Magic and Mayhem Page 6

  I heard a loud curse from outside. Wiping my face, I slowly approached my window and was surprised to see James standing there, wincing and rubbing his red face.

  I opened my window and leaned against the sill. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "What is this, a barrier charm?" he said, wincing as his hand made contact with the invisible force. "A little warning would've been nice."

  "Thank you for confirming my magic is working properly," I said. "Too bad it doesn't have a sound barrier too. Go away."

  "Why are you so upset with me?" James asked. "I didn't do anything."

  "Really?" I seethed, nearly flying out the window in anger. "You didn't do anything wrong?"

  "Yes, Lexie, I haven't done a thing wrong since the moment I saw you in the hall on the first day of school. So why do you persist in making me out to be a villain?"

  "Because you're an insensitive prick who also wants to kill me!" I said, clinging to my anger for dear life. He was making a little too much sense, and if I wasn't careful, I'd start agreeing with him.

  "For the love of…I'm not trying to kill you! Isn't that why you have that truth-telling charm?"

  "Fine," I said, retrieving the stone from under my shirt. Annoyingly, it hadn't changed in temperature. "You're just an insensitive prick then. I don't know why I'm even having this conversation with you. I learned my lesson the first time."

  And with that, I shut the window and crawled onto my bed.

  That was, until I heard rocks against my window. Groaning, I walked up to the window just as one came sailing by my head.

  "Oops." James snickered. "Good. Now come down here and let's have a conversation about your grievances against me."

  "No."

  "Lexie. Don't be a child."

  "I am a child."

  "You can't hide in there forever," James called as I slammed the window shut again. "You won't be able to get into college if you never leave your house. Georgetown, right?"

  I glowered at the ceiling and rolled out of bed, slamming the window open magically this time. "Don't you dare talk to me about Georgetown. How do you even know that anyway?"

  "I listen," James said, simply. "A courtesy I would ask you to extend to me."

  I stared at him for a good minute, unsure what to do. Then with a growl, I slammed the window shut. The rocks began hitting my window again, so I turned and walked into the kitchen. But even there, I couldn't escape the ping-ping-ping against the glass.

  "Damn it all," I muttered, standing from the table. I left the apartment with a scowl on my face, stomping down the staircase so loudly that I knew he'd hear me. He stood next to the tall oak tree, a satisfied smirk on his face.

  "You have one minute."

  James cleared his throat. "I'm sorry I offended you. It was not my intention."

  "Not good enough."

  The corner of his lip twitched. "I am sorry for insinuating that your aunt's death wasn't as grave as it was. I know she must have meant a lot to you, and losing her must've been very hard."

  Damn, but he was good when he wanted to be. "Not good enough."

  "Fine," James said, annoyance seeping into his voice. "I am also incredibly sorry for my behavior two years ago when we dueled."

  "Oh? Well, thank you so much for your apology. That makes it all better."

  "Sarcasm isn't an attractive quality," he replied evenly. "I was manipulated into thinking Gavon had different plans than he did. Cyrus had done a good job of exploiting my insecurities." To his credit, his gaze hadn't wavered once. "Fortunately, they're no longer an issue."

  "Meaning?"

  "Meaning you have nothing to fear from me."

  I opened my mouth to argue, but no sound came out. He was telling the truth about that, at least, because my pendant was still cold.

  "I understand you have issues with Cyrus, but I will ask you not to form an opinion of all New Salem based on one unhinged individual," James said.

  "It's not just him," I spat. "Gavon trained me for six weeks and then sat there and did nothing during our duel—"

  "He couldn't," James said. "Magically, he was prevented from interfering. And…" He cleared his throat. "I had instructions to be gentle. Instructions I ignored in favor of a childish vendetta championed by Cyrus. He is the one who wishes you dead."

  "Then why train me for six weeks?" I said, my anger slowly dissolving into curiosity. "Why even show up at all?"

  "You really spent six weeks with Gavon and still question his motives?" James laughed. "If there's one thing I know about Gavon, it's that he's soft. Especially where you're concerned. That's why you made such an enticing target for Cyrus."

  "That's because he—"

  "Because he's your father," James said, and this time, I couldn't hide the flinch. "You're going to have to accept it sooner or later. Whether you want his affections is up to you, but they've been true."

  "I don't have to if I don't want to," I said, knowing I sounded like a child. None of this new information changed the fact that he'd disappeared afterward. Or that he hadn't told me he was my f…word.

  "Have I assuaged your fears enough to agree to a pact?" James said.

  The warning bells sounded in my head, and I glared at him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Sway me with platitudes about Gavon and how he really feels, and the next thing I know, I'm back in New Salem, or worse."

  "I'm not—"

  "Save it," I snapped. I liked James better when he was being the womanizing, carefree senior, but this was his true personality. He wanted me around because it suited him, and his apologies were nothing more than mandatory kindness so I would do as he wanted.

  Which made the surprise knee to his solar plexus so damned delicious.

  He lay flat on the ground, coughing in pain and shock. "Wh—"

  "Get away from my house and leave me the hell alone," I snarled. "No deal."

  Eight

  I stewed in my room for the rest of the afternoon. My homework remained untouched, as my brain was too scattered. I wasn't sure which train of thought to focus on first, so they all jumbled together in a mishmash of emotions that dully pounded in the back of my head.

  For all my resistance, James' efforts hadn't been completely in vain. I did want to spar with him, if only to have access to a magical who knew what he was talking about. No doubt, James would instruct me with more than a little superiority, but at this point, I would've taken just about anything. Which was the problem: my desperation to learn and use magic was clouding my judgment. Again.

  My emotions must've been written on my face, because Nicole was barely through the door when she asked if I wanted Mexican for dinner. The tired look in her eyes said she'd also had a trying day, so we piled into her car and drove the short distance to our favorite place.

  The familiar pang of nostalgia echoed in my chest, especially as Nicole ordered herself a margarita. I glanced at the door and imagined Jeanie and Marie walking in, arguing about whatever irresponsible thing Marie had done. A wave of sadness threatened to overtake me, and I wrenched my eyes away from the entrance to keep my tears from falling.

  "You're quiet tonight," Nicole said, playing with the straw in her giant glass. "What's up?"

  I shrugged, wishing I had the words to talk to her. I should've told her about Gavon's edict, and how we were no longer in the crosshairs of his guild. But that might've invited questions about how I knew this, which would've brought up James and just made things more difficult.

  At first, I hadn't told Nicole because I thought James would be gone after that first day. When I finally came to terms with him being around, I kept coming up with excuses as to why I wasn't telling Nicole. The current rationale was James wasn't harming anyone, and I was keeping an eye on him, so why worry her?

  Still, I hated that we had another big secret between us. But more than that, I needed guidance and had no idea where to find it.

  "You know you can tell me anything," Nicole said.

  "I know,
" I said, scrounging for an excuse. "There's just a lot of stuff happening at school. I'm worried about my applications." Applications I hadn't even started yet…

  Nicole smiled. "Want to talk about it?"

  "Are you going to try to convince me that Florida Coastal is a better school than Georgetown?"

  "Better, no. Cheaper, yes." She grinned, and my own smile widened. "I just hate seeing you so bent out of shape about this. I don't want you to be disappointed if it doesn't happen."

  I sat up. "It will happen."

  The pitying look on her face burned my stomach more than the salsa. "I know you think that, but it's a really competitive school. A really expensive, competitive school. Just keep your options open, that's all."

  I nodded and played with my straw. I understood where she was coming from, but I also really didn't appreciate her lack of faith in me. Before Jeanie died, Nicole had always made me feel like I could do anything. Now, she was almost too realistic.

  "Are you going to go back to school when I move out?" I asked, a little hopefully.

  She blinked for a moment, obviously not expecting the question. "Let's cross that bridge when we get to it. I mean, you could stay—"

  "But if I don't…would you go back?"

  "M…maybe." She shook her head. "Don't worry about that. Tell me about school. Do you like your classes? Everything going okay? Any boys I should know about?"

  "N…not really," I said.

  Nicole's grin widened. "You hesitated."

  "I mean…" I sighed, glancing at the ceiling. "There is someone—"

  "Ooh, Lexie!" Nicole squealed so loudly that the couple behind us turned to look at her.

  "Not that kind of guy," I said quickly. "He's…a fellow volunteer. Tutor. And he wants me to do this…thing with him. But he's a complete asshole."

  "Uh-huh…"

  "Get that smile off your face," I said, throwing a chip at her. "It's not that kind of a project."

  "I dunno, Lexie. Guys don't just ask—"

  "He's gay," I said, if only to stop the conversation from going off track. "Look, the point is—I don't really trust him. He's burned me in the past. And now he wants us to work together."

  "Why would you work with someone who's burned you?"

  Good question. Was I actually still entertaining this idea? I'd made it clear to James that I didn't want to spar with him. But at the same time, part of me knew he wouldn't give up that easily. And that same part of me didn't want him to.

  "I guess…if we worked together, it would be a lot of fun. Maybe increase my chances of getting more scholarship money." Scholarship money, defending our lives from evil magicals, same difference.

  "I dunno, Lexie. Maya Angelou says—"

  "Yeah, when someone shows you who they are, believe them." I chomped down on another chip. All the signs were telling me not to trust James, and yet, the pit of my stomach was for the idea. Or maybe it was just the salsa.

  "Look, I'm not an expert in people," Nicole said. "But maybe you can find someone else to work with? If you're having this much conflict about working with him, then you already know the answer. And if worst comes to worst, you can always do it by yourself."

  But that was the rub. I'd been sparring by myself and James was right; it was a cheap imitation of the real thing.

  "I'm fine, by the way," James said, appearing next to my locker the next day as I switched out my books. If he'd been put out by my surprise attack, he didn't show it. In fact, he almost looked too eager.

  "I'm sure I don't care," I replied without looking at him. "Isn't that what you said yesterday?"

  "Well, perhaps you should care about this. I took your pathetic excuse of a pact to Gavon for him to look over. He made a few additions, and if you would like to spar, he will allow us to sign it."

  Allow. What kind of cosmic kick in the pants was it that Gavon had parental control over me when he hadn't earned it?

  "Stop clenching your jaw," James said. "And your magic is showing."

  I glanced down at my glowing fingers and counted to ten to calm down. "I didn't ask you to take it to Gavon to approve."

  "I would've had to anyway, so I saved us a step," James said, following on my heels as I closed my locker and walked away. "You can't tell me you don't want to spar with me. I can see it on your face."

  "Stop looking at my face then." How I wished James were in a different class. Was it too late to call out sick for the rest of the year?

  "Lexie, wait—" James grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the hallway traffic.

  "Let me go."

  "Not until you listen to me without that chip on your shoulder." His grip was firm but not painful, and his eyes, for better or worse, looked sincere. "It is an absolute travesty that you've been without a true sparring partner all this time. You've got an immense amount of power and it's wasted in this world's easy nonmagical solutions. You deserve someone who can keep up with you and put you through your paces. If not for me, do it for yourself."

  "You'll forgive me for not believing you," I said but it lacked the conviction I needed. His earnest declaration spoke to the part of me yearning to be proud of my accomplishments instead of hiding them on empty beaches and in my bedroom.

  "And you should stop blaming yourself for what happened to your aunt," he said, releasing me. "You aren't the one who killed her."

  My jaw fell open, and I took a step back, feeling his blow land in the pit of my soul. "I…I don't…"

  "Like I said, I can see it on your face," he replied with an uncharacteristic softness. "Just look at the pact, okay? If you still think I'm here to trick you…then fine, I'll leave it. But just look at it."

  He pushed the paper into my hand and walked away, shifting into the easy demeanor he wore when not trying to convince me to do something idiotic. I leaned against the wall, my heart thudding in my chest and my focus on the absence of warmth from my pendant.

  I unfolded the paper. The crinkles and tears looked familiar, as did the stroke of my pen on the page and the scratches. But my heart skipped a beat when I saw the additions in his handwriting, the scratching out of one word and adding of another. His handwriting was fluid and crisp, especially compared to my rounded strokes.

  I pictured him sitting in that giant library, reading over my words. What did he think of my work? Was it silly to him, or was he impressed? I found the note about an "evil gang" and flushed with embarrassment, although Gavon had very smartly added "New Salem Warrior's Guild" in its place. He'd also changed "induct" to "induct, introduce, or otherwise admit," which was a good catch. He extended the same protections to my sisters as well. Everything, to my eyes, seemed to be geared toward protecting me from the Guild. My gut was telling me this was all on the up and up.

  But my gut had fallen for his schemes before, and I didn't trust it.

  I balled up the paper and headed to class, hoping to put this mess out of my mind. But James' attention was on me when I walked through the classroom door.

  You shouldn't blame yourself.

  But I did, because the guilt kept me on track. It forced me to put aside my own happiness to serve others, to work myself into the ground because it was better than ruminating on all the terrible decisions I'd made. Even if sparring with James was completely innocent, it was something good, and I didn't feel like I deserved anything good after what I'd let happen.

  But if you sparred with him, you could protect Nicole better.

  That was true, and also a bit of mental gymnastics. I read the pact again, searching for loopholes and additions that could trip me up, and again, found nothing but the clear intent to keep me away from the New Salem Warrior's Guild.

  You could learn new tricks if Cyrus came back.

  The promise of having a trained magical nearby was so tempting and so terrifying. Desperation was a bad look, but…

  James glanced over his shoulder. I recognized the expression—it was the same one I'd worn when Gavon and I had started sparring. It was the look
of a Warrior with too much magic and not enough space to use it. It was someone desperate for companionship. Just like me.

  Heart pounding, I slowly nodded.

  "Okay, so how do we do this?" I said, already regretting what I hadn't done. We'd agreed to meet at my sparring beach after school to complete the pact, although I remained on the fence as to whether I'd go through with it. I figured I had up until I put pen to paper…or whatever it was I had to do.

  "We need this particular pact to be strong enough to get around the edict, which is pretty formidable," James said, and in puffs of green smoke, a cauldron and table appeared, along with a set of ingredients.

  "It's a…potion?" I said.

  "Why are you surprised?"

  "Because…" Because this was the second time I'd seen James use a potion, and that flew in the face of what I knew about New Salem magicals. Weren't they the ones who massacred two hundred potion-makers in the seventeenth century?

  "Potions are damned useful. In this particular case, we can include the will of the Guildmaster without his presence being necessary." He picked up a small vial of red liquid and poured it into the cauldron.

  "And why…" The concoction puffed with a familiar purple color. "…doesn't the Guildmaster want to be here?"

  "You'll have to ask him," James muttered, adding two white flowers to the pot. "This shouldn't take very long. It's not a very complex potion, but it does need the pact."

  I was too busy watching the bubbling mixture in the cauldron to realize he was talking to me. When he pressed again, I procured the sheet of notebook paper and handed it to him. He balled it up and tossed it in the potion, which released a puff of greenish-purple smoke.

  "Now, the last thing we need, as is customary with a pact, is a bit of blood."

  A dagger appeared in his hand, and I took three steps back. "Hang on a second!"

  "You're too excitable," he said, turning the knife in his hand and pricking his palm. Three drops of blood fell into the liquid, and it turned a brilliant forest green. Then he wiped the knife on his shirt and handed it to me.

  I didn't take it. "That's how you get diseases, you know."