Wounded Magic

by Megan Crewe

  “No harm done, as long as they’re not so horrified by my inadequacies that they shun you from the business achievement gala. Perhaps I should’ve come in after the ceremony next week.”

  That remark won me a laugh. The BMW’s engine purred as Mom eased toward the exit. The breezy floral scent of the freshening ’chantment on the car’s interior tickled my nose.

  “I don’t think my or Hugh’s standing with that organization is in any doubt,” she said. “Oh, well. It was worth a try, wasn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. I may as well cast my net wide.” It was the third potential volunteer placement I’d gone to see about, this one with Mom’s investment firm. Their idea of an ideal role for a Burnout had been to shove me into a little basement room to re-sort computer files—by myself, where no one had to see me or interact with me. After a couple of hours, I’d been ready to bash my head against the monitor. “I just need to find a path that plays to my strengths. Such as they might be.”

  “You have plenty of strengths, Finn,” Mom said, as a mother was supposed to, but she managed to sound as if she meant it, so I’d take the compliment. “You’re going into the Media division tomorrow afternoon, aren’t you? That sounds like it should be a better fit.”

  “Can’t be much worse!” I said with a grin, but the truth was today’s experience had left me with a knot in my stomach. I might be making a name for myself with the League, insomuch as they knew my name, but I had to find a way to do more than ride on my family’s coattails in regular mage society too. Eventually, even my parents might start to regret the leeway they were granting me.

  The lump was compounded by a twist of guilt. On balance, in the last week I’d done more to actively hurt my family’s reputation than to contribute to it.

  “The Circle isn’t blaming Dad for that holdup with the conference, is it?” I said as we pulled out into the fading autumn afternoon sunlight. “It’s not as if anyone could have anticipated what happened.”

  Dad hadn’t said much about the protest and the disruption it had caused, but he hadn’t been around much since to talk about it. He’d spent the whole weekend at the conference hall and most of the past couple days going straight from work to his home office, always with a somewhat harried look.

  “There are frustrations being aired, but he got the talks back on track as quickly as anyone could have,” Mom said. “It’ll all be sorted out. You don’t need to worry about that.”

  She wouldn’t have said that if she’d known how much of a hand I’d had in the disruption.

  My phone rang, and I fished it out of my pocket. One look at the screen made my heart hiccup, all those dark thoughts retreating. I couldn’t afford not to take this call, even if it wasn’t the most opportune time.

  “Hey,” I said, willing my voice not to change too much. Mom glanced over at me anyway.

  “Hey,” Rocío said on the other end. “I know this isn’t the usual time—things are kind of chaotic here right now. I can only talk for a minute. But I have another ‘break’ this weekend.”

  There was nothing in Tartarus that could have held back the smile that stretched across my face at hearing that news, spoken by her voice, as strong and clear as ever. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Yeah. So. Um. You know how we were talking about family dinners a little while back? I was thinking it’d be great if you could come over Saturday evening. My parents have okayed it. They want to meet you. Actually, I think if I hadn’t suggested it, they might have insisted. They’re nice, really! Just, er, not used to me having a boyfriend.”

  I couldn’t think of any conflicting plans I had for Saturday, but even if I’d been booked for dinner with the queen of England, I would have rescheduled that. “No insisting necessary. Of course I’ll be there.”

  “All right. Good.” She laughed a little nervously. “I’ll text you the address that morning when I’m home. And—”

  A muffled voice said something near her. “Just a second,” she protested to whoever that was, and then came back to me. “Sorry. I have to go already. I— Everything’s still okay with you, right?”

  “I can make no complaints,” I said. “As long as you keep looking after yourself. I’ll see you soon.”

  My smile may have stretched even wider by the time I set down the phone. I tried to tamp it down, but Mom’s expression had turned amused. “Am I allowed to ask who that was?”

  “A friend,” I said automatically—but then, I’d all but told Dad, and the chances he hadn’t mentioned that conversation to Mom were essentially nil. “A girl. You could say my girlfriend. She’s getting time off from Champion work this weekend.”

  I wasn’t sure what reaction to expect, but Mom just laughed. “Well, if she makes you look like that, then I already like her.” She stepped on the brake at a stop sign, and a shadow crossed her face. “Finn, I went for a walk a few nights ago when you were out, and I saw you come back in a taxi with Callum Geary.”

  I managed to catch myself before I stiffened. If she’d realized what I’d been up to that day, I doubted Callum would have been the thing she focused on. “He ended up joining the group of friends I was meeting,” I said. “It seemed silly to take separate cabs home when we’re just down the street from each other. Why?”

  “Have you gotten friendly with him?” Mom asked. “It seems to me, from what I remember you saying when you were younger—and the other impressions I’ve gotten since then—that he was always something of a bully.”

  “And no doubt he still is,” I said, although I felt a weird sense I was betraying Callum saying that after he’d admitted at least a modicum of regret to me that night. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t still been an ass about everything else—and a near-murderer to boot, even if he couldn’t recall it. “It was a coincidence. I don’t plan to spend much time with him.” I planned to give him as wide a berth as possible, even when we were in the same room.

  Mom let out a breath. “All right. I only mentioned it because— Well, really none of the Gearys has the most positive reputation. I wouldn’t want you to feel you have to rely on the company of only those mages in the same situation as you. You are still seeing some of your friends who went on to the College, aren’t you?”

  I’d told her and Dad that I had been, but the question made me tense up all the same. Did she have any idea how my friends who’d gone on to the College would probably feel about me? I couldn’t imagine how many of them had resented the generosity with which our teachers at the Academy had graded me, the praise I’d gotten here and there that I hadn’t deserved.

  I was a symbol of failure now—a sign that even a mighty Lockwood could fall. None of my old classmates had made any attempt to catch up with me since the Exam. They were too busy moving on with their lives along with the other Chosen. I’d rather not reach out and discover precisely what lengths they might to go in order to avoid my misfortune rubbing off on them.

  How could I say any of that to my mother, though? “Of course,” I said, which wasn’t even a lie if we went by the official story, since officially Rocío and Prisha were enrolled in the college. “And don’t worry about Callum. That cab ride only confirmed how little we enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Good,” Mom said, with so much relief it prickled.

  Callum was an ass and a bully, and yeah, his family had struck me as horrid too. I still wouldn’t have expected Mom to outright warn me away from any fellow mage on the basis of their social standing.

  For a second, I missed the glorious ignorance I’d dwelled in a few months ago. Everywhere I looked, I seemed to find new divisions within our community. How the hell was the Confed going to weather any sort of revolution without completely fracturing apart?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Rocío

  The chilly air nipped at my cheeks as I sat on the front steps outside my family’s walk-up, but I stayed put. I wanted to meet Finn out here so we had a few moments, just the two of us, before we added my parents to the mix.


  I scooted farther forward on the cold concrete, wishing my jacket was long enough that it’d cover my butt, and tucked my gloved hands in my pockets. Part of me missed the compact warmth of my military jacket, as if this were a mission and not me simply waiting for my boyfriend. As much as I tried to shake my newly honed instincts, I couldn’t stop myself from evaluating the street with a critical eye because of all those weeks of training and fieldwork—and because of who I was meeting.

  I’d always thought we had a pretty nice spot. The neighbors might not have been super friendly toward the family of mages in their midst, but the voices that carried up to our windows from the street were happy a lot more often than they were angry. People kept their yards tidy. Trees sprouted here and there, giving a little shade on summer days.

  Now, my gaze caught on every tiny flaw. An empty chip bag skittering along the sidewalk in the breeze. The paint peeling around the windows of a house three doors down. The fallen leaves that had collected in the gutters and were now turning into mulch. This was Brooklyn, not the Upper East Side. Even the nicest neighborhood here wasn’t going to look anything like Finn’s.

  He wouldn’t care, I told myself, tugging my collar higher. Finn wasn’t like that. But I couldn’t know for sure how he’d react, could I?

  I’d spent most of the last two months on missions where I risked my life, but my nerves were jumping almost as much now as then. Although I wasn’t just nervous about Finn, but about things I’d learned during those missions too. The thick, gray clouds overhead bulged ominously. The threat of hostile castings had never felt quite so close to home.

  The cab pulled up right on time. Finn’s pale cheeks were already flushed when he hopped out, even before the cool air had a chance to touch them. He looked up at the building behind me and then met my eyes with his usual grin. “Well, I can see I made it to the right place.”

  His tone was light, but I knew him well enough now to see the tension in his stance even through his gray wool coat. He hesitated at the base of the steps as if he wasn’t sure whether it’d be too forward for him to come right up, and I realized he was nervous too. As if we might find some flaw in him.

  My own nerves faded behind a wave of affection. I stopped on the bottom step where we were about the same height and kissed him hello. Finn’s hands came up to my face, but when our lips eased apart, he wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug.

  “You have no idea how good it is to be able to see with my own eyes that you’re still okay,” he said.

  “I plan on staying that way,” I said, as if I’d have much choice in the matter if things got bad out in the field. But the thought of Finn waiting, worrying, between each of our brief weekly phone conversations brought a pang into my chest. Right then, I had a hard time deciding which was worse: my parents’ vaguely concerned puzzlement at how restricted my time was at “college” or Finn’s much more accurate fears.

  “I suppose we’d better go up, before your parents give me demerits for tardiness,” Finn said. “Also, you’re cold.”

  “You’re helping with that,” I pointed out, and he made a sound that was amused but pleased, and by the time we made it up the steps my lips were even warmer than before.

  Mom and Dad were waiting in the apartment: Mom puttering around the living room and Dad poking at the last pot involved in the dinner he’d made, both of them trying to look casual and not like they were on pins and needles to evaluate the first boy I’d ever brought home. I was pretty sure Mom had already straightened the couch pillow she was tweaking at least five times before I’d gone down.

  “You must be Finn,” she said, hustling over as I shut the door behind us. “It’s wonderful to meet you. Let me get your coat.”

  “Oh, thank you.” He shrugged it off and let her take it from him to hang up. His gaze took in the apartment, a soft smile crossing his face. It wasn’t much to look at—an L of a couch and love seat around a little flat-screen TV, our four-person dining table at the other end of the room by the open kitchen. A rich, peppery smell wafted from that direction. The table was done up with a lacy tablecloth and brightly patterned serving dishes I didn’t think I’d seen since Mom and Dad’s twentieth wedding anniversary, but I doubted they were any nicer than whatever Finn was used to on a daily basis. Finn looked nothing but happy to be here, though.

  “It’s great to meet both of you too,” he said. “You’ve got a lovely home. And whatever you’re cooking smells amazing.” He tipped his head to my dad, peering at the pot.

  He couldn’t have picked a faster way to win my dad over.

  Dad beamed and motioned with his spoon for us to head to the table. “It’s just about ready—and best to eat it while it’s hot. I cook to a lot of different tastes, but I thought for a special dinner like this, I might as well go traditional. These frijoles rancheros is based on a recipe of my father’s, from Mexico. The tamales, well, that’s just genetic.”

  He shot me a wink, and I gave him a pointed look in return. Sticking a bunch of authentic Mexican food in front of my one-hundred-percent gringo boyfriend was totally Dad’s little test.

  Dad brought over the serving bowl with his special blend of beans, pork, and peppers, and Mom started doling out the tamales. Dad had outdone himself. The steam rising off the food had the perfect mix of savory and spicy, leaving my mouth watering even though my nerves were still twitching around my stomach.

  When we sat, Mom bowed her head to say a quick grace, which I guessed was her version of a test, since normally we just dug in. Finn waited quietly until I picked up my fork before doing the same.

  “Wow,” he said to Dad after a couple bites. “That has a good kick. My compliments to you and your father.”

  Dad looked like he was about to start preening. I figured I might as well throw in a little extra buttering up. “Dad’s affinity is for food,” I said. “You’ll never get anything from a Dull chef like that.”

  “It’s fantastic.” Finn closed his eyes with a blissful expression as he chewed his first mouthful of Dad’s famous rice, and then glanced over at him again. “Do you cook for a living? I have to think any restaurant serving food like this would have people lined up around the block.”

  Dad’s mouth tightened slightly. “The legislation around the use of magic in food preparation makes that kind of work difficult to come by,” he said. “Not many managers want to go through the hassle. And opening your own restaurant is quite a risk. If I’m ever in a position to do so, that’s definitely the dream.”

  Finn hesitated for a second, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. I let my knee brush his under the table in an effort to reassure him.

  “I hope you get there,” he said in a more serious tone. “It’s a shame more people aren’t getting to experience this.”

  “What sort of work do your parents do?” Dad asked.

  “Well, my father, er, heads the Confed’s International Relations division,” Finn said. “And my mother is with an investment firm that caters mostly to mage clients. Possibly that talent is genetic, because my older brother went a similar route.”

  “You just have the one sibling?”

  “Oh, no, there’s my sister Margo—also older—who I suppose takes after my dad. She’s all tied up in politics too, just on the nonmagical side. She’s assistant to the Director of the Joint Staff. I gather they do something important with military advising or some such.” His gaze twitched at that last comment, as if he’d restrained himself from looking to me at the thought of the military.

  “How are you occupying yourself these days?” Mom said gently. “I understand you’re not at the college.”

  “Difficult to miss that, isn’t it?” Finn said with a wry chuckle, gesturing with his fork toward his Burnout mark. “I have to admit I’m still sorting out my future plans. It’s been… an interesting transition. But I’ve been looking into possible placements that could lead to a career down the line. I had quite a promising visit with a branch of the Confe
d’s Media division a couple of days ago. It seems there are rather a lot of Dull news sources that want to cover Confederation-related news but aren’t entirely comfortable talking to an actual mage.”

  “You’re still a mage,” I said automatically.

  He gave me a fond smile. “Not in the ways that count to them. If being burned out can give me an advantage somewhere, I might as well make use of that.”

  “It’s admirable that you had the conviction to attempt the Exam, even if it didn’t work out in your favor,” Mom said, and the last bit of tension left Finn’s posture.

  “As proud as we are of Rocío, we wish her new schedule as Champion wasn’t so strict,” Dad put in. “Or has she managed to find more time to see her boyfriend than her parents?” A teasing glint lit in his eyes.

  Finn matched his tone. “If she had, I think I’d be duty-bound to deny it.” He grinned at me, but his high spirits faded a moment later. “Sadly, that’s not the case. They do keep her awfully busy, don’t they? I take what I can get.”

  My throat tightened. “Okay, okay,” I said with forced cheer. “You’d all like to see me more. I get it. I don’t decide the rules of the Champion program. New subject, please!”

  Finn laughed and commented on a Christmas display he’d noticed on his ride in. Mom told a story about the kids’ pageant she’d just finished making the costumes for, and Dad asked Finn about his family’s holiday meal traditions. For several minutes, we ate and chatted as if it really were a totally normal family dinner.

  I wished I could get completely wrapped up in that normalcy. Let it wash away all thought of anything beyond these walls. But I couldn’t forget the main reason I’d pushed for this get-together to happen now.

  When we’d plowed through the food, and the conversation trailed off for a moment, I leaned forward.

  “I’m really glad we did this,” I said. “Especially because—I wanted you all to know each other. In case anything happens that I’m not around for. You’re the most important people in the world to me, and I hope you’ll help each other if any of you needs it.”