The Unlikely Heroes Read online

  Sarah Noffke

  Michael Anderle

  This book is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © 2019 Sarah Noffke & Michael Anderle

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US Edition, August 2019

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-64202-418-0

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64202-419-7

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Sarah’s Author Notes

  Michael’s Author Notes

  Acknowledgments

  Books By Sarah Noffke

  YA Dystopian Fantasy

  Books By Michael Anderle

  Connect with The Authors

  The Unlikely Heroes Team

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Deb Mader

  Dorothy Lloyd

  Jeff Eaton

  Nicole Emens

  Crystal Wren

  Jeff Goode

  Peter Manis

  Larry Omans

  Angel LaVey

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  The Skyhunter Editing Team

  For Trudy.

  The first day we met, you called me a tiger.

  Still my favorite college class ever. And the one that flamed my fire for writing.

  — Sarah

  To Family, Friends and

  Those Who Love

  to Read.

  May We All Enjoy Grace

  to Live the Life We Are

  Called.

  — Michael

  Chapter One

  Peggy Reynolds didn’t love anything as much as her guinea pig, Zippers. He had always been there for her. When her husband left her for some tramp he met in Piccadilly Circus, Zippers had cheered her up with his silly antics. When the landlord had refused to fix the furnace this really cold winter, Zippers had tried to help keep her warm with cuddles. And when the doctor told her that she better lose weight or her health would suffer, Zippers hadn’t judged her when she came home straight away and ate an entire package of chocolate-covered donuts.

  A loyal pet was more important than all the riches, fame, and beauty in the world, Peggy thought.

  She’d just finished Zippers’ first brushing of the morning when the doorbell rang.

  “I’m not expecting anything. Are you?” she asked the guinea pig.

  He wiggled his nose as if in reply.

  Peggy hurried for the door, wondering if Fred was back. Or maybe the landlord had come to apologize. Smoothing down her hair, she took a deep breath and pulled open the door.

  A delivery man stood on the other side of the threshold, carrying a large box of chocolates. He was a strange-looking courier, with his black mohawk and disingenuous smile. Still, Peggy’s heart leapt at the sight of the colorful box in his hands.

  “Peggy Reynolds?” he asked in a deep voice.

  “That’s me,” she exclaimed.

  “I have a delivery,” he said, handing her the box.

  She looked it over, wondering where the card was. Maybe it was inside? Had Fred come to his senses? Had the landlord realized what a jerk he’d been?

  The courier was already turning around when Peggy stopped searching for the card. “Don’t you need me to sign or anything?”

  He didn’t turn around, only shook his head.

  Too excited to find out who had sent the box, she shuffled back into the flat. “Oh, Zippers, look what I have here!”

  With shaking fingers, she lifted the lid off the box. There was no card, but the smell of rich, milky chocolate sprang up, making Peggy’s mouth water.

  “Oh, I know it’s only morning, but I really should enjoy the treat my secret admirer has sent,” Peggy said to the guinea pig. She sat on the sofa.

  His gaze wasn’t judgmental when she plucked a truffle from the middle of the box and popped it into her mouth. Peggy closed her eyes, enjoying the soft crunch as she bit into the outer layer of chocolate and caramel oozed onto her tongue. She had rarely tasted anything so incredibly delicious. It was heavenly good.

  She was reaching for another chocolate when she realized something was wrong. Her heart, which had beat in her chest all her life, just stopped. There was no pain. This was not how heart attacks were supposed to happen, she thought in confusion. And then the searing pain radiated throughout her body, making her convulse violently. She screamed. Clutched her chest. Prayed. But it was no use.

  Zippers didn’t budge from the couch as Peggy fell to the carpet, clutching her chest, her eyes wide open. Within seconds, she was dead.

  The fog was thick in London when Kayla Sinclair set off for the financial district. She didn’t like the dreary weather or how it made her thick white hair frizz.

  Kayla didn’t like many things. Maybe that was why she’d inherited the ability to create illusions from her deceased mother—so she could change things to be more to her liking.

  There was no illusion that could change the weather, though. And Kayla was limited to creating two to three illusions at a time, although that still made her one of the best illusionists alive. That was because the Sinclairs were powerful, having inherited the God Magician’s strength.

  Olivia Beaufont had said she was tracking down the Mortal Seven representative from the Luce family first. Kayla now believed that to be a lie. For starters, she hadn’t been able to locate the Luce family that was linked to the House of Seven. Some families, Talon had advised her, would be harder to find than others. If Kayla hadn’t been able to find the Luce family, she highly doubted that dimwit Olivia Beaufont could have done it already.

  Secondly, the God Magician had given Kayla a special codex for once she found members of a family, to determine if they were direct desc
endants of the original Mortal Seven. This helped narrow things down, but only once Kayla found the family members. Even using magic, this was not easy or quick.

  After much searching, the codex had led her to London, where Kayla had narrowed down where the Mortal Seven for the Reynolds family were located. She’d determined that there were three potential candidates, three siblings. The codex couldn’t narrow it down any farther, but that was fine. Kayla decided to make her job easy by simply eliminating all three of them. The role of Mortal Seven would pass to another family member, but only if there was an eligible candidate and the passage, according to Talon, took some time.

  “I’ll just kill them all,” Kayla muttered, the thirst for death always pounding in her veins.

  The thought of killing an entire family might have made some squeamish. Kayla saw those types as weak. They weren’t willing to do whatever it took to preserve magic. To ensure that all of the Mortal Seven were gone for good.

  Pausing outside the large bank building, Kayla watched as men and women dressed in navy blue or black suits marched through the entrance, most looking important and rushed. She brought her chin up so she could see the top of the building. That was where Paul Reynolds’ office was located. He was a very powerful person who controlled a great deal of wealth in and around London. She also believed him to be one of the Mortal Seven. It would make sense that the most skillful and intelligent person would be chosen for this role. That was how the timeless magic the founders used to set up the Mortal Seven worked.

  Kayla would take care of Paul Reynolds herself. His sister, Peggy Reynolds, was presently receiving a box of magically poisoned chocolates from a courier. She would be dead seconds after the first bite.

  Ireland Reynolds, a scrawny nerd who owned a book store on the east side, would meet Spencer, the illusion Kayla had created to dispose of him, shortly. It would take very little to snap his neck.

  But she would ensure that Paul Reynolds died very soon by her own hand.

  Changing her appearance to match that of the professionals entering the building, Kayla strode out from the shadows toward the entrance. When she was inside, she noticed that each person was showing a badge to a portly security guard. Kayla had known getting to Paul wouldn’t be easy. That was one reason she knew he was the right person. The harder to find, the harder to get to, the more likely the person was one of the Mortal Seven.

  When Kayla came to the front of the line, she held up a badge, and the guard nodded. She hurried past him and filed onto the elevator. Everyone exited before the elevator climbed to the top floor.

  When Kayla stepped off, she was met by a receptionist with too much makeup and snooty grin. “Are you lost, Miss?”

  Unhurried, Kayla looked around at the modern office, which had a legal library on one wall and Japanese artwork on the other.

  When she didn’t answer the receptionist’s question, the woman set down the envelope and letter opener she was using and stood. “Mr. Reynolds doesn’t have any appointments today.”

  “I know that,” Kayla said, flicking her finger at the metal letter opener.

  The woman’s eyes widened when it rose into the air and hovered by her head. “What? What are you doing? I’m going to call Security!”

  “No, you’re not,” Kayla said, striding past the woman as the letter opener slashed her throat, spilling blood on the contents of her neatly arranged desk.

  Paul Reynolds glanced up in alarm when Kayla entered his office. He was busy feeding the fish in the aquarium on the other side of the room. His office was huge, with a bank of windows stretching across one wall.

  “Cindy!” he yelled, starting forward but halting near Kayla. “Who are you?” Then he tilted his head to the side, blinking at her. “You…you aren’t supposed to be here.”

  Kayla smiled. He was the right one—the Mortal Seven for the Reynolds family. She knew it. “I am supposed to be here, actually. You’re the one who isn’t supposed to be here anymore.”

  She threw her hand up in a claw and Paul rose, his legs kicking as a scream left his mouth. “What are you doing to me?”

  “This isn’t about you. It’s about the world. I’m making it a better place.” Kayla swung her arm to the side and Paul followed suit, flying through the air and not stopping when he crashed into the bank of windows. It erupted in a cacophony of noise as the glass exploded and Paul went over the side of the building, falling to his death on the busy road outside.

  Chapter Two

  Everyone was allowed in Ireland Reynolds’ bookstore on the east side of London. The bookstore owner even set out a box of pastries in the morning and didn’t care who helped themselves, whether it was regulars, a one-off paying customer, or those browsing who would leave the shop empty-handed. It didn’t matter to Ireland, as long as the shop’s patrons felt welcome.

  Some complained that the homeless took the pastries, but Ireland simply ordered more from the corner bakery. Some complained that those same homeless slept on the overused couches in the reading nook, but Ireland pointed out that they were reading books, even if only between naps. Most, however, didn’t complain. Most of the patrons loved the warm feel of the shop, crowded as it was with old books, and the fluffy orange cat that always sat next to Ireland at the front desk.

  Ireland was stroking his cat Harry’s head when Guy, the baker, entered with that morning’s double delivery of scones and blueberry muffins. They were the best in the city, or so Ireland always told Guy.

  “I’ve just seen the strangest thing,” Guy said, laying the box on the counter.

  Ireland lowered his book a smidge. “I’m listening.”

  Ireland had seen strange things all his life. So had his sister Peggy. Everyone in his family had actually. That was why his cousin Jay had started a National Enquirer-type magazine. However, Paul, his older brother, never saw anything weird. Maybe that was because he was adopted. The Reynolds family seemed to always have the craziest stories. It was like things just happened around them. Most didn’t believe their stories, though. Ireland was pretty sure that at some point, he’d write a fantasy novel about the gnomes he’d seen playing poker in the alley and the fairies who seemed to be taking side bets while refilling the players’ mugs of mead. He would also include stories about the brownies who he was pretty sure dusted his shop every night, and the Sasquatch that lived down the road from his Aunt Trinity.

  “Well, you know how the news is saying that magic is real and all?” Guy asked.

  “I don’t watch the news,” Ireland answered, deciding to close his book. He’d just have to reread this section if Guy kept babbling, which was fine. There were always enough hours in the day to read.

  “Well, I know that,” Guy began in a conspiratorial whisper. “But you should watch the news, especially right now. This is a very weird time in our lives. There’s this huge story about how there are mortals and magicians and all other sorts of types of creatures, apparently. They say there are gnomes, even.”

  Ireland arched an eyebrow at his friend. “You don’t say?”

  Guy nodded. “I know. It’s hard to believe. Anyway, you and I, and most on this planet, are apparently mortals, and we haven’t been able to see magic because of this strange thing or something or another, but we can now.”

  Ireland took a deep breath, then pulled off his thick glasses and cleaned them on his t-shirt. “So, you can see magic now?”

  “Well, we all can. You can, too. Just look around you,” Guy stated. “It’s bizarre. I thought this was all hogwash, but I was bringing you your order just now and a real fairy streaked by me. I thought I was seeing things. I did a double-take, you know? And the little thing circles back and sniffs the air, telling me my pastries smell like the best thing ever.”

  Ireland laughed. “Molly.”

  “Say what?” Guy asked, scratching his thick head.

  “That’s Molly, or at least, that’s what I’ve always called her. I don’t know what her name is. She never speaks to
me.”

  “You’ve seen this fairy before? Like, recently?” Guy questioned.

  “Well, I’ve seen lots of fairies. And those gnomes you mentioned. I’ve seen them in the back alley. I don’t know about magicians, but I guess they wouldn’t look much different from us. Maybe they carry wands or something, though.”

  Guy shook his head. “You really should watch the news. There are apparently good magicians and bad ones, and the latter made it so we couldn’t see magic. Now we can. And there’s this whole history they covered up and we mortals forgot about.”

  Ireland shook his head. “I don’t know about all that. I might have seen fairies before, but I’m not sure I can buy all that.” He patted the tabby cat beside him. “Harry, what do you think of this nonsense?”

  “You name your cat after some magic person in a book, but you can’t believe all these magical conspiracies?” Guy asked.

  Ireland shrugged. “I won’t believe it until I see it. A history we forgot? That seems a bit out there, even for me.”