Gideon squinted down at me and cocked his head in his confusion.
“It’s because you’re compensating,” I seriously added.
“Why you—” Gideon moved to mash his magic into my face—which would have at least given me third degree burns, if not worse. But I was ready. I smashed my foot into his kneecap, kicking as hard as I could.
Gideon’s leg buckled, and he tipped forward, off balance enough that I was able to rip my arm from his grasp and scramble backwards.
He took a swipe at me with his magic, but only touched a bit of my hair, singeing it.
I fled, the horrible smell of burnt hair trailing behind me as Gideon roared.
“You’re going to pay for that, Medeis!”
I didn’t even bother to see if he was following—his thundering footfalls chased after me as I darted across a grassy park.
Three ladies and their kids stood in the woodchips surrounding the park playground equipment, their mouths hanging open as they gazed at Gideon with wonder.
They had to be regular humans—no one else would look so awed.
A few of the kids shrieked and clapped in joy. “Wizards!”
I glanced back at Gideon—whose entire fist was now encased with magic.
He mustered a smile. “Training, it’s necessary,” he lied.
I snorted and jumped a park bench.
Even though supernaturals were “public”, and had been for almost two decades, we still weren’t supposed to flash our magic around. The last thing we wanted to do was frighten the humans, who greatly outnumbered all magical species and could potentially exterminate us if they felt threatened.
Apparently, our community’s leaders were overly concerned, though, given that none of the mothers or their kids seemed to feel “threatened” while watching a gorilla of a guy with a fistful of fire chase me in broad daylight.
When I reached the sidewalk on the opposite end of the park, Gideon chucked the fireball.
I tried to dodge it, but I wasn’t fast enough, and it hit me on the left shoulder. It sizzled, burning a hole in my clothes, and it was so hot it baked my skin. I bit down on a yelp—that would have made the sicko happy—and inhaled air in a sharp hiss between clenched teeth.
My shoulder throbbed, but if he caught me, it would only mean more pain. I limped across the street, picking up speed as I shook it off.
Unfortunately, my distraction with the pain—however short-lived—had given Gideon time to catch up with me.
He was almost on me as I sprinted up the block. I came to a four-way intersection and glanced up the road.
A motorcade of shiny black cars bore down the street, barreling closer. A fancy emblem was emblazoned on the sides of the front car—a limo—but the rest were all unmarked SUVs.
I saw the black dragon roaring at the center of the drawn emblem, and my heart stuttered.
The roaring dragon was something everyone in the Midwest feared—at least anyone with any sense of self-preservation.
But Gideon was less than half a block behind me. If I waited for the motorcade, he’d catch me, and if I ran around the block again he’d be on me pretty quick.
My shoulder ached, but although fear made my heart pound in my throat with enough force to strangle me, I darted across the street, narrowly missing being hit by the lead car.
Gideon skidded to a stop at the crosswalk as the lead car rumbled by, but when the SUV just behind it slowed to a crawl, he swore, turned on his heels, and ran back toward the park.
I didn’t stop running either. Gideon wasn’t going to be able to catch me now, but I needed to get away from the motorcade.
Only one magical group used a dragon as their emblem in this city: the Drake Family. The most powerful vampire Family in the Midwest. And they wouldn’t hesitate to maim us just for irritating them.
Thankfully, the cars barreled on, and I made it home without any more “fun”.
Well, I was almost hit by a blood delivery car—vampires had to be fed somehow—about four blocks up from the House. But neither Gideon nor a member of the infamous Drake Family stalked me home, so I’d count it as a win.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I considered jumping the knee-high wrought-iron fence that surrounded House Medeis. But considering I was the Heir I thought it best to pay my respects, so I trotted up the front sidewalk.
Even with my small abilities, I could feel the magic of the House bloom around me.
“Hey there,” I said with affection, greeting the House as I might a pet.
Thankfully, the House didn’t seem to mind my wussy powers. Its magic greeted me with a content purr as a butterfly danced among the flowers that lined the front porch.
The magical building was three stories tall and was cobbled out of stretches of blue siding with white trim and blocks of gray, ivy covered rock. Three turrets poked out of the House—two smaller ones in the front with the tallest in the back more closely resembling a bell tower. But instead of a bell it housed the House Beacon—a glowing orb that usually glowed blue with veins of gold.
The lawn was big—House Medeis had a giant lot—and there was a huge flower garden that started in front and stretched around to the back. A large koi pond and a cheerfully trickling fountain that was ornamented with diapered baby angel statues was also settled in the backyard.
A bit eclectic in both looks and architecture, the best way to describe it would be to say if a Victorian house and a French chateau had a building baby, House Medeis would be the offspring.
There were a bunch of cars in the long gravel driveway—which wasn’t unusual. Although House Medeis belonged to my immediate family, we still had a fairly large wizard House.
Let me explain. Vampires have Families, werewolves have Packs, fae have Courts, and wizards have Houses.
Though the term “wizard House” refers to the physical building—like House Medeis—it can also refer to the wizards who live there together as a sort of large magical family, not bound by blood, but by similar passions and desires…and a big magic House.
My parents ran House Medeis because the House itself was theirs, but there were roughly twenty adult wizards who belonged to House Medeis who we counted as family and who lived here with us.
I playfully slapped my hand on the fancy white porch railing, wincing when it made my shoulder twinge.
“I better disinfect that before I head out,” I muttered. “Great Aunt Marraine ought to be home, and she’s the least likely to blab to Dad and Mom. Maybe I should ask her.”
I heaved the front door open and popped inside, immediately kicking off my shoes. (House Medeis got crabby if you walked its floors with your shoes on. It only takes so many times of getting your sneakers chucked at your head before you learn this, even as a child.)
“I’m home,” I called out to any other members of House Medeis who might be around. “But not for long. I’m just stopping by to grab my car, then—”
“Hazel?” Great Aunt Marraine appeared in the hallway—the bright blue streak she dyed into her curly white hair made her impossible to mistake.
“Yep.” I shook my arm out, trying to get the sting out of my shoulder wound, and padded closer, pausing when I saw how puffy and red her eyes were. “What’s wrong?”
Great Aunt Marraine pressed her hands to her ample bosom, but at my words her face crumpled, and she pulled me into a hug. “It’s your parents. There’s been an accident.”