by Amir Lane
“She showed me picture once. Very good looking family. I don’t charge for family of Bad Omen. When you’re done, Bahir reads your cups.”
It was almost hard to keep up with the quick rush of her words.
Dieter took the warm mug in his hands. No one was behind them, so Dieter took a moment to ask how Cari and Lindy knew each other. He didn’t think Lindy had mentioned her before. Not that Lindy ever mentioned much about this side of her life. He could feel Alistair’s eyes on him.
“She teach me to read with cards, I teach her to read with coffee. Very gifted Seer. All Seers know Lindy.”
The statement came as a surprise. He’d always known that Lindy was good. She was one of the few Seers who could cross mediums. Divination, scrying, old-fashioned visions. Nothing was off-limit to her. But he didn’t know that there was any fame to it.
“Your sister sounds like quite the Seer,” Alistair said as they settled into a corner table.
He’d dumped the few dollars that their coffees should have cost into the tip jar.
“She is. She’s never lost a game of rock-paper-scissors to anyone but me.”
He wasn’t going to admit that more than once, he’d sat her down with a textbook and asked her to mark which questions would be on his tests. It wasn’t technically cheating, but still. It wasn’t worth mentioning.
Alistair hummed, blowing across the rim of his mug.
“Have you ever had Turkish coffee before? No? You’ve been missing out. It’s better than energy drinks. I pretty much live off this stuff during exams.”
“What are you studying, anyway?”
He was some kind of asshole for not asking sooner.
“Applied Mathematics and Statistics. I know, it’s exactly as bad as it sounds.”
Dieter laughed. He could see Abigail and Abaddon through the window. But as long as they weren’t inside, he could ignore them.
They chatted amiably about school and classes until Dieter mentioned his Electricity and Magnetism labs. Alistair’s expression hardened. His jaw clenched tight. Dieter swore he heard the mug crack in his tight grip. The sound echoed through the café.
“You know he’s an Empath, right? That professor you’re fucking,” Alistair said.
Dieter swallowed thickly. His skin felt cold, the hairs on his arms standing, despite the heater being on. The coffee burned a path right through him.
“I didn’t know that. And we aren’t fucking.”
“Not yet.”
“Not yet,” Dieter repeated.
“He’s using you,” Alistair said.
“Maybe I’m using him, too.”
The tendons in Alistair’s hands were visible. Dieter wondered of Alistair was going to try to strangle him.
“Empaths are bad news.”
‘You’re a fucking Necromancer,’ Dieter wanted to say.
He thought the man behind them might have glared at Alistair’s comment. But he was wearing large sunglasses, so Dieter couldn’t quite tell.
“You aren’t going to tell anyone, are you?” Dieter asked, dropping his voice.
Alistair stared down into his coffee as if the ripples were speaking to him. They very well could have been, for all Dieter knew. Finally, he spoke up again.
“No, I won’t. But you can’t blame me if I have one of them check in sometimes.”
It was Dieter’s turn to scowl.
“Only when they feel you getting worked up. And not in the fun way,” Alistair assured.
Dieter couldn’t help but snort. Was there really a difference?
“Can I just ask why, though?” Alistair said.
It was a good question. Dieter didn’t have a good answer. He loved the praise, and he loved the attention, and he loved the approval. He loved being with someone who thought he was good enough. Lindy would cite daddy issues but Dieter wasn’t going there. He settled on, “Because it’s fun.”
Alistair left it at that.
Dieter exhaled through his nose and looked around the café again. The empty chairs were starting to fill in.
“Is everyone in this city a witch?” he asked.
“It seems that way, doesn’t it? I don’t know, some witches like smaller towns. Animal witches, Sensitives, Empaths.” He brought the mug up to his lips. “But other than that… The nearest hex witch is in Kitchener-Waterloo, and he doubles as a tech witch.”
Dieter couldn’t stop himself from snorting.
“Tech witch,” he repeated. “Of course that’s a thing.”
Alistair shrugged.
“There actually aren’t all that many witches here. It just looks like it because this is the only place for us to hang out. You should see places like Toronto. It’s crazy.”
Bahir insisted on reading their grounds before they left. People usually had to pay extra for it, but apparently, being a very powerful Seer’s brother in a diviner-owned cafe circumvented that.
Dieter didn’t think Bahir would get anything from their mugs, not if Lindy couldn’t see them. But Bahir didn’t seem bothered. He took Alistair’s mug first and studied the grounds, glancing up between Alistair and Dieter once or twice.
“You think of your spirits as shield. Spirits are never shield. They are only sword. And sword is only able to protect you in your hands.”
“That’s not vague at all,” Alistair said.
Still, his lips seemed to become pale. Bahir looked up, annoyance flitting across his face.
“You don’t want more details than that.”
The words sent a shiver down Dieter’s spine. He almost dropped his own mug to keep Bahir from looking into it. But he handed it over as soon as Bahir motioned for it. Curiosity was a hell of a motivator.
“Everyone has gift,” Bahir said. “Lindy’s gift is to see however way she wants. Yours is to recover. You will be broken again and again, but you will always stand after.”
As much as Dieter wanted to brush the words off as meaningless, something in his lower intestine told him Bahir wasn’t faking it. Resilience was a good thing, he supposed. But the broken part… He didn’t want that. It left his stomach feeling tight.
He thanked Bahir and promised to pass along a greeting to Lindy. He pulled his gloves on and did the buttons on his jacket. He kept his head down so no-one could see his face.
“Good coffee, crappy reading,” Alistair said once they were outside.
“I’ve never gotten a reading before. Not that I’ve tried to get one from anyone but Lindy. But she can’t see family,” he admitted.
“Huh… I guess that makes sense…”
Something, maybe the slight crease in Alistair’s brow, told Dieter he didn’t believe everything in Dieter’s words. Did he know she couldn’t see him either? No, he couldn’t have known. Not unless somebody told him. Dieter hadn’t, and he was pretty sure Lindy hadn’t either.
“Listen, I’ve got a class in twenty, so I have to get back. I’ll see you later. Okay?” Alistair said before Dieter could press.
“Yeah, sure.”
Alistair kissed his cheek and took off toward campus. Abigail and Abaddon followed. Abigail’s head was twisted around to look back at Dieter. He watched them retreat with a shudder, realising that he’d never asked about Alistair’s sister.
AFTER WEEKS of practice, Dieter could actually manage to draw up some small bit of magic. Just enough to mix oil and water for all of seven seconds. The exertion left him panting and soaked in sweat, but he could do it. It was a good start. Anything more than that, though, was beyond him.
“I could help you,” Alistair told him.
“I want to do this on my own,” Dieter said.
He’d watched Lindy develop her abilities on her own for years. Why couldn’t he do the same? He had never been jealous of Lindy, per se, but he’d always felt left out, like she was part of this cool, secret world and he would never be able to catch up to her. He wanted—needed—to be as good as she was. Anything less would be failure. Using a picture in ‘Introducto
ry Witchcraft’ as a reference, Dieter traced a sigil on the window.
“Are you sure this will work with dry erase marker?” he asked.
“It won’t be the strongest barrier. You’ll probably have to redo it every few days. But it’ll work. It’s the energy you put into it that’ll keep spirits from crossing it.”
Dieter felt stupid using a marker for this, even if it was a beginner’s spell. The book suggested chalk, but any medium would apparently do. Blood was only needed for the stronger spells, spells Dieter wouldn’t get to for months. Spells he didn’t really want to get to.
“Spread your legs a little more, you need a stable base. That’s it.”
Dieter pushed down the dirty thoughts that entered his mind. This was so not the time for that. He pressed his palms against the glass and closed his eyes. Deep breaths. He could do this. He reached down inside himself for that thing that kept the water and oil mixed. It was a kind of energy that came from a reserve he’d never known about. It felt like the same thing that pushed him to run even when his muscles screamed for him to stop, the thing that gave him the strength to stay upright when all he wanted to do was collapse. He channelled that thing into the sigil and waited.
Electricity crackled in the space between his skin and the window.
“Keep your hands there!”
The shout had him leaning into the pain. He didn’t dare open his eyes yet, even as he heard himself cry out. Tears prickled the corners of his eyes. Oh, God…
“Just a little longer, Dieter. You’re doing great,” Alistair said.
Dieter wasn’t sure if the pain was subsiding, or if his hands were just going numb. He kept them in place until Alistair told him he could remove them. He cracked his eyes open and stared down at his palms. They were red and blistering as if he’d pressed them to the stove instead of the window.
Alistair took Dieter’s hands in his own, blowing cool air across them. It did little to soothe the burns. He picked up the bottle of aloe vera that he’d brought up from Dieter’s desk and lathered it into his skin.
“How does that feel?” he asked.
“Hurts like a bitch. Why didn’t you tell me that it’d hurt so bad?”
“I didn’t know you would burn so much. You’re using too much power at once. Poor baby.” Alistair kissed each of Dieter’s knuckles. “But look, you did it. The seal works.”
Dieter glanced back at the window. There was a soft glow to the blue marker that slowly faded away. Excitement rose in his stomach despite the pain in his hands. This was much bigger than oil and water.
“I actually did it! Hah! I didn’t think I could.”
“I told you you’re a natural. Fuck, you’re amazing.”
“Show me how to do another one.”
Alistair laughed and kissed him.
“Give your hands a break. Let me show you how to control the amount of energy you put into something, first. It’s hard to learn from books.”
As much as Dieter wanted to keep Alistair’s hands off his magic, he couldn’t deny that he was the only person who could help him. Lindy’s powers extended only to foresight and divination, and Lenna swore she couldn’t cast a spell if her life depended on it. That left Aldo, but the fact that he couldn’t exactly talk to him ruled that option out. And Alistair was right, books only helped so much.
Alistair’s hands were firm and gentle at the same time as they guided Dieter to the bed. He sat down on the chair, their knees touching.
“If you put all your energy into a spell, you’ll wind up burning yourself or rupturing something. You need to let it out slowly,” Alistair said.
“Why couldn’t I just stop?” Dieter asked.
“Stopping a spell halfway makes whatever energy you put in backfire. The energy has to go somewhere. If it doesn’t go into the spell, it goes somewhere else. You’d be in much worse shape, trust me.”
Dieter had no choice but to trust Alistair. The knowledge made him feel uneasy. But with Lenna and Aldo down the hall, he felt sure that Alistair wouldn’t abuse that trust. And Alistair didn’t want to hurt him. He had to remind himself of that more often than he would have liked.
“But you’re a natural, just like I said. You would make such a powerful Necromancer,” Alistair said.
Dieter shrank back. That was the opposite of what he wanted. Having Shadows attached to him, following him everywhere. The thought was almost enough to make him retch. Sparks jolted through his skin, making Alistair jerk away.
“Hey, easy. You need to turn it off.”
Dieter pulled his knees up. The spots on his jeans where Alistair’s knees had been pressed to his were singed.
“I don’t know how,” he admitted. “It usually just stops on its own.”
He couldn’t tell if Alistair was amused or annoyed.
“You didn’t read up on how to stop it?”
“The book wasn’t exactly clear. It just said to ‘pinch off the flow.’ Whatever that means.”
“It’s just like that. You have to make yourself stop actively using magic, and focus on something else until you want to use it again.”
Dieter snorted.
“That helps so much.”
“Okay, let’s try something else. It’s like… Imagine it like water. To stop it, you just turn the tap off. Slowly. If you just block it - like a hose, not a tap - the water will just shoot out. You want to slow it off.”
“That is an awful analogy.”
Alistair ran his hand up Dieter’s thigh.
“Maybe, but it works. You just need more practice.”
“Can we practise now?”
“Your hands are still burned. Now’s probably not the best time for it.”
Dieter looked down at his hands. He could barely flex his fingers. They should have been painful but they were just numb. That might have been worse. First aid training was a long time ago.
“Hey, don’t worry,” Alistair said. “Give it a couple days and your hands will be fine. I can show you something small in the meantime, something that won’t hurt you. If you want.”
Dieter scraped his teeth over his lower lip. Something that wouldn’t hurt.
“Show me.”
DIETER DIDN’T remember falling asleep. But considering how tired he was from sealing his window against Shadows and hours of starting and stopping an imaginary tap, it didn’t come as a surprise.
Alistair was long gone. It left Dieter feeling cold, but he couldn’t blame him. They must have been in the middle of a conversation when he drifted off. He made a mental note to text Alistair and apologise later. Right now, he needed a shower. He was starting to smell.
Disembodied whispers followed him to the bathroom. The warm spray of water soothed muscles Dieter barely knew he had, muscles that strained to support his weight. His hands were already looking better. The feeling in them was even coming back. He traced a pattern on the shower head before settling his hand on it experimentally and let the energy from before flow through his fingers. It was actually much easier to control this time. The flow of water slowed ebbed away until nothing was left. He pulled his hand back, and it gradually returned. Dieter let out a breathy laugh. He’d never imagined magic could be so exhilarating. How had he never been able to do this before? He wondered what else he could do with it.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten in hours. He shut the water off, properly this time, and dried himself off. Dressed in sweats and an over-sized t-shirt, Dieter made his way to the kitchen.
Lenna was sitting at the counter, Aldo at her feet. Her hair was pulled back from her face, revealing a set of stitches across her forehead. She looked up from her book when Dieter walked past.
“Bar fight?” Dieter asked.
“Banged my head at work,” she said.
“You should sue.”
Lenna snorted and went back to her book. Dieter stuck a bagel in the toaster. It wasn’t a real meal, but it would hold him while he made something bigger.
<
br /> “So you’re a witch now?” Lenna asked.
“I guess I am. It’s... It’s kind of awesome.”
“Well, you look happy enough. But magic ain’t a toy, y’know. One minute you’re trying to make magic fireworks, the next, bang! Woodchipper.”
Dieter stared for a moment. He couldn’t tell how serious she was being. He was starting to suspect most of her wood chipper cautionary tales were made up. His bagel popped up. He grabbed each half, spreading a generous amount of peanut butter onto it. Protein.
“I’ll make sure to avoid magic fireworks. That’s probably a little out of my range right now anyway,” he said, biting into one of the halves.
“You’re a little baby witch,” Lenna cooed. “It’s cute.”
Dieter scowled at that. Maybe he was technically a baby witch, probably a little late to the party. He doubted many witches started practising at twenty. But it wasn’t entirely his fault. The idea that he could possibly have any knack for magic was still so foreign to him. Was it common for people to grow into it? It seemed like the sort of thing people would grow out of. But Sensitives were different than most witches.
Lindy had always been the witch in the family. And she was so good at it, Dieter had assumed that any powers he should have had ended up going to her. It was almost a joke between them. She got all the magic, and he got all the sexuality.
Now that he was starting to get a handle on it, having magic was such a relief. If nothing else, it was a way to protect himself from the Shadows. He didn’t think he was as gifted as Alistair insisted he was, but he could at least do that. Still, a part of him wondered if he could reach the level that Lindy had. It seemed unlikely when everyone who knew the extent of Lindy’s powers raved about it. He wasn’t Lindy. Never would be. He’d long since learnt to be okay with that.
“So Mister the Necromancer was helping you study?” Lenna asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
“First of all, his name is Alistair. Second of all, yeah. He’s the only other actual witch I know. And he knows how to deal with the Shadows.”
Lenna rested her weight on her elbows.
“I ain’t gonna’ tell you not to bring him around. But you know how we feel about Necromancy. It’s just…”