by A. E. Lowan
Winter fought for her own calm. She was just as frustrated with the situation as Jessie, and even more powerless to change it. “I know this is hard on you, sweetie, but you have to go to school. I don’t want you declared truant.”
“I could go to Seahaven Arts if I were homeless.”
Winter’s eyebrows shot up as Jessie dropped that conversation bomb. “Pardon?”
Jessie turned back to face her. “I talked to the district enrollment office. I can present as an unaccompanied student if I’m homeless and escaping a bad home situation.”
“A runaway?”
Jessie nodded.
Winter shook her head. “Oh no, honey, we are not talking about you becoming homeless just so you can change schools.”
The teenager shrugged. “Why not? I spend half my time couch surfing anyway. If I’m not here, I’m elsewhere avoiding my psycho ‘rents.” The main reason Jessie had a key to the store was because she sometimes slept in the upstairs apartment to escape her parents’ drunken tirades. It was simply furnished and empty, Winter not having the time or inclination to deal with renters. Winter also did not have the time or inclination to deal with Jessie’s parents, who had developed a hatred of Winter over the years, so the apartment was a secret and Jessie tried to use it as little as she could. At least until Jessie turned eighteen and would legally be her own person.
“Because living here counts as a residence, and I won’t let you couch surf full time. It’s not safe.” Fear filled Winter’s belly. She should drag Jessie back out to the front of the store and have her ask Brian about exactly how dangerous living homeless could be for a teen, but not only would that be callous to Brian’s memories of what she was sure was a bad past, if Brian had not already told Jessie about it then it was not her place to make him. So, she skated past it all together. “And if you’re not in school full time you can be arrested for truancy. Jessie, if they put you in foster care or detention, I may not see you again until you turn eighteen.”
“Well, if they did that, then you can pull your magic strings and I could move in with you.”
Winter gave the girl a sad smile. “If only I could,” she said softly. She had that kind of power, but they both knew why Jessie could not stay at Mulcahy House.
Jessie nodded. “Yeah,” she said, just as softly. “Me, too. That was dumb.”
“There is never anything dumb about wishing.”
“All I ever wanted to be was an artist.”
“Then an artist is what you are. Jessie, you’re the most talented illustrator I know, and you know how much Katherine loves the character portraits you draw for her books. Whether or not you go to an arts school has no bearing on that. I believe in you, and so does she.”
Jessie’s eyes burned with a hopeful light. “Really?”
“Oh, yes.” Winter shifted towards the beaded curtain. “Do you want to go get us some breakfast? If you’re here, you may as well stay the day.”
A smile blossomed on Jessie’s face.
Winter held up a stern finger. “But, school on Monday. I’m going to have a phone message from your parents at some point this weekend to look forward to. I’d just as soon not have two within a week.”
Jessie passed through the beaded curtain and picked up the bank bag from beside the register. “And,” she added, “I’ll go drop this off with Muriel so she can do the book-keeping.”
Winter gave her a grateful little smile. “When did you pick up mind reading as a talent, young lady?” she asked quietly.
Jessie rolled her eyes again and snorted. “Yeah, like I need to add that to blowing random stuff up.” Jessie was not so quiet.
Winter widened her eyes slightly in warning and glanced pointedly at Brian, who was sweeping over near the shop door.
Jessie blushed and lowered her voice. “He’s gonna find out some time, you know. How can he not, living in the Historical District?”
Winter had to give her apprentice that. He lived at Otherworld Books, directly across the street from this store and a building full of vampires, and he and Jessie were text-all-the-time close. Winter hoped that they would start dating someday. Jessie was sixteen years-old, she should be dating, not living like a hopeless nun like Winter. But on the other hand, both teens were fated to do great things in their lives and Winter worried about the burden that such fates could bring. Brian had been born more different than he could ever dream of, and it worried Winter even as she readied quietly for his future. And Jessie St. James was a wizard.
But not the usual sort.
“He’ll find out someday, but today is not that day,” said Winter, firmly closing the book on that. Jessie did not know it, but someday, hopefully far, far in the future, they would all see the quality of Brian MacDowell.
Jessie crossed her arms with characteristic stubbornness, but kept quiet. Winter had sympathy. It was not easy, being so gifted but not able to tell the people you were closest to your secret. Winter had grown up with that secret, too. But she had had family to support her. “Do your parents suspect you’re here?” The very thought made her mentally cringe.
Jessie snorted hard, blowing a long lock of straight hair off her face. “Hello, it’s Friday morning. They’re probably still drunk from last night.”
Winter nodded. It could be Tuesday morning, and they would still be drunk, but Winter did not say it out loud. She let Jessie vent her frustrations, but did not participate in disparaging her parents – at least outside her own head. “Did you sleep here last night?”
Jessie shook her head, looking up toward the little apartment a little wistfully. “Naw. I stayed somewhere else last night… but I may come back here tonight, depending. If they noticed I was gone, probably not.” As often as they failed to notice their only child’s absences, Jessie’s parents got very upset when they came enough out of their alcoholic fog long enough to take note. Winter never knew if it was out of concern, or a desire to control. Jessie gave a philosophical little shrug. “We’ll see.”
Winter wanted to hold her, to give her the affection that was so lacking in her life. She always had. But, ever since Winter caught a twelve-year-old Jessie using magic to shoplift in her store, Jessie had shown distinct discomfort with being hugged or even complimented. Besides, Winter wasn’t sure who she was seeking to comfort, Jessie or herself. So, Winter simply nodded, accepting Jessie as she was, and took another long swallow of her frappe.
Jessie looked at Winter, her face becoming serious, and lowered her voice. “Look, we need to talk…”
Movement stirred in the corner of Winter’s eyes, and she turned her head to see Brian making his way back to them. She held up a long-fingered hand to quiet her apprentice.
Brian wandered close, his dustpan full, Justin’s legs kicking idly at his sides. Winter gave him a small smile. “How is your mother doing, Brian?” It had been a few weeks since she had touched base with the MacDowell family, technically her distant cousins. It had been the settler Thomas MacDowell that Aideen Laughing Waters, Ethne’s sister, had chosen as husband.
Brian dumped his pan into the trash. Unlike Winter, Brian’s smile always went to his eyes. She remembered a time, when they were both much younger, when it had not. “Norah’s pretty good, actually. Her depression is lifting a little bit every day, and she’s taken over a few more of her old chores at the bookstore.” His smile broadened, showing straight white teeth against terracotta skin. “I told her to take it easy, and she told me that she’s spent the last year ‘taking it easy.’”
Justin held out his toy to Winter, and she gave his little wet hand a squeeze. Norah MacDowell, Brian’s adopted mother, had lost her husband over a year before to a workplace shooting. Winter often found herself wondering if violently was the only way people died in Seahaven. Jake had been a good man, well liked in the Historical District. Norah had been destroyed and after the funeral fell into a severe depression, often refusing to come out of her bedroom for weeks at a stretch. Even with the help of his neighbo
rs in the Historical District, Brian had been forced to step into the role of single father and provider to his mother and little brother, running the store and taking care of them both. It was a secret kept by the entire community, for fear that the boys would be taken from their mother’s custody. But even though it caused him to fall behind on his home-school studies and put off college for a while, Brian bore the burden gracefully and without complaint, holding to the faith that Norah would recover. And a couple months ago that recovery had begun.
It gave Winter some small hope for her father. If only she could find a way to get his medications into him.
Brian’s phone gave a discrete buzz, a far cry from the range of obnoxious noises that regularly rang from Jessie’s, and he dug it out of his pocket. “It’s Norah,” he said, looking at the text screen, and his thick brows rose slightly. “She made breakfast from scratch,” he said in pleased surprise, and with Norah’s reputation for cooking from boxes it was a surprise indeed. “We’ve got to get going… do you want me back later?”
Winter gave him a grateful smile. It almost reached her eyes. But, Brian did bring that out in people. “No, you’ve done so much already. Thank you.”
Jessie walked Brian to the door and let him out, locking it behind him. They would not officially open until ten. She turned away, missing Brian’s gaze linger over her before he, too, turned away and headed across the cobble-paved, pedestrian-only street to the bookstore. Winter watched him, feeling a little sad for him. He was eighteen and Jessie just sixteen. Two years was a long time to wait when you are young, but it seemed to be what he wanted to do.
Winter gave her head a little shake. When had she gotten so old?
“Earth to Winter.”
Winter turned her attention back to Jessie, who was standing before her with her hands on her hips. “What?”
“We need to talk.” Jessie leaned forward, determination etched into her young face.
Winter took a last drink of her coffee and set it down. This could not be good. Jessie had her bulldog look. She sat on the stool behind the register and gave her apprentice her full attention. “Okay. What do we need to talk about?”
Jessie took a second to gather her words. Her brown eyes softened, and she said, “Look, I miss your family, too. I’ve known you for four years, and I’ve watched them die all around us. And when Kelley and Martina died in April you got left all alone. You need help.”
Winter shook her head. “I’m okay, sweetie. I can handle it.”
Jessie shook her head. “No, you can’t! I know how sick your dad is, even if you won’t let me come out to the house anymore. I used to be out there all the time, I saw how he was before and I know he’s got to be worse by now.” She paced away, and paced back, her agitation building. “People talk to me, you know. They remember when this town was full of Mulcahy wizards, and now it’s just you two.”
Winter slid off the stool and headed into the back room. “I can handle it, Jessie. You have other things to worry about.” She should have seen this coming. Jessie was passionate and loyal. And young. Very young.
Jessie followed her, relentless as a terrier. “What ‘other things?’ School? My psycho parents? How about the city burning down around our ears?” She waved her hand at the map taking up one wall of the back room. “Don’t think I don’t know what that’s all about. The factions are going ape-shit…”
“Language.”
Jessie blew her off. “…and they’re all leaning on you to make it right. It’s not fair!”
Winter turned to her. “It’s the way it’s always been. The wizards keep the balance, so everyone else in Seahaven can live in peace.”
“Erik says that’s not the way it was supposed to be.”
Winter’s eyes narrowed. “When have you been talking to the Vampire King?” Behind her back, none-the-less.
Jessie paused, then gathered her courage and forged ahead. “We talk. He’s got my number. Winter, he’s worried about you. We’re all worried about you. The vampires, more than anybody, but yeah, all the groups are worried about you. They’re not blind, and they’re not stupid. You give everybody the ‘I’m fine’ line, but we can all see the strain.” She took a breath. “Erik says that the city was supposed to be run by a coalition of the preternatural groups, that that was what he and Mahon talked about before he went back east to gather settlers. And then Mahon pulled his little land-grab and homesteaded or purchased most of the land here while Erik was away.”
“That’s not the whole story…” Winter began, a little uncomfortable.
“Erik was there. He remembers how it went down.”
Winter did not respond. Yes, Mahon had gone behind Erik’s back to acquire the land around what would become Seahaven. But he did it to secure peace. The preternatural groups needed someone to lead, to maintain the balance of power, and Erik was not willing to do that. Erik had never complained before. Ok, she had to be honest – had never complained that she knew of. He wouldn’t have complained to her. He’d changed her diapers and still saw her in pigtails.
A small voice in her head reminded her that the city had never been so close to chaos, either. Maybe he’d never had reason before to complain.
Jessie shook her hand to wave her own words away. “But that’s beside the point. The point is you’re getting thin, and sick, and you need help.”
Winter opened her mouth to object, and Jessie scowled at her until she shut it again. She drew a quick glyph on her palm with her finger and summoned a six-inch ball of fire to her hand. “Look,” she said, her eyes on the fire. “It’s stable.” She passed it from hand to hand, and then rolled it over her knuckles to her palm again.
Winter watched with her. Just six months ago, Jessie would have been able to summon the fire, but was barely able to control it. It could explode or fizzle out as Jessie struggled with it. No matter how often Martina had worked with her, it was one of Jessie’s most difficult spells. Now it sat tamely in Jessie’s hand, putting out heat and light as hypnotic patterns danced through it in yellows and oranges, just waiting for Jessie’s will as it reflected those patterns on her glasses. But how? Winter pulled her gaze from the fireball and caught her apprentice’s eyes. “Have you been practicing magic at home?” she asked with dawning apprehension.
Jessie shook her head in denial, closing her hand and extinguishing the ball. “Of course not!” She paused, smooshed her lips a little, and added, “I’ve been practicing at the Theatre.”
Winter closed her eyes in a combination of relief and annoyance. Of course. With the vampires. The Seahaven Opera House was the biggest building in the Historical District, and one of the oldest, housing Erik’s entire court. “Jessie…”
“I can’t do magic like you do it, and since Kelley and Martina are gone there isn’t anyone to teach me magic my way. I can’t come over to your house to use the Casting Tower anymore, so I need to practice somewhere…” It all tumbled out in a nervous rush, making Winter wonder exactly how long Jessie had been doing this. How long she had been saving up those words.
Winter held out both her hands. “Please stop interrupting me. I was going to say, that’s a very good idea. Just don’t burn Erik’s Theatre down. He likes it.”
Jessie blinked, and smiled. “Really?”
Winter rubbed her tired eyes and stifled a yawn. “Yes, really. The vampires have watched little wizards learn for over a century. I don’t think you could be in better hands.” And it was true – without access to the Casting Tower at Mulcahy House, Jessie had precious few places to practice what Kelley and Martina had taught her before they died.
Jessie screwed her face up at the mention of “little wizards,” but continued to plow ahead with her argument. “So, my control has really improved… I can help you!”
Winter’s face closed down, and she turned away again. “No.”
“But Winter…”
“Under no circumstances. Did Erik give you this idea?” She would have words with the Vamp
ire King, “Uncle” Erik or no…
“No, this is all me. Why not?”
Because she didn’t want her to die, too! Fear danced through her eyes, but Winter kept her face turned away from her apprentice – really more Kelley and Martina’s apprentice, but as they were barely out of girlhood themselves, only twenty when they died… Dammit! “You’re too young. It’s out of the question.”
“Winter…”
“No,” she repeated, putting a little resonant Command in her voice to close the book. It would have little effect on Jessie – it was not a compulsion, after all, and she could not do those, anyway – but it would hopefully serve for emphasis.
She could hear Jessie breathing behind her, getting control over her frustration. “Fine,” she said at length. “But if you won’t let me help, at least get other wizards to come to the city.”
Winter’s eyes widened with horror at the thought. She shook her head. That was the one thing she could never, ever do. Not if she wanted to keep Jessie safe. “No.”
She heard Jessie mutter, “Oh for fuck’s sake,” under her breath. “You need somebody, Winter. Why not?”
How could she tell her? The Mulcahys were the only wizards Jessie had ever met. Her family, iconoclasts that they were, welcomed and accepted Jessie with open arms. Other wizards would not. Jessie had been born to human parents, and to the Bloodlines that was a crime.
Before it had always seemed like one of those issues that could be addressed later. Jessie was young, maybe when she got older… but here she was getting older, and it was up to Winter to explain to her that she was called a “sport” by other wizards, who considered the very fact of her birth to be a threat to their pure lines of descent. As if it was her fault that, once upon a time, some wizard had not been too picky about his lovers and had left a child behind to carry magic into the world. It happened all the time, it was just that wizards refused to acknowledge their fault in it. Instead, whenever a sport was found, they were either forcibly sterilized and taken into the “refuge” of a House as an indentured servant, or killed outright. It was a tradition practiced over centuries to protect the sanctity of the Bloodlines.