by Mel Todd
The harder I tried to remember, the more doubts I had. Maybe I really reacted that fast and the rush of adrenaline made it seem like time stopped. Something could have caught the chunk of hair and I didn't notice it getting cut off. Or heck, when was the last time I had paid any attention to my hair? Maybe it had been like that for a while. Jorge hadn't seemed to notice when I came down.
My thoughts bounced between two extremes, leaving me even more exhausted by the time I got home. The three flights of stairs to our apartment seemed like a mile. By the time I'd gotten to the top, I just wanted to crawl into bed and hide - hide from everything. I swallowed and pushed open the door, trying to look forward to Jo and the smell of food. I stood there, the door open and one foot inside.
The apartment was dark with no scent of food. Confused, I stepped all the way in and shut the door behind me. "Jo?" I knew she wasn't there, but I called anyhow. As I expected, there was no answer.
Standing in the middle of the living room, I wracked my mind to remember if she had said anything. When we'd talked, before I went to bed, she'd indicated studying and papers.
Oh, maybe I should check my phone.
We had it on silent so calls didn't come in when we were with patients, and with the turmoil of the day I'd completely forgotten to look at it. A text from Jo popped up as soon as I pulled open the app.
*Cor going out with peeps for study and talk. Be back late. Dinner in fridge. Ta!*
I sagged in relief. No one to pester me, no one to make me face something I wasn't ready to face. But I had wanted to get her opinion, see if what I thought was right. If maybe I really was a mage.
So what am I trying to avoid: the knowledge I'm a mage? Or the fear of losing everything again?
I couldn't answer that question, so I grabbed the burrito waiting for me. Jo knew my penchant for easily consumed food. I heated it up while I stripped into something comfortable to sleep in. Somehow, I managed to eat without even being aware of what was in the burrito. I didn't realize I'd eaten it all until I went to take another bite and nothing was there.
Shaking my head, I went to bed after checking four times that I had the alarms set for tomorrow morning. At this point, I wanted to stay long enough to get to the daily eight hour shifts. I hated twelves and the rotating day shifts was a pain, though being off Monday would make things easier.
I fell into sleep, but it wasn't restful. Instead, I went back to the weird dream of those moments between me rushing to Stevie's side and him dying in my arms. The fight with darkness, the pulling at my very being, and the weird double snap that came into me.
The wail of the alarm clock came as a relief. I pulled myself up and staggered into the shower. It was only there that the rest of my brain caught up with thoughts and ideas.
Am I a mage? Should I get tested? Did Jo make it home? Will the cops talk to me?
The list of questions seemed never-ending and I tried to order what I needed to do. But first and foremost, always, was Jo. Stepping out, I wrapped a towel around me and padded over to her bedroom. She always kept her door open a crack, saying she liked to have fair warning of other noises in the house. Today was no different. I pushed it open wide enough to stick my head in and check. Sure enough, she lay facedown on the bed, one arm hanging off and a gentle snore rattling her nose.
The scent of beer and cigarette smoke hit my nose and I fought a sneeze. Where in the world had she gone? Most study groups didn't involve those two things. I paused and shrugged. Maybe they did. What did I know?
With a shake of my head, I backed out and continued to get ready for work. I needed to be out at the bus stop by five-thirty to make it to work before seven. I left water and pain killers waiting for her on her nightstand before I left, her snoring still audible. Oh well, I'd talk to her tonight. Maybe by then I'd have a plan.
I'd taken the time in the morning to cover up the chunk of missing hair so it looked less obvious. I still didn't know what it meant, but either way I'd have to deal with it soonish.
Walking into the bay, I headed for the coffeepot, having finished my first mug on the way here.
"Morning, Cori. So, I did some research on you," a friendly voice chirped at me and I almost tripped as I spun. This was my fifth day and the first time anyone had talked to me in a friendly voice, much less greeted me. Lisa stood there with a smile on her face, though a smirk hovered at the edges.
"Morning," I replied, my tone wary. "And did you find anything?"
"Well, after Jorge told us about your adventure yesterday, and your coolness under pressure–which, by the way, I don't know if I could have done." There was honest admiration in her tone but the barely hidden smirk worried me.
"Thanks?"
"No, you did good. Though what I find interesting is what I got through the rumor mill." Her smirk had blossomed to a full-blown one and mentally I braced myself for whatever was coming. Even though my brain scrambled, I couldn't think of anything. My grades had been good, my performance at all the internships had received high scores. So what could she be smirking about?
"And that is?"
"A nickname. Cori Catastrophe." Her wide grin and peppy tone had everyone paying attention to us at this point. For my part my knees almost buckled.
That's it? That's what she has on me? Oh, who cares.
The relief that washed through me made me giddy. While I hadn't wanted to talk about my weird life, after yesterday I didn't think it mattered. "Yeah. Lots of weird things happen around me. Or I find them."
"If nothing else, having you here will be interesting. Welcome aboard, Cori."
Jorge walked in about then and grinned. "I think I'm calling you Catastrophe from now on."
I turned to see the group of them grinning at me, and for the first time I didn't feel like an intruder in their space. But the joy I would have felt at that not two days ago didn't emerge. Instead, the idea that I would lose all of this, lose a place where I might have belonged, spiked even harder. I swallowed back tears and turned around, lifting my voice as I did so. "I assume you would like me to make coffee?"
A chorus of "yes, please" filled the area. I focused on the coffee until I had control of myself again. The lunch box idea seemed an even stupider thing to worry about, but I was tired of being hungry. But rather than bugging Jorge, I took my mug and went out to the bay.
The Atlanta heat hadn't settled in yet, but at seven-thirty it was already muggy and thick. Yet another reason to someday live in the mountains. Pulling open the passenger side door, I started looking. While I had the training to drive the rigs, for the most part I didn't like to drive and was more than willing to let anyone else drive for me. I did need to grab the rig once a month just to practice. Not knowing how wasn't the same as not liking to drive. Though public transportation was annoying, it was cheaper and less scary.
Fifteen minutes later I still didn't see a good place to stick a lunch and sighed with frustration.
"Whatcha looking for?"
Where a day ago his voice would have been uninterested, maybe even cool, today Jorge sounded almost curious. Almost.
"I'm trying to figure out if there is someplace I can put a lunch bag or cooler or something," I admitted, straightening up.
"Why?" He had a frown on his face, and I had to laugh. Some people didn't get either being broke or being frugal. Either way, at least he wasn't contemptuous. I'd take that.
"I'm broke. I don't even own a car. I really can't afford to eat out every day and we aren't back here consistently for me to keep my lunch here." I shrugged. "So I was trying to find an option that might work."
"Oh. Huh." He frowned, looking at the rig. "Never thought about it. I like eating out. Only chance I get to eat things my wife would strangle me for eating." He got in the other side and looked. "You know there really isn't, but most of the crap in the glove box can be tossed or shouldn't take up much space. You could easily get a sandwich or slim container in there." He leaned down and popped open the glove box, pulling ou
t stuff and separating it into two piles. The pile of documents we needed to keep consisted of the registration and the manual, everything else we tossed. That left a nice space for me to shove food. The burritos Jo made, a few PB&J's, nothing that would go bad, but stuff that would keep me fed.
"That will work great!" I managed not to gush, then felt guilty. They thought I would stay. I wanted to stay. But what if?
I shut down that line of thought. Monday go to the police station. Ask my question. Then decide. Maybe put it off another week. A week wouldn't make that much of a difference. Next week I would have Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday off. That might be better. Go in Wednesday morning to give myself a few days to deal with the outcome. I didn't want to be a mage. I wanted the life I'd been struggling to have.
"Great and sorry. That just didn't occur to me. Most of us just eat on the run or here. But yeah, I get being broke." He looked like he was going to say something else, but the speaker went off.
"Unit needed at Peachtree Center Northeast and Ellis Street. Car versus pedestrian."
"Let's go. And if we're out today, I'll buy lunch," Jorge said as we both jumped into the rig. I started to protest but he waved me away. "You earned it. If I had gone up that ladder the patient and I would both be dead. So you earned lunch." I nodded, putting my mug in the cup holder, and buckled in.
"Sounds good, and thanks."
"Yeah, we're a bunch of jerks, but most people think this is an easy gig and bail after the first few days. Not worth the effort."
"Bailing isn't on my plan," I said, forcing a smile.
But some things might be out of my control.
Chapter 9
Hedgemages are the forgotten magic users among us. While it is estimated more people are hedgemages than the official 35% of all tested, in reality the numbers may be as high as 75% of all people. This implies that many people are doing magic all the time, but it is so intrinsic to their very being they never realize it. It also suggests that treating anyone poorly might be a fatal mistake. ~ History of Magic
I really hope this isn't a mistake, but I need to know.
I stood outside the police station, the same one I'd been questioned at a few days ago. I'd spent Sunday avoiding talking to Jo, which oddly wasn't hard. Apparently, she had both drunk too much and let someone try to make her sober, which resulted in giving her the hangover to beat all hangovers. When I got home, she was curled up on the couch sipping water, and begged me not to talk too loud as she studied.
I had laughed softly and rubbed the top of her head which elicited a whine.
"Remember, you have class tomorrow."
"If I die today, I don't. So just let me die."
"Hmm, you know what Marisol would do right now, don't you?"
"Oh, please Cori. For the love of magic, please don't." I swear she whimpered as she said that.
I laughed, refilled her water, and went to bed. I had my own drama to deal with. Jo learned fast—I doubted she'd ever do that again and if she did, I would pull a Marisol. That would involve cranking music as loud as I could and finding the worst tasting stuff to eat. But for now, I was just as happy to slip into bed and sleep in.
Sleeping in felt great and let me avoid Jo, who left for a nine am class. So here I was staring at the police station.
The worst they can do is question me again and I don't have anything else going on today.
I took a deep breath and promptly coughed as I got a mouthful of car exhaust. There were days when I really missed Rockway. Still coughing, I pushed my way in and enjoyed the cooler and much cleaner air inside.
"May I help you?" It was a question. At least the words should have been one, but the grumpy woman manning the desk made them sound like an accusation. Her hair looked like she'd been in a tornado, streaked with grey and piled on her head. A style that looked cute on Jo, but this one had more lines on her face than I had eyelashes and smelled like she lived in an ashtray.
It took me off my stride a bit and I stammered. "De-Detective Stone? I mean, I uh, I wanted to talk to Detective Stone?"
She glared at me. "About what?"
The attitude made it even harder, but I pushed through. No matter what, I needed to put flowers at that woman's grave. Let her know her death mattered to me. Nothing else had eaten at me as much. I only rarely went to the funerals of those I found but I always followed, knew their name, kept them in my thoughts. This woman, this girl, I knew nothing of, and I needed to give her that much. A name and a goodbye.
"The girl in the park," I hedged. I would not blurt out things in this public area. Already more than one person had walked by giving me a weird look.
Her face tightened, but she nodded at some worn and defaced chairs. "Sit. I'll see if he's available."
I backed away but didn't sit. The chairs looked like they might carry a laboratory's worth of diseases. I had a sudden desire to start spraying the disinfectant we used to clean the ambulance on them. Sitting on those might kill me.
"What? Decided to tell me what you refused to tell me last time?" Detective Stone's voice sounded right behind me and I jumped, bumping into the chairs. They fell apart like a house of cards. We both stared at them and I just closed my eyes for a moment, wondering how much of the disaster that shadowed me really was my fault. Pushing it away, and my scratchy skull, I looked up at him.
He had a slack-jawed look of surprise on his face that made him look stupid, and it helped.
"There wasn't anything I didn't tell you, as I'm sure you are well aware of."
He crossed his arms across his chest, creating man boobs which I'm pretty sure wasn't the effect he was going for. "Then why are you here? You must have some more information to give us."
I fought not to roll my eyes. "What else could I have told you? If you've been doing your job, you know I just moved here. I'm the roommate of a new mage at GA MageTech. You should know that I'm a newly hired paramedic at Ruby. Anything else doesn't have anything to bear on this case. Or did you have another question?" My tone challenged him, and I noted more than a few people, both cops and others, were watching us with a variety of reactions.
"No. That's what I found out. But that doesn't explain why you're here." His voice was just as challenging, and my teeth ground together. I was going to have dental issues if I kept this up.
"I'm here because there has been nothing in the news: no mention of her, no asking questions. No 'can you identify this girl’ messages." I was about to continue, but he cut me off.
"What? Is that your fix? You're looking for attention, a bit of glory? Want to be known as the person who found the victim? Sell your story to the tabloids? What? Has our keeping this under wraps messed up your plans? You were sure you'd be famous for finding her?"
"Are all cops here in Atlanta this blasted stupid?" I spat the words out. We were both almost yelling now, but while I was aware of the audience, I didn't really care. "I don't give a damn about anyone knowing who I am. I'd be happier if no one ever knew I existed. But she did exist. I just wanted to know her name and when and where she was going to be buried. I thought she deserved to have flowers and me knowing her name. Forgive me if I thought that by seeing her in death, I at least owed her the courtesy of laying flowers on her grave."
His mouth dropped open to let loose what I was sure was about to be another attack on my stupidity and involvement in her death. Coming here had been a waste of my time.
"Is there an issue?" This voice was arctic cold without a trace of Southern accent. Stone went white and turned slowly toward the man who had spoken. He was older, maybe fifty, with gray streaking the sides of his head. His suit, while not screaming money, fit well and went with his cold blue eyes and dark brown hair.
"Captain Jessup, sir. We were having a discussion."
"At the top of your voices, in the lobby, where at least twenty people are now listening, and I'm sure someone has recorded it. All about a case that we wanted to keep under the radar until we had a better lead."
"Yes, it was. And yes, you do." He shifted his attention to me, and I wished he hadn't. He had no mage symbols on his temples but from the way his eyes pierced me, I would have believed he had the ability to read my thoughts and my soul. "I take it you are our only lead in this case."
Only lead? Are they serious? I know nothing. How in the world can I be their lead?
Worry and annoyance caused my mouth to run off again. "If I'm the only thing you have as a lead, your case is going nowhere, and that girl will never find justice. Because I don't know a damn thing and don't have any ideas for you."
Stone clenched his fists, but the captain nodded.
"That is true. I have gone over all the statements you gave, and I believe you are correct in your avowal that you know nothing of the young woman's demise." He kept his voice cool and quiet and already people started drifting away, though one or two seemed a bit disappointed at that. "At this time, we still do not know her identity." That comment rocked me back. They didn't know who she was? But she was a mage, or was she? Wracking my brain, I tried to remember if she had a tattoo.
"Wasn't she registered with OMO?" The words slipped out and they both looked at me.
"She had no tattoos. Why would you think she was a mage?" Captain Jessup asked, still in that smooth voice, but this time his attention didn't waver from me at all.
"I don't know. The symbols. They seemed mage-like. They made me think of…" I struggled to find words from what I had sensed. The symbols, obscured by dirt and detritus, had just seemed like twisted magic, something to do something, but they also felt fake. "I just thought with the magical symbols she must have been a mage. But that was just the impression I got. I don't know anything."
"Stone, did you run her through OMO?"
Stone shook his head. "No mage tats, why bother?"
I looked at both of them. "Didn't you get the same training as I did?" At their clueless stares I elaborated. "Anyone who is tested gets logged into the OMO system. You're only required to get the tattoos if you're a magician or higher. But to get access to the classes, you need to be tested and registered. Lots of hedges go to be tested just for the access. Even if they never actually use their magic."
