Page 36 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 1

“It links back to the decanter I have at home.”

Evangeline took another sip and passed the flask back to me. When I drank, the lip of the bottle was warm from her lips. She added pasta to the skillet, then poured over a carton of chicken stock and let it boil.

“When my parents adopted me, I had a bunch of burns,” Evangeline said. “All over my body. Marcus gave me something to take care of the scars, but they were…” She swallowed, stirring the mixture in the skillet. “Pretty bad. I’ve always wondered if they were from my biological parents. If that was why I was taken away from them.”

“Have you ever tried to find them?” I asked, handing the flask back over.

“Of course I have,” she said, taking a sip. “Finding people is one of my main skills. But I have nothing to go on. I was just left outside a hospital.” She fidgeted with her necklace, watching her dinner bubble away. “I don’t even know what I’d do if I found them,” she admitted.

I wished I was better at comforting people. It came easily to me with animals, but now I had absolutely no idea what to say.

“I’m sorry.” It didn’t seem like it was anywhere near enough.

“It’s fine,” Evangeline said. “I mean, my adoptive parents love me, you know? They always did the best they could for me. I got to be a happy kid, even if things got weird when my magic started to show up. We still talk and everything, but there’s a lot about my life they just don’t understand.”

I thought of the quiet disdain on my father’s face whenever I approached him with a new proposal for the council, and of my mother’s firm insistence on using any relationship I might have as a political move to be deployed whenever it would be most advantageous.

“I know the feeling,” I said.

“I’m just glad I had Marcus,” Evangeline said. The mixture in the skillet had reduced down, leaving a creamy sauce behind. She spooned it into a bowl and began to eat.

“And Marcus is your…?” I prompted, trying to quiet the jealous little creature writhing around in my stomach.

“My mentor,” she said. “I was apprenticed to him, and now we work together. Well, I work, he mostly says cryptic stuff and eats my snacks.”

“Oh. So, the two of you aren’t involved.” The little creature began to settle.

“Marcus and me?” Evangeline gaped at me. “Oh, my God, ew, absolutely the fuck not. No. He’s more like my self-appointed weird uncle. Fun-weird, not creepy-weird.”

“Found family, whether you want it or not?” I said, thinking of my housemates.

“Exactly,” she agreed. “He’s wonderful, though. Gets us both out of trouble when things go really bad. He even gave me an emergency escape,” she added, holding out the pendant of her necklace. It was a smooth piece of labradorite with a gentle dip in the middle. “A portal. It’s come in handy a few times.”

“Thoughtful of him.”

“At first, he was going to put the enchantment on a get-out-of-jail-free card,” she said. “But this is way more convenient.”

I frowned. “There are cards that let you get out of jail?”

“It’s not—It’s not actual jail,” Evangeline said, sounding like she was trying not to laugh. I was surprised by how little I minded it. “Board game jail. You know what, don’t worry about it.”

It was still fairly early when we decided to turn in. Or, rather, when the decision was made for us by the rain. It started gently, with droplets hissing as they hit the campfire, but soon it was torrential. Evangeline’s sad little tent was barely staying upright in the downpour. We scrambled to pack away our supplies and get under cover. When Evangeline unzipped the flap of her tent, water rushed out of it. She looked blankly at her soaked sleeping bag.

“Come on.” I had to raise my voice over the sound of the storm. I waved her toward my tent, and she ran to it. We ducked inside, both drenched to the skin.

The inside of the yurt was warm and welcoming. The roof beams were hung with multicolored glass lanterns, and a large bed covered in blankets and furs took over the entire back half of the tent. Plush, patterned cushions were scattered across the floor, surrounding a low table that had been built around a small potbelly stove.

“Really, really nice tent,” Evangeline said, looking around in amazement. “Holy shit. Is it… I mean, I don’t want to intrude on your space or anything, but?—”

“You should sleep here,” I said firmly. “I can sleep on the floor; I don’t mind.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your bed.”

“It’s not a problem,” I insisted. “I used to sleep in a coffin. A night sleeping on some cushions will be fine.”

“Look, the bed is huge,” Evangeline said. “It could probably fit four people. Six, maybe, if they really liked each other. We can share it.”

“Ah,” I said, praying for the earth to swallow me whole. “Yes. That seems fine.” I blinked. Was I blinking too much? What was the normal amount to blink?

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