by J M Thomas
Marla slid into the booth next to me. “Ethan, pop a squat; we’ll all get cozy.” She leaned over and whispered to me, “Thank you so much for setting us up. And to think, I almost didn’t give you my number! We sat up at his mom’s last night until three in the morning, just talking!”
“No problem! All it took was a little phone call; I’ll do that any day!” I smiled, sliding my drink down to make room in the booth for the nurse and Ethan. “I was hoping to get to talk to you a little more, though, Marla.”
“After my shift would be perfect. I’ll text you when it’s close to time.” Marla put an alarm in her phone, her weight leaning toward Ethan as he put one arm around her. The rest of the coffee shop had emptied suddenly, the hushed whispers retreating as the door clanged shut behind the last of the other patrons.
Aeron slid right up next to Darrel, then patted the seat for Lana to join. “Now, where were we, before I so rudely interrupted?”
“Apparently,” I deadpanned, covering my expression with my mug as I tipped it to my lips. “There was a game last night.”
“Aww, there’s a game every night somewhere, but that ain’t what’s interestin’.” Aeron grinned conspiratorially, clapping Darrel on the shoulder so hard the man flinched. “What’s interesting is that this chap over ‘ere...” He pointed at Ethan. “Who I ‘ave some’ow never met before today, grew up right down the street from your ends, Darrel! What are the odds, mate! Not many folks ‘ail from Evansville, wiv it being overrun wiv cow shit and pot’oles, but there you ‘ave it.”
“Oh, he is, is he? Hmm.” Darrel suddenly seemed very interested in his drink.
“Yup! Dragged ‘im out of the rozzer’s morgue just so’s you blokes could catch up a bit. Well, gwan wiv you, then. Reminisce!” Aeron gave me a tiny, sly wink as he waved at Darrel and Ethan like he was striking up a band.
I suddenly realized what he was up to.
This was Aeron doing exactly what I'd asked him to do last night—to tell his cousin off and get out from under the shadow of his blackmail. Showing up in a public place where everyone at work would know Darrel had a necromancer for a cousin had to set tongues a waggin’. He’d be avoiding anything with so much as a whiff of necromancer to it from here onward, Aeron at the top of that list.
Then, Aeron had barged in here with a troupe of necromancers, including the very man whose life he’d saved. Aeron was busting up Darrel’s date he’d blackmailed him to get. This was Aeron’s tactical victory. His promise to me that he’d make sure Darrel accepted my “no” for an answer fluttered its way back into my mind. And what better way than this?
It was a brutal idea, and I was so here for it. In fact, I wanted nothing more than to stir the pot. “I bet you two got into all kinds of shenanigans as kids!”
“Mostly Winnie,” Darrel supplied, always going for throwing someone else under the bus. “I liked keeping out of trouble, thank you very much.”
“Winnie?” I asked, and Darrel pointed at Aeron.
Lana snickered. “That’s A-E-ron to you, thank you very much! He doesn’t like his middle name.”
“Well, there was that one time…” Aeron stroked his beard thoughtfully, cleverly ignoring the use of yet another nickname. He had amassed quite the collection. “Which one of us had the bright idea to put your mum’s stockin’s on our ‘eads and pretend we was aliens, hmm?”
“Uhh… I think that was you.” Now Darrel was blushing for sure.
“Yeah, and which one of us did not find out until years later that those very, very alien-looking nylons ‘ad a rather peculiar striping pattern all crisscross…” Aeron traced out the pattern in the air with his index finger.
“Oh my gosh, they were fishnets!” Marla dissolved into howling laughter.
Ethan nearly choked on his tea. “Oh, yes, the innocence of childhood.” He turned toward Marla. “My cousins and I got into so much trouble when we stayed with Gran in the summers. But she never could find it in her heart to punish us. So, every night, we’d get a stern talking to and a good scrubbing, then we’d plot the next day’s mischief before we’d even gotten to sleep.” He heaved a contented sigh, his shoulder touching hers. “Those were the days.”
“They were indeed.” Aeron nodded gravely. “Then it’s off to school, back to the grind, becoming responsible blokes.”
“I wish I could’ve gone to magic school!” Lana interjected, taking another swig of her drink at an elbow prod from Aeron. She hid her frailty behind an oversized hoodie, nearly concealing all evidence that she could be dying. My heart broke for her, now that I knew, but I dared not say anything about it in a crowd like this.
She continued, “That sounds way better than regular school, but with extra classes for the magic kids. They teach us nothing, and it’s such a pain!”
“You’d fink ‘at.” Aeron’s eyes narrowed again, taking on his old glare. “Did any of the rest of you lot get sentenced to boarding school for your magic?”
At a series of shaking heads, he continued, “Ah, well, then. Folks talk about London’s big, secret offsite magic school like it’s ordinary school, except fun, right, because every little Johnny’s got ‘is magic wand and ‘e’s eatin’ enchanted sweets and playin’ flying games wiv a broom or a mop, if ‘e’s unlucky.” Aeron laughed bitterly, leaning on one forearm to reach for his drink as the barista passed it across the table.
“Is that where you got your accent?” Marla asked.
Lana propped her head on her palm, poking Aeron with her elbow. “Hey, A. E. She’s asking why you talk funny.”
“I ‘eard, give us a minute, Majesty.” Aeron ruffled Lana’s hair in a brotherly gesture before answering Marla’s question. “I talk funny because I’m a funny man who’s a bit daft. But, I did spend most of my earlier years in London, and me mum’s from ‘neath the Bow Bells ‘erself.” His look sobered for a moment as his gaze flicked over to Darrel. “Darrel ‘ere is my cousin by my bastard American dad, which is why ‘e and I talk different.”
My eyes widened in surprise at the vitriol in his voice. This was the first time he’d mentioned either of his parents in my presence; and he clearly thought very little of one of them.
Aeron shook his head in distaste, ready to leave one unpleasant topic of conversation behind in favor of another. “Naw, school for me was a bit like a prison or a work’ouse where you ‘ad to learn t’ings. We got up at five sharp, did chores, and washed up.
“Six o’clock, a ‘undred fresh-faced lads marched their way up to their seats in the dining ‘all.” He made a little marching motion with his fingers to illustrate. “We ate our breakfast, got our day’s assignments, and ‘it the books six-firty to eleven-firty.”
“Five hours straight?” Ethan raised both eyebrows. “No breaks?”
“Just to take a piss, and no dawdling at that.” Aeron reached across the table, snatched the last caramelized roasted hazelnut from my plate, and gave it a crunch. “Now, where were we? Yes, story, right.
“After lunch, we ‘ad recreation, which was less like recreation, and more like your basic trainin’. Barbed wire pits, climbin’ ropes, the lot. They fought if we was tired enough, ‘ere’d be no mischief when we’s supposed to be sleepin’.”
Darrel snorted, rolling his eyes. “And how’d that work out for them?”
“Not at all, especially once we figured out where the girl’s dormitories were.” Aeron gave a mischievous grin. “‘Alf a mile fough the spooky, dark forest wiv the fire mages between us and them. Why they let the fire boys ‘ole up closer to the girls, I’ll never figure out. By the end of school, every senior had ‘is own special spot in the woods ‘e’d meet up wiv ‘is sweet’eart.”
“Even you?” I asked with a pointed look, still hiding behind my mug as I slowly drained the coffee.
Aeron splayed his hands out with a shrug. “Now, I might be a pillock. But you gotta remember, Lessie, it was very, very dark in ‘ose woods. I doubt any of ‘ose girls could pick ‘er fellow out of a line
up wivout gettin’ a feel of ‘is ‘ands.” He laughed heartily. Whether he was chuckling at his self-deprecating joke or because Ethan’s ears had gone red, I wasn’t sure.
“We should be getting back,” Darrel suggested, pushing toward Aeron to escape the booth.
“Ah yes, the grind calls us all.” Marla gave her wristwatch a look of utter disappointment. Her glance kept flicking toward Ethan, already a hint of longing in it.
Aeron slid toward where Lana had already abandoned the booth to make room. “We should do this more often!”
“That sounds amazing,” I said, then realized what I’d just done. I eyed the floor, refusing to look up at Darrel, who I’d just rejected when he asked the same question. “It’s nice to have a crew.”
“It is, innit?” Aeron beamed, cast me one final wink, then headed out.
I picked up my cup to return it to the bar as soon as everyone else had gone. On a yellow sticky note, hidden beneath the little white napkin my cup was on, was Aeron’s number, scrawled in a tight, neat, controlled hand, next to the words “If you ever need anything.”
How did he manage to do it without me noticing? Ah, snatching my roasted hazelnut. Clever. Though I’d had the number from him texting me at Alena’s, this was a good reminder to save it… just in case.
I’d left his apartment without a proper goodbye, so he’d given me one. I’d left him with hope, so he’d returned the favor. My elation at seeing his face again told me what I’d been wondering.
I didn’t really want a goodbye, not with him.
—
I was still smiling when I closed my laptop for the day four hours later. I still had plenty of work to do—follow-up conversations to have, supplies to get, but my design was starting to take shape, and I couldn’t be prouder of my efforts so far.
First up, I needed to stop by the printer room so I could gather the files I’d sent to be inked, collated, and paperclipped.
That meant braving the wide berth everyone gave me, except the ones whose curiosity got the best of them. Those were the worst. True to my expectation, the accelerated thud of heels heading in my direction let me know I was in for a conversation I wasn’t prepared to hold.
“Hey, Celeste! How goes the server?” I barely caught the snicker the woman was trying to conceal beneath layers of caked-on foundation. I couldn’t remember her name—just that she worked on one of the bigger design teams and had a reputation for cattiness. I’d avoided her on that word alone.
“I’m having the time of my life,” I returned with a genuinely-elated smile, leftover from Aeron’s little stunt. “If I’m honest, I wasn’t so sure at first. But now that I’m getting to know the necromancers better, I’m really excited to see where this goes.”
The laugh she’d apparently been holding in managed to escape in a squeak. “Yes, and how is that going to go? Pick which dark lord in a skeleton mask you’re going to go out with?” Her voice took on a mocking tone. “Why yes, I think I’ll be up for streaming a movie with a lich and some popcorn!”
I wasn’t sure if she thought I’d join in her laughter or not. “Well, the one I stayed with last night prefers to watch rugby while eating French fries, but you do you. I won’t judge.” With a wave, I turned to walk away.
The look of shock on her face was worth every second.
Chapter 20 – Monsters Rise
This had to be the most time I’d spent at the hospital since my littlest brother was born.
I’d been Mom’s helper so Dad could take care of the other kids at home while we waited for her and Riley to be released. It’d been like a boring mini-vacation, since Mom had to feed Riley and the nurses handled bathing. I changed a few diapers, fetched a few things, and crocheted a baby blanket while watching reruns.
This time, though, it was all work, and the linoleum floors were already starting to wear on me as I navigated to the emergency services’ breakroom. I met up with Sian on break, happy to see him again.
Dark circles encompassed his eyes, but he still greeted me with a broad smile. “Ready to put together some interfaces?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” I grinned, pulling a stack of papers from my satchel. “I printed out a few possibilities for nested pathways, UI design, and sorting options. Where should we start?”
Sian sat across from me at the same table we’d eaten snacks at the last time I’d visited. Rubbing his eyes, he reached for the first stack of printouts. “Let’s start where the customer will start—what’s the home page look like?”
“Okay, lemme grab my landing page options…” I fished through my sorting tabs until I found the one I was looking for. “Aha! Here…”
“Hey, this one’s not half bad.” Sian pointed to a modern, simple style in the color scheme I’d chosen. This one came recommended because of its clear next step options. “Can we put the drop-down menus on these buttons here? Then you don’t need to have the same information in two places.”
“I won’t get the final say on that, but I can put it to the powers that be.” I made a few notes, then glanced up. “Hey, Sian? Mind if I ask you something?”
“Sure!” He flipped a paper over, made a face, then flipped to the next one. Finally, he met my gaze.
“What you said about soul magic… I have to admit I’d never heard anything like that before. I’d love to know more about how it works.”
“That’s a pretty broad question.” Sian raised the papers in front of his face, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Was there something specific that sparked this?”
I weighed my words carefully. “In my interviews, someone mentioned that soul magic bypasses filament. I’d always thought filament was the only reason we have magic at all.”
“Ah, yes. That’s a really astute question, actually!” Sian’s smile warmed as he tapped the stack of papers back into order and set it aside. “See, necromancy is a blanket term that’s been around since long before we had classifications for the wide variety of tricks we can do. As a result, it’s an umbrella several types of magic have been lumped into.
“You could see why, to the uninitiated, a magician sacrificing blood to summon the spirits of the departed might look pretty identical to one mending a torn soul or controlling an enemy with the same blood cost. And that’s the difference, really.”
He tapped the table in front of him. “Spirits travel to Sheol, which some of the more modern-trained mages call the Other World, when not attached to a body or some other binding mechanism. Souls, by contrast, are eternal and can travel to a variety of places.”
Sian paused to re-stack the pile into neat order, then clipped his favorite design interfaces to the top, scribbling notes on where to nest the drop-down options. “They’re not bound to the Other World, and thus, the filament bonds we have channeling energy from the Other World aren’t necessary for soul magic. It takes a lot of practice and talent to learn even one necromancy skill, true necromancy—interaction with the departed.”
Only then did Sian glance up from his work, seeming pretty pleased with himself. “Soul magic, on the other hand, just takes careful application of power and will.” He paused, scanning my face. “Have I lost you somewhere?”
I shook my head. “Basically, souls and spirits aren’t the same thing. So… besides their traveling habits, what makes them different?”
As he took a breath to answer, someone came in and caught his attention. Sian cleared his throat then abruptly shoved the pile of papers toward me. He rose to greet the woman, who had a sweet, oval face and brown hair with bright highlights.
“Surprise!” She grinned, then noticed my presence. “Oh! I didn’t realize you were in a meeting!”
“I believe I’ve told you about Celeste.” Sian pulled her in for a hug, then released her so she could shake my hand. “I’m helping her get some web design ideas for her dating service she’s putting together. Celeste, meet Trice, my wife.” He gestured to her, then folded his hand into hers and gave it a squ
eeze.
“Oh, Sian loves playing around with that stuff, any chance he gets.” Dropping the cooler, she returned the squeeze of his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you!”
“Likewise!” I slid my papers into the bag and set it beside me on the floor.
Trice’s hand wavered next to her cooler. I guessed she didn’t want to pull out the meal for two she’d brought with a third person in the mix.
“I really should head out, though,” I offered. “I have one other necromancer to talk to before I can clock out for the day.”
Trice’s countenance darkened as if I’d said something uncouth. “Why are you talking to necromancers?”
I flashed a smile. “That’s who the dating service is for! I’ve gotten so many great ideas of things to add to the subscription from these interviews.”
“Oh, ha!” Trice let out a relieved laugh, her smile returning. “I was confused there for a second.”
I glanced over at Sian. He’d gone still and a shade paler. I got the idea he might’ve been afraid she’d thought he was signing up for a dating service. I waved the concern away before a monster could rise. “Don’t worry, I’m not signing people up for it! Sian has you, so there’s not much it could do for him.”
“Of course not!” She clutched the strap on her cooler bag. “Since he’s not a necromancer!”
Tension descended over the little table like a dark cloud before a summer thunderstorm. Sian heaved a quiet sigh of resignation, his eyelids fluttering shut under some invisible weight.
Her expression blanked. “Wait…” Trice backed a full step away from Sian.
Without saying a word, he nodded.
Her eyes flashed with hurt, then anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked in a rushed whisper.
“Your family,” Sian managed to sound almost cool, though his face belied no such emotion and he spoke through clenched teeth. His gaze dropped to the floor. “They hate us, Trice.”
“And I’m inclined to agree at the moment!” Trice sputtered. “How could you?”