AllFreeNovel
Share Us
So the letter remained on his table, ignored like all the rest.
* * *
Three days and four letters later, Augustus was tired of the complaints, drinking, his own miserable company, and his churning thoughts and desires, all centered around a saint he couldn't have. Augustushatedthings he couldn't have, so he went out.
At first, Augustus thought he would walk around Fitzroy Gardens for a while and go back to work. A flash of a red jacket like Mara's in the corner of his eye caused a panic so intense that he stepped onto a tram without looking where it was headed.
Augustus ended up in the crush of people outside of Flinders Street Station, and for once, he was okay with being lost in a crowd of commuters, tourists, teens chewing on headphone cables, and buskers trying to outplay and perform each other.
He kept walking, over the bridge and down St. Kilda Road, hands shoved in his pockets and worry buzzing around his crowded brain.
By the time he reached the National Gallery, it had started to rain, so he walked inside, hoping that the quiet hush and the beautiful art would make him feel better.
He walked through the collections, reached the European collection, thinking about Mara…and there she was, sitting on one of the low couches in front of a portrait of a woman swathed in rich blue silk. Augustus started to back away as quietly as he could.
"Hello, Augustus," Mara said, without turning around and forcing him to freeze.
"How did you know it was me?"
"A sorcerer's magic is almost as loud as he is. Are you stalking me?" she asked. Augustus gave in and went and sat down beside her.
"Not intentionally. I came in here to get out of the rain, and here you are," he replied, a tightness already in his chest.
Mara folded her hands in her lap. "Do you think that Melbourne's magic keeps pushing us together?"
"There you go talking like it's sentient again."
"Itissentient, Augustus. Stop trying to fight it every step of the way. No wonder you haven't been able to figure this out in the past hundred years," Mara snapped irritably.
"Maybe you are right, but it still doesn't make me feel more comfortable about it," he said, glancing sideways at her. She looked tired. "Are you okay?"
"Rough day. There are a lot of people with a lot of grief out there. Sometimes it gets too much, and I need to shut the shop for a few days before it burns the heart right out of me," Mara replied and looked around at the beautiful art.
"I like how quiet it is in here. I like churches for the same reason, but there were too many people in St. Paul's today. So what's your excuse?"
Augustus shrugged. "I got onto the wrong tram."
"I mean, what's your excuse for ignoring me for days?" Mara corrected.
"Why? Were you worried about me?" Augustus said, but she didn't smile.
Mara nodded, her dark eyes troubled. "Yes. You seem to be forgetting that, for better or worse, you are my friend, Augustus. Friends worry about other friends, as I'm learning."
'You don't want to care about me, little saint,' was what he should have said. Augustus didn't, though. He was panicking that he had finally let someone get close enough for them to care about him at all.
"It would probably be better if you went back to hating me, Mara," he whispered, his voice breaking. He stared at the painting in front of them without seeing it. "Keep reading all of those family books if you need reasons why."
"I have been, believe me. And yet, I find myself quite unable to hate you. It would be so much better for my mental well-being if I did," she said and let out a soft sigh.
"You know there is a high possibility if we close the hole in the magic that it will kill me," Augustus said, forcing out the words.
"Yes."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"We are both old enough to not fear death, sorcerer. Besides, you aren't exactly living now, are you?" Mara softened the blow of her words by taking his hand in both of hers.
Despite everything, his damaged heart began to beat a little faster.
