Bound Powers

by Saruuh Kelsey

  “I don’t need help.” Surly to the end.

  Joy nodded. “I thought so. Don’t worry—I know where you live. I’ll just leave the stuff outside.”

  “You will not.” His glare was as fierce as fire. Joy wondered if he’d always been this way or if years of being the parent of an unruly family had hardened him. He must have seen the conviction in her because he said, “That’s not my home. I lied. I took you to a random tent.”

  Joy patted his knee. “I don’t believe you.” She got to her feet, sliding her arms into her coat and fighting with the buttons. She put her wand in the pocket she’d sewn inside, still protective of it after Paulina confiscated it, and slung the bag of shopping over her shoulder. “I won’t tell Gabi—I’m not that mean. But I want to help you, and you sound like you need help. If it ever gets too much and you need to talk, you have my number. And I have a very scary friend who would keep even the most fearless of boys in check. Trust me. If you ever want to borrow her to scare your kids into behaving, I can make that happen.”

  Peregrine’s mouth was twisted, but Joy thought she saw a bit of amusement there. She hoped, anyway. He grunted and pushed to his feet and, totally unexpectedly, grabbed Joy’s shoulder, pulling her into the world’s quickest one arm embrace.

  “For not telling Gabi,” he muttered, stepping back and looking at the window at the end of the aisle.

  Joy wanted to smile and cry at the same time, but mostly she wanted to help lift that raincloud-dark weight from Peregrine’s eyes. He was her friend—there was no arguing that now—and she hated to see him stretched to breaking point.

  Joy set off walking for the exit and, silently, broodily, Peregrine followed. She rummaged through her bag of shopping, removing a box of tampons and the chocolate mousse, stuffing them into her coat pockets—overly big and the main reason she’d bought the coat, other than it being fluffier than a sheepdog. What remained was bread, milk, butter, and all the other things a house ran out of quicker than you could blink. “I don’t think your brothers want to get away from you,” she said, holding the door open for Peregrine as a gust of sea wind hit them sideways. “I never had the kind of parent who was strict or rule-enforce-y, but I know even if my mum had shouted at me every day and if we’d argued and said we hated each other, I’d still have loved her. I’d still have missed her like mad if I left for college. Even if your brother does want to escape home to college, I bet he’ll realise pretty quickly that he misses you. And that he needs you. I bet he doesn’t know how to use a washing machine—he’ll have to send his clothes home for you to do it.”

  Peregrine’s eyebrows were even closer to his eyes, a fixed scowl, but his voice was light when he added, “He can’t cook for shit, either.”

  “There, see. He’ll be lost without you.”

  “He’ll burn down halls.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  He looked at her sideways, a canny glint in his eye. “I know what you’re doing. And it doesn’t make me feel any less … whatever I am.”

  “Hurt,” Joy offered. “Scared he’ll leave and never come back. Empty nest syndrome.”

  Peregrine’s glare could have turned the sea to scolding.

  Joy held up her hands but she couldn’t suppress her smile. “It’s natural, Peregrine. It’d be surprising if you didn’t feel like that.”

  “You must be very surprised, then.,” he drawled.

  Joy shook her head, but knew she was only aggravating him further. They reached the cross of streets where the supermarket perched and the elven community spread out across the road, a congregation of once-white spires and flat fabric roofs and people weaving between them with second-nature movements. Joy kept her face very carefully neutral as she slipped the shopping off her shoulder and said, “Here, can you hold this for a minute?”

  His expression said she was a pest but he took the bag.

  “Thanks,” Joy said and bolted.

  She cleared the road before Peregrine yelled, “That’s fucking cheating.” A woman gutted loudly, either at the language or the shocking sight of a lady running.

  “It’s called kindness,” Joy shouted over her shoulder. He wasn’t chasing her, she saw. His pride must be furious that he was accepting the bag of shopping. Joy grinned and waved, realising she hadn’t thought about the mysterious he for hours. He gave her the finger.

  But when she got home, out of breath and sad again, Peregrine texted:

  You’re the worst but thanks & I’ve asked Kordell to look into your magic-witchcraft-thing. I saw you kept looking at your hands in the library. He’ll find something, the kid never stops reading.

  Pride

  Gabi wanted to call Joy and spend the night on the phone, but instead she sat glued to her laptop, reading the file the cop from Glasgow had just sent her. Her dad sat at her side, scoffing down warmed-up lasagne and trying to read over her shoulder.

  Judging by Santiago’s emails, he was the helpful puppy type who was always eager to please. Gabi wasn’t complaining—he’d gone to the morgue that afternoon and discreetly taken a few photos of the mark on the old woman’s neck. It was enough for Gabi to say for certain this new death was linked to the others she’d found. Also helpful were the words unusual to see that sort of branding, isn’t it? A throwaway comment that changed Gabi’s whole way of looking at the case, and when she zoomed in very close on the photos of the other victims, she could make out a faint pattern, a shape if she squinted.

  Gus and Maisie had long gone up to bed but Gabi sat in the living room with the heater on full, messing around in Photoshop to get a clearer image of the mark.

  “Up the contrast,” Bo suggested, pointing a fork.

  Gabi gave him a flat look. “Good idea. I haven’t tried that three times already.”

  “Curves?”

  “Done.”

  “Levels?”

  “Father. Not helping.”

  Her dad harrumphed, shoving more lasagne in his mouth. “Brand, huh?”

  She nodded, chewing her lip. Sniping aside, she was glad her dad was here.

  Several photos weren’t high enough quality, and the shape branded into the skin was so faint or the design so close together that no amount of altering would define it. But one had been taken under blaring morgue lights in a super high resolution that gave Gabi the closest she had to an idea of the shape—a wicked swirl that was either the symbol for wind or a chakra blade with an M in blocky font over it. She’d never seen it before.

  Bo let out a low whistle.

  “Have you seen this before?” she asked, locking eyes with him.

  “Never.” He squinted at the brand.

  “Any fatherly wisdom to impart?”

  “Yes.” He put his hand on her shoulder, affected an air of wizened importance, and said, “Google it.”

  Gabi snorted.

  “I’m serious. Some kid in his bedroom in Pennsylvania probably wrote a whole forum entry about it. Don’t tell anyone, but that’s how I solved most of my cases.”

  Gabi raised an eyebrow. “You had a network of contacts, dad.”

  “And Google,” he insisted, tapping her nose.

  Gabi scrunched up her mouth, feigning irritation. “Remind me why I keep you around again.”

  “For my wit, charm, and honey trapping abilities.”

  A laugh burst out of her. True. One sighting of Bo and Gabi’s posse of old women barely gave her a second glance.

  “Alright, kid, I gotta go.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, filling her senses with his peppery aftershave, and backed out of the room.

  “Plate,” she barked, pointing at the dirty dish he’d left on the coffee table.

  “Love you, Gabi,” he called. The front door shut behind him.

  Gabi groaned and put the plate in the kitchen sink herself.

  An hour straight of Googling told her nothing. Frustrated and close to dropping, Gabi climbed the stairs to bed. But it was progress; she was getting somewhere. The on
ly problem was she had a gut feeling she wasn’t going to like where this case took her.

  Joy

  “You have pink hair,” a young boy commented when Joy opened the door the next morning. The knock had been very polite, and unfamiliar, and once Joy got over her initial panic, she realised a killer wouldn’t knock. The boy too was unfamiliar—about eleven years old with messy black curls, an elfin face, and grey-green eyes. Long legged, he looked like a deer who hadn’t figured out how to walk yet. Joy noticed he wore jeans with ragged holes at the knee and an oversized black jumper in an obvious imitation of the larger, less friendly version of him standing beside him.

  “Hello,” Joy said, smiling widely. She grinned as Peregrine turned an expected grumpy frown on her. He looked disgruntled as always, but his hair was tied back and he was wearing a coat. Did this pass as smart for him? Joy had to wonder. She looked back at the smaller, curly haired reflection of him. “Are you Kordell?”

  “I am.” He stood straighter, looking pleased. “Peregrine told you about me?”

  “Oh, lots.” She gave him a secretive smile. “He wouldn’t stop talking about you—he’s so chatty.”

  Kordell looked at her for a moment, confused, before he laughed. “You’re funny. In a good way.”

  “Why, thank you. You coming in?” She held the door wider and Kordell trotted in, clutching a large book to his chest and looking around the hallway, up the stairs, and peering into the living room with wide, fascinated eyes.

  “You alright?” Joy asked Peregrine quietly while his brother was occupied.

  He nodded stiffly. “Better than yesterday. Told you Dell’d find something.”

  “You did,” Joy agreed, noticing a subject change but allowing it. She’d pushed him yesterday; she didn’t want to risk pushing him too far today.

  A squeak came from the living room; Peregrine moved so quickly Joy had barely blinked before he was in the room. Joy hurried after him, but she found Kordell gaping at the far wall and in no apparent danger. There were athames around, though, and other stray things he could easily have hurt himself on. Joy realised very quickly that this was not a child-friendly house.

  “You have a fireplace,” Kordell breathed with the same amount of awe Joy would use upon finding out unicorns were real.

  “I do,” Joy said with an indulgent smile. “Do you want to see it turned on?”

  Kordell nodded so fast his curls blurred and concealed his bright eyes.

  “Tell her about your book,” Peregrine said as Joy knelt to turn on the fire, warning Kordell not to get too close. It was electric and didn’t pose a danger but still, some things were ingrained and keeping kids away from fire was one of them. He sat cross-legged a good distance away and opened the book—green leather cover, a word stamped gold in Elteri, the curls and flicks looking more like art than a language—to a page he’d marked with an incongruous acid green post-it note.

  “Peregrine asked me to look for stories where people have blue hands, or hands that changed colour, and it reminded me of the old queen Ignatia.” Joy must have looked as clueless as she felt because he went on, “She was an old fae queen, a pirate. She had the biggest ship and the biggest hoard of treasure because whenever they were boarded by another crew, her hands would turn amber. Not a glow but her skin, like they’d always been that colour and a glamour had been taken off.” He glanced up to make sure Joy was listening, then back down to the book, shy now. “People thought she could vanquish evil hearts, clean all the bad from them.”

  “Vanquish,” Peregrine repeated with a raised eyebrow.

  “It’s the word it says.” Kordell scowled, his cheeks tinged pink.

  “What else does it say?” Joy asked.

  “Just that. Her enemies were scared of her because when she touched them she could take all the evil out of them, only it took their magic too.”

  Joy sat back, horrified. She’d been thinking it was a pretty cool story—a pirate queen!— but that it wasn’t really connected to her, just a weird coincidence that her hands had changed colour. It wasn’t even the same colour, since Joy’s had turned blue. But … taking the evil out of someone and taking their power too? Joy swallowed, a sudden lump in her throat. She said, “Thank you for finding this for me.”

  “Are you alright?” Kordell peered at her from behind a fall of curls. His eyes were wide, concerned, and reminded her very suddenly of waking up in the town hall after Perchta’s claws had buried in her stomach, finding Peregrine bent over her, all his focus on healing her even though he wasn’t that good at it.

  “I’m fine,” she said with a smile. “What was her name again?”

  “Ignatia. There was only one fae queen called that, so if you want to find out more about her it’ll be easy. Or you could keep my book.”

  Joy, who had seen how he clutched it, how his fingers absently stroked the cover, immediately said, “No, that’s alright. You keep it.”

  He looked relieved.

  “What else do you know about Ignatia, Dell?” Peregrine asked. He’d sat on the couch behind Joy; she angled herself to face him. His expression was stony, as she’d seen it so many times, and Joy wondered if it wasn’t this way, hard and blank, because he was masking some other, deeper emotion. Because of Kordell, she wondered? Did he not want his brother to see he was worried, or was he just secretive about his feelings? Joy could answer that question confidently, at least.

  “She was queen two hundred years ago,” Kordell answered immediately. “Her husband was the consort Malvir, who was famous for being a fae violin player who performed for human kings and tsars. Ignatia was half witch, half fae, but she never talked about her witch side, or at least it’s not written down that she did. She had three kids with Malvir, and one of them became a fae queen after she died.”

  “She was a witch,” Joy asked, feeling hollowed out, “and a fae?”

  “Yeah.” Kordell nodded seriously.

  What other ways were she and this queen the same? Joy felt as if someone had kicked her in the stomach and couldn’t explain why. Or maybe it was because this made it real—someone in the past had hands like hers, nature like hers, and it hadn’t been a one off. The stories made it sound like a good thing, like a legacy, but all Joy’s power had done was strip a witch of her witchcraft. It was unnatural. A curse.

  “That’s good, Dell.” Peregrine sounded strange. “That’s enough.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” Kordell looked crushed.

  “No,” Joy said quickly, and found Peregrine saying the same word just as quick.

  “You haven’t done anything wrong,” Peregrine added, his voice a mixture of fondness and a sterner, hard edge. Joy wondered if that edge was for her, because she shouldn’t have been getting upset in front of his brother. But she couldn’t turn it off, this feeling, and she’d never been good at hiding her emotions.

  “Thank you,” Joy said, as evenly as she could. “I’m really glad you found this queen for me.”

  Kordell looked unsure but he said, “It’s alright. I like helping people.”

  Joy smiled and must have looked on the outside how she felt on the inside because Kordell shuffled around the coffee table on his knees and put his arms around her neck.

  “Sorry I made you sad,” he said quietly.

  “No. It’s not your fault.” She patted his back before he pulled away. “I was already sad.”

  His eyes were open , guileless. “You should have soup. Peregrine always makes me soup when I’m sad.”

  Joy smiled, even as she wanted to cry at how kind he was, this small boy. “I’ll have soup, definitely. Good idea.”

  Kordell beamed and went to hug his book again.

  “Alright, Dell.” Peregrine pushed to his feet. “We’d better get back.”

  Kordell pouted.

  Peregrine’s next words were firm and brooked no argument. “We’re going home. Make sure you’ve got everything.” Kordell still looked pouty, and very like Peregrine when he broo
ded. “Dell.”

  “Fine,” he sighed, the word tapering into a groan. He started towards the hallway.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Peregrine said, still in that scary stern voice, “but you were raised with manners. What do you say?”

  Kordell turned around in the doorway and gave Joy a big grin. “Thank you for having me.” He added, “I can find more books about Ignatia if you want.”

  “That’s alright,” Joy replied, rapidly processing the way these brothers acted around each other, the unspoken words and the ease of them being together. “I’ll be able to find them myself.”

  Kordell nodded. “Good.” His eyes found Peregrine and he said, “I thought we were leaving,” in a smartass kind of voice that reminded her of Gus.

  Peregrine only pointed a finger. Kordell grinned. Joy pressed a smile between her lips as they went to the front door, still bickering silently.

  “Peregrine,” Joy said as Kordell opened the door. She made the universal sign for can I have a word?

  “Wait outside,” he told his brother. “Don’t go wandering. You’ll get lost and an alligator will eat you.”

  “There are no alligators in Agedale,” Kordell replied with a scoff.

  “Smartass. Wait at the gate.” He watched as his brother waited where he’d told him to. “What?” he barked, facing Joy.

  “Charming. You said you needed art supplies—I found some for you. Salma used to be the technician of the art department at the school in town, so I had kind of an in. There’s a couple canvases, a set of acrylic paints, and brushes, all professional school standard, waiting for you. I’ll need to go pick them up tomorrow, or you can go—”