Witching You Wouldn't Go

by Constance Barker

  Still... they’d be going home after all of this. Maybe. And if Medea’s spirit had meant what she said, then... well it wouldn’t matter.

  “Here he comes,” Avery said, gesturing at the window, where they could see Gideon descending the steps back to their temporary parking. He slipped into the car, smiling happily. “Two rooms on the top floor. Soft beds, fireplaces, and ample tea for all.”

  “Great,” Bailey said. “We can be warm and toasty while you tell us the truth.”

  He glanced at her and nodded once without a word.

  They parked, gathered their things, and made their way back into the hotel and up the elevator to rooms that were so elegant as to be ridiculous. In other circumstances, Bailey would have been impressed. As it was, it just felt like a distraction tactic. It didn’t work. As soon as she’d deposited her duffel bag on her bed, she joined Avery and went to the room that Aiden and Gideon would be sharing.

  That, in particular, was also getting to be annoying. Not that she felt a strong desire to be intimate with Aiden on their life threatening journey to reconstitute a potentially deadly, world changing artifact that might well cost Bailey her life or at least promise to take something precious from her—but the fact that Gideon insisted on Aiden sharing a room with him at both hotels almost felt petty and jealous; as if Gideon didn’t like the idea of their being together.

  Worse, Aiden didn’t even bother to argue.

  All of that emotional nonsense had no place in the current moment, though, so she turned her attention forcefully away from it as they entered the other room and found Gideon and Aiden engaged in some kind of argument that quickly evaporated once Bailey and Avery entered.

  They’d heard no word of it from outside the door, and once they were inside all sound from without was gone. The room had probably been warded first thing.

  “So?” Bailey said, arms folded as she stared at Gideon.

  Gideon rubbed his palms on his slacks and then gestured at the chairs he’d taken from around the room and set up in front of the fireplace which was already crackling and bleeding precious warmth into the space. “Please, have a seat. All of you.”

  They did, though Bailey was the last to do so and only after Gideon gave her an imploring look. This time, Aiden handled the tea.

  The older wizard paced briefly before the fire, looking almost nervous. “The things that I’m about to tell you,” he said slowly, glancing at Bailey specifically, “are quite literally a matter of life and death. For me, and for some few others whom I call friends. I must beg of you the highest degree of discretion in these matters.”

  “Fine,” Bailey sighed, “I won’t tell anyone who doesn’t need to know.”

  “Frankly,” Gideon said, “you aren’t in a position to judge that.”

  “Gideon,” Aiden chided. “You can trust Bailey. Out with it.”

  Gideon nodded quickly, and continued to pace as he went on, ignoring for now the cup and saucer of tea that Aiden set out for him. “Some years ago,” Gideon said, “when I was an apprentice myself I... came across a reference to the Throne of Medea. Just a fragment, at the time. I became fascinated by what I learned of it, and began to search for other fragments. The knowledge of the Throne, and what it did, seemed to have been intentionally hidden; broken up so that no one person had all of the various parts of the puzzle. At first I believed it was the witches who’d undertaken this task because... well, it is traditionally a witch’s artifact. But as it turned out that was not the case.”

  He paused, eyed the cup of tea briefly, but continued to pace. “Rather, it seemed that a cabal of wizards had taken the substance of the artifact—it’s history, location, the clues about this path that leads to it, and in fact the very spell that may be the key to re-creating the artifact—and split it up among themselves. Each piece was... very carefully guarded.”

  “Some of those parts,” he said, holding a finger up to mark the point, “I acquired rightfully, though duels, trades, bargains, and... well, bribery but quite entirely above board. Others...”

  “You stole them,” Bailey said, her heart beginning to pound in her chest. “You... you stole the... spell, specifically. Didn’t you?”

  He threw her a wary look. “As a matter of fact... yes, I did. How did you know?”

  She waved a hand, swallowing the rush of confusion, emotion, and distress that threatened to pull her entirely off course if she let it, “It would have been the most prized part of the puzzle,” she reasoned. “No one would have given it up knowingly or willingly.”

  He nodded. “Quite so.”

  She took a long breath, and waved him on. “So... you stole it. From who?”

  Bailey watched Gideon carefully as he spoke. His red hair. How had she not considered it before?

  “From a group of wizards known as the Centurions,” he said. “Old Roman stock. Traditionalists; they believed that the Throne had no right to exist, which was in fact the very reason it was dismantled to begin with. However, like any group of academics they couldn’t bring themselves to destroy the knowledge. Fortunately.”

  “Unfortunately,” he sighed, “once I managed to acquire that knowledge... naturally I brought down the ire of their order. I have been hiding from them ever since.”

  “And now,” Bailey said, recovering herself with an effort of will, “they are... after you. After us.”

  Gideon spread his hands. “There is every possibility they have no idea what we’re about. I’ve gone to great lengths to obfuscate my presence.” He pushed his sleeves up on both arms to show a series of intricate tattoos. “And I’ve paid a price for my protections as well.”

  “How long ago?” Bailey asked.

  Gideon frowned, and let his sleeves drop. “Years ago. When I was young and foolish. But you must understand... If I had it to do over again, I would have. The Throne is my life’s work. My obsession. I have already... given up too much to turn back now.”

  He held her eyes for a long moment, and they seemed sad. It only lasted for a moment, but it was unmistakable. Bailey ignored it, and tore her eyes away, focusing instead on her untouched tea. “Alright. Is that all that you’ve kept from us?”

  Gideon sank into a chair. “Yes.”

  “And these... Centurions. They’re dangerous?” Avery asked.

  “Extremely,” Aiden said before Gideon had a chance. He looked grim. Bailey hadn’t even noticed, she’d been so focused on Gideon, but now that she looked at Aiden she could see that he had gone pale. “They supposedly number between eight to a dozen, depending on who tells the story of them. Combat wizards, all of them. Specialized in various forms of deadly magic. According to legend, they guard more than just what Gideon took from them, and they predate Rome considerably. Originally, they were the guardians of the Library at Alexandria. At least, that’s the story. They hide among great civilizations, collecting and passing on their knowledge.”

  Aiden shook his head slowly and looked at Gideon. “What were you thinking?”

  Gideon smiled sadly, and spread his hands. “I will not justify my choices, Aiden. Not to you or anyone. You wouldn’t understand. It’s... a matter of pride, but also of... destiny. History. I couldn’t have let this lie. It is what I was meant to do.”

  “I understand,” Aiden said. He stood, and looked from Gideon to Bailey, his expression hard. “We should go home.”

  Bailey’s heart ached, and she regretted ever having doubted Aiden. She set her tea cup back on the saucer, and stood, reaching out to touch his face. He sighed against her hand, and gave her a desperate look of questioning.

  “We can’t,” she said softly. “I think... now that it’s started... whatever we’re doing can’t be stopped.”

  He touched her hand, and glanced self consciously at first Gideon and then Avery, then met her eyes again and looked pained. “If we encounter the centurions... I don’t know that I can keep you safe.”

  “Maybe you can’t,” Avery said. He stood as well, and put a hand on
Aiden’s shoulder. “But together, maybe we can.”

  Even Gideon stood, though he kept his hands to himself. “That’s the spirit.”

  Bailey shot him a look that made him turn his face away from them and occupy it with his tea before he stepped away.

  “Gideon is simply—” Aiden started.

  Bailey shook her head, her throat tight. “I don’t care. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Not right now. Let’s just... get some sleep. We should leave as soon as we can for the next marker.”

  He nodded, and turned to Gideon. “I’ll leave Avery with you. Go easy on him.”

  Avery opened his mouth to protest, but shut it when Bailey cleared her throat.

  “Ah,” Avery said. “Right... I’ll just... go get my bag.”

  Chapter 15

  Avery collected his bag and left Aiden’s in the room he and Bailey had been meant to share. They passed him as he left, and he told them both good night, promised to see them in the morning—somehow he thought they weren’t paying much attention, even though they gave him the same in kind.

  When he returned to his and Gideon’s room, Gideon was standing in front of the hearth, staring at the flames. He didn’t move or look at Avery. So, Avery settled his bag at the foot of one of the beds. And busied himself rummaging through it for pajamas.

  “How long have you been studying under my pupil?” Gideon asked.

  Avery laid his pajama pants out on the bed and tossed the shirt he’d slept in the night before near it. “Not long,” he said, “maybe... six, seven months?”

  Gideon turned, and looked him over, assessing. “You’ve accumulated some impressive skill in such a short time. You had no previous training?”

  “Honestly,” Avery said, “until things started to happen with Bailey, and all this... business with the Caves back home; I didn’t know there was such a thing as magic.”

  “Come now,” Gideon said, approaching. “You must have had some inkling.”

  Avery pursed his lips, and shucked his coat off, laying it across his bag. “I guess... I used to imagine it. When I was little. And...”

  Gideon raised an eyebrow. “You... had some small gift. Something you couldn’t explain?”

  Avery nodded. “Yes. Is it always like that?”

  “Only in cases of natural talent,” Gideon commented. “Aiden has his dreams. I have a knack for... well, at any rate I used to be able to feel the shape of spells; it was that talent that granted me insight into the Throne spell.”

  “Used to?” Avery asked.

  Gideon nodded, and pulled up his sleeves to show his tattoos again. They appeared to travel even further up, toward his shoulders. “You’re familiar with the principal that if you can’t see ‘them’ then ‘they’ can’t see you?”

  “The enchantments that keep you hidden,” Avery said, “they cost you your talent?”

  “I had used it for what it was meant for, I think,” Gideon said. “What’s your talent?”

  “Aiden hasn’t told you?” Avery wondered.

  Gideon waved a hand. “We rarely speak, for one thing; for another, we certainly don’t tell one another everything.”

  “I can see that,” Avery sighed. He shrugged. “I get feelings. Intuitions. Not usually very specific, although, there have been some cases. I think it may be part of why I take to magic so naturally. I can sort of feel what I need to do. I understand how it all works, but... Aiden has a whole process he goes through to work a spell, planning each part out, practicing the base forms.”

  “And you don’t?” Gideon asked.

  Avery shook his head. “I do practice, but when it comes to it I sometimes just... know what to do.”

  “Like the shield spell,” Gideon said.

  Avery nodded. He hadn’t altered the spell very much to make it a more pro-active defense. But neither had he learned it from Aiden. When the time came, he’d just known what to do. “Aiden says that I do magic like a witch.”

  “He’s not wrong,” Gideon mused. “Not entirely. It seems to me, though, that you may simply have a gift he doesn’t understand.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Gideon smiled. “It’s a strange age. Old magic coming back. Once, a long time ago, however, there were no witches or wizards. That came later. In the old days, there were only sorcerers. The first explorers of the mystical world. Back then, the people that we now call witches and wizards had very similar arts. One part intellect, one part intuition and emotion. Once we split, well... that’s when our magical traditions changed, adapted; became what they were.”

  Avery pondered that, and then glanced again at Gideon’s tattoos. “Those must be why I can’t quite get a proper read on you.”

  Gideon nodded. “Indeed. I’m out of the sight of mind readers, prophets, dreamers, spirit walkers, fate weavers, intuitives—if they can see without eyes, they can’t see me. I was very thorough.”

  “It’s just that,” Avery said, grimacing, “it makes it difficult to... entirely trust you. And I think that Bailey senses that and so... it makes it hard for her to trust you, too.”

  Gideon’s face went blank for a moment. When he smiled it was stiff. “I completely understand that. I hope that in time you... both... will be able to. I have nothing but the best intentions. I’m a driven man, Avery. I have made difficult choices. Very difficult choices. Not all of them were up to me, either. I’m not making excuses, mind you.” He held up a hand as Avery opened his mouth to say that he got that. “But after this is all over, and we’re all home safe—all of us—hopefully I can explain myself in a way that makes it clear that all I want, for all of us, is a better world. One safe from the things that threaten us.”

  He looked toward the wall that stood between their room and Bailey and Aiden’s room, just for a few seconds, before he smiled again, cheerful or at least putting on the show of it. He flicked his hand and his wand appeared in it. “Now, as your grand-master,” he said, “it’s my prerogative to check your progress and see how my pupil is doing as a teacher. Get your wand our. Start with the Periclean sequence.”

  Avery snorted, but when it seemed that Gideon was serious he swallowed and drew his wand out of the sliver of compressed space where he’d been taught to keep it, already wishing Bailey had chosen another night to decide she was in the mood to spend time alone with Aiden. If they were starting with the most basic forms, it was going to be a long night.

  Bailey laid her head on Aiden’s chest, and listened to his heart beat.

  “Are you alright?” He asked.

  She smiled, but shrugged. “For now I’m... content, at least.”

  He shifted, drawing her closer, and adjusting the covers over them to cover her shoulders from the slight chill. “That sounds rather conditional. You’re worried about the Centurions?”

  “Yes,” she admitted, “but it’s not just that.”

  “Care to tell me what it is, then?”

  Bailey bit her lip. There was so much to choose from lately. Did she dare tell him what she thought about Gideon? About who he was? About the last lie that she was almost certain he hadn’t come clean about?

  After all, if she was wrong...

  “I’m just worried about how things are going at home,” she said, wincing inwardly at the lie. Maybe she didn’t have a leg to stand on when it came to Gideon’s deception after all. “I’m worried about dad, and about the Coven, and about the Faeries and about the things that I may not know I need to worry about. Being so far away makes me feel vulnerable.”

  “I do understand that,” Aiden said, squeezing her against him. “But Coven Grove is in the hands of the very capable Coven ladies. I suspect it will survive our brief absence.”

  She pushed herself up onto her elbow to look at him. “What if it isn’t brief?”

  He frowned, and slid up to sit against the headboard. “You mean if... Medea, or her shade at any rate, meant it literally when she said you... would die.”

  Bailey nodded, and for the m
oment let her fear show.

  Aiden sighed, and brushed a hand over her hair. “I won’t allow that to happen. I love you. I’ll protect you. No matter the cost.”

  “I know you mean that,” she breathed, “but what if you can’t? What if it’s out of your control?”

  “It seems unlikely to me,” he said calmly, “that the Witch Queen of old would have arranged it that her descendent would die if she tried to reclaim the family Throne. What would be the point?”

  “Maybe she or Liliana, whoever made the arrangement didn’t want the Throne to be reclaimed,” Bailey pointed out. “What if we have the story wrong? What if it was broken on purpose?”

  “Then why leave a path to it?” Aiden asked. He pressed his lips together, and then leaned forward to kiss Bailey’s forehead. “Your concerns are well founded. We can only proceed carefully. If you insist on going through with this task... just know that whatever you need from me—and, I suspect, from Avery as well; and perhaps even Gideon—we will be behind you.” He grinned, and put hand over his heart. “This I vow, oh my Queen of Witch-kind.”

  Bailey snorted, and picked up a pillow to hit him with.

  Aiden laughed. “Is that the ancient tradition of knighting? It’s unfamiliar to me. Your customs are strange, but I will accept them if you so desire it.”

  “You’d be my knight?” Bailey asked.

  “I’m not sure the Witch Queen has knights,” Aiden mused, “but if she does, I’ll be first in line.”

  Bailey laughed again, glad for a break from everything else for the moment. It didn’t last though. The weight of those words—not the joke, but the reality behind it—settled on her. “Do you think that’s where this leads? To my becoming... the new Witch Queen?”

  He shrugged, sympathetic but uncertain. “I couldn’t possibly know, my love. But I will tell you this—if you are to be the Queen, you already have my unwavering fealty. I would bend knee to you, my Queen, with a glad heart.” There was no joking now. His eyes were serious, and intense, and it made Bailey’s stomach flutter, her heart skip a beat.