by Rene Sears
Morgan put the grater down and dusted her hands. She glanced at her wrist. "You wanted to ask me if I set the wards on this house? I noticed your spell." I leaned back, too surprised to respond. The magic detection spell barely took any magic at all. It was too small for me to sense even from the other side of a room, and she'd been on the other side of the house. "Igraine and Iliesa are casters, too. So if there's anything you want to tell me that you didn't last night, feel free. Or not, if you don't want to."
The smoke from my spell last night had pointed west, and Morgan had driven me west to her house. Maybe she was the person who could help me. It was time to put at least one or two of my cards on the table. "I need some help. I've been staying with my aunt—she's not magical at all, but she knows a little bit—but she had to go when her daughter had a baby. Something—some thing came sniffing around her apartment, like it was looking for me." Such a dry recounting of how terrifying it had been. I swallowed. "So I left and went looking for other casters."
Morgan nodded thoughtfully. "And your parents?"
I shook my head. "The Savannah flu—" I didn't finish, both because of the familiar sorrow constricting my throat and chest, and because I didn't want to lie to her. They were dead, yes. Everyone knew about the sickness that had killed hundreds of people and shut down the country three months ago. Only a fraction of people knew the sickness only struck magic users, since most people didn't know about spellcasters at all. I doubted anyone but me and my aunt knew exactly why it had happened.
The lines around her mouth deepened as she pressed her lips together. "I'm so sorry. It's not fair that you lost both of them." Guilt spread through my grief, poisoning it. Who had she known who had died? She would hate me if she knew what my father did. "Do you want to call your aunt?" she said.
I shook my head. "I've been texting her, but I don't want her to know what's happening. My cousin had a tough delivery." The baby had come early and both the baby and my cousin were still in intensive care. My aunt didn't need another worry.
Morgan's face said she disagreed, but she didn't say so out loud. "Tell me what you need. I'll help you if I can. What came to your apartment?"
I hesitated. All my life my father had warned me about the fae, but I hadn't really believed. Not in the bone. Now I did, but I was worried it was going to sound crazy out loud. "It was...it was kind of a dog." It didn't sound like enough to drive me out of my aunt's house. "A big, weird dog."
I'd been alone. I had just gotten off the phone with my aunt, who sounded exhausted. She'd stepped out of the NICU to call me, and I could hear in her voice that it was bad even before she told me she was going to be staying longer than we'd thought. "I'm sorry, Javier," she'd said. "I hate to leave you for so long."
"It's all right," I told her. What else could I say? She and I both knew that I was woefully unequipped to deal with city life, but she'd left me plenty of money and a cheap phone so I could call or text her, and I had books and the internet to entertain me. I was sixteen. Any other kid my age would have been fine on his own. But I didn't have a driver's license, or a job, or school, or anything else a normal kid would have. Resentment for my parents flashed through me, which made me feel awful and sad again. They did what they thought they had to do.
Not ten minutes after we hung up, something thumped against the outside wall of the apartment. Since we were on the third story, this was odd. I tensed and looked at the glass door that led to the balcony. My wards glowed a bright warning silver in my spellsight. That wasn't good. I had warded the apartment with all the simple and complex wards either of my parents had taught me.
A large shape was outlined against the curtain, silhouetted by the streetlights. I went very, very still. It was canine, but bigger than any dog I'd ever seen and somehow not right. And it was on a third-floor balcony—dogs generally didn't fly. It whuffed, a questing, scenting sound. I held my breath as it snuffed around the balcony. Did it know what I smelled like? I'd had coffee out there only this morning. My wards didn't cover scent—they only hid my magical presence. It turned, and even through the curtain, its eyes shone a vicious red.
Dizziness made me sway. I forced myself to breathe, as slowly and quietly as possible. Come out. Where are you? an insidious voice whispered in my imagination, my fear giving the unnatural dog a voice.
After a long time in which my pulse sounded too loud in my ears, the red of its eyes vanished as the thing turned, and then it disappeared. One moment it was a shadow in the orange street light, and the next it was gone. I didn't go out to check in case it was waiting to and snatch me. I didn't sleep the whole long night, until the sun came up. My father had only told me to fear the fae, but my mother had told me a little more about them. Some enchantments didn't last past dawn, and some fae were bound to the night. I had to hope I'd be safe in the sunlight.
There was a single paw print pressed into the cement next to the potted basil and cilantro. I could see it even without spellsight.
Waiting for my aunt to come back seemed like a bad idea. When the thing came back—I couldn't make myself believe that it was if—it might find me. And God forbid if it went looking for me in other apartments—the Alvarezes next door had four kids under twelve. Or Mr. Chowdhury on the other side, who lived alone and walked with a cane and was teaching me to play gin rummy. The idea of them being hurt by something looking for me turned my stomach.
I packed a couple of changes of clothes and some food in a backpack. I took the money my aunt had left me, and the cell phone she'd gotten me before she left. I didn't have ID, not even a birth certificate—I hadn't been born in a hospital, and as far as I knew, my parents hadn't done any paperwork. It was part of why I hadn't gone to Puerto Rico with my aunt; even though I shouldn't have needed a passport, I didn't have ID to travel and I couldn't prove I was an American citizen. We'd talked about getting it, but it was a long process, complicated by my legal non-existence, and when my cousin went into labor, there wasn't time to worry about that.
My father had taught me his way of spellcasting, half-invented with every new spell, and my mother had taught me more traditional ways to cast. I covered myself with every ward I could think of. I'd stopped wearing the iron wristlet my father had given me while I was at my aunt's, but I put it on again and turned my shirt inside out.
While I'd walked away from Atlanta, I'd sometimes felt something searching; it had to be the dog thing, come back to look for me. I was okay with that—if it was looking for me, it wasn't hurting Mr. Chowdhury—as long as it didn't find me. I just had to find other spellcasters before the thing found me.
And now I had.
"It was following me," I told her lamely. "It wasn't—it wasn't natural. It was magical."
She nodded, and a weight fell off me. I hadn't realized I was expecting her to say it sounded crazy until she didn't. "It sounds like a yath hound. Some people call then hellhounds." Her mouth wrinkled momentarily, and then she gave me a brief, speculative look. I braced myself for her to ask what I'd done to get a thing like that after me, but she didn't. "I've run into them before. I can help you. And if you want..." She stood and scooped shredded cheese into the bowl with the eggs. "I'm teaching the girls some spells. You can join in if you want."
"Thank you." I tried to let the relief I felt into my voice.
"You want to teach him too?" Igraine stood in the doorway, frowning. "Aren't you spreading yourself a little thin? You're supposed to be looking for our mother." She shot me a venomous look.
"Igraine," Iliesa said disapprovingly from behind her as she came into the kitchen.
Morgan's hand tightened on the whisk, the bones of her knuckles pressing against the skin. "I haven't stopped looking for your mother," she said, "and I never will. But that doesn't mean we stop helping everyone else." She poured the eggs into a skillet and stirred.
Igraine bowed her head briefly, but she looked no friendlier when her eyes met mine. Iliesa, on the other hand, smiled broadly and brought a pitcher o
f orange juice to the table. She poured me a glass, slipped into the chair next to mine and poured herself another. "So you're a caster too."
I ducked my head, wishing I knew what to say. I hadn't met too many other people my own age, just a few kids in my aunt's apartment building, and they all had friends from school already. It had been easier to interact with Iliesa and Igraine when I thought I was moving on today. It hadn't mattered what they thought of me since I wouldn't be here very long. Now...
"It'll be nice to have someone else to learn with," Iliesa said. Igraine glanced at her sister, one eyebrow raised.
Morgan brought food to the table: eggs, bacon, and toast, and a bowl of sliced strawberries. I was appreciative in a way I wouldn't have been before I left my aunt's.
"You can stay with us as long as you need to," Morgan said. "We'll see what we can do about your problem. I know some people in the Association—"
I tried not to tense, but I didn't quite manage it. The twins were busy with their plates, but Morgan glanced at me, then finished smoothly, "—and in other places who can help us find out why that hound might have been looking for you."
We all ate in silence for a few minutes. The food was good, but even better was the sense of normalcy. I hadn't realized how on edge I'd been. I mean, I knew that being on the run, chased by dog-monsters and mysterious men who threatened me with spells the moment I saw them wasn't relaxing, but until I felt like I might be out of it, I hadn't really processed how much it had been weighing on me. It was like letting out a breath I hadn't known I was holding.
Morgan finished and pushed her plate away. "I need you girls to sign those school forms," she said.
Igraine grimaced. "Mmmmm," she said.
"We have to do it sometime," Iliesa murmured.
"Do we?" Igraine shattered a piece of bacon with her fork. "Maybe Dad will bring us back—" She looked at me. "—home before school starts." Another clink signified the dissection of a clump of scrambled eggs.
Why they were with Morgan if their father was still living, and why did they have to look for their mother, and why didn't they know exactly how long they'd be staying? But if I asked and they answered, I'd have to answer their questions about me, and I couldn't think of what I'd tell them. It was best to stick as close to the truth as I could, because I'd have to remember my lies if I started telling them.
And I was a little jealous. I'd never been to school. Not to say I hadn't had lessons—my parents had taught me more than just how to cast spells—but an actual school where you got to hang out with kids your own age was known to me only from movies and TV shows. I couldn't say I hadn't learned a lot at home, but it was a far cry from normal school.
"Fine." Igraine made a sound somewhere between a huff and a sigh. "Might as well get it over with."
Morgan brought them each a stack of papers marked with sticky notes where they needed to sign. Iliesa filled hers out with a certain flourish; Igraine with more of a sullen scribble.
"Thank you," Morgan said. She caught Igraine's eye and held her gaze for a moment. "Really."
Igraine dropped her head and mumbled something.
"I'm going to run by the school office and drop these off." Morgan took the papers and stacked them neatly, then stood and pulled her keys off a hook by the hall tree. "Why don't you show Javier around while I'm gone?" The door closing behind her seemed very loud, and then the house seemed very quiet, and I took a long sip of orange juice to avoid having to say anything.
"Well," said Igraine after a moment. "What do you want to see?"
I shrugged. What I really wanted to see were the wards and workings they had, but I didn't know if it was rude to say so.
"Let's clear away the plates," Iliesa said, "and we can show him the creek."
*
The creek was behind the house. I hadn't noticed much in the rain last night, but there was a flat mowed lawn surrounded by forest, and no neighbors that I could see. There were a few flowerbeds by the house, and two with vegetables and herbs. The herbs piqued my interest—those might just be Morgan's kitchen garden, but they might be for use in spells. The grass was still wet from yesterday's rain, and water seeped into my still-damp shoes through the tears in the canvas, probably unsticking the Band-Aids I'd put on my blisters.
But the air was pleasantly cool and felt fresh after the rain, instead of muggy as it would be later in the summer. Insects buzzed in the distance and birds called to one another, and I was taking a stroll with other casters instead of walking and walking with little hope of finding them.
A thin trail of beaten-down grass led through the woods. Water gurgled, and in a minute, we came to the edge of the creek, which was running fast and swollen from the rain, the water a muddy red-brown. The trail split, running parallel to the creek, and the girls turned left, downstream. I glanced the other way, toward a little brick bridge up the path.
Two leylines ran alongside the creek, one practically in it and the other almost, but not quite, parallel. Both were weak relative to the one I'd grown up near, but stronger than the magic running through the house.
Sun broke through the trees, dappling the banks of the creek and dancing on the water. I let the silver leylines fade away in the gold of the reflection. A hawk called and both girls' heads turned as one toward the sound; they looked at each other and smiled.
I picked up a stick and tossed it over the creek. It splashed up against the mud where the water met the opposite bank, but the current loosened it and took it downstream. We followed the rushing water. "So why don't you want to go to school?" I asked Igraine.
The smile slipped off her face, which made me regret asking. I'd thought it'd be safer than asking about their parents.
But Iliesa answered easily enough. "It's nothing against school in particular. She's just hoping we can go back home before it starts."
Igraine snorted. "It's looking more and more unlikely." She looked at me and relented a little. "I liked our old school. We knew everyone, knew how things worked there..."
"I was homeschooled before my parents died," I said.
"Really?"
"It would have been a ridiculous commute from where we lived." True, just not all of the truth.
"It was a smaller community where we grew up, too," Igraine said. "And we grew up with most of the same people. It was..."
"It was different," Iliesa finished. "It’s going to be an adjustment going someplace where we don't know anyone."
"But we have a couple of months until school starts. Anything could happen." Igraine sounded a little more cheerful. "Maybe we'll find Mo—"
Iliesa coughed. It was clearly artificial, but that was all right. I'd already heard them say they were looking for their mother and hadn't found her. I touched the coquí at my throat. Once it had chirped the calls my mother remembered, that I'd never heard. The only one of her family I knew was my aunt, who'd taken me in. All the rest of them were in Puerto Rico, and while I didn't know why exactly I didn't know them, I trusted that my mother had her reasons for sending me to the mainland with my aunt instead of letting me stay and meet my uncles. She never even spoke Spanish to me; she only spoke it when she was on the phone with her family, or when she cursed.
"Did your parents teach you to cast, too?" Iliesa said.
"Yeah. Not that I'd have learned that in school anyway."
"Morgan said," Igraine began, and then hesitated. I didn't know her well but it seemed uncharacteristic. "Your parents...did the Savannah flu...?"
"I was visiting my aunt in Atlanta." My fingers were still on the little frog. I turned it outward so they could see it. "My mother made this for me when I was a kid so I could run around outdoors and she'd be able to track me. It used to make noise—have you ever heard of the coquí? Well, they're a frog in Puerto Rico, where she's from. At night, they chirp and it sounds like they're singing their name." I decided not to enact the song for them the way my mother had for me. "She enchanted the frog so it would call to me when I
was bored or alone. She made me a lot of charms, and they all went dead at once. When I couldn’t get the coquí to sing, I knew. And by the time my aunt and I got back..." I picked up another stick and threw it so I wouldn't have to look at their faces. The stick caught on some brush before it even cleared the water. I hadn't meant to tell them that much, but it was like it had been waiting to vomit out.
"I'm sorry," Iliesa said.
"Well. Me too." I blinked to clear the stinging from my eyes, then picked up another stick and hefted it in my hands, trying to gauge the distance to the other bank. "I've been staying with my aunt at her apartment ever since then, but her daughter had a medical complication and she had to fly back to Puerto Rico to take care of her."
"Why didn't you stay in Atlanta?" Igraine's eyes glinted.
"Well," I said slowly. "You've heard of the fae?"
Igraine snorted, and Iliesa shot her a quelling look. "Yes," she said, "we've heard of them."
"This is going to sound crazy, but one of them showed up at my aunt's apartment in Atlanta, right in the middle of the city." I blew a breath out, trying to shake the memory of the red eyes, the imagined voice in my head, and swung the stick at a bush like a sword, knocking off a purple bloom. "A big black dog, sniffing around a third-floor balcony. I waited until morning and left."
"Maybe it was looking for your aunt," Iliesa said.
"Could be, I guess. But she's not a caster."
Igraine's eyebrows shot up, and I tried not to scowl. My aunt was treated like the black sheep of her family because she couldn't cast. My uncles came a few times a year to visit my mother, but they never came to see my aunt in Atlanta.
"Could she have made some kind of deal with the fae? Sometimes normal humans can," Iliesa said. She was clearly trying to be a peacemaker, but something about the way she said it rubbed me the wrong way, like casters and regular people were completely different species.
