Mage of Shadows (45 page)

Remember how I had said my old house had been somewhat smaller than Archanos's frat house? Well this was somewhat larger. It may as well have been a freaking manor. So much for my parents' insistence that money saved was more important than money spent to show off. I still remember having a damned five dollar allowance until I was eleven. Then it became ten.

"Cheapskates." I muttered as I trudged towards the door, rolling my traveling black suitcase behind me, the perfect picture of a damaged soldier returning home from war. That was how I felt, at least.

I knocked on the door.

I was surprised when it opened to reveal a good-looking guy, about my age, who looked distinctly similar to me. But he had a tan, his eyes were a deep oak brown, and his face lacked the thin, gaunt haunted look that I now wore like a badge of shame.

"Can I help you?" He asked me, English tinged noticeably by an accent.

I wondered for a moment if I had gotten the wrong house, and just stared at him, probably making him feel uncomfortable. Was I supposed to walk away now?

"Nick?" I heard someone call curiously from inside, "Is that you, sweetie?" It sounded like my mom.

That was enough proof for me, I shouldered passed the weirdo in the doorway and stood in a very large, exquisitely decorated entrance hall. There were too many open archways, and I didn't know where my mother's voice had come from. I just stood there and looked around, debating where to check first. My mother took the decision out of my hands when she swept out of the room to my right and wrapped me up in a much more enthusiastic hug than the last time I had come home.

"Oh Nicholas," She sighed into my hair, "Welcome home."

She finally let go after just enough time to make me feel a bit uncomfortable, then kissed me on the forehead to my sheer embarrassment. I saw my weird doppelganger smirking at me from his spot behind us.

"What are you looking at?" I said rudely, "Haven't you ever seen a guy getting kissed by his mom before?" What a jerk.

My mother led me into the wide living room that she had come from, and my father stood to receive me with an anxious, awkward-looking smile on his face.

"Nicholas," He said, voice sounding strained, "Welcome home, son."

Weird. This felt like a complete reversal from the last time I had come home. Apparently leaving on a somewhat good note for four months had the opposite effect of leaving on a bad note. Duly recognized, always try and attempt to leave Stratus parents in a good mood before going away for four to five months. Will most certainly improve mood upon arrival back in Stratusland.

Before my father could say anything else, a well-dressed man stood up from the high-backed ornate chair that had faced away from the entrance hall, obscuring my view of him. As soon as I saw his face, I couldn't help but focus my entire attention. My brain, which had been on autopilot for the last two days, began to work furiously like it saw a problem to be solved. My conscious mind just hadn't seen it, couldn't see it yet.

He wasn't a tall man, maybe an inch or two shorter than me. His face was lined well with age and he was balding. But the old gentleman's presence was immediately notable from the moment he stood. Back perfectly arched, posture screaming of stiffly trained experience. His keen eyes were what really cinched it. I thought that I would never seen anyone glare back at me so intensely with my own hazel eyes like my father could… but this old man had him beat in spades. I froze underneath his gaze and looked down sheepishly, feeling like I had done something to offend him just by being in his presence.

"So," The man murmured with some noticeable distaste. He seemed to clear the room and stand in front of me in only a few smooth strides, "So. This is Nicholas."

The elderly man seemed to hold out his hand with visible reluctance. Without a thought, I grasped it in a firm handshake.

I felt the familiar jolt. I knew what it meant, but honestly it took me a few seconds to really believe that what I was feeling was possible. How could it be? How could another mage be in my house? I saw the facial expression of the elderly man in front of me suddenly shift from displeasure to mildly surprised interest.

"Nicholas," I was dimly aware of my mother speaking next to me, "This is your grandfather, whom you're named after."

"Nicholas Stratus, the fourth." My grandfather confirmed smoothly, and there was a strange glint in his eye, like he had just learned a particularly juicy piece of information, "The pleasure is all mine, my boy."

Shit. Shit. Really?

Just when I thought I was done with surprises, I was sharply reminded that one's story never truly ended until one's death. Which meant the surprises that came along with it would always continue… death was just the very last present to be opened. Carmen had gone, but I was still here, still alive. My heart felt like it had been shattered beyond repair, but it would still continue to wearily beat whether I wanted it to or not. It would have to beat for the both of us, now.

How did Frost sum up everything he learned about life?

It goes on.

Always.

© Copyright 2014 by Chanel Austen - All rights reserved.

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