Awakening (Birth of Magic #1)

by P. T. Dilloway

  Despite how rough they looked, the crew was professional when it came to their duties. I’d been on tramp steamers like the Gardenia a few times for arms deliveries and this was the most efficient crew I’d seen. I could have helped them be even more efficient, but then I would have blown my cover as an addlebrained tourist. Despite that none of these men were working for the War Department, they were bright enough to try and sell a tip if they suspected something.

  I let them get away with catcalls and lewd comments I ordinarily would have kicked them in the groin for. I drew the line at touching, though; when one tried to feel my breasts, I kicked him in the kneecap. “That’s not nice,” I said. “I’m a married woman.”

  “Where’s your ring then?”

  “I haven’t got it here. We’re going to buy our rings in England.”

  The sailor snorted at this but didn’t press the issue any further. It wouldn’t be surprising if they tried to ransack my room once Ethan was up and around to get themselves a little gratuity. They could go ahead; we didn’t have anything worth stealing—except for Ethan.

  I tried to work out everything that had happened so far, but I couldn’t make sense of it. It was like trying to do a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing. I would have to wait until Ethan was in better shape to find out what he had in his head that was so valuable. So valuable that Celia had gone undercover for years to get it. How had she and this Chairwoman found out about it in the first place? I doubted Ethan had run around advertising his experiment. Of course it could be something as simple as his teacher had blabbed about it and the rumors had circulated until the War Department and the Nazis got involved.

  Near the end of the first day Ethan was settled enough that I could risk leaving him along for a few hours. I got myself a sandwich in the galley and took it onto the bow to eat. The sun was going down behind us as we headed east across the Atlantic. It was probably already dark in Nepal, or maybe it was already morning there; I never could keep time zones straight. I wished I could vanish from here for a few minutes, to make sure Alexis was getting on all right. She would probably be better now that Ethan was thousands of miles away from her.

  I should vanish from here, back to Rampart City to try and find out more about Celia, the Chairwoman, or Ethan’s experiment. Instead I was stuck sitting here on a boat, eating the worst pastrami sandwich I’d ever tasted and drinking a bottle of warm beer. The waiting was always the worst part of bodyguard assignments. In Nepal Naoko was probably lecturing Alexis on the importance of patience, something I’d never mastered.

  I threw the sandwich overboard, followed closely by the now-empty beer bottle. I should be doing a lot of things, but at the moment I could only go back to our stateroom. Ethan was still pale and sweating, but he was able to sit up as I came in. He held up the bowl, which for the moment was empty. “I think I ran out of vomit,” he whispered.

  “Good.” I wiped some of the sweat from his face. “You want something to drink?”

  “Some water would be swell.”

  I went back to the galley and poured a glass of cloudy, lukewarm water. It wasn’t much better than seawater, but with any luck it wouldn’t make him more ill. He gulped it down fast enough that I kicked myself for not bringing a whole pitcher. “You must be feeling better.”

  “A little.” He handed the empty glass back to me. “I think I’d like to get some sleep now.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. For both of us.”

  The blankets weren’t very thick and the window of the stateroom let in a chilly Atlantic breeze that carried the stale odor of Rampart City with it. Ethan tossed in his sleep, shivering to the point that I had to give my blanket to him. This quelled the shivering, but he didn’t sleep much better.

  He kept calling out Celia’s name. Each time he did, I felt a pain like someone twisting a knife in my guts. I kept seeing her flying through the air, disappearing from sight. I imagined her body lying twisted among jagged rocks. That face that had smiled at me, showed such kindness to a stranger, was nothing more than a bloody mess by now, a snack for hungry scavengers. Much as I tried to tell myself that it had been her fault—she had joined up with the Chairwoman and the Nazis of her own free will—I knew it was my fault she was dead. My fault that Ethan would be tormented by nightmares of her for the rest of his life.

  I could do something about that. I could wipe his memory, take away the last four years of his life. He wouldn’t remember Celia and there wouldn’t be anything for the Nazis or the War Department to take. Except they would probably still want him, because if he could do it once then he could do it again. Even if they didn’t, I couldn’t erase his memories of Celia; I couldn’t deprive him of that love any more than I would have wanted Gretel to erase my memories of Henry and Marco.

  I spent that night shivering on my bunk inside my jacket. I could have used a spell to keep me warm, but I couldn’t risk Ethan waking up and seeing it. I’d been colder than this anyway. The night Frau Braun found me in the forest, I had been walking through six inches of snow, barefoot and wearing only a light jacket. I had been so weak that I fainted the moment she took me in her arms. This was nothing by comparison.

  ***

  Ethan woke up at six that morning. I had been awake for hours, shivering and staring at the wall. I tried to make my voice sound pleasant as I hopped off the bunk and asked, “Think you can handle some breakfast?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  The crew was already in the galley, except for the captain. He was probably sleeping off a hangover in his quarters. The crew seemed to get along well enough without him. At some point they’d probably wise up to this and get themselves a new leader.

  Breakfast consisted of porridge that didn’t look much different than Ethan’s vomit. He dug into the bowl as if it were filet mignon and didn’t have any compunction about taking my bowl when I offered it to him. “Someone’s got over his tummy ache,” one of the sailors said. The others laughed at this.

  I put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “It was his first time. He had to get his sea legs.”

  “I’d like to see your legs,” the sailor named Leroy said.

  Ethan slammed his spoon down and shot to his feet. “Now see here, you can’t talk to her like that! Apologize this instant.”

  “Or what?” Leroy stood up and it became clear he was six inches taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier than Ethan.

  I took Ethan’s shoulder again, giving it a squeeze. “It’s all right, darling. He was only kidding. There’s no need for violence.”

  “It was a very rude joke.” He kept his eyes on Leroy, not so much as flinching as he faced being obliterated by the much larger man. I wondered if he were defending my honor or imagining that I was Celia, whom he had been unable to protect. “Apologize to my wife.”

  “What’s all this ruckus?” the captain asked from the doorway. “Are you fighting with the passengers again, Leroy?”

  Leroy glared at Ethan for a moment and then turned to the captain. His voice sounded like that of a scolded child as he said, “No, Cap’n.”

  “Good. I can’t afford any more refunds. This bucket’s hardly getting by as it is.”

  The way Ethan kept glaring at Leroy I thought he might insist on an apology, which would probably lead to Leroy trying to gut him as soon as we docked. Ethan finally sat down and resumed eating his porridge. The captain took his seat at the end of the table and took a spoonful of porridge before dropping his spoon. “Couldn’t we afford a bit of meat for breakfast?”

  “Sorry, Cap’n,” one of the sailors said. “I weren’t expecting no passengers.”

  With that the tension drained away, though Ethan’s jaw muscles still looked taut as banjo strings. He wasn’t much better when we got back to the room. “These brutes,” he growled. “How could he talk to a girl like that?”

  “These guys aren’t used to dealing with women who don’t charge by the hour,” I said.

  “I suppose.”

/>   “Why don’t you try and get some rest? You’ll feel better that way.”

  “I’d rather not.” I figured this was less a result of him not being tired than him not wanting to dream about Celia again. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring a book with you?”

  “Afraid not.” I looked around the stateroom and turned up a chess set some poor soul had left in the miniature closet. It was missing a few pieces, which we replaced with stray bolts and nuts on the deck.

  Chess was not my game. It required the kind of thought and discipline for someone like Naoko or Rose. The former had tried to teach me to play Go one time, but had given up after I scattered the pieces across her house and broke the board against the wall. The latter had taken no small amount of satisfaction in trouncing me at chess during the three months I trained with her. To her my lack of talent at chess was just another sign that I was an inferior witch.

  Ethan probably could have beaten me as easily, but I sensed he held back. “You don’t have to go easy on me,” I said.

  “I’m not,” he lied.

  “Just because I’m not good at it doesn’t mean I can’t tell when someone is holding back.”

  Ethan shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want the game to end so soon.”

  I smiled slightly at this. “Then we won’t have anything to do.”

  Despite this, he finished me off in two more moves. “You want to try again?” he asked.

  “Sure. Maybe you can teach me something.” There was always a first time.

  ***

  Dinner wasn’t much better than breakfast so far as the food went. The cook served a thin stew that was mostly broth with a few bits of carrots, potatoes, and some kind of meat I didn’t want to try identifying. The atmosphere was slightly better, mostly because the captain was already soused. He regaled us with stories of running supplies for the Allies during the Great War. Back then he’d been a little younger than Ethan, a wet-behind-the-ears kid who thought it’d be like Treasure Island. “One time the ship right in front of mine got torpedoed. We picked up as many of the poor bastards as we could. Had to leave a lot of them to swim for it. Couldn’t stop with those U-boats around.”

  “You left them there to die?” Ethan asked.

  “Not much choice unless we wanted to die too, kid.”

  I put my hand on Ethan’s arm before he could say anything else. This wasn’t exactly the friendliest audience for a debate. He took the hint and went back to eating his bowl of stew. His jaw muscles were tight again as he tried to keep the anger inside.

  It didn’t come as much of a surprise then that he excused himself after the last spoonful of stew. I watched him go and then forced a smile. “He just needs some fresh air,” I said.

  “He needs more than that,” Leroy grumbled. The captain shot him a glare before I could leap across the table to break Leroy’s nose. “Sorry.”

  “I think I’ll go join my husband,” I said, figuring that would be the quickest way to relieve the tension.

  I found Ethan standing on the stern, looking back towards America, Rampart City, and his old life with Celia. I cleared my throat to let him know I was there. Even in the fading twilight I could see he had been crying. “You shouldn’t let them get to you,” I said. “They’re a bunch of heels.”

  “It’s not them,” he said. “I was just thinking about Celia. It hasn’t really sunk in yet that she’s gone. I keep thinking this is all a bad dream and at any moment I’m going to wake up in our apartment and find her in her bedroom like nothing happened.”

  I nodded at this. “It’s not a dream. She’s gone. Nothing can bring her back.”

  “You’re probably right.” He turned away from me to stare back at the ocean. “I wish you weren’t.”

  I eased up beside him, close enough that my arm touched his. “It’s hard to lose someone you love. You never really get over it. The pain is always there, below the surface, waiting to come back.” I’d been living with my pain for over four centuries now. I had hoped time would heal all wounds, but it hadn’t. Time only made the pain worse because one decade after another went by with me still alive and Henry and Marco still dead. Time hadn’t dulled my memories of them; I could still draw their faces with my eyes closed.

  I couldn’t say all of that to Ethan, not without revealing myself as a witch. But I could tell him some of it. “I wasn’t always like the way I am now. Once I was a normal girl. I had normal girl dreams: husband, kids, and a house. And I had a normal boyfriend. His name was Henry. We’d loved each other since we were little kids. I’d been hoping to marry him since I was ten. By the time I was sixteen it seemed like it would actually happen.

  “But Henry couldn’t marry me right away. He wanted to go out into the world to make his fortune, so that he could provide for us. There wasn’t a lot of work for a farmhand like him, so he wound up working for some not-so-nice people. Gangsters.”

  I didn’t consider this much of an exaggeration; the various kings and queens had never been much better than gangsters, only they operated legally. “He didn’t kill anyone—Henry was too sweet for that—but he did some other work for them. Driving mostly. That’s how he got killed. He was driving a load of rum across the border. Another gang got wise to it and wanted to muscle them out. So they killed Henry and stole the rum. Left him for dead.

  “He didn’t die right away. He stayed alive long enough for me to find him. I had been looking for him for days, wanting to tell him that I didn’t need a lot of money. I only wanted him. By the time I found him, it was too late. He had three bullets in the stomach. There wasn’t any chance of him surviving. At least he hung around long enough for me to say goodbye, to tell him I love him.” I didn’t cry during any of this, although part of me still wanted to. “It’s been six years, but I still think about him every day.”

  Neither of us said anything for a long time. Then Ethan finally said, “I wish I could have gotten the chance to tell her goodbye, that I love her.”

  “She knows. Trust me, she was crazy about you.” I had seen it in her eyes, the love she still held for Ethan, despite what she had to do for the Chairwoman. Celia and Ethan’s story had been the opposite of Henry’s and mine the way our story should have been, with Henry living and me getting what I had deserved for choosing the coven over him.

  “So is that why you became a private detective?”

  I shrugged. “After he died I wanted to do some good. I didn’t know anything about medicine. I was only good at hurting people. An old family friend put me to work for some friends of hers.”

  “But it hasn’t really helped, has it? To forget him?”

  “I can’t forget him. You can’t forget Celia either. You have to live with the pain as best you can.”

  He said nothing again for a couple of minutes as he stared at the waves being kicked up by the engines. The sun was just a distant smudge of orange on the horizon now, most of the sky the purple and dark blue that came before nightfall. The way he stared at the water, I doubt the lack of light meant anything to him; he was seeing what he wanted to see right now.

  He finally turned to me. “What do you think I should do when we get to Edinburgh?”

  “I can’t decide that for you. You have to choose your own path.”

  “I don’t think I’d be a very good private detective.” The way he said this, I couldn’t be sure if he were joking or not.

  “Probably not, but there are a lot of other things you can do.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good person. You’re not like me.”

  “You’re a good person too, Stephanie.”

  “No I’m not. Not anymore.” I looked down at the water, thinking of Alexis and her dream. A dream that had been over a hundred years too late to be of any help to her. I betrayed her then and I was still betraying her. And I had killed Celia, my friend, and lied to Ethan about it. I was still lying to him. “I’ve done some terrible things.”

  “You’ve saved my life.” He took me in his arms in a
way no one had since Marco. “Sue Johnson was a good person. You couldn’t have faked all of that.”

  “Maybe I did—”

  “Not even Greta Garbo is that good of an actress.”

  We both smiled at this. We were leaning towards each other in that way lovers usually are, drawn to each other without having to say anything.

  We would have kissed if the U-boat hadn’t appeared behind the Gardenia.

  Chapter 12

  I managed to haul Ethan back from the stern just as the first torpedo fired. I shoved him to the deck amidships as the torpedo exploded. Whoever had aimed the thing had done a damned good job of it; the torpedo crippled the Gardenia’s engines while keeping most of the ship intact.

  I already knew the crew of the U-boat didn’t want to destroy us. Not yet. They were here for Ethan. Once they had him, then they would probably finish the ship off to get rid of the witnesses, including me.

  “Come on,” I told Ethan, yanking him back to his feet.

  “Where are we going?”

  We rushed back to our stateroom, where I found my jacket hanging. I took out the Colt and then checked its load to make sure none of the crew had tried anything funny while I was out. “We’re going to have company any minute. Stay here and let me deal with them,” I said.

  “By yourself?”

  “I can handle it.” I hefted the Colt in my hand. “I told you I’m not a good person.”

  I left him in the stateroom, hoping he would be smart enough to keep the door locked until I opened it. If I opened it. A Nazi slug might get me first. More likely if I came back I’d vanish in and get him to Edinburgh that way. Even Rose wouldn’t be able to fault me for that.

  I just about ran into the Gardenia’s captain on the deck. “What’s going on?” he roared.

  “German U-Boat.”

  “What? But the war’s over. It’s been over for years!”