Lives of Magic (Seven Wanderers Trilogy)

by Lucy Leiderman

  There was silence from the door, as the security guards looked him up and down. I could imagine their appraisal of him — doesn’t look dangerous, doesn’t look crazy. But you never know.

  Finally, one of them spoke. “One of your neighbours said they heard screaming, sir. Is there anyone else in the room?”

  Just then an unwelcome flashlight shone into my face, and I found myself stumbling into a complimentary bathrobe and coming to the door.

  “Ma’am.” They both gave one curt nod. My head still pounded so I squinted into the hall, doing my best to look tired and not pained.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. I just wanted them to go away. “We’ll try to keep it down.”

  Shutting the door on their suspicious faces, I slunk back into the room. My stomach had been against getting up so quickly. I could hear Kian saying something behind me, but I rushed into the bathroom and was sick all over the sparkling hotel toilet.

  I hated throwing up. My knees and hands shook and it felt like ages before I was done emptying the contents of my stomach, which hadn’t been a lot since we had again neglected food. When I was done, I leaned back only to find a weight against my back. Kian had been holding my hair.

  He helped me wash my face then scooped me back into bed for the second time that night. I lay there, listening as he moved around the room, cleaning up whatever I had destroyed or moved while in my dream state. Finally he sat down next to me.

  “Sleep will help you. You should not have gotten up. My small bit of magic is still enough to work persuasion,” he said.

  “Hm,” was all I managed in reply. He sighed.

  “Your past life was…” he paused, searching for words, “more than on this human level. Your memories will be strong, intense. And they will interfere with the power you have.”

  “How … stop?” I mumbled.

  Kian shook his head. “If they stop, you die. There are bad people coming to get you. You need to be strong enough to defend yourself. As bad as this feels, having it taken from you is worse.”

  I lay prone, listening without the capability to consider his words. Storing the information away in a part of my mind, to be dealt with later, I listened as Kian explained how I had flown from my bed and began to convulse as my dreaming state flowed over into the real world. He told me how he had to drag me from the air and pin me down — wake me up so that I would not hurt myself.

  “You are somewhat different,” Kian said, changing the topic. His voice was tired, but there was a hint of strong emotion behind it. Was he upset? “You speak with humour in this life, and you smile faster.” Then, after another pause, “Gwen?”

  I lay with my eyes closed. He thought I was asleep. I did not reply, wondering what he would say.

  “In the days before the Romans came,” Kian began, “you had become more mysterious. I always wished to ask you about it, but never did. And then it was too late.” He paused. “Maybe if you remember, you will tell me.”

  He sighed then and leaned in closer. I didn’t know why I held my breath, but I did, and in the darkness, Kian placed a single kiss on my forehead. He moved into his own bed, and soon I was fast asleep, the pain in my head having blissfully dissipated.

  “You’re different,” I told Kian over our complimentary continental breakfast.

  Around us, businessmen, families, and wealthy looking housewives conversed over their buffet meals. I was absolutely delighted the pain in my head was gone and revelled in the noise of the room.

  Kian looked better as well. He wore a collared white shirt and black pants, giving him the look of some banker who has run out on his day job. He had smoothed down his hair, and his features were becoming more human to me. When he looked up at me over his bowl of cereal, his lips were pursed.

  “You’ve been different since we left,” I repeated after not getting a reaction. He put down his spoon and shrugged. I was about to press further when he sighed and leaned in close.

  “You are changing me,” he said. His voice was a mixture of revelation and resignation. I must have looked confused, because he went on. “Being with you feels … human again. I am becoming what I once was. It was different when I was on my own. I forgot what it was like to be with people.”

  “Oh,” I said stupidly. I didn’t know if it was a compliment. The conversation over breakfast had just turned heavy.

  “You said you were here for seven years. What were you doing before you found me?” I asked.

  “Waiting,” he said.

  Before I had time to think about it, he got up and cleared his dishes. We were out of the hotel and into the bright morning sunlit streets of Manhattan within minutes. Even in September, the weather was particularly hot. I was already warm. My heart skipped a beat when I realized it was a weekday, and I was missing yet more classes.

  To hide all of the bruises, cuts, and bumps sustained over the past few days, I had worn a long-sleeved flowing shirt and tights. Just enough to cover all of my injuries, but I was already baking on the sidewalk. It didn’t help my summer wear that many of the fresh bruises on my arms and legs were in the shape of handprints from Kian’s attempts to get me off our hotel room ceiling.

  I sighed and was about to complain when I realized his wear wasn’t meant for summer either.

  We had decided that to find someone on an island of over eight million people, we would need to cover as much ground as possible. My suggestion to split up was instantly rebuffed as Kian reminded me he did not want to leave me alone. And, after last night, I had been hoping he would say that and not leave me to fend for myself.

  Convincing myself it was for the good of our mission, I talked him into taking me to the Statue of Liberty. Every time I remembered what I was doing, panic would flare in my chest and my heart would race.

  My reckless, irresponsible behaviour over the past few days was still foreign to me. The part of me that kept being inexplicably magical, no matter how much it harmed me, was tempting me. Kian’s warm looks and attention didn’t help to deter me from following him either. I realized I hadn’t even thought about the looming threat Kian had said awaited me. I knew nothing of magicians and needed to stay focused on the moment.

  Last night had been jarring and painful. If having my magic stolen by any of the ancient magicians was worse than that, I wanted to avoid it happening to me or anyone else like me. Kian insisted we keep an eye out for anyone my age. I wondered how soon he would realize that we needed a new plan.

  The pain of the night before had made me remember how real my situation was. If I didn’t survive the memories, I wanted to see the Statue of Liberty before I died. That was my logic. So, a short and sweaty cab ride later, we were waiting in line for a boat that would circle the Statue of Liberty and then return to shore, as the statue itself was closed to visitors.

  I had bought an ice cream to pass my time in line, while Kian text messaged on his little phone again. Finally, I had had enough.

  “I don’t believe you don’t know who’s on the other end,” I said sternly, while a chubby six-year-old pushed past me to join his parents in line. All around us, people chatted and looked annoyed at standing out in the heat.

  “Why not?” Kian asked, putting away his phone.

  “You’re not curious to know whose orders you’re following or why?” I lowered my voice, realizing tourists surrounded us. “You’ve never seen or spoken to any of the magicians you said are on our side?”

  He looked out onto the ocean for a long while before speaking. “Facing this direction,” Kian said, “I could almost imagine seeing home.” He sounded so wistful it nearly broke my heart. He turned around to face me, his back to the sea.

  “I came here by a magic that has kept my body and soul intact, and I have been given a magic and strength that is not mine. My responsibility is to collect those that can challenge the magicians. I told you that.”

  The statement sounded well-rehearsed, like he had assured hims
elf of this many times. When I was about to open my mouth, pointing out I had still not gotten any answers, he continued.

  “So I know why I am doing what I do, and I know why I am going to the places I go,” Kian said. “No magic goes unnoticed. That’s how the others, stronger magicians than I, know of you. I don’t have that strength. I could not help you without them. So I do not ask any more.” He smiled, but when I clearly didn’t understand, he went on.

  “At home, I had no magic. Anything I have is to do this one task. Your life, Gwen, uses your magic. The person you are, how you live and feel, all of those things use your magic whether you notice it or not. And powerful magicians can locate this magic in the world. The existence of our power is rare enough that when it is used, magicians feel it and where it comes from.”

  “And then you go and track the person down,” I supplied. Kian nodded. “But …” I stammered. I’d been using magic my entire life? “I’m so boring!”

  “Perhaps you wanted to be,” Kian suggested. I opened my mouth to argue, but then a thought struck me. It was the old Gwen, still sitting in my mind, fighting and kicking for things to go back to normal. Grudgingly, I had to admit that Kian was right. It was old Gwen’s nature. I did just want to be left alone.

  “Four months ago,” Kian said. His words brought me back to the present, waiting in a hot line to sit on a hot boat.

  “What?”

  “Four months ago, there was an earthquake in San Francisco after the magicians had disturbed the earth with their magic. The houses around yours crumbled. You watched from the window and willed it to stop.”

  I remembered that day. I had been so scared, home on the weekend while Mom and Dad were at their clinic downtown. Everything shook while I watched TV, and the plasma crashed down onto the living room floor. I had run to the window to see the entire bay not shaking, but rolling. And then the houses to the left were collapsing into their foundations. My heart had pounded, I had held my breath, and the rolling had stopped. We were safe, and I had never thought anything more of it than luck or coincidence.

  “But I …” I began.

  “You have a natural magic, which makes it pure and strong. You did will it to end.”

  “That’s when you were sent to find me?” I asked. Kian nodded again.

  We shuffled forward as we had been doing for the last hour. We reached a portion of the line where we were near to the front, underneath a canopy and in front of some TVs playing various news channels. Apparently, meteorologists were warning of an extremely brutal winter for the Northeast. But I would be home by then. A thought struck me.

  “Kian!” How could I not think to ask? “How many are there? How many people are you going to find?” My actual burning question was how long I would be away from home.

  He shrugged dismissively. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

  “What do you mean you don’t know? I thought you knew all of us.” I was annoyed, hot, and probably sunburnt. When I turned and saw his face, however, I understood. Kian turned back towards the television screens.

  He doesn’t know how many he’ll find because he doesn’t know how many are left.

  I pondered all of the events that could have befallen me had I never met Kian. What if these memories came back, and I didn’t know what to do? What if he hadn’t been there last night to drag me down by the ankle? What if I was just overrun by magic and collapsed under its weight? What if something else had happened to my human self? Has this happened to any of us?

  I checked myself after the word “us.” No turning back now.

  “BREAKING NEWS.” The television screens behind us flashed red. The muttering died down and people turned to the screens to watch and listen. I could hear a few parents shushing their children.

  The noise of the crowd was still too loud to hear the announcer, but the closed captioning on each screen was flashing wildly. Suddenly, each of the dozen screens began showing an image of the Atlantic Ocean, with a red target sign over top.

  “What …?” I began, but my question was cut off as the pier beneath us lurched and I toppled to the side. Kian caught my arm in a painful grip, but others weren’t as fortunate. Frantic screams erupted as people fell into the water, which was swaying in uneasy and violent waves.

  “There’s been an earthquake somewhere offshore,” Kian said through gritted teeth. I instinctively looked up towards the screens for the news anchors confirming this, but everything had short-circuited.

  The pier jolted and I lost my footing again. This time, for a terrifying few seconds, the pier groaned and shook as the water was sucked out from underneath it and into the ocean. We were faced with a giant wave forming offshore. More screams cut through the air. The wave broke but its tide still hit the pier and raised it. Through my panic, I saw more people tumble into the swelling ocean. The only thing keeping me away from the water was Kian’s death grip on my arm. He was hanging on to the railing of the pier with his other hand.

  We rose with the water until the pier stood nearly vertical. The only thing louder than the roar of the sea was the grating of metal and wood as aged infrastructure gave out. And when I thought we were about to flip, the wave was gone and the pier crashed down.

  Water engulfed us and I inhaled it in terror. The feeling of the pier slamming into the ocean was akin to when I had fallen into the Pacific only a few days ago. The ache reverberated off my heels, up my spine, through my neck, and into my head. I was disoriented and half drowned when Kian dragged me up.

  “Run!” he shouted over the noise. I tried to scramble away, but my gaze kept turning back to the sea. People were in the water. Some struggled, some did not. I stared hard at the dangerous dark surface, expecting the magicians to emerge from within it.

  “Gwen!” Kian was still yelling at me. “Run!”

  I finally gathered the strength to run towards the end of the boardwalk and land, but not before I saw the Statue of Liberty violently rocking and shaking with the ocean’s surges.

  Chapter Nine

  The slippery and uneven wood did not make running easy, especially since I was still sore and aching. I eventually had to stop. My breath was becoming ragged, and my chest seized as the blood pumped through to my head, each heartbeat like a hammer blow.

  I pulled Kian to a stop and realized we had been holding hands as we ran from the ocean’s fury. He let go and knelt in front of me, looking worried, while I doubled over and heaved. Something unfamiliar tugged at my chest. It threatened to overthrow me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

  When I regained some energy and air, I straightened. We stood on a street that must have held lots of banks and offices, since the people who flooded the streets and crowded the windows were all dressed in smart black suits. Everyone eyed the sea nervously and spoke amongst themselves. I was at a total loss. So much for seeing the city.

  Kian seized my arm again, his favourite spot where he liked to hold me as he saved my life, and I winced as the bruises deepened.

  “Let’s go,” he said grimly.

  A cold wind had swept over me, and I was suddenly glad to be wearing the long sleeves as I shivered like a wet cat. When the smell of salt touched my nostrils, it was sickening. I should not smell salt. Not here, not among the concrete and hot-dog vendors and cars. The magicians, if they were doing this, for the first time since I had allowed myself to believe, seemed wholly real.

  Dripping with sweat, we eventually made it back to the hotel. I didn’t know how Kian remembered the way, but my side ached and the heat and dirt of the city pricked at my skin. He seemed unfazed. The streets we had passed were loaded with people gawking and whispering in the direction of the pier. We stopped outside the big doors of the hotel, where life seemed to be business as usual.

  Kian gave me a look I hadn’t seen before. Was it meant to be reassuring? He took my hand and led me inside.

  The screens in the lobby were all playing the same footage of the horror we had come from. Underneath the i
mages of a rolling pier, a headline read, “Fifty-four dead in latest natural disaster to hit east coast.”

  Kian was saying something. When I didn’t answer, he said, “Gwen?”

  “Hm?”

  I was embarrassed to be caught with my gaze lingering on our intertwined fingers. He ignored the red that quickly spread over my cheeks and led the way to the elevators. Luckily, our horrid appearance didn’t attract any attention as each face was turned either to a TV screen or a window.

  I was refusing to look outside. I felt exposed and unsafe, as if the sea was about to surge and swallow Manhattan. The force had seemed so huge. The power to control that would have to be enormous. How did I ever stand a chance?

  “What was that?” I asked in the elevator. My voice shook.

  “In ancient times, people believed they were a product of the earth,” Kian said, pressing the button for our floor. “So to control the people, one must control the earth. That is what they did to our home, and now they are doing it to this land. They think if they cause enough confusion and fear, they will have enough power to take control.”

  “How?”

  Kian gave me a look that made it clear I did not want to know, but I would not back down.

  “They campaign on fear. They believe to lead this country is the most powerful position in the world, and they want it.”

  “Oh.”

  The answer seemed obvious but I was still shocked an ancient magician would want to be president. To destroy the country seemed extreme.

  “That’s why they need me,” I said. It was a statement. My power to control the earth meant political power to the magicians.

  “Yes.”

  Once in our room, I bolted for the shower. I could nearly feel the day’s events clinging to my skin like the heat and dirt. My cheeks and nose were sunburnt. I climbed into the shower and stood under the cold water.

  My body and mind felt disconnected but not in the magical past-life kind of way. A thought slowly emerged: I was in shock. Stoically, with precision, I examined my emotions to determine if I was actually in a state of shock.