Magic Incarnate the Box Set 1-3, page 33
The front door opens. “There you are. I didn’t think you’ll be back already.” Mom hurries over, hugging Dad and me at the same time. "I thought I heard you two come in. Gavin, aren’t you going to help your father bring in the—“
“He’s gonna take Calder for a walk,” Dad says gruffly.
“Don’t be gone too long.” Mom kisses my cheek. She’s too short to kiss my forehead like she used to when I was a boy.
“I won’t.” I whistle. “Come on, boy.”
Calder trots beside me. If he could talk with words instead of bark, what would he be able to tell me? How many he killed? How many witches Dad fought?
Dad’s claim that a witch went after Mom frightens me, but slowly, as we walk down the blocks, my fear turns into anger. Maybe I’m thinking of the fire from earlier, but my hands feel hot, and I almost smell smoke. Must be my imagination.
If a witch went after Mom, does she know about magic? Does she know what Dad does after all? I mean, what excuse would Dad give her for being hurt? He told me and Natalie it was from work, but Mom would’ve needed more details.
May she does know, and if she does…
I swallow hard. Mom’s a nurse. There’s no way she would be okay with Dad going off and killing people, witches or not! Didn’t she take an oath about doing no harm when she became a nurse?
Dad… he’s horrible. Terrible. Evil. He has enchantments on himself, but does he on Mom? To protect her from the witches she doesn’t know about? And what about Natalie? Is there an enchantment on her, too?
On me?
Do I even want enchantments?
What I want, more than anything, is to have a different dad.
Chapter 6
Calder sniffs at my hand and then nips me. Hard.
“Hey, easy, boy!” Strange. He’s never bitten me before, not even when he was a puppy.
I shake my hand, which is tingling with a strange warmth. Maybe that’s why Calder reacted.
But he only acts like that around…
Up the street is a man exiting a store. He sports a strange scar near his right eye. For some reason, I feel like I’ve seen him before, but I know I haven’t. Even more bizarrely, a feeling of haunting sadness comes over me.
This isn't the first time I've experienced this—kinda recognizing a stranger I've never seen or interacted before and associating that person with a strong feeling. I've always brushed it off as nonsense, but with that dream or vision type thing, and the way the fire started and Calder right now…
It’s possible I might’ve forgotten meeting a guy or a girl once or twice, but this has happened so many times… twenty or more, even.
Maybe I dreamed about him. Saw him there. And the dream was a sad one.
Like that dream about the dead witches that might not have been a dream after all?
The man is heading my way. He makes eye contact and scowls. “Stop staring,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry.” I urge Calder to step aside for me so the man can pass.
But the dog growls at him.
The man smirks. “Not a people dog, huh?”
I can't quite smile. "No," I say, even though it's more like not a witch dog.
Is this man a witch? No, he can't be. Dad wouldn't let a witch live here. We wouldn't be leaving if a witch resides nearby.
Unless Dad’s missed him somehow…
The man skirts around us, and that’s it. He’s gone. I’ll never know if he really is a witch or not, how he got that scar, why I felt that sadness.
Man, I’m getting to be as weird as my dad is evil.
It takes some convincing for Calder to walk beside me, away from the path the man took. He does want to go after him, but eventually, we’re on the move again.
I wish I could just take Calder and go. Run away. Be rid of Dad.
But I can’t. Not without Natalie and my mom. And Mom will never leave Dad, and Natalie has got to stay ignorant about Dad’s “business.”
I’m stuck with no way out, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll do what Dad wants. I’m his son, not his slave.
“Come on, Calder. Let’s go back to the house.”
Chapter 7
That night, after dinner, I corner Natalie. “Come on. Let’s convince Dad to let us stay here,” I plead.
"Why? Dad has to go to work."
* * *
I narrow my eyes. She’s basically ignoring me in favor of reading the manual to her new bribe.
“Don’t you realize that he’s bought you?” I demand.
“So?” She brushes her dark blond hair back. “You’re just jealous because I’m Dad’s favorite.”
I gape at her. Is that the truth? Dad would never try to recruit Natalie since I’m refusing to join him. Never. Right? That would be insane!
“Look.” Natalie sighs. “I’m sorry I said that. I’m sure Dad would get you anything you want if you ask—“
“As long as it’s materialistic.” I grimace and flop onto my bed.
“I know. It sucks.” Natalie drops her manual. “I would rather Dad not work so hard, that we could go out Christmas tree shopping together instead of him bringing home crappy trees every year days before Christmas.”
“Remember the year when he forgot to get one?”
“Yeah.” Natalie blows out a breath. She’s normally so happy, working on her dresses and skirts and designs, but maybe she’s kinda like Dad—a workaholic when it comes to fashion. Maybe she’s pouring so much energy into clothes because she’s more upset with Dad being so distant than she’s letting on.
“Let’s go talk to him, the two of us. If we let him know—“
“You know he’s gonna take the transfer. He always does.” And she goes back to reading.
She’s not an ally, and I doubt Mom will be, but still, I gotta try. If anyone can get through to Dad, maybe it’s her.
I find Mom in the kitchen. She’s on the computer, and I peek over her shoulder. Applying for a transfer.
Mom glances up. “Why the long face, Gavin?”
“Don’t you hate this? The constant moving? Transferring all the time?”
"I know it's hard for you. It's hard for us, too, but… here." She clicks on another tab, and a picture of a house pops up.
* * *
A house that’s for sale.
"We're going to buy a place this time," she says excitedly. "We aren't going to be renting. Hopefully, we'll be there for a good long while.” Mom stands and hugs me tightly.
After a moment, I embrace her back. Buying a house does mean Dad thinks we’ll be in this Claymore for months, if not a year or longer. There must be a ton of witches in Claymore. Maybe several covens.
She pulls back. “Don’t worry so much. Everything will work out. It has so far.”
But it hasn’t worked out for the witches Dad’s killed.
But I can’t say that, so instead, I mutter, “Worked out for who?”
“For us. We’re alive and happy, aren’t we?”
“Alive,” I concede.
Mom half-smiles. She does that a lot. I think, deep down, she knows something isn't right. For a moment, I consider telling her everything, but then what? She'll never even half-smile. If she confronts Dad, what will he do? He'll never let us go. He'd fight a divorce. We would have to leave in the middle of the night, take on new identities… Mom would never go for that. Not without proof of Dad's killing, and he's too smart to leave behind any clues.
We’re all stuck.
“Isn’t being alive enough?” Mom asks.
“No.”
“What do you want? I know the constant moving—“
I’ve had enough. “Why do you tolerate—“
“Love,” she says simply. She kisses my forehead.
You’re wasting your love on a psychopath.
My bed is soft, almost too soft, and I just can’t get comfortable. It takes me hours to settle, but when sleep comes, it’s not about flying or witches and curses.
I see a girl with brown hair just above her shoulders. Just like the guy with the scar, there’s a lot of sadness. Her eyes, such pretty brown eyes, hold so much sadness.
So I talk to her. I’m not even sure what I’m saying, but she’s talking back, and now she’s smiling and laughing, and I’m smiling and laughing, too.
And when I wake up, I feel a strange emotion.
* * *
I feel hope.
Hope that tomorrow will be different.
Hope that Claymore will be our last destination.
Hope that my dad will soon end his witch-hunting ways.
Hope, hope, hope.
Chapter 8
But then I realize something incredibly insane.
I’m not in bed.
I’m above it.
I’m lying on the air about a foot above my bed.
I swear it's just like a cartoon. The moment I realize I'm flying or maybe just hovering, I fall right back down and land on my bed with a thud.
* * *
“Ow,” I mutter, even though it’s more from being surprised than hurt.
What in the world is going on with me lately?
I refuse to be a witch. It's not possible.
I can't be.
But how else can I explain the floating?
That dream. The flying. Is it possible I can learn how to fly?
No. No. Maybe some witches can fly, but I won’t. I will not.
It’s a gamble, but it’s one I have to take. I will not use magic. I will not develop my skills. I will not be a practicing witch.
Calder doesn’t respond to me—except for that one time. Maybe Calder does realize I have the potential toward magic and doesn’t care so long as I don’t use it.
And I won’t.
If Dad finds out…
He can never ever find out.
Because even though I’m his son, I’m sure he would have no issue killing me.
Chapter 9
Once Dad wants to up and leave a place, he doesn’t waste any time, and we’re off and driving, our truck hitched up to the back of our RV. Dad never lets Mom and Natalie into the RV, and the only reason why I’m sitting beside him as he drives is because I’m in the know.
I know he uses this for his trek to hunt witches. There are all kinds of things back there to help him. He's trying to talk to me about it and the enchantments on Calder, but I don't listen, too busy watching the boring scenery. Seriously, 95N is one of the most boring stretches ever.
* * *
We arrive in Claymore two days later, having stopped at a hotel overnight about halfway. It's a quiet, quaint little town. Boring. Not a place I would've thought a witch, let alone witches, would hide.
* * *
Mom immediately sets about unpacking. She’s buzzing around, a ball of energy. Her transfer just went through this morning, and she’ll start on Wednesday, just like we’ll start school. Today’s Monday, but we still have to get paperwork and registered and all of that.
Dad wastes no time disappearing for "work," leaving the three of us to move in. It's the first time I have a room to myself since probably before Natalie was born. Mom works us hard, although she still does more unpacking than the two of us combined. It's amazing how fast she is, how much energy she has. She's used to being constantly on the go since she works as a nurse for the emergency department.
Chaos is her life. Guess you could say the same about Dad’s, too.
After dinner—which Dad doesn’t show up for—Mom lets Natalie and me loose on our rooms to decorate as we want. Finally, I won't have to see unicorns or cutouts from magazines plastered over two walls.
* * *
But instead of unpacking my sci-fi and fantasy books, I grab Calder’s leash. “He needs a walk.”
Mom nods. “Don’t stray too far and be home before dark.”
“No problem.” I give her a kiss on the cheek and head out of there. It’s lucky for me that Dad didn’t take Calder with him. That’s another thing—why doesn’t Mom ask Dad about bringing his dog with him to work?
Maybe she doesn’t want to know, or maybe he’s told her some whopper of a lie.
Calder easily trots over to me, licking my fingers. Yes. Yes. Hiding my “witchiness” is my only option. The drive over, I considered training in secret so that I can defend myself and Natalie and Mom against Dad if I ever needed to. Or against witches, against any of Dad’s enemies, since I’m sure he has enemies… if he hasn’t killed them all already.
But fear paralyzes me. If Dad finds out, he’ll kill me. I’m sure of it. He’s killed so many witches already. Killing a new, inexperienced witch who has no training whatsoever would be a cinch, even if that witch happens to be his son.
So my gamble remains in place.
Calder and I leave the house, and I pick a random direction, and we just walk. Near the edge of town, I spy an old woman. She catches my eye and hurries away.
I have no reason to, but I dislike her. Maybe I’ve dreamed about her, and I don’t remember.
Calder growls at her retreating backside.
* * *
“She a witch, boy?” I whisper to him.
Calder, I swear, shakes his head.
Maybe he’s just picked up on my strange feelings of animosity toward her.
As we turn back toward home, I spy a small mountain in the near distance. A shiver runs down my spine. There’s something about the mountain. I have no idea what it is or what it might mean. Maybe Dad wants to check that place out.
Snooping will be dangerous, and I need to stop worrying about Dad and his “work.” I want to have a new life here. I want a chance to start over. I want to give this place the opportunity to become home.
Most of all, I want to feel free to put down roots, to make friends, to actually give life a chance. With all of the constant moving, I never feel like I should bother with anything—school, homework, friends… Natalie and I are close because she doesn’t bother to make a lot of friends, either, although I think she does a better job of keeping in touch with them through emails.
But here, Claymore, maybe I’ll finally figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life. Maybe I’ll stop being in fear of my father and the shadow he casts long enough to become the man I want to be.
Because God knows I don’t have a good man role model in my life.
Chapter 10
Wednesday, my first day at Claymore High, rolls around, and honestly, this school doesn’t seem any better than any of the other twelve I’ve been to. Registering actually goes smoothly, and my schedule doesn’t look too bad… although I do have study hall before lunch. Man. Study hall with all the looks and whispers… no thanks.
When study hall rolls around, I opt for a library pass instead and make my way to the computers in the back, sitting down next to a girl. She doesn’t look over, intent on her work. Perfect.
But the computer won’t let me have access. “Password?” I mutter.
The girl looks over and clears her throat. “All students have the same password. It’s claymore. Not very original if you ask me.”
“Thanks.” I enter it. “There we go.” Grinning, I shift toward her. “I’m Gavin.”
“Crystal. So you’re the new guy.”
I grimace, allowing myself to pretend I’m upset by her words, but I’m blown away. The girl. She’s the one I dreamed about, with the brown hair and sad eyes. She doesn’t seem sad now, though, and she’s even prettier than I remember. “Hate that term, but yes.”
“I’m sorry. Do you move around a lot?”
I nod, focusing on her words and not my racing heart and blazing thoughts that want to focus on how I could’ve dreamed about a girl before I met her. “My dad’s job requires a lot of relocations, but supposedly, we’ll be sticking around here for a long time. I hope so.” His deep blue eyes brighten.
She grins. “Good. You’ll like it here. It’s a small town, one where everyone knows everyone—”
“Which makes ‘the new guy’ stick out all the more.” My jaw tightens. “Sorry. I’m sure it’s great here.”
For a moment, she seems to be thinking about something serious. Maybe she doesn’t think it’s so great here after all.
“I’ve lived here my whole life,” she finally says.
“Must be nice to have roots.” I run my fingers through my gelled blond hair. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”
“Open?”
My laugh surprises me. She’s as easy to talk to in real life as she’d been in the dream. “I was going to say moody.”
“I’m sure you’ve been to more interesting places than Claymore.” She rests her elbow near her keyboard, propping up her chin with her fist.
Scowling, I narrow my eyes, not at her but her words. "Some good, some bad. Interesting, yes. One place we only lived for a month. The town was filled with so many shady people, and my mom begged my dad to move every day. Finally, he called up his work and asked for a transfer."
I hate not being completely honest with her, but I can’t give her more details than this. She called me open, and right now, I’m being more open with her than I probably should be.
“Wow. What kind of work does your dad do?”
“He’s in business.” I shrug. “I don’t pay much attention to it, except for when it makes me start all over again.”
“It must be hard to leave so many friends behind.”
“I don’t usually bother to make friends. The longest we’ve stayed in a place was six months. It’s not worth it.”
“That’s so sad. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your pity.” That’s really the last thing I want from her.
“No friends means no girlfriend, right?” Her cheeks turn pink.
I arch my eyebrows. Does she feel a connection to me, too? Or is that wishful thinking? “No girlfriend. I’ve never had one.”
