A Chalice of Wind b-1

by Cate Tiernan

  Luc, I repeated silently,

  "Come here again soon," he said, looking at me as if to memorize my features.Tll watch for you"

  "I don't know when it will be," I hedged.

  "It will be soon," he said confidently, and I knew that he was right.

  I Have Sinned

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned" Marcel whispered, the familiar words, anticipating the comfort of absolution. In this dark cubicle he was completely himself, and. everything was all right. "It's been one week since my last confession."

  "Have you any sins to confess, my son?"

  Brother Eric. He was always understanding.

  "Yes, Father" Marcel murmured. “ I have… felt anger. Great anger."

  "Feeling anger in itself is not a sin, Marcel," Brother Eric said. "It is only when you enjoy the feeling of anger or act upon it?

  "I fear… were I to confront this anger, it could lead to… violence." There, it was out.

  "Violence?"

  Marcel took a deep breath. "I have been contacted by former… associates. I've tried to leave these people behind, Father. I've tried to escape them. I've come here These people do not acknowledge the Lord our God. They play with… fate. They have unholy power." Marcel felt his throat close. He shut his eyes, remembering that power, how it had flowed from his hands, how beautiful the world seemed when he held it.

  "Explain about the violence, son," said Brother Eric.

  "If I see them or one in particular-I'm afraid I will do him harm." A cold sweat broke out on Marcel's fore' head. Yes, God was listening-but He might not be the only one. What a risk he was taking,… He looked around himself, contained in this dark cubicle.

  "Do him harm out of anger?"

  "Yes. said Marcel. "For trying to make me renounce what is good."

  "Does he so threaten you, lad, that in order to protect yourself, you'd destroy him?"

  "Yes," Marcel whispered.

  "You don't see another path, Marcel?"

  "I can never see him again," Marcel offered. "I can refuse to go to him, to help him."

  "He's asked for your help?"

  "Not yet. But I think he might. He's asked to see me."

  "Perhaps he's changed his ways?" suggested Brother Eric.

  "No," Marcel said with certainty.

  "Then what does he want from you?"

  "My… power." The words were so faint as to barely penetrate the wooden piercework screen.

  "No one can take your power from you, Marcel."

  Instantly Marcel saw that this was pointless, that Brother Eric could never understand, that there was no salvation for him here. He almost wept. He needed a strong hand to hold his, to say, We will not let you go. But the Church was all about free will. How to explain that sometimes, his will was not truly his own?

  Liar.

  His conscience was a small, cold voice, mocking him inside his head. Your will is your own. You like the power, Marcel You like wielding it You love feeling life, energy, pure force flowing from you, from your hands. You like what you can do with it. You like what you can do to others.

  'No! No, I don't! You're lying," Marcel cried, covering his face with his hands.

  "Marceir. “

  It doesnt have to he had, Marcel, said his conscience. Remember, "There is nothing either good or had, hut thinking makes H so." You can use your power for good. You can con' vince the others. They want to he good anyway. It's only Daedalus-Daedalus and Jules and Axelle. Mayhe Manon. Mayhe Richard. But the others, they're for good. They follow the Bonne Magie. You can too. Your power could elevate them to goodness.

  "No, no" Marcel sobbed as the velvet curtain opened and Brother Eric touched his shoulder. “'I cant go back."

  "Marcel, we must all face our demons," Brother Eric said softly, "Now come, rest. You've been working too hard, I'll have Brother Simon bring you some soup."

  Marcel let himself be led out of the chapel, its stones standing watch over God's disciples since 1348, But Marcel knew they could no longer protect him. It was only a matter of time. Every step he took was a step closer to his own personal hell, and whatever awaited him in New Orleans.

  Clio

  ’You're late," I gave Andre the full force of my "peeved" look, which made lesser guys quake, Andre just grinned and swooped in to kiss my neck, which pretty much shorted out all rational thought.

  "So were even, then," he said, with such an unrepentant, wicked expression on his face that I laughed and couldn't hold it against him. Instead I pushed against his chest, barely moving him, and then walked ahead, trying to get my fluttering nerves under control. My palms tingled where I'd touched him.

  "You're lucky I waited," I tossed over my shoulder.

  Andre caught up to me, matching his steps with mine. It was dusk, the sun just beginning to set over the bend of the Mississippi River. It was a magickal time, I mean, literally magickal, when the force of the sun was yielding to the force of the moon. Some rites used this time on purpose to harness the effects of both.

  "This is a pretty park," he said.

  I looked around. The small golf course had been molded with weensy, artificial hills. Huge live oaks tow ered over us, spreading shade beneath their branches. It was so familiar to me that I barely noticed anymore."!

  “I like how green New Orleans is" I said. "My grandmother and I went to Arizona a couple of years ago, and it was awful. I mean, actually, it was pretty, in a really dry, dusty way. But I felt parched somehow, I like being surrounded by green,"

  I pressed my lips together. Veesse, I sounded like a freaking idiot. Or a travel guide. What was wrong with me? Why did he throw me off balance? I took a deep breath, momentarily closed my eyes. Center. Center myself,

  "Come this way" I said, holding out my hand,

  Andre took it, his skin warm against mine. "Where are you leading meT

  Everything he said seemed to have two meanings. He could make anything sound sexy or forbidden.

  I smiled back at him, pulling him along. Years ago, Racey and I had found a place we called our clubhouse. Really, it was just a dip in the ground, between the massive roots of three live oaks. If you lay flat, no one could see you until they were right on top of you. We used to lie there for hours, talking, practicing little baby spells, giggling to ourselves when we heard passing golfers swear and throw down their clubs.

  Now, standing at the entrance, I suddenly remembered my horrible vision-the one where blood had bubbled up from between a trees roots. But that had been a cypress tree. I swallowed hard and forced myself to step over the large roots. It had just been a dumb vision-you could see all kinds of freaky stuff when you let your magick rip. I wasn't going to think about it.

  I sat down, tucking my skirt under me. It was lavender and tiered, almost reaching my ankles, long and flowing. Guys loved stuff like that. On top I wore a little white cotton camisole that buttoned up the back and had embroidered lavender butterflies. I'd worn my hair in two braids to get it off my neck.

  I kicked off my sandals and patted the ground next tome.

  "You should feel honored. You're the first non-blood sister to see this place," I said teasingly, tapping his knee with a long piece of centipede grass.

  He looked at me quickly."Blood sister.”

  I nodded solemnly. "My best friend, Racey, and I are blood sisters-we did a rite when we were ten. I think I still have the scar." I looked at my thumb, but the tiny cut where I had shared my blood with Racey's had long become invisible.

  "She was with you at Botanika," Andre said, leaning back on his elbows. He was wearing a blue oxford shire that looked incredibly soft and worn. The sleeves were rolled halfway up to his elbows. Like his shirt, his khaki cargo shorts were well broken in, the fabric velvety.

  "Yes." I looked up to find him smiling knowingly at me. Without even really thinking about it, the words sprang into my mind; I am the woman you desire, my will t's strong, my passions fire. I will give myself to you, once you prove that you a
re true.

  It wasn't a proper spell, not really. There was no real intent in my mind, I had no tools, and I wasn't even trying

  to achieve any specific thing. It was more… opening his mind to the idea. Allowing him to see me as his true love. Sort of moving things along, in a way.

  He blinked once, quickly, and looked at me, almost as if he'd heard my thought, which was impossible. But that's how finely we were already attuned to each other, that he could somehow sense something, some strong emotion flowing from me.

  "How are you liking the local scenery?" he asked, echoing my words to him the first time we met.

  I swallowed, feeling shivery and excited. "I'm liking it," I said, and my voice sounded a little rough, a little unsure. Perfect.

  "Come here," he said, his face intent, his slight French accent making his h almost silent.

  Moments later, it was just like at Amadeos. We fit together perfectly, and for the first time in my life, I felt actually overwhelmed. Before, no matter who I was with, part of my brain was always doing an imaginary manicure, or going over a lesson with Nan, or thinking about clothes I wanted to buy. This time all my senses were focused on Andre, the way he felt, tasted, the scent of his skin, the heat in his hands as he held me. This is the one, I thought. I'm only seventeen, and I've found my one perfect love. It was amazing and also a tiny bit scary. All my emotions made perfect sense to me, but there was a tiny part of me that was still marveling at how strongly I felt about him so quickly. But I couldn't stop it-I was caught on this swift ride of emotion, and there was no way to slow it down. I didn't even want to.

  I couldn't help smiling against his lips with happiness, and he pulled back to look at me.

  "What's funny?" he asked, looking at me,

  "Not funny," I said, pressing my hips against him, "Happy."

  "Happy?"

  I laughed at his confused expression."Yes, happy" I raised my eyebrows. "Or are you not happy to be here with me?"

  "No." He smiled. "I'm happy" He traced my eyebrow with one finger, letting it trail down my cheek. "Happy to be here with you." He leaned back so he was lying next to me and looked up at the sky. Never in my life had any boy ever stopped kissing me himself It wasn't all physical with Andre-he wanted to be with me for more than just that. He was so much deeper than anyone else I'd ever known, and my heart swelled. I looked at his beautiful profile, like a classical statue's, and felt like the luckiest person in the world.

  "Tell me about yourself he said, still gazing at the thicket of leaves overhead. The growing darkness made it even more private. "Who do you live with?"

  I laughed. "What kind of a question is that? "You don t think I live with my parents?"

  He looked at me curiously. "Oh. And do you?" Maybe he'd been hoping I had a roommate, my own place, and I suddenly felt stupid, childish.

  'Actually, no," I said. "I live with my grandmother. I always have."

  "Its very sad to lose your parents so young," he said, turning on his side to face me. He took my hand and held it in his own against his chest, I could feel his heart beating, I wondered why he'd assumed that I had actually lost my parents-they could have been divorced, or in prison, or maybe just one of them was dead.

  I shook my head, I'd told him I'd always lived with my grandmother-of course it sounded like I'd never had any parents.

  "What about you?" I asked. '’Where’s your family from?"

  "My parents died a long time ago too," he said, "But some of my extended family still lives in France — a little town called St, Malo."

  "I would love to go to France," I said dreamily. Hint, hint. "My family was originally from there, a couple hundred years ago, I'd love to go visit."

  "You've never been there?"

  "No." I looked into his dark blue eyes, "I bet it's so beautiful there. Bet it has good food."

  Andre smiled easily and tapped my lip with one gentle finger, "Yes, Very good food, Who knows? Maybe one day we'll see France together."

  Yesl

  "I'd like that," I said, and put my hand on his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt, I drew his head toward me and kissed him again. "I can see us doing lots of things together," I whispered.

  He kissed me back, pressing my shoulders into the soft ground. His dark head blotted out the day's final bit of light, and I closed my eyes, Andre kissed my eyelids, my forehead, my cheeks, my birthmark, my chin, and I lay quietly, smiling, soaking it all up, I was filled with' happiness and felt the rush of love and light and power swell inside me. I so wished I could make real magick, a proper spell, right there-I knew I'd be more powerful than ever before. I would try to hold on to this feeling when I went home. Nan would be impressed. The power of love.

  Someday I would be able to show Andre who and what I was. If he loved me as deeply as I loved him, then magick would be just another experience for us to share, another aspect of my life I would open to him.

  His hand moved slowly from my waist over my camisole, and my muscles went taut as it brushed lightly over my breast. I shuddered, eyes closed, holding him tightly, feeling his knee press between mine.

  "Come home with me," The words were barely whispered against my temple.

  Everything in me said yes, I pictured us alone and private. I saw his skin against mine, us joining completely, how magickal it would be. All it would take was for me to^tand up, take his hand, and go to his apartment. Then we could be together.

  I didn't want to open my eyes. If I kept my eyes shut, I could still imagine us together, see how it would be.

  "Clio?"

  I sighed and opened my eyes. It was dark out. Cicadas were thrumming rhythmically around us.

  "Clio. Come." Andre stroked wisps of my hair back against my temple. I felt my heartbeat echo everywhere he touched. I can’t.

  His dark eyebrows raised, and the phrase handsome as the devil popped into my mind. "What?" He looked taken aback, and I felt angry at reality, resentful, and… bound to obey Nan.

  I licked my lips. Tm sorry, Andre. Tonight I cant. Another time? Any other time, practically. But-"

  “I’ve pushed you." He looked regretful.

  "No! It isn't that at all" I said.Tve pushed you as much as you’ve pushed me." I swallowed hard, my blood still running strong and hot with longing. "It's so stupid. But tomorrow is the first day of school Believe it or not. And even though everything in me wants to just be with you- still, my grandmother would absolutely kiE me if I came home really late on the night before school started."

  I felt my face flush even more, if possible. I, Clio Martin, felt so incredibly uncool, for perhaps the first time in my life. Ninety-eight percent of me said to blow Nan off, to go with Andre, to seize life, etc. But the other two percent held powerful sway; I loved Nan, and I hated disappointing her or making her angry.

  Andre was expressionless, propped up on one elbow, looking down at me. For a few moments I felt so acutely horrible that I was absolutely ready to jump up and grab Andre's hand and say I was just kidding.

  I sat up fast. 'Actually, I-" I began, just as Andre said, "I understand."

  "What?" I stared at him, his face with, its strong bones.

  "I understand," he repeated. He smiled ruefully. "Of course you need to get home. I wasn't thinking-I'm sorry. I was listening to my heart and not my head."

  I blinked, astonished to feel the beginnings of tears in my eyes. Could Andre be more perfect? He was everything wild and dangerous and sexy that I could ever hope for, and he was also caring, unselfish, and considerate.

  I took his strong tan hand and kissed it. He smiled and looked boyishly pleased.

  "Come," he said.Til take you home."

  I hesitated. Something in me didn't want Nan to meet him just yeu She always asked questions about the guys I dated, and I wanted to know Andre a little better before I went through the inquisition. Besides, she'd have plenty of time to get used to him as her future gran4son-in-law.

  I shook my head. "I can walk from here. It's pe
rfectly safe." Since I could zap a freezing spell on any jerk who messed with me.

  He frowned."No, Clio, please-let me see you home."

  I shook'my head and stood up, brushing the leaves off my clothes.'! get out of school at three," I told him. "Can I see you tomorrow?"

  He laughed and pulled me to him. "You can see me anytime you want."

  Thais

  I lay in bed, wondering what I should do first: cry or throw up. It seemed pointless to "wake up" since I'd been staring at my ceiling, sleepless, pretty much all night. Today was my first day of school in a new place. The first day of school in my whole life that my dad wouldn't be there to take me, holding my hand when I was little, waving goodbye when I got older. I felt intensely alone, waking up in this strange apartment, everything so foreign around me.

  My eyelids felt like sandpaper. I rolled over in bed, hugging my pillow. Ever since my nightmare, I'd been hating falling asleep, Axelle insisted I keep the door to my room open, and on the one hand, I actually appreciated her being able to hear me if I cried out. On the other hand, I sorely missed my privacy and the implied safety of a locked door. Especially when Jules and Daedalus stayed over, which they did every once in a while.

  I sleepwalked to the bathroom and got under the shower. In New Orleans, the cold water was never actually cold, like in Connecticut. Back home, the C on the faucet meant business. Here the C meant "tepid"-I never even bothered with hot water.

  And another thing; back home, the first day of school always meant new school clothes, autumny clothes. School starts: autumns on the way. The forecast for today was a high of ninety-six, one hundred percent humidity. I wore a short skirt and a sleeveless top, both gray with pink athletic stripes. I guessed I would soon find out what was considered cool to wear here.

  I spritzed my hair and bunched it up to make the layers stand out. I started crying. I put drops in my eyes and tried to put on mascara. I started crying again. I quit with the makeup and headed out to the kitchen. So now only throwing up was left.