by LJ Rivers
Taking Teagan out for distractions today, but sent you an email with what we have. Hope to see you soon, milady. X
I could feel myself practically beaming with joy as I danced into the hallway and crashed straight into Charlie.
Eight
“I’m sorry!” I said, my words drowning in Charlie’s exact same outburst.
We looked at each other for a couple of seconds, then exploded into fits of laughter and threw ourselves into an embrace. Slowly, we released one another, and I leaned back to look her in the eyes.
“I really am sorry, Char!”
“You and me both,” she replied.
“Can we talk?”
“Yes, please,” she said, with an over-the-top dramatic voice. “I’ve got about four seconds of patience left before I die. These last couple of days have been a total nightmare.”
We went into the living room and sat in what had more or less become our reserved seats—me in the armchair and Charlie snuggled in the far end of the sofa.
“I was a spoiled brat yesterday,” she said, fiddling with the string on her hoodie. “When you left, I snuck out and ate a shitload of the delicious breakfast you’d made, sobbing all through it.”
“It must have gone cold by then.”
“Worked for me.” Her eyes were still downcast. “You’ve got to cook it again sometime.”
“I will,” I said. “But let’s get to the point, ok? What happened was I got a call on Monday from PC Paddock, one of the coppers that were here when Ilyana disappeared, remember?”
“Why?” She looked up at me, eyebrows raised. “I mean, yeah, I remember the police—think there were three of them. But what did he want? Was it the nice one, by the way?”
“Yes and no. When he was here, I thought he was rude. He seemed to hate Mags, and his boss, DCI Davies, even apologized to us for Paddock’s behaviour.”
She snapped her fingers. “I remember that. It was actually kinda cool. So, Paddock’s not the nice one, then.”
“Turns out, he kind of is. I’ll get to that. He asked me to meet him in Richmond Park that night.”
“Come again?”
I raised my hand. “That was my first thought as well. But he said it was important, so I got curious. Also, I asked Jen to go with me, for—”
Charlie gave a quick snort and a little shrug. “For backup in case it was dangerous, I get it.”
“Well, yes. I didn’t want to take any chances.”
“Way to make a girl feel utterly useless.” The anger had crept back into her eyes, and she threw her arms up. “But hey, what good is a mere human when you have magic literally at your fingertips?”
At first, I wanted to tell her I was wrong, and that I should have included her, but that would be a lie.
I bit my lip, staring at her. “You know what? You’re right,” I said between gritted teeth. “We didn’t want to take you with us because it could have been dangerous. And yes, it was my decision. For all I knew, it was a trick. A trap. Maybe Paddock had some deal with a Harvester, even. So, to be on the safe side, I brought Jen. And I deliberately left you behind for your own safety.”
“Do you have any idea how condescending that sounds? Who the hell made you the master of my life? I am fully capable of looking after myself, thank you very much!”
“Oh, shut up, you fool,” I blurted. “Don’t you get it? Have you no clue how much I love you? How it would kill me if anything happened to you?”
I was shaking inside, and the last words came out at such a high, desperate pitch that I wasn’t sure she could understand them.
Charlie said nothing, and I swallowed hard, quelling the rising fire inside. My gaze was locked on her as if I could force my desperation into her mind.
“I—” she muttered, lowering her gaze again. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“No shit,” I said under my breath.
To my horror, a tiny ball of fire had formed in my right hand. I concentrated hard and managed to retract it. I really needed Kaine’s help controlling this.
“It’s just—” Charlie began. She hesitated, looking up at the ceiling as if the right words were up there. “I can’t cope with being left out. And of course, you’re right. What could my contribution be in a fight with policemen and Harvesters and shit?”
I drew a deep breath, collecting myself. “The way you’ve let me into your life has meant more to me than you can imagine. I’ve never had a friend like you. Ever!”
“My therapist will be thrilled,” she said. “She has pushed so hard for me to have a close friend.”
I had no idea she went to therapy. But then again, if one were to trust the magazines and bloggers, seeing a psychiatrist seemed to be the norm. Just a couple of weeks ago, I’d noticed a headline in The Times. You’re not seeing a shrink? Are you crazy? I remembered smiling at the joke but skipping the article itself. Maybe I should go back and have a look.
“And now you have two friends,” I said. “Plus Duncan.”
“Yeah.” She sniffled. “Donna will be over the moon.”
“Donna?”
“Donnatella Moss. My therapist. I’ve been going for three years, nearly every week.”
I wanted to ask why but didn’t want to cross the line.
“Why?” Charlie winked at me.
“So, you read minds, do you?” I said, returning the wink.
“Not really, but it’s normal to want to know, and you’re simply too polite to ask. The short version—the diagnosis, so to speak—is fear of abandonment. The long version is—well, that’s the long version, too, I guess. That, and the fear stemming from growing up more or less by myself.”
“Oh?”
“I told you about my dad, didn’t I? His tendency to view a can of beer as an aperitif and a bottle of vodka as the main course?”
I nodded, not wanting to interrupt her.
“He was my hero. I desperately wanted to be like him. His jokes, his brilliant mind, his stories. And the way he turned bedtime reading into our own kind of magic. There was this one story in particular, about a boy wizard and a school for wizards and witches. They never caught on, though. Guess the world didn’t find books about wizards all that interesting, not with real magic all around. But Dad knew the author, so he got the whole set from her. Anyway, this boy wizard had a friend, a girl who was born with no magic at all, just like me. She ended up being one of the strongest of all the characters in the books, even though she wasn’t a born Magical.”
Her eyes lit up. The memories clearly had a special place in her heart. I glanced at the print on her homemade t-shirt. Don’t let the Muggles bring you down. She wore it a lot, and I suspected it had something to do with those books she always talked about.
Charlie exhaled with a heavy puff. “At that time, Dad only drank beer. It made him funny, at least in my eyes. He wrote a couple of children’s books himself. Got a nice contract for a whole series, in fact. Never got further than the second one, though. By then, he had fallen in love with the vodka.”
“Oh, Charlie. That’s terrible.”
She shrugged. “I was ten when he stopped being my hero. I still loved him, mind you, but I had also begun loathing him for not being my hero anymore. He turned into this sorry sack of shit. When the book deal came, he quit his job. Said he’d make it big with the next volume. I asked why he didn’t write it. ‘You can’t hurry art, Lotty,’ was his standard response. I used to love that nickname. It lost its magic, one could say.”
“What about your mum?”
“She tried, I guess. But when Dad dove into the vodka, she left. Well, they stayed married, but she was never home. There was always an art show, an exhibition, a gallery opening and so on. So I stayed up in my room while Dad went down to the pub to finish his mission of ridding the world of Guinness and Absolut, and Mum lived her life looking at paintings and sculptures. Still does.”
I didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry,” I said, well aware of how pathetic
it sounded.
“With the beer, he was fun. With the booze, he was, well, not so fun.”
“Oh,” I said, raising the level of patheticness.
“Yeah.” Charlie bit her lip, not saying a word for a long time. “I never knew which version of him to expect. Not at first. After a while, I learned the pattern. When money was short, he’d buy a bottle of vodka. Did the job quicker, I guess. Not sure if he actually went to the pub those nights. More likely he went down to the river, under the bridge where all the alkies sat.”
She shook her head slowly, snorting out a burst of tiny laughter.
“The other alkies, I should say. Every other month or so, he’d get some payout from the publishers. Royalties for the first two books. In the beginning, I think it was quite a decent amount. Then he’d be the centre of attention at the pub, buying round after round for his friends. Great friends that never would’ve said hello if they passed him by the river, though. Those nights he’d come home with dinner and cake from the pub. ‘Come here, Lotty. It’s party time!’”
A tear formed in the corner of her eye, fought its way over the brim and drew a tiny, wet line down her cheek.
“I loved him all the time, Ru. He was fun, and we’d sit by the telly, eating stew and cake and laughing at the screen. I loved him the other nights, too. It was just that he became this other man. A monster.”
My own dad was my hero, just like Charlie’s was to her. But mine had never been anything short of the greatest dad ever to me. I understood it had to be awful growing up with such a deadbeat father, and couldn’t grasp how she could say she still loved him. The abandonment part, though, hit me right in the feels. Then again, what was worse—losing your dad to an unexpected death or watching him turn into a monster?
I walked to the sofa and sat beside her, taking one of her hands in mine. I just wanted to comfort her and didn’t really think it through.
As it had done weeks before, a spark lit up in my mind. I gasped, feeling my own thoughts intertwine with Charlie’s. A voice boomed. ‘Look at the mess, you little shit. Is this how you thank me for throwing you a party, Lotty?’
A burning sensation on my cheek followed as the image became clearer. A man—the same man I’d seen in Charlie’s memories that morning in September. Charlie’s dad. He stood over a small version of my best friend. Her hand was on her cheek, but her eyes—oh, those beautiful eyes, were filled with fear and shock.
‘You think I want to hit you? It’s the only way you can learn how to behave.’
I desperately tried to get out of her mind, but her memories had glued themselves to me. There was nothing I could do but watch as her father hit her again. And again. Charlie—no more than ten years old—held her hands up in defence, but there was nothing she could do to fend off the oncoming fists. Finally, he stopped. My cheeks burned hotter than the fireballs I was able to produce, my heart pounding.
“Ruby? Ruby!”
I opened my eyes, not realizing I had closed them. Charlie was holding my shoulders, shaking me.
“Come back to me, Ru,” she said. “Don’t go in there. It really isn’t a nice place to be.”
“I forgot I could do that.” I gasped for air.
She sat back in her corner, tightening her lips. Was she snickering?
“What?”
“You’re hopeless,” she moaned. “You forgot you could read people’s memories? What, you’ve got so many powers that you don’t remember them all?”
I let my shoulders drop, and rolled my eyes at her. “Yeah, that’s exactly how this thing works.”
It was a relief. For both of us. The laughter seemed to wash away the painful memories, if only for a short while.
“I’m used to it,” Charlie said. “It doesn’t bother me that much anymore. I’m living proof that therapy is a great idea. It works. With Donna, anyway.”
“That’s good to know. I guess time helps, too.” I had never felt the need for therapy, but the big, open scar in my heart hadn’t healed in the seven years since Dad died. Not one bit. What could a therapist possibly have to fill it with?
“He’s better now,” she said, “I’ll give him that. Drinks way less and has actually finished a novel. A draft, anyway.”
“Is your mum still working?”
“Not quite as much as she used to. They’re trying to patch their marriage together, but it’s flaky. She keeps threatening to move back to Brazil. Though, as you say, time may help.”
“Crossing my fingers.”
“So you see, being alone is not what I do best,” she said. “Let me rephrase that. Being left alone, that is. I’m fine on my own, don’t get me wrong. As long as it’s my own choice, you know?”
“I get it. And I’ll never leave you behind like that again. We’ll decide together from now on.”
She put her fist out, and I bumped it with mine. “Deal.”
“Besides,” I said, “you’re way too smart. And I need your magic.”
“I agree with the first. I am wicked smart.” She said the last part in what I assumed was a Good Will Hunting-accent. I wasn’t about to tell her how bad it was.
“That’s why I need your help. If you want to, that is.”
“Doing what?”
“Paddock suspects some of his colleagues might be in cohorts with Harvesters. He says there’s been a lot of cases lately where the police have used excessive force, particularly towards Mags. Several Mags have disappeared, if the coppers haven’t killed them, that is. He’s going to share his findings with me—with us, I mean. Problem is, I’m not very good at digital research. I know how to do basic searches, but I don’t think that’ll do the trick here.”
“You’re right about that,” Charlie said. “The usual search engines are great for finding the latest Pinterest on cake decoration. For this type of digging, I’ve got my own magic. I didn’t spend all that time alone in my room with my laptop and this huge brain for nothing.”
Her grin was as broad as it was beautiful. My Charlie was back!
“So, think you can do some digimagic?” I asked.
“Hmm. If I hadn’t known better, that might sound a bit condescending. But screw that, I like it. Digimagic. Maybe that’ll be the name of my company.”
“I’ll be your first customer.”
“Honestly, babe, you couldn’t afford me. I’ll be working big defence contracts and super-secret MI6 cyber spying.”
“But before that,” I said, “think you could wave your wand on this case? Also, Teagan, Brendan’s sister, has a problem that we should look into.”
“She’s here? I thought she had run off with some douche.”
“Yep. Her douche boyfriend is missing. She says he’s been taken by Harvesters, somewhere north. I might get more info on that.”
“Give it to me when you get it, and I’ll see what I can find.”
“That would be awesome. Whatever you can find on Goo—or wherever. Where do you search for stuff, by the way?”
She tutted. “Now we’re moving too close to Digimagic’s secrets.”
I was about to raise my hands in surrender when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Not my regular phone, but the flip phone Paddock had given me. I picked it up and mouthed “Paddock” to Charlie.
“Hello?” I replied, for some reason thinking I shouldn’t say my name. Maybe I was inspired by Charlie’s mention of MI6.
“Miss Morgan?”
“Yes,” I said, hoping my sigh didn’t make it through to him.
“Care to bring your shifty friend for a stakeout this Friday? Fernsby and his new partner are on the night shift patrol, and I thought we might get lucky.”
Get lucky? I wanted to ask but thought better of it. “Sure, when and where?”
“I’ll pick you up at—’ang on.”
I heard him rustling some papers in the background.
“Nah, better you come to me. I’ll text you later when I know which area they’re covering.”
“Great. What sho
uld we bring? Or wear?”
“The usual gear, really. Knives, shotguns—preferably sawed off if you have them.”
I gawked at the phone.
“Just having a laugh, sorry. Normal clothes, but maybe ditch the high heels and skirts. And not too flashy on the colour charts.”
“So black, then.”
He chuckled. “Basically. Ok, talk to you later.”
I put the phone on the table and looked at Charlie. “Looks like shit’s getting real.”
“What did he say? And when did you become all street and foul-mouthed?”
“Sorry. I can’t help it, but it’s actually a bit exciting. I know it shouldn’t be, but—”
“Hey, I get it, Ru. And maybe that’s a good sensation to bring into it.”
“Maybe. Anyway, he wants us to join him on a stakeout Friday night. Hopefully, we can get some info on the bad coppers.”
“Us.”
I drew a breath, but before I said anything, Charlie waved me off.
“Relax. We’ve put it behind us. Us means you and Jen on this occasion.”
“No, it doesn’t. Maybe me and Jen with Paddock on the scene, but we’re depending on you as well.”
“The digimagician, yes. And as I said, it’s cool. I’ll just do my thing back home, where my skills are best put to use. Go find Jen and fill her in. I’ve got some digging to do. Oh, and maybe start on a couple of the assignments in Canvas if I feel like it.”
I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and stood to leave. “I love you, Charlie.”
“Of course you do,” she said, slapping me on the thigh as I left.
Just before I closed the door to my room, she shouted, “And I love you, too.”
I sent a text to Jen, asking her to call me. She hadn’t come home after classes yet, and I recalled her saying something about a photo session in the afternoon.
Still feeling sad about what I saw in Charlie’s memories, I sat on my bed, thinking about my own dad. As always, the mere thought of him brought back that big lump in my throat. I missed him so much and desperately wanted to get to the bottom of his death. I dropped back on my bed and lay staring up at the ceiling for a while. If only Dad hadn’t touched the damned drug. I wished he had been a Mag himself.
