Lives of Magic (Seven Wanderers Trilogy) (21 page)

“How about some TV?” I asked, trying to break the tension. Without waiting for an answer, I grabbed the remote and flipped to find an American channel. Moira’s accent had made me homesick. The only one I found was FOX News. I sighed, but it was better than nothing.

An image of Washington, D.C., filled the screen, followed by American flags floating at half-mast on the capitol’s iconic white buildings. A report was talking about global warming. The president spoke at a podium about working with other nations and having some goals to fight a global crisis. A panel of senators agreed with him.

I stared at each face. Kian’s story sounded like a conspiracy theory, but I couldn’t help but wonder about the magicians and their plot to take over America. The senators shown looked plain and boring. Did they know what I was doing? Were they all in on it? Who was the magician? Were they all magicians? Did they want us dead?

Eventually, my eyes began to hurt from staring at the screen and the news program cut to commercial anyway. I realized Moira still hadn’t moved, so I decided to give her some privacy and left the room. I told myself I was doing it for her sake, not for my wanting to dodge any more questions about my past.

I wasn’t ready to talk about it, not until I had myself figured out. I didn’t know the woman I used to be, but I could only hope she wasn’t an adulterer and traitor. Nobody wants to be that.

Outside the hotel, a few lights made to look like lanterns lit the way to a small pub attached to one side of the building. The night was quiet but cold so I walked briskly from the hotel to the heavy wooden door marking the pub’s entrance. A lit path with an overhang marked the route from hotel to bar.

The smell of alcohol and old wood hit me in the face like a force. The yellow lighting, similar to the hotel, cast shadows along the narrow bar. Long, dark wooden tables with benches for seats were placed throughout. Only a few people sat with drinks in their hands.

It wasn’t late, and I couldn’t even remember which day of the week it was. They all blurred together now. Still, the few patrons in the pub were seated at the bar watching a game I hadn’t seen before.

The televisions flipped back and forth between tennis and men in striped shirts and thick shin pads carrying paddles that made me think of running the gauntlet. I shrugged to myself and took a seat at the end of one of the long wooden tables all by myself. I tried to remember what the drinking age in England was and drew a blank. Whatever it was, I must have looked it because soon a waitress came over, asked me what I wanted, and I was sitting with a glass of wine in hand in moments.

I had only ever had red wine once in my life. But I remembered that it had put me to sleep and right now that was all I wanted. I took a sip and tried not to make a face. It was like vinegar in my mouth. Still, I took a few more sips before putting the glass down.

I stared at it sitting on the tabletop, willing myself to pick it up again. As I did, my eyes slid upwards towards the spot across from me, which had been empty a moment ago. Now, a familiar angry face glared at me with a ferocious venom that I had never seen before in anyone.

My husband.

I
think my gasp was audible to the whole room. I dropped my wine, and glass mixed with drink shattered and spilled over the wooden table. I tried to scramble to get up so quickly that my foot got stuck underneath the bench and I fell backwards. I was gasping for air and on my back when the waitress leaned over me.

“Everything okay, miss?” she asked. She seemed genuinely concerned and her round physique reminded me of my mother. I felt guilty for lying before I even opened my mouth.

“Yes,” I said. “I tripped over the bench.”

“Yes, of course,” she replied, giving me a wink. She extended an arm and helped me up. I stood on shaky legs and cast a weary glance at the place across from me. No one sat at my table. “Perhaps no more wine tonight?” she joked.

“No more for me, thanks,” I replied with a smile but couldn’t help my eyes from darting around the room.

Where did he go?

After I had convinced the waitress that I wasn’t too drunk to stand, and assured myself it had been a hallucination, I left. Pushing my weight against the heavy wooden door of the bar, I felt like I abandoned the smell of the place as if shrugging a cloak off my shoulders. I stood at the entryway, taking deep gulps of the crisp fall air.

Suddenly something pushed me and I skipped two paces ahead. Already jumpy, my heart went from zero to sixty in an instant. I turned wildly in the night, looking for the source of the attack. Nothing emerged from the darkness. I felt the pressure of two handprints on my back and froze.

A voice whispered something incomprehensible in my ear and the sensation racked my body with shivers. I doubled over, putting my hands over my ears. A force pushed them back down. More gibberish, but this time it was a man. Screaming in anger. I didn’t have to understand the words to know that.

I closed my eyes tight until everything went quiet. I hadn’t realized I was crying but I felt tears leaving cold, wet marks down my face.

What’s happening?

The memories had been bad, but I had always been a part of my former self. I had always had the knowledge that this was in the past, and that body wasn’t my body. That life wasn’t my life. Now I felt vulnerable. I was completely alone. Was this some kind of magic or were my memories blurring with real life?

I opened my eyes and the pathway back to the hotel was empty. If I could just get to Kian I would be okay. The fear in my body caused my legs to move quickly. I ran without intending to, knowing I must look crazy. I was halfway across to the hotel when someone grabbed me from behind and spun me around.

He held my elbow so tightly that I knew it would bruise. I looked up and saw the face I had been dreading. A voice spoke in my mind with a tone that implied hatred, not fear.

I hoped never to see you again!
it said. It was my voice. It gave me courage even as my knees buckled and the only thing that held me up was
him.

Just like in my dream, the man was older. Since I was so young in this life, he was old enough to be my father. Grey lined the corners of his shoulder-length dark hair and beard. His dark eyes burned with an intensity I felt sizzling on my skin. His square chin made a thin line out of his lips that looked as tight as a bowstring. The clothes he wore were from our past, and I was about to use that fact to calm myself and remember that this was an hallucination, but then my eyes floated up to the slit in his neck.

A small figurine was sticking out from his neck and the sight of it nearly made me sick, but I was too terrified. It looked like it had once been a miniature horse carved from wood. It stuck in his neck like an unnatural growth. I had just enough time to take this all in when he forced me to the ground off the path.

Large hands with numerous cold, heavy rings clasped my neck. I began to panic and grab at his arms, kicking and flailing, but his weight held me down. My heart was ready to pound straight out of my chest. I felt his thumbs pressing down on my windpipe. The pain of each tattered breath would collapse it soon. I began to see sparks in the sky. Really, they were the dots one sees when deprived of oxygen. But it gave me an idea.

I closed my eyes and tried to shut out everything around me, which was very difficult in my current situation. As I searched within myself for that spark of magic, I felt the temptation to close my eyes and lie still. Succumb. I fought it and found the flame I had fitted to my skin what seemed like forever ago.

I fed it all the energy I had left. When I had nothing more, it had still not grown as I had wanted it to. I started to draw from around me. The grass I lay on, the earth underneath that, the air around me, and even the man trying to kill me. I pulled on it all until the flame was so big that I smelled smoke around me and then let it go.

I felt my body jump with the pressure and then heard a loud crack. I sat up, stunned, thinking I had heard another gunshot. Shocked, I realized it had been me. The man was gone. I felt the place his hands had been on my neck, and it was sore.

Slowly, I inhaled, careful not to take in too much at once as the pain in my windpipe persisted. The air of England was cold and sharp. If you happened to face it the wrong way, you would get stabbed.

I finally looked around at the level of destruction I had caused. The canopy over the path had been collapsed as its supporting wooden beams were snapped in half. The crack. The grass and bushes around me were burned to shreds and smoked, but nothing was aflame. The windows nearest to me in the hotel were blown in. I was too far away from the bar to have it caused any actual damage and thought I could manage to sneak into the hotel without anyone noticing when Garrison and Kian ran out.

“What happened?”

Kian was running towards me. He took me by the elbows and I was up on my feet before I realized he was pulling me. I wobbled on unsteady legs and leaned against him for support. It still hurt to breathe and speak.

I shook my head at Kian and Garrison, whose eyes had drifted from me to the destruction around us. The smell of burning grass filled my nostrils and nearly caused me to choke on it. Patrons slowly came out of the bar with a large man leading them. I assumed he was the bar owner since he assessed the damage with an open mouth and his hands grasping what little hair he had left on his head. I was waiting for shouting when he rushed over to me.

“Are you all right?” he asked me in a thick accent.

I nodded, wincing at the pain in my throat. The man’s eyes scanned me, looking for any injury. I could see the probability of lawsuits circling his mind.

“Nothing hurt you? The damn beam must have snapped and collapsed the roofing. You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded again. It must not have been convincing, since I was basically hanging my weight on Kian and swooning on my feet. Nonetheless, the owner left me to look over his broken walkway and windows. I wondered how long it would take for him to realize a snapped beam could not have blown in his windows and charred the grass.

Kian silently helped me to my room. We passed the lobby and I saw that Moira had been waiting by the door, hesitant to come outside. We made a little procession to my room where Kian gently let me fall into my own bed. The pain in my neck was subsiding somewhat, but I dreaded explaining.

“Tell me what happened,” Kian said soberly as he closed the door to my hotel room. He, Garrison, and Moira sat opposite me on the second bed, watching intently. I felt exposed under their examining eyes. This was the moment I had been avoiding. But I knew now that I needed help.

I pulled my legs up onto the bed and when my knees hit my chin, I wrapped my arms around them. I felt more secure in a ball, but I still didn’t know how to explain.

“The truth,” Kian told me, as if reading my thoughts. “Start with the truth.”

“I have been seeing images of someone I think I was …” I took a deep breath, “… married to in a past life. My husband, I guess … and he is angry with me. It’s like I’m hallucinating but the physical impact of it is real. I can feel him push me. He tried to strangle me.”

Garrison and Moira’s faces held twin horrified looks while Kian’s lips were set in a grim line.

“When did this happen?” he asked.

I huffed. “You’re not surprised?” I countered. When his face failed to change, I felt a fire burn inside me. “You knew this would happen?” I would have screamed had it not hurt my throat to even speak.

“I knew it may have,” Kian answered. “Your souls carry ghosts. Memories of unresolved conflicts. You could have carried those memories over and have them haunt you.”

Kian’s words stung. He was implying this was all in my head. Just another silly over-reaction by emotional Gwen. I jumped up in agitation and hobbled over to the window. Pulling back the red curtains, I pointed to the destruction I had caused.

“Does that look like a ghost to you?” I asked indignantly.

The rush of movement had caused my hair to fall back over my shoulders. Kian didn’t reply to my remark but instead stood and walked over to me, carefully pulling my hair back. His cool fingers on my neck quieted me, and I stood waiting for a response.

“That looks like your magic,” Kian finally said without looking out of the window. He was still gazing intently at my neck. “But this looks like a heavy hand.”

He turned me around to face the full size mirror which hung across from the dresser. While he held my hair, I saw bright yellow bruises beginning to spread. Tomorrow, they would be blue and dark. I could not be sure in the light, but I thought I saw thick veins of bruising emblazoned onto my throat in the shape of fingers.

“What did that?” Moira asked in a small voice. Her hand was cautiously near her own throat.

“Did you feel anything strange while you were trying to defend yourself?” Kian asked me, his head tilting to the side in contemplation. Had I not been in pain, I would have laughed.

Have I noticed anything strange while magically defending myself from the apparent ghost of my past-life’s husband while he was trying to strangle me in the present?

Regardless, I thought about it. “The only thing is …” I wasn’t sure if I should mention something. It might not be important at all.

“Go on,” Kian prompted.

“I felt like I couldn’t get enough power. Like no matter how much I tried to get to defend myself, it wasn’t enough.” I glanced out the window. “That’s when I started to pull from around me. It burned the grass, I think, and probably broke the pathway and windows.”

Kian sat on my bed, looking thoughtful. “You drew power from the earth. A gift only those with natural power can obtain,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he spoke to us or to himself.

“Natural power?” Moira asked.

Kian continued to stare absentmindedly but answered her. “Some are born with magic. It is their birthright. They are naturally connected to the power of the Earth and use the energy around them.” He brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes. “Others use rituals, sacrifices, and thievery to gain their magic. Like the magicians who wish to take yours.”

“You think this was another trick to scare me into using my magic?” I asked, remembering how I had thrown everything I had at the black hole in Central Park. I didn’t feel as exhausted now as I had then, but the thought of them using my own magic against me still sent shivers down my spine.

Garrison surprised me by speaking. “They’re following us. Aren’t they?”

I felt like my heart stilled, weighing a ton all of a sudden. It was harder to breathe.

“Yes,” Kian answered. “Still trying to draw out your power.”

My hand flew to my throat. “How did they get that memory from my mind?” The thought of a stranger riffling around in my mind for information was deeply unnerving. I felt like I was being probed even as I stood in my own room.

“There is a magic that preys on your fears,” Kian said, turning to me. “I am sure that was employed, since you kept those memories to yourself.”

I thought I heard a note of bitterness in that, but Kian didn’t press the matter. I realized I had stood frozen, exactly as he had left me, by the window.

“If they’re waiting for us to get stronger, why hurt Seth?” Garrison was on the edge of the bed, looking ready to jump into action, but Kian only shook his head.

“I don’t have an answer about Seth,” he said, “but the magicians do want power. They need you to be at your full strength so that they may take the maximum amount of power from you. Killing you gives them nothing. To kill you would be a waste of the magic you’ve recovered. Your bodies will be dead, but your soul will escape. They would have to find you all over again. And so would I.”

The thought of trying to recover two past lives in yet another future life made me dizzy. It seemed like an endless cycle.

“It seems like a big risk you’re taking then,” Garrison argued. “If we get our power back and they steal it anyway, what will happen?”

Kian was at a loss. I felt a need to come to his defence but did not know what to say. Arguing with Garrison was a lost cause.

“We can’t do it any differently,” I said. My voice still had not fully recovered. “Are we supposed to just sit idly by and let them capture us? Or what about while they cause all these disasters and people die?”

The discussion lasted long into the night and I felt none the wiser for it. Knowing that someone could cast magic over me and have my worst fears come to life was thoroughly unsettling and I found myself drifting in and out of sleep all night. I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to all of the different tricks the magicians could employ in order to get our magic.

Days passed and soon frost covered the windows when I awoke in the morning. Moira and I didn’t speak often. I figured she was still settling in. Sometimes I thought I saw a glimpse of memories coming to her as she sat looking out the window with a vacancy in her eyes that implied she was somewhere far away. If she did remember anything important, she did not make it known.

We visited Seth in the hospital but for the first few days he was resting when we came and I couldn’t bear to wake him. Kian assured us that Seth was safe, but I found myself inspecting every hospital attendee in the vicinity. I was also developing a neck problem as my head swivelled back and forth every time I set foot out of my room, looking for a magician who would try to steal my magic.