by LJ Rivers
That scumbag Craig had brought the blood from Liverpool. About half a dozen supporters had been arrested for carrying panels at the last game of the season in May, and I had pinned him in a picture in the Echo, showing the police rounding up the perpetrators.
I gazed into Dad’s blue eyes. Who would willingly lick a panel of blood for a few hours—or minutes in Haley’s and Susan’s case—of pleasure, with the possible outcome of death? Certainly not my dad. I refused to believe it. No matter what, I would find the truth. Craig was likely already in the wind, though. Anyone dealing with MagX had an annoying habit of disappearing if things got heated. And this tended to be the kind of heat they shied away from.
Inhaling sharply, I pressed the send button, committing the article to print before shutting down the computer. I hit the main light switch, took a final look at the small newspaper office where I had spent most of my spare time for the past year, then locked the door behind me.
Streams of gold hues from the streetlights pushed through the darkness, shimmering in the droplets teeming down. I yawned, feeling the weight of the day sink in on me. Pulling my hood up, I tucked some red strands under my collar and made my way to the bus stop across from Blacon High School. Despite everything, I had to smile at the memories. My first kiss had been on the football field behind the school. It was awkward, his tongue filling my mouth, wet and sloppy. Mike rarely looked my way these days, which was fine by me. A lot of firsts had taken place in that school, and it had all come to an end. Now, I was free to do what I wanted—assuming Mum would grant me that freedom.
My jeans stuck to my skin as the moisture seeped through the denim. I looked down into the pleading eyes of a drenched orange kitten, rubbing itself against my leg.
“Hey, kit,” I said quietly.
The kitten purred, the vibrations tickling my ankle. My sneakers were soaked too, but I didn’t care. The poor animal, however, looked like it could use some shelter. It was too young to be out here on its own.
“You live around here?” I asked, not actually expecting a reply. Still, the kitten looked like it understood. It made a couple more turns around my feet then sauntered off, balancing on the edge of the pavement.
A pair of beams from the bus’s headlights lit up the corner of Auckland Road. The bus was moving fast. Too fast. I tried waving, hoping the driver would see, but it wasn’t slowing down.
The kitten leaped off the pavement and into the street.
“Get back here,” I yelled. “Now!”
The kitten turned its head at me, but stopped in the middle of the road while the bus headed straight for it. Stupid animal.
“No. Get away from there.”
My pulse pounded in my chest and the warm sensation of magic bubbled forth in my veins. I stretched my fingers out but hesitated. I wasn’t supposed to, and this was hardly the same as what had gone down earlier tonight. The roar from the bus engine filled the air. I had to. With a flick of my hands, an orb of white light formed in my palms before I pushed it towards the kitten. A nearly invisible shield wrapped around the animal. The side of the bus rammed into the force field, sending it flying onto the grass on the other side just as the bus rushed past the bus stop, showering me in water.
“Idiot,” I muttered as I ran across the street.
My fingers danced over the small animal, and the force field disappeared as I cradled it in my arms.
“Why did you do that?” I wasn’t sure if I was talking to the kitten or myself. I shifted my eyes around, but most lights were off in the nearby houses. Not a person to be seen on the street either. It had been a subtle use of magic and I had acted on instinct. There had been no time to consider the ramifications of what I was doing. It wasn’t likely that anyone had noticed me at all. Still, my mum’s words were a constant reminder at the back of my mind: Harvesters can be anyone and anywhere. We cannot risk being seen.
The kitten snuggled in my embrace and I wrapped it under my coat. I couldn’t leave it out here, and I shouldn’t be knocking on doors this late. I would have to look for the owner in the morning.
“I guess you’re coming with me. It’s a long way home but that was the last bus tonight.”
I took a shortcut down to Melverly Drive, hurried past the last houses and through the trees leading to the fields beyond. My feet sank into the wet soil, but crossing Mr Hayworth’s land would still save me time. The furball hidden under my jacket clawed at my chest, and I sped up as much as I could.
It took me a good long hour before I could finally push open the door of the old brick house. It creaked more than I liked but I hoped it wasn’t enough to wake Mum. A light switched on in the living room, and Mum leaned forward in her armchair. No need to worry about being quiet after all.
She clutched a piece of paper in her hand, wrinkling her forehead. “You’re terribly late.”
“Sorry, Mum. The bus driver didn’t see me.”
Mum placed the paper on the coffee table next to her, smoothing the edges with her fingers. “And when were you going to tell me?”
I shook myself like a wet cat, my clothes dripping into pools on the floor. The logo on top of the paper was one I had looked at a hundred times over the past few weeks. White Willow University. In London. I had wanted to wait, though it seemed we were getting into this now.
“I’m spent. Can we please talk about it in the morning?”
“No.”
I unzipped my jacket and placed the kitten gently on the floor before kicking my shoes off and carrying them into the warmth of the laundry room. I removed my drenched socks and jeans, swapping them out with a pair of sweatpants, then pulled off my soaked top and changed into my favourite red t-shirt with YNWA written on it. I proceeded to grab a towel and wrapped it around my dripping wet hair before I walked past Mum to the kitchen. In the cupboard over the sink, I found a bowl and filled it with milk.
“Here, kit. Drink. I need to talk to my mum a bit, but you can sleep in my room after.” I left the bowl with the kitten, and dumped down in the chair opposite Mum, her judgmental gaze burning holes in me.
“I want to go,” I said.
“We have been over this, love. It’s not safe.”
“It’s as safe as anywhere else. I wrote an article today about a MagX overdose right here in Cheshire. Susan Jones. I was there when it happened.”
Mum closed her eyes briefly, sinking back in the chair. “By the Lady Herself, I’m sorry you had to see that.” She angled toward me. “It’s spreading fast, I know. All the more reason to stay clear of trouble. What if you were spotted?”
“I’m careful, Mum. No one knows about my Fae persuasion. Why would they? I’ve hardly used my powers over the past six years.” Not that I hadn’t wanted to. It was hard to suppress the magical energy inside of me. It was always present, lingering and whispering in my veins.
Mum’s expression softened, and her breathing slowed. The sorrow of losing Dad had never quite left the lines in her face. And as her brow furrowed, it was as if the sadness of his death spilled out all over again.
“You were only twelve,” Mum mumbled. “Too young to lose a parent. But if Dennis’s death taught us anything, it is that we have to stay hidden. It’s not what I want for you, but I want you alive more than anything.”
“I know.” I folded a hand over Mum’s forearm. “But I’m nineteen now. There’s no future for me in Cheshire. I would die from boredom before any Harvester could get to me.” The kitten sneaked up on me and curled up by my feet.
Mum tilted her head at it. “Taking home strays now, are we?”
“The poor thing was almost run over by the bus. It would have died, and—” I had said too much. Me and my big mouth.
“Ruby Guinevere Morgan!”
“No one saw. I promise.”
“That settles it. You’re not going to London. Not on my watch.”
I gritted my teeth. “You have to let me live. I’ll dry up in this place, and you’ll hate the person I’ll become as much
as I will. It’s not like you won’t see me. You can visit, and I’ll be home for vacations.” I took a deep breath and tried to soften my voice. “Please, Mum. Dad would have said yes. I know he would.”
I knew I was right. Dad had always had faith in me. Why didn’t Mum?
“Your dad would want you safe, darling.”
I cradled the kitten in my arms as I stood.
“I’m going. Upstairs for now.” I stomped out of the living room. It didn’t matter if I was here or in London, Harvesters were everywhere, and there was no place safe from them.
Chapter Three
I could almost hear the seconds ticking. I really shouldn’t snooze the alarm again, but knew I would. Logan just had to deal with me coming in late today. If I went downstairs now, Mum would still be in the kitchen, and I had no intention of speaking to her yet.
Not until she agreed to let me go to London.
If only I were a bit more rebellious. After all, I didn’t really need my Mum’s approval. Maybe I should just pop online and accept my spot? Get it over with, and take the fight later.
But no. That wasn’t the deal, what we had agreed on when we moved up here. Mum’s words were still so vivid in my memory: ‘It’s just you and me now, Ru. We need to work as a team. We owe it to your father’.
Instead, I would work on the right arguments and deliver a convincing sales pitch during dinner. Any half-decent journalist should be able to find the right words. And wasn’t I already past half-decent?
The door downstairs closed, and seconds later Mum’s old Ford Fiesta coughed its way up the gravel road, heading north to Saughall and her job at the clinic. I grabbed the phone as the alarm was about to start singing its cheerful tune, which today was even more annoying. When I sat up, a small orange ball of fur crawled from under the sheet and onto my lap.
“You little beauty,” I said, almost purring as much as the kitten. “Let’s see if we can find some food, shall we?”
This time I was almost certain I could hear the little cat reply. Oh, well—it was just purring a little louder.
The scent of eggs and bacon infused the house as I walked out of my room. Mum had left me a full plate of breakfast on the kitchen table, but it would have to wait while I fed Kit, as I had now named it. I hadn’t checked if it was a boy or a girl, and Kit would do well for both, I figured. While I finished my meal, the kitten ate almost a full slice of bread, which I had cut into tiny pieces and soaked in milk. I would have to get proper food for it when I got back home from—
“Holy Lady,” I moaned. “I can’t very well bring you to work with me, and you really can’t be here alone all day.”
I scooped Kit up and went outside. I put him in the little basket on the front of my bike, and lay my jacket on top of him, gently so as not to suffocate the poor thing. If I rode slowly and carefully, it would be fine. The kitten stared at me with large eyes as I snapped a few pictures of him to use for the ‘kitten found’ posts I was going to have to create for my social media accounts. I might even go old school and print a few posters.
The ride south towards Cheshire went well, if one considered about a dozen stops to convince the small cat to stay in the basket. Eventually he quieted, submitting to the travel arrangements, and at almost eight thirty, I steered the bike onto Melverly Drive.
The street was slowly buzzing with school children and parents, one more tired than the other as they stumbled out of the identical redbrick houses. I liked the quaint town, and this street in particular, but with the acceptance to uni, it all seemed so mundane. So boring. I wanted to do more with my life than stay here forever, and now an opportunity had presented itself.
I parked my bike next to the fence surrounding the house at the very end of the road and picked up Kit from the basket. I opened the gate, and as I walked halfway to the front door, the old woman had already spotted me from her kitchen window. Her big smile had greeted me exactly like this ever since the first time I walked on the cobbled pathway up to the white door many years ago.
“Good morning, child,” crooned Mrs Wellington as I came into the kitchen. “Not at work yet? Oh my, you’re not ill, are you? I’ve told you a million times to wear a scarf on that bike, dear.”
“No, Mrs Wellington, I’m fine.” I smiled. Her concern for me warmed my heart. Not having any contact with my grandparents, though they remained alive and well back in Wales, Mrs Wellington had become the perfect substitute. “I just had to … arrange something before work.”
I opened my arms enough for Mrs. Wellington to meet Kit.
“Now isn’t that a little gem,” said the old woman. “Let me guess. He followed you home, and now you face some practical consequences, eh?”
Of course, Mrs Wellington read all that in a few seconds. I guessed it came with age and experience.
“Well, yes. And I’m not sure it’s a he or a she yet,” I replied.
“This little charmer is a boy, all right,” Mrs Wellington said, extending her arms.
I gave her the kitten. “How can you tell?”
“Just his way of looking at things.” Mrs Wellington winked at me. “Run along now, and rest assured that old Lucinda will take good care of him. What’s his name?”
“Kit. And thank you so much. I’ll be back by half six at the latest, and I’ll bring cat food.”
“Yes, yes,” said the old woman, already lost in the little kitten’s eyes.
“So, you finally remembered where you should be today?” Logan said with pretend disappointment.
“Sorry,” I muttered as I sat down at my desk. “I had a minor emergency. Figured I wouldn’t waste time calling you, so I just pedalled my ass off instead.”
“Ok.” He squinted for a second, dragging the word slightly upwards at the end. “Anyway, what are you working on today?”
What story do you want to steal, you mean? was what I wanted to say.
He never paid any attention to my stories or leads until I had written whatever piece I was working on. Then—depending on his mood—he would either post it under his name or let me use my own byline. Not surprisingly, my best articles were always bylined by Logan Whelk.
“The manager at the factory hasn’t confirmed anything yet,” I said while I uploaded the picture of Kit to various social media platforms, “but I’m pretty sure we’ll hear something today. If they get the contract with the Chinese, it will—”
“Yes, that’s fine,” Logan interrupted. “It will be good for Cheshire and taxes and all that. Could you give me fifteen hundred words by lunch?”
“Sure.”
Logan made a pistol with his index finger and thumb, lowering his thumb just as he made a clicking sound with his tongue. He winked at me with a stupid grin on his face.
“You’re the best intern I’ve had, Rubes. What plans do you have after this? University, I presume?”
“Journalism, yes. If I get in, of course.”
Logan tilted his head slightly. “But admissions must have been weeks ago? What’s today, the third?”
I tapped the date on the article on my computer screen.
“Right, August 5th, of course,” Logan said. “So, what’s your plan?”
“I’m weighing my options,” I said, turning to the computer screen.
As usual, Logan’s antennae were out of commission. He leaned on my desk. “I could make a call if you like. I think my name has some pull in Chester.” He angled closer, lowering his voice even though no one else was around. “Let’s talk about it over lunch. Maybe I can help you decide.”
I pulled back and looked up at him. “Uhm, thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be going to university in Chester.”
“What, Warrington? Don’t say you’re thinking of West Cheshire, Rubes? Those hacks wouldn’t know the first thing about real journalism!”
Like you would? I almost laughed in his face.
“I haven’t decided yet, that’s all. Listen, Logan, I have an appointment at lunchtime. I’m meeting coach Brown
about the latest signings and his plans for next season.” Besides, I needed to get my mind off last night’s events.
Logan waved me off. “Well, if you’re thinking of West Chester or Warrington, you’d be way better off working here. How about I promote you from intern to a permanent journalist position?”
He trailed his finger lightly up the seams of my top, then brushed a lock of hair from my collar bone back over my shoulder. “We make a great team already. Think of what lies ahead if we worked,” he paused for a second, “closer.”
It was a reflex, pure instinct, but in hindsight, I would have done it even if I’d had all the time in the world to think about it. The impact with his cheek sent a tremor up my forearm, leaving a red mark on one side of his face. I briefly regretted that I hadn’t turned my ring around on my finger, so the little ruby would have scratched him as well.
“You self-righteous frigid bitch!” he snarled. “What the hell was that?”
“That was me saying no to your offer, you perv!”
He pulled back, and for a second I thought he was going to take a swing at me as payback, but the hand he raised was for himself—rubbing his cheek. He was clearly pissed, however.
“Ungrateful little wench! Pack your things and get the hell out. You’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me,” I snapped. “I quit.”
Chapter Four
“Why on earth would you do such a thing?” Mum stood by the kitchen table, her arms crossed. “I thought a few more months down the road you could get a proper job there, or at least enough experience to apply to other newspapers?”
“It wasn’t right, ok? Just leave it. It’s done.” I swallowed another spoonful of soup, and tore a piece off the olive bread. With my mouth full, I at least didn’t have to speak.
Mum, however, was not done at all. “It was only a couple of days ago you said you liked it there, that you wanted to become a journalist. And what about that factory story you’ve been working on?”
To hell with mouthfuls of bread. “I said leave it,” I muttered, breadcrumbs spilling into the bowl of soup. I pushed the chair back so fast it thumped to the floor, but I left it. It was just a bloody chair, for heaven’s sake. Striding up the stairs, two steps at a time, I rushed into my room, almost slamming the door. I thought better of it, and left it open for Kit to join me.
