Jude's Magic

by Hollis Shiloh

  Story copyright August 2013 by Hollis Shiloh - Cover design by Hollis Shiloh - All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without written permission from the author. All characters and events are fictitious, and any similarity to real people or events is coincidental. Cover image Content is being used for illustrative purposes only, and any person depicted in the Content is a model. //

  Jude has never had very spectacular magic, though he's always been too sensitive to the kind that hurts people. Desperate for work, he hires on as a companion to a wealthy man—who turns out to be a severely injured dueling wizard named Ferrous. Any sort of violent magic makes Jude physically ill. But Ferrous thinks Jude is the only one who can heal him. He might just be right.

  Jude's Magic

  by Hollis Shiloh

  Jude stood tall and slim and straight, in a black suit that was nearly threadbare. A spell tugged irritatingly at his mind as he stood on the mansion's step. He pushed thought of it away, because it was old, heavy magic obviously meant to keep out anyone meaning harm. Its cloying presence irritated him, even though he didn't think he'd meant anyone harm once in his life, certainly not the people who lived here.

  Nearby, horses clip-clopped past and carts and cars rumbled down the street. He straightened his jacket, wishing it was newer. His other jacket was in finer condition, but the long tails were too theatrical for such a job interview. He'd never felt as shabby as he did standing on the mansion's steps.

  A thick woman wearing an apron opened the door. She looked him up and down. He smiled at her hopefully. "This way," she said, turning and stumping down a long corridor, muttering something that didn't sound complimentary.

  Jude followed, trying to keep a friendly, guileless expression on his face. When he'd worked as a stage magician, it was particularly important that he not look sneaky, and it would likely be important for a job like this, too.

  Companion, the advertisement had said. Live-in companion wanted. It had said nothing more than that, but all the same he was here applying, as no doubt a long stream of people had and would.

  The servant let him into a large, imposing drawing-room and he looked around at the high windows and sweeping curtains, the rich rug, fireplace, and fresh-cut flowers on the wide, low table by the couch.

  Two people were in the room. One stood in front of the fire, gazing into it. He had nice shoulders and a well-cut suit. The other was a woman in her late forties or early fifties with an extremely expensive, well-cut dress and hair, makeup, and skin that made her look younger at first glance. She was slim and beautiful, but old enough to be the mother of the grown man.

  He turned from the fire, and Jude saw no resemblance in their features. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man looked grave as he weighed Jude with his gaze.

  "Come closer," he said after a moment. Jude stepped nearer. He handed over his résumé. The man glanced at it. "No experience as a companion, then."

  "No, sir."

  "Tell me, have you experience dealing with difficult people? The sort of man who might be friendly one day and yell at you or even throw something the next."

  Jude stayed very still for a moment. "More than I wish I had, sir." Where was this going? Surely he wouldn't talk about himself or the woman that way. The companion must be needed for a third person.

  The man snorted softly and glanced at the paper again. "Ma'am?" he asked without looking at the woman.

  She gazed at Jude, very closely indeed. Her eyes were interested, alight with interest in fact. "I think he would do very well for a trial," she said, clasping her slender hands together and looking pleased.

  "Well if that's the case, he'd best start at once. I've several more interviews scheduled for this afternoon, and need to know whether to put them off or have them round at once."

  So saying, he moved forward and took Jude's elbow, steering him toward the door. "Come along. He's in the back garden."

  "Um." He got his elbow free, his heart pounding. The man might have handsome shoulders, but he was far too brusque and seemed to see Jude as a thing not a person. And he had always been extremely uncomfortable being touched, especially by someone who used magic, as this man clearly did. It prickled along Jude's skin at the touch, making him feel a little ill. It wasn't a harmless magic, then. Inwardly, he shuddered a little. He tried to push the emotion away and concentrate.

  "In the back garden," the man repeated. "I'm just showing you there. By the way, my name is Alphonse Engelhard and that was Mrs. Engelhard. You're going to see her son, Ferrous."

  Ferrous. That's an element, isn't it? What an odd name!

  He didn't say such a rude remark, though. "Are you his brother?" he asked cautiously, keeping a wary eye on the man's hand in case he decided to grasp Jude's arm again.

  "I'm his cousin and lawyer. We'll be keeping watch to see how you handle him. By the way…" And here he stopped before a pair of great doors and looked at Jude weighingly. "The reason Mrs. Engelhard thinks you may do well is that you are my cousin's type. He likes men. I trust that won't be a problem."

  Jude felt himself flushing, his cheeks blazing up. "Um. Not… not unless you're hiring me to be more than his companion. I've no wish to prostitute myself." He found he'd taken a step back.

  Alphonse smiled for the first time. "No fear. Go on now and meet him. If he doesn't take to you, I'll show you the way out again."

  So saying, he pushed the door open and stood in its shelter, arms folded across his chest, watching Jude walk slowly into the garden.

  It was a large, well-appointed garden with flat stones arranged in a beautiful path. Trees and bushes and flowerbeds spread out in just the perfect way to provide a protected feeling to the garden as well as openness and variety. There was always somewhere interesting to look. The air smelled clean and pleasant. Jude found himself taking a deep breath and relaxing, despite the occasion.

  And then the prickle of magic brought him up short. Surely it was odd to have a large, silent garden in the middle of the city, even at such a large mansion? He breathed deeply again, smelling it now as clearly as a Sunday roast beef: magic. This garden was, at the least, heavily shielded by magic to keep the city street noise away.

  Somewhere nearby, a bird twittered gently. He came at last to a stone bench with a man seated on it. His back was turned to Jude, and he gave no indication of noticing him. Jude stood still for a moment, not sure how to introduce himself, or if he dared.

  "Surely you can move a bit closer than that," said the man ahead of him in an ironic, almost amused voice. It held a darkness to it, though, that unnerved Jude.

  "If you wish." He took a few steps nearer, but something again made him stop. There was magic here: not the light magic of the beautiful arrangement of the gardens, capturing the gentle natural energy of the area in such a way as to maximize the peaceful beauty of this space. Nor the noise-protection magic, or even the spell around the house that let only those not meaning harm enter. This magic was a wicked, prickling sort, and it came from the seated man.

  But…no…it was something that had been done to him. Jude hesitated, not quite daring to step closer, but knowing he needed to.

  "What have they told you?" asked the man.

  "That your name is Ferrous and you need a companion. That I'm your 'type.' But I don't really think I'm expected to last the afternoon. Your cousin has more interviews coming up. Oh and I'm not to be prostituted, because I wouldn't agree to that even if they wanted me to."

  He stopped, aghast at the words that had come out of his mouth. He brought a hand up to his face, trembling a little. His lips tingling. "Sir," he said reproachfully, "did you use a Truth on me?"

  Ferrous laughed, but not very kindly. "I did. I thought you'd better know right away. I'm a wizard."

  "Oh, we
ll so am I, but I use mostly stage magic. I'm afraid I—"

  "Hedged magician, are you?" he asked, sounding amused.

  Jude's mouth twitched in a grimace. He wanted to turn around and walk off. "Stop using Truth on me," he grated. "I hate it when people do magic without asking. You ought to know better, especially since someone's done it to—" He clapped both hands over his mouth so he'd stop talking, and uttered a sound of protest.

  Ferrous laughed. Jude released his breath as he felt the compelling awfulness of the spell depart from him. But he was trembling.

  "What did somebody do to me?" Ferrous asked in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice.

  Jude shook his head slowly. "If you're going to interrogate me and use Truth on me, then I suppose your cousin is right, and I'd better go. This isn't the job for me after all."

  "Don't you even want to see what's wrong with me first?" asked Ferrous in a silken voice, a voice that held malice but was still lovely to listen to.

  In spite of himself, Jude hesitated.

  "Go on, you know you're curious," said the wizard.

  "I—I don't want to be," Jude said softly. "It's none of my business. But I do think it's rather rotten that your family can't keep you company, if you need someone to look after you. They have the time to interview people, why not spend it with you?"

  Ferrous laughed. "Oh, you are an innocent, aren't you? Come here and sit on the bench by me."

  Jude hesitated. "No more magic?"

  "None."

  "All right." He moved cautiously forward around the stone bench. The man on it wore a white shirt that was partway open, baring his chest to the sun, and a pair of dark trousers that fitted tightly across his powerful thighs. Jude couldn't help noticing them with a flicker of interest.

  The man's face stayed turned away from him. His head looked strong, his shoulders broad, and his arms muscular, all pleasant to look at. His hair was dark and cut very short.

  "So you're very magical," said Jude as he sat down.

  "Oh, very." He sounded a little strained. His hands gripped the stone bench, and he didn't move.

  "So am I," said Jude. "But not very." He was no longer compelled to tell the truth, but he wanted to. He stretched his legs out, looking down at his scuffed dark shoes, then quickly shoved his feet back under the bench and tried not to jitter in place.

  "What do you do?"

  "I was a stage magician—sleight of hand, that sort of thing. Now I'm looking for other work."

  A snort escaped Ferrous. "No, I meant with magic."

  "Oh! Not much," he said, hearing the intimidated sound in his own voice. He was fidgeting again. "Very simple magic."

  "Why don't you show me?" Ferrous spoke softly. Without looking at him, he reached over, fumbling for his hand, and clasped it in his own. He had a large, cool, muscular hand that felt nice.

  Jude gulped at the contact, but he didn't pull away. His heart thumped, but not with fear the way it usually did if someone touched him unexpectedly.

  "You're not going to do any magic to me?" he asked again, rather suspiciously.

  Ferrous laughed. "No. I already said I wouldn't. Go on. Show me what you can do." He rubbed Jude's palm with one thumb.

  A gasp may have escaped him. "I—I told you, it's nothing much." And now he did pull away. His hand still tingled, though.

  "Well. I'm all ears."

  "You're not looking, though." He reached down and touched a flower bud near the bench. It was a closed tulip, tight and yellow and not quite ready to bloom. Slowly, the bud began to thicken and then to open and spread its pedals. "You're still not watching," he said softly, continuing to touch it lightly here and there, to push the blossoming forward.

  "It's all right. I've caught it. What else can you do?" asked Ferrous, sounding strained. "Healing magic, perhaps?"

  Jude shrugged self-consciously. "A bit. Why? Do you need healing magic? But surely you can afford the best—"

  His voice trailed off as for the first time the man looked at him. Or rather, turned to face him. His face was handsome and strong and rather hard-looking, smooth-shaven and symmetrical. His eyes were white as if frosted over. He didn't look as if he could see.

  "It's magic," said Ferrous. "It's wearing off, but slowly. Very slowly."

  "W-were you in a duel?" he asked, gazing with a mix of nervousness and awe at the man. "Are you a dueling wizard?"

  "Sometimes," said the man, reaching impulsively for his hands, both of them this time. "Why, does that make you fear me?"

  "A bit, yes."

  "Because—?"

  "Because you're terribly powerful if you're a dueling wizard, and I don't want to get turned into something dreadful." He pulled free, wiped his sweaty palms, hesitated only a moment, and then reached up to the man's face. He put hands lightly on either side of Ferrous's forehead.

  "What are you doing?" asked the man, barely moving his soft-looking, pale pink lips.

  "Seeing if I can help," admitted Jude. He hated to see anyone in pain, even a dueling wizard.

  They gazed at one another, or at least, Jude gazed at Ferrous, and the man's unseeing eyes were trained in his direction.

  "Thank you," said Ferrous, his breath touching Jude's face like a little puff of wind.

  "Shh. I've got to concentrate." He closed his eyes, and felt. He felt the soft surge of the plants around him, pushing gently but eagerly for him to take their magic, to touch this man. He drew it into him and up through his arms and pushed it carefully, spreading over his palms, leaking into the man's forehead where he touched.

  Ferrous jerked, giving a little gasp.

  "Hold still, I've barely—"

  "I can see," whispered Ferrous. "Just a little." His mouth trembled, and tears eased to the edges of his pale eyes. He blinked rapidly, and one tear escaped and slid down his cheek. "Go on. Keep going," he croaked.

  Jude stroked his temples gently. "Shh," he counseled. "If you're stressed it won't work as well. You won't be able to accept—"

  Ferrous made a jagged little sound, and suddenly pulled Jude closer, hugging him convulsively tight and kissing the side of his neck. "It's you. I can't believe it's you!" His breath caught in his throat with a sob, and he clutched Jude to him so tightly it almost hurt. The kiss he left burned on the side of Jude's neck, a passionate, hot kiss, despite how quick it was.

  He stayed very still. Was the man mad? His heart thumped, and he struggled to keep from hyperventilating. "Please let me go."

  "I—I'm sorry." He drew back, wiping at his eyes. "Please, go ahead."

  Jude shook his head, pulling away. "I can't now. I'll have to try again later, or tomorrow."

  Ferrous was looking around, passing a hand over his eyes and blinking rapidly. "I can see the light, and the shape of the plants. Let me look at you." He turned to Jude and drew back, squinting and blinking. "You're slim and dark haired, right?"

  "Yes."

  "And you'll stay? As my companion?" He started to reach for Jude again, and then held back instead.

  Jude hesitated. It felt like saying yes to more than a job. It felt like a lot more. But somehow he didn't want to walk away, either. "Okay. If you want."

  "Oh, I do want. Please speak to my cousin. He'll see about paying you and find you a room." Again he looked as if he was going to pull Jude close. But he only stared at him, long and hard and hungrily, as Jude got up and began to leave.

  Something made him hesitate. "What did you mean, 'You're the one?'" It didn't make sense to him. Yes, Jude had the ability to fix some things, slowly and not very skillfully, but there were many better healing magicians out there. Jude's father had always scorned his gift, even though he'd sometimes wanted Jude to fix a cut, bruise, or hangover for him.

  Ferrous hesitated and bit his lower lip. "I can't tell you just yet. But it's a good thing. It's…I'm very grateful to you." He ducked his head slightly.

  He looked like he meant it so much that Jude couldn't help smiling. "I'm glad I could help." The words
came out sounding shy.

  "So am I, believe me."

  "But I'm sure there are much better people out there for fixing your eyes."

  Ferrous seemed to hesitate, to weigh his words. "Maybe you're the one I need," he said, and he spoke with such warmth and lack of pretense that Jude found himself blushing.

  "Well—uh—okay. I'd better go now," he said, retreating quickly, glancing back to be sure he wasn't going to trip over something by walking backwards.

  "Yes," agreed Ferrous, but he was still watching him—or at least staring at him with great intensity. His eyes weren't so filmy white now, as if they really were getting better.

  Jude smiled nervously and fled. He found Alphonse waiting for him, giving him a rather fond smile, as though pleasantly surprised by Jude.

  "He said—" Jude hesitated, suddenly not certain if Alphonse would think he was lying.

  "He wants to hire you. I realize that. Come along." He led the way back down the hall.

  In a large, intimidating library, they hashed out the salary, which seemed very good to the out-of-work Jude; he nodded and agreed quickly, signing the employment slip.

  Then Alphonse told him when mealtimes were and promised to have a servant show him to his new room. It all happened so matter-of-factly Jude was reeling by the time he got up to leave the room.

  "I'd better go home and pack. I didn't bring my things."

  Alphonse got up from behind his desk and stared at him. "No. I'll go. You need to stay on the property now."

  "Oh. I, ah… you never said."

  "I'm sorry. I forgot." He spoke gently, not as though he was giving such an unusual order. "But it's part of the job. I'm afraid you mustn't leave the property. We'll provide what you need. I'm afraid it's important. Now, if you'll give me the address and list of your belongings, I'll go and pick them up for you."

  Jude found himself blushing. "It's not much. If I could just go—"

  Alphonse fixed him with a purse-lipped look. "Jude," he said softly. "If you're going to be working here, you need to know who's in charge. And it's not you. Ferrous, his mother, and myself are all over you. You are a companion. You don't get to dictate terms. We dictate to you. Now, nobody is going to treat you harshly. If you find the job intolerable, you are always allowed to quit, but until then, you will obey me."