The Magus Chronicles

Lies & Fights

The Magus Manor stood in the center of oaks and pine trees, and on that Thursday evening the air was hot and heavy from the impending storm. Octavian Hunt looked up Manor, wound up with tension. The dozens of windows that covered the facade of the house had a way of staring a person down as they stood on the gravel drive. The house did not like those who were not family. The house didn't like anyone, really. Bad things were buried under this ground, where only family knew of them, and bad things had happened here, which the family never discussed.

Octavian rolled his shoulders, the movement constrained by his blazer.

"Ready for this, hot stuff?"

Octavian looked back at Alexei, who reclined against the side of the limousine. Alexei grinned, and took a long drag on his vape, then exhaled thick white smoke. Amidst the clouds for a moment Octavian saw a milky white stallion rear, hooves lashing. Then Alexei walked through white ether and it vanished before the magician who had made it. 

Alexei had a dashing quality to him - warm, curly brown hair, tanned skin, a smile that set you at ease and was freely dispensed. Octavian was good at faking charm and good graces, but Alexei was not a mimic. Genuine, permanent delight seemed to move constantly through Alexei. Whether that was delight from a man getting his face beaten in, or delight in a well-made cocktail, or at the sight of a burning building. He turned that delight on Octavian. 

Octavian had no wish to see Alexei laugh at his fear. "I'm ready," Octavian said.

Alexei put away the vape in his own suit's pocket, and the two boys advanced up the front steps. 

"Storm tonight," Octavian commented.

Alexei glanced upwards. "That will be interesting." Thunder rumbled a few miles off. Octavian felt his neck prickle, and a thin barb of pain shafted inward through his right temple. 

Not tonight. He pushed it away as roughly as he could. A shaded colonnade ran the length of the Manor's front. As they walked up the steps, Octavian saw movement on the left side. 

"What's this?" Alexei asked, voice soft. Instead of going to the door he walked into the shade, just as Constantine Graves emerged, and stopped dead. 

"Constantine!" Alexei stopped as Constantine graves moved forward into the bright twilight that held in the wake of the storm. "Were you hiding from us?" 

"I heard the car from upstairs," Constantine said, his voice flat but his hands going to his pockets, as though hiding them. "I thought it was Percy." 

Octavian did not need to look at Alexei, but he reexamined Constantine. He hadn't seen Constantine since Christmas. He looked as strange as always, with his ashy white hair and his strange, angular face. His gray eyes were so dark they they seemed like stones. His black sweater had frayed cuffs, almost absent-minded ones. He held his shoulders tight, and for a moment, he looked at Octavian. New wariness flooded his body, and his left foot slid back. 

"It's good to see you." Alexei's voice held new warmth. He recaptured Constantine's attention, those gray eyes returning to Alexei but not losing their wariness. He stepped up another step and held out an arm. Constantine, appearing relieved, made to clasp Alexei's arm. Octavian couldn't see Alexei's expression, but he saw every tortured emotion run across Constantine's face in that moment - there was loathing in the spine and longing in the bend of the brows, fear in the crook of the mouth, repulsion in the hands, and undeniable attraction in his eyes. Then Alexei pulled Constantine into a hug, and all was wiped away and replaced by shock, pure and clean.

It was a terrible concoction of feelings. Octavian could only imagine how torturous it would be to exist inside them.

And Octavian was hugely, spitefully pleased that it was Constantine who got to feel them.