Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Identity

by Lydia Sherrer

  Episode 12: Nothing Left To Lose

  1

  Cause and Effect

  It seemed silly, to be standing in his aunt’s backyard and staring at a bush. The streetlight on the other side of the fence shone pale yellow in the twilight just before dawn, casting odd shadows over the line of bushes in front of Sebastian.

  It had been fifty-two hours, give or take, since Lily had been kidnapped, and he couldn’t sleep any more. A dream had woken him, and it had been...bad. In the dream he was back at the factory, bound and helpless, and the demon was slowly slicing him open and Lily was screaming and he knew if he didn’t get free it would kill her too but he couldn’t think through the pain and—

  Sebastian shook his head and focused back on the bush. Since he knew he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, he’d slipped out of the quiet house and back here to do something that had to be done, even if he wasn’t really looking forward to it. Sir Kipling had followed him, but he’d sent the feline back inside to keep Aunt B company. The cat’s presence would only make things worse.

  It wasn’t as if what he needed to do was hard. But having his hopes dashed, even if he knew it was his own fault, was not something he was overly eager to inflict upon himself. Still, he couldn’t afford to waste time standing there like an idiot either. He breathed in long and slow, filling his lungs with air, held it, and then let it all out in a whoosh. It didn’t make him feel any better, but at least his lungs got some exercise.

  “Elwa, Grimoli’un. Ta’il ihki.” The fae words felt heavy on his tongue, or perhaps that was just his guilt.

  Three long breaths later, there was still no sound. Nor, more importantly, was there any rustle in the bushes lining the back fence. He waited three more breaths, then, heavy heart already sinking to his toes, repeated the call.

  “Elwa, Grimoli’un. Ta’il ihki. Come on, you nasty excuse for a booger on four legs. I know you’re skulking around somewhere. At least come and hear me out.”

  Silence.

  “Fine! Be a coward! Thiriel is a cranky old harpy, and if she weren’t as stiff as a post and twice as dumb we wouldn’t be in this mess!” Sebastian found his voice rising despite himself, and he waved his arms in the air in exasperation as the words kept coming. “It’s not like I wanted to break my word. If Thiriel could have had just a shred of compassion for two seconds and helped me find Lily, everything would be hunky dory. It’s not like you all really need me anyway—you’ve been offing demons for millennia just fine without me. If you want to go hide in fairyland and have a good sulk, be my guest. See if I care! Good riddance to you and all your stupid rules and bargains!”

  The echo of his final words faded into the quiet air without so much as a peep of a response. The stillness around him remained unbroken. Sebastian just stood there, breathing hard, fists clenched, staring down at the bush in front of him. He hadn’t realized how loud he’d been yelling, and it would be just his luck if his little temper tantrum had drawn the attention of someone in the house. That would be just what he needed, someone around to witness his humiliation.

  And as for the fae?

  Well, they weren’t human, so trying to provoke them to respond out of anger or indignation had been a foolish move anyway. He’d half hoped to get a rise out of Thiriel, who was always listening, one way or another. But Mrs. Ice Queen With A Stick Up Her Butt could give the silent treatment like nobody’s business. The whole tirade had been less than pointless, but at least he’d gotten it off his chest.

  Now that he was sure no fae would be coming, Sebastian’s shoulders finally slumped. He was l’a’nitan. Accursed. No low fae would dare defy Thiriel’s edict, and no high fae would want to. But he’d had to try. Grimmold could track anything, and he could bring them through the Twilight to their destination in a fraction of the time it would take them to drive there. What if shaving off half a day turned out to be the difference between saving Lily’s life, and losing her forever?

  “Who were you talking to?”

  Sebastian flinched, but he managed to disguise it in a smooth turning motion as he faced the newcomer standing in the middle of Aunt B’s backyard. “No one. Just getting some things off my chest. Things are a little...you know.”

  “Tell me about it,” Jamie muttered, and a glower settled on his face, which was still foggy with sleep.

  Both stood silent for a moment with their hands in their pockets, Sebastian eyeing Jamie and Jamie staring at the grass. Sebastian’s brow furrowed as he noticed the lines of worry cutting deep into Jamie’s forehead, lines much too deep for a boy his age. It was startling to suddenly realize that Jamie was the same age Sebastian had been when his parents had died and his entire life had careened off into darkness—a darkness he was still trying to escape. Jamie’s body was lanky, in that awkward in-between stage from boy to man, and Sebastian felt a twinge of sympathy for him.

  “Hey…” Sebastian began, then hesitated, unsure what to say to Lily’s little brother. Charming people was easy. Giving advice was a lot harder. Plus, he was hardly a paragon of virtue. “If, uh, there’s anything you need to get off your chest I’m all ears.”

  Jamie stood stiffly, shoulders hunched, eyes still cast down. When the silence stretched on, Sebastian assumed that was all he was going to get. But then the boy spoke.

  “I’m not a child.”

  Well, then. There were many things Sebastian could say to that, but he had no idea which one would actually be helpful, so he held his tongue. Often, if you kept your mouth shut, people would talk just to fill the silence.

  “I mean, I know I’m only sixteen, so I’m not exactly an adult. I don’t have decades of experience like Madam Barrington, and I haven’t ‘raised five hellcats,’ like my mom, and I haven’t been on all sorts of adventures like you and Lily. But I’m not a child. I—I can help.”

  Jamie finally raised his eyes to meet Sebastian’s, and they burned with defiance and frustration. Sebastian might have imagined it, but he thought he caught a glint of moisture in them as well.

  Memories, dark and painful, washed over Sebastian, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to gather himself. Jamie was not him. At least not yet. But somehow, Sebastian had the suspicion that if someone didn’t take the boy in hand soon—not to order him around like Madam Barrington did, but to actually take him seriously—Jamie might pull a stunt as devastating as Sebastian himself had pulled when he was sixteen.

  All right, so probably not that bad. But Jamie’s proclivity toward trouble was shaping up nicely, and someone needed to nip it in the bud.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I—what?” Jamie said, confusion easing his scowl.

  “You’re right. You’re not a child.”

  The boy looked suspicious, as if he didn’t really believe Sebastian meant what he said.

  “Look, come here ki—Jamie,” Sebastian said, heading back toward the house and snagging Jamie by the shoulder as he passed. It was odd to realize the kid was not that much shorter than him. Definitely not a child.

  Sebastian sat them both down on the backdoor steps. He took out his truth coin and started rolling it over his fingers as he thought about what to say. He really didn’t want to screw this up, because Lily would skin him alive if he did.

  “My parents died when I was sixteen,” Sebastian finally said. It hurt to speak it aloud, even ten years later.

  Jamie shifted. “I—I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago,” Sebastian said and shrugged, trying to loosen the tightness in his shoulders. “After they died, I lived with Aunt B for a few years.”

  Jamie grimaced. “That musta been rough.”

  “Oh, you have no idea. But that’s not the point. Well, it sort of is. Anyway, I got into some really, really deep trouble because...well, because I was stupid and didn’t listen to my aunt, but also because I’d had my whole world ripped from me and I was desperate to do something. I hurt so much I wanted to just—just end things. Doing som
ething gave me a way to channel and control the pain. The problem was that I was sixteen and dumb and reckless and desperate. What I should have done was...I don’t know, talk to a therapist or something, or asked for some sort of professional help, at the very least. What I did instead was summon a demon who—well, let’s just say it ended really badly.”

  “Whoa...seriously? I never—well Lily never mentioned—”

  Sebastian put up a hand. “Don’t. It’s fine. I mean, it’s not, because ten years later I’m still—” He stopped abruptly, then pressed his lips together. He’d been going to say “broken,” but he hadn’t forgotten Aunt B’s words about despair, and so he searched for a better word. “Scarred.” There, that was better. “The point is that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should do it. I think as teenagers we develop the ‘can’ a lot sooner than we understand the ‘should,’ you know what I mean?” Sebastian nudged Jamie, and the teenager rewarded him with a sheepish grin.

  “So, no, you’re not a child anymore. And I’m sorry if we’ve all been treating you like one. Adults aren’t infallible—”

  “Finally, someone admits that!” Jamie said, flinging his hands up in a manner so much like Lily that Sebastian couldn’t help but smile.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have a lot more experience and knowledge going for us. How would you feel if a six-year-old told you they knew better than you?”

  “Come on, that’s hardly a fair comparison.”

  “You’re right, it is a little extreme. But still, Aunt B probably has a century of experience on you. How do you think she feels when you go around ignoring her advice and getting into trouble?”

  “A century?” Jamie asked, eyes wide and awe in his voice. “I thought she was, like, seventy or something.”

  Sebastian shook his head. “Nope. She’s a heck of a lot older than she looks. Wizards are like that.”

  “Wait, does that mean my mom is super old too?”

  Sebastian laughed. “I’ll let you take that up with her. It’s not really safe as a guy to discuss a woman’s age. That’s something you’ll learn eventually. But seriously, though, can’t you at least admit that your mom and Aunt B probably know what they’re talking about?”

  “I mean, yeah, I guess. But it’s not that I think they’re stupid or anything. They just act like I’m a little kid who can’t take care of myself.”

  Sebastian rubbed his temples. He thought he’d been getting somewhere. He tried again. “Magic is dangerous, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like, really dangerous. Like, there is a higher fatality rate among wizards than mundanes because wizards get themselves blown up.” Sebastian didn’t know that for a fact, but it seemed like something Lily would say.

  “Yeaaah,” Jamie agreed slowly, as if finally pondering Sebastian’s words.

  “And you don’t know battle magic, right?”

  “...no.”

  “And you’ve never had to defend yourself before with magic, right?”

  “...no,” Jamie said again, his expression slowly getting more and more mulish.

  “And you’ve never even been in a fight before, right?”

  “No, I have! There’s these bullies at school and—”

  “But they don’t have demon minions who will rip you limb from limb and eat your intestines while you watch, do they?”

  There was a very long pause this time as Jamie glared at Sebastian.

  “No—but I can’t stay behind. She’s my sister and I—I’ve hardly gotten to spend any time with her since I got her back, and—”

  Sebastian held up a hand again, cutting Jamie off before he got himself too worked up. It didn’t take a genius to hear the barely contained grief in the kid’s voice.

  “So, since you have no fighting experience, that means if you go with us to rescue Lily, you will listen to us and obey whatever orders we give you, even if it means staying with the car so we have a getaway driver, right?”

  Jamie’s mouth, having opened again to protest, now hung agape as disbelief transformed his face.

  “I can go?” he breathed, fairly vibrating with excitement.

  “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Aunt B about it. And,” he said in a warning tone, “I will recommend that she put a sleeping spell on you and leave you tied to your bed if you give her so much as a hint of backtalk or attitude. This is war, and a soldier who doesn’t obey his commander gets all his buddies killed. Do you understand me?”

  That seemed to sober Jamie up, and he met Sebastian’s eyes and nodded slowly. “I...I do. I’ll be careful, and I’ll listen to Madam Barrington. I promise.”

  “Even if she says you have to stay behind?”

  A flash of annoyance crossed Jamie’s face, but he pressed his lips together in thought, then huffed out a breath through his nose. “Yes.”

  “Will you swear it?” Sebastian asked, holding out a hand. He felt a twinge of unease, asking the boy something so serious, but Jamie needed to think about his actions and decide in his own mind if he was committed to them.

  Jamie held out a hand, but Sebastian pulled his own back for a moment. “You have to be serious about this. Your word—your honor—is sacred, and if you break it, no one will ever trust you again. This is what it means to no longer be a child, Jamie. When you make a commitment, you keep it, no matter what. So don’t make a promise you aren’t willing to sacrifice for.” The words coming from his mouth made Sebastian squirm inside. They felt so hypocritical, considering his own actions. But just because he’d completely screwed up didn’t mean he couldn’t try and save someone else from making the same mistake.

  The teenager gave him a serious look, obviously considering his words. In the predawn light, Sebastian could see the deep lines were back on Jamie’s forehead and his jaw was set. Finally, Jamie nodded and stretched his hand out farther, grasping Sebastian’s with firm purpose.

  “I swear.”

  “Good man,” Sebastian said, and shook the teenager’s hand. As he released the boy’s grip to let go, Jamie glanced down and his eyes widened.

  “Whoa! Where’d you get those scars on the back of your hand? I don’t remember seeing them there before.”

  Deftly twisting out of Jamie’s grip, Sebastian shoved his hand into his pocket and stood up. “Long story, kid, and we’re burning daylight as it is. Lily was never the most patient of individuals, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

  Jamie grinned and stood up too. “Nope, me neither.”

  ***

  Apparently Sebastian’s “getting things off his chest,” had woken the entire household, not just Jamie, because things were in full swing when the two of them trooped back inside. Mallory had her various weapons and gear laid out on the large oak dinner table and was meticulously cleaning each item. The bulky bandage over the bullet graze on her forehead was gone, replaced by a sleek skin-colored patch that was much less noticeable. Judging by the delicious smell of bacon wafting through the house, Mrs. Singer had a sizzling southern breakfast well on its way in the kitchen. Aunt B and Sir Kipling were suspiciously absent, which probably meant they were holed up in his aunt’s office together working on some sort of hocus pocus.

  Mallory put Sebastian to work cleaning gear while she straightened out her bent hair stick—aka the Spike of Death—as best she could with the tools available. Then Mrs. Singer came in with a steaming plate of bacon and spotted them “getting dirt all over my nice clean table,” for which she summarily evicted them along with their gear. Sebastian hijacked Jamie from dishwashing duty and put him to work packing things up and moving it all up to the guest bedroom under Mallory’s watchful eye.

  Breakfast was delicious, if hurried. Aunt B didn’t reappear until they were getting ready to clear away the dishes, but Mrs. Singer made her sit down and eat a heaping plate of bacon, eggs, hash browns, and fried tomatoes anyway to “put some color back in those cheeks.”
Sir Kipling, unsurprisingly, trotted off to the kitchen, where Mrs. Singer no doubt fed him to bursting on leftover bacon.

  When Aunt B tried to send Jamie off to the kitchen to clean up alone while she conferred with the grown-ups, Sebastian cheerily offered to help with the washing, thus delaying the council of war. It was a testament to how sorry he felt for Jamie—he hated washing dishes even more than he hated cleaning. But, with double the hands, the dishes were done without much delay. Everyone finally reconvened to the dining room around the dinner table, which now sported several printouts and maps that Mallory had produced. Sir Kipling, in typical cat fashion, was sprawled out on the largest map, his fluffy form obscuring most of its surface.

  “Based on financial transactions under John Faust’s alias,” Mallory began, but fell silent at a severe clearing of a throat from the other end of the table.

  Everyone looked at Aunt B.

  “Mr. Singer, if you would please retire upstairs. We have delicate matters to discuss.”

  Jamie’s expression turned stubborn and he started protesting, only to be countered by his equally stubborn mother.

  “But, Madam Barrington—”

  “Do as she says, honey—”

  “No, Mom, it isn’t fair—”

  “This is no place for a child—”

  “He should stay.”

  Sebastian hadn’t expected anyone to hear him over the din, but as soon as he spoke, silence descended. Every eye in the room locked on him, even Sir Kipling’s. Sebastian sighed. He’d been hoping to have this discussion privately with Madam Barrington and perhaps Jamie’s mother. It was never a good idea to criticize someone old and proud in front of other people.

  “Jamie isn’t a child anymore. He needs to be given responsibility. If we don’t hand it to him, he’ll take it for himself, and I can say from experience that...well, that would be a very bad thing.” He looked at Mrs. Singer while he spoke, but he could feel his aunt stiffen anyway. He reminded himself that her mistakes were hers, just as his were his. They were in the past—or at least hers were. His seemed to have a disturbing way of coming back and biting him in the butt.