by Robin Moray
They both felt it at the same time, Kevin reaching for Peter's arm and Peter's head going up, tracking through the trees like a bloodhound.
"Did you feel that?" His aura flared, fissuring out in a search pattern, directionless but alert. "Someone's out there."
Kevin tried to force his heartbeat to slow. Someone was out there and he knew exactly who it was. Someone who thought they were so clever they could get away with teasing a witch-hunter with a little magic, just to see what they'd do.
I'm going to kill him, Kevin thought, if Peter doesn't get to him first.
"I don't feel anything," he lied, pretty sure Artemis was about a hundred yards away under some sort of glamour. "Are you sure?"
Peter nodded slowly, and then he reached for Kevin's hand, pulling him up behind him as he moved carefully through the trees. Kevin was getting used to the thrill of skin-contact, but the warmth of it, the way Peter's aura soaked up his magic so hungrily, made him shiver all the way to his knees. And it was completely inappropriate to imagine how it would feel if Peter touched him anywhere else, so Kevin tried not to, and mostly failed.
Between that and his awareness of Artemis in the middle distance, what happened next was almost inevitable.
When Kevin was fourteen, he'd once taken Parsley, his mother's bull terrier, for a walk in the woods in the middle of a hot summer. He'd been cross with the world, anxious to be away, desperately in love with Sandy Fuller and wretched about it, and he'd wallowed in his own misery all the way down to the creek behind the Henson house, throwing sticks for Parsley as he went. Parsley had eventually stopped bringing them back, just crouched at a distance of several feet, growling fiercely with the stick in her mouth. "What's wrong with you?" he'd grumbled, reaching for another stick to lob over Parsley's head and maybe, hopefully distract her from the first one.
But the stick he reached for moved, rearing up to strike, and Kevin yelled, and nearly fell over in his effort to get away. It was, Kevin decided later, just a bull snake, but in that moment it was everything he'd ever feared.
It had felt exactly like what happened now. Kevin stepped sideways around a rock, his foot slipped on the edge of a ditch, and the innocent-looking patch of bunchberry at his feet burst open in a flurry of limbs. Kevin caught a glimpse of a panicked face, eyes huge and dark with horror, and then magic slammed into him like a fist, knocking him off his feet and into a shrub with a ripple of chimes.
Chimes. He knew that magic. That was—
Kevin struggled out of the shrub, shoving himself to his knees, the magic boiling overhead like an inferno. Peter, though, just reached through it, dampening it easily, and then he had the witch by the arm, his hand strong and implacable, and the sound the witch made as they scrabbled for magic that was no longer there was pure terror. Kevin got an impression of someone small and slight, of dirty jeans and a torn plaid shirt, and fucking hell. The magic felt like clear crystal. It wasn't Cordelia, that much was obvious. This was the rogue witch, the victim, someone innocent.
Whatever Peter meant to do next, Kevin couldn't let him. "Peter! Don't!" Peter hesitated, but his expression was grim and Kevin didn't know what to do.
Which was the moment Artemis dropped his glamour to tip the world upside down.
At least, that's how it felt, like everything upended, like being picked up and shaken. Kevin hit the ground hard, and stayed there, winded. Peter staggered, lost his grip on the witch, and then Artemis, the smug bastard, smirked and spread his hands to … what was that? He blinked out of existence. And the witch too, just gone. The magic too, gone, and for a second Kevin thought Artemis had finally managed to translocate, but no, that would have taken a mass of power, but this spell felt more like … He knew this one. It felt like Bella.
Something moved in the corner of his eye, but when he looked for it there was nothing. No, something, still, only … more the suggestion of something, like artefacts hanging around a bad digital image, like some kind of cloaking effect in a science fiction movie.
Holy shit. They were still here. Artemis had just cloaked them.
Peter had spun around, blinking hard. "Where …? Did you see that?" He looked shocked, and then his eyes widened. "Kevin, are you all right? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Kevin said, honestly, trying not to track the not-anything that was still hanging about in his peripheral vision. The witch-that-wasn't-Artemis was still just standing there, and Kevin had no damn clue what Artemis had been intending. "I'm … just need to get my breath."
Clearly he sounded pathetic, though, because Peter crouched down in amongst the bunchberry to run his hands over Kevin's head, down his neck, palms flattening over his shoulders, and the whole time he seemed torn between checking every inch of Kevin's skin for injuries and keeping an eye out for danger. It was sweet, and silly, and Kevin caught his fingers in Peter's lapel, pulling himself up to his knees and …
He could kiss him, right now, and Peter would at least stop looking around, and maybe Artemis and the other one would have a chance to get away. He could do it, all he'd have to do is tug a little, lean in, with his mouth open. Just run his tongue over Peter's lip, that's all.
He could. But it would be a sort of lie, and he was doing enough of that as it was; he didn't want to kiss Peter in a lie. It needed to be real.
He licked his lips, and he saw the way Peter tracked it with his eyes. "I'm fine, really. What happened?"
Peter frowned, glancing around, and then sighed. He took Kevin's hands and pulled him to his feet, and then he didn't let go again. "I don't know. But you saw him? He was right under you."
Kevin nodded. "Yeah?"
"Did you recognise him?" Peter gave him a searching look. "Surely you'd know him if he were local. You said everyone knows everyone, around here."
At least Kevin didn't have to lie about this. "I've never seen him before in my life." He thought about it for a moment, just to make sure. Yeah, the witch was a boy, high-school age, with black eyes and a messy mop of black hair. And tired and dirty, because he'd been running, Kevin just knew it, running from Cordelia for far too long. And Kevin didn't know him from Adam. "I don't think he's from around here. I think he's a runaway."
Peter looked skeptical, and then his mouth thinned. "If you suspect, or … Kevin, if you're trying to protect someone, then," and his grip on Kevin's hands tightened, suddenly fierce. "You have to tell me. Even if he's a friend of yours, or a friend of a friend, he's a danger. He could have killed you."
Fury came over him like a hot shadow; Kevin wrenched his hands away, pulling his magic back into himself so hard that Peter gasped, and maybe he did actually feel that. It was cold without that contact, but Kevin needed to hold himself in or he really would set part of the woods on fire.
Count to ten, he told himself, come on, you'll be fine. One. Two. Three. Screw it.
"First of all, I don't know who he is, okay? So don't bother asking me again. And second, how do you know he's dangerous? He didn't attack us. He was scared, scared of you. He's just a kid! Hiding in the woods because someone's trying to kill him! And you want me to think he's a monster, someone who'd hurt me just because they could? Fuck that."
Peter stared at him, but then his expression soured. "You haven't seen what they're capable of," he started but Kevin couldn't let him finish.
"I've seen what people are capable of. You know, I might live in Podunk nowhere but I have the internet, I've read about Al Bundy on Wikipedia, I know how bad people can be, but it doesn't make me think every fucking one of them's a serial killer!"
For a moment Peter just looked horribly confused, but then he blinked. "Ted Bundy," he said, awkwardly, "was the serial killer."
"Whatever!" Kevin made fists out of his hands and squeezed but didn't, actually, lose control of his magic. "Just … don't 'shoot first, ask questions later,' all right?"
Peter was quiet, regarding him solemnly, but then he reached out, fingers closing on the hem of Kevin's sleeve, but not actually touching hi
m. "Listen to me. I have seen witches, dozens of them, and not once have I seen one who did not hurt the ordinary people around her. It begins with small things, preferencing actions that give the witch an edge over other people. Then damaging actions, that actively hurt. Then, in the end, destructive actions that tear other people's lives to pieces. Like mine. Like Miranda's. And I will not let that happen to you." He took a breath, blinking fast. "Not when it's my fault you're involved in this at all. But you have to believe me, there's no room for mercy, when dealing with witches."
Kevin couldn't take it. "How can you say that? They're people." Even werefolk are people too.
Peter let him go, stepped off, head tipping back as he sighed at the heavens. "I want you to believe me, so much, but I can't … there's no way for me to prove any of this to you without putting you in danger, again. I can't do that. But I need you to trust me. If anything happens to," but he broke off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before giving Kevin a look like, like the world was ending. "Kevin, I feel … I don't know how to," and then he visibly changed his mind. "I'll keep you safe," he said, radiating sincerity, and he didn't quite reach out but Kevin saw the twitch of his hand and knew he wanted to. "I swear it. Whatever happens."
"I do trust you," Kevin said, knowing that what he meant wasn't the same thing at all. He trusted Peter to do what was in his nature, and if he found out about Kevin, then his nature could only guide him to one thing.
Peter smiled. "Good," he said. "I'm glad."
Chapter 8
The rest of the day was incredibly dull. They visited a few more places, the scout hall, the reservoir, the cemetery. Kevin got crankier and crankier because he was hungry, and ended up eating all the chips Peter had stashed in the truck and a chocolate bar. The rollercoaster of emotion that threatened to tip him out every time Peter came anywhere near touching him started to make him feel exhausted and he found himself pulling away instead, retreating into himself as a defense mechanism.
It must have been obvious. Peter started to get this pained look around his eyes, chewing his lip when he thought Kevin wasn't looking. Finally, when they'd finished up at the cemetery and Peter drove back to the shop, he stopped the car, and turned to put a hand on the console between them. It was a compromise, Kevin figured, a gesture that, if Kevin wanted, he could complete. But kept his hands to himself.
"You're angry with me," Peter said. There was nothing condemnatory about it, it was just a fact, and it was true so Kevin could hardly argue. "I wish I could change that."
Kevin shrugged, feeling childish and petulant and too full of salt and fat and sugar. "What if you met a witch and she wasn't a bad person and you burned her at the stake?"
"I don't burn witches at the stake," Peter said, exasperated. "Kevin—"
"No, I mean it. What if she was all right? Just happened to be a witch. What then?"
"Then I'd wait until she used her magic to hurt people." He said it so plainly.
Frustration balled Kevin's hands into fists. "And if she never did? You don't know she ever would, she might never!"
"They always do," Peter insisted, but when Kevin threw him a withering look he added, "but if she never did I would leave her be. I'm not unreasonable."
He sounded so reasonable, but Kevin still hated all of it. "Fine. Just don't go … over-reacting to anything, all right?"
He started to get out of the car, but Peter leaned over, still not touching him, though he clearly wanted to. "May I see you tomorrow?"
Kevin wanted. And he knew he couldn't have it and it was like a cupcake under glass, delicious and tempting and right there and all he'd have to do … He shook his head. "I'm busy tomorrow." It might not have been a lie, even, probably there was stuff he needed to do with his brother and sister.
"Sunday, then?"
"Well, Sunday I'll be in church," Kevin said tightly, absolutely lying now.
Peter didn't seem to buy it. "All day?"
Dammit. "No. I'm free after lunch."
"May I see you then?" And how could anyone resist his eyes when they were so sad and so lonely? Like a puppy … it wasn't fair.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay." And in the meantime, Kevin was going to do his best to get over this.
When he called Artemis his brother's phone was unhelpfully off; Kevin wouldn't have worried normally, since Artemis was useless at remembering to charge it, but now, with a warlock and a frightened witch and a witch-hunter on the loose, it drove him crazy. Bella was no help either, going straight to voicemail. At least she had voicemail. Ugh, they were both infuriating.
They had the car, so Kevin hung about the shop restlessly, drank about half a litre of milk, tried to ignore the last of the cookies, texted a series of irritated messages to his sister, and waited for someone to get back to him. Finally, about four o'clock Artemis banged into the shop like a neat, tweedy hurricane. "Come on, then, I want to get dinner started."
"Artie!" Kevin went weak with relief, bracing himself against the counter. "Thank God, you're okay."
"I'm fine," and he so annoyed, frowned so fussily, that Kevin was immediately convinced he really was fine.
"Your phone's flat, again," Kevin snapped, cross with him for being so perfectly fine.
Artemis made a dismissive gesture. "Whatever. But you! You went off with that—that was your witch hunter, wasn't it? Dammit, Kevin, I told you, you can't touch him!"
"Yeah, okay, that's impossible." Kevin pocketed his wallet and got his keys out, to start locking up the shop. "But, look, it's worse than that. Peter thinks there's a local coven."
"There is a local coven," Artemis said waspishly.
"Yes, but he thinks the death up at the Cairn was someone local. And that there's an angry some-thirds-of-a-coven out looking for her, and he thinks all witches are evil and now he's seen you, Artie, I don't know what he's going to do!"
Artemis, astonishingly, was quiet as he stepped out the door, and hesitated on the step. "You almost sound as though you care."
"Of course I care! Dammit, Artie, do you really think I don't care if something happens to you? In which case, fuck you, by the way."
"I meant about him."
"What? I didn't say anything like that."
"No, but I can hear it anyway." Artemis made a frustrated hissing sound, shoving him toward the car. "Get in." and when they both had—"Listen. About our rogue witch."
"Yeah, about that—what were you doing at the stone garden? Why was he hiding in the grass?"
Artemis shrugged, putting the car into gear. "I was looking for him. And I think he was hiding from me, or from the warlock."
"Peter knows about her, by the way," and Kevin rattled off the basics of what Peter had said about Cordelia.
It made Artemis pause, and when he unpaused he sounded thoughtful. "She consumed her own coven, he said? Then … she would be as strong as a coven. Stronger, if she's started on other's people's covens." Then he snapped his fingers, gesticulating wildly. "Of course! It makes sense, then!"
"No it doesn't," Kevin argued, "tell me what you mean."
"This Cordelia consumed her coven. And then she started on another coven. One of them died up on Cairn Hill, and whatever happened to the other one our rogue witch is the only one left. Or, at least, the only one left in the county." His expression turned from speculative to serious. "I can't imagine what would happen if she consumed two covens. That would drive a person mad, wouldn't it?"
"I don't know?" Kevin pulled a face. "Would it?"
"Anyway, I'm going to try and meet our rogue witch tomorrow, try to convince him we're not going to hurt him. You should come, just in case the warlock shows up."
"And what if Peter shows up? Won't that look suspicious?"
"Oh, I don't know, wear a hat." Kevin opened his mouth to swear at him, but Artemis went on too quickly. "Listen, all that aside, I hope you know what you're doing, Kevin. He's a witch hunter, remember? They might not burn people at the stake anymore but they still hunt witches. He can hu
rt you."
"Yeah, well, so could that quarterback from Thawfield but you never worried about him." Which wasn't really fair; Lawrence had been a sweet guy all round, just big as a tank.
"You could have set that quarterback on fire with your mind," Artemis said dismissively. "But a witch hunter can damage your magic, little brother. He could damage it permanently."
"How?"
"Don't be stubborn, you know how."
"No, actually, I don't. How, Artie?"
The noise Artemis made was a bit like an angry bird. "How can you not know? You've been hanging around him since … for heaven's sake, Kevin! What were you thinking?"
"Not anything, apparently!" He rubbed his eyes, sick of all this. "Just tell me, will you?"
"He can lock it up, like … like I don't know. Like plugging a leak. But permanently. And then you'll have nothing, no magic, nothing."
"Would I still be able to do math?"
"What? Yes, of course. Why?"
"Then I don't really care," Kevin lied. "Look, I'll be careful, but … I really … I don't want to talk about it right now. I'm tired."
Artemis examined him, brow crinkling up in a frown. "He's been draining you again, then."
"It's not that! And I don't care if he does, anyway. It doesn't hurt." It was the opposite, if anything.
"No, but it's wearing you out, regenerating all that magic. It's like if you were casting all day, just a trickle. Which, you know, would be good exercise for you. Your capacity might go up if you tried."
Kevin shrugged, slouching sullenly in his seat. "Rather do pushups," he muttered, which Artemis ignored.
"I know you think I don't understand. And I suppose I don't. I've never been," and he wrinkled his nose in distaste, "in love with someone. But I do know that the more you touch him the harder it's going to be for you to stop touching him. You'll only make it worse. And I know Bella thinks it's sweet and romantic and all that, but it really isn't. It's just magic and hormones, and if you stay away from him it'll wear off, eventually. And it won't be the end of the world. You'll meet someone else one day who isn't a witch-hunter and you can start it all over again."
