Red Magic: an Adult Dystopian Paranormal Romance: Sector 6 (The Othala Witch Collection)

by JC Andrijeski

  Even if Donal kept his promise to me personally, if we ran into others of his kind and they found out who I was, the temptation might be too great.

  I knew that wasn’t all of it, though.

  I wanted to trust Donal’s word. I wanted to trust it very much, more than I should have wanted, so I gave him no reason to break it.

  I watched him now as he frowned, looking up at where the sun had started to tip past the mid-point in the sky. There was still much we needed to discuss; it hung in the silent air between us, as tangible as a scent.

  It was strange to me that I’d been up here with him for so long already. The time had moved so quickly, and yet I felt I must surely have known him longer than a single morning. That was in spite of his masks and caginess and whatever else he used to hide from me.

  Even as I thought it, he looked at me, his black eyes still as midnight pools.

  “There are red witches and wizards in the palace, Maia,” he said, blunt. “That is what I wasn’t sure if I should tell ye. That is what I meant by not leaving here alone. I wish to bring them out. I wish to rescue them, and take them with us.”

  It took a few seconds for his words to sink in.

  Then I blinked, staring at him in disbelief.

  “Red witches?” I said. “Living in the palace? You mean besides me?”

  His expression turned grim. Staring down, he used the stick he held to trace patterns in the layer of dirt and soot coating the roof’s surface by his boots.

  “It’s why I left,” he said. “It’s what prompted me to do it the way I did, at least. According to what I was told, they keep red witches on the palace grounds. To protect the palace in the event ravagers ever get inside the city walls.” He frowned, looking over at me. “When I asked my handler about it, he told me this was true.”

  Handler.

  The idea of Donal having a handler bewildered me.

  I fought to wrap my mind around the rest of his words. “What is it that red magic does, exactly? In what ways is it different from white magic?”

  His eyes narrowed, then he drew up his knees, resting his arms on the tops of them once more. Still holding the stick in one hand, he clenched the other, flexing his arm.

  “We kill ravagers,” he said. “Other things, too. But mostly ravagers.”

  I frowned. I believed him, especially given everything else he’d said, but he wasn’t telling me all of it. I knew it was hypocritical to be piqued about that, but I couldn’t help it. I also wondered why he would keep it from me. Perhaps, despite his comfort with death and meat, and his seeming pride in his magical bloodline, killing itself remained a taboo topic?

  At my silence, he looked over at me over warily.

  “Why do ye want to know?” he said. “Do ye want me to confess myself a murderer? Would that reassure ye in some way? Or get your rocks off?”

  I gave him a disbelieving look.“I am supposed to be like you, am I not? Did you think I would not ask?”

  There was a silence.

  Then he exhaled slowly.

  “I did think ye’d ask,” he admitted. “But it bothers me that you want to know these things about me, not just about red magics more general-like. Why? Especially when ye clearly are withholding so much about yourself? It can only be pure curiosity, since there cannot be intimacy without mutuality... which I confess, I do not like. It offends me, Maia, if truth be told. Curiosity strikes me as... shallow... coming from you. And sort of like you see me as an animal, which I also do not like.”

  He turned, his eyes holding a fainter thread of anger.

  “If ye want some means to assure yourself we’re not so alike after all, then look elsewhere, all right? Stop asking me to tell you what you are.”

  I leaned back on my palms, frowning.

  Thinking through his words, I couldn’t dispute the grain of truth there, though.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. “You are right in a part of my motives... I apologize. But that’s not about you, Donal. There is a fear of myself, and what I might become, especially if I followed my baser impulses.” At his quirked eyebrow, I inclined my head apologetically. “I’ve been told since I was a child that much of what I desire is wrong. That I am wrong. I cannot help but fear I might be a natural killer... and thus evil, like they’ve said to me since birth.”

  He met my gaze, his eyes coal black once more.

  “Maia,” he said seriously. “Fuck them.”

  I laughed; I couldn’t help it.

  No one at the palace ever used that word.

  Donal’s expression didn’t waver. “...I mean it. You cannot let anything those bastards tell you about who you are touch you... you cannot. If you learn nothing else from me, learn that. You have to know who you are, huntress, no matter how many people lie to ye, sayin’ yer somethin’ else. Hold onto that one thing, and you’ll survive. Otherwise, they’ll kill you from the inside out, and you’ll have let ‘em do it.”

  Biting my lip, I found myself nodding, hearing the truth in every word he said. Still, it startled me. Whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that. His perceptiveness around my emotional landscape alone was enough to unnerve me.

  I also couldn’t help but feel some shame for how I’d reacted to the words of my mother and the monks in the past.

  He was right. I’d granted them far too much weight. I’d let them tell me who I was.

  It was time to change all that.

  When I glanced at Donal next, he scowled, back to staring at the crumbling rooftop.

  “I suppose it’s good I won’t be meeting your family any time soon, huntress,” he muttered. “I might be tempted to give ‘em more than jus’ a piece of my mind.”

  I sighed, shoving thoughts of my mother out of my mind.

  “It’s all they know,” I said noncommittally.

  He frowned at me. “It’s not all they know,” he said, his anger back on the surface. “You weren’t conceived by birds, were ye? If they didn’t want ye as one of their kneeling white saints, why not free ye to have a life of your own? By the gods, your choices shouldn’t be restricted to either a Regent’s courtier or suicide. Plenty of people have good, decent lives outside the palace gates. It’s not as if––”

  Letting his dark eyes flicker over me, he bit his lip, as if stopping himself from finishing the thought.

  “What?” I said, scowling at him. “Am I ‘too pretty’ to be wasted? Why kill myself when I could surely use my looks to attract a male of station?”

  He blanched. “I didn’t mean that at all!”

  Seeing his expression, I found my anger receding.

  “Then what did you mean?” I blew a few strands of curly hair out of my face. Still frowning, but now slightly embarrassed at my outburst, I looked at the river. “Do I not look enough like one of your ‘red witches,’ is that it? Are you thinking I could still pass for white?”

  When I turned that time, he hid a smile.

  It looked almost involuntary.

  “Oh, aye, you do look like one of ours... and no, love, sorry, but you cannot pass. I’d bet my right arm as to what you are... even if I’m still uncertain as to who.”

  Raising an eyebrow at me, he went on when I didn’t speak, inclining his head.

  “Granted, your red magic is still a mite subtle, since you’re not using it overmuch yet. That gown doesn’t hide everything though, princess.” He flashed me a wicked grin as he gestured down my torso. “You have the figure of a red witch all right... and the eyes too, although they’ve put all that white powder on your face and burned your hair, it looks like.”

  When I flushed, grinding my teeth, his grin bloomed wider.

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a smirk. “The hair’ll grow back. And you’ve sweated a good chunk of their face-paint off already. It’s an improvement, I must say. Although I suspect your keepers at the palace wouldn’t agree with me, were they to see it.”

  He reached for my face and I jerked back, glaring at him harder.<
br />
  Shrugging, he lowered his hand. “I was just going to wipe the smudge off your right cheek, love. You look a bit lopsided now.” Squinting at me, he frowned harder. “You’ve got a fair bit in your eyebrows and on your chin too. Maybe what you really need is another bucket.”

  He said it cheerfully.

  I wondered what I’d said that pleased him so.

  Either way, he didn’t ask me again why I’d freed him.

  Instead, he watched wordlessly as I wiped at my face, handing me a rag when I couldn’t get it off with my fingers alone. The rag was rough, and might have been curtains once, but it worked well enough.

  When I glanced at him next, his eyes had turned grave.

  “We really need to talk about what comes next, huntress. If you’re serious about ditching the palace and your life there, we should leave the city, and soon.”

  He hesitated, watching my eyes carefully.

  “...But I meant it, about us being safer in a group,” he added cautiously. “I wonder... do you think it mightn’t be safe enough to return to the palace one last time? The two of us, I mean. In the night, perhaps? If we managed to find our people down below... and freed them quickly and quietly enough... we might have some help. That’d be safer for all of us, don’t you think? Not to mention doing a solid for our magical brethren?”

  He said it all casually, but the feeling coming off him felt anything but casual.

  As for me, his words hit me like a punch to the gut.

  The idea of red witches on the palace grounds had felt theoretical to me, at best. The idea of freeing those red witches from possible enslavement felt more theoretical to me still.

  But little in this man’s life was theoretical, I realized.

  He operated on cold facts and colder realities. He’d perhaps done so his whole life, of pure necessity. As a result, his mind leapt from theory to action a lot more quickly than mine.

  He frowned, his dark eyes watching mine cautiously.

  “Did you still think to go home after this?” he said, not unkindly. “That door is closed to you, Maia. Even if you made up some story that might be believed... you can’t run from who you are forever. And would you even want to, now that you know?”

  I thought over his words.

  Slowly, I shook my head.

  “No,” I said, surprised at the firmness of my voice. “No, I would not. And you are right. It is too late for me now, even if I did want to go back. They would definitely get the truth out of me, and then I would be a criminal, as you said.”

  I met his gaze directly.

  “They don’t trust me,” I explained. “Perhaps for the reasons you say... although no one has ever told me I was different in so many words. All my life, my word has been doubted. They would use magic to discern the truth, and then both of our lives would be in danger. I must assume this secret is important to them. Important enough to kill for, if they’ve lied to all of us for so many years.”

  Realizing that wasn’t just hyperbole, that they might really kill me for such a thing, (and use that as an excuse to replace me in the succession order, my mind added cynically), I felt the blood drain from my face.

  Suddenly, I had to fight to keep down everything I’d just ate.

  Everything grew dark in front of me. It was as if Donal had reached out with his thick fingers and snuffed out the sun hanging in the sky.

  I lost time for a few seconds.

  When I returned, I was bending over my thighs, breathing hard, and Donal was rubbing the top of my back.

  “Breathe,” he murmured. “Breathe, Maia... you’re okay...”

  I concentrated only on doing as he said, thinking of nothing else for a long-feeling number of seconds. I felt my chest expand as I filled it with air, then my belly grow soft when I let that air out. I watched the motion with a detached fascination for what seemed a long time.

  Slowly, the world righted itself.

  “Are you all right, love?” Donal continued to massage my shoulders and neck, his voice soothing, like he might speak to a spooked animal. His hands were gentle but strong, and I found myself falling into his fingers as they worked the muscles of my back.

  When I nodded, his hands grew warmer, heavier on my skin.

  “Take it easy,” he advised, when I started to straighten. “You’ve had a shock... I was waiting for that, truthfully. I suspected you didn’t fully understand what you’d done.”

  I shook my head, biting my lip.

  “It’s not that.” Pausing, I amended, “It’s not only that.”

  “What else is it?”

  “They don’t want me.” I winced at the grief in my voice. “I’ve always known they didn’t want me. But I never really contemplated... I never let myself believe...”

  I fought with what I was trying to say, not quite getting out the words. From the heat in Donal’s hand as he massaged the back of my neck, I suspected he’d understood.

  I couldn’t believe my own family would murder me, my mind finished silently.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Taking a breath, I shook my head. “I’ve always known how they saw me. I shouldn’t be so surprised.” Again, I forced my voice steady. “I have no way of knowing what they would do. But it feels true, do you understand?”

  I looked up at him, embarrassed at my own rambling words, by what likely sounded to him like paranoia or melodrama.

  When he met my gaze, however, his dark eyes held a different reaction. Rather than condescension, or even pity, I saw anger in his eyes. Whatever the source of that anger, it didn’t feel aimed at me. Rather, it felt aimed at something in himself.

  “I understand more than you might think,” he said, blunt.

  I wanted to ask. Before I could, he continued in the same voice.

  “They’re the only family you’ve ever known. Any family, even a shite one, is better than none at all, huntress.”

  “Is it?” I said, still watching those dark eyes.

  There was another silence.

  At the end of it, he exhaled slowly.

  “No.” His voice grew more subdued. “But I understand this fear of moving forward in life without that.” He met my gaze. His anger had diminished somewhat, growing into a kind of determination, even solidarity. “It may be a deluded comfort, to think your people care for ye, when ye know, deep down, they don’t... but it’s a comfort, nonetheless. We tell ourselves such stories because we need them, Maia.”

  Staring at the roof’s mottled surface, he shook his head, his mouth set.

  “There’s no shame in that, huntress. None.”

  He met my gaze again, his eyes hard as glass.

  “But there are also times to face the truth. Those are the times you must wake from that dream, when it is necessary to do so, to make a change that fate nudges you to make. Those are the changes that must be made... for if you do not make them, you will violate your true self in ways unforgivable to the gods and your soul.”

  I didn’t ask him what he meant.

  I knew what he meant.

  So instead, I only nodded to his words, watching the small birds as they gathered again on the edge of the roof, chirping and pecking at the gravel.

  I was still thinking when he spoke again, his voice cautious.

  “Will ye help me, Maia?” His voice grew a harder thread of determination. “I have to do this thing, before we leave the city. I cannot walk away from it. I cannot. If ye do not wish to come, I understand. Just tell me a way over those palace walls and I’ll go alone. Ye can wait for me here. I’ll go in and come out, and return for ye. Hopefully with others. Then we’ll all leave the city together.”

  He paused, his voice deeper, even as his accent thickened.

  “...Ye mayn’t have people where ye came from, Maia, but ye will’ve people from now on. One, at least. I promise you.”

  His words touched me enough that I couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

  “You don’t even know me,” I reminded him softly.


  In my peripheral vision, he nodded.

  “No, but I’m starting to.” He grunted, his voice holding a wry amusement. “Anyway, that’s hardly the point with family, is it? Knowing them? I don’t know the red warlocks or witches locked beneath that stinking palace, either.” He kicked at the top of the roof with his boot’s heel, grunting again. “I’m willing to give my life to free them, though, if it comes to that. I’d do the same for you, Maia. Just as you’ve done for me.”

  That time, I couldn’t help but look at him.

  Seeing those serious black eyes, the set of his long jaw, the pursed mouth, I found myself nodding, almost before I knew I meant to.

  “I will help you,” I said, my voice decisive. “But I won’t stay here. I’m coming with you.” Seeing him about to protest, I shook my head. “You’ll need me, Donal. And if the red witches are there, imprisoned as you say, you’ll need my help to get them out. We go together, or not at all. We’ll leave together, or not at all. Both of us.”

  For a moment, he only looked at me, his eyes worried.

  Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he smiled.

  That time, the smile bloomed over his whole face. I saw sharp, twin flashes of crimson in his pupils, right before his smile widened more, altering his features so much I barely recognized him.

  Seeing the look there, I could not help but grin back.

  Chapter 7

  THE PALACE WALLS

  “HUSH,” I TOLD him. My voice was lower than a murmur.

  I didn’t look back, not even when I heard him moving in the shadows. Donal would have a short window to do what needed to be done. Barely a handful of seconds to get over the wall on his own while I distracted the guards.

  I honestly had my doubts he could do it.

  Then again, I didn’t really know what he could and couldn’t do. All I knew was, he couldn’t use magic. The palace was protected by its own magics; the witches overseeing the magical shields would detect a foreign flavor within seconds. The palace walls were also heavily guarded by humans––men and women I knew personally to be neither stupid nor unskilled.

  We knew getting him inside the palace gates would be difficult.