The Magic

by Donna Augustine

  Tank and Lucy shuffled out of the house cave, distracting me from deciphering how mad Dax really was. Lucky me: Dax was still glowering my way when I turned my attention back to him.

  “I had to do it,” I said as he continued to stare at me.

  He took a step forward as if he wanted to pick me up and shake me, but then took a step away as if restraining himself. “No. You didn’t.”

  “You could pack up everyone on the farm, but you won’t do that, so I have to do this. This is what’s wrong with—”

  “With what?” he snapped.

  “With whatever we are. I have to be my own person. I didn’t fight for my freedom to take orders for the rest of my life.” I poked at the fire again, waiting for him to ask me to restate what I did for a fourth time or tell me what I was going to do.

  When I didn’t hear anything for a while, I broke down out of curiosity and looked back at him. I was sitting there alone.

  Chapter 10

  By time we got back the next day, the breakfast buffet had been all but cleared out. I didn’t even need to go in the kitchen to cut the line.

  Fudge came and stood beside me as I transferred the last of the food from the platters to my plate. Tank and Lucy could fend for themselves. Wasn’t my fault they were slow. And Dax hadn’t said a word to me since last night, so I wasn’t going to worry about him. He could go all furry, kill something in the forest, and eat it raw for all I cared. I’d agreed to do this to save his farm, and that was how he acted?

  “You want me to make you something fresh?” Fudge asked as she looked at my plate.

  “Nah, your food is good even a little old.”

  “How’d it go?”

  I wasn’t surprised that Dax had told her that we’d be gone or given her the details. If secrets were stones, I had a feeling Fudge had a quarry’s worth.

  “It could’ve gone better, but not the worst. Looks like I’ll be going back a few more times.” Nothing like a couple of white lies to go with breakfast.

  She nodded and then started clearing off the buffet. This was Fudge’s nervous pattern, where nothing was clean enough. Next, she’d start baking enough food for the entire farm to feast for a month.

  “It’s going to be fine. This Zarrod needs me for something. He’s not going to kill me, or at least not soon.”

  She started stacking platters high, as if I’d said something wrong.

  “You might want to go have a talk with your friend outside,” she said, nodding toward the back door as I could see her about to break into a cleaning frenzy.

  The corner of Bookie’s shoulder was visible through the back window as he sat on my bench. I’d deemed it such before I left, and now that I was back, there’d be hell to pay if anyone tried to steal it.

  Plate in hand, I stepped out onto the back porch, hoping I did a better job making the trip seem like it was no big deal with Bookie than I had with Fudge. He looked over at me, and I stopped to take a slice of bacon and shove the whole thing in my mouth. This was going to be another conversation I didn’t want to have. Seemed like my dance card was filling up with those quickly.

  “You don’t even tell me? You just disappear?” His words were soaked in accusation, as if they’d been marinating in it for a solid day.

  “I thought it would be less worry for you,” I said with bacon bits still clinging to my tongue.

  “Dal. I’m not fragile. I’m the same person I was before. The one you always leaned on and dragged into your messes with you.”

  Was he, though? I didn’t doubt he was Bookie, but I didn’t know what kind of beating this new one could take. And my messes were what killed him the first time. “I’m sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t. I would’ve done it again.

  “Where’d you go?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t lie to protect me.”

  Even after he said that, I considered lying anyway. They said that the truth was the best policy. I was going to give “them” one last chance, and they’d best hope they didn’t let me down again.

  I choked on a couple of the details and might have left out the fence delay, but I got it all out. Then I leaned back to eat my now very cold food so I didn’t have to look at him as he digested my plans.

  “So you’re going to be helping one of your sworn enemies? Not only a Dark Walker but the leader of them?” he asked quietly.

  The shock in his voice made it a little harder to squeak out my answer, but it didn’t change it. “Yes,” I said, and kept my eyes forward.

  After a few moments of not biting my nails, even though I wanted to, he said, “I get it. You have to.”

  I finally looked over at him. “You don’t want to scream and tell me I’m stupid?”

  “How can I? I’d do the same stupid shit.”

  I felt his hand close around mine, and I looked out back at the farm and a guy named Walt, who was trying to shoe a horse that wasn’t in the mood. I looked anywhere but at Bookie, because if I did, I might cry, and I’d sworn off all things soft. It was nice having my best friend back.

  Bookie looked at my plate of oldish food. “At least you missed the line today. Now that Fudge is back, it’s worse than ever. It’s like these animals haven’t eaten in a month.”

  “Can you explain to me why you wait in that line?” If anyone could get a pass from Fudge, it was Bookie. Fudge might not openly admit she had favorites, but that didn’t get rid of the fact that she most certainly did.

  “I’ll tell you, but you can’t mock me. It’s because I believe in order, not anarchy.”

  He’d said not to mock him. He also hadn’t waited for a verbal agreement. Still, this was definitely one of those things that Bookie said that I should leave alone. Of course, I wasn’t good at listening to advice, even my own. “Skipping the line is going to cause anarchy?”

  “Yes. It could be the beginning of the end.”

  “Cutting the line?” I asked around a good chunk of bacon, having a hard time swallowing this anarchy suggestion.

  “That’s how it starts. I stop waiting in line and then so does the person after me. Next thing you know, we’re fist-fighting over who gets in the kitchen first.” Bookie raised his fists and was enacting the whole debacle with an invisible opponent as he spoke. “Then there’s bloodshed and all-around upheaval as no one wants to wait. Everyone wants what they want with utter disregard to the rest of the world.” He slapped his hands together as he said, “Then, boom! World over.”

  I looked at the food on my plate, old bacon taking on a brand-new light. “You’re saying I’m single-handedly bringing down the world when I cut the line? I thought I was getting fresh bacon and eggs.”

  “You’re different. You need to skip the line.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Nothing,” he said quickly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it, and took a huge bite of eggs, which had to be even colder than my food, just to avoid me.

  No one was using the too-busy-chewing ploy on me. I invented it. “No, tell me what you mean.”

  “It’s a bad subject for you.”

  “Tell me anyway. You just explained how cutting the line could end the world. What’s worse than that?”

  “It’s not a subject you like to discuss—”

  “I insist.”

  He placed his fork down on his plate and then leaned forward to balance both on the railing. I suddenly was rethinking what I’d asked for.

  “You grew up being told what to do with every moment of your day. You need to break rules right now because you are trying to get yourself back. I think it drives you in more ways than you realize, and it’s understandable.”

  I didn’t like all my mental pieces sized up as if I were damaged goods and actions were viewed as if through a cracked lens. “Maybe I’m just a rebel?”

  “Yeah, could be,” he said.

  He made a couple of grunts, as if he agreed. Bookie really did suck at lying.

  “Even being the rebel I am, I
don’t want to ruin the world.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. Because of your current relationship, it isn’t damaging to the basic society we live in.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “There’s certain privileges that are expected when…well, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  “When you share a room with someone.”

  I should’ve taken the hint and let the subject drop. I certainly wasn’t getting into the nitty-gritty, like how Dax kissed me yesterday but I barely saw him and yet he was the one who insisted I stay in his room. I made a mumbling noise that Bookie could interpret as he chose, and hopefully close out this topic.

  Bookie was much better at taking a hint than I was, and we fell into the easy silence of someone you’re that comfortable with. Or it would’ve been easy if I didn’t want to stare at his face, and I couldn’t help myself from checking out the skin on his arm and hand closest to me for a healthy tone. I’d held that very hand as it cooled. I’d seen its color fade. How was he sitting here alive, with blood obviously running though his body? Dax was right: this was definitely connected to what Zarrod wanted, but how was the Wood Mist involved?

  Bookie cleared his throat. My eyes immediately shot from his hand to his face to make sure he wasn’t choking. He wasn’t choking, but he was glaring.

  “You were staring at me in that weird way again. Not even Lucy stares at me like that.”

  “I was not staring at you weird.”

  “Yes you were, so stop it. You make me want to check my pulse.” He tried to eat another bite of eggs before he cursed under his breath and put his fingers to his wrist.

  I wasn’t going to ask, but I must’ve looked curious, because after a few seconds had passed he turned to me and said, “It’s still there.”

  “And you feel exactly the same as you did? Nothing different?”

  “Nothing is different other than feeling like I’m a weirdo now.”

  This was one of those strange conversations where I never knew if I was supposed to make the person feel better or deny knowledge of what he was saying. “Are we being honest?” I asked when I just couldn’t decide which avenue to take.

  “Always.”

  “Kinda weird.”

  He looked about our location, making sure no one had snuck up on us, before he said, “I almost want to cut myself open just to check things out, ya know?”

  I gripped his arm, not knowing how serious he might be or what Bookie would do in the name of science. “Don’t do that. Who knows what’s going on in there? Better off not knowing. You could end up dead again.”

  “I won’t do it. But I really want to.”

  The dreamy look he got when he said that tickled my funny bone. He must’ve realized how crazy he sounded, because he started laughing, too.

  “By the way, your garden looks like hell. It’s full of weeds.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen it. Going to take a while to get it cleaned up.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I knew what he was thinking. Did I have a while? Did any of us?

  Everyone was back. I was at the farm. I should’ve been happy, and I was. But I wasn’t foolish enough to think there wouldn’t be a bill for today, or however long I had left. Not knowing when it would come due was the worst part. How many days like this would I have, and what would happen when it all came to an end? Who’d be walking away this time?

  I knew I’d survive. Somehow I always did. But I didn’t want to be the only one left standing.

  “It’s going to be…” I didn’t finish, as I remembered the last time I’d told him it was going to be okay. That hadn’t worked out too hot. I’d buried him a day later. Then thought to hell with that. “This time it’s really going to be all right.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  The sound of Bitters’ voice was loud enough to reach us out on the porch.

  Bookie looked over at the screen door. “Do we want to know what that’s about?”

  “Unless we leave our plates out here, it’s going to be tough to avoid it. Who’s on dish duty?” I asked, wondering if it was worth the risk. With so many people on the farm, unless you were looking at the chore calendar, it was hard to know whose day it was.

  I couldn’t hear what was being screamed, but it was getting louder and Tank was definitely involved, which gave me a bad feeling this was a turf war.

  “I think it might be Martha,” Bookie said.

  Oh shit. If we left a plate out here instead of the designated bucket near the kitchen, that woman would haunt us for a year. I knew this because apparently Tank had committed that very transgression a year ago and Martha could still be heard harping about it.

  I elbowed Bookie before I stood. “Let’s get the plates in while they’re going full force. Maybe they won’t notice us.”

  Bitters was taking his turn screaming when I walked in. The fight was erupting by the door to the basement, and I dumped my plate and took a couple of steps back, just far enough to not be in immediate view. Seeing the location, I didn’t need to hear another word. It was a fight over the basement.

  Bookie walked in after me, and I grabbed his arm and dragged him to stand beside me before he stepped into the danger zone, also known as the place too close to the fight where you could be inadvertently drafted into taking sides. When you had a pissed-off wizard and someone like Tank, it was best to stay completely out of the fray.

  “If you weren’t as old as dirt, I’d kick your ass all the way out the front door,” Tank screamed loud enough that there was no way anyone on the farm could mistake what he was saying.

  “What are they fighting about, you think?” Bookie whispered as we both watched. A small crowd of others had stopped to listen as well, not knowing the true dangers because Bitters looked harmless.

  “Bitters has been moving his stuff into the basement,” I whispered back as I watched Tank’s face get redder.

  “It’s my room!” Bitters screamed.

  “No, it’s not, and I told you to stop moving your shit in there!” Tank stomped, and I had to hold back a laugh.

  “What was wrong with Becca’s cabin?” Bookie asked.

  “He’s got peculiar tastes for his living situation.”

  “No! I like it down there!” Bitters yelled back, and then took his old, pointy finger and poked Tank in the chest, not once but three times in a row.

  “I don’t care. It’s my space.” Tank hovered over Bitters, but I knew he’d never strike someone who appeared so old, which was probably going to save Tank’s ass and he didn’t even know it.

  “It was empty and I claimed it. You leave!” Bitters said, followed by another poke, poke, poke.

  “It was not!” Tank said, and stepped back to avoid some more poking.

  Tank looked toward the front of the house as if something had caught his eye. Then he took a step toward the door.

  Before I knew what Tank had seen, they both started running to get there first, slamming into the door in their urgency and shutting it on the person who was about to walk in, which was Dax.

  Then they both fumbled in their fight to reopen the door and get to him first.

  “What’s going on?” Dax asked as he finally made it inside. He didn’t roll his eyes, because that wasn’t something he would do in this circumstance. But I could tell he wanted to.

  “Dax owes me a debt. He’s gonna side with me!” Bitters said.

  “I’m second in command here and you aren’t taking my space.” Tank turned to Dax. “He’s moving all his shit into my basement.”

  Dax turned to Bitters. “What’s wrong with the cottage I gave you?”

  “It has the wrong feel. I can’t do my work there.”

  As I watched Dax, I was surprised that he didn’t tell Bitters to get out anyway. Instead he paused. Dax didn’t care that Bitters was a wizard. Then his next words shocked me.

  “The basement is large. We’ll put up a wall and split the
space until we get something built for Bitters that he can live with.”

  Tank nearly stuttered before he finally spat out, “Dax, I don’t want him down there.”

  “We’ve got bigger problems.”

  Dax walked away from them, effectively calling the argument done while I wondered what he had Bitters working on for him. It was the only explanation.

  Dax headed over to the stairs and stopped halfway up, and looked over where I’d been effectively hiding from the fight. He didn’t scream across the room that he was angry, but I could feel the heat of that anger all the way over to where I stood. I swallowed but didn’t flinch from his stare. He shook his head and continued up.

  Chapter 11

  By the time dinner had rolled around, things had calmed down enough that it was a quasi-peaceful night. No one outright yelled at anyone else, but there were some dirty glares traveling across the table between Tank and our new basement dweller, Bitters, who had claimed a spot at the table. Everyone else seemed preoccupied.

  Even now, I could see how off Fudge was, kicking into sweets overtime as she moved about the kitchen. Normally by now she’d be relaxing after dinner.

  I stuck a finger in the chocolate sitting beside me on the counter when Fudge turned to get a container out of the cabinet. She turned back around before my booty even made it to my lips. I was caught red-handed, as if she’d known. It had been setup city.

  “It was right beside me. How much control can one person be expected to have?” I asked when she shot me that look, the one that condemned me as a committer of the worst behavior without having to speak. Fudge didn’t have a variety of looks because she didn’t need to. She’d perfected that one, and it worked every time.

  “At least use a spoon,” she said, grabbing one from the drawer and loading it up. “But that’s it until tomorrow, or you’re going to be sick.”

  I eyed the compromise before taking it from her hand. It was nicely loaded, but it wasn’t as if she didn’t have chocolate to spare at this point. Yeah, I could make do with that. I got a lick of fudge in before I fessed up why I was so interested in her baking habits this evening.