Boys Over Powers

by Lidiya Foxglove

  “A parallel…” I was in total awe. “How does it work? Some of the houses look different.” I saw that the city gates did now attach to actual walls that framed the city and reached to the fort that overlooked the water.

  “Witches and warlocks used to be able to find rifts that connect to Etherium everywhere,” Firian said. “But when humans stopped believing in magic, the connections started sealing up. The worlds drifted apart. It happened gradually, from the eighteenth century onward.”

  “Yes. We still maintain a parallel here because this town is so unusually old and strange compared to its surroundings, and tourists come expecting to see ghosts and weird things,” Montague said. “There is enough belief that magic is still real here to keep it going. We have four Ethereals guarding the town who take a human bride. Her love of the Ethereals helps keep the gates open and Sinistrals out. It’s all somewhat precarious. Sometimes it’s like the air warps and you see some humans and they think you’re a ghost because we’re occupying the same space.”

  “That’s creepy!” I paused. “Um. So let me throw this scenario at you. Some old lady books a ‘haunted’ bed and breakfast. In this world, it’s Montague’s house. She’s coming out of the shower naked. I’m in the throes of passion—or awkward first-time sex… The veil between worlds parts…”

  “We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” Alec said.

  “My house does have ‘ghosts’ occasionally,” Montague said. “But they will never know who you are.”

  As we walked down the street, we passed a number of magical shops for potions and wands and stuff. I was trying not to geek out. It was beyond aggravating that my magic was blocked. I could sense intense magical energy but I wouldn’t be able to use it.

  I also noticed that some people looked…hostile. A very old, stooped woman wearing a black cape and a wide sun hat ambled into the street ahead of us and Montague stiffened. She looked like she could have been a ghost herself.

  “Who is this girl, Young Xarra?” she asked.

  “Good afternoon, Madame Solano. This is Charlotte Byrne of the Caruthers witches,” he said. “She’s staying with my family for the rest of the summer.”

  “You are too old for a familiar,” she said to me. “Send him away.”

  This again? Already?

  “Don’t worry. He’ll depart soon. Neither of them have seen a parallel town before so I wanted to show them,” Montague said. Besides that slight tension in his posture, he seemed relaxed.

  “Be careful. If you were not a Xarra, the gates would have shut to you already, when you died.”

  He nodded to her, tipping his hat respectfully. “I understand.”

  “Just be mindful.”

  She moved on and Montague and Alec exchanged a look.

  “She seems fun,” I said, when I was sure she was well out of earshot.

  “She is very old,” Montague said. “She’s a council member, too. I have to be careful around the town elders. They don’t trust vampires and would like to have a reason to get rid of me.”

  As we passed women in aprons brushing off their stoops and shaking rugs off balconies, carrying baskets of greens and bread, men walking with glowing staffs in their hands and securing horses to hitching posts, I realized that Montague’s memories of his vampire sire weren’t the only reason he sometimes talked like he came from another time.

  He basically did.

  He turned down a narrow side street, just before we reached what looked like a market square. “Here we are. Casa de Xarra.” The house was the first one facing the side street. A dark balcony with flowers hanging from it in clay planters shaded the street. The house itself was white with green shutters. He opened the door and it faced stairs that led upward before the ground floor split into a living room with furniture gathered around a wood stove with some bookshelves lining the walls, and a room that looked like an office/workroom for one of his parents on the other side with a desk and some cabinets full of bottles, herbs hanging from the rafters. In back was a dining room and a kitchen with an older gas range and an icebox.

  It was very weird, because the rooms only had one or two electric lights but the furnishings were a comfortable mix of old and modern, some flashy modern art was on the dining room walls, and someone was in the middle of reading ‘Crazy Rich Asians’. So I didn’t feel like I was in Amish country or anything.

  “What do your parents do, anyway?”

  “They’re healers,” Montague said, picking a note up off the table. “And I guess they’re delivering a baby out in the country so we have the place to ourselves this first weekend.”

  “Sweet,” Alec said.

  Montague showed us upstairs. I glimpsed posters with soccer players and wrestlers and some models of ricer cars.

  “That’s my room,” he said.

  “Duh,” I said. “You look so refined and then I see your room and you’re such a boy. I really question your taste.”

  “This room is pre-vampire,” he said. “I am refined.”

  “You’re too nice,” Firian said. “You’ve seen her room. I would have harassed her about her ten zillion stuffed animals.”

  I rolled my eyes as Montague showed me to my own room. I opened my bag to hang up the Versace jumpsuit and my party dresses before they got wrinkled. My room was small but very cozy. It had a blue quilt on the bed and a tiled fireplace with some little figurines of Spanish dancers. The back balcony overlooked a courtyard garden shared between a few houses. A young blonde guy was sitting down there reading a magazine by the fountain.

  He snapped it shut and looked at me.

  Ohmigod.

  “Harris!?”

  Chapter Five

  Charlotte

  “So you finally got in,” he said, standing up, hand sliding into one pocket as he tossed the magazine on the bench.

  “Montague and Alec didn’t mention you would be here!”

  “I decided to surprise you.”

  “Why?”

  “I told Master Blair I’d keep an eye on you,” he said.

  “You’re a spy?”

  “I didn’t feel like going home this summer,” he said. “My family and I aren’t really getting along, since they’re a tiny bit upset I helped you summon a demon. So, yes, I am a spy. I’m renting this house next door. Anyway, don’t even think about trying to get your magic back or summon anyone else.”

  “Well—it’s not your business,” I growled, turning from the window.

  This was mucking up all my plans. Now I never knew when Harris was going to be around. He might sabotage my attempt to talk to the finishing school lady, and…and.

  He followed me here because he likes me and he can’t stand that Alec and Montague might get to have me to themselves.

  Well, too bad.

  Not like I’m attracted to him back or anything.

  I kept thinking of how Harris put his arm around me when the demon appeared in Theurgy class. And then how he chased off my bullies. He helped us time and time again when I was trying to figure out what was going on with my mom. But then he always pulled back and acted in infuriating ways.

  One thing I had certainly realized: Harris was a very skilled warlock. Better than any of the rest of us. He didn’t just coast on his family name or money. His spells were genuinely badass.

  “Phew…” I wiped my brow. “No air conditioning in here. This is going to be rough.”

  “Oh good. You’re cured,” Firian said, eyes narrowing. “The sight of Harris cured you.”

  “It did not.” I peeled off my sweater so I was down to a t-shirt over a long-sleeved shirt. “I just forgot I was wearing so many clothes.”

  Firian looked vaguely irritated before sinking his fingers into my hair. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I guess I’ll have to leave you now so I don’t harm your mission. But call me when the coast is clear.”

  “I hate that you can’t do everything with us this summer.”

  He pulled me a little closer an
d nudged me to the bed. My ass bounced on the thick mattress and I almost slid off again. Firian picked up my knees and scooted me onto the bed. He was tall enough to fold himself over me so I was laying back, kissing him as his arms closed around me. His lips caressed mine like he was saving up the memory of me to carry him through.

  Then he stepped back. “Have fun.”

  He vanished.

  “Firian…” I frowned. I knew he had to go. The whole town would talk if I had my familiar following me around. But I hated it. It just seemed so unfair and pointless. Who cares if I love him? It’s not hurting anyone.

  I came back downstairs. “Did you know that Harris is renting the place next door?”

  “What?” Montague turned sharply from the oven where he was making tea. “The Marcottes’ house? Did you see him?”

  There was a knock on the door.

  Alec strolled over and answered it. “Hey, Harris. What are you doing here?”

  Montague looked like he was considering how much this disrupted his plans. “Is your whole family here?”

  “Just me,” Harris said. “I needed to get away. We’re quarreling.”

  “Is that so…”

  “It’ll be like old times,” Harris said. “Only better. Or…what? Do you guys think I’m going to horn in on your threesome or something?”

  “No.” Montague flung open the heavy door. “Come in. We’re here for business, you know.”

  “What business?”

  “He’s a spy for Master Blair,” I said.

  “Not really a spy,” Harris said. “I’m protecting Charlotte from danger at Blair’s request.”

  “Do you think I shouldn’t return to Merlin College?” I demanded. “Because that’s what he wants. To banish me back to the real world.”

  “I don’t really care,” Harris said. “I just don’t feel like going home and this is a nice side job.”

  “Then, it isn’t like old times,” Montague said, opening the icebox and covering the kitchen table with cheese and sausage and other things that I hope had been kept cold enough not to give us all food poisoning. He sliced some bread. “You are welcome to the hospitality of my snacks, Harris. Then you might as well leave because we are not going to accept Charlotte slogging through a mortal life.”

  Harris folded a slice of Serrano ham onto a piece of bread. Despite the tension in the air, the kitchen was a very welcoming room, the floors covered in tiles painted with brown and blue designs, natural light falling on the long wooden table from two tall open windows that faced the garden. I heard the trill of frogs or insects and the smell of flowers was even stronger. I felt like I was in some quaint European town somewhere far, far away from my troubles.

  “What are your plans?” Harris asked.

  “We’re not going to tell you our plans!” I said.

  “I’ll just have to follow you.”

  Montague took a pouch of blood from the icebox and shook it at him. “If you mess this up, I’ll kill you.” He left the room so we didn’t have to watch him drinking blood, which was good because I didn’t want to see that either.

  Harris lifted his fair brows. “He’s touchy when he’s horny. You have fun. I’ll see you around, everywhere, as I prepare my report.”

  “Harris,” Alec said. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

  Harris looked incensed that Alec actually went there. “Some of us are capable of acting based on our heads,” he said, and slammed the door on his way out.

  “Harris has finally encountered something he can’t have,” Alec said.

  “If he wasn’t such a jerk, he could have had a shot,” I said, like I was such hot stuff. “You guys wouldn’t all be so interested if there were other girls in school, I’m sure.”

  “What?” Alec scoffed. “You think I haven’t met other girls? You think I just fall for anyone?”

  “Isn’t that what incubi do?”

  “If I didn’t like you I would avoid you,” he said. “Because I’m an incubus, and it’s in my nature just to have sex whenever possible, with whoever. I like you enough to think I could save everything for you. And when I finally am able to touch you…get ready.”

  A pang of intense longing went through me at the wicked intent in his eyes. “When will that be?” I asked, my voice getting that tone where I was drunk on his gorgeousness, enchanted by his demon side.

  “Let’s see if you can handle Monty first,” he said, one broad hand spread on the table as he leaned over me, his voice low, right in my ear. His breath was hot on my skin and I wanted more. “And Firian, before that. Are you ready for this summer?”

  “I’m ready,” I breathed.

  Chapter Six

  Montague

  I drained the pouch of blood and threw it in the trash, suppressing a sense of shame and anger that my parents had to worry about stocking the house with blood whenever I came home. Then I looked at myself in the mirror a moment to try and stay focused.

  “Montague Xarra,” I whispered. “That’s your name. You are in your house. Safe. Charlotte and Alec are here. This is your life.”

  Lately, my memories of my sire Rayner were coming hard and fast. Vampires were supposed to follow the oldest living vampire in their bloodline. My memories of Rayner were trying to draw me to him, to make me serve him.

  He’s out there somewhere. This man is still alive. Rayner. My lord.

  I knew Rayner had lived in the Netherlands sometime around the 1600s, and been in love with a girl named Lisbeth. Her parents wanted her to marry someone else, and I’m sure they didn’t even know she was in love with a vampire, but she chose to follow Rayner to London instead. He had loved her desperately and I had many memories of her, of the way he looked at her, of him making love to her. If I hadn’t had Charlotte to take my mind off of it, I might have lost myself in memories of this long-dead girl.

  But then I had a memory of Lisbeth dying of the plague. Judging by history this might have been 1665 or 1666. Ever since then, my memories had turned darker. Rayner was miserable without Lisbeth and I had to deal with the heaviness of his grief.

  Now I was remembering something else.

  A tall, lean man in black, with heavy eyelids, deep-set eyes, no periwig or fancy clothes, just his own dark hair falling on his shoulders, the only nod to fashion some lace-trimmed neckwear. The 1660s were, generally, a pretty ridiculous time for men and Rayner’s memories of London were full of crazy wigs and bows and some really rough-looking peasants. This guy didn’t seem like a peasant.

  If her soul has chosen to walk this earth again, I can find you your Lisbeth, he said softly. But she won’t be Lisbeth anymore.

  Find her.

  She might be a man. She might be on the other side of the globe. She might be deformed or crippled. She will, most certainly, be a mere child and you would be cruel to tamper with her new life.

  I don’t care. Find her.

  The man sighed. Come back in ten years.

  Ten years, Rayner growled. No.

  What price will you pay?

  I have money. A pouch of coins was dumped onto the table.

  That…isn’t enough.

  I felt Rayner’s anger and desperation building.

  Was this what I thought it was? He thought Lisbeth was reincarnated and he could actually find her again? That was some bad magic, there. You were never supposed to interfere with the sacred passage between death and life.

  Of course, once you were already a vampire, I guess he figured, what the hell.

  I shut my eyes, clutching my head. The man in black looked a little sinister but he seemed to have some sympathy for Lisbeth’s soul, and I had a feeling of dread when I saw the memory.

  And then—

  Rayner turned into a monster. Grabbing the man, pinning him down, fangs in his neck. The other man didn’t expect this. Panic, dread, attempts to scream for help that went unanswered as Rayner bit him.

  Now you belong to me, Mr. Fletcher, and you will find her.

  M
y breathing was choked. I had mostly forgotten my own turning. I was pretty drunk. Or maybe I just blocked it out. As my memories flashed back to Rayner attacking the other man, I remembered that terror and helplessness as I realized what was happening to me. I had also screamed for help, but I was very far from home.

  There was a knock on the door. “Montague?” Charlotte asked. “Alec wants to know where the corkscrew is.”

  I could tell by the way she said it that what she really meant was, Hey, are you okay?

  I forced myself back together and opened the door. “I’m fine.”

  Her nose wrinkled as if I didn’t look that convincing. “You sure? You look extra pale right now. Was the blood not kept at an FDA approved temperature? Should I be worried about the salami?”

  “Just the memories again.” I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

  “You should talk about it,” she said. “That always helps. You don’t have to deal with secret tormented vampire stuff.”

  I know why vampires are always tormented, I thought. Memories. Loneliness. I knew that Charlotte and Alec would die and leave me just like Lisbeth. How many years before that really sunk in? “When Lisbeth died, Rayner lost it. He went to some guy—a warlock, maybe—trying to find out if she’d been reincarnated. And when the guy wouldn’t cooperate he turned him into a vampire. Really…vivid, violent shit.” I shrugged it off. “But it’s fine. I’ll feel better once we’re out on the water.”

  Her eyes lingered on me, concerned. She adjusted my collar. “That’s probably true. Water is a healing element, right?”

  “Yes.”

  As we left the house, it was late afternoon. Soon the sun would go down and I could take off my hat. I had never been a hat man so I was counting the minutes. I took Charlotte past the night market. The focal point of St. Augustine was the tree-lined plaza, a long rectangle of criss-crossed paths and monuments. In the human world, it was no longer a market, but in the magical world, its purpose remained. During the day people sold produce in the market building, but at night true Ethereals—seelie faeries and angels and shapeshifting beings—came to sell magical wares: tinctures and potions and strange ingredients from far corners of the magical world. Overlooking the plaza was the Hotel Scheherazade and Cathedral Basilica on one side and Trinity Church and the Hotel Cordova on the other side, along with smaller shops and buildings. On the human side, the site of the Scheherazade Hotel was a six-story bank building.