Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

brIAR

" T his is fucking pointless, Saint!" I shout in frustration. It's been two days of practicing my magic, and I can't make anything happen. No matter how hard I try, the little flame in my chest doesn't do anything. No amount of coaxing, pleading, threatening, yelling, or anything makes my magic come out again. I'd think I didn't have magic if it weren't for the snow in my dad's office on Sunday.

"Briar—" he starts from where he's leaning against the towering elm tree in my backyard. The winter grass crunches as I shift from foot to foot. All the trees in the forest out back are bare, making the backyard feel dreary.

Or that could be my depressing lack of progress making everything feel gloomy, but who really knows. Even the upbeat song, "Stargazing" by Myles Smith, that's currently playing doesn't lift my mood when I can't even do basic spells after days of trying.

Saint looks too good for a random Tuesday afternoon in his charcoal henley and dark jeans. With his sleeves pushed up, I get a glimpse of some of his tattoos. I still haven't had a chance to ask about the animals on one of his sleeves, but I do stare at them in fascination any chance I get.

Bastian's sitting on the stairs of the wraparound porch watching us practice. Malachi and Xander are finishing up the last preparations for our trip to Paris.

We've been staying at Saint's place but coming back here to search for any other clues. All we've found is an address to what I hope is the library, but for all I know, it could be to a hole-in-the-wall creperie or a secret entrance to the catacombs. Guess we'll figure it out when we get there.

"Don't ‘Briar' me!" I face Saint with my hands on my hips. "Nothing's happening. Maybe the magic snowstorm was just a fluke."

"Am I allowed to finish what I was saying?" Saint asks with an arched brow.

Sighing, I nod.

"It's been two days, little shadow. No one, other than you, expected you to have anything mastered in the span of a few days. Learning how to use magic takes time."

"I'm not looking to have anything mastered. I just want it to do something, anything. How am I supposed to fulfill the stupid prophecy without magic?" I throw my hands up in frustration before scrubbing them over my face. I'm drained from trying to get my magic to work, but I can't quit now.

"You will get it." Saint walks over to me and places his hands on my waist. I resist the urge to lean into him because I have work to do. "As I said, it just takes time. Pushing yourself to learn everything in a few days doesn't do anything other than stress you out. I think we should call it for the day."

"No. Absolutely not. We're leaving this afternoon. I need to know how to do the basics by then." Luckily, the Wyldharts and I have the same schedule. We're free to take a random trip to Paris because it's still winter break.

Saint does some sort of freelance work, so he's available too. He's been pretty evasive about what it is that he does, which only makes me more curious. I have a ton of questions for Saint, but I haven't had the opportunity to ask any of them. I feel like I've been running around constantly for the past few days.

"Pretty girl, you've been out here for six hours already. Why don't we at least take a break?" Bastian calls from his spot on the porch. He pushes to his feet and ambles toward me when I look over at him. I don't know how he isn't freezing in his leather jacket, navy tee, and dark jeans. I'm in my peacoat, olive green sweater, jeans, and boots and still a little chilly.

It doesn't matter how long I've been out here when I haven't been able to do anything. "I'll take a break when I accomplish something."

"Briar, you're done." Saint's sharp tone brooks no argument.

Him ordering me around does nothing other than make me more frustrated. "I'm not done. You both can go inside, but I'm staying out here until I can finally do something right with my magic."

Not waiting for a response, I storm over to the tree line. While I know it's not Bastian's or Saint's fault that I haven't been able to get my magic to work, I'm irrationally angry at them, at myself, at my parents, and at the whole world. The anger flows like lava through my veins, causing my chest to burn.

The heat coursing through me just makes my frustration increase until I feel like I'm going to explode. I close my eyes and picture one of the trees in front of me spontaneously blowing up, wood shards flying everywhere. My anger seems to flow out of me at the ridiculous image, and I feel better for a moment.

At least until I hear an ear-splitting bang.

My eyes snap open in time to see tree branches and wood chips flying everywhere, including a branch hurtling straight at me. I drop to my stomach just as the tree limb would've impaled me. That would've been super inconvenient to have to heal.

"Briar!" someone shouts. With my ears still ringing from the sound of the tree blowing up, I can't tell if it's Saint or Bastian.

As I push to my feet, they both rush over. "Are you hurt?" Bastian asks frantically as he hovers his hands over my arms and sweeps his gaze over me, searching for injuries.

"I'm not hurt, Bastian. I dodged the rogue tree branch." Bastian still looks concerned but settles for intertwining one hand with mine. Saint's looking between me and the tree in confusion, and I realize something. "That was me, wasn't it?"

Saint shoves his hands in his pockets before turning to me. "Yep. It was definitely you. Ice-blue magic arced from you to the tree before it exploded."

I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to understand what happened. "How did I go from no magic to murdering a tree?" I glance apologetically at what's left of the tree I didn't mean to blow up.

"Strong emotions seem to trigger your magic. You were pretty frustrated before it happened. Were you picturing anything in your mind before you blew up the tree?"

My cheeks burn, and I know they've turned bright red. I was totally picturing the poor evergreen meeting an untimely and excessively violent end.

Saint laughs at whatever he sees on my face. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Yeah, I was just so angry with myself that blowing up something sounded cathartic. So, I pictured a tree exploding, and then I felt better." Seems like a totally normal thought process when I say it out loud. Oh well, it's not like I've ever claimed to be normal or have even remotely normal coping strategies.

Saint nods like what I said made sense, but I'm pretty sure he's just being nice. "Hmm. Give me a little time to think on how to use that for our next training. But you did accomplish something, so we're taking a break."

I don't argue with him this time, too spooked by my magic blowing up an entire tree to want to keep practicing. Bastian, Saint, and I walk back into the house silently, all of us lost in our thoughts.

"I'm ready!" Bastian announces as he jogs down the steps in Saint's house. The rest of us have been down here for fifteen minutes or so. We each packed a small bag to take with us. I'm just using the same backpack I brought with me here. Bastian and Xander both have backpacks, Saint has a messenger bag, and Malachi has a duffle.

It's one in the afternoon, and we're getting ready to leave for Paris. It'll be around six in the evening when we get to France. Thanks to portaling, we don't have to worry about catching a flight. Saint booked us rooms at a fancy mage hotel, so we can just show up right in their portaling room. Yep, they have an entire room dedicated to portal travel. It's a touch insane, but that's just how mages roll.

"Nice of you to finally join us," Xander grouses from his spot on the edge of the sectional. In his medium gray button-down, dark jeans, and black boots, Xander's the most dressed up of the five of us. Malachi's wearing a navy pullover, jeans, and boots.

Bastian grins at his twin, his enthusiasm not dimmed by his sarcasm. "It is, isn't it?" He bounds over and sits down next to me on the sofa. Slinging his arm around my shoulders, Bastian pulls me into his side. I lean into him for a moment, needing the comfort he's offering.

I should be excited about going to Paris for the first time. I've always wanted to travel more, but all I can feel is dread that sits like a lead weight in my stomach. After reading the first of my mom's letters, Xander was shot. I'm terrified that following this letter will lead to something even worse. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd go to Paris myself to keep the Wyldharts and Saint safe.

Unfortunately, I can't do even a simple spell, much less create a portal. Mages can portal to anywhere they've seen before or see a picture of. But casting a portal is a huge magic drain. With little experience, a portal would probably wipe my magic out completely, which could take days to recover from.

Saint stands up from the couch and stretches his arms over his head. His shirt lifts up to reveal the bottom of his abs. I can't help but stare at his defined muscles. "Are we all ready to go?" he asks, his voice tinged with amusement.

Snaping my gaze to his, I see Saint wearing a smug smirk. He definitely caught me checking him out. My cheeks burn in embarrassment, but it's not my fault. Anyone would stare at muscles like those.

"Yeah, we're good to go," Malachi answers for the rest of us, not bothering to ask. I raise my eyebrows at him but don't comment on it. Starting something with Malachi isn't a smart idea right now, not with how on edge I am. He raises a brow at me in return, and I just shrug. Malachi assesses me for a long moment, and I fidget, unsure what to do.

Breaking eye contact, I stand up, pick up my bag, and go over to Saint. He waits until the Wyldharts join us before murmuring, " Aperire ." A portal snaps open, ringed in sparks colored red by Saint's magic.

The portal opens to a room done entirely in shades of cream and gold. Grand Corinthian columns, intricate crown molding, and a coffered ceiling make the room feel luxurious.

Glancing down at my casual outfit, I wonder if they'll even let me in this hotel when their portaling room is so fancy. Saint notices my mildly panicked assessment of my clothes. "You're dressed perfectly, little shadow. And I've been to this hotel plenty of times. The staff are very friendly, so you have nothing to worry about."

I give him a small nod as I watch him walk through the portal. It's my turn next, so I wade through the sticky, gooey, all-around uncomfortable portal. When I pop out on the other side, my thoughts wander to my parents.

Both Mama and Papa were pretty well-off, but we rarely traveled. We lived simply and under the radar. While that was normal for me as a kid, now I wonder what the real reason was that we lived that way. I don't think it was just so I wouldn't be a spoiled rich kid. I'm pretty sure it was to keep Mama and me hidden from the Knights of Aeneas and whoever else wanted to use us for our connection to Dido.

My chest aches as I think about how much Mama always dreamed of traveling more. She went to Paris once when she was a teen and wanted to take me some day. It feels wrong to be here without her.

I don't have time to dwell on it because Saint leads us out of the portal room once the Wyldharts step through. The Wyldharts stalk through the cream and gold lobby on silent feet, and Saint strides purposely toward the reception desk.

Me on the other hand? I sound like a herd of rampaging chihuahuas with the squeaks my boots make on the super expensive marble floor. I can feel a blush creeping up my face, but I tip my chin up and pretend I'm not embarrassed as all get-out.

Along with a fountain, lush floral arrangements, and more cream and gold marble, the lobby has a large neoclassical mural behind the reception desk. It depicts a deity for each of the elements. Neptune for water, Ceres for earth, Vulcan for fire, Jupiter for air, Sol for the sun, and Luna for the moon. Since mages typically have an affinity for an element, mage establishments love having elemental art. This hotel is no different.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur McAlister," the stately man at the desk greets Saint. The man looks like he's in his fifties or sixties. He has a head of dark hair, a handlebar mustache, and friendly light brown eyes. With his three-piece suit complete with a pocket watch, he fits right in at this obviously super fancy hotel.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Alfred," Saint responds warmly. I'm a bit jealous of Saint's perfect French accent. Even after years of learning French, I'm hopeless at speaking it. I can read French way better than I can speak it. While I know that's due to my APD, it's still frustrating. It's hard to accept that there are certain things that I won't ever be good at, no matter how much work I put in. My magic feels like one of those things right now, but I'm not going to give up.

Alfred types away at his computer for a moment before looking back up at Saint. "The penthouse is ready for you and your friends, Monsieur. If you need anything, ring the front desk and we will be happy to assist you."

Saint flashes him a big smile, which the man returns. "Merci, Alfred. Au revoir." With that, Saint leads us across the marble foyer to a bank of elevators. Even the elevator doors are gold colored. I admire the intricate crown molding topping every wall in the lobby as we wait.

"Find anything interesting up there, pretty girl?" Bastian teases. I give him a small smile and shake my head. His brows scrunch in concern as he takes in my probably worried, stressed, and exhausted expression. Before he has a chance to comment on it, the elevator dings and the doors whoosh open.

It's tight with the five of us in the elevator. Malachi is gigantic, and Bastian and Xander aren't much smaller. While Saint isn't as built as the Wyldharts, he's still a tall, muscular dude. But we all manage to make it work for the short ride up to the penthouse. Saint sure is going all out on this trip if he booked us the penthouse. I probably don't even want to know how much it costs.

The elevator deposits us to a hallway with royal blue damask-patterned carpet, gold foil paisley wallpaper, and a single door to the left. When we reach the door, Saint swipes his keycard and shoves it open.

While normally I'd notice the architectural features of the room first, I'm immediately drawn to the huge window in the living area overlooking Paris. The Eiffel Tower is so close it feels like I can almost touch it. I can also see the golden dome of the church of Les Invalides, the roof of Hotel de Ville, and a sea of Haussmann buildings, their facades so similar it's hard to tell them apart.

"Pretty spectacular view, isn't it?" Saint walks over to stand next to me. I'm unable to tear my gaze away from the skyline to look at him, so I give him a distracted nod. "That's why I booked us this suite. It has the best views of the entire hotel."

"Good thinking, man," Bastian calls from somewhere else in the room. Based on how far away he sounds, the suite has to be massive.

When I can finally stop ogling the city beneath us, I survey what will be our room for the next few days. Saint booked it for a week, but I'm hoping we'll wrap this up sooner than that. Polished cream marble floors meet light gold walls with off-white furniture scattered throughout the massive space. Breaking up the monotony of cream and gold are fresh flowers and lively green shrubs, mint and white floral curtains, and muted teal throw pillows on the two sofas in the living room.

"Where are the bedrooms?" I ask Saint. We need to head to the library soon, so I want to set my stuff down and get ready to go.

"There's only one, and it's through the door behind you." Saint nods behind me.

"One bedroom?" I squeak. You'd think for a place as fancy as this, there'd be more than one bed.

"Yep," Saint confirms.

"What are you worried about, baby girl?" Malachi rumbles from behind me. It feels like all the tension drains out of my muscles when he molds his front to my back. He settles one large hand on each of my hips. "We've slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but not with Saint." I've never slept in bed with Saint before, and it seems weird to do it for the first time with three other people. But I do sleep a ton better when I have my mates with me.

"We don't have a problem with the mage. But if you're uncomfortable, the four of us can sleep out here," Malachi offers.

"I'm not uncomfortable. I just don't want anyone else to be," I explain.

"I'm fine with sharing a bed with your wolves, little shadow. I always knew you'd have more mates in addition to me. I'm happy sharing the room with you or sleeping out here. It's your choice." It makes my chest fill with warmth that Saint leaves the choice up to me, just like Malachi. I haven't really gotten to choose much in my life for a while, so it makes my insides all mushy when my mates let me decide things.

For some reason, it surprises me that neither Saint nor the Wyldharts are pressuring me to choose between them. I wouldn't be able to if they did, but I expected my old and new life to clash.

I've seen how much Malachi dislikes mages, so I thought there'd be more posturing, but all my mates get along pretty well, other than when Bastian and Saint beat each other up. That was just a miscommunication, though. A little friendly dust-up between them. Just a love tap, if you will.

Trying to get my thoughts back on track, I know I'd prefer for us to all sleep in the same bed. It really doesn't matter if it's kind of weird or not what everyone else does. All that matters is that it works for us. "Okay. We'll all share."

I start walking toward the bedroom when Xander calls out, "We need to leave in ten."

"Got it," I holler over my shoulder as I enter the bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I slump against it and close my eyes. I get one minute to be tired and done with all life throws at me and unsure of myself. Then I'll buck the hell up and do what needs to be done, like I always do.