Spellbent
Page 30
“Wake up, time to eat.” I gently shook his bony shoulder.
He grunted and pushed away my hand. “Don’ wanna. Wanna sleep.”
“C’mon. Potions only go so far—we gotta get some real food into you. We can sleep after.”
“Where’s Smoky?” he mumbled. “I can’t feel him.” My stomach dropped. I hadn’t yet told him that his white terrier familiar died the night he was pulled into the hell. “He, urn … he’s not with us.”
Cooper seemed confused. “You left him at the apartment?”
I took a deep breath. “He didn’t make it. The night you disappeared … he got killed. It was quick. I don’t think he suffered.”
A bit of a lie, that; being torn apart by a demon was quick but certainly not easy. I felt horrible about Smoky dying, because it was my own damn fault for not knowing what to do.
Cooper’s features twisted in pain and sorrow, and he covered his face with his hands, pressing the heels against his eyes, I guessed to try to keep himself from crying. “Dammit. Poor little guy.”
I wanted to weep, too, but if we both started with the waterworks we probably wouldn’t stop for a while.
“Hey, everyone’s waiting on us; we better get to the dining room.” I hauled him up into a sitting position and helped him pull on a black Deathmobile T shirt.
“This isn’t mine,” Cooper said, staring down at the flaming death’s-head motor band logo.
“It’s Jimmy’s,” I replied, referring to Mother Karen’s eldest foster son. There are spells to create clothing, but fewer and fewer Talents have bothered with that kind of magic since the Industrial Revolution made fabric cheap. “Your pajama pants are his, too. All our stuff is shrunk down in a safety deposit box at the bank, so you may be wearing his hand-me-downs for a couple more days.”
He blinked bloodshot eyes at me. “Why’s our stuff at the bank?”
“The farmers wouldn’t pay me for the rainstorm, so I missed the rent and we were getting evicted. Also that rat-bastard Jordan bugged the apartment, so I figured it was best to pack up and go underground for a while.”
“Benedict Jordan? He bugged our place? Why?”
“He wanted you to stay gone in the hell. You’re the secret half brother he was scared everyone would find Out about. Because then everyone would find out his father was a batshit crazy murdering son-of- a-bitch and people would start questioning his family’s authoritah or some crap like that.”
“Whoa, wait… he’s my brother?”
“Yep. Same mother, different father. Thank God. The Warlock, sadly, is his full brother.”
“Huh.” Cooper stared down at his knees, his eyes unfocused as if he was remembering something long forgotten.”Benny’s… Benedict Jordan. Ain’t that a kick in the head.”
“Yep. ol’ Benny knew what was going on long before either of us did; he could have prevented your getting trapped in hell, or tried to. Or he could have helped us get you out. But instead he tried to cover everything up and screwed us over to protect his family’s reputation.”
Cooper swung his legs over the edge of the bed and slowly stood up, leaning against my right shoulder for balance. “Please tell me you kicked his ass.”
I gently pulled his head down to mine and planted a kiss on his nose. “Oh yes. I’ll probably go to prison for it, but his ass is well and thoroughly kicked.”
My mind flashed on Jordan lying broken on his desk, his hand a horrible burned mess. My stomach twisted into a knot, but I angrily forced my guilt back down. I would not feel bad about giving that creep a taste of his own magic.
I helped Cooper down the hall toward Mother Karen’s dining room. The scents of garlic steak, fresh rolls, and sweet potato pie wafted through the air. Cooper’s stomach growled loudly.
The Talents who’d helped bring Cooper’s infant brothers to Mother Karen’s house were already seated at the long cherrywood dining table. Oakbrown and Mariette sat across from Paulie at the far end. Mother Karen and Jimmy were ferrying plates of food in from the kitchen. The Warlock and Ginger sat across from each other at the near half of the table, arguing.
“I am tolerant,” Ginger protested, twisting a lock of her red hair around her index finger. “But fundies get on my every last nerve. It’s like they think the free expression of female sexuality is going to cause the Apocalypse or something. They’re totally threatened by it, and it’s stupid. I hate stupid.”
“Ginger-pie, it doesn’t matter what the mundanes believe, does it?” the Warlock replied. “How do their beliefs touch us? The fact is, they don’t. It’s been centuries since they were a real threat to us. We don’t have to deal with them if we don’t want to.”
“But what about the Talented kids who get born into mundane families?” Ginger asked. “What about them? Are we just supposed to let them swing in the wind when their crazy stupid parents decide they’re possessed by Satan and go all Spanish Inquisition on them?”
“We take care of our own,” the Warlock said, looking up at me as I helped Cooper into the empty chair beside Ginger.
“Maybe,” I replied, unable to keep the bitterness Out of my voice. “Not all Talents are in a hurry to do the right thing, not even for their own kids.” I moved around the table to sit across from Cooper in the chair to the Warlock’s left.
“You were in a rough situation with your mundane family in Texas, right?” the Warlock said. “And your Talented relatives got you out of there, didn’t they?”
“Yeah. My stepfather was going to have me locked up in a• mental institution, but my aunt Vicky found out and brought me to Columbus. She was really cool,” I said, swallowing against a fresh swell of sorrow and guilt. No matter how much I told myself that Vicky’s suicide wasn’t my fault, my heart just wouldn’t believe it. “But for what it’s worth, my stepfather isn’t religious.”
“See?” the Warlock said to Ginger. “Jackasses come in all faiths.”
about the author
LUCY A. SNYDER is the author of the story and poetry collections Sparks and Shadows and Chimeric Machines.
She has a B.S. in biology and an M.A. in journalism and is a graduate of the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers’ Workshop. Born in South Carolina, she grew up in the cowboys-and-cactus part of Texas and currently lives in Worthington, Ohio.
www.lucysnyder.com