Wicked Magic

by Margot de Klerk

  It was just wrong.

  “Ah well, I figured I’d offer,” Adrian said carelessly. “So, you got a plan, then?”

  “Yes,” Nathan lied, “and it doesn’t involve you.”

  Adrian sniggered.

  “Hey, if push comes to shove, you could always make her another one of your amulets. At least that’s something you’re good at.”

  Nathan wanted one friend, just one, who wouldn’t make fun of him ruthlessly for literally everything. It might be easier to figure out what he was doing wrong, if everyone could just leave him alone to do it.

  He pressed his head against the back of his armchair and stared at the ceiling.

  “What amulet would I make?”

  “A protection ward? Monica reckons those sell for in the thousands, if they’re done well.”

  As unwilling as Nathan was to admit it, that might be the best option he had.

  He started with plan A, though, which meant doing the normal human being thing and texting Cynthia.

  Nathan: Hi

  Nathan: I don’t really know how to say this

  Nathan: I’m really sorry about how today went

  Nathan: I didn’t mean to scare you or give you the wrong impression. I was trying to find a way to show you that we have something in common, but I definitely mucked it up and I’m really sorry. I probably ruined everything, but will you at least give me the chance to apologise in person?

  Nathan: In case it wasn’t clear, I can see magic. It would have been nice to get to know someone else who can

  Cynthia did not reply.

  At dinner that night, Jess asked, “So, how did your date go?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Nathan told his plate.

  “Ooooh, that bad? Did you even kiss her?” Jess cooed.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Did she hit you? You have a bruise.”

  Nathan’s hand flew to his face. The skin felt hot. Jess laughed a horrible, jeering laugh.

  “Jessica, that’s enough,” Aunt Anna said. Nathan pushed his chair back.

  “I’m not hungry,” he said. “I’ll eat later, Aunt Anna.”

  “Nathan—” she started, but Nathan was already marching out of the kitchen.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “MR DELACROIX,” MR JACKSON said ominously in bio the next afternoon. “Please stay after class.”

  Nathan’s heart sank. He’d spent the better part of last night researching which woods were best for protective amulets, and he really wanted to take a nap before he had to go down to Grey’s this evening and get beaten up.

  “Yes, Mr Jackson,” he mumbled.

  Once the classroom had cleared out, Nathan collected his bag and slouched to the front of the classroom, lingering unobtrusively beside his teacher’s desk. He’d stand there all night if it meant the man would just forget about him, but sadly Nathan only managed to be invisible when he didn’t want to be.

  “Have a seat, please,” said Mr Jackson. “Mr Delacroix, I’m a little concerned about your performance this year. Your marks have slipped quite a bit from last year, and it doesn’t seem like you’re planning on applying to university?”

  “I—uh—” Nathan said, his mind going blank for a moment. “Um, I’m supposed to join the family business.”

  “And you’re… happy with that? Is everything alright at home? You used to be a reasonably diligent student.”

  Teachers had a way of being cutting without actually saying anything nasty. In two words, Mr Jackson had condemned six years of Nathan’s academic performance. He had never been special—the most he had ever achieved was reasonably diligent. His cheeks burned with shame.

  “There’s nothing wrong at home,” he said furiously. “I’m just training—for the family business—and sometimes it’s hard to balance everything. I’ll work harder.”

  “I rather fear that might be the problem,” Mr Jackson said. “I think you’re working too hard. You look exhausted.” He frowned. “You live with your aunt and uncle, yes? Perhaps I should have a word with them.”

  Oh no.

  “Please give me a chance. I’ll pick my marks up again.”

  “Well, at least you remembered this weekend’s homework,” Mr Jackson said. “Let’s see how you do, and we can have another chat next week.”

  Bloody fantastic.

  Cynthia was still ignoring his texts, and Nathan didn’t want to beg her. By the time he hopped off his bike and locked at Grey’s house, he was feeling decidedly dejected.

  “Late,” Grey sneered. He was leaning against the wall of the double garage. The roller doors were open, showing the makeshift gym within.

  “I’m sorry,” Nathan said. “I was trying to finish my homework.”

  “Do you think vampires will care about excuses? You can’t kill me because I haven’t finished my homework?”

  Nathan sighed again. “Just tell me what the penalty is so I can get on with it.”

  “That’ll be a double, for insubordination.”

  Nathan groaned. He spent the next hour running sprints and doing push-ups in between sparring bouts. By the end, he felt about to drop.

  “You need to get your head back in the game,” Grey told him, standing very smugly over where Nathan had collapsed in a heap of noodle-like limbs. “You’re almost eighteen. I can’t, in good conscience, support your initiation when you’re like this. You’d get yourself killed.”

  Nathan wasn’t entirely sure Grey had a conscience. He’d probably never met an ethical quandary he couldn’t beat into submission.

  “Grey,” he said before he could stop himself. “Did you ever, uh, have doubts before you initiated?”

  “Are you doubting the path of the hunter? Or are you doubting your own ability to follow it?”

  The honest answer was the first, but Nathan wasn’t stupid. Down that path lay permanent excommunication from the family. “The second. I just… feel like I’m being pulled in every direction.”

  “You need clarity,” Grey said, with understanding, if not with empathy. “On Saturday afternoon, I’ll take you to the prison.”

  The prison was where they experimented illegally on feral vampires to try and find a cure. It was something everyone knew existed, but no one ever spoke about.

  As though this week couldn’t get any worse.

  “Brilliant,” Nathan moaned into his hands.

  Grey kicked him in the ribs. “Now get off my garage floor. Your aunt’s going to be expecting you for dinner.”

  By the next morning there was still no reply from Cynthia, and Adrian was starting to get impatient.

  Adrian: Any update on bird girl?

  Adrian: Don’t tell me you haven’t spoken to her yet

  Adrian: Don’t you have a spooky knife illegally hidden at home?

  Adrian: Time is of the essence, kid

  When had Adrian started getting so chatty and casual? Nathan’s parents would kill him if they ever found out… and yet, Nathan felt like he was nothing like other teenagers anymore. Adrian was so easy to talk to. And Nathan had more in common with Lily, who was a half-vampire who had once tried to chow on his neck when she went too long without a snack.

  He sought out Matt, the last bastion of normalcy in his otherwise crazy life. Because everything else in his life was going absolutely perfectly, Matt was acting kind of cold, too.

  “Where were you this weekend?” Matt asked. “I looked for you at the park.”

  “Were we supposed to meet?” Nathan replied, wracking his memory to try and find when he’d made that commitment.

  “Oh, come on, we always play footie. You could have at least texted me.”

  “I went out with Cynthia,” Nathan said, mostly as a defence, and he regretted it immediately when Matt’s jaw dropped. His friend’s icy demeanour vanished instantly.

  “Are you serious? You asked her out?”

  “Before you ask, it was a disaster,” Nathan said. “Listen, I need a favou
r. D’you suppose Poppy knows where Cynthia lives?”

  “She might, why?”

  Matt made Nathan come along to ask. Poppy and Matt appeared to be on the outs again, although Nathan was finding it hard to tell the difference between them getting along and them hating each other these days.

  “Why do you want to know?” Poppy demanded.

  “I want to apologise to her.”

  “So you’re going to go round her house like a lurker? Why don’t you just text her?”

  “I have tried that, actually,” Nathan said. “She’s ignoring me.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to you?” Poppy said. “Going to her house isn’t going to help.”

  “I just want to talk to her.” Preferably where she was comfortable, with her family around her, so he could restore his reputation as not-creepy.

  “Yeah, well she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “You don’t understand,” Nathan said in frustration. “Can you get the address for me, or not?”

  Poppy rolled her eyes and stalked off in a huff.

  “Mate, seriously?” Matt asked before hurrying off to placate his girlfriend.

  Honestly, Nathan just did not get girls.

  Still, on Wednesday morning Matt handed him a scrap of paper with an address written on it in neat, rounded handwriting. The dots over the ‘i’s were hearts.

  “No fucking comment, mate,” Matt said.

  “Shut up,” Nathan replied.

  Cynthia lived all the way up the Headington Hill. Adrian asked three times whether Nathan wanted a lift, and he said no each time. So, of course, when it came to actually cycling up the hill on Wednesday after training, he hated himself all the more.

  “Stupid—fucking—hill,” he cursed, dismounting two thirds of the way up the steep part. Cars whizzed by.

  The house was small and compact, but very neat. Nathan could see a swing set in the back garden, through the open gate. He locked his bike against the wall—you never left a bike unlocked in Oxford, not even for a second—before ringing the doorbell and wondering whether it would be worse if Cynthia or Ms Rymes opened the door.

  Ms Rymes opened it and peered at him with a frown. Yep, that was worse.

  “Nathan.”

  “Hi, Ms Rymes, I was wondering if I could speak to Cynthia?”

  Her eyes darted over him, his bike, back to him. He must look a mess. “Did you cycle all the way up here to see her? There’s a bus.”

  Nathan shrugged. “I’d really like to apologise to her.” Monica’s advice had been apologise-apologise-and-apologise-some-more. He prayed it would hold true.

  Ms Rymes sighed. “Cynthia, there’s someone here to see you!”

  “Coming, Mum!”

  Footsteps pounded on the stairs, and Cynthia appeared. She noticed him, and her face fell.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered. Then, to her mother, she added, “I’ve got it, Mum.”

  Ms Rymes gave Nathan one last suspicious glare before retreating into the house. Cynthia stepped out onto the front step but didn’t shut the door behind her.

  “What do you want?”

  “I really just want to apologise,” Nathan said.

  “How’d you get my address?”

  “I traded my immortal soul to Poppy Wiggen.” Cynthia let out a surprised laugh, then pursed her lips in frustration.

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?” Nathan asked, confused.

  “Being cute and funny,” she snapped. “You’re not allowed to make me laugh. You tricked me!”

  “I didn’t mean to.” Nathan couldn’t help but feel a little bit triumphant. She thought he was funny! “I just didn’t want to start nattering on about magic if it was going to scare the crap out of you.”

  “How do you even know about that stuff?” Cynthia demanded. “And what is that place? The witching level? Are you a witch?”

  “What do you know about witches?” Nathan asked cautiously.

  “Nuh-uh, you can go first,” Cynthia said. “I think you should start explaining.”

  So much for feeling out the situation.

  “I’m a vampire hunter.” To his shock, Cynthia laughed. “What?” he asked.

  “It’s funny,” she said. “You say it with such a straight face!”

  She didn’t believe him.

  “No, really,” he insisted. “I’m a vampire hunter. It’s been in my family since, like, the 1600s.”

  “Wait, you actually believe in vampires?” Cynthia asked. “Like Dracula? Or like… Twilight?”

  “They’re not really like either,” Nathan said. “Ten times scarier, though.”

  The smile ebbed away from Cynthia’s face. “Vampires,” she said. “That’s not funny.”

  “What do you believe in?” Nathan asked uneasily. “And can we not have this conversation out on the street? It’s going to get dark soon and anyone could overhear.”

  Cynthia shifted her weight a few times. “Fine, you could stay for dinner. Uh. Let me check.”

  She darted inside and left him there on the front step. Nathan considered entering, but that would be kind of rude, so he stayed where he was. That was also awkward. He pulled out his phone and texted Aunt Anna that he was maybe getting dinner with a friend, friend unspecified.

  Anna: Fine, but don’t forget your homework

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Nathan grumbled.

  The furious whispers from inside abated and Cynthia reappeared. “You can stay,” she said. “Do you like tacos?”

  “I eat everything,” Nathan said. “Also, I just came from training, so I would literally eat a horse right now.”

  Cynthia smiled tentatively.

  The house was small and compact inside, too, with mismatched furniture. Nathan was shown straight to the kitchen, which looked out on the swing-set in the back garden.

  “Sit here,” Cynthia said, pointing to the seat beside her. Emma was already sitting opposite, working on what looked like maths homework. She looked up at him and gave him a big gap-toothed smile.

  “Hello, Nathan!”

  “Hi, Emma.” At least one person in the building didn’t think he was the antichrist.

  “Tell me about vampires,” Cynthia said pointedly.

  “Uh,” Nathan hedged. He’d been hoping to have this conversation in private. “Blood drinking immortal creatures of sin? Able to hypnotise humans into carrying out their will. Killed by piercing their heart with a wooden stake.”

  “And you do the staking bit,” Cynthia said.

  “Well, not yet. I’m in training for it, though.”

  “So the MMA story was bull?”

  “It’s a cover story to explain why I do martial arts. As is the military family thing. Can we do an answer for an answer?” Nathan asked.

  Cynthia glared.

  “How’d you know where Emma would be, that night?” she demanded.

  Clearly he wasn’t getting a fair trade of information.

  “That really was just luck,” Nathan said. “I was out with Matt, Poppy, and Lily. I walked Lily back to Oriel College to meet her father, and then I was just heading to get my bike when Emma crashed into me.”

  “And you just decided to help her?”

  “Two adult guys chasing a little kid? Sure. Anyway, they were soaked in black magic.” Before Cynthia could fire her next question at him, Nathan added, “Do you know who those guys are?”

  “They’re evil witches,” Cynthia said. “I’m asking the questions.”

  Nathan crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her. It was an action he had copied from Adrian. To his surprise, it had the intended effect. Cynthia looked a bit unnerved.

  “Fine,” she said. “We don’t know much about them, except that they’re very persistent. And they use this… creepy knife to kill people and steal their magic.”

  “They steal a bit more than that,” Nathan said, thinking of the evil knife in his cupboard back home. “They’re called the Sahir
. They steal people’s lifeforce to strengthen themselves, and they believe that if they get powerful enough they can bring back the dead.”

  Cynthia looked horrified. “How do you know that?”

  “My witch friend told me.”

  Nathan put his peace offering on the table. None of the protection wards he’d tried had worked. This was the same ward he’d made Lily, with an extra rune for safety from evil. He had slaved over it for ages, but it would be worth it if Cynthia forgave him. Cynthia unwrapped the little tinfoil bundle and stared at the oval amulet.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a hunter ward,” Nathan said. “It’ll protect you from being scried—witch tracking spells—and it has a safety from evil rune, too. That’s a kind of wishy-washy way of saying that you’ll have a better chance of staying hidden if someone wants at you for nefarious purposes.”

  “You can do magic?”

  “Not really. Amulets invoke magic, but they’re not made with magic. The best way to explain it is, um, it’s made of blood, sweat, and tears, I suppose.” Nathan grinned sheepishly.

  Cynthia traced the runes carved into the amulet. “It’s glowing gold.”

  “That’s means it’s primed,” Nathan said. “It’ll power itself from ambient magic, the magic in the environment around you. But you need to imprint it.”

  “How?” Cynthia asked.

  “Trust me?” Nathan asked carefully. Cynthia frowned. “You just have to prick your finger.”

  “No,” Ms Rymes said.

  Cynthia scowled. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “That amulet could do anything, Cynthia.”

  Nathan had anticipated that. He handed over his runic dictionary. “I’ve marked the runes I used,” he said. “And black magic wouldn’t glow gold, I swear.” Only protection magic was gold. And Cynthia didn’t need to know that this was a test, too. Once she imprinted, it would change to match her innate magic, whatever colour that was. Humans tended to associate with an element—Nathan’s was earth, which was a brownish-green. Vampires went blood red. Witches could be a range of colours.

  While Cynthia plied the runic dictionary, Nathan got up to help Ms Rymes.

  “Where’d you get this?” Cynthia asked. “It’s amazing.”

  “Borrowed it from my aunt,” Nathan replied as he set the table.