Simply Enchanting

by Amber Lynn

“You’re going to have to take it up with her.”

  He scoffs and gives my personal bubble a little breathing room. “That would be a trick, even for me.”

  “Are you telling me you’re afraid of a bloodsucker?”

  The idea that Mr. Hamilton is stronger than Michael crosses my mind again. I haven’t met Ian’s mom, but I can’t believe she’d intimidate an angel. If I can’t pull that off, I doubt she can.

  “If I was, that would be besides the point. Ian’s mom has been in a coma since his father tried to turn her three years ago.”

  My head immediately starts shaking. I see Ian is on the way to the table. I’ve been eating lunch alone for weeks, but it looks like I’m going to have two guests today. I’m sure he’s going to love the current topic of conversation.

  “I’m leaving, but I’m telling you the truth. There’s no way Ian’s mom said anything to anyone. His dad didn’t know how to turn her, which is why the Council requires permission to turn someone. We’ve had the best enchanters try to bring her out of it and nothing has worked.”

  I notice he doesn’t say angels tried to fix her, but that is sort of irrelevant with everything else he said. Ian is closing in fast, and I have no idea what to do.

  Why is it that Newberry High School brings out all these new circumstances for me?

  Normally, I, well, I’m not sure what I’d do in this situation. I’ve got two people with two different stories. I suppose that isn’t uncommon, but since I don’t tend to interact with people, it’s something I haven’t dealt with in years.

  Michael gets up and leaves without saying another word. There’s a meaningful look. I’m guessing my interpretation of it meaning “you should get to the bottom of this” isn’t what he was going for. The angel cannot honestly believe I’m going to steer clear of Ian after dropping a bombshell on me.

  The kid lied to me, if I believe what Michael is saying. I know we don’t know each other well, but there’s no reason for Ian to lie to me about his mom being conscious. If he needed an excuse to ask me to the dance, there had to be another one that didn’t include his comatose mother.

  “Oh oh.”

  Ian pulls out the chair next to me as he puts his plate down heavily on the table. Instead of looking at him, I watch the reactions from the rest of the room. Michael didn’t just leave my table. He dropped off his tray and vacated the lunchroom. That is one less judgmental pair of eyes staring at me.

  The humans in the room have mild curiosity on their faces, but the Fae look a little more hostile. I suppose Michael wasn’t wrong about the protective vibe.

  “I’m guessing I shouldn’t have told Mr. Hamilton we’re going to the dance together. Mike just tried to change your mind, didn’t he?”

  For a human, he has good instincts. Of course, the chances of Mike coming over and just having a nice talk would be like entering an alternative reality.

  “Your friend Mike didn’t have a chance to come up with a specific threat, but he said no dance, no faery mounds, no us in any capacity.”

  “I don’t understand why he, or any of them think they can rule my life. I am perfectly capable of making my own choices.”

  I’m not sure what to think about that. I’ve already noted he needs enough help that I feel the odd desire to take him under my wing. I suppose that means he needs more than just a little help.

  After the conversation I had with Michael, I’d say I’m probably not qualified for the help Ian needs, but I won’t know for sure until he explains himself. Basically, I need to know if he outright lied or if he really thinks his mom somehow told him to ask me to the dance.

  It sounds crazy when I think about the latter. Then again, it’s normal crazy Fae business. That’s one of the reasons Ophelia keeps me away from everyone. Trouble is easy to get into when everyone thinks they know what’s best for everyone else.

  I personally hate the notion, but I’ve been caught up in it before. I’ve never had to deal with an angel on the opposing side. That’s definitely a new wrinkle.

  “I’m sure you are capable, but–”

  “Come on. You can’t honestly be listening to him. They don’t know what’s best for me.”

  He pounds his fist on the table. Reaching over, I cover his fist with my hand. My powers are weak inside the school, but I use what I can to try to calm him down.

  Making a scene would prove to the Fae that I’m following their rules as far as setting up boundaries with Ian. The touch warms my hand, and I feel it spread up my arm. It’s not the reaction I expected, so I’m quick to disconnect our skin.

  I don’t know if Ian felt it. He’s staring down at the table taking in deep breaths. I might as well relay everything Michael said and find out where the marbles fall.

  “Look, he also said your mom’s in a coma. If you can explain how she told you to ask me to the dance, I’ll ignore everything he just said to me.”

  It sounds logical enough to me. If we can get around that little dilemma, then I’ll ask him why in the world he told Mr. Hamilton we’re going to the dance together. That seemed to set my drama of the day off, and I’d like to know why.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ian doesn’t move at all. I don’t even see him breathing anymore. My excellent hearing is the only thing that lets me know his heart is still beating.

  “Why are you still sitting here?”

  His words are calm, but even with the emotion and stillness, I sense something burning under the surface. He’s been so easygoing and aloof that I’m surprised to pick up the heat. Even when he spoke about how he hated the Council, he never felt so angry.

  “I figured there was an explanation. But, I’m starting to think maybe I should have waited to bring up your mom until we were alone.”

  The daggers I’m getting from the Fae in the room are almost strong enough to prickle my skin. I’m trying to have a serious conversation but feeling them makes me want to smile.

  “How many of them do you think can hear us?” he asks.

  It’s not really a continuation to the conversation I thought we were having, but I’ll bite. I look around the room and pick out the different Fae watching us. They are mainly elementals, with a few shapeshifters thrown in. Without the teachers around, who seem to be the most potent forces, other than Michael, the room is mainly riff-raff in my appraisal.

  “In this room, two without some extra help.”

  With the Angelica in place, I doubt any extra help would make a difference. It may even hurt the ones who can hear.

  “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m guessing Harley, the sandy-haired kid at the table closest to the food, and Megan, the can’t-miss-her girl with bright orange hair. Did you mention me talking to my mom, or did she just come up in conversation?”

  There’s still no emotion in his voice. He pegged the two Fae shapeshifters I picked out. I suppose that means he doesn’t live under a rock.

  A weird feeling percolates in my stomach. It’s like a bad case of indigestion catches fire or something. I can’t say I’ve felt it before, and I’m going to do everything I can to avoid it in the future.

  “I thought it would work in our favor that you said she was okay with us going to the dance.”

  He gives a short laugh and then silence returns. The ball is in his court as far as how he’s going to explain things. I could fill the silence. I’m pretty good at that.

  As you know, I’m pretty good at just rambling nonsense in my head too. Even with my mile-a-minute brain, I’m having trouble figuring out where his story can go.

  All the lines head back to Ian lying to me. Yet, I don’t get why. It’s not the strongest building block to start a relationship with, even if it’s just a passing acquaintance.

  “I suppose he gave you the line about everyone just wanting to protect me.”

  “If I remember right, I got the line more than once. That’s why I thought saying your mom was cool with us hanging out would help.”

  “Can you take us to
the mound like you did yesterday?”

  Taking off from school is a great idea. I just wouldn’t pick that location.

  “We’d have to be outside the school for it to work. They keep me on a short leash.”

  “They keep everyone on a short leash. The sad thing is, none of the people here know they’re basically in a prison.”

  He leans over and whispers the words to me. I’m going to notch the change in his voice and movement as a positive thing.

  I understand and even believe that statement, but I’m not sure it’s a smart idea to voice it. We only have about ten minutes of lunch left. Now that I think about it, Ian was kind of late, which makes me wonder where he’d been. After yesterday, I kind of expected him to hurry to see me.

  “You had things to say about the Council yesterday, but I didn’t get the sense you were angry with everyone.”

  He’d said Mr. Hamilton was like a dad to him, but in almost the same breath he mentioned Mr. Hamilton was running things. I would think those two things caused a little more conflict than what I’ve picked up.

  “I figured if I shared all my secrets, you’d have no reason to keep talking to me. You seem like the kind of girl who likes a man of mystery.”

  “And you seem to think you know a lot about me.”

  The key word is think. He knows more than I thought about things in general, but it’s yet to be determined how much he knows about me. It’s impossible to deny that I like to solve problems. From what I’ve seen there are a lot of problems that need solved around here.

  “I think no one really knows a lot about you, which is exactly what people know about me. I guess that’s another thing we have in common. Anyway, do you think we can take this conversation somewhere else?”

  I like the idea of going somewhere else, but short of the faery mound, I don’t think anywhere will be private. Away from the school, I would have a better chance of blocking more people out. I have a feeling a certain angel would still hear everything, though.

  “Do you think they’d let us out of school early? Because I don’t get a warm tingly vibe that that’s a possibility.”

  The crazy feeling I had in my stomach has subsided, leaving me hungry at a very inopportune time. I’ve been packing granola bars and trail mix to snack on during the day to keep me from losing my mind completely from starvation. It’s too bad this morning has been more snacky than most. I’m out of my stash.

  “I just have to talk to Mr. Hamilton. If I say I’m not feeling well, he’ll let me leave.”

  I’m starting to realize why they’re so protective of Ian, or at least claim to be. The kid is crazy. The unanswered issues with his mom aside, I can’t get a handle on his feelings. He talks about it being a prison, and evidently, the warden lets him do whatever he wants.

  “Do you think he’ll let me walk out of here too? Because a conversation I had just before you sat down told me we’re pretty lucky someone hasn’t come and broken this fun chat up already.”

  And somehow the conversation hasn’t answered anything about his mom yet. If we hadn’t been talking about Ian’s anger, I would assume someone is driving things away from the one topic I want to hear about.

  “Michael talks big, but he won’t go against what Mr. Hamilton says. Noah told me this morning it’s okay if we hangout.”

  The change from the formal to informal causes some minor brow furrowing on my part. Noah rolls off the tongue so much easier than Mr. Hamilton, so I’m surprised he hasn’t used it before. And maybe even more surprised that in the formal setting of school he decided to change up.

  “And that means he’s okay with you skipping school, so we can hangout?”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time I skipped school. Even the worst prisoners get yard time at some point.”

  He hasn’t touched his food. I don’t think he has the same issues with the cuisine as I do. It makes me wonder if he has some snacks somewhere that maybe he’s willing to share. I swear it’s the fact that my stomach grumbles that makes the topic of food take over my mind.

  “You’re taking this prison comparison a little serious, aren’t you?”

  “Not even a microscopic bit. I know I didn’t give that vibe yesterday, but I’m a little pissed about Mike trying to mess things up. It’s bad enough that they don’t believe that I can talk to my mom. He doesn’t need to go around telling people I’m crazy.”

  “But you believe you can talk to your mom.”

  I can’t not continue the subject now that we’re finally getting close to it. I’m not dense enough that I didn’t notice he wanted to take the conversation somewhere else. Right now, I think it’s probably best if I don’t piss off the lead prison guard. I guess the idea that we’re in a prison is easy to get behind.

  “No one else hears her, but for me, nothing’s changed. That’s not right. She’s changed, obviously. Her eyes get red when she’s hungry. Her skin is paler. She can’t move unless someone moves her. But she’s still there for me.”

  I reach over and grab his hand again. Both of his hands are curled into tight fists. Closing my eyes, I try calming him again. Things feel warm between us, and I have to wonder if I’m doing it right. Comforting has never been my strong suit.

  “Do you think they’d let me meet her?”

  Michael said enchanters hadn’t been able to fix her. I’m sure people with more power than I have tried, but I’m curious to see the interactions between mother and son.

  “Are you sure you want to? I haven’t gotten the sense you like to spend your free time with the fang-inclined.”

  “Since my issue with the fang-inclined is that I generally don’t like the words coming out of their mouths, I think I’m good. Of course, since we’re possibly going to the dance together, I’ll do my best to make a good impression.”

  I squeeze his hand and let go to get back in my usual bubble. I’m not sure where the humor comes from, but I’ve heard it eases some people. Evidently, that’s my new obsession.

  Ian must appreciate the effort, because he sort of scoffs and laughs. Before he can respond, the annoying sound indicating lunch is over blares. In the last month, I’ve learned that the school year spans around nine months, and within those months, at some point I’m going to blow up the whole intercom and bell system.

  “So, I guess that means you have a decision to make. Are we going to class? Or, do we skip the rest of the day and go to my place?”

  During the whole conversation, Ian never looked in my direction. He finally does, and I have to say the light of excitement in his eyes is nice. As lame as just saying nice is, it’s all I’ve got. I’ve been comforting and non-judgmental about whatever’s going on with his mom, so my ability to go above nice is limited.

  “I take it that means you’re ready to introduce me to your mom?”

  It’s a question, since I’m not exactly sure where they keep her. You’d think a comatose person would be in the hospital, but I have a feeling this is a special case.

  “I wouldn’t say ready is the right word, but I think we’re doing this.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  On the list of things I thought I’d never do, let’s add standing on the back pegs of a bicycle while a boy peddles his heart out. I’ve traveled a number of ways, with and without the assistance of metal formed in the shape of transportation. I prefer just zapping myself somewhere.

  You don’t have to deal with traffic, or the idiot people causing that traffic, that way. Newberry at rush hour has maybe ten cars on the road, so traffic is sort of non-existent. Since it’s around one in the afternoon, Ian doesn’t have to dart around cars to get us to his place faster. That doesn’t mean he isn’t pedaling right around the top speed I figure human legs can go.

  Our speed makes my loose hair fly back, like ribbons are trailing behind us. I’m holding on to Ian’s shoulders. There was only a brief sigh of disappointment when I didn’t wrap my arms around his body and hold tight. I suppose that sigh lets me know he�
�s not exactly looking for the mentor relationship I have in mind.

  The bike skids to a stop as he turns into a driveway. The driveway is short, leading straight to a two-car garage. Ian holds the bike still, so I can climb off. The second both of my feet hit the ground, he tips the bike over and grabs my hand. My instincts make me pull away, but his grip is unexpectedly strong.

  “After I told her you agreed to go to the dance, she kind of got it in her head that you’re my girlfriend. I tried to explain it wasn’t like that, but she’s hard-headed. Since she’s pushing it so much, I thought maybe it would make a difference if we pretended a little.”

  I have to wonder exactly how hard he tried his explanation. It sounds a little fishy to me. All right, it’s a lot of fishy.

  “If you already tried to explain that wasn’t how things are, don’t you think walking in there with my hand in yours defeats the purpose?”

  I understand that he said something about making a difference, but I’m already getting ready to walk in and meet his comatose mom. I think that checks off my “figure out a way to be supportive today” checklist. It’s like literally the first time I’ve been supportive in over a hundred years, so I think it goes above and beyond telling Ian I like his hair or something lame would have.

  I did make a list for this supportive thing last night. Apparently, when I take on a project, I like to spell it all out.

  “I would agree on the general concept. But, maybe if I can show her I’m listening to her and doing the things she wants, she’ll know that I need her and wake up.”

  Interesting logic. I imagine he’s tried about everything he can think of to get her to wake up. And, while I doubt it will do any good, I guess I’m not going to take away his chance. He’s lucky he’s kind of cute.

  “Okay, but is there anything else you need to tell me before we go in? I feel like the concept of you wanting me to pretend to be your girlfriend should’ve been discussed before we got here.”

  “No, just come on.”

  He pulls on my arm and drags me closer to the house. I guess the outside of the house is cute enough. It’s two-story and sort of plain, but someone seems to be keeping up the flower beds in front of the two windows.