by LJ Rivers
“Here,” she said, dangling a matching skirt and top in her hands. “This is pretty but not too pretty. You can easily wear your denim jacket over it, though honestly, denim is so 80s. You really should think about swapping it out for something else.”
“I like my jacket.” I stared at the garments. The A-line skirt matched the one-sleeved black top. Tiny strands of red decorated the edges.
“Oh, I love this,” I said.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t you?” Jen wiggled her hips and hung the clothes over the back of the chair by my desk.
I was mesmerized by her ability to display all that self-confidence without coming off as a narcissist.
The rest of the day went by quickly, and before I knew where the time had gone, I was on my way to the gate to meet Brendan. I wasn’t sure if I was overdressed or not poshed up enough, but the way the fabric of the clothes felt against my skin, smooth and light, made my confidence rise. Jen had done my hair, but she had gone overboard with the makeup, so I had to wash it off and do it over again myself. All in all, I felt damn good. My eyes fell on Brendan standing next to the campus gatehouse.
He was wearing jeans.
Chapter Fourteen
Well, crap. I was overdressed after all.
Brendan’s gaze moved over me. “Milady,” he said and gave me a courtly bow.
I wasn’t about to return the favour with a curtsy, but I appreciated the gesture. Even if there was no chariot, no shining armour or anything. But at least Brendan was there, and that was all that mattered.
“I’m sorry,” he said, giving my heart a jolt. “But that may be the prettiest sight I’ve seen since—oh, who am I kidding? Since ever.”
Those sure were the words an overdressed lady needed. My heart continued its race from the jolt, only now it was with pure joy.
“Thank you, sire,” I purred and wanted to kick myself. “Very knightly of you, although I’m pretty sure you’ve seen fairer maidens on your quests.”
“Not at all, milady,” he said. “And now I fear I have painted myself into a corner.”
“Oh?”
“Everyone is going to look at you, and then at me, and then at you again, thinking what a loser I am to—”
“Stop it, B,” I said, punching him on the forearm. But I enjoyed every syllable of his praise and didn’t really want him to stop. “Jen insisted on the outfit, and if I had trusted her with the makeup as well, I’d look an even bigger fool than I already do.”
“We could spend the evening right here, arguing who’s wrongly dressed, or we could go a couple of blocks down the street and have that dinner I promised you. Come to think of it, no one will view me as the loser, since no one will even notice me, so it kind of works out after all.”
Right, so now he was both charming and handsome. The fire in my veins was back, but I was quite certain it had nothing to do with my new magical power. This was magic of a different kind, and I had to admit that Brendan was the instigator.
“Dinner it is,” I said and linked my arm under his outstretched one. “Where are we going?”
“Nick told me about this place, not too fancy, not too shabby. Great food,” he promised.
“Nick?” I said, feeling a slight reaction in Brendan’s arm.
“He’s actually a nice guy, but yes, he has a bit of a problem with the witches and wizards of the world. He’s also the one who got you that job interview.”
I suddenly realized I heard nothing from Brendan’s thoughts, even though I held his arm. It was as if I controlled it, not wanting to read him. Yet. Not that I could mind read. It was more of a memory read than anything else. Maybe I could control the fire, too?
“And you?” I said, biting my lip.
“I think I’m a nice guy,” he said.
I bumped him, laughing. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant, stupid.”
“First of all, I hope to prove that I am a nice guy, but if it’s ok with you, I don’t want to talk about Mags tonight.”
An image flashed in my head. A woman sat by a table, desperation in her eyes. No, it was more like defeat, her eyes brimming with tears. She wore a red blouse, and her hair looked a proper mess. Then a word. I tried to grasp it. Bankrupt? The images faded as I squeezed my eyes shut. So much for control.
We passed the corner that marked the end of White Willow campus, waited for a red bus to pass and then crossed the street. Our steps had fallen into the same rhythm, and I managed to quell the urge to read more of Brendan’s memories. It felt good, both to be able to sort of control it, and not wanting to read him.
“So, what does Brendan O’Callaghan do when he doesn’t hang out with the guards on campus?”
“First of all, he tries to make his parents proud, to be honest. Their dream of me graduating at White Willow also happens to be mine, so that’s an easy choice. Secondly, the fencing program here is by far the best in the country.”
“Fencing? Like, with swords?”
Brendan stopped, and for a moment I thought I’d said something wrong. This was the second time in minutes. What was happening to me? Why was I so anxious around him?
“Here we are, my fair one,” he said, gesturing towards a door.
I hadn’t paid any attention to where we were going and felt a little annoyed at my behaviour. Get a grip, Ruby, I thought to myself. Also, looking at the rest of the exterior, I concluded that I wasn’t all that overdressed.
“The Halfway.” I read the sign above the three windows aloud. The bottom half of the windows were frosted, making it impossible to see more than the heads of the guests by the window tables. It looked more or less like Brendan had described it—not too fancy, not too shabby. The name, though, made me curious.
“I know,” Brendan said, as if he was the one reading my mind. “The owners first tried to name it The Unsatisfied Woman, but that wouldn’t fly by the city council. So, they compromised on The Halfway Inn.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously? That’s so tacky.”
His eyes gave him away. Then he laughed. “It would be, but no, that was a lame attempt at a joke. It really was a halfway house, some decades ago, I think. Shall we?”
He held the door for me, and I stepped inside. Some twenty tables filled the main area of the restaurant, and a gallery seemed to house four or five more. Under the gallery were a bar and two swing doors through which waiters constantly came and went.
“Welcome,” said a smiling woman—she couldn’t be more than a year or two older than me. “Party of two?”
“I have a reservation,” Brendan replied. “O’Callaghan.”
The girl stepped behind a small desk and looked at a computer screen. “There you are, Mr O’Callaghan. If you’d like to follow me, please.”
She walked towards the stairs at the end of the bar, and we followed her up to the gallery where she showed us to our table. “Your waiter will be here in a jiffy. Care for a drink while you look at the menu?”
Brendan nodded before I had a chance to reply. “Yes, please. Make it light and sparkly, perhaps?”
The girl smiled and disappeared. Brendan held the chair for me, and I sat. It felt a bit awkward looking down at the other guests, their food in particular, so I looked out the window instead. A drizzle had started as we entered the restaurant, and with the streetlights on, it looked quite romantic. Or maybe it was just what my heart told me. After all, I was on a date. And although Brendan was probably no more than twenty, it felt like my first grown-up date.
After a few minutes, I understood why Nick—and Brendan—would like this restaurant. Granted, it didn’t come off as particularly posh, but I had half expected the menu to consist of French words and prices above my budget. I had every intention of going Dutch on the bill, so I was relieved to see an array of burgers, ribs, fajitas and five different types of fried chicken.
“Students must love this place,” I said, only now noticing the clientele being mostly twenty-somethings, the usual hipsters, and even a c
ouple of girls I was sure I had seen at Diane’s party.
The food was everything Nick had promised, and although I had never been a huge fan of the Big Mac, it had been my go-to choice at McDonald’s. Something told me it would be a while before it tempted me again, having bit into the moist, savoury burger they named Old Smokey.
“I wouldn’t mind coming here again,” Brendan said, biting into his Southern Belle, with extra bacon.
“I hereby vow to never order a Big Mac again,” I said. “This is pure magic.”
“Fitting for the company then,” Brendan said, winking at me.
I almost choked on what the menu described as applewood smoked cheddar. What did he say? Did he know?
“I don’t want to sound too cheesy, Ruby, but what the hell. I really like you, and sitting here looking at you is a way better magic feeling than what any Mags or drug can provide.”
So there it was. He didn’t know about me, but his undertone was clear. He was too good to be true.
“We weren’t going to talk about them,” I said, feeling the taste of betrayal in my mouth by calling Mags them. “But I get the impression they’re not your favourites?”
He washed his mouthful down with two large gulps of his beer, his eyes never leaving mine.
“No.”
Short and to the point. Ok, I’d leave it at that, then. Just enjoy the evening, and accept that Brendan and I would never be.
“I guess most of them are ok,” he continued. “But in general, I think the world would be better off without them.”
I said nothing, although the journalist in me screamed and shouted a million follow-up questions in my head.
“It’s just that I’ve had a bad experience.” He picked one of the fries from the little wicker bag in front of us, dipped it in the chilli ketchup, and bit off half.
It killed me to say nothing, but I was determined to leave it up to him to speak. At least about this.
He sighed. “I’m sorry to kill the mood, Ruby.”
“Not at all. I want to know you,” I said, hoping he didn’t notice the shiver in my voice. “I really want to know you, B.”
I lay my hand on the table, close enough for him to grab it if he wanted.
He did. The surge of electricity through my body made it almost impossible not to look into his mind. But only almost—I held it back, nearly cheering to myself. And then I looked into his eyes. If I had thought they were stunning before, that was nothing compared to now, with tears in them. Not really tears, but a thin veil of moisture, bringing the colour to an even darker, more intense, shade of blue.
“And I want to know you, too, Ruby,” he whispered. “I really want to.”
If someone had told me we’d sat like that for forty-eight minutes, I would have believed them. In reality, it was probably just five or ten seconds, but the moment changed something in me. It confirmed something. My blood was on fire, albeit not literally. Or maybe even literally.
“My sister dated a Mag,” Brendan said, jolting me out of my haze. His gaze drifted towards the dark street outside. “A proper knobhead, although he probably seemed nice in the beginning. Teagan’s two years older than me and was already well into her bachelor studies right here at White Willow. Oliver worked at The Barrister, a coffee bar on campus.”
I nodded, both because I had seen the sign, thinking it was a pun on barista and that maybe it catered to the law students, and because I didn’t want to say something to break his stride.
“Somehow he managed to convince Teagan to run off with him. They just showed up at our house one evening in the middle of the spring semester. Teagan flashed a diamond ring at my ma’ and told my parents about his and Teag’s plans to buy a house in Spain. Oliver had been appointed the head of a hotel on the Sun Coast, and my sister would run the marketing side of things.”
Brendan still held my hand, his grip tightening a bit as he spoke. I made a mental note to confirm my ability to control the mind-reading when I was back with Charlie and Jen later.
“Anyway, to make a long story short, he fooled my parents to invest all their money in the hotel. Or rather, in his bank account, since he convinced them that was the best way. There’s no way my da’ would agree to something like that. He has always been the calm, thinking, and re-evaluating type. Never made a decision in business unless he was sure he had double and triple checked everything. Then this loser does some Jedi mind tricks on my parents and takes off with all their money. And their daughter, who he also used his mind-controlling powers on.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I was in China, three weeks of training with the Chinese fencing team. The wanker would’ve turned my mind inside out as well, had I been home.”
His grip was starting to hurt me, but no way was I going to stop him now.
“When I came home, it was three days after Teagan and Oliver had run off, I think. Ma’ just sat there. Da’ had picked me up at the airport, and already I knew something was off. Ma’ had never missed a chance to greet me with a hug until then. When I walked into the dining room, she didn’t even look up.”
She wore a red dress and her hair was a mess, I thought.
His voice cracked. “‘We’re bankrupt,’ she whispered. ‘All our money is gone, Brendan.’”
I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. A Mind-controller. Mum had always warned me about those. Not that they could do anything to my mind—apparently they only had power over humans’ brains, but they could certainly harm others, especially if they were powerful.
“So, when Teagan and Oliver left, his effect on their minds wore off?” I asked. This would at least mean he wasn’t very powerful, if I had understood Mum correctly.
“Hm?” Brendan said, refocusing on me. “Yes, they came to themselves the next day, Da’ told me. Why?”
“Just something Charlie said about magical powers wearing off,” I said, hoping again he didn’t catch the tone of my voice. “Did they contact him? Or maybe the police?”
“Nobody knows where they are. The hotel, La Playa Soleil or some shit like that, doesn’t exist, of course. He’s got my Teagan stashed somewhere, holding her under his spell. Or maybe he dumped her after he got all the money.”
“Oh, Brendan. I’m sorry, but you’re hurting my hand.”
He let go, his eyes shocked. “Shit, Ru! I didn’t know—”
“That’s ok, B. I understand completely.” I had to stop him before his impressively strong hand broke a bone or two in mine. “So, that’s what a fencing hand feels like.”
Neither of us managed to finish our meals, both because of the sheer size of them but also because of B’s story. I could see why he hated Mags, although it wasn’t fair to include all other Mags in Oliver’s wake. Still, people tended to judge by their personal experiences, as I had myself, I was sure.
After a failed attempt to go Dutch, I accepted Brendan paying the bill on the condition that I was allowed to pay for the next date.
“So, Ruby Ruby Morgan,” he said outside the restaurant, while the slight drizzle in the air dampened my hair. “That implies there is going to be a second date?”
Yes, I think I’d like that, was what I was about to say as a heavy gust of wind blew through the street. The “Today’s Special” blackboard collapsed and skidded across the pavement, the rest of the words flashing in front of me just long enough for my mind to register them: “You’re special to us!”
“Wow, that wasn’t on the forecast.” Brendan pulled me into his arms. “Better wat—”
He went limp for a second, before collapsing to the ground, much like the blackboard sign. I tried holding on to his arm, but couldn’t stop him from hitting his head on the pavement.
“Brendan!” I fell to my knees, scooping my hand under his head. It was wet and warm.
Before I could call for help, someone grabbed my arms and started pulling me away from Brendan. I tried to resist, but he was way stronger than me. Then a hand covered my mouth.
> “Don’t fight it, or I’ll cut your throat, you monster,” a man’s voice whispered in my ear.
Even if I wanted to obey him, my instincts did not. In my right hand, a small globe of light and magic formed, and I threw it back at whoever idiot had chosen this night to rob a Fae.
“That won’t work, Miss Morgan,” the voice spat. “This will, however.”
A sharp sting of pain shot into my neck, extinguishing the flames. I screamed into his hand, darting my eyes from side to side, hoping to see someone—anyone—coming to help. But the street was empty, apart from my unconscious and bleeding date.
“I’ll give you one more chance, Ruby. Will you do as I say, or do you want the whole knife in your neck?”
“I—I’ll do as you say,” I whispered.
“Excellent. Now, we’ll go slowly backwards for a few more yards, and then I will—”
“You will do absolutely nothing,” said another voice, this one also a man’s, but a lot deeper. “In fact, you can cease to exist.”
A flash of light lit up the whole street like a burst of lightning. Then the arm around my waist was gone. I whirled around, but no one was there. Except for a knife, which came to rest on the ground as if it had just landed. The edge was smeared with blood—my blood.
“Go help your boyfriend, Princess,” said the deep voice.
A towering silhouette moved towards me. My subconscious must have thought it was a tree or something in my peripheral vision. The shape was that of a man’s, but at the same time, it wasn’t. It wasn’t a shadow like the one following you on a sunny day, but there was still no better word to describe it.
A shadow.
“He must not know of this,” the voice said. No, the shadow said. The voice came from inside it. “Heal his wound, but don’t let him know, Princess.”
“Who are you?” I asked, only now noticing that the wind was gone. In fact, there had been no wind other than the gust that blew the restaurant’s sign over.
The shadow stopped maybe six feet away from me. It’s head, or at least where I figured the head would be, towered over me.