Envy and Magic

by Melody Raven

  Sam cocked her head and wondered whether Abigail really thought she was naive enough to think she broke her phone by adding contacts to it. “Bastian and I need to talk to them. We’re going to need some privacy.”

  “Of course. That’s all you had to say.” Except Abigail didn’t leave. Instead, she shifted her weight to look over Sam’s shoulder.

  “Leave Bastian alone, please.”

  The corner of Abigail’s mouth hooked up. “Just admiring the view.”

  “I will talk to you later,” said Sam sternly, waiting for Abigail to finally move out of the way.

  “Very well. Stop by the house when you get a chance. I wanted to discuss a few things with you now that you’re working with Claudia.”

  Sam frowned. She’d never once heard Abigail refer to her as anything other than Mother and Grandmother. “I’ll try to stop by. I’d call, but....”

  “I will see you later,” said Abigail with a smile, ignoring the dig. “And when you come over, I want to hear all about this Bastian.” Abigail walked past Sam, and after one long lingering look at Bastian, she turned the corner, going a noticeably different direction than the elevator.

  Bastian slowly approached and Sam really wished she was better able to disguise the annoyance she knew was plastered on her face.

  “Should we be worried about that?” he asked once he reached her.

  “I don’t know,” answered Sam honestly. Trying to figure out what her mother wanted was like trying to read a dead language sometimes. She knew the answers were in front of her, but there was no way to decipher the meaning.

  But she’d at least learned one interesting thing. Bastian and Abigail had never met. Which was... strange. Abigail, like Claudia, was much older than she looked, and as the daughter of Claudia, Abigail had rubbed elbows with almost every witch and warlock out there. But she was supposed to be looking into the Abbots and not her own life, so she just filed that bit of information away for later.

  They found Rose’s room quickly. Sam pulled out the medical chart next to the door while Bastian glanced around. He’d take care of anyone who walked up. “Anything interesting?” he asked.

  Sam let out a long whistle. “Lots of painkillers,” she murmured. She wondered whether that was the doctor’s choice or whether Nathan was using his own influence to make his wife more comfortable. “Nothing much. Mostly working to make her comfortable and keep infection away.” It had only been a few hours. Sam was sure the long line of doctors Rose would be seeing over the next few months had only just started.

  “Why don’t we say hello?” said Bastian.

  Sam nodded as she put the chart away and let Bastian lead the way into the room. She’d been doing an okay job of pretending she knew what she was doing, but she was more than happy to let him lead this conversation.

  Rose Abbot was on the hospital bed and looking away from them, toward the man sitting next to her; Nathan Abbot. Her husband. Sam didn’t know whether she’d ever formally met Nathan, but she’d seen him around a few times. Never figured they’d meet under these circumstances.

  He stood immediately as they walked in. Nathan wasn’t the tallest guy; at five foot seven, he was a smidge shorter than Sam. But even lying down, Rose appeared to have a small frame, so they probably made a cute couple. Nathan had thick brown hair that seemed to be naturally spiked from running his hands repeatedly through it. Poor guy probably had the night from hell.

  “Hello,” said Bastian, taking the lead. “I’m Bastian and this is Samantha Harris. Claudia sent us to find out what happened.”

  Nathan nodded in quick, jerky motions. “I’m glad you’re here. I need to know who—who did this.”

  Sam realized Bastian had been speaking directly to Nathan the entire time, never once looking to Rose. The woman, a human from what Sam knew, looked blankly up at the ceiling, but she was conscious. “I’m very sorry for what happened to you,” said Sam carefully, trying to determine whether Rose was really with them.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. Not a whisper, but barely audible over the white noise of the hospital.

  “She’s very tired,” said Nathan in her defense.

  That was believable considering how many drugs they were pumping in through her IV. Her face was flushed pink, making her naturally blonde hair appear almost white in contrast. A good portion of the hair appeared matted and tangled, which was understandable considering what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. With the redness on the face, even the most basic of brushing wouldn’t be easy.

  But the severe burns were located lower. Starting at the top of the shoulder and all the way down to the hand, her arm was covered in thick gauze, and Sam was grateful she didn’t have to see underneath it.

  “Claudia wants to make sure the costs of the hospital are taken care of,” said Bastian. “And we’ll set up temporary housing until you find somewhere more permanent, of course. We can let your wife rest while we discuss this somewhere else.”

  Nathan nodded, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders.

  It must be nice to have one less thing to worry about.

  Bastian stepped aside to let Nathan pass before he started to follow. Before Sam could move, Bastian held a hand behind his back, palm facing her. A sign to stay back. She supposed questioning the couple separately was a good idea, but Sam didn’t see the purpose. They were the innocent victims, right?

  The hospital room was mostly white, with a few pieces of dated cream-colored furniture and equipment. The second bed was empty and Sam wondered whether that was because the hospital happened to have an empty bed or whether Nathan had coerced the staff to give his wife privacy. Next to her bed was an armchair and a few bags of items Nathan had probably brought for the two of them.

  “They might take a while,” said Sam softly. In the silence of the room, everything seemed too loud. “Mind if I take a seat?”

  Rose had been looking straight ahead the entire time and she blinked at the question. “That’s fine,” she finally answered.

  Sam sat and tried to determine whether it was the drugs or the aftereffects of the fire that made Rose so out of it. “How are the girls?”

  That snapped Rose out of it as she sat up ever so slightly and actually made eye contact with Sam. “I kept the girls safe. I’m a good mother.”

  Sam tried to keep the concern from her face and gave Rose a comforting smile. “You’re an amazing mother.” Considering the kids didn’t even have a blister on them and Rose was the one in the hospital, Sam was sure the poor woman had done everything she could. So why was she so quick to defend herself? “Rose,” said Sam tentatively. “Do you think this fire is connected to what has been happening with your husband’s family?”

  Rose laid her head back and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m not stupid,” she insisted. “I knew the risks when I married him. But we’ve gone so long without any trouble, I assumed we were safe.”

  She went quiet and Sam knew she needed to get Rose to finish the thought. “Safe from what? Do you know who did this?”

  Rose looked Sam right in the eye. “I was supposed to keep my daughters safe. I knew they’d be in danger.”

  “Safe from what?”

  “From the angry mobs. It’s hardly the first time humans have burned witches. I just never thought they’d come after us.”

  “Are you sure you want to stop here, lady?” The cab driver looked skeptically out the windshield of the cab.

  No, thought Claire. She wasn’t sure about this at all. “I’m good.” She handed over three twenty-dollar bills to the driver, which should be enough to cover the long drive out of the city and the tip. She should also have just enough to cover the cab ride back, but after that, she’d be out of cash.

  One more problem she was going to push to the back of her mind. She stepped out of the car and looked around at the barren field in front of her. All she could see was grass and trees in the distance, but she knew that the neighborhood they’d driven through
to get here wasn’t in a great area.

  She shouldn’t be afraid. She was a witch. Not some horrible, evil creature like she’d thought her entire life. She was a strong, powerful woman who should be feared. As long as the person who decided to rob, rape, or kill her was afraid of levitating pencils, she’d totally be safe.

  Pencils, feathers, leaves. Pretty much anything that weighed less than three ounces. The cab was still there, probably waiting for her to change her mind about being dropped off in such a secluded place. Well, not secluded. That was the problem. They were close enough to populated areas that there were almost certainly people not too far away. Only a matter of time before they stumbled across the lone girl in the field. Woman. She was eighteen now. Guess that made her official.

  She waved the cab away and started to walk into the tall grass, looking for any sign of Jackson. He should be there. She had double and triple checked the time, date, and location he’d given her, and Sam would’ve mentioned if he was a flake.

  Once she finally reached the middle of the field, she turned in a circle, looking for any sign of... anything. No Jackson. No junkie running out to rob her. How long should she give this before she gave up and went home? Rather, to the apartment she was using free of charge.

  She was just about to call the cab back when she felt something on her shoulder. Claire twisted around, but instead of seeing some dude behind her smirking about the prank he’d just played, all she saw was empty air. Claire stepped back, scanning for any sign of the person, but there was nothing.

  “Show yourself,” she said with a confidence she couldn’t back up.

  A shift in the air had her twisting around once more, this time with her fist swinging, except it never made contact. The now visible man grabbed her wrist in mid-air and looked down at her. “That was very good,” he said without a hint of sarcasm that she could tell.

  Claire ripped her hand away and rubbed at her wrist. Damn, he had a tight grip. She rubbed at the skin as she looked at this new guy. Well, he was a lot cuter than her last teacher. Claire was already tall at five nine, but this guy was at least six feet. He had brown hair that looked soft and thick and carefully grown stubble that she was guessing was more because it was on trend than because he didn’t have time to shave.

  “Jackson?” she asked, trying to decide whether she should be angry about the invisible boy stunt he’d just pulled.

  He grinned and held his hand out to her. “Jackson Benedict. Claire with no last name, right?”

  “Claire Washington,” she said as she tightened her lips.

  “Is that what you decided on?” He looked amused more than anything. “It’s a patriotic choice.”

  She didn’t have a good reason for the name she chose. She just wanted something common and easy to spell and pronounce. A name that would let her get lost in a crowd or stack of paperwork. “So what’s with the invisible boy routine? Or do you just enjoy scaring women?”

  His smile stayed in place, but he narrowed his eyes slightly. “You knew I was invisible, though. That’s a good sign.”

  Okay. New teacher might be crazy. “You touched me. It wasn’t rocket science.”

  “Most people, when touched by something they can’t see, assume they imagined it. You didn’t even stop to think that I wasn’t real. I didn’t see you become uncertain even once. That’s a good sign.”

  “Of course I wasn’t uncertain. You touched me.”

  “Are you sure about a lot of things?”

  At this point, she was one big pile of uncertainty. “What are you talking about?”

  “Have you ever gotten feelings about things before they happen?”

  She had a feeling this meeting was going to go downhill fast. “I’m not psychic.”

  “Not premonitions. Feelings. Impressions. Are you better at reading body language than others? Predicting danger? I heard you were living on the streets for a while. Do you think those skills helped you?”

  Claire tilted her head as she considered him. “Okay, then, yes. I’m good at reading body language. I can also tell a crazy guy when I see one.” His grin widened and Claire rolled her eyes. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  “I think I know why you’ve had struggles with practicing.”

  Because she was only just starting to get training now instead of starting as a child, like every other witch apparently? “What’s your theory?”

  “I think you’ve been spending too much time with Sam.”

  “Being around her has hurt my chances at training?”

  “Being around Sam has affected your expectations. You’ve got it in your head that you’re going to start fires and blow things up, right?”

  “The salt shakers never stood a chance,” she muttered.

  “Huh?” It was his turn to be confused.

  “Nothing. You think I’m a different type of witch than her?”

  “I think that if you want to succeed, you need to take a different approach.”

  Claire glanced around them at the greenery. “And a different location?”

  Jackson started to walk around her, and Claire pivoted to keep her eyes on him. He might be cute, but he seemed a little weird too, and she didn’t make it as far as she had by turning her back on weirdos. But she gave in when he set a hand on one shoulder and then her other one, facing her firmly away from him. “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

  She strongly debated elbowing him in the gut and making a run for it. “I don’t like being touched,” she warned.

  Jackson just squeezed tighter and leaned forward. “We’re all alone out here. Touching you or not, trust me when I say I have all the power here.”

  Claire tensed and felt her hands ball into fists of their own accord. But there was no use arguing with him. He was the flipping invisible man. As threatening as his words were, they were true. And if she wanted to learn how to defend herself, she was going to have to listen to him. She let her eyes close even as she added, “The last guy who put his hands on me ended up dead.”

  “Sam isn’t here to shoot me,” he pointed out.

  “Fine. I’m utterly defenseless against you, with my eyes closed. Now what?”

  “Now stop thinking about killing me and relax.”

  Easier said than done. Even so, she rolled her shoulders and tried to relax. “I’ve tried calling energy to me. It doesn’t work.”

  “That’s another Sam thing. Not you. Sam needs to call energy. She burns it too hot and fast. You can’t work that way.”

  “So I’m always going to be powerless?”

  “You need to let the energy come to you.”

  Claire let out a skeptical breath. “Just lay back and let the energy come to me? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing my entire life?”

  “Think about your past. Think about the last time you were happy. What happened?”

  She could feel the tension creep back into her, and Jackson must’ve felt it too because he squeezed her shoulders.

  “Remember, don’t relive. Tell me about it.”

  All that seemed so long ago. As if it were another life. She hated to think about the happy times because it made it all the more apparent that everything had gone wrong so fast. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Her childhood had been overall very happy and relaxed. Things had gone downhill so fast and she knew the exact day. The day she’d made the cheerleading squad, of all things.

  Now that she was older, it didn’t seem as important. Cheerleaders were a dime a dozen. But as a kid, that was all she wanted. She’d watch the pom team do their perfectly synchronized routines. Her private school had a very exclusive and award-winning team, so she hadn’t made it her freshman or sophomore year. But junior year was hers. She’d practiced all summer and was in the best shape of her life. She’d owned that audition and had been number one on the list of new members. And it was in that day of elation that she’d first used magic in front of her family.

  “We were all going out,” she
said hesitantly. “Dinner to celebrate me. It was my parents, my adoptive parents, and my little sister. There was only one road into town and a tree had fallen into the road, blocking us. It was no big deal, we could celebrate another time, but I didn’t want to wait. So I pointed at the tree and told it to move. And that’s the day everything started to go downhill.”

  “Your first taste of magic and you moved a tree.”

  Claire was quiet.

  “Oh. The first time they’d seen anything.”

  “I thought I could hide it. That it would go away.”

  “But you don’t want it to go away any more. You want to control it.”

  Claire’s eyes snapped open and she twisted around, dislodging Jackson’s grip on her. “I almost died. And I don’t say that lightly. I’ve been robbed, assaulted, and falsely arrested before. But I’ve never almost died like that. What Tommy Collins did to me, what he was planning to do—” Her voice cracked and she forced herself to rein herself in and remain calm. “If it weren’t for Sam and Derek, I would be dead. I don’t want to rely on the mere chance that someone finds me. There were other women who weren’t so lucky. So are you going to help me or not?”

  “Of course I’m going to help you.” He tapped her shoulder. “Just turn around and close. Your. Eyes.”

  She let out a sigh—okay, maybe a groan—and did what he said. At least this time he didn’t touch her again. “So just relax and let the magic come to me?”

  “Energy. And no. I want you to memorize this. The feelings, the sounds. And then you will go home and you’re going to mentally come back here.”

  “Meditate? You want me to meditate?”

  “More than that. I want you to get in touch with your mind, and get a feel for the difference between mind and body.”

  Yeah, this teacher-student relationship wasn’t going to work out. “Why couldn’t we have had this talk in Central Park?”

  “The city is one of the most polluted places in the world.”

  “It’s much cleaner than it used to—”

  “Not trash. All you hear are cabs and machinery. The buildings stop the air from flowing the way it’s supposed to and keep the city in shade. All you smell is trash and people. Every sense is taken over by the city. This place, this field, is your anchor. This is what allows you to leave your current mental state. So tonight, I want you to go home and meditate, using right here as an anchor.”