by Amir Lane
“I have a Mohr’s Circle meeting,” she explained as she handed him a banana for breakfast. “Your stop is on the way.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
He’d heard that before, but he couldn’t quite place it.
As soon as they stepped outside, the Shadows gathered around him. They hissed at Selima, who only stared unflinchingly. Dieter had them fetch him clean clothes to get them out of the way.
With them gone, Selima glanced over at him and raised a dark eyebrow. She tipped her head to the side, her expression softening before she looked back at the road.
“You don’t know who Mohr’s Circle is?” she asked gently.
Dieter stiffened. Was that something he was supposed to know?
“No. Is that a witch thing?”
“It’s the organisation that regulates witches and witchcraft since regular government laws don’t.”
“Wait, why not? Isn’t that the kind of thing worth making laws about?”
“Back home, they do. Here, the government and the public don’t believe magic exists. Is there nobody teaching you these things?”
“I do have someone. But they’ve never mentioned Mohr’s Circle before. Is it supposed to be a secret?”
Was this something that everybody but him knew about? Why hadn’t Alistair said anything about them? Or Lindy or Lenna, for that matter? Wait, Lindy had mentioned it. That was why it was so familiar. Why hadn’t she actually told him about it, though?
“Not secret, exactly. But they aren’t always known to people who aren’t witches. It’s mostly for ourselves, to keep witches from abusing powers.”
Dieter wanted to ask what their stance was on Necromancers. But they pulled up to his work with only a few minutes to spare and he decided that he really didn’t want to know right now. Besides, it wasn’t his fault he was a Necromancer. He didn’t bring these Shadows back from wherever Shadows came from.
“Listen,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt, “I was wondering if we could... talk sometime. I only know one other person who can control Shadows.”
Selima hesitated.
“We don’t control them. Spirits are bad luck. Commanding them is… we don’t do it.”
“Well, I didn’t have much choice in this. They came to me. I don’t really know how. But you know how to keep them away. The ways that I know… They hurt.”
“The scars on your arm?”
Dieter nodded. Of course she’d seen them. They were hard to miss. At least she’d waited until now to bring them up.
Selima gave a slow nod. There was sympathy in her eyes. She grabbed a business card from the glove box and scribbled a phone number on the back before handing it to Dieter. His eyes scanned over the front.
Selima Hammoudi
Yasir Alzubaidi
Attorneys at Law
Soares & Chenney
“I will ask Yasir to show you how. He does it better. Now go before you are late.”
She pulled Dieter into one last kiss before he got out of the car and darted into the cafe. It was approaching eleven, and the lunch rush would start any minute now. He didn’t have time to think about the Awliya or the Shadows, even as the latter hovered around him.
BY CLOSING, his feet ached and his stomach growled. The Shadows had spent the day hissing, pulling and pinching his skin. Punishment for ignoring them and leaving them outside all night, he suspected. His skin was red when he walked in the door.
Lindy gave him a disapproving look. Maybe it was because he hadn’t come home until now, maybe it was the hickeys on his neck and collarbone. It didn’t matter.
For the first time since he’d begun seeing Shadows, Dieter was hopeful for some semblance of a normal life.
THE EDGE of Steven’s desk bit into Dieter’s thighs as he was pressed against it. Soft kisses became rough and impatient as they moved down Dieter’s jaw and neck. He was pulled in closer by the waistband of his jeans, and the button popped open unceremoniously. He caught Steven’s wrists.
“I don’t want that,” he said.
Steven’s lips moved to the spot beneath his ear. Warmth spread through his body, pushing away his reluctance.
“Yes, you do. Why else would you be here?”
There was an answer, but Dieter couldn’t remember it anymore. He didn’t want to be anywhere else but here. Something wasn’t right, though, something was out of place. A horrible loneliness filled the pit of his chest and all that mattered was filling it.
The Shadows weren’t having it, though. Their screams were tangible enough to rattle the windows. One latched its claws in the curtains until they came down, clattering to the floor. Steven jumped, swearing loudly. The Shadows swarmed him, putting themselves between him and Dieter, though Steven didn’t seem to notice them.
“Empath!” they screamed. “Empath!”
Dieter’s grip on the edge of the desk turned his knuckles white. The loneliness, the need were gone and the apprehension was back. It was quickly building into something akin to fear. What the fuck had Steven just done to him? Was that—Was that what Empaths did? Was all of this—every part of their fling—just Steven manipulating him with whatever the hell kind of magic Empaths had?
“Dieter—”
It didn’t matter what Steven had to say. Dieter was already heading toward the door. If Steven said anything else, the Shadows drowned him out. The door slammed shut behind him. Tears blurred his vision as he stalked down the hall.
Dieter tugged his sweater up over his collarbone to hide the bright red bite marks that decorated his skin. He pretended that the flush that darkened his cheeks was from the run down the stairs rather than the flurry of emotions running through him. Since he’d discovered that he could use the Shadows to hide himself—a tip that Yasir had accidentally given him—there was no reason for anyone to suspect which room he’d come from.
A firm hand wrapped itself around Dieter’s arm as he stepped out of the building. His first thought was that it must have been one of the Shadows. But all four of them were in front of him, and the hand was too warm and too solid to belong to any of them.
Instinct kicked in, and Dieter balled his hand into a fist. He twisted, aiming for where he assumed a face would be, and paused. It was probably a good thing. He remembered too late Lenna’s advice to hit with the palm to avoid broken fingers, advice he could have used in high school.
“Jeez, Alistair! You scared the crap out of me,” Dieter said with a tight laugh.
His smile quickly faltered when Alistair’s grip tightened as he tried to pull away. The Shadows inched in closer, hissing. Abigail and Abaddon moved in front of them. Dieter watched them from the corners of his eyes, keeping the majority of his focus on Alistair.
“Ow, that hurts. Let go of me,” he said.
“Why haven’t you been answering any of my messages? I know you’ve been getting them.”
Dieter tried to pull his arm back again to no avail. The muscles in Alistair’s forearm bulged from the force of his grip.
“I said, ‘Let go!’”
Again, Alistair ignored him. Dieter’s heart began to speed up, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on edge. The Shadows hissed and shrieked, vocalizing how Dieter was starting to feel. He forced a stream of energy into his skin to the spot Alistair’s fingers were pressing into. It felt like he’d stuck his hand into an electric socket but it made Alistair cry out and pull back.
“You little bitch!” Alistair shouted.
One of Alistair’s Shadows—Dieter thought it might be Abigail—lunged at him. Two of his own Shadows cut her off, and Dieter made another fist, forgetting Lenna’s advice again as his blood pressure rose.
Alistair took a few deep breaths before holding his hands up. His Shadows moved back behind him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I freaked out a little.”
“Maybe just a little,” Dieter said sharply.
“I’m sorry. I know you were with him, and I just freaked out. I didn�
��t mean to hurt you.”
Dieter resisted the urge to rub his arm. It really did hurt. He was expecting it to bruise.
“Anyway, why haven’t you been answering me? I was getting worried.”
“I’ve been busy. I have a lot going on.”
It was an unfair answer, and Dieter knew it. He owed Alistair a better explanation. But the truth—that he would rather practise magic with Yasir and Selima—felt too cruel.
“You’re not too busy for him,” Alistair snapped, jerking his head toward the building.
Dieter lowered his head a little and looked up from beneath his eyelashes. He couldn’t disagree. He’d managed to make time for Steven, even while it would have taken less to just text Alistair. But Alistair could be so pushy, and all Dieter wanted was some simple affection with no strings attached. Except the ‘simple affection’ had been nothing but play.
“Are you ignoring me? Are you trying to make me worry about you on purpose? If you’re trying to send me a message, just say it to my face,” Alistair demanded.
Guilt welled in Dieter’s stomach. His Shadows were still hissing at Abigail and Abaddon, but he was solely focused on the hurt expression that had come over Alistair’s face. Dieter reached up and traced his fingers over his cheek.
“It’s nothing like that, I promise. I’ve missed you these past few weeks. Really.”
“But you don’t need me anymore. You have those Arab witches now.”
Alistair’s voice was biting. Dieter barely managed not to flinch. Instead, he pulled Alistair down into a kiss. How did he know about them?
“They’re a different type of people. They can’t ever replace you.”
“Because they aren’t Necromancers.”
“Because they aren’t you.”
Alistair’s expression softened. He covered Dieter’s hand with his own, gently, and kissed him. It was brief, just enough to leave a taste of his lips on Dieter’s.
“Nobody else can give you what I’ve given you. Not that professor, not those Awliya. I hope you know that.”
“I do know that.”
“Do you also know that they’re using you?”
Dieter’s head snapped up.
“No they’re aren’t.”
Okay, Steven was. Dieter had known that since day one. It was hard to deny that. But Selima and Yasir were an entirely different matter. Maybe they didn’t love him the way they loved each other—and honestly, he didn’t expect or want them to—but they weren’t using him. They were just nice people. They were Mohr’s Circle, that was—apparently—part of their job.
“They are,” Alistair insisted. “They’re using you because you’re young and pretty, and you don’t know any better.”
If not for the last comment, Dieter might have left it alone and changed the subject. What the hell did Alistair know about the Awliya, anyway? But that did it. He pulled his hand back with a scowl.
“What about you?” he asked. “You’re older than me. How do I know you aren’t using me, too?”
Alistair’s nostrils flared, and his wide eyes went even wider.
“You’re, what, twenty now? I’m twenty-two. That’s nothing. How old are they? That prof’s got to be, what, forty? Fifty? What about those other two? Thirty?”
Dieter glanced around at the people slowing down to look at them. The Shadows shifted in growing agitation, but Dieter kept them back. He didn’t want to make a bigger scene than necessary.
“Keep it down, would you?”
“How old are they, Dieter? Tell me!”
“Yasir is twenty-six, Selima just turned twenty-eight. Now stop yelling, or I’m going to walk away.”
Dieter kept his voice as even as he could. A crowd was starting to grow, most likely hoping for the fight to become physical. Dieter wasn’t willing to give them that satisfaction.
“Twenty-eight,” Alistair repeated. “They’re manipulating you. I’m only telling you this because I care about you. I’m not trying to hurt you!”
“I know that,” Dieter said despite the pain growing in his chest.
“Do you?”
Dieter’s nerves were telling him to run, to get as far away from the angry Necromancer and his Shadows as possible. But Alistair cared about him, and Dieter didn’t want to hurt him more than he already had. Alistair had done so much for him, and he’d never asked for anything in return. And here Dieter was, ignoring him for other people. He forced himself to smile.
“Yeah, I do. Can we just forget about this? All we’re doing is getting ourselves upset over nothing.”
Alistair pressed his lips together.
“How about we go do something tonight? I have a couple more classes, but I’m done after five. We could get dinner?” Dieter suggested.
Finally, Alistair smiled. He ran a hand through Dieter’s hair.
“Okay. Dinner after class.”
He kissed the corner of Dieter’s mouth and turned away.
Dieter watched Alistair push his way through the crowd. It had begun to thin once it was clear that they weren’t going to be throwing punches. His heart was beating fast, and he told himself that it was from the kiss.
It must have been hours since he’d come down from Steven’s office but when he checked his phone, he found that it had only been a matter of minutes. He shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way to the building where his next class was. It didn’t start for another hour but it was always an empty building, and he didn’t know where else to go.
Playing with his phone, Dieter contemplated calling someone. But everyone would only tell him to stay away from Alistair. They would ignore the hours that Alistair had put into helping him learn how to deal with Shadows. They would ignore everything that Alistair had done for him. How much Alistair meant to him. He couldn’t bring himself to just drop Alistair like that.
And really, Alistair had been so good to him, even if he came off as aggressive. That wasn’t Alistair’s fault; that was just the way he was. If anyone was to blame, it was Dieter. He promised himself that he would go back to responding. He could treat Alistair better. If he could text everyone else back, he could text Alistair.
DINNER WASN’T bad. They went to a decent burger place, nothing too fancy but definitely a step up from fast food. Alistair was himself, not the mess of anger and jealousy that Dieter had seen earlier. Still, the evening left him drained and anxious. He blamed the six Shadows flitting around the table.
He couldn’t focus on homework. A lab report sat on his computer, the cursor blinking at him, but his mind could barely make out the individual words on the assignment. He got as far as the opening paragraph and pushed himself away from his desk. Even if he could focus long enough to write more, he was too tired. The call of his bed was too strong to ignore. He swapped his jeans for sweats and curled up under the sheets.
SLEEP CAME easy, but it didn’t last. Dieter wasn’t sure how many Shadows he ignored to the point of not even registering. And while his were louder, more pressing, they were still Shadows.
It wasn’t the hissing that woke him.
Claws raked down his arm, sharp pain running under his skin. Dieter shrugged the Shadow off, whining. The Shadow left him alone, but only for another moment. A second one joined, clawing at his exposed skin. The blanket had been pushed aside in his sleep, and his shirt had ridden up to show his stomach. The Shadows took advantage, pressing claws into the space between his ribs.
“Stop,” he mumbled, the pain pulling him from sleep. “Stop.”
They didn’t stop, only pressed claws deeper into his skin. Dieter jerked, fully awake. The pressure wasn’t enough to draw blood yet but it was more than enough to get his attention.
“Stop! I said don’t—!”
He tried to push their hands away, but there were four Shadows and only one of him. There were times when he could grab them as if they were solid. This wasn’t one of those times. His hand passed through them, even as they clawed at his skin.
Diete
r pulled the blanket up over his body. The Shadows pulled it back in a rare display of strength, screeching.
“Stop it! What do you want?” he cried.
The question came out before he could stop himself, as if he didn’t know what the answer would be. They hissed for blood, his blood, and no amount of screaming would stop them. So long as the soundproofing sigil sat above his door—originally intended to keep Lenna or Lindy from hearing his nightmares—no-one would come. But it didn’t matter if anyone did. They couldn’t do anything.
“I’ll give you what you want, just back off!”
The words tasted dirty in his mouth. A surge of energy burned the hairs on his arms and pushed them back. They hovered as close as they could while avoiding the blue sparks. The hisses continued, growing more and more agitated. They weren’t retreating, only waiting.
Dieter reached into the drawer of his bedside table, his fingers fumbling in the dark. He found the short knife and pulled it out. It probably wasn’t the most sanitary course of action, but the knife was clean and it was so fucking late. He could barely keep his eyes open, they were burning so bad. He sat up. Holding his arm over the floor, he made a shallow cut perpendicular to the vein. It wasn’t the sting that set his teeth together. The real pain came from the Shadows lapping at his skin.
His eyes were locked on the clock. The time changed from 2:34 to 2:35 to 2:36. Dieter’s head started to swim, and nausea twisted his stomach into knots. He pulled his arm back despite the claws ripping his skin and the angry screams that followed. He couldn’t see the blood but he could feel it.
“That’s enough. I said, enough!”
He didn’t have the energy to push them away again. Still, the shout was enough to make them inch away. Exhaustion made him cranky at best.
“You can have more tomorrow. I’m tired. Get me bandages. Now!”
The Shadows didn’t hesitate a moment longer. Rolls of bandages were shoved into his hand. Dieter wrapped his arm tightly with winces and whimpers. His blood was already starting to clot. Maybe it was magic, maybe his body was just used to it. He didn’t know, didn’t care.