Still, it’s beautiful, and if he’d had more nights where he didn’t fall into bed exhausted, he might have pulled out Finn’s old telescope and tried to see the Sea of Tranquility up close. Beauty is everywhere, and he’s had no time to truly appreciate it.
Maybe now that the physical malaise he’d felt has a name and he can finally draw a deep breath, he can spend more time on the little things that make life worth living.
“Grayson.” Nimue takes the seat beside him, steam rising from the pool as the temperature drops. It makes her seem mysterious despite her jean jacket, Aerosmith band t-shirt, and blue jeans. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”
She wouldn’t know he is normally quiet, more of an observer than an active participant. Especially since every time he’s been in her orbit, he’d bent her ear with questions about The Plain, how she uses her Biometric Compass, and her Air Affinity. General questions about magical history—especially given his Affinities—have always occupied more of their time together than anything else.
It’s helped him place his “dreams” better than the hours he’d spent in the Guild library. Even though magical history and law are globally maintained, each country reports its own, and as with all history, it is colored with its own cultural biases. Magical America especially has been guilty of…well, not quite revisionist history, but certainly prone to glossing over parts that don’t always paint it in the best light.
Today’s release from the grip of Professor Kirwan’s foci highlighted the question of why he hadn’t felt the insidious leeching of his magic. He’d gotten used to feeling exhausted and worn thin. It explained why he felt the effects of reducing his connection to the Plain more acutely, but it didn’t explain why he’d lost time today or why he’d nearly let the proverbial cat out of the bag.
As if the thought had summoned her, Doodle slips out the sliding glass door, jumping onto Nimue’s lap. The black cat’s yellow eyes reflect the light coming from the dining room as she gazes at Nimue, like she’s waiting for instructions or even permission.
“Sit or get off the pot, lady,” Nimue murmurs, running a hand down her back. Once the cat settles, the Luminary drinks from her wine glass. “Tell me what has you so pensive. I haven’t answered nearly enough questions about that spell today, and I am worried.”
With a chuckle, Grayson spins the empty bottle in the air, round and round on its side like a magic spin-the-bottle. “I feel better,” he states, and it sounds uncertain even to his own ears.
“But?”
“No. I really do. I have control over all aspects of The Plain right now, and Nix is so happy that we’re overflowing. But…” He shakes his head, unsure how to explain what he’d felt and why, when he should be free of the spell, he feels like he’s missingsomething. The bottle stops spinning, the mouth pointed at the center of Grayson’s forehead.
He may not have Finn’s hunger for answers, or Jay’s relentless drive to solve the puzzle—but he’s self-aware. When the problem involves danger to Nix, there’s precedent: he can be a wolf with a bone—and this is a big, juicy bone.
“I feel like I’m missing something.” He shrugs, placing the empty bottle on the patio stones.
“Tell me again, what happened this afternoon. I find that sometimes if I close my eyes and go over it, the details I’m missing become clearer.”
“Yeah, okay.” Grayson closes his eyes but sits up straighter, just as he’d done in front of the infernal board with the tiny bulbs. “It’s that board with the bulbs. You know the one?”
“I do. Intimately. Go ahead.”
“I was doing pretty well, keeping to my plan to just get one or two right, but she was getting angrier. Frustrated. I admitted to being without the foci, so she made me fetch it from my bag, and once I had it, her mood improved. She smiled. I see now it was sort of…victorious…maybe…” In his mind’s eye, he sees it again, a glint in her eye and a pursing of her lips. “Sly?”
“She looked like she knew something you didn’t?”
“Yes! She had looked like she was getting what she wanted. Then she narrowed her eyes, like she was concentrating, and then…nothing. Until I heard myself reciting the pattern. I had seen it, you know? Like I always do, and instead of holding back, I said all of them just like that.”
“You said that earlier. You were surprised. Why do you think that was? Did you lose your grip on The Plain, or..?”
“No, I had it locked down tight.”
“Hmmm. Then what? How did you feel while you were reciting the sequence? Physically.”
Grayson thinks back to that moment when he’d felt the foci burn hot and—“I felt this tingle at the base of my skull!”
Nimue jerks, dumping an irate Doodle on her ass on the patio stones. A loud meow tells them just what she thinks of the ill treatment. “You didn’t mention that before.”
“No, I didn’t remember it until now. The tingle, the burning, and then boom—I said everything I had been keeping back. It feels like when I was unable to say Professor Kirwan’s name.”
“Mind Manipulation?” Elysia murmurs from the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I wanted fresh air. Iggy is doing fire tricks and…” She rolls her eyes, but her smile is indulgent. “It gets hot and smoky in there.”
“Besides, you’ve seen them all before, right?”
“Exactly. May the Goddess teach him something new in the next decade. Besides, I doubt Rowan will appreciate the smoke detectors going off, and I would rather be out here when they do.” She perches on the bottom of the lounger, sweeping her long, greying braids over her shoulder so she can worry at the three orange beads at the ends. “Do you think Kirwan could be using a spell to weaken Grayson’s resolve, powered by the foci. Sounds like a Mind Manipulation Talent.”
Nimue nods her head, dark-winged brows lowered over eyes flashing in anger. “It does so. And I doubt it’s registered, or she wouldn’t be allowed to teach.”
“Why?” Grayson asks, curious even though he’d been the one violated. “Surely if they could trust someone to educate, then they had to be principled enough to control the less admirable qualities of their magic.”
