by R. L. King
She laughed. “I wondered if you owned any,” she admitted. “So formal all the time.”
Her laugh warmed him. For now—just for the next two or three hours—he wouldn’t think about magic, or Desmond, or his father, or all the things he’d have to deal with in the weeks and months to come. For now, all he wanted to do was sit next to Madeleine and watch some fluffy romantic comedy film he probably wouldn’t remember a bit of tomorrow.
Just…be normal for a little while, for one last time before everything changed.
“You sure you’re all right with this one?” she asked as they waited in the queue to buy tickets. “I could see the horror one again. You’d like it, I think.”
“It’s all right. I actually saw it the other day. Let’s watch something new.”
She gave him a sly grin. “Or, you know…not watch it.”
It was a good thing they’d reached the front of the queue by that point, so he could hide the sudden full-body tingle that rushed through him by dealing with the ticket-seller.
They got a tub of popcorn to share and drinks the size of small buckets, and he let her choose where they sat. She trooped all the way up to the back row and dropped down into one of the middle seats. “This okay?”
“Brilliant.” The theater was old and smelled strongly of popcorn, with just a hint of musty funk. The seats were narrow and covered in a tatty red velvet-like fabric, rubbed smooth by thousands of customers’ backsides over the years. He settled in next to her and tried not to think too hard about the implications of her choice of location. Maybe she just liked sitting in the back row.
Since it was a weeknight and the film had been out for a while, there weren’t many other people in the theater. Alastair watched as a few others drifted in and found seats: mostly couples, a few groups of women, a mother and her adolescent daughter. He amused himself for the moment looking over the auras—the blazing nimbuses that glowed around each person still fascinated him. He wondered if he’d ever get used to them, and wished he could show them to Madeleine.
“So,” she said, “Has your teacher decided yet if he’s keeping you around?”
He switched off. “No—not quite yet. Though I’m starting to think I might be okay.”
“What makes you think so?” She grabbed a big handful of popcorn and munched on it, turning a little in her seat to face him.
He shrugged. “I think I’m doing what he expects. And today he sort of started talking like I might have a future. I don’t know—I don’t want to jinx it by getting my hopes up.”
“Well, I’d like it if you stayed. The boys around here are all right, but they’re a bit boring, you know? I’ve known most of them all my life. Could use a bit of new blood, couldn’t we?”
He didn’t answer. He wanted to tell her that even if he did stay, he probably wouldn’t be able to see her anymore—at least not often enough to develop any sort of real friendship. He was struggling for something else to fill the silence when she gripped his arm and pointed toward a couple coming in.
“That’s Rosemary Cooper,” she said under her breath. “With a bloke.” Her surprise came though even in her whisper.
Alastair followed her gaze. Sure enough, it was the same nervous girl he’d seen at the park a few days ago. Behind her was a shadowy figure he couldn’t make out clearly in the dim light.
He switched back to magical sight. Rosemary’s aura was the same orange as before, but less disturbed; the darker patches were still there, but the aura had a bouncy quality to it that hadn’t been there before—and a few bright red patches indicating she might be more interested in the guy she was with than she was letting on. She seemed happy, anyway. Behind her, her date’s aura was green and steady. “Is that odd?” he asked as the two of them sidled down one of the rows halfway up and took seats in the middle.
“Well…yeah. I’ve never seen Rosemary with a guy. Thought she was too shy, or her mum wouldn’t let her. I don’t recognize him, though—maybe he’s her cousin or something. He looks older than her.”
Alastair doubted it. The red flashes didn’t fit with a cousin. He watched them for a moment, but at that point the lights dimmed and the screen lit up with trailers.
He didn’t pay much attention to the movie. For a while he sat, arm pressed against Madeleine’s, as they took turns dipping into the tub of popcorn. He watched Rosemary Cooper and her date several rows in front of them; about a quarter of the way into the film, they leaned closer to each other and the guy slipped his arm around Rosemary’s shoulders. She rested her head against him.
Alastair wondered how Madeleine would react if he put his arm around her, or perhaps held her hand. He pondered that as he took another handful of popcorn.
“Bit boring, isn’t it?” Madeleine whispered.
He turned toward her. She was watching him, her eyes glittering in the dimness. He could just make out her sly smile.
“Bit,” he admitted.
She pressed her arm a little harder into his, leaning in until her upper arm was against him too. When he glanced at her aura, he saw definite signs of red flashes around the edges of the sunny yellow.
Taking a chance, he leaned in a little closer to her. He figured if she wasn’t interested, she’d pull back, maybe on the pretense of grabbing more popcorn.
She didn’t pull back. She tilted her face closer until it was barely an inch from his.
Okay, even with his minimal experience with girls, that was a hint Alastair couldn’t miss, or misinterpret.
He kissed her.
She kissed him back. Her lips were soft and hot, and she tasted like popcorn and cherry lip gloss.
Neither one of them watched the rest of the movie.
Afterward, Alastair didn’t tell Madeleine he’d arrived on the Vespa. Part of it was that it didn’t really have the seating for two, but most of it was because walking her home would allow him to spend more time with her.
“Want to stop for a coffee or something?” he asked as they left the theater. His mind refused to stop replaying the last couple of hours, most of which had been spent in deep—albeit mostly gentlemanly—exploration of Madeleine’s charms. Considering she’d cheerfully given as good as she got and nobody came by with a flashlight to kick them out, he counted the evening an unmitigated success. Even if he didn’t get to see Madeleine again for a long time, those memories weren’t going anywhere. The taste of her lips, the light floral scent of her hair, her soft skin as he’d slipped his hand under her shirt to rub her back as they kissed and she gently encouraged him to move it around to the front…those would all be pretty much on permanent rotation for the foreseeable future. The problem would be getting rid of them when he was supposed to be thinking about other things—like magic.
“Probably shouldn’t,” she said with some regret, glancing at her watch. “It’s already almost nine-thirty, and Dad won’t like it if I’m home late.” She brightened. “Some other time, though, okay?”
He didn’t reply to that. It might not be strictly the most honorable way to handle things, but he wanted to wait as long as he could before telling her that the “other time” might be a long while in the future—if ever. He’d take her home first, and tell her when they got there. “Where are we going, then?”
“C’mon. Best way is to cut through the park. More private, too.” She took his hand and tugged him down the street.
The park—the same one where they’d observed the football players the other day—wasn’t well lit this late; the pitches were dark, and only a few pole lamps lined the meandering paths.
Madeleine didn’t seem worried, though. She squeezed his hand. “I had a good time tonight.”
“So did I.” He thought about the benches near the pitch, and how nice it would be to just sit down there with her for a while to continue what they’d be
en doing at the theater—and perhaps even a little more, if she was willing and enthusiastic—but he drove the thought back. Better get used to it now, he told himself. Magic and girls don’t mix, and you’ve already made your choice. Go take a cold shower and get over it.
Her house, a small, older two-story, was on a narrow lane a couple blocks from the park. “Here we are,” she said, coming to a stop in front of it. “Now you know where I live, so it’s only fair that I expect an invitation to come meet the ghosts some time.”
She was smiling, but he couldn’t tell if she was teasing. “We’ll—see,” he said. “They’re a bit…touchy sometimes.”
“That’s all right. I like touchy.” Now she really was grinning. She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for a great time, Ali.”
Normally he’d find the shortening of his name annoying, but from her he didn’t mind. “Thank you,” he said.
“Ring me again?”
He sighed, and let go of her hand. “If I can. I—don’t know how things will go, going forward. I might not be able to come to town very often.”
She looked down. “Well…okay. If you can, then.”
He leaned closer to her, giving her plenty of time to back up. When she didn’t, he gave her a gentle kiss, far less passionate than what they’d shared in the back row at the cinema. “I’d—better go now. Don’t want your dad to get upset.”
“No…Don’t want that.” She pulled back then, squeezed his hand a last time, and turned and hurried up the walk toward the front door. He didn’t miss the look of disappointment in her eyes before she did it, and magical sight revealed a dimming in her aura to go with it.
Alastair remained there watching until she’d opened it and disappeared inside, then watched for a few moments more before turning to head back the way he’d come.
All at once, all the good feelings he’d been enjoying all night flowed away, leaving him distracted and disassociated.
He knew he was doing the right thing. Magic was all he’d ever cared about from the time he’d been a small child and found out it existed. He knew pursuing it would mean sacrifices.
He just hadn’t—not until tonight anyway—encountered one of those so-called sacrifices that actually meant something to him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Alastair didn’t hurry back to the Vespa. He didn’t see any need to, since he was in no rush to get back to Caventhorne. His thoughts were a muddle, warring between pleasant recollections of the evening they’d shared and the sinking feeling that, even if somehow he were able to find enough free time to give Madeleine a call again in the near future, whatever might have been growing between them had already begun to cool. Even though he knew it was ultimately for the best, that still didn’t make it hurt any less.
The most direct way back to the center of town was to retrace his steps through the park. He walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his head down, barely paying any attention to his surroundings. The park was deserted at this hour, the intermittent light poles along the path providing small pools of illumination at widely spaced intervals. A couple of the poles were dark, their bulbs either burned out or vandalized. Alastair trudged on, not caring whether he walked through light or darkness. It was all the same to him right now.
The best thing to do, he knew, was to go back to Caventhorne, take a good long shower, and try to forget about the whole thing.
Best for who, though? a little voice in the back of his mind asked.
Best for him, no doubt about it. In his logical, analytical mind, he knew it. Magic was his passion, his love, and his life. Anything that took his mind off that was bad for him. Anything that tempted him to stray from his single-minded focus on being the best mage he could possibly be could derail his progress for the rest of his career. He was poised to get the chance of a lifetime—the opportunity to study with the best of the best. The chance to have his magical future shaped by one of the strongest talents and most brilliant magical minds in the world.
How could he even consider putting all that at risk so he could snog a chip-shop girl in the back row of a tatty old cinema?
No…it didn’t matter how she looked at him with those wide green eyes, or the way her lips felt on his, or her humor and quick wit. It didn’t matter how her nose crinkled when she laughed, or the way her warm, willing body felt under his hands.
Magic, Stone. Magic. He almost growled as his thoughts turned once again to his evening with Madeleine, and his body betrayed his mind with a whole collection of stirrings that were frustratingly difficult to ignore.
No, it was settled. Much as he hated it, much as his body and his inconvenient urges were trying to convince him otherwise, he’d have to be done with Madeleine. With all girls, in fact. It was only for four years, after all—maybe not even that long. Once he was really Desmond’s apprentice and he’d earned his master’s respect, maybe he could risk it. Maybe in a couple years, he could let his guard down a little, and maybe meet someone who enjoyed spending time with him. But not now. The price for failure was simply too high. The sooner he realized it—the sooner he truly accepted it—the better off he’d be.
He’d made it halfway through the park when a sound off to his left jolted him from his brooding thoughts.
He stopped, listening harder. He’d definitely heard something, but he couldn’t identify what it was. Probably an animal, or maybe the far-off laughter of some couple making out on one of the benches. Good that somebody is, he thought morosely. He almost started moving once more when he heard it again.
Voices. At least three, maybe four—he couldn’t tell for sure. One of them was female, the others male. He closed his eyes to focus more tightly on the sounds, and froze.
“No—please—” The female voice sounded muddy and slurred, but shook with fear.
The response was deep male laughter, followed by some words Alastair couldn’t make out. All of the sounds were coming from an area hidden by trees and darkness, well off the path.
He switched to magical sight, and immediately spotted several auras filtered through the scattered trees and bushes. They were different colors—orange, green, blue, yellow—but all four were in chaos, tinged with bright, flaring red.
“No! Let me go!” the female voice called again, pitching louder. “I don’t want—”
Her voice was suddenly muffled, as if someone had clamped a hand over her mouth.
Alastair froze. Whoever she was, she was in trouble. And here in the middle of this deserted park, he might be the only one who’d heard her cries for help.
The male voices laughed again. One, as slurred as hers had been, said something, but all Alastair could make out was, “…know you want it,” and “…leadin’ me on, little bitch.” He sounded older than her.
Alastair didn’t think. He didn’t consider his actions, or any possible danger he might be putting himself in. Instead, he ran toward the voices, with no idea what he’d do when he got there. In only a few seconds, he burst through the trees into a small clearing.
He stopped in shock.
The faint moonlight revealed two large, male figures standing back from another one, who was bent over a prone woman. They appeared to be cheering their friend on as he fumbled at her clothes. The stench of cheap liquor hung in the air, strong enough Alastair could smell it from several feet away.
That wasn’t the worst of it, though.
The worst was that he recognized two of the figures. It was too dim to see them clearly, but that didn’t matter: their auras were clear as day.
The sobbing girl on the ground was Rosemary Cooper, and the guy bending over her, laughing drunkenly along with his two cheering mates, was her date from the cinema.
For the second time in less than a minute, he reacted without thinking. “Get away from her!” he yelled. Heart pounding, he gathered m
agic to him and flung the man looming over Rosemary aside. His control wasn’t the best and the man was heavy, but he succeeded in shoving him sideways enough that he stumbled and crashed to the ground. His drunken state probably made it easier.
“What the ’ell?” one of the others yelled, whirling toward Alastair.
The third and final man also turned, fixing a cold glare. “Off you go, kid. This ain’t your concern.” He seemed somewhat less drunk than the other two, but still swayed on his feet.
On the ground, Rosemary continued sobbing, scrabbling feebly to cover herself with the remnants of her torn sweater.
Alastair was sure if they could read auras, they could see the bright red of terror blooming around his. But they couldn’t. He held his ground and forced himself to keep his tone even. They’d only know he was scared if he let them see it. “Get out of here. Leave her alone.”
“Who’s the twerp?” Rosemary’s original date asked as he scrambled awkwardly back to his feet. His belt and the front of his jeans were undone. “Bugger off, kid. She wants it. Stupid little tart’s been askin’ for it all night.”
Alastair kept a close eye on all three of them. He had no idea what they might do next, and he had little confidence that his underdeveloped magical abilities would be able to hold all three of them off if they decided to rush him. As sometimes happened when he was stressed or angry, though, his mouth took over before his brain caught up. “You lot are pathetic. You so hard up you have to force yourselves on a girl before she’ll notice you?” He glared at Green Aura. “What’d you do, spike her drink back at the cinema?”
“Hey, wait—” the guy said, squinting to get a better look at him in the dim light. “You’re that little wanker in the back row, aren’t you? The one feelin’ up the chip-shop bird?”
Rosemary moaned. “Please…please…I want to go home…”
