Small Magics

by Ilona Andrews

  “Why did you marry her?”

  “I wanted my children to have what she had. I’m deficient. I don’t relate to people, not the way she could. And she was beautiful.”

  He had bought her, like a purebred dog.

  “She chose the juries for you,” Adam said. “She monitored them through the trial, and you claimed the credit.”

  “I didn’t abuse her!” Desperation rang in Sobanto’s voice. “I denied her nothing. Best clothes, best jewelry, the best of everything.”

  “Why didn’t she just leave?” Adam asked.

  “She was bound to me by the coven.”

  The entity clamped her. Pain ripped through Siroun. Emotions twisted her into a knot, echoes of a woman lost. At once she was lonely, longing, caught between the need to please and revulsion, bitter, empty, watching life passing by, unable to escape, growing tired, growing old, growing stupid, knowing she was not loved, would never be loved, would never be free …

  She cried out and tore herself free again. She could barely stand. “He’s telling the truth,” she said.

  “Why does she hate him?”

  “Because he did not love her. He is a sociopath, Adam. He’s incapable of giving her what she wanted. She thought when their son was born, he would feel something, but he doesn’t. End it. We must kill him, or the thing that has her body will rip him to pieces. It’s almost here.”

  “Kill me,” Sobanto said suddenly. “I want to die. I just don’t want her to have me.”

  Adam raised his chin, his face, blanched of all blood, strangely proud, almost regal. “We have no claim on this man. He served as an instrument in his wife’s suicide. On behalf of the POM Insurance, I, Adjuster Adam Talbot, resign all rights to retribution, as specified by Part 23, paragraph 7 of the POM policy manual.”

  Sobanto’s face finally showed emotion: stark, all-consuming fear.

  The creature that used to be Linda Sobanto burst through the doorway, a boiling cloud of black, streaked with violent scarlet. The cloud churned, and a woman’s face congealed from its depth. She opened her mouth. Sobanto took a step back, his hands raised before him. The cloud lunged …

  And howled in fury.

  Siroun twisted her knife, turning it all the way around Sobanto’s neck. The resistance against her blade was so slight, she barely felt it.

  A thick stream of blood slid across the blade to drip on the floor. Sobanto opened his mouth. Blood gushed. Siroun withdrew the blade. He stayed upright for another moment and crumpled to the floor.

  The entity screamed. The crimson within her flared and streaked apart, ripping the darkness into pieces. The darkness folded on itself, sucked into a tiny point, and vanished. Quiet reigned.

  Adam crashed to the floor.

  She crouched by him and brushed the blue hair from his face.

  “We had no claim,” he murmured.

  “I know,” she said, and wiped a smudge of blood from his lips. “Rest now. Let your body heal. Once the wound closes, I will get you out of here.”

  “Why did you kill him?”

  “Linda made a bargain: her body for the life of her husband. The transfer would not be complete until the creature that took her form killed Sobanto. If it took his life, it would no longer be a cloud, Adam. It would be an old god made flesh. It wouldn’t harm me because of what I am. But it would kill you.”

  She leaned over him and kissed him gently on the forehead. “I couldn’t let it kill you.” After all, you’re all I have.

  COPYRIGHT

  This ebook is licensed to you for your personal enjoyment only.

  This ebook may not be sold, shared, or given away.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Of Swine and Roses was originally published as a digital short story.

  Copyright © 2011 by Ilona Andrews

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this work may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  OF SWINE AND ROSES

  Alena took a deep breath. "I'm not going on a date with Chad Thurman."

  A deafening silence descended on the dining room. Mother's face assumed a thoughtful expression. No doubt she was already stringing persuasive and weighty logical arguments in her head in favor of the date. To Mother "no" was simply a "yes" that hadn't had a chance to hear her out.

  Next to Mother, Aunt Ksenia looked aghast. No surprise there. Aunt Ksenia was all about duty to the family. There was no support to be had in her corner.

  Behind Ksenia's chair, Cousin Boris checked his mother's face and carefully arranged his own into a mask of patronizing disapproval. If he ever did manage to formulate his own thought, it would likely knock him senseless.

  Alena glanced across the table. Her older sister Liz looked troubled; her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her husband Vik must've found the situation highly amusing, because the corners of his mouth crept upward in a half-realized smile. Alena mentally steeled herself and looked to Father leaning against the wall. Alexander Koronov's eyes plainly said that he was not amused. Like staring straight into a storm.

  "You--" Ksenia began, but Mother raised her hand.

  "Why not?" she asked calmly.

  Alena knew exactly what would come next: all of her protests would be dismantled into pieces like an old clock taken apart gear by gear, but she had no choice. She had to at least try to put up a fight. "I don't like him."

  Mother rose, took a soup plate from the cabinet, filled it with water, and set it on the table. She touched the surface of the water with her fingertip and murmured a single sharp word. The water surged up and blossomed into an image of Chad in all his glory.

  "Could you be more specific?" Mother said. "What exactly don't you like about him?"

  Looking at him, Alena had to admit that physically there was nothing wrong with Chad. There was a lot of right about him even. He stood tall, his shoulders wide and thick, and his build muscular. He looked strong and sturdy. Capable. His red hair was cropped very short, and he somehow managed to escape the really sensitive skin of most natural redheads. Taken by itself, free of his expression, his face might even be considered handsome, but there was something about Chad, something in the eyes and in the set of his stubborn jaw, that telegraphed "thug" louder than any words.

  The city, and Old Town in particular, had long been divided into territories between the prominent magic families. It was customary that young men from local families banded together to defend their combined neighborhood from outsiders before moving on to real business ventures. Most boys participated. It was a rite of passage, but Chad really took the job seriously.

  "He's…" Alena paused. Chad wasn't exactly stupid. On the contrary, he was quite shrewd at times. Just last week he and his guys trapped some unfortunate kid from a rival family's territory. They could've beaten the guy and left it at that, but no, Chad had Marky, his chief flunkie, conjure up some rabid-looking mutts and used them to chase the guy into the burned out warehouse down on River Street. The guy didn't have enough magic to see through the illusion, but he did manage a panicked sending back to his family yelling that he was being attacked by a pack of wild animals. Chad and his flunkies sat there until the guy's friends came to rescue him and then claimed it was an invasion of Thurman territory. The rival family had to pay restitution.

  Chad wasn't dumb and he would do quite well for himself; he just had no interest in whatever she would have to say and she had no interest in whatever he had to do. "He's cruel and dangerous," she said.

  "You're a Koronov," her father said. "Thurmans respect us. He won't lay a finger on you
without your permission. And if he does, you have my permission to do what's necessary."

  Not having permission wouldn't exactly stop her, but pointing that out didn't seem like the smartest move at the moment.

  "You grew up together," Mother said.

  "That's exactly the problem! You're making me go out with a guy I've known since he was seven and I was four. I've seen him wipe his snot on a smaller kid's hair. When I was five, he broke my sleigh going down the stone staircase on Butcher Street and I hit him over the head with it."

  "So you don't want to go out with him because he broke your sleigh twelve years ago?" Mother said slowly.

  Alena unclenched her teeth. "No, Mother, I don't want to go out with him, because he's a thug. And his family is full of thugs. What would we even talk about? He barely finished high school. We have nothing in common!"

  "You're both young and attractive," Mother said.

  Alena drew back. "So you want me to prostitute myself, is that it?"

  Mother arched her eyebrows. "There is no need to be so melodramatic. He's a handsome boy." She nodded at the watery image. "It's natural that there might be some attraction between the two of you. In fact, I think you do protest too much."

  Alena nearly choked. "Attracted to what? Mom, he carries brass knuckles in both pockets!"

  "You will go." Father said.

  Mother shot him a warning glance. "Do you recall how we discussed the purchase of a car last Monday and you told me that it's time you were treated as an adult?"

  Alena hesitated. The sudden turn threw her off balance. "Yes?"

  Mother smiled. "Do you know what separates adults from children? Self-discipline. We don't want to go to work, we don't want to do our chores, and we don't want to make unpleasant decisions, but we do all those things because we're aware of the consequences which will follow if we don't. Now, I will treat you as an adult, since you are seventeen, and I'll be very blunt. Our family was never rich, as you know. However, your Grandfather was a very respected man. Many families owed him a favor. He had a certain influence. When he died, part of that influence died with him."

  That part Alena already knew. In the neighborhood, weddings and funerals were an excuse for the adults to gather and talk business. They'd sit for hours, sipping their drinks and writing contracts and formulas on the dinner napkins long after the meal was over. When Grandfather died, almost three hundred people showed up at his wake. Most didn't linger. They paid their respects, said a couple of words to her parents, and hurried off. The loss of family influence was so plain, even she had noticed it.

  Mother continued. "Your father was your Grandfather's advisor. That's why the family invested so much in his education. He was never groomed to be your Grandfather's successor. That role belonged to Uncle Rufus; however, he also died."

  Mother threw an apologetic glance at Aunt Ksenia and kept going. "The other families in the area are aware of this. Even now, they're moving in on our business interests, in particular on our investments in the water communications. To avoid financial ruin, we need a large loan, which would offset the costs of your Grandfather's funeral and let us settle various smaller debts, making us appear strong and financially secure. All of our business accounts are housed through SunShine Bank. Do you know who owns the controlling interest in that bank?"

  Alena shook her head.

  Mother's voice held no mercy. "The Thurmans. Now, you can go on this date with Chad Thurman, with no obligation, I might add, or you can refuse this invitation, insult the Thurmans, and destroy our chances of obtaining the loan. Nobody here will force you. We'll leave the choice entirely up to you."

  All arguments died in Alena's throat. She swallowed. Every cell in her body rebelled against going but now refusing would make her look like a spoiled selfish brat. If it meant that much… The future of her family hung in the balance. She would do everything she could to keep it from falling off a cliff.

  "I'll go," she said softly.

  "Thank you," Mother said.

  * * *

  It was all Dennis's fault, Alena reflected, rummaging through the clothes in her closet. She had been seeing Dennis Mallot for about a year, always in public. They hadn't done anything physical like kissing or holding hands. They just met, strolled along River Street, traded gossip, and told each other how badly their parents treated them. They were friends. She was a nerd, a smart girl, and he was an odd, quiet guy.

  Their families didn't mind. Koronovs and Mallots stood close on the social ladder, both solid families with roots in Old Town, both magically adept. With the exception of Grandfather and Uncle Rufus, all Koronovs had graduated well and went on to academies, while most Mallots made their living in the field of medical magic.

  All was going nicely and then Father had the bright idea to send her off to boarding school for the year to "challenge" her. Squeezing two hundred teenagers into a campus and blocking access to the outside world made for some heavy social drama. After almost a year of watching stormy break-ups and broken hearts followed by clouds of endless gossip, Alena was ready for a real boyfriend. Not a sort-of-boyfriend, like Dennis, but the actual, real, head-over-heels love. As soon as she got home, she bought a dress the color of dark red wine that left absolutely no doubt that she was female. She curled her dark hair, she put on her make-up, she slipped on criminally high heels, and headed to her old school to catch up with her friends.

  Dennis had nearly fainted. Even now, she grinned at the memory: him standing against the wall, his eyes bulging, his mouth slack. It had been the most satisfying moment of her life, a triumph. Everything about her had said, "Yeah, so I'm a nerd, but I clean up nice. See what you've been missing?"

  Dennis had called the next morning, inviting her to May Ball, a huge outdoor celebration when recent and old graduates came out for a night-time party. There would be food, bands, and magic shows. Everybody would be there. She agreed.

  Then the night of the party came. Perfect hair? Check. Makeup? Check. Same red dress? Check. Spiked heels? Check. Dennis…?

  Dennis didn't show. She kept walking out on to the balcony, wondering why he was late, thinking she would see him down the street. That's when Chad Thurman had seen her. He was passing by, glanced up, and nearly took a dive onto the pavement. Guess she took him by surprise.

  Dennis never did show. The gossip vine said he had gotten drunk with his friend Jeremy instead. She'd felt so stupid and hollow in her perfect makeup and killer dress. So very stupid and pathetic.

  The Mallots were told in no uncertain terms that the insult to the family wouldn't be forgotten and that Dennis was no longer welcome. But now Chad Thurman had come to cash in on her misfortune, and the family was only too happy to push her out the door into his arms. And the problem was that if Chad did like her, nobody else would date her either. Chad had the kind of reputation that made rivals run for cover. Still, she would do it. The family needed the loan.

  Alena picked out a nice jean skirt, not too short, not too long, a white peasant blouse and new blue shoes that were only a hair shorter than that red pair. She put the outfit on and looked at herself in the mirror: favorite blouse, favorite skirt, brand new shoes. The date would suck enough. At least she could feel comfortable in her favorite clothes.

  * * *

  The door bell rang and then Mother's voice called, "Alena!"

  She sighed and emerged into the foyer. Chad had arrived with two dozen blood-red roses in one hand and a bottle of expensive vodka in another. The flowers went to her mother, while the vodka went to her father. Thurmans were an Old Town family, after all. They did things properly.

  "You have fun," Mother said pleasantly.

  A sinking feeling claimed Alena's stomach. She didn't get premonitions often but in that moment she realized with absolute certainty that this date wouldn't end well.

  Outside Chad paused for moment, his face deadly serious. She'd seen that look before, usually when he plotted some sort of battle strategy. "You look very nice," h
e said quietly, his gaze pausing on her breasts.

  "Thank you." Alena smiled. "You too."

  He did look nice in jeans and a black T-shirt.

  They stared awkwardly each other.

  "I thought we'd go and see a movie," he said.

  "That sounds great. What kind of a movie?"

  "It's fighting flick from Kitai Empire. Gonzo the Spear Carrier." Chad glanced at her as if expecting a hysterical fit.

  "I love historical dramas," she said. At least the movie promised to be good.

  "Good." He offered her his elbow.

  Alena rested her hands on his forearm and realized that it was the first time she actually touched a guy on a date. The thought almost made her sigh in regret, but she killed the sigh before it had a chance to start. She said she would go. No use moaning about it now.

  They strode down the street heading toward the theater. Chad stared straight ahead, his jaw set.

  After about five minutes, the silence had become strained. "So what books have you read lately?" she asked to say something.

  "Don't read much," Chad said.

  "Movies?"

  "I liked Marauder III," he said. "Good movie."

  Like pulling teeth. "What did you like about it?"

  "Not sure," Chad said.

  Chad Thurman -- not a great talker.

  "Hold on a second." Chad stepped away from her and barked at the guy across the street, "Hey! Hey, who the hell are you?"

  The guy stopped. "I'm here to deliver a package to my uncle. Who the hell are you?"

  Chad strode across the street. "Who's your uncle?"

  It took them a good five minutes to straighten out who was who and who had a right to be where. For the first minute Alena had looked at her feet, then she looked at the sky, then she counted the fence posts on the long iron fence that guarded the slope of the hills. The whole city was one hill after another with River Street at the bottom of it all.