by Scott Tracey
It was several minutes of breathing before I realized just what was happening. It was like I zoned out for a time, and when I came back to myself, the pain was gone. Completely.
I started to lift my head, only to realize that Jason was still holding my head. He let go and rose to his feet, and I looked down at my hands. There wasn’t any trace of the scrapes or scratches I’d suffered on the street.
Jason healed me? How is that even possible? Uncle John had never even mentioned magic that could heal or take away pain.
“I wouldn’t get used to it,” Jason announced, clearing his throat. He seemed shaken.
“How … did you do that?”
He walked back across the room and stared down at the city. “The powers at your disposal, they have more costs than you know. You can heal the symptoms once or twice, but then immunity sets in.” He looked over his shoulder—not quite at me, but at least in my direction. “Why do you think he only treated you with pills?”
I didn’t like the caustic tone he had. “At least someone was there when I needed him,” I said, matching it tone for tone.
Another one of those faux smiles. “Why are you here, Braden?”
“I thought you wanted me here,” I said, confused at his ambivalence. “Lucien said—”
“Lucien says a great many things. I’m asking why you are here.”
Why had I come? “Because someone was going to come for me. Catherine Lansing, Lucien says. And she was going to kill Uncle John to get to me.”
I didn’t miss the flare in his expression when I mentioned his brother’s name. No love lost there. “Ahh.” I couldn’t quite decipher the emotion that flashed across Jason’s face before he turned back to the window. “And she already tried to kill you once today, I heard. That was sloppy.”
“Sloppy?” My body started to warm as the anger took hold. “She tried to have me killed and all you can say is that it’s ‘sloppy’?”
“No,” he said, his tone cold. “I meant your reaction was sloppy. I’d almost be embarrassed, if I didn’t remember who’d been left to train you.”
He held up his left hand and passed it over the windows. The view of downtown clouded over, and sidewalks and traffic appeared. An illusion. One that I couldn’t have come close to matching. I could veil myself from most senses; that wasn’t too difficult. But to actually bend light to create something that wasn’t there, like a hologram—that was infinitely more difficult than what I did.
It was the sidewalk a few blocks away, where I’d been pushed into the path of the bus. And as I watched Jason’s re-creation of the event on glass windows that were now some sort of mystical television, I saw how everything must have looked to outsiders. The little girl, the push, the way I’d stumbled in front of the bus, and then the way I’d gone flying back without the bus even touching me.
He held up his hand, and the image froze. “Don’t you think the spell would have been much more effective if you’d channeled all that energy away from you? Instead of letting it throw you around?”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. “You’re critiquing my near-death experience?” Asshole, thy name is Father.
“Don’t be so sensitive.” He dropped his hand and the illusion faded. “If I’d known you were so poorly trained, I’d have—”
“What? What would you have done?” I snapped. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know everything about you,” he replied, his tone going colder, if that was even possible. Another wave of the hand, and our log cabin in Montana appeared in the window. The view circled the building, stopping once there was a glimpse of movement at the rear of the house. Uncle John was on the back porch, rocking in that chair he loved.
“You’ve been spying on us?” This was all too insane to process. The infamous Jason Thorpe was my father. He knew exactly where I’d been all along. And he was also some sort of stalker freak slash magical badass.
“I don’t know what he was thinking,” Jason said. “If you can’t even control your powers, how in the world are you going to eliminate her?”
“Eliminate her? I just want her to leave us alone.”
“Don’t be naïve,” he snapped. “You can’t possibly think it’s that easy.”
“This is crazy,” I announced. “I don’t know what you think I’m here for … but he’s wrong. I’m not going to be some pawn in your vendetta or whatever.”
“Braden!” he snapped.
“Jason!” I retorted. “God, someone tried to kill me and the only thing you can say is ‘well, sorry kid, but your magic sucks.’ You’re like some kind of psycho Little League parent.”
“I don’t know who you think you are,” he said tightly, “but that tone is unacceptable.”
“Well, accept it,” I said. “Or don’t. But I’m so over this.”
He could have stopped me as I stormed out of the office. Lucien was with the secretary behind her desk, in the midst of some private conversation as I hurried past. “Lucien!” Jason’s voice was a thunderclap from the office. I saw him pick himself up and slide back to his office. The door closed behind him just a few moments before the elevator doors opened and I could finally escape.
I kept my eyes closed on the way down, only now remembering the images I’d seen in the reflections just a little while ago. Now what was I supposed to do?
¤ ¤ ¤
There was something about the city now, the way people scurried from shop to shop, to their minivans, and the way they carried their grocery bags. Everyone had a motive. Everyone had picked their side, but I couldn’t tell one from the other.
The town’s ruled by this feud. Everything Drew had said on the bus was right. Only now one of those warlocks was my father. Was this why Lucien wanted me to come back here?
Uncle John was safe, but I still wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be doing. I’d come here to keep him safe, but this Catherine Lansing was still after me.
Everything was getting more complicated.
Twelve
I could have headed straight for the hotel, but I needed to pull myself together first. A sharp wind was coming in from the west and cutting right through me. I was shivering within a block.
Washington Street opened into a residential area the farther north I went. Old Victorian offices gave way to a neighborhood of southern belles—ancient-looking houses hidden behind their veil of iron-wrought gates.
Jason Thorpe is my father. It was hard to wrap my head around that one. I thought I understood, now, why Uncle John had never talked about his hometown. Who would want to remember growing up in the midst of some sort of battle. Was that why I’d grown up away from all of this? To hide me from Catherine Lansing?
Soon the old homes gave way to newer developments. I kept going. New houses like cookie-cutter outlines of the ones near them, all looking disposable and yet fresh.
“Braden?” Trey’s voice shouted through my thoughts. It had started to drizzle, I realized, glancing down at the sidewalk in front of me. I turned toward the sound and saw Trey behind the wheel of a black Ford F-150. “What are you doing?”
It was almost like the rain was attacking me, the damp spots of my T-shirt darkening from red to massacre. “Walking.”
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride,” Trey said, leaning his head out the window. A moment later, I saw him grabbing things off the passenger seat, tossing them in the back.
You barely know him, I reminded myself. I didn’t think I even liked him. Well, other than the fact that I liked looking at him. “I’m fine. Don’t need a ride. I’m going right up here.”
He turned to look straight ahead and squinted. “Only thing up there is Sather Park. C’mon. It’s going to start pouring any minute.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
The truck continu
ed crawling along at my pace. “Even runaways need to take some help now and then,” Trey said.
“I don’t need a ride, Trey. Go on.” I waved him on. Everything’s fine here. No big deal. Even offered him a smile.
The truck didn’t speed up, though. It parked. Right there, in the middle of the street. Trey slid out of the driver’s seat and strode across. “Get in the truck,” he demanded.
“And if I don’t?” Everything else was too much to deal with. This was something more logical. Picking a fight with him would be so easy.
“What’s with you?” he exhaled. “It’s raining. You’re going to catch the flu.”
“I told you I didn’t need a ride,” I replied and nodded toward the truck. “Someone’s going to hit you if you don’t get back in. You can’t just park in the middle of the road.”
“It’s not like I’m taking you to a remote spot out of town to carve out your liver.”
I clenched my teeth and tried to focus. Deep, even breaths. Trey wasn’t responsible for what was going on. It wasn’t his fault.
The rain started picking up. I could fight this all day, but Trey looked like the stubborn type. “If I get in the car, will you leave me alone?” I said finally.
“Of course.” He climbed back behind the wheel, seasoning the slam of his door with a muttered, “Idiot.”
It was like the sky was waiting for me to agree to really unleash. All of a sudden it went from a growing rain to a downpour. I leapt into the passenger side, slamming the door harder than I had any reason to.
“Where are you going?” Trey’s voice was terse. I glanced across the front seat and saw his knuckles tightening across the steering wheel.
“Anywhere.” Anywhere would be better than here. Trey threw the car into gear, and the silence inside was only highlighted by the back-and-forth of the windshield wipers and the steady patter of rain.
The silence didn’t last long. “You always give someone a hard time for trying to help you out?” Trey’s eyes never left the road, but he added, “Seatbelt.”
“Free rides don’t come cheap,” I muttered.
“You get that from a bumper sticker? Or a fortune cookie?” There was a fraction of a smile on Trey’s features now, just a hint of amusement.
I watched the streetlights as they started to churn to life. “It’s true. Ever since I came here, everyone has got big plans for me. Like I’m some sort of game, and they see something they want.”
“So change the game,” Trey said simply. “Make your own rules. You already ran away once. Couldn’t be that hard to do it again, could it?”
“I can’t do that,” I replied automatically. Then the thought started to turn over in my head. Why couldn’t I?
“Learn to live with it, then.” Trey drove just slightly over the speed limit, despite the rain coming down in torrents.
“Where are we going?” I didn’t recognize any of the streets we were passing.
“Nowhere just yet,” Trey said comfortably. “At least for now. I could drop you off at the bus stop if you really want.”
“Maybe,” I said, but I knew that wasn’t an option either.
“What brought you here, Braden?” Something about the way Trey kept saying my name made me want to squirm. “Why Belle Dam?”
But it wasn’t like I could tell him what was going on. I shook my head.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to.” Trey’s voice was gentle. It was almost like I’d imagined the arrogant side of him.
I didn’t realize I’d started shivering until after Trey had reached over to the console and turned the heaters on. He didn’t say anything.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing most of the time,” I said, my voice barely audible over the sound of the heaters.
As we neared the beach, in the distance I could see the potential in the swells that suggested more chaos to come. I settled against the headrest and watched the sights of Belle Dam as they whipped past. There wasn’t a lot of town left to cover, but Trey continued to drive.
We passed by the lighthouse that stuck out against the point. With the weather the way it was, and the gray sky to frame it, it looked a little more like the one in my vision, but it still wasn’t exact. Were all of those visions important?
Trey turned onto a cracked, paved road near there, taking us toward the beach. I straightened in my seat, trying to figure out where we were going. For a drive in the ocean?
“I come out here sometimes, when I need to think,” he explained. He pulled into a small parking lot in the shadow of the lighthouse.
“I’m not a runaway,” I said suddenly. I’m not sure why I said it.
Trey nodded after a moment. “Okay.”
“I mean, I’m not just a runaway. It’s … complicated.”
He didn’t look at me, just watched the waves swelling and crashing over the breakwall. The rain started picking up, slamming against the windshield. It made me sleepy.
Everything had made sense when I was running away. Get away from Uncle John. Keep him safe. Stop whatever it was that was coming for me. But everything in Belle Dam was so much more complicated. First Lucien, now my father. And the woman who was apparently after me was my new friend’s mother. I couldn’t control the witch eyes, and Jason seemed to think Catherine was going to kill me unless I learned how to control them.
It was like coming here had made everything worse. And I still wasn’t any closer to knowing what to do.
After a while, my focus turned from watching the waves with Trey, to watching him.
He’s probably straight, my mind viciously chimed in out of nowhere. Something about him put me on edge but made me feel comfortable all at the same time. Like I could talk to him if I really needed to, and he’d listen. But at the same time, he looked at me sometimes, and my stomach dropped.
“Figured me out yet?” Trey asked in the silence. I jumped, hearing his voice again after such a long silence. Reading my mind so effectively.
“Maybe,” I hedged. “Depends.”
“On what?”
I looked away before he caught me staring at him. “If this is just an act or something. For my benefit.”
He laughed. “I could say the same for you. Haven’t you ever heard that expression about not trusting a man you can’t look in the eye?”
Was that a real saying? Or was he making it up? “Well, you’ll have to deal. But I mean, I don’t know anything about you. You could be a vegetarian for all I know. And that’s just not cool.”
“Fair enough,” Trey admitted. “What do you want to know?”
Anything I wanted to know? “What’s with the hero complex?” I didn’t know where it came from, but Trey did have a tendency to interfere in my life.
“Hero complex?” Trey was quiet for a moment, and then burst into laughter. “I don’t think I have one, exactly.”
“Far as I can tell, you do.”
The laughter didn’t last long. Quickly enough, Trey sobered up, and his voice matched the seriousness of his face. “I guess you just look like you need a friend.”
“I’ve got friends,” I said curtly.
“And you don’t want more?” He flashed a smile I didn’t return. “I mean it can’t be easy with the eye thing, but I guess—”
“Wait. ‘The eye thing’? Is this some sort of pity gesture? The poor, nearly blind kid needs a helping hand?” All the frustration and anger that had been building up suddenly had another outlet. He felt sorry for me?
“Let me finish,” Trey was saying, as patiently as he could muster. His knuckles went white against the dark steering wheel once more.
“I think you’ve said enough,” I huffed.
“Please don’t throw a tantrum in my car. I just cleaned it out the other day. Angst is
a bitch to get out of leather,” Trey added, completely deadpan.
The comment caught me off guard, long enough for the rational brain to kick back in. I started to laugh.
Even Trey cracked a smile. “I realized I was kind of a dick the other day. And you looked like someone kicked your puppy. I guess I could relate.”
“You go to school?”
He nodded. “The community college. I’ve been messing around with getting a business degree.”
“Rain’s letting up,” I observed. The storm wasn’t over; this was simply the calm setting itself upon the land. “Can you drop me off by the square? I’m staying near there.”
There was a moment of indecision that hung in the air. I was waiting for him to say what was coming, and he was waiting for me to say … something. I could see the thoughts running through Trey’s head, even if I didn’t know what they were, exactly.
“How old are you, Braden?”
“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in a few months.” Only seven months until March. It was close enough for me. “What about you?”
“Nineteen.” The tension was slowly melting from the cab, like it had never happened. I’d missed something. Trey turned the engine over and started driving back into the town.
“You sure you’re okay? You’ve got someplace to go?”
I looked out the window. A few people were hurrying out of buildings toward their cars, occasionally looking toward the sky in fear. “I told you, I’m okay. I’m staying at the Belmont.”
He whistled. “Not bad.” I glanced at him in confusion and he went on. “The Belmont’s … kinda pricey. Tourists don’t mind paying for ‘atmosphere.’”
“Oh.”
He shifted gears, his attention focused on the road. Instead of stopping at the square, like I’d asked him, he drove straight up to the Belmont and pulled up against the curb. “Here.” Trey pulled a card out of his wallet and scribbled something on it. “If you need anything, give me a call.”
