“You’re so sure of that.”
He looked away, disturbed by the intensity of her gaze. No, where she was concerned, he was never entirely certain of anything and never could be again. All he could do was pretend he had steady ground to stand on, though. “I’m sure of your mind-games. Rebecca, it’s over. It has been over for something like two years, which is a lot longer than it even lasted. What I’d like is for you to live your life and stay out of mine, and leave Jesse alone. That’s all I ask. I really think you should leave before Deanna comes.”
Rebecca shoved back her chair abruptly and got to her feet, the growl much deeper now and her eyes narrowing, hands curling into claws.
“Have it your way. Have fun with your new pet. If you end up being sorry you ever let him in your house, it’ll be your own fault.” She took a swallow of her drink, left it there half-empty, and departed.
He heard Deanna’s cheerful greetings to Nick and a handful of other friends before Sonja could take the glass; her smile vanished instantly, muscles tightening visibly across her shoulders. “Rebecca’s been here.”
“Been and gone,” Kevin said wearily. “And I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Come on, then. We can have supper some other night. Let’s go home.” Her hand on his shoulder spoke worlds of sympathy and understanding, to him. “Don’t pay any attention to whatever lies she was weaving this time. Rebecca always lies.”
*
“You and Deanna came in awfully early last night,” Bane commented, matching strides with Kevin easily as they walked down the country road. “Weren’t you going out for supper?”
“Rebecca found me, first, while I was waiting.”
Bane winced sympathetically. “That would ruin my appetite, too. That explains why you’ve been so down all day when I’ve seen you around classes. Let it go, Kev.”
“It isn’t that easy,” Kevin said shortly. “Even knowing her as well as I do, some of what she said I can’t get out of my head.”
“Tell me?”
“Just… nothing.”
“About Jesse?”
“I’d rather not. You’re already not sure you want him here.”
“You think I’d chase him off because of something Rebecca said? Please, phoenix. Give me some credit.”
Kevin was quiet for a time. “She said Jess is a threat, that he’s broken a lot of laws, and we’ll regret letting him in the house.”
“We agreed already, what Jess does outside of Haven is his own, only what he does here matters. As unsure of him as I am, I can see the sense in that.” He laughed. “Until the day he decides he wants my place as alpha wolf, anyway.”
“I thought you didn’t believe he’d ever be able to shapechange.”
“I don’t, but with Flynn and Gisela both so insistent, I pretty much have to concede the possibility that I might be wrong. And, honestly, for his sake I’m beginning to hope that I am. I’ll give him that, that his behaviour on his second visit was a vast improvement over the way he acted when he first came. He might be worth the effort after all.”
Peace for a time, simply enjoying the company and the winter road.
Somewhere, a wolf howled, and was immediately answered by other voices, at first from the same direction, then from farther away. Bane took a deep breath, and added his voice to the mix. Kevin listened, faintly amused, but appreciating the wild beauty of the song. At least once or twice a week this happened, and no wolf who could possibly join in ever stayed silent; given that there were over a hundred werewolves in Haven, it could become quite a chorus. The density did cause stresses that some wolves coped with better than others, but those who could said there were good parts to it. Like this.
Bane had told him once it was to mark their territory and warn the predators to stay away; Kevin suspected that while that might be true, they actually did it mostly for fun.
A strand at a time, it faded away, down to a couple of voices, then one, then silence.
“Aren’t you supposed to do that at full moons?” Kevin teased.
“Aren’t you supposed to wear green and live under a hill?” Bane retorted.
“Good hills are getting scarce these days, and I’m an elf, not Robin Hood.”
Still teasing each other, they resumed their interrupted walk homeward, and Kevin stopped thinking about Rebecca. Mostly.
The Quicksilver Sphynx
Miscellanea, January 1994
Nick ‘Winter
Sorry about neglecting my duties last month, but anyone who knows me probably expected it. Once a year, every year, despite all Liam’s best efforts I get sick… but I do it well!
Kisa ‘Natesa is pregnant and due with our newest wolf in June. As far as I know no one in Coven Natesa could be the father, but if you open that up to Covens Prism and Blackrose and their associated solitaries as well, that offers by my count four possible fathers—biologically, since the whole bunch, regardless of sex, are acting like it’s theirs. Whichever it is, congratulations!
Trista ‘Merrymoon is popular! We got so many positive comments that we begged, blackmailed, and bribed her into doing a whole series for us on smith-magic and related subjects. Tentatively, that should give us articles for anywhere from the next three to six months, depending on continued interest.
Re: my challenge about Alessandria Kore-Tremayne and a seventh child: no dice, kids. An early-twentieth-century book retelling the legend doesn’t cut it. I said proof. As in real, irrefutable (well, not easily refutable, at least), solid facts. Stop bugging me with stuff that isn’t even convincing Liam—and he half believes the story anyway!
There are a few things planned publicly for Brigid, but so far it looks like most people are planning on more private or small-scale celebrations.
Solomon’s Seal has in the new batch of never-before-seen (or, in a couple of cases, at least not-in-Canada-seen) books, thanks to our very own publishers in my hometown Ravenrock BC. There’s a comparison and analysis and evaluation of various astrological systems, which includes a rather interesting breakdown by race and gift. One’s on alchemy as a modern spiritual roadmap, with emphasis on the elements as witches experience them. There’s a collection of short stories, including one by Flynn ‘Sundark, and one that I think I’m going to have to buy for my favourite kitchen witch Deanna if her coven doesn’t beat me to it, on suggestions for improvisation and substitution of tools, materials, and just about anything else.
The Winter Fair is coming up, the 29th and 30th, at the Community Hall. There’s still time to get in on it, if you haven’t yet! We’re talking everything: quilts, dolls, food, handmade clothes, stuff that’s knitted and crocheted and hand-woven, carvings, jewellery, you name it and I bet you’ll find it there. Liam can do the most wonderful things with a simple hand-loom, he’ll be there, and Flynn ‘Sundark and Glynis ‘Artemisia will both be doing card readings, and Lori ‘Dandelion will be there with her crystal jewellery.
Historical notes: the Fair has been going on for forty-nine years, the last weekend of January every year (the Summer Fair is as old as Haven). Twenty-eight years ago was the last confirmed report of demon-summoning and blood-magic in Haven. I don’t mean the kind where you maybe use a few drops to bind a spell, I’m talking serious bodily harm or death to feed demons. All of Haven turned on the seer-mage-wolf team convicted of it; the mage and seer were stripped of their gifts and had other controls put in place, and justice was served on the wolf by the other wolves—I’ll spare you the gory details. To get away from the morbid subject, Victoria Phoebe Dominique, Morgan’s wife and the healer of Coven Starluck, was born in 1761 on the 14th. Nathaniel Lioren, noted artist and Adept, was born in 1913 on the 5th.
That’s all for this month! Enjoy Brigid, and for those who don’t like winter, don’t despair… we’re past the longest night, days will get longer now.
10
Jess kept pace with Shaine, catching him up on street gossip he’d collected that morning. Shaine only half-listened, more
intent on not slipping in the icy mass of slush that covered the sidewalk and was now beginning to freeze as the temperature dropped. The sky, flat grey all day, was now merely a darker and more yellowish shade, lit from streetlights below rather than sun above; Shaine sent a silent entreaty to the clouds to just snow or go away, and not spend yet another day hovering low over the city, but they paid no attention at all.
Not that they really had any reason to do anything but ignore him, now.
For another month, the rent had been paid, and he could make sure Jess had a safe and tolerably warm place to sleep. Now they needed food to fill the empty shelves in his tiny kitchen, and though the grocery store they were headed for was a bit of a hike, it was the cheapest one in walking distance.
It helped, that instead of spending whatever money he could make on drugs, Jess was now helping with the rent and groceries and other necessities. Jess’ wide dark eyes and charming smile were a definite advantage when he was out panhandling, and Shaine encouraged him to stick with that and opportunistic shoplifting. Sex for money meant nothing to Shaine, but he knew Jess too well to believe his young friend could do the same, and Jess’ soul was already in enough shreds. And Shaine’s other, safer ways of making some extra cash weren’t something Jesse could do—even if Shaine had any intention of explaining, which he didn’t.
Jess’ rambling ended when they reached the grocery store, and the discussion turned to what to get. Neither had the skill or inclination to cook anything complicated, so for the most part their shopping trips consisted of food in cans and boxes, and food that went in the freezer. The strong tastes of instant food had, at first, made Shaine nauseous; he’d grown accustomed to that, as he had to the noise of the city that had assaulted his sensitive ears, and to countless other new experiences.
None of it mattered as much as protecting Jess as best he could. He’d adapted, and so well Jess had never noticed. Not that Jess had been in any condition to notice anything beyond his own misery, for most of the time Shaine had known him.
Paying always took a few minutes, since Jess’ income tended to be in the form of coins; the woman at the cash didn’t mind. They rarely did, unless it was extremely busy.
Between them, they could carry everything without much trouble.
They cut through a park, traded greetings with a couple of acquaintances, paused to compare notes on life for the last few days with someone they knew somewhat better—where they’d had luck in shoplifting or panhandling, who was doing what and the current activity levels of the cops, usual sorts of things.
Shortly after spotting Jess on the streets the first time, Shaine had decided that he had to stop wandering and settle down; accordingly, he’d found a single-room basement apartment, with all the utilities included, at a price he’d be able to manage alone. Unfortunately, the heat was controlled by the apartment upstairs, and the cement-tile floors and paint-over-plaster-over-cement walls tended not to hold a great deal of heat. Nonetheless, it was certainly better for Jess than sleeping outside, and cold didn’t particularly bother Shaine. And the landlord had no objection to being paid in cash each month, without asking questions.
Shaine unlocked the door, flipped on the light, and both paused to remove slushy boots—Shaine was, by nature, extremely fastidious, and had simply laid down the law; that one, at least, Jess had never challenged.
A mosaic of second-hand throw rugs from yard sales and thrift stores covered most of the floor; they crossed it to the corner that held what passed for a kitchen. Jess stacked cold stuff in the freezer and fridge while Shaine put the rest away on the shelves above the sink.
“Going out tonight?” Jess asked, filling a glass with milk and heading over to sit on the bed. The room was small enough that the double bed dominated it, and left scant room for other furniture. Clothes were in the closet or a collection of stacked plastic milk crates. In one corner, under the window, stood a chair Shaine found comfortable, with a reading lamp and a stack of paperbacks on the small table next to it. On a pair of upturned milk crates sat an old fourteen-inch TV and a small stereo probably discarded because one of the two cassette decks no longer worked. The furniture had all come second-hand from one place or another, except the milk crates, which they’d filched from beside a store one night.
Shaine considered that, while he scooped a handful of cookies out of the bag and sprawled in the chair to nibble on one. “Nah, I don’t think so. This weather is depressing, I’m really in no mood to deal with assholes tonight.” He probably should, there was February’s rent to keep in mind, but one night wouldn’t make any great difference.
“Good timing, then.” Jess leaned down, without spilling his milk, to grab his black canvas backpack and drag it over. One-handed, he untied it, and fished out a paperback, which he tossed to Shaine. “Forgot it earlier.”
Shaine caught it neatly. “Thanks.” Jess had figured out in a hurry that Shaine read voraciously, regardless of genre or subject, fiction or non-fiction; a week seldom passed that he didn’t present Shaine with at least one, usually paperbacks, shoplifted from used or new bookstores. Any in good condition Shaine traded in at a used bookstore close by, and the others he donated. The library had fussed so much over Shaine’s inability to prove his address or even his identity that he’d given up on getting a card.
Besides, he knew Jess liked being able to give him something, and he wasn’t about to discourage anything that made Jess feel good, not when there was so little risk involved.
He’d had long enough to learn to recognize the way Jess dropped his gaze just a bit and shrugged.
Jess stretched out on the bed on his stomach, reached out to turn on the TV, and flipped through the three channels they could actually get relatively clearly. He settled on something, a sitcom from the sounds of it, and dragged a pillow into reach to cross his arms on, his empty glass on the floor next to him. Hardly mind-broadening… but, well, neither was some of what Shaine read, and if it gave Jess a chance to relax and escape reality for a while, so be it. Shaine switched on the lamp, turned off the overhead light, and got comfortable with the book he was two-thirds finished. Distracting as the noise of the TV was, there was something comforting in it, and in Jess’ presence only a few feet away.
Hunger, later, sent him to the kitchen to toss chicken-and-broccoli-flavoured rice mix into a pot of boiling water; when it was ready, he split it between two plates, and gave Jess half, before returning to his book.
Sudden quiet made Shaine glance up; Jesse stretched lazily, and yawned.
“There’s never anything interesting on after the late night movie. And I think I’m tired.”
“Sleep couldn’t hurt,” Shaine conceded.
Not long later, they were curled up together in the bed, under the layers of blankets Shaine had hunted down here and there. Jess snuggled close, and Shaine slid an arm over him to keep him there. Sometimes, Jess complained that Shaine took more body heat than he shared, but that wasn’t something Shaine could change, and these days Jess ignored it except on particularly cold nights. The company, Shaine thought, mattered more.
“Know something?” Jess murmured dreamily after a few minutes.
“Mmm?” Shaine said drowsily.
“We’re gonna have somewhere nice to live someday. A whole house, and maybe we can make the basement into a couple of good apartments for people like we used to be. And we’ll have a stereo with big speakers, we can play music all we want, as loud as we want, ‘cause the cops never mess with real people, just with people they don’t think are people. And a decent TV, with cable. And we can walk into a store and buy all the cool clothes we want, and we’ll buy a really awesome car, a classic Mustang. Should we paint it black or red? Maybe a convertible. Anyway, then we can drive to a restaurant, a really good one, and we can order everything we want. A big steak and lots of fries. Chocolate sundaes with whipped cream and cherries. And after we’re done, we can go home to our own house…” The words trailed off.
Sh
aine stroked Jesse’s hair affectionately with one hand, forbore to ask where they were to get the money for house, stereo, TV, clothes, car, and dinner. He’d heard variations on the theme dozens of times.
“Yeah, Jess,” he said softly. “Someday.”
Someday maybe I’ll figure out a way to get you there.
The Quicksilver Sphynx
Miscellanea, February 1994
Nick ‘Winter
The first-of-the-month Sabbats are really awful to write about, since while I’m writing this it’s before Brigid, but by the time you read it Brigid will have been and gone. Therefore, I’ll just say I hope we all have heaps of fun, and leave it there.
Welcome home and congratulations, Coven Kharis! And, Anton tells me, he’s finally completed what sounds like an exhausting series of hoops to go through to get everything sorted out properly, medically and legally. In every possible sense, ‘Nina’ is entirely history. You’ve all been missed, through all that time away, and it’s wonderful to have you not only home to stay but happy. Finding who you are and being that is hard enough without the extra complications! Congratulations from Coven Winter and lots of other people!
Donovan ‘Sky-Drum will be opening a new shop on the 25th, selling handmade clothes and similar by him and a few others in Haven. Partly conventional, partly magesilk. I didn’t even know that it was possible to incorporate things like buttons and zippers into magesilk, although a wolf changing while wearing it will destroy that, and I never thought of sewing magesilk to create more complex effects. I can’t wait to see what creative minds have invented for us! It’s in the old lapidary shop near Venus Alive. Watch for Arachne’s Loom.
My recommendation for the rest of the paper: on page three, there’s a very interesting and rather funny article on the cultural mess in mixed villages: the blending of given names and surnames (surnames? who uses those, anyway? coven names are usually more useful!) from opposite sides of the globe, and some of the things we’ve adopted from those varying cultures, past and present.
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