by L. A. Boruff
"Your sisters as well?" Will asks.
Hank nods. "You should call your Mom and make sure she's taking care of herself, too." He holds out the phone.
Indecision wars on Will's face, but after a moment, he takes the phone and walks away to place the call.
I'm glad his family will get to safety, but it does nothing to quench the rage bubbling away inside me.
"He's going to pay for breaking his word." My voice comes out low and meaningful. Anyone that heard will know I mean business.
The King is going to lose his throne if it's the last thing I do.
Chapter Three
James
Standing in Callie’s room, I fight the nerves crackling beneath my skin. I know better than anyone what a coven can do when it’s riled up. I’ve seen the cruelty and bloodshed firsthand. A smart man would turn around and walk away. Or maybe even tell the others it’s time to leave this town. And yet, here I am, determined to do more this time around. I won't stand by and watch more people get hurt. And it isn't just about Callie.
I never want to be the person who sits by when they should have acted, again. I can’t be that person. I’d rather die than hate who I am. So, I’m going to do the right thing this time, consequences be damned.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Hank gives me a scrutinizing look as I straighten my tie.
It probably isn’t, but that won’t stop me from doing this.
"We've got to do something. We're stuck here, no information. Nobody knows Sugar is magical, so they're not going to tell her anything." I study my reflection and marvel at the glamour. I don't use this kind of magic often. It drains me, and considering I'm only a half-witch, thanks to my Father and his philandering ways, I don't have huge reserves of power like the others do.
"I'll go to the pub, listen to conversations, see what the vibe is like. Then, I'll come home." I don't tell him that I might stop by and check in with a few witches I know and trust. It amazes me how much people will tell an old friend when they don't think twice about it.
My normally cleanly shaven face, high cheekbones, and hazel eyes are nowhere to be found. Instead, I have familiar soft, curly blond hair. I kept it just as I remembered, long enough to run my fingers through, but short enough to look stylish and cared for. A sharp jawline is hidden by a scruff of beard that won't grow any longer, and there's now a strong nose under bright blue eyes.
Benedict Slomin stares at me in my mirror.
"Who is this guy again?" Hank looks at my body, which is just a few inches shorter than I was before.
I remember Benedict as a workout buff, always coming or going to the gym, so when the magic took hold, my body sharpened, my muscles became more prominent, though not really bigger. Benedict was slender, not bulky. Still, it felt weird to be him. Like wearing a glove that’s too tight.
"I went to boarding school with him." I know he probably wants more of an explanation, but my friendship with Benny is complicated, just like the rest of my relationship from around that time.
Benny was the kind of guy who could always make me laugh. A few people had referred to him as the sunshine to my cloud... the kids weren’t exactly clever. But he was a far more powerful witch than I was, but despite that, he always had my back. He’s one of the few things I miss about England, even though I tried hard to forget about anything concerning my old life. I regret leaving things the way I did between us when I abandoned his steadfast friendship for the not-so-good crowd I ended up with. I hope he didn't follow down a similar path. When I left England, there was a huge recruitment drive going on for anyone powerful or connected. In theory, I'm the latter. As well as well-educated, which is why they likely looked over my weaker magic.
“Wow, thanks for all the information,” Hank says, his voice filled with sarcasm.
“He was... just a friend.”
“You could’ve chosen anyone, why him?”
Why him is a good question. There’s the answer I’ll tell the guys, but there’s also my own private reason. Which is pathetic. No matter what's happened, a part of me is missing my old friend, especially with all the chaos surrounding us all.
But now’s not the time to sort through your emotional shit.
"The important thing is I'm nearly positive he's never been anywhere near our coven. Nobody here would recognize him." I fiddle with my hair. The girls always loved Benedict's hair, but it seems more annoying than anything to me. Oh, well, it would wear off in a couple of hours. I'd be back by then.
Hank sighs. “Just be careful, James.”
“Aren’t I always?”
Hank stands and fidgets.
“What?” I say, already feeling my spell ticking away.
“You know you can tell us anything, right?”
I stiffen. Am I really so easy to read?
“I’m just saying,” he continues. “I can tell something is going on with you, and I’m just hoping all these secrets of yours don’t come back to bite you in the ass.”
You and I both.
"I better get this over with," I say, avoiding that knowing gaze of his. Sometimes, having friends who know me so well is a right pain in the arse.
“Okay but keep an eye on the time and get back as fast as you can.”
“Will do,” I say, watching Benedict in the mirror.
It’s weird seeing myself in my friend’s body. I want to scratch at the skin and reveal the real-me beneath it. Or to tear down the walls I'm sure everyone knows I've put up. One thing's for sure, I better practice smiling and seeming welcoming, or else I might just give myself away.
But I’m not going to practice in front of Hank, not when he seems to be waiting for us to bro out and talk about our feelings until dawn. So, I walk out of Callie's bedroom and down the stairs, going straight out the front door before anyone else can see or stop me. I can hear the sounds of Callie laughing in the kitchen, as Will teaches her how to use her magic to chop ingredients for dinner, a good exercise in control. I'm glad she has better teachers than I did.
Outside, the air is crisp and cool, carrying with it the scents of summer. I shove my hands in my pockets and start down the street, forcing what I hope is a welcome expression onto my face. The best way to blend in is act like I have every right to be where I'm at, my father always said when we practiced this magic, so I stride down the street as if I've done it every day since childhood.
Besides, I do have every right to walk down the sidewalk, but not according to the King. If one of his minions saw me, I'd be hauled to the castle dungeon, for sure. And with the mood the king is in, I’m not sure how long he’d bother keeping me alive. Though he may try some torture first, I suppose it depends if he's figured out how deeply involved with Callie I am. I'd be a fool to believe he doesn't.
A shiver rolls down my spine. I’ve heard stories about what the king does to his enemies, and the bastard can be pretty twisted.
Hank is probably right. This is reckless, but the best way to get information in this town is at the witch’s' bar. People always talk and the talk always ends up there, since it’s carefully warded to repel humans, which makes all magical people feel safe. Not that there are many humans in this town anyway. Most of them end up leaving because they feel uneasy about staying here. I'm certain none of them realize it's because the place has so many witches, not to mention the other creatures who live here.
It's always been considered a safe space by the supernatural, though in this climate, nowhere is a safe space. The King doesn't care about the bar's policy on no politics or fighting. He doesn't care about anything but his power.
And right now, that means finding Callie.
As I head down the main street through town, my gaze moves to Herbs and Such. The lady who runs it has been out of town travelling for the last few months, but right now the open sign is on the door and the lights are turned on. My gut reaction is shock. This is not a safe time for Iris to be back in town.
An unexpected protectiveness flares
to life inside me. Someone needs to warn her how dangerous it is. And she has no one but me.
I head in her direction and push open the door of the shop, the slight ringing of the bell attached to the door proceeds the strong scents of potion ingredients. My gaze moves about the small space filled with shelf after shelf of herbs in glass cases, and more herbs in bags, before I spot Iris. She looks the same as before, except she’s cut her startling white hair even shorter around her thin face. And the glasses she wears has a new chain made of different colored gems.
Instantly, I feel a ball of anxiety fade from my gut. The king’s men haven’t dragged her off. Yet.
There’s something to be said for small miracles. I chide myself for being so paranoid. Her shop is open, I know nothing wrong has happened to her.
As I head toward her, I can’t help but remember the first time I met her. Her skin had been covered in soot, darkened by smoke, and she’d barely escaped a fire with her life. And yet, she’d been smiling. Herbs and Such had gone up in flames, and I’d pulled her out, but it didn’t seem like being burned alive was enough to ruin her day. Her happiness and enjoyment about life had completely confused me.
Had I ever enjoyed my life that much?
She’d taken a shine to me after that, bringing me cookies, and telling me stories about her life. I did everything in my power to keep her at a distance, but somehow, ended up helping her rebuild her shop on my days off. I didn’t tell the other guys, but Iris reminded me a little of the woman I always wished my grandmother could be, and I never minded the fact that she treated me like a grandson as much as I let on. Even after her shop was up and running again, I'd checked on her regularly and she'd told me a lot about herself, including the fact that she’s worked at the palace when the Dowager Queen lived there as Callie's mom and the King's nanny.
Approaching her at the counter slowly, I realize she still hasn’t noticed me. She simply hums to herself behind the counter, filling small, clear bags with a dark herb.
"Hi, Iris," I say, keeping my voice soft. Iris always gets so fixated on what she’s doing that she doesn’t often notice me until I’m right in front of her. And the last thing I want to do is to give her a heart attack.
She jumps a little at my words, and her gaze snaps up to me. But instead of her typical smile, her eyes narrow.
Which is when I remember that I don’t look like myself.
Damn it.
“Can I help you?” she asks, and there’s an edge to her question.
“Just a second,” I say, realizing that I’m going to have to explain why I’m wearing another man’s face.
I cruise quickly around the shop, making absolutely certain that no one else is there, ducked down in an aisle pursuing the merchandise. And all the while Iris watches me through narrowed eyes.
When I'm sure it's empty, I approach the counter again. "It's me," I whisper, watching her face for any signs of recognition. "James."
For one minute I don’t think she’ll believe me. Her dark eyes sweep from my face down my body. But then, her eyes light up. "James! What the heck are you doing, boy?" But even though she sounds confused, she pulls me into a quick hug.
"I think the King is after me," I say in a low voice. His ears are everywhere. "I just wanted to check on you."
"I heard there were problems and I came back.”
“But haven’t you heard—”
She waves my warning away. “I showed that man as much love as I did to his sister when they were children. He will have a hard time killing me, mark my words."
I doubt that. He hadn't had any trouble killing his mother. Or his sister and brother-in-law. King Robert isn't a man who lets sentiment stand in his way.
She seems to read my mind. "He thinks his mother betrayed him. I never did." She shakes her head and lowers her voice. "He's a bad man now. The sweet boy I knew died a long time ago, replaced with this monster. But even he has a line he won’t cross."
I want to be as certain as she is, but people have taught me they can always be worse. But I can tell from the expression on her face that it isn't worth pushing the matter.
"I can't stay, Iris. I just wanted to make sure you were safe, and—"
Before I can say more, she interrupts. “To tell me to get out of town before the king’s men can kill me?” She laughs as I look at her in surprise. “I’m not going anywhere. My herbs and special objects help a lot of people here. I can’t be gone longer than I was, or a lot of them are going to start hurting. Some of them will die. This is my home, it’s where I belong, and no one is going to scare me away.”
“This is different,” I say. “The king is out for blood.” So much for not trying to change her mind. I'm a fool, but Iris, along with the guys and Callie, is part of the family I never had.
She looks at me, those dark eyes of hers softening. “I’ve lived long enough to know that this too shall pass, and what’s meant to be will happen.”
My hands tighten into fists. “Or, you dish out your herbs and get the hell out of town to be sure you’re safe.”
She smiles, the lines beside her eyes changing as she does so. “Can you even imagine the boring life I would’ve lived if I ran every time things got dangerous?”
“Iris, I just want you to be safe.” I swear, this is worse than trying to convince Callie of something.
“And I just want you to stop worrying,” she says, then her smile widens. “And come back when you aren’t so busy to see the pictures from my trip.”
I mock groan. Iris always has so many pictures after her trips. “All right. I’ll be sure to come back soon," I promise, meaning every word.
Her smile falters. “And you, boy, better get back someplace safe before your glamour wears off... if the king is truly angry with you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I fake salute, earning myself a bemused smile for my troubles.
She squeezes my arm. “Good, boy.”
But this doesn’t feel right. Leaving her here, alone in the shop, with dusk falling. In this place there’s a strange king of peace and safety that radiates from everywhere at once. However, just outside her door is a war. A war I don’t want her dragged into.
“Just...” I struggle to find the right words. “Be careful.”
She pats my hand. "Go. Do what you must. I'm here, working on my herbs, minding my own business, and helping anyone I can. Those thugs have better things to worry about than me."
"Please be safe," I whisper. If he hurt her, it would break my heart.
She pulls me into another hug, and a sense of calm washes over me. Iris has lived a long time. I just have to trust that the universe will protect her. Which of course, isn’t at all how I think and has everything to do with Iris’s unique powers washing over me.
“Take care of yourselves,” she whispers back and releases me.
Leaving the shop before I lose my resolve, I take a deep breath of the fresh air as I step onto the sidewalk. Then, I straighten my tie, reminding myself that I don’t look like James right now, and I sure as hell can’t act like him. Not when I have a job to do.
A familiar voice causes me to flinch. "What in the bloody hell?"
No fucking way. I turn my head toward the sound of the voice and find my own glamoured face staring back at me.
"Benedict?" I ask, completely flummoxed. How could he possibly be here? I'd picked his face out of a thousand from back in England. I could've picked anyone else, but I chose Benedict Slomin's because some sick part of me thought being him would be better. That the guy everyone loved would be naturally loved here too, allowing me to find out what I need to.
He lifts his hands, rage filling his face. Before he blasts me into oblivion and attracts the attention of everyone in the vicinity, I drop to my knees in a sign of submission.
I don't submit to him, of course, but I have to show him I mean him no harm. "I can explain," I say in a clear voice to make sure he hears me. "Don't attack."
When I look up, he's froze
n with one hand still out and the other in his coat pocket.
He pulls out a wand. Shit. Wands are really, really rare. If he uses it to attack me, I won't stand a chance. Without it, if his powers are about as strong as I recall from boarding school, I would have a fair shot if all I focus on is defense.
"In the alley," he growls.
I stand, hands frozen by my side, in the way of the witches. Humans shout for hands up, but witches want hands down. Hands are dangerous.
Walking slowly, still trying to show I'm no threat, I enter the alley. Once inside, with Benedict blocking the view from the street, I turn and let the glamour fall. Yeah, being James out here might get me killed, but continuing to be Benedict will get me killed.
Benedict sighs in relief. "Shit, James. You son of a bitch. I almost killed you."
He puts his wand in his pocket and holds out his hand. I shake it with my jaw unhinged, torn between relief that he wasn’t going to kill me, and anxiety about why the hell he’s here right now. It can’t be a coincidence.
Please don’t let Benedict be on the king’s side. I don’t think I could go against him, even if I had to.
"Why are you here?" I ask, trying not to sound too suspicious. "How are you here, at the only time in my entire life I use your image as a glamour?"
"It was a very flattering image." He pulls me close with the hand he's shaking and hugs me.
This is awkward. We were never the hugging type in England.
"Sorry," he says. "I'm so shocked."
And now that my adrenaline is starting to calm down, my gaze sweeps him a little more carefully. He’s aged, probably as much as I have. He’s no longer a young, muscular kid. He’s a man. He’s not nearly as fit, and the hair he took such pride in isn’t nearly as well styled. Instead, it’s shaved closely to his head. His clothes are surprisingly professional, reminding me of something like my dad would wear, and he has a wedding ring on one of his fingers.
I wonder if I look so different to him. Do I look older? Do I look like a man rather than a kid? Probably.
"Seriously, man, this coincidence is too much,” I prod, watching for his reaction.