by R. M. Webb
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Days pass in a steady stream of classes with Noah never quite meeting my eyes and meals with Noah sitting silently beside me. I’m getting stronger and stronger and my spells are more reliable each day. In fact, I’m often surprising my teachers by out-magicking them. When it’s just Noah and me working together, he takes me off into the corner and he throws hateful words and looks my way, feeding my regret, baiting my dark magic. Each time I manage to maintain control, he sets his jaw and tries a little harder to piss me off.
And I think he’s finally succeeding.
Sure, I disappointed him by sneaking out, and maybe I hurt his feelings by being all wound up in Luke’s arms, but at least we could, you know, talk about it. Like adults. Everytime I try to bring it up, he just brushes it off with some generic shit about it not being the right time. Well, excuse me, but I think it’s way past the right time, thank you very much. Noah is all I have left in this world, the only reason I don’t feel completely lost and alone and now that he’s locking me out, well, I just kinda feel awful every day.
Which doesn’t make it any easier to block my dark magic from just swallowing me up. Thing is, after I disappointed Noah once, I’m determined not to let him down again. The more upset I get, the more distant he becomes, the more I feel my dark magic pushing against my surface, stretching me like an overfilled balloon … well … the more I just push back. I will gain control. I will prove to him that I’m worth his time. I will make him proud and get him to talk to me.
If he doesn’t totally piss me off and push me away first. And at the rate he’s going, it’s really an either/or situation at this point.
I never heard anything from Daya about sneaking out. Never suffered any repercussions on that at all, so all I can assume is that Noah kept it to himself. And sure, that’s great, I guess, but it’s just more of that nothing that he’s been giving me since the night he caught me almost kissing Luke. I’d almost rather he’d told her.
Almost.
Today, they’ve got all of us student-types gathered in the library at Windsor. This is pretty much the first time we’ve all been in one place at the same time, learning the same stuff, so the younger kids are all keyed up. Ok, so I’m a little excited, too. After weeks of all encompassing sameness, it’s refreshing to be doing something different. All the mentors are lining the wall, standing and watching their fledgling witches and warlocks with varying mixtures of pride and concern on their faces. I try - unsuccessfully of course - to catch Noah’s eyes and give him a little smile.
You know what? Fuck him. He can hang out all sour if he wants to, but I think I’m done caring.
The teachers file into the room, all of them toting clipboards except for Daya who’s carrying this massive box, wooden and ornate and inlaid with gold. It’s gorgeous and just oozes power. She sets it down on a table beside an ancient grimoire that rattles open as she draws near, eliciting gasps from a few of the younger kids. Tony - he’s the youngest, this little gap-toothed twig with a mop of red hair - he bounces up and down in his seat, kicking his legs out and flicking a little ball of bright orange energy around his toes. A sharp look from Daya settles him right down. Well, it makes him try to be still. His eyes are still wide and glistening and I swear he’s quivering with the energy he’s trying to contain.
“Today you will be tested.” Daya’s throaty voice scratches out into the room, quieting the last few whispers flitting between friends. “Your powers will be strained.” Tony actually giggles, this high pitched nervous little quaking sound and the rest of us relax as smiles stretch unbidden across our faces. Daya gives him a silly little exasperated look, a mother trying to be frustrated with her precocious child but failing miserably through all the love she’s feeling, and it’s like the first human thing I’ve seen her do.
With a wave of her hand and a breathy whisper, Daya opens the box without ever touching it. The lid slides off and sets itself neatly beside her grimoire. Tony and the other kids are rapt, eyes fixated, smiles growing, little kids at a magic show. Smoke and light shoot up out of the box and just like a genie unfurling from its bottle, forms itself into the shape of a very young boy.
He’s wispy around his edges and sparks flicker from his fingers and his eyes glow like autumn sunshine. I know exactly what he is.
“This,” says Daya, her gaze flicking to meet mine, “is a remnant.”
Since I’m the only student currently in Windsor Manor to have ever seen a remnant, and because the story of the first time I saw one is kind of a big deal around here, what with all the people I killed and all, I suddenly find myself the center of attention as the entire room turns its focus to me.
Daya pretends not to notice and regains their attention by continuing her little speech. Apparently, we’re going to help this little boy pass on. Since I’ve already done that for a remnant on accident once, it’ll be good to learn how to do it on purpose. Maybe this time I can do it without killing everyone in the surrounding area. Grief twists my stomach as I think of all the bodies. All the families absorbing the loss. All because of me.
I try to lose myself in what Daya’s saying, try not to let the guilt speak louder than she is. Apparently, remnants speak to witches and warlocks telepathically, and most the time, it’s like they use a giant loudspeaker to get into all of our heads at once. Daya doesn’t go into detail about what happens the rest of the time. We can speak back to them telepathically as well, that way we don’t have to look like we’re talking to ourselves if we happen upon one in public, although a remnant can hear our spoken voice just as clearly as they can hear our ‘thought voice.’
She explains about the difference between hollow and light remnants, how they are, in fact, all that remains of supernatural creatures after they die. Some of us just pass right on, but others will hang on, trying to finish whatever it is they started before they died. Hollow remnants are what’s left of those who are evil or cruel and light remnants are what’s left of those who are kind and generous. Humans sometimes see remnants, or if they don’t see them directly, they sense their presence. Humans call them angels or demons. Hands are shooting up across the room, so many questions. Daya pauses and calls on a few.
“So, vampires pass on as hollow remnants? Right?” asks Tony.
Daya shakes her head and smiles. “There are nice vampires out there.” She raises her eyebrows and leans forward, widening her eyes in mock shock. “Hard to believe, I know.”
Another hand, another question. “If the light remnants do good things for people, then why do we have to help them pass on?”
Daya looks serious. “It is not for us to interfere in the lives of men. That’s true whether we’re living or dead.” She pauses while we puzzle out that last statement. “So are you going to waste all of our time asking questions or would you like to get started?”
The remaining hands drop out of sight. “That’s what I thought,” says Daya with a little slap of her hand on the table. The remnant had been wandering around the room, kind of flickering and stuttering, his movement halting and totally eerie despite him being light. Daya’s instructions are simple, open our minds and listen to what he has to say. With soothing words and gentle nudges of magic, we’re to basically coax him into leaving.
“Why are you here?” I ask him, concentrating on peace and warmth.
“Why are you here?” he retorts, darkness glinting in his beautiful eyes, an unwanted blemish on something beautiful.
“I’m here to help you.”
“Oh, ya?” The remnants face starts to droop and sag like melting wax, his voice growing like blustering wind whipping my hair against my face. “Like you helped all those people the last time? You’re so good at helping people.”
I swallow and stare. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Oh, no. Of course not. Poor Zoe. So helpless. So confused. Playing into the bad guy’s hands like every worthless piece of shit ever.” The remnant bares his teeth - his never ending rows of
teeth - and his eyes spiral like death. My heart sinks and rage clenches my jaw.
I stand. I bow my head. Reach my arms out to my side. My movement is instinct, my body on autopilot.
My words come unbidden, but I know them as the only possible thing to say in this instance. “Tenebris ad lux.” I bite off each syllable and stare down the remnant, daring him to continue speaking. When he grins, bile slinking between his parted lips and rolling off his chin, I call my magic into my hands, a flickering ball of everything, dark and light and all the power I can maintain.
“Tenebris ad lux!” My voice rips through the library and someone screams. The room darkens, winds ravage the bookshelves, pulling ancient tomes from their place and whipping papers into the air. There’s a flash, like lightening without a storm, and a rush of power and it’s. so. good. Like I’m finally alive. Like everything’s finally right. I am what I’m supposed to be and nothing, no one, can make me be anything else.
I point a finger at the shrieking remnant and magic hits it in the chest, piercing it, splitting it open in a blaze of golden light and creeping darkness.
And then someone’s pulling on my arms and screaming in my ears. There’s crying, hitching sobs and wails of terrified children.
I blink.
It’s Noah who has my arms and he’s not screaming, he’s whispering every calming thing he could say to me.
I look around.
Tony’s tiny little body sags in the arms of one of the teenaged girls - Cora. Her name is Cora. And she’s bending over him, tears dripping from her chin to land on his pale, waxen face.
“He’s breathing,” she says in a breathy rush of panicked hope.
There’s a rush of people swarming to his side, witches and warlocks chanting healing spells, but I don’t get to see what happens because there’s a wrenching feeling, a pop in my ears, and then I’m standing in Daya’s office, Noah at my side, Daya leaning on her desk with both hands, palms spread, all traces of maternal humanity utterly obliterated.
Chapter Nine
“Sit. Down.”
Daya is still as stone. Nothing on her moves as she speaks, not even her jaw. She just bites the words out between her teeth.
“I think I’ll stand.” I don’t know where the strength came from to say something like that to her. Maybe I’m still in shock.
Daya still doesn’t move. “Sit down or I will sit you down.”
I do as I’m told, the brief moment of rebellion quelled by whatever it is that has her eyes flashing like they are. Everything about Daya softens when she looks at Noah. “You too, please.” There’s something weary in her voice and there’s this moment of sadness hanging between them, of things left unsaid, and maybe I’m reading too much into what I’m seeing. I tend to do that when I’m nervous.
Little sparks of golden magic is flickering off the tips of my fingernails, reaching out like electricity, or an inchworm looking for footing. I ball my hands up into fists and pray that I’m the only one who noticed.
“What the hell happened in there?”
She’s speaking to me and the only answer I have is that I have no clue. But that’s only going to make her madder. So, I start to stammer out a stream of consciousness, speaking as I think.
“I don’t know. I mean, I do know. I lost control. Again. And it almost went totally sideways. Again. But the remnant? He wasn’t what he looked like. It looked like you brought a gentle, unassuming light remnant. Which is smart, ease us all in, right? Except, I mean, I couldn’t have been the only one who saw it? Right?” I’m gesturing frantically and looking from Noah to Daya and their mouths are slack so I just plow on forward. “The remnant changed. It was a hollow. Oh, shit. It was hollow! And it started taunting me. And I just … stood up. And I acted without thinking. What have I done?” I’m panicking now. “Is Tony ok? He’s gotta be ok…”
And I’m panting, and I think I’m crying, and I’m shaking. Daya stands without a word and waddles over to a table under a window. She pours a thick liquid from a crystal beaker into a small glass and ambles over to hand it to me. “Drink.” I meet her eyes, hesitant, but the darkness is gone and somehow I trust her.
My throat burns when I swallow the liquid and then I sigh. The panic subsides and I’m able to think in a straight line again. “Thank you,” I say, handing the glass back to her.
Daya sits on the edge of her desk and folds her arms into her ample lap. “Feel better?”
“Much.”
“Good. Now. You say the remnant was hollow?”
I nod. “That’s what it looked like. It’s eyes changed and it’s face, like melted and it’s mouth stretched with all these extra teeth. It started talking about those people I killed, like it wanted to upset me.” Whatever it was that she gave me has me so calm, I feel like I’m describing a simple math problem. “Daya? Will Tony be ok?”
“Yes, he will be fine. We’ll see to it.”
I relax even further. “Can remnants do that? Pretend to be something they’re not?”
“It’s rare. Very rare.” Daya and Noah exchange a look. “And that remnant was vetted by all the teachers, witches and ‘locks that are very powerful and knowledgeable enough for me to trust.
“What are you saying?”
“Zoe … I have to ask. Are you sure you saw what you said you did?”
I have not one single doubt about what I saw. But I don’t say that because my mouth just hangs open and whatever potion she gave me to drink is doing its job putting out all the little fires if anxiety and indignation. I nod. Slowly.
Daya turns to Noah. “I thought she was learning control. I thought she hadn’t had any more slips, that she’s been able to push away her dark magic.”
Noah looks lost and I answer before he does. “I’ve been playing with it in my room. Dark magic.” I know I’ve been mad at Noah, but that’s mostly because I know he has every right to be mad at me. He’s put his neck on the line more than once and I’m not going to let him get caught covering up for me. The look of shock he’s giving me right now is perfect. Sure he’s shocked because he knows I’m lying, but Daya won’t know that. She’s gonna think he’s shocked because of what I’ve admitted.
She gives him a scathing look. “How have you not known about this?”
I answer for him again. “I discovered the magic dampening spell on the window and thought there’s probably other spells on the room, too. You know, to alert him to what I’m doing. I did my own little anti-magic spell.”
Noah tries to speak but Daya holds up a finger. “For the sake of my sanity, please explain why you thought this was a good idea.”
“I can’t control my dark magic without understanding it. Does that make sense? I need to know the why’s and the how’s of it, you know get to the root of the matter. Just ignoring it, pushing it down, all that does it let it fester and grow. Like giving anti-depressants to someone who just needs to talk about what’s bothering them. I swear, I only did it in an attempt to try to get better. To try to be the kind of witch you want me to be.” Daya’s got all kinds of thoughts flashing across her face and I think I’m saying things that make sense to her. “I wonder, if you brought a dark witch in to teach me, if it might not make this whole thing easier.”
A big wall slides down over her face, hiding all her thoughts. “No. We’ve tried something like that before,” she can’t help but let her eyes flick over to Noah and I know she’s talking about the ranch, “and it didn’t work out well.”
I take a breath. “Daya, if the people who raised me aren’t my birth parents, then who are my real parents?” She’s stunned by the question, as is Noah, judging by his sharp intake of breath. “And what are you guys doing to find out who had me all hidden and locked up inside myself? Am I just supposed to take all of this at face value and move forward without ever knowing why?”
Daya shakes her head. “I’m afraid you can’t know the answers to those questions.”
“You mean the answers to questions a
bout me? I don’t get to know where I came from or why I’m important enough to be part of some crazy conspiracy? Cause that’s what this is. If I wasn’t important, whoever had me hidden would have just had me killed instead.”
Daya leans forward and crosses her elbows on the desk in front of her. Do I tell her that I know about the ranch? How it went horribly wrong? Would Noah get in trouble if I know? I’m so tired of games I just don’t know what to do. I just want to be out with it and done with it and call it a day so we can all move on and I can figure out what the hell I am.
“Something tells me that you already know the answers to some of those questions.” Daya sits back into her chair and it creaks under her weight. I start to stammer a reply but Daya continues. “It’s ok. Noah won’t get in any trouble for telling you. If I really wanted him silent on the matter, he would have been silent on the matter.” She flares her fingers and stares down at the space between her hands, her mouth open and her breath held as if she’s considering her next words very seriously. “Your mother was Tara Archer, a white witch,” her eyes go distant “maybe the strongest white witch I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. You father was Malichi Dalton, with a very strange blend of dark magic. They were both quick witted and had the strange complexity of being in love despite their many differences. When Tara became pregnant with you, that’s when we had the idea to try to raise children who could cast both light and dark magic. Tara and Malichi disappeared before your birth and we assumed they were dead, and you with them. The implications of your,” she waves her hands through the air, looking for a word, “...captivity?” She nods, satisfied. “The implications are troubling to say the least. And no. You can’t know any more than that because I don’t know any more than that.”
My lower lip is quivering and tears are blurring Daya into one great colorful mass. My parents are Tara and Malichi and yes, they were in love. I don’t know why the information has hit me this hard, so I swipe the tears from my eyes, trying to ignore the fact that they ever existed. My hands are gripping the arms of the chair, the knuckles turning white, tingling under the strain. That I can’t do anything about and leave them there until Noah reaches out and places his hand on top of mine. The contact, after weeks of nothing, sends a jolt through my system and I stare at him. He’s still withdrawn, but there’s a bit of the old warmth in his smile. I flip my hand up and grasp his, thankful when he gives me a little squeeze in return.
