The More Things Change

by Emily Holloway

  He's better at the mundane chores than the magical. Although he seems to deal with the Sight better now that he knows what it is, he stumbles over actually performing magic. Ryan knows he's not the best teacher for this sort of thing and considers introducing Dominic to Solomon. He's the only witch that Ryan actually knows how to find.

  After watching yet another fruitless lesson, Maya sits down next to Dominic. Her voice is surprisingly gentle. "You're trying too hard, that's all."

  "I just—it doesn't make sense to me," Dominic says. "Thinking about the possibilities like this. What's in the box won't change regardless of what I envision in it."

  Maya frowns slightly and looks at Ryan. "You started him on the box exercise?"

  "It's the Schrödinger's cat of the magical world," Ryan says with a sage nod.

  Maya rolls her eyes. "My God, Ryan. I know that you're some sort of genius, but that's way too complex for a beginner."

  Ryan feels offended. "Excuse you, which one of us has taken classes on magical theory at an Ivy League school—"

  "You, and that's exactly why you're screwing this up. You understand all the theory. But you're trying to teach calculus to someone who doesn't even know algebra." Maya huffs out a sigh. "We need to go back and start with something way more basic. Weather."

  "Weather?" Ryan's eyebrows arch. "Half of all weather magic is just confirmation bias—"

  "Ryan," Maya says, "stop talking."

  Ryan goes sulkily silent.

  Maya gets her hand around Dominic's elbow, pulls him to his feet, and draws him over to the window. "Okay. Let's see how it looks outside. Kind of cloudy, pretty cold. So what's going to happen? It could rain. The clouds could clear. It could get colder, or warmer. It could get windy. Which of those things feels most likely to you?"

  "Uh, windy," Dominic says. It's clear from his tone that he's taking a shot in the dark.

  "Great. Then let's make it windy. I just want you to put your hands in the open air and think about that. Think about wind, about the way it feels on your face, about the noise it makes in the trees. Just think about it."

  Ryan opens his mouth. Maya shoots him a dirty look, and he closes it.

  It takes a few minutes, but a breeze does kick up. As soon as Dominic feels it on his fingers, he opens his eyes and looks thrilled. "I did it!"

  "See? It's not that hard! You were just making it more complicated than it needs to be. Start with stuff in the future until you can get over the stumbling block of changing the present." Maya squeezes his shoulder. "Go tell the others. You should be proud of yourself."

  Dominic nods eagerly and trots over to where the others have gathered around the fire. Maya walks over and sits down next to Ryan. He gives her a sideways glance and says, "You have no idea if he made that wind with magic or not."

  "Nope," Maya says. "But he thinks he did. And that's the important part. Now he really believes that he can affect the world in a way that he didn't before." She picks up her tin cup of water and takes a drink. "Confirmation bias can be useful as hell."

  "I suppose so." Ryan feels disgruntled despite himself. He's not used to someone else being better at something than he is. Although he supposes, really, that's the problem. Most things have come easily to him. It doesn't make him very adept as a teacher.

  There's a low whistle from the roof and then Siobhan swings down through one of the windows. "Jackie's on her way in."

  "Oh, thank God, I'm starved," Spencer says. The day's pickings had been some scrawny carrots that Marcus had made into soup with the remaining beans. He and Jared jog over to the debris they've used to block the door and start pushing it aside. A minute later, Jackie comes in, carrying her usual duffel bag. Ryan watches in amusement as Maya practically fades back into the shadows while the others greet Jackie with enthusiasm.

  "Hey, you haven't met Dominic yet," Jared says. "Dominic, this is—"

  "Dominic?" Jackie's eyes go wide. Before anyone can stop her, she grabs Dominic by the front of the shirt and starts shaking him. "You little prick! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

  "Ja-Jackie, stop—" Dominic says, trying to free himself.

  "I've known you how many years and then you just fucking up and disappear? Do you have any idea what that did to Valerie? You made my sister cry, you piece of shit—"

  "I'm sorry!" Dominic squeaks as Marcus and Spencer manage to pry Jackie off of him. "I didn't know, Jackie, I swear to you that I didn't know!"

  Jackie scowls but subsides, muttering uncharitably, "I guess you probably didn't."

  "So…you two know each other?" Jared asks.

  "Yeah, we, uh…friends from, you know…" Jackie's voice trails off.

  "Wait, what are you doing here?" Dominic asks, blinking as the oddity of Jackie's presence sets in.

  "Oh, uh…" Jackie rubs a hand over the back of her head, suddenly looking acutely embarrassed. "I bring supplies to, you know, some of the werewolf packs and covens and stuff."

  Dominic's jaw sags comically. "But you hate werewolves."

  "Well, not really." Jackie shrugs. "It just works better for me if everyone thinks so, so I make sure that they do."

  "Werewolves killed your parents!"

  Jackie's hand snaps forward, and she grabs Dominic by the front of the shirt again, dragging him over so they're face to face. Her voice is calm but strained. "You don't know anything about my parents. You don't know anything about me. Sitting on the sofa giggling with Valerie while that bitch Helen makes fun of my hair does not make you a fucking expert. So you can do me the favor of keeping your opinions to yourself. If you ever say anything about my parents again, I will beat the shit out of you. Got it?"

  Dominic swallows hard and then nods. "Yeah," he says, and Jackie lets him go. Silence sits for a minute, heavy and awkward. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know anything."

  "That's true as hell," Jackie says, and gives a snort of laughter. Then she sighs. "I'm not pissed at you, Dominic. It wasn't your fault. None of this is your fault."

  "Thanks." Dominic fiddles with the hem of his shirt. "How…how's Valerie? Does she hate me?"

  Jackie shifts uncomfortably. "Nah, man, she doesn't hate you. She's upset, obviously, but that's more because she knows she's probably never going to see you again. I'd tell her that you didn't actually lie to her about being a witch, but, you know. I can't, since then she'd know I'd seen you. Sorry."

  "It's all right." Dominic huffs out a sick little laugh. "No, it's not, nothing's all right, but you knew that."

  "Look, at least you got hooked up with a good pack," Jackie says. She darts a glance at Maya, then away. "You know, they'll take good care of you. It sure as hell beats being on your own."

  The silence sits for a moment, although a little less awkward this time, before Kyra says, "Look, this is super sweet and all but please tell me that there's food in that bag because the only thing I ate today was half a carrot and a dozen fucking pinto beans."

  Jackie laughs. "Yeah, sorry. It's been a long week." She sets the bag down and unzips it.

  "Tell me that's not more potatoes," Spencer groans.

  "Beggars can't be choosers," Jackie says, "especially in the middle of February. I'm sick of them too, to be honest. But if it helps, I also have salt pork, tinned sardines, aaaaaaand turnips. Because who doesn't want turnips?"

  "Screw you, I like turnips," Kyra says, grabbing one and sinking her teeth into it.

  The others laugh as they help Jackie empty the bag of the supplies. Maya comes out of the shadows to see how much there is of everything so they can plan for the next few days. "Take care of Dominic, okay?" Jackie asks, as she zips the empty bag and shoulders it.

  "Yeah," Maya says. "I'll see what I can do."

  *~*~*

  When Ryan gets bored or tired, he holes up in what's left of the public library. The books have long since gone to scavengers for tinder during the worst times, but he's kept a secret stash hidden underneath one of the floorboards. Only about half a dozen t
itles fit inside, so he kept only those that he knows he could re-read until the day he dies. Anna Karenina. The Once and Future King. Good Omens. They can take him away from his bleak life for just a little while.

  As soon as he enters the library, he knows that someone has been there. Their scent is still there, a little old now, clinging to the walls. It's Nick Donovan's scent, silver and gunpowder, coffee and aftershave. Not a scent he'll ever forget. He stands there and breathes it in for a minute.

  He heads for his stash of books. The scent is stronger there, concentrated. Nick had gone looking for Ryan's stash, had known that it would be there. There's a new book on the top of the pile; 'new' in that he hasn't seen it before, although it's as old and tattered as the rest. The Picture of Dorian Gray. He picks it up and finds a piece of paper tucked inside. 'Need to see you. I'll be here every day at dusk until you are.'

  Ryan glances around as if to make sure that he's alone. The library is empty and silent, not a heartbeat to be heard. He wonders how many days ago Nick had left this note. More than a week, judging by his faint scent on the note itself. But his smell in the library is fresh, recent. He has indeed been there every day.

  It's late afternoon now, so Ryan decides he'll wait. He doesn't want to see Nick, but he's intensely curious as to what he might want. And although he wouldn't admit it, the fact that Nick still knows him well enough to have figured out exactly how to contact him in these circumstances makes him feel shivery inside, in a way that he hasn't in a long time.

  Having the high ground will be important in this conversation, both morally and physically. Ryan scouts things out a little before nestling away in a little alcove on the second floor. The library is set up in a large square with a balcony overlooking the main room. He'll be able to see Nick enter from there.

  It's been about an hour, and he's deeply engrossed in the book, when he hears the creak of the main door. His heartbeat picks up despite himself. Nick takes a few steps inside, his rifle up and tucked against his shoulder, gaze keen and alert as he scans the empty space. Then he puts the gun down. "Ryan," he says.

  Ryan doesn't bother to ask how Nick knew he was there. Nick has been in the military since he was out of diapers. It's what he does. He leans against the balcony, but stays in the shadows. "The years have been kind," he says, with an edge of sarcasm to his voice. Nick doesn't look bad by any means, but Ryan is less concerned with reality and more concerned with making Nick feel like shit. Nick's face is lined and worn now, and his brown hair is gray at the temples. He has a beard too, which Ryan tries to ignore because Nick with facial hair has always done terrible things to him.

  As an opening gambit, it fails. Nick apparently doesn't care at all about Ryan's opinion of his appearance. "I need to ask you some questions."

  Ryan holds back an exasperated sigh. Nick has clearly forgotten all the things Ryan has taught him. He's going to have to start all over if they're going to have any fun. "Oh, yes, Nicholas," he says. "Interrogate me. I'm ready."

  Nick looks just as annoyed as Ryan feels. "It's important."

  "So I would assume. You haven't made any effort to contact me in over five years, and yet, here you are."

  "I figured you wouldn't want me to contact you," Nick says.

  Ryan shrugs. "When has what I wanted meant anything to you?"

  Nick doesn't bite. "It's about my daughter, Jackie."

  "Your daughter." Ryan holds back a smile with effort. He wonders what Nick would do if he knew what Jackie was doing. Consorting with werewolves. Smuggling them supplies. Betraying her family. Nick doesn't know his daughter at all. "Yes, how is dear little Jackie? I remember back when you used to tell me all about her exploits."

  "Jackie is fine."

  "No, she isn't," Ryan says. "You wouldn't be here if Jackie was fine."

  Nick gives a nod of acquiescence. "Well, your sister broke her face."

  "Jackie started it," Ryan replies.

  "I know." Nick stares moodily into the rafters. Ryan waits for him to get on with it. "I need to know who killed her parents."

  That isn't what Ryan was expecting. He looks at Nick in mild surprise. "Latisha and Darryl Jackson have been dead for eight years. You adopted their daughter and their deaths touched off a war. And you're only just now thinking to ask who did the deed?"

  "It's not like we didn't investigate at the time," Nick growls. "He was a cop, for God's sake, and it was a public case. Nothing was ever found. But Jackie needs closure. If she can put their deaths behind her, then maybe she can…"

  "Can what, Donovan?" Ryan asks, when Nick trails off.

  "I want her to quit the militia before she gets herself killed."

  Ryan stares at him, then begins to laugh. He can't help it. "Good Lord, Nicholas. I knew you were a jackass and a toadie, but I never figured you for a hypocrite. Jackie is exactly what you've made her to be. A soldier. A werewolf hunter. A killer."

  "I know it's hypocritical," Nick says. He waits until Ryan stops laughing. "I don't want her to be like me. I know what being me is like."

  "Are you so unhappy, Nicholas dearest?" Ryan asks, smirking.

  Nick says nothing. Gradually, Ryan's smirk fades away.

  "I'm serious, Ryan," Nick finally says. "I want to help my daughter. If you won't do it for me, do it for Jackie."

  "Why should I do anything for you or Jackie?" Ryan asks. "You wouldn't lift a finger to help me if our positions were reversed."

  Nick gives a little shrug. "Because when you know more than me, you like to taunt me about it."

  "Well, that's true enough," Ryan muses. He wonders how much Jackie does know about the deaths of her parents. He's willing to bet that she knows a lot more than Nick does—and a lot more than Nick thinks she does. "Very well, then, Nicholas. I'll give you a clue. For old time's sake. More of a riddle."

  "How generous of you," Nick says, deadpan.

  "The Jacksons were killed when your daughter was nine. You adopted her, brought her into your home. And she recovered from the trauma, slowly but surely. I remember you telling me about it. How you would have to stay up all night, holding her while she screamed. How Helen resented all the attention you gave this child that wasn't hers. How Jackie gradually opened up to you. It was adorable, by the way. And if things had stayed that way, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. But they didn't, did they? Something changed. Jackie became angry, rebellious. She got hurt, caused trouble, ran away from home, and eventually ended up in the militia. Why?"

  "I get the feeling that you're about to tell me," Nick says.

  "Oh, no, Nicholas. There's your riddle. If you figure out why Jackie changed when she was twelve, you'll figure out who killed her parents."

  "The world went to war," Nick says.

  "The world was at war from the moment you took her in," Ryan says. "Things were already falling apart by the time she was ten. Try harder, Nick. Look closer. But consider that you might not like where the rabbit hole goes. And consider that there might be a reason why Jackie has never asked you to figure this out. She might not appreciate you poking your nose into it now."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "You'll find out," Ryan says, and with that parting remark, he walks back into the stacks and ducks out of the library through the remains of the back wall.

  Chapter Four

  Maya wakes up with a jolt when she hears someone screaming. It takes her a few seconds to pinpoint where the noise is coming from, then another moment to bolt across the warehouse and clamp her hand down over Dominic's mouth. He struggles and flails, but Maya's strength is far superior. "Hey, hey, you're all right," Maya says in a low voice, as the rest of the pack is looking around to see what's going on. "You're safe. You're all right."

  Dominic's eyes open and he looks around, his panicked gaze darting into all the corners of the room. It fixes on Maya, who keeps repeating, "You're all right," and his struggles stop. The tension starts to seep out of his body. "I'm going to take my hand away,
yeah?" Maya says, and Dominic nods.

  "Sorry," he says in a hoarse whisper.

  Maya shakes her head. "Not your fault. Was it a vision?"

  "I—I think so. They're so much more clear than nightmares, I—I'm pretty sure that's what it was."

  "What did you see?"

  "I don't—I don't know, I can't—"

  "Dominic," Maya says, holding him by the shoulders. "It could be important. Just take some deep breaths, try to calm down."

  Dominic nods. He closes his eyes for a long minute. "There was a man. He was in…I think it was the ruins of a store. Not sure where. The m-militia came for him. They—they tased him. I could feel it—could smell it." He gives a shudder. "He went down and they, they put handcuffs on him. A bag over his head."

  The last words are choked out, and the rest of the pack stirs uneasily. They know why Maya is asking, know that if someone who knows them was taken alive, they have to drop everything and move. But it's painful to watch.

  "Can you describe him? Tell me anything about what sort of creature he was?"

  "He—he was tall. Skinny. I'm s-sorry, there was barely any light. He—" Dominic gives another shudder. "Wait. He had a tattoo. On his inner forearm. It was a—a playing card. An ace. I'm not sure which one. It happened really fast."

  "That's Kinkaid," Siobhan says quietly. "He's an incubus. One of my mom's friends from way back when."

  "Have you had any contact with him?" Maya asks.

  Siobhan shakes her head. "No. He's been living up on the north side of town."

  "Okay. We ought to be safe enough. We'll double the watch for tonight to be on the safe side."

  The others nod and quietly debate amongst themselves to decide who will take what shift. Maya turns her attention back to Dominic. "You okay?"

  "No!" Dominic bursts out, and starts crying. "I'm hungry and I'm c-cold and I'm scared and I miss my mom and, and none of this is fair and I w-want to go home!" He curls inward, pulling his knees to his chest and pressing both hands against his face to muffle his sobs. Maya pats his back awkwardly and wishes she hadn't asked. She isn't good at this sort of thing. Gabby comes to her rescue a minute later, sitting on Dominic's other side and pulling him into a hug. Maya retreats, relieved.