by Kimbra Swain
My phone lit up the elevator. I saw Brax’s name flashing on the screen.
“They will take her magic,” Ajax said.
“Take my magic,” I muttered.
“Yes, Miss Ashcraft, if you had not defended yourself, this man would have taken you to a group known as the Society. They would have started a bloodletting ceremony in which they would have cut your wrists and ankles, bleeding you until you were dry. Then they would drink your blood thus consuming your power,” he explained with no emotion.
I put my hands over my mouth.
“She doesn’t know anything,” Ajax protested.
“It is not our fault that the Librarians did not tell her,” the man said.
“Who?” I asked.
“Let’s go, Ajax,” the man said.
“Gil, please,” Ajax begged, defying the man again.
“Do not speak my name,” Gil growled. “You come with me this day or I swear that I will cut you off with no aid. You will never find a safe haven.”
“Ajax, go with him,” I said softly.
“What?” The young hooded man said as he turned to me.
“Yeah, you go. I’ll be okay. Fight another day,” I said, hoping he got my meaning.
If he went with this man, then maybe, in the future he could help me again. I heard his teeth grinding inside his hood. His form turned to smoke, and he passed through the wall of the elevator. Gil followed him closely.
The doors to the elevator opened behind me. Braxton stood there with a frantic look on his face. “Lacey!” He looked at the man slumped in the corner, as I stepped out to him. Fear and anguish took over as I leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around me. “It’s okay. I’ve got you now.” He squeezed tightly as security guards ran around the corner toward the tiny elevator.
“Move back,” one of them instructed us. I cried into Brax’s shoulder as he backed us up against the wall.
“He’s dead,” one of the men said.
Several doctors rushed up to see if they could help. “Excuse me, Miss. Are you injured?”
“No. He got shocked,” I muttered.
“We need to check her out,” the doctor said to Brax.
“No, Brax. Take me home,” I insisted.
“You will need to give your account of what happened here,” one of the security guards said.
Brax woke up from his shock. “No, I’m taking her home. You send the cops to us.”
“My phone,” I said, pointing at it in the elevator.
“That’s evidence, ma’am,” the security guard said.
“What kind of hospital is this where fake staff can take women down tiny elevators? My lawyer is going to be all over this,” Braxton said, as he led me away from the commotion. “Keep walking away, Lacey.”
“Sir, we really need the two of you to stay,” the guard insisted.
“No way. You’ve done enough,” Brax said, turning his back on them. “Don’t look back. Just keep walking.”
By the time Braxton got me strapped into his car, my hands and legs shook uncontrollably. I was a nervous wreck.
“What did he do?” Brax asked.
“He said he was taking me somewhere,” I muttered. Brax grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly.
“Just take deep breaths. You are fine now. I shouldn’t have left you. I’m sorry. I had no idea he wasn’t a real orderly,” he said.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“When the real guy showed up to pick you up, he had to fight off that nurse, but he called security. I was standing by the security desk when the call came over their radios. I just beat them to the elevator,” he explained. “How did he die?”
“I don’t know. He just started shaking and smoking,” I said. The lie was better than the truth.
“Geez. Thank God,” he said. “I’m not letting you out of my sight now.”
“I just want to go home,” I whined.
“On our way.” He drove quickly but steadily as not to jostle me. I knew I smelled like vomit and burnt flesh, but he didn’t mention it. When we pulled up into the drive at my Aunt’s house, I moved to get out. “Wait. Let me help you.”
“I’m okay,” I said.
“I assume the vomit was yours,” he said.
“I know I smell like it. I’m sorry it got in your car,” I muttered.
“Silly Lacey. I don’t give a shit about that. I’m coming to help you. My point is, you are weak. I wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t help,” he said.
“Thank you, Brax,” I said.
He bent down to look me in the eye. “I kept waiting for that door to open. I was going to rip that man to shreds if he had hurt you.”
“But…”
“No, I mean it.” He raised back up, offering his hand. I took it and leaned into him as we climbed the steps of the old Victorian.
The door flew open, and my Aunt Clara stood there with wide eyes and frazzled lavender hair.
“Mr. Braxton, please bring her inside,” she said as she grabbed my face to kiss me on the cheek. “Thank God, you are alive.”
I didn’t think she knew about the life and death situation in the elevator, but who knows. She had ways of finding out things. Brax’s phone kept ringing in his pocket. He huffed, then answered it.
“Hello,” he said, as he lowered me to the floral upholstered couch in the formal living area. “She’s fine. I brought her home, Fane. You don’t have to worry about her.”
I didn’t want to talk to Kota. My mind buzzed with the power of the electricity still. My aunt sat down beside me and held my hand with her cold boney fingers.
“Truly, are you alright? You look just terrible,” she said.
“Aunt Clara!” I protested.
“And you smell like vomit,” she added.
Brax lowered his voice as he spoke to Dakota. I just hoped that it didn’t turn territorial. The vibes that Braxton gave off were feral and possessive. I was not his, nor anyone else’s to possess. Not even Mr. Walk-Through-The-Walls Ajax.
“I need to talk to you about something,” I told my aunt. “But only if he leaves.”
She tilted her head, wanting more of an explanation, but I couldn’t give her any other. Not while Brax was still here. He joined us back on the couch with a stoic face.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Dakota was just checking on you. Do you need help getting a shower or getting to your room?” he asked.
“Young man,” Aunt Clara started in on him. “It is inappropriate for a young man to escort a woman who is not his own to the shower. Do you have intentions toward Lacey?”
“Aunt Clara,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t mean any harm. I just hate what has happened to her. She is my best friend. I have no expectations, but I have plenty of intentions,” Braxton said, watching me.
I pushed myself off the couch, almost teetering over. Brax stood up to steady me. “Brax, I’m fine. You go home now.” Trying to walk straight on wobbly legs, I forced myself to the steps.
“You gonna stop her?” Aunt Clara asked him.
I knew then whose side she was on. She’d known about Dakota because we would hang out with her sometimes. Making cookies. Watching soap operas. She also knew he broke my heart even though I never talked about it.
Brax took the nudge to heart, rushing over to me. “Lacey, please give me a minute.”
“Brax, I’m tired. Can’t this wait?” I asked. “The police are liable to come up in here any minute. I’d like to be clean when they do. I might be in jail tonight.”
“Lacey, I have nowhere to go. Nothing to offer you, but I want you to know that your kindness has helped me see that there are good people in this world. Not just greedy ones like my father. And I know you think it’s too soon, but I’ve watched you for so long. From that very first day we met, I’ve watched you. You are so good, and I want to learn to be like that, but mostly, I just want to be with you. You are not going to jail. I�
�ll sell my car if I have to get a lawyer for you,” he said.
“Brax, I really can’t take this right now. You are welcome to stay here. Sleep on the couch if you want. But I don’t know what any of the rest of that means,” I said.
“What does your heart say?” he asked.
“My heart doesn’t speak,” I replied.
“That’s not true. You give of yourself wholly and completely,” he said.
“It’s not what you think.”
“I think you are a light in my very dark life,” he said.
Well, damn. Dancing in coffee shops and pouring out his soul, Braxton Stanwick was a romantic.
“Just give me some time,” I said.
A wide smile crossed his face. “So, it’s not a no.”
I chuckled. “It’s not a no.”
Trudging up the stairs, I cursed myself for falling for his charms. I didn’t want to be a rebound girl, but as long as I kept my heart out of it, I’d be fine.
When I returned to the sitting room, Brax met me at the stairs. “You were right. The police are here. Remember you don’t have to talk to them,” he instructed me.
“You in law school or something?” I asked.
“No, but I’ve tangled with them a few times,” he admitted.
“Okay,” I replied. He followed me into the sitting room where he helped me into a Queen Anne chair that matched all the other Victorian furniture in the room. I didn’t need help to sit down, because the shower had worked wonders for my aching muscles.
“Miss Ashscraft, I’m Officer Monroe and this is my partner, Officer Burkhardt. We would like to ask you a few questions about what happened in the elevator,” he said coolly.
“I should have a lawyer present,” I muttered. Braxton put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed his approval.
“Whatever for?” Aunt Clara asked.
“It’s just good to have a legal advisor present,” I said.
“Miss Ashcraft, we aren’t charging you with anything. Our forensics department hasn’t nailed down Mr. Renard’s cause of death, but we can tell you that we believe that some faulty wiring in the elevator may have triggered it,” Officer Monroe explained.
“Could you tell us what happened?” Officer Burkhardt chimed in.
I started to shake remembering the moments that I fought for my life. I couldn’t tell these officers the truth no matter what, so I’d better make it believable or avoid the question altogether.
“I’m sorry, Officers. I will not speak to you without a lawyer present.”
“Thank you for your time, Miss Ashcraft. We will be in touch,” Officer Monroe said as he stood. “Thank you for the lemonade, Miss Clarabelle.”
“You are welcome. Tell your mother I said hello,” she said with a smile. Braxton walked over to the door to let them out.
“Why didn’t you speak to them? What happened at the hospital?” Aunt Clarabelle asked.
“Aunt Clara, a man tried to kidnap me. He pretended to be an orderly, then when he put me in the elevator, he tried to put his hands on me. I fought him off, but he got shocked,” I said.
“Shocked? Like an electric chair?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Mr. Stanwick, if you are going to be staying here, I’m going to need some supplies from the store. Do you mind?” Aunt Clara asked.
“Of course not. What do you need?” he asked politely.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
“No, I want to. Your aunt is going to let me sleep on the couch. It’s the least I can do,” Brax replied.
“My list is on the icebox in the kitchen, and my pocketbook is on the dining table,” she said.
Brax hustled out of the room, then back to us in a flash. He offered the pocketbook to Aunt Clara. She opened it, counting out at least $100 in cash.
“Use the change to buy yourself some gas in that fancy car,” she suggested.
“That’s not necessary,” he replied
“No, it’s not, but if you turn down my hospitality, young man, you can sleep on the porch,” she scolded him.
“Alright. I’ll be back,” he said to me. I nodded my head not knowing what else to do.
As soon as I heard the purr of his engine, I hissed at my aunt. “Why? Why did you do that?”
“What really happened at the hospital?” she asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said.
“You were going to tell me before, so what changed your mind?” she said. I had worked up the courage to ask her, but in the end, I decided that I was insane to think any of it was real, and to tell someone else was even more insane. She waited on my response. “You can tell me, Chantilly.”
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
“We didn’t think you had the gift, but apparently you do,” she said.
“What gift?” I asked.
She lifted her hand and a silver arcane circle appeared. “The gift of our family line. The ability to do magic. I’ve given up my powers over the years, or rather, they were ripped from me. This is the most I can do.”
“My parents?” I asked.
“They were 2nd generation mages, however, they chose not to practice magic. They were librarians. It was their responsibility to keep up with the changing of times and how magic developed through their lifetime. Growing up, you showed no proclivity to the talent. We assumed you didn’t get it. It is rare to find a 3rd generation mage. It also means your power is greater than almost any you come across,” she explained.
My jaw gaped, and I gasped for air. “I killed him. I called on the other symbol. The fire one. He was trying to take me.”
“Was he wielding?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“In our community, you are allowed to take a life if someone is trying to take yours or your magic,” she said. “I’m not a part of the community anymore, but I know the rules.”
“I don’t know anything, except for what is in the trunk in the attic,” I said.
“What trunk?” she asked.
“My parents left a trunk in their attic, and I put it here. It has magic books in it,” I explained.
“You must not tell anyone about those books. I just assumed they were stolen. I’m happy to know you have them, but I’m concerned that they are in this house. However, someone has protected this house with a spell. Probably because they know what you are,” she said.
“There is a hooded man who has tried to persuade me to stop using it, but then he wanted to take me with him to learn. His boss showed up and he didn’t approve,” I said.
“The Society?”
“No, they said the other man was from the Society.”
“Oh, well, I know enough to tell you to steer clear of the Society. I don’t know what your hooded man is though,” she said. “He have a name?”
“Ajax.”
“Like the Greek hero?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“There were secret groups all the time, but the Society usually squashes them. You would do best to be a librarian like your parents,” she said.
“It feels like a cowardly way out,” I said.
“No, it’s noble to record the histories. Librarians are neutral, therefore they are never hunted or killed like the others,” my aunt explained.
“Did my parents die because of magic?” I asked.
“No, they died because of the lack of it. It is a skill that can prolong your life and keep you free from disease. However, your parents chose the other route. They died of a car accident and cancer.”
“I should have been told,” I said.
“Yes, you should have,” she replied.
Aunt Clara insisted that I try to sleep. Using any amount of magic can exhaust you depending on the application. Apparently, all this time I thought I had been getting sick, when actually, it was because of my magical experimentation. Aunt Clara told me a few things that specifically applied to my situation, but I had so
little knowledge about what had become a much bigger world overnight.
Climbing the stairs to my bedroom, I thought over the last twenty-four hours. I’d saved a life and taken one. My brain wouldn’t allow my heart to dwell on it.
Braxton hadn’t returned from Aunt Clara’s errand, but she assured me that she would set him up on the couch with blankets and pillows. What would my friends think of me? They could never know. I’d read the books about witches and wizard schools. You weren’t allowed to tell anyone that you could do magical things.
I fell back on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Just above me, a trove of instruction manuals waited to show me the deepest secrets of the craft. Were there teachers? Did someone have to teach me?
“What the fuck am I?” I asked no one.
My mind reeled, not allowing me to sleep. I tried counting sheep, but I ended up counting how many seconds it was while I watched Louis fry to death. Had he deserved it? Was that my excuse?
“Shit. I have a Geology test tomorrow,” I growled, as I tripped out of the bed. I caught myself before I fell, but it was only seconds before Braxton appeared at my door.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“I gotta study,” I said.
“Lacey, you’ve had a bad day. Let the books settle for a bit. Rest,” he said, but didn’t enter the room.
I looked down at his feet where they stood at an invisible line. “What is this?” I asked.
“Your Aunt told me I wasn’t to go in your room,” he said.
“She’s old fashioned,” I replied.
“I will respect her wishes. She’s giving me a place to sleep when I have no other,” Brax said sadly.
“We’ve talked all day about me. We should talk about you,” I said.
He sat down on the floor across from my doorway. I took to the floor in my room next to my bed. Then, he proceeded to tell me about all the hateful things that Shawnna said to him when he broke up with her. Then, she turned on him by calling his father who immediately cut off his funds. He’d even had him evicted from his apartment. Brutal. Vicious.
“He treated you like a red-headed step-child,” I said.
He grinned. “I don’t have red hair.”
Braxton had beautiful, thick chestnut brown hair with intense eyes. “No, you don’t.
