Blood Like Magic, page 26
Alex pushes a breath out. “I figured it was something like that. Now I know for sure.”
I expect Luc to look uncomfortable, but he doesn’t. He looks blank. Spitting out a truth I suspect he’s known for a long time.
We’re silent for a moment after that, each of us sort of shuffling in place, not sure what else to say. Why is Luc’s car taking so long to come? I look to Keis for some way out of the awkwardness. She’s staring at Luc with more concentration than I’m comfortable with. A small sheen of sweat glistens on her forehead.
Are you reading his mind? Stop! Right now!
She snaps out of concentration and makes a face at me like Why not?
It’s hard enough trying to fall in love with someone you have to murder. Things can only get more complicated by Keis digging in his head. And it’s overly invasive.
She rolls her eyes but relaxes. Alex may have come out here with some sincerity, but clearly my other cousin just came to prod around in my match’s mind.
“We’ll see you inside,” Keis says with zero acknowledgment of my thought.
“Thanks,” Alex says, her eyes moving between Luc and me. “I think I understand things a bit better now. I thought I got it, but I really didn’t.” For a moment, I thought she was talking about NuGene and the misgendering, but she looks at me as she says it. She turns away and waves at Luc. “Not as much of an asshole as Keis made you out to be.”
“Thank you?” Luc replies.
My cousins disappear into the house, and I let out a breath. “Hack me, this car is taking forever to come.”
Luc clears his throat and points at my wrist. “I couldn’t find anything out about that flashing.”
“What?”
He points to the monitor on my wrist. “It seems to flash intermittently for some of the users. But I‘ve never seen yours do it. I asked around about it but got nothing.”
“Justin didn’t tell you anything?”
“No, as usual,” Luc huffs. “The monitors are actually his project. We’re just using them in the matching program.”
I frown at the monitor sitting on my wrist. It’s not tracking the same NT sequence that marks magic, but it’s weird to know it’s flashing without explanation. I shake my head. There’s enough going on between the task and now Auntie Elaine and Justin. “I’m gonna head inside if that’s okay.”
“Yup,” Luc says, spinning on his heel toward the street and scrolling through his phone.
“Thanks again.”
“It’s nothing.”
But it isn’t nothing. He didn’t have to come all the way down here to help me. However he is on the outside, Luc is actually a pretty nice person. He’s now done me two favors with Auntie Elaine and didn’t pull any corporate BS about Alex’s question. He was honest.
I take one last look at him before I walk inside, pressing the door closed behind me and leaning against it with a sigh.
I’m about to head upstairs to my room when a mutter of voices from Auntie Maise’s room stops me. With a quick look around the empty foyer, I tiptoe over to the door.
Granny’s voice is barely audible. “She won’t be able to kill that boy.”
My blood feels like it’s run out of my body. A Bleeding times one hundred.
“You think she’s already in love with him?” Mom’s voice sounds urgent.
“Dear Lord, Ama. Voya is a child that needs attention to feel wanted. Look at how she clung to Lauren after the girl gave her a bit of her time,” Auntie drawls. “That’s just children of divorce for you. Someone abandoned her, so I don’t blame her for being clingy. But she’d fall in love with any boy who looked at her for ten seconds.” The “someone” in her speech is clearly referring to Dad.
I wait for Mom to back me up. She doesn’t.
I clench my hands into fists. I’m not like that. Sure, I’ve always wanted to be around my cousins, and Lauren was my first and only friend outside of them. I was excited to spend time with her and the Carters. Her family felt like an extension of my own. Back then, the entire community felt like my family. Is wanting to be near your family a crime? Since when does that make someone desperate for attention or clingy? And if I was really like that, I wouldn’t be struggling to fall in love with Luc the way I am now.
Is that what the adults think of me? That I’m some sort of attention-starved baby? That Dad leaving broke me into something that can never be fixed?
“This boy is a plant. Justin is trying to wriggle his way back into this family.” Uncle’s trying to whisper. He’s not good at it.
“Why?” Mom says. “He got what he wanted. He’s a billionaire with a genetic modification process he wouldn’t have without Elaine. He’s not even supposed to remember any of us.”
I frown. What does that mean? He isn’t supposed to remember them? The ritual that took our memories must have done the same to Justin. That was how Auntie Elaine protected us, but that makes no sense. If she was the one who did the ritual, we wouldn’t be pure anymore, and she wouldn’t be dead. I don’t get it.
“He’ll always want more. That’s the sort of person he is,” Dad snarls. “I want to know why we’re allowing Voya to be near him at all. Even with his memories gone, he’s the same Justin. My sister made a sacrifice, and I don’t intend to see it wasted.”
Sister?! I thought Auntie Elaine was just some relative of Dad’s, but it’s closer than that. And the sacrifice he mentioned, whatever she did to protect us, must have cost her something.
Mom snaps, “I think you forfeited your right to allow or not allow Voya to do anything a long time ago. It won’t be a problem once she completes her task. What Elaine did won’t be wasted.”
The idea of completing my task makes my hands and stomach clench in tandem.
If Justin had no memories of Auntie Elaine, he couldn’t be mad about whatever happened and keep coming after us. And the sacrifice they’re talking about, it can’t be her purity, or we would all be impure. Even after eleven years, the impure scent wouldn’t have faded completely, and one witch’s purity affects her entire family. Unless they’ve cut ties with their leader like Granny’s family did. Without a Matriarch, you’re guaranteed weaker magic and gifts, not to mention you lose your direct connection to the ancestors, but they must have thought it was worth it to hold on to impure magic. I’ve heard that a few just pledged to a new Matriarch.
Moreover, why would Auntie Elaine make us kids forget her too? Or was that something Granny had April-Mae tack on? Because when it comes to impurity and Black witches, especially with the way Johan reacted to Auntie Elaine’s name, the memory spell must have had something to do with the Davises.
“Completes her task?” Granny says, disbelief evident in her voice. “Voya is not a killer. You said as much yourself. I don’t blame her. I raised you to stay away from that sort of impure trash. There are only a couple of weeks left. Maise can’t even cast summoning spells! We need to start considering other options.”
“We promised we weren’t going to keep pretending there were alternatives or ways out of this,” Priya’s voice cuts in, sharp. “We said we were going to trust in Voya’s ability to do this. She promised me that—”
“Voya is a child!” Granny roars, abandoning all attempts to be quiet. “She doesn’t know what she can’t do. And I’m telling you, she can’t do this.”
I stumble away from the door, shaking my head. My feet rush out of the house before my mind can catch up, and suddenly I’m racing down the front steps just as Luc is getting into his car.
He spots me as he opens the door. “Voya?”
“I’m glad your ride finally came,” I choke out, and rush past him down the street with strides that are so fast I’m basically running.
I don’t need to keep being disappointed by my family. I can’t believe that I thought Alex was the only one worried about me failing. Somehow, I actually thought everyone else was on board with believing in me. All the doubt and denial in the beginning, I thought it was just because the task felt impossible, but maybe it was just that they never thought I was going to be able to do it. Everyone in that room thinks I’m more likely to let my little sister die.
I wasn’t even good enough to become a witch the first time around.
Why would anyone expect me to succeed at this impossible task?
And if I look deep down inside, the last thing I want to do is pass. I don’t want to kill anyone, and a tinier voice inside whispers that I especially don’t want to murder Luc.
Voya, who can’t choose at all, and Voya, who can never make the right choice.
Two halves of a coin worth nothing.
I don’t stop until I reach the dock at Marie Curtis Park a couple blocks away, where I stand and look out at the water. It’s eerie and quiet. Dusk is falling. I’m used to seeing seagulls and pigeons flapping along the edge.
I let out the sob I’ve been holding in, and tears fill my eyes.
“Did I miss something?” Luc murmurs.
I jump and spin around. “Why are you still here?”
He tucks his hands into his jeans pockets. “You seemed upset.”
“I am! And you can go.”
“You’ve spent how many days stalking me and saying how we should get to know each other because we’re matches, and now you want me to go away?”
“You said you didn’t want to be in a relationship.”
“I didn’t.” His voice is barely above a whisper, and I blink away tears. “You’re clearly upset about something.” He shuffles his feet. “And how am I supposed to get you to raise my rating to a five if I don’t help out?”
I snort out a watery laugh. “You don’t care about your rating.”
“I care about yours. Somehow.” He comes closer. “The least I can do is keep you company at this shitty dock.”
“It’s a nice dock!”
“I meant that literally. It’s covered in goose shit.”
I don’t need to look down to know what he means. Marie Curtis is notorious for having a large population of geese that do their business wherever they feel like.
When I wipe my tears away, my fingers are streaked with blood. This time, I’m not shocked by it, used to the visions that seem intent on haunting me as long as Luc is alive. I watch the red stains on my fingers with a detached interest.
Letting my arms fall to my sides, I turn back to the water. “I cried here when my parents split up.” I laugh a little. “It was dramatic. My grandma came and sat with me. She said that every time you cry about something, and you think it’s the worst thing you’ve ever been through, remember there’s always something worse on the horizon.” The blood on my hands increases until it’s dripping off my fingers in great sloshes, splashing on the dock with enough force to splatter onto my sandaled feet.
Luc notices nothing. “That’s a comforting message for a child.”
“Our family motto is ‘We suffer and we survive.’ I think she meant there would always be something worse, but we would always get through it.”
It’s one thing for me to think I’ll fail. I always mess up.
But I felt like everyone else thought I could do it, even if I didn’t know if I could, and I was working hard to live up to their expectations. I thought Granny knew I could suffer and survive.
But maybe a better question is why I have to at all. Why our family motto and the strength of our gifts are so ingrained in pushing through pain, and why we can’t seem to break the pattern.
Once upon a time, the whole community was my family. That dropped away, but I could always belong with my first family. People who believed in me when I didn’t. Except they don’t. Keisha was right. We’re just as broken as everyone else.
How did I think I could hold the entire future of the family in my hands?
Auntie Elaine tried. She did her best to make a change, not just in our family but in the entire community.
And she still failed.
I look over at Luc. How could I ever use my hands to steal a life? These hands that bake and knead. Even as blood runs off them, it feels laughable. The idea of me carrying out my task is as unreal as the vision.
I don’t know if I’m in love. I could be.
Being in love would mean I’m one step closer to completing my task, but it would also be a step back.
This boy who eats boxed mac and cheese and instant noodles. Who said he didn’t want a relationship, but still came out here to check on me. Who was the only one willing to help me learn about my aunt.
“Thank you,” I say.
“I benefitted from hacking into your aunt and Justin’s thing too, you know? I was curious as well.”
“That’s not what I’m thanking you for.”
“Oh.” Luc tucks his hands deeper in his pockets. “Does that mean you’ll raise my rating to a five-star?”
I bark out a laugh.
Hack me.
A fresh wave of tears leaks out, and Luc makes a panicked face. “Do you want a hug or something? Would that help?”
My eyes go wide. “You would hug me?”
“If it would make you feel better. But not for long. Five-second maximum. I’ll count.”
“You don’t seem like a hugs person.”
“I can be. I’m just particular.”
I step close to him, and the panic on his face gets even worse. “Do you actually want to hug me? You look very afraid.”
“Okay, yeah, the hug is too much. How about you just lean against my side?”
I let out a tearful laugh and line myself up beside him. Slowly, I tilt my head until I’m leaning against his shoulder. It’s bony and awkward, and if I stay there any longer, my neck is going to cramp up. He smells like he uses the same deodorant that Grandad used to. Spicy, like cloves and nutmeg. Which maybe should be creepy, but instead it’s comforting. I stay there longer than I mean to, my neck awkwardly bent, spicy scent in my nose, and blood that Luc can’t see leaking from my eyes and soaking into his shirt.
For one moment, I let myself forget about the task and its consequences and just lean there.
“Sorry I made you miss your car after it took so long to get there,” I mumble.
Luc swallows, and it’s so close to me, the sound is louder than it should be. “I hadn’t called it yet.”
“What?”
“When I said I called it, I hadn’t.”
“Why?”
He shrugs and my head bobs with the motion. “I don’t know. I guess I wanted to stick around a little longer.”
My entire body warms, and I have to bite my lip to stop the tremble there. When I finally speak, my voice comes out breathy and quiet. “You could have just asked.”
“Yeah, I guess I could have. That would have been more normal.” He lets out a soft laugh that makes his body tremble, and it rumbles through my head, leaving the insides fuzzy.
We stay like that for a few more moments until Luc’s shoulder starts to stiffen, and I figure he’s had enough contact. I lean away. I have to rotate my neck and massage it to work feeling back into it.
“Better?” Luc asks.
“Yeah.” I’m not crying at least.
My task comes rushing back.
I have to kill this boy.
What did Auntie Elaine give up to protect us from a man who was more than an acquaintance? Who meant something to her? How did she gather the strength to do what needed to be done for the family?
I don’t know. But there’s one man who may. The only one in my family who might spill the beans that no one else will.
Because he has nothing left to lose.
And at this point, I need that sort of desperation on my side. And ancestors know, I’m tired of being fed lies by the rest of the adults.
I turn to Luc and let out a breath. “Can I borrow your hacking skills one more time?”
“What do you need?” There’s a curious uptick to his eyebrows.
“To find someone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Uncle Vacu couldn’t stay sober, so he got kicked out of the men’s rehab where he’s lived on and off for the last few years.
This is an off time.
Luc got his information to me this morning. Uncle lives in one of those apartment buildings that spans more than fifty floors and is packed with low-income people. By law, the city needs to have at least five of these buildings in every neighborhood so that folks can’t be completely pushed out like they used to be. But they’re never maintained or taken care of like they should be. The front porch has tenants lounging with vaporizers, and there are fresh tags on the outside walls. Not the colorful graffiti in our neighborhood that was made by a hired artist, but black marks with explicit content. The chemical smell of paint floats in the air as I approach the call board.
I was eleven the last time I saw my uncle by blood—Granny’s son, and Mom and Auntie’s brother. He burst through the back door with a garbage bag, collecting ancestral silverware Granny had in the basement and claiming he had a right to it. I was home alone because I was sick and everyone except Mom had gone to the International Market. Mom had stepped out quick to grab more medicine for me. When I tried to stop Uncle Vacu, he shoved me to the ground and ran out. My already-ill body made the pain of it three times as bad. I sat there and cried until Mom came back.
I thought he would have gone far away after that. Instead, he’s been living in Etobicoke, forty minutes away from us.
Sliding into the small glass space before the lobby and ignoring the tenants who look me up and down, I check the call board. Uncle’s real name isn’t listed. Instead, I recognize Grandad’s name, Lowell Harris, and tap out the code.
The call button sounds with a ding to let me know Uncle Vacu hasn’t picked up. Luc checked his phone location for me, so I know he’s home.
I use the on-screen keyboard to send him a message: It’s Voya. Please let me in.
It takes a couple of minutes of shuffling in place for me to realize he isn’t going to answer my message.
This was a mistake. Uncle is unreliable at best. And who knows how he’ll be if I go up.
