The Left-Hand Path

by Barnett, T. S.

  The girl hid her soft giggle in her knees. “No.”

  “No,” Nathan echoed, leaning in closer to her to keep her gaze and match her smile. “And just as such, using magic is sometimes something that you should do, and sometimes something that you shouldn’t. What has your father been doing with you to help?”

  “He makes me practice stuff,” Grace answered. She pointed across the bed to a toppled stack of blocks. “I try to stack them. He says it will help me focus.”

  “He’s very right. But I suspect that not doing magic is more the concern your mother has, do you think?” Nathan winked at the anxious woman with a smile, at which she fervently nodded. Elton stood beside her now, eyeing Nathan and the girl warily but remaining silent.

  Nathan sat up straight on the bed and scooted slightly closer to the small girl, flattening his hands on his knees as he looked at her. “So. With that in mind, I’d like to try a little experiment. Would you help me do that?”

  “Okay.”

  “Wonderful. Now, what I’m going to do is I’m going to scare you. Just a little bit. To see what happens. Just a little ‘boo,’ do you understand? You even know it’s coming, so it won’t be so bad. And I want you to try not to let any magic slip out.”

  She nodded.

  “Shut your eyes, please, Grace.”

  The girl did as she was told, her arms tightening into straightness beside her legs in anticipation. Nathan waited patiently for a while, fingers drumming on his knees, until Grace seemed to settle into her place again. Then he reached out a hand toward her and sent a tiny spark from his fingertip to her chin. She gave a yelp and jerked away from him, and the light bulb in her drooping ceiling fan popped and went dark. The girl’s mother let out a startled shout, but Nathan only laughed as he ducked away from the sound.

  “Well that wasn’t as bad as it could have been, was it? Very good, Grace.”

  She bit her lip to keep her giggle inside.

  “Did you feel that, inside here?” Nathan touched a single finger to her chest near her collarbone as she finally relaxed into a cross-legged seat. “Just a little tug, like a string pulling outwards?”

  Grace splayed her hand on her chest. “It feels like my heartbeat,” she said, and Nathan nodded.

  “That’s precisely what it is,” he whispered, leaning conspiratorially close. “The magic inside you is what makes your heart pound and your blood pump unlike any other person on this Earth. It’s one of the few things in the world that is truly yours—even your name you might share with others, but this magic can never be duplicated. So it’s important for you to protect it. And you can’t very well protect it if you’re letting it fly around the room every time you sneeze, can you?”

  “I guess not.”

  “No. It’s going to take a lot of practice, but I think I can give you something that will help keep that magic inside until you mean to let it out.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Would you like that?”

  “I would! Yes please!”

  Nathan looked up at a sound in the doorway and offered a smile to the man who entered looking disheveled and worn. Lily put a hand on the man’s arm with a trace of hope on her face, but he was staring at Nathan with the same wide brown eyes his daughter had. He reached out toward his wife, easing her behind him slowly as if not wanting to startle a wild animal, and he glanced to his daughter, who sat happily beside Nathan on the bed.

  “What are you doing here?” the man asked, clearly making an effort to keep his voice steady.

  “I’m hoping to help little Grace here stop ruining your house,” Nathan chuckled. “Charles, right? Or may I call you Charlie?”

  “Grace, honey—come here,” he said instead of answering. “Now,” he insisted when she stared at him in confusion, and the girl clambered out of bed and to his side.

  “Charlie, what’s going on?” Lily asked with her hand on her husband’s sleeve. “They said Thomas sent them here.”

  “Get out of my house,” he pressed, not taking his eyes off of Nathan. “Both of you.”

  “I think we’ve had a misunderstanding,” Nathan said. He stood without closing any distance between them and spread his hands as if them being empty made him any less of a threat.

  Lily glanced between the two men, uncertain now. “He’s helping Grace.”

  “Did you forget the paper I brought home? The wanted poster from the Magistrate? With this person’s face on it?!”

  The woman’s expression dropped, and she went a little pale as she held her husband’s gaze. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of his shirt.

  “Mr. Walker—” Elton began, but Nathan held up a hand to stay his protest.

  “We have limited time,” he said. “I’m not here to harm you, but the Chasers behind me will be.”

  The man hesitated, his protective hand firm on his daughter’s shoulder. “What Chasers?”

  “I come with bad tidings, I’m afraid,” Nathan went on. “Mr. Proctor has sent me to relocate you and your family before the Magistrate does. They’re onto you, and your daughter is somewhat attention-drawing.”

  “Why the hell should I believe you? How do I know you haven’t killed Thomas?”

  “Why on Earth would I?” Nathan laughed. “Use your head, man.”

  “I understand your worry,” Elton cut in. “But we really are here to help. Thomas has given us instructions to get you to him so that he can move you again. The Magistrate is about to execute an Order that will mean death sentences for anyone like you and your daughter. We want to get you out of here before that can happen.”

  Charles looked down into his wife’s anxious face and frowned as his daughter peered up at him. Elton gave him the few moments he needed to weigh his choices, and when the man looked up again, he offered the blond a small nod.

  “Okay. I’m not sure I believe you—but I can’t risk being wrong.”

  “A wise decision,” Nathan said. “Now let’s get a move on. Charlie, if you’ll give Elton here a hand moving some furniture, I can get to drawing this circle.”

  “Can I help?” Lily offered as the two men moved down the hallway, and Nathan smiled at her.

  “You pack up whatever you’d like to bring with you, and keep track of this little firework,” he answered, crouching down to look Grace in the eyes. “I’m going to bring you a charm like I promised, Grace. In the meantime, I want you to practice thinking quietly. Just shut your eyes, count slowly to five and then back down again. If you get distracted, just take a breath and start again. Try to feel quiet, hm? While I help your dad.”

  The girl nodded, a determined furrow in her brow, and she sat down on her little rug with her mother nearby, shut her eyes, and softly counted. Nathan pushed up on his knees to stand and kicked aside a stray laundry basket as he reached the living room. The others had moved the couch to the far wall and stacked the coffee table upside down on the cushions, and the few remaining stray toys had been pushed into a pile in the corner. Nathan eyed the space for a moment, drawing in the air with his finger, and then set to work on his hands and knees, tracing burns into the carpet with the small, bright flame in his palm. Elton crouched down to help him fill in the correct markings once the outer ring was complete, and Nathan soon left him to finish it on his own and approached the awkwardly waiting man of the house instead.

  “Charlie—mind if I have a look through your supplies? What have you got on hand in the way of stones, oils, et cetera?”

  “Why?”

  “For Grace. I want to make her something to help her control her magic.”

  The man paused, his lips twitching into an uncertain frown. “A dampener?”

  “Not exactly. Please.”

  Charles took another second to glance at Elton, carefully burning ancient letters and symbols into the carpet of his apartment, then let out a short sigh and seemed resigned to the day ahead of him. He beckoned Nathan to follow him and allowed him access to his small cabinet of ingredients, which
the wanted and dangerous witch picked and tutted at with alternating approval and judgment. When he was satisfied, Nathan returned to the living room and sat on the arm of the damaged sofa, slicking a thin cord with oils from his fingertips and stringing a few bits of wood and small stones into a circle.

  “Don’t help, or anything,” Elton muttered from the floor as he paused to check the picture on his phone and ensure he hadn’t missed anything in this section of the circle.

  “I am helping,” Nathan answered without looking up. He rose to fetch a small knife from the kitchen and returned to his place to begin carving lines into a thin silver coin. When he’d finished, he attached it to the little bracelet like a pendant and stepped over Elton’s working hands on his way back to the girl’s bedroom. He crouched on the floor to offer it to her.

  “Will this make me not do magic anymore?” the girl asked, clutching the miniature rosary to her chest with both small hands.

  “This will help you focus,” he corrected. He turned the silver token in her fingers to draw her attention to the carvings. He had made a simple picture of two mirrored snakes, tongues flicking, with a sharp, star-topped totem between them. “This is Danbala and his wife, Ayida-Wedo. He and his wife bring calm and comfort to those who ask. If you ask, they will help you to stay calm, too.”

  “The snakes?” Grace asked with a suspicious narrowing of her eyes. “But snakes are gross.”

  “Snakes are animals, just like you. And these snakes will help you stop giving your mother so much trouble. So whenever you need to quiet yourself, just touch this token and ask for their help.”

  She nodded, already running her thumb over the crude carvings in the metal, and Nathan gave her head a soft pat as he stood. He took the small suitcase from Lily’s hand when he met her in the hallway and set it down inside the completed circle in the living room carpet. Elton was already on the phone, presumably with Thomas, but Charles still stood off to one side looking reluctant and suspicious.

  “What did you give her?” he demanded in a hiss.

  Nathan raised his hands in mock surrender and lowered his voice. “Steady on, dad. It’s just a trinket. Nothing but some lavender oil and tokens. You and I both know that the only thing that’s going to help her is practice and time—but this will help her believe she can do it.”

  The man stared at him without answering, but then he softened and let the first hint of a smile touch his face.

  “Is everyone ready?” Elton called with his phone still to his ear. “Thomas is waiting.”

  Lily rushed down the hall to fetch her daughter and handed another suitcase off to her husband, and then the pair of them stepped into the small empty space at the center of the circle. Grace hesitated to enter, but a soft touch of Nathan’s hand to her back urged her across the dark lines in the carpet.

  “I’m sorry for how I acted,” Charles spoke up, both hands holding his daughter close to him by the shoulders. “Thank you for helping us. You’re...not the person I thought you were.”

  “Oh, don’t be fooled,” Nathan chuckled. “I’m probably definitely whoever you thought I was, or worse. ...But you’re welcome,” he added after a brief pause.

  A loud bang startled everyone in the room, and Nathan turned to look through the plastic barrier in the front door. A man and a woman stood with their palms flat against the door, working against the talismans Elton had placed to keep them out. Nathan’s eyes went immediately to the silver rings they both wore. “Better tell Mr. Proctor to be quick, darling. We’re out of time.”

  At Elton’s word, the marks on the floor began to send up wisps of smoke. Grace flinched away, but her father held her tight.

  “Be good, Grace,” Nathan called over his shoulder, unwilling to take his eyes from the Chasers outside. The glowing, toxic green began to show as though through splinters in the circle itself, and just as the door to the apartment gave way, a sharp crack filled the room, and a thin, black smoke dervish rose to pool near the ceiling, leaving an empty circle.

  Elton tossed his phone away onto the couch and slipped a fresh talisman from his pocket. Maybe just once, things would go quietly and according to plan, but that apparently wasn’t today.

  A bloody nose, a sore shoulder, and a knocked-clean kitchen counter later, Elton stood beside Nathan over the bodies of the two intruding Chasers and tried to catch his breath. Nathan didn’t have a scratch on him—he’d had enough practice taking on the Magistrate, Elton supposed—but for as many scraps as Elton had been in, this volume of cold-blooded murder was still relatively new to him. The sight of the corpses at his feet, however, limbs splayed unnaturally and blood drying on their lips, added no weight to his shoulders. If he and Nathan hadn’t killed these Chasers, they would certainly have been killed themselves, or at least arrested. And Elton had been put in a cell for the last time.

  “Well,” Nathan said in a huff, pulling Elton from his thoughts, “I’m a bit sad that wasn’t Korshunov, honestly.”

  “I could do without seeing him again.” Elton rolled his shoulder, wincing faintly at the twinge the muscle gave. Cora had done her best to heal it, but a lack of rest and the severity of the bite from Korshunov’s beast meant it may never return to its full strength. He would just have to adjust.

  “I’m sure he’ll catch up to us eventually. In any case,” he went on, clapping the blond on the shoulder, “you said you’d come to the casino.”

  Elton stared at him. “I said I would come if everything went smoothly. We just killed two people.”

  “But the family is gone!” Nathan protested, spreading his hands to gesture toward the empty room. “They’re safe! That’s as smooth as it gets around here. Come on,” he prodded. He stepped closer to touch his chin to the taller man’s shoulder. “Come to the casino. Come on.”

  “Oh my god,” Elton sighed. “Okay. Fine. One night in the casino. Tomorrow, we leave. We need to find this Magister that Marquez sent us after.”

  “Deal,” Nathan agreed immediately. He led the way through the broken front door and into the courtyard, trusting the other man to follow him. “Then it’s time to gamble.”

  “What’s the draw?” Elton gathered up his phone and jacket and stepped over the threshold into the sun. “All you’re doing is wasting money.”

  “Most people feel a draw toward winning, I should think,” Nathan pointed out. They walked the pavement side by side to put some distance between themselves and the scene of their crimes. As they reached the corner, Nathan took his phone from his pocket to find them a ride.

  “That would be fine if they weren’t all games of chance.”

  “Well you clearly need to learn to have fun for fun’s sake, darling. It’s all glamoured money anyway, so just enjoy the game. But first, a drink. Or two.”

  “Nathan, I’m not drinking with you.”

  “Oh look here, Elton; the car’s coming already.”

  “Nathan.”

  “Hurry along, darling. Don’t keep him waiting.”

  Elton’s jaw clenched in irritation as the other man walked farther down the sidewalk without him and opened the back door of their car, tapping the roof to urge Elton along. He sighed through his nose and stalked after his companion with a weariness much heavier than murder weighing him down.

  7

  The dusty Salem house was chilly in the morning, making it a little difficult for Cora to spread the butter on her bread. She couldn’t even toast it effectively. She sat at the heavy dining table and chewed in silence, only perking up when she heard the creak and snap of Thomas’s door closing upstairs. She waited for his footsteps to reach the landing and leaned over the table as he passed the doorway to the kitchen.

  “You said you’d teach me stuff!” she called, but he didn’t stop walking.

  “Later,” his flat voice echoed.

  Cora slumped down on the table again as the heavy cellar door dropped shut, no doubt sealing Thomas in just as securely as before. She passed some time playing a game on her
phone, and she texted Nathan without receiving an answer, but soon she was face down on the table with her phone cast aside and her arms laid carelessly ahead of her, groaning in frustration into the centuries-old wood.

  She passed the hidden entrance to the cellar and scowled at it, hoping that Thomas could feel her disdain. The house had a decent-sized library with a few plush-if-rickety chairs, but all of the books she skimmed with her fingertips were dry and boring. Oddly-specific histories, a couple of threadbare novels and memoirs of people she’d never heard of. This was supposed to be a creepy colonial witch house, wasn’t it? So where were they hiding all the good stuff?

  A thought tingled the back of her neck, and she paused with her hand still on a book to lean forward toward the door. Maybe Thomas kept the good stuff in his room. She moved to the doorway and stopped to listen, her eyes locked on the spot of floor where she’d once or twice seen the cellar door appear. Like a cat afraid of being caught in motion, she crept from the library toward the stairs, pausing every few steps to strain her ears for signs of movement. She made it all the way up the stairs and put her hand on the worn brass knob of Thomas’s bedroom door, then waited one last time, giving herself the courage to turn it.

  It was locked, of course.

  Muttering a curse under her breath, she glanced over her shoulder once more and then crouched by the door to whisper her spell into the lock. As soon as it clicked, she slipped inside and eased the door shut behind her, flinching at even the soft noise the movement made.

  Thomas’s bedroom was about as spartan as she expected. His suitcase sat unpacked in the corner of the room beside the small dresser, and a heavy trunk lay at the foot of the neatly-made bed. The drapes allowed little natural light to enter the room, but she didn’t dare push them open and leave a sign of her snooping. No sign of personality existed here, but the short bookshelf to one side of the bed caught her eye. She tiptoed over and sat down on the floor to examine the spines. These books were even older than the ones in the library, and they looked well-read. The majority were in languages Cora could recognize but not read—Latin, Greek, Hebrew—and none of them had labels or titles on the covers. These looked like proper grimoires, at least, even if she couldn’t decipher them—yet.