by Eden Briar
“What do you see?”
“When anyone touches me, or when I touch them…” He holds out a hand, turns it palm-up, and stares at it. “…all I see is darkness and death. Their death. I witness every second of it—I feel their fear, hear their screams, watch the pain and agony of those last few moments. Caster power is often channeled through the hands. If I do have some in me somewhere, chances are good I’ll never realize it.”
It takes a moment for me to understand what he’s saying.
“Your clairvoyant ability blocks your caster power.”
He curls his hand into a fist.
“It blocks everything. You don’t know what it’s like for me to see someone like you, so different, so fascinating… I want to get to know you, to talk to you. Share jokes and stories. See what we have in common; see if we might grow closer. But if I so much as brush against your skin…” He looks away. “It’s easier just to keep my distance.”
Now I know why he’s gone out of his way to keep me at arm’s length. The second we touch, even accidentally… he’ll be forced to watch me die. That can’t be a memory that’s easily forgotten.
“I’m sorry,” he mutters suddenly. “I didn’t mean to say all that.”
“Ben…” I take a step toward him, but he’s faster. He leaps over the balcony, lands on the floor of the library below, and runs for the door.
I let him go, knowing it would do no good to chase him down. But I’m struck by how much I want to. How much I want to sit and talk with him. To run my hands through his short curls and gaze into his blue eyes. To cup his cheek and press my lips to his.
Groaning, I fist a hand in my hair and force myself to take a deep breath. This can’t be happening. How have I gone from the girl who no one sees, resigned to a life of loneliness, to being seriously attracted to not one, but three guys? I need answers, but who am I going to get them from?
15
After a restless night’s sleep, I have another training session with Lynea. My newly supernatural speed takes some getting used to. In the course of two days, I’ve broken a cup and bruised my arms and shins, my body moving faster than my brain expects. Still, Lynea thinks I’m making progress, and that’s good enough for me.
I sit on a bench at the edge of the gym, catching my breath. Lynea returns with two bottles of water, handing me one as she sits down next to me. I uncap it, take a long drink of the cool liquid, and steel myself for an awkward conversation.
“Can I ask you something? Not about training.”
Lynea sets her bottle down on the floor, leaning back against the wall, her legs stretched out in front of her.
“Ask away.”
It’s a tricky subject to broach, and I’m not sure how to put it.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
“You mean your sudden skill improvement? We already talked about that. It happens sometimes when you’re late coming into your abilities. You’re just experiencing a leap in—”
I groan, pressing my face into my hands.
“It’s not that.” I hesitate, and then rush the words out before I can change my mind. “Since I got here, I’ve made out with two different guys. And I really want to kiss a third.”
Of all the reactions I’m expecting—disapproval, horror—I’m taken aback when Lynea laughs.
“That is quite the dilemma. Or it would be, if you weren’t part of the magic world. Surely you’ve noticed the skewed gender ratio around here?”
It was true, there were a lot more guys. In fact, Lynea was the only other female I’d met in the guild house since I’d arrived.
“You don’t understand. Before I got here, guys just didn’t see me. And now… now…”
“Now you’re turning heads, and you’re struggling with all the attention.”
Ugh. Reveling in it was more like it.
Lynea eyes my expression and grins. “Not struggling?”
“Not so much. I mean… not like that. It feels like it’s not just my speed that’s ramped up, if you know what I mean.”
She doesn’t laugh this time, turning serious. “If you’ve got magic in your blood, it’s not unusual for a woman’s libido to ramp up alongside their powers. And you’re certainly having quite the power-up right now.”
I feel a spark of hope at that. “Then this will level off too? Or I’ll… get it under control?”
“There are different ways to master it,” she agrees easily.
“How did you?”
She stretches her arms above her head, her smile reaching her eyes. “I found three answers to my problem—Peter, Roman, and Dale.”
Peter? As in Evan two-point-oh? And I’ve met Dale. He’s a druid-sorcerer, he trains people with magically imbued weapons. Not that they’re letting me near the weapons. Not yet, anyway.
“Three…? Oh. They’re your, um, boyfriends? Do they know about each other?”
Lynea snorts with laughter at that. “Oh, they’d have to be blind not to have noticed each other by now. Peter and Dale both work in the guild, after all. Roman…” She smiles as she says his name. “He’s more of a freelancer. That’s how we met. We needed someone with his… expertise.” She doesn’t elaborate on what that expertise is but watches me expectantly, waiting for more questions.
“Do the four of you… do you… take turns?” I blush as I ask, given how personal a question it is.
Lynea isn’t fazed.
“I spend time with Peter and Dale alone and together, both inside the bedroom and out. Roman likes me all to himself when we’re in bed, but the three of them get along outside of that. They have to, to make this work.”
“Don’t they get… jealous?”
“The male-to-female ratio among the magic and master half-races is four to one. They are very satisfied with our arrangement, and so am I.”
“Why?” With females in such short supply, wouldn’t there be bloody battles to the death or women traded like rare commodities?
“Why…?” she presses, and I realize there are a lot of questions I could be asking. I narrow it down to maybe the most important.
“Why are there so few women?”
She takes another drink of water as she considers my question.
“Female magic is generally stronger than male magic. When it comes to half-bloods, that magic is more unstable as a consequence.”
Jazz had told me that, but I still didn’t understand why that meant there were fewer women.
“Okay…”
She twists around on the bench, folding her legs under her and leaning toward me.
“Magic develops in surges. The first surge happens during the early stages of pregnancy. Stronger magic means a more powerful surge; more than one type of magic in that surge means instability. In many half-blood pregnancies, the magic destabilizes, and they end before they’ve really begun.”
“So fewer girls are born than boys?”
“For half-bloods, it was four men to every woman. But with the recent… circumstances around half-bloods, that ratio has worsened—”
I know what she’s dancing around, so I interrupt her. “Jazz told me about the Cull.”
She huffs out a sigh of disapproval. “He did, did he? Some of the darker years of our modern history. But yes, that’s only further destabilized what was already a precariously balanced situation.”
“Are there any other women around my age in the guild?”
“Not in this guild house. There are maybe half a dozen across all the houses. Jazz met one once, she lives on the western coast of France.”
I feel an unexpected flash of jealousy at that.
“Does she… I mean, is she…”
“I believe she’s now in a committed relationship with four men. Jazz spent a few months out there a year or so ago, but… it didn’t come to anything.”
What a blow that must have been. It spoke volumes that Ben didn’t even go.
“But the guys aren’t restricted to dating other half-bloo
ds, right? I mean, if anything, dating full-bloods would mean stronger magic?”
Lynea shakes her head before I even get to the end of my question.
“Even before the Cull, it was rare for a pure-blood to consider a half-blood as a potential life partner. Now… let’s just say the chances are less than zero.”
I puzzle over that for a moment before she explains. “A lot of full-blood parents were killed protecting their half-blood children, or forced to watch them being slaughtered. That fear stays with people.”
“Like Archer’s wife?”
Lynea grimaces. “Jazz talks too much.”
“Yeah, because leaving me completely in the dark is a much better plan.”
“That wasn’t our intention. We wanted to give you some time to acclimatize.”
She stands up and stretches, as if our talk has gotten her so uncomfortable that she can’t sit still. As she moves, I remember why I started this conversation in the first place.
“Then you’re saying what I’m feeling is… normal?”
“Completely.”
“And the solution is not to choose?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “That’s just one possible option. Certainly not the only one. Purely monogamous relationships do happen, but the more powerful the magic, the less likely that sort of a relationship will be satisfying and stable. And having steady, fulfilling relationships goes a long way toward having stable magic.”
Sounds simple and complicated, all at the same time. But at least it means I have choices.
16
After my illuminating talk with Lynea, I shower and head to the kitchen for lunch. The kitchen and dining room are busier than normal, but Jazz is nowhere to be seen, and I don’t feel much like making small talk. I grab a portion of the lasagna Peter has made and scurry off to find somewhere quiet to eat.
There’s a small games room that’s been empty any time I’ve poked my head in the door, so I head there, shimmying inside while juggling my plate and cup and closing the door with a sigh. Only to find that the one time I really want to be alone, the room is far from empty.
“Uh… Hi.”
Ben stares back at me, then glances at the door like he’s thinking about making a run for it and wondering how to get by me.
“I’ll go,” I tell him. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”
“You don’t have to go. I mean, I can leave, if you want to be alone.”
“You were here first,” I point out, spying the half a sandwich on a plate next to him. “Not a fan of lasagna?”
He makes a face. “Something about cheese on pasta just seems… wrong.”
“Sacrilege!” I jab my fork in his direction while cradling my plate closer. “Don’t listen to him, lasagna. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
To my surprise, he laughs and waves me into a seat. “You’d better eat that before it goes cold and congeals.” He makes that face again, turning his attention to his own food.
I hesitate only a moment and then slip onto the second couch.
“I didn’t think anyone came in here. I mean… at first, I kind of thought you guys would live in here, what with all the games consoles. But maybe playing at magic isn’t so much fun when you can actually practice it?”
“We played more when we were younger,” Ben admits. “The guild keeps us busy these days.”
“Right. Training.”
“And working.”
I pause at that, my fork halfway to my mouth. There’s been plenty of talk about the guild training people, but nothing really about them having jobs.
“What do you guys actually do for the guild?”
“Me? I do whatever no one else wants to do, mostly.” Ben’s tone is cautious. He knows I’m fishing.
“Ah. The low man on the totem pole, huh?”
“I might as well be human, for all the good my magical abilities do. At least Jazz can be useful. I can’t even cook.”
“No?”
“I burn toast,” he says flatly.
“Maybe it’s not you. Maybe the toaster has a grudge?”
That gets another small smile from Ben, strengthening the urge I feel to be playful. He seriously needs to smile more.
“I’ll try a heartfelt apology next time I’m having bagels for breakfast.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes, and I’m pleased that at least Peter knows how to cook. The lasagna is delicious. I’m idly contemplating whether I can get away with raiding the kitchen for seconds when another idea comes to me.
“Hey, so, could I ask you a favor?”
Ben immediately goes wary, giving a slight nod in answer.
“It’s just… Jazz keeps promising to get me up to speed with the whole magic and master races thing. And then he keeps disappearing to train. I still really don’t know much of anything. Maybe there’s like a helpful FAQ document somewhere you could print out for me or… is there like a ‘Magic for Dummies’ book in the library? Something that covers the basics. Like ABC level basics, because that seriously feels like where I’m at right now.”
Ben’s expression turns from suspicious to surprised.
“What has Jazz told you?”
“That there are four magic races and three master races. And that it says a lot that the latter decided to describe themselves as masters.”
I shudder a little at that, thinking back to Matthias.
“Anything else?” Ben asks, his brow furrowing.
“Um…” I rack my brain, trying to think of what else Jazz has told me. “Caster power is intrinsic. Honestly, I don’t really know what that means. Being half-shifter makes you strong, able to jump really high, and gives you a hero complex. Just don’t ask them about shifting. Vampires are creepy but also really fast and mesmerizing.” I pause, leaving out what I know about druids, since I learned that from Zac, not Jazz. “Yep. That’s all I’ve got. Ooh… and I’m a little unclear on whether sorcerers, in general, are good like casters or bad like vampires.”
Ben frowns and mutters something dark under his breath.
“Something I said?” I suspect I’m not going to get the play-by-play of the magic world I’m hoping for.
“No. I just thought you’d be further along by now.”
“It’s not Jazz’s fault. I mean, he’s been busy training, and working, I guess, and searching for me. While I’ve been busy training and wandering off and getting abducted.”
“No,” he agrees. “It’s not Jazz’s fault. It’s mine. Archer asked both of us to help orientate you. I left it all to Jazz because I was trying to keep my distance. Maybe if I’d been more diligent and less selfish, you wouldn’t have left the guild house alone in the first place.”
There was a whole heap of guilt and self-loathing in there.
“It’s not your fault either. That was a pretty shitty thing for Archer to ask of you. He must know how hard it is.”
“Something being hard isn’t an excuse not to do it.”
The words sound like they’ve been spoken many times before, and I can almost hear Archer’s inflection in them.
“Tough love, huh?”
“He means well, but it’s…”
“Easier said than done?”
“Easy to say it when you’re not the one watching people suffer and die, and wondering…”
He trails off, but I can’t help prodding just a little.
“Wondering what?”
“Well… everyone can’t die horrible, violent deaths. Most people die of illness or old age or in their sleep. What if by touching them, by reading them… I’m marking them somehow? What if I’m condemning them to the terrible deaths I foresee?”
He looks haunted by the thought, and I start to wonder how the poor guy sleeps at night. And why he hasn’t locked himself in an empty room and refused to come out.
“Jazz told me clairvoyancy is passive magic. You’re not doing anything, right? You’re just seeing what has been, what is, or what will be. And even
then… is seeing the future always a one hundred percent guarantee?”
“It was for my grandmother. That’s why her skills were so highly prized. Whereas that side of my family have done their best to pretend I don’t exist since they found out what I see. They perceive it as a curse or the tainting of my clairvoyant blood by caster magic.”
“They sound like prejudiced fools.”
“What hurts most of all is knowing that if I’d inherited my grandmother’s gift, they’d be clambering over each other to tell the magic world that I was her grandson instead of hiding me like some shameful, dirty secret.”
He winces as he realizes what he’s said.
“Again with me unloading all my baggage on you. Sorry. That’s really not fair.”
“That’s okay. If it helps, it sounds like your childhood was as dysfunctional as mine.”
“Oh?”
“I was abandoned on the side of the road when I was four. Literally. It’s a miracle I didn’t end up roadkill. And then I danced through a succession of increasingly problematic foster homes until I was released into the world as a naive, slightly feral eighteen-year-old with no knowledge of the magic world and my place within it.”
“Damn.” He sits forward. “We really do need to get you up to speed. Where do you want to start? What do you most want to know?”
I cast about for an intelligent question but instead settle on the most fangirl of queries.
“Are there really dragons? Jazz said there were dragons.”
To his credit, Ben doesn’t laugh.
“Yes, there really are dragons. They’re one of the other master races.”
“How does that even…” I’m trying to picture it in my head, but it’s not happening. “If there were dragons, people would have seen them.”
He grins. “People have seen them. Why do you think you know what a dragon is?” His expression turns serious once more, and he moves into what I privately dub ‘lecture mode.’
“Okay, a few key things to know about dragons. They’re small in number. Like… less than a dozen in the whole world right now. And they sleep a lot. A lot a lot. The average dragon sleeps for a few hundred years at a time, wakes for days, weeks, sometimes months, and then back to sleep they go. You never want to wake a sleeping dragon, because that is a surefire way to get all the flesh melted off your bones. Pun completely, emphatically intended.”
