Witch-Blood
Page 36
Soon enough, the ceremony ended, and I slipped off down a quiet dead-end corridor while the audience emptied out of the room. There was a reception, the grand magus had told us. He’d said we were both welcome, but I urged Joey to go ahead, telling him I’d stay back until the crowd thinned. The fewer people who saw me, the lower the chance of awkward questions.
Ten minutes later, as I leaned against the cracked plaster and absently flexed the fingers of my burned hand, I heard a familiar voice at the other end of the hallway: “So that’s where you’re hiding, Dudley.”
I looked up, startled, and saw Russell standing in the middle of the hall, blocking my exit. “What do you want?” I asked, resisting the impulse to call up a fireball.
A pair of shadows filled the space behind him, then moved into the light to reveal Morgan and Dan, respectively Russell’s widest and tallest lieutenants. All three had lost their jackets and ties, though they still wore the thin gold necklaces that marked them as direct kin to magi. As I watched, the rest of the gang crowded the hallway: Milo with his bone-breaking fists, Terrance, a distant cousin of the grand magus’s wife, and Leo, whose wand was ready and glowing.
Russell tightened his ponytail and grinned. “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we, Dudley? You burned my hand. That’s going to cost you.”
I raised my injured palm to show him the glove. “Beat you to it. Back off, Russell.”
He laughed, and the rest of his pack chimed in. “Or what? Big sis is going to be pressing the flesh all night—there’s no one here to save you now.”
Russell took a step toward me, and I retreated, keeping my distance. “Come on,” I begged, “this is Hel’s big night, don’t do this—”
“Not doing anything to her,” said Terrance. “Just going to settle a few things with you. We’ve missed you, Dud.”
“Don’t,” I pleaded, feeling my adrenaline surge, but in a matter of seconds, the pack was on me.
I tried. Really, I tried. I went limp as usual, hoping they’d get bored and walk off, but all the while, I struggled against my own anger, the force inside that was building and needed an outlet.
I might even have been able to control it, had someone not broken my nose.
The fact that the pain was familiar made it no less pleasant, and I screamed as blood gushed over my face and shirt. The hands that had been holding me in place dropped me, and as I staggered toward the wall, I heard Russell’s mocking voice behind me: “Oh no, Dudley, we’re not finished yet. You’re not leaving that quickly.”
I cupped my hands around my busted nose, willing the healing enchantment into action, and then, shaking and infuriated, I let myself go.
I flung the pack away from me with a wave of force, denting the plaster and knocking Dan unconscious immediately. “My name is not Dudley,” I growled as the other five picked themselves up. “You want a fight? Okay. Here’s one.”
The bodies that were still moving flew into the air again, then bashed against the walls, over and over, until I heard ribs break and all five were crying in fear. “Still want a fight?” I yelled as a green fireball appeared in either hand. “I’ll give you a fight! I’ll give you every damn fight!”
And then, just before I burned them alive, I heard my sister’s voice at the other end of the hall, calling my name.
Hel. I was there for Hel, and no one was supposed to…
The fireballs fizzled, and I dropped my opponents. “Shit, Hel, I’m sorry,” I said, turning to her, only to find that the corridor behind her was packed with wide-eyed wizards. In the heat of the moment, I hadn’t realized how loud our brawl had been. “I…they broke my nose, and—”
“Oh, Aid,” she murmured, leaving the wizards behind as she ran to meet me. “Here, let me see.” She started gently prodding my nose, then muttered until a wet washcloth appeared in her hand. “You’ve got blood all over you,” she said, wiping off my face. “And I think it’s still leaking. Here, take this, go stand over there, and pinch it off until the bleeding stops, okay?”
“Hel—”
“No buts. And as for you,” she said, turning to the groaning guys on the floor, “I don’t think you’re ready for this level of responsibility.” With that, she pulled each one’s wand free, snapped it in half, and left the pieces on the carpet. “What have I told you idiots about beating up my brother?” she demanded, and when that got no response, she gave the nearest a swift kick in the groin. “Don’t do it!” How hard is that to remember?”
By then, Russell had recovered enough to climb to his knees and point a shaking finger at me. “That…that…”
Hel looked at me and my bloody washcloth, then turned back to Russell and folded her arms. “That would be the lord regent for the reigning king of Faerie,” she said quietly. “And you have no idea how lucky you are that I got here when I did.” With that, she marched back to me, inspected the progress of my nosebleed, and frowned. “You know,” she began, “power is great, but it’s even better when you know when to use it.”
I discarded her washcloth in favor of a fresh one. “And what would you have had me do differently?” I protested. “They jumped me—I didn’t start this.”
“I’m not complaining,” she soothed, “just offering a word of advice for down the line. Let’s go,” she said, waving Joey over as he pushed his way through the muttering throng. “I think there’s still plenty of cake.”
Hel led us on as the crowd parted, ignoring the voices that rose and fell around us, but paused before we reached the reception. “Here,” she said, then mumbled again until my suit was clean and whole once more. “Sorry, Aid, I can’t fix the nose that quickly.”
I took the cloth away, sniffed, and tossed the rag back into the ether. “I’ve had worse. But really, you don’t have to do this.”
She smiled, then looped her arm around mine. “Come on, little brother. The night is young.”
There were magi all around the reception hall. Wizards. Kids I’d known. People who had pitied me, who had mocked me when they thought I couldn’t hear them. All of them were whispering, murmuring, gasping as the news began to spread.
Their eyes were on me, with my new suit and my swollen nose. I had a moment’s flash of panic, and then the grand magus walked out of the press with a glass in his hand. “Lord Regent,” he said, “I’m terribly sorry about that. May I offer you a drink?”
It was a lousy apology, but I felt the warmth of my sister’s arm against mine and let it slide. “Kind of you,” I said as a bottle of beer appeared in my hand. “But I think I’ll start with one of my own.”
I sipped. It wasn’t going down in history as the world’s greatest beer, but at that moment, surrounded by the stunned Arcanum, I couldn’t have imagined anything tasting better.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
* * *
Thank you, thank you, to those of you who’ve come along with me on this strange trip.
As always, my gratitude goes to the Novel Chicks for their advice and friendship. A special thank-you is due to Adam Domby, beta reader extraordinaire.
And of course, here’s to you, Mom and Dad.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
When not writing fiction, Ash Fitzsimmons is an appellate attorney and an unrepentant car singer.
Find her online:
www.ashfitzsimmons.com