Impassion (Mystic)

by B. C. Burgess

  “Would you like me to leave?”

  “I don’t care what you do.”

  “So you don’t mind if I stay?”

  Layla found his face, searching it again. Then she sighed and looked at the sea. “No. Do whatever you want. But if you insist on staying, you should tell me why you’re here.”

  “I’m meeting some acquaintances down the beach,” he explained. “I saw you sitting by yourself and thought I’d join you.”

  “I see. We are a friendly bunch, aren’t we?”

  “Mostly.”

  “I’m not,” she mumbled. “Not today.”

  “Bad days happen to the best of us.”

  “Are you trying to cheer me up or something? Because you shouldn’t bother. You won’t be successful.”

  “You’re quite honest with your words, yet you hide your aura so well.”

  “Yours is hidden.”

  “Yes it is,” he whispered, a smile twitching his lips. Then he cleared his throat and looked north. “Would you like to go to a bonfire? It will be a lot warmer there, much better conditions to be distracted in.”

  “No. I don’t know you, and I don’t want to be around a bunch of people.”

  “Not a bunch. Four. And so what if you don’t know me. What do you think I’d do?”

  “I can’t answer that, because I don’t know you.”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “No.”

  “What if I brought the fire and people here?”

  “Why are you so intent on getting me to your gathering?”

  “Because I find you extraordinarily beautiful and interesting. Just come for a while, long enough to warm up. If it doesn’t make you feel better, you can leave.”

  “Where exactly are you asking me to go?”

  He pointed to the timber she’d landed in when she arrived. “There’s another stretch of sand through those trees.”

  Layla knew the spot. She’d seen it when she flew in and had considered sitting there.

  She looked to the sky as she debated with herself, wondering how long she had before nightfall. The coven was probably worried sick, but what did they have to worry about? Finley? He seemed harmless. They probably knew him, invited him to celebrations on their lawn. Besides, she felt like being defiant. Silly—yes. Selfish—sure. Immature—unfortunately. But with shit piling up around her no matter which way she turned, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

  She looked at Finley, thinking a fire sounded pretty damn good. Her hands and feet were numb and the rain had penetrated her jeans. After one more glance at the trees, she decided she’d be in no more danger on the other side of them than she was on this side. There wasn’t a soul around.

  “Okay,” she conceded. “I’ll go until I’m ready to leave, which will be soon.”

  His eyes brightened as he smiled and got to his feet. “You can leave right away if you don’t enjoy yourself.”

  He offered his hand, but Layla refused, crossing her arms as she stood and headed north.

  Finley quickly caught up then walked beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. “Would you like to tell me something about yourself, Layla?”

  “Not really. Ask if you’d like, but don’t expect an answer.”

  “Fair enough. Do you have a last name?”

  “No.”

  He laughed and tried again. “Do you live around here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you always?”

  “No.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “I’m only asking because you might know the people I’m meeting.”

  “I don’t,” she replied, confused by his logic. “Don’t you think you’d know me if I’d been in the area long?”

  “I haven’t been here very long myself,” he explained.

  “Oh,” she mumbled. “Are you visiting?”

  “Not anyone in particular. Just traveling and checking things out.”

  “You’re nomadic?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “You could say that,” he confessed.

  She halted, and he stopped as well.

  “Is there something wrong with that?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” she answered. “Why are you on your own?”

  “I needed a new beginning, and traveling is the only way to ensure you’ve explored your options.”

  “What about your family?”

  “What about them? Should I pack everyone I know around while I find myself? I’ll see my family again, when my journey’s through.”

  Feeling foolish and guilty for being judgmental, Layla started walking. “How is your journey going?”

  “Getting better all the time,” he answered, matching her pace. “Oregon’s beautiful. I’ve visited before, but in different capacities. I’m taking in the sights this time; getting to know the locals. What about you? Are you going to tell me why you’re here when you haven’t always been?”

  “No.”

  They reached the trees, and Layla halted, trying to judge the time by looking at the sky. Bolstered by dark clouds, nightfall approached quicker than expected, and it suddenly dawned on her how hard it would be to find her way back to the community. Even with sunlight it would be a challenge, so she was sure to fail at night. She could go to Cinnia’s café, but getting treated like a child in a public place would be humiliating. The inn, she remembered. She could meet Finley’s friends, warm up then go to Karena’s inn.

  “I’m not going to stay long,” she noted, proceeding into the timber. “I’ll meet your friends, but I have somewhere to be.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself, Layla. Leave whenever you want.”

  “I plan to.”

  After a few minutes of navigating shadowed undergrowth, the trees thinned; and Layla followed dim shafts of light onto a small beach.

  Sitting around a nearby fire, drinking from jugs between snippets of chatter and laughter, were three women and one man. When Finley and Layla approached, the group fell silent, but their expressions communicated plenty as they scanned Layla from head to toe. Two of the three women did not like that she was there, and the man liked it very much.

  He was the first to speak. “Who’s your friend, Finley?”

  “This is Layla,” Finley answered. Then he flipped the introductions around. “That’s Liam and Kira. They’re a couple. That’s Tessa, and that’s Shiela.”

  Kira and Tessa were the ones sneering. Shiela merely looked curious.

  Layla donned a polite smile and walked forward, extending her hand to each of them in turn. “Nice to meet you guys.”

  They all accepted her handshake, but only Liam spoke. “You’re not from around here, are you, Layla?”

  Kira elbowed her boyfriend, Tessa’s nostrils flared, and Layla threw Finley a pointed look.

  “I’m leaving,” she said, turning away from the blessedly warm fire.

  “Please stay,” he insisted. “I don’t know why they’re being so rude.”

  “Stay,” Shiela added, waving a hand, and a log rolled from the timber. “Have a seat. You look cold.”

  “Thanks,” Layla mumbled, desperate to thaw her feet and hands.

  She sat, and Finley claimed the bark beside her while flashing Shiela a grateful smile.

  “Wine?” Sheila asked, offering Layla a jug.

  “No, thanks,” Layla declined. “I can’t stay long.”

  This comforted Tessa and Kira, who relaxed and dropped their hateful expressions. But they actively ignored Layla, and she soon figured out why. Tessa wanted Finley’s attention.

  “What’s your element?” Finley asked, keeping his focus on Layla.r />
  Her cheeks flushed with heat as she looked down, grateful her aura was hidden. She didn’t want the strangers to know she was a clueless newbie. “Can’t you think of something better than that?” she sidestepped.

  “Not that you’ll answer,” Finley laughed.

  Liam, Kira and Shiela wrinkled their foreheads at Layla, but Tessa looked at her like she was crazy. Apparently she couldn’t understand why a woman getting Finley’s attention would brush it off.

  Layla didn’t want Finley’s attention, so she turned hers on the crackling flames, wishing she could claim fire as her element. She snapped her fingers, giving the magic a shot, and a small flame sprang to life in her palm, soothingly warm as it danced on sensitive flesh. She imagined it green, and it turned green. Then she returned it to its natural palette and tossed it in the air.

  After cocking an eyebrow at the weird, little fireball, she tossed it to Finley. “What’s your element?”

  Holding the cluster of fire in his fingers, he raised his hand and twisted his wrist, enlarging the flames as they swirled into a cyclone. With another flick of his wrist, the burning tornado spiraled into the bonfire.

  “For the sake of argument,” he answered, “you can call me a fire child.”

  Layla stared at hot coals as she nodded, unimpressed. She’d seen better fire magic than that. Quin treated her to a magnificent blaze the day she discovered magic.

  An image suddenly flashed through her brain so clearly, she glanced around, wondering if she’d actually seen it. The vision had come and gone quickly, so she didn’t have time to observe all the details, but it had looked like the bonfire she was staring at, only from a different angle… or a different perspective.

  She scanned the nearby magicians, looking for murmuring lips or twitching fingers, but the only one paying attention to her was Finley, who seemed concerned.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she mumbled, rubbing her head.

  The unexplained image flashed again, slow enough to catch the details, and it was the fire she was looking at—the exact same scene her eyes beheld, but from a different point-of-view, a different mental outlook.

  Jittery and confused, Layla struggled to hide the head trips. “I’m going to take off, Finley.”

  “Is it something I said?”

  There it was again, traveling slower still, more distinct in its details each time it flashed by. It felt like her brain had divided in two, splitting her focus right down the middle.

  “No,” she answered, glancing at Finley. “I have somewhere I need to be.”

  Another vision hit her, but this time it was different. The scene remained the same, but it was captured from a bird’s eye view and from a long distance away. Nerves on fire, Layla itched to jump up and run, but forced herself to remain outwardly calm.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Finley asked. “You seem lost.”

  That was one way to put it. She needed to leave so she could figure out what was going on. “I’m fine…” she started, but she trailed off when a flash of color sped to the ground, silently landing halfway down the beach.

  Everyone looked at the aura, watching its swift approach, and Layla swallowed a painful lump, worried she’d found the danger her family warned her about.

  The aura merged with firelight, and a tall figure in a black cloak removed his hood.

  “Quin?” Tessa asked.

  “No shit,” Liam mumbled. “What brings you here, man?”

  Quin didn’t respond or glance in their direction. His black eyes stayed glued to Layla as he maintained his purposeful pace, his jaw tight, his fingers flexing.

  A rush of relief had fluttered Layla’s stomach when he first dropped his hood. Now her insides clenched. He was angry. Really angry. She steeled herself for his reprimand, knowing it would be immensely hard to take. He’d never said a harsh word to her, but by the look on his face, that was about to change.

  Tessa rose from her driftwood chair and stood in Quin’s path, flirtatiously flipping her hair. “I hear you’re single again. Looking to get over your heartbreak?”

  She could have been invisible by the way Quin stared through her, not saying a word as he bypassed the obstacle, which did not suit Tessa at all. She huffed and rotated, bitterly propping her hands on her hips.

  “What’s up, Quin?” Shiela asked, but he ignored her as well.

  Layla watched his cold determination and was compelled to shrink away, cower in fear before a side of him she’d never seen. Her stomach and chest felt empty and tight, and her heart pounded in her ears. When he finally reached her, she braced, digging chewed fingernails into rough bark.

  She flinched when he reached out, expecting him to yank her from the log. But he didn’t. He merely held out a palm covered in electric burns and quietly spoke. “We’re leaving, Layla.”

  Tessa and Shiela gasped; and Liam and Kira looked at their friends in confusion.

  Noticing their stares, Shiela quickly mouthed an explanation. Her name is Layla.

  Realization hit Kira right away, but Liam was slow on the uptake. “So?”

  Shiela rolled her eyes and mouthed her clarification. The mysterious Layla.

  “Oh, yeah,” Liam hummed, raising his eyebrows. “Interesting.”

  Quin acted as though he hadn’t heard a word. Not one thing about his face and posture changed, but his tone sharpened when he repeated his demand. “We’re leaving, Layla. Now.”

  Finley rose and stepped forward, and Quin responded, turning to scan the empty air around him.

  Shorter and thinner than Quin, Finley was the little guy, but his uniquely muscular build was exacerbated by tension, bolstering his intimidating form. His veins pulsed, and his oceanic eyes churned with frothy waves. “Are you the reason she was sitting alone in the freezing rain when I found her?”

  “Easy, Finley,” Liam warned. “I’m not sure you want to be doing that.”

  The advice fell on deaf ears, as neither Finley nor Quin acknowledged it.

  “I don’t know you,” Quin pointed out.

  “I don’t give a shit,” Finley returned.

  Quin stared for another moment. Then he looked at Layla and softened his tone. “Let’s go home.”

  “She’s just fine right here,” Finley objected.

  Quin’s extended hand clenched into a fist as his gaze shifted, and Layla shot to her feet, her line of sight landing between expanded chests. Both wizards looked at her, but only Quin seemed to see her. Finley was pissed and unfocused.

  “Who is this guy?” he seethed. “He seems to think he owns you.”

  Layla pushed her shoulders back and tilted her chin up. “Thank you for your concern, Finley, but you have no idea what’s going on, so I suggest you stay out of it.” She turned to the others and waved. “It was nice meeting you guys.”

  She didn’t expect a response from the gawking group, and sure enough, she didn’t get one, so she sighed and turned to Quin, finding a cloudy moon in his shiny eyes. “Let’s go,” she said, stepping closer.

  He threw his cloak around her while sweeping her feet off the ground, and without the slightest hesitation or a solitary goodbye, he shot toward the sky.

  Layla stayed nestled in his arms, silent and still, but her head and heart were disasters. He was so angry with her, and she could hardly blame him. She still felt awful about shocking his hand, and now she felt guilty for making him fetch her. But what could she do about it? She still didn’t know how to handle their relationship, and her heart remained bruised from his lack of honesty and understanding. To top it all off, they would be landing soon, and there would undoubtedly be four angry grandparents waiting for them.

  Quin cast a layer of magic around Layla as he carried her home, but the precaution was unneces
sary. His embrace was desperate enough to secure ten witches. He’d never been so weighed down with regret and felt dreadful from his head to his toes. Of all the places Layla could have gone, she’d stumbled into a gathering of untrustworthy magicians, including a complete stranger with things to hide. And Quin had no one to blame but himself. He should have toughened up and given her the space she asked for, but it was within her that he found his strength, so her request was crippling. Like the air he breathed, she was vital to his existence. How was he supposed to stay away when he’d surely suffocate without her?

  They were almost to the community, so he slid one hand to her head and one to her hip, trying to feel enough of her to last him until next time... whenever that may be. He tucked his chin in, moving his cloak aside. Then he breathed deep, filling his lungs with her heavenly scent. Damn. He’d messed up the best thing he’d ever gotten his unworthy hands on.

  Quin tightened his hold as gravity shifted, and Layla tensed for the barrage of disappointment that would soon fly her way. His muscles fluctuated as he landed. Then he lowered her feet to the grass and flipped his cloak away.

  As expected, her grandparents were waiting, and Daleen and Morrigan rushed forward, pulling her into a shared hug. Layla let them, but she kept her eyes on Quin, whose gaze glittered as he turned to her grandfathers.

  “I’m very sorry,” he offered, meeting their stares. Then he dropped his head and walked away.

  Layla fought hot and heavy tears as she watched his back. She wanted to run to him and apologize for her behavior; tell him he didn’t do anything wrong and ask him to come home with her. She wanted to be back in his arms right now and all night. The urge was so strong, her feet tried to shuffle toward him. Only her grandmothers’ arms kept her in place. She slammed her mouth shut and sucked her lips in, biting them in an effort not to call his name and beg him to come back. Tears reigned victorious, bursting from her lids, and she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head so she wouldn’t have to watch him disappear.