Kevin’s room, on the same side of the hall as Bane’s.
The walls were plastered with posters ranging from elves, unicorns, and forest-scenes to Depeche Mode and Queen; the floor was strewn with clothes, books, cassettes, and random objects. A wooden desk covered with books and paper and binders stood in one corner, and a few shelves above and beside bore a heavy load of yet more books; a dresser had ornaments and jewellery scattered on it and hung from the mirror corners. Through an open door he could see a closet piled knee-deep with unidentifiable stuff, clothes hung above in a bright-coloured blur of predominantly strong blues and greens and reds. A fairly expensive compact stereo sat on the floor beside the bed.
He gave up totally on the piles of paper. The books defied any classification, there seemed to be everything under the sun, though the non-fiction leaned towards psychology and related fields, which made sense. Kevin had told him he was starting a four-year program in counselling; well, nobody was perfect. Jesse had to admire some of his taste in music, at least, but it wandered, too, from something called the Pachelbel Canon to a group called Enigma who certainly had some songs with interesting names, through more ordinary rock like Aerosmith and Blondie.
In the bottom of the closet, he found a polished chest of rich dark wood. Carefully, Jesse dragged it out. About a foot tall, and a foot by two across the top.
Locked, but this one he managed to get open without much trouble or much visible trace. He raised the lid, wondering what he’d find.
At first all he saw was a considerable amount of bright-hued silky fabric much like the blankets in the living room. He reached in, found something solid, and pulled it out. The silk hiding it reminded him of water, shimmery blue and green and grey. Carefully, he unwrapped it, found a cup, shaped like a wide-mouthed wine-glass but made of some silvery metal, engraved around the outside with fish and wave-patterns and swans. It was so clean it caught the sunlight and gave the brief illusion that it actually held the golden light like water. He didn’t touch it, kept the silk between it and his hands, but even that made his skin tingle intensely.
Feeling something akin to awe, somehow sure that he’d found something very old and special, he returned the cup to its place, and reached for something else.
Concealed by silver-grey and ice-blue and pale gold was a knife like nothing he’d ever seen, the blade something like eight inches long, the hilt wrapped in gold wire and set with a clear red stone on each side. Utterly unable to resist, he lifted it from the silk—the tingling grew stronger—and slid it free of the ornate metal sheath. The blade was shining-bright, he could see himself in it, and looked deadly sharp.
That prickling was getting worse, fast. It escalated sharply, felt like someone lashed him squarely across his shoulder blades; he dropped the knife with a half-strangled cry, and the sensation eased. Without touching it directly again, he re-sheathed it, wrapped it and returned it to the chest, then put the chest back in its place. He hadn’t been down to Deanna’s room, but that was definitely enough prowling. The skin of his hands felt hot and tight, the muscles of his arms and upper back throbbed a little, and there was a pressure behind his eyes that felt like the beginnings of a headache.
Snooping around here was dangerous. Things bit back.
Still, he definitely had a lot to think about.
*
Kevin stepped in the door of his bedroom, and paused. Something had disturbed the wards he’d automatically built into it. Disturbed them violently, in fact. He tracked the source, and pulled the chest holding his great-grandmother’s tools out of the closet. Faint traces, on the Spanish steel cup; then he reached his knife.
He wasn’t sure quite what he felt, about that. A certain amount of sympathy, for how much it had to have hurt Jesse in his present state; an uncharitable righteousness, that he’d asked for it; amusement and apprehension about what else Jesse had been into and what conclusions he was making; annoyance because only his own peculiar layered shielding had protected the spells on the knife, and they were going to need work to fix regardless.
He kept the knife out to start on later. It was going to take a while, since he was still recovering, but he rarely used them anyway, and really didn’t need them at all; normally he only brought them out when helping Deanna or Cynthia with the ritual magic they were so much better at. His own abilities worked just fine without props. He returned the rest, and added an extra layer of protection around it. Although, he thought wryly, that was a classic example of locking the barn door after the horse was in the next county. He doubted Jesse would forget this quickly.
Had he gotten into Cynthia’s or Deanna’s? Cynthia’s power was so much more subtle than his, she lacked the unique protections he’d built, and she used her tools more often than he did. On the other hand, he doubted that any amount of unauthorized handling could cause Deanna the slightest trouble with her tools. He left his room, the knife under his pillow and out of sight, and went to Cynthia’s. The chest opened immediately under his hand. He checked each briefly, the crystal sphere that had been her grandmother’s, the mostly newer tools, and found everything as it should be.
Then, just for now, he wouldn’t mention this either, any more than he had Jesse’s attempted midnight flight. He didn’t think Jesse had meant any harm today, he couldn’t be blamed for curiosity.
Still, this was getting a little out of hand.
He headed back to his own room, mulling over what he might be able to devise to keep Jesse out of things. For his safety and theirs. He was saying that a lot lately. Keep everybody safe.
Inner senses picked up Bane’s presence; he turned around, just in time to watch his dark coven-mate lean against the edge of the doorway, arms crossed. Even from here, Kevin could see the gold flaring in his eyes and hear the low rumble of a growl.
Uh-oh…
“He was in my room,” Bane said, each word precise, reminding Kevin of the sharp edge of his knife. “His scent is everywhere. I want him out of my territory. Now.”
“Can we talk about this? Please? For my sake and Gisela’s, at least?”
Bane didn’t move for a long moment, then he nodded curtly and came farther into the room, turned the chair from the desk backwards and straddled it with his arms crossed on the back. Kevin glanced at the door, and it closed itself with a soft click.
“Why should I not chase him off?” It still held more than a hint of growl, but the edge was muted somewhat.
Kevin sank down on the bed, facing him.
“Lots of reasons.”
“Start listing them, then. And don’t tell me again that it’s dangerous to send him back to the outside world with no knowledge of what he is. He’ll never heal completely, Flynn’s cards are wrong this time. Whatever the unfinished business is he keeps getting on every reading, that isn’t it.”
Kevin tried to put his tangled thoughts in order.
Okay, he’s not going to listen to logic this time.
“There was a time, once, when Deanna and I ran away from Rebecca,” he said quietly. “And you were the only one in all of Haven who was willing to give me a chance. Remember?”
“You didn’t take advantage of hospitality and trust to violate privacy!”
Oh, if you only knew about Jess trying to leave in the middle of the night…
“No, I had attacked Flynn for voicing an opinion—which was shared by just about everyone and was in fact extremely valid—and terrorized Cynthia when she came after me for it, and got in a fight with you when you told me that I’d be taking my life in my hands to go anywhere near them ever again. Among other things. I racked up a long list of sins in a very few months.”
The angry gold faded from Bane’s eyes, and his expression softened. “That was a long time ago.”
“A couple of years isn’t so long. Less than that, actually. A couple of years ago, around now we were all meeting Rebecca. You had stronger reasons to distrust me, but you took a chance. Please. If you don’t want to, that’s your
choice, but don’t stop me from making my own choice.”
Bane rested his head on his arms, silent for what felt like forever, then he sighed heavily.
“I’ll be glad forever that I took that chance on you. For the moment, I’ll let him stay. But he’s running out of chances, phoenix. Put him on a leash if you want him around, okay?”
“I’ll get Dia or Cynthi to help me put short-term specific wards everywhere and on everything we can think of,” Kevin promised. “But I bet he learned his lesson.”
“Oh?”
“There are psychic fingerprints all over my knife.”
Bane grinned, showing even white teeth, the pointed canines just slightly longer than the rest. “Aw, poor baby, he got a shock?”
“A pretty good one, I’d say.”
“Good. Maybe it’ll teach him to keep his hands off other people’s stuff.” He stood up, and stretched. “For your sake, I’ll put up with him. But you remember what I said.”
“I will. I’ll keep an eye on him, I swear.”
“You do that.” He padded over to the bed, leaned down to give Kevin a tight hug, and wandered off.
Kevin sat quietly for a moment, shivering a little as he forced the old memories into the back of his mind and reoriented on what he could do at present. Wards, first.
And somehow, somehow, he had to get Jesse to trust them. He was sure Jesse was only there because he was responding unconsciously to the triangular connection that had formed when Kevin and Gisela healed him, an unanticipated little consequence that probably wouldn’t have stopped them anyway. Without that, surely, he would have left days ago, and Brigid and Lugh knew how long it would take for the paranoia he kept sensing to win over the tentative power of that link…
The same link, he thought wryly, that had an equally strong effect on all three of them, aware of it or not.
*
The house was very quiet. Jesse lay still, comfortable on the couch, especially after some of the places he’d slept. Listening to the silence, wondering what secrets it was keeping.
How long had he been here? Days, two weeks, three. He had to leave. Nothing else spooky had happened, although he hadn’t ventured any further exploring, but he didn’t want to chance sneaking away again. He had to leave, and during the day, openly.
Damn it, Jess, you can’t afford to care! Get back to Shaine, forget all this.
Caring would get him in trouble.
He’d have to leave. Tomorrow.
*
It took a messily long time to convince them that he needed to leave. He had to swear to call once in a while and to remember that he was welcome back any time. Flynn insisted on giving him a ride home; and Jesse surrendered without much protest. At least Flynn was more likely to be willing to compromise and drop him off wherever Jesse requested, instead of right on Shaine’s doorstep.
“Take care of yourself,” Kevin said softly, just before Jesse escaped out the door. He sounded like he meant it.
Jesse had to grin. “I do my best. Always.”
The Quicksilver Sphynx
Miscellanea, October 1993
Nick ‘Winter
Wow, Samhain’s coming fast! Check out the list of Samhain-related events on the back page!
Anybody who missed Exotica’s “Wild Hunt” deserves great pity. Covens Winter, Sundark, and Dandelion went together, and afterwards, being forever faithful to my readers, I quizzed them for opinions. Unanimous: Exotica has definitely recovered from “Maeve” and they’re back on track. I even tricked… uh, talked Flynn ‘Sundark into writing a review of it, it’s on page 3. I couldn’t have said any of it better myself.
The new coven I mentioned is actual fact. Coven Ailim (that’s silver fir, for anyone behind on their Tree Calendar) has been born. Blessed be, cousins, and may you love one another long and well. And may you be only the first of many this coming year.
Eleanor ‘Moonstone and Darcy’s handfasting went marvellously. I’m supposed to thank whoever did the weather, and will whoever made that sinful chocolate cake kindly step forward and confess? Four covens (at least) would love to get the recipe. We’ll run it here, if the guilty party doesn’t mind. Other than one of Ambra ‘Moonstone’s cats deciding she wanted to be cuddled by Eleanor right in the middle of the invocation to the Goddess, all went smoothly. I don’t believe I’ll ever forget the sight of Eleanor swearing her love to Darcy with a grey and white furball in her arms.
There’s going to be a pet show in December, like the one last year, it’ll be on the weekend of Dec 4th and 5th, in the Community Hall. There are classes for domestic longhair and shorthair cats, purebred cats, a few classes for dogs including obedience, and a class for exotic pets. Judges will include Samantha, Peter ‘Blackbird, and Ilya ‘Prism. If you want to register for it, stop in at Sam’s, there are forms there to fill out. Like any cat in Haven could give Samantha’s Alfari a challenge for domestic longhair if she ever entered!
Gardens grew passably well this year, not as well as last year, but everyone who uses herb-magic should be all right for the winter. There are half a dozen people selling a wide variety of herbs, more details of who has what are up at the White Stag and the other usual places.
Other news, and I’m going to try to keep my anger on a leash while I write this: Coven Whitethorn has pulled their most insane trick yet against Coven Sundark. I won’t go into detail, because Sundark asked me not to, but they gained a new friend out of the mess. Mid-to-late teens, male, dark, slender, likes to wear black, his name’s Jesse. Take it easy on him if you see him around, he’s completely innocent of magic and badly torn up psychically. As for you, Rebecca… give it a break already! What are you trying to prove, anyway?
Historical notes: Lindsay opened Venus Alive, our very own store for the erotic arts, four years ago on the ninth, despite many people telling her Haven is too small to keep such a place open. Also in October, seven years ago the 23rd, Coven Artemisia took over White Stag, everyone’s favourite place for all the necessities of ritual and ceremony. And last but far from least, Solomon’s Seal, the best bookstore ever, was opened thirty-nine years ago the 25th. October must be a lucky month for opening new businesses! The nineteenth is the birthday of one of our Adepts, but I’ve been strictly forbidden to tell you which one or how old. I’m sure you can figure it out, you only have two to choose from.
I’ve been informed that Trista ‘Merrymoon will be writing an article for us in November’s issue about magic in traditional and historical blacksmithing. Sounds fascinating to me! Since some mages can work soft metals without needing a fire, would a mage blacksmith need a forge at all, I wonder?
6
Eight people made the living room a bit crowded, but the two covens present had shared the space cosily and cheerfully with a third coven and a couple of solitaries so many times that they hardly noticed. Bane sprawled in one of the chairs, his older brother Bryan sitting on the floor at his feet and leaning against the chair arm. Deanna and Cynthia shared the couch with blind witch Naomi, whose broad hips and large breasts combined with her long walnut-brown hair and fondness for full skirts made Bryan teasingly nickname her his peasant wench. The grey husky Gwyn who served as Naomi’s eyes lay at her feet, to all appearances an ordinary contented dog—despite his mysterious origins as a gift from Bryan’s absent roommate Samantha, whose origins were equally mysterious. Kevin lay on the floor, his oldest and favourite cousin Lori between him and Flynn, all three on such a mass of blankets woven earlier by the two mages from the fading sunlight that it would have made a comfortable mattress.
Even watching a movie was more fun this way, Kevin thought. The good-natured discussion did mean that sometimes it had to be paused for a bit, but the varying perspectives of his friends always fascinated Kevin—how people who were so close, and spent so much time together, could have such diverse viewpoints.
“Pause,” Flynn said suddenly. Lori glanced at him, and the VCR paused itself. Kevin’s first thought was that Flynn
needed a bathroom break or a moment to stretch, or possibly a refill from the array of drinks and munchies spread on the coffee table, but the thought vanished instantly when he finally picked up how serious his seer coven-mate was.
“What’s wrong?” Bryan asked, probably catching Flynn’s mood by scent.
Flynn shook his head. “I don’t know, but something is. I can’t quite get a grip on it, but it’s really nagging in the back of my mind.”
“Then let’s circle and see if we can give you enough of a boost to get a fix on it,” Naomi said practically. “Someone shove the table out of the way.”
The ring wasn’t technically round, working within the space limitations, but it was good enough for all eight to be within hand-clasping range of those on either side. Deanna and Cynthia, working together with the ease of familiarity, cast a circle around them to contain any energy raised and protect them from outside energy; to Kevin’s senses, it was clearly visible as a glowing rainbow line against the russet carpet, as easy to see as the webwork of strands that bound a coven together in or out of circle.
Hands linked all the way around, and Lori led them through a simple exercise they all knew well and used often, one to lower barriers and allow personal energy to flow into a common pool. Kevin tested it automatically, analysing and identifying the various sources: varied innate natures and learned skills, the true best strength of any mixed coven—or better still, more than one. The two wolves were part of it, wild and primal, but had little to add; this simply wasn’t within their own abilities. Brilliant with fire and sunlight, his own gifts and Lori’s were the most dramatic and, strictly speaking, the most powerful, though that came at a cost: they were restricted to that element only. Naomi and Cynthia’s came from a soul-deep connection to all the elements, though Cynthia’s strongest affinity was with air, and being inside, air’s pale colours were much weaker than he’d seen them outside; Naomi’s inclination was towards earth, especially with plants, and while its greenish-dark tones were more muted now than they were in warmer seasons, it nonetheless surged up into the circle with all the quiet vibrancy of spring growth. Deanna’s own bond to the earth was very different, not so useful for summoning or manipulating power, but it ran deep as the roots of a tree and could ground and stabilize it at even very high levels. Flynn’s contribution was a more subtle shimmer that danced into bright sparkles each time his inner sight gave him another bit of information—and currently, the sparkles were a cascade, surging and ebbing without ever entirely fading.
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