Chapter 7
Abnormal
She summoned back her needle and flicked it out into the sand to vanish, which seemed to help as he sucked in a deep breath. A sliver of magic still remained. That sickly, filthy influencing magic. Her stump pressed against where it was so close to his heart.
Panic gripped her throat, choking her. But determination over-rode her fear. The fear of being exposed. The fear of failure. Her hands moved on their own as she focused on helping. His heart still thudded under her stump and she checked his breathing with her palm before lifting his head up. 'Kurt, can you hear me?'
He groaned, putting a hand on her own and cracking one eye open. This man had the audacity to smile at her as if it were just an average day at the office! 'Are you ok frauline?'
'I- me?!' she squeaked, 'You silly ijit I'm alright. It's you I'm worried about!'
'I'm fine.' he croaked.
'No, you're not!' Did he think she was blind?! She took a deep breath, apologising to her ancestors for what she was about to do. 'Let me help. That Niamh infected you with her magic. It's making you feel the way you do right now. I'm going to try and get it out from you but I need you to trust me.'
'So you do know more about this…'
Her lips thinned. She had one last chance to back out. To lie. But his freedom was on the line, and she wasn't going to let Niamh snatch it away.
'Yes.' Before he could close off, she begged, 'And I will tell you everything. But please I need to help you.'
Layla met his dubious gaze and waited for his permission. He'd had enough magic forced upon him. It was extremely difficult to tell what he was thinking, or even how he felt. The sharp angles of his handsome face conveyed a severity when he wasn't smiling. It occurred to her that maybe he over exaggerated his positivity to hide his fearsome appearance. Her heart fluttered. Nervous. Unable to ignore the way his kind, strange, gold eyes made her warm in the pit of her stomach.
Stop it! Now is not the time for a crush!
He lowered his head down to the sand and continued to watch her carefully; as if silently solving a puzzle.
She placed a hand over his heart, trying to ignore the tingle of magic or the toned muscle and instead rooting to the gentle thudding underneath her fingers. Underneath her, she felt the ground. The roots and veins of energy all around them. When she breathed in, she drew from those roots. When she breathed out, she pushed out her magic. Her palm flattened over the rhythm of his heart and poured herself through her hand to flush out the needle.
It was a strange, hypnotic feeling. For every wave she pushed out into him, his natural source washed back into her. Unlike Mrs Sadiq who took and took all the strength she had, leaving a black hole of grief, Kurt tried to tentatively match her. It was like holding someone's hand for the first time. Or the ghostly trace of someone's fingers over your skin. Warm, shy and tender. Even if her arms were growing numb from the effort. She vaguely wondered if he even knew if he was using his own magical energy.
'Are you a witch?' He could feel it too, trying to distract from the strangely intimate moment. She hoped he didn't find it too invasive. Thankfully, life was coming back to him the further Niamh's needle was pushed away from his heart.
Layla laughed. 'Would now be a bad time to tell you I'm terrible at magic?'
As if on queue her magic buckled. It cracked against her chest, whiplashing like a rubber band back into her body. She whimpered, but dug her magic deep into the roots beneath her. Tearing out the final dregs of strength inside her to send one last wave that lashed and sucked the air out of her lungs.
…
The glowing strand of Niamh's influence was pushed out and into the sand, where it withered and died.
'Are you ok?' Kurt grunted as he sat up, gripping his side. He surveyed the area they had landed in for the first time, surprise crossing his features when he saw the bag by her side. Gratitude didn't begin to cover what he felt. Though why she was there at all was another raised question to save for later.
His hand moved on it's own, squeezing hers and bringing it back to his chest. It had helped her calm before, maybe it could help her come back now. Slowly, the death like grip released on his fingers. She held it in, easing herself through the pain until her magic settled back into place. Until she settled back into her tired, drained self.
'Hm-' Layla leant forward, lightly resting her head on his shoulder. 'We have to stop meeting like this.'
Kurt chuckled and for the first time, he saw Layla genuinely grin. That same incredible gleam in her eyes shone as she laughed with him. Two fools, on a dirty beach, laughing at their luck. She was so beautiful.
… and brave. And a kind. A good friend. Yes. Friend.
'I should get you back to the school.'
Layla shook her head and rose to her feet, bow legged like a baby giraffe. She stuck her arms out, partly in refusal, but he was certain the other reason was in a desperate bid for balance. 'I promised to tell you what I know. And I prefer to do it in a place where I don't have to worry about people listening through the walls.' She stomped up the beach, checking down the row of dingy convenience stores and a run down bar. A wry smile curled the corner of her mouth. 'Plus, you owe me some whisky.'
...
'I knew nothing about that cult. I only know the practice they use. A very old, protected craft.' Layla nursed her drink. 'My family- most of my family- have tried to keep it secret for as long as we can remember. Out of the hands of anyone, magic or otherwise.'
The bar was just the perfect level of dingy. Only about five patrons sat haphazardly in the room. Two at the bar, two at the pool table and one slouched over in the corner of the room. Old glory memorabilia peppered the walls. Boxers of ages past scowling off into the distance and faded pictures of the bar in its heyday hung wonky on the plaster.
The bartender was still staring at them. Two scruffs walking in, half covered in sand. One, a tired looking girl clinging to a bag. Oh yes, and other looked like he'd come straight from hell.
Kurt didn't seem to notice. Or at least was politely, pointedly ignoring the person unashamedly gawking.
'When Niamh was asking me those questions, I couldn't speak. I wanted to but...'
Layla could see what he was trying to say, nodding. 'The craft is very literal with spells. If you had accepted, you'd have invited her in. Become her puppet. I couldn't stop her influence… but I could stop you from accepting her contract.' She squeezed her glass tight, bowing her head. 'I'm sorry. I didn't want to do it but who knows what she would have made you do and you're my only friend in this blasted country.… I couldn't let her take you.'
She expected him to be outraged. Prepared for him to move away or… something. He had every right to. She was no better than Niamh at that moment. Messing with his mind, even if it was for his own good. Instead, he quietly mulled the information over. Rolling the liquid in his glass and staring out onto the blackened ocean in thought.
'I'm sorry. You can see why I wouldn't say anything though.' she argued quietly, hoping he would say something, 'Not only am I breaking a centuries old pact of secrecy. But imagine if someone tried to use it for mass indoctrination. Or just mess with a city- even a small country's food supply.'
'How does it work?'
That was the question she feared. She palmed her stump and attempted to swallow down her nerves. The consequences of this were terrible for her family. But Niamh was already using the craft and teaching others at a rapid rate.
'Ah, I'm sorry. I'm asking all these questions but you don't really know who I am. I don't really know anything about you either.'
Well that didn't stop her from spilling the beans. She guessed that two near death experiences would change a few things. Who even knew anymore. It certainly couldn't hurt to find out more about him. She was curious, and not just because she really liked him. 'What would you ask then?'
Well,' He glanced down at her stump, 'what happened to your hand?'
Ah. Lets get that one out of the way first. 'I punched a Kraken.'
He sat up in his seat, eyes wide. She couldn't stop herself from giggling as he took the information way too seriously. That was until her cheshire cat grin clued him in and he rolled his eyes.
'Sorry, it's a habit. I was born this way. No one can really tell me why.' she sipped her whisky. 'What about you. Were you always blue? Or was it more a developing mutant thing?'
'No, I've always been blue.' he seemed amused by how blunt she was. His tail curled up in a gentle swish next to him. 'The teleportation, however, happened when I was a teenager. In a trapeze act gone wrong.'
It was now her turn for her jaw to drop. He wasn't allowed to gloss over that. 'Back up. Trapeze act? So you performed at the circus?'
His cheeky grin widened, revealing two very prominent fangs. It seemed they both took great joy in teasing people. He nodded, 'Everyone had a performance of some kind. Though it's hard to compete with the fire-breathers.'
Layla leaned forward, waiting for him to continue. With very little prompting he barreled into the story of his first teleportation. She could tell he was a born performer and her smile inched back onto her face as time ticked by. Beaming in the end.
He lit up as he told the tale, that boundless energy spiking as they both were wrapped up in it. The first time his childhood friend did the trapeze. Her plummeting down towards the ground. Them playing it off as part of the act. But the energy shrank and his expression turned when he mentioned the friend. A lurking depression hid behind his words as he wistfully remembered a time long gone. But he swiftly shoved it aside. 'What about you? What was your childhood like?'
She snorted, 'You expect me to follow a story like that!' She sipped her whisky and thought about it. Completely drawing a blank. 'It's rather boring. My parents weren't around but I had my Nana. She would always say I was the first one to do things. No fear. Swimming. In there. Climbing a tree. Up it. My gran once had to enchant a climbing frame to get me down though. Funny thing was she couldn't remember how to disenchant it, so we had a sentient climbing frame named Frank for a while.'
He laughed, leaning back in his seat and thinking of another question. It was the most relaxed she'd ever seen him. 'Ok, here's another one. How many people have you told that kraken fighting line to?'
She shrugged. 'I say a different thing every time. Shark attack, pretending I lost it, saying "I got a bit peckish on the way over".' That drew a grin from him. She continued, 'I know I shouldn't but the answer gets so boring. And people always ask it as if they're at a funeral. What, are they mourning the loss of my hand that never existed? I'm not a walking tragedy. At least if I joke about it people realise it's ok not to look sad or nervous every time they see me.' She paused, draining the last of her drink. 'What about you?'
'Hmm?' He stopped drinking his beer and tilted his head. 'What do you mean?'
'Don't act like you didn't notice the guy at the counter staring at you this entire time.' They both turned to look at him. Layla waved and Kurt smiled. Leaving the bartender horribly aware that they both knew how rude he was acting. He went back to cleaning glasses hurriedly.
'I deal with it like that.' Kurt turned his attention back to her.
Ah, sheer charisma! I see. She thought wryly.
'I use the same thing.' He admitted. A slight sadness turned down his mouth. 'If you joke. If you appear approachable and work hard, people will only see that in the end.'
'It's a shame.'
He was shocked at that.
'You shouldn't have to force that if you don't want to.' The sincerity was almost too much in her brown doe eyes. 'You're already an impressive person and that speaks plenty.'
It dawned on him that it sounded rather tragic when he framed it like that. He went to correct himself, to cover it up with a joke. But the insecure way she played with the ends of her sleeve, covering her stump before rolling it back up to keep it visible, made him pause.
'It's the last resort for people who can't pass as normal. Deal with it fast. Make people comfortable.' Her finger ran along the rim of the glass, making it sing. 'What if, one day, you're not ok? How long can you be that way when inside you want to... I don't know. Find someone else who understands?'
It felt like she was looking right through him. He wondered vaguely if she was using magic. But he could tell, whatever had happened to Layla before, she understood exactly what it was like to be different in a way that wasn't her choice.
'No one should ever have to have to deal with that expectation.'
'I can see why Ro hired you.' he uttered. 'No matter what biological differences we have, experience and empathy are powerful.'
She chuckled, not ready to acknowledge her own merits. 'The only difference is I'm still waiting for my powers.' She winked.
His heart thudded, thankful that she bashfully glanced away to the blackened water of the bay.
'Would you change yourself?'
She paused her finger, silencing the song. 'Would you?'
The air between them burned. Both knowing fully well each other's answer. Her gaze raked from his face, from the windswept styled hair and pointed ears, to his three fingered hands. She appreciated the tight black shirt and the quite frankly gorgeous royal blue of his skin. She would have strong words to say if he didn't appreciate himself.
Kurt finished off his drink, his tail swaying merrily beside him. 'Maybe once. A long time ago. But not now.' He smirked. Was it her or was he admiring her too?
'Good. You may look different but that doesn't make you any less handsome.'
As soon as the word tumbled out, she instantly regretted it. That was meant to be said inside her thick head! Heat shot up to her cheeks and before he could respond with anything, she snatched their empty glasses and went to order from the bar.
Gods sake Layla! What's wrong with you.
No. She was an art teacher. Of course she could see the aesthetic side. No need to make it more than it was, purely impartial. Totally.
She wanted to smack her head on the bar. Maybe a concussion would make her smarter.
'Rough date?'
'I-it's not a date.' she covered her face, hiding her cheeks. 'We're co-workers.'
'Oof, I'm sorry.'
'Why?' At this point Layla just accepted the strangled wail her voice came out as. If her anxiety was on a scale, now would be a solid 7. Not quite meltdown, but enough to panic.
The bartender pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows at his glass. Blatantly judging something. 'Be careful doll. Mutants are danger magnets.'
It was at that moment Layla politely told him to stuff it.
…
Kurt could feel his ears burning. It had been a while since he'd had attention like that. And the comment she made as she slipped out of her seat down-right catapulted him back into his awkward teenage years. He scratched the back of his head and chuckled nervously, glancing over to check on Layla who was animatedly grilling to the bartender.
God how long had it been since he'd been with someone? Logan would tell him to either get laid or pump the brakes. But Layla deserved all his respect. More even, considering she had saved his life about two hours ago.
And the last thing you want is for her to get hurt.
The thought stomped on the butterflies in his stomach. He had to focus. Niamh had known who Amanda was. How? And who even was she? She wanted to kill them both now, which made Layla in danger through association.
No. Not again. He would treat her like the lady she was. At an arms length.
Layla slid back into her seat and smiled shyly, sliding a refill over to him. But she caught onto his expression. 'What's wrong?'
'Who's Niamh?'
She frowned and tried to recall her memory. 'I'm not sure. The name is familiar though, I can find out when we get back to the school.'
'Good. I need to let the others know what's going on.'
'About that,' Her leg started to bob, 'Did you go through the front door of that building?'
'Ja, I can only teleport to places I can see or places I've been to before.'
He expected her to be surprised, curious even, but instead she groaned. 'Did you feel weird walking in?'
Now that she mentioned it, he felt like someone had walked over his grave when he went through the door. He nodded, taking a sip of his beer.
'Fuck. We can't. Watch.' She turned to the bartender, 'Hey, Stan!'
He raised his head, expression flat.
'I found a cult of deranged witches making murderous trees in the basement of the local creepy community centre!'
Kurt's heart leapt into his throat. He nearly pitched over the table to stop her before seeing Stan's horribly confused face.
"I'm sorry doll I don't speak… whatever that was.'
Layla smiled and turned back to him. 'We made a contract by walking through that door. If we try to talk to anyone it'll come out as a garbled mess. It seems only those who made similar contracts can understand each other.'
This was beginning to be a growing pain. He drained the rest of his beer and pointed to the outside. They needed more information and if she had it at the school then that's where they'd start.
Luckily she understood and swigged her whisky. Smacking it on the table, gasping and heading for the door.
'Good luck!' Stan hollered.
Layla kicked the door behind her closed with way more force than needed. When he raised an eyebrow she just tucked herself into her coat. 'I don't know my own strength.'
'The door probably deserved it.' he teased.
…
Layla was a little surprised when they appeared in the main hall of the dimly lit school. When she raised her eyebrow at him he looked a little mildly offended.
'I don't know what or where your room is!'
'Oh, so ya do use your legs occasionally then?' The whisky must have gotten to her because she was being way more bold than usual. If she didn't know any better she would have suspected he'd rolled his eyes. That cocky lopsided smile appeared though, warming her heart. 'Well follow meee then.'
They wound through the corridors and eventually made it to her room. She pulled out the key, muttering about why keys when a card would be better as she unlocked the door on the second attempt.
The place was still a mess. Boxes half emptied and a suitcase still sprawled out. 'Nice... place?' even he didn't sound sure about what he just said. The only place that was tidy was her altar by the window, which immediately grasped his attention. Curiosity was in his eyes as he vaguely wandered in, attempting to be polite.
'Do you like it? It's disaster-chic. I try to make it look as close to an actual bombsite as possible.' She smirked before turning her attention to the altar and lighting incense. She knelt down and lifted the black book from its stand. Her hand brushed over the old puckered leather in appreciation.
Not knowing what else to do, he perched on the arm of the sofa, nodding and taking in the sight. 'You don't mind me being here do you?'
'Why would I?' she leafed through the pages, looking for names, images, anything that bled from the page.
'Well,' He tipped his head to the side and pulled an awkward expression, 'I don't want to invade your space. That and Catholics have not had-' He searched for a more diplomatic phrase than history of pillaging. '...the best reputation with Pagans.'
She shot a smile over her shoulder, 'If people held grudges over history everyone would hate everyone else and everything. Don't worry. I trust you.' She went back to reading, 'Anyway, you don't seem like the fire and pitchfork type.'
He blew out a breath and eased down next to her. How right she was about that. Instead of dwelling on mob weaponry, he peered over at the book in her hands. A series of inky whorls and swirls forming into knots before his very eyes. Clearly something he could not understand.
'Here.' She pointed at the page. It was unreadable to him so he waited for her to finish. Her frown deepened as she scanned and flipped over to the next page. 'Oh… oh no.'
'What?'
Layla glanced up at him. 'How much are you willing to believe?'
He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'I was attacked by a witch with magic I only learned about yesterday. I believe you.'
Layla swallowed. 'So on face value… whoever this lady is, Niamh. She's from Tir Na Nog. Kind of like an afterlife, We call it the Land of the Ever Young. She is like royalty there.'
Another afterlife? It hadn't dawned on him till now. If he could have lived through and been brought back from Christian heaven, then could there be other afterlives too?
'Or she could be pretending right?' The concern knotting her brows together showed even she wasn't convinced by her own question.
He didn't know. This was out of his depth, but now it was only him who could solve it. He couldn't even ask for help.
'Oh. I wondered why I chose to insult her husband. She's most famous for taking a mortal warrior husband who adored her. But he grew homesick and the longer he spent in her world, the more he lost his mind. In desperation she let him go back.'
'So she's looking for her husband?' That didn't really match with what she had done so far. Why murder and attack people? Also there was the other problem of the villainesses husband now possibly hunting him for their… interactions. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened to him but God he never wanted that again.
She shook her head. 'When he returned he was not allowed to touch the ground. He rode on a horse. But living in the saddle is tough. The records are incomplete thanks to…' She glanced at him and halted her explanation, returning to the myth instead. 'Most say he fell off his horse and aged rapidly, finally able to let go. But my family believed he chose to fade away.'
'Why is she here then?' Nothing added up. 'All we know is that she wants to convert people.'
'I don't know.' Layla whispered. 'But… Every magic system is steeped in the power of belief. You have to think a spell will work for it to happen. That is the base.'
Something clicked as he lifted his head, 'Wouldn't that also mean if other people showed belief in you, then you would gain more power?'
He waited for her to deny this, but she didn't. Instead flicking to the beginning of the book and tracing the knots. 'I counted around 200 people at that meeting. If that's the case, she's already extremely powerful.'
He leant back on his haunches and stared out of the blackened window, trying to take it all in. To absorb it all. More. There was so much more after death that they didn't know about and it just raised more questions. How many other things are an invisible veil away from harming the living? It felt like the more he tried to take it in, the more it slipped away. Like he couldn't process it all. His memory brought up images of the rift. The millions of stars and other planes fanning out, constricting and colliding.
Amanda.
His throat tightened. He couldn't breathe. All he could do was to stare forward and hope Layla hadn't noticed anything. He had to be fine.
'Hey.'
Kurt swallowed. Turning stiffly to the person beside him. Her hand tentatively reached out, slender fingers brushing up to hold his shoulder lightly. She was so warm. With her hands and with her eyes.
'You're not alone.'
His grip tightened and his jaw locked. He had already lost Amanda. She had relied on him to bring her back by now and he couldn't. He was barely holding it together with the consistent failure of waking up and knowing it was another day of torment for her.
He sucked a strained breath and closed his eyes. He needed to be calm. 'Layla. You can't go looking for Niamh again. Promise me.'
Shock widened her eyes. Her hand retreated from his shoulder and her mouth opened and closed, trying to find the words before simply landing on, 'No!'
There was no easy way to say this, but he needed to make things clear. 'Even with superhuman abilities, this is a dangerous job.' Layla didn't stand a chance. He hoped she understood but it only caused her to frown deeply. 'If you died it would be a disaster.'
'Well then I will try my best not to die.' She snapped her book shut and rose, finding something else in her room to fuss over and tidy away. But if she hoped that would end the conversation she was wrong. Stubbornness seemed to be a trait in the people he knew.
'You're a human civilian in a mutant school. If you die people will immediately target the students.'
Her attention snapped back to him briefly. However denial refused to let her go as her hands began to fold clothes on the sofa. 'That's ridiculous, It's not their fault.'
'It's the truth.' Slowly he approached her. His heart thudded nervously against his chest. 'Layla, you know people don't think when there is an easy target to blame.'
Her hands stilled, but she refused to look at him again. After a pause, her voice was trained into a low calm. 'And what happens if Niamh manages to possess you? If I hadn't been there you would currently be doing Niamh's twisted bidding and enjoying it.'
He flinched at the implication. The memory of Niamh's greedy want of him. But he couldn't let her go into danger just for him. 'I know what to look out for. Don't let her touch me. That's the idea, ja?' It was meant to be reassuring but the comment horrifically backfired.
She blustered, 'Dagda no! It's not like mind control. It targets the connection everyone born on this planet has! You wouldn't even realise anything has changed at all. Without me you can be affected by all sorts of magic and if you can't identify it you will be-' she cut herself off, stepping away and trying to regain some composure without shouting. The book was wrapped in her arms like a lifeline as she breathed deeply. 'Maybe she will target the school. Use you to lure staff and students into her control. Then she will have a small army of highly devoted, incredibly powerful weapons. A full on Cult.'
'You underestimate us.'
'And you clearly underestimate me.' Her voice wavered. Frustration and anger and sadness all boiling under the surface. 'Even if that was the case, one life is better than the many.'
'Not to me!'
The argument screeched to a halt. It was like a bomb in water, the force knocking away all other emotions for the briefest moment in time. He didn't mean to raise his voice. An apology was at the tip of his tongue but it died swiftly when looking at her. That same shy blush returned on her cheeks and nose. Stunned to say the least.
'Who's to say that she wouldn't do the same with you?' he countered softly.
She gazed blankly down at the floor. Sadness winning the war of emotion on her delicate face. 'You saw how the students reacted to me this morning. I'm new and a human. They wouldn't trust me with anything more than teaching them colour theory.'
'Niamh wouldn't know that.'
'She knows more than we realise.' Who was that woman she turned into, Kurt?'
No. He wasn't ready for that. He shook his head and backed away. He needed to leave but he had to say something. It felt like he was choking and translating became more and more difficult to maintain. 'She was someone I lost.' He managed.
With that he strode past her, heading for the door. With one glance back at her he warned. 'Stay safe Miss Cormac. Please.' Before erupting into a plume of smoke.