Not Your Love Song: Chapter 8
Marked
Book 2: Not Your Love Song
Chapter 8
The small room at the Madison Center is crowded; Rory thinks there might easily be twice as many people there for Coven as there were in the fall. He wonders if rumors got out about what happened with Alaric, or if people are just weirded out by some of the strange weather patterns. Or maybe it’s just the start of the semester, and everyone’s there before classes get busy.
He finds a place to sit, stretching his legs out. He spots Thorne on the other side of the room, talking to someone he doesn’t recognize. Nikita waves from where she sits, chatting quietly with a friend.
The chair next to him scrapes and sparks fly as Hayley settles next to him. “Rory, hi,” she says cheerily. “Did you have a good break? Did you meet your soulmate yet?”
“Don’t mention breaks.” Shane settles slowly into a nearby chair, slumped down with his leg in a full brace and stuck straight out, crutches clutched in his hand. “We’re striking that word from our vocabulary for a little while. Hi, Rory.”
Rory has no idea what happened to Shane, but if he doesn’t want to talk breaks, then he won’t ask, either. It’s obvious that it wasn’t good.
“Hey, Rory,” Ángel says. It’s strange to see Ángel and Hayley sitting in separate chairs. They’re still close, Ángel pulling his chair around to make a small circle for the four of them, setting them aside from the rest of the room, but Ángel doesn’t touch her like he used to.
He’s still smiling though, still fond when he looks at her. It looks like they survived the aftermath of the soulmark ritual.
“I did.” Hayley lifts her wrist, shows off the Staff of Caduceus inked there. “So did Ángel. My soulmate is his best friend. Tanner’s adorable. Very sweet. And you should see Ángel’s soulmate. He’s incredibly hot and he’s a cat, and—”
“Hayley.” Ángel sets a hand over hers with a small shower of sparks. “Didn’t we want to talk about something else?” His skin is flushed, deep and warm.
“Right,” Hayley agrees. She gestures at Rory, then at Shane. “So. Shane didn’t find his soulmate over break. Did you?”
“I found a broken femur early in January and a long hospital stay after surgery,” Shane mutters. “But despite the number of people who touched me, I didn’t find a soulmate. I heard you’re stuck in the same boat as me after their ritual?”
“Sorry,” Hayley whispers.
Rory’s throat is tight, clenched against the words. He grips the arm of his chair, fingers digging in. “You, too?” he asks. “Did you tell Pawel?”
“Not yet.” Shane twists his hand, shows his wrist with the clouded image swirling there. “I should probably be more worried about it, but skiing interrupted everything.”
Rory mirrors the gesture. He can feel the weight of Hayley’s gaze on him, and he can guess what she’s waiting for as she taps her fingers on her knees, sparks flicking in the air. He glances at Shane, then slowly pulls his hand back. “I know what she’s thinking, but….” His fingers flex and curl.
“Ángel and Hayley didn’t match,” Shane says plainly. “We don’t know each other much outside of Coven—these two are the overly friendly ones. I don’t think my mark is for you, Rory, and if it is, it’s going to be a big surprise for me because I’ve never been anything but straight. I’m willing to try or ignore it, whichever you’d prefer.”
“I don’t like this,” Rory says, mouth dry and voice low. “But I don’t like knowing that you’ve got that, either.” He reaches forward slowly, carefully brushes his fingers against Shane’s.
Nothing.
Breath whooshes out, and Rory slumps. “Good,” he mutters. “I can add you to the spreadsheet. This is incredibly fucking stressful.”
“You have a spreadsheet?” Hayley asks, eyes wide. “That’s a really good idea. I didn’t have time for that. Maybe that would’ve helped you, Ángel? His mark changed when we were out dancing and drinking one night and he had no idea who it was for the longest time.”
“It turned out okay?” Rory asks, because while Hayley’s as bubbly as ever, Ángel seems quieter. More subdued than he used to be.
Ángel smiles slowly, shows the inked cat and moon on the inside of his wrist. “It did. It was awkward for a while because I had this massive crush on someone who was dating someone else, and didn’t seem interested in me. But it all worked out in the end, and he’s not what I thought I was looking for at all. But he’s the right guy for me.”
“Good,” Rory says. And he’s glad for him, happy that at least for Ángel everything seems fine.
“I figure I’ll meet whoever she is when I meet her,” Shane mutters quietly. “And if I’m lucky, a piano won’t fall on her head.”
It’s a strange comment, but Rory doesn’t get the chance to ask about it. Pawel calls for attention from where he sits on the table at the front of the room.
“I think I recognize most of you,” Pawel says slowly, looking carefully at each of them. “To those of you returning from a term abroad or co-op, welcome back to PHU. Please take some time to introduce yourself to the freshmen. Sarah, Jamie, thanks for stopping by after class today; I’m glad you decided to come tonight.” He goes silent, head tilted.
Rory follows his gaze to where Pels stands near the door, having what looks like a heated, whispered conversation with nobody. In the silence, she slows, then looks up and smiles slightly. “Hi,” she says.
“I don’t think we’ve met yet?” Pawel lets it hang in the air like a question.
“Gospel Ryder, and please call me Pels because I hate that name,” she says quickly. “I’m not a Mage, but I’m supposed to be here.”
Pawel’s eyebrows arch a bit higher. “Supposed to? Are you Predictive?”
She laughs, the sound low and tight. “No. Not exactly. Believe me, I’d leave if I could.” She reaches out and grips the handle of the door, rotating it, but the door doesn’t open when she pushes. “I’m kind of stuck here for the moment, so I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t mind me staying and observing.”
It’s more than Rory can remember Pels saying at any time on their floor. From the full name to the explanation of why she’s there, it’s all new information. Nikita stares at her, wide-eyed, and Pels avoids her in return.
Pawel’s gaze narrows. Rory can almost see the wheels turning, processing new information. “You are Talented, however, yes?” When Pels nods, Pawel sits back. “Then it’s fine. The only requirement to be a part of the club is that you need to be Talented. Mages are preferred, or someone on that particular magical spectrum. However, we’ve worked with other Talents in our rituals before, and there are times when a different perspective can offer a change to how a ritual works. Pels, please don’t plan to take part in any rituals until we have a good understanding of how your particular Talent interacts with ritualized magic.”
It’s an opening for her to talk about her Talent, and Pels ignores it. “Believe me, I don’t plan to take part at all,” she mutters.
“Why do I get the feeling that she might not plan to, and might end up doing it anyway?” Shane whispers.
“Is the door locked? It doesn’t look locked,” Hayley points out.
Pels glares across the room, and Hayley sits back zips her lips.
That was a very loud out loud voice.
Pawel coughs. “As I was saying, welcome to a new semester. For those who are new to Coven, let’s talk a little about what we do throughout the semester. We meet once a week on Tuesday evenings. I’m the faculty advisor for Coven, but I’m also a professor, the coach for the taekwondo club, and a single father. If you need my time, please reach out to schedule a meeting. I’m working with seven independent study projects this semester, so time is tight. I have office hours posted on my site.”
He hops off the desk, runs his fingers through his hair. It’s longer this semester, and he has a scruff; Rory wonders if it’s on purpose, or if the stress of last semester is getting to him.
“Most weeks, this is a coffee club,” Pawel says, gesturing at the table to one side set with coffee and cookies. “We come together and drink coffee and eat more sugar than is probably healthy. We talk about our projects, about rituals, about Talent in the news. This is a great time to get to know your fellow Mages. Some of the independent study projects I mentioned may be looking for assistance as the semester wears on; if you’re interested in developing new rituals, this is your chance.
“We also have several planned rituals throughout the semester; you can participate, observe, or completely ignore those meetings,” Pawel continues. “There may be other rituals added to the list. Sometimes we’ll coffee first and magic later; we’re flexible. But everyone will be notified by email when there’s a planned ritual on the schedule, so make sure you’re on the mailing list. This semester’s first ritual will be an end to winter ritual, taking place in a couple of weeks. It’s a simple ceremony to leverage the strength of several weather witches in an attempt to encourage the cold and snow to pass us by until winter’s done. We welcome spring after the equinox; it’s on a Monday this year, but we will welcome it on Tuesday. The energy will still be there. For those seeking a cleansing, we are planning a ritual in April. Also in April will be a speaker discussing the lines between magical Talents, and discussing her theories behind what is and isn’t magic, where Talent is concerned. She’s an excellent speaker and is doing new research into who and what we are.”
It’s not exactly the same as fall, but it’s close enough that Rory isn’t worried about the details. He spots Thorne across the room, sitting with Kit and the same stranger as before. Thorne has a palm full of fire, which goes out as the other guy holds a hand over his and rain falls. Kit crosses his arms tightly and watches.
“Thorne,” Pawel says without turning around. Thorne curls his fingers, dousing the fire, and looks innocent. “There are a few differences from last semester,” Pawel continues, his expression serious. “Please pay attention.”
He perches on the edge of the desk, arms crossed. “In the past, we’ve discussed the types of Talents. Mages and Clan make up the bulk of those who have Lineage Talent, and a good part of the Emergents as well. Dreamwalkers are rare, but known. Shadowwalkers, Soulstealers, Deathwalkers—those were myth. What I have learned recently is that they are not merely myth, and I need you to be aware of their presence in Unity, and what you should watch for.”
Oh. A chill slides down Rory’s spine and he hunches forward, wishing he could disappear.
“If at any point, you are under the impression that the shadows around you are taking on a life of their own, it is possible that they are,” Pawel says. “The Shadowwalkers hide in the shadows, emerge from them, attack from them. They kill.” His words fall flat, and Rory can hear only breathing in the aftermath. He leans his elbows on his knees, twists his fingers together. “We’ve captured one, and it tried to talk to us. It made it clear that it loathed us.”
“She,” Rory mutters under his breath.
Shane leans forward, head close to Rory. “She?”
“I didn’t ask for preferred pronouns, but I’m pretty sure the shadow was female,” Rory whispers. “She was a person. Like us, but not. A Talented person.” That particular Talent is just horrible, and he twists his fingers together more tightly.
“They feed on us,” Pawel says slowly. “The more powerful you are, the more likely you are to be a target. They want to sip your soul, to bleed you dry of Talent. And without Talent, you won’t survive. We’re aware of four deaths, and three attacks, along with further threats. The shadow we spoke to escaped; it’s still out there, and it is still hungry. For those of you who have recently Emerged, or whose Talent is undergoing any kind of transformation, you may be at the most risk.”
Shane shows his wrist, murmurs, “This isn’t actually a transformation of Talent, right?”
“Just a skin transformation,” Rory whispers back. “He’s talking about people who have latent abilities Emerging. New aspects to an existing Talent.” Or in some cases, a thick residue of Emergence clinging to them; he’s positive that Mac is special in the eyes of the shadows. Her Emergence started the world down this path of knowing that Talent exists.
Pawel claps his hands together sharply, the sound echoing off the walls. “That’s enough serious talk. Be aware of your surroundings, and of those who are around you. Keep an eye out for each other, and help your friends. Don’t let anyone be alone if you think there’s a risk of the shadows coming in. Right now? I need some coffee.”
He says coffee, but Rory sees the way his hand goes right into the white box before he takes three cookies.
He also sees the way Pawel’s hand shakes. It can’t have been easy to say that, and Rory wonders if anyone here gets just how real it is. Other than the people who’ve seen it firsthand, of course.
“I want coffee,” Hayley announces, and Shane snorts.
“You don’t need coffee,” he points out, but she bounces away before Shane even manages to leverage himself to his feet. Rory puts out a hand, and Shane grips his elbow, using it to balance himself as he gets his crutches into position. “Thanks. If you find your guy, let me know. I’ll tell you if I find my girl.” Shane’s gaze drifts to where Pawel chats with Ángel and Hayley. “Did you tell him?” When Rory nods, Shane’s expression twists. “Guess I should, too, then. Wish me luck with that. Did it hit anyone else?”
There were nine people there that night. Rory knows for certain that four people received soulmarks, and three didn’t. That leaves two undetermined. “I haven’t talked to everyone, but Thorne, Pawel, and Nikita are clear,” he says.
“Has to be a reason why it happened.” Shane hitches the crutches up, swings forward a step. “I guess we’ll figure it out when it’s time.”
He has a far more easy-going attitude about it, and Rory can’t imagine just… not caring the way Shane seems to. “Yeah,” Rory says slowly. “I guess we will.”
He moves towards Thorne, still sitting off to one side. As he heads that way, Thorne drags another chair over, making space for Rory. Because what Rory needs right now is some support from his brother. Some grounding so he can find balance and keep going.
