by N. R. Larry
I nodded.
He tilted his head as if considering how to best say what he wanted to say. Slowly, he let me go of my arm. “That thing you did. To heal Dorothy…”
I darted my gaze around at his words. “Where is she, by the way? I never got a chance to apologize or see how she was. How is she?”
He smile was wide. “She’s great. Just shifting back.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“When pan-shifters take on small forms, like a butterfly, the shift can take a few days.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “It’s a more delicate process. Takes more energy, and a shit ton of concentration.”
I nodded. “That makes sense.”
“So, anyway. That force you tapped into―have you ever tried to learn to control it rather than let it take you over?”
I blinked at him. No one had ever put that question to me before. I shook my head, all ready to dismiss the rest of what he was about to say. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“So, you haven’t tried.” This time, it wasn’t a question.
I shook my head. “No, because the Anchor is something apart from myself. It isn’t a part of my physiology.”
He held up a hand. “The Anchor?”
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I call it.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and I narrowed my eyes. He held up his hands. “No, I’m sorry. It’s only… you even call it something else?”
I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Will you at least tell me why the Anchor, of all things?”
I scowled at him. “It’s a metaphor my mother would always use.”
His expression fell slightly. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s….” I took a deep breath. “My mother would always tell me that the ship was all the magic in the world. The four natural elements. It sailed on the water, was pushed across the water by fire and air, and built with tools from the earth.” My throat began to tighten with emotion, and I cleared my throat. “Then she would tell me that Akasha was like the ship’s anchor. The only thing in the world that could bring magic to a standstill.”
His eyelashes fluttered. “Poetic.”
I sort of smiled. “So, that’s why it can’t be controlled. It’s not even magic really, it’s something more powerful. An anti-magic really.”
“So, all magic is basically powerless against it.”
I nodded. “And I don’t want to risk becoming something… not human.”
For a while, all we did was stare at each other. “Well, I can certainly understand that,” he said in a low voice.
“Thank you.”
“I also think you’re full of shit,” he added without missing a beat.
I blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“Afraid your mother probably was too.”
I shot off the rock and planted my hands on my hips. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
He stood up and brushed himself off. “I’m not trying to be offensive. I find that being as blunt as possible is usually the best way to go to avoid the most bullshit.”
I scoffed. “Right, because you know so much about magic.”
“Not saying I do. But I have some common sense.”
I pressed my lips together.
“You told me all witches were born aligned to an element.” He tilted his head. “Tells me that you were, too, since you are a witch. And that the element is Akasha. Just because it’s harder to control, than let’s say, the air element, doesn’t mean it isn’t yours to control. You’re scared. Your mother was probably trying to protect you.”
I blinked at him again. “You can’t be serious.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Have you read anything about it? I know you haven’t tried, but have you at least done that much?”
I didn’t have a reply.
“Yeah.” He yawned and stretched his arms over his head. His shirt lifted, revealing a sweaty and toned abdomen. He caught my gaze, smiled, and then left his arms in the air longer than he needed to.
I made a face at him.
He laughed. “Look, all I’m saying is you should consider it. If that kind of power can be controlled, it’s worth exploring, don’t you think?” He inched closer to me and peered down. “Think of all the people you could help with a weapon like that at your disposal.”
I tried to look away from him, but for some reason, I couldn’t. I felt like even standing close to him I was being changed. I was maybe even, a little bit braver. With a sigh, I finally looked down. It was hard to concentrate with him staring at me like that. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
He chuckled. “You start with me.”
I backed away so that we weren’t so close, and then looked back up. “How do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I trained this pack of animals, I can try to train you.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Listen, I don’t doubt your skills. But magic and shifting aren’t exactly the same thing.”
“No.” He rocked back on his heels. “But maybe the key to controlling the anchor is similar to how we control whatever animal we shift into.”
I smiled. “That’s actually, pretty brilliant.”
He shrugged again. “Are you in?”
I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
“Come on.”
I stifled a yawn. “Fine. I’ll try whatever you have in mind.”
He grinned. “First step is to call it something else.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“And sorry for what I said about your mother.”
I waved a hand. “If I thought you meant any harm, I would have sent you to another plane.” This time, I couldn’t stop the yawn, and my eyes watered with it.
“We should get some sleep,” he said.
I stared toward the doorway of his home and bit down on my lower lip.
“Hold on,” he muttered, and then disappeared behind his house. He returned with a tent and put it up faster than should have been possible. When he finished, he stepped back and brushed his hands off.
“What’s that for?”
He glanced at me, and then back at the tent. “I figured, you know, you wouldn’t want to sleep inside for a while.”
A warm feeling flooded me, and just like that, I felt like I could curl up into that small tent and sleep a week. He started to pass me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Do you want me to sleep with you?” His voice was husky.
I nodded.
He sauntered over to the opening of the tent and pulled the flap open. I leaned over and stepped inside. He followed. For a few minutes, we shuffled around, trying to find comfortable positions. Mine was a ball.
Closing my eyes, the feel of his breath on the back of my neck was a comfort. Moments later, and I was sleeping like a drunk baby.
Chapter 14
The next day, other than the fact that I was still getting cramps in my legs, I felt like myself again. I had a breakfast of bread and oranges while musing that stolen food always tasted better. When it was done, Ty led me to Mrs. Sophie’s, where she and Dorothy, who was human again, spent the next several hours changing our appearance with the use of makeup and wigs.
“There.” Mrs. Sophie dusted more powder against my cheek and stepped back. “Well, it’s some of my best work.” She smiled and then held up a hand mirror. I waved it off before I could see my reflection. “No, thanks. I hate looking in the mirror and seeing someone else.”
She smiled again. “That is a hopeful sentiment.” She handed me a cloth napkin and motioned for me to blot.
I pressed the cloth between my lips and pressed them together. A bright red kiss mark bled into the fabric. I made a face. “How loud is this lipstick? Don’t I want to blend in?”
“Not in this case,” she said as she began to put all her supplies away.
I got up to help her. “What do you mean?”
<
br /> “You’ll be caught as a witch from overseas. They are a lot brighter. Mostly used in the sex market. You want to be sexy, overconfident.”
I raised an eyebrow. “From overseas?” I shook my head. “Won’t that raise suspicions? It’s not like it’s easy to get into this country.”
“Well, we lucked out. This week is some conference with Great Britain. You’ll be a witch trying to escape into the Underground community when you’re caught,” Ty’s voice suddenly filled the room.
I dropped a makeup brush and then turned to face him. My eyes almost popped out of my head. He leaned against the doorframe and half smiled. “Well, did Dorothy do a good job?”
Seeing him made me want to look at my own reflection in the mirror. Whatever touch of magic Dorothy put into the makeup job was almost too convincing. Ty was aged. Gray hair sprinkled his strong jaw and was streaked into his dark hair. He was dressed in fitted, white pants and a long, white jacket.
The only things I recognized were his eyes and the hint of a smile always playing at his lips.
“Well?” He straightened his collar. “How did the kid do?”
As if she heard herself being talked about, Dorothy came skipping in behind Ty. She ducked her head out from behind him and grinned. “The kid did good.” She flashed me a big smile and then her eyes widened. “Wow.” Sidestepping Ty, she hopped toward me and skidded to a stop right before she would have plowed into me. She scanned me up and down. “You look glam!”
I stared down at her, hardly able to marry this spirited version of Dorothy with the wounded mess she was on the night I met her. Her dark eyes constantly danced and her skin seemed to glow with something from within.
I had to shake myself out of my thoughts. With a smile, I said, “Thanks.”
Mrs. Sophie grinned and patted Dorothy on the head. “The kid did great. This old woman couldn’t be prouder.”
Dorothy smiled, and then stood on her tip toes and offered me a dried out, black rose with a short stem.
I took it from her. “What’s this for?”
“You pin it on your collar. In Great London, a black rose marks you as property.”
“Great Britain,” Mrs. Sophie corrected.
Dorothy shrugged. “Whatever.” She took the rose back from me. “Can I pin it?”
I nodded, and she pinned the rose to me with little effort. When she finished, she stepped back. “Now you’re perfect.”
I grinned, throwing my shoulders back. I met Ty’s gaze across the room. “Well, will this get the job done tomorrow?”
His gaze kept traveling the length of me. “I’m sure it will, but we’re going to find out sooner than that.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I’m taking you into the city today,” he said, finally meeting my gaze.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not going to drop you into a situation you have no experience dealing with.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced at Mrs. Sophie. She gave a funny little smile and then winked at Dorothy. “Come on with me, little one. The pack brought back some real butter a few nights ago. We’re making cookies.”
Dorothy cracked a smile, and nodded, taking Mrs. Sophie’s hand, and the two of them left us alone.
I sighed. “I’ve been into the city before. Plenty of times. I’ve extracted more witches than you could know from camps, holding centers, and off the street. I know what I’m doing.”
His eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “Yes, but you’ve always used glamour. I’m assuming.”
I pressed my lips together.
“Being out there as an impure race is different. You’ll have to get used to it or it’ll shock you, and we’re screwed. After seeing your work at the Brewery…”
I narrowed my eyes.
“I figured you need all the practice you can get. I can give you about twelve hours.”
I sighed. “If you really think it’s necessary.” I glanced down at my crystal. “Do you want me to teleport us there?”
He shook his head. “No magic.” His eyes sparked. “We go in old school.”
* * *
I stared down at the worn bicycle, and then tossed Ty another doubtful look.
“I don’t know about this.” I fussed around with the old, brown helmet he had slapped on the top of my head.
“Oh, it’s fun,” he said.
“There’s an engine on it.”
“Yeah, it’s like a motorcycle.”
I frowned. “Only, it’s really only a bike with a motor attached.” I shook my head. “Where did you get these anyway?”
“Got the parts from all around. Adrian put them together. She’s a bit of a mechanical genius.”
I nodded. “That would be cool if she hadn’t tried to kill me.” I glanced at his bike, which was a carbon copy of mine, only it was a sleek black instead of dull red. “Maybe I should check to see if she rigged it to explode.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about her. You ready?”
I gripped the handlebars tighter. “I guess.”
“Left handlebar to turn on the ignition.”
I took a deep breath and then cranked the handlebar. At first, nothing happened, the long pipes attached to the bike wheezed like an old smoker climbing a flight of stairs. I tried it two more times until finally, the bike roared and vibrated to life underneath me.
“Alright,” Ty shouted over the noise of the engines. “Follow me.”
Almost as soon as he said it, he shot off away from the camp. I followed.
* * *
We stopped about two minutes outside of the city limits and parked out bikes behind a tree. I stood around as Ty buried an old pistol, and my bow and arrows next to the bikes. After he was done, he brushed off his hands and took back the white jacket he’d asked me to hold.
Glancing down at me, he said, “If something goes wrong, get back here and get the hell out.”
I nodded.
“Not that anything is going to go wrong,” he added.
“Of course not,” I said as we started to walk.
“Okay, now time to go over a few things.”
I nodded.
“No making direct eye contact. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, and even then not until I give your permission. If we see any witches on the street, do not speak to them, the purity officers get trigger happy when magical people are in a group.”
He went on and on until finally, we were right outside the gates of the city. My gaze flickered to the long line of people going through purity checkpoints, and my heart pounded harder in response to it.
“You got all that?” Ty was asking me.
I blinked and peered over at him. Nodding, I said, “Yeah. Yeah. I get it. I’m not human, I’m property.”
He gave me a strange look.
“You don’t have to look so worried, I’m good.”
“This is serious, Lawrence,” he said in a stern voice.
I smiled. “I know.”
He sighed and pulled a set of electronic cuffs from his pocket. My eyes widened.
“Where the hell did you get those?”
He glanced at me, and then looked back down and opened the cuffs. “Um, Gloria. She took these offline so we could use them as a prop.”
“When did she give them to you?” I asked.
He glanced toward the line and then stopped. “They were in the back of the truck.” He held them up and motioned for me to come closer.
I stared at them and hesitated.
“I’m sorry about this,” he said.
I squared my shoulders and shook my head. “No, it’s… Let’s just…”
He nodded and bound my wrists in front of me. “Do you ever use these for recreation?” I asked.
He glanced up at me, wide-eyed, and then turned a shade of red I’d never seen on a person. I laughed. “Sorry, I sometimes get inappropriate when I
’m uncomfortable.”
He cleared his throat. “It’s okay.” He took me by the elbow and led me toward the line. We filed in behind the masses without anyone sparing us a glance.
“I’m sorry about this,” he said again.
I blinked up at him. He lowered his head once again and said, “You make me feel so human. I’m sorry to be bringing you into a situation not fit for humans.”
His words wrapped around me like a security blanket. I lowered my head and tried to get into my role. And that’s what I told myself. That it was a role. Make-believe.
“Papers,” a gruff voice barked.
I didn’t look up, but I knew we must be at the front the line. Beside me, Ty fished around in his pockets, produced a stack of neatly bound papers, and handed them to the purity officer. Papers were shuffled around and then handed back to him.
“Gonna have to issue you a pass,” the gruff voice said.
“Of course. Two days?”
There was a series of beeps, and then someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward. My instinct was to pull away, but I resisted. The officer searched me, and then grabbed my wrist and pinned a thin bracelet into my wrist.
I winced and glanced down. If found, take to Camp D.
A shudder ran through me as Ty took me by the elbow and led me roughly through the rest of the checkpoint. He didn’t loosen his grip until we were only two more people in the flood of people that swarmed Birmingham’s streets.
* * *
It was hard to keep my head lowered when the city was throbbing with life. Ty led me past a line of street vendors. Their wares ranged from everything to fresh fruit to replicas of board games for people with lower purity ratings to buy. Owning a real board game was expensive and only those with the highest purity ratings could waste currency on such things.
Without thinking I came to a stop in front of a blinding, silver stand with mini carts carrying every kind of fruit you could imagine. People stepped up, swiped their currency card, and the mini carts would drop bundles of fruit into their shopping baskets.
A cart of apples drew my eye and my stomach growled like a cub trying to break into a fresh fish market. The buzz of speech in the area died down a little, and several pairs of eyes landed on me.
I froze, and then took in their expressions of contempt and disgust. My gaze finally landed on the vendor, a short, balding man. His eyes narrowed at me as he slapped a ‘No Impure Races’ sign on the front of his booth.
