Arc 2 Read online

  “Sometimes that’s the way it is,” Eva said in her unique combination of realistic and sympathetic. “It happens all the time. Your work is perfect, you do everything right, but it still comes out wrong. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but some things are simply outside our control.”

  “Not mine,” Letizia said bitterly. “I’m a witch, this is my world, and it’s mine to change as I wish. This is what I do, harnessing and understanding magic, navigating its currents to change things for the better, stopping those who would misuse it—it’s what I’ve given my life to, ever since I was as human as you are. And for what? It failed—I failed.”

  “But Wicked Gold doesn’t have the circle’s magic, or Zadkiel,” Eva said. “That’s what you were trying to prevent, right? It sounds like that worked.”

  Letizia paused, then slowly looked up. Gingerly, she removed the dark shades she always wore, revealing her unearthly-looking eyes with their catlike vertical pupils. “You’re right. I did save one person I care about. Very much.”

  “Yeah, you did,” Eva said with a satisfied nod. But then her confident expression wavered. “And I’m… I’m really glad. I was sweating it pretty bad last night. And you didn’t have to. I mean, given the choice between saving me and taking down the big, scary bad guy, any sensible person would…”

  “Oh dear. Have I given you the false impression that I’m a sensible person?” Letizia said, black lips curling up into a smile.

  “At least not a boring one,” Eva said, a laugh on the edge of her voice. “But seriously. I’m glad you came for me.”

  “Of course,” the Witch said without hesitation. “I would do anything for you.”

  “You really would, wouldn’t you?” Eva stared back at her, eyes wide and wondering.

  “Yes. Is that not... I mean… I have had the feeling sometimes, that you would also for me.” Letizia’s voice dropped, and with no sunglasses, and no frenetically-shuffled cards, she seemed much less witch and much more mortal, soft, vulnerable. If it weren’t for her gray skin and inhuman eyes, she may have seemed ordinary, Eva thought. “You have helped me more than any other person, when I needed it the most.”

  “What, with the spell?” Eva gave a crooked smile back. “Anyone could get a jar of dirt.”

  “That isn’t what I mean.”

  “I know.”

  “You would help me even if you did nothing, for the rest of your life. Just having you here does more than—well, more than all the dirt in the world.”

  “Thank you so much!” Now Eva did laugh. “The feeling’s mutual, I promise. At least I think it is.” She sobered a bit, still looking hopeful, but with the smallest hesitation now. “You know I’m aro-ace, right?”

  “We had discussed this, yes.”

  “Okay. Just making sure,” Eva said, relief clear. “Just ‘cause… I’m loving everything you’re saying, but it is definitely sounding pretty, uh. Gay.”

  “As everything coming from me should,” Letizia said, voice deadpan but lips smiling wider, revealing a pair of thin, elongated, very sharp-looking fangs. “But no, I assure you. I know how you feel, and I ask nothing you do not want to give. The gift of your company alone is enough. You need offer nothing more than what we already share. Just know that between vanquishing my enemies, or achieving magical power, I would choose you, every time.”

  “I’m… same,” Eva said, cleared her throat, and took another pull of coffee in the place of any flustered words threatening to fall out. When she set it down, her face was still burning, and not because of the steam. “Have you ever heard of being queerplatonic?”

  “I know the two words, but not together,” the Witch said with a curious tilt of her head. She really looked more like a cat than a bat, Eva thought. Usually Cheshire, but elegant and independent even without her smile. “Tell me m—damn!”

  Once again, the moment was spoiled by Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor. Letizia pulled out her phone, which looked whole and unscratched as always, despite her best efforts, and looked as if she wanted to snap it right in half. Eva was fairly certain she could do it.

  “I take it getting your number unlisted wouldn’t help, huh?” Eva asked, resting her chin on her fist.

  “If only,” Letizia said, snarling at her phone, and just barely remembering to replace her sunglasses to hide the white flash of her eyes. “None of my magic can touch it. Do you know how frustrating it is, to be brought low, hobbled by such a little thing?”

  Eva rubbed at the blisters on her heels. She hadn’t had time to change, and the power click brought her no joy anymore. “I’ve got an idea.”

  “I should really take this,” Letizia said, snarl fading, fatigue in its place. “He must really want to get ahold of me. I’m… I very, very much want to talk more about what you just said. But this could be…”

  “Take it,” Eva said. She went to take another sip of coffee, but found it empty. She frowned, then grinned when the Witch slid her own cup over. “I’m happy right here.”

  “Yes? What? What, in God’s name, could be so urgent you have to hound me day and night?” Letizia didn’t get up or so much as turn away as she spoke into the phone, only lowering her voice to a sharp-edged whisper. “Yes, I’m alone. What sort of fool do you take me for? …Because I’m still perfecting my English, that’s why. If you’d kindly do the same?”

  Eva raised her eyebrows in a clear question—English practice, really? Sounds fine to me.

  Letizia actually winked in reply, tilting her head toward Eva. I’m saying this for you. Listen up.

  Feeling a bit warm inside already, Eva sampled the Witch’s coffee as she listened. She started with a tiny first sip, in case of any extra ingredients. To her surprise, she tasted nothing out of the ordinary, though it was much, much sweeter than she would have preferred, or expected.

  “The circle stands,” Letizia said, voice much more serious now, less hostile, bordering on grave. “He has not attained its power—and neither has the Lady. Sadly, neither have I. I told you I’d report if there was anything to say, and there isn’t. We remain at a stalemate. Something’s going to give, but not yet.”

  She paused, mouth open. After a few seconds, she shut it, mouth a straight black line as she listened to what sounded like quite the monologue on the other line.

  “Understood. But remember,” she said at last. “My business here is mine. If you attempt to make it yours, I will be forced to respond in kind. We are not friends. Right now we simply happen to be heading in the same direction.”

  With that, she hung up, fingers flicking in a way that reminded Eva of shooing away a fly.

  “Well, that didn’t sound very fun,” Eva said.

  “It isn’t. But I can tell you that the man I made a deal with… you’re in no danger from him. He’s only ever had eyes for me.” With that she clenched her phone in her clawed hand. “Now, infernal device, that’s the last time you’ll bother me, spell or no spell,” she said, giving it a murderous look and pulling her arm back as if to hurl it to the ground—but a hand suddenly appeared on her shoulder. Fine-boned and long-fingered, with gleaming black nails.

  “May I?” Milo asked, and Letizia tossed the phone—which had begun to ring again—at them as if it were a hot potato right from the oven. Milo caught it in one hand and covered it with the other, hands cupped like holding a tiny bird.

  “How long have you been there, child?” the Witch asked, still grumbling from her off-putting phone call.

  “I was just walking by,” they said, both hands still pressed over the phone. “I should have thought of this a while ago. It’s just your magic that the communication spell resists, isn’t it?”

  The melody’s volume started to decrease, not from the muffling of their hands, but like the phone was getting further and further away, falling down a mineshaft until it was quiet. When Milo handed it back, the screen was dark, even though they obviously hadn’t tapped the screen or pushed a button. “There. That should dampen the connecting spel
l for a while at least. It’s too powerful to dissolve entirely, but it’ll at least give you a break.”

  “Bless you, darling witchling,” Letizia said with a relieved half-groan, half-sigh. “When this is done, I have some fine herb with your name on it.”

  “Magic herbs?” Milo asked, looking most curious.

  Letizia snorted, and this did reverberate a bit. “In a sense.”

  “Oh. I don’t smoke,” they said with a short answering laugh.

  “Coffee, then,” she replied, and this time Milo didn’t object, although they didn’t seem quite as excited about this prospect.

  “It’s good coffee,” Eva said, sliding the cup toward them. “Just a little sweet.”

  Letizia caught her eye and smiled. For the first time, with the phone silenced and trouble over for the moment, she looked fully relaxed and thoroughly happy. Eva rested her chin back on her fist, elbow on the table, as the Witch’s face regained its Cheshire smile, and felt that, like the mall in daytime, the world was back in order, the planets re-aligned.

  “Yes,” said the Witch, whose eyes never left Eva’s face. “And how sweet it is.”

  Outside, the sun shone on an uncommonly bright and clear day. Inside, in Jude’s room kept dark and safe by the blackout shades and layers of duct tape, Pixie nestled closer against Jude’s side and rested his head on his chest. It was more intimacy than Jude was accustomed to, and not just because his prosthetic leg was leaning against the wall instead of fitted below his knee. That should have left him feeling naked, he thought. Too exposed, too vulnerable, but it didn’t. Not with Pixie. It simply never entered his mind to worry, and in Jude’s experience, that was very new.

  All of this was new, and wonderful, and the way it should be. Everything was the way it should be. At least everything inside this room.

  “So how’s it feel to sleep in for once?” Pixie asked eventually, voice low. He radiated warmth like an electric blanket, chasing away the wintery chill and all of Jude’s stress; how had he ever thought vampires were cold, lifeless things?

  Jude let out a little chuckle. “It’s a big shift in my routine, and that was really one of the only parts me and my autistic brain liked about that job. No changes.”

  “Really, you don’t like change? I’m shocked.” Pixie’s tone was teasing but his eyes were nervous, and Jude smiled.

  “But I like this one,” he said with certainty. “And I’ll get used to it. How are you doing?”

  “I’m… I think I started to say this before,” Pixie answered a little hesitantly. “But it’s different, knowing Wicked Gold’s out there somewhere, and seeing his actual face. It’s like he’s real now. He’s right here.”

  “Yeah, I bet,” Jude said, keeping his voice down too, despite the fact that they were alone in his own apartment—this was the first moment of peace they’d gotten in days, and it would have felt wrong to risk breaking it. His thumb stroked Pixie's arm softly, back and forth. “But he’s not here. He is never getting his hands on you again, not if I can help it.”

  “That’s what worries me,” Pixie said in a low voice. “I don’t know if you can help it. I don’t know if anyone can.”

  Jude felt hollow inside. He wanted to promise Pixie that he was safe here, forever, no matter what, but he couldn’t. He was determined to never lie to Pixie, and damn Wicked Gold, damn all of them, Jude had no way of knowing if such a promise was a lie or not. “At the very least, he’s never getting in here—he’ll never be invited.”

  “Thanks. But I still just—God, I hate seeing him smile like that.” Jude felt more than saw Pixie’s face twist into a scowl. “I hate seeing him happy. Why does he get to be happy about anything? After everything he’s done?”

  “He might be out there,” Jude said carefully, hardly daring to tread on this ground that felt fragile and sacred all at once. He was also painfully aware of the fact that no matter how he wanted to, he couldn’t ever really relate to anything Pixie felt here. All he could do was offer sympathy without real understanding, and hope that was enough. “But you’re still here too. You looked at his face, but he didn’t see yours. You saw him even if he didn’t know it. Something about that seems like a victory to me. Like you’re looking at him on your own terms, not his, and walking away.”

  “Yeah,” Pixie said quietly, and some of the tension and frustration in his voice faded away.

  He turned his head to look up at Jude with something that might have been a smile if it wasn’t so tired. Still, his eyes were completely unguarded, vulnerable, the trust in them real, even with such a history of bruises. Pixie’s bubbly personality and breezy laughs weren’t fake, not by a long shot, but they weren’t the whole story either. Jude felt a little awed, and humbled, to see all of him. Pixie didn’t say anything else, but slipped his hand into Jude’s free one, where it belonged.

  “Hey, I’ve been thinking about something,” he said then, giving Jude a searching look. “The night you died. When you saw the stones and the person in the water and everything?”

  “Yeah,” Jude said quietly. “I think about it a lot too. Why?”

  “I mean, the sea and person didn’t happen, but the stones were definitely real, so that part came true,” Pixie said, sounding thoughtful and more open to the idea than Jude may have been in his place. “And that just kinda seems like a good sign to me.”

  “How do you figure that?” Jude asked, unable to keep his misgivings from coloring his voice with anxiety. “If anything, it seems like a dream-come-true gone wrong, or like the version that happened last night is from a bad timeline. Why would the stones be there but nothing else? It was even daytime when I saw it before, and there was definitely no blood ritual happening. Was I supposed to stop Wicked Gold from finding it at all? I still don’t know what any of it meant. Or who the person I saw there was—they asked me, ‘is he all right?’ And I don’t know who they meant either. I don’t know anything at all. Maybe it really was just a dream. At least then I wouldn’t have messed everything up and not even know how.”

  “I don’t think you messed anything up,” Pixie said without hesitation. “And I don’t think it was just a dream either—but hey, even it was, I probably know more than most people that sometimes dreams aren’t just dreams.”

  “All right then, what do you think it meant?” Jude looked down at him, eyebrows raised.

  “Well, definitely not nothing,” Pixie said, brow furrowing, tone still uncharacteristically measured, and wheels obviously turning in his head. It was adorable, and appreciated. “Because a magic stone circle made of black crystal claw-things is just way too specific. And it’s real, it’s right here, and you found your way to it, which doesn’t seem like it should be possible. So that’s two impossible things right there. And when impossible stuff starts piling up… I dunno, it just seems like maybe you’re exactly where you need to be.”

  “Hmm,” Jude grunted, unwilling to extend too much hope just yet, but not wanting to be the one to shake Pixie’s optimism and unworried faith. After everything he’d endured, it was a minor miracle he had any left.

  Pixie raised his head enough to bump it gently against the corner of Jude’s jaw and give it a nuzzle. “Just keep your eyes open, okay? I will too.”

  “Good.” Jude found it in him to smile, and the arm he’d slung over Pixie pulled him closer. “At the very least… you’re still here. So this must be where I’m supposed to be.”

  “Oh my God, Jude,” Pixie said with a mock gasp. “That was smooth as hell. I didn’t know you could be smooth! You’ve been holding out on me!”

  Jude’s laugh snuck up on him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d really laughed, or when he’d last heard Pixie sound so happy as he joined in.

  “See, there you go,” Pixie said, grinning at him through his giggles. “Feels good, huh? You should do it more often.”

  “Maybe I will,” he said. “And you’re right. I’ll try to assume we’re on the right course, not the wrong one. Everythin
g else, all of us, where we’re going from here… we’ll figure it out.”

  “You don’t just mean about the circle dream, do you?”

  “No,” Jude said with a sigh, smile fading, and shut his eyes. “I mean we’ll figure out what we all are to each other. You and me—and Jasper and Felix, because we did have something, and we still might have something, but I just don’t know what it is, or if they still want it, but this isn’t sustainable, this weird, nebulous…”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not what?”

  “Why isn’t this sustainable?” Pixie had propped himself up on one elbow, and was looking directly into his face now. His thoughtful, serious expression was at odds with the way Jude was used to seeing his face, round-cheeked and bright-eyed. It wasn’t a bad look, just a very focused and earnest one. Like Pixie’s previous vulnerability, Jude couldn’t imagine him showing this to anyone he didn’t trust. “Why do you have to figure everything out right now?”

  “I…” Jude stopped, frowning. He thought for a moment, folding his arms across his chest as a shiver of anxiety went through him, collecting like cold water in his stomach. “I don’t like uncertainty. I’ve never known what to do with it, with a change in routine, not knowing exactly where I stand or what’s coming next. Jasper said it’s all right for things to be gray, and he’s right—I am a gray, demi aro-ace, that’s right for me, there’s no doubt there. But it’s different when there’s so many other people and unknowns—I’m so jealous of Eva and Letizia. Not of them, I mean, I’m so happy for them, but how sure about each other they are. They’re…”

  “Queerplatonic girlfriends,” Pixie supplied happily. “That’s what Eva said, anyway. It’s great seeing her so happy! I’m totally gonna get them a card or something. Or maybe make one. I don’t think greeting cards have quite caught up yet—but go on.”

  “They know who they are and who they are to each other,” Jude said, pushing the words out before he could change his mind. “And I want that. About where we all stand. With attractions, sexualities, dynamics, everything. Not having that kind of certainty, not knowing what comes next—it makes me feel unstable, like I’m walking on ground that might crumble at any moment. Like if I don’t put a name to it, everything will disappear and it’ll be like… like it was five years ago.”