IT’S SO much more bearable when he’s sleeping.
Darius stood in the bedroom doorway sipping his tea while he checked on his new pupil. The young man was a magpie, a chatterbox. It grated on Darius’s last threadbare nerve.
Mostly.
None of it was right. Toby was so young, sociable, good-looking—yes, despite his deterioration, he was still handsome. He should’ve been going to college, going out with the friends who would have no doubt flocked to him, tasting and enjoying all the delights and experiencing the pitfalls of a new adult’s life.
Instead he was here with a foot across death’s door. Darius snorted softly as he turned away. Life wasn’t about things being right. It happened to you or around you and you dealt with it as best you could or you folded your hand and walked away from the table. Right and fair had nothing to do with it.
Still, Darius was determined to do the best he could. If Toby could be yanked back from the brink, he would do it.
The top of his head brushed against a low-hanging light fixture on the way down the hall and he realized he’d been standing straighter. When the hell did that happen?
THE NEXT morning, Toby woke up at a decent hour and crept downstairs for breakfast, half-sure he’d be chased back up again to rest. Instead, Darius simply pointed to the kitchen table and they ate fluffy pancakes and bacon together. Toby let his host have his silence, comfortable in the warm cocoon of breakfast, coffee, and sunbeams angling through the windows, until birds started showing up at the feeders outside.
“Cardinals,” Toby murmured as flashes of bright red resolved into fiercely serious songbirds with their pointy hats.
Darius lifted his head, one bright eye tracking the movement. He really likes the birds.
A larger bird with a pointed hat landed atop the house-shaped feeder. “Blue jay,” Toby managed before it chose a sunflower seed and launched again.
“Mm-hmm.” Darius had turned in his chair, coffee mug in hand, to watch the show.
A smaller bird with a hat—blue-gray?—twitched from one perch to another at the cardinals’ feeder. Toby realized he’d exhausted the birds he knew. “Baby blue jay?”
“Titmouse.”
Toby turned and blinked at him. “What?”
With a little lift of his mug, Darius indicated the twitchy bird. “Titmouse.”
“Oh. That’s a weird thing to call, well, anything.” Toby crammed another bite of pancakes into his mouth, then into his cheek so he could ask, “And that tiny guy? With the black head?”
“Chickadee.”
Toby forced himself to swallow. “Like my little chickadee? Also weird.”
“Sound they make.”
That was almost a whole sentence.
“And that one?”
“Finch.”
“What about that one with the kind of pinky-purple?”
“Different finch.”
It felt like a miracle, but Toby kept him talking, or at least answering questions, through the rest of breakfast. It was a start. Breakfast over, he tried again to help clean up, only to be met with Darius’s imperious pointing.
“Dining room.”
“Okay?”
Darius made shooing motions with one hand as he put the butter back in the fridge. Reasoning that it was time for lessons or observations or something, Toby wandered through one of the doors off the kitchen and found himself in an obvious old-fashioned dining room. An actual crystal chandelier sparkled to life when he hit the light switch. Fine, it was dusty—really dusty—but it still managed sparkly. Brooding on the far side of the room, a huge china cabinet took up an entire wall, dark and imposing like that one surly uncle no one wanted to invite to dinner, but Grandma made you even though he never had anything nice to say to anyone.
Could be that not everyone has that uncle, of course. Just me.
The table was big enough to seat ten, its surface covered in sheets instead of tablecloths, and at the head of the table sat another board, this one with the outline of the web of arcana clearly marked, and… modeling clay?
Yep. Clay. The kind that didn’t get all dry and crumbly when it sat out. The message was clear. Toby’s task, if he chose to accept it, was to make another web using school art supplies. A little bizarre, but it wasn’t like he had appointments to keep or anything better to do. Mini-sculptures it is, then.
“Happy little tree for Life.” Toby put the crooked, barely recognizable tree in the correct spot. “Happy little helium balloon for Nobles. Happy little fishy for Water.”
An hour later, Darius shuffled in to peer at the completed web of clay sadness, tipping his head this way and that.
“Yeah, yeah, not a good career choice for me, I know.” Toby waited, certain what was coming.
After a few moments of Darius’s eye flicking from one point of the web to another, he pointed to the little sculpture at the Alkaline spot on the web, forehead creased in obvious confusion.
“Oh, um. That’s supposed to be a tooth. Calcium. I know, lame.”
But Darius only nodded and indicated the one at the point for Dark.
“It’s a cave.” Toby sighed. “Even if it looks like a squashed bowl that fell over.” Another puzzled, eyebrow-raised inquiry, this time at the thing that looked like a weary, diseased tornado. “Animus. It’s supposed to be a… soul, I guess. Spirit. I mean, who knows what that looks like?”
Darius tilted his head a bit but appeared to accept this. After he questioned a few more of the less recognizable items, he gave a final nod and stepped back.
“Good. Go rest.”
Three not-yelled words together and a full, if incredibly short, sentence. Toby took the order as good advice and, instead of struggling back upstairs, found a nice spot in what had probably been the den when more people lived in the house. The old squishy sofa had plenty of cushions and a blanket that wasn’t too dusty. The quiet house sounds and the surety that he was safe because—not in spite of—Darius watching out for him let him drop off quickly.
Get better sleep with our griffin security system—slightly damaged chassis discount makes it a steal!
Noon had him waking to the unmistakable scent of pizza, a quiet lunch with Darius, and afterward, another web puzzle. This one was a little more challenging, since Toby had to construct it entirely from items he found around the house, and not items Darius had used previously. Good thing there was cleanser with bleach under the kitchen sink or he’d have been out of luck for the Halogen stand-in.
Again, Darius approved his work, this time with a little twitch that on anyone else might have blossomed into a smile. Toby was watching for it. It didn’t. When he’d given his okay, though, he didn’t walk away this time. He took both of Toby’s hands and closed his eyes. Then nodded and let him go. And that wasn’t at all weird.
He was tired enough that he didn’t figure it out until he’d sunk into one of the dining room chairs and plopped his head atop his arms, turned to keep Darius in sight. Of course. “Do you think I’m gonna have another explosion soon?”
Darius shook his head. Shrugged. “Bleeding.”
“I’m bleeding?”
“Magic.”
Waving a hand in irritated negation, Darius stalked from the room. Good going. You’ve pissed off your new teacher already. But no. He returned within a few seconds and smacked a folder down on the table next to Toby, the kind that had a clear plastic front and opaque back like he used to use for science reports. With a grunt that could’ve been anything from “this will explain everything” to “fuck you,” Darius stomped out again.
“Here, Toby, you should read this,” Toby muttered as he pulled the folder over. “This will explain all the things. And some extra things you hadn’t thought of. And why they still use those stupid plastic thingies on packages of rolls that refuse to stay on right.”
Not surprisingly, the folder had nothing to do with packaging rolls. Lecture Transcript: Wild Magic Theory and Uncontrolled Discharge Anomaly Disaster Prevention.
The date put it during the time that Darius had been a geology professor. The name at the bottom of the title page left no doubt as to whose lecture this had been. What had it cost Darius to dig this out and toss it on the table? His pain was so obvious that Toby didn’t know why he wasn’t curled up and screaming all the time. From someone who had been outgoing, maybe ambitious, hitting his stride in his field—both his fields—to this barely verbal hermit who looked so much older than he was. What happened, Professor Valstad? What the hell happened?
THE LECTURE started with introductions, some blah-blah-blah about methodology that nearly put Toby to sleep and finally—
This blockage, if you will, of magical energy is what causes the magically induced seizures and subsequent uncontrolled bursts. Except in rare cases, where the student’s magical sourcing never progresses beyond a minimal level, these unchanneled magic events grow as the student ages until they reach catastrophic proportions. Historically, those who remain without viable Arcana channels rarely survive past the age of sixteen.
There were footnotes about seeing Appendix this and Chart that. Toby ignored those for the moment. He didn’t need to know about the dying part in more detail. What he wished he could have experienced was Darius giving this lecture to a gathering of guild officers. Standing tall and confident, both bright eyes raking his audience as he made his points. He’d probably had a strong voice, one that carried without a microphone. Hints of it remained when he raised his voice, despite the sandpaper rasp.
With concentrated exercises, several students have been observed to bleed off magic when directed to actively meditate on the web itself and its component parts. Exercises using a combination of problem-solving and fine motor skills appear to be most effective. Using this technique to bleed off the blockage of the student’s magical flows, I’ve observed students exhibit less frequent and in some cases less intense magical seizures. By careful observation during these and other exercises, I’ve been able to discern subtle, subconscious preferences for one channel over another and have been able to guide students appropriately.
“Oh, so that’s what we’re doing.” Toby wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have known that. Though… since he had no idea where his stupid Arcanum channels were, he didn’t think he could influence the subconscious stuff. Not telling would’ve been for early students, right? While Darius was young and running actual experiments.
It must’ve worked. He must’ve helped some people. Right? It worked… until it didn’t and something awful happened and Darius nearly died. He had to have needed help back then, must have needed support, and the guild tossed him out. The guild….
Was supposed to help. That was why magic guilds existed. They were supposed to help. Nauseated, hands shaking, Toby closed the folder and pushed it away.
“He shouldn’t be up here alone,” Toby whispered.
It occurred to him that he might be overreacting. The guild might have ordered him never to teach again, but they might’ve tried to help. Maybe Darius had chosen to be alone. Plenty of evidence that he’d given up on himself, maybe on life. He pushed to his feet, waited for the dark edges to clear from his vision, and went searching for his host. Not in the kitchen or the den. Not in the front parlor or living room or whatever it was called. Not in the cozy little room that looked like a study or the library next to it.
“He didn’t go upstairs. I would’ve heard the stomping. Seriously, how hard is it to find someone that size?”
Turned out it wasn’t difficult at all. It just took Toby longer since he wasn’t moving much faster than a tree sloth. Darius was out on the stone bench by his koi pond staring at the fish. Carefully, Toby eased down onto the opposite side of the bench.
“Hey. Thanks for that.” Toby joined in the koi watching so he wouldn’t make Darius any more uncomfortable. “So I’m like this steam pipe under pressure, and what we’re doing, it’s like a safety valve?”
“Release valve.” Darius shrugged. “Bleeds off.”
“Gotta tell you, I really don’t like the whole bleeding imagery here.”
Darius let out a soft snort. “Leaks.”
“Better, thanks.” Toby ran his palm over the tufted ornamental grass growing beside him. “You think there’s any chance I might make it?”
The rasping voice gained an extra layer of husk. “Everyone dies.”
“Thank you, Mr. Philosopher.” Toby dared a gentle nudge with his shoulder. “You’ve seen people like me before. Taught them. Does it feel like…?”
“Maybe.” Darius squeezed his one good eye shut. “I’ve been wrong.”
The temptation to touch was almost overwhelming, but Toby didn’t think a hug or even a hand on his arm would be welcome. Didn’t take a genius to see how far Darius was wrapped in his pain and guilt, and he’d probably snarl at any offer of comfort.
“Look, I know something awful happened. They wouldn’t tell me details, but it’s not hard to kinda figure out the big parts. And….” Toby stopped and swallowed hard. “And if I’m going to be too big of a danger to you, you need to let me know. I’ll… I don’t know. Go somewhere I won’t hurt you. But I was serious about the Obi-wan part. You’re my last shot.”
Darius shot him a sidelong glare. “No wandering off.”
“Um, okay?”
“You stay with me.” Darius stood and dusted off the seat of his pants. “Dinner.”
Toby couldn’t help a tired snicker. “Not to change the subject or anything.”
Shoulders straighter than his usual hunch, Darius pointed. “You. Need to eat.” He actually held out a hand to help Toby up. “Get you stronger.”
Well, damn. We’re having a conversation. Too shocked to do otherwise, Toby accepted the hand, warmth spreading down his arm as strong, callused fingers closed over his. “Totally on board with this. But I get to help this time, deal?”
Darius blinked at him, something happening in that less than penetrable brain. “Deal.”
OVER THE next three days, Darius established a routine and monitored constantly. Toby was far stronger than he looked, and his condition did improve rather than sliding further toward a point of no return. They kept up the exercises, Darius reaching back through the years for ones he’d used and inventing others when he needed them. Sheer raw power roiled behind Toby’s walls, just enough seeping through now to keep magical explosions at bay.
He hadn’t expected to discover his student’s natural channels quickly, but it would’ve been a relief.
In the meantime, Toby slept well and ate like an industrial vacuum, the hollows lightening around his eyes and his borrowed pants not in so much danger of sliding off. With some of the rough edges smoothed away, elfin waif beauty evolved into a more conventional handsome not at all hindered by that quick, mischievous smile or the sparkle returning to those gray-green eyes. Dangerous, to think about Toby that way or any way other than student in dire straits, but also unavoidable.
With the weather improving, Darius had moved some of the exercises outside. The way Toby’s magic reacted to working out of doors, lapping over the blockade in little waves instead of trickling, made the next bit of the curriculum obvious. Darius didn’t want it to be, dammit. The more Toby mirrored Kara’s progress, the more he worried. Kara, though…. No, Toby wasn’t the same. It wouldn’t be the same.
He wouldn’t allow it.
But there were next steps—external stimuli to explore that Darius couldn’t provide in the safety of his little domain. He needed, gods help him, to take Toby off the property to different and possibly progressively larger points of magical confluence. The idea had been churning in Darius’s mind since the night before to visit places that not only offered powerful enough magic that might break through Toby’s barriers but also other… experiences. Possibly. Difficult to say what the final trigger might be.
The thought made his stomach knot and his hands tremble. Going out. Away from this small patch of world he’d made safe. Far too tempting to keep them both safe and stay put. Except they wouldn’t be. Toby needed more to survive this.
So far, Toby was doing well, far better than he’d hoped. Darius was struggling. Convincing his jaws to open, his voice to speak every time he had something to say was ridiculous. Toby had even pointed out that Darius was fine when he sang, but it wasn’t as if he could sing instructions. Singing was using someone else’s words. Conversation involved deliberate choices of seemingly random sounds in order to convey thought. It felt alien after so long.
He managed a full sentence of greater than two words at dinner the third evening. Small steps. “We’ll be leaving the house.”
“Oh yeah?” Toby temporarily halted in his destruction of a second dinner roll. “Are we going on a field trip? Do I need a responsible adult to sign something?”
Darius snorted and tried for a smartass comeback. All that came out was “No.”
“No on the field trip, the permission slip, or the responsible adult?”
A growl got out before Darius could squelch it, his fists clenched in frustration.
“Hey… sorry. I’m sorry.” Toby put a hand on his arm. “Can we start over? We have to go somewhere. So where are we going?”
Not Pittsburgh. Anywhere but there. “Magical confluence points,” he managed slowly, confluence nearly sticking in his throat halfway through.
“Is that the next step? Or lesson or whatever?” The way Toby’s eyes widened betrayed his anxiety. He waited for Darius’s nod before he went on. “Is this really a next step, or is it more of a, you know, an escalation? Nothing’s working, so we have to do something else?”
“Progression,” Darius corrected and patted the hand still on his arm. Why was that hand still on his arm?
Toby regarded him a moment, all traces of his smile banished. He let out a hard breath as he nodded. “Okay. I’ll take it. Are we going far?”
“Duncannon.”
A few moments passed as Toby returned to devouring dinner. “I don’t know where that is.”
“Not… far. North of Harrisburg.”
“So this’ll be a day trip, then? Not that I have packing to do if it’s not.”
It depends on how you react to the confluence. If we can get you stabilized, we can stop there. If not, we need to move on. Please let me be capable of moving on if Toby needs it. He needs me to not fall apart. No excuses. No crawling back into my nautilus shell and hiding, no matter how overwhelming this feels. His thoughts came out as “Probably not.”
“Packing it is, then.” Toby flourished his fork as if to say Tally ho! The mischief drained from his eyes almost immediately after. “Do you think they’ll be looking for me? The guild? I mean, since I’m a danger to myself and others and all that?”
Darius schooled his features so Toby wouldn’t mistake anger for being angry with him. “Possible.”
“Why haven’t they, you know, come knocking yet?”
“No idea.” Darius pointed at the tablet beside Toby’s elbow. “Disable any tracking.”
“Well, okay. I guess that’s just a good precaution. But they’re guildmaster mages. Why would they be tracking electronically when they can use, you know, magic?”
Darius tapped the table, glaring at the tablet. “Don’t need… to make it easy.”
Toby’s laugh sluiced over him like summer rain.