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“It takes time, as with everything. And practice. Lots and lots of practice. I didn’t wake up overnight and throw my first fireball. That took months of dedicated study, meditation, all that boring shit. Everyone takes a different path,
but one thing is common in everyone’s journey: it starts with a single step.”
I rolled my eyes at the empty platitude. “Practice? Hard work? I just want everything to be easy, and I want it all right now.”
Maybe Carver was right all those times he was joking. Maybe I really was stupid. Hell, it took a visit from the actual Greek goddess of magic to get me to even understand the honing. Imagine receiving instruction from the very authority in your field and still failing at it.
Herald chuckled, then drained the rest of his mojito. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, wiping his mouth with a sweep of his hand. “Just keep at it and you’ll learn something eventually. It’s like a muscle. A step at a time. A day at a time.”
“Ugh.”
I changed the subject at that point, to ask about what was new at the Gallery, about what cool new artifacts he’d been tasked to sort and classify. That conversation turned out to be a dead end. The trouble with Herald, and Prudence, and all the others was that they were way too professional. I guess I couldn’t blame them since I was technically the enemy. Was I? Truth be told, I couldn’t really tell anymore.
Everyone went off soon after, the evening ending on a polite, pleasant note, thanks all around directed towards Carver for the free grub. I wanted to think that we came away from it with a greater respect for everyone involved, but with the implicit understanding that if things came down to advancing our individual professional agendas, no one would have any hesitation about breaking someone else’s face.
Carver was very firm about escorting Asher straight back to the hideout. The four-armed, two-headed beast that was once Gil and Prudence didn’t say where they were headed, but they seemed pretty happy about it. Bastion said something about hitting the clubs. Herald wanted to head home, lock himself in for the weekend and play video games, which, frankly, sounded amazing. And I went for a walk.
I guess I needed to collect myself, to kind of settle considering how quickly everything had happened over the past few days. All I’d really learned was that gods could be assholes, but that life could be a smidge easier if they took a shine to you. I was still waiting on one of Arachne’s secret-spiders to show up with news, to see what they’d learned about the father matter. The pater matter, as it were. God, I’m hilarious.
I couldn’t tell you why, exactly, but I allowed my feet to carry me to Heinsite Park, the same place I’d been abducted and murdered for Thea’s dark purposes. I don’t know. Perhaps the place represented something of transformation for me now.
Sure, so I had my issues with dying, or dying in the way that I did, but I can’t ever entirely say that I regretted learning of the arcane underground. I was still groping my way around things, but slowly, it felt like I was beginning to belong. I hated to admit it, but part of what Thea once said made sense in the most stinging possible way. Maybe she really did do me a favor by killing me.
I rolled my shoulder as I shrugged my jacket closer to my body, meaning to stave off the chill of the park. Instead I stretched my new wound and gave myself an unexpected jolt of pain. See, that was the gist of it, as simple as it gets. Whatever Thea had thrust me into had led to pain, and suffering, and not just my own. I couldn’t give her that.
The park bench I lowered myself onto was damp, though I was sure that all of them were, and it wouldn’t have mattered which one I picked. I leaned back, sighing. I still didn’t know what I was, what Thea had made me into. So much was left unanswered, but that was why I chose to go with Carver, wasn’t it? That was why Asher picked that same path. I was sure of it.
I hardly flinched when a man appeared out of nowhere, slumping against the bench and spreading his arms all along the back of it, occupying all this space he firmly believed he was entitled to. I didn’t even have to look to recognize him.
“Damn, Sterling, can’t a guy get a moment’s peace?”
He shrugged, staring straight ahead. “I saw that you broke off from the others and didn’t head back yet. Thought you might need some company.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re just bored.”
“Yeah, that’s more like it.” He chuckled, pointing at a random tree. “Hey, remember when I dropped out of that tree and knocked you flat on your ass? Aww. Memories. Good times, man.”
“I mean, I remember when I kicked you in the balls. You know, I never did get you back for that. You totally tried to kill me.”
Sterling raised a finger. “I wasn’t trying to kill you. I just wanted a snack, remember? What’s a little blood drunk between friends?”
I scoffed. “The way things are going for me and magic, it’s looking like you’ll get a free taste anyway. I have to pay a blood price whenever I use the darkness. It’s like I told Carver from the beginning. I rip myself open every time. I don’t have a choice.”
Something in Sterling’s eyes glittered, and his tongue momentarily ran across his lower lip, but he didn’t make fun of me for complaining like I’d expected. “Well what about that magic he’s trying to teach you? That whole fireball thing. Any luck with that?”
“Nah.” I twiddled my thumbs. Time, Carver said. Practice, Herald said. And according to Hecate, objective and intent. Eventually. A step at a time.
The past few days had been crazy, but if I survived all that, then there was no way I couldn’t adapt. Wasn’t that what Hecate had said about humanity once? That we’re all cockroaches in the end, that we limit our potential by forgetting how we can progress and evolve.
I’d be the first to admit that I needed an extensive break from all things eldritch and supernatural, but something crazy inside of me was hungry to see what was next. I’d only just seen the tip of the arcane iceberg. Who knew what entities I’d meet, what spells I’d learn, and what more cruel and interesting ways to horribly die I’d manage to survive? Ah, but as Herald said: a step at a time.
Sterling cleared his throat, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Have you considered,” he said, all stone and seriousness, “that maybe you’re just really, really terrible?”
“You’re a good friend, Sterling. Anyone ever told you that? So supportive. Not an asshole at all.”
“I’m just saying. Maybe you should just give up on magic. Going vamp is lots of fun. You don’t have to bleed yourself to death because you can just punch someone’s face in. Done.”
I mean, sure. That sounded like it had its perks. Subsisting on blood forever, though? And living so long that you had to see everyone around you die? I guess I could understand the underground’s fascination with longevity, why Carver, Odessa, and Thea wanted to extend their lives to acquire more power, to learn more magic, but it all just rubbed me wrong.
