Confessions (The Magician – Chapter Twenty)

This is the twentieth chapter of the serialization novel I am working on, The Magician – < click here to read the other chapters if you missed them or have no idea what this story is about.

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Confessions

Vanessa stared out at the lake again as she pondered the situation, trying to understand her cousin’s varying moods.  Before she could decide, Ignace appeared at the doorway once more.

“I’m kind of tired,” he murmured.  “Which room is mine?”

Vanessa pointed.

“The guest room is the second door on the right down the hall,” she replied.  “It has its own bath.  Want any help with anything?”

He shook his head.

“No, thank you.” 

She watched him gather his things from where he had left them by the front door and walk down the hallway.  As quietly as she could, she proceeded to clean up the remnants of their meal and wash the dishes up. She did not want to bother the man again.  

Ignace tossed the overnight bag on the large bed and then moved to shut his door.  He had not meant to discuss his past with her.  He wanted to protect her from his existence, especially since he had hurt her mother long ago.  He could not let history repeat itself again.

He cast a spell in anger and watched as a red cloud swirled around him.   He groaned in pain from the weariness, though he tried to do so quietly.  It would not do to let Vanessa see his torment and his anger, not after all she had already done for him.

He was terrified. Since the necklace had been broken, he did not have the strict control over his emotions he used to.  Lorenzo’s magic had enslaved him, but it also allowed him to manipulate how and when to use the magic he had inherited from Nestor.  He knew he needed to hold on to that control a bit longer, just until he decided what he had to do.  But that was getting harder.

Then there was his back.  He knew it had to be dealt with, but he wasn’t sure how to take care of it himself.  He was sure one of the marks was infected, but healing magic wasn’t part of his lineage.  He wished he had mentioned it to Evelyn, but he was too ashamed to say anything.

He stripped off the dress shirt he had been wearing and then winced as he peeled the undershirt from his back.  One of the scabs had been rubbed raw by his clothing and had broken open at some point, scabbing into the fabric more than once.  He could feel the sharp sting as the scab gave way to a fresh wound and a wave of green flew from his hand as he hissed.

There was a knock at the door as he tossed the shirt aside.

“Ignace?”

“One second!” he exclaimed, frantically pulling the dress shirt back on and buttoning it up haphazardly.  Quickly, he stuffed the undershirt into his bag.  He lunged for the door and opened it, taking in a deep breath and hurriedly putting a smile on his face.  

Vanessa held some fresh towels in her hands.

“I remembered that Mom doesn’t keep towels in the bathrooms when we’re not staying here.  She just has Esme put them in the hall cabinet so she has one less thing to worry about each week.  So I brought you some.  I should also check to make sure there’s soap and stuff in case you need it.”

He nodded and stepped back so she could enter.  She continued to talk as she walked into his bathroom and put the towels away.

“Esme is our housekeeper, but she only comes here once a week to check over the place and keep it clean.  Since we’re both staying here, Mom will probably ask her to come tomorrow.  I’ve hung the towels and there’s shampoo and soap and toothpaste and even a toothbrush in the mirror cabinet.”

She emerged from the bathroom as Ignace was throwing the remainder of the clothing he had brought into the drawers.  He had his back turned towards her.

“Let me know if you need … anything…”

When she trailed off, Ignace turned to see her eyes wide.

“You’re bleeding,” she murmured.

He touched his hand to his back and felt the cloth sticking to the wound.  He winced as Vanessa started for the door.

“I’ll get some bandages and something to clean you up with,” she said, taking command in a way that reminded Ignace once more just whose daughter she was.

“I can do it myself!” Ignace shouted.  He watched another tendril of color, orange this time, slip from his fingers.

Vanessa returned, her hands full of a box of first aid supplies.

“No, you can’t,” she remarked.  “It’s in the middle of your back.  Unless you know some magical spell to either close the wound or enchant the bandages, you won’t be able to.  Let me help you!”

She glared up at him, her eyes sparking with a hint of defiance.

“Fine,” he replied through gritted teeth.  He moved to the bed and sat on the edge of it, unbuttoning the shirt and pulling it from his body.  He winced again as the cloth peeled from the wound and the emotions cased another orange cloud to emit from his hands.

Vanessa stopped mid-preparation.  “What happened?” she asked.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” she replied. “You look like you were beaten.  Who did this?”

“Lorenzo had his majordomo do it. Even with his magic, he couldn’t fully control me and I rebelled as much as I could.  So he used a different form of punishment to force my compliance.”

He flinched as Vanessa pressed a cloth to his back.

“Sorry,” she murmured.  “I am trying to be gentle.”

“I know.”

There was silence for a few moments and Vanessa concentrated on her task.  She wiped a swab of antiseptic across the wounds as carefully as she could.  She frowned when the man flinched again.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” she murmured softly.

Ignace did not reply and Vanessa wondered if he even heard her.  She gently started to dab the worst of the marks, angrily reddened around the edges.  She knew she was hurting him, but she continued nevertheless, her own control of emotions slipping a bit.

Finally, Ignace spoke as waves of blue emanated from his hands.  The answer sounded defeated.

“It’s fine.  I got used to it.”

Her fingers lightly grazed the healed scars on his back as she finished her ministrations.

“I see that.  Can I ask you why you let him ensnare you in the first place?  The family has always been silent on the matter.”

“Are you done?” he asked sharply as another wave of prismatic color flew from him in frustration.  He sighed at his anger and tried to reign in his magic.   “I’m sorry.  I find that I’m getting a bit cold and would like to put a shirt back on.”

“I’m done.  It’s as good as it going to get for now.”

Vanessa stood to clean up the papers and items she had used from the bed.  Part of her was disappointed he had chosen not to answer her. She frowned as she stuffed the waste into the plastic bag she had brought in and began to move to leave.

In the meantime, Ignace had retrieved a clean shirt from the drawer and pulled it over his head. He caught sight of himself in the mirror over the dresser and smoothed the wayward locks of hair atop his head.  He also saw the frown his young cousin had on her face.

He knew he owed her some sort of an explanation.  She had rescued him and now had tended to him.  He realized that she had treated him like family since she had met him. He sighed.

“I owed one of his associates a gambling debt,” he answered quietly, still staring at the mirror.

Vanessa blinked as she turned.  He had spoken so softly she wasn’t sure he had even said anything.    

“What was that?”

“I owed one of his associates a gambling debt.”

“The drama you got caught up in,” Vanessa murmured, connecting the dots.  “You gambled.  You mentioned that before.”

Ignace nodded.

“It’s why I never finished school.  I took up gambling instead. That broke my mother’s heart.”  He shook his head and laughed cynically.  “Grandfather forbade me, but I got such a rush when I was winning that I was sure I could win big and put funds back before anyone noticed they were gone.  After all, I had this awesome magical power that could be used.  I was sure I could use it to feel the cards that were played before they were dealt.”  

He sighed as he sat back down on the bed and scratched his arm absentmindedly.  Vanessa dropped the bag to the floor and sat back down too, facing him so she could listen.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I never learned to do that kind of magic.”  He chuckled dryly.  “It just wasn’t in my skill set.  And then, my luck ran dry.  I ran through my pocket money and then the funds set aside for my college studies.  After that, I ended up in debt.  Your mother helped me out as best as she could.  In turn, I caused her a great deal of grief and even the unwanted attention of Lorenzo himself.  Luckily, our grandfather and your father were able to get her out of harm’s way.  Grandfather tried to stop me, saying that I was turning my back on the family by continuing down that road of vice.”

“He cut you off, didn’t he?” she asked.

Ignace shook his head as he remembered his past.  “I was at fault. I had gambled away my freedom.  I was in over my head and since I had been cut off from the family fortune, I could not repay what I owed. Lorenzo used that leverage to have me sign a contract stating I would work for him for ten years to pay off his associate.”

“But it’s been longer than that.”

Ignace nodded as he shifted on the bed.

“The beads kept me imprisoned.  After the ten years were up, I tried to escape multiple times and challenged him as best I could.  Hence the beatings.”

Vanessa looked sad.  She reached over to touch his shoulder and felt him flinch ever so slightly.

“What a lonely life that must have been.”

Ignace merely stared at her and shrugged. There was a lull in the conversation as he seemed to slip into some sort of quiet contemplation.  Vanessa finished cleaning up the supplies, forgotten during their discussion.  As she stood to leave, Ignace spoke again.

“You said Ben was killed because of your magic.  How?”

His gray eyes were looking at her, watching her intently.  There was no look of malice on his face, only curiosity.  

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Vanessa replied, stooping to pick up some scraps of paper that had fallen and shoving them into the plastic bag.

“I’ve bared my soul,” he said quietly.  “You know my story.”

She sighed again as she remained standing, twisting the handle of the plastic bag in her hands.  He was correct.  She had pried into his life and now it was her turn to open old wounds.  She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I was ten and learning this wondrous magic I discovered I had developed,” she started.  “While I had heard the stories of Nestor’s folly, I didn’t know I would develop the same magic.  I could always paint with colors, but my parents thought it was a parlor trick taught to me by Grandpa Rankin.  But when the rest of the magic I could do emerged on my tenth birthday, that raw emotional magic that could destroy if enabled, my parents were a bit startled.”

Ignace nodded knowingly.  “Nestor’s gift can be powerful.”

“And it was.  There were times when I couldn’t control it.  On one of those times, I was casting spells of emotion right and left in the front yard at the Rankin Mansion and my father watched as I felled his favorite tree.”

Ignace chuckled.

“Knowing Ben and his love for those trees on the property, he probably had a fit.”

He noticed the tears in her eyes and the laughter stopped.  He reached his hand out to hold hers.

“He was,” she muttered.  “He was angrier than I had seen him in a very long time.  He shouted at me that I needed to learn to control my emotions and this magic, or I would end up no better than……”

She stopped and looked up into Ignace’s eyes.  He saw the horrified realization dawn on her face as she stared at him with a tear-stained face.

“He didn’t want you to end up like me,” he remarked softly.

She nodded.

“I was so angry with him in return that I yelled at him that I hated him.  I screamed it as I cast a dark cloud of anger.  I had never seen my father look so scared before.  But then his phone rang and he was asked to come in for a case.  It was the last time I ever saw him alive.”

“You didn’t kill him, Vanessa.  He was killed in the line of duty.”

“But he wouldn’t have put himself in harm’s way if I hadn’t scared him.  He was so preoccupied with what I had yelled at him that he didn’t get out of the way.”

Ignace flexed his back, stretching the weary muscles as he watched his young cousin.

“Do you know that for sure?” he asked quietly.

 She shook her head as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

He scowled slightly.  “Then why do you keep blaming yourself?”

She took in a deep breath and thought for a few moments.

“My last words were ‘I hate you,” she whispered.

One corner of Ignace’s mouth turned up in a wry smile.

“The last words I ever spoke to my mother were also ‘I hate you.’ And look what happened to me.  So I guess we both harbor misgivings.  But we can’t undo the past.  No magic can.  What’s done is done.”

“We may not be able to undo the past,” she replied, “But I know a way we can both assuage some of our guilt.”

The eyebrows above the smokey gray eyes furrowed, showing the aging creases of Ignace’s forehead.

“How?”

“We figure out a way save the others Lorenzo has ensnared,” she replied.

He shook his head as another wave of orange surrounded him.

“Why not?” she asked.

“Lorenzo still is powerful, whereas I can barely control my own magic at the moment.  I can’t go back.”

“You have a chance here, Ignace.  You have the opportunity to heal some of the wounds of the past by helping those still under Lorenzo’s thumb. You know Lorenzo better than I do. Help me figure out a way to free the others.”

Ignace remained silent.  His face was devoid of any emotion as he stared at her.  Vanessa wondered if he even heard her. The silence was heavy and time seemed to stand still.

“I can’t go back,” he finally repeated.

Vanessa sighed.

“Fine then. I’ll find some other way to help them since I can see I won’t change your mind.”  She stood up once more and stared at him, anger flashing in her eyes.  “Should you need anything, I’ll be in my room.  Good night, Ignace.”

Click here to read the next chapter – Retribution

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Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction written by K. S. Wood, and thus is copyrighted 2024. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.  All rights reserved.

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