Contents
Quin: Episode 2
Copyright
Author's Note
Quin: 20 years old
Quin: 21 years old
Books by B.C. Burgess
About the Author
Copyright 2015 by B.C. Burgess
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, store in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status or trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Bandit Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-940652-36-8
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Quin blinked his eyes open to his twentieth birthday pissed at himself and the world. Moments before, he’d been in dreamland, and his dream girl had been lying on his chest, touching him without letting him touch her. Wrapped in her glorious warmth and color, he’d refused to say goodbye, even when he felt her floating away. Now he was awake, she was gone, and he felt like shit for letting her go.
He rubbed his face and scratched the scruff he hadn’t bothered to vanish in ten days, since the day Layla turned nineteen and celebrated elsewhere. Quin would have given everything he owned to be there with her. He’d looked forward to it most his life, firmly holding on to the belief that once Layla turned eighteen she’d find her way home. He figured a month or two would pass as she unraveled her dad’s clues, but Quin had been so enchanted by hope, he never thought he’d face his twentieth birthday without her. Yet here he was. March 3rd had come and gone, marking a year since she was supposed to learn the truth, and the coven hadn’t caught even a hint of her existence. A cloud had fallen over them all that day, and though life went on, Quin couldn’t shake the depression.
Nor could he ignore the hard-on his dream girl left him.
Checking the time, he reached under the tented sheet, but before he could close his eyes and recall her voice, his dad mind searched him.
‘Quinlan?’
Quin sighed and pulled his hand from the blankets. ‘Yeah?’
‘Happy birthday.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Your mom’s on her way upstairs to try to cheer you up.’
Quin quietly groaned and summoned a pair of shorts. ‘I wish she wouldn’t.’
‘Too bad. Pretend it’s working.’
A knock brought Quin out of the mental discussion, and he donned his shorts while unlocking the door with a wave of his hand. “Come in.”
Cordelia swept into the room with a tray. Then cloudy light flooded the rosewood floors as her magic parted the grommet top, silk curtains. “Happy birthday.”
Quin squinted as he sat up, but he kept his complaints to himself. “Thank you.”
She halted in his reading nook and lit the logs in his fireplace. Then she bypassed his desk and bookshelves and sat on the edge of the bed. After passing him a steaming cup of coffee, she propped the breakfast tray over his thighs. “I made your favorites. Protein, protein and more protein.”
“Looks good. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. How did you sleep?”
“Same as always.”
Cordelia’s lips thinned, and he knew she wanted to talk about his dreams, but she decided to avoid the subject causing him so much anguish. “Twenty-years-old,” she sighed, brushing his bangs aside as if he was two.
“Way too old for you to be fixing my hair and serving me breakfast in bed.” Yet he let her fuss while taking a bite.
“A wizard is never too old for a mom,” she countered, stealing a nibble of his ham. “Just ask your dad. Rhiannon’s downstairs making him an omelet as we speak.”
“Someone should be making you breakfast. You’re the one who went through hell twenty years ago.”
“Your dad already gave me a gift today. And having you wasn’t hell. It was magical. I feel so lucky I experienced childbirth. Not one moment of your life has made me regret it.”
“Not one, huh?”
“Nope.”
“What about when I set your couch on fire?”
Cordelia laughed and gazed out his picture window at the burgeoning forest. “You were in so much trouble.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were. I was already used to your tricks, but that terrified me.”
“The fire was out before you got there, and I don’t recall a punishment.”
“You don’t remember me dragging you to Enid and Kearny’s to tell them you nearly burned down the house with their three-year-old daughter inside?”
“That wasn’t a punishment. That was you teaching me how to fess up to my mistakes. And I didn’t even come close to burning down the house.”
“Thank the Heavens.”
“Yeah, playing catch with fireballs in the living room wasn’t my smartest move.”
“No, but you were only five, and you never misused your fire again. You’re a good son, Quinlan. None of your mistakes have made me regret having you. They’ve merely made you the man I love today.”
Quin forced a smile, knowing she needed one, but he didn’t feel worthy of her compliments. In her eyes, he was perfect, but the man he saw in the mirror was far from admirable. What was to admire? His life was strung together without purpose, no clear direction, nothing remarkable ahead or behind. His work was satisfying enough, his customers were always happy, and he was an esteemed member of his coven, but that’s where his accomplishments ended. The only real challenge in his life was not having a challenge at all.
“Hey,” Cordelia blurted, pushing his arm to get him out of his head. “I got you a present.”
He raised his eyebrows and dropped his jaw, feigning surprise. “You did?”
“Smartass,” she laughed, shoving his bicep once more. “It isn’t news, I know, but this year was tough. You don’t want anything.”
Oh, he wanted something. It just wasn’t something his mom could give. “I have everything I want right here.”
Cordelia was no stranger to the Kavanagh ways and knew Quin was placating her with his silver tongue. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled, scanning the tidy room. Aside from the full bookshelves and a stack of floor plans on his desk, the room looked rather impersonal, but he’d personally designed and built every inch from the floor to the ceiling. “You’re a simple wizard with complex dreams. So guess what I got you?”
“Really? You’re making me guess?”
“Come on. It’s fun.”
“Okay.” As a man with few desires and way more money than he needed, he didn’t envy anyone trying to get him a gift. “A book.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Always with the books. I see you walk in with a new one every week. Try again.”
“I could use a new bookshelf.”
“Quinlan.”
“What?”
“You’re funny. And no, I didn’t get you a bookshelf. It took you less than thirty minutes to make those you have, and they’re gorgeous. Throw together another one if you need it.”
“I will. Then you can get me more books.”
Cordelia quietly laughed and shook her head. “Are you done guessing?”
“Yes, please.”
“Just as well, because you’ll never guess.”
“And you say I’m funny.”
“Well, where do you think you get it?”
“Touché.”
Cordelia giggled and moved on. “No more suspense. I got you some fish.”
Quin halted halfway through a bite. “Fish?”
“Yep.”
“Dead or swimming?”
“The latter.”
He lowered his fork to his plate, wondering why his mom thought he needed fish. “Did you also get me a tank?” he joked, unsure how to graciously accept fish.
“No,” she answered, smiling brightly as she shook her head. “You have to build their home.”
Quin tilted his head and mumbled a reply. “Okay. Thanks… I think.”
Cordelia doubled over with laughter. “You have no idea where this is going.”
“I really don’t. You were right – I would have never guessed fish, especially homeless fish.”
“They won’t be homeless for long, and don’t worry, they have temporary quarters at our warehouse.”
“Why?”
“Because a proper solarium needs plants, which will need water, which will need a pond, which will need fish.”
Quin remained confused halfway through her explanation, but by the end, everything had clicked. “You’re letting me build a solarium in our showroom.”
“Happy birthday,” she sang out, throwing confetti in the air.
Quin found a genuine smile while blocking his breakfast from her mess. “What made you change your mind?”
Cordelia shrugged and averted her gaze. “You need a challenge. Work’s been kind of dull lately, and your dad’s having a tough time keeping you busy. We’re clearing out some of the outdated displays next week, which means we’ll need to build more. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to test your design. The materials you mentioned will be there tomorrow. Except for the fish. They’re in a bathtub in one of the displays we’re taking down.”
“Guess we won’t be selling that tub.”
“We’ll donate it,” she laughed. “So what do you say? Will you build us the most beautiful solarium there ever was?”
“I’ll do my best.” He found her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you. This is the perfect gift.”
She let out a relieved sigh and smiled. “I’m glad you think so, but if the description of your design is any indication, it will be my pleasure.”
“It will give our showroom a much needed touch of life. I’ll get started on it as soon as I get the materials.”
“And that’s exactly why I requested they be delivered tomorrow. You’re taking today off.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she held up a finger and gave him her most severe look, which wasn’t the least bit scary.
“No arguing,” she insisted. “You refused a birthday party with your coven for the first time in your life. I won’t let you refuse a day off work.”
“I have nothing better to do.”
“Then find something. You could start by getting rid of that scruff.”
“You don’t like it?”
“You look ruggedly handsome,” she praised, patting his cheek. “But you didn’t grow it to look handsome. You have the jaw of a god and don’t need facial hair to prove it.”
“Jaw of a god, huh?”
“Yep. I know, because I married the man you got it from.”
“Then I’ll show it off, but I’m finishing my breakfast first.”
“Of course. I’ll quit chattering and let you eat.” She rose from the mattress and gave him a kiss on the head. Then she started across the room, but halfway to the door, she halted and spun around. “Oh yeah,” she hummed, keeping one hand behind her back. “There’s one more thing I need to give you.”
“What’s that?”
She grinned and brought her hand around, wiggling a book he’d borrowed from Enid’s on several occasions. “Your first guess wasn’t wrong, just incomplete.”
“That’s mine to keep?”
“Yep. It recently went on the market in Maganthia, so I had Enid broker a deal with the seller. There are only five copies with original art from the author. Now you have one of them.”
“Wow. I bet that wasn’t cheap.”
“No, but you’re worth every penny.” She set the book on his desk and walked to the door, pausing on the threshold to blow him a kiss. “Happy birthday, Quinlan. Try to make it fun.”
“Thanks, Mom. For everything.”
She left wearing a smile, and Quin waited several seconds before locking the door, setting aside his breakfast, and getting out of bed. He’d eaten enough to get full, his hard-on was long gone, and he wasn’t in the mood for a party, but he wouldn’t deny himself a little indulgence on his birthday.
Taking his coffee with him, he walked to his desk and appraised his gift, appreciating the hours of creative work poured into the cover and pages. It wasn’t merely a book; it was a work of art, one of only five, and it was his.
He carefully carried the tome to the built in bench next to the fireplace, getting comfortable amid a pile of throw pillows. Then he set his coffee aside and summoned a joint from his satchel. By the time he lit the herb, he was already absorbed in the story.
Stoned and scruffy and motivated to do nothing more than sit on his ass and read, he lost track of time until the room brightened with the afternoon sun. He checked his reading progress, his stomach rumbling for lunch. Then he heard raucous laughter and a stampede of feet on the stairs.
He raised an eyebrow, trying to discern who the voices belonged to, and it didn’t take long to pick out Weylin.
“Hey, asshole. We’re coming in.”
Quin quickly waved a hand, unlocking his door so his friends wouldn’t bust it down. Then he floated his book to a safe place on a high shelf. Good thing, because the moment his company barged in, they tackled him – Weylin, Kegan and Brynton.
Quin did what he could to block the worst of the assault. Then he pushed them off and sat up. “What are we? Twelve?”
Weylin ignored the slight and hit Quin over the head with a pillow. “Happy birthday, man. You look like shit.” He dropped the pillow and tugged on Quin’s facial hair. “What the hell is this?”
Quin jerked his head away and eyed Weylin’s full beard. “Don’t worry, Sasquatch, I’m not competing with the shag carpet on your face.”
Weylin laughed as he stroked his jaw. “You can’t compete with perfection. Let’s go,” he urged, walking to the closet and grabbing Quin’s satchel. “Hockey. Now.”
Quin had been content with his solitude, and considering his bad mood, hockey probably wasn’t the best idea. He’d end up breaking something or someone. “Why aren’t you guys at work?” he asked, glancing between Kegan and Brynton. Weylin was enrolled in Oregon State University and skipped often.
“We could ask you the same,” Kegan countered, helping himself to the rest of Quin’s joint.
“Bullshit,” Quin challenged. “You knew I’d be here. Did my mom put you up to this?”
Weylin tossed Quin his bag and headed for the door. “Never mind all that. The point is it’s your birthday, and we won’t let you spend it like this. Hockey first. Then the island.”
Quin sighed and reluctantly got to his feet. “It’s always a party with you, Wey.”
“Hell, yeah.” Weylin clapped his hands, rallying them out the door. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”
As Quin walked by, Weylin’s massive palm
got in the way, thumping Quin’s chest and bringing him to a halt. “Go get that pitiful excuse for a beard off your face before we go.”
Quin narrowed his eyes, wondering why Weylin was so concerned with his lack of grooming. “My mom did put you up to this.”
Weylin smiled and moved his hand. “And I wouldn’t dare disappoint such a lovely lady. Go.”
Quin rolled his eyes and headed for the bathroom. “You need to stop flirting with my mom.”
“Never,” Weylin refused. “Hurry up. I’ll visit with Rhiannon while we wait.”
“Leave my grandma alone!”
Weylin laughed while jogging downstairs. “Guess you better hurry.”
~***~
Weylin made sure witches showed up to watch the game, and while the ladies gossiped in a cluster a few yards away, the wizards congregated on the floating ice rink and donned their bladed shoes.
“So what’s up with you, Quin?” Weylin asked. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think a witch broke your heart.”
“You think you know everything,” Quin taunted, deciding he wouldn’t go easy on Weylin today.
Weylin preferred rough games over easy wins, and he thrived on challenges. “I know you’ve never let a woman close enough to break your heart.”
Kegan pointed at Weylin. “True, but it’s less about his heart and more about theirs.”
“I’m not a saint,” Quin countered, avoiding the truth. His heart wasn’t broken, but it felt empty. He’d opened it to Layla long ago, but she had yet to fill it up with anything more than colorful dreams. “Let’s play. Wey needs his ass kicked.”
Following three games in a row, Weylin left the ice cussing his defeat, and all the wizards had battle wounds, but they’d managed to avoid serious injury.
Weylin melted the ice while collecting everyone’s gear. Then he tied his bag to his waistband while watching the witches approach. “Everyone ready to party?”
“Food,” Kegan answered. “Then party.”
“We’re eating on the island. It’s probably already packed.”
Quin 2 (The Mystic Series) Page 1