Seeking Magic

by Eden Briar

“It’s you. I saw you.”

  My heart sinks. If he saw me, that can only mean one thing. “You watched me die?”

  “I saw you live.”

  I sink down onto the edge of the bed, taking both of Ben’s hands in mine. He stares at our joined hands in wonder. How long has it been since he’s been able to touch another person like this?

  “Ben?”

  He glances up, meets my eyes, and I rush through my next words. “Thank you for saving me. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  His smile is a little dazed as he lifts his hand to cradle my cheek. He leans in, and I move closer. And then we’re kissing, his soft lips pressed to mine. His eyes are sparkling as he pulls back, dragging his thumb across my lower lip.

  “I’ve waited a long time to do that.” His smile is bright and full of promise.

  I smile back at him, happy and relieved.

  Ben spots the others hovering behind me, his expression turning serious yet animated.

  “Archer.”

  “Ben, how do you—”

  He acts like Archer hasn’t spoken. “I know what I’ve seen. I understand now. I understand all of it.”

  “All of what?” Archer asks gently. “What did you see, Ben?”

  “Balor,” Ben croaks. “A war. The city destroyed. The tree burning. The end of everything.”

  His eyes are haunted. “In Balor’s future, every one of us dies. That’s… that’s what I’ve been seeing, all my life. I just never saw the full picture until I healed Indy.”

  He takes my hand again, his eyes still filled with wonder as he strokes his fingers across my palm.

  “But just now, when she took my hand and woke me, I saw something else. Just a flash of hope, a chance of a different future.” He smiles, his wonder-filled gaze now trained on me. “It’s her, Archer. Indy’s our only hope. She’s the Seeker.”

  25

  The next few minutes are loud and chaotic as a healer arrives to check Ben over. He’s pronounced fit and healthy, and Jazz bundles him away to shower and change. Archer walks away, deep in conversation with Peter and Lynea, leaving me alone with Zac. He stares at me like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing.

  “That was quite the show.”

  “You can’t talk. The day we met, you drove a stake through your own father’s heart.”

  “I did,” he agrees.

  “And he called me the S-word too. Why does everyone keep saying that?”

  “Hear hooves, think horses, right?”

  “But Archer already said I can’t be the Seeker. He knows about this stuff.”

  That knocks Zac’s confidence just a little. “Knowledge isn’t infallible, Blue. People are wrong. People lie. Lies are sometimes the best way to keep people safe.”

  “Do you think I’m the Seeker?”

  “I’m not my father. I don’t know how to tell a Seeker from a normal half-blood. But if one of the most powerful vampires in the world says so, if a clairvoyant comes out of a vision coma with the word Seeker on his lips...” He trails off.

  We sit in silence, and I try my best not to think about what Ben told Archer. He’s confused, he doesn’t know what he’s saying. Hell, he just woke up from a fucking coma. The excuses tumble over themselves in my mind, and I cling to them. Beside me, Zac strums his fingers against the side of the chair, the only tell of anxiety in his otherwise relaxed posture.

  Peter sticks his head in the door sometime later. “Archer’s called a meeting. Library. Five minutes.” He pauses, his eyes sliding to Zac and back to me. “He wants both of you there.”

  He’s gone a moment later, and I draw in a ragged breath, struggling to fill my lungs.

  Zac’s hand closes over mine; a warm, steady pressure.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  I want to believe that so badly.

  The walk to the library takes forever and no time at all. Jazz and Ben are already there, Ben’s hair still damp. There’s an easy grin on Jazz’s face, his relief at Ben’s recovery obvious. At least someone’s happy.

  Archer storms in, not from the main door but from the room full of prohibited materials that Jazz broke into for me. He sets a book down on the table, open to a familiar picture.

  “Sit down.”

  I want to walk back out the door, to run away. Instead, I take the chair closest to the exit. Zac stands behind me, his hand on my shoulder. I manage a steadying breath at that. I don’t know how he does it, how something as simple as his touch is enough to ground me, but I revel in this moment of quiet certainty.

  Jazz slips into the seat opposite me. His foot nudges my leg before pressing firmly against my ankle. Ben is the last to sit, taking the seat by my side. After the briefest of pauses, he holds my hand between both of his. In their own way, all three are telling me the same thing—they’re here for me, supporting me, buffering me. And as I look up and meet Archer’s eyes, I know why.

  “I’m not the Seeker.”

  It’s important that I’m upfront about this fact, given the way everyone is looking at me.

  Archer nods once in acknowledgment, sitting down next to Jazz.

  “Would anyone else like to voice their opinion?”

  Zac’s hand squeezes my shoulder gently before he speaks. My eyes fall closed as I hear his words.

  “Matthias knew what she was. He saw it when he tried to push into her mind. He almost killed her for it.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything.”

  Zac’s hand stills at the bite in my tone, but he keeps talking.

  “After we kissed for the first time, Indy and I spoke in a dream. And then through mirrors.”

  “After we kissed,” Jazz says, “I saw my wolf in a mirror, and so did Indy.”

  I glower at him. Traitor.

  “Indy, we both know that wasn’t the only time you’ve seen something in a mirror that wasn’t a reflection,” he chides gently.

  “And then there’s the power-up,” Zac adds. “You got faster after you kissed me, right?”

  “Lynea said that was just me coming into my own strengths.” I hate how they’re ganging up on me.

  “Except you got stronger after we kissed,” Jazz points out gently.

  “Oh, shit.” Ben lets go of my hand like he’s been burned. “I kissed you. I’m so sorry, Indy. I didn’t realize. I—”

  I catch his hand again. “It’s fine.”

  “But it’s not. What if you start seeing what I see whenever you touch someone?”

  “We’ll deal with that problem if and when it arises,” Archer says smoothly.

  He looks around at the four of us before his gaze settles on me.

  “Indigo, I owe you an apology. You came to me about your concerns, and I didn’t take them seriously. I believed the knowledge I had superseded anything you could tell me. I was wrong.”

  The last thing I want to hear is Archer admitting he’s wrong. Because he isn’t. He can’t be.

  I wave my hand at the guys. “None of that means I’m the Seeker. I’m half-clary, right? I’ve always seen weird stuff in reflections and been able to look through other people’s eyes. The rest is just me coming into my powers, like Lynea said.”

  I pull my hand from Ben’s and fold my arms, daring them to challenge me.

  Zac moves to my side and tugs my chair around until I’m facing him. He cups my chin, tilting my head up.

  “You’re half-clary?” His searching gaze sends my heart thumping.

  “Yes. Half-clary, half-caster. Why?”

  Wide-eyed, he glances across the table to Archer before looking back at me.

  “Half-caster, yes. But you’re no clary.”

  People have been calling me a clary since the moment those first vampires tried to chow down on me. I’m ready to argue, call Zac’s bluff, when it hits me. The only reason I believe I’m a clary is because that’s what everyone’s been telling me.

  “Then what am I?”

  He tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes
.

  “Half-druid, like me. That’s why I could see your true appearance once we were close enough to touch.”

  “But that’s caster magic. Jazz said so. Glamours.”

  My words are stilted, my thoughts muddled. There’s a deep frown on Jazz’s face when he speaks.

  “The entrance mirrors registered your magic as unusual. Not exclusively caster in nature… but not druid either.” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “The vampires called you a clary. They know that sort of thing.”

  I look to Archer for answers. His face is pale, his eyes fixed on me like he’s seeing me properly for the first time.

  “The magic the Seeker possesses could look like clary magic to the untrained eye. Your being half-caster made sense in the context of what we could see.”

  He drums his fingers on the table, his lips pressed tight, his gaze moving above our heads. It’s a long ten seconds before he speaks again.

  “Seeker magic utilizes the natural abilities of the Seeker’s magic race, alongside some Seeker-specific powers. It’s protective magic. That explains your ability to change appearance to blend in with your environment and to go unseen for so long.”

  “I’m not unseen anymore,” I point out. “No one in the magic world seems to have any problem noticing me now.”

  Archer looks contemplative for a moment. “I believe that might be Jazz’s fault.”

  “Hey, what did I do?” Jazz grumbles.

  “Yours and Indigo’s first meeting acted as a trigger. The Seeker meeting another half-blood for the first time.”

  That makes a horrible sort of sense. There’d been an intensity to our first moment together that I hadn’t understood. And only minutes later, those vampire bouncers at the casino had stared right at me.

  But no. I still certain they’re wrong. I just need to prove it.

  “What about my ability to see the future? That’s clary magic.”

  Archer seems determined to dash all my hopes today.

  “While druids lack the ability to see the past and present, they do have a limited talent for foretelling. In your case, Indigo, your Seeker magic has combined with that to allow you to read other people’s immediate intentions.”

  Hadn’t Lynea pointed out how unusual that was? I sink into my chair, trying to make myself smaller. These odds are not stacking up in my favor. My eyes catch on the book lying open on the table and my stomach lurches.

  “You’re all talking like me being the Seeker is a foregone conclusion instead of a wild theory. Nothing you’ve said proves that I’m not just a half-blood with no training.”

  Jazz opens his mouth to speak, his eyes full of compassion. I want to beg him not to, I want to plead with him to let it lie. But the words won’t come.

  “You knew the word Seeker before you ever set eyes on Matthias.” He lifts the book on the table and holds it out toward me. “You’ve seen this picture before. When I showed it to you, you recognized it. It scared you. Do you remember what you said?”

  “That’s not me,” I whisper.

  “What else do you remember?” he presses. “Who showed it to you? What did they tell you?”

  I shake my head, dropping my gaze to my lap.

  “Try, Indy. Please.” My eyes flick to Archer, surprised to hear him use my nickname.

  “I understand you’re reluctant to remember, and there may be a good reason for that, but the more we know, the better prepared we’ll be for what comes next.”

  I unfold my arms and rub my fingers over my temples. I’ve never had more than flashes of memory from before I was abandoned. I always thought that was just because I was young, and my life from before was probably pretty bad. But what if there was more to it? What if it was a way of protecting me?

  I wrack my brain, struggling to push past the blank nothingness.

  “I don’t—”

  My eyes light on the book Jazz is still holding. Maybe I should start with what I do remember. Of any memory I have, that picture is the strongest. I reach for it, and he hands it over. Setting it down in front of me, I force myself to look at the painting, to really focus on it. The girl in the drawing isn’t me. Her hair is a dirty red, her eyes a vibrant green. Her fear, though… it’s so familiar, I can almost taste it. I let my hand run across the page, feeling the coarse surface of the paper under my fingertips.

  “—u must never tell a soul, Indigo. No one can know what you see. No one.”

  Her voice is clear as day, and I can picture the old woman’s stern face softened by kind eyes. And then I hear a child’s voice answering. My voice.

  “But why, Nana Bridget…?”

  I snatch my hand from the page, my heart thudding in my chest.

  “Indy?” Ben reaches for me.

  I pull away, needing a moment to gather myself.

  “Nana Bridget,” I croak out. “That’s who showed me this book.”

  I look around the table to a sea of confused faces until I reach Archer. His eyes are wide with shock, his face pale.

  “You told me I couldn’t be the Seeker. You said that.”

  I plead with him, wanting to hear that easy reassurance he had for me before.

  Instead of answering me, he gets to his feet and walks away.

  I watch him leave in silence. The beat of my own heart is loud in my ears. See-ker, See-ker, See-ker. Even my own traitorous heart knows the truth.

  26

  “Who’s Nana Bridget?” Zac asks once it becomes clear Archer isn’t returning any time soon.

  “Never heard of her,” Jazz says easily. “Ben?”

  “I’m drawing a blank.”

  “Indy?” Zac presses.

  “She showed me the book.”

  I wrap my arms tightly around myself. Archer walking away like that has left me feeling cold and confused.

  “I’m not the Seeker, guys. I can’t be. I won’t be. What does it matter if I’m half-clary or half-druid?”

  “It matters,” Archer says, striding back into the room with Lynea and Peter in tow. “More than you know.”

  He doesn’t return to his seat but moves toward me, Peter by his side.

  “Please, Indigo.” He gestures to Peter. “We—I—need to know.”

  I push shakily to my feet. “Need to know what?”

  “The truth.”

  I’ve had about as much truth as I can take for one day, but it seems I’m the only one. Peter takes my hand, turns it palm-up, and places a gray stone in the center of it. The stone is smooth and cool against my skin. There’s a clear crystal embedded in the center.

  Peter nods to Archer, and he places his palm over mine and over the stone. Locked between us, it starts to heat up.

  “What is that? What’s it doing?”

  “What it’s supposed to,” Peter says. “Just wait.”

  From between our joined hands, a bright blue light starts to glow. It grows brighter, shining through every gap between our fingers, filling every hint of space between our skin, until I have to look away, shielding my eyes.

  “What does that mean? Why is it doing that?”

  A hushed silence falls over the room as the glow dims.

  “It’s a kinship stone.” Peter’s voice is low, his tone awed. “The brighter the glow, the stronger the kinship.”

  “But what does that mean?” My anger rises alongside my fear.

  “It means you and Archer are kin,” Lynea says quickly, as if she can see how close I am to the edge. “It means you’re family.”

  Archer lifts his hand from mine. The glow slowly fades to nothing, but the crystal stays blue.

  “It means I’m your father.”

  His soft-spoken words don’t compute. All of this is more than I can handle. The stone slips from my hand as I take a step back, whirl around, and race toward the door. I don’t hear it fall.

  I’m not sure how long I pace around the training room before I realize I’m not alone. Jazz leans against the wall next to the door, watching me. I s
low to a stop and wait for him to speak.

  “Archer’s outside. He doesn’t want to crowd you, but he wants you to know that he’s here.”

  I resume my pacing, making another circuit of the room.

  “What does he want?”

  “Hard to say. I mean, he’s just learned that his daughter who died years ago is alive and well. And is the most endangered person in the magic world. That’s got to be bittersweet for both of you, huh?”

  I slow to a stop. Jazz’s words cut just a little too close to the bone. Everything I’ve ever wanted has just been handed to me. I have family. I’m meant to be here, in the guild house. I’m not the interloper I thought I was, I’m not using them like Ben claimed. I belong.

  But maybe I’m also the Seeker. Just a whisper of that word and my name in the same breath is enough to get me killed. How long can I hide from this? Pretend this isn’t happening? The troubled look on Jazz’s face is answer enough. Not long. Not long at all.

  “Can I tell him to come in?”

  I manage a nod, hardly daring to breathe as he pushes away from the wall and strolls outside.

  The next few seconds stretch into hours in my mind as I keep my gaze trained on the door. Archer steps through, hesitating as he meets my eyes. I look at him, really look, for the first time. I search for any hint of familiarity, of similarity. Can I see myself in him? My true self, the one I hide, not the face I present to the world.

  Instead of walking toward me, Archer circles around the edge of the room, keeping me within his sights. It lowers the pressure a little, and I gulp in a grateful breath.

  “I don’t know how this must feel for you,” he says.

  “How does it feel for you?”

  He turns to me and tries to smile. “Like a wish made long ago has come true. But not how I expected it.”

  I swallow down the sob that threatens to tear its way from my throat.

  “Bittersweet, huh?” I echo Jazz’s words.

  “No. Not in the way you’re thinking. I always hoped. I tried hard not to let go of that hope…”

  “The bedroom.” I remember what Lynea told me. “You were waiting for me.”

  “I knew that you would find your way home someday.”