Magical Spice - Part Thirteen
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
“Do you really think this will work?” Aiden asks, with one skeptical eyebrow arched.
“I have no clue, honestly.” I set the buttermilk out on the counter, then start sorting through our bowls. “I just think we should try, right? Make a gesture, show the little spirit that we mean no harm?”
“With buttermilk?” Aiden asks doubtfully.
“Look, I’m working with the information we’ve got. Spencer said buttermilk. Unless you’ve got another idea?”
Aiden blows a silky strand of chestnut out of his eyes. He takes the buttermilk from my hand, and a saucepan down from its hook. Apparently he can’t stomach the idea of us making an offering out of something this plain and store-bought, which I suspected would be the case. He takes some cinnamon and a few other bottles from the spice shelf while I hop up to sit on the kitchen counter, watching him with adoring eyes.
“This is definitely going to help our chances of it working,” I tell Aiden, as he starts adding things to the saucepan.
“What makes you so sure?”
“We don’t know how this thing thinks, or feels, but - I can always taste the love in whatever you cook. Maybe the spirit will, too.”
Aiden stops in the middle of adding some nutmeg to the saucepan. He steals a swift, sidelong look at me beneath his dark lashes.
“Shut up,” he mumbles, a moment or two later.
“I mean it, man! There are days we’ve had where, like…” I hesitate, trying to think of how to explain. “It was just an ordinary day, and when I’m really old, I might not remember exactly what we were up to, or what we were talking about… but the taste of what you cooked for us will still be with me.”
Aiden glances up and looks into my eyes, very quickly. He blushes hard as he turns away, and I like that a whole lot, so I add - “One of my favorite kinds of Aiden Callahan magic. The food.”
“Enough,” he warns me, in a stern voice. “You’re doing it on purpose, now. You just want to see me blush.”
I pop an innocent kiss onto his temple. “Me?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He catches my jaw in one hand, twisting his mouth to the side to hide his smile. “Your adorable little face enables you to get away with altogether too much, Keane.”
I smile delightedly at that, and Aiden huffs out a laugh, then makes a gesture as if to say this type of shit is exactly what he’s talking about. His laughter puts a liquid glow of warmth in his blue eyes, deepens those mature fine lines at the corners.
Now I’m the one blushing.
I lovingly push my palm up Aiden’s stubbled jaw. He catches my hand when I start to drop it, softly kisses the tips of my fingers.
I turn away and hastily reach for my phone, mostly so Aiden doesn’t see how badly my make him blush plan backfired on me. There’s a text I’ve been meaning to send Ripley, anyways.
Me 10:58 PM: Hey, Ripples, I forgot to mention! You need to get Eddie neutered when he’s old enough, so you should factor that cost in when you decide whether or not you want to keep him.
Ripley 🎶 10:59 PM: Do I have to do that if he’s gonna be an indoor cat, though?
Me 10:59 PM: Yes, trust me! All of his hormones are going to hit him at once, and then he’s gonna start having horniness meltdowns, and get random urges to run around screaming at the top of his lungs
Ripley 🎶 11:00 PM: Lmao really? Wow he’s so relatable
Ripley 🎶 11:00 PM: Okay, it’s fine. I can cover it. I’ll just have to have sold a board or two by then.
Me 11:01 PM: Oh, you definitely will, Ripples! Nobody has any doubt about that!!
Ripley 🎶 11:02 PM: 😊
Ripley 🎶 11:02 PM: Appreciate the confidence, dude. Means a lot.
I turn my phone around to show Aiden. I thought he’d be excited, because it seems like Ripley is going to keep Eddie, but he seems to take something else away from the texts. He looks up from reading them with a warm smile in his angelic blue eyes, then leans over to press a long, lingering kiss onto my mouth.
“My Linden,” he sighs softly, against my lips.
My heart skips over itself. Aiden turns away to pour the warm, spiced buttermilk out into a bowl. I take the opportunity to recover some composure, watching silently as Aiden pushes the kitchen window slightly open and places the bowl on the sill.
“Alright. Let’s see if that does anything.”
“Sounds good.” I part my knees so Aiden can come stand between them, an unspoken invitation he immediately accepts. I loop my arms around his powerful neck, rolling out my shoulders. “God, I’m kind of sore, aren’t you? Worth it, though. We made some good progress on the bookshop and the workshop. All the shops. I know there’s a long way to go before they’re ready to open, but still.”
Aiden smiles quietly as my chatter begins to fill up the kitchen, so I keep going.
“We’ve been so busy, though. I almost forgot we’re going back to the forest this weekend. We’ve got to find that hydria. Venture into the next illusion’s territory.”
Aiden’s glowing expression darkens a little, a worried frown coming into his blue eyes.
“Hey.” I take his face in my hands, then nuzzle my nose into his. “It’s okay. You’re gonna do great. Even if we run up against the Sorcerer.”
“Just makes me nervous, walking you right out into potential danger. Thorn and Coral didn’t really attack us, but the Sorcerer went dark, and if the other illusions had the same thing happen to them… Just wish I could handle my powers a little better than I can. I’ve gotta keep you safe-”
“Aiden,” I interrupt gently, my heart swimming with love. “I have more faith in you and your magic all the time, okay? Every time you take on a tougher piece of magic, that means you just mastered the one before it. And the stuff that was easy for you before, now it’s effortless. But you’re always totally absorbed in the next thing you’re trying to figure out how to do. That’s why you don’t realize how good you’ve gotten. I do, though.”
Aiden blinks shyly at me, then quickly lowers his gaze, fidgeting with my malachite necklace. I caught the smile on his face just in time, though.
“It’s okay.” I wrap my arms around him and bury a kiss into the silky chestnut mess of his hair. “I’ll be with you, my Heliomancer. Everything will be just fine.”
~~~~
I’m swimming deeply in a dream, and also slowly waking up.
I think I’m waking up, anyways. At the very least, I’m strangely aware that this dream is nothing like my normal dreams. There are no people, no places, no voices. Nothing of any kind. This dream is completely still, quiet, and dark, as if I’m suspended deep underwater.
It doesn’t feel like a dream at all, actually. It doesn’t even feel like sleep. It feels like - something else. I’m awake, but not awake. Asleep, but not asleep. Some hazy darkness is laying heavy over my mind like a thick fog, obscuring everything.
With a great force of effort, I try to move, but I don’t seem to be in control of myself. I can’t move. No matter what I do. The realization sends a cold stab of fear through me.
The fog is slowing my thoughts down to a useless crawl, but a word springs into my head, unbidden.
Trapped. Followed immediately by - alone.
I’m just starting to panic when something reaches me, through the empty darkness.
Faint, distant voices softly descend to meet my ears. Both of them are handsome and deep, but one of them is so very deep that I can almost sense the faint vibration of it.
Okay. So at least I’m not alone. That’s a huge relief, one that slows the approach of the smothering panic that was coming for me. I listen wonderingly to the words being spoken, struggling my hardest to pull together a coherent thought so I can understand them.
“-can’t fucking believe this,” the deeper of the two voices is whispering. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
There’s a silence before the other voice answers. This one sounds much calmer, speaking slowly and evenly.
“Just take a breath, A.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to do that, man?” He’s breathing shallowly, his strained, brittle voice close to breaking. “After I let this happen? Look at him! Holy fuck. A few days ago we were all at the workshop, having a great time, everything w-was f-fine… I never should have brought him back to that forest, it was too dangerous-”
“Aiden-”
“The Forest Witch illusion does memory magic, Ralph! What if she fucked with Jamie’s memory? The magic she threw at him, it took him right in the chest. One bolt, and then another, right after. I s-saw it happen… and he j-just - he just crumpled to the ground, and…”
The stammering voice trails off with a breathless, agonized shudder.
“Okay, well… maybe it’s okay if Jamie doesn’t remember what happened. Sounds like it was scary for him, anyways-” He pauses as the other man makes a strangled noise, then hastily adds - “But either way, we’re not going to know about what happened to his memory until he wakes up.”
“God fucking damnit, why won’t he wake up?” The question comes out choked and trembling. “Nothing I’ve tried has worked. He hasn’t moved once since it happened. He was ragdolled just like this the whole time I was carrying him back to the car, the whole drive home… Ralph… what if - what if when he wakes up, his memory-?”
“Then you’re going to fucking fix him,” the other voice answers sharply. “You’re gonna use your magic to put him right, and to put his memory right, too.”
“I don’t fucking know how, man!”
“Then you’ll figure it out.” The other voice speaks like a general issuing a non-negotiable order. “I know you, and I know him. You’ll fix him, if it comes to that.”
I’ve been trying to listen, but I’m not understanding a word. My heart is hammering like the voices are the rescue boat on the horizon, and I need to get to the top before they give up and leave me here. Inside myself I’m fighting hard, struggling with all my might to move. It isn’t working at all, but the more I struggle the closer I feel to the surface of the obscure, empty ocean of darkness I’m stranded in.
I become dimly, vaguely aware of my body. I’ve been laid out on my back, on something soft, I think. I’m so far away from my physical self that it’s hard to tell.
“Where are the ghosts?”
“In the peach orchards.” The rumbling voice is ragged with anguish and exhaustion. “Will took Kasey for a walk to try to calm her down…”
“And you? Who’s calming you down?”
“That’s what you’re supposed to be doing, fuckface! Instead you’re telling me to get my shit together and bossing me around!”
“What did you want from me, a hug?” He sounds unshaken, despite the furious, shouted words flying at him. “No. You’d have called your aunt, if that’s what you needed. You called me because you wanted someone who you knew would tell you the real truth, even if it was fucking brutal. But the truth is this wasn’t your fault, A. You didn’t even know there was a Witch illusion until this happened, so of fucking course she took you guys by surprise. Also… sounds to me like Keane made a very deliberate choice, and that he knew exactly what he was doing.”
“He didn’t know that was going to happen!”
“No, but he knew the scope of the risk he was taking, and I’m guessing he took it because he trusted that you could fix things, whatever happened.” Only silence follows this for a long moment, so the calm voice goes on. “Look, just forget about that for the time being. What you need to focus on right now is calming down so you can fix whatever’s wrong with him. It has to be you. You’re the only one of us who can do magic. You have to calm down, for Jamie’s sake.”
There’s another silence, before he reluctantly adds - “Did you want me to give you a hug? Guess if - if that would help-”
“No.”
“Okay,” comes the obviously relieved answer. “Then what would calm you down?”
“Jamie. Jamie calms me down.”
There’s a pause, and then a quiet laugh. “Man. I just realized that I asked him this exact same question during the heist at the hotel, and he did the same thing. He immediately said he needed you.”
There’s a silence, and then a sniffle, and I have a distant sensation like someone gently stroking my cheek.
“Okay,” the deeper voice stammers. “Okay, okay, okay…”
“If he’s what calms you down, then just be with him. You’re what calms him down, too, so maybe he’ll feel you and come back. Can’t do anything until he wakes up, anyways. But first thing’s first, you need to go eat something. You’re running on no sleep, no food-”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Go, Aiden. It’ll take five minutes. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
I’ve been struggling all the while, understanding nothing, sinking all of my effort into pushing to the top of the haze trying to drag me back down. I don’t hear either of the voices anymore, and icy fear sends my heartbeat racing.
It stops just short of a full-tilt panic as I become aware of some soft pressure on my upper arms.
“Sorry about this, Keane,” murmurs the quiet voice. “But you won’t wake up, and Aiden can’t do anything but be gentle with you, so I’ve gotta be the one who tries this. Believe me, I don’t want to.”
I have the vague sensation of someone taking me by my shoulders and giving me a hard, rough shake. I can tell from the way it feels that my limp body gave no kind of reaction at all.
“Come on,” comes the begging voice, as if from very far off, somewhere high above my head. “Don’t make me do this to your sweet goddamn little face, you bastard.”
The shaking stops, and then there’s a sharp, fiery little sting of pain on my cheek, there and gone in a second. It feels so far away from me. Too far to actually reach me, only an echo of a sensation.
I hear a slow, shaky exhale. Someone’s hand closes around my wrist, holding on very tightly.
“Jesus Christ, please wake up, Jamie. You’re scaring the hell out of all of us.”
All traces of calm are suddenly gone in those frantic, whispered words. He sounds like he’s going to cry. But he pulls it back together in an instant, and when he speaks again a few seconds later, his voice is completely calm and steady. Just the way it was before.
“What-? You’re back already? No way, dude. You didn’t just go eat something, that was way too fast.”
“Would you be able to eat something, if it was Calla laying there like that?” rumbles the deeper voice, rough with barely-constrained emotion. “I had some coffee. I don’t want anything else. You were right, I - I just need to be with him.”
The calm voice softens up a little. “Do you want me to leave you two alone?”
“For now… I’ll text you if anything changes. Ralph, look, I’m - I’m sorry I yelled at you, and after you dropped everything you were doing at work to come over here-”
“Forget it. I don’t care.”
“I know, but you were right. I’ve been panicking ever since it happened. I needed to stop and think.”
“Oh, yeah? Something come to you while you were downstairs?”
“Maybe. I think… the illusions shouldn’t be able to just do whatever spells they want. They don’t have Guardian powers. They’re not Guardians, they’re illusions. They do illusion magic. Powerful, and real fuckin’ convincing, but that’s what it is. The Forest Witch can’t actually cast a sleeping enchantment. So I think… Jamie won’t wake up because she gave him the illusion of being asleep.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“No. But I can sense her magic all over him, holding the spell together, and it doesn’t feel like Guardian magic. It’s illusion magic, like Thorn’s. I didn’t notice it before, because I was freaking the fuck out.”
“Okay, so this is good news, right?” the other voice asks hopefully. “Means all you have to do is dispel the sleep illusion.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know how. Might be that he has to see through it himself.”
“How’s he supposed to do that, if he thinks he’s unconscious?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea how long it’s gonna take, either. But at least it’s an idea of what might be going on.”
“Yeah, man, see? That’s better than nothing. Want me to call Rose and Leyla? See if they have any ideas about how to help him wake up?”
“I already thought of that, but Rose is going to be real upset if she finds out one of her illusions did this to Jamie.”
“True… that mean I have to keep this from Calla? You know how she feels ‘bout that kinda thing, hiding stuff from her…”
“No, it’s fine. She’ll know better than to tell Rose and Leyla what I let happen.” The deep voice is hoarse with shame and misery, and it nearly breaks as he adds - “He was so sure he would be okay, so long as he was with me.”
There’s a silence before the calm voice speaks again, determinedly steady.
“He will be. You’ll fix this, A. You’ll get him back to normal. I know you will.”
Another silence, a few footsteps, and then - “Ralph… thank you.”
Then silence falls again, or else I’ve run out of energy to direct towards listening. Every single ounce of my effort is engaged in a full-force battle against the hazy darkness that keeps trying to wrap around me and sink me. But the quiet is terrifying, so empty. Did the people who were with me leave me?
As if in answer, two strong, gentle arms wrap around my distant body. I sense that I’m being lifted, turned over. I’m no longer resting on a perfectly soft surface, but on something firm and warm.
I’ve been silently panicking, reaching for anything tangible to seize hold of, any way to pull myself out of - wherever I am. I’ve found nothing, and I don’t know where I can turn to, but once my body is settled into this new position… I finally find something.
The thump, thump, thump of someone’s heart beating right against my own. I must have my chest pressed to somebody else’s chest.
My awareness slowly spreads out some more from there, until I can feel that there are warm fingers grasping me by the back of my neck, half-buried in my hair. Another arm locked around my waist, holding me. Clinging tightly to me.
I sink all of my focus into the sensation of those fingertips, into the rhythmic heartbeat of whoever I’m laying heart-to-heart with. Is - someone pressing little kisses onto my forehead, my face? It feels like it.
The panic trying to drown me eases up, just enough for the deep, rumbling voice to break through again.
“I’m right here,” it whispers, shaky and fragile. “I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere. Take all the time you need, but… please, please come back to me. Please just wake up, Linden…”
I don’t know why, but this sends a powerful rush crashing through me, some renewed wave of force and energy and determination. I seize onto the voice like a ladder and start pulling myself up, clinging desperately tight to every rung, every word. Painstakingly crawling my way to that deep, inexplicably familiar voice. If I could move or open my mouth, I’d be screaming from the effort this is taking, but from my newfound awareness of my body I know that I haven’t moved or made a sound.
“Come on, Jamie…” The deep voice is growing tearful and sniffly, trembling fingertips stroking through my hair. “I’m trying to be patient, but it’s killing me, seeing you like this. Our - our house is too quiet this way… you know you’re the pillar that holds this place up, it all comes down without you. And I - I m-miss you already…”
The words don’t mean anything that I can understand, but the way the deep voice is unraveling at the seams sets off an instinctive reaction in me, a wild desperation to reach him. I use it to kick and drag and claw myself towards the voice, until suddenly the darkness evaporates all at once. I’m slammed back into myself, as if I dropped from the sky.
My body gives a jolt so hard that it knocks the wind out of me. I drag in a huge, heaving, shuddering breath, gasping for air, my eyes flying open.
Everything hits me at once. The ache of my weary body, the stinging sensation in my cheek, the rush of the rain in my ears. Followed in near-instant succession by the overwhelming tidal wave of information that comes at me the instant I open my eyes.
It’s all too much. I’m choking and wheezing on every inhale, fighting to catch a breath, the room swirling around me like blurry carnival lights. My entire body is struggling for oxygen, like I’m trying to breathe through a crumpled-up straw.
Strong, gentle hands hastily take hold of me and sit me up. Someone presses something into my fingers, then guides my hand up to my face. I recognize the shape of an inhaler, and automatically use it a few times. My grateful lungs flood with air, the invisible weight lifting from my chest.
The relief of badly-needed oxygen spilling through me goes a long way towards soothing my frantic, fluttering heartbeat. I open my eyes again, and this time the room swims into real focus.
I drop the inhaler and look around wildly, still panting a little. My eyes instantly catch on my own reflection, gazing back at me in the mirror across the room. My hair is standing up at wild angles. I’m spattered with dried mud, up the entire left side of my body. My clothes are crusted with it, and with bright green pieces of grass.
I have about two seconds to absorb all of that before someone takes my hands in theirs.
I turn my head, and find myself gazing into a pair of breathtaking blue eyes.
So blue. Blue as a tropical sea, as crystalline white-sand shallows on a sunlit day. So very beautiful that I stare into them in motionless, awestruck silence for a few seconds before I notice all the rest of him.
“Hey, you,” he laughs shakily, taking ragged, uneven breaths. He wrenches me into a crushingly tight hug, then pushes me back to look at me, his gorgeous blue eyes gazing searchingly into mine. “Shit, holy shit, thank god, Jamie, you scared the hell out of me, are - are you okay?”
He’s got mud all over him, too, I’m realizing, and his shirt is torn on one side.
“Do you remember everything?” he stammers, briefly releasing my fingers to drag the back of his hand over his eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t remember what happened in the forest. I can explain. Your - your memory might have gotten a tiny bit messed up.”
He’s peering right into my eyes again. I stare back at him, transfixed. My heart skips and staggers over itself more and more the longer my gaze lingers on him. I don’t know if it’s because of that unbearably handsome face, those beautiful blue eyes, that incredible voice, or all of the above - but despite the situation, my breath is stolen away.
I can’t help it. I blush hard, drawing my shoulders in. I can’t keep the spellbound shyness from my voice as I finally manage to open my mouth and ask him -
“Who are you?”
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