the incident, you can understand why they felt the need for it.”
My jaw clenches. That’s easy for her to say. She’s not wearing a magic-dampening brace or a set of handcuffs.
“We’ll be in touch,” the tall woman assures me, and then she walks out without so much as a goodbye.
I flip her off as she goes. She can’t see it, but it sure makes me feel better. I’ve never felt so goddamn helpless in my life.
What kind of choice is this? Give up my magic for good and never be a part of the community, which means never being a proper part of Maddy’s world, or hold onto this stupid ability and play the Circuit’s little games?
I gave up years ago on going to an academy and being a true part of the magical world. I don’t want to play by their rules. And God knows that developing my powers so late in life—relatively speaking, anyway— is going to make me the object of enough derision and snobbery to last a lifetime.
On top of that, the idea of Unpredictable magic is new to me. I’m sure there are plenty of people in the magical world who knew about this already, but it definitely doesn’t get talked about much. Am I going to be treated as a freak?
Yeah, that doesn’t sound worth it.
I’ve been getting along just fine without magic so far, so my instinct is to tell Aurora to fuck right off with her “freak academy” and let the Circuit suppress my powers for good. Except… what about Maddy?
My sister has magic now. What would it mean for her if I cut myself off from the magical world? Would I still be able to visit her? To spend time with her? The magical population doesn’t usually mingle with the mundane humans who live near and among us but remain blissfully unaware that magic exists.
And even if I wasn’t booted from the community entirely, there’d be a whole aspect of her life that I wouldn’t be a part of. An aspect I couldn’t relate to.
Before, when I thought I didn’t have magic at all, that was one thing. I didn’t have a choice, and I was determined to make do with what life had given me. But now, I most definitely have a choice. And I don’t want to shut myself out from being able to share in my sister’s experiences.
But will it really be worth it?
To uproot my entire life and go to this academy in the hope that getting some training will make me less of a freak in people’s eyes?
I’m still stuck in my spiraling thoughts when two police officers come in and remove the handcuffs. They don’t seem to notice the brace around my wrist, and I wonder if Aurora cast some spell on it that means they literally can’t see it. People who work in the Circuit are good at that kind of magic, casting illusions and messing with ordinary people’s minds so they don’t notice the magic around them.
“Some people can’t even accept those who have different skin colors; how would the general human population ever accept those of us with frightening, powerful magic?” my mom told me once when I asked her why we had to be so secretive.
She had a point. And she wasn’t even talking about Unpredictables, just people with regular, commonly accepted magical abilities.
One of the cops slips the cuffs into his back pocket, then they leave without a word, convincing me even further that they had some kind of magic performed on them. They seem dazed and a little distant, like they might forget they ever met me as soon as they leave the room.
After they finally wander out, the nurse comes in. She’s more alert, and I can tell she has magic of her own—so at least some of the hospital staff must work for the Circuit. She makes sure I eat, then checks my blood pressure and all that. I feel fine, other than my damn head hurting, but I don’t waste any time trying to convince her of that. The longer I stay here, the longer I’ll hopefully have before I need to give Aurora an answer.
Now that I’m free to move about, I slip into the bathroom and finally get to look in a mirror.
Ouch. I look like a walking domestic abuse ad. Between the punch to the face and the fact that I apparently slammed myself into a wall, my skin has some lovely purple