“A degree in Charms doesn’t exactly translate well to Marlow Heights,” I noted dryly. “But the point isn’t money or luxury, it’s embracing humanity.”
He raised his eyebrow, allowing himself to fall sideways onto my bed with a snort. “All of this so you don’t have to admit that you’re a witch.” He looked up at my ceiling, grinning, “I’m debating whether I should call you stubborn or a coward at this point.” He shook his head, mumbling half to himself, “But I suppose it’s none of my business, is it?”
“People don’t take kindly to witches in New Haven,” I explained, though I shouldn’t have had to. He knew that just as well as I did. “I mean, there’s a reason they’ve nicknamed Magictown the Stakes, and it’s not because the people there are treated kindly and fairly, with long lives ahead of them.” I sighed, “I’ve seen the bad parts of town too and I can’t argue that all of their assumptions are wrong. No, they’re sort of right about witches, and that’s scary. Is it wrong to want to be normal when the whole world seems to hate you?”
“The whole world doesn’t hate you, Lyra,” he said “It may feel like that because the people who hate things are always so loud, but trust me when I say, there are people out there who respect witches and think they’re amazing. People know that not every witch is evil or whatever other things you’ve experienced. At the very least, I can say that I don’t hate you.”
The edge of my lips rose in a half-smile, one that fell quickly as I tore my eyes away. I could hear the smile in his voice, and it was dangerous. I’d made this mistake before, become too attached. Leo would be gone in two months, hating me or otherwise. It was best to draw a line, understand that isolation was more at play than anything else. When all was said and done, Leo would go back to his friends and family, and I would be only a memory. A few charcoal drawings and cups of tea didn’t change that; neither did my growing desire for him to stay around. No, I had to acknowledge reality, remember that Leo had a life that he wanted back, as did I. Soon, my room would be filled with overpriced, living flowers once more. I’d put all my attention back on the florist, back to my job, and back to the performance of a lifetime that was me being human.
I turned myself back to finding something to wear for the party, squeezing into the small space between the bed and dresser and sucking it in so I could open the drawers and look for what I would inevitably wear that night. From the looks of it, this wasn’t black tie, but it also wasn’t a jeans and t-shirt affair. Another one of those difficult occasions.“You’re lucky, Leo,” I changed the subject, “People never expect much from men.”
He laughed.
11
Auspicious
White marble and gold-leafed columns greeted us at the entrance to the home, the party turning out to be far more than we’d expected. It was hard not to recognize the building in front of us, even if it's mailing address wasn't quite familiar. It appeared in the papers so often, a stout, beady-eyed red-haired woman standing in front of it with her politically approved haircut.
"What kind of potions has Yvie been brewing again?" Leo asked, his eyes trained forward yet his hand dangling dangerously close to mine. It was almost second nature to Leo and me at this point, so often did one guide the other that gripping each others hands felt like the normal thing to do. "And for who?"
Yvie and Gigi had left ahead of us, giving the two of us only a copy of her invitation, her handwritten note just underneath the words plus one. A part of me thought that they'd had us arrive separately in case we saw the location and decided to leave; another part of me knew that if Yvie knew where this address was, she wouldn't have been stupid enough to show up. No, Yvie would never bring Gigi to a place like this, not knowingly. Whoever wrote that address down was playing a cruel joke on her, or--
"We have to go in," Leo said with a grimace, "just for the chance that this is an actual legitimate gathering." Still, he made no efforts to move.
"There wouldn't be a gathering here, Leo," I croaked. "There's not been witches on this property since they burned them on the front lawn."
Pat Lobdel's house. The mayor.
There had to be a mistake.
"Landon said that Rowan and the others were hanging out with some of the upper-crust, is it such a stretch--" Leo began but stopped upon seeing my facial expression. He checked his phone once more, almost willing the maps app to be incorrect. He entered the address once more, wincing as it once again announced our arrival.
"Leo," I said, my voice still low. We stood on the sidewalk outside the mansion, people coming and going in their cocktail dresses as we still dawdled, still debated, and still wondered how we ended up here. "Pat Lobdel hates witches." Hate wasn't a strong enough word, absolutely loathed with every fiber of her being was closer to the way she felt.
"I know," Leo breathed, his fingers brushing against mine. "Lyra, I understand if you want to go home, but…"
"You're not going to know anyone; you won't be able to find what you need without me," I summarized with a nod, a sinking feeling slowly becoming more prominent in my stomach.
"You're a human," Leo tried. "No magic, nothing. You're here with your friend, who has just so happened to escort you as a date, due to another friend's invitation. That's the story, nothing more. I can do the rest of the talking, just stay close. I promise you, I won't let anything happen to you."
"Leo…"
"Believe it or not, this is the one time when I can make good on that promise."
I knew what people thought the moment I entered the room; I knew their mistaken assumptions. My head rested on Leo's shoulder and my hand curled around his arm as I walked as near to him as possible; It was the same thing they thought before. Upon his reassurance, I didn't stray from him, and he didn't complain. Likely knowing that it was the only way to get me into the manor, the only way to keep me from running. Leo's hand wrapped around my waist in turn, guiding me further and further through the mayor's home.
The funny thing was, he seemed almost familiar with the layout of the place. It took a moment, perhaps a minute of me inspecting one of the many paintings on the wall to realize the reason why; he'd been here before. A familiar style of art hung on the wall, long, straight charcoal lines that I’d seen a week prior. He was amongst the local artists whose work hung in the mansion, a connection to the community to ensure that Pat would be elected again. He caught my eyes looking at the walls and chuckled, once again looking far too comfortable, even as more finely dressed visitors passed us by. Leo, clad in his oversized cardigan and henley shirt, daring enough to wear jeans; he had the nerve to look comfortable.
"You ever think to mention that you know the mayor?" I whispered into his shoulder.
"A business relationship," Leo muttered in response. "Pleasant on her side, not on mine. I drew her probably the single worst piece of art I've ever made. Soulless, lifeless, the city hall in all of its photorealistic glory. Unfortunately, nearly every time I see her, she tells me how prominently she has it displayed."
"Congratulations," I said sarcastically.
"Yes, well," he began, his voice trailing off as he looked somewhere else. He did not continue speaking, his pace slowing to a near stop as he looked. I blinked, peeking over at him with a questioning glance. Knitted eyebrows and narrowed eyes greeted me, his nose wrinkled in confusion as he looked off in another direction.
My gaze followed his, catching only the slightest glimpse of auburn hair as it disappeared through a doorway. "Leo…?" I questioned, readjusting my grip on his arm. "Are you alright?"
He snapped back to reality, his eyes returning to me just as suddenly as they'd left. "Yeah, I'm fine… It was nothing." He opened his mouth again to speak like he'd like to tack something on, but then quickly decided against it and closed his mouth once more, stepping a little closer to me.
"Are you sure?" I asked.
He looked at me, his lips growing thin as he seemed to debate something. Whatever it was, he pushed it down, stepping even closer
to me so that he could ask, his voice low and holding an unpinnable air, "Do you dance?"
"I…" My eyes narrowed, searching his face for any hint of what was going on. He didn't give anything away, just an insistence emphasized by the lack of distance between us. "Leo, we're supposed to be looking for information," I began to try to reason with him.
"A break, then," Leo said, ready as ever to counter me. "It's hardly ballroom dancing, Lyra," he said, gesturing to the people around us. He was right, it'd be too generous to call it that. It was far more toned down, only a few couples swaying in the room to the tunes, their arms around necks and waists like untrained high schoolers at prom. Expensive yet casual clothing and a live band hinted at money, but the upbeat jazz and the grins on their faces suggested anything but class. The scene contrasted with the white marble floors and intricate woodwork, everyone looking out of place amongst the decor. It struck me then that these were not the sort of people with whom the mayor would typically spend time. This was a far more intimate affair.
Leo cocked his head, his arm trailing across my back as he moved to stand in front of me, hand insistently held out to me. I tilted my head in turn, unsure what exactly he was getting at. Yet, slowly and surely, I reached for him, my hand sitting in his, allowing him to pull me out further, onto our own slice of the dance floor.
It was funny then, watching the people who moved around in business casual and cocktail dresses as Leo and I stood, both painfully underdressed and under-informed. My hands around his neck, his at my waist, uncertainly shuffling together like we knew exactly how odd we appeared. And yet, the second that we stood together, I felt like we fit into the scene far more than any other couple, both kept at a distance from one another yet at the same time instinctually meshing with each other. There was no awkwardness as he pulled me closer, nor as I linked my hands together behind his neck. We fit comfortably in a way that I'd never fit with anyone before.
Every step was easy, every sway anticipated. A part of me feared that being around Leo would become too comfortable, another reason to miss him when he was gone. His forehead pressed against mine as if to reassure me of this fact, and his eyes closed in seeming bliss. Seeming. No sooner had I returned the gesture then he began to speak again, his voice low.
"Autumn's here."
I jerked my head back, shocked at the statement. Autumn shouldn't have been there, neither should Yvie. No witch should have been invited, not to a house like Mayor Lobdel's. And yet, with Yvie there was an excuse, reasoning as simple as the wrong person misunderstanding and giving her a ticket. But Autumn?
"She looks like she's been crying."
My stomach churned, fingers clenching tighter onto each other. "Where's Landon?" I asked.
"I don’t see him.”
A pang, one that brought bile to my throat. Of course he wasn't there; of course, the world wasn't kind. Didn't Rowan tell me Landon was taken care of? And Autumn… "She's looking for him, isn't she?"
"If that's what you call peering around corners and darting in and out of rooms, then yes," Leo sighed, drawing me closer so that his head could rest on top of mine. "Any idea what's going on?" He muttered for my ears only.
"Only mildly," I lied.
"Right then, should we talk to Autumn or…?"
I didn't respond, instead tucking myself further into his chest. Seeing Autumn, I had an idea that it....wouldn't be pleasant. Not if what I feared was true, not if the tidal waves in my stomach proved to be correct. The right move would have been to leave, but I knew Leo would never do that. Instead, I settled for holding him there, my face buried in his chest, keeping him from going anywhere else.
"Lyra," he began again, always saying my name, always pushing me forward with it.
"No," I shook my head into his chest, my arms only tightening around him. "A bit longer, just a bit longer."
"Lyra," Leo insisted once more, his head pulling off of mine as my arms drifted lower, dropping from his neck to grip his waist, holding him closer to me. It was an insane and selfish action, and yet, simply not seeing Landon felt like the roughened terrain one encounters before the edge of a cliff. Something wasn't right, something was wrong. "Lyra, we need to keep moving."
Of course we did, how foolish of me. The part of me that desperately wanted to tell him that no, we didn't, and we should be worried about something, someone, out there. But when Rowan's name came to mind, I couldn't speak it. I couldn't inform Leo that actually, whatever happened to Landon was likely very bad and could very well happen to him. Instead, all I could do was pull back, nodding helplessly at him.
"I do love the newest piece," her voice spoke once again, the older woman recrossing her legs once more on her white upholstered couch, her eyes twinkling with anything but amusement. "Bold lines that still retain a bit of fluidity, it’s quite inspired. I didn’t take you for the type to draw a collection of nudes, but I suppose you found inspiration." Her voice suggested that she was not happy about said inspiration, and had jumped to her own wild conclusions.
Pat Lobdel was everything I'd seen on the television, and that wasn't a compliment. I'd always thought her to be self-serving, self-righteous, and definitely self-obsessed. Still, I brushed that off as being residual hostilities due to my status as a witch and her status as a slanderer of witches in the press and any other outlet one would give her. It was nice to find that, upon actually meeting her, she was every bit as obnoxious as I thought she was. What I thought was once a commission done to stimulate the local economy turned out to be a little more; a commission to capture the attention of a young, budding artist while her husband drank his soul away at parties. She could barely hide the greedy way that her eyes scanned Leo, though she tried to.
Leo treated her with unfailing kindness, smiling and nodding just as he was meant to, finding no issues with the affections of a woman twenty-five years his senior. “I tend to keep things like that to myself, helps me really enjoy the time I have with my partners."
She cast me a smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "Lovely." She leaned back into her couch once more, her ample bottom spreading across the loveseat. The room we were in had four couches, and every one was occupied. But hers remained empty except for her. Leo and I sat smushed side to side once again, a bitter look on Pat’s face as she eyed us; I put my hand on Leo’s knee if only to upset her further. "Lyra Pelling, again, right?" She asked, confirming my fake last name. "Just want to make sure that I get it right when I tell the other ladies later," which no doubt meant that she just wanted to get it right for when she inevitably placed me on the banned list within an hour of me leaving.
"That's right, Lyra Pelling," Leo confirmed with a nod, his fingers impatiently tapping on his thighs. We'd been trapped in the same conversation for a while, the night melting away around us as we were stuck talking to the mayor. Crops of pink and purple hair had already appeared and disappeared, Yvie taking the time to show up in the background long enough to throw a wink in my direction as she draped herself over Gigi, guiding the young woman to the dance floor. It was easy to be jealous of their happy faces as their hips swung dangerously close together.
The party was beginning to seem more like a waste of time; not a single hair of Autumn's head visible since Leo last spotted her. Instead, we sat trying to entertain an older woman who most definitely would have gotten divorced by now if the public eye wasn’t on her. I hadn’t sniffed out her attempts at infidelity originally, but it was growing harder and harder to ignore her more than passing glances at Leo.
Oh, politicians.
Even Leo was at his wits end, long tired of circling through the same questions over and over again, the woman waiting for a change in answer. Honestly, it was frightening how well he managed to keep his lies straight. Quiet when it counted, as he always was, he'd somehow led the woman to believe we were lovers and, taking pity on him, I'd played along.
"Well again, it is just such a shame that you're off the market, Leo. I really thought that I'd met
the one for you, but it seems you've already taken care of that," Pat said with a pointed glare, quickly regaining her composure. "I do hope that all of this doesn't get in the way when I move to commission you again," she said, barking out a dry laugh, "would hate for you to be too busy for me."
"I could never be too busy for you," he said, anxiously looking around before she wasted his night. "Again, anything you need, just give me a call, Pat."
"Oh, don't worry, Leo," Pat remarked, a suggestive undertone to her voice as she leaned forward to grab his shoulder. "I'll be sure to remember that."
Thankfully, that seemed to be enough. Pat rose from her couch, giving a hearty sigh as she no doubt looked across the various large open doors to see her husband cornering a maid. Leo and I had initially passed him when we first ran into her, and he'd not moved since. I'd checked multiple times during our conversation, amused at how boldly the man flirted with the help during such a large event.
Finally, finally, Pat left. No sooner had she vanished from view than Leo stumbled up to his feet, my body instinctually following him as he quickly returned to the party, his eyes scanning the crowd to find someone, anyone of interest. I followed suit, looking to the best of my ability and seeing no one. No red, no pastel-colored hair, no signs of any traditional witching wear. The party at the Lobdel's looked just as it should, just as it had for hundreds of years; devoid of the magically inclined.
But that's not what Leo found. His eyes scanned the crowds, and he found someone, his eyes settling on a familiar form as his hand reached for mine, wrapping around my wrist to get my attention. I turned my head with him and saw a haggard, half-dead looking Landon, carelessly stuffed into a suit, splotches of wine-colored bruises decorating his eyes and jaw. He was a pitiful sight, and yet not a single soul at the party paid him any heed.
The City of Crows Page 9