by Lucy March
I went quiet for a bit, gathering myself to tell the rest of the story. Desmond waited, perfectly still, until I was ready to talk again.
“We started hearing the stories of the magic within a few hours. Del called me on the phone that afternoon. Hers was the best. Perception magic; she made snow. But you could feel it, too, not just see it. It was such a cool, rare magic. We threw snowballs in her backyard, in July, and you’d look down at your hand, which felt cold and wet, but there was nothing there. It was pretty awesome … at first.”
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and I willed it to slow down. Desmond waited, forever patient.
“Del got sick the fastest, probably because she used her power the most. I mean, we used it. Anyway, she just … collapsed, and they took her away.”
“They?” Desmond asked, and I answered. “The agencies.”
“And your father wasn’t around?”
I shook my head. “Business trip, supposedly. I think he just skipped town for it. My guess is, he figured if it worked, it would give him plausible deniability with my mother, and if it didn’t…”
There was a look of extreme sympathy on Desmond’s face, and it made me uncomfortable, so I looked away.
“It had to be me, I think. Metal elemental. We’re so rare, and he needed me to try this experiment, but…”
“He’s a coward,” Desmond filled in when I trailed off. “He couldn’t face what he was doing, so he ran off.”
My father was a lot of things, a coward just one of them, but I didn’t want to talk about him. “Anyway, next was Del’s dad, and her mom and then … my mom got sick.”
“But she was already a magical,” Desmond said. “Shouldn’t she have been immune, like you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know why I survived.”
Desmond nodded. He wasn’t taking physical notes, but I could see that he was putting all the details away in his brain, in case any might make sense later.
“Anyway,” I went on, “that night, before they could take my mother away to wherever they’d taken Del and her family, she opened the safe and gave me my new documents. A fake birth certificate, a driver’s license, a Social Security card, and the keys to her car. She … she told me…” I let out a breath. Sixteen years, I had never breathed a word about that day, to anyone, and the release of it was making me a little dizzy.
“Eliot?” Desmond said, his voice low and careful. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I said, more denial than outright lying. “She told me that it was me. She used the last of her magic to bind my powers so he couldn’t ever use me that way again, and she told me to run and never see my father again. Then … she died.”
The room was oppressively quiet. Even Seamus, asleep on the floor, wasn’t snoring. A cool trickle of sweat beaded down my spine. I had stopped packing some time ago, and even though I knew my magic was bound, I felt hesitant about touching anything made of metal, so my utensils just sat on the counter like a pile of old scrap.
Desmond was the first to break the silence. “How long was the incubation period, between initial exposure and demise?”
“It depended on how much people used their new magic. Del went quick, a few hours. I was gone by the following night, but based on what I found out later, I think most people were dead within twenty-four hours.”
“And what were the symptoms?” His expression was sharp, analytical. Like a doctor, looking for clues for his diagnosis.
“At first, the magic would happen accidentally. Magic is sparked by emotion, so someone would get mad or be surprised, their hands would tingle and their light would spark and poof, suddenly they’d change the color of pencil lead, or make a flower appear from thin air. A few hours of using the magic, and the power surges came. You know, where it just gets so strong, you can’t control it anymore. After that, people just collapsed and then…”
“And no one in that basement was given anything to eat or drink?”
I shook my head. “I’m sure some people had coffee or a snack or something, but not all of us. He didn’t use potions, if that’s what you’re getting at. It was some kind of electrical thing.”
He nodded. “Your father wasn’t in the room, correct? Do you think he might have given you a potion to spark the experiment?”
“Maybe, I guess,” I snapped, sudden irritation surging through me. “I don’t know. Do any of these details even matter?”
He gave me the patient gaze of the scientist. “Details always matter.”
“Well, that’s all I’ve got for you. Now, you can answer some questions for me.”
He made a motion of permission with his hands. Proceed.
“So what makes you think that my father is going to try it again?”
“Emerson funded my research.”
I closed my eyes. “Let me guess. Spreading magic to nonmagicals?”
Desmond lowered his eyes. “I was a doctor. And a conjurer. I thought I could figure it out, scientifically, using magic…” His expression was grim. “It was foolishness and hubris, and I’m afraid I’m the reason Emerson chose Nodaway Falls. I had some…” There was a brief pause, and Desmond’s mouth twitched with distaste. “… successes, I guess you could call them, and he’s been interested in this town ever since.”
“Do you still work for him?”
He shook his head, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Not anymore.”
“But that’s why you’re still here?” I asked, putting my best guess on it. “To make it up to these people who hate you?”
Desmond seemed a little surprised by the comment, and I shrugged.
“Look, you were sitting by yourself in a bar reading Sartre; that’s not a guy with a lot of friends. Plus, I saw the look Stacy gave you when she was in Happy Larry’s yesterday. She does not like you. Even Liv seemed a little iffy about you. And today, Addie told me you were a bad guy and that I shouldn’t trust you. Whatever you did to these people, they really hate you.”
“Yes,” he said simply. “They do.”
“And you think you’re going to make it up to them? Protect them from this danger, and make it all better?”
“No,” he said carefully. “I threw a lit cigarette on the ground. It’s irresponsible to walk away while the fire burns.”
“Well, I’m leaving,” I said. “If I’m gone, he can’t do whatever he wants to do, and then you can move on. Sounds like a win-win to me.”
He gave me a surprised look. “It’s all hypotheses and conjecture,” he said. “I have no idea what’s really going on. Your father managed to create a lot of chaos without you last year—”
“You mean, with you?”
His eyes met mine and didn’t flinch at all. “Yes. While your being here now can hardly be a coincidence, I take no comfort in your running off.”
“Running off? Pardon my American rudeness, but fuck you, buddy.” I picked up a pan and threw it in my box, anger coursing through my body. “Look, whatever’s going on here can only get better if I leave. I’m sorry I can’t give you a solid answer to everything you’re looking for, but I didn’t come looking for this. Now, just … tell me you didn’t put an unbinding potion in the Welcome Wagon lasagna.”
Desmond’s eyebrows knit together. “What lasagna?”
I shook out my hands. “The one that came in the Welcome Wagon stuff. The one I ate yesterday.”
He shook his head, concern on his face. “No. And I haven’t made any potions that would unbind magic that anyone could have taken. Why?”
“Because,” I said, panic running through me, “my hands are tingling.”
Desmond hopped up from the stool he was sitting on and moved toward me, but I held my hand out to stop him.
“Your magic,” he said quietly, not moving. “It’s back?”
“There’s only one way to find out,” I said, and grabbed a knife.
Chapter 5
Desmond watched me carefully as I took the knife into my hand
. Almost instantly, tiny blue strings of lightning danced around my fingers.
It was easy. Natural. What is it they say? Like riding a bike. I simply closed my fingers around the metal, and then, with hardly any effort or thought at all, it re-formed in my hand. When I opened my fist, a tiny stainless steel potion flask, wide at the bottom and thin at the mouth, sat in my palm. I handed it to Desmond who, to his credit, took it from me without fear.
“That’s decorative,” I said absently. “Steel corrupts potions.”
“Yes,” he said, staring down at the thing. “I know.”
“Of course you do. Sorry.” I let out a breath. “Well, fuck my fucking life, huh?” I put my hand to my forehead. I couldn’t get in a full breath. “I think I might pass out.”
Desmond touched my arm and guided me to the couch where he sat me down and leaned me over, putting my head between my knees. I heard him get up, and a moment later the faucet turned on. When he came back, I heard him set the glass gently on the coffee table. He put his hand at the base of my neck, and the strength of him was comforting, but I couldn’t indulge that.
“You can’t touch me,” I said. “I’m not safe around nonmagicals. I think maybe I need to go off somewhere and be a hermit. It’s okay. Age of Amazon, and everything, I can have supplies delivered to a cabin in the mountains by drones. I don’t like people very much, anyway.”
He didn’t move his hand. “I’m not worried. You may have been a catalyst, but your father set off the original reaction, somehow. I’m sure of it. He may have unbound your magic, but I don’t think you’re a danger to anyone.”
I pulled my head up and looked at him. “Hypothesis and conjecture. You don’t know shit.”
He gave a grim nod. “Fair enough. I would like to stay with you until sunset, though, just for observation. Will that be all right?”
I shrugged. “How long is that?”
“About six hours. We could run some tests, have you use your magic, test your control. But there’s time for that. First, perhaps a nap would be in order.”
I gave him a wry smile. “Is that your way of telling me I look exhausted?”
“Yes,” he said.
I would have argued with him, but I was too tired. I stood up and walked over to Seamus, nudging his sleeping body gently with my foot. He opened one eye and looked up at me, then closed it again. I grabbed his collar and urged him to his feet. He may be a crappy watchdog, but no way was I sleeping alone right now.
“While you sleep, I’d like to make some phone calls, if you don’t mind.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped the screen, then looked up at me, waiting for permission.
“Fine.” I shrugged, almost grateful that he was taking charge, because it was for sure I had no idea what to do. “Who are you calling?”
He didn’t look up from his phone. “The cavalry.”
*
Seven hours and one full chess set made from my flatware later, I was sitting in the eclectically decorated living room of Olivia Kiskey’s Victorian house. Desmond had walked me to the house but stopped at the sidewalk, passing me and Seamus off to Liv like a prisoner exchange. Liv led me inside, settling me on a leather La-Z-Boy recliner while Stacy and Addie sat on a poofy floral love seat. Across the coffee table, Peach took up the center of the impossibly lime-green couch, flanked by Liv on one side of her and a woman in her seventies wearing a pair of blue sweats and a Cookie Monster T-shirt—this was the eponymous Betty of Crazy Cousin Betty’s waffle house, I was informed—on the other. Liv set a bowl of apple slices and peanut butter in the corner for Seamus, who went facedown in it.
Liv was wearing jeans and a brown T-shirt that read THE DUDE ABIDES. Peach was wearing a yellow sundress in which her round belly looked basically like the sun. On top of it she balanced a napkin with brownies on it, which she picked at lazily, as if nothing big was going on. Stacy sat with her arms crossed over her army-green tank top, her eyes narrowed and her stance ready for action. I didn’t shrink from her stare, but I didn’t engage with it, either.
At the moment, Stacy Easter was the least of my fucking problems.
“So … you really haven’t had magic for sixteen years?” Addie asked, pouring a glass of lemonade for me.
“Nope.”
“Wow,” Peach said. “That must have been weird. How are you feeling?”
“A little wobbly,” I said honestly, “but I’ll be okay. So … you’re all magical?”
“We’ll ask the questions, thanks,” Stacy said, eyeing me with suspicion.
Liv made a sound of disapproval in Stacy’s direction, and Peach shifted a bit and pushed down on her stomach.
“Get your foot out of Mommy’s ribs, sweetie,” Peach said, then smiled at me. “Liv’s magical, and Betty. Stacy’s a conjurer. I’m just a groupie.”
“You’re nonmagical?” We’d tested my powers after sunset, and they were fully gone, but the idea of being around any nonmagicals, especially a pregnant one, made me tense.
Peach picked at her brownie with one hand, and with the other, gave me a dismissive wave. “Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ve been a conduit before, and it was cool. Besides, Desmond says he’s pretty sure you’re safe to be around. At night, anyway.”
Stacy snorted. “Yeah, and apparently we’re taking Desmond’s word on things now.”
Liv shot Stacy a sharp side-eye and then smiled at me. “Whatever’s going on here, we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. We’ve got loads of practice.”
“Yeah,” Stacy muttered, “because of her boyfriend.”
“Barely know the guy,” I said, but they all ignored me.
“Huh,” Betty said. “I thought it was you who gave those potions to everyone last year, Stacy.”
“Yeah, in flasks that Desmond laced.” Stacy huffed and leaned forward. “And now we’re hosting his little lady friend in your living room.”
“Ignore her, Eliot,” Peach said. “Stacy’s just slow to warm up to people.”
“I’m plenty fucking warm,” Stacy said. “But you guys don’t see a pattern here? Two years ago, magic came to town, and people got killed. Last summer, Desmond tore my life apart. Now this one”—she made a face at me like I was a lab rat—“turns up and we just invite her in and give her lemonade and brownies? What the hell is wrong with you people?”
I shot a look at her, almost grateful for the confrontation that gave me something to put my back up against, and someone to vent my own anger at. “Yeah, well, all I know is, I came to this town after not having to deal with any magic for sixteen years. Then, I eat a little lasagna that you guys gave me and … thanks to a conjurer, by the way … I’m making rooks out of spoons. No one wants to know what’s going on here more than me, trust me.”
“That’s just it,” Stacy said, unruffled by my shooting back at her. “I don’t trust you, I don’t trust Desmond, and I don’t want you anywhere near my friends or my town.”
“Stacy, stop it.” Liv’s voice was quiet, but firm enough to silence everyone in the room. She picked up the brownie tray from the coffee table and held it out to Stacy.
“Two years ago, someone unbound my magic, and I was scared and freaked out, but at least I wasn’t alone, and we’re not leaving Eliot alone. She needs help and we’re going to help her, so either get the hell out or take a brownie and shut up.”
Stacy stared at Liv. For a moment, I thought she was going to leave, but then she took a brownie and sat back. Liv set the tray down on the coffee table and looked at me. “So. Desmond told us what happened with your father. I’m really sorry. That’s got to be tough.”
“I can’t believe Emerson Streat is evil,” Addie said, shaking her head. “You think you know someone…”
“He’s not evil,” I said, and then backed up. “Well, not exactly. He’s single-minded, and he believes that the ends justify the means, so he does bad things. But…” I trailed off, feeling conflicted about defending the man who’d killed my best friend and my mother, and us
ed me to do it. I didn’t believe he knew they’d die for sure, but I did think he knew it was a possibility, and that was enough. And if he was going to try to do it again here …
“No,” I said, finally. “Forget all that. He’s evil.”
“It’s okay to have complicated feelings about it,” Betty said. “I once dated a Fascist. Love is weird. The bottom line is, how can we help you?”
“I don’t know.” I picked up a brownie. I wasn’t hungry, but picking at it gave me something to do, at least. “Maybe … tell me about your powers. What kind of magic do you guys have?”
“Nothing with teeth,” Addie said casually. “The only one who could kill a person was Tobias, and he’s gone.”
A heavy blanket of silence fell over the room, and Addie’s eyes went wide and she put her hand over her mouth.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said to Liv, the words muffled by her fingers.
“It’s okay,” Liv said, but I could see the pain on her face. It almost made me want to not push, but I couldn’t help it. I had to ask.
“So, Tobias … he was magical, too?”
Betty shot a wary look at Liv. “Yes. He’s magical.”
“Excuse me,” Liv said, and hurried out of the room.
“Nice work,” Stacy said, but when I looked up, she wasn’t talking to Addie. She was looking at me. I didn’t have time for her grudge, though, so I ignored her and turned to Betty.
“What happened with Tobias?”
Betty glanced in the direction Liv had gone, and then leaned forward, speaking in low tones. “He left her a note. Just a note. ‘It’s over. I’m sorry.’ After two years of living together, practically married, he just—poof! Gone. All his stuff packed and moved out while she was at work. And you’d have never seen it coming. He adored her. You could tell by the way he looked at her, by the way he talked to her. He loved her. I think the agency he worked for called him away.”
