Page 6 of Reluctant Witch (A Course in Magic #2)

6

Sondre

Sondre stared forlornly into the pot of tea he’d magicked up. That was what the teen called it: “Magicked up.” The teapot, obviously, was not filled with tea. Between Maggie’s escape, capture, and the arrival of her son, Sondre had wished that he could simply stay perpetually inebriated.

Probably a bad plan, Sondre admitted as another yell came from his once-peaceful home.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Craig yelled as he stomped into the room.

“The headmaster of the College of Remedial Magic,” Sondre said mildly.

“Well, I’m not a witch or a student, so… piss off.” Craig crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

No hitting children. Not even a tap. Sondre repeated the mantra to himself for the dozenth time that day.

“What exactly is the drama now?” Sondre tried to remember that his acerbic tone was fine for students but not his son.

“I am sick of being trapped in here.”

“It’s dangerous outside the castle, Craig,” Maggie said, voice pulled tight as if the strain of parenthood and the pressure of her magic combined to make her chest constrict.

“So send me back.”

One of the hobs popped into the room, appearing out of thin air as they were wont to do. “Perhaps some toys for the young mast—”

“I’m not a child, ” Craig yelled. All the boy did the last few days was yell.

The air is less dangerous this week.

“Fine. You want to go out? Let’s go out.” Sondre stood. “Maggie, you have class. I’ll sort this out.”

“If you’re both sure?” Maggie said.

“Go to class, Mom.” Craig bent down to kiss his mother’s cheek, suddenly sweeter when Maggie’s voice took on that fragile-glass note. “I’m safe with him. You know that.”

He was, but it felt good to hear Craig acknowledge that truth all the same. Sondre wished the boy could yell less frequently, but in all, he’d had an abrupt adjustment—like all witches—but without the salve of having magic. Craig was in a brand-new world with new people, new rules, new everything. It had to be challenging for him.

Once the door closed behind her, Sondre turned his most menacing stare at the younger, male version of his new bride. “Let’s take a proper tour of the village.”

“ Really?”

The trace of hope in the boy’s voice was enough to make Sondre wonder for the 337th time if there really was ever that much joy in the experience of being a witch. Witches lived for centuries, but that was all spent locked away in the tiny hamlet of Crenshaw. Maybe it was the fact that Sondre himself was approaching a century of life, or maybe guilt ate away at joy.

Whatever the cause, Sondre felt a smile slip out.

“Yes, really. If you get sick, though, your mother will be devastated, so you’ll wear a mask.” Sondre went over to the cupboard and pulled out a gas mask he’d had fashioned for the boy. “No breathing poison.”

“Is this really necessary?” Craig lifted the bulky black contraption.

It looked like a relic, something as old as Sondre, but thanks to magic it was as good as new. The fabricating witch, Ellie, had created several of them for the boy and her aunt—and a few spares for witches who were low in magical reserves.

“Better isn’t the same as gone. I promise you that when it’s over, you can stop wearing it.” Sondre wasn’t going to budge on this. The toxin that was slowly seeping into the village made things stink of sulfur, and the gaseous air killed any witch whose magical levels weren’t high enough to repair the constant damage from the poison.

“Fine.” Craig sulked.

“If we go inside anywhere the air’s not bad, you can take it off.” Sondre paused and, feeling rather like leaning into the dad thing, added, “It’s like a condom. They’re always a good idea unless you’re one-hundred-percent sure you’re safe.”

Craig stared back at him, blinking. “Are we going to have a birds-and-bees talk?”

“I don’t know. Do you need one?” Sondre frowned briefly. “I can explain things unless you need details on sex with men. I know a guy though who—”

The rest of Sondre’s words were lost under Craig’s laugh.

“You still aren’t my real dad, and I don’t know if I like you,” Craig said when he stopped laughing. “You’re not a total tool, though.”

“I’ll add that to my next job interview. ‘Not a total tool.’” Sondre rolled his eyes. “You’re not the worst thing that’s ever happened in my life, either.”

“What is?”

Sondre gave him an assessing look and decided to be blunt. “Bit by a rattlesnake? Became a witch? Couldn’t see my family again? It was all part of the same thing, I guess.”

“Sounds pretty bad.”

“It was. I hated losing everything and everyone who mattered. My plans. My friends. My brother.” Sondre pointed to the door.

“I feel like you’re doing that I-can-relate thing old people do,” Craig muttered.

“Nah. I can’t relate. I lost everyone. You got to keep part of your family. The best part,” Sondre pointed out.

“Rather not think about how great you think my mother is. I heard you the other night. Scar a kid.” Craig’s cheeks were red, and Sondre reminded himself that for all the difficulty, the teen boy was dealing fairly well.

“Sorry you heard. She’s happy, though. Having you here and having someone treat her like the amazing woman she is.”

“ Still not okay thinking about you and her,” Craig stressed. He sighed, glanced over at Sondre, and added, “But yeah, she is. My dad was an ass, tried to take her to court, just… awful. Plus, he tried to kill us in the accident. She thinks I don’t know, so she doesn’t talk to me about it, but I’m not stupid. Rather kill me than pay child support. What a dad, huh?”

“Might be easier on her if you were stupid.” Sondre shoved open the main door to the castle. “Mask.”

Craig fixed the awkward contraption over his face as the two were headed out of the castle intentionally—which was an improvement on the few times when Sondre had to find and retrieve the boy.

Sondre was weighing what to say about the fact that the kid’s father tried to have him killed. Over the decades here, Sondre had seen his share of bad situations, but it never got easier to find the words of comfort.

“I don’t have anything to do here,” Craig blurted a few steps later. “It’s not like I’m trying to start trouble for Mom. I’m just so fucking bored. No school. No one but old people to talk to. No TV. No games. No anything.”

“So what are we to do?” Sondre asked, grateful that the murderous-bastard-is-your-father conversation was paused. Talking to the teen calmly was the only way he could deal with Craig. Honestly, in most cases the answer was just talk to the new witch like a person. That worked on teenagers, too, apparently.

They walked along the path that stretched from castle to village.

“I was thinking I could join one of the sports houses,” Craig mused, scuffing his feet in the dry ground as they walked. “I mean, I can’t do magic, but there are plenty of sports that are nonmagic.”

“Does your mother know your plan?”

“Sort of,” Craig evaded. “She said that since I’m not magical, I don’t need a house, but I can’t just… do nothing. That’s all I do. Nothing.”

“And break rules,” Sondre muttered.

“You’d have liked my mom before I came along,” Craig said. “I’m not supposed to know, but she was not really a rule follower either.”

She still isn’t. Sondre considered saying it. If Maggie had been following the rules that governed Crenshaw, Craig wouldn’t be here. Instead, Sondre only said, “You don’t say.”

Craig leveled a surprisingly mature look at him. “Do you blame her? What would you do if you had no responsibilities?”

“Not blaming your mom. If I wasn’t headmaster—or a married man—I’d pretty much drink and get laid,” Sondre said. “That was a lot of what I did when I arrived here… hmm, roughly seventy years ago.”

“So you get it.” Craig looked back at the path. “I’m bored. I can’t go to your magic college. I don’t have friends. I love my mom and all, and it’s not like I want to go back to live with him, but…”

“What if there was another option?”

“There’s a third place?”

“Maybe.” Sondre had been trying to be patient, but the choice was obvious. “If I can convince the Congress, we could look at sending you to a boarding school back in the nonmagical world.”

“Could I still see Mom?”

“Yes.”

“She’d miss me.” Craig looked up at him. “And if you don’t treat her well—”

“My vow, a magical one, that I will put her happiness above all else.”

Craig gave him a long serious stare. “You love her, huh?”

“I do.” Sondre pointed at Craig sternly. “But that’s between me and her. Stop being such a pain in the ass, and I’ll discuss the boarding-school idea with your mom.”

“Deal.” Craig smirked. “If you do, I won’t complain that you failed to ask me for her hand in marriage.”

Sondre guffawed. “Well, if you behave, I won’t tell her that you were discussing her like she’s property.”

Craig’s eyes widened briefly before he smiled. “You’re made for her.”

I do hope so, Sondre thought. Whether or not he’d meant to, he was fairly sure he and Maggie were as close to perfectly matched as he could even dream of finding.