Midnight magic, p.78
Midnight Magic, page 78
"Ah, that's true. But then you don't run into any problems when you want to use a pan only to find it's dirty," she responds.
"I need to find myself a witch to date," Essie mutters. "That way I don't ever have to do the dishes."
I chuckle. "I'll make sure to ask people their stance on washing up before I let you hook up with them tonight."
"Thanks, I appreciate it." The dark-haired fae bounces to her feet. "Now I'd better make sure I look hot if I'm on the pull. See you in a bit."
The two of them exit the kitchen, leaving me on my own. I consider heading straight to my room, but I need to eat something if I'm going to drink. Luckily, I have everything I need to rustle up a quick sandwich.
With my dinner decided on, I set about making it so I can take it with me back to my room to eat while I get ready. A girls' night may be unexpected, but it's a welcome change of plans. My reading can wait until tomorrow.
CHAPTER 3
I groan and press my hand to my forehead, cursing myself for drinking too much last night. The other girls are a terrible influence.
A memory flashes through my mind of myself yelling for tequila shots.
Perhaps I'm the bad influence.
My door swings open and Essie comes inside, her normally perfect hair in a dizzy disarray that makes it look as if she's been sleeping with a static balloon against her head. She seemed to completely forget about her mission to go home with someone once we got to the club and had just stayed to dance with the rest of us.
"Please tell me that there's a hangover cure you can whip up?" she asks as she drops down on my bed. "I'd ask Bernie, but..." She waves at the window where the light already streams in. Bernie is going to be busy hiding behind her blackout blinds. We won't see her until after the sun sets this evening.
I shuffle so I'm sitting up in bed and facing her properly. "I don't."
"Mickieeeeeeeee, you're a witch, aren't you?"
"Mmhmm. But hangover cures are potions, you don't want me making one of those, do you?"
"It can't be that bad," she mutters.
"You don't even let me make my own tea. You didn't think I was clueless about the flat pact to stop me from using the kettle?"
She grins sheepishly. "Sorry."
"Don't be. It means I always get a drink and rarely have to make it." Which works out just fine as far as I'm concerned.
"But you're seriously trying to tell me that all the hangover cures known to witches are potions?"
"Yep, all seventy-two of them."
Her mouth falls open. "There are seventy-two different potions for hangovers?"
"At least." I shrug. This isn't news to me, it's something I've grown up with. "Different parts of the world do different recipes. One of them actually ends up as a powder. I used to have some, but I've run out."
Essie lets out a loud groan.
"Do fae not have any hangover cures?"
She sighs. "Only some of us. Pixie hangover cures tend to be good."
"Then maybe we should stop by that coffee place before we go to our lectures. What's it called again? Wing Cup?"
"That's a drinking game," she responds in a voice that suggests I should have known that. "I think you mean Pixie Cups."
"Ah, right. That's the one. Is it really run by a pixie?" Curiosity gets the better of me. I know I shouldn't ask, but I'm dying to know.
"If the woman who normally works there is the one who owns it, then yes. She has mad pixie energy for sure."
"Fascinating. Can you imagine broadcasting what you are so loudly to the world?"
Essie shrugs. "It's part of her business. What else is she going to do?"
"I have no idea. But I'm going to thank the wand-sparks that she's in business. Her coffee is divine."
"Once we've been to Pixie Cups, we should head to the bar," Essie says.
I raise an eyebrow. "You want to start drinking again?"
"Oh, no, not at all," she says quickly. "If I never touch another drop in my life, I'll be happy."
A small snort escapes me. "You're going to have broken that promise by Friday."
"All right, then I just won't touch a drop today," she counters.
"So why do you want to go to the bar?"
"I saw a flyer about a blind dating charity event and I want to find out more."
"Blind dating?" I ask.
She nods. "I know it sounds silly, but I thought it could be fun, and you never know who you might meet."
"Sure, we can go check it out." I don't think it's for me, but it might be worth checking out for Thalia. She hasn't dated at all since getting here, though with her gorgon predicament, I can perhaps understand why. It can't be easy when there's a risk of turning the person you're dating into stone. And not in the fun way either.
"Great. I'm going to go shower, I can't go out like this." She touches her messed up hair. "No way can I be seen outside looking like this."
"Because no one else in the whole academy is going to be hungover?" I mutter.
"Yeah, but half of them have their own hangover remedies. All Bernie has to do is drink enough blood to make herself feel better."
"Which would be fine if she actually liked blood," I point out.
"Hmm. Good point. But Krissi can just shift and her headache vanishes."
I chuckle at the memory of our leopard shifter flatmate forgetting that she's not supposed to shift in public and just doing it regardless. It's not the kind of lapse I'd expect from her, she has a bit of a tendency towards being a goody-two-shoes. Then again, since she and Jeremy stopped doing their awkward are-we-aren't-we dance around one another, she's become a lot more relaxed.
"Didn't you say you were trying to find someone to go home with last night?" I ask Essie, finally realising that she hasn't."
She sighs. "I tried, but there wasn't anyone worth hooking up with."
I frown. "There were hundreds of people there last night, and you're trying to tell me that none of them tickled your fancy?"
"Is that really are how you're going to say that?" She flashes me an incredulous look.
"Yes."
She lets out a light laugh. "That's fair. But no. None of them tickled me."
"Still hung up over Byron?"
She scowls. "There's nothing to be hung up over. It was just casual."
"And then it wasn't."
"Through no fault of my own," she protests, leaning her head against the wall.
"You did break up with him right before Christmas."
"What was I supposed to do? He was going to go home and tell his family all about me."
Confusion worms its way through me, and it has nothing to do with the hangover brewing. "Why is that a bad thing?"
"Because we're fae." She groans. "I know better than this. You don't mess around with fae."
"You've lost me again," I admit. "What's the problem with messing around with fae?"
"Would you date a witch?"
"Well, a warlock, but yes, I would. If I liked him and he liked me."
"That's no help," she mumbles.
"Essie," I say softly, reaching out and touching my friend's arm. "You can tell me. I know I'm not Bernie, but maybe I can help." The two of them have been as thick as thieves since the moment they met, but it must be frustrating for them both that Bernie is basically trapped in her room whenever the sun is up.
"Thanks, Mickie. Fae are just huge gossips."
"All fae? That seems very unlikely."
She snorts. "Fine. The core group of fae families like to gossip. The ones that push their kids hard to get into Stonerest Academy."
"The one in Scotland?"
"Yep, that's the one. Only the elite fae children from across Europe can go. Parents train their kids hard to get in, and there's a lot of pressure. There are a few dozen fae families who consider themselves to be the elite, and it's a shame on them if the children don't get accepted."
"I'm guessing your parents aren't pleased that you didn't get in?" I guess.
Guilt flits over her face. "I did get in."
I blink a few times to process what she's said. "You did?"
Essie nods.
"But you came here instead?"
"Not exactly."
"Okay, that's going to need an explanation."
She lets out a soft snort. "You can't tell anyone this."
"Promise. But I don't really know any fae other than you."
"That helps." She takes a deep breath. "I'm not meant to be here, my twin sister is."
My eyes widen and I let out a soft whistle, instantly regretting it as my head pounds in response to the change in pressure. "You have a sister?"
"Yes, Frankie. She's at Stonerest in my place because I didn't want to go."
"Did she not get in too?"
"No. But it's everything she's always wanted, and what I didn't, so we just switched."
I can't help the laugh that bubbles up from within me. "Sorry," I murmur through my laughter. "I just thought the twin switch was a movie thing."
She smiles weakly. "That's where we got the idea. We honestly didn't think it would work as well as we thought it would."
"So is your name really Essie?" I ask.
"Well it's Francesca," she admits. "My sister is Frances, it made it surprisingly easy."
"Your parents really had it coming."
"A little. But if Byron went home and started telling his family about me, and then they started telling mine, they'd either work it out, or suddenly, the pretence becomes the rest of our lives. I don't think either of us expected to pull this off for five months without anyone becoming suspicious."
"It's impressive."
"Or sad that no one has noticed. I don't mean at the academies, how are they to know? We're not technically identical, but it's virtually impossible to tell us apart. But no one at home figured out from the way we were talking over Christmas that we were the wrong way around?" She sighs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to unload everything. I think the hangover is just making me feel a bit more vulnerable than normal."
"It's okay," I promise. "It's what friends are for."
She smiles at me, her eyes looking a little watery still. "Thanks, Mickie. This is why I wanted to come here and not Stonerest. They're so competitive there, I just knew I wouldn't be able to deal with it."
"Then I'm glad you're here," I respond. "Now, let's get ready and go get a hangover cure, I'm definitely ready for one."
"Me too." She finally gets off the bed and heads to the door. She hesitates, but doesn't say anything.
"I won't tell anyone," I promise.
"Thanks." She smiles and finally slips through the door.
I lean back on my headrest and think through everything she just dumped on me. I thought confessions were for while the person was drunk, not when they're hungover the next day?
I suppose it doesn't matter. I feel closer to my flatmate, and that's what counts in this situation.
I pull myself out of bed and head to the ensuite bathroom for a shower. At least I don't have to share it with all the others in the flat, that would make hungover showers so much worse.
CHAPTER 4
I'm not too sure how I'm going to broach the subject of blind dating with Thalia, but I think it's a good idea for her to go, especially as I know she worries about making connections with people. Sometimes, I'm surprised we even managed to become friends, but I think the first day at the activities fair was enough to seal the deal.
I suppose the why is immaterial now I'm sitting in her room waiting for her to get back from the kitchen with our tea. Like my flatmates, she's decided it's best not to let me near the kettle. I should have messaged her earlier so she knew I was coming to start the drinks, but I've been in her room often enough that it's not weird for her to have left me here.
"Close your eyes," Thalia calls through her closed bedroom door.
I don't need telling twice. Now she's told me about what being a gorgon is really like, I know how important following her instructions is. It also helps that I made sure to do some of my own research too, mostly because I didn't want to make her uncomfortable by saying or doing the wrong thing.
The creak of the door tells me she's coming inside. It's a little weird to not have my eyes open, and makes me feel a little vulnerable, but at the end of the day, it's important to respect her wishes. And keeping my eyes closed is a small price to pay for not being accidentally turned into stone. It's only a temporary state, but it's still inconvenient.
The mugs clink as she sets them down on the desk. Thalia lets out a small squeak, and there's a little bit of shuffling going on.
"Is it safe to open them again?" I ask once she's stopped.
"Mmhmm."
"Glasses fall down?" I smile at her so she knows she doesn't have to worry about my reaction to something as simple as that. It's frustrating for me when mine slip down my nose, I can't imagine what it's like for her when her glasses are the only thing stopping her from turning someone into stone.
Thalia nods.
"Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to live without them," I admit, touching the dark frames. "But it's such a strange concept that I'm not sure I'd be able to last more than a day."
"I would. I've dreamt about it my whole life." She sighs. "But it's never going to change." One look at her face says that she's certain of that. She thinks she's going to have to wear those glasses for the rest of her life. She might not be wrong either, but I'm not going to point that out.
"You don't know that. There are witches and warlocks coming up with new treatments for magical maladies every day," I remind her.
"But my problem isn't a magical malady, it's just my inborn magic."
Hmm, she has a point there.
"They have people working on something to help vampires come out during the day, I'm sure they're trying to find a way for gorgons to stop turning people into stone." Sometimes it amazes me the kinds of things people are working on, but that's what it means to live in a world where most supernaturals are out in the open. Scientists and magic users alike work hard to make sure everyone's lives are the best they can possibly be. It's the reason Thalia's glasses probably exist in the first place.
"True, but there are a lot more vampires than there are gorgons," she points out.
"I don't think that's any reason for them not to be researching things. If they can help one person, then it's a good thing." I'm sure someone somewhere will be looking into it, and if they're not, then that should be changed.
Thalia grabs her mug and blows across the top of it.
I resist the urge to raise an eyebrow. I know she's trying to avoid talking about the subject. She thinks I'm being naive about how good people can be, but I don't think so. There are plenty of good people in the world, but it's not just them we rely on. Sometimes good things are the result of selfish motivations, and the bragging rights for solving a problem like vampires not being able to go out in the sun, and gorgons turning people into stone.
But I hold my tongue. The last thing I want is to make my best friend comfortable, especially when we've only known each other for a few months.
Which means it's time for a change of subject. "Have you seen the event the student union is putting on for Valentine's Day?" I reach for the other mug and pick it up to take a drink.
"I haven't." She eyes me warily, as if trying to work out why I'm asking.
Suddenly, I'm not so sure this is a good idea, but it's not like I've signed her up already or anything. It's just a suggestion. "It's a blind date thing. Everyone fills out a questionnaire and then they match people up. It sounds kind of fun."
"For you," Thalia mutters.
I attempt to repress the sigh threatening to escape me. I can tell from the expression on her face that there's a part of her that wants to say yes. "There must be something you can do. You can look at me without turning me into stone."
"I know, but that's different," she protests.
"So you keep saying, but I don't understand how it's different."
She lets out a loud sigh, but I don't say anything. I can sense that there's something more she wants to say, I just need to give her the space to say it.
"It's just that the idea of dating someone is that you end up close to them," she mumbles after a moment of silence.
"It is, yes. Or I suppose it is if you want to get close to someone. There are people who don't care for romantic partners at all..." Maybe I've misjudged it and she's aromantic, but I don't think so.
"That's off-topic," she points out.
"I suppose it is." I flash her what I hope is a reassuring smile. "Go on."
"It's just that if I was close to someone..."
"You mean in bed." I want to clarify exactly what she means so I don't make the wrong suggestions.
"I don't just mean that. But partly that, yes. if I'm in bed with someone, then there are more chances for my glasses to fall off, and if that happens, I might turn them into stone," Thalia says.
"Ah, and that's not the kind of rock hard you want in the bedroom," I joke to try and relieve some of the tension.
She lets out a loud groan. "You know how tired that joke is for gorgons, right?"
Amusement at my own joke bubbles out and through me, even if I know I should be trying to take this seriously. "I'm sorry, it was just right there and I knew I had to say it."
"The joke is crass, but it's true. Sorry I turned you into stone last night, honey, gets old really fast."
"It does if you call your boyfriends honey." I really need to hold my tongue a bit better.
"Mickie," she scolds.
"All right, sorry. I'll try and stop. You know I just can't help it." I hold up my hands in mock defeat.
"But you get what I mean."
I can tell from her expression that my joking is actually working. While I'm saying stupid things, they're helping to put her at ease and not worry about what I'm thinking. "I see how it could be a problem, yes. But I think I might have a solution," I admit, remembering something I saw in an old grimoire once. I only remember it because I thought it was funny at the time and wondered why anyone would need a potion to stop someone turning into stone.
