by Izzy Shows
I felt dismissed, and small, and resisted the urge to pull my other leg to my chest for comfort. I started drumming on my thigh again, the rhythm giving me some comfort.
“You need not stay on the floor, you know. You are a guest here.” He gestured towards the rest of the room on my right side, and I followed his hand to discover that the rest of the room was very well furnished. Another lounge chaise was closest to the fire, a love seat against the wall, and in the corner, was a very large bed. King size? Maybe larger? My eyes widened with shock, and I jerked my head back to him, unable to disguise my surprise. He chuckled. “I take it you will not be choosing the bed to sit on.” His tone was jovial, upbeat, but I thought detected a note of sadness again.
Could demons feel emotions? Could they be sad? I wondered. “Certainly not.” I did stand though, and sat squarely in the middle of the love seat opposite him, so that there wasn’t room for him to crowd me if he’d wanted to. He looked amused, but didn’t move. Good. There was distance between us. “Why am I here?”
“Because I have taken an interest in you. You have a gift, Miss Sheach, and I would like to help you cultivate it, if you were interested in my tutelage.”
“You must be joking.”
“I do not joke about such things. It’s a rare offer, but one that I make in earnest.”
“You’re a demon. Why would I want a demon’s help?” My expression was very ‘duh’, and maybe mixed with a little surprise. I didn’t understand how he could think this was something that I would be even remotely interested in.
He groaned and shook his head, waving one hand. “We get such a bad rap for that. I ask you, what is the difference between an angel and a demon? One chose to kneel.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Why does that make me bad?”
“I don’t think it does.” I said. “I think the killing people bit makes you bad.”
He rolled his eyes. “I make deals. I give someone something they want, they give me something I want. If someone decides to go back on the bargain, their life is forfeit. It’s not like they don’t know that beforehand.”
I stared at him. “And you want me to make a deal with you. Yeah, right.” I scoffed.
“No. This is not a deal. You have not conjured me, and I am not bartering with you. I am offering to assist you because I would like to see you grow into your power, not squander it. You don’t know much of your history, so you cannot really comprehend how rare this offer is. We, my brethren, give power at the request of your magically inclined mortals. It is a bargain, we give them power and they give us something that we want—usually different things depending on the kin making the bargain. But it’s always something. We do not teach. I am offering to share my knowledge with you. It’s quite extensive.” There was no humility, but also no sense of bragging to that statement. It was simply a fact, as far as he was concerned, that he knew quite a lot and that it was a valuable thing to offer.
For a moment, I wavered. I didn’t know if I was being foolish, turning something down without thinking about it. All the information I had to go on was what Aidan had given me, and I’d only known him for a day or so now. It wasn’t like we were old friends and I knew I could depend on his word or anything like that. Blind trust. Something I didn’t give out ever, I had somehow given to Aidan. Maybe Aidan was wrong, or was the bad guy and I was being played, and this was an opportunity to get out.
The only reason I didn’t dive on that excuse was because of how obvious the response was to me—there are no bad guys. There are people with cruel intentions, but no one is inherently evil. If there were evil people in this world, it would be a much easier world to live in. No one would try to defend them or their reasons for doing whatever they did.
Aidan’s intentions did not seem cruel. Mal didn’t seem to comprehend what cruelty was.
“Sorry, Mal. I can’t agree to something like that at the drop of a hat.” I didn’t mean to append the rejection, but I did all the same. Put a qualifier on it, gave him a reason when all I had to do was say ‘no.’ Why? I was curious. I didn’t want to the shut the door on something that I might be interested in.
The smile on his lips told me that he understood perfectly well why I had phrased it that way. Maybe even more so than I did. “Not a problem, dearie. If you change your mind, just call. I’ll even make you a top priority.” He winked at me, though it would probably have carried more weight if I had even an inkling as to his status. Aidan had been surprised to see him, and he had referred to the demon Aidan had been attempting to call down as a ‘little boy.’ That seemed to imply that he was at least somewhere more or less high up on the pecking order. How high, though?
He started to stand, but I lifted a finger and he immediately resettled. Top priority.
“Uh…how do I call you? Do I have to do the whole ritual circle thing? Because I don’t really…I mean, I paid attention, but I haven’t done it before.” I didn’t want to admit that I was loathe to experiment with it on my own, and certainly not with him as the first attempt. Aidan had said the ‘little boy’ he was going to call on was something you took precautions with, and if Mal was bigger than whoever that was supposed to be, then I certainly didn’t want to muck anything up.
Why are you even asking? Hissed the voice in the back of my head. I didn’t have an answer, other than that I didn’t like to miss information.
“No, you don’t need to go through all that trouble for me. Ritual circles are a form of binding, he who is called through one is confined to it until they are released by the person who did the calling. Generally advisable if you’re going to attempt to strike a deal, and you have reason to suspect the person you’re dealing with isn’t going to be very kind.” He rolled his eyes. “A little rude, all the same. It isn’t a one-way deal, by the way. I can conjure any little Wizard if I were ever given the inclination to do so. Don’t see why I would, but the point stands that I can.”
I waited, hoping that he would expand on that. How had he pulled me here, and how would I go about communicating with him, provided I wanted to?
“There is a power in the number three. I’m sure you’ve noticed little things about it in your everyday life, and it bleeds over into the magical aspect of things. Say my name three times and, if you feel the need to, an instruction afterwards, and I will hear you. The instruction, or comment, allows me a little wiggle room. ‘When I’m dreaming’ for example, will allow me to wait until you are asleep. ‘After I’m alone.’ Would also be a good one. Otherwise, I simply show up after you’ve said it a third time. And yes, the verbalisation is the important part. No thoughts.” He looked particularly pleased with himself, and I furrowed my brow trying to figure out why. “That was lesson one, by the way. You asked for information and I gave it, freely. No strings attached. That’s what it would be between us, if you were to accept my offer. Oh, and while the invitation must be spoken, you can call me into your thoughts. Very intimate, though.” He winked, again.
I woke up.
23
I FELT THE BED AROUND ME, THE first rays of morning streaming onto my face through the window.
Somehow, my body did not ache. I would have thought being in the dreamscape, having my mind active, would have meant that I wouldn’t have slept very well. It seemed to have the opposite effect.
Had it all been a dream? Perhaps it hadn’t really happened.
It felt too real for it to have been a dream, but I didn’t know what the limitations of magic were, I didn’t know if it was outside the realm of possibility or if it was an everyday occurrence. I wanted to ask Aidan…but I knew that he wouldn’t approve of me having spoken to Mal like that. I didn’t want to lie, wasn’t sure that I’d be able to. I had never really been much of a liar, had never really been given a reason to—there hadn’t really been anything that I’d wanted to guard for just myself before.
Foster kids aren’t really accustomed to the concept of privacy. You get used to having your entire life examined by strangers. You sto
p thinking that anything is well and truly yours, and you accept the idea that people can poke through you like they own you. That didn’t mean that you didn’t keep things secret when you could though—very rarely did people know when to ask the right questions, and if they didn’t…well that was down to them, wasn’t it?
It was a lie of omission, but it didn’t count, not really. I would keep this to myself, and I would just have to figure it out on my own. It was too risky to bring Aidan into it. Either he’d tell me that it wasn’t within the realm of possibility and had all been a dream—which would be mortifying—or he’d be angry and tell me that I couldn’t trust Mal and that for my own good I would have to disregard everything that had been said.
I don’t let other people make my decisions for me, even if they’re trying to protect me. Especially if they’re trying to protect me.
I got out of the bed, and abruptly realised that I wasn’t wearing the same thing I’d gone to bed in.
I had fallen onto the bed in a fit of exhaustion, unable to take my shoes off even. But here I was, wearing only an oversized t-shirt. I pulled it up and flushed at the discovery that yes—that was the only thing that I was wearing.
What the fuck?
No one had keys to my flat, and besides, who would undress me? It only further proved the idea that the dream had been real. Somehow, I didn’t have a problem believing Mal was capable of such a thing.
How had he done it though? Uninvited, he wouldn’t be able to use his powers, but perhaps he had simply come in as a physical form. Had he been able to track me to my flat with simply the knowledge of my name? I shivered at the idea.
I thought about what had been said in the dream, of how I could simply call him into my thoughts, and honestly considered it for a moment. I should reprimand him, obviously. I should also probably feel a little more indignant about this.
Then I remembered that he’d made a comment about how that was a more intimate form of communication, and shied away immediately. No, that was a bad idea. Inviting him into my thoughts after he’d potentially undressed me? No, that wouldn’t do at all.
And certainly, not while I remained in that state of dress he’d put me in.
I rushed over to the pile of clothes on my floor and pulled out a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. Nothing fancy.
Glancing at the mirror before I left the room, I debated doing anything with my hair. Unkempt and unwashed, I didn’t really have time for it. I grabbed the hairbrush off my dresser, yanked it through a few times so that the tangles were gone, and threw it up into a ponytail. That would work.
Before I’d left last night, Aidan had mentioned he was going to do a little more digging into the ritual on his own, and that meant I had the morning to myself for the most part.
I didn’t like the idea of wasting it, so I decided I would do some investigating of my own. I hadn’t been told not to do anything, so that didn’t mean I couldn’t. Right?
I walked into the living room to grab both jackets, my bag, and my keys on my way out.
24
I WENT WITH MY GUT ON where to start this investigation; the same place I go when I have no leads or have exhausted all available information. The homeless.
Anywhere you go, any city you live in, the homeless will know more about anything going on in the city than anyone else possibly could. The homeless must have a finger on the pulse of a city to survive—those with jobs and homes can get by floating on through life.
I made my way towards one of the seedier parts of London, the type of place a guidebook would tell you to steer well clear of. To fall in love with a city, only visit the shiny parts. To learn the truth, go where the grit is.
I pulled the hood of my cloth jacket up and over my head, tugging the leather one close about me after. Rain drizzled down from overhead, as constant a part of London as the cobblestones. You learn to live with it.
Funny thing is, I didn’t need to worry about sticking out here like I had when poking around the office. My faded, torn jeans and beat up shoes looked right at home. I didn’t have jewellery, and while my hair was more white than blonde and generally pointed me out in a crowd, it was covered by the hood. My face may not be pocked, but I wore the look of someone who had been beaten by life one too many times. It was a look the people around here were all too familiar with.
With my head down, I relied on my ears to give me any odd information that might have stuck out around here. An odd snippet here or there, but nothing too far outside the norm.
There was concern, I noted, that something was wrong. Like animals could scent a storm coming, the unloved residents of the city could smell the danger in the air. Where the respectable businessman ignored the feeling in his gut and went on to work as if nothing had changed, the homeless were tense and anxious and buzzing with the anxiety of it all. They had no haven to hide inside.
I paused and leaned against the building at a corner, curious of the conversation I had just entered hearing range for.
“…Mark my words, we’re not going to survive this one.” A female voice spoke in a broken London accent.
“Keep yer voice down, Lena.” Her counterpart, a man, responded.
“Why should I? No one listens to us, all going about as if they’re so much better. Won’t be thinkin’ that when the ash claims us, no…”
I heard it in her voice, the conviction of Truth. This wasn’t the anxious barking of a dog scenting a storm; this was a dog who had seen the burglar and intended to raise the alarm.
“Excuse me.” I kept my voice low and soft as I turned towards the pair, though there was nothing I could do to hide the difference in accent between me and the pair. I wasn’t willing to fake something like that. “What was that about ash?”
“See! I told you to hush!” The man threw his hands up in the air. “C’mon, Lena, we’re going.” He tugged at her arm, casting a fearful glance over his shoulder.
She yanked her arm away from him, and judging by the look on his face this was an uncharacteristic move. “No. I won’t. Someone wants to listen an’ I’m gonna tell ‘em.” She turned towards me, nodding her head abruptly. “You believe me, don’t ya?”
“I do.” I answered, letting the guard down on my face so she could see the earnest belief there. “I’ve always found truth in these parts, that’s why I come here.”
“Right you were to do so, missy. We know better than anyone else in this town, what’ll be coming down.” She nodded her head absently. “Is a real pity, though, because I’ll be rather sad to die.” I was surprised at how calm she was, how she’d seemed to accept that this was fate.
“What makes you think we’re going to die?” I probed.
“I saw it.” She lifted her chin, though did not meet my gaze. “I ‘ad a vision. The city blew and we were burning, burning, burning…so much pain and so much crying. Can’t all die at once, can we? Be too neat.”
What were the odds of this? I wondered. It seemed too…convenient. Still, I pressed on. “You saw it? Do you do that a lot? See things?” I put an inflection on the words.
“Always have, ever since I was a little girl. Not very helpful, and it scared me mum half to death.” She went quiet for a moment, folding in as if taken by memories.
How was this possible? This woman had seen the future, and no one knew about it. It wasn’t even as though she knew anything about the Order to keep quiet about, that much was obvious with her sharing the story with me. If this was such a widespread thing, why did no one know that it was real?
I glanced around, at the homeless stumbling along the street, and wondered how many had Power. Were they driven from their homes by their inability to settle, to be the same as those around them? Was that the fate of a mage who did not join the Order?
I shivered and pulled my coat closer around me. I didn’t want to invite such a fate onto myself, but it was hard not to see how likely it was—I’d technically be homeless in just a few days if I couldn’t finish the job I
’d accepted.
More likely than not I was colouring the world with my own bias.
“Have you ever met anyone else like you?” I asked, averting my eyes now, hoping that she wouldn’t realise I was talking about myself. I needed to know—Aidan had spoken with the shopkeeper as if there was a community of magic users. Where were they? Did this woman know about any of them?
She was quiet for a while, then I felt her finger at my chin, pulling my head up. Her eyes had gone glassy.
“Lost child with no home.” Her voice…it was as if two people were speaking at once, too much volume in one person, though she hadn’t raised her voice. “You will never know rest. Move on. Find your ritual, a friend awaits you there.”
What was that? A prophecy? It broke my heart, whatever it was.
Her finger dropped from my face and she shuddered, stumbling backwards. Her companion, quiet until this moment, stepped forward to catch her. “Shouldn’t have talked to you, I told ‘er not to!” He grumbled. “Get on with yer now, Lena needs a rest.” He pulled her away, leading her down the street. She seemed half asleep, and allowed it.
I stood alone at the corner now, shaken with the words that had been spoken. What was I supposed to do with that? And how cruel it had been. ‘You shall never rest.’ Prophecy or curse or homeless ramblings? I shrugged my shoulders to try and dislodge the discomfort inside me.
I didn’t have time for anything like that. I might as well listen to the last bit though—I found I had no more desire to speak to the homeless, lest I find myself in a similar situation.
Mal had said the ritual needed to take place at a site of great bloodshed—not a lot of help, considering the age of the city and its complex history.
What made the entire thing even more difficult, was that I didn’t know what I was looking for. Was I just supposed to assume that I’d be able to feel the ‘magic in the air’? Would there be a giant, neon sign pointing to a location, flashing ‘necromancer meeting here’? Doubtful. This was probably a bad idea.
