《Familiar》


 Chapter One

    Owl familiars are not uncommon on the Ibis Islands. They¡¯re reliable, have excellent night vision, are wise, and seem to have opinions about how magic should be cast. Sebastian is¡­ Well, he looks very disappointed in me right now, as I practice my spells in the small attic room of my master¡¯s home. I wish he¡¯d just stop staring at me as if I¡¯d just missed catching my prey. His golden eyes narrow at me, and he seems to almost sigh when I miscast my spell again. I read through the symbols again, then retrace them through the air with my hands more carefully. For a moment, I almost think it might work, but then the water in the cup I¡¯ve set on my writing desk just sort of fizzles out, becoming a small cloud of steam. It¡¯s not what I intended. It was supposed to become a sphere.


    With a frustrated sigh, I go over the symbols again more slowly, taking special note of the dots. My brain is buzzing with weariness, and the words on the page seem to circle, and become shapeless blobs as my eyes struggle to remain open. I mutter a curse beneath my breath, which causes Sebastian to tilt his head to one side, and turn to face me.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t give me that,¡± I huff. ¡°You say worse things to other owls, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    He blinks at me, then returns his gaze to the window, where the light of the moon is pouring in. He shakes his black wings exposing the silver beneath them, then begins to screech, becoming impatient with me, ready for his nightly hunt. I reach towards the window latch, and he pecks my hand, aggressively, rushing me like he does every night.


    ¡°STOP!¡± I shout at him, tapping his beak when he snaps at me once more. ¡°That¡¯s enough. You¡¯ve made your point.¡±


    He shakes his feathers, stepping back as I pull open the window, then eyes me carefully, his head tilting to one side just before he takes off into the night. Returning my attention to my spell book, I go over the symbols one final time, then give up. If Sebastian is gone, it might be time for me to get some sleep. I take up my book, and slip it inside a hole I¡¯ve cut into my mattress.


    After changing into a nightgown, I tie my hair up, then go to sleep, feeling a chill through the slightly opened window. I pull the covers tightly around me, falling asleep from weariness despite the cold.


    Sebastian pecks at my nose, and flutters his feathers into my face, screeching at the top of his lungs. I reach over, and shove him away, groaning as I sit up, my back aching from the lumpy mattress. Sebastian positions himself beneath my fingers as I stretch, and yawn. The sun isn¡¯t even fully up yet, and the temptation to swat at Sebastian for waking me so early is strong, but when he twitters, I instantly forgive him. He pushes himself against my fingertips, and I scratch his head until I¡¯m alert enough to begin my day.


    ¡°Good morning, Bazzy,¡± I greet. ¡°Did you have an enjoyable evening?¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± he says quietly, nodding his head. ¡°I caught a nice big, fat rat. When I bit into him his blood-¡±


    Sebastian is always more vocal in the morning after a good meal.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need the details,¡± I groan. ¡°It¡¯s too early for that.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. How did you sleep?¡±


    I groan in response, and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.


    After splashing cold water on my face from a basin in the corner of the room, I tie my hair back, and put on my gray collared uniform dress and white apron. I stare at myself in the full length mirror on my closet door. Each strand of my dark brown hair is pinned so tightly in place, I already feel a headache coming on. My dark brown eyes stare back at me, weary from my long nights of studying. In the mirror, I notice Sebastian staring out the window, fluttering his wings, nervously hopping from one side of his perch to the other.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, Baz?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± he twitters. ¡°I feel uneasy.¡±


    I hum as I slip into my shoes; a pair of black, leather flats. ¡°Is that so?¡±


    ¡°Be careful today.¡±


    I nod, as I make my way to the door.


    With my hand on the doorknob, I turn back to him, and give him a smile. ¡°Feel free to sleep in my bed today. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll have time to eat up here, or take a nap.¡±


    With a small puff of wind, he goes into his human form, then furrows his brows looking purposely disappointed. His human form is striking with tan skin, wavy, black hair half done up in braids that are decorated in silver beads. The same golden eyes that look at me from beneath his feathers in his owl form now give me a worried look.


    ¡°You won¡¯t skip lunch, will you?¡±


    ¡°No, I won¡¯t. I just can¡¯t take it up here. We¡¯re preparing for the arrival of the master''s family. His mother will be in town.¡±


    ¡°Is she¡­¡± He stares up at the ceiling a moment, searching for the right word. ¡°Mean-spirited? Cruel?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never met her before.¡±


    ¡°If she¡¯s anything like-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Baz-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not alright. I¡¯ll-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Don¡¯t help me, Baz. I need to keep this job. You need to remain hidden. We cannot run again. Do you understand? I like it here.¡±


    ¡°Is it because you like the master¡¯s son?¡±


    ¡°It helps some,¡± I say, with a wink. ¡°Be good. Stay quiet. Get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Miss Clara.¡±


    In the kitchen, Maria is already baking fresh bread, and grinding coffee beans. The windows are all open, allowing the bright morning sunshine and gentle breeze to pour in. A bowl of fresh fruits sit on the table, washed and ready for prepping. I sneak an acerola cherry into my mouth, just as Maria places her oven mitts on the small wooden breakfast table.


    ¡°Morning, Maria.¡±


    ¡°Clara,¡± she says, in her usual commanding tone.


    I freeze in place, and wait for her instructions, but when she looks up at me, her face falls.


    ¡°Clarita,¡± she says quietly, her lip curling into a pitying smile. ¡°You didn¡¯t sleep.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± I admit, fidgeting with the ends of my apron.


    She walks up to me, a slight limp in her step, and places a hand on my shoulder, then leans over slightly, to meet me at eye level, her bright green eyes piercing through me.


    ¡°Why, mija?¡±


    ¡°I was studying, Maria,¡± I huff. ¡°You know I study at night.¡±


    She pushes back a strand of white hair that falls over her face, and tucks it neatly into the hair bun on her head, readjusting the pins that hold it in place.


    ¡°You know that¡¯s a waste of time.¡±


    She turns her attention to the fruits on the table, taking the whole bowl into her arms, and carrying it over to the sink.


    ¡°I know that¡¯s what you think.¡±


    ¡°You should focus on your work, fixing your appearance so that you can find a suitable husband, and saying your prayers, Clara, not doing¡­¡± She leans over towards me, cupping her mouth as she whispers. ¡°Not doing magia.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to start dusting. You should mind the bread. It looks like something is burning.¡±


    She gasps, and as she occupies herself with the oven, I grab my duster, which hangs by the back door on a nail.


    Upstairs, I tiptoe into Miguel¡¯s room. Miguel is young and scrawny, with dark skin, and hair so black, it looks almost blue in the light. He looks the exact opposite of his father, who is pale, with blonde hair, and striking green eyes. Miguel sleeps soundly as I take the end of my duster, and tickle his nose with it. He scrunches his face up, turning away, pulling the covers over his head.


    ¡°Miguel,¡± I whisper. ¡°Good morning.¡±


    He emerges slowly from beneath the covers, his warm hazel eyes seemingly smiling when he spots me.


    ¡°Clara.¡±


    Miguel wraps his arms around my neck, pulling me down into the bed next to him with a cheerful laugh, curling up into my lap.


    ¡°Tell me, Clara,¡± he says cheerfully. ¡°Tell me about the witch of Ibis Islands.¡±


    ¡°Ah, s¨ª, that¡¯s where I left off. The witch of Ibis Islands is old, and scary, with fingers stuck in the shape of claws!¡± I form a claw with my hands, and tickle him, stopping only when I think he¡¯s getting too loud, and will wake the others in the household. ¡°She travels using the mists of the mountains, and the gust of winds in the air, and the-¡±


    ¡°The waters that flow through the seas.¡±


    ¡°S¨ª. They say if you see her, it¡¯s already too late. You¡¯re already dead, and she has come to reclaim your soul.¡±


    ¡°Why does she want your soul?¡± he asks, his question rehearsed.


    ¡°Porque, that¡¯s how she gets her power. You know what her favorite types of souls are?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says, wide-eyed.


    ¡°The souls of misbehaving, little boys!¡± I say, tickling him with my clawed hands. ¡°So you better be on your best behavior while your abuela is here, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± he says, defeated. ¡°How is Baz?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s upstairs sleeping, but maybe you can seem him later today-¡±


    ¡°Ya-¡±


    ¡°If you behave.¡±


    His head hangs. ¡°Yes, Clara.¡±


    ¡°Good boy. Now go wash up. I have to get to work. Leave your clothes hamper outside after you¡¯ve taken off your nightgown, okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Se?orita Clara.¡±


    ¡°Remember, if you don¡¯t behave, the bruja of Ibis Islands will come to take your soul.¡±


    He scampers away into his private bathroom, and the water immediately comes on. Several minutes later, he opens the bathroom door just enough to push his clothes hamper out. I take it up, and bring it with me downstairs to the laundry room, where the laundress, Ana, is singing loudly as she hangs damp clothes on a clothesline that leads outside. I tip the hamper over a pile of dirty garments, then return the hamper upstairs, leaving it in Miguel¡¯s room.


    After dusting the halls, sweeping, and making up the guest beds, the doorbell rings. I make myself scarce, finding sanctuary in the kitchen. The master¡¯s mother hates seeing the servants out and about the house, unless they are there specifically present to serve her. The master¡¯s voice rings out through the house as he joyfully greets her, commanding the servants to take her things up to her permanent room on the first floor. Just as I¡¯m about to settle down, and enjoy a quiet breakfast of bread and coffee, Maria rushes in with wide-eyes, and mouth hanging open.


    ¡°Clara, what are you doing? Get down there, and grab her bags.¡±


    ¡°Me? Where¡¯s Lucas? That¡¯s his job.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s gone this week, remember? He¡¯s getting married.¡±


    I soak the rest of my bread in my coffee, and swallow it, followed by the rest of my coffee, grumbling under my breath. Maria dusts the crumbs off my apron, and straightens out my gray uniform as I fasten a frilly white bonnet over my head. She pushes me out the kitchen door, almost making me trip on the hall carpet just outside.


    I walk quickly down the hall towards the front door, where an old woman that looks as if she should be lying in a coffin already, stands; pale, shriveled skin, and emotionless. She glances at me for a brief moment, and her face has already formed a scowl.


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Mother,¡± says the master of the house. ¡°This is Clara. She will take your bags.¡±


    The woman huffs, and drops her large, heavy suitcase into my arms. I struggle not to fall over as I catch it, then plaster on my best smile. How is she so strong?


    ¡°Gracias. Thank you, Madam Beatrice.¡± I say.


    With a roll of her eyes, and a wave of her hand, she dismisses me. I begin making my way slowly down the hall, praying my back can endure this weight.


    ¡°William, I don¡¯t understand why you are making my grandson live here in this dump, when we have a perfectly good house in Castin.¡±


    ¡°Mother, you know I want Miguel to grow up knowing where his mother came from.¡±


    She tuts.


    ¡°Clarice!¡± she shouts. ¡°Clarice! Girl! Are you deaf.¡±


    ¡°Clara,¡± says Master William.


    I turn back, smiling as brightly as before. ¡°Yes, Master?¡±


    ¡°Take this, too,¡± says Madam Beatrice, gesturing towards another suitcase at her feet. ¡°Chop chop.¡±


    I aim to set her suitcase down.


    ¡°Ah, ah!¡± she warns. ¡°That costs more than you do, so you best not set it on the ground.¡±


    ¡°Mother-¡±


    ¡°William, you simply must train these servants better.¡±


    She watches as I struggle to lift her other bag, my arms burning as I walk down the hall. When I finally turn the corner out of sight, I drop her bags, and drag them across the carpet into the guest room, being sure to hit them against the strong wooden door frame several times before setting them down on the luggage rack in the closet. I nearly jump out of my skin when Madam Beatrice is standing at the doorway, watching me.


    ¡°Is there anything else I can do for you, Se?ora?¡±


    ¡°Get out. I don¡¯t need you snooping through my things.¡±


    I bow slightly as I move past her, scurrying down the hall, running face first into Master William. His strong hands push me at arms length, and he gives me a questioning look. Dazed by his bright green eyes, I grin like a love-sick teenager, until he calls my name.


    ¡°Yes, Master William?¡±


    ¡°Is everything alright?¡±


    ¡°S¨ª, everything is fine. Do you need anything, Se?or?¡±


    ¡°Is Miguel awake?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master. He should be down shortly.¡±


    ¡°Make sure he¡¯s seated at the table before mother gets there. She hates when people are late.¡±


    I nod, then rush back up the stairs.


    ¡°Miguel,¡± I whisper, entering his room. ¡°Se?orito, where are you?¡±


    ¡°Clara,¡± he greets, tucking his face into my stomach. ¡°Look, I got dressed all by myself!¡±


    He spins around. His shirt is untucked, his tie is crooked, his buttons aren¡¯t lined up, and his socks don¡¯t match.


    ¡°I can see that.¡± I giggle. ¡°Where is Luiz?¡±


    Miguel stops mid-spin, and shrugs.


    ¡°Okay, take your shoes off, move quickly.¡±


    I make my way across the large plush carpet of his room, and pull open the chest of drawers, seeking out the first matching pair of socks I see.


    ¡°Sit on the bed.¡±


    He obediently follows my instructions.


    ¡°Feet up.¡±


    He lies back, and sticks his feet in the air. I remove his mismatched socks, and put a pair of black dress socks on his feet, being sure to squeeze his big toe when I¡¯m done. He giggles, then sits up.


    ¡°Okay, now let¡¯s fix your tie. You did such a good job, but¡­¡±


    I unbutton his vest, and remove his tie and belt.


    ¡°Okay, arms up.¡±


    He reaches for the ceiling, as I undo his belt, and tuck his shirt in properly. I find another belt to match the color of his dress shoes, straighten his tie, then fix the buttons of his vest.


    ¡°You did very good,¡± I say again, as he grins up at me. ¡°Your abuela is here. She¡¯s going to the dining room. Go, and move quickly! For your papito!¡±


    He rushes off, after giving me a final squishy hug, which melts my heart, and brings me a joy I didn¡¯t think possible.


    While the Evans family is downstairs (hopefully) enjoying breakfast, I tidy up Miguel¡¯s room, replacing all of his books on the shelves, his toys in the chest at the foot of his bed, straightening out any papers filled with his childish scribbles, and do a bit of light dusting before moving on to Master William¡¯s room.


    Master William¡¯s room is always extremely tidy, not a single thing out of place except in the corner where a vanity that once belonged to Mistress Micaela sits. The small drawers of the vanity lie open. Ribbons and jewels are scattered across the surface, as if she¡¯d never left that night three years ago, and been found that night, her body cold, her eyes hollow, and her face contorted into an expression of an unimaginable fear. No one knew what happened, but Master William forbade everyone from touching that dresser


    Once, one of the maids had stolen a set of earrings from it, and he had her sent off back to the mainland right around the time the elves were capturing humans to be used as slaves. No one has heard from her since.


    I dust carefully around the scattered items, wiping down whatever my duster cannot reach, carefully replacing any item that might have shifted in the process. I pause to trace the symbol of an owl on her hairbrush, reminding me of Sebastian¡¯s form.


    ¡°Miss Clara.¡±


    I look up, finding Master William watching me intensely, holding his breath. I set the brush down carefully, then spin around.


    ¡°Master William,¡± I say loudly, standing up straighter, feeling as if my heart might spring out of my chest. ¡°I am just dusting.¡±


    ¡°Relax,¡± he says calmly, stepping in, making it a point to leave the door wide open. ¡°I¡¯m simply running late for an appointment, and couldn¡¯t wait. Have you seen my hat?¡±


    I glance around the room, spotting it on the dresser. As I reach for it, I feel a warm hand wrap around my waist, and move me aside gently. He takes the hat up, and tucks it between his arm, along with a set of leather gloves, which he struggles to put on with shaky hands.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let me keep you from your work,¡± he says gently.


    ¡°Thank you, Master.¡± I bow my head, then continue dusting, starting with one of the side tables.


    ¡°I-... I thank you for being careful with Micaela¡¯s things.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    He huffs and sighs several times as I run my duster over the lamp shade. I watch from the corner of my eye as he struggles to button up his gloves, waiting for him to ask for help so that I may help him, and not insult his pride.


    ¡°Clara?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master William?¡±


    ¡°Would you mind?¡±


    He holds his hand out to me with his palm up. I set the duster aside on top of a dresser, and wipe my hands on my apron. Carefully, I tug on his gloves, being sure they¡¯re on properly before fastening the button at his wrist. Without hesitation, he moves his hat beneath his other arm, and holds his other hand out to me. When I fasten the other button, he holds my hand, and kisses it, sending a pleasant shiver through me.


    ¡°Thank you, Clara.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± I say, avoiding his gaze, taking up my duster once more.


    Sebastian will surely mention this later.


    ¡°I leave you to your work then.¡±


    In the evening, when I finally have a moment to rest, I rush upstairs with some leftovers from dinner, being careful to creep quietly up the stairs in case Sebastian is still sleeping. His groans let me know he¡¯s only half alert. I sit quietly in the corner on a stool I¡¯ve dragged between the bed and window, and watch the sun set outside, as I rest my plate of food on the window sill.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡± he asks, sitting up in bed, and stretching out.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask, stuffing a bit of potato into my mouth.


    ¡°Something got you all bothered earlier today.¡±


    I focus on his reflection in the window pane. He appears amused.


    ¡°Honestly, Baz,¡± I huff. ¡°You know how difficult it would be, now that the master¡¯s mother is here.¡±


    ¡°You know that¡¯s not what I¡¯m talking about,¡± he says, leaning forward to rest his head on my shoulder. ¡°You know he only likes you because you remind him of her.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I grumble, pushing around the tomatoes and eggs on my plate.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want your feelings to get hurt.¡±


    ¡®Again¡¯. He meant to add ¡®again¡¯ to the end of that statement, but he knows that I know, and he¡¯s trying to spare my feelings.


    I lean back in my chair, and offer him my plate. He sniffs it, and his lips curl. He takes the plate and fork from me, then stabs a few bits of egg. I watch him, impressed he¡¯s finally able to use an eating utensil. He often ate in his animal form, since it''s always been financially easier for the both of us for him to do his own hunting.


    ¡°What is this?¡± he asks, holding the fork to my mouth, expecting me to take a bite.


    ¡°Eggs. Chicken eggs. You¡¯ve seen them before.¡±


    ¡°Why do they look so unappetizing?¡±


    I chuckle. ¡°They were overcooked.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t the cook make you another?¡±


    ¡°No. She was busy cleaning. It¡¯s fine. I can eat it.¡±


    ¡°Is it safe?¡±


    I take the fork and plate from his hands, and take a bite. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    He sighs, then lies back on the bed, staring at the ceiling as I slowly finish my meal. He grows irritated the longer he waits, and I purposely eat slower, becoming amused with the increasing intensity of his sighs. Outside, the glass windows of the surrounding buildings all reflect the bright red of the setting sun, and one by one, the rows of street lamps are lighted, casting soft yellow light on the streets below.


    With my final bite, Sebastian mutters under his breath, and I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s thanking his gods or if he¡¯s still irritated.


    ¡°Are you done?¡± he asks.


    He¡¯s still irritated.


    ¡°I am. Should I let you out?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he mumbles quietly. ¡°Not yet.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    I get to my feet, taking my plate with me, and he tugs lightly on the corner of my apron.


    ¡°Can I help you, Bazzy?¡±


    He rolls over in the bed, patting the empty spot next to him. I sit down, and look down at him. He rolls his eyes, sits up, sets my plate down on the sill, then tugs me down by the collar of my dress. I catch myself, one hand on each side of him, as he looks up at me with a look of pure innocence.


    ¡°Did you forget how to speak?¡± I ask, drolly.


    He curls his lips in, failing to hide his amusement, then squeezes his eyes shut.


    ¡°Sebastian Swiftwing, use your words.¡±


    He reaches up to hold my face between his hands, then tilts his head to one side, as if he¡¯s seeing me for the first time. His golden eyes gleam in the candlelight like jewels.


    ¡°I simply desire to spend time with you before you go to sleep. We hardly see each other anymore.¡± He cups my face, and gently runs his thumb over my cheek.


    ¡°I¡¯m assuming you¡¯ll be demanding I take a break from practicing my spells tonight, then?¡± I ask, lying down next to him, taking his hand, and intertwining our fingers.


    ¡°I can¡¯t demand anything of you, but you have spent an awfully long time failing to get anything working. You should possibly take a break.¡±


    ¡°¡®Failing¡¯, huh?¡± I giggle. ¡°I give you a bed, a roof over your head, and plenty of rest, and this is the thanks I get?¡±


    ¡°Your master does that for me,¡± he says, without missing a beat. ¡°I miss you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m right here. I¡¯m always right here.¡±


    He turns to face me, his eyes burning holes through me. I squeeze my eyes shut, attempting to ignore his gaze.


    ¡°Clara,¡± he says, sternly. ¡°Look at me.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡± I ask, fluttering my eyelashes at him.


    ¡°Are you still upset about the mouse?¡± He pouts, his eyes glossy with tears.


    ¡°No.¡±


    I¡¯d forgotten all about it, actually. Several days ago, he¡¯d brought a mouse into the room for him to snack on, thinking it was dead, but it turned out that mouse was an excellent actor. It¡¯d taken half the night to catch it, while Sebastian was out trying to catch another meal.


    ¡°Are you avoiding me for some reason?¡±


    ¡°Bazzy,¡± I groan. ¡°I¡¯m not avoiding you. I¡¯m not upset with you. I¡¯m not anything. I¡¯m simply exhausted.¡±


    ¡°Then rest here with me,¡± he says happily, pulling me against his side, and wrapping his arms around me.


    ¡°I still need to wash.¡±


    ¡°Right. So¡­ go wash. I¡¯ll¡­¡± He poofs into his owl form. ¡°I¡¯ll join you.¡±


    In the small bathroom, Sebastian joyfully dips his head into the metal wash basin filled halfway up with water, then shakes and walks around, getting water everywhere. I sink beneath the bath water, feeling every ache and pain in my body slowly fading with the effects of a healing potion I¡¯ve poured in, lulling me into a state of half-sleep as I watch the steam curl up from the surface.


    A cold shower of drops strikes my face, and I open my eyes in time to get bombarded by more splashes from Sebastian flapping his wet wings.


    ¡°Bazzy, you¡¯re making a mess.¡± I tut.


    He tucks his head beneath one wing. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Are you almost done, though?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Alright. I¡¯m going to step out of the tub, so just¡­ cover your face, I suppose.¡±


    He ducks his small head beneath his wings, turning to face the corner of the bathroom. I wrap myself in a towel, exiting the room, and slip into my nightgown quickly. In the bathroom, I can hear Sebastian splash several more times into the wash basin, then shake his feathers.


    ¡°Bazzy!¡± I hiss.


    He twitters, and I hear him shake again.


    I open the door, catching him mid-flap, and he sinks beneath the lip of the wash basin, with only his eyes visible over the edge. He blinks several times as he tilts his head from side to side. I sigh, defeated by his endearing appearance, and toss a towel on the floor to soak up the water, moving it around with my foot to mop up the puddles. As I lean over to pick up the towel, I feel Sebastian¡¯s damp feathers against my cheek.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡± I ask, with a laugh.


    His golden eyes follow my hands as I lift the towel, and when it¡¯s within reach, he grabs it with his beak, pulling it with all his strength.


    ¡°Baz!¡± I scold him, swatting at him lightly.


    He lets out a mischievous laugh, pulling it again. It slips from my grasp, falling to the floor, taking him down with it. He struggles beneath it, now just a bouncing lump beneath the towel as he hops up and down trying to escape. I hold my stomach, laughing as I bend over to help him.


    ¡°Why would you do that?¡± I ask him, helping him off the floor, and back into the wash basin.


    He lifts his wings in a shrug. ¡°It seemed fun.¡±


    ¡°It was wet. It weighs more than you right now.¡±


    He sighs, tucking his wings into his sides.


    ¡°Would you like me to dry you off?¡±


    He spreads his wings fully, and waits as I dab a dry towel to his feathers.


    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easier to dry off as a human,¡± he grumbles.


    ¡°Right, I¡¯ll take that as my cue to exit.¡±


    Leaving the towel on a hook, I exit the bathroom, and shut the door quietly behind me, immediately hearing the distinct poof sound Sebastian makes when he goes into his human form. He cries out in pain, then mutters several curses beneath his breath, cursing the sink. I clear my throat to disguise my laugh.


    ¡°I can tell you¡¯re amused, no need to hide it,¡± he mumbles, irritably.


    ¡°I was trying to be polite.¡±


    He groans loudly.


    ¡°Does it hurt? Is it serious?¡±


    He groans again, expressing irritation. I shrug, then take a seat at my writing desk, where a book lies open. It¡¯s covered in Sebastian¡¯s small, neat cursive handwriting. I look over it as I brush the tangles in my hair. It¡¯s just a list of what he¡¯s done with his day, most of it involving sleeping, a series of strange dreams, feelings he felt from me, and what he thinks they meant. I spot Master William¡¯s name. It¡¯s messy, and the ink is thick, and pooled. He was upset.


    The sound of the bathroom door draws my attention. I lean against the back of my chair, and watch Sebastian step out with his hair wrapped in a towel. He glances over at me curiously just before panic sets in as he spots the book. I shut it, then look back at him with a smirk.


    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t leave your journal out if you don¡¯t want me to read it.¡±


    He turns away, the color on his cheeks becoming red. He stares out the window, with the lack of options for things to distract himself with in the small, sparsely furnished room.


    ¡°Master William is a good man,¡± I state.


    ¡°I gathered, from the way you-¡± He squeezes his eyes, his face contorting into a pained expression. ¡°I know he is. I just wish you wouldn¡¯t-...¡± He takes a deep breath, and releases it slowly.


    ¡°You need not be jealous,¡± I say reassuringly, turning away, and continuing to brush my hair.


    The floorboards creak as he makes his way to a clothesline that hangs across the room. He huffs as he drapes his towel over it, then takes the others, and drapes them next to his, forming a divider between us.


    ¡°I¡¯m not jealous,¡± he says, curtly.


    ¡°Come here. I¡¯ll fix your hair.¡± I set my hairbrush down, and wave him over.


    ¡°No.¡± Beneath the row of towels, I watch his lower body sit on the bed.


    ¡°Baz, don¡¯t be a child.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a child!¡± he whispers harshly. ¡°I¡¯m a grown man, and yet you still choose to-...¡±


    I push aside one of the towels, flashing him a playful grin. ¡°Then why are you behaving like a child?¡±


    He stands abruptly, opens the window, and transforms into an owl. ¡°I¡¯m going out. Don¡¯t wait for me in the morning. I¡¯ll be away.¡±


    I pout. He hesitates a moment when I make my lip quiver. From the window sill, a gust of wind blows his feathers gently as we stare at each other.


    ¡°I just need to clear my head.¡±


    ¡°Let me fix your hair, at least, or preen your feathers. You have a few that look a bit-¡±


    He returns to his human form, then reclaims his place on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest, avoiding my gaze.


    Tracing my fingers around Sebastian¡¯s silver beads, I spread the oil on my fingertips over his scalp. He nuzzles sleepily into my stomach, looking content and relaxed. I relish his warmth in my lap, and the smile on his lips.


    ¡°Baz?¡±


    He yawns, and stretches. ¡°Hmm? Sorry. I think I fell asleep.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m done. You can go now.¡±


    He glances at the clock above the mantle of the small stone fireplace located just in front of the bed, then settles back against me, grabbing hold of the fabric of my nightgown.


    ¡°At least let me put the comb away.¡±


    He groans irritably, as he rolls off me, his hand remaining around the hem of my nightgown as I reach over him to set the ivory comb on a dresser next to the bed.


    ¡°Should I get you something to eat, then?¡± I ask, sitting down, his head immediately back in my lap.


    He nods, looking up at me with his big, round golden eyes. I find myself smiling, wanting to squeeze him tightly between my arms, and bury my face into his chest. Instead, I push him gently aside, and light a candle sitting on the window sill.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back shortly.¡±


    He curls up beneath the covers without a word.

 Chapter Two

    Seventeen years ago¡­


    ¡°The ceremony is about to begin,¡± whispers my mother, looking panicked as she has all day (needlessly so). ¡°Get ready.¡±


    ¡°Mami, por favor,¡± I huff. ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m ready.¡±


    Looking myself over in the mirror, I tuck a loose curl that has escaped from beneath my headband, and use another pin to force it to stay in place. Mother rushes out, groaning loudly when someone calls her from down the hall. Grandmother enters my room, her eyes bright, the corners wrinkling from all the smiling she¡¯s done over the decades, and her mouth is turned up.


    ¡°Abuelita!¡± I cry out, rushing out of my seat to hug her.


    ¡°Clarita,¡± she coos, running a hand along my back. ¡°You look beautiful, mijita. I see your mother finally let you get a new dress.¡±


    I spin around in my forest green dress, embroidered in a gradient with flowers and leaves. ¡°Do you like it?¡±


    ¡°It suits you,¡± she says, with a nod.


    She places a kiss on my head, then reaches into her skirt pocket, pulling out a small wooden box. I¡¯ve seen this box before. It¡¯s always sat on her vanity back in her home in the mountains. It contained a family heirloom, a jeweled necklace with six gems, each representing the elemental magics of Amith; Ruby, sapphire, emerald, diamond, topaz, and onyx. It was always passed down to the first witch in the family. My grandmother had had all sons, and her sons had all sons. I was the first witch.


    ¡°Now,¡± she says, seriously as I eye the box, my heart racing with excitement. ¡°I know you know what this is, but I¡¯m going to tell you the same thing my mother told me. Do you remember the family motto?¡±


    ¡°¡®Poder y sabidur¨ªa¡¯,¡± I recite, proudly.


    ¡°Use your powers wisely, Clarita. Others in the world, other m¨ªsticos out there, use their powers for greed, and control. The Reyes family mystics must be different! We must use our powers for good; for healing, for protecting, for helping those who cannot help themselves. Do you understand, Clara?¡±


    ¡°Si, abuelita.¡±


    ¡°Remember that when you recite your vows tonight.¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°Now, go out there and make us proud.¡±


    I stand before my family, all of them dressed in traditional Ibis Island garbs of rich greens, browns, and flowers of all colors. Those who are heads of their households carry wooden staffs of intricate designs, embedded at the top with a gem of the color of their most powerful elemental power. My parents look up at me, father smiling warmly while mother clings to my father¡¯s arm nervously. My stage is the second story balcony of our family home overlooking the courtyard.


    ¡°Hola,¡± I greet everyone with a nervous wave.


    My cousins cheer loudly, whistling and whooping, while the rest of my family members clap. My great grandmother, Ada, a woman who I believe is older than even the trees of the forest that surround our home, walks up next to me, placing a pale, gnarled hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°We are gathered here today to bestow Clara the honorable title of mystic.¡± She pauses, as my family cheers again. ¡°Clara, today is a special day. We have watched you grow, not only physically, but mentally, and spiritually, from a child to the young woman you are today, and a powerful mystic. We¡¯re all so very proud of you.¡±


    I can see tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and now I think I might also cry.


    ¡°Clara, please recite your vows.¡± She gestures towards me, and steps aside.


    I clear my throat. ¡°In the presence of my family, and the ancient spirits of our ancestors, I solemnly accept the sacred title of Mystic. With this vow, I pledge to uphold the honor and integrity of our magical heritage. I swear to use my powers with wisdom, and compassion, using truth and justice to guide my actions. I vow to never misuse my gift for personal gain or harm, but instead for protecting the innocent.¡±


    ¡°By the power vested in me, and the Reyes family,¡± says my great grandmother. ¡°I now declare you Mystic Clara of the Reyes family line.¡±


    ¡°Poder y sabidur¨ªa,¡± says the crowd.


    ¡°Poder y sabidur¨ªa,¡± I repeat after them.


    Great grandmother takes my face between both hands, and kisses my forehead. My family cheers, throwing paper confetti high into the air with wind spells. Festive music begins to play, my uncle leading the band on trumpet.


    My cousins all gather at the kid¡¯s table with me, and while I can join the adult table, I¡¯d rather be dining with them while the adults all talk about boring things, like the cattle, and the farmland. The eldest, aged fifteen, is Diego (who I thought would sit with the adults, but I suppose he finds them equally boring). He''s tan, with long locks of curly black hair that reach the bottoms of his ears, and brown eyes. He has dimples, and a smile all the girls in town seem to go wild for, for some strange reason. His brother, Antonio, is also tan, his hair is dark brown, and his eyes dark blue, like my aunt¡¯s. He hides his eyes behind a thick pair of glasses. Elena, just a few months younger than me, looks nothing like us, pale, with freckled skin, bright red hair, with green eyes. Then, there¡¯s sweet, little Emilia, the youngest of us, with pale skin, short straight hair, and dark brown eyes.


    ¡°Congratulations, cousin,¡± says Diego.


    ¡°It¡¯s about time,¡± says Antonio.


    ¡°Seriously,¡± huffs Elena. ¡°I thought you¡¯d never become fifteen.¡±


    ¡°Did you pick out your familiar?¡± asks Emilia, excitedly climbing up a chair to sit with us at the big kid¡¯s table.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± I reply. ¡°I¡¯m doing that tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I heard,¡± whispers Antonio, leaning down low so that none of the adults may hear. ¡°That they have a black owl that is one of the candidates to be your familiar.¡±


    ¡°A black owl?¡± asks Diego, with a look of disgust. ¡°That sounds boring!¡±


    ¡°You idiot,¡± grumbles Elena, smacking the back of Diego¡¯s head. ¡°Those are rare!¡±


    Diego looks up at me, expecting me to take his side, as I often do. I look over at Antonio, giving him a half smile. He nods, reassuring me of Elena¡¯s claims.


    ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t matter,¡± I say, taking a roll of cheese-stuffed bread off the wicker basket at the center of the table. ¡°The familiar will choose me.¡±


    ¡°What if they can¡¯t find one for you?¡± asks Emilia. ¡°Then what happens?¡±


    ¡°They keep trying, until they do,¡± I say, poking her side to make her giggle. ¡°Besides, witches always find their familiars.¡±


    Dinner is pork served with white rice, drizzled with a sauce flavored with onions, garlic, and other spices, with a small side of fried plantains decorated with bright pink shrimps. I devour my food, having been unable to eat until just now from nerves. My cousins and all fall silent at the table, fully focusing on the delicious food that we rarely enjoy, on holidays. The music continues to play, the band lively. Some of my family members get up to dance, laughing wildly when the tempo of the music speeds up. Towards the end of my meal, I slow down, stuffed, and watch the couples dance to a slow song, as I graze on guava stuffed pastries.


    ¡°Come, Clarita,¡± whispers Elena, taking my hand. ¡°I heard the marineros are loading the ships to take supplies to the mainland. Maybe we¡¯ll see Michael.¡±


    I giggle, as I sneak away from the party with her, down the familiar paths of the jungles, as we make our way to the beaches near my home. From the distance, I can hear the crashing waves of the ocean, and the familiar shouting of the sailors as they load the ships. I scan the darkness for the familiar silhouette of Michael, a young man whose father captains one of the ships that sends supplies in from the mainland, returning to them iron ore, sugar cane, fruits, and rare herbs for potion making.


    ¡°There!¡± Elena points at a shadowy figure, walking across the white sands of the beach. ¡°That¡¯s him, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I squint my eyes, impressed by Elena¡¯s eyesight. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s him.¡±


    She rushes off across the sands, leaving me falling behind several paces. I chase after her, her long legs better able to stride across the sands than my short ones.


    ¡°Elena!¡± I whisper, harsly. ¡°Elena, we need to get back.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say ¡®hi¡¯,¡± she says, with a giggle.


    ¡°Elena, I¡¯m going to go back.¡±


    ¡°Just give me a minute.¡±


    I mutter curses beneath my breath, then stand awkwardly at her side, as she taps his shoulder, and curtsies to him.


    ¡°Sir Michael.¡±


    ¡°Miss Elena. What are you doing here? Isn¡¯t it a bit late for the two of you to be out here alone?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not alone. We have each other.¡±


    I smile nervously when he gives me an uneasy look. ¡°Hello, Sir Michael.¡±


    ¡°Hello, Miss Clara.¡±


    ¡°Have you heard?¡± says Elena, excitedly. ¡°Clara is officially a mystic. She¡¯ll begin her studies soon.¡±


    ¡°Are you?¡± asks Michael, with a warm smile. ¡°Congratulations.¡±


    I bow my head, hiding my reddened cheeks, which I¡¯m sure are not visible in this darkness. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d be interested, since you¡¯re always going on about magic.¡±


    Michael gives her a weary look. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Elena, I really must be getting back to my work. My father is expecting me to have the ships loaded in time to set sail at dawn.¡±


    ¡°O-Of course,¡± says Elena, clearly disappointed. ¡°Good evening.¡±


    ¡°Good evening, Elena.¡±


    ¡°Have a wonderful evening, Sir Michael,¡± I say, quietly, bowing my head slightly.


    ¡°You as well, Miss Clara. I¡¯ll be sure to have a gift for you upon my return.¡±


    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but if you insist,¡± adds Elena, quickly. ¡°I¡¯ll also be a mystic in a few months'' time.¡±


    Michael and I exchange a quick glance, and I hide my look of embarrassment beneath my head of hair.


    ¡°Of course, Elena. Good evening.¡±


    After Elena and I sneak back to the party, my mother spots me immediately, her face red with anger, dragging me across the courtyard to express my thanks and say goodbye to each guest.


    After a long hot shower, I sit in bed, brushing my hair, after putting oil on the ends. Elena sits at the vanity in her bright pink nightgown, speaking excitedly. I¡¯ve shushed her several times, afraid my parents will hear her, but she cannot contain herself.


    ¡°Do you think he likes me?¡± asks Elena. ¡°I think he likes me.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. He did agree to get you a gift after all,¡± I say, quietly.


    ¡°What do you think he¡¯ll get me? A potion? A hat? Oh!¡± she cries out excitedl, startling me. ¡°What if he gets me jewelry? Or a dress?¡±


    ¡°Elena, you¡¯re going to wake my mom up!¡± I whisper harshly.


    She rolls her eyes, ignoring me.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯d want to get any of that from him, anyway. Would he really know what would look good on you?¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to know. He just needs to get something expensive.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a sailor. Do you think he has money?¡±


    ¡°His father runs the ship.¡±


    ¡°Girls!¡± calls my mother, from outside the door.


    I start, then groan. ¡°S¨ª, mama?¡±


    She opens the door, scanning the room. ¡°Go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my fault, t¨ªa. I¡¯m just so excited for Clara.¡±


    ¡°Mhm,¡± hums my mother, doubtfully. ¡°And sailors. Go to bed. If I see these lights are still on in ten minutes, you¡¯re going to sleep in the room with grandma, do you understand, Clara?¡±


    Elena¡¯s cheeks become red, but she holds her head up unashamedly.


    ¡°Yes, mami,¡± I groan.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    The next day, Elena remains sleeping in my bed, after pushing me off it in the night. I¡¯d resorted to spreading a blanket on the floor over the rug, and barely slept a wink over the sound of her snoring. In the morning, my dad knocks on the door, notifying me to get ready to come downstairs. I do so in a fog, wishing I could smack Elena with one of my pillows after the night I¡¯ve had. She doesn¡¯t even stir as I get ready, purposely being loud. Instead, she snored more loudly.


    With my new mystic uniform on, a white collared shirt with puffy sleeves beneath a black vest, a black pleated skirt, and knee high socks, and boots, I make my way downstairs. Mom places a bowl of oatmeal down in front of me, along with eggs, and a side of bacon.


    ¡°Eat,¡± she commands. ¡°You¡¯re going to have a long day.¡±


    I stare at my dad across the table, who¡¯s reading the paper as he sips on a steaming cup of coffee.


    ¡°When can I have coffee?¡±


    Mom scoffs. ¡°When you eat all your vegetables during dinner.¡±


    Dad chuckles, then slips his cup of coffee to me when mom exits the room. I sneak a sip, then cough. It¡¯s bitter.


    ¡°Blegh.¡±


    ¡°If you eat the vegetables, it¡¯ll taste better.¡±


    I look up at him as I slide the cup of coffee across the table to him. ¡°You don¡¯t eat your vegetables.¡±


    ¡°I ate plenty of them when I was your age. Now coffee is delicious.¡±


    Mom returns, and dad and I eat the rest of breakfast in silence while mom complains about the neighbor¡¯s dog barking at her each time she went outside to tend to the garden.


    ¡°So,¡± says dad. ¡°Are you ready?¡±


    I nod, reaching out to take his hands as we walk through the front door of the small school building, not normally opened on the weekends. Our footsteps echo through the silent halls, reverberating through the vaulted ceilings. He guides me to the front office, and we sit on a wooden bench and wait. I¡¯m not sure why we¡¯re waiting, but I assume he knows.


    An old man with a black cane, a long sharp nose, sunken eyes, and rough calloused hands approaches us. He nods, then dad nods back, and we get up and follow him down several stories, into the basement of the school.


    ¡°Now, mija,¡± says the man. ¡°While your familiar is unique to you, we did capture several of them in the wild that we thought might interest you.¡±


    I look up at my dad with wide eyes. He shakes his head, placing a hand to his lips to quiet me before I speak.


    ¡°What¡¯s the problem?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, se?or.¡±


    ¡°Do you think it is unethical?¡±


    I look up at my dad, then hesitate a moment before shaking my head quickly.


    ¡°Good. You know the importance of familiars.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± I mutter.


    The man laughs. ¡°You taught her well.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a smart girl.¡±


    ¡°That was your first test. You passed. Congratulations.¡±


    I look up at my father, who gives me a warm smile.


    ¡°Test?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    We follow the man into another room, where several children my age stand, all of them silent, a look of excitement on their faces.


    ¡°These are all familiars,¡± says the man, gesturing towards the room. ¡°In search of a Mystic. Feel free to introduce yourself.¡±


    My father, and the man take a seat on a wooden bench by the door, and chat idly as I walk towards the crowd of children.


    ¡°Hello!¡± one of them says, excitedly. ¡°I¡¯m Aiden!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Mirabelle!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Diana.¡±


    ¡°Daemon.¡±


    Each of them introduces themselves, until there¡¯s only one left. A boy that hides in the corner, with his face buried into his knees. I walk to him, thinking he may be hurt.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him. He didn¡¯t really want to be here,¡± says a small girl with large blue eyes like that of a cat¡¯s.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I ask.


    ¡°He thinks it¡¯s a bad thing to be matched up with mystics.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ it¡¯s beneficial to you, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It is.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± I say, kneeling before him. ¡°I¡¯m Clara.¡±


    He looks up, his bright golden eyes glinting in the light. ¡°Sebastian.¡±


    The moment our eyes meet, a strange sort of energy, like a pressure pushing against every surface of my body, surges, and washes over me. I gasp, overwhelmed from the feeling. He winces, as if he¡¯s in pain.


    ¡°What was that?¡± I ask, turning towards my father.


    Both my father and the man are looking at me with mouths hanging open in shock.


    ¡°Incredible,¡± says the man. ¡°Did you feel that?¡±


    ¡°What was it?¡± I ask.


    ¡°That was the bond,¡± says the girl with the cat eyes. ¡°It was very strong.¡±


    ¡°What does that mean?¡± I ask, looking at the girl.


    She smirks. ¡°It means he¡¯s your familiar.¡±


    ¡°The gods hate me,¡± mutters Sebastian, getting to his feet.


    ¡°Shut up, Seb. You got lucky,¡± says the girl.


    He scoffs, then walks towards the door. I watch him walk away, as my father nervously pushes up his glasses, and continues to look at the old man with a look of shock.


    ¡°What does this mean?¡± Dad asks the man.


    ¡°It means she¡¯ll be very powerful. Come, let us go to the training room. Sebastian, lead the way.¡±


    Sebastian opens the door, and kicks it up, keeping his hands in his pockets.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about him. He didn¡¯t want to be here,¡± says the old man, shaking his head.


    ¡°Then why is he here?¡± I ask.


    The old man looks towards the girl with the cat eyes, and waves her over. She walks at my side as I follow my father and the old man, as Sebastian leads the way.


    ¡°Familiars feel a sort of¡­ you call it ¡®destino¡¯ in your language. It¡¯s difficult to fight against, because our lives will inevitably lead us to our person if they exist.¡±


    ¡°And if they don¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°We continue our lives guarding the forests, the mountains, the rivers or the fields. There¡¯s plenty for us to do when you humans are always causing so much destruction.¡±


    ¡°What did you do before your¡­ person existed? Came into existence?¡±


    ¡°From what I remember, I stole the souls of children who suffered, and brought them to the afterlife. I¡¯ve helped humans have children, granting them fertility. I¡¯ve also dabbled in luck.¡± She winks.


    ¡°What did Sebastian do?¡±


    ¡°Ah, his is an interesting story. He¡¯s one of many siblings who guarded the underworld from those who would wish to come in, and take souls back. Everyone knew who he was. He was famous amongst us, and had quite a reputation. One of the best of the underworld¡¯s guardians, in fact. Entrusted with knowledge from Death themself. Then one day, his heart grew soft. A mother came looking for her daughter¡¯s soul, and he didn¡¯t stop her. You see, his kind can see things beyond what even some of the gods can see.¡± She pauses to stare pityingly at the back of Sebastian''s head. ¡°Well, he can¡¯t. Not anymore. We were all there when the gods punished him, because he¡¯d allowed Selene to retrieve Gaia¡¯s soul.¡±


    I stare at her wide-eyed. ¡°Gaia?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s so much you don¡¯t know. Nor do you need to know. This is knowledge we are born knowing, that should not trouble little humans like you. It simply serves to guide us. I imagine becoming some little witch¡¯s familiar after having all that glory seems like the worst punishment to Sebastian, but I get the feeling he¡¯ll come around.¡±


    ¡°If he doesn¡¯t?¡±


    She laughs, and it echoes down the halls, startling all of us. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Sebastian mutters under his breath, just before opening the door, holding it open for all of us.


    ¡°Bas,¡± he says curtly, when the girl walks past him, into the room. ¡°You speak too much.¡±


    She runs her finger along his jaw, and beneath his chin. ¡°You speak too little. Try to make friends, Seb. You¡¯re going to be with her for a long time.¡±


    He huffs, stepping into the room before me, allowing the door to swing towards me. I catch it just before it slams shut, and walk in after him.


    The room is plainly decorated. The ground is made of stone, surrounded by soil. There¡¯s water flowing through it, candles surrounding us, and a device that generates air flow through the use of an opened window. There are a few chairs in one corner, which I assume are for spectators, and there¡¯s a raised stone platform in the center, sectioned off by wooden posts connected via ropes thicker than my wrists. Sebastian easily hops over them, and stands in the ring, still looking upset with Bas. Dad and the old man take a seat, the old man taking his cane, setting it between his legs, and leaning against it. Dad waves me towards the ring, giving me a nervous smile. I enter, tripping as I climb between the two ropes, my foot getting caught. As I stumble, I manage to grab Sebastian¡¯s arm. He sighs, then helps me balance on my feet.


    ¡°What are we doing?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Bas, whenever you¡¯re ready,¡± says the old man.


    Bas nods, her eyes gleaming. ¡°Ready, Seb?¡±


    ¡°Listen, girl,¡± says Sebastian. ¡°We-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Clara,¡± I state. ¡°My name is Clara.¡±


    ¡°Right. This is just a test, Clara, of our compatibility.¡±


    ¡°Why-¡±


    Sebastian shoves me aside, as a stream of fire comes flying towards me. I glance over as Bas, who smirks, then throws a ball of fire. Again, Sebastian shoves me, nearly knocking me over, and I have to roll, hitting the ground hard with my shoulder in order to dodge a rock that comes flying at me.


    ¡°Are you going to just stand there and be useless?¡± cries Sebastian.


    I glance towards Bas, who¡¯s already planning her next spell, and reach for the ground beneath me, forming a large wall of plants when she sends a shower of stones towards Sebastian. I push it towards her, sending them back, but she¡¯s quicker, clearly more experienced than me. Sebastian claps his hands, sending a soundwave through the air that¡¯s loud enough to send Bas and I falling. A small gust of wind cushions my fall.


    ¡°Sebastian!¡± I shout.


    He looks at me, then rolls his eyes. ¡°You¡¯re fine, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    My eyes open wide as Bas approaches, holding an ice sword in her hands.


    ¡°That¡¯s good enough,¡± says the old man, using the pointy end of his cane to separate us. ¡°Good job, Clara. I think you¡¯ll do just fine with this one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like another one,¡± I grumble.


    ¡°As would I,¡± says Sebastian.


    Dad laughs, then climbs into the ring next to me in order to put a hand on my shoulder. ¡°He¡¯ll do just fine, Eduardo.¡±


    I make it a point to stare up at my father, and glare. He looks down at me, and smiles.


    ¡°Dad, really? He didn¡¯t listen to me at all.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to listen to you,¡± cries Sebastian. ¡°I¡¯m a familiar, not a damned pet!¡±


    I gasp, cover my mouth, and stare up at my father with wide eyes.


    ¡°He¡¯s right, Clarita,¡± says the old man. ¡°He¡¯s here to help you, not serve you.¡±


    I look over at Bas, who¡¯s now wearing a cat-like grin on her face, staring directly at Sebastian. I follow her gaze, and realize Sebastian¡¯s fists are balled so tightly, they¡¯re shaking.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I murmur. ¡°I hate losing.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a real fight,¡± says Dad, reassuringly. ¡°It was just for Eduardo here to read your energy signals to make sure they were compatible.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± I ask.


    Dad explains to me how Eduardo¡¯s perfected his ability to enchant items so precisely, he can read the energy signature off humans just as well. Eduardo describes enchanting items similar to how one would embroider fabric with designs, except the designs are rules for which the item must follow. He then goes on to explain how Sebastian¡¯s and my energy signals are almost perfectly matched, and with a bit of work, I could become an extremely powerful Mystic. I nod my head, understanding less than half of what he¡¯s saying, then join Sebastian on the bench, where he sits, waiting for the conversation to be over, kicking his boots into the floor as he listens.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he mumbles. ¡°I¡¯m not used to wielding so much power.¡±


    I look up at him, not speaking a word.


    ¡°I said I was sorry.¡±


    ¡°Following it up with an excuse.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I almost hurt you.¡±


    ¡°Apology accepted.¡± I stick my nose up in the air.


    He tuts, crossing his arms over his chest. ¡°With my help, you¡¯ll become a very powerful Mystic.¡±


    ¡°Is that true, or do you say that to all the witches you match with?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not so bad, Miss Clara.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t either, Sir Sebastian.¡±


    ¡°Clara,¡± my father calls. ¡°Would you like to find another familiar?¡±


    I look at Sebastian, then back at him. ¡°Uh¡­ you¡¯re asking me?¡±


    He nods.


    I turn to Sebastian, giving him an intense stare. ¡°Are you okay with this match?¡±


    He nods slightly.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay with Sir Sebastian.¡±

 Chapter Three

    Sebastian breathes softly at my back, his face nuzzled into the crook of my neck, his hands at my waist holding me, as if to keep me in place. I lean back to settle against him, despite the uncomfortable warmth I¡¯m already feeling from the heat of the day. Outside the window, the sun has already begun to set, and something buzzes in the back of my mind, warning me that this is wrong.


    Sebastian lets out a quiet moan, pulling me in more closely, his hands slipping beneath the hem of my nightgown. A slight breeze blows, ringing the chimes I¡¯ve hung outside my bedroom window, their melody soft and sweet. I glance towards the clothesline where the towels hang, and just from the way they move, I can tell they¡¯ve long ago dried. On the walls, I can see a spectrum of colors where the crystals of my wind chimes catch the sun¡¯s lights.


    A soft knock comes at my door, and the rattling of the doorknob shortly after.


    The sun is setting! And Sebastian is still in his human form. I push myself away from him, knocking him off the bed. He hits the ground with a loud thud, followed by a groan.


    ¡°Clara?¡± It¡¯s Maria.


    I hear the click of the lock.


    ¡°Clarita? Are you okay? You would have to be on your deathbed to have skipped your chores this morning. I came in to check-¡± She grunts, as she struggles to pull the door open, which I hold shut with an earth spell, using the existing wood of the door to expand in the door frame.


    ¡°Maria,¡± I cough, to hide Sebastian¡¯s moans.


    Sebastian struggles on the ground, trapped between the narrow space of the wall and the bed.


    ¡°What is wrong with this-¡± Maria grunts as she slams her body against the door. ¡°-DOOR!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be right there,¡± I call out, running around the bed to help Sebastian get to his feet. ¡°Sometimes it gets a little stuck.¡±


    She strikes the door again. Sebastian scoffs, then looks at me in disbelief. I pull his collar, so that we¡¯re at eye level.


    ¡°Owl,¡± I hiss. ¡°Now.¡±


    He rolls his eyes, and smirks just before getting into his animal form. I release the spell on the door, and Maria comes stumbling through it at full speed, running into the wall just opposite the door by the staircase. Quickly, I cast a warming spell on my body, dampen my face with a water spell, dive into my bed, faking one final cough to complete my performance.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t!¡± I shout, dramatically. ¡°You don¡¯t want to catch whatever this is.¡±


    Maria hesitates on the final step up the staircase then glances around the room, her eyes landing on Sebastian who¡¯s managed to jump into his cage and lock it in seconds. He coos quietly, and ruffles his feathers.


    ¡°Is that an owl?¡±


    I turn towards Sebastian¡¯s cage, then back at her. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You have a pet owl?¡±


    I blink several times before responding, and only after Sebastian screeches do I respond. ¡°Oh! Yes. This is Baz.¡±


    ¡°Is he¡­ friendly?¡±


    ¡°Ye-¡± Sebastian screeches, and hisses, flapping his wings. ¡°Uh- He¡¯s not in the mood for guests, it seems.¡±


    Maria approaches cautiously, sitting at the edge of the bed, and feeling my head for fever. Wiping her hands on her apron of my ¡®sweat¡¯, she gives me a pitying look.


    ¡°Were you studying again?¡±


    She stands, then takes one of the towels hanging on the clothesline with her into my small bathroom. I hear the faucet squeak as she turns it. She returns with a cold, damp towel, and presses it to my forehead.


    ¡°No,¡± I respond.


    Sebastian coos quietly as flashbacks of last night return to me; A flurry of touching, kissing, and passion. I blush as Sebastian¡¯s and my feelings mix to form a painful swelling in my chest, making my heart pound, and my body heat up like a furnace.


    ¡°Should I bring some food up for you? I think I can scrounge up something for you from the leftovers.¡±


    I nod, giving her my best sorrowful eyes. She runs a hand over my head, giving me a sad smile, then gets to her feet, looking over at Sebastian once more.


    ¡°Does your owl need anything?¡±


    ¡°I just let him out to hunt at night.¡±


    She nods, then disappears down the stairs. When the door clicks shut, Sebastian twitters, almost laughing.


    ¡°What?¡± I grumble.


    ¡°Last night.¡±


    I pull the covers over my face, groaning. ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡±


    ¡°You were able to use your magic.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have had to if we¡¯d just-¡±


    The door opens, making us both tense. I heave a sigh of relief when it¡¯s just Miguel. He rushes up the stairs, smiling when he spots me, his eyes immediately falling on Sebastian¡¯s cage.


    ¡°Clara, I didn¡¯t see you all day.¡±


    He waits at the top step for permission to enter. I wave him over with a roll of my eyes. He excitedly rushes in, and sits at the foot of the bed, where he has easier access to Sebastian¡¯s cage. I shake my head, amused, as he pokes his finger into the cage. Sebastian rubs his cheek against his finger, cooing softly, and nipping at him playfully.


    ¡°Can I play with him, Clara?¡± he asks, excitedly. ¡°I promise I¡¯ll be good.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not you I¡¯m worried about.¡±


    Sebastian tilts his head, and blinks several times, looking so innocent, even I almost fall for his little trick.


    ¡°Baz is a good boy, aren¡¯t you, Bazzy?¡±


    Sebastian coos in response, then looks me dead in the eyes. Again, there are flashes of last night. I choke on my gasp, then cough to hide it.


    ¡°Go ahead. Be careful of his claws. They¡¯re very sharp.¡±


    Miguel struggles with the latch, and I give Sebastian a warning look when he pecks at the lock, helping him open it. Luckily, Miguel doesn¡¯t notice, simply rejoicing when the cage door swings open, and Sebastian steps gingerly onto Miguel¡¯s wrist. Miguel holds him close to his chest. Sebastian presses his cheek to his, twittering joyfully, then gliding to the bedroom floor. He flaps his wings wildly, making Miguel squeal with joy.


    A few minutes later, they play a game of tag around the small room. Miguel catches him on the clothesline, Sebastian slaps him with a wing as Miguel runs out of the bathroom, and on and on it goes until the door opens again. Maria watches in shock, and I¡¯m afraid she¡¯ll drop the tray.


    ¡°Maria,¡± I call her.


    She blinks several times, then steps towards me, placing a tray of food in front of me as I sit up, flinching when Miguel approaches her with Sebastian now perched on his shoulder.


    ¡°Hola, Se?ora Maria,¡± says Miguel, with a slight nod.


    ¡°Hola, Se?orito Miguel, what are you doing bothering poor Clara when she¡¯s sick?¡± She eyes Sebastian cautiously.


    Miguel looks up at Sebastian, and Sebastian immediately presses his cheek to his, cooing softly. ¡°I just wanted to check up on her, and see Baz.¡±


    ¡°Well, you should be getting ready for dinner, and let Clara alone to recover, so she won¡¯t miss out on tomorrow¡¯s work, isn¡¯t that right, Clara?¡±


    Sebastian screeches, sending Maria backwards towards the door.


    ¡°Baz,¡± I hiss softly. ¡°It¡¯s alright. She¡¯s right. I know you like Miguel, but we¡¯ll see him again, right?¡±


    Miguel flashes Sebastian a toothy grin, and Sebastian takes a tuft of his hair into his beak, and tugs it lightly. ¡°Clara and Maria are right. Clara needs to get better. We should let her eat, and get some rest. I¡¯ll see you again soon, Baz.¡±


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Miguel walks over to Sebastian¡¯s cage, holding his hand towards his perch. Sebastian walks carefully down his arm, taking his place on the small perch, and staring up at Miguel with big gleaming eyes. Miguel rubs Sebastian¡¯s head for a short period before finally shutting the cage, and joining Maria at the stairs.


    ¡°If you¡¯re not feeling well by tomorrow morning, I¡¯ll fetch you a healing draught from the market,¡± says Maria.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I reassure her. ¡°I took one this morning.¡±


    ¡°I hope you feel better, Clara,¡± says Miguel, quietly. ¡°I¡¯ll see you, Baz. Take good care of Clarita.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± I say, with a laugh.


    Sebastian lets out a screech, causing Maria to pull Miguel out, and shut the door quickly.


    Once they¡¯re gone, Sebastian lifts the latch of the lock on his cage, flies to the railing by the stairs, and disappears behind it. I hear the distinct lock of the door, and the puff of air as he returns to his human form. He takes each step slowly, and deliberately, his golden eyes watching me carefully, like a predator corning its prey.


    ¡°Quieres continuar where we left off?¡±


    ¡°Is it mating season or something?¡± I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.


    He chuckles. ¡°What if it is?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d lock you out of the attic until it was over.¡±


    ¡°So mean. You¡¯d do that to me? You know I could never find anyone else when I have you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m lucky I didn¡¯t get myself in trouble for missing work.¡±


    I get out of bed, ripping the sheets off the mattress and placing them in a wash basin. From the bathroom, I pull out a glass bottle of homemade laundry detergent from the medicine cabinet, and pour a small amount over the sheets. Then, I fill the basin with water from the sink I carry over with a spell, heating it until it¡¯s steaming. Sebastian follows me with his eyes, taking a seat at my study desk, and leaning back against the chair. Setting the basin at the foot of the bed, I begin to stomp away at sheets.


    ¡°You know,¡± he says, watching the water slosh inside the basin. ¡°The last time we did that, you had powerful magic for ye-¡±


    ¡°It was a mistake.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s a mistake, why does it always work, and feel so incredible? I feel my own powers surging, like electricity in my fingertips.¡±


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t. It was stupid.¡±


    ¡°How long will you work here? It¡¯s been years.¡±


    ¡°Feel free to go home, and return to our old life, then.¡±


    ¡°Clara¡­¡± He leans over in his seat, resting his elbows in his lap. ¡°You know I could never leave you.¡±


    ¡°I wish you could. I wish we both could. This life doesn¡¯t feel as if it¡¯s worth living.¡±


    ¡°We should go to the mainland. Then we wouldn¡¯t¡­¡±


    I look up at him, so shocked, my mouth falls open. ¡°Have you lost your mind, Baz? I¡¯d be taken as a slave! The dark elves are out there hunting my kind down, and-¡±


    ¡°Madam Beatrice just came from the mainland, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Madam Beatrice is rich! I have nothing.¡±


    Sebastian gestures towards my feet, reminding me to continue stomping on the bedcovers. I sigh, disgruntled. He rushes to me, pushes me aside, and takes over. I watch him, reminded of the times when we were younger splashing cold water on each other by the river to cool ourselves from the sweltering summer heat.


    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t have done that,¡± he murmurs. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry. There¡¯s just this¡­¡±


    ¡°Pull.¡±


    His stomping slows, a smile creeping over his face. ¡°I wish that I could go back, and change things.¡±


    ¡°And not become my familiar?¡± I tease him, poking one finger into his arm.


    ¡°No, before that. I wish I¡¯d never let Selene into the underworld to retrieve Gaia¡¯s soul. I¡¯d still be guarding the underworld instead of having to put up with you, and your¡­¡± He gestures vaguely at me.


    ¡°You are kind, Sebastian.¡± I run a finger along his cheek, pushing his hair aside so that I can glimpse his smile. ¡°You cannot help it. It¡¯s woven into you, into your existence. Your soul.¡±


    ¡°Yes, woven in after you ripped me apart to fit your stitches, Clarita.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± I hum, turning toward the full length mirror angled to reflect the view outside the window. ¡°You never fought too hard.¡±


    ¡°How could I? I¡¯m powerless against you.¡±


    I lean back, propping myself against my elbows, staring up at his face. His eyes trail over my body, then back up at my eyes, and I know the look on his face is one of love. Pure love. Unconditional love. His lip twitches, forming a small smile, then he sighs.


    ¡°We should make you a contraceptive, for last night.¡± He sighs.


    ¡°Right, I should go out, and¡­ wait, I can¡¯t. I¡¯m sick.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go. I¡¯ll be quick.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make you a list.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a list.¡±


    I feel the blood rush out of my cheeks. ¡°You have a list?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back. Finish washing the sheets.¡±


    The bed sheets billow in the light breeze. I stare out the window, waiting for a small dot to appear against the darkening skies painted in shades of pinks and blues. Exhaustion washes over me so suddenly, I can only catch my head as it falls, nearly hitting the window sill, then shift in my seat, so I¡¯m forced to sit more upright. I should be practicing spells, not waiting on Sebastian to return, but I cannot help but worry about it. He looks unusual in a place like this. He speaks differently from the people around here. It was the one bad thing about being so far from¡­


    There¡¯s a small tap on the window. I open it, and Sebastian hops in, flies towards the center of the room, then returns to his human form. He seems grateful I¡¯ve already got a pot of water boiling. He pulls a small paper package from his pocket, tipping the contents into the boiling pot, then mixes, and waits, taking a seat on the floor, leaning against the bed frame.


    ¡°Did you have trouble?¡± I ask. ¡°It took a bit longer than usual.¡±


    ¡°I saw your father at the market.¡±


    I grip the chair¡¯s armrests, pushing myself to my feet so suddenly, I manage to startle Sebastian.


    ¡°He didn¡¯t see me,¡± he reassures me. ¡°But I couldn¡¯t just transform, and leave in the middle of a crowd.¡±


    ¡°Why was he there? It¡¯s so far from home.¡±


    ¡°He claims he was looking for his daughter.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not his daughter anymore. Did he forget? He¡¯s the one that proclaimed it loudly for all my family to hear.¡±


    ¡°Clari,¡± he sighs, giving the pot another stir. ¡°You know he didn¡¯t mean that.¡±


    ¡°How would you know?¡±


    ¡°I was there, remember? Even you said some things you regret.¡±


    ¡°I-...¡± I fall silently into the chair, then watch him, his eyes glinting with the glow of the fireplace. ¡°Why did you buy the premade stuff? It¡¯s expensive.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s expensive, but fast. I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d want to wait several days for your own to be completed, seeing as it¡¯ll be too late by then. You should keep it around, anyway. I don¡¯t trust you or your Master William, anyway.¡±


    ¡°Baz!¡± I gasp. ¡°He would never.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, he wouldn¡¯t. You, on the other hand¡­¡± He laughs, giving me a knowing smirk.


    I dash towards him, punching his upper arm, causing him to wince. ¡°You¡¯re the worst, you know that! You shouldn¡¯t say things like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just joking,¡± he grumbles, rubbing his arm.


    ¡°Besides,¡± I murmur, sitting down next to him, pulling my knees to my chest. ¡°I would never.¡±


    ¡°Are you upset about it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I murmur, burying my face into my knees.


    Sebastian stirs the pot once more, then takes a small amount of the liquid into the spoon, looks it over several times, then pours the contents into a small cup I¡¯d left by the fireplace. He hands it to me, and I can feel him resisting the urge to tell me to be careful because it''s hot. Taking it gingerly from his hands, I blow on it, sending a cloud of steam up to warm my face. I set it aside, and wait for it to cool.


    ¡°You have bottles for the rest?¡± he asks, getting up, and pulling the pot off the fire, setting it over a rug beyond the wall of bedsheets that divide the room.


    ¡°I do. They¡¯re in a box under the bed.¡±


    He reappears, then kneels over to get the box. I lean back, and watch him as he sets it over the table, and counts the bottles, looking slightly disappointed.


    ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± I inform him.


    He kneels again, pulling out the second box, and setting it down on the bed next to the other. He disappears behind the bed sheet curtain once more, then returns with a mortar and pestle, placing the heavy marble device into my hand. Inside the well is a glittering chunk of rock that crumbles with a slightest bit of force. He sits next to me, and sorts out various herbs and roots as I grind the rock until it¡¯s nothing but a fine powder.


    ¡°Clara,¡± he says quietly. ¡°It¡¯s been five years. Don¡¯t you want to go home?¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°Clara-¡±


    ¡°My father almost killed you, Sebastian. He threatened you with-¡±


    With the bond-breaking ceremony. The ceremony was guaranteed to separate a familiar from their Mystic, but no one knew what became of their soul. I think back on Antonio¡¯s ceremony, and how his familiar, Camilla, simply vanished into thin air, shattering into dust, and blowing away with the wind, and Antonio¡¯s death, which followed shortly after.


    ¡°You don¡¯t think he¡¯d still do that after what happened-¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t. I don¡¯t know anything, Sebastian. I just want to be safe. I want you to be safe.¡±


    ¡°You could marry Christian y Di-¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    He falls silent, taking the mortar and pestle from my hands, and setting it aside.


    ¡°Mi vida,¡± he says, cupping my cheek. ¡°It¡¯s okay. We can stay here.¡±


    ¡°Are you getting tired of being here? We could go somewhere else. We can find another place.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he growls, with slight amusement. ¡°I could never take you from your dear Se?or William, and Miguelito.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I cry. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. We can go home. Just give me some time to set things in order here before my departure. I wouldn¡¯t want to inconvenience Maria. She already hates me enough.¡±


    He tuts, giving me a pitying look, running a finger beneath my eye to wipe a tear. ¡°Clari, Clari, Clari. Where is your mind today? It¡¯s dark, and foggy, and I cannot see your thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t want you to,¡± I murmur, pushing his hand away, forcing him out of my head.


    ¡°Is this about Micaela?¡± He tuts again. ¡°I know you were downstairs tidying her things yesterday. I could hear it in the way Master William¡¯s heart nearly burst out of his chest when he saw you in his room.¡±


    ¡°So, now you¡¯re spying on me?¡±


    He leans over, kissing my lips before I have time to react. ¡°Don¡¯t be this way. I¡¯m not making all these potions for us to be fighting.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be making these potions at all. We shouldn¡¯t-¡±


    He kisses me again, more deeply than before.


    ¡°It is mating season, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Are you going to lock me outside all winter?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d keep you out of trouble. Besides, after last night, I couldn¡¯t...¡±


    He picks up the cup, pressing it to my lips. ¡°Drink.¡±


    ¡°Baz¡­¡±


    ¡°Just drink it. I added a bit of healing potion to help with the side effects, and a bit of tranquility to help you get to sleep.¡±


    I nod, sipping the potion, testing if it¡¯s cool. It¡¯s drinkable, pleasantly warm, the bitterness cut slightly by the sweetness of tranquility. Sebastian disappears once again behind the bed sheets. I hear the bathroom door open, followed by the running of water filling the tub, and then the sound of cabinets opening and closing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any,¡± I say quietly, knowing what he¡¯s rifling through the sink cabinets for. ¡°I¡¯m all out.¡±


    He sighs, shutting the cabinet door a bit roughly. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have money for luxuries, Baz.¡±


    ¡°It is not a luxury, Clarita. Not right now.¡±


    I set the empty cup down at the foot of the bed, and pull myself up using the bed frame. He comes rushing towards me, helping me up.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Baz. I¡¯ll make some more.¡±


    He holds me by the waist, and I can feel it; a primal desire. He feels it, and then I can feel it because he cannot contain that emotion as well as he does the others. He nods, turning his attention to the bedsheets, which he works on taking down. At my writing desk, I open a locked drawer with a key that sits hidden beneath the chair I drag over from the window. Inside is a small collection of rare potion ingredients, those for soothing aching muscles, mental fatigue, joint pain; all the problems I¡¯ve gained since moving into this house to work for Master William.


    ¡°I have enough for the rest of the year,¡± I say absently, grabbing a few pinches of various powders, salts, and herbs, and throwing them into a small bowl.


    ¡°Think you can have some ready before bed?¡±


    He walks up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulder. I look up at him, then grab an extra amount of ingredients to help with mental fatigue, because I feel myself slipping, giving in to his silent beckoning.


    ¡°S¨ª.¡± I give him a toothy grin.


    He rolls his eyes, and scoffs. ¡°It¡¯s not necessary.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not for you. It¡¯s for me.¡±

 Chapter Four

    Sixteen years ago¡­


    ¡°I¡¯ve never met anyone with such a stubborn familiar,¡± Elena teases, feeding her own familiar, a black and brown Mastiff, scraps from the table. ¡°Even Adrian is better behaved.¡±


    ¡°Because he cannot get into his human form,¡± I huff, scooping oatmeal out of my bowl, and stuffing it into my mouth.


    Adrian growls at me from his place beneath the table. I growl back at him, mocking him.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Adi. She¡¯s just jealous.¡±


    The dog, incredibly small for his age, but incredibly large for a puppy, tucks himself between Elena¡¯s feet, happily accepting her pets of comfort.


    ¡°One of us is jealous,¡± I mutter. ¡°But it¡¯s not me.¡±


    I carry my dishes to the kitchen sink, scrub them clean, then take up my school bag, and rush out the door. Moments later, I can hear Elena panting as she struggles to keep up with me, Adrian¡¯s collar clinking as he runs at her side. She¡¯s smart enough not make small talk as we walk towards Antonio¡¯s house, which is on our way to school.


    Antonio, now nineteen years old, stands by the wooden fence that surrounds his house with Camilla at his side. Camilla is Antonio¡¯s familiar, and I don¡¯t often see her in her animal form, not since they were children. If I recall correctly, she was a pure white horse with a golden mane. Now, she¡¯s a graceful woman, with long, wavy golden hair which she wears at her back in a braid adorned in red hibiscus flowers. Her skin is like smooth ivory, and her striking, blue eyes the color of cornflowers. She wears a soft white gown that billows gently around her ankles. The morning sun forms a halo around her head when her hair catches the light. She smiles, and waves when she spots us. Antonio does the same.


    ¡°Clara, Elena, nice to see you,¡± greets Antonio.


    Adrian barks.


    ¡°Hola to you, too, Adi,¡± he says, leaning over to scratch behind Adrian¡¯s ear. ¡°Where¡¯s Sebast¨ªan?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± I huff, stomping on ahead. ¡°He comes and goes as he pleases.¡±


    Camilla walks next to me down the road, gliding gracefully, walking seemingly effortless to her. She¡¯s quiet, not forcing me to speak, simply smiling her pretty smile for everyone to see. Elena and Antonio loudly discuss plans for the weekend, Elena dominating the conversation as she usually does.


    ¡°If this one would just figure out how to become human-¡±


    Adrian growls.


    ¡°You¡¯ll figure it out, Adi. I have no doubts about that,¡± reassures Elena. ¡°I just can¡¯t wait until you can join us for all the parties. Aren¡¯t you excited about that?¡±


    Adrian lets out a small whine, tucking his tail between his legs. Elena takes him up into her arms in one quick swoop, and cuddles him, with his head nestled between her shoulder and neck. Camilla giggles, delighted by the sight of such a large dog being held like a baby.


    ¡°You¡¯re spoiling him,¡± teases Antonio.


    ¡°?Ay, no me digas! You were the same way with Camilla, sleeping in the barn every night until she learned to become human.¡±


    Antonio laughs. ¡°And look where it got me. My parents like her more than me.¡±


    ¡°Everyone likes her more than you.¡±


    ¡°All of you are traitors, but I understand. What about you, Clarita?¡±


    ¡°What about me?¡± I grumble.


    ¡°Sebastian came to you as a human. Does he struggle to remain in his owl form?¡±


    ¡°Sebastian struggles with nothing, because he¡¯s apparently perfect, and better than everyone else in this town!¡± I huff. ¡°It¡¯s my fault I cannot do magic well enough!¡±


    Camilla gives Antonio a worried look, then shakes her head just before Antonio speaks.


    ¡°Did something happen?¡± he asks Elena, ignoring Camilla.


    Camilla rolls her eyes, and shakes her head.


    ¡°I was just telling Clara that I¡¯ve never met anyone with such a misbehaved familiar. You would think with his background, he would be better behaved.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that at all,¡± Camilla says gently. ¡°They just haven¡¯t properly bonded.¡±


    ¡°We did the ceremony,¡± I inform her. ¡°You just weren¡¯t there.¡±


    ¡°It takes more than just a ceremony. You should spend time with him. Get to know him. Study and practice with him, not just at school, but outside. You never bring him to any of the birthday parties or-¡±


    ¡°He never wants to come,¡± I say angrily. ¡°He turns down every invitation, calling it all a waste of time.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± she hums. ¡°I could talk to him, if you¡¯d like.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea, Clara,¡± says Elena. ¡°Everyone listens to Camilla. Well, everyone except Antonio, and you¡¯ve seen all the stupid things he does¡±.


    ¡°Aye!¡± cries Antonio. ¡°That¡¯s not fair.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I mutter. ¡°He¡¯s my familiar. I don¡¯t need you to intervene every time we have a problem. You¡¯ve done more than enough already.¡±


    Camilla gives me a warm smile, then continues watching the trees with a blissful look as we walk down the road.


    ¡°Miss Reyes, your familiar?¡± asks Professor Garcia.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Professor. I don¡¯t know where he-¡±


    A light tapping against the window draws our attention. I recognize Sebastian¡¯s owl shape through the frosted glass, and open it. He glides in, and goes into his human form.


    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this, Swiftwing?¡±


    Sebastian ignores her, taking his seat next to me in the classroom, looking over the stacks of notes I¡¯ve written.


    ¡°You need to work on your penmanship. I can barely read what you wrote,¡± he says, irritably.


    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this, Miss Reyes?¡± asks Professor Garcia, lowering her glasses so I can see her glaring at me more clearly.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask him, since he¡¯s here?¡± I gesture towards him with open palms.


    ¡°You¡¯re his Mystic. You¡¯re responsible for him.¡±


    ¡°You cannot possibly expect me to watch over him when he¡¯s the same age as me. Besides, he doesn¡¯t even listen to me. What am I supposed to do?¡±


    ¡°You make him,¡± shouts Professor Garcia, slamming a book on her desk, startling all of the students in the classroom, including myself.


    Professor Garcia¡¯s familiar, a monkey we know only as Hanu, scampers up a rope to the top of a high shelf, disappearing from sight. I glare at Sebastian, but he ignores me, taking my notes, and rewriting them for himself.


    ¡°Today, we will study the Mystic and familiar bond, which some of us clearly need to review.¡±


    All eyes turn towards me. I sink into my seat, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, as Sebastian continues writing, ignoring everyone and everything around him.


    ¡°Miss Reyes, what is the first step in forming a bond with a familiar?¡±


    ¡°Preparation and intent. A Mystic must make known to the gods what their intentions for forming a bond will be, and create a space for the bonding ritual, adorning it with sacred artifacts, and energies that will resonate with both the Mystic and the familiar.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m impressed, Miss Reyes.¡±


    Sebastian scoffs.


    ¡°Mister Swiftwing!¡± Professor Garcia calls on him more aggressively than he thought she would, causing him to stiffen in his seat.


    He looks up at her, with large eyes. ¡°Yes, Professor?¡±


    ¡°What is the next step?¡±


    ¡°How would I know? I¡¯m the familiar in this scenario.¡±


    Several of the others laugh. Professor Garcia slaps both hands onto Sebastian¡¯s desk, causing them to fall silent.


    ¡°You should know this if you¡¯ve been studying. Miss Reyes?¡±


    Sebastian glares at me, his lips pressed tightly together, daring me to embarrass him, which I have no trouble doing.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Um¡­¡± I blink several times to gather my thoughts, fearful of being scolded. ¡°Seeking and choosing the familiar. Traditionally, the Mystics would go out and seek the familiar that would call to them, either through a spiritual quest, or a journey. We have managed to-¡± I clear my throat, searching for the right word while ¡®imprison¡¯ screams at the back of my mind. ¡°Provide for existing familiars, in the hopes that their Mystic resides here on the Islas de Ibis.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct. Mister Swiftwing?¡±


    Sebastian panics, his eyes scanning my notes, but he won¡¯t find the answers there. This is old material, something he should have learned last year.


    ¡°I suggest, Mister Swiftwing, that you get to your classes on time. Miss Reyes, Mister Swiftwing, you¡¯ll be in charge of cleaning the classrooms tonight. I¡¯ll inform your father you¡¯ll be late for dinner, Miss Reyes. In the future, do your duty as a Mystic and teach your familiar not only his place, but the material he should be learning in class.¡±


    Sebastian mutters curses under his breath, crossing his arms across his chest, looking angry. He looks that way through the entirety of the lesson.


    During lunch, I open my mouth to invite him to join me and my cousins, but he gets up and stomps away before I can mutter a single word. Several classmates giggle as they walk past me, others place a hand on my shoulder, giving me pity I do not want. When I¡¯m the last remaining, I collect my notes, stuff them between the pages of my book, and walk towards the lunchroom.


    ¡°He is incre¨ªble!¡± I shout, slamming my tray on the wooden table, in front of Elena and Antonio.


    They remain silent, probably already having heard what has happened since news regarding Sebastian, El Familiar Rebelde (The Rebellious Familiar), spreads like wildfire through the school.


    ¡°Look, lunch is over for me,¡± says Antonio, taking up his and Camilla¡¯s tray. ¡°But we should talk later, okay?¡±


    ¡°We have to clean the classrooms tonight. I won¡¯t have any time to do anything except hopefully my homework, and if I¡¯m lucky, some sleep. There is no later.¡±


    ¡°I can help you.¡±


    A boy I¡¯ve never met before, takes a seat next to Antonio.


    ¡°Ah, Clara, have you met Cristian?¡± Antonio gestures towards the stranger.


    I look him up and down; he¡¯s got light skin, with many freckles, bright blue eyes hidden behind a pair of thick black glasses, and wavy, white blond hair. A white peacock with blue eyes jumps into the seat next to him, transforming into a girl with wild, curly hair to match his, big pouting lips, and a wide nose.


    ¡°Hola,¡± she greets. ¡°I¡¯m Diana.¡±


    ¡°Hola, I¡¯m¡­ Clara.¡±


    ¡°S¨ª, Elena talks about you all the time.¡±


    ¡°Does she?¡± I glare at Elena.


    Elena readjusts in her seat, leaning down to scratch Adrian¡¯s head. ¡°It¡¯s not all bad.¡±


    Diana nods. ¡°It¡¯s not all bad. Except when she talks about Se-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I warn her. ¡°Don¡¯t say his name, or I¡¯ll flip this table.¡±


    Diana and Cristian laugh.


    ¡°Well, I have to go. See you, Clarita. Let¡¯s go, Milla,¡± says Antonio. ¡°We¡¯ll talk, Clara.¡±


    Camilla gives me a long stare before getting out of her seat, striding across the lunchroom floor like a floating petal when she follows after Antonio.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to help me. I can clean the classrooms myself. I have a system,¡± I inform Cristian.


    ¡°She does,¡± says Elena, proudly. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen someone get so efficient at it after just a year.¡±


    ¡°You are punished often?¡± asks Cristian. ¡°Is not¡­ how you say? Um¡­ Diana, ayudame.¡±


    ¡°Is that really something you should be proud of?¡± asks Diana, reaching over to Cristian¡¯s plate, picking off grapes.


    ¡°I¡¯m not proud of it,¡± I say, placing my bag where Sebastian would be sitting if he were actually here. ¡°But what can I do? I cannot control him. He¡¯s out of control. He¡¯s always moody, always scowling, always snarky, and rude, and insufferable. And when we¡¯re home, he goes out to hunt.¡±


    ¡°You don-¡±


    ¡°I swear, if you ask me if I talk to him-¡±


    ¡°Oye, chica, calmate,¡± says Diana, holding her hands up defensively. ¡°We¡¯ll help you clean.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I ask, suspiciously.


    ¡°Well, Elena was telling us about you, and we¡¯re¡­ uh¡­ interesados. She also tells us that you¡¯re still passing your classes, no matter how hard Se-¡±


    I narrow my eyes.


    ¡°-He tries to make you fail. We could use a bit of help. We¡¯re struggling, but it¡¯s not from lack of trying.¡±


    Beneath the table, Adrian shakes, having had enough of Elena¡¯s nervous ear scratching. He hops onto a seat next to her, and rests his head on the table, his face stuck in a permanent expression of sadness. I slide over a napkin with carrots towards him. He wags his tail, slapping Elena in the face with it as he scarfs them down. Elena grumbles, forcing him to sit, but his tail continues to wag, banging against the back of his chair.


    ¡°Fine. I have a bunch of assignments I have to get done today, anyway. What days do you need help?¡±


    ¡°The weekend, maybe?¡± suggests Diana.


    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to my dad.¡±


    There¡¯s a tapping at the classroom window, as I lift all the desks into the air, suspending them there with a wind spell as I sweep. It¡¯s Sebastian. I almost don¡¯t let him in, but he won¡¯t stop tapping, and I¡¯m afraid he¡¯ll break his beak. He flies in, and gets into his human form.


    ¡°Look who showed up. You¡¯re late. This is the last classroom.¡± It¡¯s not a good greeting, I¡¯ll admit.


    ¡°I had things to do.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Give me the broom.¡±


    ¡°No! I refuse to let you take any credit for this.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be stupid. No one will know I wasn¡¯t here.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± says Cristian quietly, peeking around the doorframe into the room.


    ¡°And who are you?¡± asks Sebastian, aggressively.


    ¡°This is my friend,¡± I inform him, beginning to sweep at the farthest corner from the door. ¡°Cristian, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, Cristian.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget me.¡± Diana giggles as she walks into the room, carrying a pile of dirty rags that need washing.


    ¡°Diana, Sebastian. Eh, eh¡­¡±


    Cristian hauls a bucket to the far corner where I¡¯ve swept, and begins to wipe the floor down with a clean, damp rag which quickly becomes dark.


    ¡°I guess they don¡¯t clean much until you¡¯re being punished, eh?¡± asks Cristian. ¡°They¡¯re getting spoiled by you?¡±


    ¡°They always know it¡¯ll get it done eventually, I¡¯m sure.¡± I look up at Sebastian, who stares back at me blankly. ¡°My punishments are consistent now. I bet next week I have to clean up the potions kitchen.¡±


    ¡°I always wondered how they stayed so clean. Was it you that cleaned that purple stain off the white counter last year?¡±


    ¡°Did you make that stain?¡± I ask, turning away from Sebastian with a quiet huff.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid so. How did you do it?¡±


    ¡°Mi mam¨¢ taught me how to clean before I could even walk. She has this potion she uses that could remove the color out of paint, it¡¯s so strong.¡±


    Cristian laughs. ¡°Do you think she could do the opposite? I could use a tan.¡±


    Diana laughs with him. ¡°I could use some of that, too. Maybe my feathers could be blue and green again.¡±


    ¡°Imagine that,¡± he says, looking over at Diana. ¡°I cannot. It would look unusual.¡±


    ¡°Imagine you with dark hair like your dad.¡±


    Cristian lip twitches. ¡°On second thought.¡±


    ¡°Give me the broom, Clara.¡± Sebastian reaches for the dustpan.


    ¡°No,¡± I say, pushing him away. ¡°Go home. Go read a book, or study.¡±


    ¡°Clara, don¡¯t be stubborn.¡±


    The desks groan as I struggle to keep them up, my blood bubbling in anger. Cristian and Diana pause, staring at the desks, covering their heads. Sebastian doesn¡¯t flinch, just backs away, understanding that I want to swat him with the broom in my hands, because it is the strongest thought in my mind at the moment.


    ¡°Go home, Sebastian. I will not ask you again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll wait outside.¡±


    ¡°Go home.¡±


    He stomps out, slamming the door behind him. Diana and Cristian stare, and I know they¡¯re silently judging me.


    ¡°Sorry-¡±


    ¡°Wow, why is he like that?¡± Diana interrupts me. ¡°Is he always like that?¡±


    ¡°I guess. He¡¯s only gotten worse.¡±


    Diana and Cristian exchange a glance, then look back at me. Diana tilts her head slightly, then stares at the floor, her eyes fixed on a beam of light that shines brightly through the window. She nods after some time, then leaves.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± I ask. ¡°I can help you with those when I¡¯m done.¡±


    She plasters on a bright smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you can join me when you¡¯re done. Cristian wants to talk to you.¡±


    I look back and forth between them, being reminded most people have stronger bonds than the one between Sebastian and I. ¡°Okay. Don¡¯t work too fast, or I¡¯ll owe you more than just some tutoring lessons.¡±


    She cackles maniacally before exiting the room with the basket of rags. ¡°I sure hope so.¡±


    The room is awkwardly quiet as Cristian and I clean. Whatever he wanted to say to me is not coming easily, and he seems to be arguing with himself over word choices, until finally looking up at me with a nervous smile.


    ¡°I like you, Clara. I¡¯ve seen you around, and you¡¯re¡­¡±


    ¡°Interesting?¡±


    He nods. ¡°And pretty, and smart, and very¡­ uh¡­ responsible.¡±


    His cheeks are red. He spins around, continuing to wipe the floor.


    ¡°You seem¡­ nice, and helpful. I cannot say you¡¯re responsible if you¡¯re struggling with your classes.¡±


    ¡°Maybe if I can focus on them, I¡¯ll do better.¡±


    ¡°Why are you¡­ unfocused?¡±


    He laughs nervously. ¡°You. I¡¯m afraid it is your fault.¡±


    At home, I sneak inside, afraid my mother will catch me before I even have a chance to take a breath. A boyfriend. Cristian wants to be my boyfriend. My parents would never allow it. They want me to focus on my studies, to take over the Reyes family legacy. I have no time for boyfriends when I need to focus on my magic. I have no time for magic, when I have to focus on getting Sebastian to stop being such a donkey!


    ¡°Clara?¡± my father calls out. ¡°Is that you? Professora Garcia went to see me during lunch to inform me you were cleaning classrooms again.¡±


    He enters the kitchen, where I¡¯m guzzling down a bowl of my mother¡¯s soup. I nod, wiping my mouth with the sleeve of my coat after I¡¯ve slurped up a noodle too enthusiastically. He sighs, digging through the drawers to find me a kitchen towel, tossing it at my face.


    ¡°Y Sebasti¨¢n, d¨®nde est¨¢?¡±


    I shrug, wiping my face, finishing up the rest of my soup more slowly. ¡°I left without him.¡±


    He shuts his eyes, restraining his anger. ¡°Mija, your mom tells me it¡¯s not normal. He¡¯s not normal. You should get another familiar. It¡¯s not too late. You¡¯re smart. You¡¯re keeping up with your studies even though he¡¯s being¡­ uh¡­ difficult. Imagine what you could do with a familiar that actually wants to help you.¡±


    ¡°Pap¨ª, I don¡¯t want to-¡± I hear Sebastian hooting in the backyard. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him. It¡¯ll be fine, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Okay, mija,¡± he says, placing a kiss on the top of my head. ¡°Your mom is working late this whole week. Something about delayed ships because of some storm.¡±


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll try not to get stuck late at school again.¡±


    With mom gone, maybe I can talk to my father about having a boyfriend. He¡¯s always been more understanding of my desire to live a normal life than she has. Afterall, she had all the same pressures growing up that she¡¯s putting on me, except she never learned that maybe it wasn¡¯t fair. It was just our duty as the potential heads of the Reyes family. I prepare a bowl of soup, warm it with a fire spell, and set it on a tray with a stale piece of bread. Taking a deep breath, I push open the kitchen door, and stand outside, looking up at the branch of a palm, his silhouette outlined in the bright light of the full moon.


    ¡°I brought you something,¡± I say quietly, setting the tray down on the garden table, and taking a seat. ¡°Would you please come down?¡±


    He glides down, landing on the chair across from me, then goes into his human form. Taking up the spoon, he stirs the soup absently, watching me carefully.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I lost my temper,¡± I say, turning towards the garden, where my mother¡¯s flowers are in full bloom. ¡°I will try harder.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± he whispers. ¡°Why are you like this?¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Why do you care?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, why do I care? I care because you¡¯re my responsibility.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just a kid!¡±


    ¡°So are you. If we¡¯re going to get through this life together, we have to get through it without fighting all the time. At least give me a better reason to be upset. You just show up out of nowhere, you don¡¯t say anything unless it¡¯s to make me angry, but you¡¯re not wrong; I do have sloppy handwriting.¡±


    He huffs out a quiet laugh. ¡°You can¡¯t cook, either.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll work on that. Look, I don¡¯t know what I did, but I wish you would talk to me so we could work on fixing it, because I don¡¯t know where to begin.¡±


    He looks up at me, sadly, his face contorting as he holds back a sob. ¡°Could I have a perch in your room?¡±


    ¡°A perch in my room?¡±


    He nods, one of his tears escaping. ¡°Please? I don¡¯t like being outside all the time. I don¡¯t like being away from you, and in the dark all the time. There are snakes, and foxes, and sometimes I hear eagles. I get scared.¡±


    ¡°Is that all you want?¡±


    He nods, a quiet sob escaping as he wipes his tears with the back of his sleeve.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry! Why didn¡¯t you ask me?¡±


    He gestures towards the garden, to the spot where I prepared his sacred place. The ring of crystals are still there, somewhere buried beneath the dirt.


    ¡°It was not what you offered me.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I huff, getting out of my chair. ¡°I¡¯ll fix that. Eat your dinner.¡±


    As Sebastian eats his soup, dipping his bread in whatever remains cling to the sides of the bowl, I use my mother¡¯s trowel to unbury the crystals in the garden. There are six, each representing the elements of magic, and seventh, a piece of pyrite, to represent the family name. I carry them all in my hands, rinsing them off in a bucket of water, and drying them off with my shirt.

 Chapter Five

    Present day...


    ¡°Claire, over here,¡± calls Madam Beatrice.


    I bow my head slightly, biting my tongue, angry that she still cannot remember my name despite correcting her for weeks. ¡°S¨ª, Se?ora.¡±


    Her nostrils flare when I purposely do not use her name, and purposely say ¡®Se?ora¡¯ instead of ¡®Madam¡¯. I¡¯m perfectly capable of playing along with this game, and I will not give up as easily as she will. I can already see her calculating all the ways she can get me into trouble with Master William, but I¡¯ve been cautious with her demands of late, making sure to do everything perfectly.


    ¡°Remove these from the table.¡± She gestures towards the dishes.


    ¡°Se?orito Miguel, are you done with your breakfast?¡±


    Miguel looks up at me with a forlorn expression, and nods. He hasn¡¯t been eating much since his grandmother has arrived, and I wonder what she¡¯s told him to make him lose his usual appetite.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I ask, my hand on the rim of his plate.


    ¡°Take it away!¡± shouts Madam Beatrice. ¡°Stop pestering him.¡±


    I nod, taking up his plate. He watches me with sad eyes, almost begging me to take him along, but I pretend not to notice. I cannot. It will get me in trouble. She will get me in trouble.


    ¡°When will pap¨ª come home?¡± Miguel asks Madam Beatrice.


    ¡°Your father will be home around noon. We should begin your lessons if you¡¯re to spend any time with him.¡±


    Madam Beatrice has taken it upon herself to teach Miguel the manners and customs of Castin, along with the rituals and ceremonies practice by the Evans¡¯ Mystical side of the family; things like the proper summons to perform during coronations when invited to formal events, or the foods that are eaten when guests have arrived on certain sacred holidays. I cannot help being fascinated by it all despite how much my family discouraged participating in such silly things. We have the Mystic ceremonies for all the women in the family at age fifteen. The men in the family just get a bunch of money, or lavish vacations taken outside the town where I grew up, unless they specifically asked for the ceremony. Those were the only ones in which we strictly followed tradition. It is less work than all of these choreographed formalities Miguel was learning.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to do any more lessons,¡± Miguel whines. ¡°Couldn¡¯t I just go into town and play with my friends just this once?¡±


    ¡°You can play with your friends when you¡¯re done with all your lessons. You still can¡¯t even recite the family creed, or the prayers to Gaia.¡±


    Miguel sighs exaggeratedly, knocking his head on the table, making the remaining dishes in front of him clink.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a child,¡± grumbles Madam Beatrice. ¡°You¡¯re to take over our household, and you must be better trained. It seems your parents did nothing to help you.¡±


    ¡°I wish I had an older brother.¡±


    I stifle a laugh as I clear more of the dishes from the table, placing them into a deep metal basin on a rolling cart.


    ¡°You should be happy! This is your heritage; everything for the past hundreds of years has been passed down to you.¡±


    ¡°Is that how old you are?¡±


    Madam Beatrice clutches her chest. ¡°No!¡±


    ¡°Then how old are you? A thousand?¡±


    ¡°You should never ask a woman her age. It¡¯s improper.¡±


    ¡°Clara, how old are you?¡±


    I look over at him, and grin. ¡°Your grandmother said it was improper to ask, Little Master.¡±


    ¡°I bet you¡¯re at least one hundred.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re close,¡± I laugh.


    Madam Beatrice mutters beneath her breath, reminding me of a disappointed shih tzu when she scoffs several times, unable to find her words. ¡°Let¡¯s go, and leave Clarice to her work.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Clara,¡± Miguel corrects. ¡°She already told you that a million times.¡±


    ¡°Claire, Clarice, Clarinet. I don¡¯t care. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Miguel looks back at me as he follows his grandmother to her study, giving me a pleading look. I give him a pitying smile, then make a flapping motion with my hands, promising he¡¯ll be able to see Sebastian later this evening. His eyes grow wide with excitement. I mouth out the word ¡®Behave¡¯ to him. He nods, then scampers off, nearly tripping over the hall rug in his rush.


    ¡°That woman!¡± shouts Maria, dumping all the emptied bowls and plates into a wooden basin filled to the brim with hot soapy water. ¡°She wastes so much food! She wants all of these fancy things from fancy places, and barely touches her plate. Miguel is no better!¡±


    ¡°Miguel doesn¡¯t like eating it because he doesn¡¯t recognize it,¡± I say, coming to his defense.


    ¡°He should know better.¡±


    ¡°You try eating that bland food, then,¡± I mutter, rolling up my sleeves. ¡°It tastes terrible. There¡¯s no spices, no flavor, no soul. Is she even giving you good recipes?¡±


    ¡°Apparently, it¡¯s what they eat on the mainland.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully not all of the mainland. Maybe it¡¯s just Cast¨ªn. Maybe it¡¯s just the familia Evans. One of my t¨ªas used to eat the most bland food, and thought it was Gaia¡¯s gift to earth. She said it was limpio y puro. The rest of us used to just swallow it without chewing if we could help it.¡±


    ¡°Hopefully it¡¯s not that bad on the mainland. In any case, I¡¯ll get started on lunch. I¡¯m headed out to the market, do you need anything?¡±


    ¡°If there are any herbs that are selling for cheap, get extra for me. You know I like to experiment.¡±


    ¡°Otra vez con la magia. You¡¯re going to get yourself in trouble.¡±


    ¡°Bah, maybe Se?ora Beatrice would finally show me some respect. ¡®Clarice!¡¯ ¡®Claire!¡¯ She purposely gets my name wrong every time.¡±


    ¡°Clara, hold your tongue. Imagine if Madam Beatrice heard you. Her head would fall right off, and roll away back to Castin.¡± She chuckles. ¡°I just want you to be careful.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m always careful.¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± She scoffs. ¡°Anyway, if you don¡¯t need anything, I¡¯ll see you later. Good luck with la bruja de Cast¨ªn!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need as much luck as Miguelito.¡±


    When Maria returns with the groceries, I help her unload the cart, sorting the fruits and vegetables, and storing them in the pantry in their own designated baskets. Maria begins the cooking, instructing me what to do; chop the vegetables, fetch the proper plates, fold the napkins. All of it is done in a frenzy, and the only moment I have to pause and think is when Lucas¡¯ voice comes from down the hall announcing Master William¡¯s return home. Miguel¡¯s voice can be heard happily greeting his father while Madam Beatrice scolds him for leaving without being properly dismissed.


    ¡°There was a man at the market today,¡± says Maria quietly, scrubbing a pot clean.


    ¡°Was he handsome?¡± I ask her, putting the covers over the serving trays to keep the food warm.


    ¡°He was looking for his daughter. Said her name was ¡®Clara.¡¯¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t-¡± My mind races, my heart pounds, and I pause to take a deep breath, staring at her with what I¡¯m sure is a wild expression. ¡°I-...¡±


    ¡°Relax.¡± She shakes her head, her hands moving effortlessly to the next pot. ¡°I didn¡¯t tell him about you, though I do wonder why a girl like you would run away from home.¡±


    ¡°I- I¡¯m not a girl. I¡¯m a woman.¡±


    She sighs, then waves her hand dismissively. ¡°That¡¯s right, that¡¯s what all the young ladies say. Anyway, I don¡¯t need an explanation. I just hope Se?or William knows that you don¡¯t want to be found. He frequents that part of town often.¡±


    I sigh heavily, then wipe up the edges of the plate with a damp rag. Madam Beatrice thinks we serve our food too messily, even though Master William has never once complained about it.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Sometimes,¡± I murmur. ¡°We have to make our own paths in life.¡±


    ¡°Is that so? This is the one you chose? The life of a maid in some rich person¡¯s house, living in a small attic room with your pet owl?¡±


    ¡®He¡¯s not a pet!¡¯ I want to say, but instead, I take another breath, sprinkling some garnish over the food, like Madam Beatrice likes. It¡¯s green, and inedible.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why she insists on putting something over the food just so it looks nice,¡± I say, changing the subject. ¡°Even Master William does not eat it.¡±


    ¡°Or why she insists on eating the same thing every week. Doesn¡¯t she get bored with such a limited selection?¡±


    ¡°At least the grocery shopping is simple.¡±


    ¡°Until something is out of season! I hope she¡¯s not here for much longer. We¡¯re going to run out of those yams soon, then what will she do for her Solembra holy luncheons?¡±


    I shudder, remembering the mashed yams Madam Beatrice had Maria make with no seasoning because of her delicate constitution. ¡°She could have at least let you fry them. Blegh.¡±


    ¡°She has to watch her figure.¡± Maria scoffs, shrugging her shoulders. ¡°Sometimes I miss Mistress Micaela. She¡¯d leave it up to the chef to choose the recipes!¡±


    ¡°And you never disappointed her. Do you think they¡¯re at the table yet?¡±


    Maria stares at the clock hanging over the door, then nods. ¡°Put on your bonnet.¡±


    ¡°I hate that bonnet.¡±


    ¡°Put it on anyway,¡± she says, wiping her hands on her apron. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear her complain later. She always calls a¡­ ¡®meeting¡¯ when I¡¯m busy. She uses so many words just to express her disappointment in the ¡®lack of organization in this household¡¯.¡±


    I huff out a laugh, having never seen Maria use so many air quotes. I remove the small bonnet from my pocket, and tie it up into my hair. Maria straightens it out, giving me a pitying look.


    ¡°Belleza!¡±


    I frown, and she pinches my cheeks roughly, then pats them lightly.


    ¡°Go, go!¡± she says, placing a tray in my hands, and pushing me out the door.


    One at a time I place the trays in front of the family, being sure to uncover it with dramatic flourish (as Madam Beatrice demanded, of course). Master William watches on with confusion, then turns to his mother as she grins from ear to ear. It dawns on him that these theatrics are her doing.


    ¡°Mother,¡± he says flatly.


    He blinks rapidly several times, his mouth twitching as he struggles to find the right words, opening it several times, then clamping it shut.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a fish now, are you, William? Don¡¯t just hang your mouth open if you have nothing to say.¡±


    ¡°Mother, what is all this? I¡¯m gone for a few days, and suddenly we¡¯re having¡­ yams, and¡­ whatever this is?¡±


    ¡°Your cook¡¯s tastes were a bit too eccentric for my liking. I thought she could handle making something more suited for my delicate and sophisticated palate.¡±


    Miguel picks up an overcooked yam with his fork, then watches it as it slides down his fork, breaks to pieces, and lands on his plate with a splat. His lip curls, and he grimaces.


    ¡°I miss real food,¡± Miguel groans. ¡°When can we have normal food again?¡±


    ¡°This is normal food,¡± says Madam Beatrice curtly. ¡°This is what you¡¯ll be eating when you and your father return to Castin.¡±


    Miguel looks up at his father, his expression that of pure annoyance. ¡°I thought you said we didn¡¯t have to go to Castin.¡±


    Master William shakes his head, holding up a hand towards Miguel. ¡°We don¡¯t. I¡¯ve already told your grandmother several times that we¡¯re not leaving.¡± He turns to Madam Beatrice, furrowing his brows. ¡°We¡¯re not leaving, but you¡¯re welcome to come visit any time you wish, and enjoy what we¡¯ve grown to appreciate here.¡±


    ¡°You cannot leave me without an heir.¡±


    ¡°Clara, leave,¡± commands Master William.


    I scurry out as quickly as I can, my feet not moving fast enough. I cover my smile with a hand when I rejoin Maria in the kitchen.


    ¡°What?¡± asks Maria. ¡°Did they hate the food as much as I hated making it?¡±


    I shake my head, stifling a laugh. ¡°I think he¡¯s arguing with her.¡±


    ¡°How disrespectful! He shouldn¡¯t argue with her, no matter how annoying she is. That¡¯s his mother!¡±


    ¡°She wants to force them to go back to Castin.¡±


    ¡°He should be around to care for her. She¡¯s not young anymore. It¡¯s only fair. That¡¯s what children should do for their parents.¡±


    I roll my eyes, and begin plating the dessert, a delicious looking pastry dusted in powdered sugar that I¡¯m beyond certain Miguel will enjoy. Maria hums as she washes the dishes, then sweeps the floors, swaying back and forth as she dances with the broom to the rhythm of her own music. I top the pastry off with some type of red fruit syrup, trying my best to make it look aesthetically pleasing, then cover each of the plates.


    ¡°Is that what happened?¡± Maria asks quietly. ¡°Was your father sick?¡±


    I scoff. ¡°No. Fue m¨¢s complicado. My father did not like the life I wanted to live, and disowned me.¡±


    ¡°Disowned you?¡± She laughs. ¡°I¡¯m sure it was much less dramatic than that. You have a knack for theatrics. Sometimes I think you should join a traveling show.¡±


    ¡°He called a family meeting. All of my t¨ªas, t¨ªos, primos, primas, second cousins, y todo el pueblo were there to witness it; ¡®I, Cirilo, disown my daughter! She has brought shame to this family!¡¯ He announced it with so much hatred in his eyes, I thought my skin would burn when he looked at me. Even my own mother was afraid of him. Then, he locked me out of the house. He wouldn¡¯t even let me grab a pair of shoes before forcing me out. I walked for days with bandages around my feet.¡±


    Maria covers her mouth, staring at me wide-eyed, struggling to speak. ¡°No, that can¡¯t be true.¡±


    ¡°That is why I wish not to be found.¡±


    ¡°What did you do?¡±


    ¡°You assume I did something?¡± I gasp. My cheeks burn, and I look away, waving a hand at her dismissively. ¡°I was in love with a man he didn¡¯t approve of.¡±


    She blinks several times in disbelief. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±


    I sigh. ¡°That was it.¡±


    ¡°Who was this-¡±


    ¡°Clarice!¡± shouts Madam Beatrice. ¡°Where are you, girl?¡±


    I groan, then put on my best smile before exiting the kitchen with the tray of desserts, muttering curses beneath my breath, hoping one will stick.


    Miguel grins wide, with syrup on the corners of his mouth, and his nose covered in powdered sugar. He licks his fingers obnoxiously loudly. Madam Beatrice wrinkles her nose, then pushes her untouched dessert away, as if I¡¯ve presented her with a dead rat. Master William smiles as he eats his pastry. I¡¯d forgotten how handsome he looked when he did so. He could make a whole room of women swoon with that smile.


    ¡°Not going to eat any, mother? You asked the cook to make it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not quite right, and it looks much too sweet.¡± Madam Beatrice pouts. ¡°There¡¯s too much sugar on the top.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it!¡± shouts Miguel, reaching for her plate.


    Master Williams stops him, then grins. ¡°We¡¯ll split it.¡±


    Miguel smiles, his eyes lighting up at the thought, and he nods. ¡°Okay, pap¨ª!¡±


    Madam Beatrice rolls her eyes, and groans loudly. ¡°No wonder he¡¯s ill-mannered.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one that¡¯s always telling me that we should never let food go to waste,¡± says Miguel, taking half the pastry off her plate, and eating it in a single bite. ¡°And that¡¯s what we¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t speak with your mouth full.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± says Master William, speaking with his own mouth full. ¡°You do say that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to take a nap. Wake me an hour, Clarice.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Clara!¡± shouts Miguel. ¡°She¡¯s told you every single time. Why are you purposely saying it wrong?¡±


    Madam Beatrice frowns, staring daggers at Miguel, then turns her nose up, walking towards the exit.


    I smile politely, and nod my head. ¡°S¨ª, Se?ora.¡±


    Her brief pause is delightful.


    I wipe up the table, after setting all the plates on the cart, waiting patiently as Miguel licks off all the jam from his plate. Master William watches on in amusement, as he feigns embarrassment. Maybe this new cooking was good for something, seeing as this was twice now that I¡¯ve seen him smile.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Miguel. Let Clara take your plate.¡±


    Miguel gives it one final wipe with his index finger, then hands the plate back to me, licking his finger clean. I take a damp rag, and wipe his face and hands with it, then fold it in half and wipe up the table. Miguel smiles, as he watches me, sighing contentedly as he slides down his seat into a slouching position.


    ¡°When is Abuela Beatrice leaving?¡±


    ¡°Soon,¡± says Master William with a nod, trying to convince Miguel of this very obvious lie.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she likes me,¡± he says, quietly.


    Master William immediately sits up straighter in his seat, then leans forward to take Miguel¡¯s hand. ¡°Miguel, no. Your grandmother loves you, she¡¯s just not very good at showing it.¡±


    ¡°She says I¡¯m too different, and she has ¡®far too much work¡¯ to do on me to fix me.¡±


    Master William looks up at me with pleading eyes, and I quickly wipe up the table and make my way back to the kitchens for them to speak privately. I toss the dishes into the washbasin, not worrying about the clattering, fuming with a sudden rush of anger. Maria places her hands on my shoulder, pulling me away, and grabbing the scrubbing brush out of my hand to protect her precious dishes.


    ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you?¡± She huffs. ¡°Those plates cost more than you make in a year. Have you gone mad?¡±


    ¡°Maria, I want to kick that woman!¡± I whisper, harshly.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean you have to take it out on the dinnerware.¡±


    ¡°Maria! She said she has to fix Miguel! Our Miguel! Our sweet Miguel!¡±


    ¡°She said that about Miguel?¡±


    I nod. ¡°Miguel was just telling Se?or William.¡±


    Maria is quiet, and I can sense her mind racing at lightning speeds, her face slowly becoming more and more angry the longer she stands there just thinking.


    ¡°She needs to go,¡± she says at last, then turns to the sink to finish the dishes.


    ¡°What should I do?¡±


    ¡°Make sure he gets a warm glass of milk with honey before bed.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of it. Go draw him a warm bath, and make sure he has his favorite toy waiting for him in bed.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°No one says that about our boy! That woman has mucked about with the wrong household!¡±


    I stifle a laugh. ¡°That¡¯s right!¡±


    I tiptoe out of Miguel¡¯s room, and quietly close the door so as to not wake him. Master William¡¯s face appears from the dark, nearly causing me to scream, but he covers my mouth, and shushes me. He guides me further down the hallway away from Miguel¡¯s door, then lights another candle.


    ¡°What are you doing up so late, Miss Clara?¡± he whispers.


    ¡°Uh- Well- Miguel, he-¡± I stammer.


    ¡°It¡¯s because of what his grandmother said, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I nod, hiding my face from his gaze. At least I wasn¡¯t caught eavesdropping. He knew I heard part of the conversation.


    ¡°You and Maria are¡­¡± He steps close to me, his gaze on my mouth as it falls open, and he pushes the hair off my face to plant a kiss on my forehead. ¡°You¡¯re all the family Miguel needs. How is Sebastian?¡±


    ¡®He hasn¡¯t been the same since Micaela passed. None of us are.¡¯ I want to cry out. ¡°You know how Baz is,¡± I sigh. ¡°He likes to keep to himself. I wish there was something more he could do, but he¡¯s just¡­ you know how he is.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± he says, tugging absently at the string of my apron. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do, Clara. I want Miguel to grow up here, but I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m doing the right thing keeping him away from our family in Castin.¡±


    ¡°Miguelito is happy here.¡± I pout.


    ¡°He is, but¡­ when I was with Micaela, I didn¡¯t need anyone else. We didn¡¯t need anyone else. Now, the house feels too big, and I feel¡­¡± He buries his head into my shoulder, and inhales deeply. ¡°I feel lonely. I sometimes wonder if he¡¯s feeling the same.¡±


    ¡°You should stop working so much, and stop leaving him with your mother. I don¡¯t know if you¡¯ve noticed, but she¡¯s an evil woman.¡±


    ¡°She means well, she¡¯s just¡­ been hardened by life.¡±


    ¡°That does not mean she needs to pass that on to Miguel. Miguel is a good boy, and happy as long as you come home early, read him a bedtime story, and let him be a child, not torture him with these boring family ceremonies, y lo que seas. I hate to see him so unhappy.¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯ll do better.¡±


    ¡°My father is searching for me,¡± I mention as casually as I can, keeping busy fussing with the empty glass in my hands. ¡°I do not wish to be found, and I would appreciate it if you didn¡¯t mention that I was here.¡±


    He stiffens.


    ¡°Do you think something happened to your family?¡± he asks, taking my face between his hands, to examine it carefully.


    I shake my head, forcing him to let go. ¡°They are not my family anymore.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I-... didn¡¯t mean it that way. Do you think anything serious happened¡­ to¡­ them?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care if anything happened. I just don¡¯t want to be found.¡±


    He sighs heavily. ¡°Well, alright. I should get to bed. Goodnight, Clara. Thank you for taking care of Miguel. Thank Maria for me¡±


    ¡°Of course. Goodnight, Master William.¡±

 Chapter Six

    Fifteen years ago¡­


    I wait nervously in the school courtyard for Cristian and Diana as Sebastian taps his foot impatiently, eager to get home. My relationship with Cristian is still a secret I¡¯ve kept from everyone, especially from my parents and Elena. My parents will tell me not to date; my father because he doesn¡¯t trust anyone, and my mother because she thinks I should remain focused on my studies and taking over the family legacy. The only person who might know is Antonio, who caught the two of us holding hands. I¡¯ve not made that mistake again, but the damage has been done. I don¡¯t even know what Antonio was doing in the potions room in the first place the day he caught us. Pap¨ª said he was there to intern for one of the profesores. Whatever the reason, it was embarrassing when he laughed seeing us both. My heart was beating so fast, I thought I was going to die on the spot. I wanted to throw one of the mortars at him, but Cristian said I was too young to commit murder. I¡¯m afraid that if he tells Elena, the whole town will know, and then I¡¯ll never see Cristian again, because I¡¯ll have died from embarrassment, or my mother will have killed me.


    ¡°Hola, Clarita,¡± Cristian greets me, shyly, glancing around to make sure no one else is around before he takes my hand. ¡°How are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say, watching from the corner of my eye as Diana waves to Sebastian, and takes her place next to him as we all leave the courtyard together to walk home. ¡°I think I¡¯m almost done with my paper for historia. I just have to go to the library tomorrow to get at least one more book.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know where to start. I just have random paragraphs I have to mush together. Diana says she has own paper she¡¯s writing for historia, and it sounded more difficult than mine.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± agrees Sebastian. ¡°I don¡¯t know why Profesora Avil¨¦s makes us write papers. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re going to do anything with the research.¡±


    ¡°What are you researching?¡± I ask.


    ¡°El Primer Familiar,¡± replies Diana.


    ¡°Sebastian didn¡¯t tell me he was working on a history paper,¡± I tease. ¡°He just always tells me he¡¯s busy, and never comes out of his room.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like you can write it for me,¡± he huffs, kicking a rock along the path.


    ¡°No, pero I can still help.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need help,¡± he says, pridefully. ¡°I can write it myself.¡±


    I roll my eyes, then exchange a glance with Cristian. He immediately smiles, and it makes my heart skip a beat. Diana giggles, and Sebastian scoffs.


    ¡°So gross,¡± grumbles Sebastian.


    ¡°I guess the two of you haven¡¯t figured out how to keep each other out of the other¡¯s head?¡± asks Diana.


    ¡°All day she¡¯s like this,¡± whines Sebastian, raising his hands up in front of him to emphasize the word ¡®this¡¯. ¡°Always thinking of Cristian. Always dreaming of Cristian. ¡®I wonder what Cristian is doing right now.¡¯ ¡®I wonder what Cristian had for lunch.¡¯ ¡®I wonder if Cristian did well on his test.¡¯ It¡¯s going to make me insane. I don¡¯t know how she gets any work done.¡±


    My cheeks burn, and for a moment I think of swatting Sebastian. He stops in his tracks, falling behind, looking surprised.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he murmurs, catching up a few moments later. ¡°Pretend you didn¡¯t hear that.¡±


    ¡°I already did. You can¡¯t take it back,¡± says Cristian, feigning disappointment.


    ¡°Cristian is the same way,¡± says Diana, with a giggle. ¡°Always ¡®Clara this¡¯ y ¡®Clara that.¡¯ Trust me, nothing motivates you more when you¡¯re training, than witnessing your Mystic having a crush on somebody. I was desperate to sever our constant connection.¡±


    ¡°Diana,¡± cries Cristian, eyes wide. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°What? She clearly likes you too, so what does it matter?¡±


    ¡°Ugh,¡± he scoffs, lowering his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Clara. Our familiares have no manners.¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s endearing,¡± I reassure him. ¡°I¡¯m glad you think of me, too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to vomit,¡± grumbles Sebastian.


    ¡°Yo tambien,¡± replies Diana.


    We reach the fork in the road where Cristian and I are forced to go our separate ways. Cristian lives in the poorer parts of the village, while my family has an entire estate, and enough land to house a whole neighborhood. It took much convincing to let them let me walk to and from the academy, instead of riding on a horse or in a carriage. In the end, I reassured them that walking was good for me. I squeeze Cristian¡¯s hand lightly before letting it go, then wave goodbye to him and Diana. Diana waves a cheery goodbye, and I elbow Sebastian¡¯s side when he just stares down the road. Reluctantly he waves, then turns immediately around to continue walking down the path. Once Cristian is out of sight, I sprint after Sebastian.


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you be nice,¡± I huff, catching up. ¡°They¡¯re both really nice, and they care about you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really care,¡± he says, staring down at the road towards his feet. ¡°I think they only care about you.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to be in such a bad mood during Diego¡¯s party?¡± I feel a small shock coarse through me as Sebastian flinches, then stares at me wide-eyed. ¡°You forgot about the party, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he lies. Fear creeps up my spine.


    ¡°Sebastian! Did you at least get a cravat?¡±


    ¡°S¨ª,¡± he lies, flinching away from me when I move my hand to readjust the bag on my shoulder.


    ¡°Sebastian!¡± I scold him.


    ¡°Maybe Antonio has one I can borrow? He¡¯s probably got like five of them. Or your dad?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not asking my dad. He already dislikes you enough. Do you need me to do your hair? I¡¯ve gotten really good at braiding.¡±


    He gives me a doubtful look. ¡°I¡¯d rather your aunt did it for me. She¡¯s better at it.¡±


    I pout, then stomp on ahead of him. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°Did you want to do my ha-¡±


    ¡°Forget it,¡± I grumble. ¡°Let¡¯s go. Hopefully we can catch Antonio at home.¡±


    I knock at Antonio¡¯s bedroom window, whispering his name, hoping not to disturb anyone else, as everyone is already bustling around making preparations for Diego¡¯s party. When he pushes aside the curtain, and appears at the window, he looks disheveled, his hair pointing every which way, his collared shirt crooked and wrinkled, his cheeks flushed, and his forehead slightly damp with sweat.


    ¡°?Est¨¢s bien, Antonio?¡± I ask him, looking him over several times, mildly concerned. ¡°Are you sick?¡± I move away from him, covering my face with a handkerchief.


    He runs a hand through his hair to flatten it, then readjusts his shirt. ¡°?Qu¨¦ haces aqu¨ª? T¨ªa was looking for you. She stopped by earlier.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°I took the long way home,¡± I say, my cheeks burning.


    ¡°?Con Cristian? What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Do you have a cravat you can loan to Sebastian? He didn¡¯t get one for the party.¡±


    Antonio looks Sebastian up and down, looking irritated. Sebastian rolls his eyes, but I can feel his embarrassment as his cheeks go dark.


    ¡°Sure,¡± Antonio scoffs. He disappears, then returns with a satin cravat a deep shade of purple. ¡°Keep it. I never wear it. It¡¯s not my color.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t T¨ªa Gloria give this to you?¡±


    ¡°Do you need one or not?¡± he huffs. ¡°Don¡¯t be a choosy beggar.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Hurry home. Your mom looked upset.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t she always?¡±


    He breathes out a laugh. ¡°Go. I¡¯ll see you at the party.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    ¡°?Hasta luego!¡±


    I rush out of my bedroom in my dark blue dress with green embroidery on the skirt, and a green shawl to match draped over my shoulders. Placing the last pin in my hair, I walk down the steps, nearly falling down when I see Sebastian at the bottom, waiting with both of my parents. He looks so different in a pair of black trousers, crisp white shirt beneath an embroidered purple vest, dark suit jacket, black coat, and Antonio¡¯s purple cravat. His hair, half-braided, is neatly pulled back into a ponytail, decorated with silver beads. He looks almost ashamed to be looking so handsome.


    ¡°Clara!¡± exclaims my mother, wearing her best dress and jewels. ¡°You look beautiful. Tell her, amor!¡±


    ¡°You look beautiful, Clara,¡± says my father, dressed in his best suit and tie.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, carefully making my way down the stairs, unable to take my eyes off Sebastian.


    Mother fixes my hair when I reach the foot of the stairs as I continue to stare, unable to pull my gaze away from Sebastian.


    ¡°He looks great, doesn¡¯t he? Muy guapo,¡± says Mother.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you so well dressed,¡± I say, looking at him from head to toe and back.


    He rolls his eyes, but I see a hint of a smile on his face, and there¡¯s a feeling of pride hidden somewhere beneath his embarrassment. ¡°You look okay, too, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Eres hermosa, Clara. Come on, let¡¯s go,¡± says Mother. ¡°?Jos¨¦, vamos!¡±


    Jos¨¦ is mother¡¯s familiar. He¡¯s a grumpy black cat, and a moody old man. He has a full home in the basement, and I only ever see him when Mother has to go to work, otherwise, he keeps to himself, and complains about Father¡¯s cooking every chance he gets. Father is so used to it, he doesn¡¯t even get mad anymore, he treats it as a challenge to get better. When Father isn¡¯t home, sometimes I see Jos¨¦ and Mother talking in the garden as they tend to the weeds and the plants. She always looks so happy with him, and he always looks happy when he¡¯s with her. For some reason, she also always looks nervous when Jos¨¦ and Father are in the same room, and lately, I¡¯ve wondered if Father just doesn¡¯t like familiars. Father grew up in the mainland, where most Mystics frown upon our traditions, calling familiars ¡®soul-bonded slaves¡¯. Father never speaks about it, and Mother always changes the subject when I ask.


    Jos¨¦ gaits up the stairs, then goes into his human form (which unlike Sebastian¡¯s small puff of air, is like the sound of fabric brushing up against itself). He¡¯s wearing the same dark green suit and tie he wears to every Reyes family event, but Mother always compliments him and gushes just the same, as if he were a small child attending his first formal event.


    We arrive at T¨ªa Gloria¡¯s house in a horse-drawn carriage, and the footman announces our arrival as he places the stool beneath the carriage door. Mother steps out first, the footman holding her hand as she steps down in her frilly dress, followed by father, myself, Jos¨¦, and finally Sebastian. T¨ªa Gloria greets us at the front door, giving us all kisses, her strong perfume making me dizzy and slightly nauseous. I struggle to keep my expression neutral, until finally getting away when I spot my cousins in the distance. Elena looks pretty in a baby blue dress with dark blue embellishments. Her hair is done up in curls with sparkly pins shaped like leaves holding it in place. Adrian looks handsome in a black suit and dark blue waistcoat. Camilla looks stunning in a pastel green dress, and next to her, Antonio wears a black suit with a waistcoat to match her outfit.


    ¡°I wish you weren¡¯t related to him,¡± grumbles Sebastian.


    ¡°Trust me,¡± I whisper. ¡°If I could marry Camilla, I would.¡±


    He snickers, pulling out my seat for me, then taking a seat next to me at the table. He scoots his chair in, and pushes the back of mine as I try to do the same.


    ¡°Hola, Sebasti¨¢n,¡± greets Camilla.


    His cheeks go bright red. ¡°Hola, Camilla. ?C¨®mo est¨¢s?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. You look nice in purple.¡±


    ¡°Ah, this is Antonio¡¯s.¡± He reaches for the cravat, and runs his thumb across it.


    ¡°It looks better on you than it did on him.¡± She chuckles when Antonio narrows his eyes, and frowns at her. ¡°?Qu¨¦? You want me to lie?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to lie, pero you don¡¯t have to tell the full truth tampoco,¡± Antonio says, gesturing with one hand towards Sebastian.


    Sebastian¡¯s eyes meet mine, and his lip quirks up into a half grin. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be jealous, Antonio.¡±


    Antonio tuts irritably, and shakes his head. ¡°Where¡¯s your boyfriend, Clara?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a boyfriend, Antonio.¡±


    Elena¡¯s eyes nearly pop out of her skull at the sound of the word. She leans in so close to me, I¡¯m scared her head is going to collide with mine.


    ¡°?Qu¨¦ dijo? Who is it?¡±


    ¡°No one. He¡¯s lying,¡± I groan.


    I glare at Antonio across the table, but he doesn¡¯t look at me. He looks nervously at Sebastian instead, slowly leaning away in his seat, until he can¡¯t get much further because his back is pressed against it. Sebastian is furious.


    ¡°Nothing. I was lying,¡± he says, defensively.


    Elena looks back and forth between Antonio and I, her lip curled at an odd angle, trying to make one of us break, then gives up when she realizes neither of us is going to say anything.


    ¡°T¨ªa Leticia wouldn¡¯t let her date, anyway. She''s the future head of the family. She doesn¡¯t have time for boys. Not until she gets married, and then her future husband is just expected to materialize de la nada, perfect y todo.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure mami already has plans for all that. She has plans for my entire life,¡± I sigh. ¡°So I won¡¯t need to date or anything. I¡¯ll just marry whatever stranger she sets before me.¡±


    A sadness blankets me, and I catch a glimpse of Sebastian¡¯s face before he turns away, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his jacket. I really should figure out this emotion blocking technique, or Sebastian and I will never be happy.


    At the end of the night, I watch as Elena and Antonio clink their glasses to Diego¡¯s, and drink to celebrate his fifteen birthday. Sebastian remains at my side, picking at the cuff of his shirt, occasionally taking a bite of food off his plate. Camilla and Adrian make small talk with some of the other familiars belonging to my distant cousins. I wish Sebastian would be more social and talk to them, but he seems determined to not move all evening, seemingly glued to his seat.


    ¡°You can go talk to them if you want, Sebastian. You don¡¯t have to remain at my side.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t really want to.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask Camilla to dance with you. I¡¯m sure she wouldn¡¯t mind it.¡±


    He curls into himself, pulling his sleeves over his hands, then grumbling something I cannot hear.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°I want to go home. I feel uncomfortable in this suit, this food tastes terrible, and I hate all this noise.¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t go home,¡± I mumble. ¡°It¡¯s too far. There¡¯s cake if you like it.¡±


    He¡¯s disappointed, but there¡¯s nothing I can do to help him, and my mind is getting increasingly fuzzy as he sits and stews in his anger. My temperature rises the longer I stare at him, wishing I could just send him home so my evening could be better. The music from the band begins to slow, and several couples go to the open dance floor and begin to sway together. My parents never dance. I wish they would do it at least once during one of these parties, so I would know what they looked like when they were in love.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go talk to the others? I¡¯m sure-...¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°Can we just go somewhere quiet, please? Just for a little while?¡±


    Antonio returns to the table, taking a long drink from his glass of water.


    ¡°Antonio?¡± I ask, nodding my head slightly in Sebastian¡¯s direction.


    ¡°?S¨ª?¡±


    ¡°Sebastian needs to go somewhere quiet for a bit. Do you know where that could be?¡±


    ¡°Uh¡­¡± He thinks for a moment, taking a bite out of his bread, and wiping his hands on a napkin. ¡°Puedes ir out the back door. It goes right out to la playa. I don¡¯t think anyone is out there right now. Not while the music is playing.¡±


    ¡°Vamos, Sebastian,¡± I take Sebastian¡¯s hand, and pause before leaving the table. ¡°If anyone is looking for me, I¡¯m in the powder room.¡±


    ¡°What if they¡¯re looking for Sebastian?¡±


    ¡°No one is ever looking for Sebastian.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    Sebastian sits at the foot of the stairs leading out towards the beach. The bottom step is half covered in sand. With his feet bare, he buries them into the sand up to the ankles. I lean against the railing, looking out towards the water, watching as the ships pull into the harbor. The light of the moon gleams on the water, the sound of the waves soothes me, and the gentle breeze cools my heated cheeks.


    ¡°You can go back inside,¡± he mumbles. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine out here by myself. I won¡¯t go anywhere.¡±


    I hike up my skirt enough to sit comfortably on the stairs next to him, and look out across the glittering dunes. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Do you feel better?¡±


    I reach out to touch his head. He flinches away, and turns away from me.


    ¡°Sebastian, how can I ever know what you¡¯re thinking if you won¡¯t let me in?¡±


    ¡°I let you in,¡± he grumbles. ¡°I let you in all the time. You¡¯re the one that just won¡¯t listen to me, you just want to sever our connection.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to sever it. Not completely. I just want to get it under control before our emotions get all tangled up, and we can¡¯t figure out who is who. Could you imagine if we¡¯re both in any kind of battle, and we¡¯re both scared because one of us is scared?¡±


    ¡°Battle?¡± He looks up at me with wide eyes. ¡°What battle are we fighting, Clara?¡±


    ¡°Mi pap¨¢ dijo que there are people coming from the mainland to take the familiars.¡±


    ¡°And you think that¡¯s a bad thing?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? How are we supposed to use our magic?¡±


    He leans over, and at first, I cannot tell if he¡¯s feeling sick of crying, but after a while, I realize he¡¯s laughing¡­ loudly. ¡°Clara, Clara, Clara. If you only knew, you would understand, but they tell me not to tell you. They told me to keep it secret.¡±


    ¡°To keep what secret?¡±


    ¡°Everything¡­¡± He stares off towards the waters, leaning slightly towards me.

 Chapter Seven

    Present day...


    A light breeze blows through the open window, as the windchimes play a pretty melody. I stretch, feeling a deep ache in my body, and the heaviness of sleep seeping out of me, down my back, then my legs, and out through my toes. Sitting up, I reflexively glance towards Sebastian¡¯s cage. It looks empty. I rub my eyes, believing I¡¯m still too weary to see clearly, and maybe his shape has blended into the blurriness of my vision, but it is still empty. Why is it empty when he¡¯s not lying next to me? Did he leave in the night? I don¡¯t remember. Even if he had, he¡¯d be back by now. Leaning over the side of the bed, I can see that the gap between the mattress and the wall is also empty, so he hasn¡¯t fallen in the night. I pull on my robes, and make my way towards the washroom. It is also empty. He¡¯s not in there either. The whole room feels too still, in fact. It¡¯s unusual.


    ¡°Sebastian,¡± I murmur. ¡°This isn¡¯t funny. Where are you?¡±


    I fully expect him to pop out from his hiding place, but he doesn¡¯t. Fear creeps over me, sending a shiver through my body, making my knees shake, pushing out any weariness that lingers. Something is wrong. Something feels wrong. I am afraid, and this is not just my own feeling, this is one I am sharing with Sebastian.


    ¡°Sebastian?¡±


    ¡°Clara! Are you awake?¡± calls Maria at my door.


    Hearing her voice is almost a relief, except I can hear the panic in her voice. Maria doesn¡¯t wait for a response before she pushes my door open, causing it to hit the wall behind it. At the top of the stairs, she looks frantic, her eyes wide and her hands shaking.


    ¡°Maria, did something happen?¡±


    Sebastian walks in after her, his eyes red and teary. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Clara. He captured me, and I couldn¡¯t get away¡±


    He¡¯s safe. Thank the gods! ¡°Sebas-...?¡±


    My father steps in behind him. I blink several times. Surely, this is just a nightmare, and I¡¯m going to wake up at any moment¡­ But his image just becomes clearer. My chest tightens, my heart pounds in my ears, and my fingertips tingle when he steps towards me. His hair is whiter and thinner than I remember, and the wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth are deeper and more plentiful.


    ¡°Clara-¡±


    I gasp, stepping back, stumbling into my bed. ¡°Pap¨ª, how did you-? What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, what am I doing here?¡± He frowns, the wrinkles on his forehead being put to use. ¡°I¡¯m here to see you. I missed you, Clara. You¡¯ve been gone for years. I just wanted to see that you¡¯re doing okay.¡±


    ¡°You saw her,¡± grumbles Sebastian. ¡°Now go.¡±


    ¡°Clara, if Sebastian has done anything to keep you from our family-¡±


    ¡°It was you!¡± Sebastian shouts, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. ¡°You kept her away from the family. You disowned her! She¡¯s afraid to go back because of you!¡±


    My father holds up a hand to quiet Sebastian, and I can see Sebastian straining to speak as a spell holds his mouth closed. My father walks up the stairs, taking each step slowly and carefully, his weight making the steps creask. He holds both hands up defensively, but a chill still runs down my spine.


    ¡°Se?or Reyes, please!¡± whispers Maria. ¡°Clara has to get to work. Master William will not appreciate all this ruckus.¡±


    ¡°Clara,¡± my father says, gently. ¡°This is really what you want to do with your life? To live in some man¡¯s house as a servant? ?Y despu¨¦s? You are to inherit the family legacy-¡±


    ¡°No! No, I don¡¯t want to inherit anything. You can let Elena have it all! She was-¡±


    ¡°Clara!¡±


    ¡°Pap¨ª, I don¡¯t want to be a part of your family! Your family legacy is a lie! Our family has killed-¡± I have to swallow the final word, because the very thought of our victims still forms a knot in my chest.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t kill anybody.¡±


    ¡°We didn¡¯t stop it from happening! All the brutality and abuse! You watched all of those people-¡±


    ¡°They aren¡¯t people!¡± He shouts, the vein on his neck protruding slightly.


    ¡°How can you say that, when-¡±


    ¡°Clara, what is all this?¡± Master William steps through the door, immediately climbing up the stairs to stand between me and my father. ¡°Sir, I don¡¯t know what business you have with my maid, but you cannot just walk into my home, and-¡±


    ¡°This is my hija. I have not seen her for five years. I¡¯m sure you understand,¡± Father says curtly, trying to get past him.


    Master William blocks his path, then looks back at me, his eyes scanning my face several times. I swallow hard, holding back a sob, shaking my head subtly, pleading silently for him to kick my father out, because I do not possess the strength to do it myself.


    ¡°Mister Reyes,¡± says Master William calmly, turning back towards my father. ¡°I¡¯ll have to ask you to leave.¡±


    My father blinks, and he shifts into, what I now believe is, his true nature, with an anger that cannot be repressed. It¡¯s instant and terrifying; his hands ball into fists, his chest puffs up, and he flares his nostrils. The energy emanating from him is all consuming, and dark. It always scared me how quickly he was able to transform into this monster at the drop of a hat. I didn¡¯t know he could become so horrifying until that day when he chased me out of my own home.


    ¡°She is my daughter! I demand to see her.¡±


    Master Williams places a hand on my father¡¯s chest, Maria rushes to my side, running her hand up and down my back in a comforting gesture as she takes several deep breaths. Sebastian just stands there, repressing his own anger, still unable to speak as he fights against my father¡¯s spell.


    ¡°You have seen her, Mister Reyes. Now, I demand you leave before I call La Guardia. Miss Reyes has work to tend to.¡±


    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± My father approaches Master William, poking his chest roughly several times, sizing him up, standing so close Master William is forced to take a step back. ¡°I am a Reyes! This is my daughter, and I am going to take her home.¡±


    My stomach drops, and I¡¯m suddenly nauseous. With shaky legs, I stand between them, holding my arms out to protect Master William, as my father glares at me.


    ¡°Please, pap¨ª, don¡¯t do this.¡± I¡¯m crying now, and I¡¯m embarrassed to be appearing so weak, when everyone else is so strong. ¡°I cannot afford to lose this job.¡±


    ¡°Who is this man, Clara?¡± My father asks, pointing at Master William.


    ¡°He¡¯s my boss, and you¡¯re going to get me fired.¡±


    ¡°If you came home, you wouldn¡¯t have to work. I would provide for you. You¡¯re my daughter, and I will give you anything you ask for. You know that. Your house is still there, still empty, waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t provide,¡± says Sebastian, standing next to me, taking my hand in his. ¡°You never give her anything that matters!¡±


    My father looks back and forth between us, then sighs. ¡°You¡¯re still on about this. On este cabr¨®n, who still thinks he can marry you. He¡¯s not even human, Clara! He¡¯s a pet, like un perro de la calle,¡± he spits. ¡°I will find you someone to marry, Clarita. Someone who is worthy of the Reyes name.¡± Father reaches for my face, but Sebastian pushes him back at arms length, restraining his anger, but prepared to attack on my command.


    Master William pushes Sebastian and I aside, grabbing my father by the collar of his shirt, shoving him against the railing. It groans from the weight, with Father leaning dangerously over the edge towards the lower level, and I¡¯m afraid the wood is going to snap under him. My father holds on to Master William¡¯s hand, now panicked, afraid of toppling over, as Master William glares at him, so angry he can barely speak, pushing him further against it. Father transforms back into an old, frail, and pathetic man.


    ¡°Get the fuck out of my house, you bastard!¡± Master William raises a fist. ¡°Or so help me, you¡¯d wish I¡¯d-¡±


    Maria gasps in horror. ¡°Se?or William!¡± she cries out. ¡°You must be careful with your hands!¡±


    Master William drops my father¡¯s collar, and my father slips away, running like a scolded mutt with its tail between its legs. Master William straightens out his suit and tie, and huffs, just before leaving my room. Maria gives me a panicked look, and chases after him. I grip Sebastian¡¯s arm as I slide down to the ground, falling to my knees because they are shaking too much to bear my weight. Pressing my forehead to the ground, my body shakes as my chest threatens to burst open, the tightness keeping me from catching my breath.


    ¡°Clara?¡± Sebastian says, panicked, placing a hand on my back. ¡°Clara? Are you okay? Are you hurt?¡±


    ¡°He found me.¡± I choke back a sob. ¡°He found me, and now we have to leave.¡±


    ¡°Clara, I don¡¯t think-¡±


    A sob forces its way out of me. My chest aches, my stomach feels hollow, and my head is throbbing from the pressure of my wailing. I hear a small poof, and then there are feathers pressing themselves to my cheek, and a soft cooing to accompany it. I tut when I see Sebastian¡¯s feathers have gotten damp, but I hold him to my chest. He remains still as I continue to cry until all my tears have run dry. A sound from downstairs draws me away from my dark thoughts; thoughts I was certain I was past thinking; thoughts of death, and hopelessness. It¡¯s Se?ora Beatrice. I¡¯m afraid she¡¯s shouting at Maria or Miguel. I quickly dress myself, ignoring my frazzled appearance, stomping down the stairs, fully prepared to finally defend somebody, if not myself.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Clara!¡± greets Madam Beatrice with a discomforting smile when she spots me at the staircase landing.


    I spot Master William in the corner looking horrified, shaking his head frantically.


    ¡°Se?ora Beatrice, I¡¯m sorry about the noise this morning. It won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense, child,¡± she says, waving a hand in front of her face. ¡°Willie, here, told me all about it. I just want you to know that you are safe with the Evans family.¡±


    My mouth falls open, as I try to find the right words to speak, so shocked by her sudden change of heart, but Master William now looks pained and embarrassed. I should be grateful, but his expression is not comforting in the least bit.


    ¡°Clara!¡± Miguel greets me, holding his arms up towards me. I lift him, supporting his weight against my hip. ¡°Abuela said you¡¯re going to be my new mother!¡±


    I glance at Madam Beatrice¡¯s smiling face, then at Master William. He looks away, hiding from me. He clears his throat, bringing his fist to his mouth, then places a hand on his mother¡¯s shoulder, and shakes his head.


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave the two of you alone to discuss,¡± she says, brightly. ¡°Come along now, Miguel.¡±


    Miguel excitedly hugs me, placing a sloppy kiss on my cheek, then releases me, and chases after his grandmother. When the door to the sitting room clicks shut after him, Master William waves me over, leading me down the hallway towards his office. I follow after him, now embarrassed that I haven¡¯t bothered to do my hair. Maria peeks out from the kitchen door, looking as if she¡¯s aged a hundred years since I last saw her a little over an hour ago. It¡¯s probably due to all the screaming and yelling in the, otherwise, quiet estate.


    When the door to Master William¡¯s study shuts behind me, Master William beelines to the bar cart, and pours two drinks, pushing one of the crystal glasses into my hands without even offering. I take a small sip, the liquid burning the back of my throat.


    ¡°Sit.¡± The word comes out as more of a command than a suggestion, and I obey.


    He runs a hand through his hair, then scratches his head, letting out a frustrated sigh.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about my father,¡± I say, quickly.


    ¡°Clara!¡±


    I flinch away, making the ice in my drink clink against the sides of my glass.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says more gently, pressing a trembling hand to his temple. ¡°I¡­ I know what happened wasn¡¯t your fault.¡±


    He falls silent, and I wait, shifting in my seat several times before finding the courage to speak. ¡°What was Miguel talking about? And why was your mother suddenly being nice to me? Are you firing me? I swear it won¡¯t happen again!¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he huffs, placing his drink on his desk. ¡°That doesn¡¯t even make any sense.¡±


    I quickly lean over to put a coaster beneath the glass.


    He watches me then shakes his head in mild amusement. ¡°My mother had a brief chat with your father on his way out,¡± he informs me.


    ¡°I¡¯m being fired.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says, frustratedly. ¡°Apparently, my mother has heard of your family¡¯s reputation, and your father has convinced my mother that you would make an excellent bride for me.¡±


    He chuckles at my silence as I try to think of all the ways that conversation might have gone. None of them would have painted me in a good light. ¡®My daughter has ridiculous notions about how relationships between familiars and mystics should work.¡¯ ¡®My daughter behaves like a grown child, not the woman her mother and I trained her to be.¡¯ ¡®My daughter is a burden I must bear for the rest of my life, would you mind taking her out of my hands?¡¯


    ¡°My mother,¡± he continues. ¡°Cares about two things above all else; land and money. Your father told her about all the land you have inherited, along with all the businesses, and ports. I didn¡¯t know you came from such a prominent family.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I hiss. ¡°They are not my family.¡±


    ¡°And when she heard that you also attended a prestigious mystic academy-¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an exaggeration. It¡¯s the only mystic academy on this island.¡±


    ¡°I will not tell you what to do, Clara, but I don¡¯t think it would be a bad idea.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding!¡± I say, getting to my feet so suddenly, I knock over his glass.


    Master William catches it, pulling away papers that lie in the path of the amber liquid that¡¯s splashed out. I pull out a rag from my apron, but he snatches it from my hand to clean the mess up himself.


    ¡°Sit.¡±


    I sit, and watch him calmly wipe his desk, missing some spots. I make a mental note to clean it up it up later.


    ¡°I will not tell you what to do,¡± he states again. ¡°But if you marry me, I promise I will not stand between you and Sebastian.¡±


    ¡°You clearly do not understand the implications of this arrangement, Master William.¡±


    Master William looks up at me, appearing confused.


    ¡°William-¡± I cover my mouth, blushing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Master William, why do you think families like mine marry into other families like yours? To carry on the legacy. To produce heirs to carry on the family name. Do you think that if we get married, all of our troubles are over? That we can exist in peace? Your mother is already willing to make Miguel miserable, to carry him off to Cast¨ªn, away from everything he knows and loves, for the sake of carrying on your family name! Do you really think she¡¯s going to care about Islas de Ibis once your family owns it? Does she even know anything about familiares?¡± Did he even understand how much all of this would break Sebastian¡¯s heart?


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t need to know.¡±


    ¡°And what about Sebasti¨¢n? Where will he go? If your mother sees him around all the time, she¡¯ll start asking questions.¡±


    ¡°Just tell her he¡¯s your cousin, or a footman? A brother, even. I don¡¯t really care.¡±


    ¡°A footman!¡± I screech, pinching the bridge of my nose. ¡°No. No, no, no, no, no. I¡¯m sorry, Master William, consider this my resignation. I promise to be out of the attic room by tomorrow morning. If it¡¯s not too much trouble, I would like the final payment for my services tonight, and-¡±


    ¡°No. Clara, no! You cannot do this. You cannot leave m-... You cannot leave.¡±


    I get up, and stomp towards the door. Master William slams it shut just as I open it.


    ¡°Can we please talk about this?¡± He begs. ¡°More calmly. He doesn¡¯t have to be your footman. He can be your¡­ concubinus?¡±


    ¡°I could never subject Sebasti¨¢n to such humiliation.¡±


    ¡°Then what will you do? You cannot marry him!¡±


    ¡°I cannot live my life being controlled by someone else, William! I thought that you, of all people, would understand that. I love Sebastian, and I will continue to love him until the day I die, and my soul has left this world. I know you felt the same for Micaela once upon a time-¡±


    ¡°Clara-¡±


    ¡°And she would have never been happy about this! You, at least, got to marry her! She was never declared your familiar!¡±


    ¡°Clara, please-¡±


    ¡°Even though we both knew what she was! I refuse!¡±


    ¡°I understand there will be no changing your mind,¡± he says quietly. ¡°I¡¯ll have a talk with Miguel, and my mother. I¡¯ll have your payment ready tonight, but please, please, I beg you, write to me. Don¡¯t-¡± He chokes, then clears his throat. ¡°Don¡¯t disappear.¡±


    ¡°Leave me with the address for your home in Cast¨ªn, if that¡¯s where you¡¯re going. I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±


    He runs a hand over his face, then takes a deep breath as he stares up at the ceiling. ¡°I hate our legacies. I hate this life. Sometimes I feel as if it isn¡¯t even worth living anymore-¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that, William.¡± I take his face between my hands, so that he¡¯s forced to look at me. ¡°Despite this life¡¯s hardships, you still have Miguel. He¡¯s a good boy, and he loves you.¡±


    His smile is sad. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± He sniffles, pushing me away gently, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. ¡°You¡¯re right. Miguel deserves better.¡±


    ¡°Find someone to love, William. For both of you to love. You both deserve it.¡±


    His lip curls slightly. ¡°You don¡¯t love me, Clara?¡±


    ¡°You know I do.¡±


    ¡°But?¡±


    ¡°Just as I could never replace Micaela, you can never replace Sebasti¨¢n. I¡¯m sorry, it sounds so cruel to say-¡±


    ¡°No, I understand perfectly, Clara.¡± He sighs, then opens the door for me, taking the glass out of my hand. Maria is outside, suspiciously dusting an empty spot on the wall, then scurries away when she spots me.


    That night, I pack my belongings, and as I glance at the room one final time before I go to bed, there¡¯s a heaviness in my chest. I open the window for Sebastian one final time. He doesn¡¯t move. He just watches me, tilting his head from side to side, and I know he¡¯s worried. I can feel it. Where will we go now? There aren¡¯t many places left for us to hide. How are we to survive on our own again? The questions are endless, but one stands out above the rest; ¡®Why can¡¯t you go home. You don¡¯t have to do as they tell you to, do you? You can change things. I¡¯m here for you.¡¯


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Sebasti¨¢n.¡± I stroke his head, and he leans against my hand, his sorrowful eyes looking up at me. ¡°This is all my fault. You could have lived a much happier life if I wasn¡¯t your Mystic.¡±


    He¡¯s human again, and he holds me tightly as I sob quietly against his chest, unable to move, because I¡¯m afraid I might fall, and never find the strength to get up again. People always talk about how difficult life is, how joyful and sad, adventurous and boring, but no one ever mentioned how, above all else, it is exhausting to exist. That you get tired of picking yourself up time and time again. No one talks about how you¡¯re alone through the worst of it, and that no one will ever help you get through it. That even if someone is there, you cannot help but feel so utterly alone, because it¡¯s your own life you¡¯re living, and no one else can live it for you.


    A soft knock comes at my door, and if Sebastian had not quickly returned to his owl form, I might have never heard it. I crack the door open a bit, and peer through the gap. It¡¯s Miguel. He peers around the hall behind him, knowing he should be in bed, fast asleep at this hour. I open the door, and he tiptoes inside, stopping at the top of the stairs to wait for me. His eyes are red, and puffy.


    ¡°Do you need a bedtime story?¡±


    He rushes to me, burying his face into my stomach, squeezing me as tightly as his little arms allow. ¡°Pap¨ª told me you were leaving tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, cari?o.¡± I kneel before him, holding him against my chest, running my hand through his dark curls. He weeps softly. I squeeze my eyes shut to engrain this moment into my memory, this embrace, this love so pure and innocent. ¡°I have to leave.¡±


    ¡°Were you fired? Abuela looked mad today, and she¡¯s been so mean to you since she got here.¡±


    ¡°No. No. I quit. I think I need to find somewhere else to be. Sebasti¨¢n and I are wanderers, you know, and I think we¡¯ve been here for too long.¡±


    ¡°Who is going to tell me bedtime stories?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure Maria wouldn¡¯t mind it if you asked her.¡±


    ¡°She never does the voices.¡±


    ¡°You can teach her how. You¡¯re very good at them.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you want to marry pap¨ª? Is he a bad man? I thought you loved him.¡±


    ¡°No, no,¡± I tut, peering down at his little face, now covered in tears. ¡°Your papa is a good man. Very respectable, kind, and admirable.¡±


    ¡°Do you not love him?¡±


    ¡°I love your father, Miguelito, pero I don¡¯t think I love him enough to marry him. You and your father deserve someone who¡¯s going to love you both with their whoooole heart, and I¡¯m afraid I can only give you both a small part of it.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    I sigh, getting to my feet, and lifting him onto my hip. I walk with him to the window where we can overlook the city, placing his feet on the window sill, holding him around the waist so that he doesn¡¯t fall. ¡°My heart belongs to someone else, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°?Sebasti¨¢n?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so smart. How did you figure that out?¡± I ask, tickling his side, causing him to giggle. ¡°Who told you?¡±


    ¡°Sebasti¨¢n isn¡¯t just an owl.¡±


    I¡¯m surprised, speechless, trying to trace back any moment where the two of them might have met when Sebastian wasn¡¯t in his owl form. I glance over towards Sebastian¡¯s cage, realizing he seems equally stunned, his head tilted to one side as he totters dangerously over his perch.


    ¡°Ah, you caught me,¡± I try to play it off. ¡°How did you find out?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He just doesn¡¯t seem like a normal bird. I look at other birds, and they¡¯re just normal. They don¡¯t respond to me, pero Sebasti¨¢n always understands me.¡±


    ¡°Sebasti¨¢n is very smart. He is an owl, afterall.¡±


    ¡°Mam¨ª told me once about familiares; people who could be animals and people at the same time. Is that what Sebasti¨¢n is? Your familiar?¡±


    ¡°S¨ª.¡±


    ¡°Are you the bruja of the Islas de Ibis?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I grin.


    ¡°Do you still have to leave, Clara?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Miguel. I wish I could take you with me, but I don¡¯t know where I¡¯m going, or if it¡¯ll be safe. I promise to write to you, and maybe one day we¡¯ll see each other again.¡±


    ¡°?Lo prometes?¡±


    ¡°Lo prometo.¡± I kiss his cheek. ¡°You should go to bed now. Do you want a bedtime story?¡±


    He nods, holding onto my shoulders as I help him off the windowsill. ¡°Can I say goodbye to Sebasti¨¢n, too?¡±


    I glance over to Sebastian¡¯s cage, and he nods. ¡°Sebastian says you can.¡±