by Sam Cheever
The wall warmed beneath my fingers and I stepped closer to the glass, eager to view the results of my brother’s ill-conceived threat.
It didn’t take long.
Boyle tucked up in front of me, crunching loudly. He pressed his little face to the glass, leaving a greasy handprint where he spread his palm over the window.
To my utter delight, the porch bucked violently underneath Art’s pristine loafers and he flew backward, arms akimbo, to land in an ungainly heap on the grass. The suitcase he’d brought with him rolled end over end, a beat later, and landed atop his head with a meaty thump.
Shoving the hard-sided bag off his face, Art lay there a moment, groaning loudly.
At which point, a large black dog trotted out of the shadows and lifted its leg, letting loose an enthusiastic stream of urine that extinguished the fire stick lying next to Art in the grass.
I burst out laughing as Artur jumped to his feet, screeching with rage. “Is everything in this place demon-possessed?”
I opened the door, stepping out onto the porch and glowering down at him.
“Not everything,” I told him, a laugh burbling in my throat. “But Nicht definitely is. Thanks, buddy,” I called after the disappearing hound.
A soft “woof” carried back to me.
A warm weight hit my leg and I looked down, finding Boyle pressed against my thigh, his expression leery. I reached down and placed a reassuring hand on his head.
“What are you doing here?” I asked my brother.
He brushed at a dark spot on his slacks, grimacing. “I don’t need a reason to come here, Glynnie. Or, are you forgetting that I own this place?”
The door slammed shut behind me in a clear message. “Victoria isn’t owned by anyone,” I told him.
He shook his head. “Tell that to the lawyers who drew up Grams’ inheritance papers.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. It was a sore point with me, and of course he knew that. I was pretty sure I’d never understand why Grams had given Victoria to Art. He’d never shown a second’s worth of interest in the place. And his siphoning magic, weak compared to mine, wasn’t enough to keep the portal in check for an hour, let alone the decades required. “The house doesn’t want you here.”
He shrugged. “Victoria will listen to you.”
It was true, but that didn’t mean Victoria wouldn’t resent me for interfering. My brother wasn’t worth that resentment. “You can come in if she allows it.”
Rage filled his expression, turning his normally golden brown complexion a deep red.
The shadows shifted and Hawk appeared, Nicht trotting at his side. He glanced at Art. “Is there a problem, Glynn?”
“No problem. My brother has come for a visit.”
Hawk’s expression was set into a neutral mask. I had no way of knowing what he was thinking. But his gaze, when it turned my way, was filled with a question.
I barely kept from shrugging. How did I tell him my older brother and I had made a lifetime of quarreling with each other? That, I was pretty sure neither of us would ever give in and allow our relationship to warm? Or, that I couldn’t even justify my hurt feelings with any specific examples that made sense.
Finally, he smiled. “I look forward to getting to know him,” Hawk said.
And to my shock, he and the hound climbed the steps onto the porch. Grabbing up Boyle and depositing him on his shoulders amid rapid-fire giggling, Hawk walked inside.
Artur looked at me, his brows lifting in what had to be a chorus of questions. Coward that I was, I turned on my heel and followed them in.
12
I don’t know which was more surprising to me. One, that Victoria let Artur into the house. Or, two, that she seemed to have embraced both Hawk and his hellhound as part of the family.
I watched my neighbor talking to Artur, the two of them seeming thick as thieves, while Boyle and Nicht played rambunctiously in the living room behind me.
Beyond thanking me for the beer I’d given him, and skimming a glance my way every few minutes as if checking to make sure I was still there, Hawk paid no attention to me. Every bit of his formidable consideration was locked on my brother, who’d responded to that attention with the quick and easy charm he was known for. A charm that had served him well as assistant to a powerful Magistrate of the Magical Body.
Art’s charm had never worked on me. I knew him too well, and I saw beyond the charisma to the cynical politician beneath.
A happy squeal caught my attention. My eyes went wide as Nicht trotted past, a shrieking baby gargoyle on his back. Boyle’s tiny hand clutched the thick ruff between the dog’s shoulders and his skinny legs kicked Nicht’s sleek sides.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, diving for Boyle. But Nicht chose that moment to rise up on his hind legs, pawing the air like a horse. He turned his big head and fixed a kind, brown gaze on me as Boyle melted down with hilarity, almost sliding off the hound’s sleek back as he laughed.
The white cowboy hat Artur had brought him fell over Boyle’s eyes, and the tiny clawed hand that was clutching his new six-shooter waved wildly above his head.
“He seems to like the stuff I brought him,” Artur said a beat later.
I glanced up, surprised. I hadn’t heard him approach.
“He does. Thanks for bringing him something. It wasn’t necessary.”
Artur’s brow furrowed. “But it was necessary, wasn’t it? It’s actually long overdue.” He slid a look over the romping duo─circling the couch as if it were the sun and they were planets─and grinned. “I’d forgotten how cute he is.”
I chewed on my lip to keep from snapping at Art. Part of me…the part deep, deep down, beneath the automatic anger…knew that he was trying. And that should count for something.
When I was pretty sure I wouldn’t snarl, I finally said. “What I meant was, the toys are nice. But he’d be just as happy with your time. Your affection.”
The furrows in Art’s brow deepened. “You’re right.” He sighed. “I’ve been a cad, Glynn. I know it. But I let the excitement of being there…at the Body…overcome my good sense. It was exhilarating and…” His handsome face lit with excitement. “It made me feel as if I was doing something significant with my time.” He shook his head, the glow in his expression receding. “I romanticized it all, I’m afraid.”
“You’re talking like you don’t work there anymore,” I said, panic beginning to rise. If Art had left his big, important job in Magical Indy, would he want to come back to Render and live there? In Victoria?
The old-fashioned, domed ceiling light above our heads flickered with agitation, as if Victoria had come to the same terrifying conclusion. I knew that wasn’t possible. The house wasn’t a sentient being. Not really. But a century of magic saturated its bones and painted its skirts, and all that power had created a type of magical AI.
Yes, I thought, pleased. Victoria was like an artificial intelligence. I’d struggled since taking over my portal duties to decide how to categorize the old house. That description fit as well as anything.
My lips curved in a smile.
“What’s so funny?” Art asked, his own smile tight, humor not reflected in his eyes. I’d learned early in our formative years that Artur Forester took himself way too seriously. If he thought someone was laughing at him, he never took it well.
I shook my head. “I was just thinking about something,” I said dismissively. I cocked my head, narrowing my gaze. “You haven’t told me why you’re really here, Art.”
He sighed. “I guess telling you that I missed you won’t be enough?”
I bit back an answering laugh. Barely. “Not unless you’re dying…” I joked. And then felt panic slicing through my chest. “You’re not…dying…are you?”
Art didn’t withhold his laughter. “Not even close.” He looked around the room, his gaze falling to the crackling fire behind me. The fireplace always contained a fire in Victoria. The thick walls held off what heat the exterior threw at
it during the day, and that was considerably less than in the old days.
It might be late summer, but Render and the surrounding countryside had dropped a dozen degrees when all the magic users had left. We generally experienced mid-seventies to low-eighties during the day in the summer, and the temperature dropped into the forties and fifties when the sun went down.
People in the countryside called it the great cooling. Or lumped it into the transfer of magic into the city and called it the great exodus. Either way, some of the residents in Render hated the cool weather. Or maybe they just hated what it represented. Personally, I loved it. Humidity and heat were not my favorite things. Though fall and winter could be a little brutal in Render.
“…what I want to do,” Artur said, poking absently at the logs to encourage the flames to flare.
I realized I’d been daydreaming and refocused on him. “About what?” I asked.
He gave me an irritated look. “You weren’t listening, were you?”
I held his gaze, refusing to admit he was right.
After a beat, he sighed. “I’m starting to rethink my job at the Magical Body. I used to think everything we did there was good for the community.”
“And you don’t think that anymore?” I asked, surprised.
“I wouldn’t go that far. But lately, some things have happened that I’m not comfortable with.”
“Like what?”
“You know I can’t tell you that, sis.”
I blinked at the term. He hadn’t called me sis since I was eleven years old and he was preparing to leave. To move to the city and become an intern at the Body.
“I was hoping I could stay here for a while.”
And there they were. The words I’d been dreading. All the color left my face and my head was shaking before I even realized it. “It won’t work,” I told him, frowning at the thought.
“Why not?” His face flushed with irritation.
“I’m the portal keeper, Art. Your being here will only confuse things.”
“I want nothing to do with that portal,” he said, his brown eyes, so like mine, sparking with anger.
“You say that. You might even mean it…” the words trailed away, mostly because I knew that what I was about to tell him would make him really mad. Despite the fact that they were the truth. Or maybe because of it.
“Have I ever shown any interest?” he asked as if that proved his case.
All it really did was annoy me. His indifference only made the idea of his moving in on my territory even worse. “No. But you won’t be able to help yourself,” I said, snapping my lips together before I opened that particular can of slithering snakes.
“You believe I’ll be irresistibly drawn to the portal?” he asked me. He barked out an angry laugh. “I assure you, that won’t happen, Glynn.”
I cast around for words that wouldn’t cause an explosion and finally realized there weren’t any. So I’d have to settle for trying to present my argument in a gentle, non-judgmental way instead. “Art, you had a dream. You followed it and it made you really happy. I totally get that.”
He nodded. “But?”
“But, you’re used to taking charge. Your personality demands it. If you come back to Victoria now…” I let the words sink in, praying he caught my meaning, so I didn’t have to come right out and tell him he was a control freak.
He shook his head. “What? If I come back, what?”
I twisted my fingers together, annoyance flaring. He was going to force me to say the words. I struggled for patience.
“Glynn, just say it, you’re making me crazy!”
I looked him in the eye and said, “If you come back, you’ll try to control everything. Boyle and I have a life here. We have schedules and routines. We have rules. We like our life the way it is. But you’ll try to change it all. You can’t help yourself.”
His lips pressed together. His gaze flashed. I was pretty sure I could hear his teeth grinding together.
A warm weight pressed against me. I looked down as Boyle twined his fingers with mine. His little face looked worried. He leaned against my thigh.
Art saw it too. And to my surprise, he reigned in his rage. He stared at the fire a moment, seemingly trying to regain calm. Then he expelled air in a burst and looked up, his gaze sliding past me. “You can stand down, guardian. I’m not going to hurt her.”
I turned in shock to see Hawk standing just behind me. It shocked me that I hadn’t seen him move. His handsome face was tight, and his gaze was narrowed on my brother. His big hands were fisted, the muscles in his forearms bulging and taut. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.
“I understand,” Art told me, forcing his lips into a smile. He suddenly looked tired. “I know I can be a little…” He shook his head, laughing. “A lot, actually. You’re right. My need to control things served me well at the Body. But I realize it won’t work here. You’ve built a life and you deserve to live it. All I’m asking for is a few days. Just a little mini-vacation. Time for me to figure out where I’m going with my life.”
It sounded very reasonable. It would probably be irrational of me to deny him. Still…
“You have my word that I won’t interfere.” His gaze slid to Hawk’s. “And, if I do,” he went on, “You can always sic your guardians on me.” He grinned at Boyle and nodded toward Nicht, who’d stayed glued to the baby’s side. “All of them.”
I decided I could live with that. “Three days?” I offered. He looked relieved.
“That’s perfect. Thanks, sis.”
Relief swelled inside me. “Good. I need to feed Boyle. I could hear his stomach rumbling from across the room.”
Art inclined his head. “I’ll just get out of your way. My old room?”
I nodded. “Sure. But you’ll join us for dinner.” I said, realizing too late that my tone had been bossy. “Okay?”
That time, his smile was genuine, and it totally lit his brown eyes. “I’d like that.”
13
Soft snoring woke me from a deep, dream-filled sleep. I started upward, confused at the sound.
The covers next to me were mounded, something moving beneath them. Fortunately, I recognized the soft, whistling snores and smiled. I tugged the blanket off Boyle, who was curled in a tight little ball with his long, skinny arms covering his head.
He twitched in his sleep as if he was having an active dream.
Maybe a nightmare, since he’d come down from his attic bedroom and climbed into bed with me.
I covered him again and reached for the glass of water I kept on the nightstand, finding it empty.
Goddess’s galoshes, I muttered. I’d never manage to go back to sleep without taking a sip of water. Once my mind decided I was thirsty, it wouldn’t stop obsessing until I gave it what it wanted.
It was the curse of a bossy mind.
With a sigh, I climbed out of bed, heading downstairs with the glass to refill it from the pitcher of cold, filtered water I kept in the fridge.
I never made it to the kitchen. As I descended the final three steps, my gaze slid to the open door in the hallway—the basement door. The heavy lock was still attached, but someone had found a way to open it without a key.
“What’s going on?” I murmured, my mind roiling. But my thoughts quickly moved to the real issue as a wisp of all-too-familiar magic burned over my skin like flame.
The portal! I realized, panic slicing through me. I didn’t even realize I’d set the glass down. I could have dropped it for all I knew. I was suddenly descending the unlit wooden steps, wondering how whoever was down there had managed them without falling. I was as familiar with them as I was my own face, and I still clutched the railing tightly to keep from tumbling down the stairs if I missed a step.
A soft light infused the space once I’d stepped out of the stairwell. An illumination spell. The magic cast a subdued yellow light around the basement, not bright enough to really see anything, but enough to move through it withou
t a flashlight.
The light wasn’t bright enough for me to see into the darkened corners of the stone-walled room. But it was plenty bright for me to recognize the familiar form of my brother standing in front of the portal wall.
Artur’s dark hair stuck up in tufts over his head as if tousled from sleep. He was wearing a pair of cotton sleep pants and a tee-shirt that glowed white in the meager light. His wide feet were bare, the bottoms shadowed with dirt from the floor.
“Art?” I kept my voice soft because he wasn’t moving. He simply stood staring at the wall, one hand resting against the stone where the portal would be if it had been open. The fingers on his hand were splayed, the palm resting against the flat, irregularly shaped stones. They would be warm to the touch.
They were always warm.
But the rock would only heat to the melting and burning point if the portal was open.
Art hadn’t opened the portal. I wasn’t sure he could. He’d never done it before as far as I knew, and I didn’t think his magic was strong enough for him to try.
Unless he’d found a way to augment his power since he’d left Render.
“Artur? What are you doing down here?”
Not a twitch. His hand stayed flat against the wall. His face remained pointed toward it.
He didn’t appear to have heard me.
I took another step. Then another. Until I was close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder. I reached toward him, fingers extended, with the intention of doing exactly that. But he finally moved, so I dropped my hand.
“Why are you down here?” I asked him again.
Art turned around and I gasped. His eyes were open but they were set and blank. His movements were stiff, and he didn’t seem to see me as he moved past me toward the stairs.
I watched him climb the steep stairs in robotic movements, not even looking down at his feet or touching the railing as he climbed.
I followed, keeping several feet of distance between us.
Below us, the illumination spell blinked off, casting the basement once more into darkness.
