by C. K. Sorens
Nicu’s eyes burned. He looked past the drop and saw the Ternate. Lashes lowered to brush the top of his cheeks and his forehead dropped. His full weight leaned against the nothingness as he hoped the erratic pulse of magic had little to do with Ember.
3
Aaron
Brandt’s shove didn’t move Aaron, but the momentum sent him a sidestep too far and he corrected with an exaggerated weave of his body.
“What was that, Aaron? You’re the captain.”
“Of a soccer team,” Aaron agreed, wondering what that had to do with him preventing a fight with Nicu and Ember after Brandt made a colossal ass of himself. Brandt’s actions pushed the line tonight. If he’d pulled that shit with another human, Aaron wouldn’t have put up with it. Lately, Brandt tested a lot of limits. Aaron frowned against a headache and wished his friend would work out whatever bothered him.
“Best friends since fourth grade,” Brandt said.
With a meeting not too much different from tonight. Ten-year-old Brandt had started a fight during recess outside their large K through 12 school building. The argument was over who won the monkey bar race. Aaron stopped fists from flying and helped prevent Brandt’s expulsion. Brandt had been grateful, once he’d calmed down, and a lopsided friendship began.
“Which means I keep you away from trouble,” Aaron replied.
“We’re two of the biggest guys in school. It was one Fae and the skinny Trimarked bitch.” He wiped dried blood from his nose with a wince. The pain added to the heated steam on his face.
“You scared of a little pixie?” Brandt demanded. Aaron wondered if his friend’s drunken haze allowed him to truly see the Fae who had inches on either of them, both in height and bicep.
“I don’t want to figure out if we can take him after you’ve had four cups.”
Brandt muttered about making it five as he staggered away, beer the main reason Brandt attended these End of the World parties. Aaron came to hang with the soccer team and blow off steam by beating up the barrier. Though they never broke through, Aaron liked to imagine they produced as many invisible bruises on its surface as it left on their skin.
Before Brandt reached the folding tables where the beer and food were set up, Aaron made eye contact with Jose, defensive midfielder, key and keg keeper. Aaron sliced a hand across his neck with a nod to Brandt. Cut him off.
Jose returned with a brief salute and Aaron relaxed his shoulders, winced again at the one he’d jammed against unforgiving air. He tracked Brandt’s approach to where Jose guarded the beer, a weaker brew his dad made in his basement for the high schoolers. Jose’s dad saved the stronger stuff for the adults. A few teens thought low alcohol content meant they could drink more. Jose let them know differently with a hard shake of his head and a refusal to refill a glass.
Aaron watched long enough to make sure Brandt’s drunken tantrum involved only a few shoves and shouts. Brandt beat up a pine tree before he staggered into the forest. Aaron relieved himself of the responsibility.
Brandt needed to cool off. Even if he got lost, he’d find the edge and wander along until he came across something familiar or a mage found him. They would certainly show his ass the right way home — away from them.
“It’s hard to be captain.” A heavy arm fell over Aaron’s shoulders. Frothy beer rose in a small wave and tested the rim limits of an old, hard plastic cup. Soft plastic cups were very rare these days, though Aaron heard some families saved and washed them until they burst. Glass was still around but kept indoors, not hauled along to an End of the World gathering where a good number of them would break.
Everything in Trifecta was a finite resource. It had been for all of Aaron’s life, heck for everyone here tonight.
“Paul.” Aaron threw off the arm for a proper hand-tap greeting. “Thought you said we wouldn’t find you at a bouncer party again.”
Paul snorted into his beer.
“I figured I’d see if this was as stupid as I remember.” Hoots and hollers reached them as yet another attempt failed. “Maybe even more so now.” He frowned, forehead wrinkled as if trying to figure out how he’d ever had fun at one of these parties. Aaron got it. He was there.
“There’s only so much to do.” Paul nodded at Aaron’s statement, both ruminating about the tarnished image of a once shiny thrill.
Everyone hoped to bust through. They dreamed of getting high on the shock of victory, and gaining bruises made by pavement none of them had ever touched. Eventually, people gave up, even if they visited every once in a while.
Paul, for instance, graduated four months ago. He’d gotten a job right away with the help of his dad, working on the energy systems of Trifecta. With access to outside resources cut off, Trifectans had to get creative. They’d built a semi-reliable system of water and wind turbines at the southern edge of town by using the spare parts of gasoline-powered cars and other utilities no longer operable. These provided the city with the power it needed to function. Though there was a worry about heavy equipment being so close to the school, the floodplain of the river was the flattest within human territory, and with the fewest trees, making it ideal for wind and hydropower collection.
Reclaimed chain-link solved the issue of separation. There was a running joke around how jobs were just a fence hop away after graduation. The energy department maintained and improved on the piecemeal structure, and most people hired into one of those positions.
“End of the World.” The dull tone of remembrance. “So why is Brandt pissed? Coach follow through with his threats and bench him?”
“Nah, he’s still in goal.”
“Benefits of having your best friend’s old man as coach.” Paul eyed Aaron, waited to see what reaction he’d get with those words. A few years ago, sure, Aaron might have smacked beer out of Paul’s grip. Talk of only being on the team because of his dad had been enough to turn the edges of his vision black with anger. Now, Aaron dipped his hand into his Trifecta letterman’s jacket, one that didn’t belong to him, but to whoever was captain of the squad. It used to be Paul’s. This year it had become Aaron’s because he’d earned it. He had nothing else to prove.
“As if my dad would let anyone play if he didn’t think we could take on any outside team the very moment the barrier falls. Which, as you remember, could be any minute now, boys!”
Paul snorted and raised his glass to the memory of Coach Harwell’s intensity. “I wonder how often he led the charge?” Paul pointed toward the barrier. Aaron coughed on a hard laugh.
“Probably so many times, I’m surprised he hadn’t permanently dislocated his shoulder.”
“Yeah,” Paul laughed and struck Aaron on the back. “I’m going to grab another beer before I head out. Make sure to tuck in Brandt.”
As the guy left, Aaron’s stomach sunk. Without planning the action, he caught Paul’s shoulder. Paul’s mouth peeked open with surprise, and Aaron almost let go, not sure why he wanted Paul to stay. He opened his mouth, searching for words, and thoughts tumbled forth.
As if his brain had been working on the problem in the background, a sudden demand for answers gripped him. What had Brandt walked away from, or walked into? Would Paul know, being older? Aaron swallowed the awkward lump in his throat and leaned in, careful to keep his voice low.
“Hey, what’s the deal with the Fae?”
Paul stiffened and looked back the way he’d seen Brandt stumble with Aaron.
“Fades. Did something happen with Brandt and a Fae?”
“Not really, he just has a big mouth,” Aaron hedged. “But it made me wonder. The barrier’s been here for twenty years. I’ve heard the bogeyman stories, but the truth is we keep to ourselves.”
“Man, your dad is Coach. How do you not know?”
“That’s what I mean. My dad tells me how sneaky and dangerous they are, how we put them in their place right away so they didn’t take what’s ours. What made him feel that way? Why do we bother to… to be bothered?”
“I�
��m not sure,” Paul admitted. “You and I are bubble born. You’d have to ask someone before us, but to be honest, the fact that the older gen doesn’t talk about it should make you wary.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think.” Paul realized yet again his cup was empty. “Ask your dad about his high school playing days, and he’ll go on for hours. Ask my Aunt Maggie about Paris, and she’ll bring out every photo album she ever printed with her travels. Yet, the biggest thing in history happens — a magical wall seals our town off from the world — and no one says what happened at the beginning? You think people just figured out we were closed off and stopped trying to call or visit? Cars used to drive though Trifecta. Where is the traffic? Doesn’t that stink of magic to you?”
Paul ran out of breath, the glaze on his eyes cleared on an inhale. He tried to shake a last drop from his cup. With a curse, he held it up in explanation and stepped away into the crowd as if he hadn’t dumped a lifetime of doubt onto Aaron’s ears.
Aaron wasn’t sure how much of Paul’s rant was alcohol or genuine frustration. Was it worth getting agitated over something unchangeable? Everyone was unhappy. This fading bubble had forced Fae and Witches from their home realms into this one and trapped all the races, mage or human. Still, they were peaceful, and kept out of each other’s way. Aaron had as many questions with few answers, but he didn’t want to end up bitter like Paul or pissed off like Brandt.
Speaking of the jerk, Aaron hopped a few times to generate heat in his chilled muscles and to pop above the other heads to check if his friend had returned. The noise level faded from raucous shouts to an indistinct murmur that suggested a lack of beer, the bounce line depleted, and people wanted to head home.
He and Brandt had arrived together, Aaron using his driving credits for a small car. Most of the time, the adults shared the thirty-two vehicles, yet they’d established a system that allowed the sixteen-year-olds their historic, coming-of-age driving tests. Now the human kids spent the week working for the privilege to borrow the city-owned cars with credits earned from community service and going to school. A few kids shared credits in order to get one of the bigger vehicles. Aaron and Brandt shared their credits because they went everywhere together. Despite the split, Aaron found he drove these days, Brandt seldom sober enough to control a vehicle.
Aaron ignored the first extinguishing of car lights as he scanned the crowd without success. Had Brandt gotten his fading self lost in the woods?
Lights stuttered out and the shadows of ancient, giant trees eclipsed the street, stopping his ability to search. Kids were getting out and slamming doors on their powerless cars, walking around them as if the answer was in the paint jobs.
“What the hell is happening?”
“They’re dying.”
“Didn’t the fading lot attendant charge them?”
Aaron frowned, turned to his own car. His vehicle lights were on. He slid into the seat, made sure the key fob still rested in the cupholder, and pressed the engine button. With a quiet buzz the car drained, lights faded and the battery meter dropped, leaving everything at a low-glow, charge-me-now level.
Aaron banged his skull against the headrest, then bent in a belly laugh before sitting back. Even knowing he was one with the farthest walk home didn’t stop him from snickering. It was only about five miles and where it wouldn’t be fast, the distance was more than doable.
They’d been had, and strangely, it made him feel better.
He didn’t know how she’d worked it, but Aaron had no doubt this was why the Trimarked girl had been here tonight, enacting a small bit of revenge he understood her need for, even before Brandt’s idiocy. Which was funny until he realized she might have managed it with magic.
As far as anyone knew, the Trimarked Child didn’t have powers, that she might not even be able to use it with a human for a mom. She’d been bound, though, on the possibility she’d be able to cast. It was possible she’d found a way around it. The thought discomforted him. He eased from his car and wondered if she could have tainted it, or if there was a film of magic he couldn’t see. He wiped humid palms against his jeans.
“Aaron!” Paul shouted from a few spots toward the barrier, leaning away from a girl who hung off him and begged through crocodile tears for him to fix her car, too. Or, you know, take her home with him. “Don’t worry! It will restart.”
Cars along the line hummed to life. Aaron eased into the seat and turned everything off and restarted to revive his loaner. Not magic. His grip on the steering wheel tightened against the tremors. He dug deep to find the humor again and forced a chuckle.
He leaned out to thank Paul to see the guy graciously accepting his damsel’s lip-lock thanks. Aaron figured she could praise him for both of them and settled in while the mayhem died down. If Brandt returned now, that would be perfect. Since he was wishing, let his friend show up renewed, rested and back to normal, just like the car.
4
Ember
Ember walked twice as far as she thought the Fae could see, then she doubled back to the party, using a different path. Nicu had been rushed, which meant he was busy. She had time to locate the crew before he realized she hadn’t followed orders. Anyway, he could shove it. Nicu didn’t have to bargain for food like she did, and since he was keeping his involvement to barking commands, Ember continued to need Chase.
The game trail she’d chosen led toward the barrier, a bit wide of a straight shot to the End of the World. One of the more remote spots in Trifecta, this area was a favorite of hers. She slowed out of habit. Full of ancient trees almost as large in diameter as her entire house, the pines stood as guards of peace. Unbothered by the Redwoods, bits of mountain poked through the needled forest floor in sheets, bumps, and boulders broad enough to have become yet another place for a tree to take root. Human territory, it was too far from the civilized streets of Town for the humans to visit regularly, and it was often all hers. Here she sometimes found proof that the boundary was selectively penetrable whenever a blue jay flitted through or a black squirrel dashed across. Once, she saw a tawny deer use the very path she tread. It soared through in a graceful leap, a passage no person could hope to make on their own.
Not tonight, though. The sounds of the party would keep the wildlife away. The bass drifted through the trees, distant music punctured the silence along with the sudden roar and fade of the crowd as another idiot slammed against the barrier and gained bruises on purpose. That was her destination. A heavy shiver urged her forward despite a deep reluctance.
Raucous feet crunched dead leaves and snapped an old dry branch. A human, since the mages never made so much noise. Ember picked up her pace, sure it was Chase or one of the other members of his crew and eager to find out if they finished and were ready to put an end to tonight’s deal.
The drunken utterance came too late to alert her it wasn’t someone expected. She skidded to a stop two feet from Brandt and his black eye.
“Bitch.” More sober than at their last meeting, he captured her with renewed speed and strength. His fingers grabbed a thick chunk at the front of her sweater. Her surprise had kept her from backing up, but remaining frozen would be a mistake. She allowed him to pull her in, controlled the momentum to spin them around and get him off balance, just enough to make sure he applied his free arm for stability rather than land a punch. She didn’t want to knock him over yet, not when his grip might take her with him.
“I thought you were looking for me?” Ember asked.
“Why in convergence do you think that?”
Good, she’d surprised him into conversation. Ember shrugged and lay her hands over the fist still locked in her outermost hoodie. Both his thick brows raised when she took a voluntary step closer.
“It’s okay. It happens.”
“Are you crazy?”
“I get it. Curiosity can be too much.”
“Wha—”
“Sometimes a human gets curious about what it’s like to be with a n
on-human. Even one like me.”
Brandt’s jaw dropped. He snatched his hand away. Ember put distance between them while keeping him squared up, tugged the bottom of her hoodie to smooth where he’d bunched it, and watched for a path of escape.
Drunk or not, it didn’t take Brandt long to realize she’d tricked him. He rushed her. Quick goalie reflexes helped him grip her right bicep and shoved her into the barrier. His free forearm crossed over her neck, cut off her oxygen, pressed her head into the transparent surface behind her, an illusion of freedom as impenetrable as a brick wall.
“Where is your crazy pixie, now?”
Ember closed her eyes, refused to let the lack of air distract her from what she had to do. She tapped her fingers against the barrier, made sure blood flowed despite her captivity. Tap tap tap against the captive power faster than she’d ever done, with more need than she’d ever had.
Tiny vibrations echoed from her fingertips. Brandt pushed harder. She gagged against the pressure, choked again on an inhale of his alcohol saturated breath. Another bite of static electricity nipped as she worked the energy, something she hadn’t felt before, but she’d never tried this so fast and it was hard to worry when sensation drained from her hands. Had to act now.
Her left palm slammed into the barrier. Brandt laughed at what he assumed was an attempt to breathe. He didn’t see the pulses grow, or notice the hole when her elbow felt the sheet of energy shift. She punched his ribs, pulled on his arm, and forced him to turn and spin, then his hands to windmill in order to keep to his feet while he took one step back, then two.
The ripples only she could see stiffened and solidified into a solid slab. The small opening she’d compelled into existence was now closed.
When Brandt reached for her again. His fist slammed into the barrier from the outside with such fierce intensity she heard the crack of knuckles. His scream caught deep in the woods, masked by the shouts of the party goers and the thud of their music. He fell to his knees, eyes wide as he looked up at her now and realized what she had done.