Winter of Discontent (Four Seasons Book 1) (7 page)

It had only been a couple of weeks since the accident, but I felt fit. I even felt fit enough to take part in the cross-country trials. I liked cross-country much more than track; for me there was nothing worse than running around and around the same ground again and again. Mind numbing! The trials were being held at a popular country park on Saturday morning. It was only six miles, so I figured I’d be home in plenty of time to get ready for the concert.

‘Do want me to come and cheer you on tomorrow?’ asked Aunt Suze that evening.

‘No. No point. You’d see me set off and then see me get in. You’d be bored stupid. You could drop me off, though, save me getting the bus.’

‘Sure, no worries.’

I lay on the top of my bed for at least an hour before falling asleep. I had a nice room. The bed was a double with the most comfortable mattress ever. The wallpaper was quite plain but Aunt Suze had a good eye and had hung some really great retro art on the walls. There was a large double wardrobe on one wall. On the other was a dressing table; it was very 50s in style, with one large mirror in the centre and a smaller mirror on each side. There was a bedside cabinet that had one of those weird lava lamps which was really quite hypnotic. I felt at home here. I missed my dad, I missed him a lot, but I was glad I was here. I wanted to put some roots down.  I was sixteen and I could name you my favourite restaurant in at least two cities in at least ten countries around the world.

Some would say that was a great life. They wouldn’t be wrong but I didn’t want it. This was my life now. I wanted this. And, rather annoyingly, I wanted Erik …

Chapter Eleven – Hope!

Erik

I couldn't believe how stupid I’d been.
I’d had no choice but to watch the best thing that had ever happened to me walk across the park and out of my life. I’ll be honest; on the walk home I couldn’t help but consider going through the whole memory wiping process again. It would’ve been so easy to plant another thought in her mind; make her think we had had a great first date, that everything was fine – but how could I do that to her again? I had to work this out as a normal boy, not a Warlock. After all, it was the geek she agreed to date, not the sorcerer.
It was a schoolboy error and I could have kicked myself. Yeah, I know I
was
still a schoolboy but, at almost seventeen, I really should have known better. I spent the rest of the week cursing my stupidity, avoiding her at school one moment and looking for her the next. By the time Friday came around, I decided the damage was already done, so I had to make a choice; either forget her and move on, or find a way of making her listen, making her see I wasn’t all bad. In the end, it was an easy decision. I couldn’t perform a memory wipe on myself and there was no way I was likely to forget her any time soon!

I had to perform a small notion, nothing major, but nevertheless it
was
still magic. I knew she had a free period that afternoon but had no idea where she was gonna spend it. I took myself off to the boys’ toilets to lock myself in a cubicle. Yeah, I know it sounds a bit seedy but I needed to be sure no one walked in on me! I managed to find a cubicle that still had the toilet seat intact and sat down and started to concentrate.

Now I know most people think that spell-casting is full of weird, crazy language expressed with a lot of arm-waving but, in truth, for Warlocks at least, it’s nothing like that. All we need to do is hold our hands palms out and visualize what we want to happen. We call our spells ‘notions’. I guess in days gone by, it was just another way of separating ourselves from ordinary wizards and witches. Centuries ago when there were wars between rival covens, the losing parties were often subject to having both hands cut off at the wrist. It was seen as a sign of great strength if your line could live within the boundaries of another coven with them powerless to stop you.

I sat there for just a few minutes; it didn’t take long before I knew what she was doing and where she was going next. I left quickly when I realised she’d be passing the girls’ locker room in just a few moments. I didn’t have time to decide what I’d say, so when she turned the corner I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

‘Hi.’

Could I have been any more pathetic
?
I just stood looking at her, waiting and hoping she’d respond well.

Hope was pretty overrated really. I worked that out when she snapped, ‘Go to hell!’ and stormed off into the locker room.

I wouldn’t be deterred though. When I’d looked to ‘see’ where she was going, I also learnt where she’d be tomorrow morning; the cross-country trials.

The following morning I was up and out early. I didn’t want to have to lie to Dad and Jared about where I was going so figured it was best to get out before they got up. I’d decided to sign up for the trials and just follow her around the course until she relented. She’d have to talk to me – I was determined she would.

When I got there Coach Allen was more than a little surprised to see me.

‘You’re kidding me, Zauber. You know this is six miles, over rough ground?’

‘Yeah I … erm … I figured I should do more exercise.’

Coach just shook his head in disbelief and pointed me to registration.

Sarah arrived about ten minutes later. Dressed in gray leggings and a blue-gray T-shirt, hair tied in a plait, with just a hint of make-up. She looked fantastic. Boy, did I have it bad.

I was determined to say something a little more than ‘hi’ this time. I would be clear, confident and charming. As she got closer, I moved into view. I steadied my nerves; I wasn’t used to feeling unsure of myself. I took a deep breath and spoke my well-rehearsed lines.

‘Hi.’

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Well, you fucked that up good and proper, Erik,
I cursed to myself.

Sarah stopped just short of me. I braced myself for another slap. I deserved it after what I’d done so I wouldn’t react.

‘What are you doing here?’

This threw me for a moment. Her tone wasn’t warm and friendly but it was a huge improvement on “Go to hell”.

‘We need to talk,’ I said, when I finally found my voice.

‘Yeah? Well, not here, we don’t,’ she said firmly, as she walked past me and over to registration.

‘OK, then where?’

‘I’ll wait for you at the finish line. We can go and talk then.’

‘But the boys leave first. I’ll wait for you.’ I grinned.

‘Yeah? We’ll see.’

I swear I saw a hint of a smile. In fact, I prayed I saw a hint of a smile.

As I set off on the six-mile hike, it hit me. If I finish this course before any of the boys, or many of the girls for that matter, it would destroy my ‘geek status’. The problem was though, after what Sarah had said about waiting for me at the finish line, I’d started to feel really competitive. I know it was stupid, I know I shouldn’t have done it, but just this once I listened to what I wanted to do instead of what I should do.

I’d started off slowly behind the pack of main runners; we’d covered less than a quarter of a mile when I heard the klaxon go for the girls to start. I knew Sarah was a strong runner and would catch up with the back markers in the boys’ pack, so I held back and waited. Crazy really.

I knew that, if I wanted to, I could not only beat the whole lot of them but also be home in time for breakfast with Dad and Jared. But that wasn’t a good idea. Good ideas, however, were not making an appearance this morning.

It would be about halfway round when Sarah caught up to me. She glanced sideways at me and smiled but said nothing.

I wanted to say something clever, something witty but for the life of me all I could think of was ‘hi’ so I kept my mouth shut.

About a mile from home, she picked up the pace. There were a half dozen or so boys and a couple of girls in front of us. As her stride quickened, so did mine. I knew it would take nothing for me to overtake and leave her for dead but I just didn’t have the heart for it. I didn’t want to beat her, I wanted to impress her. I wanted to show I wasn’t the geek everyone thought I was. As we approached the finish line, I looked up and could see the look on the faces of the coach and the jocks that had already finished. I could hear them talking; they couldn’t believe I’d covered six miles and that they had only just beaten me back. I started to panic, I’d been the geek for too long to change it now; it would raise too many questions. I hated what I was about to do but I felt I had no choice. As we came within a few feet of the line, I started to hold on to my side, to look pained. For good measure, I started to wheeze and, just as Sarah crossed the line, ‘caught’ a stone with my left foot and went face first into the mud. Laughter from the onlookers could still be heard as I picked myself up and walked over to where Sarah was waiting.

She looked confused, annoyed even.

‘Why did you do that? We both know you could have won.’

‘But I couldn’t have won fairly. I just wanted you to see there is more to me than just an idiot who doesn’t know when he has a good thing.’

‘OK then,’ she said half smiling, half scowling. ‘Let’s talk.’

We walked, in silence, down to the main road. From there we took the bus into town, still in silence. It was really the most uncomfortable forty-five minutes I’ve ever had.

‘So where do you want to go?’ I asked as we left the bus. ‘There’s a coffee shop over on Jamieson. It has booths that are quite private, if you’d like?’ I said tentatively.

‘Sure. Sounds OK.’

She seemed quite relaxed. I felt the most positive I had in what had been a very long week.

When we got to the coffee shop I ordered two lattes and we sat over the far side of the room. It was quite dark in there, the music wasn’t too loud, and most of the customers were quite old; mid-thirties to forties, I’d guess. There was another coffee shop a few streets down but that was aimed at young people – it would have been noisy and impossible to hold a conversation without shouting. This might have been the last place on earth I’d have taken a date but it was ideal for what we had to do.

‘So go on then,’ she said, somewhat impatiently.

‘OK. Before we start, though, I am so sorry about the whole memory-wipe thing. I didn’t think about it from your point of view but I really was just trying to protect you. And to protect my family.’

She said nothing. Her face remained totally unreadable, impassive.

‘So what do you want to know first?’ I asked nervously.

She took a deep breath. Clearly and slowly. Her chest heaved slightly from underneath her damp T-shirt. I was a Warlock, not a robot, and she looked less than impressed when she saw me notice that. I coloured up immediately. I rarely blushed. Blushing wasn’t the usual Warlock thing; but then this wasn’t a usual situation.

‘First question. You said “Warlock”. I thought Warlocks were evil. Do you … you know … do you kill people?’

I couldn’t help but laugh.

‘No. Not as a rule. I … erm … we, my dad, and my brother, we come from a line of Warlocks called Segans. Historically we are quite a benevolent line. That doesn’t mean we couldn’t do damage if we chose to, it’s just that we don’t choose to.’

‘Why did your dad say you had to make me forget?’

This was a tougher question. I’d thought about what I’d say if she asked but until now I had no idea what my answer would be.

‘Well?’ she pushed as I hesitated.

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Well, you have an hour, tops. Then I have to go home, I have a concert to go to.’

I picked up my latte and took a slow sip before I began. I told her all about The Council. About how they had spent decades tracking down our line to eliminate the threat of one of us mating with a Moirai.’

‘So what’s a Moirai?’

‘Quite possibly the most powerful witch of all time. The Council thought they had killed the line off a long way back but a seer prophesised that a Warlock and a Moirai would mate and produce a child that would topple them. That’s why we stay in the shadows. We don’t practise magic in case a Tracer picks up our scent.’

Before she got chance to ask, I continued.

‘A Tracer is another line of Warlock. They work exclusively for The Council. They go from town to town, working their way around the country, around every country, trying to find us. Not just us, though. There are other covens, other lines that pose a threat to The Council. Our magic is like an invisible flag being waved. The Tracer picks up a scent, a sort of instinct when they are close to a spell being cast. Each coven has its strengths, its abilities. We can all sense other sorcerers, other Warlocks to one degree or another but Tracers are particularly good at it. There are other mercenary Warlocks that are used to track witches and wizards but the Tracers are the most efficient. So you see, by not practising magic we have a better chance of staying safe. By wiping your memory of what you saw, what we said, I was keeping my family safe and I was keeping you safe. If you are anywhere near me when a Tracer turns up, it could end really badly for you.’

Well, that was just about everything. Everything, that is, except telling her Jared and my dad thought she was the Moirai that The Council was looking for!

I waited for her to comment but she didn’t. I guess I was expecting too much. This was normal for me, it was my life. I hadn’t known the whole truth about why the Tracers were looking for us until recently but everything else was everyday life. It wasn’t this way for Sarah. She’d been thrown from being your average American girl into a world of magic and fear. I wouldn’t have blamed her for running for the hills but I was delighted that she hadn’t.

‘I think I need to go. I need to get my head around this, it’s all so crazy.’

‘Do you want me to take you home?’

‘No. Thank you. I need some space. You understand?’

‘Sure. No problem. Call me if you need me?’

She didn’t answer.

As she walked out of the coffee shop I wanted to go after her, but I didn’t. Pressing her on this would force her further away. I stayed in the booth for more than an hour. I needed to be sure she wouldn’t be stood at the bus stop when I left, I couldn’t be sure I would be able to resist following her if she had. It was OK though – when I did finally leave she was nowhere to be seen.

I headed back home. Dad and Jared where shouting at the TV when I got back, so I managed to creep upstairs unseen and change out of my joggers without them ever suspecting where I’d been. I lay down on the bed for a while. The urge to cast a notion to see what she was doing, what she was up to was quite overwhelming but I didn’t. I stayed strong. I knew if I was to ever get a chance with her I had to play it straight. She wasn’t impressed by me, at least not now. I think she really liked me before she knew the truth and that was more of an aphrodisiac than any notion I could ever cast. In the end, I got up and went downstairs.