Spellcasters

In my second werewolf book,
Stolen
, I introduced my witch, Paige Winterbourne, with plans to spin her off into her own story next. At the time my first werewolf book,
Bitten
, hadn’t come out yet, so I didn’t have any actual readers—unless you include friends and family, but as lovely and supportive as they are, I always figure they’re just reading my stuff because they know me. Even when I started
Dime Store Magic
,
Bitten
was barely out, so I had yet to communicate with actual readers. What difference did this make? A huge one, as it turned out.

In
Stolen
, my main character Elena didn’t much care for Paige. Their personalities were too different. That was the point—I wanted to explore a very different character. Also, it seemed like an interesting narrative challenge to present a secondary character from one viewpoint, and then see how she changes when the story is told from her point of view.

What happened? Well, when
Dime Store Magic
was finished, I proudly announced that Paige would narrate book three of the Otherworld, and by that time, I had actual readers who replied with a collective … well, the response isn’t reproducible here. Let’s just say it was negative. Resoundingly negative. Elena didn’t care for Paige, so neither did they.

The outcry concerned (okay, terrified) me so much that if I had not already sold
Dime Store Magic
, I think I might have given up on Paige. I’m glad I didn’t, because
Dime Store Magic
is actually the book that I believe launched my career. New readers bought it, perhaps more comfortable with witches than werewolves. Past readers broke down and picked it up too, and they saw what I was doing, creating a multi-narrator series. They also saw what I was doing with Paige as a character, and they came onboard.

I started with werewolves, and they’ll always be my favorites, but I have a special spot for my spell-casters. They were a delightful change of pace, and they performed the greatest magic trick of all—turning me from a “writer with a couple of books” into a career novelist.

Kelley Armstrong

B
OOKS BY
K
ELLEY
A
RMSTRONG

The Otherworld Series
Bitten
Stolen
Dime Store Magic
Industrial Magic
Haunted
Broken
No Humans Involved
Personal Demon
Living with the Dead
Frostbitten
Waking the Witch
Spell Bound
13

The Nadia Stafford Series
Exit Strategy
Made to Be Broken

The Darkest Powers Series
The Summoning
The Awakening
The Reckoning

The Darkness Rising Series
The Gathering
The Calling
The Rising

Collections
Men of the Otherworld
Tales of the Otherworld
Werewolves
Spellcasters

A
dam watched as Paige put an empty water glass to the meeting room door and pressed her ear against it. Her brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, she tried the same thing with a coffee mug.

“What the hell are you—?” he began.

She waved him toward the supply closet. “Go in there.”

Adam shook his head, grabbed his new Walkman and changed the cassette.

“Fine,” she said. “
I’ll
go in the closet.”

“Again … what the hell are you—?”

“Stop swearing. It doesn’t make you sound cool. Not that anything could …”

He balled up a napkin and pitched it at her. “At least I don’t have a huge zit on my nose. Makes you look like a witch.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, maybe it’ll help you cast spells. You can use all the help you can get.”

“Ha-ha. Put the music away and give me a hand. I’m doing this for you.”

“Doing what?”

“Saving you from a boring afternoon hanging out in this hallway waiting for the council meeting to end. Now, do you want to go into that closet or should I?”

“We both could,” he said with a sly grin. “That would be one way to pass the time.”

She just gave him a look. Couldn’t blame him for trying, though, even if he knew the answer wouldn’t change and, really, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if it ever did. They’d been friends for over a year now, ever since his father and her mother decided their kids should start attending meetings of the interracial council, planning for the day when they’d be delegates themselves. The council was in charge of keeping the peace between supernatural races and protecting them against exposure threats. It sounded cool and exciting. It never was. Talk, talk, talk, that’s all they seemed to do.

So Adam spent a lot of time at those meetings hanging out with Paige. And there were times when, alone like this with a cute girl who at fourteen—his gaze flicked to her chest—was already bigger than a lot of grown women … Well, sometimes he
did
entertain thoughts of darkened closets and misplaced hands and—

“Adam?” Paige glowered up at him. “Are you going in there or am I?”

“If you do, can I lock the door?”

A roll of her eyes and she strode past him, opened the closet door and waved him inside.

“What am I supposed to—?”

“Just talk. That should be easy enough.”

As he opened his mouth to retort, she shut the door in his face. Christ, like he’d
want
to be in a closet with her. She’d probably spend the whole time giving him orders. Do this, do that … kiss me here … touch me there …

Damn it, stop that
. If he ever
did
get Paige in a closet, he’d regret it. She’d make sure of that.

“What am I doing?” he asked.

Her voice was muffled by the door. “Helping me conduct a scientific experiment.”