Wicked Magic

by Margot de Klerk

  “Dad’s busy,” Nathan defended.

  “Busy avoiding his kids!”

  “Alright, you two,” Monica said. “Have another drink.”

  Damien arrived around six. Nathan, who was fairly buzzed by then, was the last to notice. Cynthia fell abruptly silent, and Nathan turned to see the man, in slacks and a blue button-down shirt with Oriel College cufflinks, watching them from the doorway.

  “Lily Elizabeth, why are there underage people drinking in my living room?” His tone was deceptively mild.

  “Technically only one underage person, and she can’t get drunk,” Lily said cheerfully. She was definitely tipsy, which was an impressive effort on her part. “Nate’s eighteen today.”

  “Ah. Should I be offering congratulations or commiserations?”

  “Would we be drinking in daylight hours if we were celebrating?” Adrian asked.

  “Possibly not,” Damien acquiesced. He raised an eyebrow at Nathan.

  “Depends, I guess,” Nathan said. “Do you think it’s a good thing that there’s going to be one fewer hunters qualifying this year?”

  “In that case, you have my congratulations,” Damien said. “You have just significantly reduced your chances of meeting the same fate as Adrian before you turn thirty.”

  “That’s not a huge comfort, frankly,” Nathan said, wondering where his crazy courage had come from. Clearly, alcohol made him fearless.

  Damien smirked at that, and then turned his gaze on Cynthia. “A friend of yours, I take it?”

  Uh oh…

  No one spoke, which led to a very guilty silence. Damien arched an eyebrow.

  “I see you have all been keeping secrets,” he told the room at large. “Very well, I shall not report your animal friend to the Council, though on your heads be it.”

  “Thank you,” Nathan told him, relieved beyond measure. Cynthia spluttered a bit.

  “I’m human,” she whispered.

  “Not in the slightest,” Damien assured her.

  “Take that as a compliment,” Lily said. “Damien, this is Cynthia. Cynthia, Damien—my father.”

  Cynthia looked between Lily and Damien with an impressed gaze. Damien turned to Nathan.

  “Seeing as you have invaded my home for your celebration, I have a gift for you.”

  “You have a present for me?” Nathan asked, gobsmacked.

  “There’s no need to be so surprised, Mr Delacroix. I am prone to occasional bouts of benevolence. I believe I may have exceeded my quota for this year already, but on the occasion of your coming of age, I suppose I can be persuaded to fit one more into my schedule.” Nathan stared at him. Damien smirked. “I will return momentarily.” Then he was gone.

  “What,” Nathan said, completely floored.

  “He’s joking,” Lily said. “Don’t worry.”

  Nathan worried about everything Damien did. It was literally top of his worry-list all the time.

  “What?” he repeated numbly. “Why’s he got me a present?”

  Lily shrugged. “Why does Damien do anything?”

  Damien returned with a bottle of forty-year-matured whiskey and a long, slender knife wrapped in leather.

  “You can’t give him that!” Adrian cried. “That’s mine!”

  “It’s useless to you,” Damien said. “And I cannot get it to function either. The magic bound to it is… uniquely human.”

  “Holy shit,” Monica whispered. Nathan accepted the knife with reverence, removing it from its sheath. The blade was made of an almost iridescent metal, and the handle had the Delacroix coat of arms on it: a shield with a gothic cross in the middle. Numerous names were inscribed on the blade. The most recent were Jonathan Delacroix, Huxley Delacroix, Sebastian Delacroix, Adrian Delacroix. Huxley had been Nathan’s great grandfather. It had skipped his grandfather’s generation and gone straight to Adrian’s oldest brother. When Sebastian died, it had become Adrian’s.

  Nathan looked at Adrian, who had a very odd look on his face. He held the knife out to his uncle.

  “No,” Adrian said. “He’s right, you should take it.”

  “I’m not a hunter.”

  “You don’t have to be,” Adrian said. “If you can wield the knife, it’s yours. No one can take it from you.”

  Nathan looked down at the blade.

  “Uncle Jeff was always gutted it didn’t pass to him next.”

  “Jeff would have never managed to use it,” Adrian said sourly. “He shirked all his classes.”

  He stood up from the windowsill and strode over to Nathan. “Do you know how to bind it to yourself?”

  Nathan could guess—with blood; it was always blood—but he shook his head.

  “Cut your palm and press the cut against the knife.”

  Nathan took a deep breath. He balanced the knife in his right hand, and then sliced his left palm and pressed the bloody wound to the blade.

  A burn started in his left hand and spread rapidly up his arm. It gathered in his chest, increasing until he felt like his heart was going to explode. His vision tunnelled. Then the sensation was gone, as fast as it had come. His palm was healed, not a drop of blood to be seen. A faint white line showed where he’d cut, but it looked like an old scar. Under the light, it was almost silver.

  Nathan turned over the knife. It was also free of blood. Under Adrian’s name, a new one had appeared.

  Nathan Delacroix.

  “I probably should have asked my dad before doing that,” Nathan said, feeling oddly numb.

  “Fuck your dad,” Adrian said. “It was my spirit knife; I get to pass it on. Chuck it here.”

  Nathan tossed the knife to Adrian, who caught it by the hilt. Vampires were so irritatingly talented.

  “Picture it in your hand.”

  Nathan closed his eyes and imagined holding the knife. This was just like warding: pure self-belief. What had he told Cynthia? Blood, sweat, and tears. He gritted his teeth and focused, and felt his fingers close around the unyielding handle.

  “It’s yours,” Adrian declared. “Same goes for changing the blade—you want wood, it’ll turn into wood.”

  “Instant stake,” Nathan said, and held it out threateningly towards Adrian, but he was joking. After a second, he slid the knife back into its sheath. Then he smiled. Suddenly, his birthday was looking up.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  NATHAN ENDED UP SPENDING the night at Damien’s, although Cynthia went home at nine. Lily insisted on doing a sleepover, because she had apparently never had one before, and so they all ended up on mattresses on her floor. Lily snored. Adrian’s body lost all heat whilst he was unconscious. Nathan awoke with a mild headache when his alarm went at six AM.

  “Switch it off!” Lily groaned, but Monica sat up and mumbled something.

  “What?” Nathan asked as he scrambled through his bag to find his phone. He switched the alarm off and discovered that he had seventy thousand text messages from Aunt Anna.

  “I said, I have to go home and pack.”

  “I’ll take you,” Nathan said.

  He bade Lily and Adrian goodbye and cycled through early-morning Oxford with Monica on the back of his bike. The city was still asleep. Nathan had always found it kind of peaceful to be the only person out and about. He cycled past his place and dropped Monica at hers.

  Monica stood on the doorstep, looking generally dishevelled.

  “Nate,” she said seriously, “You promise you’ll keep yourself safe?”

  “Don’t I always?”

  “Promise me,” she insisted.

  “I promise,” Nathan said. “Promise me you’ll look after yourself?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Monica replied. Monica never promised anything if she couldn’t keep the promise, and between the two of them, they both knew that she wasn’t going to look after herself. Monica was terrible at looking after herself.

  “Hug?” Nathan asked.

  Monica jumped off the step and into his arms. She was so easy to lift and swing
around, because she weighed a fraction of what she should. Nathan set her back on the step and inhaled the scent of her jasmine shampoo.

  When Nathan pulled away, Monica said, “Save the drama until after Christmas, yeah? I’ll be back in town then.”

  “Of course,” he said. “What would we do without our handy witch and warding expert?”

  Monica’s eyes went wide. “Wait here,” she said and darted into the house. She emerged a minute later, clutching another paper packet.

  “Monica, again?” Nathan sighed. “Too many wards give me a headache.”

  “This one’s special,” Monica said. “This one will tell you if Cynthia’s in danger.”

  Nathan untwisted the paper bag and looked at the contents. It was just a plain leather keyring, with a tracking ward burnt into it.

  “It’s keyed to the bangle I made her,” Monica said.

  “M… I can’t pay you back for this,” Nathan said. He felt oddly touched by the gesture and found himself looking at his friend in a new light. Funny how Monica could drive him up the wall, but she just got him on a level that no one else did. What was he going to do without her?

  “You don’t have to,” Monica said. “The Sahir… this is dangerous shit, Nate. You need to keep her safe.”

  “I know,” Nathan said. Hunters may have the wrong of it about killing all vampires, but that didn’t mean Nathan didn’t believe in the ethos of fighting for the people. He was just willing to fight for more people than the traditional hunter. It was his duty to keep people safe if they couldn’t do it themselves.

  Monica nodded.

  “I’m going to miss you,” Nathan blurted out.

  “I’ll miss you too,” Monica said, and for a second she seemed oddly vulnerable. Then she added, “Don’t worry, I promise to make fun of you every day on WhatsApp. It’ll be like I’m right here.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” Nathan said. He tugged her plaits, making her squeak, then told her, “See ya, M.”

  “See ya, Nate.”

  Aunt Anna was already up, sitting in the kitchen and sipping tea, when Nathan tried to sneak in.

  “I’m impressed,” she called when he tried to creep up the stairs. “Wherever you were last night, it had anti-scrying wards. You’ve been doing your homework. Using hunter skills to bunk off and hide from us, very good.”

  Shit.

  Nathan redirected into the kitchen. Aunt Anna was at the table. Uncle Jeff was rinsing a pan at the sink. Uncle Jeff had the same strong jawline as Nathan’s father, but that was where the similarities ended. Adrian, Sebastian, and Jeffrey had come from his grandfather’s first marriage, and Benjamin, Matthew, Helen, and Lucy were all from the second marriage. They had the look of disapproval in common, though. Nathan flinched when it was directed at him.

  “Sit,” Uncle Jeff said.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” Aunt Anna asked.

  Was that a trick question?

  “Yes, please, Aunt Anna.” Nathan crossed his fingers that he wasn’t about to get hemlock in it.

  Aunt Anna made tea and set it in front of him. Uncle Jeff kissed her goodbye and headed off to the office. Uncle Jeff worked for the Council; a nice stable job for the few hunters who ever made it to retirement age. The other options were training, admin, or research.

  Nathan fiddled with his cup.

  “This isn’t poisoned, is it?”

  “Tempting, but no,” said Aunt Anna. “It’s just tea. Where were you?”

  “Out.”

  “I got the Lefebvres to scry for you.” The Lefebvres were Monica’s foster family. “I was worried. You didn’t answer your phone.”

  “I’m fine.” Nathan hoped minimalistic answers would work on Aunt Anna like they did on his father, but he wasn’t too optimistic. She had the look of a woman who wanted answers and wouldn’t quit until she got them.

  “Where were you?” she repeated.

  “With friends.”

  Aunt Anna sighed. “Here’s what I know happened. You left school at lunchtime yesterday, because they called me when you didn’t pitch up to class in the afternoon. I told them you’d come home sick, so you’re welcome.”

  Nathan lifted his head in surprise.

  She continued, “I also know you met up with Monica, because she told the Lefebvres that was where she was going. And I hope you stayed with her the entire time, because I know you brought her home. Malcolm Lefebvre just texted me that you had dropped her off.”

  Nathan winced. So much for subtlety.

  “Here’s what I think happened,” Aunt Anna said. “I think you met up with Monica’s friends, who are all older than you, and probably mostly of supernatural descent. I think you probably drank more than you should. I think you had the sense to stay in one place, and behind decent wards, but I think you might have been in the company of vampires.”

  Because it was known that Monica hung out with vampires, it was therefore concluded that Nathan had done the same. He studied his tea, feeling vaguely sick.

  “Would I be right so far?” Aunt Anna asked.

  “Maybe,” Nathan said in a small voice.

  “I ought to ground you for this,” Aunt Anna said, “But I’m going to give you a chance. Nathan, please tell me what’s going on. I’ve had worried calls from the school, and your dad was here—and we both know he never checks in on you. What’s going on?”

  Nathan continued to watch the steam rising off his tea.

  “Look at me, please.”

  He looked at his aunt. She was not related by blood, so she didn’t share her features with anyone in the family. Even her own children, who were all out of the house by now, took after the Delacroix side more than the Taylor side. Anna had soft features, frizzy hair which had long since gone grey, and laughter lines around her eyes. She didn’t have the hardness of the hunters, neither in body, nor in personality.

  “It’s okay to have doubts,” Aunt Anna said. “We all have them.”

  “I’m not having doubts,” Nathan replied defensively.

  “Nathan, I’m sixty-one and I’m not a fool,” she said. “I raised two children who both became hunters. Do you think they never doubted themselves? Do you think Jeff never doubted himself? Doubts and fears are part of being human. Talk to someone about them. Get them off your chest.”

  “I’ve talked to loads of people,” Nathan said petulantly. “No one’s helped.”

  “Talk to me,” Aunt Anna replied. “You haven’t talked to me yet.”

  Nathan considered her offer. Anna was in the unique position in his family of having no allegiance to the hunters—or to anyone else, for that matter. It meant that she sort of lived between two worlds. She might understand.

  “I’m not sure if I want to be a hunter,” Nathan admitted.

  “I see,” Aunt Anna said. “How long have you been worrying about this?”

  “A while,” Nathan said. “I saved a kid who was being chased down by witches,” he added. “Turned out she was… supernatural, too. Hunters would have said, don’t get involved, it’s witch business. But…” He paused and tried to shape the words in his mind. “I want to help people, not just humans, but all people. Anyone who needs help. I can’t do that through the hunters. The hunters wouldn’t want me to help… Monica, say.”

  “Does Monica need help?” Aunt Anna asked.

  “No more than usual,” Nathan said. He remembered how the Witch Council had looked down on her. “I think she does, but she’d never ask for help.”

  Aunt Anna sat back, sipping her tea and considering that. Nathan drank his own tea. This, he realised, was what he liked about Aunt Anna. Okay, she could be strict. Okay, she was probably going to punish him. But when you had a problem, she didn’t just give stock answers. She actually thought about it.

  “When has your father postponed your initiation to?” she asked after a moment.

  “At least January.” Nathan felt the familiar pang of hurt.

  “Okay,” Aunt Anna said. �
��Here’s what I think we’re going to do. You need to explore what’s the right path for you. You’re eighteen now, you need to learn to make your own decisions. You also need time and space to do that, and I’m not sure you have either right now. I think if you wanted to, you could do initiations tomorrow, without any preparation.”

  “Probably,” Nathan said. “I mean, training-wise.”

  “Yes,” Aunt Anna said. “But you have until January. I’m going to have a word with your dad to see if we can’t cut back on your training. You are perfectly capable of keeping yourself fit and trained in your free time. You don’t have to go see old Larson every day. When you do go, maybe he can start teaching you a few different things. After all, not every hunter ends up doing the same track ‘em and kill ‘em routine. There are different options.”

  “Sounds good,” Nathan agreed cautiously.

  “And in the meantime, you and I are going to work together to explore a few different options, as well,” Aunt Anna said. “So that when the time comes you can make an educated decision.”

  “I’d like that,” Nathan said.

  “Very good,” she said. “We’ll brainstorm when you get home from school, but off the top of your head, is there anything you’d like to start with?”

  To his surprise, the answer came to him immediately. “Warding,” he said. “I want to learn how to craft protective wards.”

  Aunt Anna tilted her head and regarded him. “Not at all what I was expecting,” she said, “But I don’t see why not. It’s an extremely valuable, highly sought-after skill.”

  “Can you teach me?” Nathan asked.

  “Oh, I can certainly teach you the theory. Whether you can do it in practice will depend on how badly you want to learn.” Aunt Anna smiled, and it was the smile of someone who had won. “Never fear, you’ll have plenty of time to learn, seeing as you’re grounded for the next two weeks.”

  Nathan’s jaw dropped. “What?”

  “And you’re lucky I’m not telling your father,” she added.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, Nathan, seriously. You’ll go to school and to training, and otherwise you’ll come straight home. You can keep your phone—heaven knows you’re joined at the hip to it—but you’re not going out with Matt, Cynthia, or anyone else.” She gave him a stern look. “Skipping school is not on.”