“You were holding back?”
“A bit.”
“A bit?”
“Okay, a lot.”
He did that looking away thing again. Sadly, I still couldn’t tell if he was seeing the future or simply deflated.
“Well, like your aunt said, magic can’t make you something you’re not. But maybe I can show you some basic moves. Rather than using you as a mystical punching bag, why don’t I get some practice by teaching instead?”
I spent the next half hour or so guiding Gary in the most basic of steps, although most of the lesson consisted of little more than stretches and controlled breathing.
“This isn’t so different than the meditation we do to channel spells,” Gary said as we sat cross-legged on the mats.
“Do you talk during those, too?” I asked, summoning my best instructor voice. I’d almost forgotten how good it was to empty my mind and just focus on breathing.
“Um, so how long are we supposed to meditate? Because Aunt Phil is probably going to run out of cigarettes soon,” Gary whispered from the mat next to me.
“And this is why you’re terrible at martial arts. You have no patience, Grasshopper.”
“Patience, coordination, I’m apparently not good with either.” Gary shook his head. “Come on, mock me. You know you want to.”
“I would never mock anyone for trying. It just means you need more practice. And who am I to judge? The only reason I picked up martial arts in the first place was because I had a crush on Billy Zabka.” Gary cocked his head. “Greatest movie ever . . . Johnny Lawrence versus Daniel LaRusso . . . Sweep the leg?”
“Oh. The Karate Kid?” The lightbulb finally lit over his head. “I’m surprised. No superheroes.”
“To be fair, it’s no Spiderman 2. But long story short, I spent the better part of kindergarten planning to be the future Mrs. Lawrence.”
“Definitely TMI,” Gary said with a chuckle. He led me out to the main living space. My first impression of this place, consisting of the kitchen, hadn’t been great, but now that I had a moment to take it all in, I saw it was an impressive setup, more Boston-worthy than the usual fare one would find in Worcester. The upper loft looked like something out of a movie, with floor to ceiling bookcases and a bunch of funky nooks facing the windows.
Gary noticed my interest and pointed to a purple velvet chair. “We stole that from the Starbucks on Mass Ave. Never get underage mages drunk and then issue a dare.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, wandering to the wrought-iron staircase that led to the upper level.
“Be careful. It’s cold-forged iron, with various hexes etched into the metal itself,” Gary explained. “The old coven mentor may have been a wee bit paranoid. Then again, he vanished into thin air a few years back, so maybe he wasn’t paranoid enough. Nobody knows if it was a spell gone wrong or if the high mentor in Manchester discovered he was sleeping with half the witches in New Hampshire.”
“Sounds like a player.” I padded up the stairs and indulged my curiosity. A mix of everything, from A Brief History of Time to cookbooks, to titles I couldn’t even begin to pronounce, filled the shelves. “So, are there a lot of witches in New Hampshire?”
“I wouldn’t say lots. Most are fakes and charlatans, but there are covens all over New England. It seems to be a hotbed for the occult. And before you ask, yes, there’s a large coven in Salem, but that’s mostly because Boston real estate is out of sight, not to mention it’s currently occupied by other supernatural forces right now.”
“Other supernatural forces?”
“Vampires,” Gary confessed, joining me in the loft. “I was warned not to linger too much in the city after dark, not without coven-mates. Although Boston is practically normal compared to some other places. Apparently, Cambridge is full of uppity bloodsuckers who won’t feed on you unless you have at least one post-graduate degree.”
“Wouldn’t that mean you were safe, though?”
“It’s the principle. Who wants to be eaten by snobs?” Gary pulled out a book on Greek mythology. “So, anyway, I believe you have questions, and we didn’t really start on the right foot yesterday.”
“Did you want to get changed first?” I offered. “Or do you have an instant shower spell handy?”
“That’s not really how it works. I mean, we do have an eternal flame bonded to the pipes, so we never run out of hot water, but I like to think magic should be reserved for more dignified stuff.”
“Says you!” Phil called from the main floor. “I can smell you from down here. Hit the showers or I’m snapping my fingers.”
♦ ♦ ♦
While we waited for Gary to clean up, Phil poured me a glass of iced tea and motioned for me to sit near her in the kitchen.
“This place is really nice,” I said, sipping a glass of berry tea roughly the same color as my hair. “It’s so big.”
“That’s what she said.” Phil cackled as she grabbed herself a cup of coffee and poured a generous splash of vodka in it. She waved to the cavernous main room. “This place once housed a whole coven, but that asshole, Spencer, couldn’t keep it in his pants.”
“The old coven master?”
“Mentor. Master is a vamp phrase, but more or less. He was both our mentor and my ex-husband.” Phil slammed back about half her drink at once. “Since I’m pretty sure all my coven sisters had a ride on the Spencer Express, I decided to boot them out once this place came under new management. Hell, half of them were looking for an excuse to bolt anyway, so good riddance.”
Gary picked that moment to enter the room—probably a good thing as I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear any sordid details about Phil’s or her ex’s love life.
“Oh, there’s Gare-bear! I was just explaining to Jess here the sordid tale of how we ended up in our own little coven. But who knows? With an honest to goodness Shining One on our side, that could all change.”
“Am I like a good omen or something?”
They both exchanged a look until Phil waved her hands dismissively. “Anything prophecy-related tends to cause a stir, that’s all,” she explained before sucking down the rest of her coffee. “Oh, almost forgot to ask. Do you have any plans for dinner?”
“Not really, but I’m going to have to leave the shop soon.”
“Jules will be fine. He can cover for you.”
“He doesn’t have the alarm code for my house, or my key, for that matter.”
“Relax,” Phil said. “Trust me. House alarms aren’t a problem for someone like him.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“Gare-bear, did you warn her about the blessing of Uranus?”
“Excuse me, the what?”
We were just finishing up the pizza Gary had ordered. Thank goodness I was done chewing. Otherwise I’d have likely choked to death upon hearing Phil’s question.
“It’s a Meliae ritual. The legends say they’re supposed to grant the gift of their father to the chosen one. Far as we can tell, that’s you.” Phil flicked at her nails like she had just explained tonight’s TV schedule.
“Uranus like the planet?” Please say it’s like the planet.
Gary shook his head. “Close. Uranus like the Greek god. The Meliae were supposed to be his children, but I’m not sure if that’s literal or figurative. Hard to tell with myths sometimes. Anyway, these forest spirits called upon a heavenly force that the Ancient Greeks correlated to Uranus. Think of it as a metaphor, another name for a font of power.”
“Oh, that’s a relief, because from what I’ve read, most of Greek mythology was a lot of killing and raping and creepy old dudes marrying their sister wives.”
“You’re not too far off, but I can’t say I’d mind all that much if Perseus had actually looked like Harry Hamlin,” Phil said. “I’d ride his Pegasus in a heartbeat. Woof!”
“Aunt Phil!”
“Oh, lighten up, Gare-bear. You kids are wound up too tight these days.” She turned her attention back to me. “Anyway, fa
r as we can tell, most of these stories are just primitive man’s explanation for stuff. It’s only the more modern legends where things get literal.”
“So, there isn’t some giant snake wrapped around the world ready to herald Ragnarök?”
Fortunately, both of them laughed. “Different mythology entirely,” Gary said.
“I know that,” I replied with an eye-roll. “I do read Thor, y’know.”
“Myth to legends to comic books,” Phil said with a sigh. “I guess that makes sense.”
It did to me, anyway. “And these Meliae forest spirit thingies, they have a legend that predicts a shiny one will fight the ubervamp?”
“Shining One . . . and no. The Shining One versus Freewill prophecy is from another—”
“Prophecies are a bit of a numbers game,” Gary interrupted. “It’s like statistics but with magic. If you compile enough predictions, you begin to see a pattern, but it only gives you hints, not the answers to the test. The way I figure, at any given time there are multiple potential shiny ones out there, latent Icons that only need a push. The Meliae spoke of it like trials and tribulations, to separate the wheat from the chaff. It’s a common theme throughout all the chosen-one myths. All it takes is the right spark—”
“Like waking up with Day-Glo hair? Lucky me.”
“You are lucky.” Phil stood and walked to the well-stocked bar cabinet. “The chosen one is an awesome responsibility, but you have to admit it’s pretty cool, too.”
“Maybe. I’m just not sure I’m ready for any of this.”
“I’m sorry to say this, dearie, but the universe doesn’t care if you’re ready or not. Fate can be a real bitch like that.”
♦ ♦ ♦
“So, we need an opportunity to expose you to one of the bloodsuckers but in a controlled way. It’s for your own good, dearie.”
“For my own good?” Call me skeptical, but I practically smelt the crap coming from Phil.
“Partially,” Phil continued, rubbing her chin. “And partially to see what you can do, but we really have to make sure no vamps escape. We don’t want word of glowing slayers making it back to Boston before we’re ready.”
“Maybe we should figure out a way to get me back into fighting shape before any of this. I’m too rusty to win a real throw down.” I turned to Gary. “You’re sure you can’t manage a montage?”
He facepalmed. “How many times do I have to tell you that there isn’t a musical number that can—”
“Hold that thought!” Phil leapt to her feet and made a beeline for the library.
“Am I missing something here?”
Before Gary could answer, Phil called down to us from the library. “The Ovation of Orpheus! We’d have to modify it, but I think there might be a way to set the Anthem of Achilles into the Ovation. Oh, I am a genius!”
I glanced Gary’s way. “Did any of that make sense to you?”
He shrugged in return. “Sort of . . . maybe. Aunt Phil is pretty experienced when it comes to enhancement magic. I’m only partially following what she said, but it sounds like maybe we actually can figure out a way to help you learn faster and easier, assuming your power doesn’t cancel it out.”
I nibbled on a rogue slice of pepperoni as it all sank in. “You really want me to face a vampire? That seems a little extreme.”
“Only when you’re ready. My aunt likes to talk tough, but she wouldn’t risk someone as potentially important as you on a silly stunt.”
“Like magical hair color?” I countered.
Phil reentered the room. “I already told you—”
“I know. Regular hair dye.”
“Exactly! It was your hopes and dreams that lit the spark.”
My hopes and dreams? Oh wow. Could it possibly be that my crush on Tony Castorini was so all-encompassing that it motivated me to, I dunno, save the world?
Oh crap! Tony! I had a date with him on Friday and still had no idea how I landed him in the first place. “I really need to catch up and switch places with my super skrull.”
“She means Julius,” Gary clarified.
Phil shrugged as if she didn’t care, instead handing me a book on Greek mythology. A plethora of multi-colored sticky notes poked from between the pages.
“What’s this?”
“Your homework, Jessie. Even if it’s mostly nonsense, it makes sense to know as much as you can about the Meliae and the Blessing of Uranus.” Aunt Phil leaned in and winked. “Besides, I hear that’s what all the guys are into these days.”
Red-faced to go with my hair, I shoved the book into my backpack. Lord only knows what the other me had relayed to Phil.
The flutters returned to my chest. Could she possibly know about my past? She was right. I did have homework, although I had a feeling only a very small part of it revolved around the so-called Blessing of Uranus.
Chapter Eleven: Fast Times at Pennacook High
“Is this . . . a dossier?”
The other me flipped open a composition notebook full of text transcripts and clandestine pictures of Tony Castorini. Somehow he managed to look hot even in a fuzzy, long-distance shot exiting the men’s room.
“A surprisingly handwritten dossier,” I added. “You even drew little emojis.”
Other Me twirled her hair coyly. Did I do that? It was super obnoxious. “I had plenty of time. The so-called homework of the American educational system is almost laughable. You may wish to tell your English teacher her analysis of Henry V left a lot to be desired.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Excellent. Here, you’ll need these for today.” Other Me opened her identical black bag with a Punisher patch, offering me the textbooks—my textbooks—within.
“How did you. . .?”
“From your locker, of course. It was remarkably easy to figure out your combination. Word of advice: birthdays are the first thing people such as myself try.”
“I can’t believe you broke into my locker . . . and that you knew Peter Parker’s birthday.”
“To be fair, I cased your entire school.”
I decided to not ask, turning my attention back to the Tony dossier.
“I think you’ll find I accounted for you well in terms of banal flirting and harmless fandom discussion,” Other Me noted. He pointed to a transcript extoling the virtues of Alfred Molina as Doctor Octopus. “However, I’ll need to brush up on a few items, as I was forced to siderail the conversation once Mr. Castorini asked for my, meaning your, opinion on hentai. Sadly, I was not able to give him a satisfactory answer.”
“Oh, that’s easy. You never watch Legend of the Overfiend on a first date. Also, lots of people like Tentacle and Witches, but I think there’s much better examples of tentacle porn . . . Wait, this isn’t my internal monologue, is it?”
Gary, Phil, and Julius just stared unblinkingly at me for several long seconds. “What? It’s an animated art form and there are only so many times you can watch Labyrinth on repeat before you realize you need something more visceral. . . And I’m still saying this aloud, aren’t I?”
“I can’t speak for the others, but I find this quite enlightening, Jessie. I’ve been trying to maintain a modicum of decorum in my interactions with Mr. Castorini, but if you want I can certainly—”
I interrupted Other Me with an emphatic head shake and a finger wag thrown in for good measure. He took the hint and gave me a thumbs-up.
“How about we all just stop talking while I finish reading this? That work for you guys?”
♦ ♦ ♦
I was busy fawning over a picture of Tony leaning against the bleachers, with a single lock of hair falling over one eye. Yeah, that one was going into my personal collection, thank you very much. I turned the page in Julius’s dossier and saw a hastily written note. “Text from AV Club Group Chat: Mandatory meeting tomorrow at five.”
“Why is there a message from the AV Club? I pretty much dropped them last year. And why are they texting you, not me?”
“Technically they think they are texting you,” he explained, Phil having thankfully turned off the glamour around him before it became weird, or weirder. “It’s surprisingly easy to clone most cellular devices and subsequently intercept data meant for them. But to answer your first question, that does sound a bit suspicious. Are you sure you’re not still listed on their roster?”
“Positive . . . I think.”
“I thought all extracurricular activities were supposed to end by five,” Gary said, finally speaking up. “Or at least that’s what the guys in the Gamer’s Club told me.”
“Gamer’s Club?” Phil asked.
“What? They needed a wizard for the campaign they’re running.”
Before Phil could comment on that, I replied, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s in the guidelines. So why the late meeting, and why am I getting it now when I haven’t heard from them all year?”
“Probably just a mistake,” Gary replied. “No big deal.”
“Unless it is a big deal,” Julius said. Guess paranoia went hand in hand with his chosen profession. “What can you tell us about this so-called AV Club?”
I shrugged. “Not much. They pretty much exist to play with electronics and support the Thespian Society, which is why I left. The drama queens treated us like crap, especially Lindsey. It was either quit or consider dropping an amp on her backstage.”
“Who?”
“Lindsey fricking Stallings,” I replied. “Auburn hair, big boobs, low IQ. Thinks it’s her sacred duty to bang the entire football team like a Salvation Army drum. Currently not dating Tony, unlike me, which I know ticks her off to no end.”
Gary made a gesture like a cat scratching. “Meow.”
“So, you’d consider this Lindsey chick a rival?” Phil asked, sharing a glance with Julius.
“For Tony’s affections maybe, but not for STDs. She wins that one hands down.”
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