In public, Stan was less aloof and faster with his calculations of body language and how they equated to emotions. Even though he hid who he was, he played his part strongly, and I could tell the girls feared him right about now. They didn’t say a word to him, and I wasn’t even sure if they knew he could read thoughts.
“Shall we press charges then?” Stan asked me as if he were proposing a stroll in the park.
I forgot that we could do that.
“No,” I said. “But next time, you’ll be in the hospital, and not just kicked out of a pub. Patrons don’t come here to witness meaningless fights. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the three of them said.
“Also, I’m banning you from Seven’s for a year,” Stan added. “Best be on your way.”
The stranger still looked frightened as the girls walked past, Bessie with her hand to her eye. I didn’t think it was bleeding, but her manicured hand did well to cover her small forehead.
“I owe you a drink,” I told the strange girl. “Come back to the bar with us.”
She acquiesced, but when we got back into the crowd she left us before I could ask her name.
“I didn’t call that ambulance,” Stan said to me.
I smiled sideways at him.
“Your timing was wonderful.” I thought of Bessie’s head wound. “Shit, Bessie will be okay, right?”
“Probably. I could have used my new power on her, but why waste it on someone with those intentions?”
Blimey. Stan wasn’t so bad after all, was he?
When I got back to Rose, Stan following me, she had a drink in each hand and was looking rather rosy in the face. Jaime was standing next to her as if to slight me for the conversation we had earlier. I was far from figuring him out, but I was willing to bet he knew that hanging out with Rose would make me cross.
Maddi and Tomas were also engaging in the conversation, standing far away from each other. You could still tell how much they cared for each other by the loving way they held eye contact. Even though people occasionally ordered drinks for Maddi, they knew not to get in the way of her and Tomas. People seldom approached her while her handsome, curly-haired boyfriend was standing protectively near her.
“Okay,” Rose said to Stan in an acquiescent manner as we walked over, though you could tell she was off-put. He must have said something to her telepathically.
“Enjoying yourself?” I asked her.
“Very much,” Rose said with a slight slur.
Jaime had turned away again after saying goodbye to Rose, hopefully this time to find Esper, whom I didn’t see anywhere. I smiled at the fact that I drove him away yet again, but only in case he looked back at me. He didn’t.
Rose took another a sip of her drink—the one in her left hand.
“I said that might be enough,” Stan told her casually.
“I’m fine.” She smiled and a laugh nearly escaped her.
“I have experience with these things,” Stan said. And then he took her drinks straight from her hands, one half-gone and the other with a quarter of the drink left in it, and drank them himself.
“You never drink,” Tomas said to Stan.
“That’s because I have a high tolerance and it doesn’t affect me,” Stan said.
“Are you crazy, Stan?” Rose asked. “My saliva is poison. You’re going to get sick.”
“I’m sure the copious amounts of alcohol in those double shots killed the properties. I feel fine.”
But Rose didn’t. She swayed in her shoes a moment.
“It’s time to go, Avereis,” Stan said. “Laurence?”
I nodded. I had inadvertently caused enough trouble tonight anyway. Rose probably got drunk because I begged her to wait to go to the bar until I was eighteen and could drink too and missed a whole summer of starting slowly. And also: house arrest.
“Let’s go, love,” I told Rose.
This was certainly a reversal of roles.
Stan left with me and Rose. Now, he wasn’t only her mentor, he was a babysitter, and he didn’t look pleased about it.
“What’s gotten into you?” I asked her, hoping that she would give an honest answer.
“I just got a little carried away,” she said. “I accepted drinks. I didn’t want to be rude.”
“Oh, Rose,” I said. I knew Jaime had given her at least two.
“Avereis is her name,” Stan said sternly.
“‘Oh, Avereis’ doesn’t have the same ring,” I teased. “But I’ll try and mind my manners. She’s eighteen, give her a break.”
“She’s a witch. In the Coven,” Stan said with an acidic tone, and he didn’t utter another word that night.
I helped Rose to her room, dumping her into her bed.
“Thanks for getting me back.”
“Sweet dreams,” I said.
I shut the door behind me.
Never in a million years did I think I’d be the one having to take care of her. As for her mess and trouble with Stan... She’d have to fix it herself, and he was none too thrilled about it. I knew I wouldn’t want Hades on my bad side.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Hangover
Rose
The only thing that could wake me the next morning was an insistent knock at my door, and to Coven witches, the morning was around noon. I woke from a dead sleep, ripped from a dream I lost the second my eyes flickered open.
“Hel-Laurence?” I groaned, my voice muffling into my pillow. I was lying on my stomach when I usually woke up sleeping on my back.
My head did not feel good at all and I was more thankful than ever for blackout curtains. I could feel a damp layer of sweat covering the neckline of my hair, no doubt turning it blue, shifting uncomfortably within the layers of blankets I had effortlessly fallen asleep in.
“Stan,” said a muffled voice through my door. “Get ready. Meet me in the living room.”
The living room? I thought.
YES.
I grimaced at the booming voice in my head. I didn’t want him to use his telepathy so early.
I knew I shouldn’t waste any time, so I brushed my teeth and showered quickly, found clean clothes and headed downstairs, blue hair in a knob on the top of my head. I passed my pointed finger under both of my watery eyes quickly to collect a few tears from my yawn. As soon as I walked down the stairs, Stan was waiting in the living room as promised, darkening the jewel-toned room like a winter storm riding on the cusp of the evening.
“There’s no empath cure for a hangover is there?” Stan asked me. “Only for alertness and tiredness while you’re drinking?”
“No there is not,” I said. “This isn’t something that usually happens—that I usually do.”
“That’s why it won’t happen again,” he said. “Sit.”
I thought he had motioned to the piano.
“I don’t play,” I explained.
“You’ll play the melody, the higher keys,” Stan said. “Go on.”
I sat at the bench, near the higher keys on the right, knowing better than to make a joke about the duet.
“Do you hear this?” he asked, pressing his hands down on three notes at once, sitting next to me on the left. My left arm nearly brushed his. This was a first.
“Yes. It’s very loud, Stan,” I said, as my head throbbed worse.
“This chord pattern,” he played three chords in a row, “is like the city.”
“The city might make me vomit,” I said.
“You hear it, but do you feel it?”
“In my feet, yes,” I said. The sound reverberated through my body.
“This,” he instructed, playing the chords in a pattern and then reaching over my hands to show me a melody, a series of high notes. “Play it.”
I played it lethargically and out of time, and maybe I missed a note.
“No,” Stan said, but with patience.
“This.” He demonstrated it again, and I quickly repeated it.
“Now play it at
the right time.”
He went back to the lower notes, and I tried to remember when to play the higher pattern.
“No,” he said. He stopped his left hand. Blessed silence. “Begin again, after me.”
“I need water, to drink it.”
“No,” he repeated. “Begin again, after me.”
He started to play the chords again, and this time I remembered where the melody went. My mouth was cottony, and the cinnamon in my toothpaste didn’t stick around as long as I hoped it would.
He kept playing the same thing over and over again, and I followed.
“These notes are the city,” he said playing, “and those ones, in the higher register, are you. You have to work with the foundation, and what’s already been set into motion. If you are not clear-headed, and you are not ready,” without even looking, he reached his right hand over to stop mine from playing but kept his chords steady. I let my hand relax under his warm palm, submitting to the important lesson he was trying to teach me. “Then there is no you.”
He stopped playing and pulled his hands toward the cover of the piano, and I just barely got mine out of the way before he shut the lid with a bang.
“And then there is no Coven, and then there is no London. This is what our lives would be without you.”
There wasn’t anything I could say.
“R—Avereis, there is no reason for you to drink beyond comprehension and put us all at risk. Something could happen at any time. You need to be ready. And you look horrible.”
“Noted,” I said.
“You need water?” he asked.
“Yes, please.”
“Too bad. I’ll follow you out to the courtyard.”
I passed Helaine and Onyx in the kitchen.
“Stan okay?” she mouthed to me.
“Yes, but I’m not. Help,” I mouthed back.
At the back door, Stan gave Helaine a glare, staring her down through the glass pane before shutting the door behind me. I needed to remember that he could hear every directed thought we had, but it slipped my mind to make a place for the hangover.
“Make fire,” Stan instructed.
I stepped onto the cool grass to channel earth as the hidden text had instructed. The areas of my body that passion ignited were far too close to my stomach for pulling from emotions to be a good idea. Pulling energy from my feet, however, kept me balanced.
I put out my right palm, and instantly, fire hovered above it, illuminating my hand in an azure glow. The Coven didn’t use wands. We were training to become elemental Mages who commanded the elements with the motions of our arms, hands, and minds. The flames were blue -hot and I could only leave the fiery orb close to my skin for a second. I wasn’t fireproof yet.
“Extinguish it,” he said.
I closed my hand and the fire disappeared.
“Do that again,” Stan instructed.
I did as he asked, making fire in my right hand, and then closing my left hand, summoning ice to snuff out the flame.
“You’re using ice to extinguish it,” Stan said. “You’re a witch here, not a Changeling. The audience was impressed by your blue fire, but you can’t make orange fire, can you?”
“What does color matter? Blue is hotter anyway,” I said.
“You won’t be able to practice for long with a fire that uncontrolled, that hot. We should get you gloves.”
“I only wear gloves in winter, not combat,” I said. “They get in the way.”
“You could catch fire.”
“I’ll put it out with ice,” I said seriously.
“Ice is an advanced water skill,” Stan said. “You would have done great as water.”
“But then Helaine wouldn’t have gotten in. You know that.” I sighed. “You win, let’s go shopping for gloves. After what happened to Helaine at the bar last night, I know that I shouldn’t go alone.”
“Don’t go out looking like that,” Stan reminded me, “not to be mean—as the look on your face suggests—but everyone will want your picture. It’s best if you don’t look as hungover as you actually are.”
I hadn’t been to Block Thirteen in over four months, and I wanted to get my family presents for our annual Christmas extravaganza. After I had added some curl to my hair and applied natural-looking makeup, I found my impatient mentor in the kitchen drinking coffee. I filled up a water bottle to take with, and Stan didn’t say anything about it.
Stan had touched me. It was just his hand, but it still meant that I was in deep trouble. I knew that I didn’t understand the full gravity of it.
Stepping out into the colder air did wonders for my headache. The air had been getting colder since we did our Samhain ritual, but weather forecasters suspected we’d have a mild winter.
We walked up the enclosed staircase and ascended on the promenade. The UV tinted skylights on the exterior wall of our indoor mall reminded me of the conservatory. Despite having been stuck in the mews house, I still loved living there to pieces. Aunt Kalista’s clothing store was only a few shops down.
Kalista had other designers in her store, but I was always excited to wear something that was designed explicitly by her. Some of my clothing was flame retardant, but I figured I had better switch my entire wardrobe out.
There was a new collection of women’s clothing displayed at the front of the store, and I recognized the look of it at once. A store associate greeted me right away, closing the gap between the register and the front door. The warehouse in the back was larger than the storefront. Most people did their shopping online. Still, three more women were browsing designs inside the shop.
“Is this a Kalista design?” I asked, eyes wide with excitement. My hand brushed the soft leather of the purple jacket. It was lightweight but I didn’t need a whole lot of warmth. However, lately when my powers were out of balance, my temperature seemed to be erratic and I found myself getting colder than I had before. I knew I should start dressing in layers.
“Yes,” The nearest store associate said. “The line just launched last week.”
“And I missed it?”
She chuckled. She had stark black hair and was in her mid-fifties, wearing a white pants suit. The designs here were pricier than other stores on the block, and now that I was an adult, I knew I should stop shopping in the teenaged stores. Flame retardant clothing had a lot to do with it.
“We do put out a fashion magazine quarterly. I can add you to the mailing list.”
“That would be wonderful, because I am in the market for flame-retardant clothing,” from jackets to underwear. “How much for a subscription?”
“The Fire witch Rose Avereis gets put on the list free of charge,” she said.
“You don’t have to do that,” I told her. “And please, let me pay for the jacket. I want to support Kalista. She’s a family friend.”
“Okay, but don’t be alarmed if we send you a free sample now and again.”
“No complaints there,” I told her.
“If you endorse us then we get very busy here, and everything pays for itself.”
“That didn’t occur to me,” I said. “Thank you for your kindness. I’ll be wearing my purchases out then.”
Her face lit up as I turned to the dressing room, grabbing some more clothes on the way. I picked out a navy blue jacket for Helaine, but didn’t know if I should get the other Coven members presents. The other shoppers watched me with intrigued, silent stares, but when I smiled, they smiled back.
How hadn’t I noticed until now that I had become a celebrity? It was kind of apparent last night while I was making new friends and drinking more than I could handle, but now people care what I did, even if it was something as simple as shopping. Would it be that easy for me to be an initiate? Possibly… especially when Helaine was taking the heat for being the least liked as the President’s daughter.
I chose a light blue sweater that reached just past my thighs. It had a flirty off-the shoulder design that I paired with Navy blue leggings.
My boots were also suede blue, and they were my favorite find from today.
“Are you ready to go?” Stan complained. He was sitting on one of the fixtures, but the associate wouldn’t dare correct him.
“Yes,” I said, glancing back into the mirror, growing even more distracted by my new initiate status.
“Didn’t you need underwear?” Stan blurted out, plain as day.
My face blanched before turning the color of my name. I sincerely hoped that Stan didn’t know something about my elemental powers that I didn’t. I might have drowned warrior Rose in all those drinks last night, but I knew I would have him choking on his coffee again in no time.
“I might as well while I’m here…” I said to him.
On our way home, I figured I should ask the question I had neglected to yesterday. I ran out of time in between drinking and Helaine’s unfortunate confrontation. Of course, I couldn’t ask without something sarcastic spurting out of my mouth first.
“Congratulations,” I said.
“For what?”
“On your new power. The one you never told me about.”
“Oh that. I shouldn’t even have to use it.”
Stan was infuriating me even more than my pounding headache—or even the phrase “Billie Joel Armstrong”. Once again, I had to spell something out for him.
“I wasn’t aware that I was a trial. Did it slip your mind to tell me?”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” Stan said in defense. “Initiates nearly always make it to initiation. You did.”
I huffed at him on accident, but it wasn’t like that meant anything to him either.
“So what about my powers growing now that I’m an initiate?” I asked him with a spiteful tone.
“Your fire will most likely connect to a sense, but you might not notice straight away. When that happens, you’ll know that fire chose you.”
“Everything seems normal.” I shrugged. “Where to next?”
Stan groaned again, and even though I was sure I’d be fine on my own, he insisted on going with me to pick out my family’s presents. He did most of his shopping online, which seemed pretty typical of him.
People walking by didn’t notice me as well as shopkeepers did, but they didn’t hate me either, not like they did Helaine. If I kept my head low now, they’d be on their way to liking me when I was inducted.
Death's Primordial Kiss (The Silvered Moon Diaries Book 1) Page 21