Succession of Witches (12 page)

“Broken Halo Messengers!” said Jay breathlessly. “Oh my god, I totally forgot about that!”

“BHM? I brought it. It’s my favorite game,” said Ethan, rifling through his bag. “I also brought her, because she’s pretty,” he said, picking up a small PVC figure of a girl with angel wings and a grenade launcher.

“Risali-chan!” shouted Jay. “Um, this may be kind of random, and it’s
totally
okay if you say no, but can I have her? I was supposed to pre-order BHM, only my mom signed up for the regular edition instead, so—“

“Sure,” said Ethan, handing the figure over. “I don’t collect these so it’s no big deal.”

“Dude, thanks!” said Jay. “This is so great, this is like, the only one from that series I don’t have. Well, except for Queen Marisana, but she’s super rare so—“

“I think I’ve figured it out: why the protection spell didn’t seem to work on Jay,” said Cassie. “His reason for coming was different from the rest of us.”

“Come again?” said Khalil.

“See, the three of us came to rescue Ethan, so that’s what we forgot when we got in range of the spell. Jay’s primary purpose was to get the PVC figure, so that’s what he forgot, instead of Ethan. The spell isn’t designed to make you forget absolutely everything, because that would be expensive, magically; just whatever you came to the house for.”

There was a brief silence in the car. “Dude, priorities,” said Mike gently.

Jay sputtered, clearly distraught. “I-I, look, it’s not that I don’t care about Ethan, it’s just, you know, I’ve wanted this figure for so long, I guess I jus
t got, you know, hung up on it—”

“She is really pretty,” Ethan said sympathetically.

Khalil shrugged as he drove. “Look man, you may be way too dedicated to your doll collection—”

“PVC figures aren’t dolls!”

“—But if it weren’t for that, we all would have went home without remembering what we came here to do. So, there’s no need to apologize.”

“Yes, your selfishness and crass materialism saved the day,” Mike concluded.

There was a bad accident on the way home, leading to a several hour wait on the highway. Cassie didn’t really think that Pascal was going to swoop in from across the country and attack them in the middle of bumper-to-bumper traffic, but she felt trapped just sitting in the car. However, she tried not to act as nervous as she felt; Ethan was depending on her.

The bad news about hitting so much traffic was that meant they didn’t get back to Sterling until late that night. Cassie had hoped they would get back earlier; if they came back to the shop during a busy time, with loads of customers around, Sam was that much less likely to go ballistic.

I’m like o
ne of those terrorists who hide behind women and children for protection
, she thought sadly. The situations were hardly comparable, but there was an element of truth to the idea.

Khalil found on-the-street parking on a side street near the shop, and there was silence in the car for a moment when he turned off the ignition. Soon, Cassie could hear throbbing bass music coming from a club around the corner, and the regular sounds of the city on a winter Saturday evening as her ears acclimated.

“So, how are we going to do this?” Khalil asked finally.

“We’re going to walk in the front door; there’s nothing else to do,” said Cassie, undoing her seatbelt.

They all got out of the car with a sense of foreboding, except for Ethan, who looked full to bursting with excitement. When they got to the Main Street, his face lit up into a grin. “This looks just like New York City, it’s so awesome.”

“This is just downtown, the whole city doesn’t look like this,” said Mike. “New York has a lot more going on.”

“I want to get to know where everything is,” said Ethan, walking slightly ahead of the group in his excitement.

“That’s fine Ethan, but you’re not staying here, remember? We’re taking you back to your parents,” said Cassie quietly.

“Uh-huh,” said Ethan, barely paying attention as they passed a food truck selling Korean sausages and hush puppies.

As they approached The Daily Grind, Cassie could see through the window that there were about 10 customers in the shop. She could
also see Dwight working the cash register, a rarity for him. She couldn’t immediately see Sam, which only made her more nervous.

When they entered the shop, Khalil led Ethan over to a table in the corner. “What do you want kiddo, regular hot chocolate or white hot chocolate?”

“Can I have coffee?” asked Ethan, his eyes shining with anticipation.

“No.”

“Okay. White hot chocolate.”

“Kid has good taste,” said Mike, sitting down next to Ethan. “Can I have one too?”

“Fine, but you have to pay for yours,” said Khalil as he made his way to the front. Cassie followed close behind him.

After ringing up an elderly couple, Dwight looked up at Khalil quizzically. “What are you all doing together? And who’s…” he looked past Khalil to the boy sitting with Mike and Jay at the table. “…don’t tell me.”

“Fine, I won’t tell you. Where’s Sam?”

“Cleaning some plates.
Listen,” Dwight hunched down low over the counter and scanned the shop to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard. “Are you out of your mind? Sam’s going to throw a fit when he sees you brought the kid here when he told you not to.”

“Told us not to? That’s funny, last I heard, he wasn’t really the boss of us. Or do you know something I don’t?” said Khalil, the angry look in his eyes surprising Cassie. Clearly, this was about more than just Ethan to him.

There was a creak, and Sam came out the door behind the counter, holding a tray full of clean plates and saucers. “Visitors, I see,” he said. “If you’re going to come here and stand around, you may as well…” He caught sight of Ethan in the far corner of the room and his face froze. He had never seen the boy before, but there weren’t many explanations for why an 11-year-old boy would be at the shop with Mike and Jay at 11 p.m., Cassie supposed. He realized instantly that she had fetched the familiar against his wishes.

Cassie winced, expecting to hear a deafening cacophony as he dropped the tray and all the plates shattered. However, looking perfectly calm, Sam gently put the tray down on a counter, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes when he spoke to her. “That’s him, isn’t it? You lied to me. You deliberately lied to me, and stole another demon’s familiar.”

At that, he did look at her, and the blankness in his face scared her far more than a glare would have. He wasn’t emoting at all, because he knew he couldn’t afford to. Cassie swallowed painfully, her throat suddenly feeling dry.

“Not really; I didn’t steal a familiar. Only you can do that. I just took him from the house in Connecticut and brought him here, that’s all. This way, if you still don’t want to rescue him from an abusive master you can tell him that to his
face,” she whispered. She was glossing over the house burning part for the time being.

Sam continued to look at her with that same terrifying blankness. “Cassandra,” he said so softly she could barely hear him, “can I talk to you in the back for a moment, please?”

Before Cassie could open her mouth to say no, Dwight interjected. “I am not letting her go back there alone with you,” he said quietly to Sam. “You know I’m right.”

“She’s not on the clock, she’s not your responsibility,” said Sam through gritted teeth, finally starting to show some emotion.

At that, a group of customers approached the counter and they had to curtail the conversation. Dwight plastered on a fake smile and served the newcomers. Khalil went behind the bar to make some drinks, which normally wouldn’t be allowed since he was in his street clothes, but Dwight didn’t seem to care. Sam put the dishes he had cleaned into the proper cupboard, occasionally stealing glances at the boy sitting at the back table.

After Dwight had finished serving the customers, who fortunately had only wanted drip coffee, he wrote out a sign that said “Back in Five Minutes,” propped it up on the counter and inclined his head toward the back room. After dropping off the hot chocolates at Ethan’s table, Khalil headed for the back with them.

When they entered the break room, Sam kept walking towards the door that led to the side alley. “Just give me a moment, I’ll be right back,” he said quietly. Cassie, Dwight and Khalil looked at each other nervously.

Suddenly, there was a crack of thunder and they all jumped. Cassie put her hands over her mouth as the thunder claps continued, sharper and more sudden than any natural phenomenon. Khalil tried to look as though it wasn’t affecting him, but Cassie could see that his eyes were unusually wide; Dwight just looked tired.

Next they saw flashes of lightning illuminate the sky, and for the briefest moment, the lights flickered, but the power came back on. A few seconds later, Sam came back in. “Sorry about that,” he said, his face still blank. “A safety precaution. Now explain yourself,” he said.

Cas
sie cleared her throat. “Sam I—”

“Not you,” said Sam, crossing his arms. “I’m angry with you, but this is the way you’re made. I don’t know if you can even help it. You, on the other hand,” he said, fixing his gaze on Khalil, “You could have stopped this if you told me what Cassie was up to. Instead, you enabled her. Why?”

Khalil walked a few steps forward until he was only a foot or two away from Sam. They were almost the same height, so it was easy for him to look the other man in the eye. “Because I thought she was right, and if I didn’t help her, she was going to do it anyway. And I had no responsibility to tell you.”

There was a pause, and then Sam blinked. “Excuse me?”

“This whole entourage thing, it’s just for show. Or at least, that’s what you said. You said we don’t really have to serve you, it’s just for form. If you want to go back on that now, I want to know,” said Khalil.

To Cassie’s surprise, Sam took a step back. “It is just for show, but that’s not what this is about. You knew she was going to do something danger
ous…I would think, as a friend—”

“Friends don’t pull rank on friends, and friends don’t threaten friends. I think you want it both ways and I’m telling you right now, it’s not going to happen. If you think it’s my job to report on Cassie to you,
then I want out of this group, or whatever the hell it is,” Khalil finished, taking a deep breath after he finished talking.

“Me too,” Dwight added softly.

There was a long pause, so long Cassie was tempted to yell something, anything to break the silence, then Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes, and she knew the worst was over. “You’re right. You’re completely right, and I’m sorry. I really, really wish you all hadn’t done what you did, though.” He drew in a deep breath and sighed again. “Bring him in here.”

Sam found he couldn’t stay mad at Cassie for very long, at least not this time. Even though the thought had never occurred to him until he said it out loud, he found what he had said to her was true: it was just the way she was made. He didn’t know why, but he had confidence that the drive she must have felt to rescue the boy was as strong as any compulsion, and it bothered him that he could be so sure of that without knowing the reason.

Cassie opene
d the door, holding a small redheaded boy by the hand. Physically, he looked young for his age, but the expression on his face hinted at a wisdom beyond his years. Sam wasn’t surprised; being stolen from your parents and made to serve a demon was one of those situations that merited some instant growing up.

“Hello, Ethan,” he said, settling into the folding metal chair. “Do you know who I am?”

Cassie let go of his hand and stepped back, and the boy nodded. “Yessir. You’re Cassie’s master, I can see the bond.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at that. “You can see it?”

“Uh-huh,” said Ethan, looking back and forth between Sam and Cassie. “It’s black and gold and pink, and it’s really strong. You’re really strong,” he said to Sam. His eyes grew wide. “I bet you could kill Pascal, if you wanted to.”

“Maybe, I’d rather not find out,” said Sam. “Is he…
mean to you?”

“Of course he’s mean to him
Sam, he’s a demon who steals kids! Look at his arms, he’s—“

“I think he can speak for himself, Cassie.”

Ethan looked down before he answered. “He’s usually not too bad. Mostly he ignores me,” he said. “When he brought me to his house, he said ‘this is your room, stay here and don’t bother me.’ And his maid feeds me, and she’ll get me whatever I want, like Cookie Crunch for breakfast and all the other stuff my mom would never buy me.” Sam had to smile at that.

“But a couple of times a week, he comes in and….” He trailed off.

“And you would like me to break your bond with him so you can go back to your parents,” Sam said.

Ethan continued looking down and didn’t answer. Sam imagined that he was trying not to cry.

“Alright,” he said, changing position in the chair. “Come here. Sit down.”

Ethan did a
s he was told, sitting down cross-legged in front of Sam.

“Are you going to pass out? Like you did with me?” asked Cassie, nervously.

“I was already exhausted when I bonded you, hopefully I can do a little better today,” he said. Thinking of the day he was forced to bond with Cassie still put his teeth on edge. He put his hands on Ethan’s temples, gently. “Now, think of something relaxing. It can be anything, as long as it puts you into a good mood. I’m going to try to break the bond now.”

Ethan nodded,
then Sam closed his eyes. Reaching out with his magical sense, he could see the bond the boy had with Pascal; it was a bright, almost electric blue color. It was frayed, though; if he concentrated, Sam could see weaknesses in the mesh, as though Ethan had struggled against it without even realizing he was doing it. He probably had.

Bits and pieces of the demon’s memories became visible: a successful business meeting, a secret affair with a pretty law student that had ended
badly  and a memory of court, where Sam had the strange experience of seeing the back of his own head through the other demon’s eyes. Next to all the seemingly random memories, he saw the first time Pascal had laid eyes on Ethan from across the school parking lot.

Breaking the bond was almost too easy; he severed it slowly more to cushion Ethan from any possible shock than because he needed to. Once the last filaments had disintegrated, Sam waited for any contact from Pascal, but there was none. Maybe the demon was too far away, or maybe he hadn’t invested too much of himself in this bond, but the mental scream of rage Sam was half-expecting never came.

He had never consciously set up a bond with Cassie; it had just kind of happened. This time, he wanted to do it right.

I take this child as my second familiar; may his power be my own
, he thought. As a loop of his own black magic wrapped around the boy’s neck, Sam breathed in psychically, testing the boy’s energy. He could see why Pascal wanted him: while the well of power within him was neither as pure nor as bountiful as Cassie’s, there was something appealing about it nonetheless. It was solid, earthy magic; the kind of magic you could use to make crops grow, or summon a spring rain. It would be nigh-useless for curses, but that was probably just as well.

With Cassie in the room, he could sense a kind of triangle forming between the three of them: Cassie’s glittering, liquid silver magic, his own black magic, and this strange hodgepodge of warm colors that was Ethan’s. Idly, he wondered if Cassie could feel their energies resonating together, or if her
unpredictable magical senses weren’t cooperating.

As he double and triple-knotted the loop, fragments of Ethan’s own memories began to play in his mind’s eye.
Ethan, younger, crying at the bottom of the steps while his father backhanded his mother; Ethan, a little older, wearing a long-sleeved shirt to school in June to hide the bruises on his arms. The boy lying to the school social worker, saying he fell down the stairs; his mother, telling him that Daddy wouldn’t beat him so much if he would be a good boy and stop spending so much time on the computer. Ethan, meeting a man in an empty parking lot, Pascal, who greeted him with a smile....

As soon as the final cords of the bond locked into place, Sam pushed the boy away—softly, but apparently with more force than he’d intended.

“Sam!” Cassie exclaimed.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” said Ethan, not moving from his position on the floor.

“He lied to you, Cassie. He doesn’t want to go back to his parents,” said Sam, slumping in his chair. Despite taking some of Ethan’s magic into himself, he felt exhausted.

Cassie dropped to Ethan’s side, cradling the now sobbing boy in her arms. “What are you talking about?”

“In his mind, I saw. Pascal wasn’t the abusive one—at least, not compared to Mom and Dad.”

“What?” said Cassie, looking at Ethan with open-mouthed
disbelief. “His parents are abusive?”

“Yes, so much so that he offered to go away with Pascal willingly, at least at first,” said Sam. “Pascal’s not an idiot. Why take a child from a healthy home
, who will kick and scream, when you can take one who won’t even fight you,” he said bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” said Ethan, still crying. “But, I promise I won’t get in the way. I can work in the shop, I can clean stuff,
I’ll do anything as long as you let me stay.”

Sam rose to his feet, and looked down at Cassie. “Now you’ve really done it,” he said softly.

At that moment, Jay opened the door. “Sam, some people are here to see you.”

“I won’t see them,” said Sam. “Tell them to come back another time.”

“Um,” said Jay, widening his eyes at the sight of Ethan crying in Cassie’s arms on the floor. “The thing is, she says she has an appointment, and she seems pretty set on it. And there are a bunch of people with her, and um, I could be wrong, but I think their teeth all look kind of pointy….”