Chapter 15

Fifteen

"Although the work of a sorcerer is to be above all scholarly matters, never forget that you are also a gentleman and must participate within society so as not to become isolated within your studies. Isolation leads to a narrowness of thought, and peers may be able to assist by offering insight." — Sorcery in the Age of Reason.

Augustus lay on the grass in his backyard, the trees around him occasionally dropping leaves on him to ensure he wasn’t dead. He had a decanter of brandy in one hand, but surprisingly, it was still mostly full.

The sorcerer was only drinking a few mouthfuls per hour which the trees thought was very out of character of him.

Augustus himself was holding off on getting as drunk as he wanted to prove that he could. He was also nervous about being too inebriated in case the teashop pulled him in again, and he didn’t want to make a complete fool of himself in front of the troublesome saint.

Mara, who was his key to freeing him from Melbourne’s magic. Mara, whose miracles were forcing him to deal with the pain that had been crippling him for centuries. Mara, who he couldn’t stop thinking about. Mara, who he would likely forget as soon as his pain was out of him and her miracle complete.

Augustus rubbed at his chest. He didn’t want to forget her when the miracle was over. For the first time in a hundred years, he didn’t want to die as soon as Melbourne’s magic had released him.

Augustus wanted a chance to be a complete man again. Kiss a saint who was also a woman. Wake up beside someone other than the ghosts of his past. Study something other than his own mistakes. Go back to England and see what remained of the Society of Sorcerers. Publish a paper on everything he had learned.

The last one especially surprised him enough to have another mouthful of brandy. He had always hated writing papers, but now the thought of maybe sharing some of his knowledge didn’t seem so disagreeable.

Don’t make plans for a future you might not have. No. Augustus had to believe he did.

He would find a way to ensure that he didn’t forget Mara either. She had said that she had more than one curse, and he couldn’t help but wonder what they could be.

Perhaps he could convince her to tell him, and she would let him help her when she was ready.

Or you are using it as a ploy to try and stay in her life longer.

Despite what she said about paying for miracles, he would never rest easy until he felt like he was out of her debt.

Augustus also couldn’t stop thinking about the Russian saint murdered by Rasputin. He hadn’t considered that the fae bones were being used, only that the Leopard Sorcerer wanted to fuck with him as much as possible. They were probably traded centuries ago.

The Academy and himself had been so focused on the raw, wild magic that was being traded that they hadn’t stopped to look closer at everything else that was being shipped over.

Augustus promised the trees above him that if he lived through his great ordeal, he would find a way to shut down London’s Midnight Market if it was still in operation. The trees agreed that it was a good idea.

After the chaos caused by the Leopard Sorcerer, Augustus had done everything in his considerable power to ensure a Melbourne Midnight Market didn’t develop in the city’s supernatural underground.

There were some dark creatures that he couldn’t control the actions of, and there was a letter on his kitchen table about one such being.

Take Mara with you to deal with it. It will be educational for her.

"No. I need space after Gwen," he said aloud, like the decades he had lived through alone weren’t space enough.

In that final mouthful of tea, Augustus had tasted her smile. It was too messed up for words to talk about his old love to a woman he was already falling for. His past was hardly a recommendation either.

There would be no hiding his messy and poorly patched heart from Mara.

Space. He needed space from her and her wild magic and crooked smile.

So the letter remained on his table, ignored like all the rest.

* * *

Three days and four letters later, Augustus was tired of the complaints, drinking, his own miserable company, and his churning thoughts and desires, all centered around a saint he couldn’t have. Augustus hated things he couldn’t have, so he went out.

At first, Augustus thought he would walk around Fitzroy Gardens for a while and go back to work. A flash of a red jacket like Mara’s in the corner of his eye caused a panic so intense that he stepped onto a tram without looking where it was headed.

Augustus ended up in the crush of people outside of Flinders Street Station, and for once, he was okay with being lost in a crowd of commuters, tourists, teens chewing on headphone cables, and buskers trying to outplay and perform each other.

He kept walking, over the bridge and down St. Kilda Road, hands shoved in his pockets and worry buzzing around his crowded brain.

By the time he reached the National Gallery, it had started to rain, so he walked inside, hoping that the quiet hush and the beautiful art would make him feel better.

He walked through the collections, reached the European collection, thinking about Mara…and there she was, sitting on one of the low couches in front of a portrait of a woman swathed in rich blue silk. Augustus started to back away as quietly as he could.

"Hello, Augustus," Mara said, without turning around and forcing him to freeze.

"How did you know it was me?"

"A sorcerer’s magic is almost as loud as he is. Are you stalking me?" she asked. Augustus gave in and went and sat down beside her.

"Not intentionally. I came in here to get out of the rain, and here you are," he replied, a tightness already in his chest.

Mara folded her hands in her lap. "Do you think that Melbourne’s magic keeps pushing us together?"

"There you go talking like it’s sentient again."

"It is sentient, Augustus. Stop trying to fight it every step of the way. No wonder you haven’t been able to figure this out in the past hundred years," Mara snapped irritably.

"Maybe you are right, but it still doesn’t make me feel more comfortable about it," he said, glancing sideways at her. She looked tired. "Are you okay?"

"Rough day. There are a lot of people with a lot of grief out there. Sometimes it gets too much, and I need to shut the shop for a few days before it burns the heart right out of me," Mara replied and looked around at the beautiful art.

"I like how quiet it is in here. I like churches for the same reason, but there were too many people in St. Paul’s today. So what’s your excuse?"

Augustus shrugged. "I got onto the wrong tram."

"I mean, what’s your excuse for ignoring me for days?" Mara corrected.

"Why? Were you worried about me?" Augustus said, but she didn’t smile.

Mara nodded, her dark eyes troubled. "Yes. You seem to be forgetting that, for better or worse, you are my friend, Augustus. Friends worry about other friends, as I’m learning."

’You don’t want to care about me, little saint,’ was what he should have said. Augustus didn’t, though. He was panicking that he had finally let someone get close enough for them to care about him at all.

"It would probably be better if you went back to hating me, Mara," he whispered, his voice breaking. He stared at the painting in front of them without seeing it. "Keep reading all of those family books if you need reasons why."

"I have been, believe me. And yet, I find myself quite unable to hate you. It would be so much better for my mental well-being if I did," she said and let out a soft sigh.

"You know there is a high possibility if we close the hole in the magic that it will kill me," Augustus said, forcing out the words.

"Yes."

"And that doesn’t bother you?"

"We are both old enough to not fear death, sorcerer. Besides, you aren’t exactly living now, are you?" Mara softened the blow of her words by taking his hand in both of hers.

Despite everything, his damaged heart began to beat a little faster.

"Maybe you need to stop thinking so hard. I was always taught that magic is emotion. It’s a feeling. It’s the moment between the moments. It’s like you’ve got a second heartbeat, and your soul is dancing. You sorcerers seem to want to suck all the wild joy out of it, to capture it. To tame it. That’s where you go wrong. Fixing the hole in Melbourne’s magic and the hole in you are problems that will be solved with the heart and not the head."

Augustus stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, fighting the desire to lift it to his lips. "You have been working on this speech, I see."

"It’s what happens when you ignore me for days. All my lectures build up." Mara let out a curse. "I’ve just realized I’ve become my mother. I’m sorry, I have no right."

"You have every right. You can see everything so clearly where I’ve been caught up in it for so long I don’t know which way is out anymore."

Augustus was getting dangerously close to kissing her. He shoved the urge down as best he could, which was only enough to not go through with it. He was crushing on the saint, and he was powerless to stop it. He didn’t even want to anymore.

"Do you have the rest of the day off?" he asked, not wanting to let her go.

Mara’s mouth twitched. "I could. Why do you ask?"

"There’s something I need to sort out, and I don’t particularly want to go and do it alone." Mara stared expectedly at him until he huffed and admitted, "I hate hospitals."