by Izzy Shows
“I really am not supposed to talk about it,” he muttered, and I barely caught the words over the din of the crowd.
He glanced around, just as I had a moment ago, and I watched as he scanned for signs of anyone else that might be listening to us. What could be so important that he was afraid of strangers overhearing it? I wanted to press him, but felt like I was dealing with a skittish animal—try too hard and they’ll bolt before you can get anywhere with them. You had to be careful, let them feel comfortable, before you tried to inch closer.
So, that’s what I decided to do with Finn, hold my breath and wait for him to decide that he could divulge any further information.
The silence stretched out between us for another minute or two, and I watched as he became more and more uncomfortable. It would have been easy for him to pick a different topic for us to talk about, all he had to do was suggest one. But he didn’t seem to want to do that, it was almost as if he legitimately wanted to tell me about it but didn’t feel like he could. And then an awful thought struck me—what if he couldn’t talk about it? Aidan had told me a bit about mind magic and how forbidden it was, but there were necromancers in town anyway so I doubted that there wasn’t someone around that wouldn’t dabble in that kind of magic. They could have made it so that he was quite literally incapable of uttering a word. If that was the case, what was I supposed to do about it? How was I supposed to help?
I felt myself becoming more distressed, before I reminded myself that it was highly unlikely that this was the cause. If someone had been fooling around with Finn’s mind to keep him quiet about something he had seen, they would simply remove the memories from his mind. It was as simple as that, no need for complicated muting spells that someone could easily spot when they asked him about the topic. Yeah, that made more sense anyways. I breathed a little easier, watching as he shredded the napkin on the table into little tiny pieces, raising an eyebrow and staying quiet.
He huffed out a sigh, glaring at me when he finally raised his eyes to look at mine. “Nothing is ever easy with you, is it, Blair?”
“If I was a novel, that would be my tagline.” I said with a rather triumphant grin.
“Yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand and rolled his eyes, though he didn’t sound aggravated. “Wanna get out of here?”
I blinked, surprised for a moment, at the sudden change in topic and tone. His voice had dropped to a low register, intimate, flirtatious. The voice he used when he was picking someone up. My mouth gaped open and I struggled to close it as my brain ran on hyper speed trying to fit the various words into the different possible situations where they would make sense, before I finally figured out what was going on.
Finn did not feel comfortable talking about this here, and he thought that it would be better to discuss this in an area where no one could overhear us. Yes, of course, that made complete and total sense. The tension that I hadn’t realised my shoulders were holding onto eased out of them and I closed my eyes as I nodded. “Sure.” I tried not to sound awkward, because I was certain that Finn was trying to make it sound like he was picking me up, if anyone happened to be listening—Jesus, this was all sounding ridiculously paranoid—but I don’t think I did very much to help the cause.
He smiled, unperturbed by my unavoidable awkwardness, and stood up from the booth. I followed suit, suddenly aware of each of my limbs individually and unable to get them to work together. I like to think that I don’t blow my own trumpet too much, but I am not clumsy. I can walk a straight line when drunk and I’m almost graceful when sober, I don’t get into a lot of fist fights but I can generally hold my own, being both strong and able to keep track of my own feet. I was very clumsy now, bumping into tables, hyper alert of every face that looked my way and feeling like I needed to try extra hard to make sure that I looked casual.
I am not smooth. I would make a very bad spy.
Finn didn’t have any of my problems. He glided through the bar as if there weren’t a million people packed into it. His hand was at the small of my back, and he somehow made it look as though it belonged there. Every time I tripped he pulled me closer, appeared concerned, rather than laughing at my idiocy like he would if it was just the two of us walking out of the bar on a normal night. It was Weird, capital W. I’ve mentioned that Finn is like a brother to me—that’s not because he’s never hit on me or something like that. I’m sure most of the people he dates think I’m not interested in him because he’s not interested in me. That’s not the truth of it at all, I’m not interested in him because he’s like my brother for God’s sake. Try to ignore the fact that we didn’t grow up together, and now imagine how awkward it would be for you to walk out of a bar with your brother holding you by the waist and giving you dreamy looks, all in the name of a paranoid alibi.
Send shivers down your spine? Yeah, I thought so.
“Did you drive?” he asked once we were outside. His voice was a soft murmur near my ear, and I tried not to flinch away from it.
“No…” I replied, chewing at my lip.
“We’ll take my car then.” He ushered me to his car, winking at me as he did so.
I hoped that I just look like a flustered girl leaving with a man she didn’t expect to receive attention from, but I felt like that didn’t make a lot of sense.
Objectively, from a purely appearance based viewpoint, Finn and I make mathematical sense. I am not the ‘beautiful girl that doesn’t know she’s beautiful.’ I possess the ability to appear conventionally attractive, though I don’t do a lot to enhance my natural looks. I don’t wear makeup. I am flat out lazy and don’t want to give up a wink of sleep to paint my face. I also don’t wear clothing that accentuates my body, most of my wardrobe is several years old, and items only get replaced when they have worn so thin that they don’t hold up anymore. Maybe it’s part of the broke foster kid thing. Maybe it’s part of the lazy thing, who knows. The point is, on a genetic level of appearance, I think Finn and I probably add up. Once you add in all the little things that go into a human’s ability to experience attraction though, we just don’t.
I was pulled from my musings when Finn took a turn a little sharply and I finally noticed that we had pulled out of the car park and were moving along towards his place. Whoops.
20
HIS FLAT WASN’T VERY FAR AWAY from the bar by car and we got there in relatively short time. I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to keep up the act in his car, I wasn’t sure how far the paranoia went, so I stayed quiet for the most part.
I figured he could take the lead on what we were supposed to be doing. He opted for silence, which was fine by me.
In a lot of situations, I get very antsy with silence, not so much with Finn though. I guess it was another sign that I was probably going to have to call this friendship quits soon; I felt comfortable sitting in silence with him. I was comfortable.
I sighed, glancing out the window as the world passed around us—it was a fitting view for how my life felt at the time. Out of control. Passing around me too quickly for me to do anything about it.
The car came to a stop and I realised that we had arrived.
I glanced nervously at Finn, and he nodded for me to get out. Silence, but no more play acting. That I could deal with.
I stepped out of the car and instantly felt out of place. Finn had a beautiful, old townhouse in a beautiful section of town. The street parking bay in front of each house was reserved, and it had the air of a place where community watch didn’t need to be advertised, it simply was.
I shivered and pulled my hoodie closer around me, wishing for the familiar weight of my leather jacket. I normally wore that over the hoodie, but I had foregone it today because of the nice weather.
We walked up the steps to his door together, I was a pace or two behind him, and I waited patiently for him to open the door. I was a little confused when he just opened it, realising that I had already grown accustomed to Aidan needing to utter a spell before his door opened, even though
I hadn’t spent as much time with him. Funny how things can embed themselves in your memory.
I stepped quickly inside and he shut the door behind me almost as quickly, though he didn’t turn the lock. I don’t know if he didn’t lock doors because he’d realised I get antsy without a clear way out, or if he just didn’t think it was necessary because of the nice neighbourhood he lived in. Probably the latter.
“Want a drink?” He asked as he tossed his keys on the side table near the front door, walking through the foyer and into the rest of the house.
I followed, trying my best not to shrink inside of myself. I had only been to Finn’s place once or twice before, and those visits had done nothing to dull the sense inside of me that screamed how much I did not belong here.
It was a beautiful house that had clearly been well taken care of—I bet there’s board approval you need to obtain to move into one of these buildings—and the furniture looked every bit as formal, old, and stiff as the walls felt. I stepped into the living room, glanced at the expensive looking couch, the antique parlour chairs, and decided I’d rather stand.
“Uh, no thanks.” I mumbled, fidgeting with the string on my jeans.
“You can sit, Blair,” he said slowly, tilting his head to the side.
“No, thanks.” I said again, probably a little quickly. I shrugged. “I’m tired. If I sit I will probably fall asleep or something.”
“OK. Well I’m going to sit, and you’re probably going to in a minute or so. It’s a doozy of a story.” He said, and promptly flopped into one of the parlour chairs.
Not as much of a doozy as the one I’ve got for you. I thought to myself, confident that he wouldn’t be able to top it. “So what is it?” I asked, the fingers plucking at the string on my jeans transitioned to the rhythmic drumming that quieted my anxiety.
“I don’t even know how to say this…” he chuckled, shaking his head, “…it’s…beyond unbelievable.”
I frowned, my eyebrows knitting together. I didn’t know where he was going with this.
“It’s all real. Magic. Vampires. Ghosts. All of it.” He blurted out, his eyes widening even as he bored holes into the ground with them.
My heart rate picked up, the drumming on my thigh became much more prominent, and I inhaled sharply a few times. I nodded my head, pacing in a few short circles as I thought about how best to respond. He knew. He knew about all of it already. How had that happened? Who had told him? I tried to make sense of it on my own, but ultimately recognised that only he could give me those answers. I was aware now that he was staring at me—likely confused by my subdued reaction—as I paced. Right. I probably should have fallen over or something in shock. Laughed? Should I have pointed out how absurd that was?
This did explain why he didn’t think it was unreasonable for the woman’s husband to be cheating on her with a ghost. I nodded absentmindedly at the thought, piecing things together in my brain. He knew about everything. How long had he known? Did he know what I was?
Was this a trap? Our friendship?
“Blair?” The anxiety in his voice eased that last concern, and I turned back towards him and saw that his hands were shaking.
“What?” I asked, surprised at how calm and cool my voice sounded. It didn’t sound like me at all.
“You’re kind of scaring me.” He shivered. “That’s weird, did the room get colder to you?”
I realised then that my emotions had translated subconsciously into magic, my fingers tingled with the sensation of ice on them, my breath a wispy blue in front of my eyes. I forced myself to relax, and felt the temperature of the room regulate again. I had to be careful with that.
I had to learn control.
“You’re not thinking about throwing me in a crazy house, are you?” he asked, forcing an uneasy chuckle out, trying to make a joke out of it.
Of course, he didn’t realise that I was absorbing the knowledge that he knew the same secret I had learned yesterday and trying to figure out how to tell him that. He didn’t think I knew anything about it. I had to tell him.
I finally walked away from the side of the room, walking across the exquisite rug in the centre of the room, and sat on the couch across from his chair.
Well, he’d been right that I would sit.
“No.” I said, my voice steady as I clasped my hands in front of me, resting them on my knees. “I know, Finn. I know that it’s all real.”
His eyes bulged and he made a sharp noise that seemed to choke in his throat before it could turn into words. “How?” he shouted, and I flinched. I hadn’t expected that.
“No, no, it’s not what you think. I found out yesterday.” I rushed to say, my own eyes widening as I raised my hands up in a defensive gesture.
That seemed to placate him a bit. “How did you find out?” He still sounded incredulous, but at least he wasn’t making demands.
“Um.” I cleared my throat, fidgeting a bit again. “I, uh…oh this is awkward.” I muttered and tucked a stray bit of hair behind my ear. “I’m a mage.”
I thought there would be more snapping, or maybe a dramatic gasp, but in true Finn fashion he just snorted. “You’re a what?”
“A mage. I can, um. I can do magic.” I shrugged and glanced away. Did he have to sound so judgmental?
He stared at me for a while.
I couldn’t stop fidgeting now. Suddenly every strand of my hair was in the wrong place and I kept moving it one way or the other. My jeans required an exorbitant amount of attention, and I paid it to them without hesitation. I found that the way I was sitting was just not quite right and kept adjusting, crossing one leg over the other and then undoing the movement entirely. I hooked an ankle behind its mate, then sat with my feet squarely on the ground. I tightened them so that my thighs squeezed one another, then opened my stance so that it was a little more confident. What do I do with my hands? I couldn’t remember. I sat them on either side of my legs, then clasped them together on my knees.
I looked everywhere in the room except at Finn, studying the various antique knickknacks that were on display, wondering how many of them Finn had personally added to the decor and how many had been there since his childhood.
“Blair?” His voice cut through my mind, which was simultaneously moving on hyper drive and completely empty. I jerked my attention back to him abruptly, and saw an expectant look on his face.
Had he been talking?
“What?” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest, at last finding a place where they felt like they belonged.
“You didn’t hear me.” It wasn’t a question, just a flat statement. Was I sweating? My forehead felt slick, but my arms had become lead. I couldn’t move them now if I wanted to. “I asked you how you’d learned that.”
“Oh.” The air rushed out of me along with the word. “It all sounds kind of crazy now.”
“I know. I feel like a lunatic, talking about vampires and werewolves and God only knows what else as if it’s all been around this entire time,” he said, rubbing his temples with one hand.
“But they have been. We just didn’t know about them.” I said quietly, my gaze drifting down to a spot on the floor that was suddenly so interesting. “I met a man while I was investigating my case. A Wizard. Well, he called himself a Wizard, I still don’t know a lot about that. He tried to use magic to compel me to leave the area—and God, but that was painful. Have you had anyone inside your mind? Changing your thoughts? I don’t ever want to experience that again.” I shuddered, rubbing one of my arms as if cold. “I threw him off. I wouldn’t say it didn’t work on me, because that implies that I just didn’t experience it. He was there, in my mind, and it was terrifying, but I stopped him.” I raised my eyes to Finn’s again, and thought I saw admiration in his eyes. Relief, as well.
“That’s amazing, Blair.” He said, and I flushed at the compliment. “No, really, from what I’ve heard, that’s really hard. I don’t know a lot about it, obviously, but just. Wow.” He cleared h
is throat, visibly relaxing. “I found out just this week. Monday, I think? The days have all bled together since. My, uh, predecessor called me into his office. I thought we were just going to talk about the duties I’d be taking over, since he’s retiring next month. In a way, I was right. He gave me the basic run down.
That it’s all real, it all exists. That no one else in the police department knows about it, or if they do then they aren’t speaking up. His predecessor told him when he took the job. Seems to be a one-man kind of thing, but basically, he’s been cleaning up magical crime, I guess. Jesus, that sounds crazy to say out loud. But yeah. Vampire kills someone? He gets to figure it out, dispatch it, and write up a report that won’t get him fired and thrown in the loony bin. And that’s my job now.” He talked so fast, just blurting all the words out without giving himself an opportunity to stop. I think he was afraid that if he paused he wouldn’t be able to get all the words out—I understood that. It was so weird to be talking about this with him.
It made it feel real.
It made me feel like I wasn’t some crazy person. Finn knew about all of this and we were talking about it, it had to be real now.
“God, that’s difficult, Finn,” I said quietly, shaking my head from side to side. “He’s leaving you with all of that on your plate?”
“Yep.” He nodded. “I actually feel so relieved now, that I can talk about this with someone.” He smiled, his eyebrows lifting upwards slightly.
“You know, this really screws with my master plan,” I said, laughing as I relaxed back into the couch.
“Oh? What was your master plan?”
“Well, obviously, I can’t stay friends with someone for more than a few months. We were going to have some kind of ridiculous, unnecessary, and likely entirely fabricated on my end, fall out soon and then I was going to mope about how no one gets me for a while.” I splayed my hands out in front of me, my tone communicating just how obvious and normal that was. Sarcasm, it’s your biggest friend.