Dawn and Devilry

by S. Usher Evans

  "I'm just trying to figure you out, son," she said gently. "I would think you would've jumped at the chance to mentor the boy. Since you've been unable to have any children of your own."

  "Exactly," I said, scrambling. I hadn't expected her to be so attentive. "I don't know the first thing about being a parent—"

  "Then it's a good thing the boy needs a master, not a father," she said, tilting her head. The amused smile hadn't left her face. "My question is: what aren't you telling me? Because none of what you've said so far is aligned with the man I know you to be."

  I was at a loss for words, finally saying, "You know me so well?"

  "You are my son, of course I know you," she said softly. "It's why I couldn't raise you. I am soft where you're concerned, because I see myself in you."

  "I'm soft," I spat out. "That's why I can't train the boy."

  "If given the choice between a soft master and Cyrus, I would choose you every time." She sipped her wine again. "He wants me to step down, you know."

  I nodded. "Will you?"

  "Not a chance. He'll have to wrest the Guildmaster's position from my lifeless corpse," she said examining the glass closer. "And I'm sure he'll challenge me soon, once he tires of hearing from me."

  Another responsibility I was hoping to avoid. Why was I so intent on keeping the tear open again? "I'm surprised he hasn't already."

  "One of the many things I've learned about Cyrus is that no matter how slighted he feels, he won't move unless he's certain of victory. He's not a rash man. He bides his time until the opportune moment, and only then strikes. It's what makes him so volatile—and so dangerous."

  "Is there any way to contain him?" I asked.

  "Of course," she said, putting her glass down. "As Guildmaster, I've been able to contain him for years. But only until he feels he's ready to challenge me for this position. That day is coming soon."

  And that was a day I'd been dreading. "What will you do?"

  She stared off in the distance, looking younger and at the same time, wearier. "If I have to kill him, I will, but…once he challenges me and loses, I could spare him."

  "Would you, though?"

  "Depends," she said. "He wouldn't be able to challenge me again as Guildmaster. And…perhaps I'm a little more attached to him than I've let on." She shook her head. "It's not like me to be sentimental, but when I saw that child today, I thought about the day you were born. You looked so little, but you held within you so much power. I only wish…" She smiled. "I only wish you could experience that joy."

  "Joy?" Oh, joy was an apt description of the day my girls had been born, but I was surprised to hear it coming from her.

  "Yes, Gavon. The day you were born was the best day of my life," she said. "Something you might understand if you take the boy."

  I had a feeling I wasn't going to make any headway, so I bade her adieu and went home.

  One thing was for sure: I needed better excuses where Alexandra was concerned. I didn't want to be Guildmaster, and I certainly didn't want to have a fourth child to raise. Not to mention all the complications therein. Irene would have a field day.

  I arrived home to find a scene of paint, toys, and tantrums, and one wife at her wit's end. I shuffled her up to the bedroom, drawing a bath and leaving a silencing charm on the room so she could relax in peace. I tended to the fussy girls and made dinner. Mora joined us as soon as I pulled the chicken out of the oven, refreshed from a long bath, and we dug in.

  "So what the hell kept you?" Mora asked, clearly still salty about my prolonged absence.

  "Oh," I said, nearly forgetting in the chaos. "Agatha had the baby. A Warrior boy. Alexandra was over the moon."

  "And did she say who's going to train him?"

  I swallowed a particularly large bite. "Not yet. I'm still lobbying for it to be her. Trying my best to appear irresponsible and unconcerned."

  "What are you gonna do if she shoves him off on you anyway?"

  I sighed. I didn't want to think about it. "She also still wants me to take over the Guildmaster spot."

  "And again, I ask, why haven't you closed that tear yet?" she said, but it was mostly under her breath.

  "I asked myself that very question today," I said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. "I did promise you I'd have it closed by the time the baby came."

  "I'll believe that when I see it."

  I looked up at her, shock evident on my face. "Mora, are you really that upset with me for being gone so long?"

  "I just…I had something important to show you," she said with something of a pout. Then, to my surprise, she formed a bright purple attack spell in the palm of her hand. "What do you think?"

  "I think…" Tears sprang to my eyes. Sure, it was my wife wielding it, but it was the first time I'd seen my little one's magic. "I think that's beautiful. I think you're beautiful."

  "It's purple," she said. "Does that mean it's Warrior magic?"

  I shook my head. "The color of magic varies from person to person, just as it does here. Purple means…well, it means she comes from my blood. My mother has purple magic, too."

  "Cool," she said. "By the way, don't throw it at a wall."

  I started. "Yes, please don't do that. Which wall did you destroy?"

  "I fixed it but…" She grinned sheepishly. "I scared the kids."

  "We'll have to find a better outlet for you," I said, taking her other hand. "Perhaps a beach nearby where I can teach you a few things. But only if you promise not to overdo it. This is uncharted territory."

  "With you, it always is," Mora said, as she pulled together another bright purple ball. "I can't believe this kind of magic exists. I can't believe our little girl is going to have this."

  "Girl?" I said, blinking. "I thought your appointment wasn't until next week?"

  She grinned. "I have to have some mystery in the marriage, you know." She summoned a small ultrasound and handed it to me. "You're three for three in little girls, McKinnon."

  I took the photo, still completely unable to read the black and white blob, but trusting that those smarter than me had read it and found a little girl in there. "A little girl. And a Warrior, too."

  "So you're okay with that?" she asked. "Cause I'm not having a fourth. That other Warrior baby is on his own."

  I smiled. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

  Twenty-Seven

  Three little girls. Could any man be so lucky? I was on cloud nine for the next few weeks, even as I toiled through more journals, more trips to far-flung places with either Nicole or Marie (or sometimes both) by my side. Mora was starting to enjoy her newfound powers as well, although she wanted me to join her in the ring, and I still wasn't ready.

  The weather had turned bright and warm with spring's arrival. All the gardens were growing once again. And with it, Nicole had begun to offer some unusual conversation.

  "The flowers are singing to me," she said, twirling down the sidewalk as the family went on a late afternoon walk.

  Mora turned to me with a quirked brow. "That's new."

  "What do you mean, the flowers are singing to you?" I asked, bending down to Nicole's level.

  "They sing!" she said.

  This became a refrain she would repeat over and over—whether it was while Mora was chopping spinach for a salad or whether Nicole was digging in the dirt. But it told me one thing.

  "I think it's time we started potion-training with her. For real."

  "We should probably get potty training figured out first." She frowned. "Besides that, she's too young. She can't even read yet."

  Reading didn't seem to be a prerequisite for sparring, so I assumed it wasn't for potion-making either. To that end, I decided to take Nicole over to her Aunt Nina's house to wander through her garden, as it was the best in the neighborhood.

  "Oh, of course, of course," Nina said, clapping her hands together. "I love seeing you two stop by."

  We joined her in the backyard, the large green rectangle growin
g quickly in the early spring weather. Nicole stomped her way toward it, singularly focused.

  "She's magnificent, isn't she?" Nina said with a grin. "Children are fascinating creatures. They're so untainted by thoughts. They just do."

  "Nicole has plenty of thoughts," I replied as she yanked a bushel of flowers from the ground—roots and all. "She tells me about her opinions all day long."

  "She's very lucky to have a father like you," Nina said.

  "Okay, kiddo, tell me what this is," I said, pointing to a patch of lavender.

  "Purple!" Nicole chirped.

  "Lavender," I said gently. "Can you say lavender?"

  "Purple!"

  "Yes, it's purple," I said. "But it's called lavender."

  We wandered through the garden, taking each species slowly until she made a word that sounded something like the actual name. Nina followed behind, helping out as she saw fit, but Nicole wouldn't parrot back the words when she did.

  "She does the same thing to her mother," I said, by way of an apology when Nicole ignored another overture from Nina. "She's three."

  "Ah, speaking of girls who don't like their mothers," Nina said, glancing to the front of the garden. "Jeanie's arrived for her weekly session."

  "What session?"

  "Magical training," Nina said. "Irene's insistence, of course."

  "I thought she was attending school in D.C.?" She was twenty now, a junior at a college as far away from her mother as she could possibly get. The girls barely knew her, as she only came around during holidays and big events. Even when she'd received her magic at fifteen, there wasn't much. It was something Irene was working hard to change.

  "Oh, well, Irene felt they weren't teaching her well enough," Nina said with a sad sigh.

  I looked at Nicole and frowned. "Jeanie may have other talents. Maybe she got a strain of Potion-maker?"

  "Or perhaps just an overbearing mother who won't leave her alone long enough to get past her mental block," Nina said with a snort as Jeanie walked into the garden. She took one look at me and I saw the urge to bolt.

  But Nina intervened. "Hello, Jeanie, dear."

  "'Lo," she said.

  Nicole hid behind my legs, peeking out from behind them with a shy look.

  "Nicole, do you remember your Aunt Jeanie?" I asked.

  She shook her head.

  "She's Mommy's sister," I said. "Like Marie is your sister. Can you say Jeanie?"

  She shook her head and hid.

  "We'll get there," I said with what I hoped was a disarming grin. Jeanie didn't look terrified to be there anymore, but she didn't exactly look comfortable.

  "She's getting big," Jeanie said.

  "She'll be four in a few months, and Marie will be two. Happened overnight, it seems." I cocked my head to the side. "We'd love to see you more often. Nicole should get to know her aunt."

  "Yeah, well, school keeps me busy," Jeanie said, running a hand through her short hair. "I hear you guys are having another baby."

  "Yeah," I said. "We're really excited."

  "I don't know what I'd do with three kids," she said, an obvious attempt at a conversation she didn't want any part of. "You guys are crazy."

  "This one wasn't exactly planned," I said.

  She nodded, looking more uncomfortable the longer we stood there. "So, can we get started, Nina?"

  "Of course, my love," Nina said with a look at me. "Gavon, why don't you join us today?"

  "Oh, does he…" Jeanie's cheeks reddened. "I mean, it's not necessary to…"

  "Gavon knows your magic already, my dear," Nina said gently. "And I'm sure Nicole would love to pick up a few magical tips."

  No matter how many times I explained that Nicole's magic was limited to potions, Nina just didn't get it. But it was a chance for me to build the relationship Jeanie didn't want with me—but that I wanted her to have with Nicole.

  The four of us settled in Nina's small kitchen, Nicole perched on my lap as she watched Jeanie ready herself. Nina was a proponent of more New Age techniques, so their practice had begun with a five-minute meditation. From Jeanie's fidgeting, I could tell it wasn't helping.

  "Today, we'll work on summoning," Nina said with a bright grin.

  Jeanie nodded and cast a nervous look in my direction. "A-all right."

  "Now, let's start easy. Summon the phone book from the other room."

  Jeanie held out her hand and concentrated. After a moment, the phone book appeared in her hand in a puff of yellow. She furrowed her brow again, and the book disappeared.

  Nicole clapped and giggled. "Again! Again!"

  Jeanie half-smiled. "Okay…."

  She performed the trick once, twice, then three times, and Nicole was absolutely enamored.

  "I don't get it. Why is she so excited?" Jeanie asked, her cheeks red. "Don't you guys use magic around her?"

  "Oh, of course," I said, gently brushing Nicole's hair off her shoulder. "I think she just enjoys watching you do it."

  "Well, now that we know you can summon something here," Nina said. "Let's try expanding our reach. Why don't you try to summon something from your dorm at school?"

  Jeanie closed her eyes and concentrated. But nothing arrived.

  "I don't know what I want to bring," she said, opening her eyes. "I can't think of anything I own."

  "Try…" I began then quieted down. I was sure Jeanie didn't want to get lessons from me.

  Nina smiled at me, though. "What do you suggest, Gavon?"

  "I thought maybe she could try using her magic to see her room then pick a pencil or something like that." I cleared my throat. "It's the technique I read about in a book."

  "I don't understand how that works," Jeanie said with a glare. "How am I supposed to use magic to see something?"

  "You've got to let go of your magic," I said gently. "Don't keep such a tight grip on it. It can do so much more than you can physically." As her scowl grew more pronounced, I wisely decided to cease sharing my opinions.

  "Gavon is right, my love. Your magic may not be the strongest, but it's still capable of quite a lot," Nina said. "Why don't you—"

  "I don't even understand why I'm doing this in the first place!" Jeanie barked, jumping to her feet. "Who cares if I don't have magic? None of my friends have it, or even know it exists!"

  "Your mother—"

  "Screw her," Jeanie said, tears in her eyes as she sank back down. "All she cares about is whether we make her look good for the clan. As if Mora hasn't already ruined everything by marrying him."

  Nina looked at me for support or apology, I wasn't sure which, but I held up my hands. "No arguments here. I think Jeanie should be free to do whatever she wants."

  "Thank you," Jeanie said, sniffing and wiping her eyes. "Thank you."

  "I'll see if I can't get your mother to change her mind about our sessions," Nina said after a moment. "I understand you may think you don't have magic, but I assure you that you do."

  Jeanie just wiped her eyes again.

  Nicole slipped off my lap and wandered over to Jeanie, climbing up into hers. She pressed a kiss on Jeanie's cheek and smiled.

  "Don't cry," she said. "Can you bring book?"

  "Yeah, kiddo," Jeanie said, holding out her hand and making the phone book appear and disappear, much to the delight of my toddler.

  "See?" I said gently. "You can do the important stuff."

  "What? Amuse kids?" She chuckled, but it was less desolate.

  "Why don't you come over for dinner?" I said. "See the kids and Mora. No magical lessons, I promise."

  "Mom would throw a fit," Jeanie said then smiled evilly. "Sounds great."

  "Jeanie!" Mora said as the three of us walked in the door. "Oh my God, is it Mom? Is she hurt? Did someone die? Did she die?"

  "N…no?" Jeanie blinked, confused. "Gavon just invited me over for dinner."

  Her eyes widened. "He…did? And you accepted?"

  I kissed Mora on the cheek and whispered, "Just roll with it, baby. She
's had a hard day."

  I left the four girls in the living room and went to the kitchen to start dinner. Nicole had been eating nothing but chicken nuggets lately, so I charmed a few of those on the pan while I defrosted some actual food for the adults. Every so often, I'd hear a loud burst of laughter from the living room, especially after I sent in a bottle of chilled wine. Despite her frosty opinion of me, I'd always liked Jeanie, and I wanted her to be in my girls' lives.

  About an hour later, we sat down to dinner, and Jeanie, plied with a few glasses of wine, was a little more eager to divulge the secrets of her life.

  "She's really cute," she said, her cheeks reddening. "But like…I've never asked out another girl before."

  "I'd assume it's the same as asking out a boy," Mora said with a grin to me.

  "I've never done that either…" Jeanie mumbled.

  "I usually just walked up to the boys I liked and told them to take me to a movie," Mora said. "Or they just appeared and asked me to take them around the world."

  I reached across the table to take Mora's hand. "I have no insight to offer," I said. "But I wish you the best."

  Just then, a giant beach ball appeared on top of the baby's high chair. Marie squealed and grabbed it, kicking her feet against the leg rest.

  "Holy crap," Jeanie said, her eyes wide. "She can already…do that?"

  "Yeah," Mora said with a sigh. "She's going to be trouble, I think."

  "No more trouble than her mother," I said, taking the beach ball away from Marie and sending it back where it had come from. "No, ma'am. Not at the dinner table."

  "Daddy, I want a ball," Nicole said.

  "You can play with it after dinner," I said.

  "No, I want to make ball appear." She held out her hands like Jeanie had, and furrowed her brow. "Ball!"

  Mora shared a pained look with me and Jeanie looked at her food as an awkward silence descended around the table, punctuated by Nicole asking for the ball to appear.

  "Baby," Mora said gently. "You won't be able to summon a ball."

  "You could, with a potion," I added quickly. "We could—"

  "I don't want a potion. I want the ball. Like Marie."