by Abra Ebner
I turned, finding Max as he stood between two large corbels that formed the pillars of a tall fireplace. I knew the room we were in must have acted as the main ballroom. I spun slowly. I could almost hear the music play, and see the guests, dressed in the fine clothing I’d seen in the paintings on my way in, and in my dream.
I heard Wes’s heavy footsteps echoing. “Do we just wait?” Wes broke the silence.
Max turned to us. “Yes.”
Wes exhaled. “This is going to be the longest day of my life,” he mumbled. “I’m going to check out upstairs,” he added, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to point.
I didn’t object. I was anxious to get him out of the room so I could talk to Max alone. I heard Wes bound up the stairs. If they weren’t made of solid stone, I was certain he would have shaken the whole house down.
I eyed Max from the corner of my eye as he stood by the fireplace. I was tapping my fingernails together, looking at the ground and hoping he would say something to break the awkward silence. There was a sudden flash of light, followed by a roar, and then a crackle. I jumped, looking at the fireplace that now brimmed with flames.
“How did you do that?” I gasped.
Max had an arm leaning against one of the corbels, his long, lean body relaxed. “Come here and I’ll show you.” His voice had returned to the same sweet tone I’d grown used to. Perhaps he’d noticed my need for space and had decided to respect that.
He glanced at me, motioning me with his hand. I stepped toward him, noting that what he’d done was in fact a good way to break the awkwardness that had grown between us. My footsteps echoed over the sound of crackling flames, and as I got closer, the warmth of it was a welcomed relief on my chilled hands.
I stood a distance from him, afraid that his touch would seduce me into submission. He was rubbing the tips of his fingers together, focusing with intensity.
His lips moved. “It’s magick. Have you ever seen this kind of magick?”
I watched his hand as he continued rubbing his fingers. Suddenly a spark flew into the air, growing into a small fireball. He cupped the fire in his palm, containing it as it tried to escape. My mouth fell open, mesmerized by the transparent flames dancing within his control. There was no smoke rising from it, and no smell, either.
“That’s amazing! How’d you do that?” I stepped closer.
He looked nostalgic. “The alchemist taught me. He was gifted with the power of sorcery. But in truth, this is just plain physics.”
“Sorcery and physics?” I laughed. “Seems a little juxtaposed, don’t you think?”
He smiled, still playing with the fire in his hand. “In theory, it’s possible to manifest anything you want. You just have to know how.”
I thought about the fourth period physics class I’d taken fourth quarter of last year. I’d failed, so to me, it made no sense at all.
His eyes met mine, flashing with amusement, knowing about my failure in science.
“Is it something I could learn?” I asked. My eyes were locked on the flames in his hands and my heart was jealous to try it, especially now that I knew all that science nonsense actually meant something.
“It is. Like I said, this particular trick is just science, but also a science that wouldn’t exist without Pandora’s magick.” He stepped toward me as the flames in his hand went out. He took my hand, and I was shocked to find that the flames had at last made his touch warm. He turned my hand over, exposing my palm.
“You’re going to teach me right now?” I didn’t fight against his grasp, knowing it was useless.
“Sure, why not? You have a pretty good grip on the idea of magick—though your science skills aren’t all that great.” He winked at me.
I blushed, still doubting that I could accomplish anything at all.
“Close your eyes.” He looked at me expectantly.
I shut them, hearing his other hand move. I recoiled slightly as he touched my face, still fearful of our pending attraction.
“Relax, Jane,” he whispered.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to forget the fears I had about commitment, and focus on the magick I was about to learn.
“Concentrate on the feeling of my hand, and the things I’m telling you. Think of the fire. Now see the word. Repeat it over and over until you find it almost palpable.”
I concentrated on his hand, feeling something seep into my skin and then my mind. Bright colors swirled in my head. The word ‘fire’ was written there, spelled out in a swirl of flames. Suddenly, it seemed so logical—so obvious as though it should have been something I’d known all along.
Max let go of my face, and then my hand. I opened my eyes, the feeling of the flames leaving my mental vision as they went out. “See. Piece of cake.” He smiled.
I chuckled. “We’ll see when I actually do it by myself.”
He watched me. “Then try.”
I looked at my hand, knowing what to do, but feeling foolish for trying. I brought my middle finger and thumb together until they barely touched. I began to rub them in a circular motion, slow at first, and then faster. My heart began to pound as an immense amount of heat and energy flowed down my arm, concentrating on my finger tips. I kept rubbing, and then there was a spark. I couldn’t help but let my lips spread from ear to ear as the flame grew, finally big enough to sit in my palm.
“See, piece of cake,” he repeated.
I laughed, watching the flames dance, trying to contain it. “Ouch!” I suddenly felt burned as I shook my hand, putting the flame out.
Max was laughing. “It takes practice.”
I looked at my hand, seeing a blister form on my finger. “I guess it does.”
“It’s a bit easier when you’re cold like I am. My body isn’t exactly ninety eight degrees to begin with.”
I exhaled, sucking on my finger. His smile stayed on his face as he turned back to the flames in the fireplace.
“So, is there more?” I let my hand sink to my side, touching the blister against the cool fabric of my coat.
“You mean more magick like that?”
“Yeah.”
Max nodded. “There’s much more. Magick doesn’t have to be something you’re born with; it can be learned. At least some of it, remember? The most important thing is that you have the ability to learn it, which clearly you do.”
“Oh.” I grinned, feeling special.
Max shook his head. “You are special.” He tried to warm his hands in the flames of the fire, holding them much closer than I could ever handle. “I promise to teach you. Someone in your position could really benefit from knowing.”
“Who taught you, just the alchemist?” I pressed.
He pulled his hands away from the fire, touching my face and trailing warmth down the length of my jaw. He took a moment to himself, enjoying the happy thoughts in my mind. “Yes, the alchemist. He gave my mother a lot of books, which as I told you, was dangerous if anyone in the magickal world found out. My mother always told my father they were remedies, but naturally he knew better, and so did I. The library was full of them. I learned a lot from those books.”
I tried to imagine this library. “But they all burned, didn’t they?”
He tilted his head. “Most did, but some were protected in a few metal boxes and are now in Erik’s collection, or still here. We left a lot behind. They’re plenty safe, though. The house is invisible to humans.” He smiled. “You see, after our death, it was the alchemist that took Erik in. He knew about me, and Greg, and I tried to visit as often as I could. He became a second father to me.”
“Where is the alchemist now?”
“Not all of us with magick live forever. The alchemist lived longer than most humans, but only by a few years. He invented a way to live forever, but chose not to indulge in it. He liked the idea of dying one day. He believed it made his life here richer and the experience better felt. He also looked forward to seeing my mother one day.”
I knew what the alchem
ist meant, and I agreed with him. “When did he die?”
Max was still watching the flames, “About twenty five years ago. I know he died of a broken heart, but at the same time, he knew my mother was there on the other side, waiting for him. He was happy to go in the end. I was the angel that led him across.”
“So, you didn’t mind that your mother and he had an affair?”
He shook his head. “Why would I? Everyone deserves to experience true love, no matter how that happens to come to them. You can’t ignore your soul-mate.” He looked at me then, a look so deep, so full of meaning, that I couldn’t help but feel what he had. If life was short—or long—either way, I wanted to feel love, too. What I was denying with Max was something most fight for all their lives, dream of and yet never get to have. I was being selfish by ignoring it.
“Why didn’t Greg come after him? I thought he hated the fact of the affair.”
Max nodded. “He did, but he felt guilty for nearly killing Erik. Erik begged Greg to let the alchemist live. Greg knew the alchemist was the only other person Erik felt comfortable with, and he wasn’t naïve in knowing what the orphanages here were like. For the first and last time in Greg’s life, he showed a bit of mercy.”
I wanted to cry as he told me the story. Max drew nearer, sensing my sadness. He hooked his arm behind my back, pulling me against his chest. “I’ve lived a long life—a cold life. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I just—”
I leaned back, pressing my fingers to his lips and stopping him. “It’s okay, Max. I understand. Just relax. I’m here for you no matter what, okay? I can promise you that.” If he was going to be here for me, he deserved to have me here for him, no matter what form that was.
He grasped my wrist, lowering my hand from his lips as he leaned in, kissing me softly. I shut my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy it, allowing the warm feeling he had introduced me to envelope my body.
I heard a loud bang upstairs, jolting Max and I out of our moment as my heart surged. “What was that?” I asked, wondering if that meant Greg and Emily were back.
Wes:
“Blast!” I cursed as my leg bumped into a stack of charred books. They crashed to the ground, rumbling the sound across the house as the smell of soot filled my nostrils.
I looked down at the pile I’d knocked over, finding the dust now cleared from a few of the burned covers. I squinted, trying to read one cover that had been severely mutilated by fire. A book called Magick Basics was on the top of the mess.
“Magick Basics?” I whispered. I knelt down, grabbing the book and running my hand over the cover to remove some more of the deep rooted soot. The subtitle read: Modern Sorcery of the Eighteenth Century. I snorted, thinking that nothing about it seemed at all modern.
I opened the book, the pages delicate and about ready to fall apart. There were etchings of various techniques, chemical elements, and demonstrations.
“Cool,” I mumbled.
It was then that I heard someone coming up the stairs. I quickly knelt to try and straighten the books, afraid to anger Max. Max and Jane entered the room.
“What was that?” Jane sounded exasperated.
I rolled my eyes. “Calm down. I just knocked over a few of these old books.”
Jane looked annoyed, crossing her arms against her chest.
“Max. What is this stuff?” I looked at him, and then looked at the blackened room around us. There were a few remnants of carved wood paneling on the stone walls, but most of it had been burned away. There was little to no furniture in the space—just splinters of what it once was, and bits of metal and nails that hadn’t burn with the rest of it.
He looked at Jane, giving her a look I didn’t quite understand. He glanced back at me, and that was when I felt it. There was so much despair surrounding him, fear, and also a sense of death. I realized then just what this room was—it was the place where he had died.
“Oh…” I murmured, suddenly feeling bad for even stepping foot inside this room.
I thought about the day Emily had brought me here. To her, this place was a refuge. I began to wonder if she’d ever gone inside, or if she simply liked to sit in the car as we had, or on the porch. I looked back at Max, seeing that he was watching Jane as she searched the room. It was as though the saddest song was playing in his head—a melody for Jane, a melody of love. I felt the same thing he had for her, but his feelings had an added assurance, making even me see that he was connected to her in a way I never would be.
I felt an itch of hatred wash over me, but it was uninvited. I wasn’t angry about Max and Jane, not in the way I felt now. This hatred was different. Where was it coming from? And why could I not shake it? Why did I want to hate him when it was clear that he was doing all the right things, and with what seemed a true heart?
“We’re supposed to be enemies,” Max answered the question for me, his eyes still watching Jane.
I tilted my head, surprised by his attention to me when it seemed all his attention was on her. “Really?” I found that fact interesting. “Why?”
Max walked to a nearby stack of debris, grabbing a book from under a tarnished silver platter and tossing it toward me. I caught it, twisting the cover to face me. Max placed his hands in his pockets, looking calm.
I read the cover: Nature of a Shape Shifter. I opened to the front, scanning the contents until I found the chapter titled: Natural Enemies.
I flipped to the page, reading aloud, “Pixies… Pixies?”
Max’s eyes grew wide. “Evil little things. They’re annoying on principal alone. I think everyone just about hates them.”
I continued to list under my breath. “Faerie, Pegasus, and…” I ran my hand down the rather long list, finding it just about listed everything. “And… yeah, Angels.” I nodded, letting one laugh leave my chest. “Makes sense, I suppose.”
Max leaned back on his heels. “This doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, it just takes work is all. Two of my best friends in high school were like you. Obviously that was before I died.”
I raised one brow, looking at him strangely. I looked back at the list, aghast with how many things I hated.
Max shrugged. “But to me, you are one of only two enemies. Except as I said, I have a particular dislike for Pixies,” Max added. “You are one of the only things out there that stands a chance against me in a fight. I know you wouldn’t hurt me, though. Once we get past the animal instincts, I believe we’ll form a great friendship.”
I snorted. “What makes you so sure?” Hearing him say the word friendship in reference to me sounded unlikely.
“Have you seen that list? There’s just about no one you don’t hate except beings like Jane and Emily, and they’re special cases. At some point, you’re going to want more friends.”
Max had a know-it-all look on his face and it annoyed me, as though he thought he was better than me. I also knew that it was likely my natural hatred for him that amplified this, but still, it was there.
I exhaled and placed the book back on a nearby pile of debris.
He’d turned his attention back to Jane as she roamed the room. “So, what happened between you and Emily?” His voice was low, as though making sure Jane couldn’t overhear.
I chuckled, finding it hilarious that he was trying to be best buds by discussing relationships. “Nothing,” I said bitterly. My body suddenly felt warm at the mention of her name.
Max smirked. “You do love her. You just don’t know that yet. I can see why, though. You’re confused by your previous emotions for Jane, and you mistake that feeling for true love. Trust me, the feeling you have for Emily is the real thing.”
I furrowed my brow. “What do you know?”
Max laughed. “It’s not a shameful thing, Wes. I know what happened to your ideas of love in the past, but you need to let go of the guilt. Emily is the one you really want. You haven’t lived as long as I have. You have yet to learn through trial and error, but in the end, you will agree with me.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. I hated to be told what I wanted. “Whatever.”
I blew him off and walked away, grumbling under my breath. As he’d predicted, my thoughts were now filled with Emily. She was beautiful, fun, and adventurous. Jane had always been rather boring, calm and in her head—what I imagined was just Max’s type.
I looked at Jane. Perhaps the jealousy wasn’t over love for her at all. Perhaps it was the type of jealousy a protective brother might feel. I didn’t like to see Max with her, or anywhere near her, but it was because I knew what he was capable of, and that was breaking her heart. When I thought about kissing Jane, it wasn’t the same as when I thought about kissing Emily. Emily’s was filled with fire and passion, whereas Jane’s felt platonic and dull in comparison.
I shook my head, hating that I’d let Max get into my head. I felt something sharp enter my heart then. I stopped dead in my tracks. The feeling began to burn, and then a heartbeat formed, beating in tune with my own, attached to me in a way that felt like longing.
I turned on my heel, my eyes wide. “They’re here.” I saw that Max was already frozen, but Jane had not yet felt what we had.
Max lifted his hand to his mouth, moving quietly. It was then that he suddenly braced himself. The next moment, I saw why. Someone crashed into him suddenly, appearing from thin air. It had moved so fast, that there was no warning of his arrival.
Max heaved, but held his ground as the floor crumpled beneath him. I heard laughter then, and I saw Greg form from the blur of bodies, buckled over as though his impact had hurt him as much as Max. Max shook his arms, standing out of the crack that had formed in the floor. I heard soft footsteps approach from the hall—the sound tickling my ears, and my heart.
Emily entered the room, and my jaw dropped. I’d not yet seen her, and had no idea just how bad it had gotten. She was frighteningly pale, the skin around her eyes shadowed, and not just from her heavy makeup. The bruise on her hip, were I’d grasped her after the party, was still there. It was showing just below the hem of her skirt, though considerably faded. My chest stung—I wanted her back. I needed her back.
