Page 3 of Overwhelmed By Magic

Even as I’m struggling for freedom, a smile slips onto my face at my stepbrother’s stupid command. Those beyond the veil don’t listen to mere words and neither of us have any essence to return this murky water to the pool everyone was just enjoying. Harlow’s hand wraps around my arm, his other prying those fingers off me until they have him in their hold instead.

My eyes widen as I realize what he’s offering in my place, the trance I was in loosening its grip. Everything happens in slow motion as he’s dragged through the veil, my lungs emptying as I scream for the man I’ve just lost. My stepbrother. My best friend. My lover.

I scratch at the water’s surface as if that will save him, yelling for help and finding none. The party has moved inside, oblivious to my plight. Someone’s essence has stolen the one person in my life that understood me. My screams turn into gasps as I kneel at the pool’s edges, my vision clouded by tears until the surface calms.

That’s when I see it.

Harlow.

My beautiful Harlow face down, floating, unmoving.

I gasp for air, sputtering as cold water attacks my face, dragging me back to reality. It takes me a few moments to remember where I am—sitting on the floor of my shower after succumbing to the demons in my head. My life ended that day. Everyone profusely apologized and the mage was punished with a few hours of community service but it didn’t bring Harlow back.

Not entirely.

My vision starts to clear as I relax against the tile, fierce blue eyes staring at me. The water flows through him, his form flickering in and out of the visible plane of existence. Harlow did return that day but not as part of the living and as such, our lives split into two very different paths. We had had our futures planned out. Four years ago, we were going to attend Benson University, graduate, and then move in together, away from the chaos of our hometown.

After the incident, as a spirit, Harlow was classified as a Magila and therefore required to attend Astral Academy. We’ve despised the separation but at least he’s still here with me. Even if it’s not exactly the same. Now, four years later, I’ve managed to graduate with a degree in psychology at the top of my class and Harlow has been taught to control his essence. I’m not entirely sure if he’s actually retained most of that information, though.

“Babe, let’s get you out of the water. Your lips are turning blue,” Harlow warns, his voice soft and concerned. There’s usually a lot more of a snark to his words which tells me that I’ve probably been here for a while.

The haze of my nightmare still lingers as I stumble to my feet, fumbling with the knob for several seconds before hitting the right combination to turn the water off. Drenched clothes cling to my skin as I step out onto the bathmat. I still don’t remember turning on the shower or how long I’ve been in there. I do know that these living nightmares attack my consciousness every moment they get.

It’s not something I’ve ever mentioned—that whatever touched me that day somehow latched onto a part of my soul and is constantly trying to retrieve it. The inkling that sleeping too long will somehow allow that to happen is what keeps me awake most nights or throwing myself into a cold shower to stay conscious.

It isn’t healthy but I don’t have another alternative.

There is one but that would mean reliving that night over and over again as the strange mark encircling my wrists is dissected by the Magila council. At first glance, they look like bracelets tattooed into my flesh but under further inspection, intricate symbols follow along the main ring. I’m not sure what they mean. Nothing in any of the books I’ve retrieved from the library have been able to explain it either.

Begrudgingly, I shed my clothes, the wet plop onto the tiled floor filling me with a bout of hopelessness. Today should have been the happiest day of my life—Harlow and I graduating from Benson University, ready to take on the world by storm. Now, I’m naked, staring into my bathroom mirror, shivering, wondering where we go from here. My gaze meets Harlow’s, a dark grey-blue aura hovering around him.

I don’t understand why I can see his essence. As a human, I shouldn’t but I never saw anyone’s before that afternoon so I suspect it has something to do with being burned by the dead. “You’re still here,” I mutter, referring to a spirit's lifespan. Many only remain on earth to complete whatever their soul couldn’t, the average span around 5-10 years as they hold off trying to finish that last task. It’s similar to a calling, a pull so that their essence can be put to rest but as far as I can tell, Harlow doesn’t seem to have a calling. He just… is.

He leans back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. Harlow has always been my perfect dream, dark, unruly hair that crowds his angular face. Deep blue eyes that pierce my soul and more piercings than I can count. I swear most of them were for shock value as our parents despised them.

“Of course I am. I can’t leave when you’re still here.” Harlow moves forward until he’s standing directly behind me, his lips delicately pressed against my ear. Shivers crawl up my back as his tongue drags down to my jaw, his hands moving to my waist as he presses himself up against my backside. His cock thickens against my ass and I melt against his chest, knowing full well that this shouldn’t be possible.

A spirit can’t touch.

Their existence is a pitiful one, slipping through the main plane of existence. This world is no longer theirs to truly enjoy and yet Harlow is here, caressing me, kissing me, loving me. “Breathe, babe. Let me love you.”

Four little words that tell me he’s trying to distract me. I rip myself away from him and rush into the bedroom that I’ve occupied for the last four years. It’s amazing what a little money can do when it comes to living in a private dorm. I snatch up my phone and groan. 7:34 am. I’m going to be late.

Astral Academy’s graduation is this morning, the day when every Magila receives their diploma. A graduation that includes Harlow’s sorry ass. “What are you doing?” He muses, a hint of laughter in his tone.

I whirl around, his attention immediately dropping to my cock which I cover by snatching a sheet off my bed. The man is insatiable when it comes to me and while I usually enjoy it, there is no time for that. When his tongue darts out to lick his lips, I know that he’s just fucking toying with me. The lingering effects of that nightmare are switched with pure desire, a need that runs so deep I’m sure there has to be an explanation.

Humans don’t feel such a visceral connection with one another. I scramble for something acceptable to wear, falling on a blush button-down and black dress pants. Maybe it’ll stand out too much but it’s one of my favorite colors. Harlow’s presence appears beside me and I narrow my gaze at the man I’ve been in love with since before he died saving my sorry ass. One little mistake and my stepbrother is no longer alive. Currently, he’s chewing one of those sexy as fuck lip rings, arms folded across his chest, his form hovering between the visible plane and whatever void of existence he usually disappears to when I’m winning an argument.

His grin widens and I know he’s caught onto what I’m about to do. “You’re not fucking going to that graduation, babe.”

“I am. You can’t stop me.” Well, the Magila council or the guards stationed along the entrance might. After all, humans aren’t allowed in Magila specific spaces, primarily for safety reasons. Reasons that I usually ignore. I’m halfway into buttoning up my shirt when I’m plastered against the wall, Harlow’s hands on either side of my head, one of his thighs between mine.

His eyes are a few shades darker, his aura thick and murky, almost as dark as the water from four years ago. My breath catches in my throat as I tense, my body locking up. It’s just Harlow, right? He isn’t the thing that nearly killed me. I try and fail to differentiate between the two even as frigid air bursts into the room, accompanying his darkness. That darkness of that day renders me immobile, panic swelling in my chest.

No spirit I have ever met has been able to do this.

“Fuck, babe. Sorry.” Harlow takes a deep breath and leans his head on my shoulder, his aura softening immediately. Even though he came back to me that day, it’s things like this that make him dangerous—when he can’t control his essence. “Your mom put sage everywhere again and it’s pissing me off because there’s one stack I can’t find.” He pulls away from me, glaring as he searches the room. He’s mentioned before that being in the presence of sage is like having an insatiable itch. My mother despises anything that has to do with Magila and has taken it upon herself to try and keep Harlow away from me.

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