Chapter 3 #2
“Nothing,” I answered before Jasmine could tell him I was a witch too.
Sterling narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you okay, Cassian?”
I could feel myself sweating despite the ice freezing the window behind me. A Force officer was seconds away from discovering my magic. Of course I wasn’t okay. “Are you going to arrest her now that you know she’s a witch?” I asked.
“Witchcraft isn’t illegal,” Sterling said.
“The Force treats it like it is,” I said.
Sterling’s eyes found the burnt wood again, and I tried to refrain from cursing. He was an investigator. Of course he’d put the pieces together. “Relax, Cassian,” he said, smiling at me. “Nobody’s getting arrested for magic unless it was done illegally.”
That was the problem with magical law. It was subjective and often unfair. One officer’s definition of illegal magic could differ from any other officer’s definition. “How do you define illegal?”
“In this case, I would say the illegality of the curse is an obstruction of livelihood. It is affecting you, Jasmine, Olive, and Griffin from maintaining a livable life, and clearly done with malicious intent.”
“How do you prove malicious intent?”
Sterling sighed through his nose. “You called me here, Cassian. You know it was intentional.”
“I’m sorry, you’re right…” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“The nature of the curse is evidence of intent, to answer your question. That’s not true with all types of magic, but in this case, it’s pretty clear,” Sterling explained.
“We will, of course, need to see the curse in order to use it as evidence against anyone, so before we break it, one of you will have to show me an official diagnosis.”
“What makes you think we can do that?” I asked.
Sterling chuckled. “Hire someone, Cassian.”
Gods, I was a terrible liar.
STERLING
So, Cassian was a witch. That was an interesting turn. That explained how cagey everyone was being about his time in Ladiall.
I wish he had just told me. It’s a shame how the Force’s reputation has turned lately, but I can’t say it’s unwarranted. Some of my colleagues lived that stereotype.
After our conversation, Griffin was my first suspect.
It was hard to find time to speak with him as the inn filled with guests, especially since Cassian didn’t want me letting on that I was doing anything more than helping to break the curse.
I wondered why Griffin hadn’t asked his wife to help if she was a witch.
Griffin avoided me when he could. I couldn’t even catch him going home the next evening, because he left without saying goodbye. I gave up trying to find a moment with him and decided to ask Cassian for help.
“Cassian,” I said, stopping at the front counter in the early afternoon when he had a rare moment to spare.
“Hi, Sterling!” he said, shining his warm smile my way.
“Can you help me find a moment to speak with Griffin?”
“Sure!” Cassian said just as an older gentleman entered the inn and trudged up to the counter. “Just a second, Turnip,” he whispered. It was his new nickname for me. He was poking fun at my surname, but I hated how much it felt like a term of endearment.
“Give me a room,” the old man grunted.
Cassian cheerfully began to explain the donation system, but the old man stopped him.
“Great, a free room. I don’t need to hear all that,” he said, waving his hand in the air.
“Oh—all right.” Cassian’s face went blank as he opened the key drawer.
“So Boris finally passed away, eh?” the man asked.
Cassian’s digging paused, but his stoic expression never changed. “A few months back, yes. We all miss him dearly,” he said, withdrawing a key.
“What a shame. He was one of the good ones.”
Cassian clutched the key in his fist beneath the counter. “One of the good ones?”
“Of the mages. I don’t trust ‘em. Buncha weirdos,” the old man said. Cassian froze. I scowled at the man, not believing his outward hatred toward a group of people he clearly knew Cassian cared for. “You’re not one of ‘em, are you?” the old man asked.
Cassian glanced at me but said nothing.
“That isn’t any of your business,” I said, trying to help him out.
The old man ignored me. “Just give me my damn key,” he said, flapping his hand at Cassian. “I don’t want to know. It’s better you all stay quiet about that magic nonsense.”
Cassian moved to give him the key, but he hesitated. “Boris was my grandfather. I don’t appreciate you talking about mages that way.”
The old man scoffed. “So you take after him.”
“I didn’t say that,” Cassian said.
The old man raised his bushy eyebrows. “Obviously, only a mage freak would wear that prissy shit. I’d hoped this place would go to someone with some sense, but maybe someone will reunite you with your granddad soon.”
The way Cassian’s face cracked with genuine hurt made me furious. I couldn’t believe anyone would speak to someone as kind and generous as Cassian with such malice.
I stepped toward the man. “Get out,” I said. Maybe it wasn’t my place, but I couldn’t stand another second of listening to him belittle Cassian.
The man laughed. “Who are you? His boyfriend?”
“Get out. You’re not welcome here,” I repeated, taking him by the arm. “I’m an officer of the Force, and I take threats toward mages very seriously.”
“I didn’t threaten him!” the man insisted.
“Sounded like a threat to me,” I said, dragging the man toward the door as discreetly as I could, but eyes all around the busy lobby followed us until I pulled open the door and shoved him into the snow.
“Where am I supposed to sleep tonight?” the old man demanded.
“Not my problem,” I said, slamming the door. When I turned around, everyone hastily returned to whatever they had been doing before, pretending they hadn’t been watching. Everyone but Cassian.
Cassian watched me on the verge of tears, so I returned to him.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
Cassian cleared his throat before speaking. “He could freeze to death out there.”
Of course he was worried about the man. Cassian was kinder than he deserved. “Would you feel safe knowing he was sleeping here tonight?” I asked.
Cassian’s gaze fell to the key still in his hand. “I’m not—” He swallowed and looked away, returning the brass key to its drawer. “Thank you,” he breathed.
“He’ll figure something out. Plenty of people pass through without stopping for the night,” I said.
Cassian rose from his stool. “Let’s go see Griffin. Maybe he’s not too busy to chat.”
“If you need to take a minute, I’ll gladly wait,” I said.
Cassian wouldn’t look me in the eye. “I’m fine.”
I didn’t believe him.
There were only a couple people in the small pub when Cassian and I stepped inside, and they were too busy chatting with each other to notice us.
It was a dark room with lanterns hanging low from the ceiling to send soft, flickering light through the small space.
The long end of the L-shaped room contained the bar, which was across from the entryway.
The shorter leg held a small seating area with round tables.
Stools lined our side of the bar, and Griffin stood on the other side, wiping the clean counter with a rag.
He tossed the rag into a basin behind him and looked up.
His expression flattened at the sight of us.
“Look who finally decided to pay me a visit. Hello, Cassian,” Griffin said.
There was that resentful attitude that had sentenced him to this conversation with me.
“Hey, Griffin,” Cassian said, his demeanor still muted. “Um… Sterling’s planning on being here for a while, so he just wanted to spend a little time getting to know everyone. Is that all right?”
“Sure, I always welcome a bit of friendly conversation, ‘specially when it’s slow. Have a seat,” Griffin said, gesturing to the empty stools.
“All right, see you,” Cassian said, turning to leave.
“Wait a second, Cass,” Griffin said.
Cassian turned on his heel, watching Griffin apprehensively. “Yes?”
“What’s the matter? You look paler than usual. It’s freakin’ me out,” Griffin said.
Cassian approached the bar, glancing at me once before turning his gaze away. He wouldn’t look Griffin in the eyes as he explained what had happened up front.
Griffin’s eyes found mine before darting to the door. “How far’d he get?” he asked, rolling his sleeves up. “I oughta scare him off for good.”
“Don’t do that,” Cassian said. “Sterling kicked him out. That’s enough.”
Griffin relaxed, rubbing his bearded chin. “I underestimated you, officer. I assumed all of your kind felt the same as that old bastard.”
I felt Cassian’s eyes on me. “Everyone deserves happiness and freedom. As long as magic isn’t used to harm others, I have no problem with it.”
“Good man. Most mages believe the same. Can I get you something to drink?” Griffin asked.
“Nothing for me, thanks,” I said.
“Cassian?” Griffin asked.
“Oh, um… all right,” he said.
“What do you drink, boy? I haven’t had a chance to drink with you since you ran off to the big city. Ale? Rum? What’ll it be?”
Cassian shook his head, watching his folded hands in his lap. “Just give me whatever’s cheapest.”
Griffin’s expression softened while he watched Cassian, and the look on his face surprised me.
I hadn’t seen him look anything other than annoyed at Cassian since my arrival.
“I know what you might like. Gimme a minute.” Griffin turned his back to us as he began pulling bottles off the shelves and prepping a glass.
“Cassian,” I murmured to him. He side-eyed me. “It’s not my place to ask, and you certainly don’t need to share, but I wouldn’t think any differently of you if I found out you were a mage. In fact, I would find you very interesting and smart if you went as far as studying witchcraft.”
Cassian’s brilliant smile returned, tinted with sadness. “I was afraid to know what you thought of mages.”
“In that case, you should know I have always been very impressed with mages. And if you were, hypothetically, a mage, it would really help the investigation.”
“How so?”