This is one of my first stabs at capturing Mike’s perspective as I started drafting the novel. As with the previous one with Lex, I was still working out some of the kinks with world-building, so you’ll see the place of mages and the secrecy of the society are very different than what ended up in the actual novel. As with Lex’s entry, this has been proofread, but is otherwise unedited, written mostly in one sitting, but part of the messy early process. ~ Bria

Mike

I, Michael Andrew Mathis, am cursed. If I told my brother that, he’d just laugh, because curses, right? Except I know they’re real, and I’m in the land of the Voodoo doll currently, where a solid half of the people around me are probably practitioners. I don’t know who I pissed off in what lifetime, but. Someone’s got it in for me.

I really hope it’s not Lex’s Goddess. That’d be awkward. You can’t destine a guy to be a witch and, apparently, a shifter-witch’s soulmate and then curse him. That’s just rude. Then again, you shouldn’t destine a guy to be a soulmate to two people totally out of reach, either. That’s even more rude.

But if not this mythic Goddess he talks about, then whom? I don’t really know anyone magical outside of the Monroes…or hadn’t until this past week. I doubt it’s anyone I met here. For one, I’ve been on my best behavior, so doubt I have offended anyone badly enough to be cursed. Unless my very existence is an offense, which I guess I could see someone thinking. But, more importantly to figuring out a timeline for cursing—the issue predates our awkward trip to good old NOLA.

I don’t know who the other magical families are back home, exactly. I mean, I can guess on some of them because they have witchy auras I can see, but I don’t know for sure. None of them have anyone our ages in them, so—would grown up witches curse me like this, just for knowing they exist? Maybe so. Maybe we’ve grossly underestimated their need to hide themselves even from humans with magical sight, which, okay, when you’ve been persecuted for hundreds of years, I kinda get, especially if could-have-been-mages were sometimes the persecutors, but. Let’s be real. Fucking up my love life doesn’t keep them safe. If anything, they should be encouraging my love life’s health, because, binding rituals or not, no way I tell anyone anything that could get my lover, or, well, would-be lover were I not cursed, or, rather, I guess, best friend hurt. I’d never do Lex that way. And, maybe I just met her, but I’m not going to put the kid at risk, either. I don’t get how I, of all people, am some poor kid’s soulmate or whatever, but whatever I am, I’d never do anything to hurt a kid. She’s the same age as Lex’s baby sister, for fuck’s sake.

So, anyway, that’s part of the curse. I mean, I don’t know if I buy this “soulmate” stuff, anyway. Or might not if I couldn’t see the silver cord tying the three of us together. I mean, I always bought it growing up – Lex was my other half or ma moitié, as they say down here, or mon âme soeur, as Lex insisted after French class and some time on Google translate while he was writing his binding vows. I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t know that. He was so enthusiastic about the trip and the ritual, I thought maybe, just maybe, we were getting somewhere, but.  A whole week we’ve been here and, even the night after our binding ritual, he refused to say anything, or make a move. Maybe I really messed up. Annie wanted to see us kiss a couple of months ago and I just laughed it off. So did he, then, but he was really quiet after I took her home. But I didn’t know what else to do.

What if I didn’t like it? What if kissing a guy, even him was just too weird? What if I freaked out and hurt his feelings?

What if I did like it? Christ knows I’ve imagined it enough times—you don’t have a best friend whose supposedly your magical soulmate and who you know has kissed every age appropriate queer guy in town without wondering what it would be like. But I’m straight. I think. At least, I’ve never wanted to kiss any other guys but Lex. But I also don’t want to be some “It’s only him” cliché that downplays the fluidity of human sexuality and the reality of the lived experiences of guys whose very identities are marginalized. If I liked kissing Lex, I’d have to rethink the whole straight thing. What if it opened up some kind of floodgates? I mean, it wouldn’t be the worst thing, I guess. Except to my parents. Who’d blame Lex. Especially my dad. And his belt. Anytime he thinks me and Lex are getting too close…it’s not pleasant. I don’t want Lex to ever see or even know about that. I don’t know what he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty, and he’s too powerful and precious. I can’t risk him doing something that exposes his magic to a bigot like my dad, and, the thing is, as much as secrecy has been drilled into him from birth, if it came down to protecting me, I know he would.

So, I don’t think I can make a move. Or, rather, I’m over thinking it too much to do so, and am pretty sure I’m being chicken shit in not doing or saying something. But for all the catting around he does with boys and girls both, Lex has never looked like he wanted to make a move on me, either.

Maybe we’re both just cowards. Or maybe what we do have is too precious to risk on wanting more. Maybe we’re both just selfish that way.

At least in Mag Corps, he won’t have to keep hiding, and they’ll expect us to protect each other as a bonded pair. We’ll be expected to protect the rest of our squad, too, of course, but if there’s one thing the magical community takes seriously, it’s this soulmate shit.

So, what the hell kind of Goddess throws a 12-year-old kid into the already messy mix? Maybe six years won’t be a big deal when she’s 30 and we’re 36, or when she’s 100 and we’re 106 (witches are scary long-lived). But it’s a hell of a big deal now and will be for the next decade, at least. Lex isn’t helping by pointing out that the magical community considers folks fully grown up at 16—especially shifters, with having animal halves that mature faster than humans. Maybe she will be able to marry and the rest of it in four years. But I’ve grown up believing you don’t mess with anyone under 18 if you’re that old or older, and 18 and 24 seems sketchy to me, even if we wait based on my “sensibilities,” as Lex calls them. Of course, she’ll probably be married and a mom by then with this messiah prophecy crap. Sorry, with her betrothal to the Witch Queen’s son and their prophesied child. I shouldn’t call it crap. But there’s only one Messiah as far as I’m concerned, and he didn’t have a tail. Sister Mary Francis would have my hide for suggesting otherwise, let alone a female messiah. Honestly, I think if the supernats ever wanted to come out of the broom closet, the matriarchy would be the biggest piece for anyone to swallow. What government would really deal with the Queens fairly rather than look for their husbands? Queen Elizabeth II being a constitutional monarch doesn’t help. The supernat queens aren’t figureheads. They’re terrifying, and their rule is absolute. Even though Lex swore Queen Esther wouldn’t go against the Goddess’s will in making us soulmates, I didn’t think I’d breathe while I waited for her to accept my vows to Lex as marking me as part of her community. I’m just a mage, after all, and an illegally trained one at that. Or, if not illegal, then unsanctioned. Apparently the Monroes should’ve asked for permission before training me, but no one ever had given permission to train a six-year-old before.