Dream Meeting

“I can’t believe you,” I whispered loudly at Durian as a steady stream of unexpected and, sometimes unintelligible, guests streamed through the Victorian front door and disappeared into the foggy house. For a few seconds I held onto the anger, nodding at faces I recognized as they passed. He wasn’t looking at me, so I growled in Durian’s ear, “We weren’t asked to bring in the whole magical world.” Asked was a pretty choice word on my part; there hadn’t really been a choice in the matter at all.

Finally turning, he replied, “I’ve got this. I have everyone signing in with their names and then the leader is separated into the actual house you set up for dinner. The riff-raff are going to this cute little place I went to a rave in once; some kinda disused soda factory or something. There’s lots of room. They can just hang out and I’ll make sure they know what’s going on.” He welcomed in a small contingent of beings with pale skin, goth clothing, and pointed eye teeth. When he noticed I was glaring, he answered my unasked question, “Yes, I invited the leaders of a few choice vampire clans. They don’t travel alone, obviously.” He seemed far too pleased with himself for bringing a guest I’d had a relationship with.

As the steady stream lessened and we were left with the dribs and drabs of the magical community portalling in, I squeezed Durian’s arm until he squealed. “I get that this is your mind, your rules out here, but there will be no issues with this meeting lest I make rash decisions,” I purred, extending my claws into his imaginary flesh slightly until he tore his limb away.

“Relax. I got this,” he snapped, rubbing his arm and sauntering into the house.

Long before the final decision to have a unity meeting was made, I had considered it a bad idea. Yes, hosting people and beings from all corners of the planet and species encompassed in our magical community was important, but some consideration of the specific members and leaders could have been better taken care of.

I growled and stepped into the house, the outside dream fading away and a strange blank place came into view. Standing at a podium with a large book on it was Durian. When I entered, he chuckled and offered a strained smile. “Uh, so, hiccup. Some of the groups put all members down as leaders and all the leaders of a few different groups decided to put themselves down as such,” he explained, waving his hand over the squiggles on the page. Without my asking, though I was thinking it loudly enough for him to hear it, he replied, “Well, there are about a hundred beings in there.”

Rolling my eyes, I stepped to the large door set in a wall of puffy white cloud, and turned back to the idiot. “This was why I wanted to touch base with everyone before the meeting,” I snapped, walking through the door and finding myself crapped into a room with way too many people. I cleared my throat but it was almost inaudible in the din; one hundred people having discussions all at was too loud for a regular voice.

I made my way up to the front door and opened it, causing a large gust of wind to violently shake through the group until everyone fell silent. Snow began to drift in so I shut the door and cleared my throat. “Alright, everyone, it’s great to see you all but we need to cut down our number before dinner,” I announced using a silent amplification charm. When there was a small amount of murmuring, I cut them off and continued, “If you all make your way up the stairs, you will find rooms designated for your community groups. Please head in and discuss amongst yourselves who will speak on your behalf and have them come down to the dining room.”

Slowly, everyone filed upstairs until I was left in the old Victorian front room with Durian, a forest nymph, and my cat, Aster. The feline’s silken black fur vibrated as she rubbed against my leg. Now, I say cat. Technically, not really a cat: five fluffy tails, three eyes, and seven toes on each foot put her decidedly not in the cat category. She meowed, the sound echoing in my mind and making my stomach grumble.

Nodding at the others in the room, I explained, “She doesn’t have food, though this is a dreamworld so she doesn’t need it, I’m gonna go fill her bowl.” If you own a cat, you understand why even if she didn’t need it, I’d fill her bowl.

When I returned from the kitchen, there was a third person in the room. I would have recognized those black eyes anywhere; it was Terrance, my ex. “Did they actually vote you as their leader or did you force yourself onto them, too?” I snapped before he could say a word.

With that stupid “victim” charm, he clutched his heart and gasped, “Well, of course, they wanted me as their leader, Ollie.” Some vampires used their strength to threaten their way to the top, but Terrance did quite the opposite.

Durian was pacing in front of the stairs, staring into the gaslight at the top. “Seriously? This is such a bad plan,” he grumbled, taking a step up, then down.

As I was about to assure him that, while it may not be the best, it was the best current plan when Terrance grabbed my hand and turned me to face him. “I called you a while ago. Well, a few times. And, recently, too. But I heard nothing back from you,” he murmured with a pained smile. When I didn’t reply, he chuckled and pointed to the front door with his free hand. “Would you mind if I commandeered that dreamspace to show you what I wanted to in the, you know, real world?” he pleaded with shining eyes and a truly heroic amount of charm.

Nodding, I waved at it and the door opened on a silvery mist. Durian shot me a look and I rolled my eyes back. If this got Terrance to leave me alone, it was worth it.

We stepped through the mist and stepped onto a bright, sunshine-drenched building in the middle of a metropolis. Dropping my hand, Terrance asked, “How do you like my new skyscraper?”

With a laugh, I countered, “What use do you have for a skyscraper? Have you even been able to stand here, in the real world?”

“You mean in the daytime?” he growled, pulling his lip up to show off his fangs like he always did when he felt a little threatened. Rolling his eyes, he replied, “Well, you don’t know what I’ve got going on down there. An entire floor dedicated to, uh, me having a reflection again.” He puffed out his chest and tried to look as suave as possible.

I blinked. “A cure? You’re working on a cure?” I muttered in amazement. All these years, there’d never been one. Then, it hit me. With a sigh, I grumbled, “For Sadie?” All the years we’d been together and he’d been pushing for me to get turned so we could be together forever. All the lies he told to turn other people. And, now, he was going to cure himself for a wretch.

I nodded and stepped back into the house. For a few seconds, I considered cutting off his little dream, letting him rot between my mind and his, but then he stepped through. “Come on, Ollie, it’s not like there was the chance before, but now,” he pleaded.

“This isn’t a personal meeting, Terrance, it’s an important one,” I snapped, turning to Durian. “Anyone else come down yet?” I asked with a little more snap than I meant.

Nodding, he replied, “Everyone has made their decisions and the council arrived. You were out there a long time.” He made a waving motion at the second floor and I nodded.

With a single wave, the second floor disappeared and everyone was deposited into Durian’s dreamworld. I followed him into the dining room and stood in the corner as Terrance took his seat.

Nat, who was head of the witch’s council, stood up and announced, “So begin the first of many unity meetings. Everyone has agreed to the terms and we can begin with a statement from each leader, then a short break for snacks.” With a dagger glance at me, she gestured to the nymph to her right.

---

Opening statements turned into nearly an hour of general bitching. The one I thought made a good first impression was the forest nymph; she spoke in flowers, explaining that they were having an issue with a construction site overstepping the bordering forest. Finally, we reached the lycanthrope, a woman I’d known for nearly two centuries. For a start, she talked about how she’d had two pups lately born with blue moon disease and how that was an issue for everyone. Technically, yes, the disease caused the wolves to have far less control of their urges, but there wasn’t a community-led solution.

With her statement taken, Nat stood again and dismissed the group. Everyone moved into the other room for snacks while Nat dropped her head on the table and groaned. “Why did no one put any of this in their submissions to the agenda?” she asked me as I took a seat beside her.

“Well, I think partly because everyone thought they’d get a turn to speak, not just one from each community,” I replied quietly. Through the door, I could see Durian chatting jovially with a few of the naturals. Clearing my throat, I suggested, “Next time, everyone should really have meetings of their own before bringing their community concerns forward instead of having this mess. Maybe a week in advance, then a real schedule could be crafted.”

Nodding at the table, she replied, “You’re in charge. I thought Durian could handle it, since he can’t do anything else, but clearly, he’s useless.”

I chuckled and replied, “Actually, I think you should send him to the other meetings. Then he can prepare them to speak about their concerns. He can be a diplomat; he’s actually very good at speaking to people. People like him.” I envied that. No matter how much planning or thought I put into a social endeavour, it was so much work just for people to tolerate being around me. You couldn’t think yourself out of having zero charisma. As I was about to explain that I was more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person when the front door swung open and a cloud of snow swept into the room.

Everyone was shivering and staring as the snow converged into a large furry creature. Growling deeply, it motioned wildly, causing everyone to scatter. It shook and coughed before grumbling and making a choking motion. Finally, it chuckled, “Sorry, snowball in my throat. Uh, am I late?”

Beside me, Nat groaned and whispered, “My guess is that one told the yetis what time the meeting was at in their time. They’re usually very punctual.”

Tree Rings & Fire

As I shimmied along the ledge with my bare toes feeling out the best stone, my canvas bag bounced on my knee, tempting the thundering shower of water to soak it. It took a little finesse to get under the falls without getting soaked and not every trip was positive; I used to keep a few slightly-damp towels on the other side in case of mishaps and missteps. Ducking under the last little bit, I was greeted by a warm fire and the strong scent of burning herbs. Holding my hand up, I did a short incantation and wiggled my fingers. There is no less ridiculous way to describe some steps in magical casting. An inhuman, chortling sound came across my lips as I blew out, echoing like a flock of birds were unsettled somewhere in the cave. Dropping my hand, the sound stopped and I stood rolling on my heels.

“Took you long enough,” muttered a tall woman in a deep, creaking voice as she stepped out from behind a towering stalagmite of solid quartz. As she came into the light, I could make out the weathered bark of her dark face; she was like a tree come to life. Her eyes were drops of amber set in front of a flame and her fingers clasped a long, green staff with leaves sprouting from it. Covering her wooden body were layers of moss and leaves draping like a living dress.

Smiling, I replied with a slight bend of my knee, “Elowen. Good to see you again. You’re growing well.”

She pursed her lips and sighed, “I still don’t know why I’m here, Aster. I don’t appreciate being summoned without cause, especially to this side of the portal. And in particular when it’s by a-”

“-a human. I know,” I cut her off smoothly. The Lady of the Trees and I had a, well, at times contentious relationship. Most of the time, though, it was very cordial; the key was not asking her for anything, which I was about to do.

“As the Keeper of the Gate, you ought to know better than to just lollygag around,” she continued in her older-than-dirt tone, “and what’s this spellwork here for?” She held her fingers near the bowls of fire I’d set up and glared into the light.

Clearing my throat, I replied, “Well, I have been at this for three centuries and sometimes I want a little vacation.” At that, she turned to set me with a look that would melt most mortals. “And since no one ever comes to relieve me, I thought I’d try out a little alert system,” I explained, trying to keep the childish whine out of my voice, “so if anyone tried to get through the portal, this circle would trap them and I would be alerted.” Still, the piercing look. “Look, I have left this cave for very brief periods to, you know, look out at the stars and enjoy life a little, but this spell could make it possible for me to have a real life,” I concluded.

Elowen put her hand on her hip and sighed, “Well, you know why you’re here. You know what you did to find yourself the Keeper out in the land of mortals.” In all the time we’d known one another, all the way back to my birth, Elowen had been like a second mother to me; she did the whole real-talk thing better than anyone I knew.

“Yeah, I did one stupid thing and I’m cursed to live forever out here, unable to leave,” I snapped, dropping my bag on a stone I used as a table. Turning, I waved my hand to part the waterfall. With a glance back at the tree woman, I made a running jump through the hole in the water. I soared through the air and a tinkling sound echoed in my mind and between the trees; it was horribly loud and everything around me sparkled like it was about to burst into flames.

Having stepped to the edge of the falls, Elowen called, “I meant to ask how you got out into the world!” Her voice boomed and made the nearby trees shiver with terror.

“Oh!” I gasped and turned. Taking a breath, I did the long incantation to break out of the containment spell, I moved my fingers and, one by one, the web of intricate and delicate spellwork fell off. When I stood there, free from its bonds, I turned my hand to create a tiny flame and dropped it into a nearby bush. Catching immediately, it spread into a ball of fire before I trounced it with another wave of my hand. I looked back at Elowen and shouted, “If memory serves me, the enchantment stopped me from doing damage to anything, magical or not.” She stayed silent. I chuckled and closed the hole in the falls before making the short journey back up the side of the cliff.

When I returned, she was standing with her back to me. “When did you create that spell?” she asked, sounding nervous. The only other time I’d heard that tiny waver in Elowen’s voice was the day I was exiled to this shitty job. It was like she couldn’t look at me.

I chuckled mirthlessly. Touching my mouth, I replied, “Hundred years ago, maybe. Perhaps a little longer.” Suddenly, she turned, uncertainty clear on her features. “You guys didn’t want me so why would I come back? I just use it to go out into the mortal world,” I sighed. Once, it had been painful; staying here. Now, this was home, kinda. This was pretty well all I’d ever known. “I’ve seen warriors and hunters and creatures of every claw and tooth come through here, even queens and knights. I’ve done the job you asked of me and requested nothing from any of you,” I continued, feeling the anger I’d felt centuries ago bubbling up again.

“Your sister came through when she was queen?” Elowen asked quietly. I’d found that tree folk tended to not, excuse the pun, beat around the bush, so this indirectness put me off a little.

Tempering the anger, I snapped, “I saw her once while she was queen, then I saw my great-niece, and then my great-grandniece. Neither of them knew who I was.” The Lady of the Trees was staring at her hands. “Do you know what that’s like? I was erased. They, you maybe, erased me,” I murmured, sitting down on a large rocky outcrop and trying very hard not to cry or throw something.

We stayed in a state of tension for ages before Elowen finally asked sheepishly, “Perhaps you’ve been erased as the princess, but I’ve heard a tale several times perpetuated by people I would largely rely on for such information of a monster at the end of the world.” She was staring at me now, the vine-y tendrils flowing from her head swayed gently. “They made it sound like there was a horrifying, destructive beast in a dark castle, but I saw no such thing,” she continued, watching my expression, “and I certainly wasn’t caught up in something’s web.”

Nodding, I stood up and stretched my arms. I smiled at the tree woman and threw my right fist into my open left palm. The world shook, thunder cracked, and the cave around us dissolved into a jagged black obsidian castle. Where there had been a tiny room, there was a huge, cavernous throne room fit for a queen. Above our heads, a charred bone chandelier swayed lightly with candles burning. Candelabras all over the room cast bright light as gaping, organic holes punched through the stone let in natural light. I moved my hand and the doors behind me opened on a sharp outcropping of a balcony and I turned to face the sun.

“How did you-?” Elowen began, but I was taking a run toward the edge of the tower and didn’t hear her.

As my toes left the ground, I whispered the familiar, transformative words and took the leap. Spreading my arms out, my skin turned to stone-hard scales and webbing stretched into wings across my arms. Claws and teeth grew sharper and longer, and suddenly everything was fiery and hard. I flexed my wings just before I touched the ground and dove up into the air before Elowen’s shocked face. Touching down just inside the door, I padded thunderously to the middle of the room and blew a few fire rings at my chandelier. I could see the tree woman was sufficiently terrified so I smiled with sword-sized teeth and took a deep breath. The journey back was a little more painful, but I was always happy to have fingers and fully-functioning vocal cords; using telepathy to speak to people was annoying.

“I recognize that I wasn’t the right choice for queen, I really do, but I will not concede that I am far more powerful than my sister ever was,” I murmured as I shut the doors again and walked barefoot into a smaller room. This one had several expansive windows that made Elowen gasp. On the left was a view from the cliff on the other side of the portal; it was a stunning view of a large swath of the kingdom. The middle was inside the actual throne room. The right was of the ocean back home. It sparkled in the fading sunlight. Because of the twelve-hour time difference, it was morning here and soon-to-be night there. Sighing, I explained, “The mortals can only see the falls; they’re in the basement, basically.” The woman was just staring out into the world. “The containment spell only works on me when I’m there, but I don’t go out of my way to cause destruction. I may have stopped a few adventurers from getting through, but I think I was doing this world a service,” I added, sitting down on the bench in the middle of the room.

For a long while, we remained stationary. Elowen seemed in shock. I was trying to forget about everything I’d been so mad about; I’d pushed it down for so long that when it did pop up, it was almost explosive. Centuries later, the scars were still pretty fresh. I forgot them sometimes, hid them from the world and myself.

Finally, I felt calm enough to stand next to Elowen and, together, we watched a lone knight crossing the throne room with a large iron lantern. Sometimes I missed normal, boring stuff like that; it was nostalgic.

Clearing my throat, I changed the subject for us both, “To get back to the issue at hand, Elowen, as the Keeper of the Gate, I have to inform your side of the portal that it’s in danger.”

She looked at me and frowned. “What do you mean?” she asked, cobwebs of home falling from her mind.

“Mortal development, I’m afraid,” I replied, heading back to my throne room and leading the tree woman down the winding staircase and out the front door. The black obsidian rose up and around the original waterfall, encasing it entirely but leaving the entire surrounding intact; I didn’t dare alter it. Instead of a simple cliff face, it was now a cliff with a large stalagmite protruding out from the front of it, engulfing a large portion of the front like a dragon. We wandered down the long trail on the edge, taking sudden switchbacks every few minutes.

“Not very wagon-friendly,” Elowen commented when we finally arrived at the base. She was staring up at the massive, obtrusive building.

Chuckling, I replied, “I don’t get many visitors, anyway. And, even if I did, I probably wouldn’t get them from that side of the Gate.” I headed off between two trees and plucked my way along, ducking branches and jumping bushes. “It’s about two hours south,” I called back to the tree woman, pulling a phone out of my pocket. When I turned back, she was gone so I stopped and searched for good, mortal road trip music. I put on some Hendrix and slid the phone back into my pocket, working a small, powerful spell. After a few seconds, the guitar riff rippled through the trees and the world was alight with screaming strings, crashing drums, and deep beats.

Elowen finally caught up to me and we headed out as she stared around, searching for musicians. I let her be confused for a good half hour before finally explaining, “Transference and amplification charm, if you’re wondering.”

“Of your own device?” she asked, staring at me as I hummed along with a rocking Tragically Hip ballad. I nodded and kept on walking. She struggled to catch up to me and gasped, a little out of breath for a tree, “Have you written any of your custom spells down? In a book, perhaps?”

I stopped and she almost ran into me. Shaking my head, I snapped, “What? You wanna take my genius back with you? Tell everyone there that I should have had the throne? That I would have had the power to prevent three wars and hundreds of casualties over the years?” My anger was bubbling up again.

“Well, I mean, maybe it could be-” she started before fading away, uncertain what to say.

I cut her off as she found her voice, “Could be a bargaining chip? For my freedom?” For a moment, I was too angry to speak. “Or servitude? You could let them know who’s been protecting them all these years,” I growled, wanting to hurt her and the whole damn world I left behind. But I had a new job, so I just added, “I don’t serve you anymore. I protect this place from you, from your side.”

---

The next hour and a half, neither of us spoke. Birds and squirrels chatted with one another overhead as the music I was playing echoed around us; this was like my heaven. Sunlight dripped from overhead leaves in intricate, organic patterns on the mossy forest floor. Trees swayed here and there to the natural rhythm of the world.

When we reached the point where I could just barely hear the construction, I stopped and turned off the music. I stood staring up into the trees expectantly until Elowen asked, “What?”

Chuckling, I stepped up to a tree and placed my hand on the rough bark, shutting my eyes. “Oh, Lady of the Trees, can you not hear them screaming?” I purred, opening my eyes and looking at the woman.

She shook her head and replied, “No, Aster, I can’t. They aren’t alive, not like they are back home.” Frowning, she added, “There’s energy, but not that kind of life.”

I straightened and grabbed her wrist, pulling her towards the tree. “That’s where you’re wrong. Come, put your hand here,” I commanded, pressing her fingers against the trunk and taking a step backward.

For a few seconds, she stood listening, feeling. “No, all I can hear is your heartbeat. You’re stressed, worried,” she finally murmured.

“That’s not me. That’s the trees. But, yeah, I am worried. About this world,” I sighed, listening for anything larger than a raccoon amongst the underbrush; I didn’t have an invisibility charm that would definitely work on Elowen so we needed to steer clear of construction workers. “But really feel it, Elowen,” I pleaded, “Tap into that, these trees are all connected.” I couldn’t figure out a better way to help her understand this place, this world. “Look, they speak to each other, just in a different way than the ones back home. Even I can hear it sometimes,” I continued, trying to convince her with everything I had.

She shut her eyes and put both hands on the trunk, her fingers entwining across the surface as she listened. “They’re humming?” she murmured with uncertainty.

I smiled. I’d finally gotten through to her. Nodding though I knew she was focusing still, I replied, “Talking, that’s talking.”

As she continued to link with the towering tree, she spoke in a sort of trance, “It’s not in a language I can comprehend.” Breaking free, she looked around at the trees as though she expected to see a familiar face but didn’t. Suddenly, she furrowed her brow and looked at me. “That’s how you feel here? Like you’re speaking a different language?” She was the maternal woman I’d known for so long again, caring, forgiving.

“It was,” I replied, breathing around the lump in my throat, “But then I started listening to the music. The music is just fantastic. Stunning.” Emotions were roiling; not just anger, but love and peace and good things, deep things.

Smiling, she prompted, “Like that, what we were listening to?”

I nodded and continued, letting the emotions left over from the music sparkle in my words like sea glass left on the beach after high tide, “Yeah, but there’s also music with so much heart you can’t stand it. You can feel the pain and the exultation and the horror, the sadness, the joy. Through their music, the mortals have immortalized their deepest emotions, encased them in the fragile plastic of CDs and records. It’s like life everlasting, music.” Before I was entirely overtaken by the mere memories of music, I cleared my throat and pointed through the trees. “It’s uh, it’s just over there. The trees are talking about destruction, they’re pleading for it to stop,” I murmured, trying to block out the noise.

“What are the mortals doing?” Elowen asked in her official tone.

Holding my arms out, I replied, “They’re building housing through this whole area.” When she blinked at me with her eyebrows raised, I tried a different tactic. “They’re expanding their territory and creating a new settlement,” I tried in colloquial terms, “Generally, they cut everything down and then build their little buildings and streets before putting in a few new, manicured trees and shrubs.”

Nodding, she asked, “But they can’t see the castle?”

I chuckled and replied, “True, but they can destroy it and the waterfall. They want to, in their plans, use the river as part of the design of a kind of creekside oasis. But that means segmenting it behind the waterfall to have better control and flow down the way.” Elowen was trying to picture a modern mortal settlement without ever seeing one so I cut to the punchline, “They’re going to stop the flow of water from our world because the falls won’t go through the cave anymore. Actually, there probably won’t be a cave anymore”

“Oh,” she murmured, understanding the issue now, “So?”

I cleared my throat and sighed, “Well, we don’t know what would happen if magic stopped flowing here.”

Rolling her eyes, she explained in her most condescending tone, “Dear, the magic coming through is just overflow and it only affects the direct vicinity.”

I shook my head. “No, it doesn’t. I took a trip across the world and, guess what? Magic worked, in full,” I snapped, feeling hot again. Taking a deep breath, I added, “This world is saturated with a low level of magic. I have no idea what would happen if that stopped. Or if the portal were destroyed.”

Elowen started to walk back and I followed, trying to force the anger to ebb by expending energy; it worked, to a degree. “Then we would keep all the magic, Aster,” she finally sighed as though it were the most obvious and correct option. “Who’s side are you even on?” she muttered under her breath.

Running up in front of her, I threw my hands up to stop her. “Again, Elowen, our worlds are intertwined. I think this world acts as a kind of filter,” I explained. When she glared at my hands, I dropped them and continued, “The magic is unstable on the cliff back home above where the waterfall is, right?” She nodded. “Well, this world skims just enough off the top to allow the magic our world has to be useful. We have to do something.”

“Fine, what would you like me to do?” she asked, centuries of rings in her eyes. I shut my eyes and cast us both back into the throne room of my castle so we could speak more freely than that close to the mortals. Chuckling as she stared around us, she snapped, “You could have done that to get us there instead of walking two hours?”

I laughed and nodded before getting back on track. “Send someone, Elowen. Tell someone. Do something,” I pleaded, taking her rough hands in mine. Nodding, I muttered, “I can’t protect both worlds all by myself anymore. And I shouldn’t have been asked to.” I dropped her hands and stared at the throne I’d built for myself out of stone.

After a minute of consideration, Elowen suddenly commented, “You won’t become queen.”

Scratching my head, I turned back to her with a fire trying to burn through me. “I don’t want the throne, the real one. I don’t want to be anything or beholden to anyone,” I replied quietly. I chuckled and noted, “If I wanted the throne, I’m pretty sure I could have just taken it, you tree. I could have burned through your forest and killed anyone that didn’t want to bow.” The dragon in me was rearing its head in those words; I didn’t let it out much for that reason. It could protect us all, but it could also destroy everything if I didn’t keep a handle on it. “Really, I want someone, anyone, to help me fix this and then I would be happy to never speak to any of you again,” I stated, pushing the monster in me down again.

“Why me?” she gasped, still looking shocked from my well-mannered outburst.

Growling, I asked, “What do you mean?”

She searched for the right words and clarified, “Why summon me, specifically? You know lots of people over there, still. You know who’s alive with this window spell.”

I smiled. “The trees,” I murmured. Throwing the doors open to the balcony, I continued, “I thought you’d be the most receptive because, even if they aren’t in the same world or speak the same language, the trees here are your responsibility, too. It’s all one forest, Elowen.” I stepped out onto the jagged stone to survey my pseudo kingdom. When I turned back, I let the dragon’s eyes and claws come out to solidify my unspoken threat. “Even if you don’t care, you need to go back and make a big issue out of it, Elowen. Mountain out of a molehill,” I demanded, letting anger flow through. Tilting my head, I chuckled and made a pun, “Make a castle out of a cave, maybe.”

Discomfort

// TW : torture //

“Alright, let’s try it, okay?” she asked, prodding forcefully.

I glanced down at the man in the chair with his eyes gleaming and a smile on his lips. Checking my notes, I asked, “Are you sure, Dayton, that you wanna do this? It’s not too late and I won’t be mad.”

For a moment he chuckled before catching Ester’s eye and swallowing the mirth. “Of course, Tally,” he muttered, looking down at his hands.

Taking a deep breath and shutting my eyes, I murmured the short incantation. My mind started to swirl like I’d let loose a tornado and my eyes were on fire. As I turned to face the subject, I held the spell at bay; it could consume me if I let it. “I want you to close your eyes, Dayton,” I murmured, my voice echoing and thundering. He did as I said and I continued, “I want you to imagine you’re standing in a stone hallway. The walls and floor are rough-hewn and stained with years of wear. There are no windows, only a crack of light coming from under the doorway in front of you.” As though my words were the script to a movie, the room was suddenly cold stone and darkness. “Under your bare feet, the cold is piercing. Jagged cuts across the soles of your feet ache with every step you take. The blood oozes and squishes as you shift your weight, sticky and slick,” I murmured as Dayton started to squirm in the chair. Clearing my throat, I added, “Something compels you to keep going, to push open the door with all your might and you’re met with a blast of bright light. It’s just candles in a dark room, but you’ve not seen light for ages. It’s blinding but you must keep moving. Your eyes are burning. You trip on a flagstone and land on your knees.”

I paused, seeing the agony already on Dayton’s face. When I looked at Ester, she rolled her eyes and snapped, “Come on. We haven’t got all day.”

To give myself an extra moment, I checked my notes again. All I really had was the spell written on the page, but Ester didn’t know that.

“The cuts from a few days ago reopen and blood streams down your legs as you struggle to your feet. Dirt and gravel are already embedded in your skin and there’s no hope of getting them out. You can feel them moving in the wounds as you straighten. You look at your hands; there are deep gashes across them and when you go to brush the dirt from your knees, the peeling skin tears and the gravel is further embedded,” I stated, trying to hold the magic at arm’s length, but my hands were starting to itch. Shaking my hands out, I tried not to notice Dayton groaning. I pressed on, “You walk to the middle of the room as though moved by an unseen force. There is a bench, which you sit on and wait. Your eyes are adjusting and you can now see the room is lined with tables, chairs, and benches. People in various states of torture are seated or lying before you. Some have deep cuts across them, others’ chests are open with organs on the floor. The metallic taste of blood permeated the air and every breath you take is rancid.” Dayton was breathing raggedly now and I looked to Ester for guidance.

“Just keep going. He’s fine,” she snapped, tapping her clipboard.

Nodding, I did, “A man appears in a lab coat that was probably white once. Now, it’s stained and burned and covered in viscera. He doesn’t speak but smells strongly of rubbing alcohol and something you don’t want to think of. He mimes holding his hands out at you and you feel compelled to mirror him.” Dayton moved his arms and I had to take another calming breath; this was always where these things went bad. “He turns his back and returns with a large knife caked in something dark red. You can practically smell the blood as he approaches. But maybe it’s just from the woman with her intestines wrapped around her neck who keeps coughing blackened viscera,” I continued as Ester jotted down notes with her scratchy pen. “He rests the point of the blade just below your elbow, lightly pressing in until a slip of blood drips down to your leg. You itch to resist, to walk away, to run, but you’re rooted to the spot. Suddenly, he digs the knife in deeply and follows the vein to the wrist, blood hemorrhaging,” I murmured quietly as Dayton started screaming. He was shivering and jerking.

“Keep going,” Ester demanded, glaring at me.

“Dropping that arm as the tear began to ebb away your consciousness,” I continued, speaking loudly over his cries, “he takes the other and does the same. This time, he drops the knife and holds the wound, blood pooling at his feet. You can smell it, the darkness coming. With his fingers on either side of the wound, he pulls it apart and you shriek. You can no longer feel your other hand, but this one is throbbing. Your toes are numb. The smell of your own blood is in your nose. The limpness is creeping up to your thighs now, moving towards your heart. Your head tilts and your vision is tinged with inky blackness. You can’t feel the pain anymore. It’s all gone. Everything is gone.”

The room became silent and still and black. Dayton had slumped forward, still as a corpse. When I whispered the spell, the room came to life again and my skin stopped itching.

“Well done,” Ester assured me as she checked on the subject. She grinned, “Alive.” As she passed me, she stopped and cleared her throat. “I know you didn’t write any of that out, that it was ad-libbed. You’ve certainly got a terrible darkness to you,” she murmured, looking me over.

“Hasn’t everyone got that?” I asked as I shoved my notebook into my bag. “Besides,” I added, “you asked for my help and I think this is going to do exactly that.”

Nodding, she pursed her lips and replied, “Sure, yeah. But that doesn’t mean you’re not scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“Uh, when Dayton wakes up, tell him I’m sorry,” I whispered with my hand on the door handle. Before I left, I added, “You know I can do that exact thing, without the little light show, without magic, right?” It was far less dangerous for everyone involved, and it couldn’t stop someone’s heart like the spell had the potential to do.

She pushed past me and replied, “We know. This is just teachable.”

The prospect of other people being able to do that, possibly without a conscience, didn’t ease my mind.

Camp Nano – Short Story #4

Lost

*For Camp Nanowrimo this April, I plan on writing 10 short stories that fall into different genres & elicit different emotions. Because I’m planning on editing them as I go, I’ll be posting a whole short story every ~3 days.*

The tavern was practically shaking as the werewolf, furry ears poking through her short auburn hair, and dwarf, his facial hair twisted and braided ornately, danced a drunken jig on the bar’s stone counter. Spinning and swinging as he deftly plucked at a dented lute, the bard led a triad of tavern minstrels through a lively ballad; he wouldn’t tell anyone, but he was utilizing an enchantment so the backup band would be in tune with him. Only a well-practiced mage would recognize the sigils carved into the side of his instrument. In the far corner, beyond a veil of magical mist meant to obscure the most unsavoury of backroom deals, I could see just the sheath protecting the elf’s sword where it hung on the coatrack and the tip of the archer’s bow as it rested against the wall. Beside me, a tracker named Wren was blithering on about how she found a lost hedgehog yesterday.

To be fair, it wasn’t the most inexperienced troupe I’d been on a quest with, but they were the least congruent by a long shot. Resting my head against the edge of my cold mug of iced ginger tea, I turned to stare at my companion; she hadn’t appeared to notice that, throughout the whole evening of pre-quest revelry, I hadn’t spoken a single word to her.

“I’m heading to my chambers. Tell them I’ll see them just before sunrise at the entrance to town,” I murmured to Wren as she continued to chatter like a squirrel. Perhaps she’d admitted she was part-squirrel and I’d missed it in all the inane chatter.

When I got up to leave, resting a single bronze coin on the counter and taking my mug with me, Wren stared with big, doe eyes. “What? You can’t go yet. The celebrations are just starting,” she whined, gesturing at the drunken members of our party still engaging in the merrymaking of hired hands. Live fast, die young was the motto of these chartered questing types.

Chuckling, I touched her shoulder in the hopes of performing a nonverbal illusion charm. When it didn’t work and the awkward time staring at her grew too long, I dropped my hand and left. Lately, I’d been really struggling with my enchantments; even ritualistic, verbal ones were fizzling out, which was concerning with a big mission in the offing. I skillfully ducked behind a couple splitting a sundae so my colleagues wouldn’t spot me and left the tavern. Draining my tea as I wandered out into the chilly night air, I threw the container into a bush.

Instead of going up to the lodging I had booked for the night, I left the warm light and garbled noises of the pub for the shadowy, subdued solitude inside the town’s quaint magical sanctuary. For such a small town on the outskirts, I was mildly surprised that they had a place of worship for those of us in the magical arts; it was humble but welcomed me with a swell of comforting energy as I stepped foot inside the doors. Unlike churches, these dedicated refuges were created so anyone from any line of learning could access protection and power. Their basic shapes were specific to the township, as well as their material properties, but they all pulled from sacred geometry to create convergences of energy. Back home, we had a series of them posted all over the metropolis with various magical properties and dedications. Most of the mages I knew tended to frequent one for their entire lives, while druids and other nature-minded folk went where they felt the draw of energy at any time.

Unbuckling my cloak, I cast the heavy fabric across a hand-carved wooden chair to the side of the cathedral. In all my time as a mage, I’d found it nearly impossible to do any big casting with long sleeves hanging around my hands, so I was forever ridding myself of my cloak. In the same vein, I despised the superfluous material of flowing skirts, but found people didn’t take me seriously if I presented too manly; something about feminism that I would willfully never understand. As such, I bunched up the skirts of my dress and knelt at the alter, shutting my eyes and attempting to channel the energies housed within the building. Meditation came easily, but the gentle tinkle of power never did.

---

“I’ve procured us five horses,” the archer, Sirpa, explained, pointing to the row of sturdy quarter horses hitched outside the building between the town’s entrance and the bar everyone appeared to have spent all night at. His thin leather armour shifted as he opened the coin pouch given to our party by our middleman and counted out the remainder. Slipping it back into the inside pocket of his vest, he added, “As usual, they gave us a small stipend and the rest will come upon delivery of the uh, well, completion of the quest.” Seeming a man of few words, with was perfect for a leader, he let loose the first horse and skillfully swung himself onto the saddle. He adjusted the blanket under the tight leather and started towards the main road.

Looking around at the company, our bard, Ozan, asked, “Uh, not to bring up a sore spot, boss, but there are seven of us, not five. And, uh, I ain’t walkin’ to the mountain.” He was inching closer and closer to the horses with every second, prepared to commandeer one of the steeds if there was a fight.

Chuckling, Sirpa growled, “Well, if I say you will, you will, bard.” Clearly, they knew each other in a negative capacity.

“Me and Pippi are gonna go it on foot,” replied the werewolf as she elbowed the dwarf in the shoulder and adjusted her canvas backpack. When she glanced at the horses, their eyes widened and she chuckled, “It’ll be faster that way, anyhow.” Conall was a well-known and generous pack leader around my own township, but we’d never actually crossed paths. Even in fully human form, she had a wild look in her eyes and her hair was scruffy and matted. But the most intriguing part of her, to a lot of people, was that she could shift at a moment’s notice; she was the only natural werewolf anyone knew of with that gene. One of my apprentices had even created a talisman using her blood that completely irradicated involuntary transformations. It had done wonders for the werewolf populations the kingdom over. Though still defined as a curse and ridiculed widely, it was easier for them to hide their affliction if they so chose.

Fiore, an elven warrior I was sure I’d met on several occasions, got on the next horse gracefully; she draped herself over the back and appeared to fall asleep as her mount followed Sirpa’s.

As the others took their horses, I hung back, focusing on the knot tied tightly around the hitching post. Glaring at the rope, I held my hand out and willed it to loosen. I wasn’t even trying to convince it to fall off, just to slacken the knot a little.

“Are you coming, Nua?” Wren asked excitedly as she held her horse back from joining the group. No one else had noticed my lagging behind, which suited me just fine. Our tracker couldn’t spend all her time at the back of the pack, though, or we’d never get where we needed to go. I was about to point this out when she whispered, “Sorry, Nua, but I really have to get going,” and hurried on down the dirt road, bouncing in the saddle like a child on their first ride.

I groaned, tore the rope from the post, and slid my boot into the stirrup. As I swung up into the saddle, I pulled half of my dress and cloak around so they weren’t hanging off the side; normally, I used a simple reduction charm to temporarily slice off the ends of my clothing to make riding easier. Nudging the horse, I followed far enough behind the group that no one felt the need to drop to my speed so I could be alone with my thoughts, dark as they were.

---

For several hours, we went along the main thoroughfare, trudging through the occasional swampland or weaving through mazes of grass. Wren led the way, dropping to the ground and wandering in concentric circles when we needed to make a decision about direction. Strumming his lute, Ozan sang long ballads about great warriors and epic quests; he danced like a fool in his saddle during Wren’s impromptu breaks. Whenever I caught a glimpse of Fiore, she appeared to be sleeping. From what I knew of elves, that didn’t mean she couldn’t kill someone without a second’s thought, so I decided to keep my distance. Honestly, Conall and Pippi could have been eaten by a bear and I would have seen them the same amount over the first stretch of the journey.

When we finally stopped on the first night, the sun had been gone for about ten minutes and the creatures hiding in the woods around us were making their presence well known. Beyond the ditch was a flat spot where we lashed the horses to a few trees and Pippi looked expectantly at me. “Can you get the fire going while I cut a tree for kindling, Grand Mage?” he asked, addressing me respectfully.

Biting my lip, I croaked, “Uh, I’m preserving my energy in case we’re attacked. I could use my knife to start one, though.” I’d been afraid of them requesting a spell for hours.

“Oh, of course, Grand Mage,” he replied, smiling at me. Clearly, Pippi’s clan of dwarves had a better relationship with the magical community than the one in our kingdom did; they would never have addressed me like that or taken my word for anything. “I offer you my flintstone and freshly-sharpened blade,” he added, bowing as he passed the materials over before hefting his axe over his shoulder and examining the nearby trees. When he’d hewn a large tree into small enough pieces, the dwarf sat beside the firepit and waited to be fed as the rest of us tried to cobble together a campsite. It took me a couple of minutes to manage a spark, but he said nothing of my wretched analog skills. While I got the fire going, Wren took Fiore to hunt game and gather herbs for dinner. Lying on his back looking up at the stars as he plucked a sombre tune, Ozan glanced at me sideways.

Conall and Sirpa were dragging logs into the light to form a protective barrier around us when Ozan asked, “So, what’s a Grand Mage doing on a for-hire quest? Is it more important than it seems? Is there a plot happening? I mean, this is hardly the kind of place someone of your caste should find herself?” Thankfully, he didn’t question why I hadn’t offered to magic a fire or cast any protections around our troupe. Perhaps he thought I was doing everything I needed to, but still.

“I don’t know. I guess I was just tired of doing easy stuff. I mean, being a Grand Mage is great and I get to teach all kinds of people all houses of magic, but it’s gotten boring,” I mused, standing at the edge of the firepit. I wasn’t lying, exactly, but that wasn’t the whole truth and the bard seemed to realize that. Sighing, I added, “I am six-hundred and eighty-nine years old. I’ve had centuries to learn and grow and now, I don’t know. I’m just really tired. I guess I just wanted to have some fun.”

He grinned toothily, whistled, and murmured, “Wow, that’s some kind of spell to keep you alive that long.” Chuckling, he raised his eyebrow and glanced around to make sure no one was listening; the dwarf was snoring, and the lumberjacks were out of earshot. “Is it true that immortality spells like that require virgin sacrifices all the time?” he asked pointedly. In all my years, I’d met a lot of people who’d do anything for a taste of immortality. At least this one would be easy to vanquish, if the need arose, even without my powers.

“Well, it isn’t exactly an immortality spell,” I replied, shifting the conversation slightly, “But, yeah, the common ones require a lot of life energy and they’re really messy; hardly worth the few years you can manage to scrape out. You have to be very committed if you want to last more than a decade and make it worth it.” I had many friends who lacked the stomach to perform those kinds of rituals more than a few times in a lifetime.

“Wow. Guess that’s why you don’t have magicians like you living for centuries all the time, huh?” he joked, lying back and staring into the sky. As I thought I’d gotten out of explaining the whole truth, he turned over again and demanded, “So, if your spell isn’t like that, how was it done?”

Not many people knew the answer to that; not many who’d been alive in the last five centuries, anyway. Sighing, I started, “I spent decades trying to create a spell of immortality to cure my sister.” As I spoke, everyone arrived back at camp carrying heavy logs, bloodied rabbits, and piles of leaves. “Guess it’s rabbit for dinner, huh?” I changed the subject, happy for the distraction.

After a surprisingly great dinner of roasted rabbit and wilted greens cooked by Wren, we all took our corners of the campsite and tried to get comfortable under the heavy woollen saddle blankets. Ozan had the first watch and had been instructed not to fall asleep; his solution to this was to have a bucket of cold water beside him to throw on himself if he so much as yawned. It took a while, but everyone fell asleep eventually and even the fire drew quieter.

“Nua?” he asked, his tone polite and calm. Sniffing, I rolled over and tried to see him through the fire and smoke. He cleared his throat and asked, “Can you continue telling me about your immortality? My brother is a Fourth-Level Wizard and he’s been trying to crack that nut for longer than he’d like me to tell you. You don’t have to give me any of the gory details; I’d just like to be able to tell him it’s possible.”

I liked to keep my story to myself, but this experience was supposed to push me. Nodding, I pulled myself up and sat down on one of the logs, careful not to rouse any of the others. “My sister had a blood disease and I had to continually save her life. I thought that if I could create that spell, she could live and be happy,” I started again, thinking back to those painful years. The way she degraded and her eyes hollowed, the moments when she smiled, and when we danced in the field behind our house; they nearly took my breath away to recall. “I spent years learning magic and trying out spells and creating powerful enchantments and then, just like that, she died,” I continued as the bard stared at me.

Taking a sip from the bucket of water beside him, the bard inquired, “How long did you, you know, manage with her condition?”

For a moment, I struggled to remember that far back. It was centuries ago, and my memory wasn’t what it used to be. Nodding to myself, I replied, “Thirty-two years.” It seemed like a blink to me now, but three decades was a long time. “I kept at it after her passing. I just needed to prove that it couldn’t be done; I had to know absolutely that there was nothing more we could have tried,” I added, smiling sadly at the minstrel with his fingers just brushing the strings of his instrument; he appeared to have forgotten about it being there, swept up in my tragic tale.

“I’m really sorry,” he murmured quietly as the flames crackled between us.

Chuckling, I sighed, “It’s been centuries.” The pain could still be raw sometimes, but my wounds would heal one day.

“Obviously, you didn’t prove immortality was impossible,” Ozan commented, rolling onto his back again. He plucked a quiet lullaby as he hummed in a way a mother does to soothe her child in the deep, dark night.

“No, I didn’t; I proved it was very possible and very terrible,” I groaned. The only people I’d spoken candidly about my immortality were other magic users and they all had their theories on my methods; Ozan was naïve to the universe and it was easier to talk to him, knowing he wouldn’t really understand. Picking up a stick and poking at the edge of the fire, I continued, “It was another decade before I made a real breakthrough. I’d started dating this girl, Fiona, and her family owned part of a massive dwarf mine. Don’t ask.” Really, they got it through a relatively fair trade of property, but no one took my word for it; I probably wouldn’t, either, given the time period.

“During that time, I had come up with a mishmash enchantment and I was just trying every ingredient I could in this blank space I couldn’t figure out. I knew it was some kind of metal or ore, or maybe viscera, but nothing I was trying worked. I’d even spent months testing the blood of different species I could get my hands on to see if it would work,” I continued as I remembered the piercing taste of tin on my tongue after ages trying known metals. Ozan was watching me with interest as I resumed, “Anyway, one day we were sitting chatting about family heirlooms when she grinned sheepishly at me and gave me this ring.” Here, I showed him the simple band; at one point I’d considered having a stone set on it, but I enjoyed the simplicity compared to my other myriad of bejewelled ornaments. “Her father had made it out of slag from the gold mine. It had no worth and it was plain, but it gave me pause,” I added, “because no one used gold in alchemy. It was the pinnacle of material and so you had no use for it, magically. But, I tried it. The ring, anyway, with almost no real gold in it.

“I was able to reanimate a squirrel momentarily. I was stunned,” I chuckled, remembering the poor creature’s short-lived return from the dead. “I took a bit of gold, melted it into a pendant, and tried my enchantment on myself. I know you’re not supposed to do that, but I was at a kind of low point, so it seemed worth it,” I explained, feeling my cheeks flush. When I’d composed myself, I continued, “It was awesome, the power that flowed through me. Just amazing. I was going to tell the other mages in my sanctuary, but when you feel that kind of power, it takes hold, kinda.” From one low point to another. “I offered it to Fiona, and she didn’t want to. I respected her decision, which was probably the right one, and I started bracing for the day I had to say goodbye to her. I always knew it would be painful, but you can’t force your lover to live forever unless they actually want to. Not if you really love them,” I murmured, sinking into a reverie.

When I pulled myself out of it, I chuckled wryly, “It wasn’t until the moment Fiona actually died that I realized just how huge a mistake I’d made.”

There was a long silence where only the distant caws of nightshade birds and the cheerful, dying crackle of the fire pierced the night. When I was thinking about turning back over and going to sleep, or at least shutting my eyes, Ozan asked, “So, what makes this enchantment so special?”

“Well,” I began quietly, “I am impervious to any kind of death, not just old age. Most of those blood sacrifice ones are only good to help you live longer if you don’t go running into burning barns; I can withstand any kind of death.” Hearing it out loud somehow made it even more real, even after all this time. “I cannot die, which is why I hid the spell and destroyed the sigils I created for it,” I whispered, barely louder than the wind.

This quiet seemed deeper, as though the true horrors of that statement were appearing to the whole world and it was trembling under the weight. Immortality, true immortality, was a curse, not a gift.

“Obviously you’ve uh, you’ve you know?” Ozan broached the uncomfortable subject in a tone I knew well, and I realized this must be the real, deep him; that the overexcited, cheerful man I’d met the day before was nothing but a mask he wore. When I didn’t respond, he cleared his throat and reiterated, this time as a statement, “Uh, you’ve tried many ways to stop living.”

Chuckling to keep from crying, I replied, “Uh, yeah, I tried. But it didn’t work. Nothing worked. Nothing has ever worked. I’ve spent the last few decades trying to die and nothing works. I can’t watch anyone else die. I will not.” I took a breath as emotion began to overwhelm me. “I am lost because I’ve done everything I wanted to do and now I don’t know what to do. I’ve lost that, that innate pull to life. I haven’t felt it in decades, but it feels worse right now,” I murmured, feeling anger seep through the gloom. As it built, I snapped, “And right now my magic isn’t even working so what use am I, anyway?”

“You don’t have magic?” Ozan asked, staring at me as though he’d been able to see it shimmering in the air around me. Sitting up straight, he set his lute down and murmured, “I’m sorry for your loss. It’s hard when the one thing you use to keep the demons at bay is suddenly gone.”

After a long minute of staring into the flames, feeling a sense of commiseration with the smiling bard, I whispered, “I’m heading to sleep. I think Sirpa’s turn is soon.” I turned over and pretended to sleep until the sun rose, shutting my eyes whenever someone was spelled off.

When the sun finally broached the tops of the trees, our troupe was relatively quiet, packing up in near silence before setting off towards the mountains. Just before midday, we started heading up a steep trail winding around the mountain, and within a couple of hours, we were trudging through snow. Sirpa asked if I could help with the cold, to which Pippi replied that I was already protecting us all and couldn’t afford to waste energy on trivial magic; clearly, he’d been sound asleep during my conversation with Ozan.

We stopped in a cave before the path veered out and around the other side of the mountain, where our mission would end. Starting a fire to warm up and reheat some leftover rabbit, our little party shivered in the inclement weather. After I’d taken my piece of meat, I stepped out into the chill wind to stabilize my emotions before the final leg of our journey.

“So, you want to kill yourself? That’s why you’re doing this? You have no magic, so you may as well die?” a hearty female voice asked. Conall stood a step or two inside the cave, but far enough from the group to keep our conversation private; she was chewing on a legbone with abnormally large canines. “And you’re willing to take all of us along with you, what, out of spite?” she spat.

Shaking my head, I replied, “I just, I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, you need to tell us if you can’t handle this because a dragon will burn us all to a crisp before you can speak a spell. Or, I suppose, wave your hands at it?” Conall growled, whining as she sucked the marrow from the bone. Nodding at my shaking fingers, she asked, “You gonna finish the marrow?”

Again, I shook my head and passed her the bone. As she headed back inside, I steadied myself to confront Sirpa. I cleared my throat and was about to ask for a word when he turned and grinned at me.

“Ah! I wanted to give you this sword, just in case,” he stated as he handed me a heavy longsword in a gilded sheath. Looking around at the rest of our group, he asked, “Does anyone else want an extra weapon? I brought a few just in case, so, take what you want.” Wren took him up on the offer, winking at me as she hooked a small sword onto her belt beside a series of insanely sharp knives.

I decided that I would do whatever I could to protect the group, even if that meant using the energy of a spectacular death to do it. Hefting the blade in my hand, I admired the glint of the metal and smiled across at Ozan. He’d picked out an axe that had once been enchanted to cut through dragonhide, but was now almost useless; it wouldn’t do him much good in that form. Beside him, Fiore was looking at Sirpa’s once-spelled arrows that wouldn’t deal a death blow to anything with armour now.

Something came over me like a spell; energy that hadn’t flowed through me for ages rippled through my veins. I felt warm again. I’d never realized that I was cold. Cold and alone and now, now I wasn’t. Now, I had a purpose again. I had to live to protect my comrades.

“I need to respell all your weapons,” I stated as the group started back out into the blowing snow. For a moment, as I had their full attention, I added, “I’d also like to try a more dangerous strategy before we actually go after the dragon.”

---

We crouched along the wall, listening to the dragon’s rhythmic breathing vibrating through the mountainside. Though I had spelled the weapons in case we needed them, I was hoping I could convince the dragon we weren’t there, so I stepped out onto the ledge in front of the nest. Curled up around a clutch of eggs was a massive beast with shimmering scales, claws that could crush a large elephant, and a pair of stunning leather wings.

Motioning to Ozan, I started to chant a powerful telepathy spell towards the dragon as the bard began to play a lullaby on his lute. As the gentle melody flowed through me and into the dragon’s sleeping mind, its breathing slowed even more.

Fiore, Conall, and Pippi climbed around us as Sirpa stood with his arrow aimed at the dragon’s heart, prepared to let it loose if the beast woke up. As they searched through the piles of gold and jewels, plucking items here and there for their own pouches, I felt the dragon pulling gently on my spell. It was difficult to keep my focus on the music as I struggled to keep the creature’s mind calm and blank. My mind kept wanting to drift to the object of our quest: a huge bag of raw-hewn gems worth more than our entire kingdom put together.

Finally, Conall touched my shoulder on the way back around the bend and I slowly released the dragon’s mind. I instinctively shoved Ozan away from me and into the cover of the ice wall just in time; the great lizard opened its fiery eyes and I found myself engulfed in flames.

For a few seconds, I thought I’d died. Honestly, I wasn’t that unhappy about it. I opened my eyes to the whole troupe staring down at me.

Grinning, Ozan exclaimed, “She lives! She lives!” and broke into an impromptu ballad about my immortality. Perhaps I have a few adventures still in me. And maybe I’m not as lost as I thought.

Invisibility

            The dorm was quiet when I woke up; not a soul seemed to be awake, which was bullshit because there were always people up at every time of the night. Sitting up, I checked the clock and groaned when three-am shone through my eyeballs. With a yawn, I leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if my roommate was awake. We’d been dating for a few months and sometimes we went on coffee dates when we both couldn’t sleep. When I looked over, she was snoring, meaning she was asleep.

            I shut my eyes for a few minutes before something changed. Their air felt heavier in the room and light was streaming in from the window. When I sat up and opened my eyes this time, people were wandering outside with candles and lit sticks. Ducking when the closest ones glanced at me, I sucked in a breath and calmed myself. My hands were transparent and none of them would know I was up, so I left my bed and leaned over Maria.

            “Mar?” I whispered, glancing at the people milling around outside to see if they could hear me. When Maria didn’t stir, I repeated a little louder.

            This time, she mumbled, still half-asleep, “Mmm, wanna get in? Water’s warm.”

            Groaning, I whispered, “Mar, you have to get up quietly because there’s a mob with torches outside.” Her eyes opened wide, and she looked through me.

            “Ingrid? If you’re there, what do I do?” she asked to the empty air in front of her.

            “Uh, they noticed when I moved so maybe if you try making no sudden moves,” I suggested. Stepping out of the way as she began to levitate off the bed, I grabbed her hand, so she’d know where I was. Outside, no one looked our way as Maria floated to the door. I slowly pulled the door open, and she moved out into the hall. When I shut the door behind us, she dropped to the ground and I materialized again.

            Chuckling, she whispered, “We probably should have brought some real clothes.” Both of us were in our nightgowns, but it could have been worse. She reached up to kiss me and I held her for a minute.

            “I think I know what’s going on with this insanity,” I started as we both peered down the darkened hallway, “You remember a couple of months ago when that woman came through with that group. Shit, I just can’t remember what it was called. Anyway, we all thought she was creepy?” Maria considered what I was saying for a moment, eyes narrowed, before she remembered what I was talking about and nodded emphatically. “Well, though I can’t remember exactly what they were calling themselves, their logo was pretty distinct, and I remember seeing it somewhere,” I continued as we started down the hallway toward the stairs.

            Grabbing my hand when we hit the steps and headed towards the roof, Maria asked, “But you don’t remember exactly where you saw it, right?” It wasn’t bitchy, exactly, but it was bordering.

            “Uh, actually, I don’t remember what it was on, but I remember where I saw it,” I exclaimed, stopping mid-stride so our hands broke apart. Tilting my head, I sighed, “You know the theatre beside the multi-purpose atrium?”

            “There’s a play on tonight, isn’t there?” Maria replied, thinking. She laughed out loud and chuckled, “The play would be long-over. They aren’t permitted after ten at night and it’s now after three in the morning.” When she leaned against the wall with her head to one side, the light from the hallway hit her eyes to turn them to emeralds.

            Shaking my head to stop admiring my girlfriend, I sprinted back down to the second floor and headed for a window. Outside, the students brandishing fire were still milling about like a human barrier; they were trapping us here and away from the theatre. I turned back to Maria and suggested, “What if you go to the roof and float away from the building while I turn invisible and just walk right through the wall?”

            After a few seconds, she nodded, and we parted ways with a lingering kiss. When I reached the first floor again, I considered grabbing my phone from my room, but the only one I’d be texting was going to be with me again in a few minutes anyway. Hurrying to the front doors, I calmed myself and felt the invisibility take over. I pushed the doors open and the closest students stared at me, or, rather, through me. I doubted whether I’d ever get used to people looking through me; it made me shiver.

            Striding through them, I continued until I was standing in the gravel walkway in front of the atrium. I became visible again and waited until Maria’s fingers intertwined with mine before heading through the doors. When we crossed the deserted atrium, we could hear a commotion coming from the theatre. Hanging in the lit frame outside the doors were posters for the latest play; they each had the woman’s logo in the upper corner. The time listed just said that ticketholders would be notified.

            “I need you to hide, Mar,” I pleaded, holding her hands as we stood outside the room. “Please,” I whispered in her ear. Holding me so tightly I thought she might engulf me, we suddenly parted, and she disappeared into the shadows.

            I took a breath and went invisible before slipping through the door. There weren’t that many people in the audience, but the woman was sitting in the middle watching the stage.

            It was a strange scene, the stage. The whole thing was a sort of cavern with stone-like material on every surface and a path through the middle. Standing at center stage was a large pillar that hid half of the stage from either side of the audience; I couldn’t figure out why that would be good. Students were standing in little clusters all over the stage in grey clothing and makeup, so they faded into the façade.

            Wandering right to the stage and stepping up to see if there were any hidden passages or notes carved into the stone, I stepped between stationary actors as they spoke words I couldn’t understand. When I reached the other side, I stepped down and sat in the third row away from any other ticketholders. No one noticed me.

            After ten minutes or so, the play ended as the lights came up and the audience was revealed. A good half of them vacated, chatting vacantly, while the others remained in their seats in silence. With all the random people gone, the woman stood up and congratulated the cast; most of them looked pleased with the commendation, while some were clearly confused.

            “Oh, this is just fantastic. You’ve done the enchantment perfectly; I’m told there’s a mob of students out there with torches,” she explained enthusiastically. Turning to the people around her, who I now realized were wearing armour, she commanded, “Make sure that all the soldiers have the proper weapons. Torches are good, but I’d prefer swords or guns; messier and more casualties.” As they headed out, she glanced in my direction and I could have sworn she looked at me, not just through me. She cocked her head and her lip quivered.

“Mason!” she shouted at one of the men. When he returned to her side, she whispered something in his ear, and he strode from the room without a word. After that, she turned back to the cast and began speaking about plans.

I was about to leave, seeing no real reason to stick around since I couldn’t take on that many people at once when the door behind me opened and Mason grabbed me from behind. Before I knew what was happening, the woman was standing above me; I couldn’t concentrate enough on the transparency, so it faltered.

“Hmmm, what to do with you,” she mused, pacing a few steps in front of me as I struggled. Suddenly, she lunged, I felt a snap, and darkness consumed me.

Ten Words

            “Ten words? Seriously?” she sneered as he smiled at her. Beside her, two girlfriends were equally incredulous; that was usually the reaction he got, and I would swear he loved it.

            Chuckling maliciously, he purred, “Ten little words.”

            One of the friends stepped forward, teetering in three-inch heels, and dared, “Try it on me.” Around her, the other girls chattered excitedly and egged her on.

            He grinned, exposing his fangs, which didn’t seem to concern them, and replied, “Alright. But let’s just go somewhere a little more private.” As he looked around for a secluded spot, which he probably already had planned out, the girls tittered away. “How about just in the dark over there, sweetheart?” he suggested, holding his hand out to her. From the way he was making eye contact now, he was already starting to work his magic.

            Concern was in her eyes as she took his hand and let him lead her down the way and into the darkness of the alley. Turning to me, the first girl asked, “Is he for real?”

            “I mean, he does seriously get people to fall in love with him in ten words,” I replied with a shrug. Technically, it wasn’t love, but most regular humans weren’t equipped to understand what it really was.

            After a few seconds, he returned with the woman in tow. She had a dreamy look in her eyes now and I could see a few drops of blood on her neon blouse. “So, anyone else want a go?” he purred. Carefully, he led his new human around so she was standing with her friends again, staring at him as though she would do anything for him; which, she would.

            “What did he do to you, Sophia?” the first woman asked as she shook her friend’s arm gently.

            Turning, she murmured, “Oh, he just made me feel so special. He’s amazing and I think I love him.” She was reaching towards him.

            “I think that’s our cue to go,” I muttered, grabbing the arm of his shirt and pulling him away from the women before we had an issue. When we were out of earshot, I snapped, “You’re messy tonight, and distracted. You were about to murder all three of them.” I was still gripping the cuff of his shirt as we hurried between throngs of people heading into the club.

            “Maybe, I mean, I wouldn’t have,” he muttered, stumbling along like a human.

            “You left blood on that girl’s shirt,” I whispered as we got to the end of the line and turned a corner. This street was practically deserted so I let go and took a few paces away from him. “What is wrong with you tonight?” I snapped, taking a few calming breaths. As an empath, I could feel his deceit before he said it, so he was usually careful around me.

            Groaning, he replied, “This was Rebecca’s Deathday. I miss her.”

            Normally I would have pointed out, in a joking way, that he was the reason she was gone, but this wasn’t the time for jokes. “I know, honey, but you really need to hold it together,” I tried, not knowing how else to help. If he hadn’t found me, it probably would be dead by now; his emotions were still in turmoil and I was able to help a bit. To be fair, though, he saved my life, so I guess we were even.

            “How do people do this?” he asked as I searched my brain for advice.

            Shaking my head, I replied, “I don’t know. You probably know more about vampires than I do since you were dating one.” I mean, she turned him, but that wouldn’t negate the knowledge he got from her.

            “But they never talked about how hellish it is to outlive people and kill people,” he sighed, dejected.

Hidden Caves – Part 1

            The sun beat down on the craggy pond as college students enjoyed their spring break in its cool water; they’d been coming for years, decades maybe. Lying under the warm shade of an oak tree that had wound its way up through the stone and was now strangling the same rock that once threatened to suffocate it. It was the eternal struggle played out over centuries.

Open to a page on thistles, the magical remedies book I’d been scouring was now leaning on my knees as I shut my eyes. Normally, I would have hidden the book from the crowd, but no one had so much as glanced at me all day. It wasn’t imperative that I commit the magical properties of the thistle to memory for the night’s excursion, but I’d recently discovered that a lot of plants crossed realms and I may one day need to know that I could patch a poisoned wound with thistle viscera.

“Hey, what are you looking at, witch?” a boy yelled as I felt myself drifting off.

Groaning, I sat up to face my accuser. He was in one of my classes, I was sure, but I didn’t remember which. Dyed blond hair and a tan this early in the season gave him the obvious appearance of someone who cared deeply about their looks. Because he was already picking his way up the stone path to the jumping-off point, I knew he’d been holding his tongue for a while. Even I couldn’t have read the cover of a book from that distance.

“Oh, I’m planning to poison the whole campus,” I replied loudly. People glanced over at me with interest and concern, but they knew I was joking, probably.

The kid smirked and spat, “Why not just use your powers to do it? Are you as poor a witch as you are a physics student?” Ah, he was from my physics class. To be fair, I was excellent at that course; I just didn’t want people to think I was too good since everyone already knew I was into occult stuff. For normal people, it was a short leap from that to putting spells on my tests.

“Because I’m trying to keep a low profile, you idiot,” I shouted as loudly as I could while lying down.

“Freak!” he called, stepping up to the edge of the topmost outcrops and making a show of preparing for his dive. I sucked in a breath, pulled a shard of slate from the dirt to my right, and whispered a spell to it. High above the pool, the boy’s brows furrowed, and he hopped between his feet as though the stone were on fire. “Freak! Knock it off!” he cried as he was forced to step back and lose his audience.

Grinning up at him, I asked, “What, exactly, do you think I’ve done now?” I leaned back and shut my eyes again.

“You made the stone too hot to stand on!” he replied, his voice higher than he wanted.

“Hmm, I think you’re confusing me with the sun,” I murmured drowsily.

The sun was completely gone from the sky by the time I was alone. On their way by, a few people had made derogatory comments at me, but most people were used to ignoring the witch. Stretching my back, I put the book into my bag and took the flashlight from the outside pocket. I made my way down to the water’s edge and let the beam of light travel to the very bottom of the pond as I set my bag in a safe spot. Carefully tying one of a pair of identical charms around the strap of the backpack, I slipped the other into my pocket and took a few deep breaths.

I’d been working on using an oxygen bubble charm, but it wasn’t quite working for me yet so this would have to be a free dive. Blinking in the darkness, I muttered a spell and pressed my hands to my eyes. For a second, they felt white-hot. When I opened them again, I could make out the shapes of the outcrops around me; this spell worked almost every time I used it. I pulled a pair of goggles out and strapped them on before standing right at the edge of the water.

“You can do this. You can do this,” I mumbled to myself, sucking in gulps of air and getting ready to dive into the freezing water.

As soon as I broke the surface, my joints began to freeze; I struggled against the pull to let the water take me. Moving constantly, I was propelled through the water and right at the base of the rocky mountain. I gripped the slate with my hands and squeezed through a tiny gap and into a larger cavern. Above my head, I could see the water surface breaking and swam up to it.

Breaking through the surface, I sucked in breath after breath of air as I got my bearings. Though the secret cave was underground, there was a lot of light streaming from the far corner. I swam up to the outcropping and carefully hoisted myself up onto it with my elbows. The whole endeavour was proving far easier than I could have imagined; I had been expecting traps or maybe poisonous plants to be protecting the cave from intruders.

For a couple of minutes, I sat just out of the water, shivering and soaking wet, and caught my breath. When I was sure I could stand up without my head spinning, I rose and pictured the spell I wanted to use in my head. Shutting my eyes, I whispered it and warmth filling me and instantly drying my clothing. With that done, I searched my pockets for the charm and read the inscription on the back aloud.

In a blinding flash of light, my backpack appeared out of thin air. Unfortunately, so did the boy who’d been calling me a witch. He sputtered when he realized I was standing in front of him and pointed at the bag in his hands.

“What did you do?” I snapped, ripping the bag from his grip, and placing it at my feet protectively. I glared at the boy and reiterated, this time louder, “What did you do!?”

For a full twenty seconds, he continued to flounder soundlessly. “I uh, I uh, but, I was, I, I, was, what?” he stammered, leaning against the cold stone wall to steady himself. I dropped the medallion inside the bag and hiked it up on my shoulder as I waited for him to put together an entire sentence. “I was looking for you. Your bag was there. I was there. Where am I?” he asked, staring at the bag as though it might bite him.

“Okay, just swim under there, then through the opening near the bottom of the cave, then up through the bottom of the pond you were standing beside,” I explained plainly.

When I moved to step around him, he grabbed my wrist and stared wide-eyed. “You can’t leave me here,” he demanded.

Tearing my arm away, I snapped, “I’m meeting someone here, and I don’t have time to bring you back through. Stay here and I’ll be back sometime in the next couple of days.” With that, I darted past him and stood at the crack in the wall where the light was pouring through. It wasn’t normal sunlight; it had a pale blue tinge to it and felt ethereal somehow.

“You can’t just leave me here,” the boy demanded, following behind me like an impertinent shadow.

Stepping through the hole, I realized we were just in another cave. This one was massive and full of crystalline stone. Every surface was more than covered in reflective surfaces that bounced like to every corner.

“What me,” I muttered under my breath. I walked carefully around the edge of a small pool of what might have been water and started down the tunnel on the opposite edge. Forgoing my flashlight, I let my night vision spell lead me.

“Help! Help!” screamed the boy as I reached a fork in the path. Turning, I considered leaving him; who was gonna miss a dick, anyway? “Pu-lease! Somebody help me!” he cried, his voice echoed a hundred times over in the cavern. It was like there were hundreds of idiots trapped in the cave with me.

Finally, I ran back up the tunnel and found him with one foot firmly stuck in the undulating liquid I had assumed was water. “What happened?” I asked quickly, kneeling down and opening my bag; that was about as far as the rescue could get without knowing what he’d done.

He stared at me as though I’d grown a second head and screamed, “What does that matter!? Just get me out, witch!”

Aside from the derogatory term, I could understand what he meant. “If I don’t know what the enchantment is, what happened, I can’t figure out the right spell to undo it,” I explained calmly. I was going to go into detail about how wrong reversals could go, but that would be getting into a terrifying territory I didn’t think he could take.

“I just stepped around the water and it attacked me,” he groaned, trying in vain to pull his foot out of the pool. As we’d been speaking, the ‘water’ had been slowly sucking him down; soon, he’d be kneeling beside it.

While I couldn’t remember a specific spell to fix the problem, I was pretty sure I had something that would do the trick. Delving into my bag, I pulled a tiny, worn vial out of the very bottom and uncorked it.

“Wait. What is that?” the boy asked suspiciously.

I shook my head and replied, “It freezes things. I use it on tea when I want instant iced tea.” That was true. Without waiting for a reply, I dumped a small quantity of the powder into the liquid and it instantly froze. “At least you’re not getting sucked further down now,” I murmured, opening the beginner spellbook I brought and flipping through to a page on ice and ice management.

After a couple of minutes, I touched the boy’s leg and confidently said the spell. Instantly, he nearly fell forward into the ice and I had to catch his arm to stop him from disappearing. “What did you do?” he asked as I read through to find the reversal.

“I made it so your body will go through ice,” I muttered. When I found the reversal, I warned, “This is gonna feel like you’re on fire for a few seconds. Just keep calm.”

Before he could say anything, I did the spell and he shouted in agony. It subsided a few seconds later and he grumbled, “Thank you for saving me after you put me in mortal peril.” That was probably all I could hope for. “You can’t possibly be thinking about leaving me here, now,” he added as I put everything back into my bag.

“I was, but you have a point,” I murmured. Sighing, I stated, “Don’t touch anything and stay right behind me. And, here,” I added, handing him the flashlight I didn’t need.

We walked down the tunnel and stopped at the fork in the road. Pulling out my dowsing rods, I shut my eyes and started to go right. Something stopped me and I tried the other way, which felt right.

“You’re like a water witch,” he chuckled as I slipped the rods into the belt loop on my jeans.

Turning, I asked, “What’s your name? If we’re gonna be stuck together, I may as well know what to call you.”

“Jeff. You?” he replied as we came to a turn.

“Isabell. And I am a witch, so, yeah,” I murmured as we reached another turn and sunlight shone through the rest of the tunnel. Finally, we reached the entrance of the cave and I paused to reverse the night vision because it was daytime.

We both squinted as we stepped out into the light and Jeff sighed, “I can’t believe magic is real.”

To be continued…

Archer Mansion

            “Seriously, guys,” I moaned as the van stopped outside the enormous mansion. When the headlights shut off, the whole street went dark; even the houses on the other side of the street were still and cold. I stared into the upper windows of the dilapidated house, willing something to appear to terrify everyone before we reached the gate. In the quiet, I added, “Seriously, this is such a bad idea. I mean, do we even know if the place is vacant?” Unbeknownst to them, I knew what resided in behind the peeling door and knew they were biting off way more than they could chew.

            Sergei, who’d been the brains behind this excursion, chuckled deeply and snapped, “It hasn’t been lived in for decades. How could someone be in there without electricity or water or anything?” Turning in the front seat to eye those of us in the back, he passed out flashlights. “The only things in there are spirits. First one to catch evidence gets to sit in the car next time,” he growled.

            With that, everyone vacated the van and gathered on the sidewalk outside the gate. Dean kept flicking his flashlight on and off, pointing it into the woods. Beside him, his girlfriend, Jasmine, was trying to get a good selfie in the dark but kept frowning at herself. Struggling to lock the van, despite there being literally no reason to do that, Sergei was whispering with Evan; I wanted to know what they were saying because this whole situation smelled off.

            “Alright, let’s allow Kat the first steps on the property,” Evan laughed as they came around to the front of the van. He leaned on the door and eyed me when I didn’t move. In a stalemate, he lit up a cigarette and asked, “Unless, of course, you’re too scared?”

            I honestly considered telling him to fuck off, but there wasn’t much point; they were all gonna go into the house whether I was there or not. At least this way I may be able to protect them. Sucking in a deep breath and adjusting my purse on my shoulder, I gently touched the iron gate. I gave it a light shove and it squealed open, biting into the uneven paving stones in the yard. Putting one booted foot in front of the other, I made my way up the gentle slope and stood a step away from the crooked porch.

            When I turned, everyone was staring wide-eyed and pale-faced. “So, uh, do you see, uh, see anything?” stammered Sergei, showing the first signs of true terror.

            Chuckling, I did a quick spin around and replied, “Uh, no. It just seems like a creepy-ass house that’s probably full of mould.” I stepped on the deck boards in the right places so I wouldn’t fall through and leaned carefully against the door; that door was solid oak and was likely the most stable piece of material in the entire structure.

            Evan suddenly pointed at one of the top windows and shouted, “I just saw something move across there! There’s something in the house!”

            Hoping that meant they were too scared to go in, I peered up through the hole in the porch roof and squinted. If it was a ghost, they were just nervously shifting around. When I looked back, everyone was walking up the yard, flashlights fluttering around the house and surrounding forest.

            I sighed and turned to the door. “Quod aperire ianuam,” I whispered, touching the metal handle until it sparked and unlocked.

            “Wow! What happened with the door?” Dean asked, appearing just behind me and peering around. When I didn’t reply, he explained, “There was a, like, light coming from there and it thunked.” He was excitedly looking at me for an answer.

            Turning to show my hands, I turned my flashlight on and off. “I was just trying to see the lock to try and jimmy it open. Must have hit the button twice,” I murmured, turning the door handle.

            An icy draft came through the open door and the darkness sucked at the bars of light cast by the flashlights. Creaking noises came from the floor above and something fell in a back room; that was exactly what you could expect from ghosts that knew you were coming.

            “I’m in first,” Sergei announced, pushing past everyone and turning his light on. He stepped through the doorway and checked to the left, where I wanted them to avoid. Laughing, he stalked forward and exclaimed, “Wow! There’s a bunch of séance stuff in here!” Walking right through the ritual circle chalked on the floor without noticing, he started looking through the items stacked on a pair of desks.

            Everyone else pushed past me to look at the occult stuff; Jasmine was gripping Dean’s arm and squealed as they shuffled around the edge of the room. When Evan got to the circle, he bent down to touch the symbols and was about to brush the chalk aside when I cleared my throat.

            “Maybe don’t break the circle,” I suggested, shoving him as I passed and examined the corner bookcase; I hoped my looking would deter anyone else from checking it too carefully.

            Snickering, but heeding my warning, Evan joined the others at the desks. “Since when are you an expert in séances?” he asked, opening jars and smelling their contents. When his nose crinkled in disgust for the third time, he moved on to the books.

            I considered my response very carefully before muttering, “Didn’t you go through an occult phase in your teen years? This is ritual stuff, not for summoning spirits.” In the group’s silence, I took the opportunity to change the subject, “So, do any of you actually believe in ghosts? The afterlife or whatever?” You didn’t have to believe in something to do what we were doing, but I was curious.

            “Uh, no,” Sergei replied quickly as he pawed through a newer ritual book. Sensing all eyes on him, he clarified, “I mean, not really. If they were real, we’d be overrun with them.”

            “Yeah, I totally believe in spirits. When my cousin overdosed, I swear I saw his spirit and he uh,” Jasmine replied as tears suddenly welled in her eyes, “He uh, he gave me a peace sign when he left. It was really moving.” Grabbing Dean, she sobbed into his shoulder as he turned to mouth the word no and shook his head.

            I turned to Evan, who still seemed a little uncertain about me after the circle situation, and he chuckled, “Sure. I mean, we don’t know what’s out there, right? What about you, Kat?”

            Plucking a heavy book from the shelf, I started to page through it absentmindedly. “Yeah, I do believe in ghosts. But they’re just people who’ve passed on and had unfinished business; just normal people who need some help and are stuck in limbo,” I growled. When I knew Sergei was paying attention, I added, “They aren’t here just to entertain you or anyone else.” Since I wasn’t going to physically stop them from doing anything negative, I announced, “I’m gonna check up the second floor where you saw that spirit floating past the window.”

            As I turned to leave, Dean teased, “Do you need someone to come with you? To protect you?”

            “Yeah, ‘cause you can protect anyone from anything,” I snapped, taking the stairs two at a time and slipping into the back bedroom.

            Pacing at the window was the faint outline of a woman, tears welling in her eyes. “What are people doing here?” she shrieked, turning to glower at me.

            I nodded and replied, “I know, I know. I didn’t realize this was the haunted house they wanted to go to until we headed up this way.” Scratching my head as I started to pace, I continued, “Essie, I am trying to get rid of them, but I also don’t want them to know anything about this place or you.” She was staring at me like I’d grown another head. “Where’s Andrew?” I asked, the beginnings of a plan forming in my head.

            “Attic, last I checked,” she murmured, turning back to look out into the forest. With a sigh, she added, “It’s just the two of us left in here. Everyone else is hiding out there because of the big, bad humans poking around.” Melancholy was a ghost’s best emotion, but Essie tended to milk it a little too much.

            I checked to make sure no one was following me, not that we’d miss hearing the stairs creak, and explained, “I’m gonna get rid of them. Just tell Andrew to meet me in the ritual room when I give the signal, okay?”

As I made to leave, Essie asked, “Why should he go there? And why not me?”

I smiled sadly at her and replied, “I’m gonna summon a ghost for the people downstairs. Hopefully, that’ll get rid of them fast. Tell him to be scary, okay? Scary is the goal.” When she continued to stare, I groaned. “Es, you’re just not exactly terrifying; you’re just a nice, normal person,” I sighed. Before she could say anything else, I tiptoed into the room Andrew once occupied and grabbed a pair of cufflinks; I didn’t even know if they were his, not that it mattered with a faux séance.

When I got back to the ritual room, Sergei was pouring over a small pile of worn papers with everyone peering over his shoulder. “Hi Kat,” he purred as I stopped at the edge of the circle. “What was your full name, again?” he asked purposefully.

I knew where he was going, but there was nothing I could do to stop him from understanding the truth. With a heavy sigh, I replied, “Archer. Katrina Archer.”

“Huh, that’s weird. A Katrina Archer owns this place. You own this place,” he stated as he set the deeds back on the desk and tilted his head with a crazed smile.

Nodding, I declared, “Yes. I do own this house. I’ve been trying to fix it up, but the structure is too unsafe to bring anyone in.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie about the structure and that I couldn’t have anyone come in, but that wasn’t, strictly, the reason I wasn’t fixing it. With a sigh, I slipped the cufflinks into my pocket as I wouldn’t be needing them.

“So, this, all this ritual stuff is yours?” he nudged, stepping into the middle of the circle and glaring across at me.

“Oh, no, that was here before I inherited the place,” I replied with a smile, “And I’ve been too scared to move any of it until I can have, like, a priest or something come through to check it out.” That didn’t dispel Sergei’s suspicion, so I continued, “I’ve taken a look at some of the books there and these drawings on the floor are some kind of protection. I don’t want to bring hell to earth or anything so I’m not gonna break the circle or anything until I know it won’t cause issues.”

Dean was glancing sideways at Evan with a look of terror on his face; Jasmine was standing between the two and might have not blinked the entire time I’d been in the ritual room.

“You just have an answer for everything, don’t you?” he snapped, taking a few steps forward again. It wasn’t until that moment that I noticed the glint of one of my knives in his hand. When he took a further step, he broke the chalk circle and grinned at me.

Breathing calmly, I bit my lip and growled, “Alright, Sergei, I’m done playing nice. Get out of my house. Now.” Though anger was rushing to my cheeks and hands, I fought to remain outwardly serene.

He laughed loudly and brandished the knife as he looked back at our friends. “Get out or what?” he spat.

“Get out now or I’ll make you,” I snarled, balling my hands into fists to keep some semblance of control of my emotions. Sergei lurched forward, and I shrieked, “Adolebitque metallum!”

Dropping the blade and holding his hand as the metal burned his skin, he shouted, “You witch!”

“Expergiscimini ignis,” I murmured, and the room was suddenly alight with dozens of candles.

Behind Sergei, Evan stepped forward and whispered, “Look, man, let’s just go.”

“No, she can’t get away with this,” he snapped back at him.

Rolling my eyes, I yelled, “Andrew, I could use your help!” From the basement came a rumbling, accompanied by a few loud bangs and the shattering of glass. As Andrew came up the stairs, he growled and roared inhumanly. Crashing through the wall, he yelled with blood dripping from his head and abdomen, just like when he tried to scare me away.

Jasmine screamed and streaked out the door, followed by Dean and Evan. When Sergei was alone, Andrew came to stand beside me and whispered, “Should I do something to him?”

I took a step toward the statue and murmured, “I don’t think he’ll be bothering us again.” Stooping to pick up the blade from his feet, I spun it in my hand. “If you don’t leave now, I will find a use for your blood,” I whispered in his ear.

That snapped him out of frozen terror, and he screamed out the door, down the walk, and down the street. I watched him go, leaning on the doorframe, with Andrew. After a few minutes, the ghosts hiding in the forest started to return to the house. Some stopped to check out the van permanently parked in front of the mansion.

Golden Flecks – Part 1

            “You’re not human,” the regent stated as she sat down in the High Priestess’s chair and set me with a look of something akin to envy. I could feel her wishing to be like me so desperately that it nearly hurt. When I remained silent, uncertain what to say when someone accuses me of not being human, she motioned towards the uncomfortable chair opposite her. “I know that’s going to come as a bit of a shock, Delia. Please, have a seat,” she crooned as she ducked behind the desk and pulled a large, heavy tome out of her carpetbag.

            “Uh, I don’t know that you need to waste your time on me, Your Excellency,” I murmured, feeling my face turning crimson at the attention. Ever since I was inducted into the magical society, I had managed to keep my head down and keep out of trouble; this seemed like a lot of trouble to me.

            Smiling with only her lips, the woman cleared her throat and continued, “I really must insist, Delia.” I felt something come over me when she looked into my eyes, and I sat immediately. “We humans have this innate ability to take something abnormal or special and turn it into something commonplace so we can be comfortable with it,” she explained as she flipped through the large book. Each page was handwritten in tiny, perfect script; the pages themselves appeared very old but were in near-perfect condition. Upside down, I couldn’t make out a single letter of the fine print.

            I pushed past the lump that had formed in my throat and asked, “Look, Your Excellency, I have duties to perform with an important ritual tonight and I really do need to get going.” When I spoke, there was a calmness that I didn’t think I could manage at this moment; being an empath, I found I was in a unique position to lie to people using their own signs of truth against them. In most cases, it was a simple tick they considered truthful, but with the regent, the whole sentence felt foreign in my mouth.

            “So, not a fey, then,” she murmured, pursing her lips as she read pages in a blink.

            “S-sorry?” I asked, unsure why she might even consider that I was a member of the fey; I would know if that were the case.

            She looked up from the book and explained, “You just lied to me, very well, I might add, which means you can’t be even half-fey.” Back to the book, she went to pour over page after page of minuscule print. After a minute of careful consideration, she stared at me with an air of uncertainty spiked with the seed of anger. I’d found that most people in power felt that way when they didn’t know or understand something. “Oftentimes, I have found that a rare blemish or aberration is a sign of great power or importance; your eyes are nothing different from that,” she continued as she turned the book on the desk so I could see it.

            Pointing to a line halfway down, she lit up the text with her finger and the words glowed like liquid gold in the sunshine. “Here, they state that grey eyes are very rarely seen in humans,” she explained, translating from the Latin of the text. I suppose I might have let her know I was fluent, but she was excited about what she read. Without her eyes leaving my face, she continued as the gold flowed into the next words, “They used to believe it was some kind of curse of the family to have the absence of colour; like it was some sort of cruel punishment. Nowadays, they say it’s simply different levels of melanin in the iris.” Only the first part was written, which confirmed that the tome was old.

            “Yeah, that’s what we learned in school,” I replied, wishing the regent would stop staring at me. Sitting up straighter in the chair, I added, “I only started learning magic a few years ago. Before that, I was in normal school.”

            She softened in appearance and emotion; the realization that I wasn’t indoctrinated into magic until later seemed to be a clue and solidified her assumption. “Which is why I am sure I’m correct in saying that you are not a normal human or even sorceress,” she continued as she turned the book to face her once again and gently stroked the page. “That golden fleck in the very center of your iris is the final piece of the puzzle; you are an angel’s soul in a mortal body,” she explained as the book closed of its own accord.

            For a full three minutes, neither of us spoke or moved. The regent stared at me with a strained concern brewing. I, on the other hand, was in a full-on panic within.

            “I uh, no, I uh, I’m just not that,” I stammered finally, sitting awkwardly at the edge of my chair and begged the universe to create an emergency to make this meeting end. When the woman didn’t say anything, I babbled, “No, I mean, I didn’t even know about this and, no, I mean, come on. That’s just, that isn’t remotely, just, no.” Finally, the nervous energy forced me to my feet, and I began to pace behind the chair.

            “I understand that this is a shock, but I am quite positive on the matter,” the regent replied, remaining calm. Holding out a hand, she stopped my pacing and continued, “I’m sure you hide a lot from your peers, even here, and your empath class is likely more than a little confusing.” When she dropped her hand, I stayed standing.

            I nodded and sighed, “None of them can understand each other. It’s like a feedback loop so an empath can never read another empath. Can never really understand one another like they can understand someone else.” We both knew what the next part of that statement was.

            “And you can,” she added quietly. When I didn’t reply, she persisted, “The only way they can understand the reason behind someone’s emotion is to be focusing on that person completely, to block everyone else out, yet you instinctually can understand the meaning of emotions as you’re in a crowd.” It was like she knew exactly what I was feeling; like she’d met someone like me before.

            Touching the solid wood of the chair in front of me for stability, I asked, “Have you met someone like that before? Someone like me? Or are you just assuming from some book and you could be completely wrong?”

            Honestly, I don’t know what answer I was hoping for, but when she spoke, it really hit me, “When I was in school, there was a mage’s daughter who was like you. She had a completely different power, but it was heightened just like yours. She could alter people’s minds and implant and destroy memories. She was amazing.”

            I wanted to meet this woman, but a sadness had come over the regent and she was staring down at the book. “What happened to her?” I whispered.

            “The society destroyed her because they were afraid,” she murmured, melancholy dripping from her words. Taking a breath, she forced a smile and stated in earnest, “This will be our secret for now. I won’t let that happen to you, Delia.”

To be continued…

Fairie Deal

            When I woke up, the world was a dark, blurry place. Tilting my head to the side, I was forced to shut my eyes as the world spun ferociously. I groaned and tried to remember what happened; all I was getting were flashes of a cave and a fire. Finally, I managed to lean my back against a cold stone wall and squinted into the room. It was upright, there was only one of them, and it wasn’t making me sick to look at it.

            Sitting up, I realized I was in a dungeon of some sort. Stone walls and floor, heavy iron bars on the front, a deep-set window with iron webbing, and I could see the sputtering sparks of magic running through the air between the metal. Clearly, this place was designed to keep fey at bay. I rolled my eyes, which was a mistake, and slowly got to my feet. Rolling my shoulders to work out a stiff kink, I felt my left wing thump limply against my back. When I reached around, the delicate membrane seemed to be intact, but the joints wouldn’t respond; I couldn’t even feel it. I flexed the other, which was fine.

            Feeling anger welling up, I shouted, “Where am I?” through the bars, careful not to actually touch the iron with my hands. I was putting all my effort into not crying or panicking about my wing because it wouldn’t do any good, but I feared the worst.

            “You don’t qualify for that answer,” a man muttered, standing just beyond the shadow in the open hallway. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he shuffled out into the light of a single torch and I could see claw marks raked across the old man’s face. Haggard, grey hands gripped a gnarly wooden staff with all their might to keep the ma upright. Grinning, his face twisted and rippled like water. “Have we met before?” he asked in a gravelly voice.

            I wished to lie, but I’d been caught before; tricks didn’t help in these situations. “You seem familiar,” I murmured as he stepped forward. Instinctively, I stepped back and bumped my numb wing against the cell wall.

            “Now, now, don’t be afraid. I only want a few vials of blood for something I’m working on,” he explained, holding a hand out.

            When he said that, I realized where I knew him from and shivered. In my youth, I had made a deal with a young man and had promised him a little of my blood in exchange for his firstborn child; this was that young man.

            Again, he grinned that horrible grin and whispered, “You don’t look any older than the day we first met, though I have aged beyond my years.” Turning away from me, he picked up a needle from a table and came to the cell. He rested the cane against the bars and eyed me warily. “You promised me six vials, but only gave five,” he stated, knowing that bound me.

            “You fell ill and I thought you died,” I replied, wishing I was anywhere but here. Chuckling, I snapped, “You never held up your end of the bargain, anyway.” It bound me to him, but also him to me.

            Snickering, he offered the needle to me and suggested, “How about you do the honours and I’ll honour my side of the deal?” When I stared at the needle, he explained, “I’m not strong enough to do it myself.” I remained apprehensive. “You were out cold when I found you; if I wanted to kill you, that would have been the moment,” he added.

            Still eyeing him, I took the needle and carefully extracted the blood and placed the vial on his hand again. “Alright, now where is your firstborn?” I asked. Honestly, even back then I didn’t have a use for a child, but it was a fey’s rite of passage to negotiate that deal.

            “Oh, well,” he murmured, putting down the blood and returning to the cell, “I suppose I outsmarted a fairie with that one.” I stared at him with my arms crossed. “I never fell in love, never married, remained celibate throughout my life to ensure I never sired a child,” he explained. “I’ll be back for more blood later. And maybe that wing, as you have no use for it,” he cackled as he shuffled back down the hallway.

            When he’d gone, I carefully slid down the wall and sat on the floor, watching dust motes dancing in the first shards of sunlight through the window.