Wicked Magic

by Margot de Klerk

  He would not use it. He would never.

  Nathan climbed the stairs and let himself out of the dungeon. The rest of his group was waiting in stony silence. Adrian detached himself from the wall he was leaning against.

  “Thought I was gonna have to come rescue you.”

  “How long were you going to give me?”

  Adrian checked his phone. “You had two more minutes.”

  “I can take care of myself.” Nathan scowled.

  “Course you can.” Adrian glanced at Damien. “I’ll walk them out.”

  Damien nodded sharply and disappeared off in the opposite direction.

  “Where’d Monica go?” Nathan asked as they fell into step with Adrian.

  “Fuck if I know, she never tells me anything,” Adrian replied. “I think the wards made her sick.”

  “They give me a headache,” Nathan muttered. He didn’t blame Monica at all.

  “Poor, frail human,” Adrian mocked. Nathan punched him in the arm. “Poor, frail, violent human.”

  “Tease me a bit more, I’m pretty sure I have a stake with your name on it.”

  “You wouldn’t have the guts,” Adrian said. “What’d your pet dark mage want?”

  “More mockery.” Nathan shrugged, trying to act casual. No way was he admitting that he had the key to a dark ritual in his head. Dad would go ballistic. “More fucking around. More trying to get me to lose my cool. I get it. I’m the weak link, right?”

  “If he thinks that, he’s a crying fool.”

  “No, he’s right,” Nathan replied bitterly.

  “You’ve pulled your weight more than any of us, Nate,” Adrian said as they finally reached the upper level. “Don’t let the guy get in your head. He’s scared of you.”

  “I doubt it.”

  As always, it was a relief to emerge outside. The effect of the wards ebbed. It was fully dark, and the Christmas lights were on. People were hanging about outside the bars and restaurants in the shopping area alongside the castle. It was hard to believe there was a secret vampire prison beneath their feet.

  Adrian paused in the courtyard, glancing between Nathan, his father, and Uncle Jeff. “Nate, you going to be alright?”

  “Sure.” Nathan shrugged. “When am I not?”

  “If you need a place to crash for a few days—”

  “You have some nerve,” Dad said, his temper finally fraying. “I think it’s about time you got the hell away from my son.”

  “Nathan’s eighteen. He can decide for himself what he wants to do,” Adrian said.

  “Adrian, don’t,” Nathan said uncomfortably. Adrian gave him a searching look, but Nathan couldn’t quite meet his gaze. What was going to happen now? Dad was undoubtedly going to be absolutely furious; the trip to the prison had only postponed the fallout. Nathan was well and truly screwed. But he had no one to blame for it except himself.

  “I think it’s time we go,” Dad said.

  Adrian ignored them. He managed to meet Nathan’s eye, and there was a question in his gaze. We good?

  “It’s alright,” Nathan said weakly. There were so many things he wanted to say, but with his Dad breathing down his neck, he struggled to find the words. Adrian nodded and turned back to the castle. Dad was already heading for the road; Nathan made to follow, but he hesitated after two steps.

  The courtyard had gone eerily quiet.

  A prickle ran up his spine.

  “GET DOWN!” Nathan threw himself to the ground.

  A flare of aggressive magic passed overhead, catching Uncle Jeff in his arm. He staggered against the wall. Nathan smelt rot, decay, death, and then they were surrounded.

  He clambered to his feet, thinking, spirit knife! He felt the unyielding handle, the weight comforting in his hand. Four men. More than he’d faced before.

  Someone was chanting. One of the mages sent a blast of magic at Nathan, and he stumbled out the way. Suddenly he was in front of one of the other mages. A knife flashed in the air. Nathan knew he had to move, but he felt paralysed.

  A body slammed into him from the side and he was on the ground. His vision was blocked—Adrian was on top of him—and then his uncle’s body went limp, and he rolled to the side.

  “Fuck.” Adrian coughed, and there was blood on his lips. He’d taken the blow that was meant for Nathan.

  Nathan sprang up, gripped the spirit knife, and sank it into the mage’s neck.

  “DESIST!”

  Nathan took two steps back, watching as the mage fell to the ground, clutching his throat. Jeremiah appeared in their midst, and his mere presence brought the fight to a halt. His expression was black with rage.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he asked, and his voice was soft, but the anger was unmistakable. “The Vampire Council will not condone attacks on those under our protection—on our territory, no less.”

  One of the mages stepped forwards. “The Belladonna has ordered us here.”

  “The Belladonna holds no jurisdiction here. This is my territory, and these are my men.”

  “Jeremias Akropolites makes claim to hunters?” the mage asked. “The witches were not aware of this.”

  “How remiss of me,” Jeremiah said in a tone that was threatening mostly for its lack of emotion. That was the voice of a man who could kill without compunction. “I must have forgotten to inform them.”

  Nathan was looking straight into Jeremiah’s face. He saw the man’s expression flicker. He didn’t see Jeremiah move, but then the mage’s head was in Jeremiah’s hand, and his body was on the floor. Blood splattered over Nathan, Jeremiah, it wet the flagstone floor. Nathan was shaking, full-body trembles. He fought to control them.

  “Leave,” Jeremiah ordered. “Inform the Belladonna that further encroachment into the Vampire Council’s territory will be met without compromise.”

  It was over. The remaining two mages retreated hastily. Jeremiah announced, “I will find someone to clean this mess up,” and then he, too, was gone.

  Holy fuck.

  Nathan crouched beside Adrian again, his heart racing with fear. Adrian managed to grapple himself upwards. His face was twisted with pain.

  “Adrian—I—you—” Nathan said in panic.

  “I’ll heal.” Adrian’s voice was strained. “I’m immortal.”

  Nathan didn’t know what to say. He’d seen his father injured on training hunts before… but… there had never been this much blood.

  Adrian managed to work his phone out of his pocket, but his fingers were shaking, and he dropped it.

  “Fuck it.” He sank the fingers of one hand into his other wrist, drawing blood. Nathan started in horror. Adrian’s aura flickered with something close to magic, the same red as Damien’s aura.

  Then it was gone. Adrian shut his eyes and sighed.

  “Damien will come,” he told the world at large. “Thank God I’m still useful to someone, right?”

  That seemed… awfully sad. Not that there was someone who cared enough to help Adrian. Just that he was useful to someone. Nathan knelt beside him, wanting to reassure him but unsure what to do or say. Just sitting there didn’t feel like enough.

  “Nathan, let’s go,” his father barked.

  “No,” Nathan said stubbornly. “I’m staying here.” Adrian seemed to be healing, but not fast enough. No way was Nathan was leaving him to get picked off.

  “Kid, you should go,” Adrian coughed. “Unless you’re planning on volunteering yourself as a source of blood.”

  Nathan reeled backwards instinctively and hurt flashed over the vampire’s face. Then Adrian schooled his expression, his eyes sliding away.

  “I’m staying,” Nathan repeated weakly. Adrian’s shoulders shook; his face was pained. Nathan hated feeling helpless.

  Damien arrived a moment later, with the same eeriness of other old vampires: Nathan blinked and then he was there. He didn’t waste a moment of time, hauling Adrian indelicately to his feet. Adrian staggered drunkenly as Damien began guiding him t
owards the castle. Nathan followed, and was opening the door even before Damien asked him to.

  He watched them enter but stayed in the doorway like a coward.

  “Damien.”

  The ancient vampire half-turned back.

  “Is there anything I can…” Nathan started hesitantly.

  “Unless you would like to donate blood, Nathan, I suggest you absent yourself.” Damien guided Adrian towards the dungeons. Chastised, Nathan remained where he was, watching them until they were out of sight.

  He had never felt more useless.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  UNCLE JEFF’S ARM WAS broken. Nathan’s pride was in tatters. Overall, though, they could have come off a lot worse.

  Aunt Anna met them at the hospital with Cynthia in tow. The moment Cynthia saw Nathan, she threw herself at him.

  “When we heard what happened—oh my God—are you okay?” She sobbed into his chest.

  “I’m fine,” Nathan mumbled. “I’m okay. We’re all okay.”

  Aunt Anna hugged him next. “You’re giving me grey hairs,” she said.

  “Why is this my fault?”

  Aunt Anna pulled back and examined him from top to bottom. “Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

  “Um, no?”

  “You’re covered in blood.” She nudged him towards the bathroom. “You look like you’ve been in a car accident.”

  Nathan found the toilets and peered in the mirror. Car accident victim wasn’t far off the mark. Somewhere along the line, he’d gotten his blazer and trousers spattered with blood, especially his right arm. It was on his face, too. He wet a tissue and tried to rub away the blood, but that made him look worse. Finally, he just took his blazer off and wet the sleeve, using it to wipe his face and neck.

  “Better?” he asked Cynthia when he came out.

  “Well, you look less like a zombie.” She hesitated. “Um, zombies aren’t a thing, right?”

  “Do you want the honest answer or the nice answer?”

  “They’re a thing?”

  “Necromancers can raise zombies, but they decay very quickly,” Nathan said. “And they’re kind of useless, not really the monstrous creatures from films.”

  “Oh, phew.”

  They sat in the hall. Cynthia tentatively put her head on Nathan’s shoulder. He stayed very still, not wanting to disturb her. Cynthia felt like the one bastion of calmness in the rough seas of Nathan’s life. Everything else was fucked to high hell—he didn’t want to scare her off, too.

  “Will you tell me what happened?” she asked at length.

  “Dad knows about Halloween and there was another attack,” Nathan said shortly. “Can we discuss it later? I’m just…”

  “Tired?” Cynthia asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Me too,” she mumbled.

  They sat like that until Dad and Uncle Jeff came back and they could leave. Nathan climbed into Aunt Anna’s car before Dad could trap him into an awkward, angry ride home in his car.

  “You know, we should practically reserve rooms at this hospital,” Aunt Anna said. “I swear we’re here every few months.”

  “It’s a risk of the job,” Uncle Jeff said shortly. “Let’s get home.”

  Home was the last place Nathan wanted to be right now. He clung to his phone for the whole drive, hoping that someone would text him an update, but no one did. The entire car ride was spent in tense silence. It was the most uncomfortable trip of his life.

  Mum and Jess were waiting at home. Mum took one look at their grim group and said, “Kitchen.”

  “Can I change?” Nathan asked.

  “No. Go sit.”

  He sat in the kitchen with the rest of the family, and Aunt Anna made tea. Tea was incongruous with the atmosphere, a tiny bit of niceness amidst the most unpleasant day of Nathan’s life. Dad relayed the entire story in a monotone that managed to convey exquisitely clearly how angry he was.

  At the end, Mum asked, “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Nathan?”

  “No,” Nathan said. “Can I go change now?”

  “Nathan!” his mother snapped.

  “I’m covered in blood,” Nathan pointed out. Adrian’s blood, amongst others. “I need a shower.”

  “How long have you been having clandestine meetings with Adrian?” his mother asked.

  Nathan had to think about that for a moment. “About two years? Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  “Unbelievable.” Dad managed to turn the word into about fifteen syllables.

  “Were you planning on telling us about this?” Mum asked.

  “Of course not,” Nathan replied. “What do you think I am, stupid?”

  “After everything we’ve done for you—” Dad blurted out, but he cut himself off at a look from Mum.

  “Has he ever come in the house?” Aunt Anna asked.

  “No, never. I wouldn’t put Jess in danger like that.”

  “Hey!” Jess cried.

  “Oh, you’re worried about Jess?” Dad asked. “No concern for the rest of the family, but never mind, you kept your sister safe?”

  “Hardly,” Nathan said angrily. He took a big gulp of tea and promptly scalded his mouth. “If Adrian wanted at Jess, he’d have got at her when she was at school, wouldn’t he? And last I checked, the rest of you are perfectly capable of looking after yourselves.”

  “Don’t you take that tone,” his mother said immediately. Nathan just shrugged, too tired to care. He just wanted to shower and sleep. And hopefully not dream of Jeremiah beheading a man. Or Adrian getting stabbed. Too much had happened today.

  “Tell me how you managed to get Jeremiah’s protection,” Uncle Jeff said suddenly.

  “I don’t know.” Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose, but it didn’t help his budding headache. “Why do old vampires do anything? They’re incomprehensible.”

  “You don’t know? You didn’t offer him anything?” Uncle Jeff asked.

  “Of course not,” Nathan said. “I’m not stupid, alright?”

  Dad muttered something which sounded suspiciously like, “Could have fooled me,” and Nathan snapped.

  “Adrian,” he told the table at large, “Is the reason I’m still alive today. None of you even noticed what was going on, and it’s your fucking jobs. I’m done. I’m just done.” He stood up. “I need a shower, and then I’m going to go and find out if my friends are alright. You lot can just… talk amongst yourselves, or whatever. It’s all you ever seem to do.”

  He dumped his half-finished tea in the sink and marched out the room.

  “Nathan!” his mother shouted after him. “Don’t you dare walk out! Nathan!”

  Nathan ignored her.

  It was a relief to shower. He scrubbed himself over and over again, imagining that he was scrubbing his brain of the image of Jeremiah holding the severed head. If only he could scrub his brain of that. At least he could finally get the taste of blood out his mouth. After he’d showered, he pulled on one of Adrian’s hoodies—he couldn’t remember how it had ended up in his cupboard, but it was darned comfortable—and tracksuit trousers, and went to his room.

  Cynthia was curled up on his bed.

  “Your parents are nuts.”

  “No, I get it,” Nathan said tiredly. “They told me to stay away from Adrian. I didn’t. He’s a vampire. It goes against everything we stand for.”

  “Adrian’s alright,” Cynthia said. “I mean, he’s a bit messed up, but you can tell he likes you.”

  Nathan sagged on the end of his bed. “You don’t think I’m an idiot?”

  “You’re doing your best,” Cynthia said. “I don’t think you’re any more of an idiot than the rest of us. I’d be terrified if I faced half of what you face, and your parents expect you to do it as a job!”

  “Not anymore. I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.”

  “Then it has,” Cynthia replied. “You’re capable. Bet plenty of other people will want you on their side.”

&n
bsp; She meant it as a comfort, but Nathan found it pretty hollow. He crawled up his bed until he was lying beside her and nuzzled his face into her neck.

  “You alright?” Cynthia asked softly.

  “Yeah, sure,” Nathan mumbled. “I’m fine. It’s Adrian that got stabbed.”

  “He’ll be okay, though, won’t he?”

  “Sure, he’s immortal,” Nathan said, but he wouldn’t believe it until he saw it. “I’m gonna take a nap, okay? Will you stay?”

  “Won’t your parents be mad if they find us in bed together?” Cynthia asked warily.

  “Why? We’re full clothed, and I don’t know where they’d get off caring, anyway,” Nathan replied, “seeing as the only time they care about anything is when they find out I’ve been hanging out with vampires.”

  “I’m sure they care. They’re just rubbish at showing it.”

  “Yeah.” Nathan stifled a yawn and buried his face in her hair. It smelt of soap.

  Then he was asleep.

  Nathan dreamt that Adrian was dead. He’d risen again as a zombie, all grey flesh which had rotted away to expose his shiny white bones. He was dressed in a white T-shirt and his leather jacket. Somehow, that stood out.

  Zombie Adrian staggered around and practically fell on Nathan.

  “You did this to me,” he said. “It’s your fault I’m dead. You could have saved me!”

  “No!” Nathan cried. “You said you’d be fine! I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

  “You knew! You could have saved me! You’re a coward!”

  “I’m not! I’m sorry!” Nathan said desperately. “I’m sorry, Adrian!”

  “You don’t deserve to live!”

  “I’m sorry.” Nathan sobbed. “Please, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything!”

  “Nathan?” Someone was shaking him and whispering his name. “Nathan? Your phone is ringing.”

  Nathan managed to grapple himself back to wakefulness. He was in his bed. It was still dark. The ancient radio-alarm on his bedside table said it was only ten PM—he’d slept through dinner.

  He picked his phone up. It was Monica.

  “Hey,” he croaked.

  “Nate? Fuck, are you okay?”

  “What?” Nathan sat up and tried to coax his brain into motion. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”