Blood Like Magic, page 22
“It’s not that you couldn’t do it without magic, it’s that you’re using your skills together.” I wave at the kids milling around the room. “You think those people aren’t using every single advantage they have? Calling up aunts and uncles with connections here and getting favors to have their applications pushed up on the list? We don’t have money or their kind of status, but we have magic.”
For what I’m sure is the very first time, Keis actually looks like she believes me.
“You’re still doing it like you wanted. You’re more than just a witch.”
She lets out a breath, and her lips spread into a little smile. “This place isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s what you thought it would be, so it’s better. Thank you for setting this up.” She stares into my eyes. “I’m not the only one who can be more than just a witch—you know that, right?”
“I have to be a witch first before I can be more than a witch.” I give Keis a gentle push forward to follow the crowd of tour guests. “Now, come on, the group is leaving without us.”
Keis is the one who made this happen for herself. I got her here, but it was her decision to use magic that got her the referral. And if she didn’t believe this was the right place for her, she wouldn’t have broken her personal rule not to use her gift to get ahead. This is the thing that’s finally worth taking advantage of everything she has to give. She’s carving out what her life, her future, will be.
I can only push her forward and stand in the background.
For a moment, I think of Mama Jova, pressed against the trunk of the tree, watching everyone run to freedom without her. I know it’s not the same, not even close, but somehow it feels similar. It’s enough that in a small way I can understand what might have made her pick me.
* * *
In the elevator, I’m surrounded by a group of people who may one day become employees here. I glance at Keis out of the corner of my eye. With any luck, she will too.
What must it be like to know exactly what you want? Whenever I try to imagine my future, I come up against a block. There’s always something in the way, and no matter what route I take, the end is a mystery. I keep thinking that my gift will solve everything, but what if it doesn’t? What if I don’t have that light bulb moment that helps me decide what it is that I want to do with my life?
I wring my hands.
The elevator door dings and opens into another expansive space with glass walls and teal furniture. Except here, each person has at least three monitors in front of them.
“This is the second floor,” Dennis announces. “You may remember the recently announced matching program that’s in beta testing phase. It was developed and is monitored here along with our other ongoing special programs.”
It takes me a few seconds to spot Luc at a standing desk surrounded by five screens under a holo that reads “NuGene Match: In Beta.” He’s an intern, and yet he’s not dressed in the teal lab coat that would signify he’s available for us to chat with him.
The last time I saw him, he was stringing my cousin up on a rope.
The time before that, I was with him at Brown Bear, fingering a knife in a way that seemed less than friendly.
My hands shake, and I clench them into fists to keep them steady.
“You have another five minutes here to chat with some of our interns,” Dennis says.
Keis points to the “Charitable Programs” holo. “I’m going to talk with them.”
I glance at Luc, who’s staring at his screen. His last string of messages said he would have my container for me.
“Are you coming?”
“Sure,” I say. He’s so hot and cold. Messages me out of the blue not two but three days in a row, and now wants to go back to pretending I don’t exist. Fine. I can play that game too.
I take a couple of steps forward with Keis when a cough rings out across the room. The source of the noise is Luc, who’s finally looked away from his screen to stare at me.
“Are you okay?” One of the guys from our tour group has strayed to hover near Luc.
“Fine,” Luc snaps.
Typical. I move again to follow Keis, and he makes a hasty cough sound so weak and fake that I roll my eyes. “I’ll catch up with you.”
“Watch out, sounds like he has a cold.” Keis smirks at me and heads off.
I walk to Luc’s desk, where he’s straightening and alternating between looking at his screen and watching me come over. He doesn’t try to murder Keis, so that’s positive.
The guy who Luc snapped at gives me a look that says, Are you sure you want to try and interact with him?
I stop in front of my match’s desk. “You coughed?”
“You didn’t seem like you were going to come over.”
“You’re not wearing a teal coat.”
He scowls. “Because I don’t want to be bothered.”
“Then why am I here?”
“I meant—not you, other people.” He jerks his shoulder in what I suspect is meant to be nonchalance. “One person is fine, and it may as well be you.”
“Do you have my container?”
Luc coughs into his sleeve. Just as fake as his other one, except I’m not sure why. “No, I forgot it. Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Never mind that, look here.” He comes closer and points at the smallest of his screens. It’s a grainy photo of what looks like a laboratory, and a Black woman stands there, curls cut close to her face. I squint and gasp. “That’s Auntie Elaine!”
“Keep it down,” he hisses.
“Sorry.” I shake my head in shock. “Where did you get this?” For all his “That’s Justin’s past, not mine” spam, he’s already done more to help out than I ever expected.
“I asked Justin if he recalled knowing anyone in your family. He said no, which isn’t surprising.” He stabs at the screen, perhaps a little too viciously. “But I found this in archived files from his private databases.”
“Can you send it to me?”
Luc’s eyes go wide. “Did you not just hear me say this was in Justin’s private files? This data can’t leave the building server.”
“He wouldn’t talk to you about it, but he let you look at his private files?” I tilt my head to the side.
Luc closes the window with a few taps and clears his throat. “Not exactly.”
“You hacked into it?”
“Shh!”
I glance over at the group, but they’re milling around, oblivious. Dennis looks over at us, but a stony glare from Luc makes him turn away. I say, “Do you have to be an ass to everyone?”
“Only annoying people.”
“If hacking is your special skill, why are you working on the matching program?”
“My first love is robotics, actually. And I have many skills, including genetic analysis, hence my role in the matching program. I’m very intelligent.”
“I’m very intelligent,” I mock under my breath, and he scowls. “Wait, why not a robotics program?”
“It’s hard to get funding for a program when one of the models suffocates its owner tucking them into bed.”
I wince. “Fair enough.”
He points to the screen. “What do you think the connection is between your aunt and Justin?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. No one else in my family wants to talk about it or thinks it’s important.”
He props his head up on his chin. “There’s a family member who is closely related to you, and you know nothing about them, and no one thinks that’s important?”
“Right?” I throw my hands up.
Luc taps on his screen and brings up another photo. It’s low-res but unmistakably Auntie Elaine. Justin’s there too. They’re in a hospital room where she’s bent over a patient while he watches her. “He had this, too, and yet he lied to me when I asked if he knew anyone in your family. He never lies about anything, just says that it’s classified, but he actively concealed his knowing her.”
The twist of Luc’s mouth shows me he thinks that’s as suspicious as I do. Finally! Someone who understands that this could be important. And it’s Luc of all people. “Do you know which hospital that is?”
“No.”
“Can you find out?” My eyes meet Luc’s. “Please?”
“I’ll look into it.”
I beam.
His face flushes. “If I have time! Don’t get so excited.”
I make an effort to press my lips into something closer to a frown. “What about her genetic sequence? Can you access it?”
“NuGene needs permission for that. Justin has a note that he recorded her full sequence, but the file was sent to an outside source. It’s some sort of locked local server, so I can’t get to it. Justin deleted the original one on file. The only Thomas whose genetics I have access to are yours.”
If Justin had Auntie Elaine’s genetic sequence done, that means a list of information about what was in her genes. And I can bet that local server is the almanac. There must be some sort of clue in it about what went on between them. Especially if Justin tried to delete it.
“When are you going to kill me?” Luc whispers.
My neck snaps to look into his eyes.
He rubs his arms. “I mean… since I have to give you the container.”
“What did you say?”
“I have to give you the container?”
“No, before that.” I lean toward him, prepared to hear him properly this time.
“When am I going to see you again?”
When is he going to see me again… to give me the container. Of course. It’s happening again. I’m hearing something that wasn’t said, like when I saw blood that wasn’t there. Like the visions. “I’ll send you a message.” My mind is looping on the words I thought I heard.
This can’t keep happening.
I need to calm down. This is good. I have another opportunity to see him—another opportunity to try to fall in love.
“Okay, time to move on!” Dennis shouts out.
“I have to go,” I say, and stumble backward.
Luc furrows his brow in an expression that looks uncomfortably like concern. But he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. “When you get to the main floor, you should speak to Abed in the café. I know it just seems like a little spot in the building, but he runs a ton of office-based eateries and does internships.”
“I don’t need an internship.” My foot decides to do a tapping rhythm on the floor.
“Everyone our age needs an internship. And if the curry is any indication, you cook well, so why not look for one?” He tilts his head to the side. “Or can you only pursue internships that aren’t for you?”
“I’m not—I don’t—” How am I supposed to explain to him that’s not how my life works? My future will be decided by my gift. And my gift will depend on whether or not I complete this task. I’m not willing to fight my fate and dive into an unpredictable future like Keis. “I don’t have any plans for that. My life is set in stone in a way yours isn’t.”
“No one’s future is set in stone. No one gets that guarantee.”
I fold my hands into fists. He’s right. His future isn’t guaranteed because I’m here to take his life. To put a stop to his bright prospects at this amazing company.
All so I can have a future that I can’t imagine.
“I have to go,” I mutter, and hustle after the rest of the group.
We move toward the elevator, and Dennis drops back beside me. He leans over and whispers, “How the hell did you get Luc to talk to you?”
“Uh, I met him before.”
“Yeah,” Dennis says with an eye roll. “We’ve all met him before. I’ve met him at least six times, and believe me when I say he doesn’t give me the time of day.”
I glance back at Luc alone at his desk. He’s got almost an entire ring of empty desks around him, as if people who were placed near him vacated their seats to get away. “We have a mutual interest.” If not for the connection between Auntie Elaine and Justin, he probably wouldn’t have called me over. I’m the one trying to fall in love. He’s said from the beginning that he has no interest.
“Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. If you get a referral from him, you have a guaranteed spot on his team.” Dennis gathers everyone into the elevator.
I stare out at Luc by himself in the back of the room until the elevator doors close.
At the next floor, while everyone makes their way around the space to chat with interns, I shuffle over to sit on one of the couches next to a woman working away on her laptop.
I pull out my phone and bring up Luc’s profile with its stream of negative reviews and our matching percentage at the top.
I tap on the rating section.
Talented Fade Ink artist and possible supersleuth hacker. Attitude could use some work. Could be better at returning property also. —Voya Thomas
I give him a four-star rating because giving him five would be a little much and kind of mortifying.
Almost instantly, a comment appears under my review. The only comment Luc has ever made on any of his ratings: You’re ruining my reputation.
I press my fist against my mouth to hide the smile that blooms there.
The woman beside me leans over. “Who’s the lucky person?”
“What?”
She grins. “I always know the look of a girl in love.”
Beneath my hand, my smile slides away.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I spend the next day in the kitchen with Auntie Elaine’s recipes. My plan was to see if I could find some way to see Luc, but most of his time is monopolized by NuGene, even on weekends like today. His feed shows he hasn’t been on it for the past twelve hours, which is basically unheard of for anyone our age but is common for him. I sent him a message about arranging to get my container back that he still hasn’t answered, so cooking it is.
It’s also a perfect time to try out my recipes for the contest with a bigger audience. In less than an hour, every Black witch family will gather in the Davises’ massive backyard for our annual get-together before Caribana. Sometimes it seems ridiculous that we can all fit in someone’s—large to be fair, but still—backyard-size property. The community is smaller than it seems. Look at Auntie Elaine, related to me through Uncle Vacu and through Dad.
I’m cooking a batch of oxtail curry, the one Luc and my family preferred. Except for Dad, who hasn’t gotten back to me about his pick. I make another tin of macaroni pie, too, Auntie Elaine’s recipe, and finish off with a rum-soaked black cake that’s so moist it’s glistening. It’s not my taste, if I’m honest, but Auntie Elaine’s recipes are popular for a reason, and I’m trying to win.
Granny shuffles into the kitchen around six p.m. I look behind her for Uncle and, thankfully, he’s absent.
She scoffs. “Cathius left early to help get ready for the party.”
“How did you know that’s what I was thinking about?”
She grunts and leans over the black cake. “It smells like a liquor store. Who gave you rum to waste like that?”
“I found it.”
Granny’s nostrils flare.
“If I win the recipe contest, I’ll have lots of money to replace it! And it was the one Auntie complained wasn’t good last year. No one was using it.”
“Mm-hmm.” She makes her way around the island, looking over the dishes I have laid out. “These aren’t your recipes.”
“How do you know?”
“You never put pepper sauce in your curry before. Only whole scotch bonnets, just enough for flavor. I almost burned my damn throat trying it the other day for lunch.”
“You said you liked it!”
“I did. I just wouldn’t mind a little warning. It’s a cooking contest, so why aren’t you using your recipes?” Granny’s forehead wrinkles as she studies me. For a granny, her face is sparse when it comes to things like age lines. She looks more like she’s in her forties than sixties. Whether that’s a benefit of being Matriarch or our beauty products, I have no idea.
I lick my lips. “It’s a heritage recipe contest. You’re supposed to use ancestor inspiration.”
“Did our ancestors not eat curry like you make?”
Hack me to death. I flick my eyes up to the ceiling. “Why am I being interrogated?”
Granny hmms under her breath and keeps examining the dishes laid out.
I pull Iron Film (promises to never rip!) over the top of the food in the EcoOven trays. “I just want some more options. My recipes are good, but maybe these are better.”
I stack the trays crisscross the way Granny taught me, so they don’t sink into each other. Iron Film is strong but not that strong.
“If you say so.” Granny leaves the room and screeches up the staircase, “Girls! Come help Voya get this food in the van!”
Keis and Keisha file into the kitchen. Keis has her hair in its signature pineapple bun and casual shorts and T-shirt, while her sister sashays in with a butt-length chocolate-brown wig with pink ends, and a white mini dress that looks like she sewed herself into it.
Granny squints at them. “Where’s Alex?”
“She’s sewing in her room. Her fashion show is tomorrow.” Keisha adjusts her dress that’s already ridden up.
Granny squints harder.
“Everything is covered! It’s not that short of a dress!”
It takes one more hard stare for Keisha to spin on her heel and stomp out of the room, calling out, “This is some retro sexist bullshit!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Granny jerks her head at Keis and me. “Go take those out to the van. Keisha will grab the last one.”
Keis and I each grab a tray and head out to “the van,” where everyone is packed in. That’s what Granny calls it even though it’s technically a mini bus. No hype. Shiny, white, and boxy in a way that makes me and my cousins cringe. It’s a relic from when Granny and Grandad used to travel around the country when Uncle Vacu was little.
