I may not be able to hear the stone or the metal sing anymore, but I sure as shit recognise the stone and the metalwork. It’s from the Coruxix Mountains—my former clan.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Kroy breathes, holding it up so the necklace sways back and forth, “I should probably take this to Egbert up the road.”
I’d been hypnotised by the blast from my past but his words shake me out of my reverie.
“Wait? You know Egbert?” Egbert, current owner of The Magnifitestique Mage, member of my former clan? For all intents and purposes,myEgbert? Kroy knows him?
I don’t like it when my worlds collide. I’ve worked hard, really, really hard to keep my lives separate. The before and the after, with a very defined line between them. Very few beings have gotten to cross the bridge. Egbert’s one of them—in fact he’s become part of the whole structural integrity of said bridge. That he’s apparently close to the integral support pillars on this side of my life feels… uncomfortable.
I need to get off this bridge metaphor and back to Kroy. He’s giving me a funny look; I’ve been staring at the medallion too long. He probably thinks it’s sketchy. But now that I’m looking at it, I meanreallylooking at it, I can recognise some of the markings. It’s a glamour medallion, with a dash of luck and a healthy dose of ‘top dog in the room energy’.
Depending on its age, I would put money on Damira—an aunt five times removed or something—made it. She was good at those sorts of charms, really knew how to really sing to the earth to draw the magic out for those qualities. Her charms would go for a mint in a place like Egbert’s.
Still, I find my hand reaching out, my fingers wrapping around the metal. It’s ice cold, even in the warmth of the stockroom, which isn’t too unusual for the clan's metals. It's how less knowledgeable merchants authenticate their wares.
“You right there, chook?” Kroy eyes me warily, tugging gently on the chain. My fingers tighten until the edges dig into my skin. “Need that blood?”
“Yeah. Yeah, probably, but, uh, this necklace?” I tear my eyes away from where it’s gripped in my hand, up to Kroy, trying to relax my face a little. I’m hungry enough for my fangs to be getting sharp, which isn’t helping me appear rational and calm. “I want it.”
“I can see that, chook. But maybe that’s not a good idea. You’re lookin’ a might bit feral there, and, as much as I trust your judgement when it comes to the clothes, this is a bit odd. Even for you.”
He sounds like he’s trying to talk a rabid dog off the edge, and it’s ridiculous enough to loosen the tension in my shoulders. Schooling my face into something a little more relaxed, I tilt my head and roll my eyes.
“Gods forbid a boy want something shiny, Kroy.” He scoffs but doesn’t let go of the chain. Neither do I. “It’s not what you think. I know what it is. I think I even know who made it. It’s a glamour charm, nothing more.”
The wary look turns shrewd, and that’s probably worse, but the tension on the chain eases ever so slightly.
“And how do you know that, chook?”
I shift uncomfortably, swallowing thick against the lump in my throat.
“It’s from my old clan.”
“Ah. So you know Egbert, too, then.” Kroy nods sagely, releasing the chain entirely and settling back on the creaking old armchair.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” I snatch the necklace to me, then remember that I should probably be less suspicious about it and oh so casually slip it into the pocket of my jeans. “How do you know him anyway?”
“Well, we’ve both lived and worked on the same street for a couple of decades now, did you really think we didn’t know each other?” Remembering that I need blood, and he needs tea, Kroygets up and walks heavily to the kitchen attached to the staff room, continuing to shout his story as he goes. “But he dated my best friend's sister about fifteen years ago. Nice fella, bit strange. But mages usually are. We have a deal, I send his things down to him, and anything that finds its way into his shop that’s outta place, he sends down to me. But I think we can make an exception this time.”
He comes back with two large mugs. His has pictures of large empty bottles and ‘nice jugs’ in bold font, filled with tea. Mine with a clown juggling and ‘expert ball handler’ nearly overflowing with blood. I take it gratefully, snorting at the image.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” The blood is good. Kroy always stocks something decent for me. I’ve told him he doesn’t have to, but he insists. “The blood and the necklace.”
“You know I love some intrigue, but is this a secret thing or can I tell Egbert that I’ve wilfully just given away a charmed item from his clan to a vampire claiming to be his kin?”
I snort. “It really is just a glamour charm. With a hint of luck. Honestly, it won’t do anything for me, I’m pretty enough as it is.” I flip my hair over my shoulder and preen, but the smear of pink on my teeth from the blood probably kills the illusion. To Kroy at least. Some beings really go for that sort of thing. “I’ll show you.”
I pull the charm from my pocket and sit up on my knees to show him the engravings and explain how Damira was known for this kind of thing.
“Well, that sounds wonderful, but considering I don’t know shit about it, you could be talking rubbish and I’ll never know.” Kroy says, sitting back with a wave of his hand.
“If you’re that worried, take it.” Reluctantly I thrust the necklace in his direction. I want it, but not enough to ruin this friendship, but he waves me off.
“Keep it. Just blow nothing up.” Pulling biscuits out of what seems like thin air, he dunks them into his tea, resting his mug on his big, round belly. “But tell me more about this whole Egbert thing. You seemed mighty piqued when you realised I knew him.”
Kroy wasn’t lying when he said he liked intrigue. Like most beings, he’s a nosey-ass gossip.
“There’s not much to say really.” A lie as much as it’s not. After all this time, the stories feel stale. “I grew up in the clan, but shit happened, I left and I turned.”
