“A Penumbra wand in the making. How do you know it’s the right tree?” Mads followed, stepping over a littered forest floor.
“I’m uncertain. It’s likely another race that’s interbred with our line. Perhaps a wood nymph or a forest spirit. Some bloodline lingers in us that makes us capable of sensing life through wood.” Marquis wandered around in a serpentine pattern to dodge trees and the occasional web.
“My father was supposedly a shifter, but I never had a hint of animal about me.” Mads shrugged.
“We should introduce you to Izohr, Rexford’s second-in-command. He’s half wolf and is quite good at detecting the blood. He’s even managed to become a shifter, himself.”
Mads stared at Marquis in open-mouthed disbelief as he explained how he’d pulled the canid from the child of an immoral pairing to let a little girl shift. She took some of his flesh and traded for fur. It was so interesting. And it filled in many blanks about Baron’s theory about mages interbreeding with shifters and omegas being the consequence of it.
The theory stood that only certain males were attracted to omegas, probably alpha by nature. Some delineation between alpha and beta. It also made sense that if a coupling produced a male attracted to omegas, they’d also produce omegas. So, it made sense that multiple brothers in a family would be gay.
Mads’s train of thought came to an abrupt halt as Marquis trekked his way farther, determination flashing across his face as his eyes lit with power.
By the time the sound of rushing water met Mads’s ears, Marquis had already spotted the tree. A spindly post oak aboutforty years old missing a lower branch with a clean break at a node. “Found the source.”
Marquis held the stick in front of him, letting it drape across his hands as he knelt. He gingerly presented the stick to the tree as if it were an offering and spoke an incantation.
Mads had seen Baron do it countless times before, asking the tree for permission to use its limb, to link its life to magic and the cycle of a mage. When Baron did it, it seemed performative. As Marquis concentrated and spoke the words, the tree itself bowed in the breeze. Nature itself responded to Marquis as the world around him whispered.
“I thank you, noble oak. You are young and mighty, and as long as you live, you will know magic.” He bowed his head once and stood, his face transforming into a wide grin. “This is your wandwood tree. The wood was shed by natural causes, and the tree thanks you for bringing it back and says you may use it as a conduit.”
“What does the tree get from it? I always wondered.” Mads accepted the branch and smiled as the barest hum of magic purred under his fingertips.
“It gets to sense the magic you use. And if you do something wicked, it can hinder you. Trees have their own morals.”
“What are thesemorals?” Mads asked, staring the tree down.
“Every tree has their own. You’ll learn your wand in time. My wand, for instance, doesn’t like to work cold spells. Rexford’s absolutely will not do anything to harm plants. Very specific. Not that there’s ever been a reason for him to try, save for killing some weeds.” Marquis waved his hand dismissively, as if the science behind wandmaking were nothing. Marquis had never done so while they were together, but watching him work the craft made Baron’s skill seem inadequate.
“You’re gifted. Wandmaking is your calling, Marquis.” Mads clutched the stick to his chest.
“Father and Baron were always better than me. I taught Rexford, and he’s got the skill, too. He may have to take up the calling. He’s better than me.” Marquis shrugged.
“No. Baron wasn’t as good as you. I never heard the trees respond. I never saw him ask for permission. This wandwood feels alive, now. The quality of his wands had gone so far downhill that Justin had to take over, and even his were failing fast.” Mads shrugged.
“Then it was due to their addictions.” Marquis walked past Mads and paused for a second. “If it hurts you to bring them up, don’t, and I won’t, either.” Marquis brushed his hands off on the front of his jacket, the dirt leaving his hands and falling off his suit jacket. He was right, nothing stuck to the suit.
Mads thought about it for a moment. “I’d like to forget they exist. They’re dead and gone. I can’t ignore the consequences of their actions. I can’t wash them off me. I can still smell them on me. You know I shaved my head the second they gave me a safety razor? I could still smell them in my hair. And every now and again, I’d catch a whiff of them, and it’d make my walls crumble again. Eventually I figured out it was that lady. Doris…”
Marquis had known his head had been shaved, but not why. He took a few steps forward and hugged Mads, wrapping his arms tight. “I can’t smell a thing. There’s no mark on you, no brand or tattoo. No scent or sigil but my own.”
Mads swallowed a sob and took a deep breath. “Nice of you to say that.”
“Nice would be me telling you that I was madly in love with you, that you are perfect, were perfect, still are. Nice would be me making you a wand; would be taking you out to dinner. That’snice. What I said was the truth. If I were nice, I’d have tried to woo you. And that isn’t happening, not yet. I could haveyou in my bed, but that’s not what I want. I want my love back.” Marquis released him and walked away. “Now, let’s get you home. Would you like a coffee on the way?”
Mads stopped in his tracks and frowned. “One of the special freezy blendy ones?”
“If that’s what you want.” Marquis kept walking.
“I keep seeing the nurses with them, and I want one so bad. I’ve only had sugar and creamer, but coffee milkshakes? Please!” Mads followed happily as they made their way to the car, put the stick in the trunk, and headed off to the first coffee place they found on the side of the road in a seedy area with a little shack.
The girl in the booth wore nothing but a bikini, and they glanced up at the shack name.Bikini Babe Baristas.
Marquis rifled through his wallet and handed cash over as they ordered the blendy coffees.
The girl handed their order over with a smile. “Leave a tip?”
Marquis handed over a ten-dollar bill before turning his head to put the car into gear.
