“Do you want to try to gain more access to your magic again today?” I ask gruffly.
“Want? Yes.” He lets out a small laugh. “I’m not sure if it’s smart though. They’re onto me. They could feel the magic Imanaged to harness yesterday. Unless I can figure out how to get a hell of a lot more, it might not be safe.”
I try not to let the disappointment show on my face as I nod. He’s probably right. Playing around with dribs and drabs of his powers is only going to make his captor more suspicious and on edge.
“So, we just wait and hope that the vision of the house was enough for my friends to go on?”
Rune’s expression turns sour. “I think that was a trick too. It had to be.”
“Why? How?”
“I don’t know how.” He shakes his head and stares off for a moment, lost in thought. “It can’t be the house he was describing though. That house is gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“I burned it down years ago.”
RUNE
“What?”he chokes.
I sigh and stretch out on the cot, looking up at the drab gray ceiling. Atlas shifts around, making the unsteady bed jostle and groan until he wedges himself in between me and the wall, lying on his side to face me.
“Light blue with columns and a sign out front, that sounds like the house I grew up in.” I can picture it as clear as day still, on a little patch of land near the bayou, a mossy tree in the front yard and a gravel driveway leading up to the house.
“I’m sure there areotherblue houses with columns though, right?”
“Yes, of course.” I almost feel silly assuming that it’s the same house, especially when it’s impossible. If any part of that houseisstill standing, it can’t be in great shape. “I guess my mind is just on my childhood given… everything else.”
“Sure, that makes sense.” Atlas nods, and I can hear something in his voice, like he’s holding something back, or maybe working up the courage to say something he thinks I won’t like.
“Spit it out,” I say.
He huffs a laugh. “I was just wondering what exactly happened with your family.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors already.” He mentioned that it wasn’t hard to learn that I was born in New Orleans, well, it’s even easier to learn that I slaughtered my family. The supernatural community loves gossip, and that’s a bit I happily spread myself, so everyone would know that I wasn’t to be fucked with.
“I have,” he says. “But I want to hear from you. Maybe it will help us figure out who could be doing this. A family friend, a distant relative, someone who wants revenge for what you did to them?”
“Maybe.” The thought definitely occurred to me, the problem is, I can’t think of anyone powerful enough who fits the bill. “They weren’t good people,” I confide. “I do have vague memories from when I was very young of my mother singing to me and my father taking me out to catch crawfish to boil.” I can hear my long buried drawl creeping subtly into my voice as I reminisce.
Atlas gently brushes a strand of hair off of my face and nods, encouraging me to go on.
“When I was five, my powers started to manifest.”
“That’s young,” he says.
“It’s very young. Most mages don’t show signs of magic until they hit puberty, and then it takesyearsof practice and study to fully harness them. I was special. At first, all I cared aboutwas how proud and pleased my parents seemed to be. They encouraged me to work on strengthening my powers, and I did it happily. I didn’t have to do any chores around the house or even go to school, and I loved it. I bragged to my siblings and anyone else who would listen that I was too special and powerful for such mundane activities.”
Atlas chuckles. “The origin story of your arrogance.”
I playfully slap his chest. “Watch it. I fired two therapists and cursed a third.”
He mimes zipping his lips, and I go on.
“Before long, they were bringing friends to the house to have me perform spells for them. Protection spells, luck spells, healing spells, you name it. I thought they were friends, anyway. That’s what my parents told me. It turns out they were customers, and they were paying my parents well for my services. When they realized people were willing to pay even more for dark magic, that’s when things got bad.” A shiver runs through me as memories swim in my mind of years spent doing horrible things for even worse people, at first to make my parents happy, and then to avoid punishment when I tried to refuse. “In my early teens I started to realize just how bad the things they were making me do were, and I refused to do them anymore. First, they offered me a portion of the profits. When that didn’t work, they beat and tortured me.”
Atlas growls. The sound is protective and menacing at the same time, vibrating in his throat and pulsing between us. He wraps an arm around me like he’s going to be able to somehow shield me from the past. I pat his arm and barrel on towards the end of the story.
