First Born

A day that started with Marci was always going to be an odd day.

Matt’s phone chirped.

“Marci. Marci. Marci. Marci.”

He woke up groggy, somebody had summoned him at 4am and he had decided to skip his earliest class because by the time he came back he was utterly exhausted, and needed a couple hours sleep. The request was a complete sex change, so it included a very complicated series of spells- the woman wanted working ovaries and even a set of eggs. It took time and care, he didn’t want to ruin it for her. He frowned for a moment, her price had been high.

He absently groped for the phone and picked it up.

“Marci?” His voice was still croaky from sleep.

“Get up. You’re meeting me for some food at Cafe Amrita…I know you don’t have another class until 4pm so don’t even try to blow me off.”

Matt sat up and used his free hand to rub his useless eyes. “That’s a fifteen minute walk away, Marci. You couldn’t have chosen one of the many places that were closer? Why are you calling me so early, anyway?”

“Early?” He could hear Marci scoff at the end of the line. “It’s after noon.”

Matt pinned the phone between his shoulder and his ear to keep his hands free. He gripped the watch he fell asleep in last night to feel for the time. 1:43. Damn, he slept through two classes. “Why do you want to meet me anyway?”

“A friend can’t meet a friend for a friendly in-person conversation? Witches need to stick together, remember that?”

“We’re not really friends Marci,” Matt got off his bed and shrugged on a shirt. He yawned and gripped the phone with his hand again, “We have a mutual friend.”

“Same difference. Meet me in thirty, don’t be late.”

She hung up and Matt sighed. Marci was always hard to get a read on. Even worse over the phone.

As he got ready to go and meet Marci, he thought about life. It had been surprisingly good lately…After meeting Elektra he could actually feel the life spark back into his eyes. She was invigorating, a whirlwind of powerful energy and excitement. She was amazing.

Elektra was a Matchless, she wasn’t overly fond of the coven and uninterested in connections…but her magic was remarkable. They just clicked in that way, and her magic was just as strong as his. Not only that, but she knew about him and his senses. It was total honesty- something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

For the first time they met, he hadn’t even known she had magic. She had a very good shielding spell on herself, he barely noticed the subtle buzz that surrounded her. It was only the second time they met that he realized that odd buzzing wasn’t a coincidence, and he took her shields down forcibly. That resulted in a very fun reaction and impressive sex.

He didn’t need to pretend around her, they sparred together, laughed together and thought about their future. Matt thought he might just begin to love her, but it hasn’t gone that far yet- and he didn’t know when he was going to truly cross that sacred line.

His thoughts wandered back to Marci as headed out the door and began the walk to Cafe Amrita. Her relationship with Foggy had been very rocky lately. Despite the fact that Matt hadn’t been hanging out with Foggy all that much after meeting Elektra, he still noticed that Foggy was fairly stressed. It may have been because of upcoming midterms…but Matt had a nagging suspicion the majority had to do with Marci.

The screaming matches were easy to hear even without super senses.

As he made his way down the sidewalk and swayed his cane side to side everybody around him gave him a wide berth. Which was helpful, considering that he was deep in thought, and wasn’t paying much attention.

Cafe Amrita had a very distinct smell though, and he had to admit that Marci always had good taste in food. Their coffee was smooth, and apparently ‘beautiful’ as Foggy had put it when they went there together. When asked how a cup of coffee could be beautiful, it was explained to him that different designs were often decorated on cappuccinos with the frothed milk…yet another thing he hadn’t ever known about due to his sight. It wasn’t as if his father was going around drinking fancy cappuccinos in his childhood.

He thought Foggy’s description made up for his loss, though.

“It’s like a -hm…sorry Matt it’s hard to describe. It’s like a swirly mixture of light browns and white. The white froth in your cup is shaped like a heart, and mine is shaped like a leaf. What makes it particularly pretty is how smooth the colors fold into each other. Like they just work together…in some kind of coffee and milk froth harmony.”

Matt always enjoyed Foggy’s descriptions of the world. The way he pictured things was poetic, and never failed to boost Matt’s mood. Even though they were still difficult for Matt to envision, with his super senses…Foggy just rounded out the world- he gave that extra bit of information that Matt needed to make a picture in his mind.

He had found himself missing Foggy this past semester. They were taking the same classes, but at different times. While Matt was free, Foggy was often gone and vice versa. It wasn’t as if they didn’t see each other everyday, they did, but it was only for the brief moments before they headed to bed. Weekends were occupied by their significant others- which made Matt just a bit less guilty over the fact he had been spending his weekends with Elektra.

Elektra was demanding, but not entirely inconsiderate. The occasional weekend he sat down with Foggy and watched a movie…but most Sundays were spent at some extravagant restaurant or Saturday at a fancy opera house- in which Elektra always ended up with just a bit more jingling jewelry then she had originally. The illegal activities in which they partook didn’t necessarily bother Matt, it’s not as if they were hurting anyone, just “inconveniencing the entitled” as Elektra had so eloquently put it.

She had a habit of going slightly overboard, but that’s why Matt was there. He was her restraint and she was his audacity. It was a perfect balance, one that they both needed.

Soon enough Matt had made it to the cafe. He could tell by the wafting smell of Colombian coffee beans and fresh-baked bread. He turned to the front door and carefully let himself inside. It was bustling, but not overwhelming…he could hear the steady uptick of a heartbeat, one he assumed to be the hostess, based off the light perfume she seemed to be wearing.

“Excuse me?” He asked with his best smile. “Is there anyone there to help me find someone?”

The woman’s breath picked up and her clothes brushed by her skin as she took his arm without his permission. He hated when people did that, “Yes! Of course!” She said with a twittery voice, “Would you like a table? How many?”

Matt took his arm back and continued to smile, “I’m actually looking for someone named Marci? She’s supposed to be here.”

As soon as the words left his lips the familiar magical tinge of Marci appeared in front of him. “Matt. You’re late. Come join me, don’t worry sweetie he’s with me,” She said to the hostess, then held out her arm. “I’m offering my arm.” He gripped her arm and she led him off through the swarm of the cafe. “The chair is one foot in front of you slightly to the left.”

He sat down and opened his mouth to speak but she spoke first.

“Let’s get down to business. I’m breaking it off with Foggy, ” Matt closed his mouth, opened it again, then closed it. “Oh don’t act so surprised, this was a long time coming.”

“So why are you telling me?” He ventured carefully.

“Because you are Foggy’s best friend- and he is going to be devastated. Midterms are coming up, I didn’t want to do this before them, but it’s become to much for me. I still care a lot for Foggy and I don’t want him to fail his classes or fall into some swirling depression.”

Marci paused and picked something up in front of her, “I’m starving, by the way. I’m ordering a cappuccino and garden panini. They don’t have braille menus, but…” A brief wave of magic bursted into Matt’s perception and she handed him something. “This’ll do.”

He took it into his hands and felt the bumps on laminated paper, menu items neatly listed. “Thanks,” He said.

“I would’ve told you to do it yourself, but we both know you’re a Claimed first-born and want to keep low.”

Matt tried not to let the surprise show on his face, “Why would you get that impression.”

“It’s pretty obvious, Matt. You disappear randomly in class, have no connections in the Witching community, and avoid mentioning your magic like it’s the plague. The only people who act like that are people who have a charge. Don’t worry, I’m not like my parents, I don’t care.” A waiter came by the table and lightly asked whether they’d be ready to take their orders. Marci ordered and so did Matt.

“When did you find out?”

“After some conversation with Foggy where he wondered why you barely used your magic,” she explained. “I also noticed you are distinctly lacking a Totem, that was really my main clue.”

Totems were like wands, they allowed Witches to execute their magic without the assistance of Latin phrases, and the more religiously inclined of Witches believed it allowed them a straight path to spiritual guidance. The majority of Witching community had them, and they’re often passed through families as heirlooms…pieces of jewelry were the most common. Wands were considered outdated and medieval. Matchless rarely had Totems, and since Matt wasn’t raised in a Witch’s family he was never given a Totem.

Marci’s was a bracelet. It made little to no noise on her wrist, and was made of some kind of expensive metal, it had a slightly thick coating on the outside that smelt faintly of old dye- so he imagined it was painted with some design, or unnatural color. Probably very old.

“Well, you’re not second in our class for nothing.” Matt knew it was a slight jab. He was first in their class.

“Anyways,” Marci ignored the slight. “Since I am to break up with Foggy very soon, I would like for you to arrange to meet him a bit more. Maybe give a break on the honeymoon phase of your relationship with the Greek.”

“Foggy knows how to handle himself Marci,” if anything Matt admitted to himself he was the more dramatic one. Foggy had a way of compartmentalizing things, he didn’t let things get to him.

Matt found this out after he became markedly aware of how many people liked to talk about Foggy behind his back- and Foggy knew about it. They were jealous and spiteful, and bothered Matt to no end… but Foggy took it in stride and never complained.

Matt fixed it though. After a short meeting in a hallway, an accidental trip with his cane, a pin of the wrist, and a few choice words- they had learned their lesson. Even apologized to Foggy, which he accepted with a confused visage, while Matt stood silently beside him…He most certainly did not make a threatening face behind his glasses, and did not curl his fist with the precise intention put it in their view.

It’s all semantics.

“Might be so,” Marci answered. “But Foggy likes to bottle up his emotions, and then pushes them down even further with a bottle of scotch. He might look perfectly happy go lucky to you, but he won’t be.”

“Okay, I’ll watch out for him.” The smell of coffee suddenly overwhelmed him and a warm cup was placed into his hand. He gripped and smiled up at whoever handed it to him, “What’s the design?”

“A spider’s web,” the server easily answered.

He smiled down down at his cup and tried to envision it.

“Have you ever tried to use magic to fix it?” Marci asked suddenly.

Matt furrowed his brow, “Fix what?”

“Your eyesight.”

Matt frowned suddenly and took a careful sip of his cappuccino. Nobody had asked him that question before. “No,” He said simply.

“Why?” Marci was ripe with curiosity, but obviously careful- afraid to offend. It made sense, she didn’t like skirting around questions, but Marci was an inherently good person. Matt made note that although Marci’s ambitions were shark-like, she was never one to stab anybody in the back- or hurt anybody she didn’t dislike.

“Because it makes me who I am,” He inhaled deeply and let the coffee overwhelm his senses…like a thick fog of scent. “I don’t even know if it would work, it could have consequences.” I don’t even know if it would take my other senses away.

There was an awkward silence while Matt continued to sip at his coffee. Before Marci made a slight, nearly imperceptible gasp, “I nodded.”

Matt chuckled, “And if I weren’t blind, I’d miss out all those blessed silences when people nod and I don’t notice.”

“How would you ever notice?” She asked.

“Intuition,” Matt let himself smile at his inside joke.

“Matt I have another question, and I’d really like you to answer honestly- I’ll know if you don’t.” Marci leaned in.

“What’s your question?” Matt asked curiously as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Since we both know you’re a Claimed first-born…and Foggy owes his first-born. Working under the assumption that your charge is Hell’s Kitchen and Foggy is from Hell’s Kitchen. Were you the Witch who did it?”

Matt hummed, and aimed his head toward Marci. “I am.”

“You could put in a claim, I’ve been reading, asking some questions,” she said carefully. “If you somehow had parental rights- as the one who made the contract, you’d have first dibs on his kid. You’re Foggy’s best friend, you could work something out.”

Matt scoffed, “Not in the million years would the coven let me raise a first-born. I’d be doubling up on jobs, and you know how much the coven hates that kind of thing….I’d also need a genetic claim to the child- as a parent. We both know I’m not getting married to Foggy, and genetically it’s impossible.”

“Magic does some pretty remarkable things, Matt,” Marci continued. “Keep in mind that chromosomes are chromosomes, you both have your XY pairs….And don’t come crying to me when the church bells are ringing and you and Foggy can’t afford to pay for the wedding reception.”

“You’re ridiculous, Marci.” Matt shook off her words and didn’t let himself dwell.

“Am I?” Marci always had the last word.

Their lunch went on fairly silently after that. Matt didn’t order anything other then the cappuccino, so he ended up leaving Marci to her own devices while she ate the rest of her panini. He left his money on the table and gave a brief goodbye before heading to his class.

He felt odd after the conversation with Marci, he could hardly concentrate on his class, and instead found himself zoning out. Had he been ignoring Foggy? He didn’t think he was, it’s perfectly normal to spend a lot of time with a new girlfriend. He lives with Foggy, how could he possibly ignore him?

The thoughts about Foggy’s first-born and possible solutions took a small piece of his brain. It was eating at him as well, but he didn’t want to let himself think about it more than was strictly necessary.

His classes were boring. The only one that barely caught his attention was Intermediate Witchcraft Law, he and Foggy both took it…But Foggy had his in the morning, and Matt took it later in the day. They did a good job studying together.

At the moment, he sat in class and listened as Professor Johnson got to Module 13.

“First-borns! How much do you know about them?” Johnson asked the class in a loud voice and there was a smile in his tone. “Come on! Somebody must know something about them. This is one reason why people are so frightened of Magical folk. Why we burned Witches, why there’s the constant fear they’ll steal our children.”

A tentative female voice came from behind Matt. “Well, uh. First-borns, in terms of Witching Law, are the children who were taken because their parent decided to make a deal with a Witch.”

“Ah, yes,” Johnson sounded pleased. “You’re absolutely right, Ms. Smith. Do you know what first-borns do?”

Smith continued. “They usually work for the coven in some way or another. I knew a kid who just helped file papers. They actually live alone now, and know their parents, they were just raised by a Witch. The Witch taught them how to work.”

“Do you think this is right, Smith?” Johnson continued.

“I don’t. I don’t think that anybody should be forced to do a job.”

“Do you think the Witch who made the deal with the first-born’s parents…Do you think they’re a bad person?” Loaded question. Matt’s mind provided helpfully.

“I think it’s horrific. They must be at least slightly morally compromised… Why would anybody want to even do that kind of work? Take somebody’s kid away from them? It’s wrong.”

Matt frowned, very viciously, and his face came together in a scowl. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask for this at all- she’s so ignorant- so wrong. Yes, Johnson’s question had been meant to lead her in this direction…but he hadn’t expected her to condemn him. Don’t people know what Claimed first-borns are? He didn’t ask for his charge, they forced him to the do the wor-

“Murdock? Have something to say? Seems like something is bothering you,” There was still a smile in Johnson’s voice.

He was startled out of his inner-turmoil and took a breath. “Yes, actually,” he began slowly. “Smith is very wrong, I think the fact summonings happen in the first place is wrong in itself. If a Regular decides to summon a Witch and it has a consequence, they made that choice, not the Witch.”

“Wait, Murdock- slow down,” Smith spoke again. “Why would somebody make the choice to even do the summonings? Somebody has to come, right? That’s not a Regular’s choice, that’s a Witch’s choice.”

“That’s not a Witch’s choice,” Matt fought to keep his voice down. “Do you know what happens to magical first-borns?” Matt tried to turn around and pick out the girl from the crowd of people- but he couldn’t. So he settled for turning his face in her general direction.

“First-borns can’t be magical, they’re from Regulars- only Regulars do summonings.” Smith argued.

“That’s not true,” Matt said clearly. Johnson hadn’t interrupted, and just stood silently while they had the conversation. “Just because a Regular summons a Witch, that doesn’t mean they can’t have children with a magical person. Whether that be an Inkling, Matchless, or even another Witch. Do you know what happens when they have a magical child?”

Smith was silent, before speaking again. “No, I don’t.”

“That child is taken from their parent and becomes a Witch. They’re trained by another Witch sent by the coven, and then given a charge. They’re the ones who do the summonings. They’re the ones who doll out the consequences. They’re the ones who were stripped from their family and given a job they can’t help.” Matt took a breath and continued on. “In fact it’s a bit ironic, the Claimed first-born them self is the one forced to do a job that put them there in the first place.”

“That’s exactly right, Murdock,” Johnson said. “Do you have a counterargument Smith?”

Smith hummed vaguely and then spoke, “I hadn’t know that…but with the new information, I think that I’m inclined to agree with Murdock. It’s unfair for anyone to be forced to do a job- and that includes the first-borns who are apparently force to do their’s.”

“Does anyone disagree?” Johnson said to the class, his voice rising once again. “It’s alright, everybody. You can disagree- everybody has their own opinions, I want to hear them.”

Matt could hear a few heartbeats slightly rise, but nobody raised their hand or spoke out loud.

“Well,” Johnson continued. “That’s alright. Now lets get further into the concepts of magical law in terms of Claimed first-borns, shall we? Magical first-borns are taught by a Witch just like any other first-born, but instead given the specific job of doing summonings…”

Matt began to zone out of the lecture, again. He knew he had an advantage in this module. There was no need to listen to the information he already knew. Though it was always odd hearing people speak about these kind of subjects as if he didn’t exist. To have an intellectual conversation about the morality of his own life was a bit irritating.

He wasn’t a part of Regular’s lives and he wasn’t a part of the Witch’s either. He was thrown between both worlds and disliked by both. He always most closely aligned with the Matchless, but as a member of a coven was still shunned by them, as well.

It still hurt to not feel a part of anything, but he had lived years this way…and yet there was no such thing as getting ‘used’ it.

Class ended and he gathered his things and got up to leave before Professor Johnson’s voice interrupted his inner-thoughts.

“Matt? Can I talk to you for a second?” The use of his first name was curious. Johnson had walked up to him, Matt’s things were still gathered at the desk there was a tape recorder and Matt was halfway through putting away his braille note taker.

“Yes, Professor Johnson?”

“Oh, just call me William…Or just Johnson if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s not class hours anymore and constantly being called by professor makes me feel old.” Johnson laughed.

“Okay…William.” The name felt off in his mouth. It felt disrespectful, as always, to call someone much his senior and a professor, no less, by their first name.

“You did well in class today, you have a lot of knowledge on the subject. Which is expected, considering you’re a Witch.”

Matt nodded, of course Johnson could tell. He was a Matchless, and like most Matchless he had a sense of when somebody was magical, “Yeah. It’s a Regular’s school though, it makes perfect sense to teach as if you’re teaching Regulars.”

“Matt, you missed an assignment that was in class last week. I just wanted to let you know- you leave class occasionally, I think that was what happened last week. It’s not a significant percentage of your grade, but if you have a legitimate excuse I’d be happy to let you make it up.”

Matt remembered. As always, somebody had summoned him in the middle of a lecture. He didn’t know that there was an in-class assignment. “I would like to make it up,” he hadn’t told Johnson about his status as a Claimed first-born. He didn’t feel the need to. “It was a work issue.”

“Matt I know this is a personal question…” Johnson ventured. “But are you a Claimed first-born? That would be a reasonable excuse, after your passion in class today, I just assumed.”

Matt couldn’t help his sigh. This day had just been full of questions hadn’t it? Constantly reminding him of his lesser-than status. First the conversation with Marci, then the debate with Smith, now Johnson was interrogating him. “Yes, I am.”

“That would be a reasonable excuse,” Johnson explained. “Just take the coven’s log and hand it over to me next time you have a situation like that. I’ll take it on trust that you had a summoning last class. You can trust that I’ll keep this to myself, Matt.”

“Thanks, Professor Johnson.”

“William.”

“William.” Matt nodded and finished putting his things away.

He was looking forward to go back to his dorm and listen to an audio book.