City of Magic (Happily Ever Afterlife Book 1)

  Table of Contents

  City of Magic

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  City of Magic

  Happily Ever Afterlife, Book One

  Patricia Thomas

  CHAPTER ONE

  Welcome to the After. Please remain calm.

  This revelation will come as something of a shock: you are a fictional character, and your story is over.

  You have arrived in the After from whatever land you once called home because your author has claimed the work you exist in as complete. There is no longer any need for you to propel your plot forward, so you have been brought here to continue your existence among those who also started their journeys in a novel or book series. We apologize for having to get you up to speed in this manner but, due to the nature of the modern literary landscape, there is no other way to keep up with each day’s new arrivals; the influx of new characters has grown exponentially, and we are no longer able to maintain personalized orientation sessions.

  You are among friends—unless, of course, you have an arch nemesis or the like who has also come here.

  But rest assured, everything will be fine.

  More than likely, you’ll find this news alarming, and may even have doubts. But you will find that if you search deep within yourself, you will realize this information to be true. Again, there is nothing to worry about, and no need for panic. Should you follow the system the After has in place, you will continue to the next chapter of your life quite seamlessly.

  It will all be okay.

  After the end of a story, each character arrives in a city most like the world they came from in order to ease the transition into their new life. In all likelihood, any friends and family that were part of your story will have also travelled to the same place—should you wish to seek them out.

  You now have two choices.

  The first is that you simply return to your story of origin through one of the many Reclamation Centers throughout this world. All knowledge you have gained since arriving in the After will be immediately forgotten so you may relive your story each time it is read, experiencing it anew with each fresh telling. You will never grow or change, and all will be as it was. You will never realize that some of the people you are interacting with are not as they once were. There is no shame in choosing this option as we each have a different path to follow, and only you can decide what will truly make you happy. Perhaps you have already found happiness, and by bringing you here you have been ripped away from that reality. If that is the case, the choice before you may be an easy one.

  The second option, should you prefer not to return to your origin story, is to remain here and continue to develop yourself, creating a life and existence outside of what was written for you. The After is vast, so the possibilities are endless. Each decision you make will be your own, as will the life you forge from this point onward. The people of our world all started out in the same position as you are in now, and the world we have created will be yours to discover and shape.

  You do not have to decide right away. Citizens of the After are free to return to their stories at any time—but the choice cannot be undone. You will not be able to come here again.

  No matter what you decide, there are people here to help you—to answer questions, guide you to the nearest Reclamation facility, or get you started in your new life.

  We wish you nothing but the best of luck.

  The Librarians

  The Archive of Ink and Soul

  My gut was churning, rocked by a jumble of emotions as my eyes scanned the letter again, and again. But each time I took it in, the message remained unchanged, just as incredible and unbelievable as when I first read it over only moments before. I had to be dreaming.

  Without taking my eyes off the piece of paper in front of me—I couldn’t even remember where I'd gotten it, only standing there with it clenched in my fist—I used my free hand to pinch myself hard on the fleshy skin at the base of my stomach. But nothing changed. I wasn’t dreaming.

  Even before my fingers clamped around a patch of skin on my arm to try again, part of me knew what the result would be. After, as I closed my eyes and tried to breathe and settle my nerves, the answer was already in my heart—both impossible and wonderful. It was just as the letter said, and I knew its contents were not only truthful, but that my entire existence had just turned on its head.

  I wasn’t real. Or at least I hadn’t been a minute ago. Kadie Meyer was nothing more than a character in a book.

  The last thing I remembered was standing in my bedroom, staring out the window at the rainy street in front of me. I'd gotten a phone call from Darren only minutes before, telling me he'd made up his mind. He’d chosen Kelsey. He was going to be with her, and not with me. After everything we’d been through.

  His announcement had crushed me. The heartbreak still wore heavy on my heart as I tried to come to terms with everything else happening to me in that moment.

  Once my thoughts stopped spinning, I forced myself to look up and take in what was going on around me. Whatever I'd been expecting from the letter—perhaps a busy plaza, filled with volunteers in blue vests, waving their arms to get the attention of newcomers—my reality was a disappointment. I hadn't imagined finding myself alone in an unmarked alleyway, stone walls closing in on me as the sun shone hot overhead. The distant smell of seawater hit my nose as I took a long breath and let the salty tang of the air help focus my thoughts, if not as much as I would have liked. At least, I was starting to feel like myself again.

  I was still wearing my fuzzy blue pajama pants, with the matching cloud patterned button-up top that I’d changed into before I'd known about the phone call that was coming for me mere minutes later.

  And now I was wearing it outside, in a city I didn't recognize. There were voices coming from nearby, and a car honking in the distance. At the far end of the alleyway, a man in a suit passed by on a connecting street without even glancing at me.

  Life was continuing on all around me. And it was a life that didn’t feel anything like the one I remembered.

  Did I even want this to be a dream? Maybe it was the magic part of wherever I was rubbing off on me, since I certainly never would have believed anyone who tried to tell me I wasn’t real yesterday. And now everything was different. I was different.

  Most of me wanted to bask in the revelation for as long as I could—to embrace my rebirth—but I was already starting to sweat under the heavy fabric of my outfit, which definitely felt as real now as it did last night—and a lot less comfortable.

  Well, I can’t just stand here waiting for someone to come rescue me.

  This clearly wasn’t a dream, so it was time to start moving.

  More people passed by on the nearby street, and while I didn’t love the idea of walking out there without knowing what to expect, this wasn’t helpful either. Besides, with
a little luck, someone familiar was only a moment away if I stopped waiting around for answers or directions.

  Oh God, would Darren and Kelsey be here together somewhere? Beginning their happily ever after?

  I didn't want to think about it. And the best way to avoid getting bogged down in my own thoughts had always been to simply start moving.

  Only a few steps toward the bright light of the street, and my new reality began to take shape in front of me. At first, there was only a blur of buildings, people, and cars, but it all came into sharp focus just as my bare feet hit the sidewalk. At the exact same moment, someone plowed into me from the side.

  The air was forced from my lungs, and I grasped out wildly while stumbling sideways, only managing to find my footing when my hand connected with the stone wall of the building beside me.

  "Sorry," I mumbled automatically, searching for whoever I’d just collided with, while cutting myself off from swearing up a storm of frustration. A gray-haired man, with a beard down to his collarbones, stood a few feet away looking equally flustered. He was bare-chested—only wearing a kilt and leather sandals. I apologized again as his eyes scanned over me in alarm.

  I got the distinct feeling that either he wasn’t impressed, or simply thought he’d been attacked by a crazy person. Yes, I was wearing pajamas and hadn’t been looking where I was going, but I wasn’t convinced he was in any position to judge me.

  A few more people shot me startled looks as I passed by, rendering me more self-conscious with each second. I struggled to tame my long brown hair into submission by running my fingers through the tangled locks. Most days, my hair started off as a thick, tousled mess, and getting it the way I wanted took more than half an hour. But for the immediate future, all I wanted was to blend in long enough to figure out what was going on.

  My mind fumbled through everything I’d seen, heard, and experienced in the last few minutes, desperately trying to make sense of any of it. I let myself move with the ebb and flow of the crowd, taking in as much of my surroundings as possible, while still trying to wrap my mind around everything I’d learned. And figure out what I should be doing next.

  That letter should have just read, “Hey, you’re not real. Good luck.” For all the good it did me.

  Most of the people I noticed nearby wouldn’t have been entirely out of place in downtown Pittsburgh around the end of a work day. Some wore business clothes, others had dressed in jeans and T-shirts, fitting for the warm weather. At one point, I might have seen a pirate off in the distance, but I’d seen weirder things in the city back home.

  It was the buildings that gave the impression of being in a place out of a storybook, instead of in any city I'd ever known.

  Each building pressed tight against its neighbor, with an obvious variety of styles, functions, and aesthetics that felt impossible. I passed a one-story smithy built from old, uneven gray stones. Next to it stood a five-story apartment building made from a golden material I couldn't even guess the name of. A few blocks later, a skyscraper stood taller than all the buildings surrounding it combined. Then, came a shop that would have looked more at home in ancient China. Maybe things in the After were always like that, an amalgamation of places and countries.

  Trying to take it all in made my head spin.

  The farther I went, the more variety I saw, but nothing jumped out as an obvious destination. I still had no clue where I should be going. There was no assistance waiting for those like me who had only just arrived, looking for help. Everyone I noticed was going about their own business, some talking on phones, others writing on scratch pads with long quills.

  I let out a squeak when an orange hover car flew over me, whisking my hair up in a flurry. Something like that would never have been possible where I came from, and the thought of what else might be waiting for me in this place was quickly shifting the dizzy feeling in my head to a sick one in my stomach.

  I took a shallow, panicked breath. I wasn’t real! My life before hadn’t been real. None of what I’d experienced before today had ever really happened. It was too much to think about. Hell, things would probably have been easier if I didn’t believe my letter right away; if I’d had time to let myself pretend this was all a dream. Instead, the weight of it all was crushing me.

  I would never go home again.

  I’d wandered for so long that I probably wouldn’t have been able to find my way back to where I started if I’d wanted to. Going farther was only going to get me more lost and confused.

  It was impossible to deny the wonder of what I was seeing; though, I couldn't be sure there weren't any dangers lurking around every corner. I needed to stop and regroup. Or at least that was the impression I'd gotten from every adventure movie ever. My own experiences hadn't exactly left me with anything to work with beyond my own instincts.

  And I needed answers.

  It took a moment to find a quiet patch of sidewalk, as I stepped out of the bustle of the pedestrian crowd and leaned up against the glass window of a pastry shop. As far as I could tell, it was closed with no one inside to give me disapproving looks for loitering.

  I exhaled, closing my eyes for only a moment to fully appreciate the chance to gather myself and my rampant thoughts. A few deep breaths later, and I started to feel the slightest bit better.

  If only I’d had my phone on me when I'd appeared here, I’d at least have the option of calling for help. Or, would it not have worked here? I didn't know how anything went here. I would've been better off with an informational pamphlet than a welcome letter when I'd arrived, but there was no one to lodge a complaint with.

  I closed my eyes and took a few long breaths. If my brain and my pajamas were the only assets I had, I had to keep my mind as sharp as possible. Sure, nothing could have ever prepared me for what was happening, but that didn't mean I couldn't make the most of my situation. Or, at the very least, that I couldn't get myself to safety—to someone who knew what I was up against.

  Step one: survive. Step two: Figure it out from there.

  People kept walking by like it was just a normal day. I studied the passing crowd for someone who looked approachable. In theory, I could've asked anyone or everyone for help. But I didn’t know where to start or what to say. Best case scenario: whoever I spoke to would have been in my shoes themselves once upon a time and would get me somewhere safe. Worst case: they’d call the police.

  Which, potentially, wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. The police would be better equipped than anyone else to help me.

  I had to try. Eventually, the streets would start to empty as people went home—which wasn’t an option for me; I’d be more exposed than ever.

  As I attempted to come up with a plan , a slim-shouldered woman on the opposite street corner caught my attention with her presence alone. She was leaning against a lamppost in a long, black coat, and carried herself like someone with authority. Red rimmed sunglasses sat atop her broad nose. She seemed to be as intent on the people near her as I was, holding herself with an air of confidence that suggested she knew far more about what was going on around her than I did.

  I should ask her for directions. No matter how frazzled I felt, I could manage that much.

  Stepping back into the crowd, I made my way toward the crosswalk that would take me to the woman. So far, so good.

  But as I stood waiting for the light to change, she turned to face me, sending a shiver running up my spine. Despite her glasses, I suspected—or maybe feared—that she was looking right at me. She studied me, her expression hard.

  Without meaning to, I looked away, not able to explain what felt off about the situation, but feeling hunted all the same.

  Long gone was any thought of getting to a police station. I needed to get out of there, and now.

  Trying to look casually bored, I glanced behind me and pretended to spot something in the distance, before making a beeline for the still moving flow of people going in the opposite direction. Somehow, I could still feel her linger
ing gaze on me. It was enough to get quicken my pulse, sending paranoia shooting through me.

  I forced myself not to stare at the man on horseback in the lane closest to me, and picked up my pace. I could find someone else to help me, but the first order of business was to get as far away as possible from that intersection.

  Without prompting, my feet moved faster beneath me.

  The street I ended up on was a little less crowded than the last, and soon, I passed a large park dotted with trees. Each one was a different species, and I didn’t think most of them usually grew in the same place, but together still looked both natural and elegant as they surrounded a small pond, their branches drawing my gaze upward.

  Off in the distance, far over the tops of trees, I caught sight of what had to be the most impressive building I'd seen yet. Endless white brick, dotted with the occasional jewel-toned stone, climbed up toward the sky. Several towers shot up farther at every corner. The building had to be at least several blocks wide, and a dozen stories tall. Large windows decorated the side of the building I was looking at.

  It was beautiful, and it looked important.

  Would the After have a King, or a Queen? Or official government buildings? That building looked increasingly like the best place to start getting answers, since my endless wandering was getting me nowhere.

  I stepped toward the park, still staring up at the white building in front of me, when I promptly slammed into a second person in under an hour.

  This time, it felt more like I'd hit a brick wall, and I ended up right on my ass, staring up at the man I'd run into. This guy, at least, wasn't wearing a kilt. Instead, he wore close to the same outfit as the woman I'd seen on the corner—with dark jeans underneath his black coat, and a dark gray button-up shirt. I couldn't make out the color of his eyes as he stared down at me through his sunglasses, but I didn't get the impression that he was thrilled with my sudden presence.

  "Who are you?" he demanded. He didn't offer a hand to help me up, and instead I fumbled to my feet, stammering out apologies.