A Kind of Magic

Thirty-Three

Fiona watched in wordless awe as the rain and the storm clouds vanished into nothingness while the destroyed cars flew back into their places, returned into their original state, and the supermarket customers, whom she had seen running around and screaming in fear swarmed the glass sliding doors again, unfased and unafraid, as if nothing had passed. It seemed to her that a part of a movie she had been watching had been erased and rewound, rather than a part of the people lives, her life... 

The two of them walked back toward her flat the moment Peregrine was satisfied with his magical intervention, up the high road, fast, his arm still wrapped around her waist from behind as if he was afraid that she would faint the instant she properly realised what had happened. 

They didn't talk; the sound of their feet landing upon the cobblestones joined the rhythm of their hearts, their racing thoughts, they did not see nor hear anything else but each other. What had just happened united them somehow, set them apart from the rest of the world that knew nothing of Highlanders, dragon fights, and the fragility of life. Fiona wrapped her arm around Peregrine's waist too when she realised that it could have been him who had turned into dust, that she could have been walking home alone now... and she hadn't even gotten to know him well enough yet. 

Peregrine decided to wait for the questions she was bound to start asking when she was ready. He wouldn't tell her anything regarding this side of him-- the dark side that was an inseparable part of his existence even though he hadn't chosen it, and would happily trade having to kill others of his own kind to survive for anything else-- until then. The only important thing right now was that she understood that they needed to leave without a delay; they were not safe here, none of them.

After this fight, she was marked as someone who sides with a Highlander. There was no way of telling who of the others witnessed the fight, who knew that Peregrine was in London but hadn't come forward to challenge him. The others would look for her to kill her now if he left her behind; his scent was all over her and her flat... They would find her son, an untrained cub, so easy to eliminate before he grew into a threat. There was no way he was going to leave either of them here now. He would fly her to her father on his back if he had to.

He let her unlock the entrance to the house when they reached it, ushered her inside, then paused in the road, inhaling the scents the wind carried towards him for threats. But there was nothing, not yet, only the hint of the ashes of the Highlander who had died today...

She was waiting for him under the stairs, hiding in the dark, ready to ask questions faster than he had expected. 

"You... just killed... a man," she accused, her voice faltering with doubts and questions as if she was trying to understand whether it had really happened.

"I did. He would have killed me, and then you, if I didn't," Peregrine said in a voice as free of emotions as he could muster. He needed her to make her own opinion on this alone, without his persuation. This was a part of him he did not like but could not change. He was a Highlander. As long as there were others like him, this wouldn't stop. Just like any of them, he could die in the next duel. Unless he killed another man.

"You are really a Highlander," she said as if she could hear his thoughts, as if it made sense to her. "You hunt each other down until only one remains," she muttered, making him incline his head in surprise. How did she know that? "How many me... dragons have you... killed?" she whispered, looking up at him, and he hated the gloomy distance between them.

He rushed towards her and enveloped her face in his hands. She stared into his eyes, waiting for him to reply, and he pushed her glasses higher up the bridge of her nose, feeling elated because she wasn't running away from him.