forever and never [reed]

As Marisa finished her thought, Reed took a silent breath. Reed wasn't a monster, and of course, the wizard was relieved that she didn't think he was her enemy. And yet, there was another part of him buried deep beneath the expensive suits, proper etiquette, and expertly honed wandwork that felt provoked by her words. "  I'm not scared of you" felt like a challenge, and Reed was all too aware of his motivations. The darkness inside him was like a fire that never indeed went out. No matter how deep he buried it, some ember would burn eternal. There would always be some sliver of the reckless, broken teenager he'd been once that wanted her to be afraid of him. That wanted everyone to be scared of him.

Pulling away from her, Reed looked at the Runespoor across the kitchen. Slowly, the serpent moved along the cage wall; its three heads pressed up against the glass. Reed could hear it humming softly, eerily, three tongues flicking in and out as if it could taste the hostility in the air. Marisa's words were like venom, and Reed could feel her anger like electricity in the air. And beside them, the Runespoor seemed energized as well. It slithered back and forth pressed up against the glass, agitated.

It had been a long time since anyone had dared to scold him like she was, and even longer since someone had gotten away with it. And Reed fought every instinct to correct her. To inform her that she was wrong, and after the shit, he'd done tonight for her, he did deserve to know more. The wizard wanted nothing more than to let go of his control and let the other Reed sink his teeth into the situation. But he didn't. He wouldn't. He would never be that person in front of Marisa.

So instead of telling her to leave, or demanding the answers he was owed, Reed exhaled softly and said nothing. He continued to pull bits of glass from her hands and refused to meet her eyes. Not because he was backing down. Reed knew there was a difference between losing and deciding not to play. And arguing with her wouldn't get him what he wanted. "Won't matter..." he said as she mentioned the Marchesi mansion in Italy. "You'd never make it there. They've likely got someone tracking you by now." Reed pulled another shard of glass from her hand and paused to look for any more remnants in her palms before he pulled away. Instead of responding to her anger, Reed poked holes in her new plan. He'd removed all of the glass, but her hands were still torn to hell and that pain coupled with the stressors of the night, he doubted she'd be able to apparate to the living room, let alone to the Italian coast.

He turned to face his Runespoor, giving her his profile which she traced, her hands still turned up for him and his quietness made her feel on edge. Made her very aware that she had spoken out in anger and spite and fear and that she was already half-regretting her words. But not completely. There was something he wasn't telling her and she had hinted at the question, had almost asked, but also hadn't. She knew it was a question she needed answered but she wasn't sure if she was ready for it. She couldn't even hold her wand. One issue at a time.

Marisa inhaled the slowest breath, the action feeling loud in the silence and his lack of response felt even worse than his anger directed at her just a few moments ago. She couldn't drag her eyes away from him even though she knew she was staring. It was like trying to decipher a puzzle, but having no clue what to start. She knew him, in some ways so well, and yet, he felt like a stranger too. A stranger who had saved her and protected her and knew things she didn't.

She swallowed thickly as he turned back to her hands, his refusal to look at her made her feel smaller. She wanted to take back everything she said and shout at him to say something all at the same time. Marisa stayed just as quiet instead. His tracking tidbit made her eyes widen as her brows knitted together. "What," she whispered even though she had heard him perfectly. They could track her? They were after her specifically? But why? What did she have to offer other than some expensive garments that they could have already stolen from the shop? Her thoughts strayed to the shop, what state it must be in, the sinking feeling of shirking responsibility she felt from running away. She bit her lip as she glanced down at her palms, flexing her fingers enough to know he had gotten the glass out.

But then the thought occurred to her. If they could track her to the mansion, could they... She glanced up at his door, expecting someone to burst in any moment. "Your wards?" she asked, wanting to know how strong they were. She knew it might be a silly question given Reed's expertise and job, but the fear still hung about her.

Whatever, she'd figure out what to do after she was healed and got her thoughts straight. She grabbed her wand, confident she could do the healing spell now that the glass was out and she said the incantation but nothing happened. Then again. She felt her cheeks go hot before she glanced back at him and put her hands back in his, hating to ask, but allowing herself anyway out of necessity. "Would you mind?" she heard herself asking, glancing down at her hands. "And the backs of my arms?" she rushed to tack on. Might as well get it all out at once. She could still feel the blood trickling down. She hadn't even known how she had gotten cut there.

She would worry about how to make it up to him later. After she found the strength to ask him the question she desperately needed to know. But not yet.

Reed knew what he'd said would scare her, but that had been the desired effect. And even though he understood he might have been trapping her here, he didn't care. It wasn't safe for her to go outside yet, and if that meant she'd have another reason to hate him, then so be it. He was saving her life, and he wasn't asking her to thank him, but it'd be nice if she made it a little less challenging to do so. In a few hours, maybe by the morning, he'd bring her to the Marchesi estate in Italy himself if she wanted, but for now, they just had to stay hidden. And he was reasonably confident there was no better place to do that than his heavily enchanted skyrise apartment.

The wizard gave Marisa a curt nod when she asked about the wards, "They'll hold. No one will find you here, and even if they did, they couldn't get in." Reed figured whoever was after her, and had been brazen enough to send men into a Marchesi shop, had some pretty decent wizards working for them. Men and women who were smart enough to know how to use less-than-legal magic to find her. He imagined they'd likely use some blood magic, assuming she'd left any behind after the fight at the shop. He was confident in his charms and warding spells, but indeed he'd reinforce them soon, to be safe.

Marisa reached for her wand, and Reed lit a cigarette, holding it between his thumb and forefinger as he took a slow drag and watched her spell fail. He didn't say it, but a part of him wondered if she would ever take his word or if she'd always have to figure out the truth for herself. Even when it hurt her, he also wondered if he'd respect her less if she weren't so headstrong. "Would you mind?" She asked, and he nodded silently. He set the cigarette in an ashtray on the island, and it smoldered as he reached for his wand again. "The backs of your arms?" He asked as the smoke he'd exhaled lingered around his face.

Reed stood up and moved around her chair, surprised by her request and wondering how he possibly could have missed such an injury, but as his eyes rolled up her side and to the back of her arms, he made a slight "Hmm," noise.

"Marisa, there is nothing wrong with your arms?"

She exhaled slowly as he told her the wards would hold. It alleviated her fears a tiny bit, not completely, but at least she didn't feel the need to keep glancing at the door as if waiting for some men to come bursting in like they had at the shop. Well, that need didn't go away completely, but rationally she knew she didn't need to. Marisa knew she could trust him on that much at the very least.

The smoke hung around him, the smell tickling her nose, and she gave him a nod at his question as he moved around her. She sat still, patient, preparing herself for the healing sting. Instead, he surprised her. She glanced quickly up at him, her brows knitted as she said, "No, I can feel the blood." She moved her shoulder forward and her arm back as she twisted her head to look back and down at her arms. "I must have gotten cut during the.."

He was right. There was nothing there. No cuts, no blood, nothing. She could hear her heart beating in her ears again as she double checked the other arm, again nothing, and then frowned down at her hands. "Oh, I was so sure, it felt like it was bleeding," she said softly, reaching back to touch her arm with one hand, her fingertips trailing slowly down and then she looked down at her fingers almost as if she were expecting blood.

She gave him an apologetic shrug as she glanced back at him and then that's when it hit her, her face losing color: it wasn't her blood dripping that she had felt, it was from the vision. Blood everywhere, razor thin cuts but deep, the Cruciatus. Reality mixing with her visions again and with the stress of the attack she hadn't been able to tell them apart. "I thought it was mine, it felt so real," she said soft as a whisper, speaking more to herself than him. This level of confusion over visions wasn't something she was used to. Or perhaps it was because she was out of practice, avoiding her Sight as much as possible.

Reed wasn't sure if she imagined things or if these phantom cuts on her arms resulted from trauma. It wouldn't be unheard of for someone's recollection of a terrible event to shift slightly, he'd seen it before, but in his experience, it usually wasn't so fast. He moved back around to face her and watched as she checked each arm and then ran her fingers over the area to be sure. It must have been quite the trauma if it seemed real to her, but Reed found her words perplexing.

It wasn't just that Marisa thought she'd cut herself or that she remembered feeling the blood; it seemed like she still thought it. Even now, even knowing and seeing with her own eyes that the backs of her arms were unhurt. That concerned Reed the most, and it showed on his face. His arched eyebrows pulled together, and Reed observed her before speaking.

"What do you mean, you thought it was yours?" Reed couldn't understand what she might have meant, but he listened close enough that they confused him. As if she remembered it still, even though she shouldn't. As far as he could remember, nothing had happened to the backs of her arms, his, or the men that had come to take her. He supposed there might have been a chance that one of the men was wounded, and he hadn't noticed it, but he couldn't see how that would translate to Marisa thinking it was her arms. It just didn't make any sense.

Reed picked back up the cigarette from the tray and flicked the long ash into the ceramic dish before bringing it to his lips again. He continued to watch her, standing close but not too close and far too invested in what she might whisper next to chance sitting down and missing it.

His question made her press her lips together, almost as if that would help keep the truth from accidentally spilling out. She didn't know how to explain it to him otherwise. How could she tell them that when that man in the shop had attacked her, touched her she had seen her brother tortured and flashes of that vision had felt so real that she had confused reality with her Sight? How could she explain that the sensation in the vision of Marco being tortured was something she was still carrying, something still affecting her even know? Her arms felt bare, exposed. She wanted to pull on a jacket, but with a glance at her hands, she knew she wouldn't be able to do that.

She swallowed thickly as she tried to think of an answer for him. And while she had never been great at lying, out of habit and history, she was usually good at lying about one thing. Except for now.

Because right now, she couldn't think of a single thing to tell him, other than the truth. But she hated the truth and she hated telling people the truth. She trusted Reed, but she didn't know if she could trust him. She recognized that it was a ridiculous thought considering what he had done for her tonight, even though she didn't understand why or how. Not yet anyway. One thing at a time.

And the one thing she was trying to sort out now was an excuse. Marisa glanced up at him, standing close, watching her with those eyes that seemed to notice everything. She licked her lips nervously, but as she met his gaze, she found herself speaking. "I-I saw it, felt it really. I have.. visions." The words felt tight in her chest and she wanted to snatch them back out of the air. She looked back down at her hands, easier to say the rest without looking at him. "I have the Sight and when that man touched me--" the word said with vehement disgust "--I had a vision of Marco. He was being tortured. He was tortured," she edited, changing it to past tense, knowing somewhere in the world it had already happened. Her chin quivered at the thought of her little brother being hurt like that. "I have to find him, Reed. I don't know what trouble he's got himself into, but I know something terrible's happened."

The smoke billowed around the cigarette at the end of his fingertips as Reed listened to Marisa. Every word she spoke seemed to wipe away some of the fog that surrounded her, metaphorically. Reed moved his hand away, getting rid of the smoke growing between them physically, and nodded. She saw it, felt it, and he nodded again.

For a while now, Reed had suspected there was something extra-special about Marisa. He'd always known she was a singular witch, unlike any he'd known before, but it wasn't until now that so many things were finally becoming clear. She never wanted to make physical contact; she was damned guarded about everything, and how she calculated every movement rivaled his tendencies. And now it all makes sense. She was a Seer, which made her even more powerful in his mind, and Reed stepped back as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Marco... your brother?" He asked, sure he had the name right, but saying it anyway. Marisa had looked away, and Reed wanted her to look at him again.

He followed her gaze down to her hands and heard the change in her voice. If it were his brother, he'd of torn a new doorway to hell to get him back from whoever had him, so Reed understood the need to help. And he decided right then that he was going to nominate himself for the job. Whether she agreed or not, he expected she could use him. "We will get him back and teach the fuckers who took him in the first place."

Putting the cigarette out in the ashtray, he'd finished more than half of it this time; Reed sat back in the stool next to hers. He picked up the towel, and as calm as ever, he slid his hand under hers, with the towel between, and now he understood why.

Reed thought about what she had revealed as he quietly began the spells to heal her hands. With the glass removed, he hoped it'd barely feel like anything as the wounds sewn themselves closed. "A seer, then, eh," he spoke softly, one cut after another closing quietly. "And here I thought you just weren't that into me," The wizard couldn't help himself, and as he spoke, his eyes turned up toward her, and that familiar cheeky smile rose on his lips.

Reed has this way of listening that felt like he was doing more than just hearing, like he was gleaning information from the words she didn't say, from the pauses and silences in between. Like he was reading her as easily as he did the Daily Prophet and it made her feel like she would break open at any moment. She hadn't known how he would react to her confession, but he was as cool and calm about it as anything else. All business and somehow that made it easier for her to focus. She exhaled slowly, giving him a nod as her brother's name dropped from his lips.

She tried not to see it again, she really did, but the memories -- no, vision -- of Marco being tortured swam up to the forefront of her mind again, his anguished screams chilling her to the bone and making her shiver. It was the dark promise in his tone that made her look back at him, nodding slowly. "Tonight?" she asked, daring to hope that she could do something immediate to save him. It was like the world was permanently tilted knowing that Marco was somewhere, badly injured.

Marisa felt a yawning feeling, as if the ground was opening up underneath her as a thought occurred to her. "Reed," she said, her voice urgent, an edge of panic. "You don't think he's.." She couldn't say the word, swallowing thickly as her heart raced. She didn't have many people in this world - her mother, her brother, a few friends. Marco meant the world to her. She met Reed's gaze as he slid his hand under hers, the towel between them. "I only ever see the past," she explained to give him context. "And it was terrible, what they were doing to him. Do you think they would.."

She couldn't even speak the words into existence, the mere thought threatening to derail her again. Of course, she would have the Sight and not be able to do anything useful with it like stop something like this from ever happening. Marisa struggled with her dark thoughts, the dim threads of hope getting dangerously tangled with her fears and worries as he healed her hands.

"Don't," she implored, her tone raw, her voice breaking on the syllable as she felt an unrivaled sense of vulnerability that she hated. Calling her for what she was? Joking about it? It was grating against her already fraying nerves and she wasn't quite sure how to handle it. She didn't tell anyone this, ever so she was sorely out of practice on how to feel light and humored over something that felt like such a burden. "It's not personal," she told him instead, noticing the way his smile finally went up to his eyes, the frigidity that she had seen there a ghost of the past.

Then she frowned. "I probably shouldn't have told you," she admitted. I shouldn't have told you was more accurate, but she looked back at him as a thought occurred to her. "I don't want you to tell anyone," she said, her voice harder but quieter. She didn't think he would, not really, but it was something she wasn't afraid of being crystal clear on.

"One problem at a time, Marisa," Reed answered when she asked if they would go after her brother tonight. While they might rally after this small rest, Reed wondered if it would be more prudent to wait. It wasn't just resting that they needed but information. They didn't know who had her brother or where and going off half-cocked wouldn't do anyone any good. Reed never shied away from going in blind, if that was what had to happen, but he preferred to at least know which game they were playing, even if he didn't know all of the rules. He nodded, though, even though he'd told her to temper her expectations, Reed already knew he'd go tonight if she insisted. Marco was her family, and Reed was the last person in the world who would stand between family and vengeance.

"If he were, then wouldn't you have seen that?" The wizard didn't pretend to understand her gift. Especially not after only learning that she possessed it, but from what little she'd told him, he thought it was a reasonable leap. If those men had killed Marco, then indeed it would have been that decisive moment that crept into her psyche, right? "I think we won't let it come to that," Reed might not have known about her gifts or the men who currently held her brother, but he was resolute in his words. And when Reed committed to something, he was a force to be reckoned with. They would find her brother, help him, and hurt those responsible, and in that order precisely.

Making a joke in such a difficult situation was one of the many ways Reed kept his head when things got complicated. He was good at weathering the storm because he could prioritize and manage his expectations, but Marisa didn't seem to find it humorous, and he changed tactics. The wizard couldn't blame her if focusing on the fight ahead was her way of coping; he understood that need, too. "I won't tell anyone, Marisa," Reed said as fast as she'd finished her plea. Still gripping his wand, Reed finished the spells that would heal her hands and contemplated his following questions carefully.

"Can you control them?" he asked, gathering intel anywhere he could, and set his wand on the island counter beside them. "If we were to go back to the shop, do you think you could touch something the men touched and glean some information?" He knew it was probably a big ask, and from her body language Reed also knew she didn't want to tell him more than she already had, but he convinced himself to ask anyway. "We need to know where they have Marco," Reed knew using her brother's name was manipulative, but he wanted Marisa to understand why he was asking.

One problem at a time, Marisa. She nodded and inhaled slowly, knowing he was right, even as she couldn't stop thinking about what she had to do next. One problem at a time, it was the same mantra she had told herself earlier, not surprised that they were on the same wavelength about this. First her hands, then her arms - wait, no, he said her arms were fine - then Marco. She chewed on her lip as her mind raced, thinking of where her brother could be, literally anywhere in the world was plausible considering his job required such frequent travel, and most importantly, what trouble had he gotten himself into? Marisa felt like history was repeating itself, her father's debts and mistakes hanging over her silently.

"If he were what?" she asked, her brows low over her eyes in confusion before she understood a moment later with a soft "Oh," and an adamant shake of her head. She swallowed, her heart thumping in her ears and shook her head again. "No, it's not like that. At least, I didn't see that," she told him. She wasn't sure if he meant that to be comforting, but now all she could think about was the possibility that Marco was dead and that she just hadn't seen it. Her stomach rolled and she lifted the back of her hand to press against her mouth, clamping down on the feeling that she was going to be sick. She could hear the thread of truth in his tone, like a promise, but she couldn't help worry about what if it had already 'come to that.'

His answer to her request was quick and reassuring, loosening something that had been tight in her shoulders. She nodded as she stared down at her hands, feeling his magic work over her palms, buzzing lightly, stinging in places where the cuts had been deeper, before they were healed completely, no trace of what had happened except for the smudges of blood here and there. Marisa flexed her fingers as she said, "Thank you," and then slide the towel toward her, wiping off the remaining blood.

She felt the throbbing pain of an oncoming headache that usually accompanied her visions and she touched two fingers to her temple as she shifted on the barstool. She knew that he was trying to help her, but answering his questions, being so open about her curse was not something she was used to. Marisa slid off the stool and went over to the sink, turning on the tap and washing her hands, answering him after a few moments. "No, I can't control them and I don't know," she told him as she thought about it. It wasn't often where she tried to have a vision. Actually, she did everything she could to avoid it, but it was for Marco and they both seemed to know the lengths so would go for her little brother.

The water ran over her hands as she thought back through the flickers of vision she had, something she didn't often delve into, but nothing she could remember gave her an indication of where. "Maybe," she said finally, realizing she had her hands under the water for entirely too long and shut off the tap before grabbing a towel. "We can go back," she said, her voice clearer as she made up her mind even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. "First, let's fix you up," she said with a nod toward him, as she came closer around him, eyeing his side where it was bruised and already swelling. "Ribs?" she asked.

Reed did not deny the slight sense of accomplishment as the last of her cuts were healed. Like everything about Marisa, tending to her hands had been extraordinarily complicated, and he was relieved the task was finished. She wasn't complicated in the material way that high-maintenance witches were, but Marisa was far from simple. Her personality seemed layered in half-truths and complicated ciphers, and Reed realized he was meeting another version of her tonight. The wizard knew about her father's gambling problems and her strained relationship with the Marchesi Matriarch, but he had no idea about her gifts. And why would he? They were barely friends. Artisan and Client, so why would she share her most personal secrets.

Even though it was far from the same thing, Reed understood the energy it took to keep people out. The wizard wore his suits like armor. Reed didn't keep secrets — he kept people the fuck out of his business. So he couldn't blame Marisa for doing the same. He knew now, though, and Reed was already calculating how they could use her abilities to help them in the fight that was coming. If they sent people after Marisa once, they would do it again, and he knew people like this didn't stop until they got what they wanted or worse.

Marisa slid out of the stool elegantly, as if she hadn't been in a firefight and injured not an hour ago, and he observed her at the sink. She said she couldn't control them, but Reed didn't believe that. Maybe she didn't know how, but he assumed that someone as clever and motivated as Marisa would learn fast. Regardless of what he thought, Reed remained quiet until she had turned back around. "We can go back," Marisa's words reminded him of why he respected her so much. He could tell she didn't like the visions, that she'd rather not go back, but it didn't matter. Unlike so many, Marisa was willing to do the hard things. She was ready to risk herself for her family.

Opening his mouth to agree but stopping short, Reed nodded as Marisa offered to heal his side. He'd been so focused on her that the stinging in his side had become almost tolerable, but as he shifted in his stool, his ribs began to ache again. Reed had been still for too long, and the muscles had started to stiffen; every breath was like tiny razor blades. Standing up, the wizard was glad his shirt was already off, or he'd of had a hell of a time removing it. Reed's tattooed muscles rippled like a breeze over water as he lifted his arm to give her access. "Thanks," he said even before she had begun.

Reed could sense the Runespoor across the room waking up again, piqued by the new atmosphere he the room, and he whispered for it to go back to sleep. "You know," Reed turned away from Marisa, sucking in a breath as she began and refusing to let her see him wince. "There is a chance it's not Marco they want." He clenched his teeth together as her magic worked its way under his skin, and there was some relief. Like hot water on cold hands, bad mixed with good, but the sensation wasn't overpowering, and he focussed on Marisa.

"Does anyone else know about your gift?"

As he nodded giving her permission, Marissa slid her wand into her hand, feeling the smooth hilt against her newly-healed hands and feeling grateful for such a simple task, something she didn't even notice until that opportunity was made painful by her injury. She was also grateful he had helped her, but as usual, she would repay in kind with action, not words. She took a half-step back as he stood, watching as the dark ink of his tattoos moved over his muscles, the magic tattoos twisting to life as she watched before she blinked, realizing she was staring for a second too long. She coughed to clear her throat, thinking over the healing spell in her mind before she gave her a small warning with "Ready?" before her magic twisted around his ribs.

Her wand hummed with energy and she dialed in her focus. Marisa was wicked with a charm. After all the designing and creating, charming her client's suits was one of her favorite parts. It was like putting together armor because she knew better than anyone that how you looked and how you dressed could be used to your benefit. She shifted with him as he turned, stepping in closer as she went over each rib, the tip of her wand drawing a line down, using more determination than was usual for her not to let her gaze stray, her hand hovering but not touching his skin out of habit. A thought swam to the forefront of her mind that he had touched her twice tonight, without her bracelets, and she had not had a vision.

That thought was gone a moment later when Marisa flicked her gaze up to him as he spoke with hissing noises, whispering sounds that she realized might be Parseltongue after a moment, her gaze shifting to the runespoor behind the glass. "You're welcome," she told him even though his thanks wasn't needed. This was barely anything compared to what he had done for her tonight. She saw rather than heard his inhale, watching every movement of his chest with acute awareness as she poked him gently, nudging him to turn more towards her so she could check and then heal the rest of his bruising. She couldn't even remember really how he had gotten these. Well, obviously in the assault, but specifically how was a mystery. "It's not perfect, but should be better?" she asked, knowing full well she was no healer but at least she hoped he would be better able to breath easier.

His words felt like a warning and she was quiet as she finished with his ribs and abdomen, the idea an echo from something he had said earlier. What did he know? Did she even want to find out? How did he know more about this than she did? She stepped back, her gaze shooting up to his as she realized the tip of her wand had been tracing a line down his abs, over the swirling dark lines of his tattoos, before she had stopped at his navel. She gave him an apologetic, embarrassed look before she gestured to the stool. "I can fix that up too," she said, touching her own brow in the spot his was caked with dry blood.

So when he got settled, she took a step closer, hesitant but oddly happy to find that perhaps clueing him into her secret made her feel more at ease. "You hinted at that earlier," she told him as she examined the cut, it was shallow enough but long. She followed the line of it down until she met his gaze. "What did you mean by that?" She heard herself asking even though she really wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. No, she needed to know the answer, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to know it. Either way, her hands were healed so this was the next problem she needed to tackle. She wanted to brush his hair back, but didn't want to touch him so instead she nudged back his dark hair with her wand and then hovered as she cast another soft healing charm, watching his skin stitch itself back together as she answered. "Yes, Moreta, Marco, my mother, maybe a few other family members, but other than that, no. I don't tell people about it," she told him, the words coming easier when she was tasked with something. She had always been good at doing the work, but the gears were already turning in her mind.

"You think someone else found out? ..Someone who sent those men?"

Marisa's magic like a whisper at first, but it soon turned into a shout, and he clenched his jaw at the feeling. Magic was a quick and dirty way of healing injuries, and while it got the job done, Reed knew better than most that it was rarely pain-free. Some salves and potions helped with the intense feeling of being stitched back together by invisible hands, but he didn't have any of those on hand currently. He ground his teeth and reminded himself to pour a double shot when her work was finished. When she poked him, he turned toward her, and Reed's eyes made their way over her.

Marisa was so unlike the witches he typically chose to spend his time around, but that was a significant part of her appeal. Reed had never been unaware enough not to understand why he found her appealing. Unlike his typical interests, Marisa didn't ask for attention, but the more he got to know her, the more Reed realized she was absolutely deserving of it. She wasn't dull or uninformed, and she was singularly gifted, as he was beginning to learn. Reed's icy eyes moved over her slowly, and the wizard made no effort to hide the fact that he was staring as she finished her magic. "Much better," the wizard agreed as he let himself slump slightly in the chair, his muscles feeling rigid from adrenaline and magical healing tensed at the motion.

Despite the burning sensation in his torso, Reed felt the pressure lifted in his sides as her magic worked its way through his ribs. Healing them one by one, the spell sounded like soft clicks that came from deep inside him, and it was a slight relief to take a breath and not feel pain. As her wand moved down his abdomen, small goosebumps broke out along his skin, and Reed bit back a different sort of feeling, one that had nothing to do with pain. "Sure," he agreed, sitting back against the stool and waiting for her to fix the cut above his eyebrow. Reed ignored the feeling of his skin stitching itself back together and focussed on answering her question instead. "Well, most times, situations like this boil down to a numbers game, and if you compare your skills against your brothers, it's simple arithmancy." Marisa had a gift others could use while Marco had gambling problems; Reed saw it clearly.

Some part of Reed found the ideal that she hid her secret from the world, not just him, to be a relief, and he nodded as she finished explaining. "Yeah, that is precisely what I think." He replied, running a tattooed finger over the work she'd just completed on his eyebrow. It was as if it had never been split open in the first place; only the dried blood below proved otherwise. Reed reached for his wand on the counter and silently summoned an undershirt from his closet in the next room. "I think they are after you, Marisa, and they are using your brother to that end." Reed stood up as he pulled the undershirt over his head and shoulders and relaxed when he felt no pain from the movement.

"But maybe we can use that in our favor." He could tell she wanted to solve this problem as if it was a stitching mishap as if it was something that could be understood and remeasured until it worked, and Reed could relate. The wizard sat back down on the stool and stared at her. "How do you feel about being bait?"

She felt his body tense, saw the muscle tick in his cheek, and whispered a "sorry" even as her focus held steady on the healing. She hated to cause him pain, but it was necessary and she could only hope she was doing as well of a job as he did on her hands. It had been a while since she had done healing work in the field or in an emergency and she didn't like the fact that it felt so foreign to her. It reminded her acutely of just how long she had been gone from her Auror days, and that distance made her think she might not ever get back there.

She tried not to notice the way he watched her. Marisa knew she should be used to it by now, but it felt differently when he was this close and shirtless and in his flat. She was glad, at least, that her hands weren't shaking as she finished the healing spells. The bite of exhaustion from the injuries and the assault and the magic she just performed dogged at her heels, but she pushed that back as she finished with the cut above his brow, leaving only a smudge of dark blood. "Good," was all she said after he told her he was better.

"Marco wouldn't do that, he wouldn't tell anyone," Marisa countered his implication with a shake of her head, her curls sliding against her shoulders. Marco was.. different from her, certainly, but he was still her little brother. He wouldn't do something like that to her.

He summoned a shirt and she almost reached for it as it passed her out of habit. Instead, she folded her arms across her stomach, gripping her elbows as his words sunk in. They were after her and using Marco as a pawn? Why though? It didn't make sense. She tried to put the pieces together of what she saw in her vision, but her mind was muddled, jumbled from tonight's events, a headache from the forced vision throbbing at her temples.

"You think they have him right now?" she asked, bringing her gaze back to him, watching in silence as he slid on the undershirt and she tried not to notice the disappointment she felt of losing sight of the dark, inky lines tattooed across his chest. Her brows furrowed as she felt him shift into action mode. It was almost a relief because as long as she was doing something, she wouldn't have to unpack everything that had happened tonight. She wasn't ready for that because she knew she might not like what she found. She had to keep moving.

Marisa's brows flew up at his question, but it was an easy one. "If it'll help Marco, I'll do it," she told him without hesitation. There was a certain fear that had clutched her heart, but it was more for her brother's sake than for her own. Flickers of her vision of him came to the forefront of her mind again and she met his gaze. She would do almost anything to get her brother back. "What do I have to do?"

The possibility of Marco having told someone unsavory about his sisters’ gifts had been on Reed’s list, but after careful consideration, it had fallen in the ranks. The wizard thought it was more likely that Moreta might have used Marisa as some bargaining chip, and the word had gotten out. The old witch was an opportunist if he had ever met one, and despite her power and reach, rumors were like smoke; no one could keep them contained forever. Jumping to conclusions was a part of his job, but Reed never did so lightly. He took the facts he knew and filled in the blanks with realism and plausibility. And Moreta being at fault just made sense, but it also didn’t matter.

“Regardless, I think someone knows, and they took your brother.” And Reed intended to get him back and keep it from happening again. He had some experience in dealing with the fallout of a little brother’s mistakes, and he wanted to shield Marisa from it as much as he could, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to do this without her. Knowing the why meant nothing if they couldn’t figure out who, and without Marisa, he’d be hard-pressed to find the culprits. “I think they do, yeah,” Reed answered as he stood up from the stool again. Anxious energy was building in him again; the more they spoke and the less his body ached. Her healing magic had done the trick, and Reed barely felt any lingering sensations. The wizard moved to the sink to wet a washcloth and brush the dried blood from his forehead.

“And that’s why I know he’s still alive.” It was challenging to make a trade with dead weight, and Reed imagined the kidnappers knew that. If they wanted Marisa and took her brother to find her, then killing him wouldn’t do them any good. It was fortunate for Marisa but unfortunate for Marco because it probably meant they would keep hurting him until they got her. And if it came down to it, Reed wouldn’t trade Marisa for her brother, but he planned on stopping it before it went that far.

“We have to go back to your shop.” Reed leaned against the counter as he turned toward her. His muscles flexed as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We’ll make them believe you think it’s over, that you’ve returned to clean up the mess and let them come for a second attempt.” It was dodgy, but Reed thought with enough preparation, they could minimize some of the risks. The wizard assumed by now the men would have had some perimeter set up on the shop. He expected a magical alarm to notify them if someone came back, and more importantly, how many people came back. If they could trick the system into thinking it was only Marisa, Reed could keep her safe.

“They will try to take you, but this time we will be ready for them.” Reed imagined he could set up some quick but effective enchantments around the shop. Spells prohibited more than one of them from popping in at once and trapping them in the apparition limbo between where they left and where they were going. It was the sort of magic most wizards frowned upon, but Reed had no quarry with dark magic when it served his purpose. “They’ll likely send more this time after fucking up the first try.” Reed had the good sense not to tell her that they only needed to keep one of them alive for his plan to work.