by LJ Rivers
She kicked at a small pebble. It bounced off the path and rolled into the lake. “Remember how you healed me here?”
“Almost every day.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I’m sorry, Ru. Thinking back, I can’t believe I used to lick that stuff. It was just a desperate urge to … not be me.”
We sat on the grass underneath the old, wide tree that had given name to the university. It was still moist, though the old willow kept it fairly dry underneath its protective canopy.
“Not be you?” Jen asked.
“Ever since my father started locking me in my room so he could go down to the pub, I have dreamed about being a Mag. And then he brought me a set of books from this woman he knew, and I fell in love with her stories. You know, the girl who was born human, but became this awesome, powerful Witch. She would never have allowed herself to be locked in a room.”
I wanted to say something to comfort her, but I didn’t want to stop her. She needed to say this.
“I broke off the wooden stick from a clothes hanger and pretended it was my wand, just like the girl had. Problem was, no matter what magic spell I threw at the door, it never stopped being a locked door. I was thirteen the first time I tried MagX. It was magnificent!”
“Oh, Charlie!” we both said.
She held her index fingers to our lips.
“Hey, it was that or smoking. Oh, well, it was smoking, too. But I never got the hang of it, so I quit before I started. MagX, however, was something I had to try again. After that first kick, when I could jump from one side of the street to the other, in an instant. Wow! I was desperate to get my hands on another Jumper dose. I had no more money, which was just as well. The twenty quid I’d lifted from Dad’s jacket bought me a hefty two month’s house arrest, in addition to the couple of hours of magical powers, of course. My thirteenth summer wasn’t one to remember.” She snickered. “Sob city, I know. But that’s it, basically. Why I loved MagX so much. It allowed me to be someone else. I thought I liked the MagX version of Charlie. She could get any girl or boy she wanted, and she never had to spend a night alone if she didn’t choose it herself.”
Tears rolled down Jen’s cheeks, and my eyes were swelling too.
“Ironic, huh? You are the hunted ones. The outcasts in this world. And all I wanted was to be one of you.”
“You are, silly,” I said and hugged her tight. “Charlotte Carolina Medina Hargraves, you are the leader of our pack, remember. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. And as to Wolfie over there, those tears are not for losing Nick. Sorry, Jen.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Nope. These are for you. For us. For Charlie’s Angels.”
We joined in a group hug, ignoring the rain that had begun teeming down again.
“You’re my sister, Char,” I said. “And so is Jen. And you’ll never, ever lose us!”
Chapter Fourteen
Jen rolled her eyes at Duncan. “Wait your turn, plonker.”
He fell to his knees, lifted one arm and stuck his tongue out, breathing fast.
“What, you’re going to wag your tail now, too? Sorry, but my pack has no use for little puppies like you. Go to your—oh, all right then. You’re too cute.”
She bent down and scratched him behind his ear, and Duncan made a yipping sound.
“I’m losing my appetite over here,” I moaned. “What’s the ETA on the pancakes, Jen?”
“Oh-four-hundred. Or is it oh-oh-four, maybe?”
Duncan fell on all fours and crawled over to his chair by the kitchen table. He started to climb it, still in his puppy-state, but changed his mind when it almost fell over.
“I think it’s zero point zero seven,” he said.
I squinted at him. “Seven? How come?”
“When you’re referring to a specific time of day, you use the twenty-four-hour format. Like now, it’s 10.57 a.m., right?” He nodded at the digits on the microwave. “That’s basically the same in military time format, only without the a.m. Ten-fifty-seven. In twelve hours, it’ll be twenty-two fifty-seven. Just add twelve to the hours.”
“But how does that make four minutes become seven?”
Jen placed the tray with the stack of pancakes on the table. “It’s because this explanation is slowing down time. Could you be a bit more boring, please?”
“I think it’s interesting, Dunc,” I said, and patted his hand.
Jen gave me a mock scolding glare. “So, this is how it is now? Two against one, eh? Merde.” She pulled the top three pancakes off the stack and onto her plate. Turning away from us, she shielded her food like a wolf protecting her prey. Which, to be fair, she was. “I’ll tell on you to Charlie, so she can throw you in prison for taunting a foreigner.”
“So, anyway.” Duncan winked at me. “When it’s only minutes, and not a time of day, you divide by sixty.”
I poured way too much maple syrup on my pancake, but figured I’d run it off later. “Were you in the army?”
“Fought in the big ones, darling,” he said in the voice of an octogenarian. He stared at his fork with the steaming piece of freshly cooked breakfast. “How we used to dream of pancakes. Or black pudding and beans on toast. Let me tell ya, lassie, we had to eat dirt, lying in the muddy trenches of the Somme. Not to mention the freezing nights outside Stalingrad. Had to thaw the words over the fire to hear the sergeant’s orders!”
I giggled, a drop of syrup running down my chin.
Jen turned back. “Idiot. Call of Duty doesn’t count.”
I waved a finger at her while wiping my chin with a napkin. “Now, now, Miss Lune. You’re speaking to a decorated war hero. Please show some respect.”
Duncan put his fork down and reached across the table to hold our hands. “I’ve missed this. Can’t remember last time I laughed at breakfast. Or at all.”
“I know, cher. We need to laugh more,” Jen said. She tried to keep a brave face, but the breakup was still hurting her, and however much she tried to conceal it, it showed in her eyes.
My phone started playing Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” in my pocket. As I fished it out, Jen tutted at me. “Still not sure I forgive you for giving that ringtone to Char.”
“I gave you ‘I’ll Be There For You’, remember?” I swiped to answer the call. “How’s my favourite office worker this fine—?”
“There’s been another attack,” Charlie interrupted. “It's total chaos here, so I can’t talk.”
“The Lionhearts?”
Jen and Duncan stopped bickering. “No!” Jen whispered.
“Not this time. Looks like the Mags are on the revenge trail. Just hit the news, OK? I’ve got to get back to work.”
She disconnected before I had time to reply. I strode to the living room and turned on the telly.
“—outside. And as you can see, the principal buildings are in complete ruins. Firefighters are desperately trying to gain some sort of control of the many fires, but we have been told—oh, my Lord!”
An explosion sent an enormous fireball hundreds of feet in the air, and the reporter got knocked into the camera lens by the pressure blast. He regained his footing, and turned back to his audience, the adrenaline practically oozing from his eyes.
“Another explosion, most likely from the gas tanks we learned about only minutes ago. I can’t describe the heat we’re experiencing over here, more than a hundred yards away from the perimeter.
To recap what we know so far, at approximately 4.30 this morning, JC Pharmaceutical’s primary research facility in Stevenage was struck by what appears to be an earthquake. However, the British Geological Survey has just released a statement in which they report no seismic data recorded for the area.”
Jen and Duncan joined me on the sofa as the reporter held a finger to his earpiece and turned slightly away from the noise. He quickly straightened and looked excitedly at the camera.
“I’m told we have contact with Jarl Colburn, is that corre
ct, studio? Please repeat.”
The broadcast returned to the news anchor in the studio, with the field reporter in a smaller frame in the corner.
“Char said it was a Mag attack,” I said.
“Elementalists?” asked Duncan.
“Thank you to our reporter on site, Ahmad Iqbal. We now turn to the CEO of JC Pharmaceuticals, Mr Jarl Colburn, who is with us on the phone. What can you tell us, Colburn?”
A still photo of Colburn, with a ‘via phone’ caption underneath, replaced the field shot. My journalistic genes sent a thought of sympathy to the field reporter, Iqbal, who clearly thought they would allow him to interview JC. Baby steps, mate.
“In what can only be characterised as a historic chain of events, Amelia, this is perhaps the most tragic of them all. The JC Pharmaceuticals family counts over one hundred and twenty thousand members all over the world, all of whom are loved and cherished. We have none to lose, none to spare. This morning, in a sickening display of cowardliness and blood hunger, a group of Magicals took more than thirty of our loved ones’ lives. Five-year-old Blossom and three-year-old Noah have lost their mummy and daddy. My colleague for over twenty years, the brilliant Dr Lucas Finley, has gone to see the Lord.”
“He’s a media genius, I’ll give him that,” Jen muttered.
Colburn’s solemn voice transcended the otherwise modulated medium of a mobile phone and filled our living room with more names and snippets of human tragedies.
“I fear him, and maybe hate him,” I said quietly. “But this here, I believe is him speaking from his heart. He’s angry, obviously, but right now, he’s also showing what a magnificent leader he is.”
As the next prime minister was allowed to speak uninterrupted for almost four minutes, I felt an unexpected respect for him. And a bone-chilling fear for what would transpire after this.
“If Char is right, this isn’t the last tragedy.”
“Tragedy?” a voice spat behind us. Gemma stood leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. “What about the bombings in The Forge? Twenty-two Mags ripped to shreds, and dozens more still not sure if they’ll ever breathe again.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Duncan was on his feet.
She ignored him. “And what about Nick? He was almost killed. Would you say it would have been a tragedy if you had lost him the other day?”
Crap!
A growl passed by my right ear as Jen jumped to her feet and charged Gemma.
“Jen, no!” I cried.
She stopped inches in front of Gemma and stared down at her. “You’re a little late to that party, Foxy.”
To Gemma’s credit, she didn’t even flinch. “What do you me—?”
Jen poked her finger in Gemma’s chest. “You ignorant vixen-wannabe. Did you do that?” She gestured at the TV.
Gemma shrugged. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Whoever it was, they did an excellent job. My bet is Elementalists did the earthquakes and Banshees knocked out the guards with their screams. Maybe the alarms, too. What’s important isn’t who did what, but that JC got what he deserved.”
“JC is unscathed and probably already recruiting soldiers to his army. This is turning into outright war, Gemma. Can’t you see that?”
“So be it. Why are you so afraid? We can finally take control of our lives, instead of hiding our beautiful powers.”
“Please, girls. This cannot end well.” Duncan stepped in between them and pushed them from each other. “It’s not too late to stop this, Gem.”
I moved to Jen’s side. “He’s right. What you did yesterday was a horrible mistake. But if you—”
“What, turn myself over to Charlie, is that what you mean? The coppers won’t stop the revolution, Ruby. This is happening. Either get onboard or get out of my way.”
Jen let out a low growl.
“Oh, shut up, half-wolf. You, of all Mags, should at least see the benefits. Think of what you can do when you’re in your fabulous wolf form. You don’t have a single enemy.”
“I do now,” Jen said through gritted teeth.
The two Shifters moved towards each other, placing Duncan in the crossfire.
“Stop it! Both of you,” he cried. For a moment, it helped. “This is madness, Gem. You can’t expect an entire country, with the police and armed forces and everything, to give in to a few thousand Mags. You’ll be slaughtered.”
“One of us is worth a hundred of them,” Gemma hissed. Her eyes had shifted into the fox version, and she stood on her toes to get as close to his face as possible. “Of you, human.”
“That’s right, I’m human. And I love a Mag. That’s perfectly normal, and it should be the cornerstone of our society. Coexistence, Gem.”
“I know you love a Mag, Duncan Cole. You may think it’s me, but your words tell me the truth. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but Jen is taken. Or have you forgotten about her human?”
“Are you mental? I love you, Gem, you know that.” Duncan’s voice had lost its authority, and tears were streaming from his eyes. “But you can’t expect me to agree with you when you do things like that.”
“No, I can’t. I never did. In fact, I can’t believe what I ever saw in you, loser.”
She turned on her heel and marched into her room. Duncan remained standing, shoulders slumped and arms hanging by his side. Jen was fuming, but still lay her arm around him.
After a few minutes, Gemma reappeared in the hallway, carrying Duncan’s big Adidas training bag. “Have a nice, pathetic life.”
She swung open the door and disappeared.
“You could at least have closed the door behind you,” I shouted, and went to shut it.
“Just as long as you don’t slam it in my face,” said the woman who appeared in the opening.
I gaped, having thought she was joking when she’d said she would come.
“Mum!”
Chapter Fifteen
“Are you sure you want to go into Central, Mum?” I asked, as she was clearing the table the next morning. She had slept in my bed while I had slept in Jen’s room. Jen had decided to wolf it out after we had all finished watching Steel Magnolias—one of Mum’s favourites—and had only returned as I rolled out of bed and switched places with her. She was still snoring in her room. “I could take you to Kew Gardens instead and show you where I usually run there.”
Mum flashed me a warm smile and rinsed off her plate. “I haven’t been to London since you were a baby, so yes, I’m sure. I always loved the markets, and especially Covent Garden. They used to have some nice homemade pendants, and I’ve been thinking about getting one for Kit’s collar. I realise that was a lifetime ago, but I still want to go.”
“It’ll be fine, Ru,” Charlie said. She had forfeited her new work attire since she had the Friday off and had slipped on something more to her usual style. She was wearing her favourite washed out jeans along with a personalised maroon jumper. It had a home-made print of the customised wand Jen had given her, with ‘Digiwitch’ in bold letters underneath. “There are currently no reported disturbances in that area. I know you’re worried, but Travers says the likely targets are political sites and such, not the general public space.” She swiped across her iPad screen and put it in her bag.
“All right.” I wasn’t too happy about taking Mum to Central London, given the current political climate, but it wouldn’t do anyone any good to cower at home either. “But you’ll take that along, right?” I inclined my head to her bag, indicating the iPad inside.
“As always. I’m practically on the Ops’ speed dial these days, so if anything happens, I’ll be the first to know.”
I raised my eyebrows at her.
“Well, maybe not the first, but definitely way before the general public has a clue.”
Mum closed the dishwasher and clapped her hands. “I can’t wait.”
I sighed. An awful feeling settled in my gut. That could be due to recent events, but it felt like there was something else. And though Mum had always
told me to trust my instinct, I had nothing more to go on than that sinking feeling. Nothing that would persuade Mum to stay away from Covent Garden, anyway. She seemed so excited about reliving old times, and who was I to rob her of that? She looked at me expectantly. Her strawberry-blonde curls were loosely fastened with hairpins in untidy loops that had been carefully constructed so that it still looked elegant. And her eyes sparkled like gemstones. She somehow managed to look both young and mature at the same time.
“Guess I’ll go grab my purse, then. Maybe I can find a gem or two at the market.” I paused and glanced at Charlie, who held her hand in front of her mouth, unable to hide the wide grin underneath.
“Gem.” She giggled. “I don’t think we could find her unless she wanted to be found.”
I giggled too. “Just as well, if you ask me. Though I’m sad for Dunc. He didn’t join us last night, and he’s been brooding in his room ever since Gemma split.”
Charlie wiped the grin from her face, her features softening. “He’ll just need some space and a little time to get back on his feet.”
The air seemed to almost spell out the unspoken words between us. Whenever Duncan was in a bad place, he tended to get reckless, which in his case meant one addiction or another. As long as he stayed away from MagX, he’d be OK. I hoped.
Two hours later, the train scrambled into the tube station at Covent Garden. We got off, as did at least half of the other travellers. I cringed as we walked past a giant red heart with a lion’s head, freshly painted on the wall. A few drops of paint still trickled over the bricks, giving it a more raw look than the standard Lionheart logo.
A flood of people pushed past us in the narrow tunnels, gunning for the lift to take us to the street level. I wrinkled my nose at the foul smell of sweat and what I was pretty sure was urine, trying my best not to inhale too deeply.