by Casey Wolfe
People simply didn’t notice him. Their eyes could pass right over him, but they wouldn’t care to pay attention. He wasn’t important.
As such, he walked straight down the row of cells to the double doors that sat at the end. Not a soul paid him any mind. Shaw pushed the doors open, finding a small room beyond. There were a half dozen holding cells, cramped, with nothing to sit on but the concrete floor. There was a loading bay door at the other side, and given the layout of the building, Shaw was willing to bet it led to the outside.
This had to be it. It was a step toward what he was looking for.
A scan of the area showed no cameras—the Inquisition wouldn’t want anyone to see what they were up to. Shaw remedied that with a tiny hidden camera, tacking it up on the wall. He was going to find out exactly what these bastards were up to.
Like the word on his arm, Shaw slipped out the way he had come, no one the wiser.
Chapter Six
“I’M GOING TO die.” Rowan’s head fell to the open book in front of him, and he let out a frustrated groan. He rolled his head to the side, looking at Badger, who was laying on the counter. The cat gave him an unimpressed look, flicking his tail.
Even though Badger couldn’t reply, Rowan often found himself talking aloud to his frequent visitor. Rowan worked problems out better when he talked them through. With stacks of books on one side and a sheet of parchment and his quill for notes on the other, he was feeling himself slipping into a study fog.
“I know I need a break,” he admitted, “but I feel like I’m nowhere near ready for this.”
He had been going over old textbooks, refreshing his memory on various hexes and curses taught at the Guild, along with their counters. Then, he started to browse through other books he had, marking the spells he didn’t know. It wasn’t a surprise there were quite a few, given Spirit wasn’t anything he’d ever had a passion for.
“I think these outdated spells are promising at least.” Rowan tapped the page of one such hex he came across. “It’s likely that Jorah doesn’t even know some of these. If I can brush up my counters to protect myself, maybe I can use these to catch him off guard.”
His only chance at passing his exam, as far as Rowan could tell, was to either put Jorah down quick or survive long enough to impress the board. It was just as well that Rowan’s main strength was his knowledge of magical theory. He knew that, more than anything, had a lot to do with why he was so good at learning new spellwork.
With a heavy sigh, Rowan got up from the stool, pacing back and forth behind the counter. He ran his fingers through his hair. Perhaps he was going about this all the wrong way.
“I know Jorah’s gonna use mana-draining.” It wasn’t traditionally considered a hex, but it was still in the School of Spirit, so it was fair game to use. “If I miss the counter for it, I’ll be screwed. I need too much mana to use any of these new spells. Not that I won’t be using more than usual with even the basic ones.”
He paused, looking at Badger who was watching him blankly.
“That’s it! I need a way to keep my mana levels up.” Blood magic. It would have to be blood magic. “But, if I try to use my blood to supplement…” No, it would need to be blood magic, but using a more indirect method.
“No one said I couldn’t use potions right before my exam,” Rowan reasoned, dropping another of his grandmother’s grimoires onto the counter. “So, if I whip up a few fortifying and resistance potions, it might give me an edge.”
Badger mewed, tail whipping impatiently.
“I know it won’t be enough,” Rowan admitted with a sigh. “But, I have to try something, don’t I?”
Badger still looked unimpressed. Rowan huffed, flipping the grimoire open.
“Now, I know Gram had good recipes for that kind of stuff. Just to find them.”
She had been a talented mage, specializing in what his generation termed “green witchcraft.” They were ancient ways of magic, nature-based. It was her love of plants that had influenced Rowan’s own curiosity on the subject of herbology. If it were an actual School of Magic, his grandmother would have been a master.
“Here we are,” he said. “This is supposed to fortify mana, so it should help against mana-drains.” Looking at the ingredient list, he groused, “I don’t have any of this.” Well, he had luna moth wings, but they were currently setting up with resin to make a charm for a client.
Badger stood and stretched, before yawning.
“I guess I could substitute some of this.” Rowan knew he should probably forget all about it—or actually order the proper ingredients—and get back to his studying, but he was determined now. “Let’s see what I’ve got…”
He tried his best to find ingredients with similar properties. He had very little on hand at the shop because most of his herbology experiments were at his cottage. “Moon sugar! That should work well.” He was assuming it was the lunar energies he was supposed to be harnessing. “Maybe some thistle? Wintersbreath flowers?” What was he going to substitute for lotus blossom?
He turned to check Gram’s notes, finding Badger sitting on the book. Rowan smiled, shaking his head. “You’re in the way, you know. Come on.” He tried shooing Badger off, but it wasn’t working. “Badger.” He got the cat to move, only to have Badger bat at the page as he turned it. “Feeling playful today?”
Badger meowed.
“Let me finish this and we’ll take a break, okay?”
Sure enough, as soon as Rowan was finished looking at the book, Badger moved right back in, laying on it.
Rowan gathered up the substitute ingredients, mashing the dry with his mortar and pestle. He threw those into a glass bottle, adding in the liquid ingredients. It fizzed a little but otherwise didn’t react. “Now, for my own twist,” Rowan announced.
He took the silver knife from behind the counter, murmuring a spell under his breath that heated the blade to sterilize it. “Here we go.” He pricked his finger on the tip, wincing.
Holding his finger over the bottle, Rowan used his other hand to squeeze a few drops of blood out. From his mouth fell words long since memorized, a blood magic spell to transfer power. If he could add his own magic to the mix, hopefully it would enhance the potion.
He watched the swirl of color, the potion turning from blue to purple. Rowan started to repeat the incantation for the third time. A couple more drops should have been enough.
The bell above the door tinked, causing Rowan to jump and curse. The potion reacted in kind, exploding and shattering the glass. “Fuck!”
“Bloody hell, are you alright?” It was Shaw.
“Fine,” Rowan replied automatically, despite being unsure. “I’ll be fine.” He looked around at the mess—glass and potion thrown everywhere—and noted the cat was missing. “Badger? Badger?” He heard growling and Rowan looked up to find the brown tabby hunkered on top of one of the shelves, ears pinned back and fur standing on end.
“Forget the cat,” Shaw griped, reaching across the counter and snagging his wrist. “You’re bleeding.” The blood on Rowan’s finger was now going down his palm. “The glass musta got ya.”
“No, I did that.” Rowan pulled out of Shaw’s grasp. Glass crunched under his feet as he grabbed a paper towel from its roll on the shelf, wiping off the blood and wrapping it around his finger. “Guess I’m lucky this is tempered glass.” He and Badger would have been shredded for sure if it had shattered into sharp pieces instead of chunks.
“Here,” Shaw offered, “lemme help.”
Rowan flicked his hand, the broom from the corner and a few rags from a drawer levitating over to the mess. “I’ve got it.” Despite his words, when the broom started to sweep up the glass on the other side of the counter, Shaw took hold of it to do it himself.
Leaving it be, Rowan turned his attention to Badger. “Hey, buddy,” he said gently, reaching up toward Badger. “It’s alright. Come on down.”
Badger’s growl got louder.
“I’m so
rry. I know you’re scared, but it’s safe now. Come on. I need to make sure you didn’t get hurt, little guy.” Rowan wiggled his fingers enticingly.
Badger finally came close enough for Rowan to stand on his tiptoes and pick him up. “That’s it. There’s a good boy. I’m sorry.” He held Badger to his chest, listening to the purr that started. “You okay?” He pulled Badger away to look him over, not finding any obvious injuries. When he started to squirm, Rowan held him properly again.
“What in the hell were you doing, Ro?” Shaw asked. The dustpan had floated over, holding itself in place for Shaw to sweep the glass into.
“I was trying to make a potion for my exam. I was infusing it with blood magic when you—”
“Blood magic?” Shaw froze, gaze turning slowly to Rowan.
“Yeah. You walked in and I lost the place in my incantation. Clearly, there was a bad reaction.” Badger rubbed his head against Rowan’s neck, prompting him to scratch behind the cat’s ear.
Shaw picked up the dustpan and came around the counter to empty it in the trash before starting to clean the glass on that side. The entire time, he didn’t say a word, wouldn’t even look at Rowan.
“Something wrong?” Rowan prompted, ignoring Badger’s paw on his face.
“Blood magic? I didn’t know you practiced it.”
“Does it matter?” Rowan had a feeling he knew where this was going. Despite modern thinking, it was quite common for people to still get the wrong impression of blood magic.
“It doesn’t exactly have the best reputation.” And there it was. “For good reason.”
“So, if a dark mage uses fire spells to burn down an entire city, should we ban the use of such magic?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why would it be any different to shun a perfectly benign type of magic because dark mages abuse it?”
“I dunno that I’d call it benign,” Shaw ventured, from the looks of it, treading carefully.
Rowan’s hackles lowered, realizing he had been gradually raising his voice, becoming defensive. Shaw wasn’t slinging derogatory remarks at him or making judgments; he was repeating concerns many people voiced. Most of them were genuinely curious, ignorant of the subject, and easy enough to put at ease once it was explained to them.
“Shaw…” Rowan sat on his stool, setting Badger in his lap, and patted the counter with his hand. Getting the hint, Shaw released the broom—which was happy enough to go about the rest of the cleaning on its own—and hopped up onto the counter, legs dangling.
“I have a feelin’ I’m about to get lectured. So, fair warning, leave the technical mumbo jumbo out of it.”
Rowan’s lips twitched. “I’ll do my best.” He took a breath, as he thought of how to put it simply. Finally, what he came up with was: “It’s like any other magic, you know. It can be used for good or ill. Just because I’m studying hexes”—he gestured to the stacked books—“doesn’t mean I want to actually use them against someone else.”
“I get that. But, having that kind of power… It can drive a mage insane.”
“That’s any power, Shaw.” It was rarer these days, with all the guilds and the fact mages no longer had to hide what they were, but it was possible for a mage to become addicted to the power they wielded, to become unhinged.
“You have me there,” Shaw murmured. He drummed his fingers on the counter a moment. “But, isn’t blood magic supposed to be more addictive? Infinite power?”
“In theory, a mage could have infinite power, but, again, you’re implying that the mere use of blood magic would lead somebody to abuse it. It’s a magical enhancement, Shaw, nothing more.”
“And a mana substitute.”
Rowan sighed. “You worked with a battlemage, surely—”
“Keenan never used blood magic, and the use of it in the Calagon military is heavily regulated. He uses mana tablets to stabilize in battle.”
“That still doesn’t change the fact mages can use it without any ill effect.” Rowan unclenched his hands, once again reining in that natural reaction to snap and snarl. “Look,” he continued, calmer, “I get that it’s an easy scapegoat, but the fact is that it doesn’t hurt anyone, not when you’re using it ethically. We use our own blood. Or that freely given. We don’t take blood.”
Shaw looked at him, appearing thoughtful. After a moment, he nodded. “I get what you’re saying.”
Rowan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Shaw’s nod was more confident that time. “A dark mage doesn’t play by the rules. Most mages do. If you say that blood magic can be performed ethically, then I have to believe you.”
“It is. Using our own blood to enhance a spell, or to keep from draining our mana, doesn’t hurt anyone but ourselves.” Rowan hated to admit, “Could we use someone else’s for the same purpose? Of course. That’s where the whole mess with blood magic being ‘evil’ comes from in the first place.”
The fact a mage could have a constant source of power by draining another person’s blood—rather than using their own mana—was a disgusting reality. It had occurred before: dark mages waging wars, using the blood of their enemies and allies alike to create chaos. That hadn’t happened in the last four centuries and, frankly, Rowan felt it was time to let it go.
“But, like you said,” Shaw repeated, “an ethical mage would never do that without permission.”
“Exactly.” Rowan gave him a little smile, feeling a weight leaving now that Shaw at least understood, even if he didn’t accept it. “Shouldn’t Keenan have explained all this to you?”
“He knows I suck at the technical bits, first off, so him explaining shit to me doesn’t happen much. And second, like I said, he doesn’t use blood magic, so no reason to ever bring it up. Only ever known one other bloke that used it—some colonel with the marines. Apparently, had to get special clearance too.”
“Fair enough.” Badger relocated to the counter, rubbing up against Rowan’s shoulder, who reached up to scratch under his chin absentmindedly. “So, we’re okay?”
Shaw’s lips turned up at the corner. “Course we are.”
Rowan smiled. “Good.” The broom was finished cleaning, making its way back to its corner while Rowan sent the wet rags to the sink. “Well, so much for my potion, it looks like.”
“What were you even trying to do?”
“I was attempting to make something to fortify my mana, to take before my exam.”
“And pulling a blood magic trick during a fight might get you dead.”
“I’ve always used it in a controlled setting. It would have to be a true emergency to make me risk doing something like that. I could bleed out easily enough, otherwise.”
Shaw looked a little sheepish as he said, “Well, I’m sorry I made that one explode.”
“Was my own fault for getting distracted.” Rowan smirked. “Though you certainly didn’t help.”
“Well, how about I help you make a new one?” Shaw put one hand over his heart while holding up the other. “Promise to be a good assistant.”
“I was already substituting ingredients. Honestly, I should just order the right ones. Save myself the chance of doing even more harm if it goes foul.”
“What am I going to do with you?”
Shaw reached out and brushed his fingers lightly over Rowan’s cheek, causing him to inhale sharply. The simple touch left Rowan’s nerve endings tingling. He met Shaw’s blue-green eyes and felt the air leave his lungs.
Shaw smiled, pulling his hand away, and asked, “Why don’t we go to lunch? You look like you could use a break.”
Rowan remembered to breathe, coming back from his zone at the loss of contact. He would have accused Shaw of using his powers, but there was no prickle of magic. Apparently, Rowan was genuinely growing attached to him.
“I’m supposed to meet Caleb.” He checked the time on his phone. “Soon, in fact. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you come along.”
“I’ve got it.” He waved his hand to close the windows and lock them, save for one of the small back ones in case Badger wanted to get out. Rowan paused, looking at Shaw. “Is that why you came?” He had never bothered to ask why Shaw had shown up in the first place.
“Was the plan, yeah.”
“And if I didn’t want lunch?”
“I would have had to go out and bring food back, force you to eat, and watch you work.”
Rowan chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on.” At the door, he called over his shoulder, “See you later, Badger.”
THE BREW ROOM was apparently a frequent lunch spot for Rowan and Caleb. Rowan needn’t have told Shaw, since the nymph waitress not only waved them to their usual place but already knew what they wanted to order. “What would you like, hon?” she asked Shaw when she brought over a pair of drinks.
Shaw was a simple man. He tended to stick with traditional dark roasts. “What’s your favorite?”
She lit up, eyes sparkling. “We recently got in more of this great elven blend from Thalas Naren. It’s dark and rich, very earthy.”
Shaw nodded. “That sounds nice. I’ll give it a go.”
When she left, Rowan mentioned, “Danais likes you.”
“That’s ’cause he’s with us,” Caleb said.
Shaw allowed the teasing. Sitting between them at the end of the table, he leaned over to see the open page of Caleb’s sketchbook. “Didn’t know you were an artist.”
“Yup. Or, try to be.”
Thus far, there was merely a tree on the page, but it was filled with details in the bark, grass blades between the protruding roots, and leaves halfway finished. “You got a good eye.”
Danais returned with his coffee, asking about food. Once again, Shaw took a recommendation—this time from Caleb, who swore by their steak paninis.