Lives of Magic (Seven Wanderers Trilogy) (9 page)

Fully understanding that I had better judgement than this did not stop me. My other self had been quiet for some time, curious, but I could not resist. He soothed my soul with his kisses. Our breaths became ragged. For the first time in a very long time, I felt truly happy, even in my precarious situation. I ran my hands through his hair and down his neck. And stopped.

My other self was back in a heartbeat. A memory. An instinct told me to feel his neck again. Annoyed at being distracted during such a wonderful moment, I ran my hand once more over the smooth skin under his chin. All at once my mind erupted with memories and the other self, the person I had been in the dream, unleashed the full force of her emotions on me.

“
No
!”

A scream escaped my lips before I could control myself. I pushed and kicked at the person on top of me, the person whose love I had wanted so dearly only a few moments before.

K
ian flipped on the light and the room was flooded with brightness. We both winced as our eyes adjusted to the light. He stood looking confused and, for the first time, scared. He stared at me wide-eyed, his cheeks flushed, panting slightly. I realized the mistake my other self had made and what I had done.

“Oh my god.”

I buried my face in my hands, too embarrassed to be seen. “Oh no, no, no.”

As I was starting to return to my regular state of mind, I could feel my suit of magic again. I resisted the temptation to sink myself into the floor for fear of what would actually happen to my body. Instead, I could only be mortified.

I heard Kian sit down in his own bed. I owed him an explanation, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I was willing to bet that I had never been so embarrassed in any of my lives.

Finally, when his breathing slowed, he spoke.

“What happened, Gwen?” He said my name with so much care that it made more blood rush to my face and pulse in my cheeks.

I debated what to tell him of my dreams and memories, of what my past self had been thinking. What
I
had been thinking. Deciding that I couldn’t be any more embarrassed, I vied for the truth.

“In my dream … I think it was a memory … I was searching for a man, in a forest.”

Even after deciding on the truth, I just couldn’t bring myself to divulge my feelings for this man to Kian. Not now.

“I couldn’t find him, and I began to panic,” I said. “When I woke up, I was still half in the dream. When I saw someone near me, my mind returned to the memory-dream, and I thought …” I didn’t know what to say. What
did
I think? “I thought you were the person I had been searching for,” I finished.

Kian looked thoughtful. Was he disappointed or relieved? I couldn’t tell. Before I could move, he came and sat next to me on my bed. My heart skipped a beat and then raced. Carefully, slowly, he reached out and placed some wayward hair behind my ear.

“You must be careful with your dreams and memories. You were thrashing around in bed. I thought you would try to float away again,” he said quietly.

When he spoke in near whispers, his words embraced me like his kisses had. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.

“You must also remember,” Kian added, “that this life is yours to lead. You are one soul, spread over two lives. You must remember, always, where you come from. I know it’s difficult, but you need to remember your other life, and then let it go. Don’t lose the person you’ve become. With two lives, who is to say which is more important?”

The louder one
, I answered in my mind immediately. The girl who had screamed and pushed Kian away had not been me. It had been an echo of a former me, who longed for someone else. Did I long for him?

When Kian stood and turned off the light, returning to his own bed, I could not decide if it was to my relief or regret.

As I lay fidgeting, the bed felt lonely. I scolded myself for even thinking such a thing, but the longing in my heart came back. I touched my lips, thinking about the night’s events.

I am so stupid
, I thought, exasperated. With very confusing thoughts, and the partial knowledge that Kian was still awake, I eventually dozed off.

The morning was awkward, and we ate at the breakfast buffet in silence. Kian made himself look busy by playing with his phone, staring at it intently. I tried to focus on other things than last night. Every time I did, I felt a deep blush creeping up my neck and into my face. I still had the intense desire to sink into the floor, but had to stop myself from this train of thought for fear that I actually might.

Suddenly, Kian’s phone rang. His eyes widened and he looked at me in surprise. He quickly left the table and flipped open the phone. He wasn’t speaking, just listening. I sighed and shoved a piece of cantaloupe into my mouth.

Yeah, I could move things around with my mind and I could feel magic now. But I had seen people on the Discovery Channel claim to do the same thing. At the time I thought they were lying, but now I wasn’t so sure. After running away with Kian and ditching everything I had known for the journey, I had attained the level of expertise of a late-night novelty show host. Perfect.

Kian came back to the table looking thoughtful and worried. Only the person on the other end of his phone made him look like that.

“What’s up?” I asked, glad for the excuse to talk like nothing had happened.

Kian frowned some more into his plate. “He says we are taking too long,” he said finally.

“Well,” I replied, “your magician friend is more than welcome to come to New York City and find one unknown person in less than two weeks.”

“The senator is very busy,” Kian told me with a knowing look.

“What?”

“One of the magicians from our time is influential here,” Kian explained.

“Yes, you said that,” I replied. “And when were you going to tell me that I’ve probably seen him on television?”

“When the time was right.”

I stared at him, torn between asking more questions and storming off. I needed to know anything useful.

“Gwen,” he said, “now that you have your magic, at least in a small way, you can understand that other people with magic may be hiding in plain sight as well. You must also be wary of everyone. Remember that.”

“Great. How does a magician from the ancient world get to be a senator?” A part of me was dying to ask which one.

“I told you, they have lived and remembered and accumulated power,” Kian answered. “Just like you are trying to do.”

I noticed his eyes straying to the ceiling. He was holding something back. I was shocked to realize I knew him so well after a few weeks, and mulled over if it was worth prying what he knew from him, one question after the other. Then decided I probably didn’t want to know.

“Kian, are you telling me,” I leaned in to whisper, “that there are magicians in the government keeping other magicians a secret?”

“Of course,” he replied simply. “We play with politics to keep people from finding out the truth. Now you’re like the rest of our people here. You’re hiding and you can’t let anyone know the truth.”

I felt like I had been tricked into something without realizing it. I didn’t like what I was hearing so I did the only thing I had become accustomed to over the past weeks. It was easy. I just did as Kian told me. I finished a small strawberry, got up, and picked up my bag.

“Where are you going?” Kian asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But apparently we’re taking too long, so let’s go find me a magical friend. I don’t want to be fighting anyone alone.”

A look of guilt flitted across his face.

Good
, I thought.

In hindsight, I think the magic made me feel powerful and cocky. At first I congratulated myself on my newfound self-confidence, but every so often I would stop and wonder if this was me or
her.

Kian was annoyed all day. Everything about New York City seemed to bother him. We found ourselves spending the afternoon at the park again. Kian’s bad mood did not interfere with his logic, which was that this was where to find a lot of people. I told him we should ride the train, but he hated the subways and said they felt like a dungeon. I wondered how many dungeons he had seen.

He barely talked to me and I was fine with that, since I was still trying to erase last night from my memory. We were walking out to 5th Avenue when Kian gave me a sidelong glance.

“What?”

“You look hot,” he said. I stopped and stared for only a moment, before he added, “You’re sweating very much. Are you alright?”

Something inside me deflated when he added the last bit to his sentence, but I felt fine and told him so. Apart from being horribly self-conscious of looking gross, nothing felt strange.

It was still warm for the beginning of October, but not overly so. We were at the gates to the park when Kian put his hand to my forehead.

“You’re burning —”

I didn’t hear the rest because all sound was drowned out. My legs crumpled beneath me and my vision blurred as I felt Kian grab my waist to keep my head from slamming against the asphalt.

It was like the feeling of falling you sometimes get right before falling asleep. Then you wake up. But I couldn’t wake up. A part of me was terrified, while the other part was running.

Always with the running,
modern-day Gwen thought. All I knew about my past life was that I had done a lot of running. At least I could control the panic of slipping into a memory now, because I knew that it would end. Eventually.

The emotions and sensations of the memory slowly washed over me, but when they did, they had me completely.

I could smell the damp earth and trees around me. I could feel every footstep against the uneven earth beneath my feet. My hands were cut and I swatted at the flora in my path. I only cared about one thing. I was looking for him again.

I searched in my mind for a picture of him. Who am I looking for? But I couldn’t control the memory. My former self wasn’t thinking. I just knew I had to get somewhere before something terrible happened. Feelings that I had never felt so strongly were thrust onto me like a suit of armour. I could not escape from guilt, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of regret. The regret burned like a fire in my soul and my torn hands stung as I pushed more leaves and branches out of my way.

I was already mourning in my mind. The sobs escaped from my chest like gasps as I ran, and tears flew back into my hair. I was mourning him, and I was mourning me. I knew that we were both as good as dead.

I snapped out of it like coming out from a bad dream. Before I even knew where or who I was, I was on my feet, groping for any constant. I found Kian’s shirt and grabbed it in my fists, burying my head in his chest and sobbing. The feelings were slow to melt away, just like a headache. I knew it must look strange to passersby, but I didn’t care. Let them think he had just broken up with me.

Finally, when I had gotten myself under control, I asked how long I’d been out.

“A few seconds,” Kian answered confusedly. “What did you see?”

A few seconds! That felt like hours!

My throat was hoarse and I felt like I would breathe smoke if I exhaled with enough force. I didn’t know what to tell him, and I didn’t want to talk about it for fear that the feelings would come back.

“Same,” I answered. “Running, forest …”

This time, though, Kian pressed for more. “Why were you running?” he asked.

I shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense,” I answered. It didn’t. “I felt like I was late for something, and something bad was going to happen because of it. But … I just felt doomed. Like the world was over.”

“How did you feel about that?”

I straightened up and released his ruined shirt. Where my nails had dug into the cotton, there were singe marks and his skin was red underneath. I’d burned him and he hadn’t even said anything. I wiped wet smears off my face with the back of my hand.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, how did you feel about the world being over?”