Nightwise by R. S. Belcher Page A

will come get me. I know it’s stupid, but she fucking terrifies me.”
    â€œNo, no,” I said. “That’s actually a very good idea. Don’t think about her if you can help it. So things went bad and you left?”
    â€œYes,” Magdalena said. “She started dominating me all the time, not just when I consented to it. She forced me to take part in her rituals. She … used me in them. Now I think that I was some kind of … battery for her. She used me. I always felt so bad afterward, like I had the flu. I liked her putting me into a submissive mind space, but then she started trying to addict me to it, try to crush my free will. I ran away, took another name, and hid. I got help, helped myself. Started over. So, yeah, I have met someone in the Life before, and she was a psychopath and nearly ate my soul.”
    â€œI know you don’t want this,” I said, “and I understand why, but if you accept this part of yourself, master it, then if this crazy bitch ever does turn up one day, you at least have the tools to protect yourself, to keep running, maybe even to take her down.”
    â€œI don’t want to take anyone down,” Magdalena said. “I just want to focus on beauty, on creating things. This ‘Life’ seems to all be about control and power and using people. I don’t want that.”
    â€œIt doesn’t have to be,” I said. “Didgeri was doing a working tonight; it was part of what you felt in the club. It was about making people open up, making them feel good, feel connected. The power is a tool; you can make of it whatever you want, whatever you have inside of you.”
    â€œCould you teach me?” she asked. A cold knife slid into my guts.
    â€œI … wouldn’t be a good teacher,” I said. “I suck at that. I’m just telling you what your choices are and letting you know you have options. I’m trying to help you, Magdalena.”
    â€œIf this is some bullshit scam to get me to sleep with you,” she said, “it is the worst ever.”
    â€œNo,” I said. “Unfortunately, after all of the psychic vulnerabilities we’ve been ripping open tonight, it would be really, really shitty of me to do that. Bad wizard form, I’m afraid. Could get my pointy hat revoked for that. Just a confidante and a friend.”
    Magdalena gave me a very strange look and squeezed my hand.
    The cab pulled up in front of Grinner’s building. The rain had canceled the usual ongoing block party. We got out, and I reached for my wallet to pay chuckles, the cabbie. The second we were out of his cab, he gunned it and roared away.
    â€œCome on,” I said, putting my arm around Magdalena, “let’s get out of this damn rain.”
    The apartment was dark. Grinner and Christine were either asleep or not home. We shed our coats and walked down the hall to our rooms.
    â€œWell, thanks for a very … unique evening,” she said. She held up the thumb drive. “And thanks so much for this! I can really make some things happen in my career with these in my portfolio. You’re a hero, Laytham.”
    â€œBullshit,” I said, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”
    She moved a step closer to me. “Well, you were a Boy Scout,” she said, resting her hand on my chest. I felt my pulse jump at the touch.
    â€œFor at least a week,” I said. Awkward silence. No one moved, no one stepped away. The feeling I had when we had first met and talked was back. The unspoken thing that is either there or not, granted or forbade.
    I knew what was right; I just really didn’t give a damn.
    I ran my hand through her long, thick raven hair, still damp from the rain. Our eyes locked. I clutched a handful of her hair tightly and pulled her head back. She gasped. Excitement, and a touch of fear, flared in her eyes. I felt a cool sense of control settle over me, wrapping itself