Rise of the Alphas

by Alexis Davie

  Garrick lifted her chin so she was looking at him, their eyes locked, green on green. It almost made him dizzy, but he took a breath.

  “I’ve seen idiots do some pretty terrible things, Brinley,” he said. “It takes someone intelligent not to get drunk on power. Idiots are dangerous.”

  Brin opened her mouth and closed it again.

  “Okay.” she said. “So, you should get down there.”

  Garrick nodded. Then he bent his head down, meeting her soft lips with his. But Brin was tense. She pulled away quickly. “What are you doing?”

  He blinked at her. “I was kissing you. I’d think that was obvious?”

  “We’re not doing this… that. We just, you know, got rid of the tension. Right?” She didn’t sound sure. Garrick wanted to say no, to have a conversation, but he hadn’t been rejected in… had he ever been rejected? He cleared his throat, stepped back.

  “Yeah,” he said, “was just… one for the road.” What the fuck was that supposed to mean? He turned and walked over to the door, to his jacket and shoes. “I’ll meet you at the pub this evening, yeah? Maybe you could look into places to stay today?”

  Brinley was padding up behind him on bare feet. There was a heavy moment where he thought she might say something important, or, well, about them, but she just said, “Sure. I need to try to calm the book down, though. I mean, I need to spend some time with it. I think it could help us a lot, beyond being a ransom item. Maybe I could wipe some memories when this is all done, for example.”

  Did she mean his? He turned to look at her—oh, the humans, she meant the humans.

  “Whatever you need to do,” he said. And he opened his front door and left. He’d only gone a few steps when it opened again and Brin popped her head out.

  “Public transport, Garrick, yeah?”

  He nodded, fully aware he looked surly, and put his hands in the pockets of his corduroy jacket.

  8

  Brinley

  He’d better not fly there.

  Brinley stretched as she walked back into the living room, to her bag, where she hefted the book out and slapped it on the floor.

  “Sorry,” she muttered to its cover. She gave it a small pat, slumped down beside it, leaning against one of the recliners, and sighed.

  He’d probably fly there. Why had she let him kiss her? Or had she kissed him? Why had she gone to bed with him, was what she meant. Why had she protected him the night before? And she was worrying about him now! He was cold. He was broken, or he seemed it. She didn’t want to have to do his caring for him. For now, though, they needed one another. They were probably one another’s best hope of getting on with their lives, so they’d have to remain close for a while. But not too close.

  Brinley was determined to keep Garrick at arm’s length now. It had been a mistake. She had wanted it—badly—but it wasn’t like they could be together, anyway. She couldn’t even imagine what her father would say. What he would think of him. In fact, maybe that was why she’d done it, or part of it. She wasn’t marrying Xander, and she wanted to cleanse herself of him. Surely, though, her father was going to relent on the Xander thing now that he was acting out so obviously. He could turn a blind eye to a bit of daytime flying, but not this! He’d turned a blind eye to Xander being an absolute bore and an entitled child, but not an attempt to draw out and overthrow the magical council that had sat for thousands of years.

  It had been terrible, the fight they’d had when her father had told her he’d arranged the marriage. She’d known Xander vaguely. They’d been at the same parties and the bigger seasonal events held by witches and warlocks from time to time. In fact, her father told her they’d been friends as small children. That is, they had gone to the same early-years academy, before her mother died and her father pulled her out of school.

  They’d gone to meet Xander and his father at the restaurant they owned. It was their cover for the human world, an explanation for their quality of life and what they did all day, should any human ever enquire. Not that they would. The Chaffinches didn’t have human friends; neither did her father. In fact, she had heard him express the opinion that having a front for humans was uncouth in some way. New money.

  And that was what Harry Chaffinch, Xander’s father, was. He wasn’t anywhere near a High Warlock. Their family had never been powerful until recently. Harry was a ‘good man,’ her father said. She had no idea what this meant. Just knew that he had become powerful through magical artefact collection and dealing. She was hazy on the details. But ‘good man’ had to be some kind of euphemism. Her father talked only in euphemisms. The meal with Xander and his father had been… well, weird, because she’d had no idea why it was happening, but also normal. They’d talked about sports and the weather and politics. Xander had shown off about wine and kept looking her up and down, but she’d just thought he was a douche. And he was, but he’d also been assessing her, she later realized.

  At the end of the meal, Xander and Harry had shaken hands with her dad and said, “This seems like it’ll work nicely.”

  Back at home, after a quick teleportation because Brin and her father would have nothing to talk about on the short walk, and probably to impress the Chaffinches, her dad had suggested, “A photo of you two together as kids for the announcement, beside one of you now.” She’d looked at him confused, and he’d said, “We’ll get a professional to take the now pictures, obviously.” He’d put a hand on her arm, trying at reassuring. And when she still didn’t react, he’d added, “And you’ll get a new dress, of course.”

  It had taken her another few seconds of processing to say, “Dad, what are we announcing?” And he had looked at her like she was a moron when he had replied, “The wedding, dear girl. The wedding!”

  Brinley’s father had always been distant and something of a mystery to her. He had parented her from afar from the day her mother had died, so decisions were often made without her input. New teachers, new rules, her clothes bought for her until she’d thrown a tantrum at fifteen and her nanny had talked to him about her emerging personality and womanhood, and he had been embarrassed enough to hand over a credit card. But that day had been… beyond anything even Brin expected of the man.

  On Garrick’s floor, in another patch of sun, she turned her attention to the book. She put a palm on it. Should she… talk to it? She’d always had to be the one to turn the pages when being taught from it, because it wouldn’t open for anyone outside of the family. It had belonged to her mother’s family for generations, which meant, by Brin’s estimation, that it should really be loyal to her over her father—she had her mother’s blood—even though she’d taken it from home. Anyway, her father had guarded it with an intensity he rarely showed for anything else. It lived in a locked cabinet in a locked room. She’d had to steal the key to the room and then use a spell she’d been practicing for weeks on the cabinet. The book had been happy to see her… she could read it like she could people. It had been happy to see her, she thought, and then confused when it was in the tight dark of her bag. But, just like with people, she didn’t have the training to see more than the basics.

  Now, there was warmth coming up through her hand. It was happy again. Happier than when she had gone to get it. Why? What did the book know? And how did it know it? This had never been explained to Brinley. It was her mother’s book, so that would probably have been her mother’s job: explaining, passing it down.

  Brin opened the front cover. Inside the first page was a family tree that grew new branches when needed. There was one emerging now, beside Brinley’s own branch. The name hadn’t yet come in, but it was for Xander. Her father had called her into his oppressive, leather-heavy office to show it to her.

  “Right decision, then,” he had said. And he’d smiled to himself like he was some kind of match-making genius. That was the moment this plan had started to form, she thought.

  Brinley ran a finger over the smudge beside the new branch. It was coming in. It was still coming
in.

  “Wedding’s off,” she murmured to the book as she touched its page. Maybe it would just take a little time. Maybe it would fade slowly like it had appeared. What happened with a child? What had happened with her? Did the book know before a couple did, that there was someone new arriving into the family? Did it know what the name would be, what would be chosen, before it was chosen? Thinking about it made her head hurt. She turned to the middle page.

  A Love Charm for Manipulation:

  Warning: This love will never end in happiness.

  Then she flipped a few pages further. Healing. And a few more. Heat, cold, wind, rain. The spells in this book were mad. If someone wanted to, they could control the world with them. They could change almost anything. Maybe Brin should have looked up the spells to change appearance earlier, given Garrick a moustache or an overbite or massive ears or at least made him shorter. He was notably tall. He would stand out.

  She checked herself. He was, as he loved to point out, a five-thousand-year-old dragon king. He could probably look after himself.

  At the back of the book were blank pages. Brinley had never looked this far through. What were they for? New spells? Did they appear, like the names, or were they written in? Was she supposed to write spells in the family book? She couldn’t imagine doing such a thing. She couldn’t imagine being confident enough to put a pen to this ancient paper, or powerful enough to create a spell. It was probably a thing that wasn’t done anymore.

  She closed the book. She hadn’t really thought this far ahead. She had thought about getting the key, about learning the lock breaking charm, and getting out of her father’s crumbling-pile of a house. But then it had been something vague. Disappear for a while and send her dad a letter about the book. Cancel the wedding, or the book gets it.

  Now, it didn’t seem to make much sense. She’d thought she’d have to coax the book into cooperation, but it had just been confused in her bag. It seemed to want to work with her. Maybe, it occurred to Brinley, the book was hers. Maybe that was the pull she’d had to take it with her when she had run.

  She wasn’t powerful or disciplined enough to use it, though. She was just… she was just a little witch. Garrick was, unfortunately, right about that.

  Brinley closed the book and stroked its cover. The old leather was blood warm. What a strange couple of days. Everything had got a lot more complicated than just running away. An image of Garrick, his smooth chest and his strong forearms, the dip of his clavicle, came into her mind when she thought this, but she pushed it away. Until Garrick got back, all she had to do was wait. She may as well use that time to find an alternative accommodation.

  Brin felt bad about bumping the book about in her bag yesterday, probably getting it wet. She took the blanket that was folded at the end of the recliner and carefully wrapped the book in it before she went into Garrick’s room and opened his cupboard. She stood on her tiptoes, and then she wasn’t on her tiptoes anymore, but floating. Surprised, she bicycled her legs and almost tipped over backwards, but she was at the top of the tall cupboard, and she grabbed a lip of wood. Luckily, the cupboards were fitted to the wall. She was stable. She slipped the book on top of the cupboard and slid it right to the back. She didn’t know who she was hiding it from, but it would be safe there.

  Brinley dropped to the ground a little too fast, so she did fall backwards now. She landed on the mattress and bounced lightly. She lay and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Well, that had never happened before…

  9

  Garrick

  At least the East London Line was the emptiest and the most above ground. Garrick still had trouble with the new cards, the way you just touched them to a surface and the gates opened. He would have been discreet if he’d shifted and flown… but he didn’t want to annoy Brinley. And his desire not to annoy Brinley annoyed him.

  Garrick had no problem with humans, or, no problem except the speed at which they seemed to change the world he lived in now—the city he loved. But he wasn’t entirely comfortable around them. On the train, he sat gingerly on the edge of his seat, curled into himself a little. Every time the doors dinged at a station, indicating that the button could be pressed to open them, he jumped. Dragon king, indeed. When had he become so… out of touch? When had he become so old?

  He managed to get out at the correct station and through the difficult gates. Then it was a short walk to the cafe/bar. Brinley had drawn him a scrawled little map. She was not a talented artist, but he found it in the end, well positioned on a corner, big windows. Inside, it was dark wood, and there were a few people eating. Garrick looked at his watch. Its gold hands told him it was 11:30. What kind of a meal was at 11:30 a.m.—-

  “Brunch buffet, sir?” A waiter had emerged from nowhere. He was human, Garrick was almost sure. Just a boy really, with a silly haircut. What was a brunch? Garrick nodded, took the proffered menu. “Will it just be you today?” the boy asked, smiling at him. In commiseration at Garrick’s lonely… brunch. Whatever that might be.

  “Yeah,” said Garrick, his voice coming out gruffer, bitterer, lonelier than he had intended. “I’ll sit at the bar if that’s okay,” he said.

  “Greeeeat, Xander will take care of you then.” He walked him over to a barstool and indicated that Garrick should sit down.

  “Thanks,” Garrick said, though he didn’t appreciate being shown how to sit on a barstool.

  The man behind the bar—warlock behind the bar—was shortish and stocky. He had his back to Garrick, cutting fruit. His hair was light blond and curly. Garrick never trusted a blond adult man. He wanted to keep watching him until he turned around and revealed his face, the face of a man who was not only trying to bring down the council essential to the continuation of magical order, but also marry a woman he… cared about. Well, a woman he wasn’t good enough for, anyway. Brinley was going to be such a brilliant witch.

  He looked down at the menu to clear his head. Eggs, eggs, eggs. This was just breakfast, surely. Except with lots of fancy sounding additions. Olives in an omelet. Humans really were getting weird.

  “Can I start you with a drink?” He had a square jaw, freckles, thin eyebrows, and blue eyes. He looked kind of like a schoolboy. But a schoolboy who would steal your lunch money and then tell the teachers you stole his. “Bloody Mary? Mimosa?”

  Well, he knew what a bloody Mary was, at least. And it had vodka in it.

  “Bloody Mary,” Garrick muttered. “Thanks.”

  “No problem, mate,” Xander said. “Need a moment for the food?”

  Garrick nodded. Xander gave him a smile that, in Garrick’s opinions, did not meet his watery little eyes.

  What was he doing here? It was pointless. A place for humans. These warlocks had just found a money-spinner. There was no way he was going to find out anything over—he looked at the menu—baked eggs. Fine. He looked up again to get Xander’s attention, and he was in the doorway to the kitchen talking to another man. A slightly older version of himself; fat rather than stocky and wearing a slightly too-tight three-piece suit.

  They were shout-whispering, and if Garrick leaned towards them a little and let the dragon take over just the tiniest bit (a skill it took millennia to master, by the way), he could hear them.

  “What’s he coming here to talk about?” asked the younger of the two.

  “He wouldn’t say. It’s that posh thing, isn’t it? Could probably tell me over the phone, but the old bastard is being cagey. Something about the wedding, no doubt. Maybe he wants more money?” Xander’s father was red faced, his nose slightly too large for his face.

  “Well, we have money, Dad, it’s important…”

  “I know it’s bloody important, Xander. Whose plan was this in the first place?”

  Xander visibly prickled. “I believe we concocted it together…”

  “Don’t bloody talk like that, son. Just because you’re marrying a toff, don’t have to go all the way to being one.”

  Xander both audibly and v
isibly huffed. “Dad, it’s about being accepted, you think this suit’s enough? Apart from anything else you’re about to bust out of it.”

  The father pulled at his waistcoat, looked put out but hiding it. He glanced down at himself and huffed just like his son.

  Brinley would not fit into this family. She was like a beautiful sprite to their ogres.

  Garrick closed his eyes for a second. Took a breath. Don’t do anything weird, don’t draw attention…

  “When’s he getting here?” Xander asked. “I should change, I’m covered in… bar stuff.” His father looked the younger man up and down and nodded. Xander tried to walk away but was caught by the arm.

  “Customer!” There was a moment in which Garrick thought Xander might throw a punch, and then he turned and walked over.

  “I’m about to finish my shift,” said Xander, with a grin pretty much super glued to his ugly mug. “Do you have a decision on the food? Or I can pass this on to a colleague…”

  “Baked eggs,” Garrick said. “And the Bloody Mary?”

  Xander visibly vibrated with this reminder of the two minutes’ work he had forgotten to do. “Coming right up,” he said. He shot his dad a look, then typed the food order into the computer and began making the drink. “One bloody.”

  As he thumped the glass down in front of Garrick, thick red juice slopped over its edge. It was on Xander’s hand, and he looked at it with distaste, then up at Garrick. He narrowed his eyes, let them travel slowly down the thin, pale man’s face and torso. He almost seemed to be smelling him with that piggy little nose of his.

  “Thank you,” Garrick said, picking up the glass and taking a sip. It was a double, at least. There was a stick in it with a pickle and two olives on. He pretended to be very interested in this.

  Xander made a huff kind of a noise again and washed off his hand. He suspected Garrick of something, maybe, or he was just a really bad bartender. Garrick didn’t dare look up from his drink for a while. He pulled the pickle off with his teeth and crunched it.