by Lily Luchesi
Salem exchanged a glance with Daphne.
“Cae? Is this a general description, or something you want to get off your chest?” Daphne asked.
He shook his head. “All I’m saying is that adults are full of Pege poop.”
“Aw, what happened, Lynx? Did your mum forget to give you catnip? Or switch your wet food for dry?” Salem said. The insult slipped out without him meaning to, and he cursed himself for his lack of control. The Lynxes lived in the lap of luxury. They had millions of pounds in their vaults, immense respect in the magical community, and a cache of Dark magic to use at their disposal without being ridiculed.
The Sinclairs had nothing ever since his father married an apprentice witch and fell out of favour with the rest of Clan Munro. Salem had grown up knowing how low class they were considered. He’d spent the past six years of his life being in direct competition with Caelum.
Hearing Caelum complain about his powerful family irked Salem more than he wanted to admit.
The shifter narrowed his eyes and sat forward, no longer even slightly joking as his mouth pulled into a sneer.
“What, you think it’s all catnip and luxury at Lynx Manor?” he asked, having eyes only for Salem. “Do you think I go home to balls and parties and get shown off like a prized pet? Do you, Sinclair? For all I know, my parents are a part of this growing Darkness.
“I never actually went home last summer. Did you know that? Did you? And because of that my parents are in the process of disowning me. I am no longer their son unless I go home for the Winter Solstice and participate in a Dark ritual.” His eyes narrowed even more. “Maybe we should trade places. I’m sure you’d love the farce of a ceremony I have to go through.”
Salem cocked his head, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. He rolled up the sleeve of his ill-fitting grey sweater and showed Caelum the healed scars from cigar burns along his inner forearm from his childhood. “You want to trade places with me, Lynx? Be my guest. I’ll take your posh clothes and Dark rituals if you take my rags and continuous beatings at home.”
Daphne, though she already knew about Salem’s horrible father, still looked traumatised at the sight of the wounds. Michael and Robert’s faces were blank, and Draven pointedly looked away.
Caelum, however, lost his angry sneer. Slowly, he sat back in his chair, unblinking as he kept his eyes on the wounds. He leaned back and lifted the front of his t-shirt, revealing long, thin scars on his abdomen. “Well, Sinclair, it looks like you and I have yet another thing in common: our parents are bloody psychopaths. Those aren’t the only scars I have. And I’m sure those aren’t the only ones you hide under those oversized clothes of yours.”
Everyone was silent now, and Salem felt like the world’s worst person. But how was he to know that Caelum was just as abused as he was? Not like he and Lynx were friends, or even casual acquaintances.
“Let’s call it a truce then, boys?” Daphne said, looking between them.
“Fine,” Salem said.
Caelum shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got more important things to deal with anyway.”
“So, to get back to the point here, are we decided that we’re going to give the adults a chance to attack this Darkness before we do anything more?” Robert asked, bringing the conversation back around to their original intentions.
Salem wasn’t sure he wanted to do that. And judging by the look on Daphne and Caelum’s faces, they didn’t either.
“I think so,” Michael said slowly. “Unless Daphne says it’s getting worse.”
She nodded, relenting. “I’ll meditate, use the candles. Anything I can to monitor this. As long as it doesn’t grow, we won’t poke the hornet’s nest.”
Salem caught Caelum’s eye. He didn’t look happy about sitting back and doing nothing. For once, Salem was inclined to agree with the other boy. The Light had never treated him well, save for Daphne, but that didn't mean he wanted to lose the Coven to the Dark, either.
The meeting broke up then, with Michael and Robert leaving first to be sure they weren’t seen. Then Daphne and Caelum left, as they had a class to study for together. That left Salem and Draven.
The two stared at each other for a moment, both of them seemingly at a loss for words.
“You know, don’t you?” Draven asked sadly, twisting his fingers in the sleeve of his cardigan.
“Know? No, can't say that I do,” Salem replied diplomatically. “I can only assume, based on things I’ve observed and you’ve let slip.”
Draven gave a small smile. “And you could’ve told everyone. Yet you didn’t. Why? Why protect me?”
Salem leaned back against the unused blackboard. “I’m not protecting you. It’s … not my secret to tell. However…” He stood back up, eye-to-eye with the vamplet. “If you ever make a move to harm anyone, I know a neat little garlic spell.”
“Just when I think you might actually have a heart under all that attitude…” Draven trailed off, still smiling softly, almost ruefully. “You don’t have to worry, I don’t plan on eating any of my friends. Or enemies, for that matter.”
He turned and went to leave when Salem called him back.
“You might want to tell Lynx what you are,” he advised. “Secrets do nothing between lovers.”
Draven’s pale face was suffused with pink. “We’re not—”
“Not yet,” Salem said. “If you do plan on lowering yourself to his standards, then you had best be honest. Because the Lynx family is cruel. If you hurt him, if you lie, he will use your bloodline to destroy you.”
Chapter 9
“All right, everyone, it is our last day before the Winter Break. Please be advised that the Winter Solstice Ball is tonight, and no one under the age of sixteen may attend,” Mrs. Donahue reminded everyone that morning in Everyday Spells class.
Caelum accidentally caught the eye of Kimberly Morrison, whom he’d been dating on and off since September. She winked at him and he felt his stomach twist with mild disgust. Not that she wasn’t gorgeous; she was. And until quite recently, she had been an excellent girlfriend. He’d never dated anyone for that long before.
But that had been before Draven had gone out on a date with an upperclassman, another Fraser wizard. Caelum had been harbouring a crush on his friend since they’d met, but had refrained from acting on it. For one thing, he had no idea if it was normal to be interested in both boys and girls. For another, he was certain that Draven wasn’t interested in boys. And he’d been proven wrong.
Why him and not me? Caelum wondered darkly, looking at the back of Draven’s head. What’s so special about him?
“Mr. Lynx, if you’re done with your study of the back of Mr. Silver’s head, would you like to answer my question?” Donahue’s high voice broke through his reverie.
His face flamed as Draven turned around to look at him. Even the pale boy was blushing as the rest of the class laughed.
“Sorry, Mrs. D.,” Caelum called. “What was the question?”
Once class was over, Caelum looked for Kimberly. She was whispering and giggling with Daphne in the hall. “Oi, Kim, can we talk?” he asked. “Privately? No offence, Daph.”
Daphne waved a hand and said, “No offence taken. I’m going to go wash my hair so it looks nice for the Ball.” She walked away and left Caelum with a widely smiling Kimberly.
“So?” she asked, sidling up next to him.
“I … don’t think I can take you to the Ball tonight,” Caelum muttered. Normally he didn't have any problems with breaking a date. People were allowed to change their minds. But Kimberly was high strung. And this could possibly make Daphne angry with him, too, since the girls were friends.
“What? Why not? Are you sick?” she demanded.
Yeah. Lovesick and moonsick, Caelum thought. “No … I just think that you and I aren’t quite right for each other. I hope you’re not mad.”
Kimberly scoffed, staring at him with wide, angry eyes. “Mad? You broke up with me hours before our first b
all! I’m not mad, I’m bloody livid! You — you feline twatwaffle!” Her mouth moved a few more times, unable, it seemed, to get any more words out thanks to her fury. Finally, she waved her hand at Caelum and cast, “Imber!”
It caused water to pelt down on top of Caelum’s head, mimicking a glass of water thrown indignantly in his face. She then stepped on his foot before stalking away in a huff.
Caelum shook himself out, wringing the water from his shaggy brown hair. He hated getting wet as much as an actual cat did. He couldn’t even be angry: he deserved what he got and worse. It was a lousy thing to do, but at least it was more honourable than taking her to the ball whilst lusting after his friend.
Up ahead, Salem was walking with Robert. Robert was pretty cool, but Caelum hated that he was so close with Sinclair. He didn't trust the Dark magician any further than he could throw him.
“What happened, Lynx?” Robert asked upon seeing him.
“Girl trouble,” he replied. “I guess some of them don’t like being turned down.” He glanced at Salem. “Not like you’d know. I don’t know how Daphne tolerates you. Not like any other girls are knocking down your door.”
Salem bristled, but you couldn’t tell except for the rising of his chin and narrowing of his eyes.
“Pathetic low blow from someone who smells like a wet cat,” he replied. He glared at Caelum and stalked away, leaving Robert behind.
“Mate, you have got to stop antagonising Salem whenever you feel like crap,” Robert said. “He’s going to snap one day, and I am pretty sure you’ll be his first target.”
Caelum sighed as he cast a spell to dry his hair. “His very presence irks me. How do you hang around him?”
Robert sighed, pushing shaggy blond hair back into his careful coif. “Truth? Us Clan Munro members should stick together. Especially now, when people are looking at even the youngest and smallest of us as possible evildoers. Salem’s one of us, and whether you like it or not, Caelum, so are you.”
Late that night, Caelum was sitting alone in his room at Fraser Manor, feeling let down and dejected. He had considered going to the ball on his own, but the thought of seeing Draven there with someone put a stop to that.
I should have just gone with Kim, he thought. She’s pretty enough to distract me. But I even screwed that up.
With a sigh, he flopped back on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Between having to go home the next day and his conflicted heart, he wished he could just vanish. Not die, but rather not exist at all. At least until he was eighteen and legally able to get the bloody Hell out of the Coven, maybe even out of the UK.
There was a soft knock at his door, and he would have pretended to be asleep, except for the fact that his record player was on.
Probably Mrs. Fraser, he thought. “Come in.”
The door opened and Draven’s shaggy head poked in. “Hey.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“What are you doing here?” Caelum asked, propping himself up on his elbows. “Why aren’t you at the dance?”
“I was going to ask you the same question,” Draven replied. He came and sat at the edge of Caelum’s bed. “What happened to Kimberly?”
Caelum shrugged. “I don’t like her like that.”
Draven arched an eyebrow. “Really? I was under the impression that you didn’t necessarily need to like anyone to date them.”
“Maybe I’m growing up.” And growing heartsick. “And what about you? What about that boy in Everyday Spells class?”
Draven sighed. “Well, um, I guess I don’t really like him like that, either. I broke off our date tonight.”
Caelum managed a smirk. “So we’re both nursing broken hearts, huh? Should I go and get some ice cream and find a sappy human movie to watch?”
Draven chuckled. “The Frasers don’t have a TV or VCR.”
They sat there for a while in silence, letting the record Caelum had put on play on low. Caelum wasn’t sure what to say or do, and it was a new feeling for him. He was so confident usually. So in control. He didn’t feel like he controlled the situation with Draven. The exact opposite, in fact.
Determined to get back in some control, he leapt off the bed and held out his hand. “Come on. Just because we’re not at the ball doesn’t mean we can’t dance.”
His friend looked up in surprise. “I can’t dance.”
“So? That’s the fun of it. No one’s going to judge you.” Caelum grabbed Draven’s hand, feeling his cold skin, and said, “I want to dance. With you.”
Draven looked down at their joined hands and his fair face turned a light shade of pink. “I — okay.” He stood up and Caelum wrapped his free arm around Draven’s waist.
They were flush against each other, and Caelum could hear Draven’s heartbeat in his ears thanks to his lynx abilities.
Despite his height, Caelum was a great dancer, with all the lithe grace of the animal he turned into. While Draven was clumsy and awkward in class and social situations, he was surprised to find that his friend was a good dancer as well.
His senses were going haywire merely being this close to Draven. He was only two inches taller, so they were pretty much nose to nose as they danced to the human record Caelum had bought the previous year.
Draven’s cold hand was on Caelum’s back, while his other held Caelum’s. That touch drove the shifter absolutely mental, and he hated himself. It wasn’t right to fall for your friend. Especially when Caelum wasn’t sure if he was gay or straight or something else.
But all he was sure of was that Draven felt so nice against him, solid and comforting. Caelum had grown up in a house without comfort, never truly knowing a kind touch. Until he moved into the Frasers’ house. Until he met Draven.
The record went into a faster song, and Caelum was grateful as he moved away, taking one of Draven’s hands in his. They began to dance faster, and Caelum wished he could photograph the smile on his friend’s face.
The last song on the record began, a ballad, and Caelum was going to sit it out. He really was. But in the candlelight, with the music swelling, Draven seemed so perfect. So handsome. He had to dance with him; he couldn’t help it.
“Why did you really break up with Kimberly?” Draven asked quietly, barely audible above the record. “You can tell me.” He looked up with bright hazel eyes.
Caelum felt his breath catch in his throat, unsure of what to say or do. Telling the truth would cost him his friendship, and he couldn’t have that.
“Because I want someone else,” he admitted. “Someone I can’t have.”
“Daphne?” Draven asked, aghast.
“Gaia, no. Just drop it. Keep dancing.” Caelum tightened his grip on Draven’s waist.
Draven looked up and met Caelum’s eyes again, and it looked like his pupils had widened and the whites of his eyes looked reddish in the candlelight. Something about his gaze drew Caelum in, intoxicating him. He couldn’t look away.
“Tell me,” Draven pressed, his quiet voice as musical as the singer on the record.
And Caelum felt powerless to refuse the simple request. However, he also couldn’t bring himself to say the words out loud. So he did the first thing he could think of and leaned down and kissed Draven.
His friend’s lips were thin and soft and pliant under his own and he kissed back. Tentative at first, but he soon matched Caelum’s pace.
Caelum wrapped his arms tighter around Draven, one hand on his back and the other in his soft brown hair. Draven had one hand on Caelum’s chest, the other on his waist. His fingers tightened in Caelum’s t-shirt as he deepened the kiss.
It was the most wonderful thing Caelum had ever felt, and he didn’t want the kiss to ever end. And it seemed Draven didn’t either. As Caelum pulled away for breath, Draven began to press little kisses to his neck, nipping him slightly.
It was then that Draven pulled back almost violently, breaking the moment and the kiss at once. He backed out of Caelum’s embrace, not meeting his friend’s ey
es.
“Draven, what is it?” Caelum asked. “What happened?”
“I’m sorry,” Draven whispered, his voice hoarse. “I can’t. I can’t do this, Cae. I’m so sorry.” He turned and dashed out of Caelum’s room just as the record ended.
The wah-wah sound of the record continuing to spin echoed in the room, drowning out the sound of Caelum’s heart breaking into a thousand pieces.
Salem sat in his room, fully dressed except for his silken robe. Not that it was a great robe. He’d bought it for a pittance at the local seamstress’ and had mended it with the help of Martha Quigley. Still, it looked awful, and hung awkwardly on his thin frame.
How can I take Daphne, a Fraser, to the ball like this? he wondered, looking down at himself. I feel like Cinderella, but I don't think any Fae Folk want to come give me a decent outfit to wear.
With a sigh, he stood up and slipped the robe over his shoulders. He supposed it would have to do. Otherwise he would have to stand Daphne up, and no way was he going to do that. Not to her.
As he exited his room, he bumped into Robert, who had stopped in while he was getting ready.
“Off to the ball?” he asked. He was wearing silvery grey robes with sea green edging that shimmered in the light. Everything about him was put together and screamed power. Unlike Salem.
“Yes,” Salem replied somewhat doubtfully. “If Daphne will be seen with me looking like this.” He gestured to his black robe.
Robert grimaced. “She is a Fraser. They believe in appearances over all things. Best of luck, mate.” He patted him on the shoulder and walked away, leaving Salem in a muddle of self-consciousness.
If he wasn’t worried about standing Daphne up, he would have dashed back into his room and hid until winter break was over. But that wasn’t the image he wanted to portray. That wasn’t what he wanted people to think of him.
After nearly dying the year before, he was determined to never be seen as a cowering victim again. And that meant standing tall and proud even in the face of potential embarrassment.
