…..CHAPTER 19…..
November 3rd
“Ow-fuck!” Oliver hissed, head jerking back from the blow. Blood gushed from his nose and around his mouth in a flood. His nose throbbed. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he hissed through the pain, grip loosening.
The witch wrenched himself from his shocked grasp and leaped away across the uneven, weed-choked parking lot. Oliver didn’t bother chasing. He shot out his hand, flipping it from palm-down to face-up. The asphalt beneath his fleeing feet bumped sharply two feet into the air, tossing the asshole like a toy. The man hit the ground with a grunt. Still lying on the pavement, he rolled over, hands thrust out toward Oliver.
He saw the golden glint of the man’s magic at the same time wind whipped around him and solidified.
Shit!
He couldn’t move, especially his hands, which the witch had specifically aimed for.
Where the fuck is Oscar? Where’s Melinda?
Even newbie Gwen would help.
The other pairs were still dealing with the bust, and Oscar no doubt had his hands full…
The air in his lungs solidified.
He didn’t think. He didn’t so much as blink.
Inside the concrete air around him, his fingers shifted…just enough…
Air magic moved to his call, renewing his lungful. Dimly he glimpsed his own hands flash golden.
The witch’s eyes widened.
Oliver snapped the bonds of solid Air, hands reaching out to form a bowl that he instantly rolled to form an upside down bowl…green light around his hands.
Earth wrapped around the man like a tortilla shell, encasing him head-to-toe, leaving only his face free.
Oliver bent over, hands on knees as he puffed a few times through the blood in his mouth and nostrils. He spat a wad of blood and saliva, the copper flavor overwhelming.
“Oliver!”
Oscar rushed to his side, hand on his back.
Turning his head he looked up at his Handler. “Fuck, Oscar,” he ground out, voice almost gargling. “He saw me use Air,” he whispered.
Oscar’s eyes widened and he shot a look at the half-buried witch.
“I didn’t mean to. It was instinct. He sucked the air from me and immobilized me. I couldn’t move and instinct kicked in,” he whispered again. Oliver spit again, mostly blood that hit with a nasty splat.
Oscar nodded, eyes narrowing. It wasn’t the first time Oliver had been stuck and used magic to free himself.
But it was the first time he’d used another Element—at least visibly—to do so.
Oliver swallowed on the fear, shot the witch a glare.
He knew how and why he’d done so.
Magic, once training started, once used regularly, became like a drug. It had to be used, and instinct made it happen.
And now that he had begun training his Air magic, it had come to him without thought, with an ease almost as close as Earth.
And that thought scared the shit out of him. Earth was his native. No other Element should come so easily.
“Is you nose broken?”
Oliver gently prodded his nose. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t broken. “No,” he muttered.
“Alright. Let me have his wrist,” Oscar said as he strolled over to the witch, pulling out a pair of witch-binding handcuffs.
Oliver manipulated the combination of soil and asphalt surrounding the criminal to bring his left wrist out of the cocoon of earth. Oscar put the first cuff on him. With a twist of his hand, Oliver brought the man to his feet while still encased, to the sound of grinding and rustling dirt, rocks and asphalt, releasing only his other wrist.
Once the cuffs were on him, Oscar took the attached chip off the side and attached it to his own Handler’s cuff, inserting it into the temporary port. This would allow Oscar to knock the fucker unconscious without doing a thing to Oliver.
“Can you do me a favor, Oscar?”
“What’s that, bud?”
He tenderly wiped his nose, the blood still oozing down his face. “Knock his ass out.”
Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, Oliver. No can do.”
“Damn.”
“You can let him go now.”
Oliver considered the fuming witch. He would love to squeeze the literal shit out of him, but instead flattened his hand and lowered it horizontal to the ground. With a slithering sound, the dirt, rocks, asphalt, and tar fell back into their original formation.
When Oscar turned to him, hand on the man’s cuffs, he shook his head. “Pinch your nose, Oliver, before you bleed out or some shit,” he said, amused.
Oliver gave his Handler the finger, much to Oscar’s amusement. “It hurts,” he griped, but obeyed, pain flaring like a starburst in his vision.
Wrapping up their work, they marched the witch and his accomplices to the cars, SUVs or police cars. And with the bust complete, Oliver found himself back on the hospital floor at the Bureau building.
“Didn’t I just see you a few weeks ago?” the doctor asked, hands on hips.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he growled, or tried. I came out more juicy sounding than words should.
Oscar just snort/laughed. The doctor just shook his head with a sigh and a mutter, ‘stupid hero complex.’
Once his nose was packed with cotton and he was released, he looked at his Handler. “We need to talk.”
Oscar’s eyes searched his. “Of course. Why don’t we go out for some coffee? We’ll let the asshole stew for a while.”
Oliver smiled. “That sounds great.” Anything to get rid of the taste of blood, and if it meant making that witch uncomfortable, all the better.
He kept his worries to himself until they were both seated in the little booth in a corner, far from any other customers. When Oscar lifted his cup of joe and looked at him expectantly, Oliver knew his time for finding the right words was up.
“I don’t want to learn any others.”
Oscar didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “You have to, Oliver. How many times have I heard it said—and even from your own mouth—that you have to train your magic in order to have control of it.”
“I do have control,” he muttered.
“Uh, uh. Not fooling me, little brother. The energy that makes up magic might be the same, but the way your body and mind process it is different. And correct me if I’m wrong, but the fact that you possess all the magical abilities alters how you function as an Earth witch.”
Oliver gave him a startled look. That was a very astute observation. It was something he’d known for a long time, but Oscar was seeing it in real time, as the saying went. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know that. You might as well be a witch, you know and understand so much of it.”
Oscar gave him a grin as he took a sip. Then he murmured, “remember that,” before he savored another swallow.
Oliver remembered the confusion of his teachers, when he was a kid learning how to use his magic. No one had known he was a Prime. Even he hadn’t known what that difference was all about, but he’d known better than to reveal his secret. But his magic had behaved slightly differently than other witches of Earth. He’d always wondered who or how much of his oddness had been hidden, because unusual magic usually meant Parallel.
“I’m sorry, buddy, but you’re going to have to train your magic. All of it. I’m surprised it hasn’t caused a problem yet.”
Oliver shook his head. “That’s just it. I’ve never had much contact with that part of my magic, so there was little to nothing for me to control. Now that I’ve opened that door, I can feel it. I can feel how my magic has changed. It’s shifted, it’s different. And now… Oscar, training magic means using it. Even without meaning to. Now that my other magics are awake, I’m going to use them. And I may not mean to at all. It’s instinctive.”
Oscar eyed him for a moment. “Soooo…what you’re saying is, it’s too late to put that genie back in the bottle.”
Oliver stared at him, then collapsed back against his chair in defeat. “Yeah. I suppose so.”
“Then it sounds like you need to go forward instead of backward. You need to train the hell out of your magic so that you don’t lose control and use them without meaning to.”
Oliver closed his eyes. “You suck,” he muttered.
Oscar laughed softly. “Nice try, though.”
“Let me repeat. You suck.”
“That means lots of trips to the mountains, you know. Every damn weekend, if the roads aren’t bad. If they are, you can practice micro work in the basement.”
“What about Phoebe? The Academy is waiting for her.”
Oscar nodded slowly, eyes focusing on nothing. “It’s not so urgent now that we’ve met with Ms. Harper. She knows you can handle Phoebe. With you teaching her, she’ll stay in the House until she’s stable.”
Oliver stared down at the tabletop, squirming inside. Worry washed through him. Oscar made it sound so easy. But it wasn’t. It was hard as hell to keep himself from reaching for the magic inside him, for the part of himself that acknowledged the other Elements. That found acceptance with those other Elements. The Element of Earth might be his home, but the rest of them were…becoming like rooms in his home. Even Fire, and he wasn’t comfortable with that Element.
Oscar understood so much of witchcraft. But this was one of those times when it took a witch to understand one. It wasn’t a matter of simply ignoring the other Elements in him. It wasn’t as if he could stop using them. Even sitting here, with what little training he’d already put in, his body, heart, mind, and magic had already connected with them, and it would take only one second of inattention for him to use an Element he wasn’t supposed to have. For the first time, he regretted not admitting to the school that he was at least Parallel. That might have helped with this situation now. But back then, he’d known that their surprise—and fear—at his power level meant he couldn’t risk telling them. He was already under enough watchful glares. He was often astonished to realize he hadn’t landed his ass in Kanorado.
Now the risk was so much more. One fuck-up, and he’d become a permanent ‘guest’ of the Seclusion Facility.
And he really needed to talk to someone… “I think I need to talk to Nathaniel.”
Oscar smiled. “That’s a great idea.”
“Can we go today? I…could really use some help here.”
Oscar’s gaze softened. “Of course, little bro.”
It took over half-an-hour to arrive in Boulder, and another five minutes to arrive at the Federal Witch Retirement Village.
Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to find Nathaniel sitting with old Reuben, the two men talking quietly in the community room.
Like the academy, the place was huge, having to house so many witches. This section of the place was only one of three, since two other wings sprawled outward from the back.
Oliver smiled at the two. Nathaniel was in his mid-seventies now, white hair still thick, skin pale and only slightly wrinkled. His blue-gray eyes faded. Reuben was older, his very black skin heavily wrinkled, probably in his early eighties. His dark eyes had faded too, somehow blue and beautiful and full of a wisdom Oliver had always admired. He’d liked Reuben, for all that they’d rarely crossed paths.
Nathaniel saw them first and he immediately burst out laughing. “Good god, boy. Who broke your nose?”
Oliver sighed and rolled his eyes, but it hurt, so he stopped.
Oscar also laughed. “It’s not broken. His nose had a run in with the elbow of an unregistered today.”
Both old men cackled. “Come over here, son,” Reuben said, waving to a padded footstool that sat in front of their two cushy chairs. Obeying, he parked his ass and waited. He needed to talk to Nathaniel alone, or at least without Reuben.
Nathaniel’s gaze skimmed him, and the humor faded rapidly. “Christ,” he muttered. “You’ve been training.”
Oliver swallowed hard and nodded. “I told Oscar, and he insisted.”
“About fuckin’ time, boy,” he growled.
Oliver shrugged and shot a look at Reuben, who lifted an eyebrow. “I see it now, Nate,” he murmured, eyes sparking with interest.
Oliver shot Nathaniel a hard look. “You didn’t.”
“I did. I needed someone else to know, just in case. Reuben is safe, boy.”
Oliver’s mouth tightened in anger and he glanced at the older man. Reuben grinned toothily. “It’s alright. I knew before Nate said a word. It’s not hard for those with the strength. Especially if you’ve been using your other magics.”
Oliver shrugged and looked away. He was right. Anyone level eight or higher would likely know he was Prime. If they got close enough, and if they knew what to look for, and if he was actively using his magic at the time. He wondered how Reuben knew, since they’d never been in close contact.
Reuben laughed softly. “I knew when you and Nate took down that fucker in yur first assignment.”
Oliver scrubbed his face—or tried to. He winced when he bumped his sore nose. Finally he glanced at Oscar, who gave him a nod and parked himself nearby, lazily watching the room.
Meeting Nathaniel’s blue-gray gaze, he swallowed. “I’m training, yeah.”
“I can see it. Anyone over level eight will. How many at work are?” It was fairly rhetorical, since Nathaniel knew damn well that the Bureau routinely skimmed the best off the top of every year’s crop of powerful witches.
“Enough,” he gritted out.
“Can they be trusted?”
Oliver shrugged. “Don’t know. I had no idea how visible it would be. To me, it’s all visible.”
Nathaniel snorted. “Ya think?”
Oliver gritted his teeth. “I’m focusing on Air right now because we caught an unregistered Air witch at the age of twenty-six.”
Reuben whistled softly. “What level?” The old man’s voice reminded Oliver of the actor who’d played in an animated cartoon about cats in France. Scatter Cat? That didn’t sound right. Oliver made himself focus on the two men.
“At least an eight. She’s powerful, and it won’t surprise me at all if she’s a nine or ten. But…” Oliver shifted glances between the two men. “She’s Prime, too.”
Nathaniel’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Fuck me,” he muttered. “Tell us.”
Oliver did. When he was done, Nathaniel shot Oscar an approving look. “Good idea to train the two together.”
Oscar gave a slight nod. “I figured he needs to know, and it’ll be a good foundation for her. She was actively using all four at the scene, so her magic was busted wide open in the space of a few hours. My problem is figuring out how to keep her out of the Academy long enough to teach her how to control all the Elements. The second she hits the Academy training ground, it’ll come out. And we’ll be stuck with questions we can’t answer. Questions like, ‘why didn’t you register this woman as a Prime immediately.’”
Reuben laughed. “Oh, that’s jus’ the first one, Director. The next one’ll be, ‘would ya like orange, or black and white stripes?’”
Oscar chuckled, but Oliver didn’t find the thought of his brother in jail funny at all.
When he turned back to the two old men after frowning at his Handler, they were grinning at him. “What?”
Reuben just shrugged, but Nathaniel reached out to pat his clasped hands where they rested between his knees. “You two are what Charlie and Ace had in mind.”
Oliver stared back. “What?” Who are Charlie and Ace? Oh, wait. Does he mean Charles Dunwick and Horace Aimes, the non-witch founders of the Bureau?
Nathaniel leaned back into his chair, smirking. “Where do you think the idea for Handler’s came from? Now, don’t get me wrong. Those two were true champions of witch freedom and self-actualization. It wasn’t their fault the government corrupted their vision. It was their notion that witches and regular people work side-by-side, in pairs. Not boss to employee, not owner to servant, and not what we see today. You and Oscar may be Handler and witch, but you’re close. Friends, even family. You work side-by-side as equals and partners. And that’s the way they meant it to be.”
Oliver met Oscar’s look, found amusement and fondness in his brown gaze. He looked back at Nathaniel. “So?”
“So, keep up the good work. And keep training. You’ll need it. I always knew you were going to have to learn your other magics. It’s gotten worse, and therefore harder, to train quietly. You’re going to have to be careful.”
“How do I keep my magic of the other Elements quiet? The asshole we took down today saw my Air magic. He’ll no doubt think I’m Parallel. But he could say something without even knowing it’s important, and someone could pick up on it.”
Reuben also leaned back in his chair, the cushions rustling beneath his weight. “Ah, now that’s a whole other topic, son. Hidin’ yur magic ain’t easy.”
“Then it can be done?”
“If ya know how.”
Oliver waited.
Reuben hummed to himself, eyes wandering away.
Oliver gave a soft snort, which hurt, and grinned at him. “May I ask how to conceal my magic, sir?”
“Oh, ya mean yur askin’? That’s different, son.” He shoved joshing aside and sat forward, eyes intent. Oliver could feel the power in the man, saw the sharp intelligence in his eyes. Reuben might be older than the hills, but he was a force even now. Perhaps…especially now. And when he spoke, it was with the voice of a much younger man. “Now here’s how it’s done. Ya know how yur native magic feels, how it looks, how it sounds, how it manifests. When yur usin’ Air, or any other Element, yur first magic must layer over it. Not in an action, son. Ya can’t make yur native active. It has to be passive, in order for yur secondary to work, and work through the concealment. If it’s active, it’ll block yur secondary magic. Bein’ you, I know ya could cast two spells at once, even in differin’ Elements. But ya can’t while doin’ this, boy, or the concealin’ won’t work. Time’ll come ya won’t need to conceal, and then let all hell break loose with dual spells. Go for it. But concealment has to be passive/active.”
“Understood, sir,” he murmured. He wasn’t as sure of his skills at dual Element casting as these two seemed to think he was, but he understood immediately what Reuben was saying. His mind turned the matter over, and he suspected he could probably work out how to conceal without passive magic, but that would take yet more practice and he didn’t have time for that. Mastering the other Elements would have to come first. Then—if he had time—he’d practice active concealment.
“One more thing, son,” Reuben said, a warning tone in his voice. “Concealment only works so far. If ya use magic with green on yur fist but the spell is obviously a spell of another Element, ya might as well not’ve bothered.”
Nodding, mind whirling with ideas, Oliver sat a moment, absorbing what he’d said.
Finally Oliver focused on Reuben. “Thank you, sir,” he murmured, bowing his head in respect.
He laughed. “Good kid, this one,” he said to Nathaniel.
“Yup. Still needs a kick in the pants, though.”
Oliver smiled at the floor. “It’ll be you who does it, Nate,” he muttered.
“Better believe it, boy,” he muttered back.
“Got what you need, Oliver?” Oscar asked. “Cause we have a nurse incoming on your six.”
Oliver nodded without a word.
“Good to see you two,” Nathaniel said with a laugh, voice carrying.
“You too, Nate, Reuben,” Oscar said, holding his hand out to shake both men’s hands. Oliver wasn’t offered a shake from the two senior witches. Another way witches were isolated. No physical contact between witches was allowed, outside of the occasional instance, such as learning hand-to-hand combat among the witches of the W&R. Even shaking Oscar’s hand was unusual.
As they left the large room, Oliver glanced back to see the nurse helping Reuben to his feet. Nathaniel smiled up at the nurse with a sunny look that eased Oliver’s concerns for them. They both looked content enough here. And that made Oliver happy.