1.The Brass Tax

1. The Brass Tax

Which is worse, giving up magical power entirely or a bit of gossip?

Gossip. If you told me a year ago that gossip was more awful than no longer using magic, I'd have laughed and wondered which nuthouse you escaped from.

But it's true. I'm at peace with my decision to give up my powers.

Gossip is the worst.

I keep my head down as I walk across the university in the afternoon, but I’ve been spotted anyway.

“Can’t be him. Heard the whole Brass family went to prison.”

“Swear that’s him. That’s Oliver Brass.”

“Nah, his hair is too dark.”

The money I spent on black hair dye is well spent if it helps disguise me. A baseball cap covers my head, and my dyed black hair tickles the bottom of my neck, growing out longer than ever before. I almost swim in the baggy clothing decorating my skinny frame.

My goal is going unnoticed. Or as unnoticed as possible for a member of the notorious Brass family.

Students are talking outside a busy coffee shop on the Primrose University campus, speaking loud enough for anyone to overhear. Their favorite topic of conversation is yours truly.

Apparently, my attempt at going incognito has failed.

"You’re crazy. Why would a Brasshole show his face here?"

"He looks just like his brother."

My gray-blue eyes are the same color as my brother Percy’s, but my eyes are hidden and fixed on my phone as I look up directions. I’d really love to hurry on my way before they draw more attention to me… but I’m lost. Where the hell is the English department? I have no idea. This is my first time on campus.

I step closer to the giant sculptural fountain in the center of the bridging pathways at the heart of the university, hoping the trickle of the water feature will block out the noisy students.

No such luck.

"Do you think he's going to school here? "

“Is he insane?"

"Maybe. That's another thing he shares with big bro."

"He'd have to be crazy if he's going after magic. Does he really think he’ll get a brand after what his family did?"

No. But I already have a brand. That’s my problem.

Magic with all its infinite potential is too strong for a human body to withstand, so we partner with an element like earth, air, fire… or metal. Metal blessed me, making me strong enough to wield magic, and giving me a brand that ties me to the element and its magic permanently, for better or for worse.

"Should we say something?" one of the gossipers wonders.

Oh god.

"Hey you!"

I leap away from the fountain, trying to put some distance between my hecklers and me. It works.

All eyes are drawn to the fountain instead, which makes a funny noise as the next gush of water from the top spout is more like a geyser, shooting high in the air.

Given that some students gasp and shout, there’s a good chance that’s not natural. Perhaps a certain metalbrand with malfunctioning powers squeezed the fixtures tightly and caused the eruption to be more forceful than the usual waterworks.

Yep, yours truly again.

I adjust my cap, tuck my head down, and hurry inside for my meeting.

Not too long ago, the Brass family name was respected. My parent's company and its financial success provided me with the best of everything growing up.

But then my older brother and father went against human and magical laws to settle a petty dispute with a local wolf pack. The scandal caused all the family skeletons to tumble out of the closet. It turned out that my family had a long history of using their company to cheat and coerce others. A little magical intimidation wasn’t out of the question either.

They were never the people anyone thought they were.

They were never the people I thought they were.

My family showed me the beauty of magic and metal. I thought I was following the proud family tradition of becoming a metalbrand. But my parents’ deceptions were uncovered around the same time I received the magical mark connecting me to my element, my brand.

My entire world turned out to be a lie. And now I’m stuck with a troublesome brand .

When I find the right building and slip into the back of a large lecture hall, Professor Liam Monroe is wrapping up class.

"Heard some of you express interest in the next period we're studying, and I suggest you manage your expectations. Romantic Literature is not romantic. You will get through Keats, Wordsworth, and musings about clouds just like all the other bored undergrads before you.”

More people are listening to him than not. He's the kind of friendly, animated teacher that makes class interesting. Half the students must have a crush on him. I would if I took his class. Liam’s attractive with sandy brown hair and gorgeous blue eyes. His broad shoulders with strong biceps are accentuated by his suspenders.

"See you all next week." The professor dismisses class with a smile, showing two creases on either side of his mouth. I practically hear the students swoon as those dimples make an appearance.

Class drains of bodies slowly as I edge to the front. Nerves start forming as we get closer to being alone. I have no idea why an English professor was recommended to my mother as someone who could help.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet me," I say because it's polite.

"You don't sound thrilled to be here. "

Busted. "Still, thanks for taking the time. What's an English professor doing meeting screwed up wizards anyway?"

"I'm a wizard and a teacher, but I don't teach magic,” Liam explains. “Sometimes my perspective can help students here who are struggling to master their powers."

He has magic? Most branded wizards display characteristics that match their element. Nothing stands out.

Granted, I probably look average too with my dark hair and pale skin. My oversized hoodie hides the small flecks of metal dotting my arms. Stray bits of metal are spread out across my body and fused to my skin like freckles or birthmarks.

"Will you show me your magic?" the professor inquires.

Should have expected him to ask for a demonstration. I’m here for him to help me with my erratic powers. I wasn't thinking ahead. There's only one metal accessory on me, an antique pocket watch passed down for generations in the Brass family. The coveted treasure doesn't mean what it once did, but I find myself unable to stop carrying the thing around.

The pocket watch floats up from my pocket, suspended in midair. The metal glints in the light as it floats in the air towards him. I click the buttons with my powers and open and close the watch face before bringing the heirloom back to rest in my hand .

Liam brings a finger to his lips as he thinks and processes what he saw. "Okay, that gives us a starting point."

"You want to see more?" I hoped show and tell was over.

"How am I supposed to advise you about controlling your powers if I don't see them out of control?" He moves to the table at the front of the hall and gets something from his bag. "Can you make a chain with this?" he asks while handing it out to me.

I stare dumbly at his outstretched hand and the coil of brass there.

The watch is expensive, though as a nod to our surname, the chain normally attached to the watch is made from polished brass. I haven't carried the brass chain with me lately. There’s no way Liam knows about it, but he knows I'm a Brass.

The brass floats over to me. With a little magical pressure, the thick square of metal becomes a long thin line. When I begin shaping the metal further, something goes wrong. The metal warps, smearing and pooling in places it shouldn't. Damn.

“Come here.” The brass drops into my palm as I command. For extra control, I'll channel magic through my fingers and shape the chain by hand.

I adjust my grip on the scrap of brass and try again, paying extra attention this time. I'm relieved when it works, but my sense of accomplishment is short-lived. I attempt to attach the brass chain onto the watch itself—the watch twitches and floats out of reach.

Nope, that won't do. I'm so close to succeeding. If I do, maybe I won't need help after all. Then I can leave and forget all this.

I grit my teeth and grab the watch firmly and try again. The watch resists forcefully, jumping and rioting in my hand.

I try to attach the chain anyway—the watch jolts with a newfound strength and flies out of my hand at an alarming speed, propelled towards the whiteboard at the front of the lecture hall!

The watch hits the board with a clatter and drops to the ground. And here I thought being noticed outside would be the extent of my mortification for the day.

“Ta-da. Now you’ve seen my screwy powers in action.” Despite my attempt to play this cool, my cheeks heat and I can’t look him in the eye. “So, how does this work? You give me homework, I do the exercises and get all better?"

"Not your professor,” he says. “Maybe a mentor, a tutor?"

The smile I try to muster turns into a grimace. "To think I studied for years and still need more help."

"Oh, I doubt that If your control was truly so erratic, your element wouldn’t have offered to partner with you."

"W-well, branding brings more power, power I clearly can't handle.” My face warms again as I sputter excuses. I need to leave. “I’m obviously not as talented as anyone thought."

"Becoming a real wizard and permanently connected to an element can be challenging,” he agrees. “And then coupling that with personal issues… your mother heard about a professor who occasionally mentors struggling magical students and begged me to meet with you, so I know who you are, Oliver Brass. Anyone would be upset by what’s been going on with your family, and anything that affects a caster mentally or emotionally can influence us magically too."

He's too bloody perceptive. What excuse can I use to get out of here? The 'think I left the oven on' and 'my appendix burst' excuses are warring in my head.

"I’m not upset,” I insist. “ Everyone else is upset with us. We hurt people."

"You didn’t," he corrects.

"I’m surprised you even agreed to do my mother a favor."

"I didn’t.” Liam’s gentle smile directed at me feels so undeserved. “I thought you might like a friend."

"You were wrong."

"Your family’s sins aren’t yours.”

Technically, he’s right. Given how far off base my impressions of my family were, I’d say no one was more shocked than me when their misdeeds came to light. I truly believed we were an honorable, honest family .

Maybe spending so many years in Britain at a boarding school for aspiring metal and firebrands made it easy for my family to hide things from me.

Maybe I’m just a sucker.

Yet for some reason, I can’t admit to this professor that I’m innocent.

“Hold on, you don’t even know me.”

“As one of the few souls left who still reads an actual newspaper every day, I don't remember seeing anything about the Brass sons being charged with any crimes. You’re the only member of your immediate family not directly implicated in any of their illegal activities.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not guilty.”

“There’s also your face,” he continues dryly. “You had no idea what the rest of your family was up to, and you really shouldn’t play poker or become a criminal mastermind. Your face gives away everything you're thinking.”

“You know what?” I start backing up. “I’ve taken up too much of your time. I should go.”

“You were given the brand for a reason, Oliver.”

"I never would have asked for it if I knew—” I cut off, not intending to reveal anything. I only met him as a courtesy to my mother, so she'd stopped pestering me, and because I couldn't remember the last time I left our apartment for anything other than groceries .

Liam looks a lot less cute when he’s a know-it-all. "You didn’t know about your family's sins, so how can you possibly be blamed for them?"

Forget subtlety. I grab onto the first excuse I can think of. "Oh, wow, I need to catch my bus."

"You are branded now.” He speaks to my back as I leave. “You can't ignore your magic until it goes away."

"I can try."