by W. J. May
“You want to fall?”
She hesitated, thrown off balance. Usually, her parents would stop the conversation before it got this far. She’d yet to script her answers for whatever was coming next.
“...no,” she admitted after a long pause. “But I want to know how it feels.”
A guilty flush spread across her cheeks just at saying the words out loud, but there was no judgement in Gabriel’s eyes. He sat there calmly, letting her work it out.
“Sometimes I feel like... like everything’s already happened,” she blurted. “Like we’re all training for this fight that’s already over. Not that we really get to train. We can’t even be agents.” She picked at a hole in the mat, trapped in the intensity of those green eyes. “And I know that’s a good thing,” she added quickly. “It’s better that people aren’t fighting, it’s better that everyone’s safe. It’s just... how can I know where I stand if I never get to try? How do I make my mark on this place, if you guys have already finished everything?”
The words hung in between them before dissipating in the air.
“I don’t want to fall,” she concluded quietly. “But I don’t want to just stand there either.”
Neither of them said anything for a long time. They simply sat there in the middle of the mats as a dozen fantastical fights raged on around them. Most people said that Julian was the best listener. Aria didn’t disagree. But sometimes she thought Gabriel was just as good.
Then there was a buzzing in his pocket and he glanced down at his phone.
“Come on,” he said softly, offering her a hand up, “your mom’s waiting outside.”
She followed along obediently, gathering up her things, but no sooner had she slipped her arms into the sweater than Gabriel was standing in front of her once more.
“You want to know how it feels?”
Without a word of warning, he thrust his palm into her chest—sending her crashing back to the mats. This time, he didn’t catch her. This time, he didn’t help her up.
“It hurts, Arie.”
She was winded, but not harmed. He was serious, but not upset. The two of them stared at each other for a moment before he started rewrapping his knuckles to begin training for real.
“Enjoy this time.” He flashed a smile, but his eyes were sad. “It won’t last forever.”
ARIA’S HEAD WAS STILL spinning as she raced out of the Oratory and into the sun. Usually, when she was lucky enough to snag a sparring session with one of the adults it calmed her, centered her, let her think more clearly than whatever had been troubling her before. But this was different.
Whatever had just happened on those training mats...it was something new.
Ouch.
She rubbed absentmindedly at her collarbone, lost in thought, absentmindedly marveling at her uncle’s strength. She wondered what he’d meant by it won’t last forever. Was he talking about her exclusion thus far from the proceedings, or the peace he and the others had worked so hard to build?
If it was her exclusion, that didn’t seem likely. Not only would both her parents have to sign off on a formal recruitment offer, but her grandfather would have to sign it as well. A man who was roughly as protective as a recently-hibernated bear. It would be years before she got that coveted letter, if she was fortunate enough to get it at all.
But if he was talking about the peace...that might make some sense.
These things came in waves, that’s something her father told her. They’d thought things were over after Cromfield, but they were wrong. They’d thought things were over after they’d hunted down the remainder of his cronies, but they were wrong. They weren’t naïve enough to think things might be over after Vivian, but by some miracle the peace had held.
There were still rogue operatives, there were still hostile governments, there were still random threats. Nothing serious. Nothing coordinated. Nothing anywhere close to the scale of what had happened before. But these things came in waves. One could argue they were due.
“Hey, Arie! Heard you took a hammer to Ollie’s face. Broke half his bones!”
She lifted her eyes quickly as a trio of sophomore gave her an excited wave. No use at this point correcting them. The Guilder rumor mill would have its way with the story. She could try salvaging whatever remained of the truth when it was done.
Besides, there are worse things than attacking some perv with a hammer...
She stopped in her tracks, staring at the parking lot.
...like telling my mom.
Rae Kerrigan hadn’t come all the way from Bulgaria, she’d been tracking a drug cartel in France, but still managed to get home in time to pick up her children from school. It was a miracle she’d even made it through customs herself given how much exploded cocaine had landed in her dark hair. A single glance in the mirror and it looked like she’d aged thirty years.
“Hey, sweetie—get in!”
She waved cheerfully through the window, James already waiting in the back seat. Aria was about to take a step towards them, when a sudden commotion caught her eye.
There was a new car in the faculty lot, one she’d never seen before. The trunk was open and what looked like five cartons of books had spilled outside. A tall, youthful man was standing above them, wringing his hands. For a moment it looked like he was about to retrieve them, then he slammed the trunk in exasperation and sent a violent profanity ringing into the sky.
Aria lifted her eyebrows, fighting back a smile.
A quick glance around told her that no one else had witnessed the little explosion, but never in her life had she heard a teacher speak in such a way. It was nothing short of delightful, if a little embarrassing to have seen. But before she could turn away, he lifted his eyes and looked right at her.
Time stopped. Now it was he who was embarrassed. A rush of color darkened his cheeks as he lifted his hand in a comical wave. She was about to wave back, when a horn honked in the lot.
“Aria, let’s go.”
After flashing a tight smile she hurried to the car, forgetting the entire event the second she saw the premature grey streaking her mother’s hair.
“What happened to you?” She lifted her hand to pat it before Rae could stop her, coughing on the little cloud of dust that escaped. “Were you baking or something?”
Rae froze in horror, then grabbed her daughter’s wrist—conjuring a wipe at the same time.
“Let’s just get you guys home.” She tore out of the lot, letting her long tresses flow out the open window. “Before you both get a contact high...”
Chapter 3
“You have three seconds, then I’m setting the house on fire!”
Aria stiffened nervously as her father’s voice echoed up the stairs, but her mother continued staring calmly into the mirror—dabbing the corners of her lipstick.
“Don’t worry, honey. He always says that.” She spritzed a cloud of perfume, then held up her hair. “Can you zip me up?”
Aria flashed a grin and used her uncle’s power to slide the metal zipper up the last few inches of dress. The attire for a teenager’s birthday party wasn’t exactly formal (much to her Aunt Molly’s dismay), but it had been a while since the family had been under the same roof. And she and her mother had spent the afternoon conjuring and discarding clothes to their heart’s content.
What they’d finally selected was simple but stylish.
Aria had settled on dark fitted pants with a turquoise silk halter that tied in a ribbon around the neck and was suspiciously missing a back. While Rae had opted for a cocktail dress that fit like a glove and was sure to assuage her husband’s rage.
“You’re going to wear a sweater over that,” Rae cautioned, watching as her daughter turned back and forth in front of the mirror. “Or your father might make good on the threat.”
Aria rolled her eyes but grabbed a cardigan from the top of the pile. The rest was going to a local thrift shop that believed them to be the most generous and wasteful people in the w
orld.
“Why would Dad care if it’s backless? It’s just family there tonight.”
It seemed the appropriate response. A few days ago, she would have even meant it. But now, she found herself suddenly wondering why she’d picked such a flashy top to begin with.
Rae flashed her a quick look, then suppressed a smile. “How was Jason’s backpacking trip?”
An innocent enough question, with the world’s most suspicious timing. Aria slipped against the door- frame she’d been leaning on, flushing a thousand shades of red.
“What do you mean?”
Rae met her gaze in the mirror, eyes twinkling with that secret smile. “I mean...how was his trip?” She picked up her purse, pausing to check her lipstick one final time as Devon ranted and raged downstairs. “He was gone the whole summer. With Gabriel. I’m sure he has some great stories. It’s a miracle both of them made it back in one piece.”
It was a good point. Furthermore, Aria had heard all of her friends ask Jason the exact same thing the second they saw him. But for whatever reason, she hadn’t asked about his trip. Truth be told, the two of them had barely spoken since he got back.
“I don’t know,” she said briskly, moving suddenly to the door. “You should ask him. And we should get downstairs,” she added before her mother could say anything. “Dad’s going to stroke.”
Rae shook her head with a smile, then took her daughter by the arm. “First lesson, honey...never give him the satisfaction.”
A FEW SECONDS LATER, the entire family was standing on the Deckers’ front porch. It was a united front—just the four of them. Granted, they hadn’t exactly arrived together.
“You teleported,” Devon cursed in disbelief, smoothing the front of his shirt while shooting his wife an icy glare. “I’d been waiting by the door for half an hour, so of course you teleported.”
She reached forward to ring the bell. “Honey, I didn’t want to be late.”
James and Aria exchanged a quick grin as their parents launched into one of their famous hushed arguments—the kind that usually ended with acrobatics and sparks.
They were just getting warmed up, when suddenly the spotlight took a different turn.
“What are you wearing?”
At first, Aria thought her dad was talking to her mom. That the power of the dress had taken hold and he was about to admit defeat. Then she saw him looking her way.
...crap.
“Nothing,” she said innocently, pulling the cardigan tighter. Usually, she was able to keep it together. But tonight she panicked and broke down. “Mom conjured it.”
“Hey!” Rae cried with a look of betrayal. “I also told her to wear a sweater.”
“Which I’m wearing,” she insisted, shaking the sleeves in her father’s direction. “See?”
James knocked again on the door, whistling nervously under his breath.
“Why did you conjure it for her in the first place?” Devon asked accusingly, staring at a daughter who suddenly looked entirely too grown up. “How is it even staying on—”
“Don’t give her a hard time about the top,” Rae warned, shooting him a pointed look he didn’t understand. “She can wear it if she wants. With the sweater.”
“What’s so weird about your top?” James asked curiously.
“Nothing,” Aria snapped, staring towards the heavens and wishing anybody inside would open the door. “There’s nothing weird about my top.”
Devon jumped with a sudden wince, bringing a hand to his ear. “I can’t understand if you keep shouting in my head.”
Rae folded her arms across her chest. “Well, maybe if you hadn’t been—”
The door opened and the family flashed matching smiles.
“Happy birthday!”
Lily Decker greeted them with a beaming smile, looking like some kind of nymph in a lilac sundress that swished gently around her knees. Her ivory waves had been swept back with a crystal band, and someone had scribbled the words Let them eat cake in lipstick on her cheek.
“Come on in,” she fully opened the door, looking uncharacteristically giddy, “we’re just getting ready for dinner. You guys are right on time.”
Devon shot his wife a pained look, then held the door as his family filed inside.
Just like every year Lily had asked for a small, low-key party. And just like every year, her Aunt Molly had taken that as a personal challenge. Usually, there was some sort of compromise. The friends would enjoy a quiet candlelit dinner—on top of the Louvre. They’d head to the meadow for a sunlit picnic—only to be serenaded by members of the Monteverdi Choir.
Today, Molly had lost the venue and guest list. But she’d won the decorating scheme.
...or so they thought.
Aria and James stepped over the threshold, only to be immediately confronted by a large and rather suggestive-looking ice sculpture. One hand was gesturing them forward, the other...
“Hey, you guys made it!” Julian swept towards them with a radiant smile, smears of frosting across his hands. “It was touch and go there for a second. Thought I might have to come get you.”
Normally, her parents would have come back with some cutting reply. But for the moment, they found themselves completely tongue-tied by the wintery harem in the foyer.
“Nice statues,” Rae began tentatively. “Are they supposed to be so...”
“...whorish?” Devon finished helpfully.
She smacked him, but the kids just laughed.
“Molly said the orders got mixed up.” Julian headed back into the kitchen, trying hard not to look at the lascivious menagerie melting on his living room floor. “These were supposed to go to a bachelorette party across town.”
James bit back a grin. Aria clapped a hand over his eyes.
“Well, I think they’re fantastic,” Rae said cheerfully, giving Lily a tight hug. “At any rate, once they’ve melted a bit smaller, we can pose them on Carter’s front lawn.”
The girl let out a tinkling laugh and raced down the hall to Benji, while James followed along after her—a giant black wolf yipping playfully at their heels.
Normally, Aria would have been right behind them. But the house was in chaos, her uncle was distracted, and her session with Gabriel in the Oratory had made her recklessly brave.
“So how was Bulgaria?” she asked casually, as they reentered the kitchen.
The counter was piled with presents, and glitter, and trays of catered food. Julian grabbed down some glasses as her father uncorked a bottle of wine.
“Hot,” he answered shortly.
Each set of parents had an uncharacteristically open relationship with their children, but they never talked about their missions. No matter how persistently the youngsters pried.
“Just hot?” she continued innocently, taking a bite from a cupcake before putting it back on the tray. “Nothing more interesting than that?”
He glanced up from the wine, flashing a caustic smile. “How was lunch?”
It was unwise to annoy a psychic. They tended to turn it right back around.
“What happened at lunch—” Devon started to ask before becoming instantly distracted by the stains of green and violet circling his friend’s wrist. “What happened to your hands?”
“I’m cake decorating,” Julian answered seriously.
Only then did Aria realize the melted monstrosity sitting in the middle of the counter was meant to be a cake. It looked like the thing that ate the cake. Then threw it up.
Her father seemed to agree.
“You baked that?”
Julian shot it a quick glance but, like the statues in the living room, he was trying to avoid looking at it straight on. “Angel did. I’m supposed to make it look presentable.”
There was a heavy pause, then Devon flashed a quick smile.
“It looks awesome, Jules.” But he kept his distance, fighting the instinct to reach for a weapon. “But are you sure Molly didn’t send over a cake?”
“Sh
e did,” Julian paused suddenly, remembering, “...we had to throw it away.”
At this point, Rae started gulping the wine.
“Where is Aunt Molly anyway?” Aria asked, eyes flickering to the window. “Between that cake and the army of ice-prostitutes in the doorway, I’m surprised it isn’t thundering right now.”
“Wait a second...” Devon paled like he’d forgotten something very important.
At that moment, the door burst open and the woman in question stormed inside. Usually, with a party at stake, the pint-sized girl would be nearly unstoppable.
But right now, she clearly had other things on her mind.
One hand was clutching what looked like a carving knife and the other was handcuffed to a metal briefcase. She took one look at Devon and waved the case in the air furiously —hitting an ice sculpture between the legs and knocking off a rather important piece.
As it clattered to the floor Julian and Rae wisely busied themselves elsewhere, while Devon gave Aria’s arm a quick squeeze. “Go play with your cousins.”
Translation: save yourself.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Not with the sparks of electricity crackling in her aunt’s eyes. With a hasty nod she vanished from the room, just as that deadly storm came to land.
“So when you said you’d be right back—”
“I’m sorry!”
She set off with a secret grin as the room behind her exploded with lightning and screams, off to find out what mischief she and her ‘cousins’ could cook up...
WE SHOULD START BY saying the friends weren’t actually cousins. No more than their parents were actually family. None of them were technically related, not by any legal sense of the word.
The ‘family’ had been a choice. The ‘uncles and aunts’ a term of endearment. And the ‘cousins’ had worn the badge so long they sincerely thought of each other that way.
With the exception of one.
“How’s it going in there?” Benji asked cheerfully, shooting a glance towards the electric flashes that had followed the entrance of his mother. “Anybody dead?”