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“Maybe your magic just likes me.”
I think it just knows you’re a puppy with blunted teeth.” Leo didn’t flinch from the pain, and I swallowed as his tongue met my skin to lick away the drop of crimson. “Are you saying I’m not a threat, Mr. Nguyen?” Oh he was, and he knew it.
Being left alone at the shop while Leo traipsed off to Calcaria’s hotel meant anxiety, which meant pacing before the gateway door—back and forth and back and forth—listening to the quiet ticking of my internal clock and trying not to go crazy. It worked for a while. Pacing gave me something to do—steps to count and retrace, grain on the floor to follow and memorize as I twisted and turned. Unfortunately, Bela got annoyed after the first hour and refused to leave the floorboards even enough for me to walk across.
“Searching, I think.” “You think?” Every once in a while I got this feeling about a job. Not really a premonition, but not a gut feeling either. Anxiety buzzed in my fingertips like TV static, fizzing and spreading through my palms and wrists and elbows. It clung to my skin, thousands of static shocks vibrating my bones until I tried to force it away with a frantic shake of my hands, tried to stim it out by snapping my fingers near my ears or rubbing them together to get the feeling back in them. When that didn’t work, I started searching.
“Yeah, but you heard him,” the Kid said. “He’s been in loads of fights. Even been arrested a few times. And I don’t know what happened, but he’s got some sort of tragic backstory behind all that leather, I can smell it. I’m sure he can take care of himself.”
“You just need something to take with you right? To trick your brain out of gremlin mode?” The words sludged through my head like mud and it took me a moment to process them. A snort escaped me when they did, and I dug my hands into my eyes until little spots of phosphorescence chased away the numbing void. “Gremlins don’t exist.”
“Where did you get this?” “Bela’s jar.” I raised an eyebrow at them and their grin widened enough to show off the small pointed canines in their mouth. “I know where she keeps her stash.” “I don’t even know where she keeps her stash,” I countered, the bafflement enough to temporarily ease the anxiety that pooled in my elbows. I’d never cleaned out the Belamour’s offering jar, yet the things that went into it always seemed to disappear at some point. It never got full, never so much as passed the halfway point in the past forty or so years we had it. “I’ve never known where she keeps her
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Now go on, put it on. Tell me I’m a genius and your trauma is all fixed and that I deserve a raise for being the best apprentice a boss could ever ask for.” “You’re the best apprentice your boss never asked for.”
He looked like a rockstar at a premier, like he belonged here amongst the elite and powerful. I might have felt lacking next to him, looking like a dusty librarian being forced from the dark stacks of his basement archives, if I cared about that kind of thing.
“I pretended to be looking for the bathroom, stumbled through the first hall I could find and he stopped me about ten feet in. Told me no one was allowed in the storage rooms before the auction started.” Leo’s eyes lit up with mischief, the golden-brown glittering in the bright light of the chandelier. “Didn’t really expect that to work actually. You see it in the movies all the time, but I didn’t think it’d work in real life. Not sure if that means I’m a genius, or he’s an idiot, but hey, if it works.” If it works indeed.
I remember something about being messy and sexed up.” I let him draw closer, his nose just barely nudging mine. “Perhaps we should get your memory checked. I don’t think that’s what I said.” “I’m not the one who needs to worry about my memory,” Leo teased back, brushing a finger across the lines in the corner of my eyes. “How old are you now? Eighty-somethin’? Practically senile, don’t you think? Should probably just trust me on this one.”
“Come on, they do this in the movies! Just dance our way across the floor. It builds the romantic tension.” “I think we’re past the romantic tension part of the plot,” I countered.
name? Julia?”
“What? You’re fuckin’ with me.” He shook his head, even as his lips tipped into a smile. “No way you—a grumpy old librarian who thinks the definition of fun is reorganizing his bookshelves—knows how to swing dance. Swing dance! Like, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that quickly! Your old knees wouldn’t allow it!”
I might as well be an infant with how long I could possibly live. So I wasn’t old, but I had grown comfortable, I could say. Content in my simple life with my books and my shop. The few jobs I picked up over the years were adventure enough for me, and once I took in the Kid—well, pseudo-parenthood was adventure enough, thanks.
You learn how not to be seen fairly quickly when you’re thrown in the British dungeons for stealing the crown jewels. Or rather, making it look like you stole them. I’d actually been after the two small stones set in her scepter, and while everyone was grateful to just have the items back, no one thought to check and make sure the jewels were all still there. To this day I was the only one who knew Julia and Harry’s wedding rings were made with the most expensive sapphires in the world.
“Superstitious, Mael? Never would have thought you of all people would believe in jinxes and fate.” “You are a child of fate, little shadow. You have been and always will be hers. There is no hiding from the all-knowing, not even in your human world.”
“Hand over the egg, Nguyen.” I would not be doing that, actually.
“Damnit, Nguyen! Why can’t you ever just—just do as you’re fucking told?” The words spilled from his mouth like acid, hissing and burning on his tongue. The wind howled as his skin rippled and he brought both hands up to his head, knocking the gun harshly against his temple. “Why do you have to ruin everything you ever touch?” You’re a curse. You’re a curse. You’re a curse. No. No. I listened to Lorance Barns once and it ruined my life. And while he may not have ever gotten over it or moved on, I was trying to. I had a life now, a shop, a stable job. I had people who cared about me—Julia, the
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The various healing and protection spells inked into my skin burnt like hot iron, working double time to fight against the chunk of metal lodged in my shoulder. The Belamour throbbed beneath her floorboards, her warm magic writhing against me like a fretting mother brushing back her child’s hair. “You’re bleeding. Holy fuck, you’re bleeding.”
“Help me—fuck—help me get this suit off.” This is why I don’t buy expensive suits, I thought, biting back an almost hysterical giggle.
“Okay, okay—fuck, okay.” The Kid tore their hands through their hair as they panicked. “I just—I have an idea but you’re gonna have to trust me, okay?” Stupid question, of course I trusted them. I must have said that bit out loud, because the Kid snorted through their frantic breaths and nodded.
“Shit, shit—boss, you have to stay still or it’ll just get worse—” “It fucking hurts,” I spat back at them, only to be met with a burning pink gaze. “Don’t you yell at me,” they spat back, pointing their magic tweezers at me. “I’m not the one refusing actual medical help. If you want me to do this, then this is the only way I know how. So fucking suck it up or something, because if you bleed out from me digging around in your shoulder, Julia is going to arrest me for murder. I’m too pretty to go to jail.”
Having someone else’s magic pumping into you is like pumping refrigerated saline through your veins. Cold, thin—just different enough from blood that your body knew it didn’t quite belong.
“I take back what I said, Mael Nguyen,” a sultry voice said, and when I turned my head to see Calcaria tucked into the loveseat, she smiled at me. “You are quite literally anything but boring.”
“And this patron of yours!” Calcaria ran a hand along the wall behind her. “You’ve never let me meet her before, and I can see why. She’s wonderful.” My chest swelled with pride, though I couldn’t tell if it was my own, or the Belamour’s. “Stop flirting with my shop.”
“The egg?” “Potato is fine! Look!” Remy scrambled off the couch and disappeared into the Kid’s bedroom. A few moments later she came stumbling back, the egg looking comically large in her arms and the charmed blanket dragging dangerously near her feet. She set it carefully on the opposite side of the couch before crawling up to sit beside it. “He’s very happy and comfy! He said the trip was kind of bumpy and he didn’t like it, but his blanket is really warm and he’s glad to be home!” I frowned at the girl, brain still slogging along in an attempt to register her words in a way that made sense.
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The Kid pressed themself against the gateway door, eyes wide and frantic and terrified. Just like Barns was at the auction. Just like he was back in Aos Sì. “You are not a monster, Mael. I know you are not.” “Does consuming a monster not make you just as monstrous?” Maybe I wasn’t a curse. Maybe I was just a monster. A monster controlling other monsters. A monster who brought death with it everywhere I went. Fear. Terror. Pain. But not my—not the Kid. Not them. Never them. I’d let my shadows consume the entire world before I let them touch the Kid.
What’s five things you can hear? Your voice. The birds outside. Storms upstairs. An alarm clock. My heartbeat. Four things you can smell. Coffee. Blood. Herbs. Spilt potions. Three things you can see. Nothing. Open your eyes then, dummy. Come on, three things. My sweats. Broken Glass. Bandages. Two things you can feel. The floor. Pain. One thing you can taste. Tears.
“Hey Kid…” “Yeah boss.” “Thanks.” “For what?” I hummed, patting their knee and leaving my hand there when I couldn’t find the energy to take it back. “Bein’ the best kid.”
Sure, plenty of people switched patrons throughout their lifetimes. My sister fluctuated between them like pairs of shoes, sure she’d find the right one eventually when the connection felt right. But that didn’t make the bonds she made with others any less important or strong. A patron bond held a level of trust that could never be bested. The fact that Remington was ready to sacrifice that for Leo… I didn’t quite know what to think. Part of me was so connected to the Belamour, so rooted in devotion for her, that I couldn’t possibly imagine giving her up for anything. Then the Kid’s face
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Before I had the chance to ask, a loud buzzing interrupted the cozy silence in the room, the phone on the coffee table jittering across the surface. My phone. Which may not surprise most, except for the fact that I didn’t usually receive phone calls. As soon as I got the thing, I drew a spell on the back in permanent marker to reject all calls that weren’t emergencies.
After some muffled conversation I couldn’t make out, I picked up a soft curse and then—“Huzzah! You’ve reached the Damsel in Distress Hotline, your one stop shop for pretty things kidnapped by scary monsters. What kind of damsel are you looking for today?” Idiot. I had to bite back a smile as I released a breath of relief. If Leo felt well enough to be making jokes at a time like this, then he couldn’t be too terribly hurt. Then again, with his lack of self-preservation skills, he could be dying for all that would stop him.
“I’m looking for a blonde one, little over six feet and dressed in a red suit. He’s got a big mouth, asks way too many questions, can’t miss him.” “My knight!” Leo cried dramatically, though it didn’t hold as much of his usual grandeur. “I’ll have you know my mouth had you babbling like a fool only a few days ago.”
“We’re at the auction house,” Leo said finally. “Barns said don’t call Julia or he’ll shoot me or whatever. You know, typical bad guy stuff.”
“The truthful answer?” She twisted a strand of hair around her finger and smirked. “That was the deal.” The truth. What would I give to have Leo back? What would I sacrifice for him? Anything? Everything? Nothing? Where did I draw the line? Where should I draw the line? I’d known Leo for only a handful of weeks, barely even a month, and yet I yearned for him like the moon chasing the sun. Always in sight but never quite catching up. It was foolish. Illogical. The truth was… “I don’t know.”
Wizard Cop? Sure. He had that whole grizzly badass look to him, and I could totally imagine him beating me to a pulp for coughing in his general direction. Plus, you know, ACAB for Cuties and all that.
No, neither of them were the ring leaders of this situation. That title belonged to the hot lady in the corner. And I meant that literally and derogatorily. She was attractive, I guess. In a scary “I could burn you alive and you’d thank me” kind of way, but even my pain kink had limits. Plus, I had a thing about fire. Abusive dads and childhood trauma did that to a person, ya know?
“Hey, what are you mumbling about over there?” “Just narrating my life story for the listeners,” I drawled,
The cop sneered at me—which, rude, first of all, but also a little hot. Too bad he was a bitch.
She glared at me. “You talk too much.” “Get fucking bent,” I spat back, panic and anger a familiar beast inside my chest. It was my go-to defense. To fight. To argue. There were days I could feel the tension building in the house, feel my father’s temper like an oncoming storm. All it took was one annoyed sigh in Lori’s direction for me to “accidentally” drop a plate, or slam my door, or talk back. Anything to draw his attention to me instead. The more I fought back, the less anger got sent Lori’s way.
Untie me and I’ll show you how stupid I can be.”
His magic is so weak anyway, it wouldn’t even be much of an appetizer.” “Well that’s a little rude,” I snarked back. “I happened to be told my magic is very pretty. You’d be missing out on a very good meal.” “For Ard-rí’s sake, Greyson,” Wizard Cop groaned, “do you want her to eat you?”
“Don’t you da—” “If you want your egg, I suggest you let him go.” Thank fuck. Kidnapping? Check. Bad guy threats? Check. Hot morally grey main character to the rescue? Capital “C” Check.
Mael looked like crap—one arm wrapped in a sling, hair left loose to fall around his face, exhaustion pouring from every inch of him—but damn if he wasn’t the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. He was also pissed. It was hard to tell on him, considering the natural state of exhaustion his face always carried—like resting bitch face but less frowny and more “barely surviving on redbull and coffee”—but I’d like to think I knew him well enough by now to get a good gauge of his moods. Current mood being: pissed the fuck off and mildly panicking.
In fact, the necklace was tucked away beneath his loose shirt, just like Lori’s feather sat beneath mine. Probably best if this bitch just went around eating jewelry.
Mael tsked, and wow, that sound should not do things to me while tied up in a hostage situation. Tied up? Sure, any day. Hostage? Eh, could do without.
I kind of wished Barns wasn’t smart enough to take my knife from me. While I had no idea if it’d do shit against handcuffs, this was the textbook moment to work myself free without anyone noticing. I was half tempted to try breaking my thumb to get out—I’d done it before to get out of a cop car before the bastard had a chance to call my old man, so I knew I could.
Mael’s eyes met mine, one of the rare moments he held eye contact with me, and I once again wondered if he could read minds.
I really want to get out of this fucking place alive. I don’t know about you, but I’m bisexual and agnostic, I refuse to die in a fucking church of all places.
