A sob caught in Kieran’s throat as he rounded the corner, just a few feet from home now.He was almost glad everyone else in Gellingham had decided to spend the night inside so no one could see what a mess he was.Despite himself, he couldn’t helpbut imagine Briar’s and Delilah’s faces when he told them.Delilah would give him a tight hug while Briar berated Ash for dragging out the inevitable.And then, when night fell, he’d have to listen to them through the paper-thin walls of their apartment whispering about how sorry they felt for him.
Tears wet his cheeks, immediately going cold.I really am pathetic, aren’t I?
He was so wrapped up in his misery that he failed to notice the soft crunch of footsteps approaching him from behind.
Something heavy slammed into the back of his head.
A flash of pain shot through Kieran’s skull as starbursts exploded across his vision.He let out a strangled scream and staggered, barely catching himself before he slipped and fell into the snow.He spun around.Standing a step behind him was a massive, shadowy figure, his eyes the only part of his face exposed.
And in his hand was a glinting silver knife.
“Your wallet,” the figure demanded, flipping the knife around so it hung poised in the air, aimed at Kieran’s throat.“Now.”
At some point in his life, Kieran had heard the phrasefight or flightto describe one’s reactions in a moment like this.He’d never had to give much thought to which he’d do, seeing as he’d spent nearly his entire life safely tucked away at his family’s estate.Dangerous situations tended to be something he avoided.First, because he had the same body type as most telephone poles, and second, because he was an awful witch.
So awful, in fact, he couldn’t even think of a single spell he could cast to defend himself.He found himself unable to fight and much too terrified to flee, which left him one option:
Freeze.
“Did you hear me?Turn out your pockets!”the figure bellowed, his face so close Kieran could smell the liquor on his breath.
“Okay, okay!”Kieran reached into his coat pockets and turned them inside out, revealing them to be empty.Little did the attacker know that Kieran didn’t own a wallet.Buying one was on his to-do list, along with learning how to use defensive magic and limiting his crying sessions to his bedroom.“L-look, I make coffee for a living.You should really find someone else to steal from.”
“Bullshit—you’re dressed like all those fuckers knocking back whiskey highballs downtown,” the figure snarled.“If I have to ask again, this knife is going into your throat.”
Kieran’s eyes darted to the knife.He saw a slice of his own reflection staring back at him, pulse jumping in his throat.His brown eyes were bloodshot from crying, tears and snot streaming down his face.His mind scrambled for what to do.He had a few extra bills in his back pocket, but considering that his attacker thought he was rich, giving him the cash equivalent of a day-old pastry probably wasn’t going to satisfy him.He could scream for help, but that would likely earn him a stab wound.Briar had tried to teach him a little ledrith, but the first time he tried to throw a punch at a weighted bag, he bruised his knuckles so bad he hadn’t tried since.
Or,a quiet voice in his head whispered,you could just let him stab you.At least then you wouldn’t have to deal with all this anymore.
Then again, that’s a bit dramatic,the more logical half of his brain argued.After everything that’s happened this year, I deserve to at least die in a way that’s a bit more dignified than bleeding out inthe street.Preferably, old age.Or at least doing something interesting, like walking a tightrope between skyscrapers or whatever.
Kieran reached into his back pocket, pulling out the few bills he had and held them out.“Th-they’re yours.I don’t have anything else—I swear.”
The attacker snatched the money from Kieran’s hand.He examined it with narrowed eyes, which darted back to Kieran’s after a second.“I don’t take kindly to insults, kid.”
The knife rose.Air caught in Kieran’s throat.
Well,he thought, screwing his eyes shut as he braced for pain,worth a try.
He waited.One breath, then two.Then three.After four, Kieran thought,If you’re going to stab me, at least have the decency to be quick about it.
There was the sound of a wetsmack,then a choking gasp quickly followed by a heavythunk.
“Kieran!Move!”
Kieran cracked a single eye, only to discover his attacker’s body sprawled on the ground in front of him.The attacker’s eyes darted around wildly while the rest of his body slowly became more and more encased in a layer of ice, all stemming from a snowball thrown at his back.Behind him stood Briar and Delilah, Briar with another snowball in her hand and Delilah’s eyes glowing bright green with magic.
Kieran didn’t need further prompting.He moved to run toward them, but after a second’s hesitation, he reached down and plucked his money from his attacker’s icy hand.Then he sprinted for Delilah and his sister.
“Go inside,” Briar instructed Delilah and Kieran.“Call thepolice.I’ll keep an eye on him until they get here in case that spell wears off.”
Delilah put a protective hand on Kieran’s arm and nodded to Briar.She ushered him toward the apartment, and Kieran followed, keeping his head down.His heartbeat rattled in his ears.
“We heard you scream and came as fast as we could,” Delilah said as they ducked into the front entryway for their apartment.“That asshole messed with the wrong witches.”
Kieran nodded numbly, mind whirring as Delilah locked the door behind them and they started for the stairs.He paused, glancing over his shoulder again just to make sure no one had slipped in after them.The staircase was empty.He was safe.
And once again, he had Briar and Delilah to thank for that.Just like all the other times he’d been too weak—and useless—and pitiful—to take care of himself.
