Magic Rising

by Camilla Chafer

  “I see you made the connection,” he said, spinning me around as we navigated a corner. “My son and I do not always see eye-to-eye,” he continued, “but I maintain an interest in his life and whom he invites into it.”

  “Then you will know I’ve been in his life for a while,” I replied, not telling him anything he didn’t already know.

  “Indeed. He seems quite taken with you.”

  I wasn’t sure if he meant that as a compliment. He didn’t say Evan loved me, or that he adored me. Instead, he made it sound like it was a nominal notion of interest, a hobby, I guess, much like hothouse flowers, fishing, or a new pet.

  Hunter raised my hand upwards and tipped it, gazing at something — my ring. The one Evan gave me before my birthday. The one Micah mentioned a couple of times. “He seems very taken,” Hunter mused, his eyebrows raised. “I did not know, however, that he had marked you.”

  This was news. I looked up sharply. “Marked?”

  “You didn’t know what this ring meant?” Hunter asked, clearly surprised. The emotion was gone as soon as it appeared. If I hadn’t been looking at him intently, I wouldn’t have seen it. Demons do not like to be surprised; not exactly a new revelation.

  “It’s very special to me,” I replied ambiguously, letting Hunter take from that what he wanted. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want him to know that I had no knowledge that there was something special about this ring. I only knew that it was a beloved gift with a strong emotional connection for me.

  “This ring,” Hunter continued, undaunted, “is a token from my kind to their betrothed. Similar to the engagement rings you humans use. It marks the wearer with the bond of the giver, distinguishing them as… unavailable. You may have noticed the demons present tonight have looked upon you with unbridled curiosity because you wear this mark.”

  I had noticed their shameless stares, but I credited it to my dress being so damn nice. Vanity! I wondered if anyone else could see what they were seeing, or if it was only a demon thing. I didn’t want to disadvantage myself by asking. Now I thought about it perhaps that was the point of Micah’s comments. Perhaps he wasn’t being merely nice. Perhaps he was doing damage control so I wouldn’t question the interested looks from the demon contingent. I wondered if they thought I was engaged to Micah or if they ring marked me as Evan’s.

  “The stones in the ring are not all stones, as such,” Hunter carried on. “Some are bloodstones, ritualistic.”

  I shivered at that. Bloodstones sounded like a pretty big clue as to their properties.

  Hunter’s thumb stroked the top of the ring. “Blood of the giver, the betrothed. Blood of the family line. Just a drop of each. Interspersed are other precious stones, but they are of little value compared to the bloodstone. It is an old custom. My son bestows a great honour upon you by offering you this ring.”

  “I’m honoured.” A little confused too, but mostly, my heart swelled with the enormity of his gift. The secret promise he proposed to me… without my knowing all that it meant. It also answered my unspoken question of whether the ring tied to a particular demon. Yes, this was a very public announcement on Evan’s part, which made his sudden absence all the more peculiar.

  “I must assume he didn’t tell you about the other properties of this ring.” Hunter didn’t wait for me to confirm or deny, or to insert a more face-saving subterfuge as he pressed on. “The bloodstone makes it easy for him to always find you, should he need to. It is also more powerful than most witches’ magic. The bloodstone can also be activated in such a way as to bring you to him, if he should wish. It’s only used in times of grave danger, however; but of course, you know that,” he finished, with a shrewd look.

  “Of course,” I echoed. Evan never struck me as a man who was afraid to show what he felt, or who had any need for ambiguity in his actions. That left one other possibility. The meaning of the ring was irrelevant in light of its other powers. Something inside me felt a little squashed at the thought.

  “We like to keep what we own,” Hunter added. He abruptly switched topics. “I have not seen my son in some time. I trust he is well?”

  “Yes.” After a moment, I added, “But he isn’t here.”

  Hunter shrugged with an easy lift of his powerful shoulders. A little harder, and he would probably have lifted me off my feet. “Only the top ranks are represented today. It is a shame not to find Evan amongst them still. His disinterest is a disservice. We have an interest in the Summit’s proceedings, as I’m sure you know. Your friend, Etoile, is an interesting witch.” When I remained silent, Hunter asked, “What do you think of her?”

  “I think she’s an unparalleled candidate.”

  Hunter looked down at me. “We share the same opinion. And Georgia Thomas?”

  How could I couch this in a way that was neither political nor overtly abrasive? As I pondered my answer to his question, Hunter smoothly led us past the crowd, twirling me so my skirt flared slightly before smoothly wrapping around my legs. He knew how to use my dress to its greatest advantage.

  “You have quite the poker face. However, I suspect we are on the same page when it comes to Ms. Thomas.”

  “Oh?”

  “I am no fan of hers,” Hunter clarified. “And neither are you.”

  The music ended and we glided to a stop. Hunter stepped back, and bowed his head and shoulders slightly before returning to his full, imposing, height. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m sure it won’t be the last time we meet. He chose not to fulfill his obligations here. A shame. An alliance between a witch and a demon may not last, but his duty to his race endures forever.” For a moment, his countenance wasn’t at all friendly; then the mask slipped back into place.

  Hunter stepped away, and immediately, I felt the presence of someone else behind be. Demon. Again. I fought back goose bumps upon hearing Hunter’s final words as I turned a half circle. “Micah.” I greeted him with a forced smile as he offered me a champagne flute.

  “You met Hunter,” he said, looking after the older male, his face impervious.

  “Yep.” I raised the glass to my lips, forcing myself to swallow. An alliance between a witch and a demon may not last? Was that a warning or a threat after he’d informed me of the ring’s properties? And what about Evan not fulfilling his duties?

  “What did you discuss?”

  “Your nosiness,” I snipped.

  Micah smiled. “Funny. What else?”

  “Why?”

  “Evan will ask.”

  “And he can’t ask me?” I waited as Micah studied the people passing by. “He told me about the ring, Micah.” I tapped my ring finger against the glass so that it was obvious what I was referring to. “Special properties, hmm?”

  Something imperceptible flashed across his face. “It’s an honour.”

  “That no one told me about,” I whispered furiously. “It’s a location device too?”

  “That, among other things.”

  “This is how Evan knew exactly where I was when I went to Hawkscroft.” It wasn’t a question. With the dawn of realisation, I suddenly knew. He knew then exactly where I was. He should have had no problem locating me now. Perhaps that was why he didn’t seem so mad when I left his house and flew to England, despite his insistence that I stay put. “He always knows exactly where I am.”

  “For your safety.”

  “Why didn’t he ever tell me?” I rubbed the ring with my thumb, realising I wasn’t cross, but instead, glad Evan knew where I was. I just wished I knew where he was. Apparently such knowledge was not reciprocal. I intended to discuss the other meanings and powers of the ring with him later. Right now, it was enough of an honour to be given such a ring and the thought was one which I cherished; even though I couldn’t fathom if any of its characteristics were more important than the rest.

  “Maybe he thought you would have a petulant tantrum?”

  That made me cross, the pent-up anger at being incommunicado with Evan surfacin
g. “Shove off, Micah.” I spun on my heel and stalked away, immediately cursing myself for not asking about Hunter’s parting shot regarding Evan’s duties. Duties, which I supposed, didn’t include me. I didn’t stop my stride until I crashed into a body that crossed my path. “I’m so sorry,” I said, looking at the splash of champagne on the tuxedo jacket as a hand brushed the droplets away. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  Surprisingly, the figure laughed. I knew the laugh and my tense shoulders dropped into a relaxed posture. Looking up, I gave him a relieved smile. “Hi, Gage.”

  “Where are you running off to in such a hurry?” asked Gage. He took my nearly empty glass and parked it on a passing waiter’s tray.

  “Nowhere.”

  “Let’s dance,” said Gage. “I saw you dancing before. The dress is very becoming.”

  I gave him a warmer smile. “Thank you and I’d love to dance.” I took his proffered hand and placed my other hand on his shoulder. I could feel his hand resting on my waist, its warmth radiating through the thin, golden silk. With a few steps, we joined the other dancers. Gage wasn’t quite as graceful on the dance floor as Hunter, but he was a pretty good ball dancer, though probably closer to my own level. Fortunately, the music was a slower tempo, making it easier to drift.

  “The blonde guy. Was that Marc Bartholomew?”

  “Yes.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yes. We’re fine. When did you get here?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Yesterday. I’m staying until a couple of days after the election, then heading home,” he told me, answering my second question before I could ask it.

  “Me too,” I told him. “How’re you finding it so far?” Everyone else I knew was taking it in stride, but this was my first big event as a witch. So far, it had greatly exceeded my expectations and in not an altogether good way. Everything that was taken as ordinary by everyone else seemed alien to me.

  “Pretty much as I expected,” Gage replied. “It’s interesting to see everyone mixing without…”

  “Killing each other?” I finished, perhaps a touch glibly.

  Gage smiled. “Yes.” He laughed, then shook his head. “No. I meant without arguing. There’s a lot more witches than I expected.”

  “This is just a select few,” I told him as we glided past Georgia Thomas. One corner of her mouth quirked upwards at the sight of us. It wasn’t exactly reassuring. “Not all the best ones either,” I told him softly.

  “I heard about the trial. I wish there was something I could have done.”

  “I wish it hadn’t happened, but at least, I’m free now.”

  “Curious time to bring a trial,” he murmured thoughtfully as he gave my hand a light squeeze.

  “I’d tell you more, but you know that saying ‘the walls have ears’?” Gage nodded. “Definitely applies here.”

  “Let’s step outside,” he said, coming to the edge of the dance floor. Still holding my hand, he parted our way through the crowd. They briefly separated, then quickly filled up our wake, although a couple of curious glances followed us and I heard my name mentioned. The terrace doors were shut, but not unlocked, and we stepped through them to stand on the balcony. The view was beautiful as lights flickered throughout the city towards the green expanse that incongruously and brilliantly interrupted the concrete landscape. “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

  I shut the door, hearing it close with a soft click. “I’m not sure what there is to talk about,” I told him as I stepped towards the balcony. I rested my hands on it and leaned forwards slightly. It was an awfully long way down.

  “Don’t jump.” Gage’s breath tickled my ear.

  I laughed. “It’s not that bad. Etoile thinks the trial was a set-up to discredit her. Then when we were leaving the building, someone shot her.”

  “Jesus,” Gage breathed. He turned his back to the ledge and leaned against it. “She seemed okay.”

  “I got the bullet out and healed her. I think she’s a little shaken.”

  “Anybody would be, even a straight-talking woman like Etoile.”

  “Yeah. It all seems too coincidental to be a separate attack.”

  “You think one of Etoile‘s opponents wants her out of the way? Georgia?” he asked, having had the misfortune of meeting her prior to the Summit.

  “Most likely.” There was another possibility of course. “Unless it was another race who doesn’t want Etoile to run, or win.”

  Gage considered that. “It’s not unheard of for races to bargain with each other, but I swear to you, Stella, it wasn’t the wolves. We’ve been talking together, and we like Etoile as Council Leader. She has a lot of innovative ideas and she could do good things.”

  “I think so to.”

  “You never thought of running?”

  “Away? Or for Council?”

  “The second one.”

  I shook my head. “No.” Turning, I leaned against the ledge. With Gage at my left, his sleeve brushing my bare arm, I was buffeted from the cool breeze, but it was still enough that it raised gooseflesh on my arms. At least it was sobering. How much had I drunk tonight? Two? Three glasses? “I’m still on the fence about how much I plan to interact with the whole witch society. I mean… what good have they done me so far?”

  “Maybe they could do more good if they had witches like you representing them?” Gage suggested casually.

  “Maybe some way down the line.” Way, way down the line. “I don’t think that politics are for me. For now, I want to go to college and just live normally. Free, unafraid, with friends, and a home.” Loved too, but I didn’t say that because it was something Gage and I did not discuss. He was my friend, and we’d kissed more than once, even coming close to doing other things too. But there was always a barrier there that I would not, and could not, cross. Discussing love was behind that barrier, partly because Gage felt more for me than I did for him, or at least in a different way. And also because I could not discuss Evan with him, since it was like rubbing salt into an open wound. The limits of our friendship were clear: I wasn’t cruel and Gage didn’t cross the boundary. Of course with his relationship with Michelle, I could be wrong. Perhaps we were past all that.

  “You’re cold.” Gage shrugged off his jacket and placed it around my shoulders. I thought about slipping my arms into the sleeves, but decided against it. Instead, I held the placket to keep it in place.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Your dress was distracting anyway.” Gage huffed a small laugh and turned away. I rolled my eyes. “Who was the big demon you were dancing with? He seemed important from the way the other demons reacted to him.”

  I didn’t notice that but it sounded right. “His name is Hunter and he’s Evan’s father,” I told him. “He seemed… pleasant.” And now I thought about it, he’d been subtle, but very insistent on making my acquaintance. He arranged it so that I could not walk away, but neither was I frightened. It seemed a very measured and premeditated way to meet me. I wondered if it was due to his estrangement with Evan, which I knew was quite long, or for some other reason. He’d been keenly interested in the ring. Perhaps it riled him somehow. Was he warning me to stay away from Evan? If he approached me again, I would probably have my answer. All the same, it would be better if I spoke to Evan first… if I could get in touch with him. I thumbed the ring that weighted my finger, unsure if I were feeling more comforted or perturbed by its qualities.

  “Now you say it, I suppose I see a family resemblance.”

  I decided to change the subject. “Where are you staying?” I asked him.

  “We have suites booked in the hotel.” He pointed to the floor, towards where I now knew several of the lower floors of this private section of The Amethyst Building had been turned into a hotel for large events such as this, where as the upper floors where a mixture of meeting rooms, the judiciary’s courtroom, the library, offices, a restaurant, and other official areas. With the human businesses be
low, the building blended inconspicuously with the many other buildings surrounding it.

  “I’m staying with Etoile. Her apartment isn’t far.”

  “Is that wise?”

  I spotted Micah walking past the windows as he cast a quick glance towards me. He stopped moving and leaned against a pillar. I was sure he was watching me from the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t make any move to interrupt our conversation. “I have Micah hovering over me,” I told him. “Apparently, he’s my bodyguard now.”

  Gage gave me a quick look of surprise. “Evan didn’t come?”

  “He’s unreachable.” I didn’t bother to hide my grumpiness.

  Gage inhaled slowly. “I guess it’s practical to have someone watch over you. Though I would have been more than happy to help a friend, had either of you mentioned it.”

  “Do I know any of the other wolves with you?” I asked, switching subjects quickly again. He’d taken pains to ensure his offer was a friendly one, and I appreciated that. I lightly punched his arm. “And that’s for not informing me about your high-ranking status with your kind.”

  He pretended to rub his arm. “It’s recent. Besides, we haven’t seen a lot of each other since our little vacation in England.”

  “Vacation?”

  “Sightseeing, blasting some enemies.” He shrugged, giving me a wolfish smile.

  “Remind me never to go on vacation with you.”

  “I’m more of a camping and hiking guy anyway.” He turned and rested his elbows on the ledge. His shirt looked expensive and pristine, his bowtie just right. Crescent moons glinted at his cuffs. I kept the smile to myself. Wolves and their moon fixation.

  “The tux suits you. Very handsome.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So what is your official title now?”

  “East Coast Packmaster. I get to do all the fun stuff like liaise and schmooze with the other regions, as well as keep my own region in order. You might be seeing some new wolves in the area.”

  “Michelle must be proud.”

  “She was.”