users about my lack of powers, they look at me like I told them my puppy just died. But I don’t need their stupid pity for something that’s totally out of my hands, so I usually don’t bring it up.
Maddy just turned eighteen, and most magic users start manifesting powers anywhere between fourteen and sixteen. It’s a puberty thing. Sometimes people show as early as age twelve—or in rare cases, even younger—but by sixteen, pretty much everyone from a magical family is manipulating air or earth or casting illusions or something. It’s been eating at Maddy that she hasn’t shown anything yet.
Me? I’m used to it. My life’s fine without magic. I have a steady job, and I have my little sis—as long as Maddy’s taken care of, that’s all I need. But Maddy really cares.
And then bam, Dad’s birthday card arrives, and all he fucking talks about is how he’s sure