Crystal Graves [#Wattys2016]

Chapter 1

          Washed-out patches clung stubbornly to the shoulders of the faded and muted jacket wrapped tightly around the thin and wiry tight frame of Zoe Valentine. A foreigner in London, England; an illegal one at that. She had been one of the many that had managed to escape from her dying country, which was now nothing but an empty husk of its former self.

Unfortunately, Zoe hadn't kept well enough under the government's radar because if she had, she wouldn't be where she was now—waiting in the country's notorious summer weather by the side of the road for the Caster she'd been assigned to. Because that had been the deal; cast for them, and her illegal immigrant status would be wiped clean, and she'd be a permanent resident of the great U of K. If not... she would be on the first boat to only god knows where, and Zoe highly doubted she'd be told the truth of her destination.

There were widespread rumors of "internment camps" that gave her current living situation, as shitty and ugly as it was, a real run for its money, so Casting for the government it was.

          The girl who had once been a healthy buck sixty before it all started now looked like a strong wind might knock her over. Face shallow and her eyes hollow (the light once in them long since gone, and if asked, she could, in fact, give the exact date in which it had fled from her), she hid beneath the black hoodie she had on under the next-to-useless U.S. military jacket. Regrettably, Zoe knew all too well what she looked like... she looked like a junkie, though she wasn't one. Drugs weren't her poison of choice despite the people around her that she knew used for a fact.

It would have been easy to slip away into the bliss drugs offered, but she'd seen the after-effects of its use and knew she wouldn't be able to pull herself up and out of the black hole of that particular addiction... She was already in a black hole of her own precise making. 

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          Waiting in the cold summer drizzle, Zoe couldn't help but wonder if (and hope) the Caster she had been assigned to would have food and that they'd be willing to share with her. They, out of everyone else, were fed the best. If Zoe had known she had the ability, she would have registered the minute she had crossed the border, no questions asked. Food was food, and the lack of it made people do questionable things. Rations dulled out to the people with the proper papers, but illegal immigrants such as Zoe were left and expected to fend for themselves.

Sometimes she still had nightmares about the earlier days and the nights that followed her moonlit run over charred, burning land and through choppy, cold water, only to find a heavily military guarded border of the U.K. and the promise of being shot on site. Zoe shuddered at the memories and shook herself. Waiting still for the Caster, she wondered if they (as the annoying, uniformed dullard of a man, whose double chins shook every time he talked, hadn't told her who the Caster was) would know what she looked like.

"The wet-looking rat across the street." She imagined the double chin official telling the currently faceless and shapeless Caster in her mind.

In a flash, Zoe had an itch to flick off the Glass Gonad (or more politely known as London City Hall) in front of her--- so she scratched it. The light, low chuckle to her left, startled her and she jumped somewhat, her heart hammering away in her chest.

Snapping her head around to look at the intruder, she first saw his eyes. One a beautiful clear, bright blue and the other an unsettling dark black pitch to match his hair color. Zoe shuddered again, but not from the cold drizzle this time.

"Trust me when I say it feels much better to say it to their faces," he said, his English accent marking him as a native with an almost imperceptible touch of... was that Welsh? She couldn't be sure as she had only just met him, but she suspected as much.

"Kieran Cole," he said, eyes watching her.

Though the name sent a familiar tickle down her spine, Zoe looked at him oddly, wondering why the stranger was introducing himself. The silence grew around them, and the cold London weather continued on unhindered. Water misted the young man's deep forest green coat and its large, faux fur collar that crested down his shoulders.

"I'm the Caster you're waiting for, love."

"Bullshit," Zoe retorted before she could stop herself, not that she would have. She didn't have it in her to be polite anymore these days.

A cocky smile curled the corner of his mouth up somewhat. "I know. I'm rather good-looking, aren't I?" He stated, rather than asked, despite the tone of his voice. And though Zoe would never admit it out loud, the man was rather devilishly good-looking.

Eyes as grey as the stormy clouds above fixed on the man, and Zoe stared at him for a full three count in pure disbelief before she said, "I hope you've got Pepto for that backup you've got going on."

The Caster leaned forward on the balls of his feet somewhat, hands tucked into his coat pockets. "So you're sayin' I'm full of shit then, aye?"

Zoe's eyebrows raised as if to say, "Tell me you're not?"

Kieran rocked back onto his heels with an impish smile and a laugh that cut through the rain. "I think we'll get on well enough."

Still smiling, Kieran stuck his hand out to shake hers, and Zoe almost gasped. The Caster's nails were pitch black. The darkness that started at the tips of his fingers ran all the way up and faded slightly past his second knuckles.

Kieran Cole was a black magic user!