by John Conroe
She shot off to make Deckert’s life crazy, leaving me with Nika, who was still watching me.
“Honestly, I’m okay with it,” I said.
She smiled. “I believe you, but it’s okay to have a few twinges of what if and what could have been.”
“Actually, the way things keep happening, I think there’s a whole lot less randomness to life than we all believe,” I said, thinking of a certain angel and his cryptic messages from on high.
Chapter 32 – Declan
I think I was more anxious about the reporter girl and her questions than I would have been tangling with Anvil.
“So witches are real?” was her opening gambit.
“Are all witches real? In the sense that they proclaim themselves witches and they are real people, then yes. But if you mean that some people can actually affect reality with their minds, then yes, there are spellcasters that are real,” I said.
Brystol pulled back, digesting my answer, then turned to Stacia. “What did you tell him about me? That I was like some kind of legal interrogator?”
Stacia was sitting to the side, legs crossed and the upside foot bouncing energetically over her knee while she studied her fingernails. She flicked her gaze from Brystol to me and back again, shrugging.
An outside observer might have labeled her the gorgeous but shallow girl who was bored because the conversation wasn’t about her. I mean, that’s the picture she presented, like some movie cliché. But I wasn’t fooled.
“By the way, thank you,” I said to her. Her attention lifted from her cuticles and zoomed in on me. Eyebrows rose up.
“Thank you for checking on me and thank you for what you did,” I said.
She frowned. “I overreacted.”
“Yes, and thank you for that,” I said. “People don’t overreact for me. I liked it. But if you’ve got anything you need to be doing, I think I’ll be fine. Right, Brystol?”
The reporter girl had been watching our byplay closely, and now she nodded. “Yeah, sure. The kid’s guarded like he’s his own attorney, but what the hell.”
“You getting rid of me?” Stacia asked in dangerous tone.
I leaned back and waved a hand at her posture. “You’re twitchy and distracted. I thought you might be dwelling on stuff you need to get done or something.”
She looked down at her bouncing foot and it stopped. Leaning back, she crossed her arms and focused on us. “Nope. You have my complete attention,” she said, expression closed.
Something sure as hell was bothering her, but it looked like she was just annoyed with me. Awesome. Declan O’Carroll—smooth talker.
“Oookay. Back to the interview. So witches are real and they cast spells. They whip up potions and ride broomsticks, too?” Brystol asked with a smile.
“Spell casting… yes. Potions… for some. Riding broomsticks… hey, what they do in the privacy of their own homes is their business, right?” I replied.
Brystol laughed. “Okay, that’s better. So let’s dig into this spell thing. How does it work?”
“How long is this interview? A week?” I asked. “That’s a huge topic. Let me trim it down a bit. Spells are methods of focusing the mind to direct the energy the witch is trying to work with. Much like a student will use mnemonics to memorize information before a test.”
“Huh? You’re saying the whole eye of newt and cobweb in the pot is just a study aid?” Brystol asked.
“Sorta. It’s about concentration. Losing focus while you’re playing a song on the piano can result in a discordant note. Losing focus while casting a spell can cause a discordant wave of energy that can wreak havoc at worst or just plain fail to achieve the desired goal at best,” I said. “So the components of the spell act as mental place markers for the caster. In the old days, that might have been animal parts or an organic, naturally strong substance like cobweb. Today’s witch might choose a photograph instead of amphibian chunks and paracord rather than spider silk.”
“And this energy? It comes from where?” Brystol asked.
“Well, my AP Physics teacher used to tell us that everything is made of energy. Atoms bound into patterns. The witch pulls energy from her surroundings, usually from one of the four elements, whichever one she has an affinity for.”
“The four elements? Let me guess, Earth, Water, Fire, and Wind?” she asked.
“Well, yeah, but we usually refer to the last one as Air,” I said.
“So you just yank energy from your pet element? How does that work?” she asked.
“Good question. I don’t have an answer. It just does.”
“Can you show me?” she asked, eyes glittering with curiosity.
I rummaged in my gear bag and pulled out a lighter. Nothing fancy, just your basic Bic disposable. Lighting it, I stuck my index finger into the flame and held it there.
Brystol looked startled, then fascinated and slightly alarmed as she leaned closer. Stacia’s attention was suddenly focused on my little act too, although she didn’t look worried.
At first, Brystol watched like she was trying to figure out the magic trick, but as the seconds ticked by and my finger remained in the flame, she started to frown. After almost a full minute, I snapped the lighter off. Then I held up the index finger for her to see. It was just a tiny bit red. My other hand came up and a little flame sprang up from that index finger, looking identical to the lighter’s output.
“So, I absorbed the heat from the lighter and took its energy inside myself. Then I projected it out the end of my other finger.”
“Fire doesn’t burn you?” she asked.
“It’s a question of scale. A lighter? No. A flamethrower, probably.”
“Probably? Okay, I get fire. It’s very obvious energy. But how about water? Or air? How does that work?”
“Well I don’t get along with water so I’m not the best source, but basically, if you have an affinity for an element, your expression of its energy reflects that. Water witches make very good healers, as our bodies are like over ninety percent water. Air witches usually are very good at divining the immediate future or visualizing distant events.”
“Remote viewing and clairvoyance?” she clarified.
“Pretty much. Air is a pretty common affinity. Earth witches are good at growing things and understanding the lay of the land,” I said.
“So the witch has an innate sense of that element?” she asked.
“Exactly. A water dowser is someone with latent water witch abilities, if only a trace. The person who everyone claims has a green thumb might actually have a few genes passed down to them from an earth witch.”
“Wait, you make it sound like these traits are common.”
“Maybe more common than you think. But they’re just traces. A true witch has a much greater concentration of those traits,” I said.
“Do you call males witches or warlocks?”
“Witches. We call them both witches.”
“So where does the term warlock come from?” she asked.
“It’s a special term for a male witch who has been… adapted for war,” I said. “Very rare.”
“Do you know any?” she asked.
“Yes. Next question,” I said.
Her eyebrows went up a bit a that and she looked at Stacia, who just smirked.
“Ah, okay. Not going to forget that but we can circle around. Okay, which are more common, female or male witches?”
“Females by far. Males are very rare. Usually much weaker, too.”
“But not warlocks?” she snuck in.
“A warlock isn’t magically stronger than a witch, just adapted for combat,” I said.
“Huh? What’s that mean?” she asked.
“Duh. Physically stronger and faster,” Stacia said, back to checking over her fingernails.
“Oh. So by combat, you mean they actually fight, not stand back and throw plus one magic missiles?”
“Yeah, exactly. Nice reference to Dungeons and Dragons, by the way,” I
said.
“You play?” she asked, surprised.
“Of course.”
“Because you’re a witch?” she asked.
“Because he’s a nerd,” Stacia threw in, flashing a brief smile at me to take the sting out.
“That’s actually true. I’m an official nerd,” I said.
“One who never needs a lighter to light candles, except you have one… why?” Brystol asked.
“Because lighting candles and stuff with a thought is a great way to get attention. Witches don’t want attention,” I said. “There’s something about ancestors being burnt at the stake that will make you avoid attention.”
“You go around lighting a lot of candles in public?” she asked.
“Look it’s just a lighter. I also have twine, two different knives, a first aid kit, like a dozen Sharpies, four colors of chalk, a multi-tool, a little flashlight, a bottle of water, and a candy bar,” I said. “It’s just stuff I carry.”
“Why? Because he’s a nerd,” Stacia said, grinning at her own joke. Her hand flipped out, open and palm up. “I’ll take that candy bar, Intern O’Carroll.”
I glared a bit at her, but it bounced right off. Reaching into the bag for the chocolate, I turned to Brystol. “See what it’s like? Senior staff bullying interns.”
Brystol watched as Stacia opened the extra large Snickers bar and took a big bite. “I frigging hate you and your stupid wolf metabolism,” she said to Stacia as another big bite of candy bar disappeared.
“Okay, so I’m not interested in corporate abuse stories or any of that. Take it up with HR. Let’s get back to this witchcraft thing. It runs in families?” Brystol asked.
“Yup. We call a group of witches a circle. Circles spellcraft together, share power and skills. Most of the bigger circles keep track of each other and will occasionally have meetings or, I don’t know, mixers maybe. Sometimes people are… exchanged.”
“Exchanged? You talking like hostages or do you mean like as potential partners?”
“Ah, well, actually it could be both. Usually not hostages, but some of these circles are paranoid. Odd negotiations can occur. Anyway, mostly it’s for the introduction of new bloodlines,” I said.
“Ooooh. Life wife swapping or something?” she asked, leaning forward for the juicy details.
“In a word? Yeah. Males aren’t usually swapped but sorta lent out, so to speak,” I said, uncomfortable with the direction we’d taken.
“Like stud service? No way?” she asked, grinning. “Is that what you have to look forward to? Is your circle going to stud you out?”
“I’m not part of a circle. My mom and aunt left the family circle and moved here,” I said, feeling a frown form itself on my face.
“But you’re a male witch. And you go to that school that Demidova Corp sponsors, right?” she asked. I just nodded. “So the girl witches there must be looking you over, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s a bit worse than that. Parent weekend at school is kinda of a scary thing for me,” I said.
“Oh come on? They can’t all be hags, can they?” she asked.
“No, most of the witches at school are okay. In fact, Ryanne and the twins are more than okay,” I admitted.
“Hah! Twins? That’s like every guy’s dream, isn’t it?” Brystol asked gleefully.
Before I could answer, a balled-up wrapper shot between us and landed smoothly inside the wastebasket in the corner of the room. We both turned to Stacia, whose expression was bland. “Men are pigs,” she said, standing up. “I actually do have some things to do. Brystol won’t bite, right? Good. See you later,” she said, striding away.
“What crawled up her ass?” Brystol asked after the door shut behind the werewolf girl.
“I don’t know. I suspect it has to do with a run-in we had with another employee. She kinda scared the crap outta him and maybe it’s bothering her,” I said.
“Her? That’s not usually the kind of thing she has second doubts about. Must be something else, although we’re still have over a week before full moon. Anyway, tell me more,” she requested.
I spent a full hour with Brystol, giving her solid material but not too much dangerous detail. And she promised to keep my name out of print. I had way too much attention from other circles as it was; I didn’t need more. But all the talk about circles and families made me miss mine, so I called my aunt after Brystol left.
“Oh, if it isn’t the long lost boyo. And to what do I owe the honor?” my aunt said.
“Aunt Ash, I just spoke to you the day before yesterday,” I said.
“And what’s wrong with making it daily thing?” she asked.
“Well, I was under the weather a bit. Had a touch of food poisoning, but it’s gone now,” I said, adding the last bit in a hurry.
“Are ye sure?” she asked, all banter gone from her tone.
“Yes, the corporate doctor checked me out. He could literally smell what the bacteria was. It’s run its course.”
“And jest how did ye catch the wee nasty in the first place?” she asked.
“Well, that’s the funny thing,” I said, trying desperately to think of a way it could be made to sound funny. “It was a bit of a prank by one of the other interns.”
“What?” Her tone combined shock with fierce maternal anger.
“It’s been handled. The guy that did it got fired,” I said.
“I should hope so! Prank indeed. What kind of a shop would they be running there?” she asked, still outraged.
“A very interesting one, Aunt Ash. Very interesting. Listen, not to change topics drastically and bluntly, but that Macha woman and the rest of the Irwin Circle approached me,” I said.
Inadvisable, young warlock, Sorrow offered.
Couldn’t disagree with that, but I did want her advice.
“What?” she asked, voice rising.
“It’s okay. They were mostly civil about it. She said they want to teach me, that they have secrets even you don’t know.”
“You know what they want, Declan. Do I need to say it out loud and make us both uncomfortable?” she said.
Okay, I did know. They wanted my genetic material, and they wanted it combined back into the Circle’s bloodline. Mack wanted to be my manager and charge stud fees. Something about how his family of horse breeders had always aspired to have a winning stallion that could be the family’s cash cow and the irony of finding it in his school roommate.
“No! I mean, no that won’t be necessary. Macha also thinks I have the Book of Darkest Sorrow. Or at least that I’ve seen it,” I said.
She sighed, instantly making me feel guilty for being the world’s worst nephew. “And jest how would she have been coming to that conclusion?” she asked.
“Well, they sorta trapped me on this overpass in the middle of a rainstorm and Sorrow offered up a really cool conversion spell and a shield spell. Did you know that you can change one affinity’s energy into another affinity?” I asked.
“Of course, dear. That’s what happens when a circle shares power,” she said.
“No, I mean internally. I turned a small amount of Earth energy into Fire.”
“And Macha knows you did?” she asked, her voice more alarmed than before, if that was even possible.
“No, at least, I don’t see how she would have. The shield spell blocked the rain, and that was enough to make her suspicious. She would have thought I was spending reserves when I dried my clothes.”
“T’would be an incredibly useful spell for a dual affinity Crafter. Even more so for a tri-affinity one,” she agreed. “I don’t think you should be doing this, Declan.”
“I think I have to, Aunt Ash,” I said. “They’ll just keep tracking me down.”
“Then if yer dead set upon this course, don’t go alone. Take some of yer high-powered employers wit ye,” she said, her brogue getting thicker as she got more upset.
“That is probably a good idea,” I admitted.
“And did ye send
for one of yer beasties? Because I have jest the one here,” she asked.
“I did, Aunt Ash, but not for this problem. Are you safe up there? I can send it back,” I offered.
“No, no, we’re fine. And ye left the one that listens to me. The other not so much,” she said.
“They were both supposed to listen to you. What did it do?”
“Nothing, nothing lad. I was perfectly fine with it, but it doesn’t share an affinity with me like the other. You do know what they’ve become, don’t you, lad?” she asked.
