Budding Magic

  ****

  How dare that little red headed child of a whore tell him where he could, and could not go! He stomped off angrily. He was surprised—a little—by her apparent imperviousness to his power. He had tried to sway her, but she seemed totally unbothered. The more time passed for him, the angrier he got stewing over it.

  He had seen her earlier cuddling up to that ugly cat. He grinned to himself. Let's see how she feels when she finds its mangled, ugly little body.

  "Here kitty, kitty," he called. "Come out Cally-cat."

  He was outside the manor close to the wall by the sea. He remembered the cats name only because it sounded like alley cat. He though it was fitting. He hated cats!

  "Here kitty," he called softly. "Oh, there you are."

  The calico cat looked at the strange boy and started purring. It was sitting sunning itself on the wall.

  "Look at you," he said in a friendly tone of voice, "stupid little thing. You are so ugly, your mother turned, and tried to eat you."

  He could actually hear it purring. He picked it up and cuddled it close. He'd like to just squeeze its little chest tightly, until it couldn't breathe anymore. Instead, he held it gently. He walked down the wall until he was out of site of the manor. He looked around to be sure, but he knew that there was no one around to watch him. He sat on the wall.

  "Let's see," he told the cat conversationally, "should I break this toe or this." He handled each toe as he talked to the cat. "or maybe a leg. Tails are fun. The neck is too easy. I think you should keep living," he laughed, "but maybe with just one eye—one eye? Okay then."

  He reached up around the head and started putting pressure on the eye socket.

  Suddenly, the cat was three times its normal size and had grabbed him by the head, putting pressure on his eye socket. He screamed with terror and pain.

  :Or maybe I should just break your neck,: Cally sent to him. :No—okay then.:

  Cally-Cat raked his cheek deeply with six distinct claw marks. He then jumped down and shrank back to his normal size.

  :You may want to get that cleaned,: Cally-cat told him. :My claws feel a little soiled, hate for wound to get festered.: Cally sauntered off to sleep in the sun.

  Terrified and hurting, Jeremy ran back to the manor. He was screaming something incoherent about a monstrous cat that had just about beheaded him.

  "Well," Molly said calmly, "we do have them wild cats here about. Lucky for you, it didn't just drag you off and eat you. There, there, let's put some salve on that. You don't want it getting all festered up after all."

  Molly knew just who and what Cally was. She knew he wouldn't have done this without a very good reason. She had her suspicions about this boy. Cally-cat had just confirmed them. She led him away to put ointment on the wounds.

  "Your face is going to mark," she told him. "There's no getting around that."

  He stared at her horrified. No one listened to an ugly person. How would he use his art? His father had cherished his sons face. He said it was a face that the lords would love, and the ladies would love even more. His father said that between his street smarts, and his son's gift of gab, there would be no stopping them. So where was his father now! He thought angrily. Down in the depths—that's where. He had to get all involved with them black women. They changed him, tainted him. It was all their fault!

  He let Molly smear the salve on his face, and then applied a bandage. She was rather rough, but he didn't mind, it just fueled his anger.

  "Dinner is in a little while," Molly told him. "We will all meet in the dining room, right next to the kitchen."

  He knew where the dining room was—stupid cow. Molly's eyes narrowed as he stomped away without so much as a thank you.

  The dining room had been opened to the outside patio to allow the summer breeze to drift into the stuffy room. Jeremy considered sitting outside, but felt that sitting on one of the benched seats would be degrading. He made his way inside and chose a seat in the corner. He didn't want anyone staring at his face. Soon, most everyone had gathered.

  He was surprised at seeing so many people, and then remembered that this wasn't an inn—it was a workhouse. They might act superior to the other poor houses, but when all was said and done, these were the poorest of the poor, and undeserving of his regard.

  Celeste was about to enter the dining room when she felt an unusual nudge and realized that it was coming from the forest. She noticed Alana look up also.

  "What is that?" Alana asked feeling uneasy.

  "Fathion is calling," Celeste answered with a twisted smile. "He is about to release the men from the wall. Shall we get the villagers?"

  "Oh, wow!" Alana exclaimed, "I forgot all about them."

  "They've been in there what—a week?" Kellan asked.

  "They should be ripe by now," Rhoswen grinned evilly.

  "Let's go," Kane rose excitedly.

  "Those of you who want to join us," Celeste announced loudly from the doorway. "Weylin and Johnny Flynn are about to returned from the forest. It is the right time to ask them to leave this village."

  "I'll get Mickay," Molly called out.

  There was a murmur through the crowd and people started leaving the room. Jeremy cautiously tagged along, keeping his face averted from curious eyes. Strangely, he found that others had very little interest in him. He shrugged of his irritation. Something significant was about to happen.

  Jeremy hadn't expected such a long walk. He stared around with disdain wondering as to what could possibly stir these people up enough to traipse through the fields to get to the village. He was even more confused when instead of stopping, more people joined them.

  They gathered by the entrance to the forest. Kellan looked around surprised—all the villagers were there. It felt good to see the determined expressions within their united front. It was about time.

  They weren't sure what to really expect, but were sorely disappointed to just watch as the two came stumbling out. Kellan had expected them to be thrust out of the forest.

  "Huh!" Kane said disappointedly.

  "A little dull," Rhoswen shrugged.

  "I told you I'd find a way out," Weylin was yelling as they made their way out of the darkness.

  "You said that days ago—you jack-ass." Johnny accused. "It was your idea to get them girls to begin with."

  "Mama," one girl complained, "What is that smell?"

  "Something really foul," she answered.

  The men stopped to stare around wildly. Johnny spied a child eating an apple and lunged for it—only to be stopped by Mickay.

  "We've gathered up your gear, and are telling you to leave this village," Mickay told them.

  They both ignored Mickay as if he didn't exist. Weylin laughed like a lunatic and shoved Mickay away to grab the child's apple. He bit into it aggressively. The villagers watched in astonishment as the two brothers began thrashing each other and fighting over the apple. Mickay started to intervene, but Stefan held him back.

  "Let them tire themselves out," Stefan told him.

  "Shouldn't we stop them," Molly said with concern when Johnny got his tooth knocked out.

  "Why for?" Widow Brown told her. "It's no more than what they do to the children of the village."

  The Flynn brothers seemed to be totally oblivious of the fact that the whole village was watching them behave like dirty, crazed animals. They kept fighting until they knocked themselves senseless. "Now what do we do?" The elder asked.

  "Throw them in a wagon and take them to the bigger village," Celeste surprised them by saying. "Pay for one nights lodging with instructions to the inn keeper to tell them that they aren't to return."

  "And just who's going to pay for this?" He asked indignantly.

  "You are," Mickay informed him. "Out of the village funds we pay."

  "I'll get my wagon," Burley grinned. "They won't be getting away from me."

  "I better go with him," the elder sighed. "The inn keeper will need to be paid and ins
tructions given."

  Celeste laughed as Burley threw the two bullies into the bed of the wagon. They didn't look so bad now!

  "Since you are going there anyway," Widow Brown approached with a long shopping list.

  Everyone heard the weary sigh of the elder. Odd, but no one seemed the least bit sympathetic. Celeste laughed to herself as she watched others begin making lists.

  "I'm hungry," Kane frowned. "I'm heading back."

  With the excitement done, people started disbursing back from where they had come. With a sigh, Jeremy headed back. He was even able to sit back at the chair he had earlier chosen. It didn't seem to matter though. He might as well be invisible for all these people noticed him.

  Molly and her servers brought out the dishes. He had heard that everyone who stayed here had to do some type of labor—good luck getting him to do anything. A shepherd's pie was placed before him. Those around him dug in.

  He realized that these people didn't even have the manners to say grace. They just loaded up their plates and started eating, even that Lord and his son. Jeremy didn't think he was a real Lord anyway, just a common steward. Some of those stewards could sure be lofty. His son looked a little pale, but Jeremy noticed that he didn't seem to have any trouble eating, or flirting with the ladies.

  Jeremy was looking down at his own plate when those colored women walked in. He could feel their stares. They were probably happy to see him so defaced. Hadn't he heard the younger one say that people should look on the outside, like they were on the inside. The other had laughed and said that eventually, they all did—just look at those angry scowl lines. He would have liked to have demeaned them by telling them that people who felt pain, like his mother before she had died, also had similarly lined faces—heathens!

  He fingered his knife. It was very sharp. He never ate with someone else's ware. He always carried his own. He knew he could slit that cow's neck before anyone could stop him. He sneered. Before the incident with that damn cat, he would have just cried or such, and no one would have believe that he had done anything wrong, even when they had just watched him do it. What would happen now?

  The snooty little red head walked in and sat beside the prettiest lady in the room. It didn't matter that the lady was blind. Blind could be fun. Oh yah, he'd do her. He watched as the girl whispered something in the lady's ear. She laughed. The girl looked over at him and frowned. She had no business frowning! This was her fault—all her fault. It had been her damn cat. It was because of her that he went after the cat to begin with.

  He felt his anger flair. He tried to squelch it down. Revenge was better served on a cold plate. He could go after her later, just like he had with his sister. When he thought of his sister his rage heightened. She was just like her, whispering—always whispering. He felt the keenness of his blade and knew that he would take her. Soon, he thought, real soon.

  "I'll get it for you," Vevila told Celeste.

  "Thank you," Celeste appreciated Vevila's kindness.

  Celeste was so tired. Stefan wasn't in much better shape. They had worked with Walt since early morning. They would have to do more later tonight. Thinking about it just made her feel more tired. At least he was eating well. They left him with a large plate of food. He may not have liked the selection, Celeste had picked it out, but he was eating it. He hadn't talked to them yet. She figured he was trying to unravel the messages in his brain.

  Stefan was sitting across from her. It was so good to see him again. She hadn't realized just how much she had missed him. He looked as tired as she felt. He looked up and met her eyes. The smile inside was sincere and sweet.

  They both looked up quickly at the sound of the harshly scrapping chair. Celeste could just make out that Jeremy boy, springing towards Vevila with a knife. She didn't even have time to do anything. Not so with Stefan, he was on his feet instantly. Before the boy could touch Vevila—he was a pile of ash. Stefan had incinerated him. Stefan collapsed on the table beside her. She caught him to stop him from sliding off the table and onto the floor. Meifen was at her side pulling Stefan into the chair.

  Vevila was shocked speechless. The boy had just lunged for her throat with his knife. She had seen the dog-rage in his eyes, and then just as suddenly—he was just gone. She looked down at the floor, and was horrified to see the pile of ash. She looked up and caught the look of stunned disbelief from the big, brawny sailor. She felt Kellan pick her up, and hurry them out of the room.

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