12. Zair
Zair
Where’s This in the Playbook?
Magical Artifacts is a bomb shelter of a room in the goblin building.
I slip off my jacket, roll up my sleeves, and grab an apron.
Sweat beads on my forehead as I tie it around my waist and take my seat at the workstation.
To my left, Benson drops into his usual spot, his green hair as chaotic as his grin.
“Rumor has it we’re starting knives today,” he says, scanning the room for trouble.
“Goblin knives?” I ask, half-joking. I can never tell when he’s serious.
“No, we don’t share that technique with witches. You’re known for… thievery,” he teases.
“You goblins are just greedy,” I shoot back. “Besides, if I made a goblin blade, it’d still be a witch blade.”
Benson laughs. “If a witch blade did what a goblin blade does, all witches would use yours.”
I grin, but it’s hollow.
Professor Vance’s voice booms over the chatter, his platinum blonde hair standing out against his goblin features.
My eyes sweep the class as he talks about today’s lesson.
Goblins dominate the room, with sharp features and wild hair.
Only Benson will get within arm’s reach of me.
Some fae and elves are here too, deep in discussions over gemstones and blueprints.
And Varkas, the lone vampire, hides in the back, blocking the sun with his charm.
“It’ll take at least a week to get the materials and enchantments right,” Vance continues. “Precision’s everything.”
“Plans are overrated,” Benson mutters from the corner. His pen scratches loudly in his notebook.
Vance glares at him. He doesn’t notice.
I focus on my work. The steel I’ve chosen is already faintly glowing with magical silver, so I place it in the forge, feeling the magic sync with the metal.
Vance circles the room and stops by my workstation. “What shape are you going for, Zair?”
“Practical,” I reply, offering a small smile. “Something that feels right in the hand but can cut through anything.”
He nods. “I like it.”
He moves to Benson, who’s working on something with jagged edges.
“What’s your shape?” Vance asks.
“Something bold.” Benson grins. “A blade with personality.”
Vance shakes his head and moves on, clearly used to Benson’s tendency to stray from goblin practicality in favor of his own… unique approach.
“You’ll regret that when it’s too unwieldy to use,” I say.
Benson shrugs. “We’ll see. It’s about pushing boundaries.”
He’s holding a warped piece of metal that barely resembles a blade.
“Be careful, I haven’t learned how to reattach fingers yet.”
Benson’s laugh echoes in the room. “I might look hot with nine fingers.”
“Maybe, but you’d be a terrible goalie,” I point out.
“Damn.”
A shriek tugs at me. Now? I continue my work, ignoring the soul. Most find their way. The cries follow me through the rest of class.
By the middle of soccer practice, they’re impossible to ignore. An incessant weeping screech that forces me to fake an injury so I can leave early.
It’s been three hours. This soul is officially stuck. I follow the cries. They’re coming from a wooded area by the pitch. No wonder I couldn’t play. I brace myself for the body and walk into the clearing.
It’s leaning against a tree, strange burns circling their forehead. This close, I can hear them.
“Please, help me.” Over and over.
My banshee form takes over as I bring the cry to the front of my throat, prepared to free it when his chest moves.
What?
I close the distance, kneeling in front of the man to scan him with my healing magic. The body is alive, but the soul is desperate for escape. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s wrong. The body is fine, but the soul is half disconnected, gone.
“So much pain,” the soul pleads. “I want my mom.”
Is this like what happened to Thea?
No, her soul is damaged. This soul is fine.
No matter what it is, there is no recovery.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Letting loose a keening to free them, to guide them to the quiet shore.
I shift back into my human costume and go to Thea’s nook. She must see the mood I’m in because she doesn’t say a word. It is the best thing she could say. Letting me stay silent the entire night while keeping me company.
My dorm feels wrong when I get home. I call Ma, tell her what I did.
When my clock says four forty I give up trying to sleep. Normally combat would chase away the self-hate, but it’s Saturday.
Climbing out of bed, I get dressed and head across the hall to knock on Benson’s door.
“What?”
“Want to go for a run?”
“No.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
He grumbles but I can hear him moving around inside. I stretch until he steps out, his green hair sticking up in all directions. I offer him a big smile.
“You do know it’s five,” he grumbles as we take the steps and out into the dark morning. “Why didn’t you wake up Dylan.”
“He doesn’t live across the hall from me.” We set off at a jog. The rhythmic sound of our feet hitting the path the only sound. The lake comes into view as we veer onto the loop.
We’re immediately passed by the shadow witch Mavrik. He’ll wear himself out soon. Still, I pick up the pace.
After the fourth lap Benson grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop.
“You do know I’m a goalie?” He puts his hands on his knees and breathes heavily. “And also that I weigh almost four hundred pounds.”
“Do you really?” I ask. He’s shorter than me, a little stocky. If he was nightblind I wouldn’t expect him to weigh more than 180.
“Yes really,” he snaps. “Now why did you drag me out of bed?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
He scowls.
“It’s witch stuff.” Kinda a lie, but he just nods.
“Fine. How many more laps do you need? We have practice this afternoon and I don’t want to die.”
“Another two?” I ask. He shakes his head and takes off.
The best friend I’ve ever had.
Probably more a statement about me than him.
Mavrik passes us, headphones in. He hasn’t slowed down.
“Don’t even think about it,” Benson threatens and keeps his regular pace. I huff out a laugh and stay in step next to him. He doesn’t say a word as we do four more laps. When we get to the dorms I hear him collapse onto his bed.
He was right. I’m more than exhausted when coach finally blows the whistle. Dylan tries to rope me into going to get dinner then heading to a party but I tell him I have homework I need to get done first, making a beeline for the library.
I step into the nook and all my problems seem to melt away.
She doesn’t even look up and greet me, just keeps writing in her notebook like it’s the most interesting thing. I smile to myself and drop my bag, sitting beside her.
“Hey, how’s it –” She has a burn on her arm. “What happened?” I reach instinctively towards it but she pulls away.
“Nothing,” she answers too quickly. I raise an eyebrow. “I spilled coffee on myself.”
“Why didn’t you heal it?” It looks bad, at least a second-degree burn.
“I tried, it looked better before.” A snort I can’t hide escapes me.
“Here, let me.” I reach towards her. She lurches back hard, knocking over her water bottle. It falls to the floor with a metallic thud.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you didn’t like to be touched.”
“What?” she asks, looking at me in confusion.
“Do you not like to be touched by witches?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “Wait, no. I don’t care.”
“Okay, then let me heal you.” I reach towards her arm again and she pulls it against her body.
“It’s fine. You don’t have to touch me. It doesn’t hurt.”
I tilt my head. “You’re jerking away because I don’t like to be touched?”
“Yes?”
I let out a long exhale. I glance around the room, anywhere but at her. “Are you going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
The question everyone asks. “Why I don’t touch witches.”
“No. If you wanted people to know the reason, then everyone would know.”
I stare as she turns back to her page. Her arm an angry red as she writes in her notebook. I bend down and grab my binder from my bag. Start to do my homework. But I can’t.
“I was cursed. You can’t curse while being healed.” I hold her eye contact until she puts her arm on the table where I can reach it. My magic is already at the surface, having been waiting for her to say yes.
Her skin heals quickly. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”
I look up at her and her eyes are staring in terror at her arm. I check it again, it’s completely healed. She begins to hyperventilate.
Her soul lights up as it contracts in fear.
What did I do?
“Are you okay?”
“Give me a second,” she stammers. Her eyes close and she breathes through her nose. After a long thirty seconds, she lets out a slow breath, then pulls on her jacket.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she snaps, turning her focus to her work.
I suppress the urge to ask questions. She let me sit in silence when I needed it. Pulling out my notebook, I start working on my math.
“How did you break it?” she asks after ten minutes of pretending to work.
“Hatred,” I tell her. “You?”
“Same.”
An hour passes where we don’t exchange a word. Best hour I’ve had all day. My phone rings and I send it to voicemail. He immediately calls again.
“Hello?” I answer. Thea looks up and I mouth sorry. She looks back at her work.
“Dude where are you?” Dylan asks.
“Still at the library.”
“You can finish your work tomorrow. Violet has asked me about you twice already.”
I’m about to ask who that is but see Thea’s eyes darting to her page.
“Fine. On my way.”
I hang up and start to pack my bag, then pause. “Can I leave this here?”
She looks over and nods. Goes back to her work.
“Sorry, they’re dragging me to this party, it’s for the soccer team, we have a game tomorrow and I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t go,” I explain. Feeling like a complete dick for ditching her, even though we didn’t have plans.
“Have fun.”
What the hell. “Do you want to come?”
She gives me a side-eyed glance. My stomach knots. “Well after that glowing recommendation you just gave. No.”
A grunt of laughter escapes me.
“It won’t be that bad. You can protect me.”
“From Violet?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Please, I’m begging you,” I joke.
She smiles at me genuinely and I’m lost. I sit back down.
“They won’t realize I’m missing.”
Twenty missed calls later I walk her to her dorm.
“Hey, don’t forget about my game tomorrow,” I call after her.