#5 Easy Love Spells That Start Wor

[fluffy-marshmallow-heart]

A Twist of Fate ch.30 -True Love's Despair

The Elementalist au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

words: 2299

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This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

  Beckett was able to avoid his friend’s questions Thursday, but when Friday arrived, they both jumped on him almost as soon as he walked in the door. Late. Again.

“Happy hour!!” Tom cried. “I have permission to stay out until 8pm!! But then I have to put the kids to bed so Jesse can have a break…”

Beckett rolled his eyes. “I don’t think we’ll be out that late, guys. It doesn’t take three hours to drink two pitchers.”

“What I’m saying is, there’s no rush. Jesse and Melissa are both worried about you. They can’t believe Oriana just up and disappeared.”

  “There were a few uh…select words Melissa used about the situation.” Dave grimaced.

“She’s coming back.” Beckett replied. “Don’t talk bad about her.”

“She was actually wondering who you’ll be spending Christmas with?”

Beckett blinked. He hadn’t even thought of the holidays that were fast approaching. “I haven’t thought about it. I’ve never been big on celebrating holidays, it was never a big thing in my family. So…I’m probably doing nothing.”

He frowned thinking of his last encounter with his parents. If they knew Oriana was gone, they’d probably be thrilled. Katrina had called him a couple of times, but he ignored the calls and didn’t return them. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll…see you later.” He mumbled, turning on his computer and getting settled. Overall, he was feeling better. He was no longer nauseous; his friends were making sure he was eating. He was still barely sleeping, but it was better than nothing. All the same, he was broken, and only Oriana could put him back together. He knew neither Dave nor Tom would be as forgiving when she showed up again. Or their wives, apparently.

At this point…I wonder if it’s even possible to forgive her. She’s been gone five days without a trace.

He tapped his pen against the wooden desk. He’d called all the area hospitals and police stations. He had managed to get through to Shreya, and she seemed genuinely surprised that she hadn’t heard a thing. It was the same with Zephyr.

There was only one person left he could think of to get in touch with, and he really didn’t want to find his phone number. Is it worth it? What will he do if he finds out she’s missing?

He pondered the question. But he needs to face facts. It’s possible Oriana went back to Chase, and as soon as he’s done doing god knows what to her as punishment, he’ll send for her things. Shaking that from his thoughts, he searched the internet for his phone number. Once he found it, he took a deep breath…and dialed from his work phone. It rang twice.

“Hello?” The voice sounded through the speaker.

“H-hi, Chase, this is Beckett. Harrington.”

The was a pause on the other end of the line. “The fuck you want? How’d you get this number?”

Beckett cleared his throat nervously. “I was wondering…uh...if you’ve seen…”

Suddenly loud laughter crackled through before Chase spoke again. “She left you, didn’t she? It was only a matter of time, loser.”

“But…”

“Look, I don’t know where she is, but she’s not here. And if she shows up, her ass will be on the street anyway. I know she’s been fucking you, but I didn’t give her permission to, like I did with…”

Beckett hung up, anger coursing through him. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to call that guy. But at least Oriana isn’t there.

He felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. Relief that she wasn’t with Chase, but disappointed because he had nothing else to go on. But as long as her things were still in his house…there was hope she’d return.

Turning back to his computer, he opened file after file, inputting notes and adding instructions, going through the motions as though he was on auto-pilot. At lunch, Dave dropped a sandwich off at his desk that Melissa had made him. I can’t believe someone else’s wife is taking care of me…making sure I eat. This is ridiculous, I have to pull myself together. I can use the locator spell later, to hell with telling her I wouldn’t use it. This is my life and I’m going to put it back together. I have plenty of her things, it’ll be easy enough. She’s had enough space. No more.

Nodding to himself about his plan, he attempted to focus the rest of the day, and when 5pm rolled around, the three men went to their usual bar.

Beckett hadn’t been planning on drinking a lot as he was going to search for Oriana right after, but his glass kept filling up with fresh beer. Since he didn’t drink all that much, by his third glass he already felt a bit tipsy. The guys were talking about anything and everything that didn’t evolve around relationships. Beckett was half-heartedly chiming in every now and then. He knows they mean well but…

“I’m going to find her tonight.” He suddenly announced. “I have a lead and I’m going to use it. I’m finishing this drink and I’m going.”

“What’s the lead?” Tom asked uncertainly.

Beckett just shrugged. “Let’s just say I have access to some excellent resources.”

“Then why did you just drive around looking? Why not use those resources before?”

“She told me not to.”

Dave spoke quietly. “Look, Beckett…it’s been five days. I hate to say it but…I don’t think she’s coming back or she would have by now. I hate seeing you so distraught every day and now that it’s the weekend…”

“We won’t be around you all day to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” Tom finished. “And honestly…we’re all pretty pissed at her for doing this to you. It’s not right.”

Beckett slammed his glass down on the table. “You guys just don’t understand. You don’t know the full story. The things she said to my parents? She defended me so fiercely and with so much passion. You didn’t see it. You didn’t hear it. You weren’t around her on a daily basis, you have no idea what she’s truly like. Something bad happened after dinner and it triggered a flight response in her. She thinks she’s protecting me. She literally thinks that leaving me was the best thing she could do to protect me. It’s not that she doesn’t love me because she does. It was the last thing she said to me. So I would appreciate it if you would all lay off her, because I will get her back. And then you will accept her again as though she never left. Nothing is her fault. It’s not my fault. It just happened.”

He picked up his beer again and downed it before noticing his two friends were still staring at him, surprised by his outburst.

“What?” He asked angrily.

Tom finally managed to speak. “I’ve never seen you be this vocal before. In fact…you’ve never been this assertive. It’s just surprising.”

“Do you need help? Whatever you need, we’ll be there.” Dave added. “I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t realize…you didn’t tell us exactly what happened. I shouldn’t have assumed to know anything. Seriously, Beckett, let us help you. That’s what friends do.”

Beckett blew out a breath. “And I told you before, I don’t need help. I can do this on my own.”

“Of course, you can. But you don’t have to.”

Beckett looked back and forth between his friends faces and found himself nodding. “Okay. If what I have planned doesn’t work…then you can help figure out my next move. But let me try this first.”

For the first time in a week, he had hope that he was going to find her. He’d go home, get one of her bracelets, perform the spell, and have her back within the hour. He was completely positive.

  Meanwhile….

  “Have a good weekend, Oriana. See you Tuesday. Let me know if you want us to still screen your calls.”

Oriana looked up from her desk and gave her colleague a half-smile. “Thanks Linda. Enjoy your weekend.”

“Are you doing anything fun?” Linda asked

Oriana thought about the plan she had for the evening. “No. Not even close. See you Tuesday.”

It was 5:05 on Friday night and she was leaving the Aquarium along with everyone else. She’s been doing this every day since she ran away from Beckett. She couldn’t believe she hurt him. The guilt was eating her alive. She’d shut off her cell phone, so she wouldn’t be tempted to answer his calls or call him herself. She knew he was worried sick, literally, she was nauseated and throwing up on a regular basis, and she knew he wasn’t okay by any means. She wasn’t either. In fact, leaving him took the last amount of strength she had, and she’s been miserable ever since. She was starting to question whether she’d made the right decision or not.

She knew he’d called looking for her, but she was having the secretary screen the calls for anyone not business related. She’d given Linda several names specifically, and if it were one of them, she was to inform that Oriana had not shown up all week.

She felt terrible for lying, terrible for making her colleagues lie, and terrible knowing how Beckett felt when Linda told him she wasn’t around. That’s what was making everything so much worse. The fact that she could still feel him. She’s been searching for ways to block it, but so far has come up blank. Just like magick is innate…so are these types of connections.

There was a cab waiting to take her to Beckett’s house. She’d told everyone that her car was in the shop getting fixed after being rear-ended, but now that it was the weekend, she needed it. She was hoping that Beckett’s friends persuaded him to go to the bar that night. They hadn’t been out just the guys in a while, and she had a feeling they would drag him there even if he refused. She was counting on it.

Normally at this time of day, she just made a lap around the block a couple times before returning to the Aquarium. She’d unlock the door, slip back in unnoticed, locking it behind her. It was a well-equipped building with tons of supplies. There was a couch in the employee lounge that she slept on, there were extra blankets, laundry machines, microwave, refrigerators, and extremely large showers. Monday after work she’d gone to get several new outfits and toiletries, since all of hers were at Beckett’s and also picked up food for the week. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but she managed, and no one knew what she was doing. But now she needed to do something different. She’d found a nearby hotel that gives discounted rates for long-term stays. She was only booking by the night, but had an agreement with the manager to not be forced to switch rooms if she stayed. Each room was equipped with a small kitchenette, a television, fridge. She’d stay there until she found an apartment, which she’d already found a couple online she’d tour this weekend. Another reason she needs her car. She’d even taken the coming Monday off in case she needed it, in case, miraculously, she found somewhere she could move in right away, or needed to continue her search.

Driving across town in the backseat of the cab, she let her tears silently fall as she kept thinking of Beckett’s face when she’d physically harmed him. It was the exact thing she was terrified of the entire time she’s known him. He should have listened to her when she said she wasn’t good for him, that she was dangerous.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding as the car approached her house. Only Beckett’s house now. She thought miserably. She was right, there was no sign of him. His car wasn’t there. Paying the cabbie, she stepped out, inhaling the fresh air, letting the cold wind dry her tears. She knew what to do. She went inside.

  Several Hours Later…

  Beckett finally arrived home, glad his friends let him go after he’d sobered up a bit. As he approached his house, his heart basically stopped beating. His driveway was empty, Oriana had come while he was out. Cursing under his breath, he dashed inside, calling her name and running up the stairs into the spare bedroom, stopping short when he saw the empty dresser drawers and empty hangers in the closet. There was nothing in the room. He went into the bedroom they shared, already knowing what he’d find, but needing to see it. Sure enough, everything of hers was gone, including any dirty clothes that hadn’t been washed yet. He tore through the upstairs rooms, not even noticing that several of his shirts were missing as she’d taken them with her.

Numbly he went back down the stairs. There’s nothing left. I have nothing to use to find her.

Walking into the kitchen he immediately noticed something left on the counter. He picked up her key and stared at it, wondering if he could use it to locate her, quickly muttering the spell…but nothing happened. He felt nothing. There was no pull, no sense of direction.

That’s because technically it’s not her key…it’s my spare key. We never made one just for her.

Realization hit him like a freight train. She’s really gone. She came here, she was waiting until she thought I would definitely not be home. And she knows me well enough that she was right.

He collapsed against the wall, sobbing. There was no way to find her now.

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[shalegas34]

bizarre love triangle chapter 7

Macquarie called me into his office on Tuesday, the day before we flew.

"How much do you know about rare earths?" he wanted to know.

"Nothing," I admitted.

"I've got some old investor presentations from Asian competitors. See what you can pick out about the extraction processes. I want to know what Crownsdale's doing differently."

Macquarie's eyes sank slowly into the dark circles underneath as he spoke. Say something funny, my brain chanted. Make him laugh.

"Yeah man," my capricious mouth produced. "Porter won't know what hit her next time you talk."

"Would you take this seriously," Macquarie snapped and I spontaneously pyrolysed.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Take it as a chance to learn something as well. You have experience in mining, right?" Well, peripherally. "Prepare a bit and you'll make a good impression."

I elected not to say anything else, but that really bummed me out for the rest of the day. Being the master of good decisions that I was, I sent my Northstar presentation to Macquarie later that afternoon, as if checking my work would help him wind down from being held hostage by a hundred conflicting deadlines.

I left at five without exchanging another word with him, feeling like the world's greatest jackass.

At least Princess Monster Truck was due for release from the vet's. I convinced Leila into giving me a lift because the place wasn't too far out of her way, but then had to carry the cage along with my stack of rare earths bedtime reading on the tram back to my apartment. I made it all the way to page 4 of the first booklet, leafing over to reveal a full-page photo of a shiny steel pressure vessel, before people started clearing the seats around me.

That night, a cat under each arm, I went through an entire bottle of wine and shoved every single one of those motherfucking investor presentations into my brain, brutally ignoring anything about corporate governance and remuneration which kept the task possible. I compiled a table of process types (some companies worked combined mining/concentrating circuits, so I classified on the latter) against cost per tonne of product, making a note of any environmental or energy-saving innovations which had been highlighted. I then grouped these by metal, and region.

I sent the whole lot to Macquarie at 10:03pm in an email titled "Everything". Drunk me thought the variety of content didn't do this subject justice, so I included a selfie of myself and Princess Monster Truck splayed on the floor with my laptop.

He replied at about midnight, congratulating me on my enlightenment and complimenting the cat's healthy appearance. Even this total lack of personal engagement wasn't enough to dampen my mood and my raging crush. 'I'll meet you at the airport at 3,' he added at the end. 'Take the morning off.'

I slept pretty well that night. It had indeed been too long since I'd dealt with my problems by drinking.

---

I was on my second train en route to the airport when Macquarie called.

"I'm emailing you my ticket," he said frantically, as one of the kids and Sydney yelled at each other in the background. "Can you check me in?"

"You're still at home?" It had just gone 2.50. There was no direct train from the east.

"I'm only twenty minutes away," he replied. A door slammed and I heard the sound of a plane flying low overhead. What?!

"But you catch the Glen Waverley train," I spluttered like an uncontrollable conspiracy theorist.

"It's cheaper to park outside the city," Macquarie said shortly. "I commute from Mount Plenty."

That was one of those new suburbs, way out north, where Monash University had recently snatched up a dirt-cheap lot of land. I was shocked, but remembered Sydney worked at Avalon; maybe this was a compromise. I doubted my reasoning.

"Got the tickets," I assured him as my phone pinged.

I waited at the gate after checking in, my leg bouncing as I examined the floor. I'd never been to Adelaide before. I was actually kind of excited.

Macquarie rushed in as the business class boarding call went out, puffing like a steam train. He'd intended to keep that pace working on the plane, but my presence was clearly too alluring (a joke). The flight degenerated into a long-overdue conversation about the past ten years.

Neither of us mentioned the wedding, but there was plenty to dive into without going there.

"Did I ever tell you, I actually got done for insider trading after the plane crash," Macquarie started it off with a light yarn. "Argued it of course. I thought I was gonna die after all. Paid the profits off to charity and they let it slide."

"Nice. Which one?" I asked.

Macquarie shrugged. "Can't remember. I let Sydney choose." He was blushing.

"How're they holding up, anyway?" Sydney hadn't checked up on me, but I'd hardly done any better.

"They say the control's therapeutic," Macquarie replied. "Don't ask me how. Sounds worse than the NYSE, the shit that goes on at Avalon."

I did find it odd and more than a bit embarrassing that Sydney had gone for reimmersion to deal with their near-death experience, while I ran away into more obscure territory with each passing day. Here I was, about to visit a mine as a hedge fund representative.

"'37 was as good a time as any to start over," Macquarie continued, looking in my eyes as he talked, which was intensely distracting in the close confines of economy. "We had Travis by then, of course, but Mattie was born in Melbourne. Wasn't easy when Sydney had so much going on, but Sally really helped us out, and I don't mean just by giving me a job. She helped us with the downpayment, and got Travis into a good school."

I stared at him. On the one hand, I was appreciating his beautiful face and my attention wasn't going anywhere, but my inner conspiracy theorist was ticking hard on the other. Macquarie had conveniently skipped over the '37 crisis, but something had obviously gone wrong for a millionaire banker to end up here. Was there another reason Macquarie accepted all of Sally's equity deals?

Get a grip, I sniped to myself. I was meant to be selling Northstar to investors. This was no time to start having doubts.

Macquarie spent the rest of the flight reminding my unreasonably disappointed ass he was married and loved his family. The painful part was that he didn't even need to spell it out; I could tell just by the way he spoke about Sydney, and gently paid the kids out, and never complained once about their housing downgrade.

I really needed to crunch out my feelings. I was convinced he could tell, though that might've just been my repertoire of reciprocation fantasies tainting my judgement. Even the thought of getting kicked out as another lovestruck secretary was mortifying (not to mention that I wanted to keep spending time together).

Luckily, landing in Adelaide cast my one-track mind to other matters (we were multi-track drifting at the very least). The weather was perfect, and skies were blue for a riverside stroll once we'd arrived in the CBD on the airport shuttle. We had about an hour to kill before our bus left at 6pm for a 12-hour redeye.

"You know," Macquarie said suddenly as we stood on the wide-curving stadium bridge, and his face was a bit red. "I don't mind everything that's happened. If our lives hadn't changed, we wouldn't have considered another kid. I wouldn't have had the chance to be friends with you again."

I couldn't even resent the 'friends' part. There were almost tears in my eyes, I swear to god.

I slept like a log on the bus thanks to my late night and the familiar motion and roar of the engine. The first couple of hours I'd spent filching tips for next week's investor presentation; though my slides looked fly, I didn't know if I was confident enough to pull it off. Macquarie disappeared down the back for a phone conference after that, so I went to sleep to stave off the boredom. When I woke at about 5, he was back beside me, murdering his laptop keyboard on email to the Sundance administrators. I was sad I'd been out for most of the trip, then remembered I was trying to get rid of my feelings.

So much for that. I was crushing harder than a Mohr's 10.

We arrived in the mining service town of Kittle Downs a smidgen late at 6.45am, after having to detour round a flash flood a bit further south.

"We're meeting Johann at 7.30," Macquarie said. "Breakfast?"

I nodded.

I got some coffee and a small, overpriced pie, and Macquarie went with a soggy egg and mayonnaise sandwich. Johann Kostler picked us up in his ute at 7.30 on the dot, and we bumped out to Northstar along a network of pitted roads as the last of the sunrise dissipated.

"That's Stokes River," Johann said, pointing out to our left at a muddy slick in the distance. "We're just out of the desert here, so this is prime real estate." He laughed. "We're building a new water treatment plant to keep it fresh."

He went on to explain how most water used in the plant ended up in tailings ponds. A small portion was recycled, and an even smaller portion discharged back into Stokes River. The existing precipitator could only handle the former, so an EPA crackdown had mandated an overhaul if the mine was to stay open.

"Tell us more about the expansion," Macquarie got right to the point.

"Of the treatment plant?" Johann was confused.

"No, of the mine," Macquarie clarified.

"We have a 70% stake in a prospect to the east, if that's what you're talking about," Johann said. We were pulling into a carpark, surrounded by a cluster of weatherboard offices. These had once been white, but everything here was now covered in a thick layer of brown dust.

"We plan on developing it," he said shortly. "I don't think we'll have problems raising capital to buy the other 30%."

The visit was surprisingly useful for my understanding. I hadn't thought I'd get much out besides an affirmation of what was in my slides, but seeing the business in the flesh let it really fall together in my head. Despite (or perhaps because of) my original line of work, I'd never gone past the loading port of a mine before, let alone into the heart of the crushing and flotation circuits. "If we developed Wattle we'd use the same plant," Johann explained. "The economics would be solid."

I was, even after everything, pretty keen on the process machinery which lined the landscape. Maybe I missed my old life more than I cared to admit. I noticed Macquarie had gone strangely quiet; perhaps he was startled to see me upbeat about something for the first time in my life.

"I'm staying to talk shop with Johann," he said once we'd found our way back to the front office. "Feel free to take the bus into town. Be back at the station by 5.30."

"Can I ask," I butted in before he could escape. "Why'd you come all this way to meet him?"

"I don't want a record," Macquarie replied simply. He scrutinised my conspiratorial expression and relaxed. "Don't worry about me,” he said, amused. “Stick with our plan for the presentation; I'll write you something about Sundance you can put on the end."

"Have you seen my slides?" I asked, secretly thirsting for him to validate me.

He shook his head. "Sorry." He didn't have to explain. "But you've seen the mine now. Just remember, this is what you’re selling. A stake in all of this.” He waved a hand over the scrappy buildings, the dusty flotation tanks, Stokes River running resolutely in the distance. “You'll be okay. See you tonight, yeah?"

"Sure," I said. "Good luck." I nodded towards Johann.

I stared out the window during the 25-minute shuttle ride back into Kittle Downs, wondering how I’d sunk to this level. All I’d wanted was a fresh new career, and my uncontrollable brain had dumped a crate of emotional baggage all over itself to start me off. The harder I tried to break out of it, the more excessive it got. Macquarie just had to look in my direction and I was having a full thirst breakdown.

However, I was multi-track drifting again soon enough. I’d just settled into the town tavern for a desensitising afternoon drink when a pair of young tradies, the splitting image of 20-year-old me, commandeered the other end of the bar and began to argue.

“Mate, I’m not going with you,” said the one on the left with the wavy black hair. “Katy hates the city.”

“The Greens are razing the place. Try moving once you have kids,” his friend said sourly.  

“Cut it out,” Black Hair replied. “The mine isn’t closing. They’re building the water plant now.”

His friend laughed raucously. “With what? They haven’t paid us in a month.”

Black Hair sighed. “They got the money.”

Something dawned on his friend, who straightened up. “Fucking hell, Bry. Really? What did you say to her?”

“Nothing!” Bry protested. “I just mentioned Katy that one time, and she hasn’t quit talking about it. You know what my mum’s like.”