by T. S. Bishop
Man, this day was just getting weirder and weirder.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“Okay, I’ve clearly messed things up,” he admitted. “I’m not a stalker or a creep, or whatever you think, Sophia. You don’t know this, but you’re incredibly important to some people that I know, and for the past couple of decades we’ve thought you were dead. None of us would ever hurt you, but I want to take you to meet them.”
“Call me Landry,” I corrected immediately. “And, do you really expect me to meet some complete strangers? I’m running low on trust today, I’m sure you can understand why.”
“I’ll give you my word,” he said pleadingly, looking into my eyes. Now was not the time to have my heart skip a beat at having that laser focus concentrated on me, but his gaze was like standing at the center of a hundred spotlights. It made me breathless, and I was caught like it was a tractor beam, drawing me inexorably close.
“What else will you give me?” I blurted out. Shit, I hadn’t meant for that to sound dirty. His eyes twinkled at me.
“Not like that,” I corrected hastily. “I mean—I want some answers. Tell me something that’s real. Something that matters.”
He sucked in a breath.
“You sure you want that?” he asked softly, “Sure you wouldn’t just prefer that I make a blood oath?”
“Yes, I want the truth,” I said boldly, daring him to refuse. “Are you saying you won’t tell me?”
“Sophie,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice, “I wouldn’t refuse you anything. But if you need this to be able to trust me, then it’s a small price to pay. It’s not like I wouldn’t have told you anyway, although this isn’t the best time.”
He stripped his gloves off in a businesslike way.
“Can I have your knife?”
“What for?” I asked, holding my trusty little knife defensively to my chest.
“I promise I’ll give it back.”
“All right, here.”
“Our first order of business is going to be getting you some decent weaponry,” he informed me, but he still took the knife, which admittedly looked like a toy in his hands.
He barely winced as he made a slash on his palm. Blood began steadily dripping to the floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” I whisper-yelled, panicking at the sight of all the glistening blood.
“Don’t worry about me. This is definitely not as sanitary as I would like, though. Quick,” he instructed me as I took the knife from him. I thought I could still see the exact place where his blood had gleamed on its edge. It made me feel a little queasy.
“I’m not cutting myself,” I said immediately, “I like having an uninjured hand, thanks.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to,” Adrian said, and as he turned I thought I saw him roll his eyes. “I’ve just bound my blood with a compulsion for truth. That means if I lie, you’ll know.”
“How—how will I know?” I asked uncertainly, staring down at the knife.
“Ask me a question.”
“Um, what’s your name?”
“Matthew.”
Immediately, the blood on the edge of the knife glowed red.
“That’s amazing!” I said, awed. “How old are you?”
“Seventy six.”
It glowed red again.
“Is your mother really a witch?”
“Yes.”
It stayed inert.
All right, this might be the real thing. I let myself have a moment of pure smugness at the thought of Jeremiah seeing this object which could assess truth. He would have paid a fortune to get his grubby hands on this.
“Adrian, are you going to hurt me or betray me or cause any harm to come to me?”
“I swear I won’t.”
The knife was inert. I exhaled.
“And Adrian, are you, through inaction, going to let any harm come to me?”
“I swear I won’t.”
The knife remained inert.
“I guess I believe you for now. You have my conditional trust,” I said reluctantly, making to stow the knife away in my pocket.
“Here,” he said, handing me a handkerchief, “Wrap it in this first, or it won’t be sanitary.”
“You’re the kind of boy that carries handkerchiefs,” I said dumbly.
“Apparently. Is that a problem?”
“Only for my sanity,” I mumbled, looking away.
“Does this mean you’ll give me the benefit of the doubt and wait for an explanation until we’re able to leave this place?”
“Yes, but only because it’s giving me some major ‘The Shining’ vibes, and I’m not a fan,” I said, looking around and shuddering.
“Fair enough,” he said, looking amused.
“So are we going to these people you say are eager to see me?”
“Oh, Sophie,” he said, looking almost sad. “You have no idea how desperately they’ve been wanting to see you.”
Chapter 7
He pulled his gloves back on, and I noticed that there were strange patterns stitched into the lining in gold thread.
“What’s that on your gloves?” I asked curiously.
“Spells,” he said absently, tracing figures in the air with his graceful hands. I watched, fascinated by his practiced, easy movements and his confidence. “I’m not a witch so I don’t have the power for any but the most basic spells, and creating portals burns up power like nothing else. There are gems with attributes for protection, warmth, dexterity and a portal gem in each fingertip.”
“A what--?” I started to say, question dying on my tongue as the air in front of him seemed to sizzle.
A faint smell of burnt ozone reached my nose, at the same time that a hole opened in the air.
“What the f--!” I said explosively.
Adrian stepped through the hole, bending slightly so he wouldn’t bump his head.
“I’m not coming through whatever the hell that is,” I said, shaking my head when he looked back.
“It’s fine,” he said reassuringly. “Look at me—I’m in one piece.”
“I can’t believe I’m supposed to trust you!” I said, exasperated.
I stepped closer to the portal, examining it warily. I almost expected it to explode or vanish in a poof of smoke, but it was just…there, shimmering in place.
“It’s not going to wait forever,” Adrian said. “I can only keep it stable for so long.”
“What’s on the other side?”
“Can’t you see it? It’s the garden.”
“I can smell something—are those roses?”
“Yes, it’s the rose garden.”
A faint cool breeze came through the portal, laced with the scent of roses. Behind Adrian, I could make out bushes and topiaries, faintly lit by the moon.
Holding my breath, I put one leg through the portal and felt earth on the other side.
“I’ve got you,” Adrian said, pulling me through.
As soon I was through, the portal seemed to buzz momentarily and then vanished with the same lingering smell of burnt ozone.
“Where are we?” I asked, looking around.
“We’re in the first Magical Sanctum in the country,” Adrian said, smiling at my amazement. “Can’t you feel that? It recognizes you.”
I felt…something. A tingle along my arms, something expectant in the air that made me think the garden was almost aware of me.
“What is that?” I whispered.
“It’s the druid—the garden’s spirit. She’s very shy, but she usually sends a messenger to welcome new arrivals.”
Just as he said that, a moth fluttered over and landed on my shoulder. It was the color of ash, with some mottled patches of brown.
“Hello,” I murmured, “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Sophia.”
“It’s not going to talk to you,” Adrian said, mouth turning up at the corner.
“I know,” I huffed, “I’m just being polite.”
&n
bsp; “Her name is Amerhin,” he added.
“Thank you for letting me see your garden, Amerhin,” I said, looking around and feeling a little stupid for talking to the air.
Wind ruffled the leaves on the bushes, making a sound like a long sigh, resembling like the drawn-out end of a greeting to my overactive imagination.
“Come on,” he said, tugging my sleeve, “We have a lot to do, we can’t just dawdle here forever.”
“Right,” I said nervously, “You said…someone wants to meet me?”
“Relax,” he said, smiling at me. ‘You smiling at me like that isn’t going to help me relax,’ I almost snapped, before biting my tongue.
We walked through the darkening garden, where the bushes were neatly trimmed to about waist height. I could see the outer wall of a maze in the distance, and wondered how large this place actually was.
On the other side was a building with the gothic architecture of a church, with spires and stained glass windows.
“Yeah, welcome to the Sanctum,” Adrian said, face splitting into a grin when he saw me gaping at the building.
“Is that—an actual church? How did you fit this in the middle of Chicago?” I asked incredulously.
“Elementary, my dear,” he said in a stuffy British accent, “Magic, of course.”
Words failed me. I thought I understood magic.
To me, magic was…cheap parlor tricks for the gullible and trinkets for the simple-minded. It helped me pay rent, and that was it. I never thought magic could be…so much.
Adrian sent me a funny smile and I realized I’d said that last bit out loud.
“Wait until you get to use it yourself,” he said, pushing the heavy oak and iron door open.
While the exterior looked like a huge, old and beautiful church, the interior was the polar opposite. It was like a combination of rare bookstore, expensive jewelry store and corporate office.
There were several people inside, going about their business. I couldn’t see anything particularly ‘witchy’ about them, except that they were way better dressed than the average person, and many of them were carrying books and jewelry in cages, which confused me.
Most of the adults wore dark-colored pantsuits and had briefcases and laptop bags in their arms. They all looked perfectly polished and groomed, like we were in some sort of investment banker Sanctum instead of a gathering of witches.
“They’re so…”
“Uptight looking?”
“I mean…yes. They make you look punk rock!”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Business formal attire is…encouraged, at least in the Chicago Sanctum. I’ve heard the San Francisco one is more relaxed, though.”
“Wait—so how many sanctuaries are there?”
“In America, there’s one in every major city.”
“Are we the biggest?”
Adrian chuckled. “No, not by a long shot. We are the oldest, though.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s really interesting—but I’ll tell you about it some other time.”
“And what’s with the cages?”
“Oh, they’re made of iron so they carry spells of protection and suppression the best. With iron, you can trust it to absorb the spell and hold it in for a few years. Steel and other metals are only good for months at a time, so it gets expensive to keep redoing the spells. And it’s always useful to have something made of iron on you, just in case. It’s not going to do much in a real fight, but it keeps your energy clean.”
I filed that away for future reference.
“Where are we going?” I said, panting slightly from the effort it was taking me to keep up with his long strides. Damn tall people! This was their world, and short people like me just had to make the best of things.
“We’re going to see the guys. They’ve been waiting to meet you for more than a decade now, so don’t worry if they’re a little…enthusiastic.”
“Guys,” Adrian said, pushing me in front of him. “I got her.”
I met two stunned gazes, both trained on me like I was a mirage.
I snuck a look at both of the guys before looking away self-consciously. They were gorgeous, like models or actors. It made me feel grubby and insignificant.
The guy on the left was smiling at me like he was really, really happy to see me. Crinkles around the eyes and everything. Which were really, really blue. His eyes, I meant. He had sandy hair that fell into his eyes, and a pleasant, regular face. He had a smattering of freckles on his nose, which immediately made me like him for some reason, and an ink stain on his chin. His ordinary looks should have made him fade away, but somehow he seemed to glow with friendliness.
The next guy seemed to be the oldest out of the three of them, but that wasn’t saying much. He had close-cropped chestnut colored hair and dark green eyes. He might have been in his mid-twenties. He was looking at me with a sharp, assessing gaze and unlike the other guy didn’t seem as delighted to see me.
The skin beneath his eyes looked almost bruised, like he hadn’t slept in years, and even his eyes themselves had an expression that was old, and worn. I noticed that he was leaning slightly on a cane, and dropped my gaze to his right leg, which was hidden under the leg of his pants.
He noticed the direction of my gaze and smiled wryly. It was an odd smile, and didn’t fully reach his eyes. It was more like he was making fun of himself, and was inviting me to laugh as well.
“I like to keep it out of sight,” he confessed, still tilting his mouth in that oddly attractive way, “It’s not really suitable to chit chat about over dinner.”
“You must not hang out with the right people,” I blurted out. Shit! I wanted this guy to like me, not run away screaming.
To my relief, his smile grew into something more real, and he came forward, reaching out with his other hand.
“I’m Dominic,” he said as I hesitantly shook his hand. “It’s good to finally meet you, Sophia. You’re everything Noah said you’d be.”
“Who’s Noah?” I said blankly.
“Oh! I’m Noah, sorry, forgot to introduce myself. It’s just so exciting to finally meet you, Sophie,” the smiling sandy-haired boy exclaimed, rushing forward. I couldn’t contain my smile. He was like an excited little puppy as he shook my hand energetically.
“I think we’re good,” I said, after an extended moment of handshaking and eye contact.
“Right,” he said, dropping my hand immediately. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you in person after so long. I’ve been dreaming about this since I was six years old!”
“I’m flattered? I can’t say that I knew about the two of you for as long, though,” I said, confused.
“Noah’s a Sybil,” Dominic explained, sitting down with a barely audible sigh of relief. He massaged his leg as he continued, “He can see things sometimes when he goes into trances—things that are real. That’s how we knew you were alive, and kept searching for you for so long.”
“Why were you searching for me? I mean, I’m just—I just sell magical items for money,” I said, fiddling with my sleeve and looking away.
“It’s because you’re our lodestone witch, and we’re your Bloodsworn,” Adrian said, sitting down next to Dominic. “That means we channel our power from you. Male progeny of witches just don’t have enough natural magic on their own.”
“Yeah, you said that before and I explained how I think you’ve made a mistake,” I said nervously. “I’m not a witch. All I can do is see things that are infused with magic. That doesn’t make me a witch!”
At first they didn’t react. Then Dominic threw back his head and barked out a laugh. It sounded bitter.
“Didn’t you tell her anything, Adrian?” Noah asked anxiously, looking at Dominic with apprehension.
“I didn’t exactly have time for a long, in-depth conversation,” Adrian said, looking irritated.
“It would be just our luck,” Dominic said, staring down at his hands, “After all these year
s, to get a witch who doesn’t even know she’s a witch. Didn’t you ever wonder why you had your powers?”
“I don’t have powers,” I said flatly, “Look, I’m sorry if it’s not what you want to hear, but I can’t do anything. I can’t move things with my mind or cast spells. I’ve never done anything like that in my life!”
“Then what on earth,” Dominic asked Adrian coldly, “Made you think this thief could possibly be our witch if she can’t even do magic, Adrian? Are you completely devoid of all sense?”
“We don’t have the wrong person,” Noah said, “It’s got to be her. I told Adrian what she looks like, and he tracked down the right person. And you’re a witch—a powerful one,” he added to me.
“Then where is it?” I demanded, “Where’s my so-called magic? How come I’ve never used it if I’m a witch? God knows, living on the streets it would have come in handy a lot.”
“We can’t answer that,” Dominic said, rubbing his temples like he was feeling an incipient headache, “There might be some kind of block on your abilities. I’ve never heard of one that lasts for years, so we’ll have to do some research.”
“If I’m a witch,” I said, looking around at them, “Does that mean my parents were magical too?”
“They must have been,” Adrian said unexpectedly, “We haven’t seen feral witches in hundreds of years, according to our history. It’s happened a few times when pregnant women were contaminated with magic from the environment and gave birth to witches, but it’s a one in a million chance.”
“So you must have known my parents,” I said, looking around at them, heart picking up speed. “If my parents were witches, and you know all the witches in Chicago, they must be here! You can take me to them!”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
“What?” I said, cold fear creeping into my chest, “They can’t be—can they?”
“They’re not dead,” Noah said. He caught Dominic’s warning look and quickly corrected himself, “Well, hopefully they’re not dead! We just don’t know who they are.”
“How could you not know?”
“It’s complicated,” Dominic sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly with his glasses, “We usually keep very good records of pregnancies and births, but we have nothing in the books to account for you. I’m sorry, Sophia,” he said gently, for the first time showing some sympathy towards me.