Boundary Crossed (Boundary Magic Book 1) (12 page)

Chapter 18

When I came to, I was lying on a sofa, my head pillowed on something that felt an awful lot like a bag of crushed ice. No, the pellets were too perfectly round. Definitely frozen peas. I glanced around and discovered I was in a living room, presumably at the Pellar house. From behind the sofa, I could hear voices arguing in hushed tones.

“. . . exactly what I’m saying,” came Hazel’s voice. “Black means
death
, Lily. That woman has death in her blood.”

“You’re actually
scared
of her?” Lily said incredulously. “My mother the great witch overlord is scared of a trainee?”

“You’re damned right I am,” the other woman snapped. “And don’t call me that.”

“Mom, she has no idea what she is. She obviously needs help, and by our own laws, we’re bound to aid another witch,” Lily argued.

“And even if we weren’t”—this from a third, male voice. Simon was here, too. When had he arrived?—“The order to train her comes directly from Maven. Our hands are tied.”

Hazel sighed audibly. “You don’t get it, kids. I know neither of you are great with auras, but hers isn’t just black. It’s . . . opaque. She has
serious
bloodlines.” There was actual
awe
in her voice, and I felt a chill race along my skin. Maybe it was just the frozen peas. “If what she told you is true, and she really doesn’t use her magic, then she is as close to a purebred as any witch I’ve ever seen.”

There was a long moment of loaded silence before Lily finally spoke. “You always said there were families who breed for magic,” she pointed out. “Maybe she comes from one of those.”

“She must. But the idea that a line of black witches could even survive that long, much less retain this much power . . .” She trailed off, and I could practically hear her shaking her head. “It’s terrifying, Lil. Whatever that young woman is, it’s terrifying.”

I glanced around the room, looking for an exit. I needed to get out of here. Fast. Judging by the fact that she’d thrown me eight feet through the air with a flick of her wrist, Hazel Pellar was powerful. And now she was calling
me
terrifying. I didn’t really understand what was going on, but I could see the writing on the wall.

I just couldn’t see a way out. The inside of the farmhouse was surprisingly modern, or maybe I had just subconsciously expected a lot of spiderwebs and a cauldron. But I was in a wide living room with a flat screen TV hanging on the wall, lavender canvas-covered furniture, and a lot of windows. But no external door.

Unfortunately, my movement made the bag behind my head crinkle. Suddenly Simon’s face popped into view over the back of the sofa. I gasped.

“Hey, Lex,” he said pleasantly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

I sat up, the back of my head aching. The living room had an open floor plan that connected into the kitchen, where I could see Lily and Hazel sitting at a long counter with ceramic mugs in front of them. “Where’s my bag?” I said brusquely. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Hang on,” Lily said, hopping off her stool. “You hit your head pretty hard. I think it’s just a bump, but I need to check you for a concussion.”

She grabbed a small but professional-looking medical kit off the counter and hurried into the living room. Hazel didn’t move from her seat.

“Mom?” Simon said in a sweet voice, as Lily went past him. “Isn’t there something you’d like to say to Lex?”

Hazel glared at her son. “Don’t patronize me, Simon Aleister Pellar.” Her gaze shifted toward me. “My children tell me you’re unaware of your abilities,” she said stiffly. “I apologize for throwing you. I just . . . reacted.”

“There, was that so hard?” Lily said teasingly. She had perched next to me on the sofa and was shining a dim flashlight into my eyes.

Hazel sighed, a bit of the hostility leaching out of her shoulders. “Don’t mind my kids. They got in trouble a hundred times for using that particular hex when they were in high school. They’re very much enjoying the turnabout.”

“
Yeah
, we are,” Lily said happily. She clicked off the little flashlight and held up one hand. “Your pupils are reacting fine. How many fingers do you see?”

“Seven.” Lily made a suspicious face at me. “Okay, three.”

“What’s your full name?”

“Allison Alexandra Luther,” I recited.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Your mother throwing me into my car,” I said grimly. My head ached again, and I’d just gotten it to stop aching from the
last
time I’d been hurt. Unbelievable.

“We used to call it the catapult,” Lily said conspiratorially. She turned her head to look at Simon, who had backed up and was leaning in the wide doorway between the kitchen and living room. Probably to stay between me and his mother. “I think she’s fine.”

“Good,” Hazel said, climbing to her feet. She didn’t sound particularly pleased. “I’m going outside to get some air. And finish the geraniums.” She marched toward a screen door behind her.

After we heard the door slam shut, there was a long moment of silence while Simon picked up one of the mugs on the counter and took a leisurely sip. Then he calmly put the mug down again and said offhandedly, “So, that went well.”

I snorted. “I really am sorry,” he added, sounding sincere. “Mom’s under a lot of pressure from the clan right now. She was raised with a lot of traditions that are becoming . . . unfashionable.”

“When did you get here?” I asked Simon. “How long was I out?”

“Just a few minutes,” he assured me. “I was on my way here anyway, to pick up a bag of veggies for the faculty lounge.” He glanced at something over my head, and I followed his gaze to a clock on the wall.

“What’s a black witch?” I asked quickly, before he could make an excuse and leave. I wanted all the allies I could muster.
Which means
, I realized,
that I already consider Simon an ally
. Huh.

Lily put her flashlight back in the little medical kit, then crossed her arms under her breasts as if she were chilled. “The
polite
term is boundary witch,” she informed me. “The majority of people with active witchblood are trades witches, meaning they can manipulate magic to do a little bit of everything. Some trades witches, like most of Clan Pellar, also have a religious aspect to their magic. They’re usually referred to as hedge witches. You’ve heard of Wicca?”

“Sure.”

Lily raised one hand in a “there you go” gesture. For a second I thought I saw her tattoos writhing on her forearm, and I wondered if I didn’t have a concussion after all. “My mother is our leader. We celebrate Wiccan holidays, we have certain traditions and rituals, and we
believe
,” she said, cutting her eyes briefly toward her mother’s vacant seat at the counter, “that every creature has a right to free will, and that anything we put out into the world will eventually return to us threefold.”

“Which is why we use very little aggressive magic,” Simon put in. He came over and sat in the lavender armchair adjacent to the couch, so I had a Pellar on either side of me. Now that the two of them were close to each other, I could see the resemblances—the angles of their cheekbones, the shapes of their noses, even their eyebrows. It was just their skin color that varied. “I’ve never seen Mom freak out on someone like that.”

Lily shook her head. “Me either . . . but we’re getting off track. The point is that we can manipulate magic in a variety of ways, as long as we stick to our code and our traditions. But there are also witches who are born with . . .
specialties
. Passed down through their bloodline.”

“What kind of specialties?” I asked warily.

Simon jumped in. “It can be anything: a knack for finding the lost, a certain gift with one of the four elements, maybe the ability to nudge the weather in a certain direction.”

“Like a talent,” I said tiredly. I just wanted to go home and climb into bed, where I could hopefully forget the last week had ever happened. Instead, I was playing student. “Being good at languages or music or something.”

“Kind of,” Lily agreed. “But there’s one very rare specialty that’s considered a curse rather than a gift.” Stretching out one black high-heeled boot, she traced a line in the nap of the carpet with her toe and tapped a foot on one side of the line. “There’s the land of the living,” she began, and then tapped her foot on the other side. “And the land of the dead.”

“Boundary witches access magic that crosses the line,” Simon finished.

There was a collision in my thoughts. “Oh,” I said softly. I met Simon’s eyes. “It’s true, then . . . I can’t die?”

“You
died
?” Lily said incredulously. “When was this?”

“I was stabbed by a vampire a few nights ago,” I told her. “My heart stopped. Um . . . a few times.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Your soul tried to cross the line, and your magic wouldn’t let it pass. Was that the only time?”

“No. Three years ago, in Iraq. And,” I said, remembering suddenly, “when I was thirteen. I drowned while I was whitewater rafting. But that happens to lots of people. My friend gave me CPR, I thought . . . everyone thought that’s what brought me back . . .” I realized I was babbling and snapped my mouth shut. John. John had given me CPR. I hadn’t thought about that moment in ages.

Lily and Simon exchanged a meaningful look. “What?” I said, looking between them.

“That solves one mystery, anyway,” Lily offered.

I looked at Simon. “It was the magic,” he explained. “Your friend didn’t bring you back. When you died that first time, it woke your magic.”

I felt my eyes go big as his meaning sunk in. At the hospital Simon had said you had to use magic within a window of time, around puberty, in order for it to become active. A sour taste filled my mouth as I remembered all that river water.

As if he could read my mind, Simon got up and poured me a mug of something warm and greenish. Tea. Gratefully, I picked it up and took a sip. It was flavored with berries, or maybe pomegranate, and only a little bit warmer than room temperature. I drank anyway, ignoring the bitterness, trying to gather my thoughts.

“Your mom said I have death in my blood,” I said finally. “Like I was the goddamned Grim Reaper or something.”

The siblings exchanged another look, a shorthand communication, and I felt a sudden pang of grief for Sam. I would never have that again. “We really are sorry about that,” Simon told me. “Mom just panicked a little. There aren’t many boundary witch bloodlines anymore, and most of the remaining ones have let their blood go dormant on purpose.”

“That’s seen as . . . you know, the responsible thing to do,” Lily said apologetically. “The powers are too dangerous, too visible.”

Seeing my confusion, Simon added, “She means they’re hard to hide.”

“
What
powers?” I asked, getting frustrated again. “I mean, I get that not being able to die is a big deal, but how am I dangerous to anyone else?”

Lily glanced at her brother. “This is more your area of expertise, Si.” To me, she added, “Our mom doesn’t know, but he’s been studying the evolution of magic. As a”—she lifted her fingers to make air quotes—“side project.”

Simon made a face at his sister. “You make it sound like I took up scrapbooking or something.” He shrugged and lowered his voice. “Look, the truth is . . . I don’t know much about boundary witches. I’ve never met an active one. But my broad understanding is that you specialize in anything that deals with the line between life and death.”

Seeing that that had cleared up absolutely nothing for me, Lily mused, “Well, you’ll probably be able to sense magic. Most of us can, of course, because it’s the force of creation, of life. But it’s also a force of death, I guess.”

“Okay . . .”

“And if you really are as powerful as Mom suspects, you might be able to communicate with remnants,” Simon said thoughtfully. “Spirits that, for whatever reason, don’t cross the line when they die.”

“That’s . . . you’re talking about
ghosts
,” I said stupidly. “Like . . .
ghosts
.”

He nodded, apparently oblivious to how absurd he sounded. “You’ll also age much more slowly than foundings or other witches,” he continued, “because your cells will be reluctant to die. That’s probably the real reason why your face looks so young.”

“So there’s a plus,” Lily said, giving me a small smile.

“Oh, also, boundary witches have a special affinity for vampires,” Simon added. Beside me, Lily made an “oh, yeah” face.

“What does that mean, affinity?” I said, feeling lost.

“Remember the rule that magic doesn’t work against itself? Well, vampire bodies are dead, reanimated by magic. They were supposed to cross the line, but they didn’t.”

My eyes immediately darted to Lily, who seemed accustomed to translating for her brother. “You can press ’em, Lex,” Lily said cheerfully. “Turnabout is fair play, and all that.”

“Oh.” At least that explained what I’d done to Darcy the night before. “And that’s why she wanted me,” I said to myself. To the Pellars, I added, “Maven, I mean. That must be why she wanted Itachi to hire me.” And maybe why I’d felt such a head rush in her presence.

Simon and Lily exchanged another look, though I couldn’t interpret this one. “Okay,” I said slowly, my thoughts dragging through corn syrup. “A few days ago, I was a register monkey at an all-night convenience store. Today it turns out I can’t die, I age slowly, I might be able to talk to fucking
ghosts
, pardon my language, and I can press vampires.” I shook my head. It was just too surreal.

Then an image flashed in my mind: Hazel Pellar standing between me and her kid, a look of determined hatred on her face. You don’t look at someone like that just because they can press vampires. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” I said, looking up so I could gauge their reactions. “Why does your mom hate boundary witches so much?”

Lily looked away, fiddling with a couple of silver rings on her fingers. Simon said softly, “It’s a . . . historical thing, Lex. During the Middle Ages, boundary witches . . . did some things.”