A Lying Witch

by Odette C. Bell

  “Now you are the McLane seer, you need to understand this.”

  “S-seer?”

  “Aye, when your grandmother was killed, her powers as a seer transferred to you. Now you’ll be able to see the future and travel into people’s minds.”

  I was way beyond shaking my head now. The only thing I could do was sit there, staring at him agape.

  Then something struck me. My previously smooth and sweaty brow crinkled with a snap. “Killed? My grandmother wasn’t killed. She died of a heart attack.”

  He tilted his head to the other side, a flash of confusion crumpling his brow, but he did not answer.

  “None of this makes sense. M-magic and curses! T-th—”

  “Is happening, love. And the sooner you accept that and move on, the easier my life will be.”

  If there was something – anything at all – that could pull my mind off the stupid unreality of this situation, it was this guy’s overbearing personality. He was beyond irritating. From his disdain to the fact he kept calling me love – all I wanted to do was reach up and hit him.

  But then the situation hit me again. From the magic, to the book, I sat back, head reeling. “I don’t understand any of this.” I brought a hand up and locked it over my forehead.

  “Really? Have you not been paying any attention whatsoever, lass? Fine, I’ll recap. Your forbearer Mary McLane misused her abilities as a seer, and in doing so, cost hundreds of people their lives. For her crimes, her family was cursed. Every subsequent female seer was fated to carry that curse. The curse prevents them from turning from their powers. For, if they do, if they lie about the future – they will die.”

  Bam. The fog had started to drift back into my mind, but suddenly and violently it was swept away with that promise.

  I’d die.

  I’d die if I told a lie….

  Hold on, I lied all the time. My whole job was lying—

  I didn’t get the opportunity to finish that thought, because the guy snorted. “I know what you’re thinking – it’s plastered over your face. You’re thinking – why, I lie all the time. Aye, you do,” his voice dropped low in an ominous warning, and that disdainful look returned to his gaze, “but it’s going to be different now, Chi.”

  “Different?” I could barely push the word out.

  He nodded low. “Aye. For now, the curse has switched to you. And so has the ability.” His tone did a funny thing on the word ability – somehow, it lengthened, as if it weren’t so much sound but more a chain that stretched towards me and wrapped around my throat.

  I found myself shivering, violently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tried valiantly.

  He snorted, clearly amused. “Yes, you do. You used the ability when you escaped from me this morning.”

  Suddenly, I kind of remembered the fact this guy had tied me to a chair. And then… I remembered that I’d escaped him by seeing a version of reality superimposed over my sight.

  I was still seated on the couch, and I jerked back, shoulders hitting the backrest, dislodging several cushions and sending them tumbling to the floor.

  He watched me, intently. In fact, he tilted his head down and let his eyebrows flatten in that way dogs do when they spot prey smaller than them.

  “I don’t have any ability,” I tried. “None of this makes any sense!”

  “It makes perfect sense,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “And if you’d stop being hysterical for a second, you’d see that.”

  “Oh, it makes perfect sense, does it? Who the hell are you, anyway? And how… how can… how can you do that thing with your hand?”

  He smiled. It was a stupidly electrifying move. It was stupid, because this guy was a home invader, and we very much were not out on a date.

  “I’m going to do you the dignity of assuming you’re talking about my magic,” he said through half a cheeky grin.

  Why, what else could he do with his hands? I thought. Fortunately, however, I didn’t say it out loud.

  Again he brought his hand up, spread his fingers wide, and sent licking flecks of blue flame dancing all up and down his palm and wrist.

  It was a stunning sight, mesmerizing, even. Almost impossible, in fact. No, scratch that – it was impossible. This couldn’t be magic. It had to be some kind of trick. Maybe it was some kind of new technology… an amazing technology that could produce cold flame without the assistance of any visible devices at all….

  I reached up a shaking hand and locked it over my mouth.

  Finally, my doubt gave way. In its place, I simply froze again.

  Though a moment ago, he’d been smiling in victory, suddenly his brow crumpled with confusion again. His eyes darted to the side. “Now where was I again?” he trailed off, confusion obvious as if he’d somehow genuinely forgotten that he was standing here, haranguing me and showing off his magic.

  I had to wait almost half a minute until he appeared to remember what he was doing. He shook his head and finally continued, “Anyhow, love, I can do magic, because I’m a fairy. I’ve been contracted to the McLanes… for some time,” he added after a significant pause, one where I couldn’t tell if he was deciding what to tell me, or whether he’d genuinely forgotten when he’d started working for my family.

  He shook his head again. As he did, I swear I saw something. A shadow. A big one. It was right over his shoulder, so defined, it almost looked like a perfect version of the man rather than the result of his body blocking out the light.

  The man cleared his throat. “I protected Joan from most of the curse. I couldn’t, however, protect her from it in the end. She made a fatal error – turned away from her powers, chose not to see the future, and lied for her own benefit. And in doing so, the curse managed to access its magic in full.” He seemed saddened, truly saddened. It wasn’t just the way his eyebrows flattened, wasn’t just the way his jaw loosened. It was the look in his eyes, the fact his usually strong stance became weak.

  “My… grandmother was killed? No, but… she died of a heart attack,” I tried valiantly, although my voice became progressively weaker as my reason gave way to doubt.

  He shook his head, that somber look still drooping his eyes. “She was killed. She made a fatal mistake – made a big lie. In doing so, she released the full power of the curse, and it killed her.”

  “But – but how are you telling me this? A few hours ago I opened the door to you, and you had no idea that she was dead—”

  Before I could accuse the guy of lying, his shoulders deflated. A truly weary look passed through his deep, soulful eyes. “Aye,” he answered slowly, “that’s because I… forgot.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “You what? None of this makes any sense!”

  He put up a hand before I could launch into hysteria. “It does when you realize use of my powers leads to memory loss,” he answered quietly.

  Though a new wave of adrenaline was pumping through my body, suddenly it stopped.

  I stared at him.

  Anyone would be able to see the genuine sorrow and shame crumpling his features.

  My brows clicked together. “What? Your – your powers make you lose your memory?”

  He nodded morosely, incapable of making eye contact. “Aye. The first thing you’ll learn in this magical world is that magic costs. It don’t come for free. Nothing comes for free. For me, strong displays of magic cost me my memories. That’s why…” he closed his eyes briefly, “why I forgot Joan’s death. I must have fought to save her, but used too much magic and forgot everything.” He shook his head and paused until finally continuing. “Magic costs all practitioners something. For some, it costs them injuries, for others, it demands more and more of their blood. For you,” he ticked his gaze up and locked it on me, “technically, your magic comes for free,” he said.

  Or, at least his lips moved.

  For some reason, it didn’t quite sound as if he was speaking. No, as impossible as it seemed, my crazy mind told me his voice issued f
rom the shadow behind his shoulder and not his own stiff lips.

  “Everyone else’s comes at a price. Well,” he tipped his head down and stared at me with eyes that seemed to blaze like pits of fire, “thanks to the curse, yours comes at a price, too. Seeing the future and accessing people’s minds won't cost you your memory, it won’t take your blood. But not using your power – turning from it, lying, it’ll cost you your life. For if you act against the curse, you will be claimed, Chi McLane.” Again, it didn’t sound like it was him speaking, but his shadow. Heck, I swore it even grew sharper, almost as if—

  Suddenly what he was saying struck me. The magic, the curse, the cost.

  I sat there, blinking. Except this time my eyes weren’t shuddering from the sheer break-neck impossibility of this situation. No. Instead, they were filling with tears.

  I shook my head. No. No. No! This was still impossible—

  “Now, where was I? Oh, aye. If I were you, Chi McLane, I’d stop lying. Today. And do exactly as I tell you.”

  I looked at him, incapable of saying anything.

  “This is where you ask why.”

  “S-sorry?”

  “Ask what will happen if you use your abilities to lie?”

  “I… what?”

  “Ask the question,” he insisted in a gruff tone.

  I jumped. “What will happen?”

  “If you use your abilities as a seer to lie or you turn from them and fail to tell the future, you too will die.”

  I blinked. “You mean… if I use that power I used this morning?”

  He nodded gravely.

  “And what if I don’t? You know… if I just lie…?” I trailed off. I trailed off because his expression became deadly.

  He dropped his head in that move that reminded me of a wolf leaning down to stare the lil’ rabbit in the eye before gobbling it up. “This is where you change, Chi McLane. Right here, today,” he stabbed a finger at the floor, “is where you turn a new leaf.”

  He hadn’t answered me. Which told me the answer was no – the curse wouldn’t affect me if I told ordinary lies.

  Maybe he could see that I was calculating that, because he took another dramatic step forward. Any more of those, and he’d walk all over me.

  I shifted back even further.

  “You turn over a new leaf, here, now, today. You got that?”

  I forced myself to nod.

  “My life’s hard enough as it is without the added pressure of cleaning up after your dumb lies,” he added, sounding as browbeaten as an overworked housewife.

  I frowned. Suddenly, I realized what he was saying. It was my turn to tilt my head to the side. “Hold on, what do you mean? You… you’re not planning on sticking around, are you? You’ve told me about,” I swallowed, “magic,” I stuttered, “and the curse. So… so you can leave now,” I made my voice more forceful.

  He snorted. It was a slow move and rattled his nostrils entirely too much. “I’m not going anywhere, princess. From now until the day you inevitably break the contract and die horribly, I’ll be by your side, protecting you from… shall we say, the unsavory side effects of being a seer.”

  I had exactly zero idea what the “unsavory side effects of being a seer” entailed. I concentrated on one fact – one super important fact: this Scottish brute was here to stay.

  I paled. “No – you can’t stay! I don’t even know who you are!” I protested as if the fact I hadn’t been formally introduced was the most pertinent fact here.

  He snorted again. Somehow, he managed to make the move charming, not vile. “Max.”

  I blinked. “That’s your name?”

  “Aye. Max. I’m contracted to protect you from the magical world while you use your abilities as a seer to protect people. You see, if you don’t satisfy the terms of the curse and use your powers for good, monsters will come after you, lass. Horrible ones. But me? I can keep most of ‘em back, because I’m a fairy,” he added proudly as he patted a large hand to his large chest.

  I cleared my throat. I blinked. I frowned.

  My every interaction with this massive Scottish magician up until now had filled me with equal parts awe and fear. Now? Now I kind of got stuck on the fact this brute was a fairy.

  “Ah, hold on,” I could barely push my words out; they felt lodged in my throat as if I’d tried to swallow a stone, “you're a fairy?”

  He shot me a look. A very specific kind of look. The kind of look that told me I was an idiot for taking that fact alone out of what he’d just revealed to me.

  Then he went and crossed his arms again. His incredibly impressive, boulder-like arms with biceps that looked as if they'd been carved out of marble.

  “Yeah, I'm a fairy. But I think maybe you should go back to the part where you’re cursed and if you don't satisfy the terms of that contract,” his voice bottomed out low and shook with that unmistakable brogue, “you will be killed. Violently. By monsters.”

  I’d been doing a seriously good job of ignoring that fact until now. But there was something about the combination of his crossed arms and that very specific, kind of hateful, judgmental look in his eye that made it impossible for me to turn away now.

  I actually yelped, cramming a hand over my chest and pressing my fingers hard against my sternum. “This is insane. This can't be happening.”

  He uncrossed his arms and flicked a hand towards me. “Getting upset isn't going to change anything.”

  “Upset?” My voice shook with indignation. Which was kind of nice, because at least it wasn't belly-shaking fear.

  Still, indignation didn't last. It gave way rather sharply and violently to a sinking feeling that felt as if it would take my stomach through the very center of the Earth.

  I sat there, right on the edge of the couch, one hand locked over my stomach as if I were afraid it would split open and spill my nerves all over the ground.

  Max continued to look at me as if I were the worst example of humanity he'd ever come across. “Well, at least you're taking this seriously now,” he commented under his breath.

  Again, I felt a flare of indignation at his cold, cold words. What an absolute prick. He had the bedside manner of a brick to the head.

  I plucked a hand off my stomach, and now it was my turn to cross my arms. Slowly. Angrily. “Just who the hell do you think you are, anyway?”

  He snorted. I thought I'd plumbed the depths of his derisive moves, but clearly I hadn't. This one honestly made his nostrils rattle. Which shouldn't have been an attractive move, but somehow on the great big lug, with his half charming smile, he could pull even that off. Which made me even more pissed off.

  My shock was passing. And the only reason it could was my natural fight. I was my mother’s daughter, after all, and Mayli never ever backed down from confrontation. If she’d suddenly found out that she was the heir to a magical curse and she’d inherited the true powers of a seer, she would have just sat on the couch, crossed her arms, pressed her bottom lip in, and snapped at this Max to get her some tea.

  Okay, so my world had literally been pulled out from under my feet only to be replaced with magic, fairies, and the lying mistakes of my forbearers – but I had to stop letting this situation control me. No, scratch that – I had to stop letting this Max control the conversation.

  For the first time since this harrowing conversation had begun, I pushed to my feet. “Well I don't care who you are and what you say – I'm not scared. I don't believe in this curse—”

  I didn't get a chance to finish my sentence, because he was upon me.

  He’d drifted back towards the fire, but suddenly that didn’t matter. Don't ask me how he crossed the space in between. But somehow, in the blink of a freaking eye, he went from standing across the other side of the room, to standing right in front of the couch. I fell back against it, breath rattling in my chest as I sucked in a wheeze. “What… what are you going to do?” I went straight back into fear mode, forgetting everything my mother had ever taught me
. Because, hello, I couldn’t forget that this guy had chased me around my house with a knife!

  For a fraction of a second, his hardened expression softened. But not by much. Enough to tell my brain he wasn't about to reach for the fire poker and skewer me. But not enough to promise that he'd drop this.

  He seemed to take several seconds to figure out how he should reply. That, or he was enjoying every single moment of my fear. It was probably the latter, considering how much of a right royal prick this fellow was.

  Still, while I could insult him in my head, that was the furthest thing from what I could do in real life. I was suddenly struck by the fact that until last night, I'd never experienced true fear. Now it goaded at my heart, plucked at my spine, and threatened to make me black out.

  I held on, though.

  Just enough for him to slowly, oh so slowly unwrap his arms. He got down on one knee, right in front of me. No, I didn't think he was about to propose. The exact tension crumpling his brow and digging hard into his jaw could not be associated with anything other than blazing indignation. “Your grandmother would have wanted me to protect you. She… tried to save me,” he said, an odd, hesitant pause between his words.

  Despite the fact he was still right there in front of me, and despite the fact my mind was still battling the full effects of fear, I had just enough reason left over to appreciate that hesitant pause meant something. Maybe the Scottish fairy had a heart in there, after all. A heart he quickly hid away as he reached forward and locked a hand on the armrest beside me.

  He was right there – I mean right there. It wasn’t just that he was close enough to touch (or kiss, if you believed my suddenly tingling lips). Nope. It was that for the first time I was treated to an up-close look of his face. The lines, the scars, the flecks in his otherwise perfect eyes.

  It distracted me as I opened my mouth.

  He got there first. “I’ve explained everything now,” he controlled his tone, leaned back, smoothed an unaffected look over his face, and cleared his throat. “So now it’s time to get to work.”

  It took me a long time to lock on to what he’d said – my mind was far too distracted by the scars along his jaw, down his neck, flecked across his thick eyebrows.