F – Found

The fairy warmed my tea as I sat in the coffee shop sketching the newlyweds trying to quietly argue. The wife is mad he conjured her clothes to cover up. What she was wearing was perfectly fine.

If I wove my magic into the drawing just right, it would replay this scene. Capturing their every emotion.

A cup was placed in front of me. I didn’t look up from my work.

“Sorry wrong table. Didn’t order anything,” I said. I took a deep breath inhaling the bitter mocha mixed with cinnamon. I shivered at the memory.

“I know. I did,” he said sitting to my right, between me and the exit.

Panic gripped me. How did he find me? It had been two years since I left him. One since I spotted him on the street by my apartment and I ghosted out.

I glanced at the exit. I could make it.

“Don’t. I have people waiting outside for you if you run.”

Shit. “I’m not going back.”

“You’re my wife. You belong by my side,” he said watching the couple I was sketching.

“You used me for my magic.”

“Of course I did. You knew that before we got married.”

“You fed me bullshit about undying love, not that you wanted to experiment with my empathy to become immortal or manipulate people in your company to finance the project.”

The bastard shrugged. “That was business.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be business.”

He pointed to the couple I had been drawing. “Do you remember when we used to bicker about things like that?”

I said nothing and started looking for another way out.

“I need you to come back home.”

“I need you to go back to the pits of Hell. I’m sure it’s chaos in your absence.”

“I see you haven’t learned any manners since you left.”

“So, how was this supposed to play out? I see you, go into damsel in distress mode and you cart me off like a dragon to a tower?”

“I have your sister. Do you want me to pull the plug?”
“I have the power of attorney. You can’t touch her,” I said, arms crossed.

“Not since you were declared dead,” he said, tossing the papers on the table.

I skimmed it quickly.

“You used the guy in the courthouse that had his emotions bound?”

He smiled. “He begs for emotions like an addict seeks their next fix.”

“You’re a monster,” I said, tossing the papers at him.

“I’m not the one that figured out how to turn your empathy into a weapon. That was all you.”

“It was an accident.”

“I’ve always been one step behind you. I’m never leaving you alone. You can change your name, your hair, even charm your face, but I’ll always find you. You’re mine.”

I laughed.

“Prison. That’s why you haven’t filed for divorce. Your secret will get out and they’ll take your magic and lock you up forever.”

“You know that was an accident,” I said. He wasn’t the only thing I was running from. The day my magic took a life, I knew I had to get out.

“You killed him and then you ran. It’s a pity. I could make it all go away if you come back,” he said, grinning.

I’d had enough. I sorted through his emotions.

“It’s not going to work this time.” He showed her the ring on his finger. The circle on top was silver and reflected like a mirror, but it had a rune carved into it. “It blocks you from using my emotions.”

I could still reach his emotions, despite the ring. His main motivation was greed and jealousy. If he couldn’t have the power himself he’d have me or no one would.

It would let me study them, but not use the emotions to fuel my spell. However, I’d learned a new trick on the run.

I winked at him and used my hatred of him to fuel my own spell. I replaced his emotions with fear and sadness, and dialed them both up to eleven.

“What did you do?” he said, starting to hyperventilat. Tears flowed down his face. He couldn’t move, all he could do was cry and try to process the exaggerated emotions.

I got up to find the people he had waiting. I’m not one hundred percent sure how long that spell would last. I haven’t tried it on many people, because it’s so dangerous. Some people recover in a week, some in a day, and others are still in La La Land. Depends on how well they deal with emotions.

I was going back to get brought back from the dead and file for divorce. I’d rather be in jail for the rest of my life powerless, than run from him one more day.