Happy Monday Morning! And for those of you who haven’t been given the day off, you may have forgotten that it’s Martin Luther King Jr. Day! Which is a great holiday. Because not only do I not have to go to work, I am not at work in honor of someone who totally deserves to be celebrated. Unlike that Columbus jerk.

But a Monday is still a Monday, which means it’s time for the latest installment of CYOA. Last week, we discovered that Eli was really our long lost half-brother (EWWWWW) and instead of washing ourselves in bleach, the overwhelming majority of you choose to:

B. Hit Eli with a truth spell and find out exactly who and what he is?

So let’s hope this truth spell finally gives us some answers. While the truth is too late to prevent us from making out with our half-brother, hopefully we can find out what the hell is really going on here.

“Hold the phone!” you shout, gripping your wand with both hands and pointing it directly at Eli’s chest. You concentrate all your anger and confusion and shout the strongest truth spell you can muster. Eli is knocked back a few inches and the dazed look in his eye confirms you were successful.

“Tabitha,” your father says, reaching for his wand, “I’m calling the police. You can’t trust a word this monster says. He will try and turn you against your family. He belongs back in Gainschwitz.”

“You know what, Dad?” you say, “I think I’ve had just about enough of your bullshit.” With a quick flick of your wand, ropes begin coiling around your dad’s hands, binding them together. One more flick and duct tape appears over your dad’s mouth.

“There,” you say, “now that’s much better.” You turn back to Eli, whose eyes are still dazed, but a disconcerting grin remains on his face. “First things first Eli, did you really try and kill me?”

His smirk widens as he says one word “yes.” “But why? What had I ever done to you? I was only a child?” “It wasn’t about you” he replies. “At least not really. I knew killing you would hurt dear old dad.”

“But why did you want you want to hurt my- our dad?” you say, still hardly able to believe that Eli is really your brother.

“Because he used my mother. He and several other powerful wizards. They treated her like a toy, a play thing, passing her around like used goods. Young necromancer women have always been a favorite of the male wizarding elite. Most of them never had a choice – these were powerful men with powerful spells at their disposal. And powerful men will always be attracted to what’s taboo.”

“Your ‘Uncle Gus’ as you call him financially supported my mother. For the first few years of my life, I never thought he was my father, not that I hardly ever saw him. Once I started growing a bit older and it became obvious that I wasn’t his, he kicked my mother and I to the streets.”

You feel sick hearing this. You’ve always known necromancers were treated like second-class citizens compared to wizards, but this is all too much. Thinking about Eli’s mother, being used like this – the whole thing makes your stomach curl.

“So my mother got a paternity spell done. Turns out Max Whitley was my father. So my mother asked him for help. Even with the proof of the paternity spell, he wouldn’t do a damn thing. Turned her out in the cold. Here he was, rolling in old money, and he wouldn’t help the mother of his child pay for a place to stay. She even brought me to see him once. He began screaming at us, threatening her. Guess he didn’t want his precious Charlotte finding out about his bastard son. Charlotte had always been his favorite. Turns out he’s even secretly married her, not that anyone in the wizarding community knew about it. She was his dirty little secret. And so were you.”

Hearing this, you feel sick to your stomach. You look over to your dad – his eyes are angry and he’s trying to talk. But you know Eli isn’t lying. He isn’t capable of lying right now.

“A few weeks after meeting my real father, my mother was murdered. It happened while I was at school. Sure, the motel we were staying at was in a terrible area. Prostitution, drugs, crime. She was shot, and what little money she had was taken. The cops thought it was a robbery gone awry. But even at that young age, I knew something wasn’t right. There appeared to be magical traces that regular cops would never be aware of. And wizarding cops couldn’t be shitted to investigate the death of a used up necromancer girl.”

Your jaw drops, “You don’t think it was my – I mean, our dad? He’s not a murderer, he just can’t be.”

“There is a lot you don’t seem to know about our dad, Tabs.” You cringe at his use of your nickname. “I can’t say for sure. I don’t have the proof. I ran away from school and began living on the streets. It took me sixth months of constant practice before I was able to raise my mom. I practiced daily – killing stray cats and dogs, just so I could raise them. I may have been the youngest necromancer to ever fully raise another human being.”

“My mother confirmed what I had already guessed. It was a human low life who shot her – but he was definitely under an enchantment. Whose enchantment we can only guess. Your father had threatened her, but I wouldn’t put it past Augustus or one of the Council wizards to have done it. My mother had learned quite a few secrets during her time. And those men are ruthless. If they think someone is going to talk, they have no qualms about taking them out.”

“But even with my mother back, I wanted revenge. It’s all I could think about. I broke into Charlotte’s home and I killed you. Stabbed you several times. I lost count, to be honest. Your mother was able to bring you back, killing herself in the process. Soon after, our dad and the police showed up. Your father must have had a magical security alarm – I hadn’t realized they would be there so quickly. So I was caught. But I was young, barely 7 at the time. And they couldn’t exactly convict me of your murder…because you weren’t dead. But our dad’s lawyers were ruthless and he still managed to get me locked up in Gainschwitz for a long, long time.”

“So, Eli,” you ask, “is that…your real name?”

“No.” He smiles. “My birth name was Augustus Fleming, Jr. My mother used to call me Gus-Gus for short. But I abandoned that name a long time ago.”

“But in the future, you came to me to help stop The Order from creating wizard-necromancer hybrids? Why did you do that?” you ask.

“Why would I want wizards to get our power? The one thing they cannot do is raise the dead. And yet, they want that power too. They are insatiable. I had hoped in getting close to you that I would get close to The Order. I was planning on killing our dad, Augustus, anyone I could get my hands on.”

You turn to your dad and with a quick move remove the tape from his mouth. “Did you know about The Order’s plan? For the hybrids?”

“Yes!” You father says, “But I was opposed to it! I’ve seen how dark necromancers could be. They can’t help but do terrible things. The others in The Order…they haven’t taken too kindly to my dissent. But listen my Tabitha, those things that young man is telling you. You don’t understand. It was a different time and men, men are weak- ”

“I think I’ve heard just about enough from you” you say, giving your wand another swish. This time a cloth gag appears around your father’s head. “All necromancers are dark? Am I dark? Was my mother dark? And perhaps, just perhaps, do you think Eli or Gus-Gus or whatever his name is, would have turned out different if he hadn’t had the life he had?”

You turn back to Eli. You have one more question you need to ask, but it pains you to do it. “Why, Eli…why did you kiss me? I’m your sister.” At least you hope it was just kissing. You keep remembering that flash of memory – the one from the volcano. A bit of bile rises to the back of your throat. But that doesn’t make any sense…a volcano? It must, it HAS to have been a dream.

His wicked grin returns. “What better way to get back at our father. If he had just been honest. If he had told you about me, that never would have happened.”

You put your hands to your head – your brain feels like it’s about to explode. Everything you ever knew about your life was a lie. You were betrayed by your father, by Eli. All of a sudden, Dace is starting to look like the best person you know, which is clearly a bad sign. Neither Eli nor your Dad seems capable of redemption. Neither of them seems worth saving.

You pull a blue glowing orb out of your pocket. It’s a wizarding recorder. And you cast a spell for it to secretly record the conversation ever since you gave Eli a truth spell. You grab your wand and cast another spell, binding Eli’s arms and legs. You cast a distress spell. The wizarding police should be here any minute. You place the blue orb in the middle of the room, where the police are sure to find it. There is enough information on there to put Eli, your Dad, and most of The Order behind bars in Gainschwitz for a very, very long time.

“Eli…Dad?” you say. “You two seriously deserve each other. Fuck you guys. I am so out of here.” And with an audible pop, you apparate out of your bedroom.

SIX MONTHS LATER

The two women are standing outside of your trailer. One of smacking her gum loudly while the other lights her second cigarette in a row. “Seriously!” the one says. “I just don’t understand how her show is so popular. Like, nothing happens. At all. It’s just her, going out on boring dates, shopping and bitching about her friends.” “I know,” the other says. “But the ratings are just killer. She’s like, America’s sweetheart.”

The first one turns to the other, “Do you want to know a secret? She never has acne. Like, never. And I’ve been doing makeup on television shows for years now. I’ve never seen anything like it. Not a single blemish. Just flawless.” “Well,” the other says, taking another drag. “If I tell you this, you have to promise not to call me crazy. Whenever I’m styling her hair, I never need to use any hairspray. Like, if I put in some curls, they just set like that. And they don’t go away. Not until I brush it straight again. I have no idea how it’s possible.” The door of the trailer opens and both young women gasp.

You walk out of the trailer and smile. You’ve heard everything they’ve said, of course. No matter, you can’t win ‘em all. Well, actually you can, but not without a little magic on your side. A quick spell and both women’s eyes glass over and smiles appear of their face. You can hear them whisper and giggle “oh I LOVE her! We’re so lucky to work for her.” “I know! She’s just so beautiful. She’s my idol!”

After leaving the wizarding world behind, you ended up in Hollywood. You used a bit of magic to get you into the right parties and meet the right people. It wasn’t long before Seacrest was calling, offering you your own reality show. You don’t go by Tabitha anymore, hell – you don’t even look like Tabitha anymore. Hollywood is full of so many inexplicably famous people that no one is the wizarding world would ever even guess that you once were Tabitha Whitley. And that’s just fine with you. You don’t want anything to do with those people ever again. And after the corruption and drama of the wizarding community, Hollywood is practically child’s play in comparison.

THE END

Related posts:

1. I Solemnly Swear to Tell the Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing but the Truth…
2. the truth about how much i love the truth about forever
3. CYOA: I got an F in Flying

Happy Monday, adventurers!!  I hope the weekend treated you well – new Downton Abbey for some; new Sherlock for others!  I went to a craft store and Lush and hit up the accessories area of Forever 21 this weekend, so I’m basically broke.  But!  I’m currently making sticky toffee pudding cupcakes in my kitchen as I write this!  Won’t you come over and have a sticky toffee pudding cupcake?  Otherwise I’ll have to eat them, which is really not in my weekend plans.

It being Monday, it’s time for choosing some of our own Adventures.  Last week, y’all chose to:

C. Stay where you are. Your dad will be home soon and you can talk to him. And in the meanwhile, you and Eli can get reacquainted.

which I think is code for “have lots of sex while your parents aren’t around.”  Except, I’m writing this chapter, so it’s really just code for “get drunk and play Apples to Apples.”  Sorry.  That’s just how I acquaint myself to things!

“So we’ve met before?  Or, like, not yet?” Eli asks, looking confused and battered, pulling tight your father’s sweater for warmth.  He looks so lost, sitting there admidst the fourteen throw pillows on your bed, picking at a loose thread on your duvet, that you want to go to him and make promises you aren’t entirely sure you can keep.  Better to stick to the facts.

“In about a year, the Council is going to move to desegregate the schools.  Wizards, Witches and Necromancers, all in a happy group.”

Eli snorts in disbelief.  “I’m sure that will go over well.  The Wizarding parents are just going to love the idea of their precious children mixing with the likes of Necromancers.  Hell, they’ll probably be lining the streets in protest.”

“2! 4! 6! 8! We don’t want to Integrate!”  Eli looks at you askance and you shrug your shoulders.  “They keep it up for months – those who don’t just yank their kids out and send them to posh private schools.”

“They couldn’t come up with a more clever chant than that?  It sounds like something eight year olds would say,” Eli laughs.  “Eight year olds who don’t know much about chanting.”

“Yeah, well,” you sigh, staring at your feet as you pace your room, “They aren’t known for their poetic skills.”  You go on to explain to Eli some of the events of the past – or future- few weeks: having class together; your dad’s curse;  learning of Dace and his father’s involvement; meeting Eli’s mother.

“Whoa.  You met my mother?  We must have been pretty close.”  Eli sort of squints up at you, as if he can’t believe everything he’s hearing.

“Um, not exactly.  Or not at the time.  It’s funny; I’ve only known you a few weeks, really.  But then we were here; I gave a party and you came.  You had – or will have, rather – a distracting habit of walking around half-naked, by the way.”

You blush as you say it, and hope Eli doesn’t notice.  But a sly grin steals across his face, and all of a sudden, he looks less like a lost boy and more like a man who knows exactly what he wants.  Eli stands up and crosses the room, closing in on your personal space.  His eyes drop down to your mouth before he cocks his head to one side.  Lightly skimming your arm with his fingers, he asks, “exactly how much of me did you see?”

You can feel your pulse pounding as you rack your brain for a clever answer.  “I didn’t . ..  I don’t,” you stammer, unconsciously lifting onto your tip toes to line your mouth with his.  You exhale shakily while Eli slowly, torturously dips his mouth towards yours and . . .

“What the dragon’s egg is going on here?”  Your dad is standing inside your open door, his jaw slack, righteous fury blazing in his eyes.  Your first thought is that you’ve never seen him so angry in your life.  Following on the heels of that thought, you wonder if this is actually your father or if he’s been cursed by Uncle Gus already.

“Dad!” you shriek, taking a step away from Eli.  “I can explain.  This is Eli, and we’re just, uh, he’s just-”

“I know who he is,” your father snaps at you, looking for all the world as if he’s walked in on his nemesis.  “What I’d like to know is why he is here – of all places – and in cahoots with my daughter!”

Cahoots?  Yeah, this is definitely still your dad.

“Dad,” you begin, placatingly.  “Just calm down.  Eli is just – ”

“Eli?!” your dad scoffs.  “Is that what he told you to call him?  I suppose he didn’t mention that you once knew him by a different name.  That you once were as close as siblings could be!  Until he arranged for your murder, that is!”

Wait, murder? you think, feeling confused and wondering if your father is completely sane.  WAIT.  SIBLINGS?

“SIBLINGS!” you screech, staring at Eli as horror chokes your throat.  “That’s not . . . that can’t be . . .  no.  No no no no no no no.”

“Aw, Dad,” Eli says, sounding falsely chummy as he grins maliciously.  “I know she was always your favorite – the life sentence at Gainschwitz proved that – but, really.  Can’t you welcome me home after all this time?”

“I will never forgive you,” your father huffs.  “You stole EVERYTHING from me!  You killed my daughter; my wife died to bring her back . . . be grateful that I took pity on you, still such a young child.”

“You deserved worse,” Eli seethes.  “My mother died for wanting you!  But oh, you just threw her over!  Threw us both over for your perfect half-witch wife and your precious little mongrel!”

Hold the phone.  Eli is your brother.  Your dad dumped Eli’s mom?  Eli killed you?  ELI IS YOUR BROTHER???  You need to figure out what’s going on.

Related posts:

1. CYOA: You can look and you will find me, time after time
2. CYOA: If I Could Turn Back Time
3. CYOA: if I could turn back time

Happy New Year, dear readers! I hope you all made resolutions you can stick to! And also ones that are good for the world, like, “I resolve to recycle more, ergo, I need to get more champ cans so I can recycle them after I’ve enjoyed their tasty contents!”

Anywho, it’s a new year, and a new you as you journey through time in today’s installment of Choose Your Own Adventure! By 2 votes, you chose to have your mother:

“Send me back to a year ago.”

So let’s see what was going on last year at this time, hmmm?

“Mom, wait!” You cry out, just as she points her wand at your chest. She pauses, just for a second.

“I miss you.” Your voice sounds as small as you feel.

“Oh honey, I miss you, too. But I’m with you, every day, in my heart.”

Your eyes cloud over as unshed tears threaten to spill. She kisses her fingers and holds them out to yours.

“Now be a good girl and go save the world.”

With a wink and flick of her wrist, YOUR world is suddenly being sucked backwards, and you watch as everything around you forms a cyclone not unlike water going down a drain, except this cyclone is pulling you back from your belly button in what feels like a never-ending roller coaster ride.

You wonder how long you can keep from being sick, as a swirl of scenes from the last year of your life overwhelm your senses. You try to shut them out, but you realize your eyes are already closed, so you clamp your mouth shut and hope this is all over soon.

Then you see something that stops your heart: bright white heat, rock, and you — with Eli. You WITH Eli. You’re flooded with the memory of his lips and hands and body on yours, with yours, in yours, and suddenly it’s not your stomach that feels about to burst, it’s your heart.

But that never happened! Did it? You think about your mom, and what she just did for you, and all you’ve ever learned about parallel planes and the space/time continuum, and then you think, holy shit! Does that mean I’m not a virgin anymore?

And that’s when your body slams into stone. Literally.

You open your eyes, but it takes a minute for them to adjust. You are in a small, dimly lit room made of stone. You look to see where the light is coming from, and notice a door made of bars. That’s when you see the figure huddled in the corner of the room, and suddenly 2 + 2 = 4.

Gainswitch! Oh. My. God. You scramble over to Eli, noticing what looks to be fresh whip marks along his bare back. Your mind flashes back to the scars you saw when you walked in on him… was that just earlier that night? It seems like a lifetime ago. Two lifetimes ago.

“Eli!” You whisper, reaching out to touch his arm — the only place you think might not hurt him. You realize you can’t turn him onto his back because of his injuries, but he seems unconscious, so you crawl over his body.

You can’t help but notice his skin is cooler to the touch than normal, even for him.

“Oh, Eli! Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You don’t even know why you’re apologizing, and you knew he had been through something horrible, but this? Your heart breaks for him. For a lost childhood full of torture and despair.

“Eli, wake up, come on, please, please, wake up. You’ve gotta wake up.” Your hands flutter over him nervously, wanting to touch, to hold, but not wanting to injure him further.

You brush the hair away from his face. It’s longer now. Or, you realize, it was longer back then. And for a moment you marvel at how hot he looks, even in here, and even with long hair.

You stroke his forehead, his cheeks, whispering, “Please, please wake up.” before you lower your head and touch your lips to his.

His eyelashes start to flutter open, and you hear a sound the makes you happier in this moment than you thought possible: his voice, scratchy from disuse.

“Mom?”

Okay, not exactly what you want to hear when you kiss your boyfriend. Is that even what he is? You decide you two should probably figure out what you are exactly, because these feelings of love you have toward him are really… intense.

But then Eli’s eyes focus on your face, and a look of surprise and delight cross his features. You can’t help the smile that overtakes your face in return; does he somehow, deep in his psyche, know you? Your lips meet his again, urgently this time, and he matches the intensity of the kiss, before his arms circle around you, and suddenly, you find yourself on your back on the cold stone, and Eli is on top of you, and you can feel the length of his body pressing against yours. And it feels good.

He stops kissing you, just for a second, and looks at your face. “I like this dream.” He whispers, but then his mouth is on yours again, and it takes a moment for you to register what he just said. When you do, you smile between kisses. He DOES know you! And also think how did he learn to kiss like this? Without breaking your increasingly fevered make out session, you murmur, “You dream… about me often… then?”

And that’s when his mouth slows over yours, and his body stops pressing needily against yours until he stills completely, your lips still touching.

“Wait…” he pulls his head back to look at you, “is this real?” and suddenly, he jerks back away from you and is sitting upright.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Wait, is this some kind of trick? What do you want?” The fact that he was recoiling from you would have been funny if he wasn’t, well, recoiling from you.

I guess he doesn’t know me, then. Well. Not yet.

“No. I would never trick you like that.” You pause, choosing your words carefully. “Eli… I’ve traveled from the future. My mother was a necromancer, and she sent me back to fix things… and somehow I ended up here.”

“We know each other in the future?” He reiterates more than questions, but you nod anyway. He smirks a moment, “In the carnal sense?”

You can’t seem to help the laugh that escapes you. “Possibly.”

You then explain everything that has happened in the last eight hours and how you ended up here, and Eli seems to take it all in stride, listening carefully.

“So,” you look at him. He really is in a terrible state. Your heart pangs for the pain he’s probably in. “We just need to… save the world.”

Eli laughs wryly. “And how do we do that?” He’s taken hold of your hand, and wether it’s for comfort, or because he does feel the same things you’re feeling, you don’t quite know. But you make a decision.

“Well, for starters, I’m going to apparate us out of here.” you tell him. You take in his appearance, and realize he needs more than healing to be able to pass unnoticed in your world. He needs a change of clothes.

“Let’s go back to my room.” You’re familiar enough with your room at home to be able to apparate the both of you there without any difficulty, and are only mildly embarrassed by the lace curtains and stuffed animals along one wall.

Eli gazes around himself in wonder, and you are reminded again that he grew up with walls of stone for a home. You take him into your bathroom and clean his wounds, soothing them with the healing potions the maid always keeps in stock, before sneaking into the laundry room for clothes from your dad.

As you take in Eli’s cleaned, well-dressed form, you can’t quell the quiver in your stomach, or the feeling of… pride… for just knowing him.

As he rolls up the sleeves of one of your dad’s blue button-down shirts, he asks gamely, “Okay, where to next?”

Related posts:

1. CYOA: If I Could Turn Back Time
2. CYOA: To find out what’s up with your ex-bestie, turn to page 123…
3. CYOA: if I could turn back time

Hey there, wizarding people! Did you get anything cool for Christmas? A new wand? A fancy hi-tech broom? Well, whatever you got, it’s probably not as good as what you received in Choose Your Own Adventure. And by that I mean, after you totally went and died, we gave you the chance to go back in time and try again! In other words, WE GAVE YOU A NEW LIFE. Try topping THAT, Santa Claus.

So now you’re back here, with Dace about to launch a killing curse at your dad… or Eli. Y’all chose to:

Wait just one second to see which direction Dace’s curse is headed, and fling yourself in its path. Maybe since you’re already dead you can stop a killing curse.

Let’s get this new life on the road! And don’t eff it up this time, ok?!

For the last few years, you’ve obsessed over controlling every tiny facet of your life. From perfectly applying mascara to each lash (only slobs use make-up spells) to finding the perfect charms to keep your clique in line, you’ve always understood that the devil lies in the details. But you’re still unprepared for how this one second– not even a blink of an eye, really– could totally and completely change everything.

As you see Dace’s curse explode out of his wand and towards Eli, you don’t hesitate to throw yourself in front of him. Which is sort of a surprise, actually. You’d planned on doing it for your father, of course, but for Eli? This boy you’ve only known a few days. This boy who has awakened your mind and your, well, lady parts more than anyone that you can remember. This boy who risked his life to find you and tell you the truth. This boy that you think you might love.

All of these thoughts speed through your head as the curse slams against your chest, and then everything stops. The force of Dace’s spell has flung you to the floor, and you lay there for a second, certain you’re dead. This is dying. This is death. You died young, but at least you died for someone you loved. And… huh. Nothing actually feels different. You’re not even in any real pain, except for the part of your ass that collided with the ground. Wow, this whole death thing is pretty underrated.

You open your eyes carefully, not sure what you’ll see. After all, church was never your thing, and you’re pretty sure that God isn’t too happy about that time sophomore year when you cast a spell on Cassandra Cale to make her gain 10 pounds overnight so she couldn’t fit in her homecoming dress that just happened to be the same one you were planning to wear. But as your eyes focus, you realize that everything really did stop. Dace is frozen, his face twisted in hatred, his wand still outstretched towards Eli. Your father, also frozen, looks on with a dazed expression that gives you a pang– why didn’t you notice sooner that he wasn’t being himself? And Eli, beautiful Eli, is staring at where you were standing, his features paralyzed with horror.

Ok, so is Freeze Tag part of the dying process or what? You slowly stand up, careful to make sure that you are in fact still in your body, and a bright ball of light suddenly appears next to where your dad stands, mid-stride through the door. Breath catching in your throat, you shield your eyes until the light dissipates and you see your mother. Your real mother. Charlotte Denueve.

Her beautiful faces breaks into a radiant smile as you run towards her. Even though you grew up without her, and hell, didn’t even really know about her existence until a few moments ago, falling into her arms feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh my darling girl,” she sighs, stroking your hair. You cling to her, inhaling the smell of her ginger perfume. That explains your ungodly love of ginger ale.

She pulls back and holds your face in both hands. “I always feared this day would come, and yet, I’ve always secretly hoped it would, just so I could see you again.”

“Am I… dead, mother? Are you here to take me away?” You’re simultaneously afraid of her response and relieved by her presence.

“Oh no, Tabitha. Quite the opposite, really. Although I am here to take you somewhere.” She gazes into your eyes and smiles sadly. “You see, when I raised you from the dead, when you were a child, I put a special protection spell into your blood. It’s old magic… very old, dark magic, passed down from your Necromancer ancestors.  And to be honest, I wasn’t sure it would work. But now we both know that it did! It worked perfectly!” She laughs and throws her arms around you.

You hug her back tightly, but you’re more confused than ever. “So, it protected me from being killed? Is it just a one time thing? And why… I mean, where did you come from? Where have you been?”

Your mother sighs softly and steps back to look you in the eye. “I wish we had more time– oh, Tabitha, I wish we had years, centuries to be together. And maybe we will, down the road. But for now, I must be brief. This protection spell only works once, and when it activated, it opened up a portal between your realm and mine.”

“You live in a different realm? What kind? How is that possible?” Your mind explodes with questions as you tighten your grip on your mother’s arm.

“Sweetheart, when magic is concerned, anything is possible. I pulled from the deepest depths of my ability to raise you and infuse you with this protection, and I traveled too far to the edge of dark magic. I couldn’t return.”

“But… you’re here now!” Your eyes fill with tears at the thought of your mother plunged into darkness for saving you. “You can stay with me!”

Her face softens as she grasps your shoulders. “No, Tabitha, I can’t. The spell brought me here not so that I could stay, but so that I could help you.”

You wipe your eyes, your mind reeling. “What do you mean, help me? What can you possibly do?”

She smiles, a quiet strength lining her features. “Oh honey, I can do many things.”

An idea flashes through your brain, startling in its intensity. “Can you…” You’re ashamed to form the words, because they’ll sound so ridiculous out loud. “Can you send me back in time? So I can fix things? So I can help Dad?”

Her grin widens, although her eyes have grown stormy. “Yes, Tabitha, I can. Time travel is tricky business, though. Your actions might not have the desired consequences.”

You nod. “I know, but I have to try. I have to save Dad… and Eli.” You didn’t realize you were going to say his name, but now that it’s out there, your whole body feels the truth of it. You have to help Eli.

You gaze at your mother’s face, soaking in every detail. You don’t want her to become a hazy memory again. “And after you send me, you have to leave, don’t you?”

“Yes, darling, I do.” Her eyes glisten as she hugs you and softly kisses you on the cheek. “But you don’t need me, Tabitha. You’re so strong– you don’t even realize how strong you are. And I’m so proud of you, my beautiful, beautiful daughter.”

You hold back the tears, trying to show her just how strong you can be. “How will I know how to fix it? What if I can’t?”

Your mother stares into your eyes, her face radiating with love. “You have such great depths of power, Tabitha. You must believe that you can find it. Find it and harness it and become the incredible wizard I know you are.”

You shake your head as she steps back, the light beginning to glow around her form.

Related posts:

1. finally, a chance to read and drink cocktails!

Welcome to Monday, adventurers! Yeah, so this adventure is fictional, but at least it’s more thrilling than facing down the crazies in the mall parking lot, or a dead week at work while everyone else is on vacation (unless you’re in retail, and in that case, my sincere apologies), right? So last week, Dace is still dead, y’all weren’t able to break your father out of his coma, you got busted by your (maybe evil?) stepmother, and now you and Eli are on the run from the wizard cops. By a clear margin, you voted to test your novice wizard skills — not with the time-traveling Unknowable Spell, but with

A: Attempt an apparition spell to get you and Eli to another location, far away?

So, why don’t we see how that’s working out for you?

You raise your wand and take a deep breath, but Eli grabs your arm. “Tabs, NO,” he orders. “NO time travel.”

“How did you even — oh, right. Get OUT of my head, Eli.” With all the crazy, you’d let your mental defenses drop. Dammit, time travel would have been SO much cooler, you can’t help but think. “Fine. Let’s go. Any ideas?” You grab his hand, since disjunctive apparation is totally beyond your skill. “The school?”

“The cops probably already have it surrounded. No, we need to go someplace –”

Whatever he was about to say is drowned out by shouts and pounding footsteps as the MOAT (Magical Operations and Tactics) team closed in on your position. Shit. They were good. You close your eyes, hold your breath and squeeze Eli’s hand. Safe. Remote. Unexpected. The image of a whirling portal comes into your head, and you jump.

*   *   *   *   *

WHAM. You hit the ground hard, then there’s a horrible crunching sound and you’re falling again. The second WHAM is even whammier, flat into brittle, poky rock.

Shaking, you open your eyes. Head, hands, feet — all present and all seem to belong to you. You look at Eli in the dim red light, and although he slumps to the ground the moment you let go of his hand, he’s got all his parts, too. That you can see, anyway. That thought makes you blush.

“Um. Eli? Are you ok?” Apparating isn’t very pleasant if you’re not used to it, and it’s particularly hard on piggybackers, or those who can’t apparate and have to jump with a wizard. But Eli’s stopped shaking, and isn’t on the ground anymore, but leans against the rough stone wall. It looks like you’re in a cave.

“Tabs, where are we?” Eli asks.

“Um, I’m not sure? It smells funny, like rotten eggs or sulphur or something. And that light — where’s it coming from? It’s so hot. I thought Iceland was supposed to be cold!”

“Iceland?!” Eli squeaks. You have to try not to laugh — it’s so funny hearing such a high-pitched noise come from such a well-built manchild. “You brought us to ICELAND?”

“Um, hello, not much help over there. First of all, it’s remote and totally unexpected. You didn’t expect it, did you? Second, it was the first thing that popped into my head. Those crazy MOAT guys were almost on us, you know. If you have any better suggestions, be my guest.”

“Iceland’s brilliant, Tabs. What’s NOT brilliant is being inside a freaking volcano. We have to find our way to the surface, and fast.”

“No problem, I’ll just apparate us out,” you shoot back. Do you have to do ALL the thinking around here? You know there was something about volcanoes in that “Wizarding and the Natural World” seminar you took last January, but you can’t quite put your finger on it … Then it hits you. A VOLCANO. “Did you just say VOLCANO? We can’t apparate out of a volcano! Something about the way the igneous rock conducts magic and turns it back on itself. We must have apparated onto a weak spot of ground above the volcano and fallen in or something. We have to find a way to climb back out!”

You run down the tunnel, but only get a few yards before you skid to a stop inches from a chasm. Eli’s right behind you, and you both turn back to try the other direction, but no dice. That way ends in a sharp drop into a boiling magma pool. Eli scrabbles at the sheer rock face he was just leaning against, but it crumbles away under his touch.

“Tabs,” Eli turns to you. “I don’t think — I mean, it looks like –” he trails off.

“Trapped. I know. I’m — I’m sorry.” You choke back tears, your voice is ragged.

“I never meant for things to end up this way.” He sounds raspy, thanks to the fumes that are making you lightheaded. It’d be sexy if you weren’t trapped in a volatile Icelandic volcano.

“Me neither.” Suddenly, you’re filled with heat, and it’s not just from the thousand-plus-degree molten rock threatening to extinguish your life. You realize you’re holding onto Eli’s shirt, and he’s trembling. If there was ever an inappropriate time for kissing, now would be it. But then again, if we’re going to die anyway, maybe this is the best time for kissing. You pull him closer and touch your lips to his. He responds instantly, hungrily, and pulls you down on the ground. His hands fumble with the straps of your sundress, and you’re surprised to discover yours are already caressing his smooth chest underneath his shirt. Moaning slightly, you shift a little on the scratchy rock, and with your teeth, lightly graze that place where his neck meets his shoulders, muscular in contrast with the hollow above his collarbone. The spaghetti straps break in Eli’s hands, and he pulls away.

“Oh, Gods. Tabitha, wait. This is the worst time to be doing this.”

“No, Eli. Eli, please. I don’t want to die a virgin.” Tears sting your eyes, and you suddenly feel so overwhelmed. Your whole life isn’t exactly flashing before your eyes, but you can’t turn off the pictures of your father lying next to Dace — lifeless Dace — on the floor, of your not-mother’s cruel face twisted in glee, of Dace with another boy, of all those times you knew how tenuous your social position really was. Struggling to keep from begging, you look hard into Eli’s dark green eyes. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, but now it’s too late. Please. I love you.”

Eli doesn’t answer, at least not in words, but his eyes darken and he crushes your lips with his. The stubble starting on his face scratches your chin, but you don’t care. All you can think about is kissing him back, getting as close as you can. Suddenly even your thin clothes are too much space between your bodies, and you break away long enough to pull them off. You swallow a bitter laugh when you fleetingly wonder if Eli has a condom, then realize you don’t exactly need one now. His skin, usually the cool of granite or shady grass like most necromancers’ skin, is burning hot. So smooth against your own skin, and you can’t stop running your hands over him — down his strong back, feeling every little scar from Gainschwitz, and over his butt. Good lord, that towel earlier really was a crime against humanity. You wrap your legs around him, kissing his lips, his neck, his shoulders, and you’re dimly aware of a deep rumble. Eli pins your hands to the ground beside your head and you feel the stone beneath you shaking, but Eli’s body is pressing against yours and even though there’s pain, you can only think, “More.” He pulls his head back a little to look at your face, and then, it’s crazy but he smiles. Smiles a wide, wild, dimpled grin, and your heart flips and he whispers, “I love you, too.” You almost can’t hear it — the rumbling is getting louder and louder and you can’t tell if the heat blooming in your body is coming from the volcanic rocks or from inside you and …

… then the rock under your back splits open and you both plunge, entwined, into the white-hot magma below.

Whoops! You’re dead! Luckily, you don’t have to be a wizard to turn back time in CYOA. Using a random number generator, you get to turn back to this chapter and choose again! Dace is aiming a killing spell, but you don’t know if it’s at your dad or at Eli. Last time you chose “C: Cast a stun spell at Dace. And hope it hits him before he finishes his killing curse,” so that one’s off the table. Choose wisely, adventurers!

Related posts:

1. CYOA: To blow up this joint, turn to page 301.
2. CYOA: I got an F in Flying
3. CYOA: Et Tu Everyone?

Welcome back adventurers! We are officially 13 days away from Christmas, which (in case you aren’t as amazing at math as I am) puts us exactly one day away from it being 12 days before Christmas. Which, I suppose doesn’t exactly mean anything, since the REAL 12 days of Christmas begins on Christmas day. But 12 days before Christmas is about the time I start panicking because not only have I purchased approximately zero presents, I haven’t even thought about gifts. Like, nothing in mind for anyone. But don’t worry, I’ve trained everyone I know to have low expectations by being late on presents for years. You should try it! But you know who probably has all of her Christmas ducks in a row? Tabitha Whitley! So let’s check in and see how she’s doing.

Last week Tabs/you accidentally killed your secretly evil, secretly gay ex-boyfriend. And Dace’s death has magically triggered your dad to fall into a fugue state. You asked Eli to use his necromancer powers and raise Dace (because, I mean, who wants to be a murderer?) He refused and you (by a very slim margin) have chosen to:

B. Begrudgingly agree with Eli that raising Dace is not a good idea, and work on reversing the spell on your dad instead?

So let’s begin!

You’re shocked that Eli has refused to raise Dace. In fact, it has been so long since someone has told you no that you’re a bit stunned. You’re about to argue with him until the thought of it all hits you with a chill. Raise someone from the dead? In the last couple of years, you’ve worked tirelessly to control every situation, from who you dated and hung out with to obsessively controlling what others think of you and your image. But bringing someone back from the dead? That’s playing God. When did you become this person who could even consider something that drastic?

“Look Eli, you’re right…about Dace. Maybe it’s better we leave him as is. But Eli, what do I do? I killed him! I killed Dace!” You choke on those last words as you say them. Without Eli raising Dace, there is really no way you are getting out of this situation.

“Look Tabs, the way I see it, you have two choices. The first is to turn yourself in. You were acting in self defense. But that isn’t going to matter much when you killed the son of one of the most important members of the Counsel. Your only witness is an ex-criminal necromancer. The wizarding justice system is complete sham on a good day. But this deck is completely stacked against you.” You can hear the bitterness in his voice as he says this. If anyone knows firsthand how bogus the wizarding court system is, it would be Eli.

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison…so what is option 2?”

“We get rid of the body.” Eli says, without a hint of humor in his voice.

“We get rid of the body! But how? Oh god…” you can hardly believe you are having this conversation. You wish you could go back to the beginning of this night. Your biggest concern then was trying to figure out how to play it cool in front of the perpetually towel clad Eli. Now you know your mother isn’t your mother, your dad is in a catatonic state and you’re discussing how to dispose a dead body. When did you life become of those dark indie films Dru loves to make you watch?

“I learned quite a few things during my time at Gainschwitz. It’s very hard to pin someone down for murder charges when there’s no body. And there are certain spells that can help with…the disposal.”

Unsure if you can stomach exactly whatever those spells entail, you find yourself stalling. “Look, let’s worry about Dace later. There has got to be something we can do to help my dad. Remove the spell or reserve whatever has been done to him. Besides, if we can get him back to normal, he will know what to do about Dace.”

“That’s a good point” Eli agrees. “But we have to hurry.”

You run over to were your dad is slumped over on the ground. You lift his head up and rest it in your lap. His eyes are open, but glazed over. You point your wand toward his chest. “Revealious!” you shout. Nothing happens. “Damn,” you mutter. Revealious may be only a high school level spell, but it is supposed announce what type of enchantment is being used on the target. Usually it’s highly effective. Which means whatever is doing this to your father is seriously dark magic.

“I can’t even tell what spell has been used on him, much less how to reverse it!” you find yourself whining. You silently curse your school’s policy toward the dark arts. Your Anti-Dark Magic class doesn’t teach you any dark spells, or their specific counter curses. It’s been a pretty heated debate during the last decade and a half. During the 90s, wizarding kids were taught safe practice of some dark magics. The theory was that it was better to prepare them – that kids would seek out dark magic on their own and hurt themselves if they weren’t taught how to both use and counter dark magic on their own. In 2000, the overwhelming majority of those appointed to the counsel were those who took a much more conservative approach toward dark arts. As such, every Anti-Dark Magic class you’ve ever had in school has taught you practically nothing. Most lessons consist of your Anti-Dark Magic Professor telling you over and over again the horrors of practicing dark magic and that you should avoid it at all costs. Great in theory, but not exactly helping you out when Dark Magic is used against you.

“It’s going to take some serious time, and some serious research, to even figure one what spell was used against my dad. And then who knows if I’ll even be able to counter it!” You desperately wish you had someone older and more experienced around to help you. Whatever the Shaws used against your dad is completely out of your depth.

Suddenly you hear an audible gasp behind you. You turn around to see your mother, err “mother”, starring at the scene laid out before her. “Mom!” you shout. “Something has happened to Dad, you’ve got to help us!”

“Tabitha!” she shrieks. “What on earth have you done to Dace? Do you realize who his father is? The Shaws will destroy us! You have ruined this family!”

“But mom!” you yell, unsure of what to call the woman who raised you. “It was self-dense. Dace was attacking Dad! I had to do something. And now he’s in trouble. Please help me reverse whatever spell is on him. Once Dad is back to normal, he can straighten everything out.”

“There is no possible way your father can fix this. He is a weak man. Always has been, always will be. Your existence is proof enough of that. I’m calling the wizarding authorities. I wash my hands of this.” And before you can utter so much as a “wait”, you mother has disappeared with a pop. Tears begin filling your eyes. Dace is dead, your Dad is in a seemingly irreversible fugue state and your mother (or at least, the women you had always believed to be your mother) is about to betray you to the wizard cops.

Suddenly Eli is pulling your arm. “Come on, we need to get out of here. There is no time.” You both run through the house, outside past the partygoers and straight into the woods. You sprint for a few minutes until you are exhausted and out of breath. You can hear the sounds of sirens in the distance and find yourself collapsing in a heap of tears and self pity. Eli tries to pull you back to a standing position.

“Tabs. We have to get out of here. Running isn’t going to cut it. I need to you to perform an apparition spell.”

“But…I’m not licensed yet! It could be dangerous!”

“Tabs, I know you. You may not act like it, but you’re one of the most talented wizards around. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you. And, I’m sorry to say, it’s not like we have much of a choice.”

You think about it. Eli is right, there isn’t much choice. Well, there are a couple of choices, but none of them seem very safe. And yet, you find your thoughts driafting back to the Unknowable Spell.

Don’t forget to let us know in the comments why you picked what you did. We love to hear what you all are thinking!

Related posts:

1. CYOA: if I could turn back time
2. CYOA: Et Tu Everyone?
3. CYOA: Tabitha Whitley, P.I.

Happy Monday, Adventurers!  Guess what!  I went to Niagara Falls this weekend!  That is a place where there are lots of casinos and some water that falls off a cliff into a river below.  Also, a Hard Rock Cafe AND a Planet Hollywood are there.  That’s how you know it’s fancy.

I kid, I kid.  I had a great weekend!  But now it’s time to be back at work.  Ugh.  WORK.  At least we have an Adventure to keep us going!

Last week, with Dace threatening to kill either your dad or Eli, you chose: Cast a stun spell at Dace. And hope it hits him before he finishes his killing curse.  Cross your fingers!  And remember that I like to kill people!  (In fiction only, obvs!)

“Incapacitus!” you fling the stun spell at Dace, overcompensating for the primary school wand you’re using, not to mention the sheer hate you feel. 

The spell works too well – Dace, incapacitated by your stunning spell, teeters back on his heels.  It seems to take a lifetime for him to fall back and hit his head sharply against the wall, yet time folds in on you when you see the bright red blood gushing out onto the floor.

“Shit!” you yelp, and before you even finish your thought, you are on your knees shaking Dace desperately.  The guy is a dick, but he doesn’t deserve to die.  And you certainly don’t want to be a killer.  It’s going to be hard enough campaigning for Homecoming Queen now that you know you’re a half-necro hybrid freak, but you really can’t see the student body crowning a girl who accidentally offed her secretly-gay, super-evil boyfriend.  So Dace simply cannot die, and that’s all there is to that.

“Tabs . . . ” Eli mutters your name, kindly but with a hint of nerves beneath his voice.  “I think we should probably move him.  Someone could come along soon.”

Move him?  Like, cover it all up?  Tell everyone that Dace went on a spontaneous holiday to his favorite little condo in South Beach – really, how could you have been so obtuse? – without letting anyone know?  No.  Absolutely not.  Well . . . No.  Absolutely not.

“Eli, here is what is going to happen,” you direct through gritted teeth.  Copping an attitude feels natural and you stop to ponder that you used to boss everyone around all the time, and that only a few days ago, you were ruling the school.  It feels like thirteen weeks ago, you think to yourself.

Snapping back, you glare at Eli.  “You’re going to raise Dace, and you’re going to do it really fucking fast.  We can move him to the laundry room.  My father can help,” you add, glancing over at your father.  Seeing him makes you draw a sharp breath.  Your father’s eyes have started to film over and his breathing has slowed to an almost imperceptible pace.  You don’t understand.  It looks as if he’s dying.

Could Dace have managed to send out the killing curse before being stunned?  But no, you’ve seen the killing curse in action (a particularly nasty neighborhood boy used to boast that he mastered the killing curse on ants and other pests; it was not a surprise when he was later arrested and sent to Gainschwitz for killing his grandmother); the recipient of the curse always instantly drops dead.  This, this slow fading action, is something different.

“What’s happening to my dad,” you whisper, unaware of how broken you sound until Eli puts a supporting hand on your shoulder.  For a moment you lean in to him, wishing that you could perform the Unknowable Spell, a spell rumored to allow you to turn back time.  No one in recorded history had ever mastered it before, though, and you knew it was a spell far out of the reaches of a teenager.

“Maybe-” Eli, broke off, clearly reticent to share his theory and cause you further pain.  “Maybe the spell that Dace’s father cast on your dad had a caveat of some kind, something that we just accidentally triggered somehow.”

“Like an insurance policy,” you say slowly, realization dawning.  “So that if something bad happened to Phinaes Shaw – or his son – my dad would be the one to suffer.”

“It’d be a way of exerting power over the other members of the Council,” Eli agreed.  “If even one decided that Shaw had grown too powerful, if one of them tried to kill off Shaw, they’d risk trapping all of your father’s secrets at the same time.  But he just never assumed that Dace might meet his end accidentally.”

“He didn’t,” you answer.  “I killed Dace – he died by manevolent force.  Maybe it was an accident, but it was still my spell.  Still my fault.”

Eli shakes you impatiently.  “Don’t be stupid.  It’s not your fault!  You were only trying to protect your father . . . and me.”  He ends his statement softly, as if he has suddenly realized just what you did for him.  His eyes warm, and his hand, no longer comforting but thrilling, travels down to your waist.  He leans in to kiss you, his lips barely open . . .

“But it’s okay,” you interrupt, in a falsely cheerful, determined voice.  “It’s okay, because you’re going to fix everything.”

Eli sits back, and for a moment you catch a glimpse of something in his eyes, a wild sort of need that you find disquieting, before his features shift, making his face a question mark of raised eyebrows and an incredulous smirk.  “How exactly am I going to do that?”

“Simple,” you reply, feeling pretty ingenious.  “You’re going to raise Dace back to life.  That way the curse on my dad gets reversed, I don’t have to spend the rest of my life feeling guilty about killing someone, and Dace gets his life back, so that he can spend it being as awful as he usually is.  But alive.  Alive awful is always better than dead awful.”

You’re pleased with your plan.  It isn’t perfect, of course – you still need to figure out a way to get your dad out from Mr Shaw’s control, plus stop the Council from creating a race of necro-wizard hybrids, plus parlay your success in saving your classmates into a bid for both Homecoming AND Prom Queen, plus at least try to hit third base with Eli sometime within the next century – but it’s a start.  Which is why you’re so gobsmacked at Eli’s reply.

“No.”  He states it flatly, and not a little dismissively, as if he won’t even consider the option.

“But . . . but you have to!” you sputter.  “Dace is evil, but he doesn’t deserve to die.  And my dad, he definitely doesn’t deserve . . . whatever this is.  And you’re a necromancer,” you point out, exasperated.  “This is what you do.”

“Listen, Tabs,” Eli replies, not unkindly.  “You don’t get it.  When I raised my mom – she’s . . . she’s great, really.  But she’s young.  Forever.  She doesn’t age; she can’t count the passing of time on her face.  It sounds like a dream life, but people need to age.  They need to grow, to complete.  She’s stuck, forever, because of me.  I won’t ever do that to a person again.  It isn’t right.”

“What’s not right is you refusing to do what you were born to do.  This is all because you don’t like Dace and you’re glad that he’s dead.”  You toss off the words imperiously and a little snidely, and the accusations sound silly, even to you.  So you’re more than a little surprised to see that your words hit home.

“Maybe that’s true too,” Eli confesses.  “I’m not going to raise your little boyfriend, just so that he can continue to work against my people.  And you know? Your dad isn’t exactly blameless in all of this either!  I don’t see a problem with letting him sit it out in this fugue state until I can fix everything that he and his precious Council have screwed up.  I’m not doing it, Tabs.”

Related posts:

1. CYOA: Et Tu Everyone?
2. CYOA: Better Off Dead
3. CYOA: Tabitha Whitley, P.I.

Greetings, Adventurers!  I hope you all had a restful weekend full of giving and receiving thanks, not to mention delicious food.  Or do.  Yes, do mention delicious food, often and with pride.  I myself enjoyed many delicious dishes, but most importantly, a bourbon pecan pie, which  had just the right amount of bourbon and pecans, and maple syrup in the pie part.  But I digress.  Last week, our smokin’ hot Necromancer friend laid a bomb on us that we have yet to diffuse, by telling us he was supposed to make sure we were dead, so you all chose to:

B. Pull out the wand you know Daphne keeps tucked by the washbin for stain emergencies and point it at Eli

So let’s put on our adventure panties and pull out that wand!  Er…

“What the fuck?” comes out of you mouth at the same time that you complete your first wordless spell, calling the wand you knew Daphne kept hidden under the wash bin to your grasp.  Even though you know this is the wand you used to use in primary school, and not nearly as fine-tuned as your current wand, you still revel in its solid feel as you point it at the boy with whom, not too long ago, you were much more interested in pursuing activities of a carnal nature.

“What?!” Eli lifts both his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“What?’ you echo. Why is he asking questions, when he was the one who pretty much just told you he was going to kill you?

“No. I’m — you don’t ask questions!” There. But what to do now? “Explain yourself.” You mentally pat yourself on the back for how much you sound like Professor MacDougall.

“What?” he repeats.

“Did I stutter?”

You are one smooth witch. Which feels really good after everything that’s happened tonight with your boyfriend and father.

Realization dawns on Eli’s face, and he shakes his head. “No, no, Tabs,” he offers his hands in supplication. “You misunderstand me.”

“How do I misunderstand you being sent to kill me?”

“I never said that.” he replies. “I was speaking, thinking that you had seen what I know happened in that meeting.” He paused, looking for recognition in my face. “With your dad… why they’ve cast a spell on him…”
I thought back to what I had seen at the Order meeting, but kept my wand trained on Eli’s face. I had used the petrificous acnerious spell before, and was not afraid to use it again. Painful pustules erupting on one’s face is a bigger distraction than you might think.

“Did they talk about you being… different than the other witches and wizards?” You nod at his question.

“Tabitha,” Eli meets your eyes and you see… is there longing there? “Your mother was a necromancer. From a long line of necromancers. You were cursed when you were only 5-years old, and she raised you. It’s because of your combined wizard and necromancer blood that being dead didn’t stop you from growing and being able to live a normal life…”

He may have continued talking, but suddenly, you were in a tunnel, and the walls of it closed around you, and you were floating up, up and back, away from all of this. One image was stable in your mind. That of a woman, a beautiful woman, with hair like yours and the same chin, instead of the blonde, blue-eyed ice princess that had raised you. Raised you. Ha. Your mother was a necromancer.

HOLY SHIT. Your mother was a necromancer!

Suddenly, your eyes opened to see Eli in a crouch over you, his arms wrapped around your head. Why were you lying on the floor? And where was that wand?

“You… you fell…” was that panic on Eli’s face? And did you just faint?!!!! You were dead. And your mother raised you. And somehow now you were growing like a normal girl, and living and feeling all the things a normal girl would feel.

You grab Eli’s head in your hands and bring his face to yours, crashing lips and tongues and teeth, needing, yearning, feeling. You suddenly need affirmation that you are, indeed alive, and when his soft lips are on yours, demanding — both gentle and unyielding — you feel really, really alive.

Finally, but all too soon, Eli pulls back, so his lips are barely touching your own, his breath ragged. “Tab…” he pulls your bottom lip between his and gently tugs before releasing you again.

And then, as much as you would rather just stay on the laundry room floor making out with this ridiculously hot boy, the gravity of the situation comes crashing down around you.

“The contract!” You blurt out. “The one my dad signed! That’s why they’ve been controlling him! Dace must be working for his father to get the contract which will mean…” What exactly would it mean?

Eli answers your unspoken question. “Using necromancers to help cast spells that would make all young witches and wizards into necromancer hybrids like you.”

“But that’s crazy!” You sputter. “If my mom was a necromancer, then I have it in my blood! The rest of the kids… they might not survive something like that!”

Eli nods gravely. “Which is why I was sent to make sure you were who everybody thought you were.”

“And who is that?” Right now you just realized that the witch you thought was your mother was just an imposter and your real mother was someone you barely had a memory of.

“The daughter of Charlotte Denueve. One of the most talented and famous necromancers of her age.”

“But… what happened to her? Where is she?” You suddenly question everything you’ve ever known. Your father always did seem to be longing for something… or someone.

“She disappeared shortly after she allegedly raised you from the dead… We don’t know.” Eli looked at me apologetically.

Well, you’d just have to think about that tomorrow. Right now, you had to stop Dace from getting that contract to his father. “I’m going after Dace.”

“Tabs, wait,” Eli’s hand on your wrist is both cool and hot at the same time. You glance down at it before meeting his eyes. “What can I do to help?” he asks, causing you to smile.

“Well,” you’re not really sure what you’re going to do, yourself. “Come with me, and we’ll figure it out as we go?” You wish your voice hadn’t gone up at the end of that sentence, making it a question.

Eli nods, and the two of you make your way back to the main floor, searching for any sign of Dace, the gargantu-nad who was not only cheating on you, but had been in on betraying the whole wizarding race — and using your own father to do it.

Thankfully, you don’t have to look far. Dace has his overnight bag at his feet, and is shrugging into his robes at the back door. You gesture to Eli to stay hidden, before you approach Dace.

“Baby?” You internally cringe at the nickname he always used, but figure you’ve got to pull out all the stops for this mission.

It works. Dace turns to you, his face stricken. “Hey.”

You remember what Dru said to you about Dace’s pre-emptive damage control. “I talked to Dru. I’m sorry I stormed out on you without giving you time to explain.” You almost choke on the bile that this lie brings to your throat. “So I’m glad I found you…” you try to give him your most coy look, “Don’t go. Let’s talk.” You reach out for him.

Dace, to his credit, acts like this is exactly what he wants to hear.

“Oh babe,” He reaches out and tucks your hair behind your ear. “I’m so sorry.” Yeah right, you think. Somebody doesn’t accidentally start having gay sex. It’s not like he fell off his broom and onto Adam Voltaire’s wand.

But you prudently keep this thought to yourself.

“But, I gotta go.” He looks really sad. If you didn’t know he was such a liar, you might believe the act.
Before you can respond, two things happen simultaneously: your dad stumbles through the door, obviously affected by whatever spell they’ve got him under, and Eli steps around the corner, addressing Dace, “Tabs asked you to stay.”

You see Dace going for his wand at the same time you reach for the old one you tucked into the waistband of your pants.

You recognize the words forming on Dace’s lips: “Abbra Kedabra” —  The forbidden spell. The killing spell. But he’s pointing at your father with one hand and Eli with the other –

After you vote, be sure to let us know why and how you voted in the comments!

Related posts:

1. CYOA: Et Tu Everyone?
2. CYOA: Magic school is now in session
3. CYOA: Tabitha Whitley, P.I.

Hey wizarding people! It’s Monday! And I still can’t get that image of Renesmee’s face out of my mind! Hopefully, some Choose Your Own Adventure magic will do the trick. Last week, you got a LOT of heart-pounding action, both of the sexy variety (thanks, Eli!) and oh-shizz variety, when your dad and Dace almost discovered you in the your father’s office. After your dad handed Dace a contract, something metallic spilled out of it, and y’all chose to…

D. Grab an envelope from your father’s desk to stash the trinket in and get the heck out of there. You can ask questions later, in a safer place.

In the words of Marvin Gaye, let’s get it on!

As your father and Dace’s footsteps fade into silence, you and Eli remain frozen to the ground, both staring at the brass teardrop. You’re keenly aware of the warmth of his body, and your lips are still tingling from the rough, hungry feel of his mouth. It would be so easy to close the five inch distance separating him from you… but, ok, seriously, WHAT is that gleaming gold thing?

Impressed by the triumph of your curiosity over your hormones (or is it your soft spot for shiny things?), you spring up, grab an envelop from your dad’s desk and kneel down to gently scoop up the metal piece, careful not to touch it with your skin. Eli is immediately by your side, his breath softly caressing your ear. “Tabs, seriously, make sure your skin doesn’t–”

“Dude, I KNOW.” You’re tired of feeling so ignorant, so powerless, and this thing, whatever it is, seems like it might be the key to regaining the upper hand you’ve come to enjoy. After coaxing the object into the envelope, you carefully fold it, then tuck it… mother of a salamander,  you’re still in your bikini. Where can a girl get some pants around here? “Eli, laundry room, STAT.”

You quickly tiptoe out of the office, but suddenly, Eli’s not behind you anymore. Releasing an exasperated sigh, you poke your head in the door and find him staring at the creepy portrait of your great-grandmother. “Yes, her eyes DO follow you around the room,” you whisper. “Can we please get out of here?”

“She just looks… really familiar.” Eli trails off, and when he still doesn’t make a move, you grab his hand and haul him out of the office. “Let’s take the servants’ stairs. There’s no way my dad or Dace would set foot in there.”

Still tightly gripping Eli’s hand (which is warm, but not meaty or sweaty like Dace’s, thank god), you quietly hustle down the stairs, then take the left corridor and inhale the clean scent of laundry. Sure, magic would make it faster, but your mom’s a sucker for that fresh smell, so she makes Daphne do it the old fashioned way. And– wait a second– did your dad just call her Melba? The woman who, for the last 20 years, has cleaned his house and given him pumpkin brandy when your mom wasn’t looking? Yeah, there is definitely someone messing with his head.

You walk into the spacious laundry room and nod at Eli to close the door. Unlike your bedroom, this isn’t likely to attract drunken party-goers or cheating boyfriends. Plus, you can finally put something over your skimpy suit! And Eli can… hmm, maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Too late, you see him pull down a pair of your father’s pants from the hanger and artfully pull them on under his towel, not even giving you a glimpse of… anything. You hold back a sigh, unfold one of your mom’s sundresses and slip it on.

Actually clothed, you turn your attention back to the envelope, which you placed on the folding table. Eli is staring at it with an intensity you thought was reserved for, well, you. “So…” you ask, “what is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Eli replies, finally looking back at you. “But my mom might know. We could take it to her when we get back to school.”

“No!” you say, more sharply than you intended. “It’s just that… Eli, I can’t wait that long. My dad is, like, possessed, and you’re still all Mr. Cryptic, and what the hell was that contract for?”

Eli’s eyes shift downward. “I have no idea.”

He’s lying. Why is he lying? Your temper flaring, you throw caution to the wind and pick up the envelope, dropping the brass teardrop into your palm.

“Tabitha, NO!” Eli, eyes wide, lunges toward you, but you quickly move to the other side of the table. The teardrop is has begun to glow in your palm, and suddenly you’re in the Elder Room of the Order of the Phoenix. Justice Shaw sits at the head of the table, flanked by your father, Uncle Gus, Emilia Fitzroy (Dru’s mother) and the other council members. You inhale, wondering how the eff you’re going to explain your appearance, when you realize that they haven’t noticed you. Or, rather, they don’t *see* you. Which is probably a good thing, cos your hair is a MESS.

“Friends, I think we can all agree that this course of action is in our best interest,” Justice Shaw’s deep voice confidently rolls across the room. Everyone nods… except your father.

“You know I can’t agree to this,” he says, looking graver than you’ve ever seen him. “I’m no fan of the Necromancers, but taking matters into our own hands like this… doing magic on our very own genes… it reeks of evil.”

“Now, Walter,” Emila coos, staring down your father, “You’re just saying that because your daughter won’t have to be changed. Not all of us are cursed, I mean, lucky enough to have Necromancer blood in our family line.”

You gasp, then clap your hand over your mouth before you realize, again, that you can’t be heard. Necromancer blood? But… you come from one of the purest wizard families in history. How did this…?

Uncle Gus pats your father on the hand. “Walt, you’ve got nothing to worry about! Tabitha is already perfect! It’s only fair that we give other children the chance to attain her level of power.” He chuckles jovially, and you wonder why you never noticed the sinister gleam in his eye.

“But this hasn’t been properly tested. We could be putting so many children at risk.” Your father looks around the table and, finding no support, wearily rubs his eyes with his hand.

“We’re better off without the weaker families!” Justice Shaw pounds his fist on the table, clearly running out of patience with your father. “Our powers have been diluted for far too long, while the Necromancers have only grown in power. And if you don’t sign this contract, Walter, you, and only you, will be held responsible for the downfall of our society.”

Bile rises in your throat, and at the same time, you want to throw your arms around your brave, defiant father. The room begins to waver and shift, and you make a final scan of the room, noting the council secretary, her wand dipping into a goblet of golden liquid…

The smell of laundry hits you before Eli’s face appears, his eyes searching yours. “Tabitha, Tabitha! What did you see?”

“I… I was at the Order…” You mumble, your brain dizzy from the scene you just witnessed. “I think… this stone is part of a recording device the secretary uses. It’s part of her notes from a meeting about the contract… about…”

“About making a master Wizard Necromancer race.” Eli states in a strangely flat tone.

“Yes, but… how… how did you know?” You step back, overwhelmed not just by the Order’s actions but by Eli’s knowledge of them. “And why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” Eli says, his eyes gone dark, “I’m supposed to make sure you’re dead.”

After you rock the vote, make sure you explain yourself in the comments!

Related posts:

1. CYOA: I got an F in Flying
2. CYOA: Is that a wand in your pocket?
3. CYOA: Papa Don’t Preach, I’m In Trouble Deep

Good morning, fellow sufferers! Yes, it’s Monday morning, and while we may not get to choose the time we wake up or what brand of coffee is in the break room, we DO get to choose our own adventures. Last week, we got a little closer to the truth of who to trust (no one, not even our best friend and erstwhile boyfriend) and a whole lot closer to the naked chest of one smokin’ necromancer, and y’all overwhelmingly chose to take Dace out with a spell and get to your dad’s office before Dace can go snooping around for his father’s benefit. Just what is Justice Shaw after, anyway? Pull out your wands and let’s find out!

“Seriously, Dad, do you want me to do this or not?” Dace nearly shouts, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Then let me go!” He clicks off his phone, and as he shoves it into his shoulder bag (seriously, he carries a purse. How did you never notice this before?), you’re suddenly white hot angry. Before he can fasten the buckle on his designer leather messenger pouch, you aim your wand at him and mutter a quick incapacitus spell, and Dace drops to the ground, unconscious.

“Serves you right, you son of a bitch,” you snarl, then run back toward the house. You’ve taken two steps before you remember Eli and are torn between irritation at another squandered makeout opportunity and the fact that you even thought about making out with him. As if he heard your thoughts (and the way this night is going, he probably did), Eli — and his towel — is right behind you. “Eli! What are you doing?”

“Tabs, you don’t even know what you’re looking for. Let me help.” He’s right, you know he’s right, but you also know he’s hiding something. Who will he really be helping, you or the rebellious necromancers? All you know is you’re tired of questions and are ready for action, so you just shrug and keep walking toward the terrace. Eli can follow you if he wants, and you probably wouldn’t be able to stop him anyway.

“Tabs!” You turn toward the female voice, hoping you’re sending out “polite but very busy and important hostess” vibes. “Great party! Wooo!!” the girl hollers, waving her red Solo cup in the air. You just smile and waggle your fingers (who was that, anyway?) before speeding through the open sliding-glass doors, Eli close on your heels. A few curious whispers and giggles drift in from outside before he slides the door shut and follows you down the hall to your dad’s office.

Outside the door, you stop and cast your favorite auricus aperto spell to make sure the office is empty. Just thinking about crossing the threshold makes your stomach twist and your heart pound. You can’t hear anything inside, so you turn the knob and push the door open, keeping the spell active so you can listen for anyone coming. It’s dark and hot in there, and smells like leather and newsprint and Auggie, your dad’s 12-year-old border collie. The tip of your wand glows as you peer around. Everything looks like you remembered — there’s a tower of papers on the desk, a few books stacked on the table by the cold fireplace, several empty glasses and teacups, the portrait of your great-grandmother that gave you nightmares as a small girl and still makes you break out in a cold sweat. How are you even going to begin?

Eli brushes past you, heading straight for the desk. He riffles through the scattered papers, quickly turns to the file drawers and just as quickly shuts them again. He marches to the fireplace and holds out his hands, and the empty hearth briefly glows green. “Nothing,” he mutters, and shakes his head. You stop him just as he’s turning toward the bookshelves.

“Wait! Do you know what you’re looking for, either?” you whisper.

“No, I just … I HAVE to know it when I see it,” he whispers back.

“Stop moving. Just stand still. I’m going to try to see if anything seems out of place.” You close your eyes and concentrate on the feelings deep within the walls and furnishings of the room. In your memory, you bring up your dad — how he sounds, looks, feels — and you focus on the uneasy feeling you’ve had lately when you’ve been around him, searching for that same sense of not-quite-right in the room. The air feels suddenly hotter, and you open your eyes to find you’re staring straight into Eli’s glittering green eyes. He grabs your arms and shoves you back against the wall and before you know it, his lips are pressed against yours and your hands are tangled in his dark curls. Eli slides his hands down your arms to your waist, sending fiery tingles through your belly. His mouth is hot and urgent on your lips, your neck, your collarbone. Gasping, you wrap your arms around him to pull him closer and feel the ridges of his scars rough on the soft skin of your forearms. “Eli,” you groan, but he just kisses you harder, pressing his whole body against yours and you forget what you were going to say anyway. Dizzy, you start to sink toward the floor, pulling him down on top of you and inadvertently loosening his towel. You reach down to tug it off — why is this terrycloth nuisance in the way now! — when the sound of footsteps outside the office door shatters the moment. Your eyes fly open and you and Eli crawl behind the nearest piece of furniture, a disgustingly ostentatious leather wingback loveseat, just as the door opens and the lights come on.

“Mr. Shaw, of course!” your father booms, clapping Dace on the back. “Anything for my girl, and by extension you.” Horrified, you watch their feet — one clad in boat shoes and one in frat-boy flip flops — move toward the coffee table in front of your hiding place. “Let me see … it was right here. That’s odd, I don’t remember putting that folder on the table … hm. Must have been Melba, though I’ve told her a thousand times not to clean in here. … Hmm … letter of intent … no … desegregation … amicus brief … ah! Here you are, my boy. The contract, all signed in blood, haha!” As he hands a long scroll to Dace, a gleaming brass teardrop the size of a marble drops to the carpet, but neither Dace nor your father notices and they leave you and Eli in the dark once again.

You scramble up and reach for the little brass object, but Eli stops you. “Don’t touch it! You don’t know what it might be!” he cautions.

Do you:

Vote above, but tell us your thoughts in the comments!

Related posts:

1. CYOA: I got an F in Flying
2. CYOA: Et Tu Everyone?
3. CYOA: Papa Don’t Preach, I’m In Trouble Deep