Magic by any other name, p.3
Magic by Any Other Name, page 3
“I can barely afford another night in this shithole motel!” she yelled. “Bring me money!”
With a snarl, she turned on her heel and made a beeline for the motel.
Watching her retreating form, Ishak remembered the first time he saw her. It was months ago, across the ocean in his village of Kabultiloa. He’d been enjoying a meal with his wife, Kalilah.
Fighting against the restraints of the brand, he growled. He had not seen his wife since this bitch abducted them both and branded them as her familiars.
Repressing the burning pain in his feet, he took off at a run back the way he had come. If he hurried, he might catch up to that blonde witch by sunrise.
3
Mei-Xing
THE RISING SUN BROUGHT MEI-XING TO CONSCIOUSNESS IN THE passenger seat. They were parked at a rest stop just off a highway. Theirs was the only car in the lot, though on the opposite side of the restroom building she saw several eighteen-wheelers.
Ivy had fallen asleep with her forehead pressed to the steering wheel. A cool morning breeze blew through the smashed driver’s window, carrying the warring scents of diesel fumes and pine and rustling Ivy’s limp curls.
Wanting to let her friend get the rest she needed, Mei-Xing quietly slipped out of the car and walked across the parking lot toward the tree line. The light of the dawn warmed her skin, feeding her chloroplasts. As her hunger slowly abated, her sluggish body livened. She felt the nearby trees and shrubs enjoying the light alongside her, though none of them housed Nymphs.
Mei-Xing had sensed other Nymphs at various times since arriving in America, but she had not interacted with them. Even half a world away from her birth grove, she still feared word of her whereabouts would reach her family.
She turned her back on the forest and returned to the car. Her grove thought she was dead, and that was the way she wanted it.
She spent the next couple of hours sitting on the hood of the car, soaking up the sun and listening to the gradual increase in traffic, letting Ivy sleep so she’d be able to drive when she woke. Mei-Xing disliked driving. She was a plant, and a plant had no business working a machine—though Ivy had taught her how a few months earlier in preparation for this escape.
She and Ivy had tried keeping the lessons a secret; Ivy was afraid her family would see them and deduce their plan to escape. Mei-Xing didn’t tell her but all of Ivy’s six sisters and two cousins had at some point noticed that the lessons were happening. Most had rolled their eyes and muttered darkly about Ivy wasting so much effort on a “servant.” Underneath her glamour, Mei-Xing had felt the bark of her chest tighten with irritation. Servant was the least offensive word they used.
Of all the Nichols clan, the only one kind enough to treat her as an equal and perceptive enough to correctly deduce their intention was Rue, the youngest.
As they loaded up Ivy’s car with luggage, Rue came to say goodbye. The rest of the family assumed Ivy was going back to college for the fall semester and didn’t bother to acknowledge her departure. But Rue sprinted out the front door, threw her arms around her big sister, and whispered, “You’re not coming back, are you?”
“No,” Ivy whispered back.
“I wanna go too.”
Not a surprising request. Mei-Xing had noticed that Rue was frequently mistreated by big sisters Clove and Lily, always under their mother’s willfully blind eye.
“You can’t,” said Ivy.
“Please,” Rue pleaded. “Don’t leave me here.”
Mei-Xing saw Ivy’s resolution waver. She put a hand on her shoulder, and Ivy lifted her face and gave her a little smile of reassurance. It eased Mei-Xing’s concern, but not by much.
She’d known from the moment they agreed to run that she would have to be Ivy’s support, just like Ivy had been hers when they left China. Abandoning everything you had ever known, no matter how unpleasant it might be, was wildly disorienting. Having a hand to hold made all the difference.
The two Nichols girls looked so unlike each other that it was hard to believe they were related. Sunny curls versus midnight waves, blueberry eyes versus chocolate, speckled milk skin versus olive cream. Only the haze of deeply rooted fear that surrounded them was identical.
“You can come find me when you’re eighteen,” Ivy told Rue. “Just,” she added quietly, “don’t tell them where you’re going.”
Rue pinched her eyes tight, tears leaking out the sides. After a moment of clinging to Ivy, she nodded.
“Mom has OnStar in all the cars,” she said. “You should ditch yours soon and get another one.”
Ivy squeezed her baby sister hard before disentangling herself from her embrace. Once separated, the sisters quickly moved apart and went about their respective business, as if worried that someone would be suspicious to see them together. Their mutual paranoia spread to Mei-Xing, and she cast her gaze around to search for spies.
“Can you really trust her?” she asked Ivy in Mandarin. “It’s a big secret for a thirteen-year-old.”
“If I’m caught,” said Ivy, “it’ll be harder for her to escape in five years. She won’t risk that.”
It was as convincing an argument as Mei-Xing could imagine.
She slid off the hood and stepped around to the side of the car. The sun was warm, the highway humming. It was high time for them to get back on the road. She reached through the glassless window, intent on giving Ivy a shake, but stopped, her hand inches from her friend, when her eyes fell upon a distinctive mark in the dirt at her feet: a huge pawprint. A hazy image crawled out of her memory. A bear. Was that where the print had come from? But that was in the forest. This is a rest stop. Concerned, she nudged Ivy awake.
Ivy yawned, swiped at her blurry eyes, and rubbed at the imprint left on her forehead by the steering wheel. She looked at Mei-Xing—and immediately saw that something was wrong. “What is it?” she asked anxiously.
Mei-Xing pointed down at her feet. Ivy leaned out the window to look, and the sleep left her face immediately.
“Aah!” she cried, throwing open the car door so suddenly that Mei-Xing had to jump backward to avoid being clipped. “ Aah! It followed us! It followed us!”
Mei-Xing frowned. “What followed us? The bear?”
“Not a bear!” Ivy cried as she exited the car and began to pace in circles. “ Aah! Not a bear! It was a … it was a … Were-hyena!”
Through the babble and desperate gasps of Ivy’s anxiety attack, Mei-Xing slowly gleaned the full story. Ivy was convinced her mother had sent the hyena-man, but Mei-Xing suspected otherwise. If Hazel had bothered to spend the time and magic to send a familiar after her unloved daughter, she would have been ruthless about it; she wouldn’t sanction one of her servants quietly watching the runaway instead of snatching her up. Still, Mei-Xing understood Ivy’s fear. The first few months after leaving China, she’d jumped at the slightest rustle of leaves, convinced that someone from her grove had come to fetch her. Ivy had spent a lot of time talking with her, listening to her, and crafting spells to keep her hidden. It was just what Mei-Xing had needed, and she wanted to return the favor now.
Whether connected to the Nichols clan or not, the Werehyena was clearly following them. Step one of dealing with a threat was to work Ivy through her anxiety—the quicker the better.
Distraction usually worked. “You still haven’t picked a new name,” she said.
“W-what?” Ivy panted, wide-eyed.
Mei-Xing hooked her arm through Ivy’s elbow and led her to the passenger side of the car. “A new name,” she repeated. “Like your aunt told you. Have you thought of a name yet?”
The sudden change of subject stalled Ivy’s panic attack. She blinked rapidly behind her glasses and looked at her friend in bewilderment.
Mei-Xing smiled, opened the car door, and eased Ivy down onto the passenger seat. “You’ve never liked your name. Is there another one you do like?”
The tension gradually melted from Ivy’s face as she sank into thought. Mei-Xing got behind the wheel and fired up the engine. As she steered the car onto the highway—trying to hold back a grimace at the unnatural feeling—she saw Ivy shift in her seat out of the corner of her eye.
“How did you choose your name?” Ivy asked.
Mei-Xing smiled. It sounded like her friend’s mind was officially diverted. They would get back to the problem of the Were-hyena soon, but for now this was best.
“It was the name of the stewardess on our flight out of Shanghai,” Mei-Xing said. “I didn’t know anything about human names, so I just picked the first one that sounded nice to me.”
“Maybe I should do that,” Ivy said. “Just pick something.”
“No,” Mei-Xing said. “You’re not me. You’ve hated your name for a long time; you must have thought about what names you like better.”
Ivy fell silent for a long beat.
“My sister Holly,” she finally said, drumming her fingers on the armrest, “had this friend who would come to the house sometimes when I was seven or eight, and the friend had a big sister who always came to pick her up. She had curly hair—kind of like mine, except her mother didn’t make her get straightening treatments. She was curvy, too, definitely heavier than Mom would have let me or my sisters get. And she always wore mini-skirts and V-necks and form-fitting dresses, all the stuff I wasn’t allowed to wear. She was so cool.” Ivy, smiling like she was nursing a juicy secret, leaned toward Mei-Xing. “Every time she came by to get her sister, my mother would look her up and down like she was made of slime; sometimes she even made snide remarks about her clothes. But this girl, who was maybe seventeen, would roll her eyes at Mom and walk right past her, just … fearless. Sometimes she even snapped bubblegum in Mom’s face. I wanted to be her.”
The happy memory of a disrespectful teenage girl had lifted Ivy clear of her anxiety. Mei-Xing smiled and nodded encouragingly. “What was her name?”
“Georgette,” said Ivy. “That’s pretty, don’t you think?”
“Georgette,” repeated Mei-Xing, feeling out the word. She didn’t know much about names, but this one had a friendly sound to it. And saying it made Ivy happy. That made it special. “I like it. Should I start calling you Georgette?”
“ Hmm.” Ivy exhaled. “Maybe we could try it out for a few days and see if it takes.”
“Okay.” Mei-Xing drew a deep breath and flexed her fingers around the steering wheel. “Well, Georgette, I think we need to deal with the hyena-man.”
She braced for another panic attack but was pleasantly surprised not to hear any gasps from her friend.
“You’re right,” Ivy said in a surprisingly calm voice, tapping her foot against the floor mat. “Let’s work something out.”
4
Ishak
AFTER PICKING UP THE SCENT TRAIL, ISHAK FOLLOWED IT FOR miles. At his fastest, he couldn’t match the speed of the car—particularly on burned feet—but after a couple of hours of constant running, he found the vehicle parked off the highway.
In the hazy glow of the rest stop’s lights, he stood next to the car and watched the two occupants sleeping.
Seeing the witch up close, his optimism dimmed. The girl was young, probably in her early twenties. And she was short and skinny. Despite the magic she’d used to chase him off, she didn’t look like a formidable opponent. The other one, meanwhile, confused his senses. She looked normal—thin, delicate, young like her companion—but her scent was contradictory. She smelled like grass and dirt. Not human, he soon concluded. That boosted his hopes. There was a glamour on the plant creature that was strong enough to fool his eyes. The witch, young and small though she was, must have some skill.
Ishak stared at the girls, fighting against the Hathiya brand on his back. Kivuli Panon’s orders to him were very clear—steal and don’t be seen. Try as he might, he couldn’t knowingly violate those commands. Instead, he waited—trembling and silently praying.
Wake up, little witch. I have to find Kalilah. I have spent months suspended in nothingness, feeling only pain as Kivuli Panon drains me of power. But Kalilah was with me; I felt her as clearly as I feel the wind in my fur tonight. Kivuli Panon abducted us together, branded us together, and transported us here together. So where is she now? Kivuli Panon tells me nothing and forbids me from asking.
I have known Kalilah all my life, little witch. We were children together, and we grew up learning Bultungin ways side by side. She was a better pupil than I; while I struggled with transformation, she took to it with ease. I caught up eventually, but she never let me forget that she was first, even after we married. How I love her. And yet I am yoked by a spell and can do nothing to help her. Wake up, little witch. I need you. I must find my wife.
But hours passed, and still the girls slept. Dawn approached. Kivuli Panon would be expecting him.
Brokenhearted, he left the girls’ car and ran off. He had passed a small town on the way. He would find something there to steal and take it to Kivuli Panon, and she would return him to the darkness until she summoned him again.
5
Nicolás
SOMETHING’S OFF.
Dropping packets of herbs into a bag, Nicolás felt as if his hands were on automatic pilot. He smelled the Botanica’s usual mélange of herbs, oils, and candles, but today the aromatic haze filled not only the shop but also his head, wrapping his brain in a fog.
As he completed the order and folded over the top of the bag, he took a moment to self-assess. He didn’t feel sick, just off. He knew this feeling and knew what it signified, but he couldn’t imagine why it was happening now.
“Nico!” his tía hissed, snapping her fingers at him. “Get your head out of your ass!”
Jolting to attention, Nicolás immediately shifted into his customer service persona.
“Here, Tía, ” he said, handing her the bag. “It’s ready.”
Aunt Mariana snatched the bag and shot him one last disapproving look before turning back to face her customer. She tossed her head, bouncing her black hair about her lightly lined face, and smiled winningly as she purred, “Here you are, Ms. Kazimiera. We are always grateful for your business. Come again soon.”
The customer smiled as she accepted the bag with one gloved hand. As she turned to leave, she glanced back at Nicolas over the tops of her sunglasses.
Nico tried to smile, but, as usual, Ms. Kazimiera’s eyes made him shudder. There was something uncomfortably eager in those amber eyes, something … hungry.
Seeing him shiver, she grinned. Then she pulled her wide-brimmed hat lower, draping her face in shadow, and walked away. The door chimed as she exited. She opened a parasol over her head and sauntered out of sight.
Mariana grabbed him by the arm, pinching his bicep. She jabbed a finger an inch from his nose.
“Stay away from that woman,” she said. “El diablo conoce su sonrisa.”
“Sí, Tía,” he agreed. “I think she’d eat me alive.”
Nodding, she started to turn away but then paused. As often happened, something passed between them—an empathic understanding. She grasped his chin in her hand and pulled his face closer to hers.
“You feel strange,” she said, peering deep into his eyes. “When did the feeling begin?”
“This morning. I woke up with it.”
“ Hmm.” She tapped her front teeth with a long fingernail before smacking her lips. “Do you remember your dreams last night?”
He had already given his dreams some thought but hadn’t reached any conclusions. Maybe Mariana could provide him with some insight.
“I dreamt of a desert,” he said. “I was driving on a road that ran through it. Something was chasing me. I felt like it was behind me every step of the way, but every time I looked back, nothing was there. Then I was surrounded by … lights, like a huge cloud of fireflies but humming with music. They crowded me until I couldn’t see or hear anything else. When they cleared, I saw myself at home, looking out the window, but the Botanica stood where the deli should have been.” He scratched a spot on his cheek, feeling some stubble that had escaped the razor that morning. “What does it mean?”
Hands knitted together before her chin, two fingers over her lips, Mariana stood still and closed her eyes. Nico recognized this as her interpretive stance, the pose she adopted while her spirit allies helped her find truth. He waited patiently until she opened her eyes and lowered her hands.
“What was the music?” she asked.
The question surprised him. He hadn’t considered the music. Returning to the dream as best he could, he tried replaying the moment. The song was familiar, but it took a lot of concentration for him to place it. “You know,” he said slowly, “I think it was Neil’s ringtone.”
She cocked her head, squinting.
“Neil,” he repeated. “My roommate.”
Snapping her eyes closed, she smiled and nodded. “Neil!” She chuckled. “Of course.”
“What does it mean, Tía ?”
“What do you think it means?”
He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Mariana was never one to pass up a teachable moment.
With a sigh, he scanned his memory of the dream one more time. “Maybe I’ll go on a trip and learn something important to my training?” he ventured.
Mariana stared at him for such an uncomfortably long time that he knew he must be wrong. Eventually, she pursed her lips and puffed a breath through her nose.
“I’ve taught you better than that,” she said. “Think what you told me, mijo. You didn’t see yourself on the road but then you did see yourself at home. What does that tell you?”
With the illumination of her words, he saw his mistake clearly. “I wasn’t seeing through my own eyes,” he said. “I was experiencing someone else’s desert journey.”
“Eso es.” Mariana nodded briskly, satisfied.
“Someone,” Nico added, “who’s coming to me.”
