Chasing Magic (13 page)

People filled the entry hall. They leaned against the blue-white walls, sandwiched themselves together on the long low benches, so many of them that they hid the dark wood. They stood in groups, holding glasses, laughing and chatting; their bodies in the requisite black or white made the room look like a checkered flag.

Automatically her eyes sought Elder Griffin, only to realize that of course he wouldn’t be there. He’d be getting ready somewhere, doing whatever pre-ceremony rituals he was supposed to do. Another reason—as if she needed one—to be grateful Terrible had come with her. She usually hung around with Elder Griffin during these all-Church-employee things. Or at least she tried to, because when she didn’t she ended up doing incredibly
stupid things, like she had at the Festival Closing Ceremony the year before when she’d ended up in bed with Agnew Doyle, a fellow Debunker.

What a mistake that had been.

The chapel doors opened. Good. They could go in and sit down, instead of milling around hunting for someone to talk to or an out-of-the-way place to stand. People were looking at Terrible, in his black bowling shirt with the blue stripe down the front, with his DA haircut and thick muttonchops, broken nose and scars. Chess straightened her back further. Fuck them all. If they wanted to judge him—judge her, too, because of him—they could go ahead. The only person she worked with whose opinion she cared about was Elder Griffin’s, anyway, and he wouldn’t look at Terrible like that. At least she hoped he wouldn’t.

They found a seat about five rows from the front; not all the way in the back, but not too close, either. The chairs around them began to fill up, too. Chess caught Doyle—sitting next to Dana Wright, so that was still going on, then—staring at her. Staring at Terrible, actually. Oh, right.

Terrible noticed, too. He caught Doyle’s gaze and raised his eyebrow; his left arm slid around her bare shoulders and pressed her to his side. Doyle paled and looked away. Heh. She guessed his last meeting with Terrible, when Doyle had ended up huddled on the ground with broken fingers and wet pants, had made quite an impression.

Two Goodys in their blue ceremonial dresses circled the room, lighting the candles. Someone switched off the overhead lights. The entire atmosphere in the room changed; voices quieted, people shifted into more comfortable positions on the hard wood seats.

Elder Griffin appeared in his blue Church suit, white stockings gleaming below his knees, broad-brimmed hat
shielding his face. The candlelight sparked off the gold buckles on the hatband and on his shoes. It took her a second to figure out why he looked wrong to her, what bothered her: Unlike during Holy Day services or when working, he wasn’t wearing white makeup or powder, and his eyes weren’t blackened. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him without either before.

By his side stood a tall man as blond as himself, also wearing blue but a regular suit. Of course. Must be Keith, then. She hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet.

They reached their places before the stang set up in the front and stood facing each other. Elder Yao walked a circle around the room, pouring salt, enclosing both them and the guests, dragging silence in his wake. A wedding was a magical ritual; he was creating a magical space.

The room—the room inside the circle—waited. Chess shivered; the warm soft hush of the magic in the air made her skin tingle, made her stomach tingle. Added to how light she already felt inside, to the cheerful heartbeat of speed in her blood, and she felt almost as if she could open her arms and fly.

Terrible’s arm tightened around her. Not much, but enough that she felt it. He didn’t look pale, but she tilted her head back anyway so she could whisper, “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Aye, no worryin.”

He didn’t look as if he was lying. But then it didn’t seem to be all magic, any magic, that caused the problem, did it? Only black magic.

Elder Ramos was still acting as Grand Elder, until the Confirmation in a few weeks’ time. He stood up from his chair at the far edge of the circle, ending the line of her thoughts. It was starting.

Elder Griffin and Keith joined hands.

Elder Ramos spoke. “Thaddeus Aurelius Griffin, you
have requested to enter into the legal and magical binding known as marriage with this man, Keith Richard Freeling. Is that your wish?”

“Yes.”

“Keith Richard Freeling, you have requested to enter into the legal and magical binding known as marriage with this man, Thaddeus Aurelius Griffin. Is that your wish?”

“Yes.”

A long chain of specially grown blue roses and two lengths of white silk hung from the crook at the top of the stang. Elder Ramos picked up the rose chain and draped it over Elder Griffin’s and Keith’s shoulders, so they both stood inside the loop. “Your wishes are Fact. Facts are Truth.”

“Facts are Truth,” the audience responded.

From an inner pocket in his blue velvet Church suit, Elder Ramos pulled a ritual knife. The blade caught the candlelight and reflected it back, like a sharp piece of flame itself, hovering between the two men. “Marriages are bound by blood. Do you consent to being so bound?”

“We do.”

Elder Griffin and Keith let go of each other’s hands but kept their arms out, turning them to expose their palms and wrists. One of the Goodys—Goody Martin, who Chess liked—crossed the floor to kneel in front of them, holding the iron ceremonial goblet.

The knife came down, drawing lines of blood on the fleshy parts of each man’s palm. Elder Ramos handed the knife to Goody Martin and grabbed the men’s hands, pressing them together.
“Paratu lakondia herondia.”

Magic pulsed warm and bright over the crowd. Chess sighed from it; everyone sighed from it, at least all of the witches—all of the Church employees.

She looked up at Terrible again, just to check on him.
He didn’t take his eyes off the ceremony but held her hand tighter, pulled it onto his lap.

“As your blood runs in each other’s veins, so you are bound. As your blood enters each other’s bodies, so you are bound. As your energies combine to create a new energy, so you are bound.”

“We are bound.”

Just like her Binding, a few months before. Well, not quite: A marriage binding connected the souls, transferred some of each person’s energy to the other through blood and magic. The magic wasn’t necessary in this case, since Elder Griffin’s blood already contained magic, but it was part of the ritual. By giving Keith his blood—even that small amount—he was giving Keith some of his energy, his power. And the magic in his blood reacted to Keith’s energy, so Elder Griffin’s changed ever so slightly itself. They were one couple with the same energy.

Her Binding hadn’t been about sharing, though. It had been about control, and the First Elders—holy shit. That was why. That was why ectoplasm was being put in the speed.

And that ectoplasm was combining with energy to make a new energy. Hot motherfucking damn, that was it. The ectoplasm and the walnuts. Two energies combined to make one new energy; two spells combined to make one complete spell.

It was all she could do not to yank Terrible from his seat and run out of the room with him so she could tell him. But she couldn’t do that. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t; that would break the circle and ruin the ceremony.

The second the ceremony ended and the circle was recalled, though …

Another thick wave of magic pulled her back into the room. Elder Griffin was drinking from the goblet, wine
mixed with a few drops each of his blood and Keith’s. She’d missed part of the ritual.

Keith drank next, emptying the goblet. He handed it back to Goody Martin.

Elder Ramos picked up the lengths of white silk from the stang and used them to wrap both men’s hands in turn. “So you are bound by magic and blood. So you are bound by law. So your binding is now Fact. Facts are Truth.”

“Facts are Truth,” the audience echoed again.

“May your union be long and loyal.”

Applause broke the air, echoing off the walls. One final burst of magic exploded over their heads, ran through Chess like a shiver, and disappeared. All of the magic disappeared; Elder Griffin and Keith walked to the doors at the left side of the room, breaking the circle together for luck, and Elder Ramos called the energy back.

Black-uniformed waiters and waitresses entered the room to start setting up the bar and buffet, moving empty chairs, doing whatever it was they were supposed to do. Chess had only been to one wedding before, early in her training, and hadn’t stayed for the party at that one. She’d never been to a party with servants in her life, for that matter. How the hell was she supposed to know what they were doing?

“Were faster’n I thought,” Terrible said. He still sat in his chair.

Chess did the same. “Yeah, it doesn’t take long, really. It’s just a binding ceremony, I mean, they’re legally married when they sign the papers, which they did earlier. But listen, I figured it out.” She glanced around them. Too many people still sat or stood nearby for her to be able to talk. Besides, she was starting to come down; she wanted to duck off somewhere private and bump up.
“I figured it out, what’s happening. Come on, let’s go outside, okay?”

Most of the crowd headed out the front doors to wait for the chapel to be ready. They stood on the wide patio where the Reckonings were held on Holy Day, near the 1997 Haunted Week memorial, their clothing stripes of light and shadow scattered across the dark cement.

Chess avoided them and pulled Terrible in the opposite direction, as far into the shadows as she could without actually looking like she was trying to hide. “It’s to control them. The ectoplasm.”

Confusion crossed his face for a second, then cleared. “In the speed, meaning?”

“Yeah. Remember how I was Bound before, when the whole Maguinness thing happened? It was the First Elders, and they Bound me to them through the ectoplasm, they put it in my blood during the ceremony. Remember the scars?”

“So them doing it to put ghosts in them bodies?”

“Right. But it’s not just ghosts. It’s magic, they’ve bespelled it—ectoplasm will hold a spell, because it’s an energy form. It’s not a whole spell, either. It’s half of one. And the walnut is the other half.”

His brow furrowed. “Thought you say not the same ones doin it.”

“Yeah, I know, but … I was wrong. I mean, I could be wrong now, but I don’t think I am. It’s why the ones taking the speed— Remember what that guy said at the docks, that it’s like his friend wasn’t even there sometimes? I think the speed opens them to control, and the walnut is how they’re controlled. It’s two spells but they combine into one, if you know what I mean.”

“Him earlier had one, aye. Only him yesterday didn’t.”

“It might not be on him, it doesn’t have to be. Just close to him, like under his bed, in his house.”

“Like them Lamaru left a death curse at you place before.”

“Right.”

He considered it for a minute. “Be why when them doin the speed they all scared an shit, then like they ain’t even in them bodies? Ain’t got the walnut controllin em yet.”

“Yes. I think so, anyway. We’ll go back to my place after this, okay, and I can test it out—shit, I can’t believe I didn’t do it before, hold both of them at once and see if the energies combine.”

He shook his head, a bemused sort of shake while he smiled at her with his eyes. “Can tell just by feelin em both together?”

She nodded, hoping the warmth in her cheeks didn’t mean she was blushing but knowing it probably did.

“Damn. Ain’t know why you wastin yon time with me, you c’n do all that shit, all—”

She stopped him with her hands on his face, tilting it down so she could look right at him. “Cut it out. I’m not wasting my time, and you know why, anyway.”

He raised his eyebrows; she grinned. “It’s because you’re so good in bed. So, you know, as long as you don’t start slacking off—”

“Ain’t ever been the type for lazin, aye?” His hands slid down over her hips. “Why we ain’t leave now, I show you—”

She pulled away. “We don’t have to stay much longer, I promise. But we can’t go yet. I want you to meet Elder Griffin.”

He nodded and lit cigarettes for them both. “Thinkin Lex come over throw us off? He the one?”

“No.” She said it a little too loudly. Oops. “Not after what happened to his father, remember? I can’t see Lex trusting any kind of witch with something like that, at least not a witch he didn’t know really well. And—you
know I don’t have anything to do with it, right? I’m not, like, doing—”

His lips cut her off. Not a long kiss, or a deep one, but one that made her cheeks do that tingling have-to-smile thing anyway. “Know you ain’t, baby.”

People started filing back into the building, or at least most of them did. A few resolute smokers stayed on the patio, talking or looking up at the sky, pale and starless above the city’s glow. Chess looked up at it, too, at that blank stretch of cloudy gray covering the world like a sheet pulled over its head. It was watching her, wasn’t it? Watching her and Terrible, and for some reason the sight of it—the thought of it—made pain and loneliness twist in her chest.

Pain because she wasn’t part of that sky, would never be a part of it, because it looked like a home she could never enter. She’d never know what it was like to be so peaceful. Pain because she was so fucking insignificant, so small, so worthless compared to that incredible expanse. Loneliness because she didn’t belong to it, and because she knew one day she’d be alone again, and because some deep part of her still felt alone; would always feel alone. Terrible knew so much about her, knew her so well, but he still didn’t know everything—hell, he’d just reminded her of something else she couldn’t share with him. He never could know everything; she didn’t dare tell him everything. She wouldn’t even know how.

Loneliness because no matter how much she loved him, no matter how much he loved her, she was still just herself, and she could never be more than that.

Terrible’s fingers brushed her cheek. “You right?”

She snapped her gaze back to him, forced a smile. “Yeah, sure. Right up. Why?”