Children of My Own

The rest of the weekend passes painfully slow.

I fiddle with my new phone on Saturday afternoon, figuring out all its bells and whistles, but all I can think about is adding a certain purple-eyed warlock to my contact list.

In the evening, I set up a SnapChat account and shamefully take several selfies which I send to… my sister. Just my sister. No one else. Ok, I sent one to Taylor who asked me if I was "down to fool around" in response. I'm 87% sure he was joking. Either way, there is only one person I'd be down to fool around with and it isn't Taylor.

Just before bed on Saturday, I masterbate. What? A guy has needs and it's Taylor's fault for making me think about Star. It's a really nice fantasy. At first I imagine his cheeks would be perpetually tinged pink, a little shy and cute. But maybe he would be more assertive and meet my own passion beat for beat. That would be hot too.

On Sunday morning, Ellie and I practice spiking and receiving with Davy's help setting. Now that he's not trying to get in my pants, I enjoy spending time with Davy, even if he's terrible at volleyball, but I keep getting distracted by thoughts of Star. Would he like to watch one of my games sometime? Or would he think volleyball was as boring as football?

In the afternoon, Ellie and I go into town to buy her a dress for homecoming. Her, Tiffany, Davy, and Taylor are all going together as friends. We settle on a gorgeous red number with a low back, but I can't help thinking how nice Star would look in red. I have no intention of going to homecoming, because people: yikes. But if Star went with me… we could dance. I bet he is an amazing dancer and if he's not, I could just hold him close all night long.

I know it's getting bad when, as I'm helping Mom prepare dinner, I start wondering what kind of food he likes. I really let my imagination get the best of me by pretending we could be together in five years. Maybe, I won't have met my mate yet and I could go to college to become a financial analyst or something. He would follow me a year later, obviously majoring in music, and we would get an apartment together. I would cook dinner for him, while he serenaded me.

And then in ten years? Would we live in the coven mansion or maybe get a small house on the border between the pack lands and hallowed forests? As High Priest he might be required to live in the mansion, but maybe he would like to have a secondary home a few miles away. Somewhere he could escape all the noise. Somewhere for just the two of us… or maybe more?

"How do you feel about children?" I ask Alastair on Monday, completely out of the blue, for no particular reason.

We've just finished reviewing how to add and subtract polynomials and we are cutting into lunch time now, but neither of us want to leave the comfort of the quiet labyrinth. I've planned ahead by bringing dried cheese and meat with me to eat and Alastair sits across from me fiddling with the pegs on his guitar. When I ask him this question, his hand freezes and his head snaps to me, but there is an amused smirk on his face.

"What kind of question is that?" I hear playful suspicion in his voice.

Fuck. This is embarrassing. No way he isn't going to get the wrong impression… or the right one. "I don't know…" I mumble. "I just… I used to watch the pups at the nursery every Saturday. Play games with them and stuff while the adults run errands or go on dates. I liked it, being with the kids, and I wondered—"

"I get it. Yeah, I like kids." He chews his lip for a moment, and I grow excited. I know that means he is about to share something more with me. "In the coven," he starts slowly, "we are responsible for mentoring children who have affinities similar to our own. I guess it's pretty selfish of me, but every year, I can't help but secretly wish one of the younger children will develop into a psion. I could teach them what I know and we could just… be there for each other… But I think it is unlikely I will meet another one in my lifetime."

"That sounds lonely." Not to mention, who mentored him? Who was there to help him when he awakened?

Alastair just shrugs. "I'm used to it. Still, I like to go to the primary frequently to be with the children, just in case one of them does manifest powers like mine. When they're in that seven-to-ten-year-old range, close to when their affinity first starts manifesting, they are just barely old enough to have real conversations with, but they are still filled with so much wonder and curiosity. I really love that age."

Curiosity. Addy said that was her favorite emotion.

"Hey, don't feel bad for me," he says, misinterpreting my feelings. "Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I'm there the moment a young witch awakens, manifesting their first flicker of fire or drop of water. They get so excited over such a simple thing; it's really beautiful."

I smile, remembering the times I've witnessed a little toddler take their first staggering steps. How happy they look as I clap and cheer them on. Truly, kids find joy in the simple things.

"What was it like for you? When you awakened?"

Alastair laughs and shakes his head. "Awakening can be pretty subtle sometimes, easy to miss. Mine was not nearly as grand or exciting as what you might expect."

"Tell me about it?" I urge.

He bites back a smile before continuing. "I was... maybe eight? when I realized I had already awakened. Addy was seven and, of course, an early bloomer. She would create little puffs of wind in my face and ask me when I was going to catch up." His eyes grow soft and fond at the thought of his sister. "Except she didn't ask me with words. Up to that point, I didn't realize it wasn't normal to hear the thoughts of one's own sister. I honestly have no idea how long I'd been doing it before then."

Addy was the first person he ever heard. My chest tightens. He talks about her so calmly now; I wonder what he is really feeling. I reach across his guitar to gently squeeze his hand. "Thanks for sharing. I like hearing more about you."

Alastair blushes and nods, but won't look me in the eyes.

"I have another question."

"Sure, ask away."

"Addy once told me she inherited her powers from your uncle and grandmother. Does that mean affinities are genetic?"

"Yes and no. Even though they all shared an affinity for air, their powers manifested in different ways. My grandmother for example—I never met her—but she manipulated air to control sound waves. Everyone's a little different and some of us more than others." He gestures at himself as proof.

"So…" I think carefully through the implications of what he is saying. "Even if you had children of your own, there's no guarantee they would be psions?"

Alastair crinkles his nose and scowls. When he doesn't respond immediately, I get the impression I've said something wrong, but I'm not quite sure what.

"I'm sor—" I begin, but Alastair interrupts me by muttering:

"Children of my own."

I can hear the bitterness in his voice, the pain, and I know I've struck on a sore subject.

"Warlocks don't really have children of our own."

"Why not?" I squeak.

He sighs, suddenly looking exhausted. "Sometimes I forget how little witches and werewolves know about each other. Even if we are supposed to be allies, we barely communicate above what is needed and share next to nothing personal. I think when I'm High Priest, I would like to throw big parties every year for us to mingle together and just get to know one another. No politics or business or formalities."

He's changing the topic, but I'll play along. "Wow. Being friends with werewolves must be pretty important to you if you're willing to host parties to make it happen. I get the impression you're not really a crowd kind of person," I tease.

He smiles, looking relieved and grateful for the change of pace. "I'm really not."