"No, does it matter?"
"It complicates things. You'll have to cut ties with her."
"Why?"
"She was drawn to you to serve a purpose, to be a step in your initiation. But now, all non-initiates will be drawn to you because you have what they want. You can't have a relationship with someone that's not like us."
I sighed, remembering how confusing the process could be. "It's a tricky time for you. You'll be accessing all kinds of new genetic memories and knowledge. Sometimes it'll be perfectly clear and straightforward. Other times, you'll only get bits and pieces."
Brody nodded but his eyes glazed and unfocused.
"I know it can be overwhelming—”
Brody cut me off. "I'm not overwhelmed." His mottled green eyes cleared as he spoke. "I have questions, but I'm not overwhelmed."
"OK, shoot."
"Exactly why do I have to cut ties with her?"
Shit. I wasn't doing a very good job of explaining this. "Brody, you don't understand," I started. Brody’s gaze followed as I rubbed at the scar on my ribs. "Now that you’re a practitioner of magic, nons will find you irresistible. It’s called enthrallment.” I explained. “First, they’ll recognize you as something different, something that they need. Second, they’ll start plotting and trying to get close to you. And third, they steal your magic. You’ll be totally under their control, only capable of using your magic for their whims. Then you’ll be the one enthralled - by them.” I sighed. I wasn’t getting through to him. “Brody, not only do you have to cut ties with the woman from last night, you have to sever all your previous relationships, romantic, platonic, all of them."
His jaw dropped. Brody stood so suddenly, his chair toppled.
I stayed seated, outwardly relaxed but bracing internally for the barrage I knew was coming.
"You mean to tell me now that I'm - whatever I am, I can only have contact with you people?" He spat the phrase like a slur, and I took it, unflinching. I knew exactly how he felt. "This is not what I wanted at all! I was searching for freedom and control over my life, and you're telling me your rules are even more restricting!" He towered over me, bellowing his frustration.
Amari appeared in the doorway behind Brody, asking with a look if I could handle it. I nodded once and he disappeared.
I leaned back in my chair, surveying the space. Brody fumed over me, growing angrier at my apparent lack of concern. Ten of the fifteen tables in the smaller bar were full, and the bar itself was packed. The Laughing Cat wasn't usually this busy at lunchtime, and I'd never seen the smaller bar with this many people. Ever. "Can we have the room please?" I asked the curious and eavesdropping practitioners. They filed out, taking their drinks and sandwiches, a few giving me encouraging pats on the shoulder as they passed.
"I know you're frustrated and scared—”
"I'm not scared," he cut me off again, this time through gritted teeth. "I'm mad as hell! This is not what I wanted!" Brody yelled.
I stood, slow and deliberate, not allowing Brody's anger to seep into me. When I was toe-to-toe with him, I whispered, "That is the last time you will yell at me. Understood?"
Brody met my stern gaze with pure rage. "How can you expect me NOT to yell? Your rules are unacceptable. I need regular people in my life; my business clients are all regular people. And what about my family, huh? What am I supposed to tell them? Hey, Mom, can't come over for dinner because I'm activated, initiated, constipated…whatever! This is unacceptable and I'll have no part of it." Brody took a single step toward the door before I grabbed his wrist and pushed energy into him.
This wasn't the tingly, centering kind or the sexy kind Amari had given to me. This was the energy of dominance and control.
"Sit down," I said to Brody's ever-widening eyes. "Sit down and shut up." Except for his twitching, energy-rattled arm, Brody stood statue-still. "I don't want to hurt you, Brody," I hissed in warning. "Sit down," I commanded.
I watched the realization occur on his face. He couldn't move away from me, the energy wouldn't allow it, but he could move toward me. With his free hand, he snatched my arm and poured his own brand of coercion into me. Brody went with what came naturally, and my body flushed and shuddered with the pure sexual energy he flowed.
It was exactly what I wanted from him.
I'd successfully goaded him into using his power for the first time.
I dialed up the intensity of my energy push; Brody did the same. Neither of us could let go, even as we slowly knelt to the floor, him from submission and me from near orgasm. Our energies were locked in the oldest ceremony we had.
Sweat dripped from my face as I gave Brody the last part of the ceremony. I mentally separated a fraction of my energy and placed it within him. Brody felt it, and, shivering at the alien sensation, did the same for me. The moment I accepted his strange, jagged piece, the struggle stopped. Our energy flows self-terminated, leaving us panting with the sudden shock of lack.
Brody collapsed, sweat-drenched and shivering into my lap.
7
We sat alone on the floor in the small bar, Brody's head in my lap and me stroking his damp hair. The ceremony was complete; Brody just had to recover.
It was an intensely intimate and vulnerable experience, which, until now, I hadn't known was true for both parties. It was no wonder Amari and I became a couple after he completed my initiation. Amari wasn't the jealous, insecure type, but now the "puppy" digs made sense. Brody and I were linked to each other, inextricably.
Brody jerked upright and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "What the hell was that?" he muttered, hoarse from yelling, hands still trembling.
"The last phase of your initiation," I said. "Everyone is different. You were so worked up I couldn't just explain that you needed to access your power to complete your initiation. It seemed the best way was to goad you into it."
"No, I got that. I mean that last part. That was rough. I felt naked," he hugged himself, rubbing his hands up his arms, "and not in the good way."
"We've been bonded until you reach maturity." Brody cocked a questioning eyebrow at me. "Not physical maturity, practitioner maturity. Until then, I'm responsible for you. Got it?"
Brody nodded. "I'm still not cutting off everyone I know."
"It's required and for the best. But, until you realize it for yourself, no explanation I give will be good enough."
"Try me."
I sighed and gestured to the tables. "We can't get cozy with non-practitioners because they try to find their power, their alignment through us. As I said before, it’s called enthrallment." I began as Brody righted his toppled chair. "They don't know they're doing it. Expanding and growing is natural, everyone has the ability to become a practitioner, but until they figure it out, they are driven to find the easiest way possible. For most, that’s through us. They exploit us until we're used up.” I paused a moment to see if my words made an impact. “Brody, we aren't protecting them by keeping our distance; we're protecting ourselves." I couldn’t gauge whether the gravity of what intermingling could do was sinking in.
"What do you mean, 'used up'?"
"I mean they will literally drain us until we’re only able to use our gifts for their wishes. Until we have no will of our own."
Brody shook his head. "I don't believe you."
"I've just recovered from a very close call." I lifted my shirt, exposing the silvery scar across my ribs. "That's where an acquaintance decided to access my magic - with his knife."
Brody was not convinced. "That could be a scar from anything."
"I didn't believe it when Amari told me, either. But it's true and I'd rather not see you sucked dry. You’re especially vulnerable since you’re newly initiated. Your energy is all over the place, making you even more appealing to nons."
"You're serious, aren't you?"
I nodded.
Brody took my hand and looked deep into my eyes. It was uncomfortably intense. "I believe that you believe it, Zora, but
I refuse to believe I initiated into such a fucked up system." He released my hand and stood.
My heart sank.
Brody smiled with half his mouth. "Look, if it’s true, I’ll protect myself. If not, well then I won’t rub it in your face too much. Either way, I’ll be back tomorrow. OK?”
I nodded.
“Noon?” he asked.
"Tomorrow at noon," I said as Brody left the small bar.
I sat alone in the room collecting myself. I needed a nap. I was emotionally drained and raw. And worried about my new initiate. What if I’d just let him walk out to be sucked dry by a non.
No, Brody would be OK. Even if he had extended contact with a non, they wouldn’t get to the first stage of enthrallment.
I hoped.
I was the only one who’d been attacked by a non without any previous meaningful contact.
But it could happen.
The moment I set foot into the main bar I was accosted with slaps on the back, outstretched hands, and cheers.
"Way to go, Zora!" said an unfamiliar patron.
"How was your first initiation?" asked a fae.
"How's it feel now that you're an initiator?" asked a shifter from Jake’s pack.
I looked from face to face as they circled around me, eager to hear my story. I felt like carrion and all these circling practitioners were the vultures.
"Space," I spoke the word gently, again finding power in softness. The enclosing practitioners widened their circle but didn't disband. It was better, less claustrophobic, but not what I wanted. "Please," I whispered, and felt energy swell out of me to gently part the crowd.
That was new.
Amari stood at the end of the crowd wearing an inscrutable expression. I pointed to the loft and tried not to run out of the bar.
I burst into Amari's loft, looking for anything I'd forgotten this morning. I found my bra on the ottoman and my cell, which I hadn't remembered taking out of my bag. But I couldn't find my panties anywhere.
"Whatever," I muttered and left without them.
Amari met me on the stairs. "You're leaving?" he asked, expression still unreadable.
"Yes," I said, putting my bag between us. "I need some space and a nap."
"You can nap here," he offered.
"Space, Amari," I whispered, voice and hands trembling. I had to get out of there.
He nodded and let me pass. I went out through the kitchen avoiding all the well-meaning but overwhelming practitioners. I didn't blame them for being curious; I just couldn't handle it. I felt raw and exposed, like giving a piece of energy to Brody had left an open energetic wound of sorts. Every time someone came into my space, I could feel their presence echoing in the void.
I hadn't experienced that from the other side when Amari initiated me. I hoped that didn't mean I'd done something wrong.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself when I reached my car. I didn't have my keys and there was no way in hell I was going back in that bar.
I walked instead, carrying my too-heavy bag over a slumped shoulder. I tried to use the walk to refocus. I tried concentrating on my footsteps, on my breathing, on the chirping birds. None of it worked. I couldn't get away from the loop of questions and uncertainty playing in my head.
Had I done the initiation correctly? Why was it so painful to be around others? What if Brody got himself hurt? What if I was a terrible teacher? If the pain was normal, why hadn't Amari mentioned it?
If I'd stayed in the loft I could be running all these doubts by Amari, but the urge to leave was overwhelming. I needed time and space to process. Alone.
I was so lost in my own mess of thoughts, I tripped on the uneven sidewalk a block away from my building.
"Damn it," I said, landing on palms and knees but somehow managing to keep my bag and laptop from hitting the pavement. I surveyed the damage to my pants. The sidewalk dirt would wash out, but I couldn't do anything about the hole.
I'd walked this walk at least a hundred times and knew the pavement dipped there. I scolded myself for getting so caught in my head.
At least it was just a scrape. I sent a bit of energy down my leg to speed up the healing process, picked up my bag, and hobbled the rest of the way.
8
The absolute last thing I wanted to see while injured, exhausted, and energy-wounded greeted me as I rounded the corner to my building.
"Hi!" the pregnant neighbor from yesterday shouted at me, waving and smiling like an imbecile. She'd been waiting outside our building. "I'm glad I ran into you," she started. "I was just on my way out." I glanced behind her at the folding chair in the vestibule and tried to keep the disbelief off my face. "Oh, you've hurt yourself," she cooed, seeing my knee as I climbed the cement steps. "Why don't you let me take care of it for you?" she asked, voice and smile as sweet as aspartame.
She was directly between me and the door to the building. "I think I can handle a scraped knee," I said, gesturing for her to move.
She was oblivious. "Oh, don't be silly. It'll just take a moment."
"Really," I said dropping pretenses and half an octave. "I'm fine."
She reached toward me either to comfort or coerce and put herself in my space with a single step. The woman bounced and scraped in the energetic wound and the whole world blurred. My free hand balled itself into a fist and my jaw clenched in protest, but she was too enamored to notice. She raked across every nerve. "Look," I said through a locked jaw, trying to will my vision back to normal. "I have to get inside, and you're preventing that. Please move."
"Oh!" She was genuinely surprised. "Why didn't you say so, Zora? I'll help you to your place." And with that, she opened the door and offered to take my bag with an outstretched hand. I gave it to her, happy to have her out of my space.
She followed behind me, keeping my hobbled pace all the way to the elevator and only occasionally grazing my space. The woman babbled the whole time: "How did you hurt yourself? Goodness, what's in this bag? It's so heavy. You're very tall, aren't you? What are you about, five ten? And your hair is so pretty. How do you keep the curls from getting frizzy? Was that your boyfriend I saw here the other day? What floor?" she asked as we entered the elevator. I pressed the button for my floor, and she continued the verbal diarrhea.
"He looks so exotic - your boyfriend, that is. Where is he from?"
"Chicago," I said when her question didn't immediately bleed into another.
"Oooooh! I've always loved Chicago," she said wistfully and for a moment her barrage stopped, caught as she was in whatever memory she had of the city.
It only lasted a moment. "What's he doing in Maryland of all places?" she asked, shocked anyone would move from The Windy City to The Circle.
"You'd have to ask him." I didn't want to explain why this was the best place for him. Most practitioners migrate to either coast after their initiation. We weren't sure why, but being in the middle part of the country feels wrong. Amari moved here a few months after his initiation.
"Does he at least live in Baltimore?" I shook my head, and my pregnant neighbor clicked her tongue in disapproval. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to leave such a big, busy city for The Circle. Oh, here's your floor," she said as the elevator dinged, her arm elbow deep in my bag. "Sorry,” she said and snatched her hand out of the bag. “I was looking for your keys,” she explained.
My left hand hummed lightly at her lie. Whatever she was doing in my bag, she wasn’t looking for my keys.
"They're not in there," I said, testing the injured knee with my full weight. It still hurt, more than it should, and my neighbor saw it. Why the hell did my knee still hurt so bad? It felt worse than before.
Much worse.
"Here, let me help you." Genuine concern was clear on her face, but I flinched when she got too close. Her in my space hurt more than my screwed-up knee.
"Sorry," I mumbled, and let her hover like a worried hen on the edge of my space as I limped across the hall to my apartment.
"
Oh! Look! There's a package for you!" She pointed at the heavily taped, airmail package propped against the door of my condo. "But I still don't have your keys, Zora," she said with the oddest combination of disapproval and excitement - I'd never let her hang around this long before.
"I left them at my boyfriend's," I said and reached for my spare on top of the door frame.
"Clever," she said and snatched it from me. She picked up the package and unlocked the door. Holding it open from the outside, my strange neighbor let me enter first. "I think your knee is more than skinned," she said from the hallway. "Will you let me in to look at it?" There was no manic need or excitement in her tone. She seemed calm and perfectly rational.
Could her real personality be peeking out? Was she able control the level of her enthrallment?
I knew I shouldn’t let her in. She’d already gotten too close. But something was wrong.
It should have healed by now.
I needed help.
Nodding in agreement, I sank into the closest armchair.
I still had the butterfly knife in my back pocket from last night in case she got too close too quick.
"You should put it up," she said, and put my bag on the carpet next to me while handing me the package. "I'll be right back," she said and made her way to my kitchen.
I winced at the thought of her in my kitchen as I draped my legs over the arm of the chair. When was the last time I did the dishes? I sighed and focused on the package in my lap instead of worrying about the state of my kitchen. I recognized the swirly, script handwriting instantly, even if the return address hadn't been written in Japanese characters.
Kaori and I had been exchanging trinkets since I returned from the first leg of my research trip last year. She was by far, the most interesting, funniest, and most insightful practitioner I'd met during my travels. She was the absolute highlight of my time in Japan.
I was excited to see what she'd sent me. But it would have to wait until my neighbor was gone. Kaori was so tape-happy, I’d have to cut the package open. But I wasn’t about to use my knife and risk letting my neighbor know I was armed.
Enthralled Magic (The Circle Series Book 1) Page 3