The Magic

by Donna Augustine

  He looked up from his own half-eaten leg.

  “Did Fudge ask you anything this afternoon about where we’d been?”

  “No. She knows something’s up, but she’s not asking,” Bookie said.

  “If Dax asks, we tell him you were working on your bike and we were just lapping the area testing it out.”

  “Maybe we should just tell him the truth.”

  “Uh…no. He doesn’t believe I can heal anything. There’s no way I’m telling him I buried birds.”

  Bookie grabbed his turkey leg and turned to go inside the house.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I gotta get out of here. I suck at lying. You lay the groundwork, and if he asks me I’ll back you up with yeses. Best I can pull off.”

  I rolled my eyes but told him to get out of there, and turned my attention back to Dax as he got closer.

  He stopped in front of the porch and looked directly at the door Bookie had just escaped into. “Why’s he running off?”

  “Him? He wasn’t running.” I waved my chicken leg at him. Some people needed visual cues when they were wrong. Or right and you wanted them to think they were wrong.

  “What are you and Bookie up to?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I took a large hank of meat in my mouth just as I saw him gearing up so I could buy myself some time to answer any further questions.

  “Meet me by the tree you use for target practice in a half an hour,” he said before he walked off.

  What? I was suddenly annoyed I had a mouth full of chicken. By the time I’d chewed the especially large bite, it was too late to ask.

  “He’s gone?” Bookie asked, popping out a minute later.

  “Were you watching from your window upstairs?”

  “Yeah. Did you get the lie out? Is the groundwork done?”

  “You ran for nothing. He didn’t even ask.”

  “Oh no.” He plopped down in the chair nearby.

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “No it isn’t. Maybe he’s waiting to ask me, knowing I’m the weak link in the chain of our lies.”

  “Nah. I mean, you are the weak link and all, but that’s not it. He’s distracted with too many other things happening.” I stood and went to go get a piece of jerky from the kitchen before I met him, pausing at the door when I saw Bookie nearly twitching in his seat. “Trust me. You’re off the hook. I’m positive of it.”

  * * *

  Dax was standing beside the newly reformed beast, Bart, next to assassin tree.

  Un-beastly Bart held out his hand to me and said, “Hello.” It sounded like one word now, which was an improvement, but with an accent that made you think he wasn’t from these parts. Or any parts I’d ever heard of.

  “Hi,” I said, and reached out to take his hand, which then gripped mine just short of crushing bones. “Lighten up on the grip a little.”

  He released my hand instantly. Then reached out to take it again, as if he were practicing. I took his hand again, even though I didn’t want to. He grunted, and I thought that might have been his happy sound, so I kept smiling and nodding until he released my hand again.

  “We’re bringing him for dinner tonight. We’re going to tell everyone we met him while we were away and he just got to the area and he’ll be staying for a while. If we can get him past Tank and Lucy, everyone else will buy the story.”

  I sure hoped so, because after spending their lives trying to keep the beasts out, I wasn’t sure how well the people at the farm would cohabitate with one. “You think it’s a good time for a dinner guest?” I asked, smiling to hopefully throw Bart off the scent of my real meaning.

  “We don’t have time to waste, so yes.”

  Bart smiled. It was lopsided and showed too much teeth, but at least they were human teeth.

  “He can hold form?”

  “I can,” Bart said, that awkward I don’t normally speak tone as prominent as ever.

  I wasn’t sure if this was the best idea, but neither was going back and helping Zarrod. I guessed when all your choices sucked, you couldn’t really be expected to make any good ones.

  “Let’s get going. Dinner will be out soon,” Dax said.

  Looked like another potentially bad decision was about to get checked off.

  The whole way to the house, the reasons why this had to be done were crystal clear. If we didn’t have an army, we died. Even with an army, we might die…it just wasn’t a slam-dunk death. Still, if this beast man couldn’t keep it together, this could get ugly.

  When we stepped inside the house, everyone was already there getting ready for dinner. They all stopped and looked at the newcomer. Fudge paused for less than a second before waving a hello and continuing about her business. Tank stood frozen, wondering who the new man on his turf was, because that was pretty much his style. Bitters was crinkling his face up even more than normal, and I knew he sensed something off with Bart. Tiffy looked but didn’t seem overly interested. But none of their reactions seemed to matter to Bart, as he had eyes for only one person.

  He barely paused before he beelined it to Lucy. “Lucy, Bart. We met him while we were away, and he mentioned he might be traveling to this area. We told him to stop by,” I said, following the party line as Dax walked farther into the room and started flipping through some of his papers. I knew he needed to keep up with the progress reports for the farm’s defenses, but hello? We were trying to pass off a beast? I wanted to scream at him to put his damn papers down.

  “I thought you didn’t know you were coming back here when you left for out west?” Tank started clucking his tongue. It seemed to be a new habit he’d developed, and it was like hearing a gun’s safety being unlocked. Luckily, he didn’t normally have good aim. But, of course, everyone got a lucky shot in now and then.

  “Dax did,” I said, punting the issue to him if he’d pay attention.

  Bart was literally circling Lucy now, and, unless my eyes had gone crazy, it looked like she didn’t mind.

  “Yes, I did,” Dax said, laying his paperwork down.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out and grabbing Bart, and then dared a quick glance toward Dax. He seemed relaxed enough, but that didn’t mean much. He had said Bart wouldn’t eat anyone, but I should’ve asked about humping and vigorous sniffing.

  I stepped forward, but Dax beat me to it, grabbing Bart’s arm and tugging him away before things went south. “He’s got really bad sinus problems,” I said as Lucy, and everyone else, gave him a closer perusal.

  “Lu-cy,” Bart said, making her name into two words and sounding somehow sleazy while doing it. What the hell? He was like the beast version of Don Juan. I was going to have to talk with Dax about this.

  I clapped my hands together. “I’m famished,” I said, loudly, drawing some of the attention off Bart and to myself. “Let’s eat!”

  “You can sit next to me, Bart,” Lucy said, looping one arm through his and dragging a chair with her other.

  It was almost like old times. Fudge was back, and we were all sitting down to dinner. Things were just as they should be, like Bookie had never died but with a couple new additions.

  A large turkey was sitting in the middle of the table…right in front of Bart.

  Without warning, Bart reached and grabbed the turkey and started ripping it apart with his mouth as he made growling noises.

  For a moment, no one moved at all.

  Fudge was the first to finally react. “That’s okay. I’ve got plenty more food in the kitchen.”

  I looked across the table as Bookie mouthed, Who is this weirdo?

  Bart seemed to catch on quickly to the fact he’d made a wrong turn. He looked around while still chewing on the large hank of turkey he’d ripped out of the bird, and then placed the thing back on the platter.

  He didn’t leave it be for long before he reached forward, ripped off one of the legs, and placed it on Lucy’s plate. It
was beast courtship at its best.

  As if it the stars had aligned to make this the most bizarre night in history, instead of being revolted, Lucy beamed at him. She picked up the leg and started eating it while smiling at him.

  I might’ve kept staring if I wasn’t distracted by Tank pointing to the last dinner roll and then saying to Bitters, “You take it.”

  “No, you have it,” Bitters said.

  “I’ll eat it,” Lucy said, but Bitters’ crow flew down and pecked at her hand before she could touch the roll. Tank and Bitters shot her a dirty look.

  “We’ll split it,” Bitters said, then ripped it in half and placed one part on Tank’s plate.

  What was my world coming to tonight? Was I the only normal person here?

  Chapter 21

  I sat outside the next morning eating my breakfast alone while I watched the tent Bart was supposedly staying in. Bookie was “sleeping in,” which was probably an avoidance technique because he didn’t want to get questioned by Dax. Lucy was suspiciously missing.

  Heavy steps walked out onto the porch and stopped beside me.

  “You need to tell Lucy what he is before she sleeps with him.” Although at least then maybe somebody would be having sex.

  “I think it might be a little late for that,” Dax said.

  Bart had been here less than a day. I hadn’t sat downstairs last night and chaperoned them or anything, but no way Lucy was in that tent.

  “No way. Lucy is slow to warm to people. She’s probably sleeping in this morning.”

  Dax pointed toward the tent I couldn’t tear my eyes from.

  He could point all he wanted. She was not in there. “No way.”

  He cleared his throat. “You did see them together last night.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  Just as I finished saying I didn’t believe it, the flap to the tent opened and Lucy stepped out with the worst case of bed head I’d ever seen. Her shirt was a wrinkled mess and one pants hem was rolled higher than the other. If her clothes and location didn’t paint the picture well enough, she had that look. I knew that look now, so well my cheeks felt a little flushed from seeing it.

  Maybe it was a beast thing? Because I’d seen enough couples at this point to know that not every woman got that look. Some of them just looked like they’d had a bad sleep.

  Lucy took a step away from the tent as Bart stepped out behind her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. If I wasn’t positive before, I certainly was now.

  There, in the middle of the camp, she started scaling him like he was Mount Everest. He turned, arms full of Lucy, bent forward, and climbed back into the tent.

  “She needs to know. He could be dangerous.”

  “Not to her.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just do.”

  “She needs to know anyway.”

  “Why?” he asked, his voice dropping really low. “You think she’ll pretend she didn’t sleep in the tent if she knew?”

  I was glad I wasn’t looking at him when he said that, even as I felt his eyes boring into me. So, he’d found out I occasionally told people I still slept in Tiffy’s room. It wasn’t a big deal, even if his voice had gone flat and cold.

  “As if you’re so straightforward with everything. I know why you’ve helped me so much,” I said, the sting of being caught denying being in his room still smarting.

  “You think that everything that’s happened is about our agreement from when I first got you out?”

  He’d gone from cold to mad. But it wasn’t like I was making it all up. “You can’t deny I’m useful to you.”

  “Yes, you were very useful as I chased you across North America.”

  “I’m not saying you didn’t help me, but you need me.”

  “How are we ever going to move forward if you see everything so skewed? Or is it some choice on your part to make things fall into place in your mind easier?”

  “So you’re saying you didn’t use me for things?” It wasn’t a question designed for an answer.

  “Fine. You’re right. I’m using you to get Dark Walkers. I’m using you for sex. I’m using you because I like chasing stubborn twits across the continent. I like risking my guys’ lives as you continually get yourself in shit situations. Yes. This is all about me.”

  “I’m not saying it’s all one-sided. And I resent being called a twit.”

  “Stay out of their situation. It’s between them. He’ll tell her what he wants when he’s ready.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m going to tell her.”

  “Why? So you can meddle in her life to avoid what’s happening in yours?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The fact that you’re going to be called back to Newco at any point but act like it’s not happening. The way you pretend we’re a business arrangement.”

  “That’s not why I want to tell her.” The distraction didn’t hurt, though.

  He walked away, and I wanted to leap at him and take him down by the legs. “And you stop walking away from me!”

  I was stunned when he listened and stopped. “Why? Because that’s your move?” He turned and left, but this time I didn’t have the nerve to say anything, even if I did reconsider taking him down.

  * * *

  It was another thirty minutes before she came out again. I knew because I’d been watching, lingering nearby in case I heard screaming.

  If it were possible, she looked even happier when she came back out.

  I was still debating whether to talk to her when she sat down beside me and leaned her head back on the house.

  I waited. Lucy talked. That was what she did. And when she came and sat beside me, it was a guarantee she wanted to say something, so I waited some more. It would be much easier if she introduced the topic.

  She finally lowered her head, a soft smile on her face, an expression I’d never seen Lucy wear. She turned to me and said, “I think I’m in love.”

  Hold up there now, girly! Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to be inexperienced and naive and think everything was love? This was rough-and-tumble Lucy. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s a smush.”

  “A smush?”

  What was that word? “Crush! It’s a crush.”

  She shook her head, still glowing. “I’ve slept with enough men to know this is the real deal.” She stood, saying something about needing a shower.

  I said nothing. It had been one night, but she clearly couldn’t be talked to right now. It definitely wasn’t the right timing.

  Chapter 22

  The sun streaming through the small square window of my cell had already risen halfway up the wall when I awoke. I was immediately out of my cot. Why hadn’t they banged on the door? Why had they let me sleep? Would they come and punish me for this?

  I yanked off my nightdress and put on the uniform quickly and then froze. What if they’d forgotten about me and, by making a ruckus to get out, I’d alert them to it? I ignored the growling of my belly as I went and sat on my cot.

  The door opened fifteen minutes later. Ms. Edith walked in and I jumped to my feet. One of the cafeteria ladies followed in behind her, carrying a tray, and Ms. Edith pointed toward the table.

  “Put it down.” The woman did as instructed and then, without looking at me, left the room.

  “Hello, Dal. Are you hungry?”

  I looked at the food and then quickly away. It was a trick. A trap of some sort. She knew that I was hungry. They made it so I was always that way. “No.”

  “But I brought you a birthday breakfast. You’re eight today.”

  I could smell the eggs and my mouth watered, but I didn’t dare make a move. She’d played this game before and I hadn’t liked it.

  “Go ahead, Dahlia. It’s all yours.” She ran her fingers over the papers and pencils that sat on the table beside the tray of food then pointedly looked at me. “Maybe you’d like to color after you’re done?”

&
nbsp; I stood silently and she smiled as if it didn’t annoy her. It did. Everything annoyed her. The way I walked, talked, ate…

  “Did you hear me?”

  “Yes, Ms. Edith.”

  “Good.”

  She walked closer to me and then sat on the bed, patting her hand beside her. I sat as far away as I could but within a distance that hopefully wouldn’t get me in trouble, all while trying not to breathe deeply of the sickly sweet smell of her.

  “If you draw me pretty pictures, I will reward you, Dahlia. I just want us to be friends.”

  “Okay,” I said, willing to say whatever she wanted.

  “Good.” She smiled as she rose and left.

  * * *

  “Where did you drift off to?” Dax asked from below the fence I was sitting on. I’d been waiting for them to come back with more barbed wire to string along the top.

  It was as if the dreams I’d been having lately had opened the floodgates on my memories.

  I looked down at Dax as I shook the memory off. It appeared as if he was going to act like our fight earlier today hadn’t happened.

  “Just drifting,” I said, agreeing to go along with the plan. I didn’t feel like fighting with him either, today or any day, really. I just didn’t know why we couldn’t seem to stop.

  “I’ve got some more recruits I’m bringing in soon.”

  It took a second for me to link recruits with its real meaning. “More already?”

  “We don’t have time to mess around.”

  I used a clean edge of my shirt to wipe my face as I asked, “Can they be trusted?”

  “They won’t kill anyone, if that’s what you mean. I can’t promise that they won’t maim anyone, though,” he said, his stare shooting to the exposed flesh on my stomach.

  I saw a flash of heat in his gaze and realized that was all it took for me to want to scale him like I’d seen Lucy do to Bart.