Magic and Mayhem

by S. Usher Evans

  Cupping the pendant in my left hand, I closed my eyes and concentrated on my magic.

  You're thinking too hard.

  "Shut up, Gavon," I whispered to no one, but released the tension between my brows. My magic was a chainsaw and this required a scalpel. I tapped into the humming sensation under my skin, at once a separate entity and also part of me. And just as I'd been instructed all those months ago, I let go of the control and a zap of magic went to my left hand.

  In my mind's eye, I saw the chemical construction, the way the molecules fastened together and formed the larger gem. They gave up their secrets to me, the magic within that was sensitive to liars and untruths. The pendant in my hand vibrated and grew warm, and I quickly opened my eyes to stop before I destroyed it.

  I lifted the pendant and eyed it appreciatively. It seemed no different than when I'd summoned it, but at the same time, my magic whispered that I'd completed the charm. The best way to test it would be when I saw James next. Then, I could ask him all the questions I'd been holding onto, and find out whether he was a big, fat—

  "That was an impressive display for an un-Charmer."

  "Shit!" I screamed. Scrambling to my feet, I readied an attack spell in my free hand, preparing myself for battle.

  James, however, held his hand up in surrender. "Before you strike, be aware I have no magic with which to defend myself."

  "Yeah, and how am I supposed to know that?" I snarled, raising my fist higher.

  "Check that pendant in your hand."

  I started then glanced at the jewel. It remained cool against my skin. "Yeah, maybe the charm didn't work."

  "I, James Riley, am completely in love with you."

  Before I could ask what he meant by that, the jewel in my hand grew noticeably warm. In fact, uncomfortably so. I glanced between it and James for a long moment, unsure which to trust.

  "See?" James said with a shrug. "Now you'll know when I'm lying. And I honestly don't have any magic, so please put yours away."

  Cautiously, I lowered my hand and let the magic disappear. "What do you want, James?"

  "I would like to spar with you."

  I glanced at the stone again, and it was dormant. I wondered if the stone knew the difference between lying for real and skirting around the truth.

  "So what, you want me to go back to New Salem with you?" I snorted. "As if I'm that stupid."

  "I'm not trying to trick you. But I know from experience that a Warrior who doesn't spar becomes antsy. You haven't had another magical around in several months, and Gavon's been refusing to spar with me at all." He sighed. "And the rest of the Warriors are just so…exhausting."

  Presumably, he was talking about Cyrus. Another reason I needed to excuse myself from this conversation before it got going. "I've seen this movie, I know how it ends. No, thank you."

  He laughed, a throaty, jovial sound that reminded me how attractive he was. "Well, I'm a bit behind on seeing all the latest, so you'll have to enlighten me."

  "It ends with you dragging me to New Salem and forcing me to fight for my life against my will," I said, folding my arms across my chest.

  "Sparring is not a duel—"

  "I know that."

  "You and I are almost evenly matched. I think if we trained together, we would find it immensely diverting." His gaze traveled up and down my body, as a smile curled onto his lips. I didn't want to know what else he found diverting.

  Instead of arguing, he reached into his back pocket and produced a small book. Holding up his hands in surrender, he came closer and offered it to me.

  "This is a book on magical pacts," he said. "All the different kinds, how they're used, who can agree to them. And, most importantly, how to word one so you don't end up agreeing to something you don't want to." He smiled. "I want you to write a pact stipulating that you and I will engage in a sparring match on a regular basis. And because it's a pact, you and I will be magically bound to adhere to whatever safeguards you wish to add to it."

  I opened and closed my mouth, already thinking of a thousand ways this could blow up in my face. "Yeah, and you'll just find a loophole."

  "Then you'd better make it ironclad." He pushed the book into my hand. "Think about it. The only thing I ask is that you and I can spar. The rest of it, including, I presume, that I not try to harm you or your sisters, is up to you."

  I took a step back. Knowing James and the New Salem idiots, there had to be a trick here. But for some reason, I couldn't find one. He was giving me all the power. And sparring, as far as Gavon had explained it, didn't normally result in death.

  "This is…this is just some… You're still trying to kill me, I know you are—"

  He chuckled, and it made the hair on my arms stand up. "Why do you think I'm trying to kill you?"

  "Uh, because you tried to?"

  "That was two years ago. I'm a changed man."

  I laughed. "I'm sure."

  "Listen, Alexis—"

  "Lexie."

  "Fine, whatever. Lexie." He snorted, as if my name were stupid to him. "I am interested in one thing: a sparring partner who can keep up with me." He stopped and arched an eyebrow at me. "And based on the way you've been so eager to get into it with me, I'd wager you need the same thing."

  I wanted to argue, but the words died on my tongue. He was right. Of course, I wanted to protect my sisters from all the crazies in New Salem, but…the promise of getting to fight with a real magical had set my blood on fire. Though the smarter part of my brain knew bargaining with James was bad news, the stupid half of my brain was ecstatic at the idea.

  "I'll think about it," I said finally. That, to me, was a nice compromise between the warring factions in my brain. At the very least, it might force James to show his hand and I could find out what this new strategy was really about.

  "See you at school," he said with a chuckle.

  "Wait a minute," I said. "If you don't have magic, how did you get here?"

  He pulled a small black vial from his pocket. "I know how to make potions." He threw the bottle to the ground and he was gone in a thick black cloud.

  Seven

  There was no way I was ever going to sign a pact with James Riley.

  That was what I repeated to myself every time my thoughts grew too close to doing something moronic.

  The magical pact book sat on the corner of my desk for the rest of the weekend, taunting me. I busied myself with work and volunteering and homework, and even tried reading the charms book I'd bought from the used bookstore. But I couldn't even focus on that—too curious what this pact book had to say.

  There were a thousand and one reasons I should've just tossed the book in the trash and never thought of it again. But for the same reason I hadn't thrown out the magical primer, or anything else Gavon had given me, the pact-making manual remained on the corner of my desk. Regardless of who'd given it to me, it had information I needed.

  Sunday night, I convinced myself there was no harm in just reading the book. After all, my knowledge of pacts was limited to what was in that old magical primer. Since it seemed to be a regular occurrence in the magical world, I decided it wouldn't hurt to know more about the practice. I wouldn't even have to tell James I'd read it, but I could be armed with the knowledge of how to deal with him.

  So, with a mug of tea, I sat down in my bed and cracked it open.

  Magical pacts are agreements between magicals, clans, guilds, and other entities. They use the combined power of the agreeing parties to enforce the agreements set within. A pact can only be broken when both parties agree to break it.

  Caution must be taken when agreeing to a pact. Nefarious intentions have led many a-magical to be bound to outcomes they did not intend. A full and total understanding of the terms and conditions of such a pact should be attained before any signature or blood is passed.

  None of this was new information to me. From what I'd known about magical pacts, they were incredibly powerful—and not easily broken. But I als
o knew that unless they were worded explicitly, they were open to interpretation. It had been such a loophole that had gotten me out of dueling to the death in New Salem. I'd already belonged to a clan, so I couldn't be inducted into Gavon's guild unless I renounced my membership.

  That was the last time I'd sparred with a real person. Magic throbbed at my temples at the thought, whispering convincing arguments. If I did this right, James would be physically restricted from harming me, magically or otherwise. I could prevent him from ever screwing with my family. Or even the world. If he didn't agree to my terms, that just exposed his true intent, which was what I wanted anyway.

  I summoned my notebook, along with a pen, and tapped the top of the pen on the paper. Writing down a few notes didn't mean I would make a pact. But I had some time to kill (and homework I was avoiding), and I was itching to complete this thought exercise.

  So if I were to enter a pact with James (and I promised myself I would not), what would the ground rules be?

  Things I don't want to happen:

  1. To die

  I snorted. That was obvious.

  2. For Nicole or Marie to get hurt.

  I glanced at my phone, wondering if I should text Marie to seek her advice. But that seemed like something better discussed face to face. And she still wasn't answering my texts.

  3. To join Gavon's evil team

  4. To be forced into doing something I don't want to do

  I brought the pen tip to my mouth and chewed on it, deep in thought. There were a few obvious things I could put into the pact up front.

  The undersigned, James Riley, agrees not to induct one, Alexis Carrigan, into the…

  Evil Guild? Evil team?

  I left that blank.

  …in any way shape or form. The undersigned agrees not to harm, maim, harass, or otherwise be horrible to Nicole Carrigan or Marie Carrigan. The undersigned may only use an attack spell in the context of a sparring match, which both have mutually agreed to entering into.

  I sat back and read through what I'd written. It seemed woefully inadequate in my opinion, just a few lines. There were probably a million things I was missing in there. James would probably come up with some loophole that would permanently enslave me to the Guild—or worse.

  I balled up the paper and threw it in the trash, ashamed I was even entertaining such a dangerous notion.

  When I arrived at school the next day, I felt James behind me before I was two steps out of the girl's bathroom. For once, I didn't instinctively try to attack him, because I knew exactly what he wanted.

  "Well?" he drawled when I didn't turn around.

  "Well, what?" I hooked my hands into my backpack and walked briskly toward the door. If I could only make it to the main hall before he caught up with me—

  "Nice try," James said, sprinting beside me. "You can't avoid me forever. Did you even look at the book?" I chewed on the inside of my cheek, and he smirked. "I knew it. You couldn't resist. Well, the book told you everything you needed to know—"

  "Not exactly," I replied. "I still don't believe you're telling the truth about why you want to spar."

  He reached his finger to my chest and hooked it around the silver chain, pulling out the sapphire I now wore every day. "If you don't trust me, trust your own magic."

  I didn't like how close he was, or how my pulse beat against my temples. I released a breath when he let go of the chain.

  "In any case, I'm not lying to you about this. I want to spar, and so do you. So let's just make this easy on ourselves and skip over the unnecessary hysterics. We'll sign a pact, spar once a week, and be done with it."

  With a hearty roll of my eyes, I brushed past him into the main hall. But if I thought the conversation would end there, I was sorely mistaken. He leaned against the locker next to mine as I swapped out my books.

  "C'mon, Ale…Lexie."

  I shot him a dark look. "Calling me by my real name is a long way from buttering me up."

  "Your real name is Alexis, but let's not split hairs."

  I paused, counting to ten so I didn't blast him to the other side of the hall. "I'm not sparring with you. And I'm most assuredly not agreeing to a pact."

  "So you wrote one then?"

  The book I was holding fell out of my hand with a resounding thunk. "How did you know?"

  The truth was, I'd retrieved the balled-up pact from the trash and added to it, only to throw it away again, at least five or six times. I was fairly sure I was losing my mind. After all, James was from New Salem. He'd learned everything from Gavon. I was sure they gave seminars on how to trick unsuspecting idiots into trusting them.

  He quirked a brow. "You just told me. Let me see it."

  "If I show it to you, you won't force me to sign it, will you?" I asked.

  "One of these days, Lexie, you're going to have to trust me."

  With a glare, I summoned the pact from inside my locker. James plucked it out of my hand and read it over, a crease appearing between his brows as he concentrated.

  To ignore the awkward nervousness of him judging my pact-writing abilities, I turned to my locker to rearrange the books. "Tell me this: why are you so eager for me to sign a pact? Why not just meet me, and we'll spar then?"

  To my surprise, a disgusted look flitted across his face. "I can't."

  "Can't or won't?"

  "Can't," he said. "Gavon has forbidden it."

  That was curious. "Gavon is preventing you from sparring with me? Why?"

  "Because you're his precious daughter." He spat the words as if they were poison. When I'd first gone to New Salem, I'd gleaned that James wasn't too pleased about my existence—or that Gavon was mentoring me. Whatever jealousy he'd been harboring obviously hadn't gone away completely.

  "That doesn't mean anything," I said quietly before deciding to change the subject. "What would a pact do, then?"

  "Get around the edict passed by the Guild."

  "Edict? What edict?"

  "No one is allowed to spar or duel with you unless you agree to it yourself. And your sisters are off limits too, as we don't want you coming after the Guild." He snorted. "At least, that's how Gavon worded it. It was signed a week after you were last in New Salem."

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. "W-what?"

  "There is a formal decree signed by the Guildmaster," James began, as if he were talking to a child. "It forbids anyone in the guild from sparring or dueling with you."

  "So that's why Cyrus hasn't come back for me?" I said, my dazed mind churning over this new information. "Because Gavon forbade it?"

  "Yep."

  "And why didn't he forbid it before Cyrus kidnapped me?"

  "Probably because he couldn't get the agreement from the rest of the council to override Cyrus," James said, as if we were discussing the weather. "But once we saw that you're in a clan—well, were," he grinned meanly, "Gavon made a pretty compelling case, and the Council approved it."

  I leaned against my locker, scrambling to recapture the breath that had escaped. Eighteen months I'd lived on the edge of my seat, waiting for another fight to the death with Cyrus. Eighteen months of panicked anticipation, of sleepless nights and tears of frustration. All for nothing. Gavon had dealt with it and, for some stupid reason, decided not to inform me.

  That explained why Cyrus hadn't shown up again, but I couldn't find the relief in that thought. No, the only emotion coursing through my brain was pure, unadulterated rage at Gavon for letting me dangle for so long.

  "And nobody thought to tell me about this particularly helpful bit of information?" I said through clenched teeth.

  James shrugged. "I really can't keep track of what things he has and has not informed you of. And I don't very much care. So this pact—"

  "Forget it," I snapped, knowing if I didn't get away from him, I might fling him into a wall.

  But he blocked my path. "Don't make me beg."

  "You? Beg?" I snorted and moved to the left, which he blocked too. "James, let me g
o."

  "I know you want to do this. So why are you fighting it? It's right there in the pact: I can't induct you into the Guild. I can't harm you. There's no reason you shouldn't want to do this—"

  "Other than Gavon betraying me?" I said.

  He actually looked perplexed. "How? By teaching you magic?"

  I glared at him. "You know what he did."

  "Gavon didn't bring you to New Salem, Cyrus did," James said, matter-of-factly. "Cyrus was the one who forced you into the introduction match. Besides, Gavon and Cyrus have been at each other's throats for almost a quarter century. All of that was just an attempt to usurp Gavon's Guildmastership."

  I couldn't believe my ears. "A-all of that? All of that included the murder of my aunt!"

  The hallway went deathly silent as all eyes turned in our direction. My face warmed and, to my horror, my eyes grew wet. I'd be damned if I cried in front of James or anyone else, so I turned and headed back to the bathroom.

  Unfortunately, James caught up with me. "Look, I'm—"

  "Get away from me," I snarled. "Don't talk to me. I'm not sparring with you. You and that whole group can just…go to hell!"

  I pushed him away and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the stall door behind me and transporting myself back to my bedroom.

  In the silence of my room, I slumped onto my bed and buried my head in my hands. My head was full of conflicts. Anger at Gavon that he'd let me suffer so long, but relief that he'd at least taken a step to protect us. Disgust at James for being so coldhearted, but that nagging feeling in the back of my mind that wanted to spar with him. The angrier I became, the more annoying the itch until my fingers were sparkling with unspent magic.

  I looked down at my fingertips, grateful I could let my magic release without consequence. It made me feel better, like sucking poison from a wound. And left me feeling disgusted at myself for even entertaining the notion of spending time with the people responsible for Jeanie's death.