Nikolo
Standing on the steps of The Magnifitestique Mage, I hesitate. From the street the shop's lights are all dark. Maybe it’s too late? I don’t want to wake anyone up by knocking, so I pull out my phone and open my message thread with Willan.
Since my impromptu visit last week I seem to have somehow subscribed to Willan’s personal Vamp Lore Updates.
Willan
Did you know that the earliest recorded legends of vampires have them turning because of a ritual gone wrong? The most common legend is that a being—no one can agree on which type—was trying to share their power with their lover and something went wrong.
‘Something went wrong’ feels like an understatement there Willanator. They created a whole new species
Did you know that in the Great Wars the prey shifters in a city in Hannway formed an alliance with a local vampire clan to protect them against the stronger shifter groups? It didn’t last long apparently.
What happened?
Bigotry won. Prey shifters treated the vamps like vamps and then the vamps took exception and left them to fend for themselves. Then the predator shifters went after the vamps after they took out the prey. It got… messy.
Well. That’s depressing.
Sorry!
Did you know that without vampires we wouldn’t have blood donation networks for hospitals? Like, the whole global system is because of them.
Why do I have a bad feeling about this?
No! This one’s a happy one! They basically funded the whole thing on the DL, so long as they got the ‘leftovers’
I have no idea why I’m getting sporadic updates of vampire history delivered to my phone at random, but I don’t hate it. Especially if it’s because Willan is learning about vampire history. Because of me.
Scrolling through the messages I find the ones where we agreed to come by tonight to double check that I haven’t gotten it wrong. Once I’m sure I haven’t cocked up the time I type out a quick message to let him know I’m here.
The knot in my stomach only tightens while I wait. It’s been there ever since I left home. I’ve flip flopped a thousand times about everything. About coming back, about cutting off Willan and the clan entirely. Every time I think about it, though, it only makes me feel worse.
It’s not just about going back on my promise to Laurence about ‘rolling with it’. There was that moment, too, at the door of the shop, just before I left.
It was just a couple of seconds, where it was more than just attraction to Willan. It was a pulling feeling in my gut and an overwhelming sense of…. Sense of knowing that I’ve picked the right door.
It sounds fucking stupid, which is why I haven’t said a word of it out loud.
So when the gremlins try to lure me back to the dark side, I can’t. I have to keep going, following that feeling tugging me along my path.
What’s the old saying? By hook or by crook?
I flick around on my phone and pull up my text messages with Laurence.
Laurence
How goes the transmutation, my darling naughty child? (Sent by Ambrose)
Ambrose is Laurence’s current ‘lover’, as he likes to call them. Because he’s never not the most dramatic he can be. But I’ve known Ambrose for years now. He’s been around Laurence's estate off and on for as long as I have.
Tell him to mind his own transmutation into a being who minds his own business.
And that it’s going
He asks if you’re behaving yourself now or if he has to come and visit and sort yourself out himself
Gods no. He doesn’t need to come. I don’t think the vamp population of Osneau would forgive me for that. I’m all good. Just had a moment. I’m playing nice. Behaving.
Are you actually okay though? This is me asking, not him.
Yeah, seriously. Just a blast from the past rocked the boat.
And you decided to rock it right back?
Something like that
Zero judgement here. So long as you can swim.
Feet clatter on the other side of the door and I quickly lock my phone and shove it in my pocket.
Jumping to my feet, I do a quick check of myself.
I came straight from work, but it’s not the weekend so I’m just in our usual black on black uniform, though with my own usual flair.
The t-shirt’s been cropped like all my shirts, skimming just at my belly button, and before my shift I went and cut a skull face into the back after seeing a tutorial online.
Not exactly practical for 1 a.m. in spring, but the cold doesn’t really affect me.
The door rips open, revealing a harried looking Willan.
“You’re here! Awesome. I need your help!” Strong fingers wrap around my biceps and haul me inside, slamming the door behind me.
With his iron grip on my biceps, I’m pinned between the tall, hard length of him and the wall.
Not a terrible place to be. Except he’s quite obviously flustered, his hair has begun to fuzz out of his braids and there is crackling energy sparking off him that even I can feel.
It feels a little like before a bolt of lightning hits, or even the jolt of static electricity.
His oqic is unbuttoned at the throat revealing the long length of his neck, and when he realises the position he’s pinned me in, I can see every flex in the tendons of his neck when he clenches his jaw.
He doesn’t step back, though, and I don’t mind.
“How can I help?” you relieve some of this tension? I finish in my head before tilting my head back to meet Willan’s eyes. Enough of our bodies are touching for me to feel the shiver ripple through him.
Drawing in a deep breath through his nose, Willan closes his eyes and for the very briefest of seconds he pushes harder against me before shoving himself back with a groan. Not the sexy kind, the trouble kind.
“Egbert booked an intro to magic class for tomorrow first thing and didn’t tell anyone. It’s full and we’re completely unprepared. I need to put together the kits for the class, but I also have to do a heap of marking, too, for the novice witches. I really, really don’t want to ask but—”
“It’s fine. Seriously, I don’t know how much help I’ll be but it’s not a problem.”
Is this how I pictured tonight going? No. But I was worried it was going to be uncomfortable. At least if we’re busy, there won’t be a chance to be awkward.
“If you can stuff things inside other things, you’ll be saving my life.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to realise what he just said.
“Oh, shut up.” He waves a hand at me, a light blush colouring his neck, and runs a hand over his braids, making them significantly worse.
“You said it, not me! But it’s seriously not a big deal. Lead the way.”
Willan doesn’t ask again, probably doesn’t want to risk me changing my mind.
“Thank you, fuck. It’s been a nightmare.
Back-to-back classes all day and a new shipment of stuff from the Traog Deserts that have to be catalogued and then someone’s great aunt died and they decided to just dump all their shit on our doorstep so we had to sort it out.
There was a bunch of enchanted jewellery in there.
Can you believe that? Despicable. Anyone could have picked it up. ”
“Ah, so that’s why Kroy had a batch of cool new shit tonight. Got myself a wicked new shirt.”
“Did you stop by there on the way here?” Willan asks, rushing up the stairs.
“Yeah, he always lets me know when he’s got new stuff in. I’ll probably go back there after here and get it all set up in the system for him.”
Willan stops mid-step, then pivots carefully to look at me. He’s already taller than me so he looms over me in the narrow stairwell.
“Well, now I feel like an asshole. I invited you around to hang out and now you’ve landed yourself a third job.” He hesitates, his head cocking to the side. “This is not the glamorous life I envisioned for you.”
My laugh surprises me as much as it does him.
“Yeah, well, I’ve always been a hard worker. It’s just that my hard work back in the day used to just be petty crime and general mayhem. I tried the glamorous life when I was living with Laurence. It’s kinda boring.”
Shrewd eyes peer right through me.
“Yeah, I can see that for you.” He turns abruptly, which is impressive with the narrow depth of the stairs. “Come on. Sooner we get started, sooner we finish and we can do something fun.”
He races ahead of me in quick, efficient steps that have me hurrying to catch up to him.
“I picked up some blood earlier today. It’s in the fridge in there.
Help yourself, okay? I asked Finn what type you like and it should be the same as what you and Kai have in the fridge at home.
” At the top of the stairs he waves his hand towards a door with ‘STAFF ONLY’ printed in bold, silver letters.
A wind brushes past and the door pops open with a soft click, revealing a small kitchen.
“You didn’t have to do that.” The kind gesture hits somewhere between my sternum and my guts. “But thank you.”
Willan brushes me off just as easily as he opened the door, striding ahead to the door labelled ‘Classroom 1’ in the same silver scrolly text.
His long oqic flutters around his thighs with his steps.
There’s no embroidery on his oqic tonight, but a silver broach in the shape of a spider pins the double lapel to his right shoulder.
Instinctively, Willan moves behind the big wooden desk at the head of the room.
Technically, Willan isn’t a teacher, more of a tutor or instructor, but he has the vibes down pat.
I mean, if his braids weren’t giving away his frazzled state.
Most people don’t realise how important braids are to our clan.
We wear them in all different forms from the moment our hair’s long enough to plait, our parents weaving in protective spells or blessings.
Not everyone wears theirs as intricately as Willan.
There is a definite skill to it, but complexity doesn’t equal strength.
It’s about mindfully weaving your intentions.