Jude's Magic Page 2

  "I—of course I will. You're just too important to be fetching my holey socks."

  Alphonse smiled. "I don't mind. Give me your address and tell me where I'll find your things."

  He was forced to comply. What would his roommate think of a strange man arriving to remove his few belongings? He probably wouldn't care; Jude had only been paid up for his share of the rent for the next two days.

  #

  Soon Jude found himself in a large bedroom that was comfortably furnished and warm. The bed was wide and soft, and he bounced on it slightly when he sat. He glanced at the mirror and scraped fingers back through his hair, frowning at how wild it looked, even though he could've sworn he'd done nothing to disarray its sullen waviness.

  His mind slid back to the discussion with Alphonse. The orders, more like. What other surprises was this job going to hold? Alphonse had been perfectly polite about it, but his firm words about obeying still made Jude uneasy. He was used to obeying; his father had certainly laid down the law strongly enough. But he hated to be under someone's thumb.

  At least Ferrous had been relatively kind to him and seemed glad he was here. As long as he treated Jude decently—and didn't perform any more magic on him—it should be all right. At least I'll have a warm bed and something to eat, he thought. His finances had grown uncomfortably tight since being asked to leave his father's house and company.

  He closed his eyes, wincing at the memory. All four of his brothers watched, looking stunned, scared, and shocked, while he fetched his things in a small bag and left, partway through a meal.

  All Harold Lenard's, of Lenard and Sons Travelling Circus and Prestidigitation, were grown or nearly grown, but they still obeyed his word of law. He'd trained them all for his various acts. Jude was good at card tricks and small magic tricks, like making flowers bloom early.

  The trouble was, he was now on his own, and it seemed particularly difficult to survive just by sleight of hand and light magic if one didn't have a job with an entertainment company. He hadn't been able to secure a position of any sort, and hadn't stooped to picking pockets, so he was growing rather hungry lately. Thievery still left him aghast at the thought, but he thought about it anyway every time he grew really hungry.

  In truth, he was extremely lucky to have found a job that provided room and board—even if he would be working for a mysterious wizard who partook in magic duels.

  He shivered again at the thought of Ferrous in a ring somewhere, slinging magic at someone to hurt them, and being hurt in return while a crowd roared, urging them on. Like with dog fights, some people were willing to pay to see and bet money on all sorts of violence. Magic duels were some of the worst, in Jude's opinion.

  He'd only seen part of one magic duel, once when he and Leo, his closest brother in age, had snuck in to one about a decade ago. He'd been a gangly, sensitive fifteen-year-old, and the roaring crowd and the cruel use of magic had made him lose his lunch. Leo had gruffly called him a baby, and then helped Jude walk away, because he was trembling too hard to do so on his own two wobbly legs. But Leo hadn't enjoyed it either, Jude felt almost certain. At any rate, they'd never talked about it again.

  It had been like a physical pain, a wrongness, to see magic used that way. His own magic lay only in the power to help and heal. He couldn't have harmed anyone on purpose with his own magic, and it was very strange to see that some people could, and would, and did. And that others enjoyed it.

  It would be one thing if he was only sensitive about harmful magic. Anyone might have a quirk. But Jude was sensitive about so many things. He hated crowds, and being touched, and he startled and jumped if yelled at. If anyone was angry with him, his hands would get all twitchy and he'd drop a stack of cards he'd been flawlessly shuffling a moment before.

  Jude's sensitive nature had not endeared him to his father, even though his sensitive fingers let him do magic-tricks well enough that it nearly looked like real magic. Some people had even been fooled. But real magic was not so difficult to come by, and while he was cheaper to have in the company than a real magician, he wasn't good enough to do much of anything on his own. Real magicians performed much better tricks, involving fire and conjured snake images and such things that would cause a crowd to gasp in shock and awe.

  'Pick a card, any card' and pulling rabbits from hats didn't quite compare. Even if one was quite good at it.

  Jude began to gnaw his knuckles, wondering what hidden things he would discover about this job. For that was one of his other uses of magic. He could heal. He could make plants bloom. And he could find hidden things. It wasn't anything as useful as being able to divine hidden treasure, or money, or even water dousing. No, he simply had the ability to stumble onto things in conversations that people would rather he didn't.

  It wasn't only his father that Jude managed to rub the wrong way. His brothers had punched him or sat on him more than once as punishment for managing to bumble onto the topic they least wanted brought up at the dinner table: the new girl one liked, the play another had snuck out to, or some other thing Jude hadn't even realized they'd done. It was definitely a curse, not a blessing. Consequently, he had taught himself to be very quiet and keep his mouth shut in most circumstances.

  At least this 'talent' hadn't manifested itself so far at his new job. Unless something Ferrous said had been something he hadn't wanted to talk about? Perhaps his 'It's you!' comment had been something of that sort?

  He sat on the bed gnawing his knuckles till there was a knock at his door. Then he jumped up. "Come in!" he squeaked, and cleared his throat, trying to bring his voice down to a more reasonable level. "I mean, come in."

  Alphonse walked into the room, holding a battered valise, and smiled at him as though he found Jude amusing. "Here are your things." He didn't add 'few and pitiful though they are,' but his expression implied it.

  "Th-thank you." Jude stood there, waiting.

  Alphonse stared back at him. "Don't you want to check them?"

  "I t-trust you."

  He snorted. "I don't see why. Go ahead. Check."

  Face burning, he picked the bag up and dug through it on the bed. "M…My playing cards aren't here," he admitted after a moment.

  "Ah. I couldn't find any," he said with calm, bland amusement. "I'll fetch you a pack from the games room, all right?"

  "All right. Thank you."

  Alphonse stepped closer to him and touched his chin. "Why are you afraid of me?"

  He stepped back, trying not to meet the man's eyes. His heart thumped dreadfully fast. "Please don't touch me."

  "Sorry." Alphonse sounded faintly amused. "Well, never mind. You'll find I'm not dangerous, and I won't be constantly in your business." He turned to leave the room. "Don't forget, it's nearly time to eat!"

  Jude watched the man go, barely concealing a fierce shudder that ran through him. It made him feel a little sick when Alphonse touched him; the man had used magic recently, likely within the last couple of minutes. The worst sort, too: magic to harm someone. Jude felt ill with the closeness of it, suffocated. He moved to the window and shoved it up, sticking his head out to breathe fresh air.

  On the grounds below, lawn and flowers and bushes and trees stretched away. It surely wouldn't be bad to be on this estate, even if he was here a long time. Surely not. Unless they would do magic on him, or walk around reeking of the worst kinds like that.

  He shook his head and blew out his breath, trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind. You never knew with people, did you? Perhaps Alphonse was a magic dueler as well, not a lawyer at all.

  By mealtime, Jude had worked himself into a state of nervous tension that made his stomach roil and him wonder if he'd be able to keep anything down at all.

  He only made it to the lavish dining room because a servant showed him the way. He was seated and waiting nervously by the time Alphonse arrived, pushing Ferrous in a wheelchair.

  Jude tried not to gape. Of course, he hadn't seen Ferrous move in the garden, but he
also hadn't guessed the man stayed seated because he couldn't rise. They acted very casual about it. Ferrous smile gamely when his cousin pushed him up to the table and helped him into a seat. Alphonse showed him quickly where his utensils were and then moved to his own seat, his steps confident.

  Seeing Ferrous again reminded Jude how attractive he found the man. He didn't have the cold, smooth handsomeness of his cousin. No, Ferrous's face was blunter, smooth and strong. He looked like a man who would never be fickle or change his mind once made up, but it looked like a steadiness of character rather than an intractable nature in his case.

  As servants began to dish them the first course, Jude found himself wondering what sort of companion he was to be if Alphonse took care of all the practical matters.

  "You're very quiet, Jude," said Ferrous at length, looking in his direction. He spoke kindly, and he wore a gentle smile. They were between courses.

  Jude tried not to gasp. "Um—yes. Sorry." How had he known where Jude was sitting? But of course, he'd heard him eating or being served, or something. Or perhaps his magic told him. His dangerous magic.

  "Are you settling in all right?"

  "Um. Not really." He popped a hand over his mouth, aghast. "You're—you're not using another Truth on me are you?" he mumbled around his fingers.

  Ferrous frowned. "No. And that first one should be long worn off. Come here and let me make sure." He waited patiently, as if expecting Jude to jump up immediately.

  Jude hesitated, glancing at Mrs. Engelhard and Alphonse. They looked as if they saw nothing irregular about the request. Alphonse tilted an ironic eyebrow at Jude as if to ask what was taking him so long.

  He put down his napkin and scrambled to his feet, rounded the table, and stopped in front of Ferrous. Nerves made him tremble a little. Ferrous reached for his hand, groping, and Jude gave it to him. The magician held it for a moment between his hands, gently, almost cherishingly. Jude felt a flush rising all over his body, a tingling awareness of the other man. Ferrous didn't seem to be doing it on purpose.

  It's just because I'm not used to being touched, Jude told himself. His father might have kicked him out for liking men, but Jude had never actually done anything about it before.

  Before! There was no 'before.' He wasn't doing anything about it now, either. This was magic-related, that was all.

  "Hm." Ferrous's strong, handsome brow wrinkled. "That's odd. The truth spell I did on you does still seem to be hanging on a bit. Remarkably persistent." He stroked the back of Jude's hand, causing Jude to freeze and bite his lip. Then he tried to tug free, and Ferrous released him. "There now, it should be gone. You must be remarkably sensitive to magic."

  "Yes." Jude flushed. To everything. He couldn't even shake off a little spell like a normal person!

  "Will you finish eating with us?" asked Ferrous, his expression warm and friendly. "I'm sorry for that, and it won't happen again."

  Jude gave a jerk of his head in agreement, and then realized Ferrous probably couldn't see him. "Okay." He moved back to his seat, but was too upset to do more than move around the rest of the food they gave him. It was lovely food, too, and he should've eaten every bite. It seemed such a waste not to eat it.

  Nobody said anything about his appetite, although Alphonse gave him an amused, ironic look, as if laughing at him. If his appetite hadn't already been dead, that would've finished it off.

  As the meal finally ended, Ferrous asked, "Would you join me in the garden for some fresh air, Jude?"

  It seemed such a formal question that he said 'yes' automatically. After all, what else could he say? He was fortunate Ferrous was being polite. He could've ordered me around and I'd just have to take it.

  "Can you push my chair?" Ferrous asked, again very courteously.

  "Um, sure. Please tell me if I do it wrong." Behind him, he heard a snort from Alphonse, and felt himself blushing again miserably. "Sorry," he mumbled. "That was stupid, wasn't it?"

  "Don't mind Alfie. He's a bit of an ass sometimes. Come on, let's leave him."

  Jude helped Ferrous into his wheelchair gingerly and pushed it from the room awkwardly, his cheeks still burning.

  "Why are you so frightened?" asked Ferrous quietly as soon as they were out of hearing distance. "I'm not going to hurt you."

  Jude felt the humiliating sting of tears at his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled.

  "Don't be sorry. Just tell me if there's anything I can do to fix it. I don't want you to be hurt."

  "I'm… I guess I'm nervous of Alphonse. And magic that hurts people. It makes me feel ill to be around it. And I'm uneasy because… because I don't know why I'm 'the one' and it seems like a big deal."

  "Oh," said Ferrous.

  Jude bit his lips. I shouldn't have said any of that! It appeared his magic was turning on him this time, making him reveal things better kept quiet. He had no wish to make himself sound even more neurotic. Or else I'm just an idiot who can't keep his mouth shut around a handsome man….

  "Well, Alfie can be a bit caustic and sarcastic, but I promise he won't hurt you. And I won't hurt anybody with magic, all right?"

  "All right," he said, sounding tearful even to his own ears.

  "I wish I could see your face," Ferrous said wistfully. "Can I hold your hand again?"

  "Why?" asked Jude, sounding like he was going to cry. "You still haven't told me why I'm the one."

  He sighed. "I'd hope to put this off longer. All right. I can't hurt you," said Ferrous, very gently. "Because I'm going to fall in love with you. That's what 'the one' means. I was cursed. Not in the ring. They can fix that, you know. At least most of it. No, I was caught by a rival outside the ring, someone who didn't want me to duel. They wanted me to forfeit. It was worth money to them. So they had someone curse me with a crippling curse.

  "Oh, nothing can be proved, of course. Like with a hired assassin; it's difficult to ever catch the people really responsible. The curse was especially strong because there's a way out of it. Those are always the worst, the ones that leave a little tendril of hope. They can't be unbound completely any other way."

  He took a deep breath, as if coming up from water. "My curse left me crippled, blinded, and barely able to move. I still can't stand, and it's been a month and a half already. Some of it slowly wears off, especially with the help of healing magic. But I haven't been able to see a thing, until you.

  "That was the other part of the curse. I could be freed only by the man I'd love. It's you. You can already heal me, and I already feel something for you. It's going to grow. Oh, don't be unnerved. You may never love me back; I can accept that. But do you see now why I want to protect you and make you feel safe?"

  "So I'll fix you," said Jude in a trembling voice.

  "So you'll fix me," said Ferrous gently. "And because I love you. Or I will love you. It's all rather mixed together, isn't it?"

  They had reached the garden now and he pushed the wheelchair up next to the bench and sat down beside Ferrous. Jude put his head in his hands. They were trembling. He took deep, gulping breaths.

  Ferrous reached over and gently rubbed his back, slow and steady and not at all rough. And Jude found he didn't mind it, the way he usually minded being touched.

  "I wish I could see you," said Ferrous. "I wish I could see your pretty face."

  Jude gave a snort of laughter at that, raising his head from his hands. "Oh? What makes you think I have a 'pretty face?'"

  "Alfie said you're just my type, with dark hair and big earnest blue eyes. I can't wait to see you." He sighed wistfully.

  "I—I'd like that, too," Jude admitted.

  "Well, we'll have plenty of time," promised Ferrous.

  Jude wanted suddenly to kiss this man, who was going to love him, and who wanted to protect him. "You'll be gentle with me?" he asked. "If we ever…?"

  "Of course. And you don't have to ever, if you don't want to."

  "I…I know," he said softly, because he did. He realized he was beginning to trust Ferro
us now, his heart reaching out to him, since he knew the secret, knew the whole truth. It was very brave of Ferrous to share so much, when he couldn't even see Jude's expression.

  The tears were still in his eyes, but drying now. He reached for Ferrous's face, cradled it between his hands, and began to pour his gentle, slow-healing magic into this warm-hearted man.

  Ferrous gave a little gasp, hands closing over his wrists. But for once, Jude wasn't frightened. He just kept pouring magic.

  #

  They stayed in the garden a long time, till it was dusk and the birds were calling and the insects drilling the air with their night sounds. They rested, talked, and touched each other, gentle, soothing touches. Jude healed Ferrous a little at a time, working his magic as he was able, then resting. Ferrous's hands ghosted here and there, touching his arms, hands, neck and back, as if he couldn't stay away.

  And for once in his life, Jude soaked in the touch, sank into it like a warm bath. Ferrous was exceedingly soothing and careful, touching him like he knew his body already and just the way to treat him. It wasn't even sexual, just a comfortable, gentle, friendly caress, comforting him, gingerly ghosting along him, setting him at ease, settling his nerves and tangled anxiety.

  "I can't see even shapes anymore," said Ferrous gently. "I think it's pretty dark, and we'd best go in."

  "All right," said Jude. He could still see a bit in the dim twilight, but in truth he was getting very tired. Yet he didn't want this interlude to end. Nobody had ever given him such complete attention before, and the gentleness that made his body sing was utterly new to him.

  "If you'll give me your arm, I think I can walk in," said Ferrous.

  "Really?" Jude stared at him. "But…"

  "Well, I'd like to try."

  "But what if you fall?"

  "Then you'll help me back into the wheelchair, won't you?"

  "Alphonse will be angry with me if I let you get hurt."