by Gina Shafer
For the first time in our marriage, Vara comes close to pleading with me to stay. And for the first time, I’m finding myself staring at my wife, wide-eyed like a child, unable to understand her motives clearly. Cormac is the brother I never had, and I can’t just let the demons have him. He wouldn’t abandon me either. It was an unspoken pact between us that we never had to agree on. Cormac and I knew we would have the back of every Sicarri that needed our help, no matter what. Vara knows this. Why is she trying to keep me here?
I shake my head slightly to clear my thoughts before I stand. The truth is, I don’t want to go. There have been countless times when I wished none of this were my problem, that my grandfather had never made it my problem. If only there was someone else to do the dirty work. I’ve never clued Vara in on this side of me; I haven’t ever shared with anyone the weariness I feel whenever I head out to the next battle or the next raid. She’s playing on the weakest parts of me, and she doesn’t have a clue.
“Vara, what’s going on? Is there a reason why you don’t want me to go?” I ask her gently, hoping that my expression reads how I want it to.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. You’ll have to use magic to find him… You know how dangerous that is.” She huffs once and drops her hands to her sides, slapping her palms against her thighs before turning and heading for the kitchen. She’s so clearly frustrated that I’m not sure how to react.
If I don’t go now, if I don’t take every chance that I have to protect innocent people, we could all end up like the burned ones.
“Vara, wait. Listen to me, please.” I call after her in a hushed tone; the fact that our son is still sleeping in bed is not lost on me. She’s already hovering over the coffee pot I put on after I woke early this morning, busying herself by making a cup.
“I’ll only do a small locater spell. I’ll comb through and find his mind, hone in on his location. Once I do that, he’ll sense that I’m coming. It won’t be enough for the demons to find me. I have to do everything I can to help him. You would do the same…” My voice is pleading and I’m not ashamed to admit it, because if she truly asked me to stay, if she said the words… I would.
I watch as she flits around the kitchen, grabbing the cream and sugar from the fridge. She hasn’t looked in my eyes since I followed her in here. I move closer to her, catching a whiff of the familiar scent of oranges that comes from her hair and place my hand on top of hers, stopping her from spinning the spoon sticking out from her mug.
“You’re taking such a huge risk,” she says as she moves closer to me, finally meeting my eyes. I wrap my arms around her from the side and she leans her head against my chest as we stare out of the small window above the sink. The early morning sun hits the dew collecting on the grass in just the right spots, making it look like thousands of tiny diamonds are sprinkled on top of the green earth.
“You’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.” I squeeze my arms around her even tighter. At this point, I’m not even sure I’m telling the truth anymore. There’s no telling when I’ll be back… if I’ll be back. She knows this, and I see panic set in her furrowed brow when I look down at her.
“I’m not worried about myself…” She brushes out of my grasp and moves back toward the study she found me in before all of this started.
“I know you’re not…” I whisper as I follow her, walking solemnly until I stop at the threshold of the study. She turns to face me, a thought clearly dawning in her mind.
“What about the others? When are you calling for backup? Maybe someone else can even go?” She’s working herself up so much that I don’t even think she sees me anymore, just right through me.
“Vara,” I say, effectively grabbing her attention. “He called me. Specifically asked me not to tell anyone. He sounded worried, scared, and maybe even a little paranoid. I don’t think it would be a good idea to come marching in with tons of Sicarri members strapped to the nines with all of our tactical gear and weapons,” I tell her, and she nods. We both know fear does strange things to people.
“I just… I don’t have a good feeling about this,” she says as she plops down into the computer chair.
“I know you don’t…” I move across the room, coming to lean against the large mahogany desk facing the wall. I stare at her for a moment, waiting for her to look up from the papers scattered across the surface. When she finally does, I see something hiding behind her expression, an emotion I can’t explain.
I frown and she notices, quickly flicking her gaze down the hall, toward Soren’s room. Before I have the chance to ask her about it, she speaks.
“And what about Soren? You know he won’t understand any of this, Elijah.” Her lip trembles over my name.
My face falls.
There it is. She found the crack in my façade. I am surprised that she is working so hard to get me to stay, and I know I should listen to my wife. The Sicarri that I am beholden to weighs heavier on my shoulders than it ever has. The only way I’m making it out of this house is if I get out before Soren wakes up, which could be any minute now.
“I’ll be back soon, Vara. Just a quick in and out. You know Cormac wouldn’t call me if he didn’t really need me.” She must see my resolve because the argument dies on her lips. I begin to move around the room as silently as possible, so that I don’t wake the sleeping child I am so desperate to stay with. I grab my messenger bag and throw in an extra shirt and a pair of pants. Too many times have I forgotten a change of clothes and had to make my way home in a bloodied mess. I tuck my knife into the holster at my ankle and strap my pistol to my side, covering it with my coat. As I slip on my boots, I feel Vara sweep her hand through my hair, like she always does. This is her goodbye, and it never fails to settle my nerves before a fight.
“You know where to find us,” she says with her lips turned up at one side. I straighten to give her a kiss, but she only allows me to brush my lips against the side of her mouth before she turns away. I feel her tense and know she’s still upset, and doesn’t want to break. I decide not to push her, knowing that she takes pride in being strong. I squeeze her hips once before letting my hands fall to my sides. When I look up, I see our reflection in the large wooden-framed mirror resting against the cream walls. Our two figures look different in the mid-morning glow. The red of her hair is bouncing off the light and into my dark brown eyes, her white skin a stark contrast to my tan. Before I’m ready, Vara moves to the side, breaking my thoughts. I am faced with the narrow hallway, and it feels less like I’m simply walking out the door and more like I’m walking to my death.
“Elijah…” she calls out in a whisper when I get a few steps away from her. I turn quickly and raise my eyebrows in question.
“Be careful,” she says before she moves from my sight and back into the kitchen.
I try to shake off the ominous feeling blanketing me as I make my way quietly through the rest of the dark hallway. I pause in front of my son’s bedroom door, and I can’t resist sneaking in to see Soren one more time.
I’m as quiet as I can be as I kneel down beside his bed and brush the hair from his eyes. I take a moment to gaze over his perfect little features. His hair is dark brown, like mine, with little flecks of auburn running thorough it. His nose turns up slightly at the end; same as Vara’s. His long lashes fan out beneath his eyes, brushing over the light lavender skin just there. I know if he opened his eyes, deep chocolate irises would peek from beneath his lids. Something about watching my five-year-old son sleep makes me feel like there still could be peace in this world. For now, at least, there is peace in this room, and I don’t want to disturb that. Once last glance back and I make my way out the door.
The cool spring air is the first thing that registers when I step outside. I take a deep breath, allowing it to fill my lungs. The midwest heat will be upon us soon and I’ll miss this feeling. Like air is cleaning me from the inside with every breath I take. I force myself even far
ther away from my family, making my way toward the old pick-up parked on the road. I notice that I’m focusing sharply on the simple tasks it takes to get going instead of the impending problems I’m soon to be faced with.
The dewy grass dampens my boots as I cross the yard. When I crack open the door to my 1985 Chevy, it groans in protest. The leather seats are cold as I slide inside and plunge the keys into the ignition. When the engine comes to life, I throw it in gear and take off from the curb. Once I make it all the way down the street, I’m faced with the reality of what I have to do.
Magic.
Vara was serious when she reminded me of the dangers of practicing with my magic. If the demons are paying attention, they’ll sense me. My flame burns brighter when I use it. It’s like adding oxygen to an ember. It only takes a little to go from a spark to a wildfire.
When I find an old abandoned mall parking lot, I stop the truck, but keep the engine running in case I need to make a quick escape. The faint rush of cars driving by is the only thing I hear, and for a moment I imagine I’m one of those people. Most likely driving to work, never having to worry about my day-to-day life unless the Sicarri notify me that a demon attack is imminent. Most people don’t worry anymore, the Sicarri numbers having grown so much that there hasn’t been an issue our forces haven’t taken care of before any harm can be done to the general public.
My entire body jumps when a black bird lands on the hood of my truck, snapping me back into reality. Bringing me back to work.
“Breathe deeply, let it burn. Breathe deeply, let it burn,” I whisper to myself, my breath bouncing off the interior of my truck.
In my mind I imagine my flame like a lit candle flickering softly against the cold air around it. I grip the steering wheel, focusing on controlling the fire. Once the flickering stops and the flame is steady, I begin. I search in my mind, seeing fleeting images of towns, cities, and faceless strangers. My skin becomes hot, but not uncomfortable, and my fingers tighten around the wheel even more, my knuckles turning white, as my body grows even tenser. All at once, the images stop. I’m only left one—what looks like an old, run down, shipping factory. Suddenly I know where I’m going. The name of the town rings through my thoughts like a church bell. Wichita. Why is Cormac in Kansas? Last I heard he was close by Vara and me, in Tulsa.
My confusion distracts me from what I should have been doing: working to control my flame back down to a simple flicker. Now, I feel it growing brighter, bigger, and more alive. Panic sets in for a moment, allowing the flame to take an even stronger hold inside of me.
The energy in the truck starts to crackle in the air, and I feel the power already making its way into the area surrounding me. The engine growls like I’m pressing my foot on the gas, but I know I haven’t. This isn’t good. The tips of my fingers feel burned, and I bring them up to my face. Peeking out from under my lashes, I see nothing but the faint glow of red, like hot coals beneath my skin. The light of my fire.
I shut my eyes tight once more and concentrate, dropping my hands to my thighs and splaying my fingers across the tan-colored fabric of my cargo pants.
Concentrate, Elijah. Like Dad taught you.
I repeat those words inside my head over and over again, until I finally feel myself gaining control. I feel the heat begin to subside and I release a long breath I knew I’d been holding, but couldn’t seem to let it go. The sense of power that surges through me whenever I use my magic is intoxicating and sobering at the same time. I can see how easy it was for people to overuse their flame, and how quickly the same thing could happen to me.
I lock eyes with myself in the rearview mirror, and the face that stares back at me is only a ghost of my own. I look flustered, unhinged. My high cheekbones are flushed and the flesh of my lips feels raw. My skin glows. Not in the way where it looks like I’ve turned on a light bulb inside myself… No, my skin reminds me of the tiny drops of dew that I saw the sun shining through only this morning, making the stubble on my cheeks only more prominent against it.
My straight brows slant forward in a frown when I start to see that same glow fade. I feel… raw.
But, now I know where Cormac is. I know where I’m going. I focus on the pavement in front of me as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the road ahead.
“If Cormac isn’t dead already, I’m going to kill him for sending me to this god-awful fucking warehouse.” My voice breaks through the stale air in my old pickup. Fuck, when did I get so morbid? It must be the travel. Driving here took forever, and the entire time I wanted to pull over, turn the truck around, and abandon the idea of helping my good friend. I’m ashamed that my thoughts took that turn. That I would, even for a moment, entertain the idea of not showing up when one of the Sicarri needed me. Especially one who has saved my life numerous times.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m still trying to shake off the feeling that something bad is going to happen, trying to convince myself that it’s just because of how badly I don’t want to be here. I want to be at home. And for the first time in my life, I consider that maybe it really is time for me to do something else. Vara is always asking me if I would think about switching jobs. Maybe the Sicarri could use someone else in intel? Or another healer? I could learn how to help people, heal their injuries. Then, I think of my father, my grandfather, and how they both gave their lives to fight for the Sicarri. Who am I kidding? This is my life. This is what I’m supposed to do, what I was raised to do. My knuckles turn white as I tighten my fists around the steering wheel and press the gas pedal farther into the floorboard.
Once I find the location I’m looking for, I peek up through my windshield, frowning when I notice the clouds for the first time. The sky is beginning to darken, and deep gray clouds hang overhead, evidence of a storm rolling in. The weather does nothing to lighten my mood and help drag away the menacing feeling rolling off me in waves. I have been driving for half a day and have finally arrived at the warehouse. I’ve been parked for a few minutes, hoping that Cormac would come running out when he noticed my truck sitting here.
He hasn’t.
The warehouse looks run down, and has a fine coating of rust about halfway up the white-washed metal sides. There is an old spray-painted sign perched on the roof, dangling halfway off its screws that reads “THE WAREHOUSE.” I finally pull the key from the engine, deciding that it’s probably about time I do some snooping. I was kidding myself thinking that Cormac would be waiting for me. I’m either going to be hit with demons when I slide open the rusty doors, or there’ll be nothing. A dead end. I hope it’s not that. A dead end, no way to know where Cormac is or if he is even alive, lets just say I’d take the demons over that uncertainty. As soon as I crack the truck door open, I notice something off. There’s a burning smell. Burnt paper, maybe? Odd. I feel like I’ve smelled it before, but I can’t place it.
The confusion irritates me, when suddenly a faint memory hits me from when I was younger. This smell… it’s magic. Strong magic. Magic so powerful it overtakes your body. Magic that turns people into demons. The burning smell comes after, staining the air around it for days.
What did Cormac get himself into?
I grasp the duffel bag on the seat next to me and swing it over my shoulder as I step from the truck. I reach for my pistol from my side and slowly walk to the door of the warehouse, ready for anything. When I finally enter, the first thing I notice is that everything is eerily silent, but thankfully there is just enough light streaming in through cracks in the metal walls for me to see. The silence makes me want to cup my hands over my ears just so I can be distracted by the sound of my own breathing. I focus on that as I slowly make my way through the warehouse, fighting the urge to cover my nose at the stench. The stale, musty old air is thick and hard to breathe through.
I have the sinking feeling that I’m too late. That I won’t be finding Cormac here… And with those thoughts at the forefront of my mind, my curiosity gets the best of me; instead of lea
ving, I look deeper into the building.
I drop my bag at my feet, reaching inside for the flashlight I know I threw inside in my hurry to leave this morning. When my fingers brush against something cold and metal, I sigh in relief. The darkness makes me uncomfortable.
When the light shines over the ruins inside, I wonder why in the hell Cormac would choose here of all places. It’s unprotected. Completely open. There would be no place to hide if the demons found him.
There isn’t much to see when I start to move around. Rubble litters the ground with pieces of cement scattered about. Near the farthest corner, I find a small cot tucked behind a cement pillar. Next to it sits a small wooden desk filled with crumpled papers and an old desktop computer. I press the power button and the computer springs to life before it flashes white and shuts down. I smack the side of it, and the screen powers on once more, only this time it stays. I try to click open the only folder on the desktop.
Password protected. Damn it.
I set my gun down on the side of the computer and move on to the messy papers that look like they’re written in over fifty different kinds of script. The faint memory of learning magic comes to me when my eyes skim over the words on the papers.
These are spells.
Powerful ones.
What the hell was Cormac doing with them?
Examining the writing further, I pick out a few phrases that make sense. These aren’t any spells I’ve seen before, and I briefly wonder where they come from. I recognize a few words, but the writing is hard to make out. Scribbles on the page. Certainly Cormac wasn’t practicing magic, was he? For the first time, I’m truly bothered that I’m the only person here. That the only one to voice my uncertainty to is myself. Suddenly, I am overcome with urgency to get back to Vara. I know she can make more sense of this than I can. I slip my gun back into my holster on my side so that I can rake my hands over the wooden desk to gather up every paper I can, and head back toward my pickup. I don’t even bother looking for Cormac anymore; I understand why he called me. He wanted me to protect his research, not to save his life. My heart grieves for my best friend, but I know I can’t lose it here.
