Wicked Magic

by Margot de Klerk

  The rest were in the back of his cupboard at home, although he’d snuck two onto Jess, just in case. You could never be too careful.

  Cynthia unwrapped her package and pulled out a metal bangle.

  “Bloody hell,” Nathan blurted out.

  “What?” Cynthia asked. “What is it?”

  Nathan bit his lip. Should he tell her?

  “Uh, that’s a proper protection ward,” Nathan said nervously. “Those are expensive.”

  “Should I pay her back?” Cynthia asked, eyes wide.

  “I’ll do it.” Expertly crafted roving protection wards, ones which would warn you of danger and actually shield you if you were attacked, sold for easily five grand a piece. Unless Cynthia was secretly a millionaire, she wasn’t going to be able to afford this one.

  “I’ll take her for dinner or something before she leaves,” Nathan said.

  “She’s leaving?”

  “Back to Morocco—she’s staying for my eighteenth and then flying back,” he replied, but his mind was still on the ward. Cynthia slid the bangle on, and it started pulsing with a powerful magic.

  “Ooh,” she whispered. “Are you sure I can take this? It seems powerful.”

  “It is,” Nathan said. “Monica’s already keyed it to you. Did you give her anything of yours?”

  “She asked for a hair, but she said she just wanted to see if she could make a better anti-tracking ward.”

  Nathan sighed. “You know I said don’t look vampires in the eyes? Rule number two: never give witches anything that’s linked to your DNA. You’re lucky Monica’s just sneaky and made you a more powerful ward. A witch can do a lot with a single hair.” Like binding rituals.

  Cynthia grimaced. “I’ll remember that. What does this ward do?”

  Nathan gestured to the house. “Shall we go inside?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  The house was empty. Cynthia let them in, explaining as she went that her mum worked from home to look after her sister, and that they had probably gone to the supermarket. “I’m sure they’ll be back soon. You want a drink?”

  They settled in the kitchen with cokes, and Nathan tried to explain the difference between the bangle Monica had made and the wards he had made, without accidentally giving away that Monica had made something extremely fancy.

  “So, protective wards—proper protective wards—can actually act as shields,” he said. “That’s these runes—” He indicated them. “For shielding and defence. This one is anti-tracking, and this one is safety from harm. If someone touched you and meant you harm, the ward would burn them, or maybe push them back. Whatever it does, which depends on what magic Monica put in it, the goal is to give you a chance to run away and get help.”

  “Oh wow,” Cynthia said. “That seems fancy.”

  The bangle had settled into the mix of elemental colours that made up Cynthia’s innate magic. It pulsed steadily.

  “Why don’t you have one like this?” Cynthia asked.

  “Because they’re hard to make,” Nathan said. “It’s much easier for Monica to make those because she’s a witch. For humans to make powerful wards like that would take at least three times as long, and you’d have to be a master ward crafter… and hunters don’t like buying wards from witches.”

  Cynthia parsed that, fingering the bangle.

  “How much does this cost?”

  Nathan grimaced. “Um. Five grand?”

  Cynthia looked horrified. “I can’t accept this!”

  “Monica made it for you,” Nathan said. “It’s keyed to your essence—that’s what she needed the hair for. She can’t exactly give it to someone else.”

  “I don’t have five thousand pounds!” Cynthia eyed him, panicked.

  “Don’t worry,” Nathan said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I can’t ask you to pay that for me! Where are you going to get five grand?”

  “There are other ways to pay back witches,” Nathan said. “Favours, for example.”

  “So I could owe Monica a favour?”

  “No, I owe Monica a favour,” Nathan said. “I originally asked her to make this. Cynthia, don’t worry about it.”

  “I don’t need you to take care of me! I can pay my own way!”

  “I’m not saying you can’t!” Nathan groaned and buried his face in his hands. Girls were so difficult. “I’ll talk to Monica and ask her if she wants anything, and then you and I can figure out how to pay her back together,” he compromised.

  Cynthia still had a stubborn set to her face. “I suppose,” she said. “But she made the ward for me, so I feel like I should pay her back.”

  Nathan couldn’t figure out how to express how much Cynthia should not want to be indebted to a witch, so he just said, “Relax, I’m sure she’s not expecting much.”

  After that, they managed to settle down a little bit. Cynthia had lots of questions about wards and other magic, but Nathan couldn’t answer most of them.

  “I’m not a witch,” he said. “Hunters don’t do magic.”

  “Warding feels like magic,” Cynthia argued.

  “It’s a very fine difference,” Nathan said. “Spells are powered by the magic of the witch. Wards draw on magic in the world around us, but you don’t have to use magic to make them.”

  “It all feels magical to me,” Cynthia said. “Hey, shall we go upstairs?”

  “Uh, sure,” Nathan replied, and then it hit him that she’d just invited him to her bedroom, and suddenly he was panicking. He trailed Cynthia up the carpeted stairs and into the room at the end of the hall.

  “It’s kind of crappy,” she said. “I mean, the landlord won’t let us paint the walls, so it’s just very plain.”

  Was she nervous? Nathan was certainly nervous.

  “Ah, you saw my room, remember?”

  “Yeah, but you have all those ornaments. Where’d you get them?”

  “My dad brings them for us sometimes when he travels abroad,” Nathan said. Cynthia switched on the lights, and he examined her room with interest. She had a couple of posters up. A little desk sat under the window, with what looked like French homework spread over it, and she had a single bed with a green cover. Her lacrosse gear sat in the corner, along with a tennis bag, and she had a small bookshelf that was filled to the brim with books.

  “You play tennis?” Nathan asked.

  “Yeah,” Cynthia said. “I like sports. I swim as well.”

  “Cool.”

  Cynthia curled up on her bed like a cat, and Nathan looked at her desk because seeing her on the bed was awakening all sorts of inappropriate thoughts.

  “French?” he asked.

  “It’s one of my A-Levels, but I think I suck at it,” Cynthia admitted. Nathan studied her neat, printed handwriting.

  “Looks okay,” he said.

  “Don’t you do, like, maths and bio and physics?”

  “No physics, I dropped physics,” Nathan said. His dad had been furious. “I hated it. But I speak French. And a few other languages. It’s part of hunter training.”

  “A few other languages?” Cynthia asked incredulously.

  “German, Spanish, Russian,” Nathan said, feeling very uncomfortable. This felt too much like boasting. “And I’m learning Arabic.”

  “Oh wow,” Cynthia said in a very small voice.

  “We sometimes have to travel for work,” Nathan said. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s just…” Cynthia said, her voice going faint, “Uh, you know so much.”

  “I’m still failing maths and econ,” Nathan said. “I…” But he didn’t know what to say. He’d put his foot in it, and he wasn’t sure how.

  “Why didn’t you take French to A-Level, if you already speak it?”

  “My dad wouldn’t let me,” Nathan said. “Hunters don’t pick easy outs.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably.

  “What’s your dad like?” Cynthia blurted out.

  Nathan shrugged. He pulled out the desk chair and sat on it
, looking at the small collection of photos Cynthia had stuck to the wall because every time he looked at her, he started wondering what she’d look like without her top on. Did she have the same tan under her clothes? Did Adrian ever feel this awkward around women?

  “My dad’s, um… I guess he’s kind of strict. He really loves his work, so he’s always off on hunts. They say he’s one of the best trackers on the force.” Nathan thought about his dad. Benjamin Delacroix was tall and sturdily built, still in perfect shape at the age of fifty. “People say we look pretty similar, but I’ve always thought I take after my mum more.” His mother was slender and short, with blond hair. She was highly pragmatic, but she’d never been homely. She was also a hunter, and Nathan had seen her shoot ferals at fifty feet with a rifle without even batting an eyelash.

  “My parents are quite hard, I think,” he said finally. “I’m not sure hunter families are ever very close, or at least, there’s not much time to do family stuff together.”

  “That’s a shame,” Cynthia said softly. “You should get to have time with your family.”

  “I have Anna. And Jess, when she’s not being a brat.”

  Cynthia shrugged. Nathan asked hesitantly, “Cynthia? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just—it’s stupid! You’re probably going to laugh.”

  “Why would I laugh?” Nathan asked, confused. Were all girls this hard to keep track of? Had they changed the topic somewhere without him realising?

  “I keep thinking you’re going to, like, get bored of me or something. I mean, Monica’s a witch, and—”

  “I would never date Monica!”

  “—I know, but she’s your friend, and Adrian’s a vampire, and Lily, I don’t know, but she must be something, and I’m just me, you know, I can turn into a cat, but it’s not as useful a skill as you’d imagine, and I go to school and play a few sports, but I can’t speak five languages and beat up a guy twice my size.”

  “Why would you need to?” Nathan asked.

  “I don’t know! Why would you like me?”

  “Uh,” said Nathan, embarrassed. “Is that a trick question?”

  “No!” Cynthia looked dangerously close to tears, so Nathan hastened to provide an answer.

  “You’re pretty, and you’re good at sports, and you don’t think I’m mad,” he said.

  “You think I’m pretty?” Cynthia asked. “Monica’s pretty.”

  “Monica scares me,” Nathan said frankly. “But don’t you dare tell her I said that—she’d be furious. I look at Monica and worry that next time I see her she’s going to have starved herself dead.”

  “She’s not that skinny.”

  “She’s four inches taller than you and I think maybe she wears a smaller size than you,” Nathan said.

  “That’s the point!” Cynthia cried in frustration. “Anyway, how do you know that?”

  “Hunters are trained to be observant,” Nathan said. Realising that maybe he should keep future observations on clothes sizes to himself, he added, “Anyway, I like you, not Monica, and that’s not dependant on your clothes size. I like you because you look happy when you win at lacrosse, and you have this freckle on your nose that I always want to kiss, and, um—” He sounded like a lunatic. Nathan, shut up. “And you laugh at my jokes,” he finished lamely. “No one else thinks I’m funny.” Probably because all of his friends were older and, at least nominally, wiser than him.

  “I think you’re funny,” Cynthia said.

  “Why would you want to date me?” Nathan asked. “I’m failing maths and econ.”

  Cynthia blushed and stuttered something.

  “Huh?” Nathan asked.

  “Kept seeing you at lacrosse matches and Jenny Byrnes kept going on about how hot you are.” She grimaced. “And you’re really nice to me.”

  “Who’s Jenny Byrnes?” Nathan asked. “And can I send her flowers?”

  Cynthia giggled. Then she got up and sat straddling Nathan’s lap. He blinked at her. “Um, hello.”

  “Hi,” Cynthia said breathlessly. “Kiss me?”

  “Sure,” Nathan said. Cynthia tangled her fingers into his hair and then her lips were on his. Nathan wasn’t quite sure where to put his hands and ended up cupping her neck. Then, on a whim, he pulled out her ponytail. Her hair was really soft. She swiped her tongue against his, and quite a bit of his blood took a detour south. She put her arms around him, and that pressed her body up against his in all sorts of ways.

  A door slammed downstairs. “Cynthia, are you home?”

  Cynthia jumped back from him. Her skirt was skew, and he’d managed to mess up her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were swollen. Nathan needed a cold shower. Shit.

  “Upstairs, Mum!” she called back, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Nathan’s here!”

  What felt like two milliseconds later, Ms Rymes appeared in the doorway.

  “Hello, Nathan,” she said sternly. Nathan had the impression that she knew what they’d been up to and was maybe not best pleased. Damn. “Cynthia, I don’t think you’re old enough to be on your own with boys.”

  “I was expecting you to be home already, Mum,” Cynthia said patiently. “Can Nathan stay for dinner?”

  “He may.”

  “Only if it’s not a problem for you, Ms Rymes,” Nathan said.

  She softened a little bit. “It’s not a problem, but I think you two should come downstairs.”

  “Alright,” Cynthia said. “I’m just going to change out of my uniform though.”

  Ms Rymes nodded and absented herself. Cynthia picked up a stack of clothes, glanced at the door, and put them down again. She launched herself at Nathan and kissed him hard.

  “Sorry,” she whispered. “She’s so overprotective.”

  “I get it,” Nathan replied. “Um, can I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure! It’s just next door.”

  Nathan left Cynthia to change and went to splash water on his face. He was trying not to imagine Cynthia changing, but it wasn’t really working. Cynthia’s hair and skin were very soft, and she smelt clean, kind of like vanilla, and she was so very pretty. Had he given her long enough to change yet? He wet his face again, then went out into the hall.

  Cynthia was waiting for him. “Ready to face my mum?”

  “Can’t be worse than my folks.”

  “Will they come for your birthday?” Cynthia asked as they descended the stairs.

  “I don’t know,” Nathan said. He hadn’t actually considered it. “I’m not sure. We never discussed it.”

  “Do they usually?”

  “Sometimes,” Nathan said. “They’ll come for Jess’s birthday, which is in November. But she’s still at an age where she cries if they miss her birthday. I don’t really mind, I suppose.”

  “It’s your eighteenth,” Cynthia protested.

  “Is it your birthday?” asked Emma, who was sitting at the kitchen table and drinking coke.

  “Next week,” Nathan told her. “Tuesday.” He ruffled her hair, like he would have done to Jess when she was seven. “Whatcha working on?”

  “Maths,” Emma said, pouting. “Maths is horrid.”

  “I agree,” Nathan said cheerfully.

  “See, you should have been smart and taken French,” Cynthia said. “Mum, did you know, Nathan speaks five languages. Five.”

  “Fluently?” asked Ms Rymes. “When do you find the time for it?”

  Cynthia glanced at him curiously. Truth be told, Nathan wasn’t sure he was finding time for it all.

  “I train afternoons after school,” he said. “And Saturdays from seven-thirty until five.”

  “Wow, it’s like working a full-time job,” said Ms Rymes.

  “I actually think once you graduate training it’s less intense,” Nathan said. “But I guess the logic is work hard now, reap the rewards later.” The reward being not dying in combat.

  “Hmm, I suppose they also argue that you learn better when you’re younger,” said Ms Rymes
.

  “Well, I started training when I was five.” Nathan said. “Can I help with anything?”

  It ended up being a fun, blissfully supernatural-free evening. Considering that they could turn into animals, the Rymes family were remarkably normal. At the end of the evening, before Nathan left, Cynthia tugged him upstairs again. Her mum was half asleep on the sofa, but Nathan couldn’t help but feel like they were violating some kind of rule.

  “I just want to do one thing, quickly,” she said. “Seeing as you introduced me to Adrian, so I feel like, um.” She hesitated. They stood in her room, about five feet apart. “Turn around and count to ten slowly?”

  Confused, Nathan turned and counted up. “One…two…three…” When he got to seven, he heard a soft thud, and then a cat was winding around his ankles.

  “Ten,” Nathan said and turned around, but Cynthia was gone, leaving only a neat pile of clothes. Well, she wasn’t gone. She was the cat. He crouched down and scratched it behind its ears, hearing it purr. It—she—brushed her nose against his hand and made a little meow sound. She had green eyes and short, soft fur.

  “Hey,” Nathan whispered. The cat meowed its own greeting and flicked its tail. Then it jumped up on the bed and nosed its way under the covers, and before Nathan’s eyes the lump grew and became human-sized. Cynthia poked her head out.

  “Uh, will you go out in the hall so I can get dressed again?”

  “Sure,” Nathan said and retreated hastily.

  By the time she came out into the hall, he had managed to reassert some calm. “You really can turn into a cat, then,” he said hoarsely.

  “You’re taking this pretty well,” Cynthia said.

  “Eh, well, as long as you don’t turn into a rabid monster and bite me on the full moon…”

  “Promise you I won’t.” Cynthia grinned.

  Nathan said goodbye to Ms Rymes and Emma, then Cynthia followed him out the front door. She watched as he unlocked his bike.

  “Thanks for coming over.”

  “I had fun,” Nathan said. “Hey, I’m probably doing something for my birthday next week, if you’re interested.”

  “Sure,” Cynthia said. “Um, do you want something? A present, I mean. Is there anything you want?”