There were four types of throwbacks in our society, some useful but all posing their own dangers. While healers like me could only connect to living energies, the others weren’t held back by that. Their abilities instead shifted to allow them to tap into internal as well as external energies, just differently.
The first of these throwbacks were the energy sensitive, those who could sense the skills in others. While this gift didn’t make them dangerous beyond the normal scope of our people’s abilities, they were still useful. They were ideal candidates for the Faded’s lower ranks, according to Gramp, as they could sense those to watch and felt when strong spell-work was about to be cast. I didn’t know much else about them, as I had only ever heard about them, but I had my suspicions about Gram. She'd always known things, but her consuming fears had made it difficult to gauge what was real and what was just her paranoia. She’d died when I was small, and Gramp had been extremely closed-mouth about their own lives and abilities.
Next there were those like Morgan, who were a contrast to healers. These were to be respected, as they could do terrible damage if they wanted to, causing either just pain or internal injuries. Gram said they were the government’s favorites, key members of their forces who would be sent out to punish and kill. The strongest and smartest often rose up to hold positions themselves, challenging those in their way until they had what they wanted.
And lastly, as far as I knew, were the high mages. They could call thunder from sky, it was said. Rare, deadly, and gods among mortals. Gramp only ever said that they were royalty, able to grab others’ energy and turn it back onto them, and to keep our noses down and never mind about them. We needed to take care, and always keep to ourselves. He never said it, but I expected the leaders among the Faded were largely made up of their ranks.
Most inverts, dangerous as they were known to be, could at least earn respect and power. Mine was the only type unable to do magic beyond healing, and the only one without any gain to offer our communities. We were a sad sort, condemned as weak in will and always a threat to our people's safety. When found, a quick death was a necessary mercy.
Anything more Gramp hadn't known of, and neither of us had been allowed to ask questions. He said they weren't things talked about, and to keep our damned mouths shut. I quickly learned to follow that order, but as always Geoff had been stubborn about it, pressing the issue until Gramp beat it into him to keep his mouth shut.
It hurt too much, I figured, for him. It was too hard on Gram. Each time she heard him mention them, Gram would shut herself in the pantry and rock amongst the cans, her soft voice hard to make out over the scratch of cloth and clang of disturbed foodstuff.
We'd soon be sent outside.
Morgan was a different horror for me than those old, ingrained ones. Some nights since I left, when it was dark and I was alone in the different hotels I’d slept in, I just wanted to go back to him. Loneliness is hard for me. People always say we take our first and last breaths alone, but it’s nature to cling to others. Being what I am, my first breath was very much not alone. My mother’s emotions would have been inside me then, as had those of whoever had served as midwife. Gram or Gramp, I expect. Maybe even my Dad.
For me the act of being alone is like being without confirmed existence. I was a throw-off, one of the rare ones who couldn’t cast external spells but who could feel others’ emotions at a touch and speed along their healing. Touch let me escape the isolation of my body, and with no one to touch I was deathly alone.
Alone and at the mercy of the Faded, to let live or to cull.
I can’t live like this, I repeated to myself firmly, fighting against the thrill of fear racing inside me. I had chosen not to be a victim, and I wasn’t going to live like one, dammit.
Tomorrow, I promised, I’ll be fine.
****
A warm, summer-like breeze drifted through the windows, ruffling my tangle of despicable black curls and distracting me from the book I was reading. The day outside was beautiful, little brown doves warbling along with the other chirpings of spring and driving poor Olive into a frenzy. It was fun watching her pace the length of the windowsill, yowling and flicking her tail. She wanted to be a hunter with every fiber of her little house-bred heart.
Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to go outside and enjoy the unseasonably warm weather. Setting my novel aside for later, I stood from the floor and stretched, cracking my sore back, and went to sit on my front step where the sunlight could soak into my skin.
It was hard to believe how much trouble I had during each night. Fears seemed so silly in the light of the sun. It was beautiful for April, and surrounded by the signs of spring I could see myself moving on to the new life here.
The sprigs of grass poking through the cracks in my walkway made me think about the old adage of nature always taking back her own. Magic was like that, too. It could be driven into the dark time and again, like the Faded themselves, stalking shadows and waiting to spring, but always finding the cracks and crags, and, clinging, burst into life again. Insidious, yes, but as beautiful in the blush of life as those little bits of grass tangled in worn cement.
The humans around us had no idea how good they had it with their laws and rules. I had spent the last four years of my life waking in the arms of a man who beat me the night before, sent curses singing through my veins and burning my nerves, only to feel thankful that those arms also held and protected me. Even now on bad days I would sit and wonder why I’d left. The protection of having another stand for my rights had been a comfort. Without it I could only rely on myself. In our world that was terrifying and dangerous, as much a death-sentence as Morgan himself had posed.
Olive yowled from the veranda window, startling me. I closed my eyes, breathing in the smell of life and letting it soak into me and replace the wintery decay I’d been living with for so, so long. Times like this my nighttime fears seemed foolish. My bruising had faded to a barely noticeable pale brown, and it was time to start getting out and living.
****
I wandered into the restaurant Kay had suggested, admiring the wooden paneling and rustic design. True to her words, a handful of groups between the ages of eighteen and their mid-thirties were gathered around tables in the back corner, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. One of their party, a bony blonde, looked my way when I came in and smiled, hopping up to walk over. It took me a minute to notice the notepad in her hand.
“Take a seat anywhere,” she smiled. “Let me grab you a menu and some water.”
The customers at various tables paid more attention than I was used to, some outright nodding my way while others shot side-glances and tried to keep their curiosity discreet. It was like my first and second drives through the place, I mused. I took the table the farthest from anyone else, and the young lady who had greeted me smirked as she handed over the menu and water.
“You’re quite the interest in this town,” she teased, leaning against the back of the chair across from me. “Don’t let it get to you. I’m sure this time next year you’ll be old news.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved it’d pass or upset by the length of time she suggested. “That long?” I blurted. Obviously reading the unease written across my face, she laughed outright.
“No, no,” she finally assured me once she had it mostly out of her system, still snickering but at least not drawing any more eyes than she had a moment ago. “It’ll pass. We get a lot of sports out here around this time of year, but people know that someone bought the old Myers homestead and are curious about it. I’m sure that by summer they’ll let up. My name’s Carole, by the way.”
“Brett,” I answered, returning her smile and taking her hand. Her emotions were warm and still tinged with giddy amusement. I expected part of that had to be because she likely already knew my name. Her emotions felt nice and I hated letting her hand go, but holding on would both give the wrong idea and make her uncomfortable. “Thank you,” I added. “Landi
ngs is pretty different from what I’m used to. It’s a little overwhelming.”
“Here I’d think it’d be underwhelming. Your plates say you’re from out west?” My surprise had her laughing again. “This is a small town, Brett. Word gets around fast. Believe me, you’ll get used to it before long.”
She left me, and I looked over the menu, my mind stuck on whether I’d made the wrong decision moving here. I’d wanted somewhere quaint and small enough that I’d be able to recognize faces, but now I wasn’t so sure small had been the best idea. It would work both ways, after all. It would be harder to hide when everyone might be watching.
One of the guys at the back table let out a bellowing laugh, and I glanced his way, startled to realize that I recognized him. It was the blond who’d laughed at me my first day here, the nice-looking man, big without being brawny. His laugh was nice, with an attractive huskiness to it. My eyes kept being drawn his way despite my intentions not to look, and even while I studied the items on the menu my mind kept flicking back to thoughts of his sun-bleached hair and the question of what color his eyes were.
At least it was a distraction, I supposed, but it was a dangerous one.
On one of my glances I caught him stealing a fry from another man’s plate, and I tried pointing this fact out to my traitorous thoughts. If the man was gay then he was doubtlessly dating the recipient of the attention. If he wasn’t, he was large enough that hitting on him could cause serious pain. Still, it was fun watching him interact with the others. I envied the ease they all seemed to feel. They leaned into each other’s personal space to talk, bumping shoulders and laughing like old friends.
I hadn’t felt anything like that since Geoff. Even at the start, Morgan had held part of himself back. I always felt I needed to earn it, and that if I could just be enough, that distance would go. At first, at least. Later, I knew better. Still, hope never completely dies. Not, at least, until you become like Gram.
“You should go say hi,” Carole suggested, sneaking up on me while I was distracted. I jumped, and she laughed yet again. “Sorry, sorry!” She sounded about as sincere as her laughter would let her. “Seriously, though, they’re long-time friends of mine. Nice guys.”
I flushed, caught out and not sure how to wheedle out of this. “Maybe later,” I managed.
She took pity on me and dropped the subject, picking up my closed menu and tucking it under her arm. “So, what would you like?”
I ordered a burger and fries. She nodded. “My favorite. Want anything to drink?”
“Just water, thanks.”
She smiled again before walking off, passing my menu to a tall, brown-haired waitress with the nametag “Amy” along the way.
While waiting for my order I tried not to look around anymore, instead focusing on the table and my thoughts. The sound of the chair across from mine scraping out from the table made me jump for the second time since sitting down, and once more that was met with a laugh This time, though, it was a distinctly male one, husky as the one I’d heard that morning on my way in to the lodge. I looked up and had my earlier question answered—the blond man across the restaurant had swampy green eyes.
“Carole says you’d like some company.” The man grinned, plopping down into the chair and sliding in close enough to cross his wide arms against the tabletop. “My name’s Lane. You must be Brett?” Up close he looked both a lot more handsome and much larger. Muscles on muscles.
“Yes,” I answered uneasily. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I’m not sure if my voice implied the same, but he was kind enough not to point it out. I didn’t offer my hand, not comfortable with the possibilities of what I’d find out.
“You moved in a few days ago, right? To the old Myers homestead?”
“I did.” The focus of those green eyes of his was unnerving, and I shifted nervously beneath his eager attention. His grin was all teeth, the front ones a little crooked. Everything about him was charming, and I kicked myself for noticing. It was best to remain on my own. If life taught me anything, it was that I didn’t belong with other people.
“I’m just waiting for my furniture now.” That seemed to be the thing people asked about most, so I thought I’d get it out there and over with.
As expected, Lane jumped onto the topic, nodding. “Yeah, when Scott Myers died they had a big open house. Sold just about everything but the appliances. Said it’d be easier to sell the house with them in it. Ma thought it was silly at the time, but I guess it paid off.”
“Did you know him well?”
I shot a quick look towards the table he’d left, but no one seemed bothered by his lingering. Part of me wished one of them would come get him, but with my luck they would just stay, too, and then I’d have two people to face. The other part of me? That part wanted him to stay right there and keep his easy smile aimed my way.
I cursed myself again for a fool. Regular man or mage, either way he was a danger. I should have learned enough of a lesson from Morgan to keep me from feeling drawn to anyone ever again.
“A bit,” Lane answered, oblivious to my internal struggle, “same as anyone here. He was a nice guy, really into gardening. You get to know most of the people here. You’ll notice that, no matter what type of people.” He winked when he said those heavily enunciated words, and I stiffened, wondering if he meant what I thought he must. Maybe he just meant other gay men, as it’d been obvious he was eyeing me up since he sat there, but something about his manner made me think he meant my other guarded secret—being a mage. If so, and that was his way of hinting he was one, how had he pegged me so easily?
Between the two, being gay and being a mage, I wasn’t sure which I least desired known. I wanted no part of this man’s interest in me, no matter what the rest of my body felt, and I’d rather take my chances as a lone mage then chance falling into the same community trap I’d stumbled into with Morgan. The whole reason I’d chosen to move to a small town was to find a way to live around other people and know them at a distance while maintaining my ability to be alone. It was a way to avoid being lonely while remaining, well, alone.
Carole brought my food over and dropped a plate of fries in front of Lane, an obvious invitation for him to stay right where he was. I thanked her, forcing a smile and wanting to run. Lane settled into his fries happily, somehow not full despite the impressive amount he’d stolen from that other guy’s plate. Not that I’d been watching!
I really hoped he wasn’t skipping out on a date to sit with me. The last thing I needed at this point was some guy trying to jump me out back for ruining his date. My last black eye was barely healed. I hoped Carole wouldn’t be luring him to my table if that were the case, but I wasn’t willing to take it for granted.
Lane made small talk around mouthfuls of deep-fried potato, digging for information but politely ignoring my constant dodges and deflections. Questions about why I’d moved became discussions on whether he thought he’d leave, and what I planned to do now that I was here became what he did. Apparently, he worked at his father’s construction store with his younger brother. That was reason enough for those muscles, I supposed.
He did catch me with a question about how I was settling in, and the answer I gave was genuine. “It’s a lovely place,” I told him, “but there’s an ungodly noise outdoors every night. I can hardly sleep for it.”
“Ungodly. Noise.” He gave me a bemused look. I frowned. There was absolutely no way anyone around this place could miss that.
“All night. Seriously,” I burst out, leaning forward to look at him. “It sounds horrible. Constant noise, with the odd little drop off here and there just to give the slightest bit of hope.”
That bemused, polite look shifted into something a little too gleeful to be fair. “Peepers.” As if that explained anything.
“Peepers?”
He snickered. Great. Glad to amuse. “Frogs.”
“Frogs… That is frogs?” I slumped back, staring.
“The r
iver, woods, swamps—we’re pretty much surrounded. You’ll have to get used to them for now, I’m afraid.”
I hadn’t realized how lucky we were to grow up on such dry land. I could only imagine what the look on my face said, but the continued presence of his glee let me know at least one of us was enjoying it.
“Don’t worry, they don’t stay forever. Give it a bit and they’ll go away again.”
I sat, dreading how long I’d have to wait, imagining that noise haunting my nights along with the already too-present fears. We sat in silence for a time, eating.
“You’re pretty interesting, you know.” My uninvited guest spoke up at last around the end of his fries. I blinked at him, having no clue how he’d come to that conclusion, and he chuckled. “Want to go out sometime soon? My treat?”
I hid the flinch but wasn’t so sure I managed to hide the nerves those words sent racing through me.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” I hedged. Part of me wanted to say yes, but I knew it’d be a mistake. I was still healing from my relationship with Morgan, and there was no way I was ready for a new one. What if I had misinterpreted things and he wasn’t a mage? A date wasn’t worth my life.
Lane’s face twisted into a puppyish pout. “I really think we’d be magical together,” he assured, waggling his eyebrows.
Wow. Just … wow. Laughter bellowed out without my permission, but it was too late. Yeah, that was horrible.
I smiled through the last of my laughter, shaking my head. At least there was one answer for me. “Friday,” I gave in, still chuckling. It felt good to really, honest-to-God laugh.
He perked up, those big green eyes glowing. “Friday then! I get off at six, so I’ll swing by and pick you up around seven?”
“I can meet you,” I assured him, not wanting to rely on him for transportation. Better to have an exit route ready. “Here?”
Upon the River Shore Page 3
