Illicit Magic (12 page)

Étoile peeped her head around. Of course, she looked immaculate in a deep navy turtle-neck sweater, which only accentuated how pale she was and how high her cheekbones were. She smiled. “We have to go now. The sooner the better.”

“How are we going?” I asked, my spoon hovering in the air. I put it down before I spilled milk across my sweater.

Étoile frowned as if I’d just asked something really dumb. “By car, of course. Marc will drive.”

“Oh.” I swallowed the last of my orange juice. “Good. When will we get there?”

“A few hours or so,” answered Étoile. I could see that she had a small bag packed and it stood in the hallway, just beyond the door. “Can you be ready in five minutes?”

“Yes, of course.” Étoile ducked out but left the door ajar. I ate the rest of my cereal so fast that I could only hope I wouldn’t get indigestion. I faffed around for a few seconds trying to arrange the tray before throwing a napkin – starched white, of course – over the bowl.

I pulled my bag onto the bed and tossed the few things I’d taken out back in, then wrapped the blue box in a sweater, placing it on top before zipping up the bag. I tugged on my trainers and bent to tie them, then pulled on the grey jacket, remembering to pick up my smaller shoulder bag with my wallet full of useless coins and notes. I wondered if the day would come when I wouldn’t be able to pack all my stuff in minutes, when I wouldn’t be at the mercy of other people sending me here and there. I chided myself silently.
If it weren’t for Étoile, I’d be dead now.
If it weren’t for the council, I wouldn’t have a home or protection.
I should be grateful for everything that they were doing for me, not whimpering about how hard my life was.
As if it had ever been easy! And really, what was I missing anyway?
Marc had been right. Not a lot.

I pulled my hair back in a tight ponytail with a band and checked it was smooth in the mirror, nodding at myself in approval. Sure, the ends were still slightly singed but I’d have to deal with that another time. “Man up, Stella,” I whispered at my reflection and the irony wasn’t lost on me; that was something I certainly could not do, however hard I tried.

Étoile was waiting outside my door. She had pulled the retractable handle out of her bag and was leaning on it.

“Is that all you’ve got?” I asked. Étoile was looking splendid again, of course, in expensive jeans that hugged her long legs and the clingy navy sweater. I wondered if she used some sort of magic to keep herself so neat. I wondered if I could learn that.

“I already have things there.” Étoile linked her arm to mine as though we had been friends forever and wheeled her case behind us with her free hand. Marc was waiting for us in the lobby but his parents weren’t anywhere to be seen. I looked around and surprise must have been etched on my face because Marc said, “Mom and Dad said to tell you goodbye and apologised that your stay was cut short. They’re attending to business at the moment and can’t be spared.”

I wanted to ask if it was the kind of business that involved asking if anyone other than the Brotherhood was a threat but instead, kept my mouth shut and nodded. “Are we leaving now?” My voice sounded plaintive and small in the big room.

“Yes,” replied Marc, as he swung a black rucksack over his shoulder. “There’s extra wards protecting the building and they cast a protection spell on the car. Spells don’t last long while things are moving, but it should be enough to get us out of the city without being observed.”

We followed him out the door to the private lift that served the penthouse. As we travelled down, I wondered how much I could ask about where we were going and what they would tell me.
If they would tell me anything at all.
It wasn’t my modus operandi to follow other people around blindly. I stifled a laugh in my throat and Étoile twitched an eyebrow at me.
What could I say?
I thought as I turned the slightly hysterical little laugh into a cough. It wasn’t in my M.O. to hop on planes, or, for that matter, even hang out with people. Nothing was normal anymore. Étoile let go of her bag long enough to place a cool hand over my wrist and her touch alone sent a wave of calm over me, driving the brief hysteria back along with the rising lump in my throat. Marc, lost in his own thoughts, didn’t seem to notice.

The doors slid open to the underground car park and we followed Marc to the huge black Cadillacs, but to my surprise, when Marc pressed his key fob, the lights of a silver Prius parked next to them flashed.

“Much less ostentatious,” Marc explained, opening the door and motioning that I should get in on the correct passenger side, which wasn’t the side I had stepped towards. He took my bag and tossed it in the trunk with his, then took Étoile’s as she climbed into the back and slid over so she was behind the driver’s seat. As I plugged my seat belt in, Marc took the driver’s seat beside me and turned the ignition.

“I know I’ve already asked,” I said, as the engine sprang to life, “but where exactly are we going? I know it’s a sort of safe house?”

“It’s a safe house that we use,” confirmed Marc, as he checked the rear view mirror and reversed. “It’s owned by a friend of the council and we use it as a, sort of, training ground. Our veterans help the novices learn how to control their powers, both wisely and effectively.”

“Is this friend a witch?”

Marc looked at Étoile in the rear view mirror. From the corner of my eye, I saw her give a little shake of her head. Marc looked over at me briefly and said, “Not exactly, but she’s not against us either. She’s neutral.”

“Have you been there before?” I asked wondering who “she” might be.

“Étoile was there for a while until she was sent to England a few days ago and I come and go.”

“It’s very nice and there are a few of us there,” said Étoile, leaning forward between the seats. “I’m sure you’ll like it. You’ll learn a lot. Plus you’ll meet my sister, Seren, and your friend, Kitty.”

Marc flinched at the name as he threw the car into drive.

I twisted in my seat to look at Étoile. “I don’t have a friend called Kitty.”

“You will,” said Étoile, with absolute confidence.

Marc drove across the car park, past a series of expensive vehicles, and manoeuvred the car up the exit ramp. He waved to the uniformed attendant standing in the guard box at the top of the ramp and waited for the barrier to rise before turning onto the street and accelerating. He drove carefully so as not to attract any attention towards us and soon we were on the bridge. I almost wished I had been here as a tourist so that I could spend some time marvelling at the bridge’s construction and the city retreating behind us. I wondered if I would ever come back.

Marc closed his hand over mine and gently squeezed it before regrasping the steering wheel. I was grateful for the human touch and a warmth spread through me as I remembered last night’s kiss. Marc winked at me and I dipped my eyes so I could suppress a smile.

“Do you... did you both train there? At this school?”

“No.” It was Étoile’s turn to speak. “Our parents instructed us, but lately, after... well, Seren and I needed to re-learn some things and it’s convenient for us to be based at the house.”

“What can you do?” I asked. “I know you can move yourself the same way I can.”

“That,” agreed Étoile. “I can see the future too, just glimpses. Seren is an empath. She is very intuitive to the feelings of others, as well as animals. She shimmers too. Those are our main strengths but we have other skills too.”

“What about you, Marc?”

Marc’s hands gripped the wheel and he stared ahead for a moment before answering. “I don’t know yet.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Marc is a slow learner,” said Étoile with a snicker.

Marc drew in a breath. “For some of us, magic doesn’t come straight away. It’s in me; it’s inherited, but I don’t know what I can do with it.” He shook his head and continued as though he were used to explaining it. “It’s an anomaly but it happens.”

I wondered what his parents, the council leaders, thought about their son being an anomaly amongst all the power that their clan brandished. I suspected they weren’t thrilled –
it would be like two maths professors having a kid with dyscalculia
, I thought. But I suspected that it was harder for Marc not knowing what power he did possess nor how to access it when everyone around him was teeming with it. Even I could sneeze and... “shimmer” and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’ll work itself out.” Marc’s voice was stiff and decisive.
As far as conversations went, we’d pretty much killed that one.

Étoile had her phone out again and was busily tapping keys while Marc concentrated on the road. I leant my head against the headrest and watched the world whiz past my window as I contemplated Étoile’s Blackberry addiction.
It must be nice having so many people to constantly contact,
I thought. Though it was early morning, after a while, I could feel my head loll. I twisted my head from side to side but the jetlag and the past night was finally catching up on me as the burr of the engine lulled me to sleep.

By the time I woke again and blinked at the clock on the dash, Marc had been driving for hours. The scenery whipped past in a blur of roadside businesses that gave way to trees and open farmland. When we finally left the highway and turned into town, I was pretty sick of sitting in the car and desperate to get out and stretch my legs. We drove a little further until Marc slowed and turned through a pair of open gates.

Manicured lawns hugged the drive with borders of neatly clipped mature shrubs and a spattering of coloured flowers. It looked for all the world like a large family house, inconspicuous in its normalcy. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Marc parked the car in front and I stepped out before he could walk around and open my door. I inhaled deeply and was tickled to find the air slightly salty, like seawater. I wondered if the ocean was closeby. I hoped so. I had never had much cause to go to the beach but the idea of one nearby seemed pretty nice to me.
And so completely normal
.

The house was a two-story, white clapboard with an oversized porch. One end of the house jutted out at a right angle to the main part. Several cars were parked off to the left and there was enough room on the drive that none would have to move for the others to pass. The front door, painted in a soft sage green, was framed with four windows on each side and I could see that the house stretched backwards. It was large and welcoming.

Someone had clearly been waiting for us because the door popped open just as Marc unloaded our bags. An elderly lady in a floral dress with a white half-apron covering her skirt stood in the shade of the porch in obvious anticipation. She smiled broadly and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Don’t just stand there, dears. I’ve baked scones and made iced tea for you all after that long drive.” She beckoned us to follow as she retreated inside.

Sure enough, the aroma of baking drifted towards us. We grabbed our bags from where Marc had set them on the driveway and entered the house; Étoile pausing to stoop and kiss the old lady on the cheek.

“Go on into the kitchen. I’ll just tell everyone that you’re here,” said the old lady as I passed her. When I looked back to the door, she was already gone and Marc was pushing it closed.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Not so much who, as what,” muttered Marc softly, before saying more loudly. “We call her Aunt Meg. She owns the place.”

“Come on through to the kitchen. Aunt Meg is a whiz at baking.” Étoile signalled to me to stow my bags in the hallway next to hers and I followed her past doorways that led off to rooms full of furniture – but empty of people – and into the kitchen. As promised, the long, scrubbed pine, farmhouse table was spread with a large glass jug of iced tea, icy rivelets dribbling down the sides, and a cluster of glasses next to it. A cake plate with a short stubby stand and fluted edges had a mound of fresh English fruit scones and I sighed with pleasure. There was a stack of china plates and pots with butter and jam. Knives rested on folded cotton napkins. My stomach gave another little rumble so I kneaded it with my knuckles.

“Have a seat, have a seat, my dears. Stella, we’re so glad to have you here.” Aunt Meg took my hand in hers, covered it with another cool hand and shook it. I shivered at her wintry touch but remembered my manners and said I was pleased to meet her and thanks for having me.

“Not at all,” murmured Aunt Meg, indicating to sit while she poured iced tea for us. She sat at the head of the table and smiled beatifically at us as she passed out the plates. “What a long drive you’ve had. I’ve made up your beds. Stella, you will have our yellow room. It’s not really very yellow but there are an awful lot of rooms here, so that’s what we call it. Étoile, you are next to Seren as per usual. Marc, you have the blue room. I know you like the green room but that has been commandeered by a new recruit. Do have some jam, Stella. I made it from the fruit from these gardens.”

I helped myself to the jam and slathered it over my split scone, biting into it. It was still warm from the oven and the apple jam was gently scented with something,
cinnamon
, I thought. Étoile was already reaching for a second.

“I’m sorry a welcoming committee hasn’t turned out to greet you but we’ve all been rather busy. Rest assured, everyone is very keen to meet you and they will drift along sooner or later.” Meg cocked her head to one side and leaned back a little to look along the passageway before turning back to us. “Ah, here’s one now. Evan!”

I brushed the crumbs from my mouth and took a sip from my iced tea. When I looked up, it was all I could do not to gasp.

The man filling the doorway was at least six foot two with broad shoulders that tapered to a neat waist and long, jeaned legs. Toned arms extended from under a grey t-shirt and his hands didn’t look like strangers to work. As my eyes travelled up from his chest, I noted a tanned, square jaw that hadn’t seen a razor in a day or two, a slim nose and brown eyes so dark I could barely distinguish iris from pupil. His hair was cut short and so dark it could almost have been black. He wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense but he was captivating, the type of man people automatically turn their heads to have another look at. I couldn’t drag my eyes away and my heart did a little flip.