Bastial Energy (3 page)

“Most rats don’t eat dirt, nor do they have a creepy grin like that. What did you do to this guy?” Reela asked. “And why is he so big?”

“I developed a—”

“Let me guess,” Reela interrupted, “a new potion?”

“Yes, a growth potion, still in experimental phases. Potions like these that drastically change one’s physical nature tend to have adverse side effects. It seems that aggression and an increased appetite are the side effects in this case.”

“Well, don’t pet him anymore. I’m not wasting any more energy keeping this failed experiment tame.”

“Reela! Fred is more than just some experiment. You should be more respectful to animals.”

“You’re the one that turned a happy rat into an angry abomination. If anyone is being disrespectful, it’s you. You should let me put him to sleep right now and end his miserable life.”

Steffen sighed. He’d had a feeling Reela would prove him wrong as soon as he’d accused her of being disrespectful. “I hate when we disagree. In the end I always feel wrong, and I can’t tell if it’s because you’re actually right or you’re just using psyche to make me feel wrong.”

“I’m always right.”

If it was anyone else, Steffen would have defended Fred. He would have found facts he could twist into logic to prove Fred was worth keeping. But he knew all too well that there was no point in arguing against Reela. The potion he used on Fred wasn’t working as it should—too many side effects. He would need to modify it and try again. Whether it was psyche or not, Reela really was always right.

Reela patted Steffen on the shoulder. “Now let’s put Fred to sleep, shall we?”

“I suppose it’s for the best.” Often when Reela would touch him, he would feel chills running down his back. He couldn’t remember exactly when both she and Effie, his childhood friends, had become so attractive, but it had to have been in the last two or three years. He remembered it seeming so sudden after it started, almost like their bodies were competing to see who could bloom and shape into a woman faster.

There was something dangerous about each of them, though, which made it easier for his affection to remain that of a friend. It often reminded him of a saying he’d heard many years before it made sense: “While many potions can trick or mislead, none compare to the beguiling touch from a beautiful woman.” More than anything, it made a statement about chemists’ relationships with women, one that Steffen easily identified with.

“When did you become powerful enough to kill small animals? Honestly, that’s a little scary, Reela.”

Reela squeezed his hand, showing a warm smile. Steffen felt his shoulders relax.

“I found out this summer,” she said. “And I’m not killing him, not directly. I’m just putting him to sleep. He’ll die of starvation while he’s unconscious. He won’t feel anything.”

“Let me say a few words first.” Steffen cleared his throat and put his hand on his chest. When he glanced at Reela and saw her eyes rolling with her arms still at her side, he cleared his throat again, this time louder.

“I’m not going to stand like that for a rat,” she said.

“Fine.” Knowing he couldn’t convince Reela to do anything she didn’t want to, he began. “This is a sad day. Not only has an experiment failed, but I’m losing a friend. Fred was the bravest rat with the most hilarious smile. While I’m sure there will be many more rats like Fred as I perfect this potion, Fred was the first and will always have a place in my heart. I’ll miss him dearly.”

Just then, he remembered what Cleve had said:
“Fred is a disaster, just like this will be.”
Steffen shook his head.
No,
he said to himself.
There’s no actual relation between Cleve and Fred. This doesn’t mean it will end the same with Cleve…at least I hope not.

Reela closed her eyes and breathed in deeply to concentrate. After opening them again, she pointed her palm toward Fred. He staggered before falling over sideways, still as death. His overgrown teeth kept his mouth grinning.

“Promise me you won’t use any powerful psyche on me.” Steffen could hear his voice waver.

“If you promise me that I’ll never be a test subject for you.”

“I can agree to those terms.”

Chapter 4: Breathe

EFFIE

It was Effie’s last night in her beloved hometown, Oakshen, and nothing would stop her from making it memorable, not even that she lacked money to spend. She just had to make it past her father, who stood in front of the door with folded arms.

“Effie, are you going out? It’s late.”

“Just a bit of practice with the new wand.” She used her most obedient voice. “The metal dummies at Criers’ Square need a quick beating before bed.” She found it easier to tell half-truths rather than lies. She expected to use her wand, but not on training dummies.

“We’re all having breakfast tomorrow before you leave, and then you have a busy day transporting your belongings and moving into your campus house. You need to be home early enough to get plenty of rest.”

“I will. Thank you, Father.” Effie took a step toward the door, but he didn’t budge.

“I know you said you don’t want anyone coming with you tomorrow, but your sister really wants to help you move. Please just let her help, and I promise your mom and I won’t even ask to come.”

“Gabby just wants to come so she can see Steffen. She’s obsessed with him, you are aware of that?” Effie noticed her tone had hardened.

Her father’s voice became a whisper. “She has a little crush. Steffen is smart and a nice boy. I’m sure he’d never take advantage of her.”

“If it were a little crush, she wouldn’t be the only chemist in our family while everyone else is a mage.”

“Whether or not that’s true, Steffen isn’t the only reason she wants to go tomorrow. She loves you. Please let her help.” He stepped aside to let Effie through.

“Fine.” She opened the door to leave.

“Effie,” her father called out. “Be careful with your magic. Only on dummies, right?”

“Always.”
Yes, dummies,
she repeated to herself, walking toward Criers’ Square to give her father the impression she was on her way there.

She’d started going out at night two years ago, at fifteen. She was surprised to see how a town she’d known her whole life suddenly became strange to her. During the day, the streets were crowded with men and women always hurrying somewhere, usually carrying a bag or a basket or pushing a cart, but at night people seemed to roam freely as if they were content to stay on the street until sunrise. Most of them were men, and many even looked to have made an effort in their appearance, though only a few seemed to be as young as Effie. The women she did find moved like nervous cats, ready to burst into a sprint at the slightest startle. After her first night out, Effie understood why.

She remembered that first night out quite well. After a long argument with her father, he’d finally agreed to let her leave. She remembered she’d actually told him the truth then—that she really would be training at Criers’ Square. At least that’s what she’d thought when she left. Their arguments had become far shorter in the two years since then. She figured her stubbornness had worn him out.

Effie ignored the warnings he’d given her about men who were out at night until she started noticing curious eyes locking onto her. Groups of men often muttered to each other after she passed them, sometimes even laughing. She figured they found entertainment in her ragged training gown, charred from mistaken fire spells, but later she’d realize that wasn’t it.

She found some relief when she finally got to the gated training area of Criers’ Square, which she’d visited countless times during the busy day but never at night. It was strangely quiet except for periodic gusts of wind. She remembered that the place was empty except for a man inside who looked to be at least five years older. He had on a clean buttoned shirt and dark pressed pants—not an outfit mages wore when training.

Shortly after she entered, he began to assault her with his eyes. When she ignored him long enough, he approached.

Effie didn’t remember the conversation they’d had, just their bet. After some negotiation, they’d agreed on Effie’s terms: If she won, he’d leave her alone; but if he won, he’d buy her a drink at the nearby warrior-friendly bar, the Torn Glove. The winner would be whoever could perform the most impressive spell, a common competition among mages. Up until then, all of her training had been with Bastial-based spells. This lessened the variety of spells she could cast, yet she still could deliver a devastating fireball and could think of no better way to demonstrate her skill.

Effie didn’t remember what was said after she cast the burning ball of destruction at the metal training dummy. All that she could recall was his spell after and the feeling that she would have conceded without performing if he’d gone first. Even after two years, it was so clear in her memory it might as well have happened yesterday. He pointed his wand into a cupped hand and furrowed his brow. She still could picture the ever so faint strands of emerald green dancing into the air. She knew they were a sign of concentrated Sartious Energy, but she’d never seen a mage so young who was proficient with it. He worked and formed it into a shape within his palm. When he finished, his face loosened and a smile formed.

“Open your hand,” he told her.

Effie did, and he dropped a small green heart into her palm. When the hardened Sartious Energy touched her, she felt a tingle wash over her entire body. The translucent heart shimmered beautifully under the moonlight. She needed to know how to manipulate Sartious Energy like he did, and he was going to teach her—she would make sure of that.

“You win,” she said.

He was breathing hard from the spell but tried to hide it behind a confident smile. He had even less luck hiding the thin layer of sweat shining on his forehead.

“Why are you practicing in nice clothing? Is this how you pick up women?”

He laughed. “I was on my way to meet some friends. I just wanted to train first, but now that I’ve met you my plans have changed. Come on.” He took her hand, but she pulled it free. She followed him nonetheless; a bet was still a bet.

Like any established business in Oakshen, the bar didn’t allow weapons inside. By now he’d given his name, which was Horen, and told her of the sock stash, which was just a simple way to conceal a wand in her sock before entering a restricted building. While only half fit in her sock, her mage gown fell to her ankles, concealing it completely…and her body as well. But that didn’t seem to matter because she still remembered feeling the stares of nearly every man in the bar.

Around that time her body had begun a transformation. Small traces of fat had been disappearing from her cheeks and under her chin, straightening out the edges of her face. Her wavy, nearly black hair of shoulder length and her long lashes seemed to complement her button nose and dark, deep-set eyes more each day. Her breasts came to size as well, not large, but shapely enough for her to carry with pride. The only thing unchanging was her height, which remained a couple inches shorter than most women, and a whole nose and forehead shorter than her tall friend Reela. But Effie never minded being small because she knew the power of mages has nothing to do with their size.

They sat at a cute little table, both with a beer in front of them. Effie was determined to learn more about his training method for Sartious Energy and asked him many questions, finding herself caring less and less about being stared at with each drink she had. When Horen finished his beer, he ordered two more and refused to answer another question until she finished hers. After her second or third, she remembered him saying that his father was a wand and staff maker, and he helped implant Sartious Energy into the weapons. Two years later, that’s all she could remember of their conversation in the bar.

She recalled that Horen was walking her home when two men, who must have been close to the age of her father, stopped them.

“You’re too pretty to be out here alone,” one of them said.

“If the face looks this good, I can’t wait to see what’s under that training gown,” the other one chimed in. Both were about a foot taller than Effie.

When she noticed a sheathed sword on each man’s belt, she knew they were trained warriors. What she would come to realize later was that this also meant they were more likely to draw their weapons than to leave her alone.

“Get away from us, you worthless warriors,” Horen said.

“Oh, look at this,” the man who’d spoken first replied. “I didn’t see this small boy here.”

“His head is the size of my hand,” the other warrior said, holding out his palm. “Why don’t you let the men here take care of you, young lady? What’s your name?”

Effie was about to tell them that even a prostitute would gag at their harebrained attempt at wooing when Horen startled her by screaming, “She’s mine, back off!”

They all were suddenly shouting at each other, each so angry it was palpable. She remembered being confused how it had escalated so quickly and was especially surprised to see Horen react the way he did.

“I don’t belong to you,” she snapped at Horen. It stopped their shouts. “None of you are getting anything from me.”