I didn't know what to say to that, except to ask, "You were ready to kill me."
"I was a child then. I didn't understand…" James released my arm. "Gavon… He took me to a sick house. Our poor excuse for a hospital. Without potion-makers, sick villagers die slow, painful deaths. Gavon told me if I was so eager to take innocent life, there was a house full of them, each ready for it, unlike you."
I shivered as James released a shaky breath. "Did you do it?"
"I couldn't," he said, staring at the floor in shame. "Just like I can't take Gavon's life. Warriors aren't supposed to be killers. We're defenders."
"Cyrus did it so easily," I replied, tightening my hold around my books. "My mother, my aunt. My grandmother—"
"Cyrus is insane," James said, though he nudged me gently with his elbow. "I'm not him. I'm not going to take lives simply because I can."
I heard Gavon in his words, and had to smile. James may have hated him, but it was clear he'd learned a lot.
James shook himself, and the haunted look fell from his eyes. "Besides that, I don't want to be Guildmaster yet. I'll be eighteen and this world requires a lot more exploring." He grinned at me but I didn't reciprocate.
"What are you going to do when you become Guildmaster?" I asked. "Eventually."
"Take over the world."
I stopped short and gaped at him, fear spreading like wildfire until I saw the turn of his mouth.
"You're too easy," he said with a laugh. "Probably the same thing Gavon's done. Keep the idiots happy and the powerful ones in the dark. They may think the New Salem Guild could come back with a roaring vengeance, but it's clear there's more of you than us. They'd have us back inside the tear in a heartbeat. Surprised they haven't come and cleaned us out already."
"I guess that makes sense."
"You don't have anything to fear from me, Lexie. Besides, the nonmagicals get by pretty well without magic." He pulled his phone out of his front pocket. "This thing is pretty cool."
"Yeah, I guess it is," I said with a smile.
"Honestly, thinking I could kill Gavon. You probably still think I'm evil, don't you?" James asked with a sad shake of his head.
I shrugged, noncommittal. "Maybe not evil anymore. A dick, sure."
"You wound me."
"You've got a potion for that, I hear," I shot back then stopped myself. I was flirting. With James. What the hell was wrong with me? A little kiss, and I'd all but lost my mind.
"So what happens after you're inducted?" I asked, after we settled into our seats. "Assuming you don't take over for Gavon."
"Then I am a fully-fledged member of the Guild. Get a vote on Guild matters and everything."
"Like what?"
"Oh you know, what to call the semi-monthly meeting of the Charmers." James sniffed. "And how much wine we will conjure for the annual celebration." He grinned at me. "You know, evil stuff."
I laughed, although his smile made me blush.
"So, are we on for Friday night?"
"Friday?" I gulped. Had I missed him asking me out? Was he asking me out? What was going on?
"Sparring? I mean, unless you're still mad at me." He winked. "You know, for being evil and whatnot."
"S-sparring. Sure." I nodded, already dreading my idiotic reaction to it. "Friday it is."
But James had already forgotten about me, glancing over my shoulder to make eyes with Mary Catherine.
Nineteen
James moved from flirting to dating in the span of two days, which suited me just fine. This was not a crush I wanted to nurture and grow, and the more he showcased his disgusting behavior, the quicker it would disappear. However, the looming issue of our Friday sparring sessions weighed on the back of my mind.
It had never occurred to me that he and I were alone together for long periods of time, usually ending up winded, sweaty, and exhausted. But now it was all I thought about, and my brain ran wild with images of what else we could do to end up winded, sweaty, and exhausted.
And the flirting—goodness, we flirted. Or it felt like flirting. The back and forth, the need to one-up him. Before our kiss, it was strictly two Warriors using every strategy in the book to confuse and distract their opponent. Now? I was fairly sure my own distraction levels were going to be at an all-time high without his help.
Skipping wasn't really an option either, so Friday evening, I arrived at the beach early to have a few minutes to myself. I watched the waves lap against the shore and reminded myself of all the reasons James was a horrible person—not the least of which had to do with his New Salem connections.
He was selfish and had an ego the size of the moon.
He went through girls like tissue paper.
He didn't do anything unless it benefitted himself first.
There was nothing cute about his attitude or his pride.
"Oh, you're here."
But damn, there was something really cute about his face—and the way he smiled at me from across the beach. The breeze tousled his hair, as did the lingering magic that had brought him to me. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked closer, and I swore my pulse would never return to a normal rate.
Focus, Lexie!
"Shall we?" I asked, standing and brushing the sand off.
"Yeah, but let's not overdo it. I've got a date with MC."
Despite my best efforts, my smile faltered. "Of course. I've got a date too. With Netflix."
"You do know you don't have to be so pathetic, right?"
"Shut up and let's spar," I snapped.
I'd hoped that focusing on my volleys, dodging, and return fires would distract me from him, but it was like every sense I had was heightened—and attuned to him. His particular scent filled my mind when he attacked at close-range. His smile when he landed a good blow sent butterflies into my stomach even as pain tore through me. His magic felt rough and familiar against mine as they collided with one another, and his body mesmerized me as he moved fluidly across the beach.
Meanwhile, he was kicking my ass. Literally.
"Ow!" I cried as a light spell zapped me in the rear.
"You're rusty," he said with a devilish grin. "One month off, and you're losing it?"
"I'll show you rusty," I muttered, but he was right. I had lost it. I couldn't get my brain to focus on the problem at hand, as it was too busy doing backflips because James was sparring with me, talking to me, close to me, looking at me.
"Gah!" I cried, transporting out of the way of his magic. I was barely getting any volleys in myself, too busy overthinking about him.
"Stop for a second," James called, holding up his hands.
He appeared in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders, sending chills down my spine and my already elevated pulse into overdrive.
"What. Is. With. You?"
"I…" Words failed me, as the warmth of his fingers seeped through my shirt. The sane half of me was failing to contain the smitten half, and if the latter won, I knew I'd do something stupid. Like kiss him again.
"I'm fine," I breathed. "Let's go."
I concentrated on the consequences of failing to keep my urges in check, and my magic responded in kind. The more focused I was, the easier it became to stay that way, until there was nothing but the need to win this match.
"That's more like it!" James called from the sand dune I'd thrown him into.
"That's more like it!"
I paused, a flash of an unfamiliar memory crawling past my brain almost like déjà vu. A man lay sprawled in a sand dune, his laughter filling my ears with joy and my heart with warmth.
Almost too late, I came back to myself, just in time to duck out of the way of a bright green burst of magic.
"Are you sleeping over there?" James taunted. "C'mon, Lexie, I want a challenge!"
"I want a challenge. You're being too easy on me."
"Pardon me for wearing kid gloves with my pregnant wife."
"Lexie?"
The man before me changed. He wa
s familiar to me, and yet something was different. He was younger, happier. His eyes sparkled with amusement and something else. The magic in his hand was purple, as was mine. The feeling of Warrior magic invading my own had been as strange as the healing and potion-making before it. But every day, the magic grew stronger, and the nightly matches with my husband grew more intense. And I savored every moment of them.
His gaze softened slightly. "Mora, please don't overdo it."
"I'm not overdoing it," I insisted. "I'm in complete control."
"I have a potion ready if you need it."
"Did you make it, or did Nicole?" A foul taste in my mouth recalled the first healing potion my daughter had made me. Just four years old, she'd been so proud of what she'd accomplished, although the results left much to be desired. Gavon said the more she practiced, the better she'd be at it, although I worried about what her life would be like without magic. Still, it warmed my heart to see her father so invested in her. I'd taken great joy in watching my mother get proven wrong again and again.
"Are we going to spar or are we going to chat? I'm here for a fight, McKinnon."
The challenge reawakened in his eyes, and he licked his lips, sending warmth right down to my core. "As you wish, my love."
"Lexie. Lexie!"
I was back in my own mind, staring at the stars. A rush of pain burst through me, and I groaned as I clutched the ache in my chest. But it wasn't completely magically-induced, either. This was longing, loss, and the unmistakable need to vomit and cry at the same time.
"What the hell happened?" James asked, hovering over me. "You froze, and I couldn't… Are you hurt?"
I couldn't even find the words to explain it. It had been a magical memory, that much was clear. But unlike the one that had haunted me for weeks after Jeanie died, this was more…warm and fuzzy. I was left with mixed emotions of joy and disgust—especially as I parsed out the voices.
"You look like you're gonna be sick."
"I might be," I muttered, allowing him to pull me to sit up.
"Should I get Gavon—"
"No!" I screamed, grabbing his shirt. "Not Gavon. Never Gavon."
Not when I'd heard him flirting with my mother. They were sparring, trading banter. Flirting. I felt such…such…love for him. My mother had been absolutely crazy about Gavon, and based on the undercurrent of her thoughts, sparring was some kind of…(gag) foreplay.
"I really hurt you, didn't I?" James sounded concerned, but I couldn't bring myself to wipe the horrified look off my face. He handed me a vial he'd summoned, but I didn't take it.
"No, I'm fine," I said slowly.
"You don't look fine. You completely froze then got the shit kicked out of you. What happened?"
How was I to explain to James what I'd just seen? I didn't want to explain it, I just wanted to forget it. But to placate him, I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes, whispering, "I…had another magical memory."
"Of Cyrus?"
I snorted. "I wish. No, this one was…of Gavon and…my mother. They were…" I gagged. "Flirting."
James quirked a brow. "Flirting?"
"Flirting. And then some." I rubbed my face in a vain attempt to remove the lingering feelings from the back of my mind. As if I wasn't already confused enough about Gavon, I didn't need to add my mother's attraction to him to the pile.
James did not sound like he pitied me at all. "You completely lost it because you had a magical memory of your parents flirting?"
"Yeah, I did," I snapped. "I don't know if you've ever had someone else's memories in your head before, but it's not fun. Especially because you get left with whatever feelings they had at the time. This? What I'm feeling right now? This is disgusting. I don't want to know how I was made."
"If she was using your magic, that means you were already…made," he replied with a snicker.
I cried out in anguish and buried my face in my hands. "Stop it. Seriously. Never again. I don't want to think about it."
James laughed and plopped down beside me, pressing the vial into my hands. I knew if I didn't take it, I'd regret it, so I popped the cork and downed it. It did a lot to ease the bruising, but not the horror.
"Do you get these kind of magical memories often?" he asked.
"N-no. Last one I ever had was when I was fighting Cyrus. I get dreams sometimes though." I looked down at the empty vial, horror turning to sadness. My mother had been so happy with Gavon that I'd forgotten how the story ended. It was no wonder she kept looking for him the day she'd died. She'd thought he'd loved her.
"Wonder why you thought of that particular memory?" James asked, popping my thought bubble.
Heat flooded my face. I'd probably had that memory because I was nursing some strange attraction to James, and sparring had increased it.
Oh God, was I just like my mother?
Did I get off on that kind of thing?
Ew.
Suddenly, James seemed a lot less adorable to me now. Perhaps it was my brain reminding me that if I sparred while twitterpated, I'd have another magical memory of my parents getting frisky. And also that my mother had fallen for a man from New Salem and ended up dead.
That threw cold water on me rather quickly.
"So do you think this will be a regular occurrence?" James asked.
"God, I hope not," I replied with a frown. "Sorry. I'll get myself together by next week."
"It's just as well. I have to get ready for my date," he said. "What are you supposed to talk about with a dancer?"
I shrugged. "What did you talk about with the other girls?"
"I just let them talk and acted interested," he replied. "There's not really much I can say to them about myself without lying."
"So why are you dating them?" I asked, genuinely curious. "If you can't have an honest relationship with them, what's the point?"
He quirked a brow. "You really have to ask that?"
"So it's just about sex, then?" I said with a nod, grateful for this reminder of his true nature. Unlike Gavon, James had been nothing but honest about how much of an asshole he was. "Then why are you asking me what to talk to her about?"
He shrugged and said, "See you around," before disappearing in a cloud of green smoke.
"Are you okay?" Nicole watched me over the top of her coffee mug.
"Yeah," I said without looking at her.
I was the farthest thing from okay in reality, but yet again, I couldn't talk to Nicole about it. I'd left the sparring beach feeling like I had a handle on all my magical memories, but the dream I'd had the night before painted a very different story. More sparring, more flirting. More…ugh.
The worst part was I'd woken up with the smallest desire to hear their voices again. I had never been able to stomach the sound of my mother's dying pleas, but this memory, while disgusting, was intriguing. My mother had always been this intangible thing that was often talked about, but never seen.
I knew from the first magical memory that she had been an expert magical, but it became clear to me how I became such a quick learner at sparring. My magic already had the benefit of Gavon's tutelage before I'd been born.
It wasn't hard to see why my mom had fallen for him. He was a handsome guy, and there was something humble and genuine about the way he carried himself. At least, it felt that way to me. And if my magical memories were real, he'd acted like he cared for Mom. But was that just because she was pregnant with his future Guildmaster or because he actually did?
The questions had bothered me so much that it had prompted me to leave my bedroom and have breakfast with Nicole. She'd been surprised to see me—as I'd been all but avoiding her for the past week—but eventually we'd descended into silence as I tried to figure out how to broach the subject.
"Hey, can I talk to you about something?" I said, although I was already sure I knew how this conversation would end. "It's about…Mom."
Nicole glanced up from her phone. "Yeah?"
"And…Gavon."
Her
gaze darted back down to her phone. "No, Lexie. I don't want to talk about it."
"Nicole, come on. I don't have anyone else to talk about them with. Gram's excommunicated us and—"
"What do you mean excommunicated?" Nicole replied. "And who is Gram?"
Crap. I'd forgotten about that. "Look, I think, as a seventeen-year-old girl, I have a right to know about my parents. Even if you don't like one of them—"
"Hate."
"Fine, hate. But maybe, just this once, you could…I don't know, suck it up and tell me how it was."
Nicole's brows rose and her mouth fell open. "Suck it up?"
"Bad choice of words," I said quickly. "But I mean—"
"Why do you want to know anything about what life was like? It was a lie. It was all one big ploy to make a Guildmaster. And as soon as he got what he wanted—"
"But he didn't," I said. "I grew up here."
"That's because…because…" Nicole's eyes searched the room, and I knew she was butting up against the charm Gram had placed on her. I half-wanted her to beat it, just to spite Gram and show her we were more powerful. "It doesn't matter. Gavon is a horrible person, and the less you know about him, the happier you'll be."
"But was Mom happy with him?" I asked, realizing I'd better ask what I wanted to before the situation devolved any further. "I mean, she loved him, right?"
Nicole was silent for a long time, chewing on the inside of her cheek in thought. "Mom was crazy about him. And to be honest, so was I. He was the best dad…he'd always make time for me. He taught me how to make potions. He told me that potion-makers could do anything a regular magic user could. And he just…he acted like he loved Mom."
And you, too, I wanted to add, but I thought that might make things worse. It was clear why this conversation brought Nicole so much pain, but I just needed to know the truth once and then I'd never bring it up again.
"But you know what? None of that matters because he's never done a damned thing to help us since."
"He's the one who told Gram about the loophole," I offered mildly.
"Who is this Gram you keep talking about?" Nicole asked. "Look, I don't like talking about this stuff. It reminds me how thoroughly he played all of us, and just reopens a lot of hurt that I've done a good job healing."
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