ã€ŠSinging life Book one - Hatchlingã€‹


 Prologue - Elegy

    Southern Mexico, a clearing near an unnamed beach

    The man tiredly watched her get away, her dark hair slowly blending with the night as she went.

    ¡°How many times does that make? I wonder¡­damn too many anyway!¡±

    With that last tie severed, and all his assets turned over to his former servants he had no further connection to the human world.

    A self-deprecating smile appeared on his face, and he smothered once again the overwhelming urge to run after her.

    ¡°Time to end this once and for all¡±

    Around him only the faint sounds of the waves nearby could be heard, not even the insects daring make themselves known to this existence.

    He raised his head to the sky, mouth opened to utter a single pure, sweet note that eerily resounded in the silence of the clearing, softly spreading around him..

    Down, down the man went, through the ground like a ghost, leaving the clearing as unperturbed as if he never even set foot there.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.Past soil and rocks he went, the musical note still flowing from his lips, until he reached a bubble shaped cave lined with purple amethyst crystals formation reflecting the slight light that seemed to emanate from his white skin.

    ¡°Yes, this seems like a good enough place.¡±

    Seemingly unperturbed by the high temperature or stifling atmosphere, the man laid down on the ground, his long golden hair fanning around his fair face.

    A last thought crossed his mind as eyes as gold eyes closed and his face relaxed in sleep:

    ¡°Hopefully nothing will wake me up this time.¡±

    After all, what good would it be for anyone if he went insane?

    The last remnant of sound slowly disappeared, leaving the cave as still as a tomb.

    Outside, time continued its stately march, oblivious of the golden man sleeping in his self-made crypt.

 Chapter 1 - Who decided Mondays were a good idea?

    -The only good reason I ever found for Mondays to exist was to get rid of Sundays doomsday preachers.

    A pissed off Margaret Ortiz on a Sunday morning to a Jehovah¡¯s witness

    Montpellier, France, 27 year later

    As I lay in bed listening to the shrill alarm of the clock, I was pondering the merits of smashing it to teeny tiny bits versus the need of saving money for more important matters, although if I was to buy a new one maybe I could splurge for one more musical in nature?

    In the end reason (and my miserly nature) prevailed, letting the damn thing survive another day.

    I sighed as I truly needed to get up, or I would end up late for my job in one of the medium sized clothes store of the city. Money was too tight at the moment with all the books and other items needed for my little sister school to afford the risk of losing the job, as annoying as it was at times.

    I reluctantly got off my comfy bed for my morning ritual of stretching, showering and preparing myself, only to swear as my foot landed squarely on a sharp plastic piece, probably courtesy of Kate¡¯s latest foray in the world of boat models, that promptly embedded itself in my skin.

    ¡°This is why I hate Mondays, not even 7 o¡¯clock yet and it already started to suck.¡±

    I truly love my imp of a little sister to bits, but sometimes I wish she would use her own room for her model building endeavors instead of mine, to which she always complains that if she did she would spend so much time alone in a den that she¡¯d fear turning into a troglodyte.

    Thus the model building and various accompanying plastic and wood bits more often than not found their way in my bedroom where the imp could pester me while I tried reading or working.

    After digging up the offending model piece, I disinfected the scratch then slapped a band-aid on it, frowning a bit at the size.

    ¡°Strange, with all the blood I cleaned from the floor I was sure it was bigger than that. Oh well, I won¡¯t complain because a wound is too small.¡±

    At this moment a yell came from the kitchen downstairs:

    ¡°Abby! Breakfast in 5 minutes!¡±

    I lightly tapped the bell on my desk in answer, then snatched the small clipboard with its attached notepad on a silver chain above it that Kate had made for my 26th birthday a few months ago so that I would always have a tool to communicate with other people. She had been careful to craft it prettily enough that I could use it every day without looking silly, and the notepad could be changed once it ran out.

    I put the clipboard around my neck before tumbling down the stairs to the kitchen, and my mother¡¯s voice.

    ¡°Take your seat and eat now sweetie, or you¡¯ll be late for work¡±

    A hug later, the heavenly aroma of my mother¡¯s homemade bread was enough to remind my stomach of how empty it was after a whole night of sleep.

    My hands flew in the air as I signed:

    ¡°How could I ever stand to miss your cooking? I¡¯d crawl up from the grave for another serving¡±

    As I watched mum taking it out of the oven, I couldn¡¯t help myself but wonder how my father looked as I compared our respective appearances.

    If one only looked at our faces, we almost could pretend to be twins despites mum¡¯s 44 years of age, although mum¡¯s skin was much darker, dusky whereas mine was fair, her hair dark when mine was tawny like fallen leaves, and her eyes almost black, not at all like the true gold of mine that made my school years a misery. We both had an oval face with delicate features and full lips, and were both on the curvy side, though I was a bit shorter than mom¡¯s 1m72.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be home late tonight, we have lots of merchandise arriving today at the shop that¡¯ll need checking and organizing, so don¡¯t wait for me.¡±

    ¡°Got it, I¡¯ll leave you some dinner in the fridge for when you come back.¡±

    ¡°Is the imp not eating with us?¡±

    ¡°She already went for school, said she wanted to check her science project with her friend before class started.¡±

    Katarina Ortiz, or Kate for short, nicknamed imp due to her sunny and mischievous disposition, is my overly cute 12 years old half-sister.

    14 years younger than me, she¡¯s something of a mix between mum and her deceased dad¡¯s looks, with auburn bangs and mum¡¯s eyes on skin even paler than mine, and a face a bit more angular than ours though mom¡¯s features are still clearly visible in the lips and nose.

    After kissing goodbye to mum I jogged to the tramway station in higher spirit thanks to my now bellyful of homemade goodies.

    Sadly, the pandemonium of the shop was enough to make even a Zen master¡¯s mood plummet between the aftermath of the weekend frenzy and the pallets of clothes already sitting in the aisles of the store.

    The customary ¡°hello¡± sign to my coworkers later, we all bent to the task of cleaning up the store for the day.

    There are good and bad sides to all jobs, and this one was no exception. On the bright side, choosing and buying the clothes, then deciding where to put what in the store was pretty fun, the coworkers were mostly good people, and one could listen to music all day while working which was something I loved. My voice might be dead, but my ears worked just fine and music was as important as air or water to me.

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.On the down side, selling stuff when you are mute is not the easiest thing to do, even with the ever trusty notepad, relegating me mostly to the boring restocking and cash register though I would still lend a hand with the sales when needed.

    It did save me from dealing with a lot of idiotic questions about which pants were the most flattering for one¡¯s butt for example, and I was very thankful for that kind of small blessing. Staring at other women¡¯s butts is definitely not one of my pastimes.

    By the time the last customer was gone and the shop straightened again, night had long fallen on the city, the air chillier with a hint of rain carried in the autumn wind.

    Heading for the street, I waved goodbye to my colleagues, only to stop in my tracks halfway to the tramway station when an all too well known face stepped out of the seedy pub I was passing by.

    Michael was one of the biggest mistakes of my life, a living proof that one should never trust a pretty face too easily. If a handsome guy was single, there was a high probability that either he was a player or something was wrong with him.

    I had met him at the store and we had gone on a couple of dates again my better judgement, as I was swayed by his handsomeness and a wicked use of puppy eyes. The man sure knew how to use his looks to his advantage! The first date was pleasant enough, though without that spark of something more I wanted for my own relationships. Tides turned on the second date when I had to suffer through all his complaints about how great he was in a wrecked world that didn¡¯t know how to recognize his innate superiority, before he decided that since he generously allocated some of his time for me I should become his lay-slash-servant-slash-nanny.

    ¡°Thanks, but no thanks. I have enough on my plate already without having to raise a man-child I don¡¯t love nor even appreciate after that less than stellar date on top¡±

    Someone like me who couldn¡¯t retort to his annoying droning probably seemed to be a godsend in his eyes.

    Of course I wrote a very polite decline to his ¡°suggestion¡± before running away as fast as I could since the guy obviously couldn¡¯t take a hint.

    Since then he had been pestering me in a very stalkerish way, popping everywhere I might be, calling my cell multiple times a day despite my lack of an answer, and making a nuisance of himself in general.

    I sighed ¡°Some people really can¡¯t take a rejection¡±.

    Right now he seemed to have indulged quite a bit in alcohol, his breath reeking of cheap wine, his usually crisp suit crumpled with a couple dark stains visible in his lap.

    Worse, I could see two of his no-brain pals looking at us from the inside of the pub while snickering in a drunken fashion.

    ¡°Though you could get off that easily girly? I don¡¯t care if you think we¡¯re incompatible or whatever bitchy excuses women use nowadays to dump guys after leeching dinner out of them, but you won¡¯t know how good I am until you try uh? You should be grateful, with those freaky yellow eyes of yours there¡¯s no way you¡¯d be able to land something else than a loser if I didn¡¯t take pity on you! At least today you¡¯ll know what a real man is.¡±

    I smothered the rising anger, a clear mind being a must have if I wanted to get out of there in one piece, snorting in disgust. Was that how this spoiled brat truly saw himself, as a gift of heaven to all the single women out there who should thankfully line up to jump in his bed?

    Keeping an eye around for an escape path, I opened my notepad to quickly scribble ¡°I was not interested last week, nor the week before, I am still not interested today, and will not be interested in the future either. The fact that I can¡¯t speak doesn¡¯t invalidate the fact that I can and do think for myself!¡±

    ¡°You slut! I took you to a nice restaurant, spent time to take care of you, and that¡¯s how you thank me? You owe me and I always get what I¡¯m owed! You¡¯ll beg me to fuck you!¡±

    I snorted.

    ¡°We split the bill so I owe you exactly nothing, and certainly not my body. Now leave me alone please before I go to the cops to ask for a restraining order. As for fucking you as you oh so elegantly say, I¡¯d much prefer to let the race go extinct if you were the last man on earth¡±

    As I shoved that last note under his nose he spluttered, his face the color of a monkey¡¯s buttocks. His hand shot at me hard enough that I had to take some steps back to avoid being hit, but sadly I could not ask anyone for help since no one was close enough to notice we were not on amicable terms in the darkness shrouding the place, and yelling was obviously not an option for me.

    It was then that I noticed that his friends had come out of the pub, while I was backed at the entrance of the stinky dead-end alley brimming with the trash from the joint nearby, the garbage cans neatly blocking my line of sight on that side.

    ¡°Now we¡¯ll see how long you can still keep that proud attitude of yours bitch. I know me and my friends will enjoy it, and who knows, you might too. I know you can¡¯t scream, and if you tattle I might do something bad to that cute little sister of yours¡­¡±

    Now I knew how a sheep cornered by a pack of wolves felt, as I was looking at the grinning bastards coming closer to me, wondering how to get myself out of this nightmare, ready to run at the first opportunity.

    I had both overestimated Michael¡¯s decency, and underestimated how far he was willing to go to avenge his injured pride, and now I was going to pay a heavy price for those mistakes.

    ¡°Crap, I really, really hate Mondays...¡±

 Chapter 2 - Brawling in the rain

    If you can¡¯t ignore the idiots, run from them. If they still annoy you, make sure not a speck of ash is left of them. Who knows, they might stain your shoes or pants when you step on them otherwise.

    Uriel King to his followers

    Rain started falling, mingling with the trash on the ground resulting in a slippery film over the asphalt. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as I frantically tried to come up with a viable escape plan with the tools at hand. If I could break past them, I was sure I could outrun them.

    Thankfully I never was one of those princess types waiting to be rescued, since cowering in a corner wouldn¡¯t do much good here, and years of school bullying ensured that I was not an utter moron when it came to fighting. I was by no means an expert, but I fight dirty and I could at least make sure that those attacking me would not leave unscathed.

    ¡°Think¡­what can you use here?¡±

    Scanning the area in the harsh yellow light of the streetlamps, I surveyed the overflowing trashcans, my gaze stopping on thin wood planks with nails still embedded in them, probably left over from a broken pallet. It was close enough that I might have a chance if I could somehow distract my opponents.

    As they started advancing on me, I took a deep breath, further calming my mind. I evaded left, took a running start and kicked one of the garbage cans on the ground between us, gaining a couple precious second. My footing was much better than theirs since I was wearing safety shoes, as opposed to their fancy street shoes.

    Grabbing two trashcans covers, I threw them in the direction of goons number one and two without aiming. One was a miss, but the other one hit goon number two straight on the forehead after a beautiful flight, dropping him in the garbage.

    ¡°Strike! One down, 2 left.¡±

    Not stopping, I finally reached the planks I was aiming for. I disregarded the bigger one, grabbing one that had nails sticking out of it instead. I turned on my heels, swinging it as hard as I could in a wide arc, catching goon number one straight in the belly as he tried to outflank me, sinking the nails in his abdomen.

    As he curled on himself I swung my makeshift weapon as hard as I could on his neck, sending him straight to dreamland but breaking my not-so-sturdy tool in the process.

    ¡°Shit, out of time now¡­¡±

    Bastard in chief, aka Michael, who had been gaping like a dead fish while I mowed through his minions was now recovering, and surprise wouldn¡¯t work again. He might be a lowlife, but he was an intelligent one.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.I picked up another plank, swinging it in front of me, forcing Michael to take a couple steps back to avoid being clobbered. As he retreated, I jumped on the side, over the dumpsters and started running like hell was snapping at my heels.

    ¡°Try catching me now!¡±

    I never saw what hit me. I dropped on the ground, a pair of black men footwear swimming in my vision.

    ¡°Must have been a third goon in the pub I didn¡¯t see.¡±

    I fought to stay awake, feeling hands grabbing me through the numbness in my limbs. I could not hear anything, the blood rushing to my head blocking everything. I was furious, at them for putting me through this, but mostly at myself for making such stupid mistakes.

    I was back in the alley, my arms blocked behind my back by the man who caught me. Michael was glaring at me, and from the corner of my eye I could see the man I hit with the trashcan cover starting to struggle in an upright position.

    Sharp pain spread to my cheek as Michael hit me with his fist, then in my gut. As my vision darkened again I felt my sweater being ripped and hands crawling over my body.

    I was screaming in my head, but only small hissing sounds came out of my mouth, the frustration of it reawakening my struggling.

    In a state of half-consciousness, I could feel the rage of my assailants, my own fear and disgust, all melting in a cacophony of jumbled images, sound and emotions.

    The images retreated, leaving sounds and emotions swirling, clashing, swelling, until all I could hear or feel was an intense screech accompanying raw anger, so intense it blotted anything else, primal, feral.

    As I passed out from the onslaught, I could feel heat on my skin coming from the fire raging in the heaps of garbage.

    The men who had attacked me were slumped haphazardly here and there, gazing with eyes so vacant at the sky that if one didn¡¯t saw the slow rising and falling of their chests they would have thought them dead.

    ¡°Aah¡­looks like I made it after all.¡±

    As I drifted into unconsciousness, the only sounds I could hear were the soft hissing of the rain falling on the flames, and rustling coming from further into the alley.

    ¡°Wait, flames? Why is there a fire in here?¡±

    Thus started the strangest dream I ever had in my short 26 years of life.

    From the alley, un invisible ripple spread silently like a wave, unnoticed by most but nevertheless changing everything in its wake.

 Chapter 3 - The beast in the clearing

    There are three things that makes life worth it: science, because science is fun, family, for obvious reason, and cute beasties, ¡®cause FLUFFYNESS!

    Katarina Ortiz in the midst of a Shrek watching marathon

    I opened my eyes to a fog shrouded forest, dewdrops glistening on the blue-green leaves of the vegetation.

    Loud cries could be heard coming from the underbrush, but strangely I did not feel intimidated. I was somehow at home in this place, as if I was connected to it in a fashion, and nothing could frighten me here.

    The ancient trees loomed around me, their trunks so big that three grown men would be needed to circle them, vines hanging from the lowest branches like so many garlands.

    I was wearing my ripped clothes, but I was neither hot nor cold, and didn¡¯t care either since there was nobody there to see me.

    I was still in pain from my beating, although it was muted by the dream.

    ¡°Why do I feel that this dream is not so simple? I should explore around, see what my mind cooked up.¡±

    I saw a small path meandering through the vegetation, more of a trail really, and decided to follow it for a while.

    I picked up the pace as I could sense numerous gazes on my back, the rustling of the leaves on the sides of the path accompanying my walk.

    As I proceeded forward, the path enlarged, finally leading into a large clearing maybe a hundred meters wide.

    The fog was swirling on the ground, almost obscuring grass unlike anything I ever saw, with short blades almost glowing in a bluish tint. Small white flowers could be seen peeking here and there, the soft petals highlighting the scenery in a fairytale fashion.

    The most striking feature of the clearing though was the beast at the center.

    It was snarling soundlessly, its deep blue eyes tracking my every move. It was bigger than a full grown horse, standing at about 3 meters high for a 10ish meters length.

    If a mad scientist had tried to cross a wingless dragon with a fox, then added some cat features to the mix, it probably would look something like that. By all means such a mix should have been ugly, but this one made it work. It was strangely beautiful, the cat like blue eyes glowing in the fox face, the muscles of the lean but strong body rippling smoothly under the fur.

    The fur itself was a marvel, begging one to sink their hands in it, a luminous white with blue highlights as if lighting had been woven into it.

    ¡°Good thing the imp is not here, or it would take a team of horses to pry her from this place¡±

    I finally snapped out of my daze long enough to notice the blood and spikes.

    Five spikes pierced through the body of the beast, connected to the ground by heavy chains. Rivulets of blood, both old and new coursed through the thick fur, drip-dropping slowly on the soil, staining the grass a dark red color.

    ¡°Who can be cruel enough to do something like that?¡±

    Weighing conscience against caution, I hesitated. I really wanted to help an animal in pain, but a little voice in my head kept screaming that I might not like the results if I was hurt in this weird fantasy.

    Conscience winning the battle, I walked ahead slowly, whistling softly in reassurance to the creature in front of me while showing my empty hands.

    Ears perking, it watched me coming closer, the mouth closing on the dagger sharp teeth. I could have sworn it understood my intentions as it stopped threatening me.

    Finally, my hands glided in the glorious fur, firmly grabbing one of the spike.

    ¡°Please please please, don¡¯t bite me when I get this out of you¡­¡±

    I pulled in a sharp motion, the spike coming out of the wound in a spurt of blood. The cat-fox-dragon thankfully didn¡¯t try to hurt me, merely whining in pain.

    I gasped as the spike disintegrated in my hand, quickly followed by the chain.

    ¡°One down, four more to go¡±

    Patting the shoulder of the creature, I went back to work on the spikes.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.Twenty minutes later, the ground was a slippery mess, blood coating about everything around. The beast was trembling, but I could see the wounds closing at an alarming rate on its body as the last pike turned to dust at my feet.

    The fog swirled faster, picked up by the rising wind, and I could hear thunder in the distance as the sky darkened.

    Blue white markings appeared on the body of the beast, lining the face and coursing through the back, then creeping down to curl around the paws.

    It raised its head, towering over me, before bending down to sniff my hair. I hesitantly raised a hand, stroking the silky fur of its face.

    The wind became a gale, howling like a banshee, big pellets of rain smashing on us. Lightning crashed among the trees, the booming sound of thunder echoing in the air.

    The being in the clearing took a last look at me, then gathered itself, obviously preparing to run.

    At this instant a brighter lightning bolt struck nearby, forcing me to close my eyes for a second. When I could see again, regret coursed through me as it had taken the opportunity to disappear without a trace.

    ¡°I hope I¡¯ll be able to see it again in the future. For now, I should seek shelter though¡±

    Crossing the clearing, I trudged the length of another trail, slipping in the forming mud. The rain plastered my hair to my head, dropping the visibility tremendously.

    Finally, after what seemed like hours of walking I stumbled upon what looked like the grandfather of all trees, so big it boggled the mind, with roots coming out of the earth in a maze.

    It was standing on a small mound, its leaves so thick the rain hardly came through, keeping the soil almost dry under it.

    The bark was warm under my hand, and I could fancy sensing a pulse from where my fingers lain.

    I couldn¡¯t resist the impulse of hugging the rough bark, its warmth soothing my battered body. I don¡¯t know how long I stayed there, basking in the tree¡¯s life, before I snapped out of my daze.

    Spotting a hole under one of the largest roots, I decided to wait the storm there. It was big enough to accommodate my body with room to spare, and kept dry by the overhanging roots. Best of all, not a single creepy-crawly was in sight. After this day, I don¡¯t think I could have been gentle with a spider, and the imp always yelled at me when I squished them instead of releasing them outside.

    ¡°Thank you for this my leafy friend.¡±

    As I relaxed in my hidey hole, I fell asleep without noticing. This time, I didn¡¯t dream.

    At this time at the back of the alley

    All the way to the end of the alley, movement could be seen in the middle of the biggest pile of garbage.

    Cardboard boxes were pushed aside by a well-muscled but incredibly dirty arm. Feint blue-white lines appeared then disappeared as fast as they came to life. Deep blue eyes opened, glowing dimly in the darkness like those of a cat.

    What might have been the dirtiest man on earth rose from the boxes, where he had been blending with the trash for who knows how long.

    His skin was covered in a greasy, slimy film, mated dark hair tumbling down his back like so many messy cords. His clothing was not even identifiable anymore under the layers of old stains, food remains, and less than savory things.

    As he rose to his full height, he looked at the war zone in his sleeping spot, at the small flames still dancing here and there and the people strewn around.

    His gaze finally stopped on a smaller figure.

    ¡°Is this the one?¡±

    Approaching, he softly brushed the tawny hair aside to look at the face of the woman, bringing a lock of hair near his nose.

    Abruptly, the man rose, easily carrying the woman in his arms, before walking out of the alley.

    A few minutes later, the faint sounds of sirens could be heard in the distance, coming closer to the spot where the small flames still danced in the rain.

 Chapter 4 - Cleaning up the aftermath

    Life is a bit like a party. When something goes wrong, one has to clean up the mess before relaxing.

    A science teacher in front of a volcano experiment gone wrong

    As I floated at the demarcation between consciousness and unconsciousness, the first thing I noticed was the warmth. Someone had wrapped a cloak around me, and was carrying me along in swift, but sure motions.

    The second thing I noticed was the overpowering stench. A mixture of garbage n¡ã5, ¡°Eau de Sueur¡±, rotten fish, and other even less appealing smells kept intruding into my lungs. Had I been completely awake I would surely be puking my guts in a corner by now, but thankfully my numb and limp body repressed that urge.

    After what seemed like ages but could have been only minutes, I was set down on the ground. A hand gently patted my hair, and tightened the cloak around my body. I could hear words spoken above me:

    ¡°It¡¯s alright now little one, you¡¯ll be safe here.¡±

    The voice was deep and warm, with rough edges as if the speaker was either a chain smoker, or hadn¡¯t used it in a long time. An unknown voice should have frightened me in my state, but instead I felt deeply reassured, letting myself sink deeper into oblivion.

    I woke up a second time to a weight pressing down on my stomach and a beeping sound nearby. Tensing up, my eyes snapped open as I took in my surroundings.

    ¡°White walls, disinfectant smell, medical bed, did that man bring me to the emergency room?¡±

    I was lying in a bed with one of those paper-ish hospital gown covering me. The weight I had felt was the head of the imp sleeping (and drooling) on my gut. Dark circles could be seen under her puffy eyes, her usually neat clothing all rumpled from her sleeping position.

    ¡°How long have I been here?¡±

    As she whimpered in her sleep, I combed her hair with my fingers in reassurance. It would totally not be my fault if she woke up with a bird¡¯s nest on top of her head¡­

    A squealed ¡°SIS! You¡¯re all right!¡± later, I was busily getting strangled by hulk-Kate crying in my neck when the door opened on my mother carrying goodies of the edible kind. For a minute, she just watched me getting mangl¡­err hugged by my sister with a slight smile on her lips.

    ¡°I see you decided to come back amongst the living?¡±

    I gently unclamped my sister¡¯s arms from my throat to free my hands so I could answer.

    ¡°It has been a rough day, or couple of days maybe? How long have I been sleeping?¡±

    ¡°You got here during the night, around a day and a half ago. They told me you had some bruising and were in shock, but nothing a few days of rest won¡¯t cure.

    ¡°So we can go home? I really want to go home¡­¡±

    ¡°Someone wanted to talk to you before we checked out, but it shouldn¡¯t be a problem to get discharged afterwards.¡±

    ¡°Sooo¡­are some of the goodies in that bag for me? I¡¯m so hungry I could eat a horse and its saddle right now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go check with the nurses what you can eat. For now, don¡¯t touch anything!¡±

    As my mother left the room, I winked at the imp as I snagged a couple snacks out of the bag for the both of us.

    ¡°I¡¯m totally telling mom if she asks!¡±

    ¡°If you don¡¯t want the snack I¡¯ll eat both you know.¡±

    ¡°Give that to me!¡± mumbling ¡°I¡¯m still telling her¡­¡±

    Is it bad that I love seeing my sister when she¡¯s mad? A riled up imp with puffed up cheeks was just too damn cute.

    Besides, the routine banter was reassuring in a way, the normalcy of the act restoring my balance.

    While we cracked jokes I could hear footsteps approaching the door and a male voice answering someone I couldn¡¯t hear, maybe a phone.

    ¡°I know we¡¯ve got lot of work piling up at the station, but I¡¯ve got four men turned into vegetables and the last person seen with them just got delivered in a neat package to the closest hospital. I¡¯ll come back once I wrapped up here, not a minute before!¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°Just give me an hour, ok, we¡¯ll talk after.¡±

    A knock landed on the door before it opened on a tired looking middle aged man. With a weary sigh, he came to sit beside the bed.

    ¡°Good morning young lady, I¡¯m Inspector Leroy. I needed to ask you a few questions if you¡¯re up for it?¡±

    I nudged Kate¡¯s shoulder and signed:

    ¡°Go find mom, I¡¯ll need her to translate the conversation.¡±

    ¡°I can translate too!¡±

    ¡°I know you can, but this is adult stuff and I don¡¯t want you mixed in it. No arguments!¡±

    I seldom put my foot down with my younger sister, so she knows when arguing is useless. Pouting, she left the room in search of mom.

    I pointed at the watch of my visitor, then raised 3 fingers.

    ¡°I need to wait a few minutes uh?

    Nodding, I took the opportunity to observe him. I rather liked what I saw. He looked to be around 40-45 years old, with a lined and tired face that still managed to retain laugh lines and crow feet at the edges of his blue eyes. His chestnut hair was lightly streaked with white at the temples, giving him a distinguished air.

    He was wearing neat but casual clothing, which told me he wasn¡¯t the run-of-the-mill policeman since he wasn¡¯t in uniform, and a depression on his ring finger attested of the absence of a ring that probably had been there for a long time.

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    The door opened once more on mom, while Kate sat on a chair outside.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get this started then.¡±

    Mom¡­can you be blunter?

    ¡°As your daughter probably told you, I¡¯m here to ask Abigail a few questions about the incident that brought her here, and she asked for you to translate her answers, is that ok with you?¡±

    ¡°As long as you stay fair to my daughter I¡¯ll answer you.¡±

    ¡°Has your daughter always been mute or is it due to the recent events?¡±

    ¡°She was born like that, her hearing¡¯s perfect, and her vocal chords show no anomaly, but for some reason she never could utter a sound. She didn¡¯t even wail as a baby.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? I never heard of such an occurrence¡­did you consult a specialist for this disability?¡±

    ¡°More than one, but I don¡¯t think you came here to discuss my daughter¡¯s handicap, no?¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course, please forgive my prying. It¡¯s an occupational hazard of mine. So Miss Ortiz, how long have you known Michael Boyer and his friends?¡±

    ¡°I never knew his friends, as for him, I met him at work about four months ago. He came to show samples of his textile company to my boss, and we dated a couple times afterwards. He is handsome after all, and I was single and stupid.¡±

    ¡°I take it things didn¡¯t go well between you two?¡±

    ¡°I broke up after two dates, but he kept pestering me and showing up around me.¡±

    ¡°Can you tell me in your own words what happened that evening?¡±

    ¡°I was heading home after works and minding my own business when he and his friends popped up again. We had words, I asked him to leave alone, then they attacked me. I clobbered one in the forehead with a garbage can cover, and another one in the belly and neck with a plank. After that there was an explosion and I fainted. Next thing I knew I awoke in this room a couple hours ago.¡±

    ¡°Did you know Mr. Boyer had a sealed juvenile record?¡±

    ¡°Had I known I would have stayed clear off him from the beginning¡±

    ¡°Mr. Boyer and his friend are now in another section of this hospital. It seems their minds regressed to the state of newborns. The doctors don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll recover. Do you have any idea what might have caused it or caused the explosion you talked about?¡±

    ¡°I truthfully can¡¯t say I feel an empathy towards their condition, but no, I have no idea what caused it. The explosion knocked me out, and no, I don¡¯t know where it came from either.¡±

    ¡°Is that so? Do you remember know who brought you to the ER?

    ¡°I only know it was a man, I was pretty much out of it, so I don¡¯t know how he looks like. I would probably recognize his voice if I was to hear it again, but that¡¯s about all.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me inspector, but is my daughter in trouble?¡±

    ¡°No, I can reassure you on this. All the evidence points at your daughter being a victim in this case. Frankly, I¡¯m more interested in her as a potential witness. I have four grown men with their minds entirely wiped without a clue about how it was done, an incendiary bomb that didn¡¯t leave any residue, and a ghost-like mystery man who can deposit a half-naked woman in front of a hospital without being caught on security cameras or seen by anyone. What I want are clues to solve those riddles.

    I¡¯ll leave you my card, in case you remember anything, feel free to have your mother call me at any time, or you can leave a written message.¡±

    ¡°About written messages, did you find by any chance a decorated clipboard on a silver chain? It was a gift and has sentimental value to me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll check the evidence, if it¡¯s there I¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s returned to you as soon as possible considering the situation of this case.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, inspector.¡±

    As he turned to leave the room, I could feel my mother¡¯s pondering gaze on my back.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get you in the shower and changed, then I¡¯ll take you home.¡±

    A few minutes later, I was looking at my reflection in the mirror. Some bruising could be seen on various places on my stomach and ribs, but the absolute best was still my face. Two magnificent black eyes circled my yellow irises, making them stand out even more. I looked like an overgrown raccoon, further enhanced by my mated and dirty hair.

    Sniffing, I couldn¡¯t help but notice my quite overripe smell either.

    ¡°That policeman sure was polite to not say anything about my condition.¡±

    I hopped in the shower, letting the warm water wash away the dirt and loosen my cramped muscles. I hadn¡¯t noticed how tensed I had been all along, and it felt good to let go. A tear ran down my cheek, mingling with the water.

    ¡°I can¡¯t cry here. I won¡¯t give the bastards the satisfaction!¡±

    Swallowing back the tears, I resolutely went out of the cramped shower, drying myself with one of the hospital¡¯s towel. I dressed up in the jeans and sweater mom brought me, then went back to the room.

    Mom looked me up and down in satisfaction.

    ¡°Much better. Now that you don¡¯t look like a war refugee anymore we¡¯ll go back home, then you¡¯ll tell me everything you didn¡¯t tell Inspector Leroy, and I mean everything. We¡¯ll figure out a way to track down your father too, something tells me we¡¯ll need him for what¡¯s to come.¡±

    Katarina just looked at us with her mouth agape, as if stricken by lightning.

 Chapter 5 - The scariest existence

    I have led armies on countless battlefields. I battled war unicorns, demons, summoned abominations and even the occasional dragon without a second thought. All this, and I still experience fear when confronted to an angry mother. Maybe it is the result of accumulating wisdom over the centuries?

    Excerpt of Sky Emperor personal diary

    To say that the return home was uncomfortable would be an understatement. I was quietly fuming in the passenger seat while mom was chattering about how great it would be for me to finally meet my father. Meanwhile, the imp was trying her best to be inconspicuous while straining her ears to not miss anything.

    After all, it¡¯s not every day that she can hear about the man who had the strongest impact on our household, namely my absentee genitor, considering it was usually a taboo subject around me.

    I let out a tired sigh as mom parked the Twingo in the driveway, then eased myself out of the car and into our home.

    We lived in a simple home in one of Montpellier¡¯s subdivisions, consisting of a big living room with an open kitchen separated by a counter and a bedroom with an attached bathroom downstairs, and three smaller bedrooms with an additional bathroom upstairs. French doors in the living room opened on a small garden in the backyard where we usually spent most of our spring and summer evenings.

    ¡°Kate, honey, go take a shower and a nap if you need it. Make sure to do your homework too. I¡¯ll call you when it¡¯ll be time to eat. Abigail, come with me, we¡¯ll talk in the kitchen.¡±

    ¡°Moooom! I¡¯m not a little kid anymore! I can help too!¡±

    ¡°Not with this, you can¡¯t, and no discussion either. I¡¯ll make brownies for tonight¡¯s dessert ok?¡±

    ¡°With vanilla cream?¡±

    ¡°With vanilla cream.¡±

    After a last hug and a peck on my cheek, Kate ascended the stairs in true stomping, wall-shaking teenager fashion, and I was left alone with the monster in the kitchen smiling sweetly at me.

    ¡°Now why don¡¯t you start by telling me everything? I¡¯ll tell you what I think afterwards.¡±

    Defeated, I settled at the table recounting all the events of that day, including that moment of primal anger, the screeching, how the flames appeared at that time, and the weird dream I had afterwards. Mom stayed silent all the while, only her knotted hands betraying her emotions. Sometimes I forget how strong our often goofy mother really is.

    ¡°So you truly take more after your father than I thought. It¡¯s a good thing though, or I would have lost a daughter today.¡±

    I could see unshed tears glittering in her eyes at the whispered words.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see what my father has to do with that mess.¡±

    ¡°Your father was an unusual man with far too many secrets. You got your eyes from him.¡±

    I couldn¡¯t deny being curious at those words. I never knew anything about my father, apart from the fact that he left my pregnant mother when she was only 18 years old. Didn¡¯t mean I would like him though.

    ¡°Unusual how?¡±

    ¡°Well, for starters there was the way he looked. Have you ever met someone without a single scar, a single flaw, be it a pimple, a mole, or whatever else? Believe me I checked thoroughly and there was not a one.¡±

    ¡°Ok he was a pretty boy, so what?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t say pretty, I said flawless. I once saw a scratch healing in minutes. I discarded it at the time as a delusion of mine, but now I¡¯m not so sure. It would explain a perfect body.

    Then, there was his knowledge. He knew too many things for one so young looking, and his expressions when he wasn¡¯t paying attention were far older than his apparent age.¡±

    ¡°Being a genius still doesn¡¯t make him indispensable¡±

    ¡°Considering what you just told me, we both know it¡¯s far more than that. I want you to go search for him. Please. Do it for me if not for yourself. As long as you meet him at least once, I¡¯ll let the matter rest. We need to know what your bloodline is, and what we can expect in the future, if only to keep you and those around you safe.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t go! I still have work, and besides we don¡¯t even know where he could be, that would be a complete waste of time and money!¡±

    ¡°I already called your work place. You officially have a month leave to recover from your trauma. As for searching for him, I have a lead.

    Uriel himself disappeared after sending me away, but Daniel Flores, a man that was always near him at the time still lives where I last saw him. I called him, and he agreed to help you. Your plane departs in two days, make sure to have good walking shoes and clothes appropriate for forest trekking.¡±

    ¡°Now, what do you want for dinner?¡±

    ¡­Mothers are truly scary¡­

    And so, the next day I started preparing everything I needed for a September trip near Acapulco per google-sensei¡¯s guidance.

    I hadn¡¯t paid attention to the mirror this morning when showering, since I wasn¡¯t planning to go outside, so my appearance came at a complete surprise when I retrieved the cosmetics for my luggage.

    ¡°What the hell?¡±

    What greeted me was definitely not the raccoon face I was expecting. Some bruising was still visible, but it had already lightened to the yellow tint of a week old injury. At this rate, it would probably be gone by tomorrow. I prodded it gingerly with my fingertips, noticing the absence of pain.

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    It should have made me happy, but instead it pissed me off tremendously. I really didn¡¯t want anything related to him.

    ¡°Argh, I guess now there¡¯s no helping it, I really have to meet that man!¡±

    Not that mom would have let me off the hook anyway¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m happy she¡¯s working at the pub today, she would never stop gloating otherwise!¡±

    The fated day I left before daybreak, my plane tickets in hands, for a harrowing 30 hours of travel through Paris, then Mexico before finally landing in Acapulco.

    It was still dark when I arrived, the night air humidity almost instantly dampening my back.

    I retrieved the rental car I had reserved then bent to the task of deciphering the chicken scratches supposed to be a map and directions to my contact¡¯s home.

    Six hours, two wrong turns and a stack of notes waved under the noses of innocent bystanders later, I finally pulled in the court of a small farm outside of a village near the coast.

    ¡°I¡¯m never using a map drawn by mom again¡­¡±

    A small girl, maybe 5 years old, looked at me getting out of the car before running back into the house.

    ¡°Abuelo! Hay una se?ora de oro en la corte ! ¡°

    An old man came out of the house with the little girl peeking timidly from his back, welcoming me in heavily accented English:

    ¡°Buenos d¨¬as, I¡¯m Daniel Flores, I¡¯m the one who talked with your mother on the phone. I hope you had safe travel? Why don¡¯t you come in so we can talk?¡±

    I nodded and smiled, waving at the kid when he turned.

    A few minutes later, I was slumped on the proffered chair readying my pen and notepad for the conversation.

    I¡¯m not sure if I was supposed to hear the whispered word of the old man as busied himself on the counter to make tea for us:

    ¡°Aye, it¡¯s true then, the resemblance is uncanny, especially the eyes¡­that stupid old fool, why did he give up?¡±

    He sat on the other chair, looking at me for a full minute before opening the conversation.

    ¡°So why seek him now? Why after all this time?¡±

    I pondered, wondering how far I could trust that man. He looked back, black eyes unblinking in the deeply lined face.

    ¡°I had made my peace with his absence, but lately, there have been many things happening I don¡¯t understand, things I believe are linked to my heritage.¡±

    ¡°Give me a good reason why I should lead you, who obviously hold a grudge, to my oldest friend and benefactor?¡±

    ¡°It is true I don¡¯t want to meet him, but I also don¡¯t plan on hurting him. If he truly doesn¡¯t want to meet me, I¡¯ll go and never come back. But please, tell me where I can see him.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s something else girl, no?¡±

    I sighed, all pretense gone. I got up to the counter, then lightly scratched my skin with the knife lying on top.

    Sitting back on the chair, I showed him the scrape where the blood had already coagulated, the skin almost visibly knitting back.

    ¡°I¡¯m scared. I need to know where I come from.¡±

    Visibly shaken, his eyes barely leaving my hand, the old man mumbled a few words:

    ¡°I need to think. You¡¯ll stay with us tonight; I¡¯ll give you an answer tomorrow.¡±

    Dinner was a lively affair. The old man was widowed, and lived on the farm with one of his sons, his daughter in law and their four kids, the youngest being the little girl who kept sneaking glances when she thought I wouldn¡¯t notice.

    I slept like a log that night, the trip and jetlag finally catching up to me, so the sun was already shining brightly when I got up. Broken images of a half forgotten dream quickly faded as I stretched, leaving only an impression of claustrophobia.

    I met my host in the courtyard, holding my breath in anxiety.

    ¡°Here girl, take this letter to him. Follow the beach south until you meet with low cliffs. There will be a path leading in the forest. Walk until you find a small glade, and try calling him there. You¡¯ll understand when you get there. That¡¯s the best I can do for you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    I parked the car near the beach, then followed Daniel¡¯s instructions. What I found at the end of the path was a rough small altar composed of a flat top littered with small trinkets, and an engraved raised stone picturing a stylized man shrouded by a flame.

    There was absolutely nobody around, and no hints of any habitations nearby.

    ¡°What am I supposed to do here? Pray? Meditate? I suppose at this point I should give it a try. Nothing to lose anyway.¡±

    I sat cross-legged on the ground, trying to empty my mind while regulating my breathing.

    Oh yes, I could feel it.

    I could totally feel the rock digging in my bum and the ant crawling up my leg. A mosquito whined around my ear, further distracting me. Whoever said meditating over nature¡¯s beauty was relaxing obviously had an iron butt and the patience of a saint.

    An hour later, I was ready to give up in frustration. Either I was doing the wrong thing, or I was totally unsuited for meditation.

    ¡°Girl, who are you?¡±

 Chapter 6 - Birds of a feather

    What should one do in front of a very annoying, very childish, and very powerful mystical beast? My, whatever it wants, of course. Blood stains are SO hard to get off fabrics and carpeting otherwise!

    Margaret Ortiz

    I froze, my heart pounding, as I heard the smooth and mellow voice behind me, barely concealing its icy undertones.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you know how to hide your energy signature? Whatever you¡¯ve been doing, you¡¯re loud enough to wake up the dead!¡±

    I exhaled, straightened myself, and turned around. What I saw was certainly not what I expected.

    From my mother¡¯s descriptions I had this mental picture of a distinguished middle-aged man with my eyes and blond or grey hair, considering he should be over 45 years old.

    What was in front of me was a teeny tiny bit different. The eyes were there allrighty. But the man in front of me didn¡¯t look older than 25, with long hair of undefined color under the dust and dirt liberally sprinkled all over it, and a slender build. His tee-shirt and trousers were as dusty as the rest of his person, with a couple rips and holes adorning them here and there.

    His features were sure to draw crowds of women of all ages wild in an angelic pretty boy way if one was to ignore the sharp and slightly cold golden eyes.

    If I hadn¡¯t heard that commanding voice or seen the eyes, even with my mother¡¯s warning I would have thought I had found my long lost twin.

    He stared at my face for a while, seemingly stunned.

    ¡°Maggs¡­¡±

    Before I could move an inch, he was cradling my cheeks in his hands, scrutinizing me.

    ¡°You are not Margaret¡­her daughter?

    Getting annoyed at his manhandling, I tried to pry off his hands without success. He was surprisingly strong for such a lean build. I glared, trying to convey my soon to be pissed off state.

    ¡°What is it girl, speak!¡±

    Rolling my eyes, I tapped my throat with one hand, making negative gestures with the other.

    He looked surprised, but at last released me letting me retrieve my writing tools.

    ¡°I¡¯m Abigail Ortiz, Margaret Ortiz daughter¡¯s, and yours if you are the Uriel she met 27 years ago.¡±

    His expression turned cold and ruthless, betraying his sunny appearance.

    ¡°It¡¯s impossible. What is your goal in coming here?Who sent you here?¡±

    ¡°Oh? Impossible? What did you think would happen when sleeping without protection with a healthy young woman? Bubbles and rainbows?¡±

    A strong pressure started emanating from his figure, sorrow mixing with the anger. Flames shrouded his hands, leaving his skin intact but burning the grass wherever they fell.

    ¡°Don¡¯t test my patience girl! I can¡¯t have children with a human woman, which you would know if those who sent you here had briefed you correctly. You might be Margaret¡¯s daughter but you can¡¯t be mine.¡±

    Sweat pooled in my back as I reconsidered the wisdom of poking the human shaped wasp nest in my line of sight. I gritted my teeth, scribbling one note after the other, throwing them on the altar.

    ¡°Where do you think my eyes and skin tone come from? You¡¯ve seen many yellow-eyed freaks running around lately? We can do a paternity test too if you don¡¯t believe me!¡±

    ¡°That way maybe we¡¯ll be dissected in the same lab when they¡¯ll compare our freaky DNAs¡±

    I could see I had hit a nerve on that last one.

    ¡°My mother was two months pregnant when you left her, I was born in May of the following year.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not happy to be here. From my point of view, you abandoned us. If I could, I would let you rot away for as long as you wanted. Unfortunately, I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Problem is I heal faster than I should, and weird stuff happens around me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want my family or friends to get hurt because of me.¡±

    ¡°What are you, and what am I?¡±

    A sinister smile curved his lips, his eyes harsh.

    ¡°There is always that way to know for sure¡±

    He just ¡­blinked... from his spot, reappearing in front of me. His hand shot on my forehead, locking me in place. An intense pain pierced my brain, followed by a strong sense of something else invading my mind. It felt ancient, as if time itself had forgotten it, and as vast as the ocean. If the owner of that mind had wanted, he could have just extinguished me on the spot like an elephant stepping on an ant.

    I felt him riffling rapidly through my memories, mostly scrutinizing the events of the last few days and my interactions with my family.

    Emotions filtered to me, weariness and a timeless grief tinged with fury at first, progressively replaced by surprise, hope, and finally a warmth I was far, far from sharing.

    I harnessed my mounting anger, shoving it at the entity.

    This is my mind! Not your personal playground!

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    I might as well have tried to move a mountain for all the effect it had. I could sense his amusement as he at last left my head.

    We stared at each other, me glaring at him whit my chest heaving, and him contemplating, until warm laughter resonated in the clearing.

    ¡°Oho, spirited, as fitting of my daughter! By the way, I copied your sign language, so it¡¯ll be easier to communicate in the future.¡±

    ¡°I hate you!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll grow on you, like mold, but prettier. After all, I should have plenty of time to spoil my darling daughter. An eternity really.¡±

    ¡°No thanks.¡±

    Wasn¡¯t that guy a bit too mercurial? One second biting off my head and the next all chummy? It was hard to truly hate one with so much pain inside though. That bright exterior was probably just a disguise to hide his feelings.

    ¡°So the dream-walker that popped in my resting place last night was you. You were probably called by our blood ties, though we¡¯ll have to work on your control. You also inherited my regeneration factor, and from what I sensed in your soul, you¡¯re not a mixed blood, although I have no idea how this happened.¡±

    ¡°Care to stop beating around the bush?¡±

    ¡°You, my dear daughter, just became the most prized game in the whole world, considering you¡¯re the only existing phoenix hatchling, and one of the two only remaining members of the race, the other one being yours truly. What I can¡¯t fathom is how you got a nature¡¯s god blessing on top considering they all left this world a long time ago. You might not like me, but you¡¯ll need my protection if you want to grow old enough to fend for yourself.¡±

    ¡°Not funny, I think mom would have told me if she had laid an egg. Besides, last time I checked I was devoid of anything feather-ish, and I don¡¯t plan on jumping off a bridge to see if I can fly.¡±

    ¡°Shapeshifting is always absolute. Our kind came up with that answer to hide in plain sight when the human hunters became too aggressive. Sadly, it wasn¡¯t enough to save us, human greed suppressing all common sense. I¡¯ll show you if you agree to not nitpick for¡­say¡­one day.¡±

    ¡°Half a day. I know my limits.¡±

    ¡°Nine hours¡±

    ¡°Seven¡±

    ¡°Eight hours, last offer.¡±

    ¡°Deal!¡±

    ¡°Watch and learn, my un-cute girl, watch and learn.¡±

    If I had been waiting for a werewolf movie metamorphosis, I¡¯d have been disappointed. Instead, as he got up his contour just blurred, and where a slender young looking man had been there was now the biggest bird I¡¯d ever seen, towering over the trees. It had a curved beak like a raptor with feathers a light gold color, almost silver. The color darkened progressively along the wings and tail, ending in a dark gold shade.

    Seeing a mythical beast in a dream was one thing, a real life one, and my father at that, was quite another kettle of fish.

    ¡°Turn back, what if someone sees you?¡±

    He preened his feathers, ¡°accidentally¡± bopping my head in passing.

    ¡°Come on, please?¡±

    A beak almost my size nudged me under his wing. Small pale yellow flames danced playfully amongst the soft feathers. They were warm, but not overly so, not burning me when I accidentally touched one.

    A full day extension on no-nitpicking time promise later, human-dad was back.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be able to turn too once your power stabilize. For now, I¡¯ll hide your presence, until you learn to do it yourself. It won¡¯t stop the energy leaks, but no one will be able to follow them back to you. We have lots of work in the next few years to train you.¡±

    Cold sweat formed on my brow at the sight of his ultra-bright smile.

    ¡°Years of training¡­with you?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t look so depressed, I¡¯ll take good care of you.¡±

    ¡°Can I decline?¡±

    ¡°Nope, I already decided. Oh, and I put a soul trace on you, for security purposes of course. I¡¯ll always know where you are now.¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°Why did you leave mom?¡±

    His face became serious again at my question. He pondered for a time, until I thought he wouldn¡¯t answer me.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been alive for far too long. I¡¯ve buried so many loved ones I could fill graveyards. Human life span is so short, they grow old and die in the blink of an eye. Being the last source, I decided sleep was a good idea at the time, so I sent her away. I¡¯ve been asleep since then, until a baby dream-walker decided to prod me awake.¡±

    There were obviously lots of unsaid words, but I decided against insisting for now. I already had more than enough to think about.

    ¡°Shall we go back home?¡±

    ¡°¡­¡±

    ¡°Did I mention how much I hate you?¡±

 chapter 7 - Mooom, please, can we NOT keep him?

    Hell is supposed to be a place of utter despair. It should have a lot in common with a family visit to the mall then.

    Abigail Ortiz

    I slapped my father¡¯s hand away from the car dashboard for the umpteenth time, scowling at him. Reading Daniel¡¯s letter had only kept him busy for a few minutes, and since them he had been thoroughly making a pest of himself, playing with the A/C, radio, and whatever he could put his hands on.

    The A/C was especially entrancing to him obviously. We had already circled from hot to cold and back three times, and I didn¡¯t want one of us to come down sick.

    He had declined seeing Daniel, arguing that all needing to be said had already been when they last saw each other. I guess seeing your friend thirty years older while you stay the same is not a bright prospect.

    There were lots of questions I wanted to ask, pity my hands were busy with the steering wheel. The reality of the situation was starting to sink in and I had a hard time keeping my equanimity.

    ¡°There wasn¡¯t all that stuff in cars when I went to sleep, technology progressed a lot in a short time.¡±

    Make that umpteenth +1¡­this would be a long trip¡­

    Just thinking of the plane ride back home started a headache.

    A couple hours later, we were parking behind a clean enough looking motel. If we were to continue directly to the airport, we¡¯d be there during the night, and I still needed to book the return tickets.

    Wandering Acapulco¡¯s streets or airport at night was not something I wanted to consider.

    Besides we needed to buy daddy dearest clothes before heading back, on top of getting him in a bath. Airport security would never let us through with the hobo madman looks he had going.

    As we walked to our rooms, a horrifying thought emerged in my brain.

    ¡°How are we going to go past security without an identity card for you?¡±

    ¡°Identity card? You mean this right? Daniel included it in his letter. Apparently he¡¯s been getting forged ones every ten years or so in case I decided to come back.¡±

    ¡°How the hell does a farmer in the back country gets the connections and money for that? Not to mention the spare time¡­¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t tell you? He owns a big swath of land that he bought with the money I turned over to him when I went to sleep. It hardly made a dent in the money though, so he did a couple things in my interest on top, papers being one. When you book the tickets make sure we have half a day in Zurich before flying to France.¡±

    ¡°You are so reimbursing me for the plane tickets and stuff we¡¯ll buy today!¡±

    I left him to his shower while I perused the flights to Zurich and home, and sent an update on the situation to mom.

    Luckily there were no issues on getting the tickets using the forged ID. Uriel King uh? Sure went right with his spoiled and commanding personality.

    I was almost done when said spoiled individual barged in the room with his hair still wet, and holy crap was there a change.

    The previously dusty and dirty hair and skin were now respectively a shining gold and white, giving an ethereal impression to his whole appearance. My own looks were quite ok, but right now I felt defeated.

    ¡°I¡¯m done here, so how about we go get clothing and a haircut? I don¡¯t mind long hair myself, but I didn¡¯t see many people with it, so I might blend in better with shorter one in this time.¡±

    And so it was done that I retrieved my jaw from the floor and we headed to the mall, also known as hell.

    ¡°If someone asks I think we should say you¡¯re my cousin. With your looks nobody will believe it if we say you¡¯re my father.¡±

    ¡°Pouting is a bad habit you know; you¡¯ll get furrows in your brow, it¡¯s not my fault I look so amazing.¡±

    There were quite a few ravenous glances directed at us when we entered the clothing store,

    and we soon had our pick of shop attendants vying for Uriel¡¯s attention.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ask your advice on this, I have no idea what the current trends are.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried I¡¯d make you look ridiculous?¡±

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.¡°Nah, since you¡¯ll be stuck with me for a while. You¡¯d become a laughing stock too. I¡¯ll go try those, I¡¯m counting on you here.¡±

    I think we might have tried half the shop, before deciding on the outfits. The vendors had been busy sneakily taking pictures on their cellphones, and the female population had increased quite a bit in the area. We might need to call security to extract ourselves from the prowling wolves.

    As soon as we paid, I hurried him out of the store and to the hairdresser. Might as well do all in one fell swoop and be done with this nightmare.

    Uriel opted for short messy style enhancing his angular features, thus completing his makeover in a modern guy. A modern teenager guy that is.

    ¡°Looks like I¡¯ll have to beat back the women away with a stick to have any peace around you.¡±

    ¡°Oooo, my darling daughter is willing to protect my chastity?¡±

    ¡°In your dreams, I just don¡¯t want a gaggle of sex crazed women following us around everywhere.¡±

    ¡°So disappointing, and here I thought your frozen little heart was finally thawing.¡±

    ¡°Not a chance.¡±

    We went back to the motel for an uneventful night. I either didn¡¯t dream, or I didn¡¯t remember my dreams.

    Another warm and sunny day welcomed us in the morning, although the bluebells growing in the carpet were a new addition to the room. They were quite pretty, with the added advantage of being completely innocuous.

    ¡°At least I didn¡¯t set fire to anything this time around.¡±

    My father burst in laughter when he saw them.

    ¡°I guess this is what you get when you mix dream-walking with a nature¡¯s god blessing. I wonder what kind of dream you had?¡±

    ¡°No idea. Good thing it wasn¡¯t a nightmare.¡±

    ¡°Nah, a nightmare would have awakened me. I wonder if we could nudge your dreams a bit¡­there are a couple rare plants I¡¯d really like to get my hands on.¡±

    ¡°How about trying not to destroy any more carpeting?¡±

    Some bluebell plucking later, we headed to the airport. The forged papers might have been of pretty good quality since going through security was a non-issue, even in those tense times.

    ¡°What will we be doing in Zurich?¡±

    ¡°Daniel turned over to me most of my old assets, we¡¯re going to retrieve a part of that, and the keys to the rest. They might not let you come with me, so it should be better for you to wait somewhere.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll wait in a Starbucks, I want to check my emails anyway.¡±

    We parted way at the airport. I stayed at the Starbuck while he went to the bank.

    Only important email I had was mom telling me she cleaned up the guestroom. Good thing we had an unused room at home.

    I decided to check the news while waiting, I had been left of the loop for the past week, and I wanted to see what was said about my impromptu arson in the alley.

    Apparently the official version was kids playing pranks in the garbage, good for me. On the other news there had been a light earthquake in Turkey, and a whole slew of ufos flying here and there. One would think the little grey men would have better stuff to do than flying around good ole¡¯ earth.

    Our politics being true to themselves¡­yet another embezzlement scandal, and a new species of snake discovered in Greece. It was really dazzling too, with almost metallic scales. They were talking about adding a whole new genus for it.

    After that I spent a couple leisurely hours sipping chocolate while reading webnovels and random stuff.

    I didn¡¯t need to raise my head to know when Uriel was back. The general migration of the female population was enough to warn me.

    ¡°Did you get all you needed?¡±

    ¡°Yup, all good, now I can treat you to all kinds of goodies!¡±

    ¡­Is this what it means to be a birdbrain? If so, please let me retain my human one, all gods in heaven!

 Chapter 8 - Of mice and men

    There is no better place than home. But what defines a home? Is it the land where one stands? The building on it? Or is it simply the place one goes back to when he is weary of the world, where loved ones are? If the latest one is the case, make sure to never get on the bad side of the mistress of the house, or resting might be a thing of the past.

    Dale Johnson, after forgetting a wedding anniversary

    It was late evening when we finally reached home. My father had been looking at the city with a mix of sadness and wonder, lost in his own little world. His voice was very quiet, as if he was only talking to himself.

    ¡°It was only about forty years since I last came here, how did things change so much? There are so many people here now, and the garrigue shrank so much, it¡¯s almost inexistent compared to what it once was.¡±

    ¡°There are also good things here, Montpellier is a lively place with lots of interesting stuff to see and do.¡±

    A hint of mischief came back to his eyes.

    ¡°Are you volunteering to be my sightseeing tour guide?

    ¡°There¡¯s always the archaeological museum of Lattes, you should feel right at home.¡±

    ¡°Very funny, girl¡­¡±

    As we stepped out of the tramway, the sky became dark enough for the streetlamps to switch on.  Since it was still early autumn, the air was warm enough for the bats to start their mosquito hunts. I always loved to see the little buggers fluttering near the lights.

    The only snag was the faint stink pervading the area around our home. Did the neighbor forget to put the garbage out on the right day again?

    I opened the door, the wind chimes ringing lightly to announce our arrival. Mom had put them there as a joke when I was fifteen, saying they were too big to put around my neck, but that this way at least she would know when I was home.

    The imp bounded down the stairs when she heard us, eager to look at the mysterious absentee father. It never failed to amaze me how such a small teenager could make so much noise whenever she moved. She would put elephants to shame sometimes.

    ¡°Sis! Welcome back! Is that him? Are you sure you got the right guy? ¡®Cause he looks more like a brother or a cousin? Did you get bamboozled? And how was Mexico? And¡­¡±

    ¡°Calm down, all in due time. Let us unpack our luggage, then I¡¯ll tell you all. Where¡¯s mom?¡±

    ¡°She had to go help at the pub, she said she should be back about half an hour after you if your plane wasn¡¯t late.¡±

    I messed up her hair, to her despairing cries.

    ¡°By the way this is my sister Katarina, aka Kate or imp. Kate, this is Uriel, I guess your ex stepdad? Be careful with your cellphone around him or he¡¯ll use up the battery on Candy Crush¡±

    ¡°It was only this once, how long are you planning to rehash it?

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t check the GPS and we ran in circle for an hour¡±

    ¡°If you like video games mister we can play tomorrow. Abby¡¯s not fun to play with, I beat her too easily.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d love it, but just call me Uriel. Mister makes me feel like an old geezer¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you one?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a child at heart, can¡¯t you see?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes o childish one, come, I¡¯ll show you your bedroom and the bathroom. You can take a shower if you want while we wait for mom, I¡¯ll go wash downstairs myself.¡±

    I was storing the last of the luggage when the wind chimes announced mom¡¯s return. When I came downstairs, mom was taking off her shoes, and Uriel and Kate were talking animatedly at the kitchen counter.

    The atmosphere was awkward to say the least when the two ex-lovers faced each other. The first to break the silence was my father. His face was much more solemn than usual, for once making him look older than his apparent age.

    ¡°Thank you for sending our daughter to me. Had you not done so, I would never have hoped again.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t send her for you. I hope you will be a better father than you were a lover. You are welcome in my home as long as you remember you are here as Abigail¡¯s dad and not as my ex.¡±

    Oh, yes, mom hardly ever gets mad, she gets even instead, and there was one poor soul who might reconsider the wisdom of having stepped on her toes in the past. She can hold a grudge for a long time. Maybe I should suggest him to look ostentatiously miserable to shorten his punition?

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.Nah, I¡¯ll have much more fun watching him squirm a bit.

    ¡°I prepared some curry this morning, we just need to reheat it. Abby, go get a bottle of Pinot gris, Kate, set the table please, Uriel, sit down here, we¡¯ll talk while eating.¡±

    I had already sent text messages and emails to mom as I went along during the trip, but she squeezed every little detail out of us during the meal.

    ¡°So Uriel, how long will it take for Abby to fully control her powers?¡±

    ¡°It depends of her own talent and imagination. For some it takes years, for others decades, even centuries. Being my daughter, her raw power is strong enough to cause disaster if she isn¡¯t trained now that she awakened, and she needs to be able to defend herself in case she is discovered.¡±

    ¡°Years? As in years of you living with us?¡±

    ¡°As much as it might bother you, it¡¯s unavoidable. I¡¯ll pitch in for the house expenses for as long as I¡¯m here of course, and help as much as I can. Besides, you might need me for Kate in a couple years if I go by the tension around her.¡±

    ¡°Dale was a good man, but he didn¡¯t have any outstanding ability. I¡¯m pretty sure he was a regular human, unlike you, so I don¡¯t see how Kate might inherit something like that.¡±

    ¡°Sometimes abilities skip a generation, for one reason or another. When it does though, usually the resulting power is nothing to be trifled with. Kate shows all the signs of having power strong enough to come to light early¡±

    An excited imp chimed in:

    ¡°Cool! Will I be able to fly and shoot fireballs?¡±

    ¡°We won¡¯t know until you awaken sweetie. We¡¯ll see at that time.¡±

    "Aww, I really want to be an amazing wizard like in the videogames."

    At that time Uriel made a weird face, engulfing his glass of water. Mom said in a sweet voice:

    ¡°Oh my, it seems you got all the peppers of the dish. I¡¯m so sorry, I don¡¯t know how it happened!¡±

    See? Getting even.

    I helped mom wash the dishes and tidy up the kitchen in a comfortable silence. She hugged me when we were done, maybe a bit tighter than usual.

    ¡°Good night Abby, go get some sleep, you look exhausted.¡±

    ¡°Good night all, see you tomorrow¡±

    I heard the imp going upstairs, but not Uriel, they must still have been talking downstairs. I could hear voices drifting up at times, though to faintly to understand anything.

    That night, I dreamed of pixies flying around an old oak, their small bodies radiating multicolored lights.

    They looked like androgynous tiny humans with gossamer wings, their pretty faces topped by hair the same color as the halos of light surrounding them.

    Pretty they might be, but each of them carried weapons like swords or spears, sometimes no bigger than a finger and in some cases almost as big as the one wielding it.

    All hail the mighty toothpick of dooooom!

    They came to me in drove, smiling and chattering in an incomprehensible language, playing in my hair, poking my cheeks, pushing and pulling me until I sat under the tree.

    There I closed my eyes accompanied by the sound of piping voice and wind-like music.

    I walked up with a start the following morning, at the sound of something scampering across the floor.

    Oh, great, did we have some mice again?

    Mice might be cute, but they¡¯re awfully destructive in a house, so if we got some I¡¯d need to play rat catcher again. Last time we had an invasion, we had to throw away most of the stuff in the pantry, and change some of the electric cables they had gnawed on.

    Scrunching sounds were coming out of my desk¡¯s drawer. I sneakily approached with one of the net the imp uses to chase after crabs at sea, that mysteriously found its way in my bedroom again.

    I¡¯d have to give a good talk to the imp about boundaries again. I really don¡¯t get why her stuff always end in my place instead of hers.

    I opened the drawer, ready to snag the mouse as soon as it moved out of it in the net.

    ¡­Since when do mice come in purple fur?

 Chapter 9 - Source of life

    Family can be either the greatest support to rely on, or the greatest hardship to overcome. Sadly, as a wise one once said, one can choose his friends, but not his family.

    Margaret Ortiz

    The little twerp used my shock to the utmost advantage, scampering around me and under the door. When I entered the hallway I could only see its tail disappearing in the gap under the imp¡¯s door.

    I could already hear the ¡°Can we keep it?¡± pleas in my mind. It was small, cute, fluffy, and purple. A deadly combination in this house if there ever was one. Even worse than kittens, or puppy dog eyes.

    I opened the door to a delighted squeal:

    "Sis! Sis! Look at this cutie! Can we keep it? Pleeeeease? I promise I¡¯ll take care of it¡­¡±

    A snort came from the door, where Uriel was leaning against the frame.

    ¡°Pixies were always quick on the uptake; one has to grant them that. Only a few days since Abby awakened and they¡¯re already out of their own dreamworld?¡±

    ¡°This is a pixie? It didn¡¯t look like that at all last night.¡±

    I looked at the critter squeezed in the imp¡¯s hands. It really was cute overkill with its shining black eyes and smooth purple fur. No wings or war toothpick though.

    ¡°Ah, you had a stroll in another pocket dimension last night I suppose? This is the daytime form of a pixie. They tend to congregate around places of power since they need raw energy to live. You or I are like an all-free never ending buffet for them.¡±

    ¡°What am I supposed to do with it now? We can hardly raise it as a pet.¡±

    ¡°Since you already have a link to their pocket dimension, why don¡¯t you fix them a door in the garden? It would be good training for your dream-walker abilities, and your control overall. They can make themselves useful that way, a place to live for the price of helping secure the area, and information gathering. What do you say mouse?¡±

    The rodent looked at us alternatively before squeaking a couple times in agreement. Looks like we¡¯d be getting ourselves a furry alarm system. Kate squeezed it a bit more in joy, rubbing her cheek on the glossy fur. If she continued like that, she¡¯d smother it to death before it had time to settle down.

    ¡°How about we go get breakfast, then we¡¯ll get on the door thingy?¡±

    ¡°Lead the way, mighty pixie mistress, I¡¯m famished!¡±

    I explained the pixie stuff to mom as we fixed breakfast. It seems she and dad had a good talk last time. They were certainly not all chummy with each other, but mom had thawed considerably. Still, Uriel¡¯s breakfast came in strangely small portions compared to ours.

    We chatted about the pixie issue over breakfast, while our furry friend was munching on cereals mum put in a coffee cup next to a delighted imp.

    ¡°You said they lived in a pocket dimension? What is that exactly?¡±

    ¡°Are you familiar with the theory of alternate universes? Human scientists and novelists were starting to meddle with this when I was last around.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard about it, but never was overly curious on the subject.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm, how to explain it...?

    Think of this dimension as a square box, in the middle of mountain of square boxes, sunk in a pool with air bubbles swirling around. The boxes on top of ours are the higher realities, from where the so-called angelic beings come from. Under, you have demonic realms. And around, you have the same type of dimensions as ours, albeit with different settings. About anything you can imagine is bound to exist somewhere.

    Now the veils between the dimensions are not a fixed thing like a wall, they¡¯re more akin to a water curtain with bubbles of reality swimming in them. Some of those bubbles tend to latch on a realm, instead of continuing on their path through the void. Those would be the pocket dimensions.

    They usually come with their own set of rules, like a small world. When the magic declined here, many creatures died. Of the survivors, some had the right skillset to open portals to either pocket dimensions or other realms, and chose to leave through the doors. This tribe of pixies obviously had someone like that at one point.¡±

    ¡°So when I dream I pop in whichever pocket is close enough?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a bit more complicated than that, but for the sake of expediency, more or less yes.¡±

    ¡°Can sis bring other people with her? I wanna see a pixie tribe too!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll see plenty of pixies soon, those always come in swarms.¡±

    Breakfast done and kitchen set to right, we all trundled in the garden, the imp excited about pixies, and mom probably wanting to keep an eye on us.

    The walls enclosing our backyard were thankfully high enough to ensure our privacy. I might have troubles explaining multicolored mice to the neighbors otherwise.

    ¡°I¡¯ll mind-link with you since it¡¯ll be the first time you try to use your abilities consciously. Just relax, and picture a hand extending to me, I¡¯ll do the rest.¡±

    His own mental hand grabbed mine, his presence settling much more smoothly along mine than the first time we met.

    ¡°Try to recall the times when you started dreaming, I¡¯ll reinforce the memories.¡±

    I delved in my memories, chasing the elusive images. It was a bit like when one can¡¯t remember a word, the more you try to find it, the more it escapes your grasp.

    I spent a long time sitting under the lilac tree until I found it.

    I was blacking out in the alley again, but this time I was not alone. A velvety darkness surrounded us, like a warm coat. Wisps of smoke as high as a grown man revolved around us, some fast, some almost immobile. Those were the only thing visible in the darkness, as they glowed in their own color theme.

    Uriel pointed to a forest green one, very close to our position.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.¡°Here, those are your pocket dimensions, and this one should be the pixies.¡±

    ¡°What should I do now?¡±

    ¡°This is a place of your own mind, it obeys your rules. So whatever you want to do is law.¡±

    This didn¡¯t answer anything at all. Or maybe it did?

    I tried to recall reality without losing track of the dream vision. By the time I managed to do it, I was drenched in sweat, but proud of myself.

    My rules hm? I cradled the green wisp in my hands, carrying it where my body was reclining against the trunk.

    I firmly set it in the first fork of the tree, commanding it like one would a disobedient pup:

    ¡°You be good and stay here!¡±

    My dad patted my hair with a warm laugh as I opened my eyes.

    ¡°Be good and stay here? What did you think it was, a dog?¡±

    ¡°It worked, didn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°It did, indeed, though your sense of style is atrocious. You need to act with flair in all circumstances!¡±

    ¡°Says the candy crush addict.¡±

    Mom and Kate were nowhere to be seen anymore, but mom had left a note in the kitchen. They both left while we were busy, Kate to school and mom to do the books at the pub. The purple mouse had disappeared too, and I had an inkling it took the opportunity to escape the imp¡¯s clutches.

    I was surprised when I looked at the clock, we had spent nearly three hours taking care of the pixie gate. It hadn¡¯t seem that long in the dream state.

    ¡°You should take some time to rest, what you did today is straining for the spirit. I¡¯ll go buy all the necessities to live here. Tomorrow we¡¯ll assess your phoenix skills and the rest of your abilities.¡±

    There was one disturbing thought niggling at the back of my mind.

    ¡°Why did the magic decline? And since it¡¯s supposed to be so scarce now, why do I stumble upon magical stuff each time I turn around? Even my own sister now!¡±

    He let out a tired sigh.

    ¡°We declined, hunted to extinction, so the magic declined. Other creatures use, or in a way eat, the magic. All living beings small and big need a modicum of magic for their souls to thrive.

    Phoenixes are different. We are tied strongly to life itself, and as such we are magic. Wizards had a term for beings like us, they called us sources.

    Where other creatures eat magic, we generate it. As such you don¡¯t so much stumble upon magic as create it yourself, or attract it to you. Everything around you will be affected by it although usually in good ways since our alignment is life.¡±

    ¡°Is this why you stayed? As powerful as you are you could have gone easily in another world.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s the main reason. Until you came I was the last source of this world, and I was barely enough to sustain it. Had I gone or decided to die, this place would have become a barren wasteland, not that it wasn¡¯t on a fast track to do so even with me around. With you here now, things already started changing in small ways.¡±

    He let out an impish smile while sauntering away.

    ¡°I wonder how long the humans will take to notice the difference?¡±

    I decided to start cleaning the house, taking my iPod along since I had been music deprived for the past week. I tended to have itchy fingers when I was restless, so one could usually measure my state of mind with the state of our home. Colored dots streaked now and then at the edges of my vision. Guess the pixies were exploring their new home. I just hoped they didn¡¯t have the destructive tendencies of real mice, or this could become costly.

    Immersed in my own thoughts and music world, it took me a while to hear the persistent ringing of the doorbell.

    It was too late for the usual postal deliveries, and too early for a kid¡¯s prank.

    When I opened the door, a nondescript fellow in a plain suit was standing there, nostrils pinched against the feint lingering garbage smell, his hand still hovering above the doorbell.

    I had forgotten my notepad, so the cellphone would have to do.

    ¡°Yes? What can I do for you?¡±

    ¡°Ah, Miss Abigail Ortiz I presume? I was warned about your¡­disability. I¡¯m Richard Martin, representative of the Ortiz family in France. I came to deliver an invitation to you and your sister from your grandparents.¡±

    ¡°What about my mother?¡±

    ¡°Hum, I¡¯m sorry, she was mentioned by Mr. and Mrs. Ortiz. But I¡¯m sure if you meet with them we can work over the disagreements of the past!¡±

    ¡°I decline. If they want to see us they can come themselves.  Have a good day Mr. Martin.¡±

    With those parting words I slammed the door shut on the retainer¡¯s startled face. Guess he was not used to being refused.

    How dare they? My mother gave birth to me when she was only eighteen, struggling to raise me alone for fourteen years without a peep from them.

    They were still not around when she met and married Dale, or for Kate¡¯s birth two years later that almost killed mom, or when Dale died and mom had to stay strong for us when Kate was only four.

    We pulled through all that by ourselves, relying on each other every day.

    And now that we had made a comfortable life for ourselves, as modest as it might have been, they wanted to get to us without even acknowledging mom? And they even sent a lackey to collect us instead of coming here?

    Like hell I would let that happen!

    I ramped up the music, ignoring the frantic ringing of the doorbell in the background. They could go screw themselves as far as I was concerned, and I was certainly not letting them come anywhere near the imp without mom¡¯s presence.

 Chapter 10 - How does one sing without a voice?

    Author''s note: This should be the last big info dump chapter, I''ll start using all those nice lil'' flags I planted before in the next one. (You think you caught them all?).

    Thank you for staying with me so far, and have a nice read ^.^

    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    I really don¡¯t get why humans need to bury themselves in technology.  Can¡¯t they do anything by themselves? ¡­Dammit, where is the remote control? I¡¯m going to miss the show!

    Uriel King waiting for an episode of his favorite TV show

    The first to come back to a very sparkly home was Kate. I hugged her, planting a kiss on top of her head.

    ¡°What got you riled up sis? I know that face and cleaning spree.¡±

    ¡°nothing all that important, boring adult stuff.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not a kid anymore you know!¡±

    ¡°Twelve years old is a kid. I think the pixies are more or less settled now, can you take a look in the garden, check if all is ok?¡±

    The good ol¡¯ lure of fluffy stuff never loses its appeal.

    ¡°And don¡¯t forget to do your homework. In fact, why don¡¯t you use the garden table? I¡¯ll bring you drinks.¡±

    ¡°Love you sis!¡±

    I watched my younger sibling skip to the backyard with a silly smile on my face.

    Mom and Uriel came back about an hour later, almost at the same time. Mom looked tired, but satisfied. The pub had been doing well this summer and autumn with the amount of tourists and students increasing. They might need to hire help soon.

    ¡°Urgh, that smell is still there¡­¡±

    ¡°I know right? I talked with the neighbors and they swore they had no garbage left. It must be a problem with the sewers.¡±

    ¡°I hope the city will take care of it soon. Good thing it¡¯s only in front of the house and not in the backyard. I¡¯m all sweaty, I¡¯ll go take a shower, talk to you after¡±

    Uriel was carrying quite a large amount of bags including some boxes from a well-known game store.

    ¡°Did you decide to rob a mall?¡±

    ¡°Funny girl, help me take care of those instead of mocking me. You should be happy, I bought my own cellphone and laptop, though I¡¯ll need you to hook me up with that internet and wee-something thingy they were talking about¡±

    ¡°That would be Wi-Fi I think.¡±

    ¡°Oh leave that bag downstairs, it¡¯s for your sister. They told me it was the best fighting game of the moment.¡±

    It took until dinner to set up everything, Uriel being more hindrance than help. I ended up setting up fast links to computer help forums, just to have some peace from the relentless questioning.

    Dinner went smoothly, followed by a lively virtual fighting match between Uriel and Kate. He was getting beat up, but showed considerable improvement over time.

    I took the opportunity to take mom apart and relate the visit of Richard Martin. The garden was lovely at this hour, with the lilac scent hanging heavy in the air and the new addition of the pixie portal producing fluttering green sparks snaking along the trunk.

    ¡°Why would they come now, after all these years¡­?¡±

    Mom had a pensive expression, her hand supporting her chin over her mug of tea.

    ¡°I think you guessed I ran away from home when I was young, for many reasons, some good, and some very stupid. If they come again, stay very polite, but don¡¯t accept to go anywhere with them. They can be quite overbearing and I don¡¯t know if they would let you go afterwards. I¡¯ll talk with Katarina if they come again. She might want to meet them, though I¡¯ll refuse if I can¡¯t be present.¡±

    I nodded, sipping my own tea. Behind us the yells of the two kids, both the real and the overgrown one, provided a counterpoint to the sounds of the game.

    The next morning was overcast with a warm south wind raising the temperature. The imp had a bit of dark circles under her eyes since we let her play a bit later than usual. Those tend to show a lot on her skin tone.

    ¡°Make sure to ask when the parent-teacher conference will be, imp. Call if you need a ride home, it might rain this evening.¡±

    ¡°Ok! Have a good day sis.¡±

    Mom had gone early to the pub again, leaving only Uriel and me. I would raise the issue of getting more help or going back there myself if this continued. The pub was as important to me as it was to her, but still was not worth her health.

    It had been owned by my stepfather, Dale. He met mom when she applied as a waitress there to keep us fed. It still took him three years of courting mom before she married him. When he died, the pub was left to both mom and his brother Charles.

    My father clapped his hands, snapping me out of my thoughts.

    ¡°Today we¡¯ll assess your innate power, what you got from our phoenix bloodline, not your dream-walking ability.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t the dream-walking coming from the bloodline too?¡±

    ¡°No, this is one of your personal abilities. All phoenixes share the capacity to wield flame, to shapeshift to a degree, and to heal since we¡¯re sources tied to life.

    Then you have personal skillsets differing with each individual, though they can influence offspring¡¯s abilities. My own skillset tends to be oriented towards mind powers and regeneration, which you partly inherited.

    So, what do you think is the most important factor to a phoenix power?¡±

    I reflected on this for a while. Raw power was important, but useless is you couldn¡¯t use it correctly, so it was obviously not the right answer. Keeping an open mind to learn new things? Maybe. Or maybe knowing how to use power thriftily?

    ¡°I¡¯ll go with keeping an open mind.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm, not a bad answer per se, but not the right one either. The answer is imagination, and how to harness it for your own benefit.

    Most of the limitations you will encounter are ones set by your own mind. It might be clich¨¦d, but you won¡¯t fly if you can¡¯t imagine yourself flying.

    Another example is shapeshifting. If you can¡¯t hold the form you want to become in your mind, down to the tiniest details both of appearance and inner workings, it can easily be a disaster. Shifting in a form without a heart will kill you pretty quickly if you don¡¯t revert it. If you¡¯re unsure of yourself, better stick to a lower number of possibilities but do them well.¡±

    ¡°No shapeshifting for me at the moment then I guess?¡±

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.¡°We¡¯ll start with easy stuff; I want to see your fire today. Sing fire to life for me. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll contain it.¡±

    ¡°Are you making fun of me?¡±

    ¡°Nope. Singing is in our blood, it helps us focus the power to bend it to our will. I¡¯ve been in your head; I¡¯ve seen the music coursing through your soul.¡±

    ¡°How am I supposed to sing, without a voice?¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you do it once already?¡±

    I pondered. It had been my rage that called the flame that time, but I couldn¡¯t hope to control it if only anger could call it. Only a moron would play with fire in anger. Did I truly hear the screeching, or was it all in my mind?

    If it was in my mind, maybe I didn¡¯t have to sing aloud? If so, what could be a good song for fire? What was fire to me?

    Immerged in myself, I started with a beat like a heartbeat. Fire was destructive, but it also gave warmth and life. If fire is life, is it why we can control it?

    Around and under it I weaved the foundation of my fire, the slow crackling of the logs, the lighter scent of burning wood, steady reddish notes to feed the faster ones.

    As I called them, scarlet strands of notes came unbidden, snaking around the beat, flames dancing in a fire both seen and heard.

    I lost myself in the beauty of my fire, increasing the tempo of my mental heartbeat.

    ¡°You can open your eyes now, but keep your song going.¡±

    I flinched, recalling where I was and what I had been trying to do. I almost lost the tempo, as I couldn¡¯t remember closing my eyes either, and yet, closed they were.

    In my father¡¯s hand were a big globe of silver fire enclosing a medium sized scarlet flame, dancing on the rhythm of the beat I had set, reflected in the beady eyes of the multicolored mice lining the lower branches of the lilac tree.

    ¡°This is my flame?¡±

    ¡°No, no, it just decided to spontaneously pop into existence. Of course it¡¯s your flame you ninny, and a pretty one it is. I wasn¡¯t sure you would be able to make it, since very few manage the trick of singing inside, but you pulled it beautifully.

    Not vocalizing your song is both a strength and a weakness. A strength because your adversaries will have no idea what you will pull or when, and you will not be limited by vocal chords, and a weakness because it is easier to be interrupted and lose control when the song is only in your head.¡±

    ¡°It is hard to keep focused on the song without losing my bearings.¡±

    ¡°Which is why we will continue until you can call a flame faster while keeping your eyes open. Right now a rheumatic snail would have time to escape while you sing fire.¡±

    And continue we did, for hours, with Uriel sending pebbles my way at irregular intervals to make me lose my focus.

    We only stopped when I started making more mistakes due to the mental fatigue.

    ¡°Good enough for today. We¡¯ll do this again every day until I¡¯m satisfied with your control. I want you as stable as possible before your first molt.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±

    ¡°What is the common element in all the phoenix legends you know?¡±

    ¡°They are immortal beasts who combust to be reborn in their own¡­oh crap, I¡¯ll burn to death? Tell me I¡¯m not going to spontaneously combust?¡±

    ¡°I can if that¡¯s what you want to hear, though that would be a big fat lie. Usually in a regular growth, a hatchling would awaken his power about fifteen years after birth, then molt ten to twenty years after. In your case, you subconsciously repressed your own power to fit in the human mold, to release everything at once, like a dam bursting.

    That means you¡¯re at your most vulnerable now, since you can and will die during your molt if you lose control, and I have no idea when it will happen.

    On the bright side, the fire will temper your body and spirit, making you more powerful each time you go through the crucible, and the older you will be, the bigger the time span between molts.¡±

    ¡°This is scary, is there no way to avoid it?¡±

    Now I had a good idea about what my next set of nightmares would be. I could have done without the mental image.

    ¡°None that I found, and I researched it for a long time. You won¡¯t have to go through the fire alone though, I¡¯ll be there to help.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s eat a snack, then we¡¯ll start on your physical assessment.¡±

    A couple hours later, I was panting heavily in the middle of the garden, with my father looking at me mockingly a few meters away from my position. The damn smug bird was as pristine as if he had just been taking a stroll.

    He had given me a twig, and asked me to touch him between the ribs.

    I had started by trying to stab with the twig, confident in my speed and aim, only to have him evade me by the tiniest margin each time with a smirk.

    I had tried feints, throwing rocks, sending dirt in his eyes, low kicks, driving him in the garden chairs, and about anything I could think of without any success.

    ¡°Looking at you, seems like we¡¯re done.¡±

    ¡°Could you be a little less smug about handing me my own ass on a platter?¡±

    ¡°And where would be the fun in that? Besides it should give you incentive to better yourself!¡±

    ¡°Did I mention I hated you today?¡±

    ¡°You did when I ate the last pancake.

    On more serious matters, now I know what we¡¯ll be working on. On the more mystical abilities, so far you have regeneration, though on a lesser degree than mine, dream-walking, an exceptional fire manipulation, that¡¯s my daughter for you, and empathy with maybe a smidge of telepathy mixed with it, though it¡¯s too early to be sure.

    On the more physical stuff, your speed, flexibility and coordination are very good and you use your brain. For the bad parts, your stamina is lacking, and your strength is pathetic, both will need lots of work.¡±

    ¡°Sooo¡­training and more training I suppose?¡±

    ¡°Yup, won¡¯t do you any good to be able to regenerate once your brain is all over the floor or you get decapitated. At least you didn¡¯t learn useless pretty moves, so we won¡¯t need to make you un-learn anything.¡±

    ¡°Won¡¯t the neighbors wonder what happens if we do this every day?¡±

    ¡°Come help me with that infernet thing after you wash yourself, I¡¯ll rent something nearby. I think an empty warehouse would be good.¡±

    ¡°Anything to survive burning alive I guess. And it''s internet, not infernet"

    ¡°Could have fooled me.¡±

 Chapter 11 - The human factor

    When everything goes to hell, one has three options. Flee as far as possible, cower in a corner with one¡¯s head buried in the sand, or retaliate and make sure the other side will never be able to try stupid stuff again. Burn baby, burn!

    Ran Ezarki, the Fire King

    A week went past, rhythmed by the training from hell, courtesy of my father. We were still using the garden for now, however we had located a promising stone barn in the middle of old unexploited vineyards fifteen minutes away from the city.

    I had balked at first, since the owner didn¡¯t went to rent but sell, arguing that he was too old to take care of the vineyards, but Uriel had been even more interested. To him, investing in land was the best thing he could do.

    ¡°Money might devalue or be stolen, but land almost never does. Besides, my money is only piling up in the bank at the moment, might as well use some in a meaningful way.¡±

    The land attached to the barn was quite extensive, with more vineyard lining it on one side, and garrigue on the other side, thus ensuring our privacy. I¡¯d be able to blow up my own butt without anyone the wiser apart from my father.

    As I got out of the shower after the too many kilometers long run of the morning, I crossed path with mom in the hallway.

    ¡°Have you seen my lipstick? I was sure it was on the shelf under the mirror, but I can¡¯t find it anywhere.¡±

    Hmmm¡­should I tell her where it had probably gone? I thought I had seen some of the mice with war paints of a color that looked suspiciously like her lipstick¡¯s. But then if it got confiscated, they might target mine.

    ¡°Nope, no idea.¡±

    ¡°Damn, I liked that lipstick. Oh, don¡¯t forget Kate¡¯s parent-teacher conference tonight. Since I won¡¯t make it, I¡¯m counting on you to sub as her guardian.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know, I¡¯ll take care of it. She didn¡¯t blow up anything in science class lately, I think?¡±

    ¡°No, I think the last disaster was the potato launcher one. Damn, that window was expensive, and the school¡¯s principal was so whiny I wanted to smack him a good one.¡±

    ¡°Uhu, it¡¯s amazing how you¡¯re always busy when there¡¯s something at the school since then¡­¡±

    ¡°Pshh, that¡¯s just your imagination.¡±

    After breakfast I made sure to put some muesli and coke on the windowsill for the pixies. The old stories spoke of bread and milk, though since the mice had made their preferences known by exchanging the bread with the cereal box and stealing a whole pack of Coca-Cola bottles, we had decided it was easier to just give them what they wanted.

    They did deserve a reward for all the pests they had taken care off, hardly a day went without finding an offering of dead spiders, real mice, rats, or even once a small asp viper.

    I¡¯d leave alone any viper I¡¯d find in the wild, since they were shy and tended to flee whenever someone came near, but they could cause troubles in gardens since one often doesn¡¯t even know they¡¯re here and it¡¯s easy to get bitten while gardening or moving stuff if they¡¯re hiding nearby without a retreat path.

    The day went by in a flash, between my training and the discussions with the notary about the barn and land sale. If all went well it would be ours by next week. The owner wanted to sell, and the price was met.

    Out of breath, I sat in the grass. Today¡¯s training had been brutal, Uriel deciding to train my evasion maneuvers. To do that, he had been alternating between throwing stuff at me, including small rocks, and lightly punching and kicking me, though his ¡°light¡± punches were still enough to bruise.

    ¡°You¡¯re progressing quicker than I hoped, but we will need to find you some more sparring partners sooner or later. I¡¯d like for you to see more fighting styles.¡±

    ¡°There are many fighting clubs and schools in a city of this size. Maybe we could look at these?¡±

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t hurt to look, but I¡¯m not too optimistic. The few I saw were only teaching watered down versions good enough for a regulated tournament, but not a life and death battle.¡±

    ¡°I need to clean up before going to the imp¡¯s school. You¡¯ll want to come with me or stay here?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll go to the Polygone, I booked a copy of the new racing game coming out today I want to retrieve before the gaming shop closes up for the day.¡±

    ¡°Your choice. Don¡¯t forget to close the door behind you.¡±

    The imp¡¯s school was fairly close to the house, only fifteen to twenty minutes on foot if one was to stroll leisurely, ten minutes in a hurry.

    It was nether considered overly good or overly bad, maintaining itself in an honest average, although it had some well-equipped labs, to the delight of our little science nut, and sometimes the despair of both her teachers and us.

    As usual the meetings were running late, with some parents never admitting that their little angels could sometimes be hiding little demons¡¯ souls popping out whenever their backs were turned.

    As it was our turn at last, the head teacher waved us inside his cluttered office. Thankfully, he was used to dealing with me now, so the discussions could run smoothly with either Kate translating, or my trusty notepads.

    ¡°Ah, Miss Ortiz, always glad to see someone with common sense. I¡¯m sorry it took so long to get to you.¡±

    ¡°No worries Mr. Royer. So tell me, anything I should know about this trimester?¡±

    ¡°Let me check my notes¡­about Katarina¡¯s studies, science is good like always, she¡¯s diligent both in class and her homework. I¡¯d be happy to say the same about French and English, but sadly she¡¯s been getting worse at both courses. I¡¯d suggest either tutoring or remedial classes.

    As for her general behavior, I have no complaints apart from her bringing plush toys in class. As cute as those may be, they¡¯re still a distraction, and have no place in a classroom.¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Plush toys uh? Wouldn¡¯t those happen to be mouse shaped?

    ¡°You know the toys, I gather.¡±

    ¡°I think so yes. Imp, we¡¯ll talk about this at home.¡±

    A very dejected imp was staring at me with her best puppy dog eyes.

    ¡°But they don¡¯t hurt anyone, and they¡­¡±

    ¡°Shush. At home I said. Now go get me and your teacher some coffee from the vending machine, while we discuss your future remedial classes.¡±

    I tried my best not to smile while she stomped out of the office. I¡¯d have to have a good talk with her about risking exposing the pixies to her classmates and teachers.

    ¡°So, can you explain to me how those remedial lessons would work? Neither our mother nor I want Kate to grow up illiterate after all.¡±

    I was taking notes as the head teacher explained the schedule when I felt little claws climbing on my calf. I deliberately dropped my pen to check, coming nose to nose with a reddish brown very panicky pixie when I bent down to retrieve it.

    ¡°Excuse me Mr. Royer, can you just send me the schedule on my email? I¡¯ll make sure Kate goes to the lesson. I forgot something and really need to go right now.¡±

    Without waiting for his response I charged out of the room in the wake of the pixie, leaving a stupefied teacher sitting at his desk. I''d apologize to him later.

    I ran to the vending machine, which was situated in the courtyard. At this hour apart from a few parents and teachers in some parts of the building there wasn¡¯t anybody left, or there shouldn¡¯t have been.

    As I neared the courtyard I heard a muffled yell followed by a slapping sound.

    ¡°The little bitch bit me! Don¡¯t let her escape!¡±

    A small body collided with me, three bigger ones emerging from the courtyard. I grabbed Kate¡¯s hand, dragging her into the street as fast as I could. If we could get home Uriel was certainly back by now and could help us.

    It was not meant to be though as Kate stumbled on the border of the sidewalk, falling down on her knee. The men took the opportunity to catch up with us, effectively blocking our escape paths.

    Whilst they cautiously surrounded us, I was urgently signing to the imp:

    ¡°When I take one down, you escape and run home as fast as you can. Don¡¯t look back, don¡¯t stop for any reason. No discussion!¡±

    My old friend Richard Martin, the lackey who came to our door a few days ago, chose this moment to open his mouth.

    ¡°Nobody needs to get hurt tonight. If you come with us calmly I can guarantee your safety. Your grandparents only want to talk with you.¡±

    Yeah, right, and I had a bridge over the moon to sell. I could already see the bruise blooming on the imp¡¯s cheek. Mr. Martin, you will be the one sacrificed to the cause!

    I checked the two goons positions, and squeezed Kate¡¯s hand in warning before letting go. I advanced meekly, my gaze on the ground, as if I had given up all idea to fight, stealing frightened glances to the other men.

    I didn¡¯t have much to fake since my heart was actually pounding wildly, though only partly in fear. I started my fire song, ready to unleash it if necessary, even if I would prefer not to use it. The repercussions if there were any witnesses wouldn¡¯t be good.

    As I neared him I could see clearly the obnoxious lackey¡¯s self-satisfied smirk, albeit it quickly turned to a pained grimace when I grabbed his shoulders to knee him as hard as I could. I doubled with a foot on his face when he curled in a ball, laying him out cold.

    Kate launched over his body in a mad rush towards home, the pixie on her shoulder tightly holding her hair. I turned around to block the path of the other two guys, only in time to receive a mean punch to the gut.

    Those bastards were fast, and much tougher than Richard Martin. I was trying to find my breath when one of the guys started running after Kate, the other one raising his hand to slap me, his other hand fisted in my hair.

    This was when the overpowering stench hit me, and a grimy hand caught the goon¡¯s arm in midair. Next the goon seemed to simply vanish, too fast for my eyes to follow. A second later, the dull thud of a body hitting a brick wall could be heard.

    Fighting with my rebelling stomach, I raised my head to meet the ocean blue eyes of what was probably the dirtiest man alive, and my savior. My savior twice over if the¡­unique¡­smell he was emanating was any indication.

    I frantically motioned to him to follow, taking off after both the imp and goon number two. It wouldn¡¯t do to be safe just to see my sister getting abducted. I shouldn¡¯t have worried since we met half-way a very annoyed Uriel dusting off his pants.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t that half-wit decide to run? Nooo, he had to take a swing, and now it¡¯ll be a pain to get the stains out of the fabric! Damn bastard son of a donkey¡­oh, hey darling, did you keep one alive to interrogate? Mine won¡¯t be able to answer any questions I¡¯m afraid.¡±

    ¡°Is Kate ok?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s at home with Maggs, don¡¯t worry. She¡¯s a bit shell-shocked, but kids are resilient. Who¡¯s the hobo behind you?¡±

    ¡°My savior, so play nice with him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll abide by your wish for now, albeit I¡¯ll want a full explanation later. Now show me the way to the rest of the bunch.¡±

    We retraced our steps to the conflict spot, only to find the place devoid of any thugs. The two pricks had taken the opportunity to vanish when we went after Kate.

    ¡°Why the hell were they so intent on getting Kate?¡±

 Chapter 12 - Thunderbeast

    ¡°You might produce static electricity, but if you want to stick to something the window should be fine enough!¡±

    Abbigail Ortiz to an overprotective Storm

    The three of us started heading back to the house, each of us lost in their own thoughts. With how peaceful the past days had been, this sudden attack had been quite a wakeup call.

    The vagrant was following us a few steps behind, for which I was grateful considering the smell. Downwind was good. I wanted to know more about him, but it would have to wait after we introduced him to the wonderful world of bathing.

    I was nearing my limits when we reached home, the adrenaline had gone down and the new bruising was starting to make itself known. Uriel looked at me quizzically.

    ¡°You got hurt?¡±

    ¡°Only some bruising. It hurts but nothing serious.¡±

    ¡°Come here a second.¡±

    As he laid his hand on my belly, warmth seeped out, easing the pain of my muscles. The unknown man interested gaze followed us as all my aches were healed and I could straighten myself again.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go inside, Maggs must be worried sick with Kate coming back hurt, and me taking off without an explanation.¡±

    Mom was waiting for us in the living room with a worried expression that only eased after checking our collective well-being.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the imp?¡±

    ¡°I put her to bed, after she cried herself out. She¡¯ll be mostly ok after a good night of sleep I think. Uriel healed her scrapes and bruises already.¡±

    At last she turned to an inquisitive eye to our olfactory challenging guest.

    ¡°And who might you be sir?¡±

    The deep voice I remembered from the time I was half conscious sounded even warmer in the confines of room.

    ¡°I¡¯m an acquaintance of your daughter Ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s the one who brought me to the hospital last time, also he helped us a lot tonight.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re a friend of Abby, I can¡¯t let you go out in this state. Do you have a place to stay tonight?¡±

    ¡°I can manage Ma¡¯am¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get fresh with me! This is a simple question with a yes or no answer. So, do you have a place to stay, yes or no?  Also, a dumpster is not considered a place to sleep.¡±

    ¡°No Ma¡¯am.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll be sleeping on the sofa tonight then; I can¡¯t let my daughter¡¯s benefactor sleep in the street.¡±

    Mom in a bad mood was something of a steamroller. Resisting her when she was fussing over something, or in this case someone, was an exercise in futility. This was a point our guest could now attest to while he watched helplessly mom arranging his life.

    For once Uriel was smart enough not to crack one of his wise-assed comments, though he did look thoroughly amused.

    ¡°For now let¡¯s get him cleaned up, we¡¯ll ask questions later. The smell is killing me!¡±

    ¡°Show him to the bathroom Abby, I¡¯ll try to scrounge up some clothes.¡±

    I tugged gingerly at the man¡¯s sleeve, motioning for him to follow me. I did get a little kick out of watching him so nonplussed by our meddlesome family. Watching grown men squirm is always fun, and fun is a good stress reliever.

    I pushed him in the bathroom, grabbing paper and pen on the way. In the confines of the small room I realized how big he truly was. Since he had a harmonious build under the grime, it was easy to miss, although he dwarfed my 1m68 by a good 20 cm.

    ¡°Just throw your rags outside after undressing. You won¡¯t use those again ever.¡±

    As he stood dumbly in the middle of the room, a horrifying thought emerged in my head.

    ¡°You do know how to use a shower, right?¡±

    ¡°This is a shower? I¡¯m sorry, I mostly used communal baths before. There were not many showers were I came from, and they didn¡¯t look like that.¡±

    Thankfully he caught on quickly, since I was certainly not going to scrub his back. After an explanation on how everything worked, and a reminder to use lots and lots of soap and shampoo I left him to his cleaning, going back downstairs with my parents after a quick side trip to go burn some rags before they stank the whole garden.

    ¡°He¡¯s getting cleaned up. Anyone want to bet the sewer smell of the area will be gone by tomorrow morning?¡±

    My father snorted.

    ¡°Not going to bet on that. I like my odds to give me at least a small winning chance. Now tell us, what happened exactly tonight?¡±

    My retelling of the events of the evening were only punctuated by the quiet rumbling of the pipes, albeit both my parents¡¯ faces became grimmer by the minute.

    ¡°The strange thing is that I think they were only aiming at Kate. I was just the extra, the grain of sand derailing the cogs.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t be sure of that. Maybe they only targeted her this time because she¡¯s the easiest prey to catch.¡±

    The sound of the pipes had stopped by the time I was done with my story. Soft footsteps descended the stairs. He was eerily silent for such a big guy.

    My jaw might have hit the floor when he entered the living room, and for honesty¡¯s sake I must admit I might have drooled a little. After all, who could have known what was hiding under all that dirt, trash, and whatever?

    The matted, stringy hair was now a shiny midnight waterfall tumbling down his broad shoulders to his tapered waist, framing a face resembling those of the Hindi gods one can see on the murals of temples.

    The slightly slanted deep blue eyes were even more striking now the contrast of his bronzed skin was revealed. Even the ill-fitting clothes of my late stepfather didn¡¯t manage to turn him into a dork.

    ¡°I know these eyes¡­¡±

    I was grateful for my mother words since I had a teeny tiny bit of trouble gathering my scrambled wits, or whatever I had left of those.

    ¡°So now can you tell us your name and how you got acquainted to Abby?¡±

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.¡°It¡¯s a rather long story Ma¡¯am, are you sure you want to hear it now?

    ¡°Time is not an issue. Sit down, and stop calling me Ma¡¯am. I¡¯m Margaret, or Maggs.¡±

    ¡°Yes Ma¡­Maggs. Now, where do I start?¡±

    ¡°How about at the beginning?¡±

    ¡°The beginning uh? How do these go¡­¡±

    A small self-deprecating smile appeared on the corner of his lips.

    ¡°A long time ago in a land far to the east, a Rakshasa demon was living in an ornate palace, sucking the land of all its life so that he could prosper. Not a soul was safe, for he would feed of the blood and soul of any one he fancied.

    The rulers of the neighboring lands were getting increasingly anxious as his appetite grew and grew, always more voracious. They united against the demon, not able to strike him and his armies down, but still keeping him inside his own borders.

    The Rakshasa, growing angrier and more desperate each year, challenged the Thunderbeast of the highest mountain of his domain, capturing his daughter born of a human woman.¡±

    His voice was becoming smoother as he spoke, the rough edges disapearing, but also colder, as if he was telling the story of someone else, of a disliked stranger.

    ¡°Thunderbeasts, even of mixed blood, are powerful being and the daughter¡¯s blood had bred true. By foul means of trickery and illusion, the Rakshasa bred a son on the Thunderbeast daughter, although she herself died in childbirth.

    For many years he trained the grandson of the Thunderbeast, turning him in a weapon to destroy his enemies, chaining it to him by rituals of blood and bones.

    But as more and more blood stained the hand of the beast, emptiness and weariness crept in its heart while its power grew.

    At last the beast couldn¡¯t stand extinguishing the lives of innocent anymore, and in a last bid for freedom challenged its genitor on the southern shores of the Black Sea.

    The battle was long and bitter, ending in the sealing of the Rakshasa under the sea. In a last ditch effort, the demon ripped the spirit of the beast off its body, sealing it in a pocket dimension while the mindless body was cursed to never die and roam the land endlessly.¡±

    He stood there waiting for our reaction, obviously bracing for a rebuke, insults or worse. Didn''t anyone ever accepted him or treated him kindly?

    ¡°You were the white beast with the spikes in his body.¡±

    ¡°I owe you a life debt, and more.¡±

    ¡°Anybody would have done the same. You owe me nothing.¡±

    ¡°I fought my father in 1943. Nobody came to unseal me in the decades I spent in the half-dimension afterwards.¡±

    Over seven decades of suffering. It was a miracle he was functional enough to interact with us, and no wonder he latched onto me after being freed.

    ¡°Then go live a happy life.¡±

    ¡°I need to repay my debt.¡±

    There were snickering sounds coming from both my parents, and I could see my father¡¯s shoulders trembling in mirth. My mother decided to intervene before our discussion degenerated further in grade school-dom.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t tell us your name.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because I don¡¯t have one.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t do! We can¡¯t go calling ¡°hey you¡± or ¡°ex-stinky guy¡±, you need to choose a name!¡±

    ¡°Call me whatever you like, I don¡¯t really care.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t come whining if it doesn¡¯t please you later on.¡±

    My father decided to add his own two cents:

    ¡°Since he¡¯s half cat demon, why don¡¯t we call him Felix or Kit?¡±

    ¡°Does he look like a Felix to you?¡±

    Mom asked:

    ¡°So if I got it right he¡¯s half Rakshasa, a quarter human and a quarter Thunderbeast?¡±

    ¡°Yes Ma¡¯a, err¡­Maggs.¡±

    ¡°Then why not something tied to the Thunderbeast part, to remember his mother?¡±

    As we debated, blue eyes were jumping from face to face, as we happily upset his cold and tidy world.

    ¡°Hmmm, there was the lightning colored fur, and the weather when we met¡­How about Storm?¡±

    ¡°I still think Felix was good enough.¡±

    ¡°Hush you. Do you like Storm?¡±

    ¡°Storm¡­I like it. From now on I will be Storm.¡±

    ¡°Then Storm, we¡¯ll let you sleep, the sofa is all yours tonight. Tomorrow we¡¯ll decide what to do about the situation as a whole, when we¡¯ll be less tired. Have a good night.¡±

    As we trundled up the stairs, my father stopped me.

    ¡°A word with you Abby?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°You should accept the Thunderbeast¡¯s help, albeit with caution. I can tell he¡¯s powerful, the beast blood bred true in him, and the Rakshasa blood adds more tricks to the mix, but the human blood makes him unstable.

    If he were to unleash his full power there is a possibility of him going berserk, and even I might have a hard time reining him in without destroying the land around us.¡±

    ¡°How could I kick him to the curb with that kind of history, when he already helped me twice?¡±

    He mussed up my hair.

    ¡°That¡¯s my daughter. Be nice to him, but stay vigilant.¡±

    ¡°Good night old man.¡±

    ¡°My body might be old, but my soul is young!¡±

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s what is called becoming senile.¡±

    As silence fell on the house, multicolored halos trailed from the lilac tree, cocooning the house in an energy net invisible to the mortal eye.

    Some entered through the windows, keeping guard over the sleeping forms, whereas others swept to the roof in an organized unit.

    Even more creatures patrolled the streets in a silent vigil, searching for the foul ones who dared offend the benevolent ones.

 Chapter 13 - Crescendo

    Author''s note: Thanks for the kind comments, and for the nice reviews to those who posted them. I hope you''ll continue enjoying the story. Here is your chapter for today, good reading ^^

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    Heaven has no rage, like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury, like a woman scorned.

    William Congreve in ¡°The Mourning Bride¡±

    25 kms from Granada, Spain

    The sun had not yet risen, the grey light of dawn shining on the low hills. The cicadas had fallen silent for a while after a whole night of singing, in the lapse of time between night and day, but already some activity could be seen in the courtyard of the lone mansion on the mound.

    It was an ugly thing, built more to impress others by its sheer size, than with any thought of architectural aesthetics, squatting on top of the hill like a particularly ugly toad.

    Meticulously trimmed lawns and gaudy fountains covered the ground around it, trees long uprooted in a flagrant disregard of any environmental necessities, further enhancing the lack of grace of the building.

    It looked even more incongruous compared to the untouched summits of the other hills of the area where scrawny but healthy pines and shrubs clung to the soil. When wildlife was abundant in the neighboring land, no bird nor beast dared approach the ugly manor house, as if sensing something awry within the confines of the domain.

    As two tired and battered men opened the doors of the car parked in the courtyard, the faint outbursts of a woman¡¯s shrewish voice, accompanied by the occasional noise of breaking pottery, could be heard coming out of a half-opened window on the first floor.

    The two men slowly entered the mansion, one nondescript fellow heavily limping, with a pale and sweaty face, the other one accommodating his sluggish pace, his own face expressionless, dead eyes staring into the distance.

    The men climbed the overly grand stairs with the heavy steps of the condemned, only stopping in front of the opened door of the room from where the shrill woman¡¯s voice originated.

    ¡°Adan, I had another wrinkle this morning, another one! We are starting to look old again¡­We need her, and we need her now! I refuse to be like those old cows slobbering over their dear grandchildren, I deserve better than that...no, I am better than that!¡±

    More potteries shattering against the wall accompanied the response of the man trying to soothe her:

    ¡°I called back some of our operatives in Africa. They¡¯ll take a few days to wrap up their tasks before coming here, but they should take care of our little problem for us. I swear to you my love, soon you will have what you desire.¡±

    Gulping, the pale faced man limped into the room, followed a step behind by the dead-eyed one. His already white face blanched even more in front of the enraged woman.

    The venomous voice of the woman rose again, sugary sweetness covering the poison within.

    ¡°So you dared coming back alive after failing me. Tell me Richard, are you an imbecile, an incompetent, or both?¡±

    Wincing, the man kneeled in front of the mistress of the house, not daring to raisie his gaze. The other man walked to stand with his back to the wall at the end of the room, adopting an at-guard posture.

    ¡°My Lady Isabel, please give me a chance to correct my mistakes! There was more opposition than we were told to anticipate, there are strong men protecting the three women our intelligence didn¡¯t¡­¡±

    Lady Isabel¡¯s dainty hand struck the cheek of the kneeling Richard, sending him crashing on the ground, the strength of the blow belaying her petite frame.

    ¡°If they are so strong then don¡¯t fight them you fool! What could have been so hard in nabbing an unsuspecting little girl from the streets of a peaceful town? You are a disgrace to this house!¡±

    She viciously kicked the downed man again and again, blood flowing from his split lips staining the carpet underneath, his crumpled form quietly enduring her barrage.

    ¡°Or maybe you¡¯re telling me that a common little girl can give the slip to three grown men all by herself, or that she¡¯s accompanied by strong men even when going to the toilet?¡±

    At last the distinguished looking Adan assumed the punition delivered was fitting the crime, stopping her from killing him.

    ¡°Isabel, my love, I¡¯ll take care of this vermin. We still need this rat to manage our French sites, changing at this point might set back some of our operations. Why don¡¯t you send some of the pets to them? We would get better info, and maybe get rid of some of the hindrance.¡±

    She coquettishly pouted at Adan¡¯s words.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.¡°Make sure this doesn¡¯t happen again. Next time, I will get rid of him. Or maybe raise second grade pets out of him.¡±

    Adan kneeled next to the downed man, gripping his busted jaw in a steel grip, eliciting a pained moan.

    ¡°You heard the lady Richard. Do not fail our house again. You wouldn¡¯t like the consequences. Don¡¯t think for a minute I wouldn¡¯t let her play with you, and to hell with the French operations.¡±

    He looked at the third man in the room.

    ¡°Make sure this thing doesn¡¯t die. Get him patched up, then send him back once he can walk.¡±

    The dead eyed man simply nodded in acceptance.

    The Lady Isabel walked out of the room, her path to the library uninterrupted. There she removed a tacky gilded plate from one of the built-in cabinets, pressing on the small switch hidden behind.

    A muffled click came from the wall next to the cabinet, a thin black line outlining the previously hidden door.

    She pushed the door open, taking the flashlight suspended to a hook on the tunnel¡¯s wall, closing the door after her crossing.

    Soon she stepped on some stairs leading down to a doorway some meters under the mansion, bracketed by a pair of unlit torches.

    As she lit them, the horrors of the underground place were revealed in the dancing flame.

    The cell-like room wasn¡¯t overly big, maybe five meters across, though it looked bigger as the flickering light failed to completely dispel the darkness.

    Symbols and letters in long dead languages had been scribbled all over the walls in a flaking reddish brown substance, sending a shiver to the spine of any unsuspecting poor soul unlucky enough to see them.

    More of the substance could be seen staining deep groves in the floor, obviously there to drain it, leading to the stone altar in the middle of the cellar, or clinging to the diverse blades and tools lined up on one of the walls.

    However, the most striking feature of the room was neither the symbols nor the altar, but the unmoving man chained to the wall behind the altar.

    One could have thought him simply asleep, if not for the unnatural stillness of his form. He was not dead either, his pale chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly, albeit much too slowly for a healthy man.

    Pasty, unhealthy white skin further enhanced his resemblance to a corpse, despite the lean but hard muscles underneath.

    Lady Isabel leisurely strolled to him, stepping over the stains of the floor without a care for her slippers or the hem of her long skirt.

    She whispered in a purring voice as she petted the red hair in a proprietary fashion, as if he was a pampered pet.

    ¡°Now you see what happens when you refuse me? Everything above could have been yours, had you chosen to serve me of your own free will, but now, you¡¯ll have to stay down here for as long as I deem you useful. Had you known this, I wonder if your answer would have been the same?¡±

    Her laugh tinkered in the cold cellar, echoing on the bare walls.

    She retrieved a dagger on the altar, its wavy blade stained by old blood and rusted in spots, but with an edge as sharp as when she first used it, then slashed a shallow cut on the man¡¯s chest, followed by another, and another, forming gruesome patterns with the man¡¯s blood.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you find it ironic that even your rejection is helping me? I find it very enjoyable, how about you? Isn¡¯t this fun?¡±

    Strangely, no blood stained the floor under the red haired man for as long as Isabel continued carving her patterns, even though it flowed freely from his chest, as it seemingly evaporated as soon as it left his body.

    An hour later a sweaty Isabel walked back up the stairs, a tired but content expression on her cold face. In her arms was a medium-sized closed crate from which some scraping and clicking sounds could be heard, or sometimes an angry hiss.

    Adan was riffling through papers in the library when she emerged, both waiting for her and guarding the passage from unwanted disturbances.

    After putting down the clicking crate, she closed the door, rearranging the plate on the switch.

    ¡°How many did you get this time?¡±

    ¡°More than enough for the task at hand. I¡¯m tired, send them to the place and locate adequate lodgings nearby. They will be easier to control from a closer range.¡±

    ¡°I know just the place. I can guarantee you will love it. Maybe we should buy it, go back to tour the region once we¡¯ll be done with the crisis at hand?¡±

    ¡°We leave Monday. As for tourism, I¡¯d much prefer Paris. I need new evening dresses for the next season.¡±

    ¡°As you wish my love, like always.¡±

    Down in the dark cellar, slender fingers twitched in an imperceptible motion, the slow, slow motion of breathing increasing of just this much.

    Glowing embers followed the lines of the patterns etched in flesh, knitting the borders of the injuries together, leaving only smooth, unbroken skin in their wake.

 Chapter 14 - War Council

    When one goes to war, it is necessary to make plans. Then plan for the contingencies. Then make more plans just in case. And finally be ready to improvise or run like hell, for even the best laid plans will shatter after first contact.

    Uriel King to his overeager son

    A few hours later, Montpellier France

    When I awoke in the morning, I had a suspicion that I had dream-walked again during the night, even if I couldn¡¯t remember it.

    It might have had to do with the crystalline vines creeping around the windowsill, or the sweet flowery fragrance remaining in the air¡­but the true culprit was currently smugly standing on the tip of my nose, tap-tapping with its front legs in search of who-knows-what, the twin silver mice at the foot of my bed looking at it curiously with a tilted head.

    It was a rather beautiful creature, with the body of a butterfly, albeit in brilliant orange, and twin lobed wings of red and yellow the size of a palm. What truly separated it from common creatures, though, were the brilliant red gemlike eyes. I wondered what scientist would make of this if they saw it?

    Since the pixies didn¡¯t deem it dangerous, I shooed it out the window. If it ate nectar like butterflies, it would find ample food in the garden.

    As for the vines, I let them stay where they were. They didn¡¯t impede the window from opening or closing, and added a nice counterpoint to the dark wood of the frame.

    My stomach reminding me of its existence, I decided to move my lazy butt downstairs for some well-deserved breakfast.

    I was the last one joining the table this morning, even the imp had gotten up earlier than me, though it was a weekend. We would definitely need to buy a bigger table if we continued to collect additions to our family, while the table had been more than big enough when it was only the three of us, now that we had also Uriel and Storm, plus a smattering of pixies now and then, it really became a bit cramped.

    I waved a hello before sitting in the empty seat between Kate and Storm, mom putting a pair of her killer croissants in front of me with a peck on my cheek.

    My father smirked at me.

    ¡°Tch, what a wasted opportunity. And here I wanted to try waking up someone with a bucket of water for once.¡±

    ¡°Careful what you sow. I have a garden hose and I know how to use it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a thousand years too early to sneak on me with a hose.¡±

    We kept breakfast conversation light-hearted, enjoying the peace of the morning. Only after the last crumb had disappeared and the last dish and been washed and stored did the mood turn more solemn.

    Mom sighed.

    ¡°So, what are we going to do with the situation?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t the first thing to do be to improve our immediate security?¡±

    The imp jumped up and down on her chair. The night had clearly revitalized her, children resilience is really something amazing.

    ¡°I know, I know, we could all get a GPS tracker, like spies! And a Taser or something, and¡­¡±

    Mom put her foot down:

    ¡°You are not getting a Taser young lady, although the GPS might not be a bad idea if we find some small ones we can easily hide.¡±

    Uriel had been scribbling something on a paper for a bit now. He put it in the middle of the table, explaining it to us:

    ¡°The first thing is to always know where everyone is. We¡¯ll make a timetable like that, and everyone will input their moves in it. If you are late, or have a change of plans, call the house.

    Second point, from now on, either Storm or me need to accompany Kate whenever she goes out of the house. Same goes for you until you get more proficient at fighting Abby. Inside the house should be safe with the wards the pixies have made last night, at least for now.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure you want to trust me with the girls¡¯ security?¡±

    Storm¡¯s voice had been a half growled, half surprised rumble.

    ¡°I know your kind Thunderbeast, and I know your bloodline bred true. Proud, stubborn to the point of stupidity, and utterly loyal once your oath is given. Yes, I trust you with my girls¡¯ security. Don¡¯t let me down.¡±

    How nice of him to not add a ¡°or I will end you¡± ¡­

    At this point a pure white mouse wearing a bone cap made of a bat skull proudly walked on the table, stopping in the middle. It patiently waited for us to stop talking, then spoke a few sentences in the pixie chattering language.

    ¡°This is Rae¡¯jiel, current leader of our pixie tribe.¡± Uriel translated ¡°he ordered some of his warriors to accompany us. They will act as a security system, coming back to the house to give the alarm if something happens.

    Also, more pixies volunteered to help find the culprits of the attacks, since they consider us part of their tribe.¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t endanger them. They¡¯re too small and fragile for this.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate them daughter dear. They¡¯re the best at information collecting, and a swarm of pixies is nothing to laugh at in a fight.¡±

    ¡°Then tell him we are very grateful for his help.¡±

    The pixie chattering coming out of my father¡¯s mouth really was a sight to behold. The mouse leader solemnly nodded before motioning to his followers who climbed various shoulders, disappearing into hair, pockets or bags.

    ¡°Now that this is decided, the third point of order should be to get papers for Storm, in case we need to move in a hurry. I¡¯ll take care of this on my end, dealing with shady characters shouldn¡¯t have changed all that much since my time. Money grubbing shady guys are the same everywhere.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Next, we need to identify our opponents without a doubt. It could be the grandparents, like this Richard Martin said, or it could be someone else trying to cover his tracks by throwing the blame on someone else.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t put my finger on it, but I feel there was something weird with the two other guys.¡±

    Storm opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally stated:

    ¡°The one I saw never showed any emotion, nor spoke.¡±

    ¡°Hmmm¡­the one I burned was the same, he just attacked me when he saw I wasn¡¯t backing down.¡±

    ¡°Maybe they came from a sect or something? Some gurus kind of brainwash their followers.¡±

    ¡°That could be a viable hypothesis if they think Kate is a dormant phoenix, or if they want to blackmail you with her.¡±

    We all thought for a bit, before mom intervened again.

    ¡°We could call the policeman who took Abby¡¯s deposition, either ask for an investigation, or maybe for the names of good private investigators?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure we want to risk the police coming in our home or getting mixed in the weird stuff.¡±

    Uriel let out a pensive hum.

    ¡°A private investigator might be a good idea. They shouldn¡¯t have troubles checking on Mr. Martin¡¯s employers and movements, and locating the grandparents if they are the culprits. We could also have them bring a few of the more color-subdued pixies in a trick box near them to keep an eye on things. Communication might be tricky though.¡±

    ¡°What will we do once we know for sure who it is? Do we give them to the police?¡±

    Storm uttered a low growl:

    ¡°We eradicate them. Scum attacking children do not deserve to live.¡±

    ¡°I might agree on that one with him. Besides if they know our secrets they are too dangerous to let go.¡±

    Mom flicked both their foreheads in a well-practiced motion, her face angry.

    ¡°In case you forgot, there¡¯s a kid here, so no talks of killing. Also, we are not barbarians to go burn-fight-kill each time we have a grievance. It¡¯s too early to talk about this when we are not even sure who our opponents are, or their motives.¡±

    The men looked at each other, sighing, but not daring raise an objection. At least not as long as mom was doing the cooking. I wouldn¡¯t bet against a regrettable accident happening to our adversaries once we caught them though.

    Mom quickly organized us:

    ¡°Kate, you¡¯re the most tech-savvy of the house, so you¡¯re in charge of ordering the GPS, and only the GPS, under Abby¡¯s supervision. Uriel, you go take care of Storm papers. Don¡¯t pick a stupid name for him please.

    Storm will take care of making an easily usable board for our timetable. If you have any problem, ask Abby.

    I will tackle the private investigator issue. I still have inspector Leroy calling card in one of my drawers. I¡¯m sure he can recommend someone trustworthy.

    Oh, and while you¡¯re out contacting whomever you need Uriel, can you also make a side trip? We need a bed for Storm, he¡¯s too big for the sofa, it can¡¯t be comfortable. Look for either a convertible couch, or one of those sofas with a bed rolling out from underneath.¡±

    My father looked ready to explode at this point, and I¡¯d rather like to avoid any accident to the house.

    ¡°I can take care of that this afternoon mom. Storm needs clothing anyway, so I can accompany him shopping, and take care of the bed at the same time. How about I buy him gear he could use to help in the pub? It would allow him to socialize in a controlled environment since you¡¯d be there, and you need to hire someone anyway.¡±

    ¡°That¡­actually might be a good idea. It would also give him references in case he decides to go his own way.¡±

    Storm cleared his throat.

    ¡°I also would have a request. If possible, I would like to learn the sign language you all use. It would make things much easier for everyone if you don¡¯t need to translate. Besides, it might be important for Abigail and me to communicate directly if we¡¯re attacked again.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll take turns teaching you then. How fast you learn will depend on your motivation and memory though.¡±

    ¡°I learn fast usually.¡±

    Mom clapped her hands.

    ¡°So now everyone has their task. Let¡¯s move it people, the faster we get to it, the quicker we¡¯ll catch our attackers.¡±

    I watched in amusement as the imp bounded up the stairs, almost bouncing in her excitement at the idea of getting her little hands on spy-ish, tech-y stuff. She really was a gadget addict.

    I made sure to bring a couple of croissants to the lilac tree before doing anything else. The pixies were already incredibly helpful, and I had an inkling they would become indispensable before this matter could be put to rest.

    Looking at my dispirited father, I wondered if maybe we should take a break tomorrow. It would be a Sunday, so there wasn¡¯t much we could do anyway, and we were all tired or overly tense.

    We could make a quick trip to the sea, as it was only a few minutes away. Since the weather should be good maybe we could end it by a barbecue at the barn? The papers were not all processed yet but the soon to be ex-owner didn¡¯t care if we used it beforehand.

    Sooo, one of the tasks of this afternoon, get Storm some swimming trunks. Now that¡¯s a job I¡¯m not exchanging with anyone!

    After all, a girl has to enjoy her eye candy when it drops into her lap like that, or it would truly be a waste.

    Lost in my thoughts, I gently poked the crystal vine creeping inside the room until it retracted to the main body, as the twin winged red butterfly hovered above the lilac tree.

 Chapter 15 - Because you made us

    Author''s note: Hello all.

    As some people pointed, there might be errors in my chapters since English is not my birth language. Feel free to tell me where in pms or posts so that I may correct and edit them. I do strive to improve myself ^.^

    On another note this is my first attempt at making a poll, let''s see how it goes XP.

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    In many ways, big and small, we are defined by the ties we have to those around us, be they of friendship, love, or even hate. Care for the lonely ones as if they were of your own blood, for how can one thrive without nourishment?

    Translation of younglings¡¯ lessons from the pixie language

    The rest of Saturday went by without other incidents, although my mother took it upon herself to accompany Storm to the mall, squishing all my protests like so many bugs, since she couldn¡¯t reach the policeman and was asked to call back Monday.

    Swearing and pleading in sign language does lack the conviction a voice conveys. Besides, offending the one cooking most of our meals would be a very bad idea when that one has mom¡¯s ¡°get even¡± streak. I didn¡¯t want to watch out for stray peppers or eat all the foods I can¡¯t stand for a week straight. There is being brave, and then there is stupidity.

    She probably wanted to grill him a bit more, check his personality before letting him work at the pub, after his ¡°kill ''em all¡± little speech. It wouldn¡¯t do to have the hired help poking holes in our customer¡¯s innards whenever said customers got drunk enough to have their mouths bypassing their brains.

    I think she also went to avoid awkward questions about her parents, considering how curious we were bound to be. I knew better than to ask though. She wouldn¡¯t answer until she was ready to talk about it herself, so pushing her would only delay getting her story. We would know when she would want us to, not a second before.

    I was left home to train my pitiful meditating skills, under the light supervision of my father, who was at the same time competing with my sister on a racing game. I could attest that a sulky mood is not conducive to productive meditation. But then, in my case, I rather doubt anything is conducive to meditation.

    I irritably squished the mosquito biting my ankle, peeved by the whole situation. It was one of those moments when every little, or not so little thing one had to endure comes up to light, crystallizing in a single moment, in a single incident, bearing the brunt of the accumulated frustration.

    I didn¡¯t notice the accumulation of pressure around us until Uriel¡¯s frantic voice reached my ears.

    ¡°Abigail! What do you think you are doing?¡±

    The air calmed down as soon as I let go of my breath, pressure dissipating as if it wasn¡¯t even here in the first place.

    ¡°What was that? What did I do?¡±

    ¡°From what I could see you were manipulating an enormous amount of energy, enough to annihilate a small sized town. What were you thinking about?¡±

    ¡°¡­how useless and annoying mosquitoes are?¡±

    ¡°Ever heard of not swatting flies with a hammer? You might have erased mosquitoes as a race from existence.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t see how I could have; I wasn¡¯t even aiming anything at one.¡±

    ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you how imagination have power? Wishes are a part of imagination too.¡±

    ¡°So now I even have to watch my every thought to avoid disasters?¡±

    ¡°Not your every thought, mainly when you try to meditate or sing power. Parasite thoughts or wishes can change the outcomes you try to reach drastically. With your amount of raw power, a strong enough wish could manifest itself independently. In this case, obliterating every single mosquito in the world, creating an ecological disaster.¡±

    This opened a whole new array of possibilities I¡¯d need to consider seriously. I wondered if my father realized the possible implications of what he just said.

    A squeal came from the living room:

    ¡°Annnd WIN! You are so disqualified from the race!¡±

    ¡°You cheated shrimp! I was busy with your sister; see how I¡¯ll flatten you in the next one!¡±

    ¡°Ah! Come if you dare, I¡¯ll show you my superior driving skills.¡±

    With a sigh I dived back into my pathetic attempts of meditation for the rest of the afternoon.

    Mom and Storm came back home for dinner, laden with so many bags Storm almost disappeared under them. Storm had the ¡°rabbit trapped in the headlights¡± expression most healthy males get when compelled to follow a woman in clothing stores. Too bad I didn¡¯t get to watch the actual event.

    She also had taken care of the bed issue while she was at it, leaving Uriel free of searching for a good ID papers forger. Apparently it would be delivered Monday afternoon, so no need to locate a truck to get it either.

    After dinner my father left us to search the seediest part of the city for contacts, while we enjoyed a quiet evening at home. We had taken to spend time in the garden after dark, looking at the pixies in their real form chasing each other around the lilac tree.

    I might have to move the crystal vine though, since it had a faint green glow resembling that of a firefly. Our walls were high enough to hide the pixies in mice form, and they had their illusions to hide their true forms, but an elongating vine high enough to reach my window might be a bit too much.

    When we decided to turn in for the evening, Uriel had still not come back from his hunt. I only relaxed when I heard him coming up the stairs near dawn, although I would never admit to it.

    He had been really quiet since the abduction attempt, only the imp managing to make him smile, and still was at breakfast. His brooding mood lasted all of the car trip to the sea, even Kate¡¯s antics barely enough to get a weak smile out of him.

    After a whole hour of looking at his bereaved countenance, I was ready to kick him in the water just to get a reaction. A sulky old man in a brat¡¯s body was decidedly annoying. I discreetly signed to mom:

    ¡°Can you keep Storm and Kate busy for a bit?¡±

    After an imperceptible nod, she dragged the two along in search of clams, leaving us alone.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°So, care to tell me why you look like someone attending a funeral lately?¡±

    A ghost of a smile fleetingly appeared on his features.

    ¡°Oho, would my un-cute daughter start to care about her old man?¡±

    ¡°As you told me Father, you truly are like mold, un-killable, un-shakable and growing on one¡¯s heart as soon as one stops paying attention. You¡¯re a hard man not to like, as much as it pisses me off.¡±

    We looked at the three puttering along the shallow waters for a while, my father¡¯s expression more relaxed.

    ¡°You realize it¡¯s the first time you admitted I was your father?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t gloat old man, it¡¯s unbecoming of you.¡±

    He sighed tiredly, tilting his closed eyed face to the sun. His voice was very soft when he finally spoke.

    ¡°I had a family once. A mate and two sons. Lost forever to power hungry human hunters, just to craft shiny baubles I could make with one hand tied behind my back. They would have loved it here, and my sons had always wanted a little sister to spoil. Now I found the daughter, but the sons are no more.¡±

    ¡°What were they like?¡±

    ¡°Mischievous brats always plunging head first in troubles. I swear I aged more getting them out of a disaster after another in their hatchling years than in all my other years combined. Once they even managed to run afoul of a whole nest of water elementals. The birdbrains had decided their pond was the perfect place to build a warm pool, but didn¡¯t control the flame. Water elementals do not like their pond to boil.¡±

    His face became more animated as he told me of more of my half-brothers¡¯ antics. I couldn¡¯t help but mourn with him the loss of those brothers I would never meet.

    After a while he fell silent again, but this silence was of comfortable companionship, unlike the first one.

    ¡°Are you happy with us? I know you came to teach me, but we can work out something else if you are uncomfortable.¡±

    ¡°No, I wouldn¡¯t give my spot in the house for anything. Not when I have a chance at family again, even if I don¡¯t understand how it came to be.¡±

    ¡°You mean you haven¡¯t puzzled it yet? You even gave me the answer yourself you know.¡±

    His clueless look was priceless. Too bad I couldn¡¯t snap a picture of it for blackmail purposes. Note to self, carry a camera or get a cellphone that lets one take pictures easier than mine.

    ¡°Enlighten me, o wise one. This lowly one thirsts for your teachings.¡±

    ¡°You made us.¡±

    Realization appeared in his eyes, though still hazy.

    ¡°Explain.¡±

    ¡°Correct me if I¡¯m wrong, but I think you were really lonely when you sent mom away.

    It¡¯s obvious to anyone with eyes you still love her, so I think you went to sleep so as to not see her grow old and die.

    You went to sleep as the last of your race, and I can¡¯t pretend to understand how alone it might have made you feel. Probably enough to make you wish for another of your kind with all your heart.

    I don¡¯t think you were planning to awaken again too, if I had not disturbed you.

    You wished for a family, and a family you made. You kept tadpole me in mom¡¯s womb alive long enough to turn into a baby bird. You told me yourself that sometimes a wish strong enough could manifest itself, and I know that you¡¯re way more powerful than me.¡±

    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t have been enough to create a phoenix¡­¡±

    ¡°Who knows, maybe you had some help?¡±

    ¡°A nature¡¯s god obviously wouldn¡¯t want to see the world he nurtured go to waste¡­and you do have a blessing from one¡­I¡¯m sorry Abby.¡±

    The change of pace caught me off-guard.

    ¡°And why would you be sorry?¡±

    ¡°My selfishness made you a target, and will separate you from your loved ones with the passage of time, yet I would do it again in a heartbeat given a choice.¡±

    That stupid, stupid man who wouldn¡¯t even meet my eyes. For such a smartass he could really miss the obvious stuff.

    ¡°There are worse things that being young and pretty for an eternity. Besides, haven¡¯t you noticed yet? For someone arguably very intelligent you can really be dense!¡±

    Ah! His turn to be caught flat-footed. Boy, did I like teasing him instead of the other way around.

    ¡°You¡¯re enjoying this aren¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Very much so, thank you very much.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll bring everyone to the Ice Garden before we get home tonight. My treat. Now tell.¡±

    Getting treated to the best ice creams of the city was a nice perk of the teasing job. Definitely worth my time. I got up, dusting the sand off my butt.

    ¡°Then, food for your thoughts. Haven¡¯t you noticed yet that mom looks exactly the same as when I was a baby, over twenty years ago? Not just well aged, but the exact same.¡±

    I smirked, then sauntered away, leaving my flabbergasted father open-mouthed in the sand.

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget the ice cream old man!¡±

    Now, time to enjoy the view. Swimming trunks are such a nice invention. Yup, yup, there were perfect abs hidden under the clothing, maybe I could try selling pictures on the internet? I would make a fortune!

    On the other side of the breakwater, Margaret¡¯s smile was radiant. What was there, not to be happy about, on a day like that? Her loved ones were finding their places, the family was expanding, and the sadness that had been rampant since the attack had been dispersed.

    She¡¯d have to remember to look surprised when they would talk about the ice cream.

    Quietly, she went back to the two people digging the ground in search of seashells. It wouldn¡¯t do to have them coming after her and getting discovered eavesdropping.

 Chapter 16 - A bugs life...maybe?

    Author''s note: Here be the rise of the pixies, true masters of the world!

    Nah, seriously, just a spot a bit squeamish-y that I will try (operative word here) to hide behind a spoiler tag. Just an explanation of how some stuff work, really, rest of the story can be read without.

    Have a good chapter!

    P-S: go pixies!

    <hr />

    Arachnids, be they spiders or scorpions, are quite the little wonders of nature. They are patient hunters, designed to resist things that could kill a grown man (some spider webs were found in radioactive waste dump sites), are hard workers in the case of spiders, or can boast some of the most potent venoms for the scorpions, and are graced with many, many hairy legs, bug eyes, and¡­*splat*¡­enough, where were we in the lesson?

    Biology teacher while wiping spider guts off her manual

    Once Uriel and I lent a hand with the clam gathering, the bucket contents rose rapidly. Both him and Storm were certainly not beginners at scrounging food out of the seashore, whereas Kate was more hindrance than help, pulling Storm¡¯s hand every two minutes to show him another fascinating example of marine wildlife, thus ensuring Uriel¡¯s clam hunting supremacy in the following contest.

    I snorted, poking my father¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°What did you promise her as a bribe?¡±

    ¡°You wound my heart, thinking I would stoop so low. Never would I lead a child astray to protect my pride!¡±

    ¡°She hates urchins.¡±

    ¡°Sea urchins are interesting beasties, you know, and very useful.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the fourth one she¡¯s showing to Storm. I must admit, he¡¯s got the patience of a saint. Now spill.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll help her build the potato launcher 2.0.¡±

    ¡°Very well. You¡¯ll be the one paying for any broken stuff.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all? No snide comments on my childish side? No chiding me for bribing a kid?¡±

    I smiled beatifically.

    ¡°Nope, the potato launcher will punish you for me.¡±

    A glimmer of doubt appeared in his eyes.

    ¡°It can¡¯t be that bad¡­right?¡±

    I schooled my face, just looking at him with a pitying expression, before digging the ground on a promising spot. A slightly panicky expression surfaced on his features, followed by a dejected sigh.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been had, haven¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Why do you think we confiscated the launcher in the first place, old man?¡±

    We soon had enough seashells for our midday meal, thus we decided to move to the barn since it was close by. Mom grilled them to perfection, adding lemon juice, thyme and rosemary. It simply was perfect with the salad she took out of the cooler.

    Our afternoon was spent at the barn, inventorying it for when it would be ours. It was bigger than what I thought first, just so cluttered it was impossible to really appreciate the size. We might want to call in some help to remove all the stuff inside, although the imp was having the time of her life scurrying around in search of treasures. Even otherwise mature kids will turn back their own age in front of a pile of mysterious items I guess.

    It was already sunset when we finally decided to head back, so it was decided we would head home directly and get our ice cream another day. Time always goes by way too fast when one¡¯s having fun, compared to when one¡¯s doing boring stuff like paperwork.

    I didn¡¯t get us home by the quickest road, choosing instead to follow the coast as long as possible. Early autumn sunsets on the sea are a view that shouldn¡¯t be missed when the occasion arises, thus I wanted to share it with my family, both old and new. Everybody was quiet in the car, with the sea induced comfortable drowsiness typical of a day well spent at the seashore.

    My mood started changing as we approached the neighborhood. The closer we came, the more irritable I felt. I might not be the most patient woman on earth, but I couldn¡¯t understand for the life of me why I was getting pissed. I snorted. Now I was pissed off by the fact I was irritated. How ridiculous could I get?

    I couldn¡¯t shake the ominous feelings of something just¡­not right¡­when I parked the car. It was our house, everything exactly the same as when we left, and yet there was a subtle current of wrongness surrounding it.

    As mom and Kate climbed the stairs to store Kate¡¯s treasures, I motioned to Uriel and Storm to follow me. Maybe one of them would have a clue about that latest oddity of mine. I think I was in dire need of a ¡°let¡¯s not panic when your newfound powers run amok 101¡± lesson again.

    Uriel left an eyebrow, though thankfully following without comments.

    I led them to the garden, hoping the lilac tree and its pixie ballet would help soothe my runaway mood, but no dice. It was even worse if possible, now I even felt slightly nauseated. What the hell was wrong with me?

    Storm¡¯s warm voice pulled me back to the here and now.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? You¡¯ve been fidgeting since we entered Montpellier.¡±

    Since he couldn¡¯t use sign language yet I reverted to my notepad.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! I feel sick and angry for no reason at all, and it seems to be only here!¡±

    Uriel softly whistled.

    ¡°Take a deep breath and calm down. Use the exercises I taught you for meditation. Try to focus inside.¡±

    Breathing exercises, I can do. I focused on my diaphragm, controlling the air coming in and out. Even if I was still feeling bad, it became more bearable.

    ¡°Good. Now try to touch one of those emotions. Get a feel for them, but don¡¯t let them influence you.¡±

    Easier said than done. As soon as I let myself open to the emotions again, the nausea hit me like a sledgehammer. Heaving, I firmly suppressed my rebelling stomach, trying to recall the happy feelings of the afternoon to balance the anger.

    I had this image of a wall, the happiness pushing inside, the anger outside, and my mind reinforcing the wall. I stopped paying attention to the men¡¯s talk outside, recalling my father¡¯s assessment of my abilities. I hadn¡¯t paid attention at the time, blinded by the more glamorous flame, but he had called me an empath.

    This was the key.

    If the anger was outside, then it wasn¡¯t mine. If it wasn¡¯t mine, if wanted it to stop I needed to find where it came from. And for the last ¡°if¡±, if I could feel it, there was a good chance I could backtrack to the source.

    It was a sneaky little thing, this song I made. A tiny, irregular beat like the scampering of small feet, soft fluid notes of water following a treaded path, and a single quiet earthy note to hook the melody of anger.

    As I let my mind song free, I felt it hesitate on the path to take, like a dog confused by too many scents. I only had time to think a well-deserved ¡°oh crap¡± before a strong arm brushed my face, stopping the nightmarish thing aiming for my throat.

    A concert of high pitched hisses surrounded the garden as more and more pixies streamed out of the portal, their usually pretty faces distorted in a feral expression, lips stretched over small, but dagger sharp teeth, diminutive weapons drawn to confront the invaders.

    They converged on the hapless bug Storm had slapped to the ground like a school of piranhas, tearing it to shreds in a split second, not leaving a piece bigger than a fingernail. Never again would I think them cute and harmless little things.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    The pixie swarm split in two, half entering the house and half hovering near the ground as the earth started to split apart to let out dozens more of the things. We slowly retreated to the house steps, Uriel and me setting as many as we could on fire while Storm had grabbed a gardening trowel he was using to finish them off.

    ¡°Careful not to touch them directly, they¡¯re poisonous!¡±

    Once we reached the steps, the fighting turned into a very dangerous, nightmare inducing game of whack-a-mole, since the bugs couldn¡¯t come from under us anymore. The pixies swiped through the rest of the garden like a hurricane, raining bite-sized pieces of bug all over the place while we got rid of the ones near the house.

    At last the place fell silent, the last bug splattered under the trowel.

    Mom and Kate met us in the garden, under the watchful eyes of their tiny escort.

    ¡°Of all things, it had to be bugs! It couldn¡¯t have been freaking unicorns, or your good old neighborhood thug instead? Noooo, of course it¡¯d be giant bugs!¡±

    Uriel flicked my forehead, obviously peeved.

    ¡°The next time you want to try something new, ask me beforehand! Without Storm¡¯s quick reaction you¡¯d be in a bad shape, possibly dead! Do you have any idea what you did with your antics? You became the primary assassination target of the whole pack, that¡¯s what you did!¡±

    I shivered in disgust and fear. I can deal with pretty much anything, as long as it is not bug shaped. Drop a spider on me and all bets are off.

    ¡°There are more of these?¡±

    His voice took a very sarcastic tone:

    ¡°Not anymore, since they all rushed here to kill you. There is such a thing as choosing your time and place to fight. Had we lured them in a remote place, I could have annihilated them in one go, instead of a dogfight here, where I had to divide my attention between the fight, and erecting a sound barrier, without blowing up the house.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I screwed up I suppose. I¡¯ll try to be more careful in the future.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s clean up. Did anybody get injured?¡±

    ¡°Storm when he blocked the first one with his arm, I think.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s only a scratch, this kind of poison has no effect on me.¡±

    Wrong words there buddy. You just set yourself as steamroller-mom¡¯s target. She stormed in his face, poking his chest:

    ¡°You¡¯re coming with me to treat that arm. Unless you¡¯re also immune to infections, bleeding, scarring, and torn muscles?¡±

    Kate pushed him towards the kitchen. I could hear her whispering.

    ¡°You¡¯d better do like she wants, it¡¯ll be faster. If you argue she¡¯ll pester you until you let her do what she wants anyway.¡±

    Uriel and I put on thick gardening gloves just in case before retrieving all the bug parts scattered in the garden. Not a single one was intact, the less damaged one I could find had been gutted from the jaws to the base of the tail. I put that one apart for further examination, opting to complete the clean-up first.

    An hour and a bug burial pyre later, everyone reconvened in the kitchen to examine the body I had found. It had been the less damaged of the lot, Uriel¡¯s best one being in three parts.

    It was an ugly, blood red thing the size of a small cat that could have had a place of honor in any bad horror flick. It was covered in a thick segmented shell protecting the back and flanks, but getting thinner through the abdomen.

    The general form of the little horror was a cross between a spider and a scorpion, with a head part distinct from the bulbous body, but a tail complete with poisonous stinger attached at the rear end.

    Mandibles strong enough to bite through skin and muscles were surmounted by three pairs of black faceted eyes, now dimmed in death. It could be resumed in one word.

    ¡°Yuck.¡±

    Uriel cast an amused glance in my direction.

    ¡°Yuck indeed. This is a blood spider, a golem created by a warlock, and it shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±

    Kate prodded it with a stick.

    ¡°Well, duh. Of course it shouldn¡¯t even exist with that anatomy.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant. With how low the magic in the world has been, even warlocks had their powers muted, though less than other beings.¡±

    ¡°Why less?¡±

    It was Storm who chose to answer in his low voice, his face a mask of disgust.

    ¡°Blood magic is an abomination, a perversion of the natural order. With it, even a worthless mage can become powerful has long as he has a trace of talent.

    It feeds on broken bonds, dark emotions, and possibilities, trading power with the sacrificing mage in exchange for the sacrifice¡¯s life and emotions.¡±

    Mom raised a hand, asking for an interruption:

    ¡°Kate, you¡¯re intelligent enough to make your choice. You can stay here with us to hear the rest, or go upstairs while we talk.

    If you stay, you will hear things you don¡¯t want to know, and we will treat you like an adult.

    If you want to stay our kid for a bit longer, you can go to your room, and we¡¯ll continue to protect you like we did so far.

    We won¡¯t judge you, whatever choice you make, you¡¯ll always be my lovable imp.¡±

    She lowered her gaze, chewing on her lips. Her voice was almost inaudible when she answered.

    ¡°I think I want to be a kid a bit longer. But I¡¯m scared to stay alone¡­¡±

    ¡°Then why don¡¯t you go near the pixie portal? It¡¯s probably the safest place of the house, and we can see each other from there.¡±

    I mussed up her hair when she walked past me, eliciting a wan smile. With a mournful sigh, I turned back to the men, raising an eyebrow.

    Uriel continued where Storm had stopped.

    <b>Spoiler</b> : <input type=''button'' value=''Show'' class=''spoilerButton''>¡°There are three main factors to the amount of power that can be raised from a blood ritual.

    First is the bonds. The closer the victim, the more power the warlock will get. Sacrificing a family member for example will raise a huge amount, versus nabbing a stranger in the street.

    Second is the emotions. Feelings fuel magic, so stronger feelings will get stronger magic, and of course both physical and mental anguish are strong mediums. I think everyone gets the drift on that part.

    Third, and trickiest, is the possibilities. This is why most warlocks blather about young virgin girls. The virgin part is irrelevant really, what¡¯s important is the age and gender in that case. A teenager enters the adult life, with all paths opened before them, and can you see a bigger possibility than the gift of life?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s repulsive. Is that why they want Kate?¡±

    ¡°If the victim¡¯s got power of their own it also adds a whole new level to the possibilities. The two of you could have

    stamped on your foreheads.¡±

    Storm growled.

    ¡°We will protect them.¡±

    ¡°Yes we will. And obliterate any warlock foolish enough to come here.¡±

    What is it with men and the damsel-in-distress syndrome? I gave them my sweetest smile, then waited for hell to break loose.

    ¡°I¡¯m all for the obliteration part, but only as long as I¡¯m participating.¡±

 Chapter 17 - The glamorous life of a police officer

    Author''s note: Here is your daily chapter folks, enjoy.

    P-S: For those who are wondering who our red haired guy is, I did leave a tiny flag somewhere...I wonder how many caught it?

    P-P-S: poor Isabel, nobody luvs her :p

    <hr />

    Ah, the glittering lifestyle of a police officer, the instant respect from the masses, the easily resolved cases where the villains are always punished, the sky-high pay¡­not!

    It truly would be a dream if the job could be like what is cast on TV, and not the hours upon hours of grisly research under the disdain, if not outright hostility, of those we swore to protect. Hm? In Port Marianne you say? I¡¯m on my way!

    Inspector Leroy introducing a rookie to the job

    Two very hard pair of eyes turned in my direction. It is a nice to see the guys getting along instead of having territorial issues. It would be even nicer if they wouldn¡¯t try to coat us in bubble wrap.

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous!¡±

    Ignoring the spluttering men, I cocooned the blood spider inside the rag I used to isolate it from the table, putting it back in the bucket. I¡¯d burn the lot once we¡¯d be done here, no point taking any chances.

    I thoroughly washed the table, allowing mom to bring the tea and mugs only when it was disinfected and squeaky clean, followed by a quick trip to the imp. She had fallen asleep under the lilac tree, crashing after the end of the crisis. I covered her under a plaid, making sure not to smother any pixie, before sitting back at the kitchen table.

    Only then did I look back at my father.

    ¡°Unless you plan to tie me up, lock the room and post a pair of guards over me, I will be coming along. I will not cower in a corner while my home is threatened.

    If you think it¡¯s too dangerous, then we¡¯d better ramp up my training instead of wasting time in pointless arguing.¡±

    ¡°I could put you to sleep for the next couple years.¡±

    ¡°And risk someone finding a defenseless me, or destroying the relationship we¡¯re building? I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°If you truly want this, I¡¯ll have some conditions. Either you accept them, or I will put you under lock and key.

    First, you¡¯re not going anywhere outside the house without either Storm or me in tow, same goes for Kate.

    Then, if we need to fight, you follow my lead to the letter. If I tell you to run, you better race quicker than a rabbit with a pack of wolves on its tail, no questions asked.

    Last, since you so kindly offered, we will go harder on your training. You¡¯ll go take an unpaid leave from your work, I¡¯ll take care of the expenses.¡±

    Storm looked ready to murder someone, his knuckles whitening around the mug, albeit on the other side of the table mom¡¯s eyes were betraying her mirth at our bickering. She was probably already plotting matchmaking schemes, since she so obviously took a liking to Storm¡¯s personality. I could totally see her engineering situations where he¡¯d have to keep me company in the future.

    Half of my next batch of cookies will go to her.

    I nodded to my father, agreeing to his terms for the moment. On the running issue, I would see if it ever popped up, albeit I was not telling that.

    ¡°Now back to the issue at hand, we need to decide what to tell the P.I., and possibly the policeman.¡±

    Mom paled a little, her dark eyes swimming in complex emotions.

    ¡°We¡¯ll use my life story.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure Maggs? You didn¡¯t even tell me when we first met.¡±

    ¡°Yes, it is more than time I let go of the past. I won¡¯t let my secrets harm my girls. Tonight¡¯s events could have ended in disaster without you and Storm, so it¡¯s only right you get to know everything, since the probability of my parents being the culprits is increasing steadily.¡±

    I listened with a rapt attention. I had never heard about mom¡¯s circumstances, only that she had left home when she was barely sixteen to travel over the world.

    ¡°I was born Margaret Ortiz, from Isabel and Adan Ortiz, old blood Marqu¨¦s of Spain with hands in many, many pies. Think power couple on steroids.

    From a young age I almost never saw my parents, being brought up by servants. I was not harshly treated, being given anything I needed, although I was not loved either.

    My mother¡¯s eyes particularly, on the rare occasions I¡¯d see her, were so cold I always felt she hated me.

    I could have lived like that, if not happy, at least content, if I had not been raised in a secluded mansion without any contact with the outside. I think what got to me the most was the boredom. There is only so much to do in a mansion, as big as it may be.

    I started ditching my guardians and escaping at night when I was 12, but soon found out we were far from any villages.

    So I prepared. I read all I could find about the outside world and its people, asked for jewelry for my birthdays and Christmas that I could later sell, and when I turned 16 I was ready to go. Desperate to go would be more precise. I was suffocating, getting more restless by the day.

    The servants had been tightening their surveillance on me, I never knew why, so I resorted to putting sleeping pills I¡¯d stolen from a maid in their food.

    I stole all the money in the mansion and a bunch of easily sold trinkets, then ran away with my loot and my jewelry. Not my proudest moment I must say.

    I was long gone by the time they realized I was not there anymore, and they never could catch up to me while I traveled the world I had so wanted to see.

    The rest of the story you know. I met Uriel, found out I was pregnant while in France, and decided to settle here to build my own family, one where love would not be a faraway dream.¡±

    I squeezed her hand, listening to Uriel musings.

    ¡°If they are our warlocks, and it looks increasingly likely, fleeing when you did might have saved your life. The increased surveillance might have been an indication of the little time you had left.¡±

    ¡°We could use the attempted abduction and the invitation we got to get the police on their case. We¡¯d just have to gloss over the theft part.¡±

    ¡°This, and get the P.I. to look both at them and other possibilities to cover our bases. I don¡¯t want to get sucker punched.¡±

    ¡°Agreed.¡±

    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Our course set, we all decided to call it a day. I made sure to leave extra food for the pixies, along with my favorite silk scarf they had been eying for a while. The little rascals had more than earned it today.

    I gently stroke my sister¡¯s cheek until she awakened, motioning towards the house when she opened groggy eyes.

    ¡°Sleepy time imp. You¡¯ll be more comfortable inside.¡±

    ¡°¡­m¡¯kay¡­¡±

    I followed after her, suddenly dying for a good long hot shower. I was dirty, with bits of icky stuff here and there, and all my muscles were hurting. By the time I had gotten rid of the last of the bug guts stuck into my hair she had fallen asleep again. In my bed.

    Oh well, I could let her sleep with me for once, if it could help her adjust to the situation. Besides I was not so hard-hearted to awaken her once again just to chase her away.

    My sleep was fitful, invaded by visions of creatures all more horrendous than the last one, mostly of the spider kind, until a cool hand stroke my brow.

    ¡°Sleep Abigail. No one will harm you under my watch.¡±

    Only then could I rest for a while.

    I got up to the sensation of small paws scampering up my arm, and a sight of a smallish pink mouse showing off her brand new silk cloak to my sister. My father, if I hadn¡¯t dreamed him up, was long gone from the bedroom.

    I yawned, stretching my stiff limbs in the morning sun. Better move to get breakfast, today would be busy.

    We both followed the scent of baked goods to the kitchen, where the others were already eating to the sound of the radio station.

    ¡°Good morning. Anything good on the news?¡±

    Mom hugged us both.

    ¡°Good morning you two lazy bums. And no, apart from another tourist disappearance in Palavas there¡¯s nothing new. Probably another one who tried to swim when the flag was red. Nothing about an abduction or strange events in Montpellier, so I guess we had no witnesses.

    Oh and a fisherman caught a new species of fish in his nets. Apparently it was completely transparent, but without the abyssal looks.¡±

    Uriel folded the newspaper he had been reading.

    ¡°Nothing in the newspaper either, apart from the abysmal performance of our soccer team. You¡¯d better eat quickly and get ready, the policeman will be here in an hour.¡±

    I nodded, pilfering some goodies from the table. We ate in a comfortable silence, the perfect tableau of a regular family.

    I was once again mourning the loss of my lipstick when the doorbell rang. Not that I truly needed it, but I liked the color, dammit. One set of make-up for the mice added on the grocery list.

    I heard mom inviting the Inspector in the living room as I descended the stairs of our home. I made a last-minute survey of the place, making sure nothing weird was showing. I had even tied the crystal vine for the occasion.

    We also had decided to keep the men out of sight for now. Might as well avoid the cumbersome lies and explanations when we can.

    ¡°Thank you for coming Mr. Leroy. I didn¡¯t know who I should call to help us with our current crisis.¡±

    I made a side trip to the kitchen, retrieving coffee and cupcakes for our guest, which I presented to him with a smile, before sitting on one of the armchairs.

    ¡°Good morning Miss Ortiz, Mrs. Ortiz. Miss Ortiz, you¡¯re an angel. This is so much better than police station¡¯s coffee! And are those cupcakes homemade?¡±

    Looking at the dark bags under his eyes, the poor man had probably been living off said coffee for a while now. He looked utterly spent.

    ¡°This is so good; I was really craving real coffee¡­¡±

    ¡°You look exhausted Inspector, are there so many crimes in our city lately that our policemen can¡¯t even get a good night of sleep?¡±

    He closed his eyes, expressionless.

    ¡°Not that many, but the ones we have lately are quite¡­disturbing. Be careful if you have to be out at night. Try to take a cab, or get someone to escort you. There have been too many occurrences of pretty women getting targeted lately.¡±

    ¡°You think there¡¯s a serial killer on the loose?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you more than that. Just be careful, ok?¡±

    ¡°Thank you for the advice Mr. Leroy. We¡¯ll pay attention.¡±

    ¡°So, I see you look much better than the last time we met. Tell me, is this crisis you were talking about related to the last incident?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t think so. You caught the culprits for last incident anyway as far as I know?¡±

    ¡°I guess there are too many loose ends I still hope to tie one day¡­but since it¡¯s not today¡¯s topic why don¡¯t you tell me what is troubling you?¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­we are not sure the police can help us with this, which was why I asked you if you knew some good investigators we could hire. We¡¯re not rich, but we have some savings we can use.¡±

    I listened to my mother¡¯s masterful description of our situation while scarfing down the cupcakes. She managed to convey exactly what we needed without lying even once, though she did damnable things with the truth.

    ¡°So basically, you think your parents are trying to abduct your youngest daughter to continue the family tradition?¡±

    That¡¯s one way of putting it I guess.

    ¡°But why wouldn¡¯t they try to get Abigail since she¡¯s old enough to learn the tricks of the trade, and pretty enough to be ornamental in society dinners?¡±

    I wrote a note for him.

    ¡°I already sent their lackey packing when he came here. Besides, I¡¯m the handicapped one.¡±

    ¡°Mr. Leroy, what we want is make sure we¡¯re not barking up the wrong tree, so that we can decide our course of action to protect ourselves, that¡¯s all. Do you know anyone with the right skillset for this?¡±

    ¡°Actually, I had asked them to come with me. They¡¯re ending a job nearby right now, so they should be here soon.¡±

    I started sweating while trying not to look at the kitchen counter directly. What was the damn mouse doing with a stranger in the house? I got up under the pretext of fetching more cupcakes, trying to block the view of the policeman.

    I swiftly caught the mouse, pushing it in the direction of the hallway with my foot, but no dice.

    ¡°Was that a mouse? What¡¯s with the weird color?¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry, that¡¯s one of Kate¡¯s pet. She¡¯s doing a science project with harmless animal dyes, so we¡¯re used to seeing pink or blue mice in the house. They never stray far from their cage though, probably for the easy food. I guess the cupcakes attracted this one.¡±

    Mom, you¡¯re the best.

 Chapter 18 - Of the importance of good neighborhood relationships

    Author''s note: Chapter is a bit later than usual, real life calling and all that, but here it is. Have fun!

    <hr />

    Neighbors are a bit like a mother-in-law. They come with the territory, whether you like it or not, can potentially make your life hell, and always know far too much than you¡¯re comfortable with. Go deliver the cookies sweetie, please.

    Margaret Ortiz teaching her youngest daughter

    We continued with small talk while we waited for the private eye to appear. Somehow the cupcakes on the plate were vanishing at an alarming rate between the policeman and I. I knew I¡¯d get rid of them quite quickly as soon as the training from hell would restart, but if the inspector scarfed them down like that, he¡¯d end up with quite a bit of flab soon.

    I rose as the doorbell rang, motioning for mom to stay seated.

    What I found at the door really wasn¡¯t what I expected. When one thinks private investigator, one usually thinks retired cops, or one of those dashing young men of the movies, or any other picture painted by popular dramas or books¡­

    One certainly doesn¡¯t think harmless looking tiny doll of a woman.

    She couldn¡¯t have been taller than 1m55, with golden locks cut in a deliberately messy short style and sparkling blue eyes. She had pretty, girl-next-door even features with a small rosebud of a mouth that was currently stretched into a wide grin.

    ¡°Oh, hello! You must be Abigail, right? Oh my god, Louis told me you had unusual eyes, but he didn¡¯t tell me how beautiful they were! Is Louis still here? I really need to scold him, you know, his map wasnt useful at all, and it looks like a five years old drew it. By the way, I¡¯m Emilie Rosalto, freelance private investigator¡­and I¡¯ll stop babbling for now, sorry, my words tend to bypass my mouth when I¡¯m nervous.¡±

    Slightly bemused, I motioned for her to follow me, leading her to the living room and the cupcake graveyard.

    ¡°Emilie! What took you so long?¡±

    ¡°Not my fault if the map you drew me was bad Louis.¡±

    ¡°I swear, you¡¯re directionally challenged. You should really get a GPS app for your phone. It would cut on your wandering time.

    So as everyone surmised, this is Emilie Rosalto, an ex-colleague of mine who quit the police due to personal circumstances. Emilie, those two are the mother and daughter I told you about, Abigail and Margaret Ortiz. There¡¯s a second daughter too, Katarina, who should be at school right now.

    Don¡¯t get fooled by Emilie¡¯s harmless little girl routine, she¡¯s a better marksman than me, though her real abilities lie in following any kind of paper, money, or computer trail. If your attackers left any clue of that nature, she¡¯ll find them.¡±

    He rose, dusting a few crumbs off his shirt.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you discuss together. Keep me appraise if there¡¯s anything falling under my jurisdiction. I would do more if I could, but with no proof and no witnesses, I¡¯m powerless.¡±

    ¡°Thanks for all your help inspector, we¡¯re really grateful for your interventions.¡±

    I gave him some of the leftover cupcakes in a Tupperware as he left, to his embarrassment. It might be silly, but it¡¯s a small thing compared to the help he provided.

    Mom was already discussing our case with the P.I. when I came back, so I retrieved more coffee on the way while listening. Basically, she would start by retracing Richard Martin steps, to see where he came from. If this didn¡¯t work, she¡¯d focus on my grandparents¡¯ movements since they were the primary suspects at the moment.

    ¡°You know, in today¡¯s society it is really hard, not to say nearly impossible, to move around invisibly. There are cameras everywhere, paper trails with the airport securities, money trails with the banks, although to find those one needs either very good connections, or some less conventional skillsets. Lucky for you I have that skillset, though it will be expensive if you want me to go that way.¡±

    ¡°Please, use all means at your disposal. We¡¯ll manage the costs. If needed, Abby¡¯s father will pitch in too.¡±

    She scribbled something, pushing the note on the coffee table.

    ¡°This is my retainer fee. I will inform you when it comes close to being used up. I will be working all week, sometimes at night if a surveillance is needed, and I will call you at least once every two days to keep you informed, more often if something unexpected pops up. Do you agree with those conditions?¡±

    ¡°It sounds reasonable enough. I suppose you have a contract I need to sign to finalize our agreement?¡±

    I nodded to Mrs. Rosalto, leaving them to the paperwork. There was still a lot of stuff I wanted to do today, starting with some baking.

    I was done with my inventory of the ingredients at hand when mom came behind me, suddenly hugging me.

    ¡°She¡¯s gone?¡±

    ¡°Yes, she wanted to start as soon as possible, before the trail became too cold. I¡¯ll tell the men they can come back now.¡±

    Those would be vanilla and fudge muffins. Baked goods are always a good tool to appease the ire of ruffled neighbors. I was mixing the fudge chips in the dough to the beat of a popular song when the men entered the kitchen.

    ¡°Ooh, is this an apology for sending us away?¡±

    I slapped my father¡¯s hand away from the dough.

    ¡°As if! Half will go to the neighbors; the other half is to replace the cupcakes.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a cruel woman, daughter mine.¡±

    I snorted, my nose up in the air.

    ¡°You should watch your weight; all those cakes you steal are starting to show.¡±

    A look of sheer horror crossed his features. He pinched his waist.

    ¡°I am not getting fat! See, I¡¯m as awesome as ever!¡±

    I just watched him pityingly while putting the muffins in the oven with Storm¡¯s silent help. His eyes were not quite sparkling at my father¡¯s misery, but he did seem secretly amused. He shouldn¡¯t. Kate had unilaterally decided to update him on modern technology, high-handedly glossing over all his protests. He¡¯d be stuck a good chunk of the morning on her computer to complete the ¡°homework¡± she had left him.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    As far as I could tell, she had finagled a deal where she exchanged the sign language lessons he wanted with the tech lessons he loathed. Good thing for him he was a fast learner, soaking everything like a sponge.

    Half an hour later, I put down the book I had been reading. I had decided to take a good long look at old myths since there were already quite a few of those congregating in the house. I wasn¡¯t taking all I read as god given truth, but there was probably more than a grain of it in the truly old legends, not the fluffy ones handed down to kids.

    I went back to the kitchen, dividing the warm muffins in three boxes. Taking the two smaller ones, I first headed to the house left of ours, where Mrs. Dross resided.

    I rather liked the old lady. She was really sharp and still in good physical condition despite her 76 years of age, mostly thanks to her time at the swimming pool.

    She should change her hair stylist though, he always left the whitening shampoo too long, turning her hair a bluish color.

    I knocked on the door, taking a deep breath.

    ¡°Abby! You haven¡¯t come in forever. Come in, come in, how is your mom? Still not ready to come to the aqua gym club with me?¡±

    She guided me inside her home, though it wasn¡¯t really necessary since all the houses of the street were built more or less the same way. Only the way people decorated their homes or garden changed. City council had wanted to plan the neighborhood as an ensemble for a more harmonious feeling. I call that boring though.

    She was familiar with my disability, so she always gave me time to properly write my answers, which was a nice change of pace compared to most people.

    ¡°Mom is well, but too busy at the pub lately to go with you. Besides we have guests at home at the moment.¡±

    ¡°Oh yes I¡¯ve seen. Please, get guests more often if they¡¯re as pleasing to the eyes as those two. So, which one are you going out with?¡±

    I coughed, nearly choking on my tea. Her robin blue eyes sparkled as she thumped my back.

    ¡°The blond one, Uriel, is family. Storm, the black haired one, is a friend.¡±

    ¡°Only a friend hm? What are you doing girl? Snatch him before someone else does! Oh, and before I forget, tell your mom I¡¯ll go see her at the pub this afternoon. I need a good gossip session.¡±

    I gave her the muffins, apologizing for any disturbance we might have caused. The sound barrier had been erected in haste, so some noise might have gone through.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if we have been noisy lately. You know how it is with more people in the house, one tends to forget to be careful.¡±

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry about that Abby. Instead, why don¡¯t you ask those faes of yours to stop pilfering my pantry. I¡¯ll give them cookies instead; it should suit their tastes better if I remember how the stories go.¡±

    My horrified and shocked face might have been a sight to behold, judging by her guffaw. Those damn pixies, couldn¡¯t have they been a bit more careful? I¡¯d wring their scrawny necks when I¡¯d get back home.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry girl, your secret is safe with me. I don¡¯t want to end in the loony bin.

    Besides, why should I endanger the most interesting thing to happen in a long while when I¡¯m so bored with my daughters too busy to come see me?

    Just make sure to tell me all the juicy details, all right?¡±

    Still in a daze, I directed my steps to the other neighbor¡¯s door. Since nobody was home, I left the box on the doorstep with an apology note.

    I¡¯d need to discuss what just happened with the family. I didn¡¯t think Mrs. Dross would betray us, but my record in judging people¡¯s temperaments was not exactly stellar.

    Although one of things she said was quite right. Who would believe pixies that could turn in multicolored mice had been invading her home for the sole purpose of raiding her pantry? She¡¯d be sent to a psychiatrist faster than one can say ¡°cheese!¡±.

    I quietly entered home, going for the garden, when I heard Uriel¡¯s pleading voice.

    ¡°Maggs, how long do you plan on making me pay for leaving you?¡±

    I stopped in my tracks, barely breathing.

    ¡°You¡­you¡­! Do you have any idea, any idea at all, of how hard it was to forget you? To raise our daughter alone? I even named her for you! And now that I¡¯ve picked up the pieces of my broken life you¡¯re asking me to risk everything I gained for you again! How can you?

    Why can¡¯t I hate you for what you made me go through?

    Why won¡¯t you let me hate you¡­?¡±

    The only other time I had ever heard my mother¡¯s voice breaking that way had been after the death of Dale, when she thought I was asleep. I had been heartbroken then, and I still was now, years later.

    ¡°So, what should I do, for you to look at me again?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just don¡¯t know. All this damn situation is just such a gigantic mess! I hate what is happening, I¡¯m scared for my girls, and I¡¯m so tired of always fighting to keep afloat¡­I know I¡¯m the one who sent Abigail to fetch you, but god, it¡¯s too damn hard¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been an ass, and a moron who let a true treasure slip through his fingers.

    I will wait for you, for as long as you need. I¡¯ll help you, and support you, for as long as you¡¯ll let me.

    In the end, I have nothing but time. Just...look at me properly...please, for old times'' sake if nothing else.¡±

    Quietly, very quietly as to not disturb them I sneaked back to the stairs, grabbing my book on the way.

    I realized that somehow along the way, any objection I might have had about this had vanished, eaten away by my father¡¯s staunch support of our family.

 Chapter 19 - Let sleeping Thuderbeasts lie

    Author''s note: Welcome to today''s episode of "don''t poke the bear"

    Here is Storm''s time to shine, bad pun fully intended.

    Enjoy ^^

    <hr />

    When fairytale issues begin popping left and right, there are two options: break down in a nice padded cell, or decide that since you¡¯re crazy anyway you might as well enjoy the ride. Besides, fairytales got nice toys. And drool-worthy abs under bronzed skin. And¡­well, you get the picture.

    Abigail Ortiz looking at a certain someone training

    I only went back downstairs at lunch time, deciding to give my parents as much time and privacy as I could. They had managed to compose themselves fairly well despite a heavy atmosphere, though I purposely avoided looking at the red rims of mom¡¯s eyes or my father¡¯s brooding face.

    It was a shame that Kate was having lunch at her school¡¯s cafeteria, since she always manages to lighten the mood, and neither I nor Storm were brilliant conversationalists.

    To top it all, there was still the issue of our neighbor to settle, though I was reluctant to bring it to the table. Sighing, I dived in, thinking that it might at least make a good diversion.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t see our other neighbors, but Mrs. Dross knows about the pixies. She¡¯ll be going to the pub to see mom this afternoon. I don¡¯t think she¡¯ll try anything against us, but I¡¯ve been wrong before.¡±

    Uriel waved an unconcerned hand in the air, smiling slightly.

    ¡°No need to be too wary about this. Pixies tend to be very picky about whom they revealed themselves too. That they did is already a big endorsement. You¡¯ll also notice as your empathic abilities grows that¡¯ll be increasingly harder to lie to you without you noticing, unless the other party is convinced of the veracity of their words.

    So I¡¯d start to trust my gut feelings more if I were you, now that you started growing up.¡±

    Oh, goodie, more freaky stuff incoming. I just hoped I wouldn¡¯t get bombarded with everyone¡¯s emotions, that could become awkward very fast, not to mention dangerous if I needed to defend myself.

    As I started piling up the dishes after our meal, mom stopped me.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take care of this, you have some training to do. I want you as strong as possible.¡±

    Reluctantly, I headed for the garden where Uriel was setting up one of his sound barrier. Mom would be organizing the refitting of the barn before work, since we needed it sooner rather than later.

    Oh gods, my father was smirking. That was one expression I really didn¡¯t like whenever it popped during training time. It usually meant not a small amount of bruising on my part.

    ¡°I have something a bit different from usual for you today, since Storm wanted to get himself back up in his peak condition.

    From now on, you two will train and spar together, either against each other, or the two of you against me.

    For now, why don¡¯t you start running a bit to warm yourselves? The usual circuit, I¡¯ll be waiting here for your return.¡±

    Thus started the next step of my physical training. I might not become adept at melee combat anytime soon, but I was becoming very confident in my running away capabilities.

    Storm¡¯s fighting style was very different from my father¡¯s. Where my father was a shadow, evading all hits by the barest of margins while flitting around counterattacking through all the openings provided by his quick movements, Storm was like a tank, taking a much more aggressive stance while directly blocking all moves directed at him.

    Hitting him was like trying to take down a brick wall bare handed, with the added difficulty of his perfect ambidexterity.

    Uriel and I used both hands too, but we still favored our right hands, whereas I couldn¡¯t see any difference in Storm¡¯s use of left or right hand.

    Only things I had on him were speed and flexibility. I had always been quick, and it only improved under my father¡¯s ¡°tender¡± care. He was too, surprisingly so for such a big man, but to a lesser extent than me. It was definitely not enough to compete with his sheer resilience, added to his much, much more developed combat experience, as my poor bum could attest after yet another encounter with the ground when I failed a low feint.

    In other circumstances I would have just ran circles around him while throwing stuff, but that would have nullified the purpose of today¡¯s exercises, aka close combat, or at least surviving long enough to escape or get help in my case.

    We were both drenched in sweat when my father decided to end today¡¯s session.

    ¡°Enough for today. We¡¯ll be going downtown this evening, I¡¯ll be meeting my contact to retrieve Storm¡¯s new identity, and we¡¯ll try to get some materials without going through the easily traceable paths.

    I can craft most weapons for us easily enough, but we might as well avoid questions when we can, French laws being so restrictive on weaponry of all kinds. Start thinking about what would be the best tools for you, considering you¡¯ll want stuff easily hidden.¡±

    When we went back into the house to shower and get changed, the new couch greeted us in the living room. We had been so focused on our training we didn¡¯t even notice the delivery.

    Mom had opted for a two part one. The couch itself was much bigger than our old one, with a bed in a drawer under it. We¡¯d better not get another addition to the family again, or I really don¡¯t know where we would put them with how much space was eaten by the new sofa.

    It did lend a certain finality to Storm¡¯s presence. It was not much of a personal space, but it was his.

    I felt revived after a hot shower, ready to tackle the next part of the day, the always oh-so-fun confrontation with my step-uncle.

    Hopping in some easy to move in jeans and my favorite black halter top, I bounded down the stairs after tying my hair in a loose bun.

    Everybody was waiting for me in the living room, with expressions ranging from patient suffering to downright exasperation.

    ¡°Well, now that we¡¯re all ready we can go, at last.¡±

    The plan was to retrieve Kate from school, deliver her and mom to the pub, where Kate would go in the back rooms, then Uriel Storm and I would go meet my father¡¯s contact.

    We had expressly forbidden the imp to go outside alone, so I sent her a text message when we neared her school. Judging by the speed at which she appeared at the gates, she had been waiting for us. Mom hugged her when she entered the car.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Nothing new at school today, imp?¡±

    ¡°They want us to go to an excursion in a wastewater treatment plant at the end of the month. I¡¯m not really interested, but apparently it will count in our evaluations.¡±

    ¡°Not good. We¡¯ll have to try to get one of us in the accompanying adults team.¡±

    Uriel tapped her scrunched nose lightly.

    ¡°Worst case scenario, Storm or me will follow behind to keep an eye on things.¡±

    Still, it couldn¡¯t have happened at a worst time. How annoying.

    Charles was in an uproar when we delivered mom and the imp to the pub, arguing that Kate would be a distraction even from the backroom. Yeah, right, more like a distraction to him trying to ingratiate himself to mom.

    My dear step-uncle, as shrewd of an administrator as he was, still hadn¡¯t understood that trying to separate mom from her kids was the fastest way to make sure she never would be interested in him. He was not a bad man per se, but I was pissed at the fact that he was at least as interested in the half of the pub my mother owned than he was in wooing her for herself.

    And since he knew I knew, our relationship was a bit on the chaotic side.

    Besides he really wasn''t up to the standards set by either Uriel, or even Dale.

    He was cunning rather than truly intelligent, self-serving, and had been mooching off the system before getting Dale''s inheritance. Even his looks where worse than his brother''s had been, they shared the average face, broad shoulders and green eyes, but where Dale had been a kind man, standing straight and proud, petty Charles was slouching over the start of a potbelly.

    ¡°ABBY! ARE YOU COMING TO HELP IN THE PUB TODAY?¡±

    And that was the other thing I really didn¡¯t like about him. He never missed a chance to remind me of my handicap. I scribbled on my notepad since he never bothered learning sign language.

    ¡°For the umpteenth time, I am mute, not deaf you oaf! And no, we¡¯ll come get them back when we¡¯re done with our stuff.¡±

    He glared at Storm, probably figuring him a rival. Barking up the wrong tree there pal. The real rival is the inoffensive looking one.

    ¡°And who is this? I don¡¯t think I''ve ever seen him.¡±

    ¡°This is Storm, Abby¡¯s friend, and Uriel. Guys, this is Charles, Dale¡¯s brother. Charles, they¡¯ll be living with us for the foreseeable future, so you¡¯ll be seeing more of each other¡¯s.

    Storm is the one I told you about, he¡¯ll be helping around the pub, mostly during weekends and as a replacement when someone¡¯s sick.¡±

    The men did the whole ¡°I crush your hand while trying to look genial¡± business that comes with the testosterone poisoning, while mom gently pushed Kate towards the back rooms. I simply enjoyed the show, glad to not be Charles¡¯ target for once.

    Once the two were safely ensconced, we made good our escape before Mrs. Dross appearance, so as to not be tied up at the pub longer than necessary.

    The place Uriel guided us to had definitely seen better day. It was one of those drinking holes complete with biker dudes that I thought only existed in movies. It was amazing that it had managed to go past the hygiene controls unless they bribed their way out of a shutting down.

    Storm and I settled at a corner table nursing a beer I had absolutely no intention of drinking while my father went to talk to a wiry woman at the counter, certainly his contact.

    It was a good thing Storm was here doing his best impersonation of a guard dog, and that he was big enough to intimidate the locals, or I wouldn¡¯t have been able to follow inside. Apparently one of the conditions to get the papers had been for the woman to meet Storm, and Uriel hadn¡¯t wanted to leave me at home.

    After a short conversation, he escorted the woman to our table. She scrutinized Storm with a dazzling smile, thoroughly ignoring me.

    ¡°So, this is the one I made those beauties for. He¡¯s even prettier than in his pictures Uri! Where did you find such a babe?¡±

    ¡°I picked him up in an alley.¡±

    Technically true, I suppose, but that really made it seem like we picked up a stray cat.

    ¡°Ooooh, and here I only find old beer bottles in alleys, lucky you. Ah, I decided to change his name when I saw those eyes in the picture, hope you won¡¯t mind.¡±

    She bent over, sliding a bunch of papers across the table while giving the men a view of her meagre assets, along with what suspiciously resembled a cellphone number. That was why she wanted to meet Storm? So that she could try to pick him up? I squeezed his arm under the table when I saw his jaw tightening.

    ¡°The first number is mine, call me if you need anything. The second number is someone who might be able to provide the other stuff you wanted if the price is right.¡±

    As she rose from our table, the argument from the pool table next to us that had been going for a while rose to new heights, culminating in the encounter between a cue stick and a bald pate. Said encounter ended in a draw, bald man going to sleep under a broken cue stick.

    From this point on it degenerated in a general brawl in a blink, complete with flying beer bottles and drunken puking. We decided to hit the road before the police came, throwing money on the table for our beers.

    Wire woman had already disappeared in the crowd as soon as the first hit connected. We weren¡¯t as lucky, one of the drunk guys deciding Storm would be a good punching bag to prove his own worth to his colleagues in his ethylic deliriums.

    The issue of that non-battle was never in question, though in the laps of time it took for Storm to lay down the guy his colleagues rushed Uriel and I.

    It was a very pissed off Storm that uttered a growl worthy of the best predators. His eyes took a feral glint, the pupils elongating to catlike slits.

    At this instant all the lights of the place exploded in a shower of broken glass, plunging the whole place in darkness, only the electric arcs silencing the sound systems with a banshee screech providing some meager visibility.

    Tugging at his hand, I urged him outside in the wake of Uriel¡¯s passage, using the confusion provided by his outburst, and Uriel¡¯s hit and run tactics.

    Outside, pandemonium greeted us, howling winds buffeting us in the midst of flying papers and leaves, while countless lightning bolts streaked the sky.

    "Oh crap."

 Chapter 20 - Eye of the Storm

    Author''s note: slightly shorter chappy today, since I''ve been pretty busy.

    Enjoy, and thanks for reading ^^

    <hr />

    Palms are like cockroaches, they were here long before us, and they¡¯ll be here long after us. They¡¯re the only things standing after a hurricane.

    Robert Irwin

    Big, fat drops of water started crashing on the ground, the dusty scent of rain on warm ground hanging heavily in the air.

    Visibility was bad, restricted by the darkness due to the thick blanket of storm clouds and the late hour both, only the intermittent lightning bolts offering giving a modicum of light.

    It didn¡¯t hide the paleness of Storm, though, or the trickle of blood slowly trailing along his arm.

    My father¡¯s voice rose, covering the howling winds.

    ¡°Abby, we can¡¯t stay here, hurry him up!¡±

    I hissed, annoyed at the comment. As if I didn¡¯t know that we were running out of time. Problem was Storm was as unmoving as a boulder, and completely lost in his own world. He didn¡¯t even flinch when I snapped my fingers in front of his face, his glowing cat eyes staring unblinkingly at something ony he could see.

    I traced back the blood up to the broken cue stick part planted in his back slightly above the shoulder blade. It was by no means a life threatening wound, but I guess over seventy years with XXL ever bleeding piercings in his body left him with a bad case of stabby things phobia.

    As he started trembling, folding on himself, the elements around us picked up, menacing to transform into a hurricane. Twigs and small objects started joining the mad dance of leaves and papers in the air. I couldn¡¯t even hear Uriel¡¯s voice anymore even though he was only a few meters away.

    I waved to my father, asking him to come back. When he did, I pointed to the broken wood sticking out of Storm¡¯s shoulder. He yelled near my ear:

    ¡°Son of a¡­I didn¡¯t see this, must have happened in the rush. Try to calm him down and prevent him from snapping at me, I¡¯ll take this out and heal him. He didn¡¯t change form yet, so he¡¯s not completely out of it for now.¡±

    Calm him down? How was I supposed to do that when he didn¡¯t even see me?

    Recalling the memories of the beast in the clearing, I whistled softly as I did that time, lightly stroking his face. Since he didn¡¯t hurt me then, he probably wouldn¡¯t now.

    I don¡¯t know who was the most surprised, of my father or me, when Storm buried his face in my arms, his whole body shaking.

    A spurt of blood splashed one the ground, soon washed away by the rain when Uriel removed the cue stick. I could see my father¡¯s mouth moving although his song didn¡¯t travel far enough for me to hear.

    The painful grip on my upper arms slowly relaxed as the shoulder injury¡¯s borders knitted back together under my father¡¯s ministrations. Soon enough, both the wind and rain abated, turning into a light drizzle whereas I could tell Storm was coming back to himself judging by the tensing of his body and the slow reddening of his ears and neck.

    ¡°We need to go kids, the police will be here soon, cuddle later!¡±

    I tugged on Storm¡¯s big hand, dragging the still dazed man back to our car. I threw the keys to Uriel, deciding to go in the back to keep an eye on Storm, braving the ¡°unique¡± driving skills of my father. With some luck we might even make it to the pub without a new dent on the fender.

    We were half-way back to our family¡¯s pub when the big oaf finally raised his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I let my emotions control me, and I brought a disaster. I¡¯ll move out of the house by this evening.¡±

    And then what? Lurk in the garbage again around the neighborhood? As if we¡¯d let him do that. I searched for my notepad, frustrated at the soggy mess it had become in the hurricane.

    My father made a sharp turn, pursued by the irate honking of the other drivers, parking the car along the road. He turned around to look at us:

    ¡°Kid, everybody fails at one point or another.

    Now you¡¯ve got a choice to make, you can either run away like you want to, try to live a human life, knowing you¡¯ll remember that failure, or you can stick with us and try to overcome your fear.

    By the way, if you try to run I¡¯m not betting on your chances of evasion. You¡¯ll have three very pissed off women on your case, and I won¡¯t lift a finger to hinder them.¡±

    I smiled at my father, patting his hand.

    ¡°Can you translate for me?¡±

    ¡°Go ahead.¡±

    ¡°If you try to make a break for it, we¡¯ll put our brand new P.I on your case, and drag you home as many times as necessary. Nobody was hurt, we found the problem, and now we can try to fix it. Unless you lied when you said you¡¯d protect me?¡±

    He sighed, defeated.

    ¡°How can I help if I freak out in battle? I could get all of us killed.¡±

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.¡°Well, we know you¡¯re ok with slashing and hitting. Only stabby things are a big no no so far. So as long as you don¡¯t get stabbed you should be fine.¡±

    Uriel turned pensive.

    ¡°I might be able to help with this. I don¡¯t like messing with people¡¯s psyches usually since it can have unsuspected developments, but in this case I don¡¯t think it would create problems to put some distance between your memories and your self.

    It won¡¯t be a panacea, but it should dim your emotional responses to those memories.¡±

    ¡°When can you do it?¡±

    ¡°When you¡¯ll be more serene, so not today, and probably not tomorrow either. I¡¯ll fetch you when it¡¯ll be good to try.¡±

    He restarted the car, driving us to the pub. By the time we got there, the last remnants of the hurricane had vanished as if it never happened in the first place, leaving the sky as clear as in a mid-summer day.

    The din of the crowd assailed our ears even before we entered the place, attesting to the success of our business.

    I donned an apron to help delivering the orders while gently pushing Storm towards the back rooms where Kate was. He wouldn''t be muchhelp in his brooding state anyway.

    I silently laughed when I noticed a well-known bluish head bobbing in a corner. Looks like Mrs. Dross hadn¡¯t given up on the gossip session.

    My mother¡¯s smile was radiant when I signaled for her to take a break, and she immediately went to Mrs. Dross¡¯ table, soon followed by Uriel. Soon peals of laughter rose from their table, drowning the noise around. One crisis avoided. I dived back into the race from hell known as "waiting on tables", the pub''s attendance showing no signs of slowing down.

    It was full night when we could finally extricate ourselves from the pub, the second shift taking over from us.

    We all piled up in the Twingo, with the imp ending sitting in my lap since the car was a five seater, and we were not going to let an old lady go back alone in the public transports at night.

    I had refused the alternative solution said old lady proposed, which consisted of having me sitting in Storm¡¯s lap ¡°since he¡¯s so big anyway¡±.

    Matchmaking services still in full swing I see.

    Mrs. Dross only left us for a few minutes when we parked at our home, to retrieve a medium-sized metal box from her own house.

    ¡°Now let me see the little pantry robbers in their natural habitat!¡±

    With her presence dinner was a light hearted affair, bantering remarks fusing over the table. She was as much of a rascal as my father, if not more, and I wondered more than once if letting them meet was not a huge mistake.

    Her true motives were revealed after dinner though, when we decided to stargaze over tea and coffee in the backyard.

    She was like a little kid in a Christmas store as she looked at the light ballet of the pixies around the lilac tree, her eyes huge and brimming with unshed tears.

    ¡°So magic does exist in the world. Maybe there is still hope for us all¡­¡±

    I patted her shoulder, pointing the box she was clutching questioningly.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s for the little faes, I almost forgot!¡±

    Littles noses went up to sniff the air when she opened what would soon be known amongst the tribe as the holy box of the heavenly pastries.

    The tiny stomachs with wings fluttered around the box, initiating weird victory dances when duos or trios of pixies managed to lift a full cookie from the box to transport it to the portal.

    ¡°I think you just became the cookie priestess. Maybe even the cookie goddess!¡±

    ¡°Pshh, as long as they leave the rest of the food alone I¡¯m good with anything.¡±

    I smirked.

    ¡°You offered them cookies. At this rate you¡¯ll have your own tribe soon I¡¯m sure. And then you¡¯ll run after your make up like the rest of us.¡±

    We stayed in the garden long after the neighbor said her goodbye, just enjoying each other¡¯s company under the starry sky. Uriel and the imp were busy excitedly sketching things on the paper tablecloth, chattering like a couple of magpies, and I had doomsday visions of uber potato launchers and broken windows.

    Seeing this I exchanged a weary smile with mom. Sometimes it was hard to know who was the kid, and who was supposed to be an adult.

    We all went to bed much later than we should have, even the imp. I promised myself to make sure she¡¯d have enough sleep before classes from now on, since we had been far too lax with this, resulting on her having dark circles around her eyes more often than not.

    It wouldn¡¯t do for her school results to drop because she couldn¡¯t focus in class due to tiredness.

    All the exhaustion of the day hit me at once as I snuck under the covers of my bed, sending me straight into a deep sleep.

    I barely had time to register the cloying, almost too sweet smell carried by the light breeze lingering around the slightly ajar window.

    I wonder what flower smells like that? I never noticed it here before¡­

 Chapter 21 - Dream within a dream

    All sentient or semi-sentient creatures share a common trait, and that trait is their ability to dream. Sometimes the dreams show our memories, our aspirations, or warn us against our failings. And sometimes they only show us our deepest fears.

    Asha, leader of Clan Haksa¡¯ho¡¯min

    Darkness.

    Darkness and silence were the only constants of that world.

    I was standing in a plain of nothing, faintly wondering what I should do. Restlessness made me fidget, though I couldn¡¯t remember why I should be restless. Since nothingness is unchangeable, how could I want to influence it?

    Why was I here anyway? I didn¡¯t felt like I belonged here, but then, where did I belong? How could I even know that places other than the void existed?

    The silence oppressed my soul, suffocating me.

    Something was missing, but what?

    I walked in the void, getting neither tired, nor hungry or thirsty.

    I walked, and walked, until despair gave birth to a realization.

    I was alone. I didn¡¯t want to be alone. I shouldn¡¯t be alone.

    I didn¡¯t recall faces or voices, but I knew there should have been others with me.

    Voices¡­I knew what a voice was. Voices made songs, where were the songs of my mind?

    Disappeared, all gone, lost in the silence.

    Then I would make them anew! I would shatter the everlasting silence in songs!

    I closed my eyes, focusing on the ever present silence.

    Imagining a sound, I could almost hear it, a single pure note slashing the void curtain.

    Then another. And another. I linked my notes in a golden chain, glowing from an inner fire.

    As I opened my eyes, my golden chain was hovering around me like an obedient pet. With a smile I poured more music in the golden links, sending it spiraling across the void. A flash of brightness erased the endless night, forcing me turn my face¡­

    I suddenly awoke with a gasp. What the hell? This had been the strangest, and arguably the worst, nightmare I ever had. Just the memory of the loneliness was enough to make me shiver.

    A feint air current reached me, helping cool my sweating body. I softly padded to the window, widening the opening slightly. That smell again¡­where did it come from?

    The feeling of wrongness kept increasing. It was too silent, not a single pixie in sight, not even a cicada calling.

    I blinked, not sure of what I had just seen. There again, a swift reflection of something in the street, avoiding the lights.

    Now thoroughly spooked, I opened the bedroom¡¯s door, almost stumbling in Storm¡¯s arms. His urgent whisper was barely audible.

    ¡°Good, you¡¯re awake. Go get Uriel, there are enemies coming here. I¡¯ll buy us some time.¡±

    He silently faded in the darkness of the house without waiting for an answer.

    I walked to my father¡¯s door as silently as I could, opening it without knocking. He didn¡¯t react when I shook him, laying in his bed like a dead body.

    Breathing deeply, I tried to control my increasing panic. Running around in circles wouldn¡¯t be of help to anyone, and we didn¡¯t have time for hysterics.

    I knew Uriel had told me not to try new things without his guidance, but I figured it was easier to get forgiveness later at this point than hoping the situation would resolve itself.

    I called the dream walking state, running along the glittering path I created between us.

    I could tell clearly when I left my dream to enter his, as the scenery turned to an ancient fir forest with an oppressive feel to it, as if the trees were watching my every move. I kept following the path deeper in the forest, shivering as the branches snagged in my hair or totally inappropriate nightgown.

    I might have been able to do something about it, but I wasn¡¯t going to experiment in my father¡¯s dream more than I had to just because I was uncomfortable.

    I stopped at a break in the tree line, appalled at the sight before me.

    An ashen wasteland stretched in the horizon, farther than I could see, only broken by some rocks that had survived the desolation, and the scene unfolding a bit further, where the humongous pale gold bird that was my father was crying, his fiery tears hissing when they hit the ground.

    At his feet rested the still, forlorn form of another much smaller bird, maybe half his size, with feathers of a rich brown color where blood hadn¡¯t stained them. No more fire came from this one, his song lost in death.

    Around them lied the half-burnt ruins of what had been a small village, destroyed by the flames of the old beast. Gone was the gentle silver fire I had seen when we met, replaced by ominous black flames writhing around his body.

    Bile rose in my throat when I realized that the weird bumps around him where the grotesque contorted remains of burnt bodies, shrunken by the intense heat of the black fire. More glistening lumps that were probably the remains of their weapons reflected the light of the moon.

    A shrill mourning cry echoed in the night, the fury and sorrow contained within unfathomable.

    The temperature kept rising as the song of the phoenix weaved a spell of madness and destruction, more and more flames converging around him, compressing in a pitch black orb over the birds.

    Shaking, I stepped through the barren ground, avoiding the corpses littering the area, only stopping in front of my father. How small I was compared to him didn¡¯t help with the small voice panicky voice blabbering in my mind to flee the maddened big bad predator.

    Guess my inner voice is saner than me.

    Even more so considering what I was about do.

    Calling again the golden chain again, I sent it upwards, coiling it around the bird¡¯s neck, wrapping the other extremity around my arm. I needed to get his attention before he blasted the whole place to smithereens, and that was the quickest way to do so.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    There was no way my puny biceps would be enough to make him lower his head, so I did the next best thing, using the chain to help me climb high enough to reach the sharp beak. Mustering my courage, I gave a sharp kick to the appendage big enough to cut me in two without the need for a second bite

    .

    Only then did he seem to notice that he was no longer the only living thing in the dreamscape, albeit the golden eyes didn¡¯t seem to recognize me.

    His mind slammed through mine, annihilating my pitiful defenses in a split second, the grief he had felt when we first met a pale shade of what was now pouring from him, his mind voice strong enough to make my own consciousness waver.

    ¡°Gone¡­all gone¡­They will pay¡­I¡¯ll make them pay¡­¡±

    Marshaling my resources, I sent another kick to his head about as effective as if a mouse tried to bite an elephant. I tried to copy him, sending my own feeble mind voice outside.

    ¡°Father, that is enough! Snap out of it or I¡¯ll tell mom you¡¯re the one who broke the blue vase!¡±

    A very shocked bird was now staring at the puny little me, feathers ruffled in a downy ball and beak hanging open, the black orb dissipating with an almost sorry little pop. I might have laughed if I hadn¡¯t been still hanging in mid-air clutching my chain.

    The end-of-the-world scenery disappeared in a blink, replaced by my dreampath while Uriel went back to his usual human form.

    In an uncharacteristic move, he wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tightly to his chest. The mind link between us evened out, allowing for a better conversation.

    ¡°You really plan on snitching to Maggs?¡±

    ¡°She already knows. She was happy actually, that vase was fugly, but since it was a gift we had to keep it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll replace it with a better one.¡±

    ¡°No you won¡¯t, I¡¯ve seen your taste in furniture.¡±

    He sighed deeply, releasing me.

    ¡°How about you tell me what you¡¯re doing in my mind when I¡¯m dreaming of the past?¡±

    ¡°Crap, no time for that, we have company in the real world!¡±

    ¡°We have all the time we need, it is a very subjective value in here. Though there might be an explanation for the intensity of this particular dream.¡±

    His fury rose visibly as I explained the event of the night, only glossing over my own dream.

    ¡°A rune somewhere and another dreamwalker, a very subtle one at that, that¡¯s the only explanation that makes sense.¡±

    ¡°So, how do we make sure they know how much we appreciated their little gift?¡±

    ¡°Do you remember what you did with the blood spiders disaster?¡±

    ¡°As much as I would like to say no, there¡¯s no way I¡¯d forget that.¡±

    ¡°Well, do it again. I¡¯ll take the lead as soon as you unleash your pet song.¡±

    ¡°Ok. Just one thing before that.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    I rose on my toes, planting a kiss on his cheek.

    ¡°You¡¯ve got to remember, as long as we¡¯re here you¡¯ll never be alone anymore.¡±

    I patted his cheek, then started to build my song before he could retaliate. Or so I thought.

    ¡°¡­You¡¯re planning to fight in a nightgown? It sure is cute, but are you sure that¡¯s the message you want to send?¡±

    Crap, I had completely forgotten the nightgown issue. Too late now, my little sneaky song was raring to go. I¡¯d have to console myself with the knowledge that at least I was wearing a grownup nightgown, not something with kittens or other miscellanies, and I was bare footed. No bunny slippers for me!

    We followed the trace through an almost invisible path, hidden in moving shadows. This road was as cold as mine were warm, seemingly utterly devoid of life.

    The path was still better than the dreamscape into which it led though, a frozen cave covered in living shades, their sibilant hissing echoing against the dank walls.

    Two torches at the entrances provided only some meagre illumination, their light smothered after only a couple of meters. Their smoke combined with the musty smell of the cave in an unappealing stink pervading the area.

    A repulsive altar sat in the middle of the cave, the deep groves carved in it still stained with old blood, a wavy blade laid on the side. The sigils carved on the pedestal of the altar glowed with the same sickly maroon-red than the disgusting symbols carved on the walls of the cave.

    The most striking features of the place though, were the two people standing next to the altar, and the enormous, indistinct shape lost in the darkness of the back of the cave.

    They looked utterly out of place, a distinguished couple in their cocktail fineries, dropped in a medieval torture chamber setting.

    My father stepped in front of me, his straight back making him seem much bigger than his real height, golden hair almost glowing from the reflection of the torches.

    An amused woman¡¯s voice chimed in this dark dream, completely at odds with the whole ¡°darker-than-thou¡± theme of the dreamscape.

    ¡°How nice of you to deliver yourself to our doorstep, my foolish little descendant. And you ever brought a gift with you! So thoughtful¡­had I known you had those aptitudes I would have come fetch you a long time ago.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but if you had done so, my love, there¡¯s a good chance we¡¯d have had to take the broodmare too, and then the other girl would have never been born.¡±

    Her laugh tinkled like so many bells.

    ¡°True, true. So, let us welcome warmly our runaway grandchildren.¡±

 Sorry, not a chapter

    Hey all,

    Just came back from the tests from hell complete with *** jury (still got my certification in the end though it was a close call)

    My poor little writy soul is too shriveled right now to make a good chapter, so I''ll be treating myself to some nice reading time.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.Next chappy will be tomorrow, or Sunday at the latest though.

    Thanks for bearing with me so far ^^

 Chapter 22 - Dont mind the dogs, beware the mother-in-law

    Author''s ramblings: Here it is, the next chapter of our little adventure, where we can see why playing with one''s food is a big no-no.

    Enjoy ^^

    <hr />

    There was one time and one time only, when I was happy that I hadn¡¯t married your mother. That was when I met she who would have become my mother-in-law for the first time. Now, where¡¯s that exorcism salt? I might have touched her sleeve¡­

    Uriel King talking to his daughter

    Well, at least now we were sure of who our opponents were, not that either my father or I were surprised, since all the evidence had been pointing their way. Still, it was awfully nice of them to give us confirmation of their implication.

    I could see my father¡¯s anger in his icy countenance. His jokester¡¯s attitude was entirely gone, leaving behind a regal demeanor greatly ageing his features, golden eyes much too old for the young-looking face.

    A low hum vibrated through the hall, as some of his energy circled around me, creating a bubble-like, almost invisible shield, keeping the deadly cold of the cave at bay.

    I hastily sent my mind voice through our link, before he squashed them on the spot:

    ¡°Father, can you try to make them speak? I¡¯d like to know if they left us ticking time bombs in the wings, or if we can expect more people to come after the imp. An archetype villain monologue would be good at this point.¡±

    ¡°I will try daughter mine, though I want you to prepare a path out of here just in case. Don¡¯t interfere otherwise, just protect yourself.¡±

    The man¡¯s voice, I refused to call him grandfather even in my head, once again rose:

    ¡°If you come with us quietly girl, I promise we¡¯ll let the rest of your family go. Otherwise they might never wake up from their nightmares. We¡¯ll even let the pretty boy go without playing with him too much.¡±

    They really had a low opinion of my IQ. As if I¡¯d believe that. They¡¯d be gunning for the others as soon as Uriel and I would be incapacitated.

    My father¡¯s voice could have frozen the heart of a volcano when he refused the offer.

    ¡°The both of you are warlocks, oath breakers. You feed on broken bonds, all know your word has no value. You shall not have anyone of my family.

    I will give you one chance, and one chance only to pass away peacefully. Tell me of all the plans you have concerning my mate and daughters, and I¡¯ll end you quickly. You would not like the other alternatives.¡±

    A seductive smile curled the lips of the petite woman as she looked down on us, her words a sultry half whisper.

    ¡°Oh, we have plenty of plans of course, you¡¯ll be seeing them first-hand. I grow tired of this charade though, so you¡¯ll have to excuse my poor manners¡­¡±

    As she moved her hand in the middle of her speech, the living shadows that had been creeping along the walls screeched, rushing in our direction, featureless maws opened on a jagged black hole.

    Uriel was even faster though, cladding himself in the silver fire in a split second while the bubble around me shone bright as a beacon, destroying all the incoming shadows without a trace.

    His counter attack rang like a bell, the silver fire expanding, cracking the dark stone under our feet and pushing back the obnoxious duo a dozen feet. Pity it didn¡¯t set them ablaze, the two being quick enough to set a void wall in front of them that swallowed the fire.

    The strain for that wall seemed enormous though, as both their hands were trembling, whereas Uriel seemed completely unfazed.

    My fire bubble had taken a beating too, almost completely extinguished after that single attack. I called my own fire, mixing it with my father¡¯s to reinforce the bubble. I was the liability here, preventing Uriel from using his full power in fear of hurting me.

    Not that he needed it anyway to deal with Bonnie and Clyde, as the two realized when he started advancing on them in slow, measured steps.

    Black vines sprouted under his feet, to be immediately incinerated. Shadow bolts were sent towards him, to be deflected with a hand wave. Horrors summoned were just annihilated, illusions ignored, nothing stopping his implacable course.

    The couple had been increasingly frantic in their attempts to stop him, until they ultimately snapped. Swiping the dagger from the altar, my grandmother, no, Isabel, planted it in the shadow form lying behind them in a last bid for life.

    The hulking thing had been still and silent the whole time, only the shadows covering it giving it an illusion of movement, and surprisingly it still didn¡¯t react to the dagger slicing its flesh.

    Uriel accelerated when he saw the move, his blurry form rushing across the expense of Blackstone. He was still too late, their form blinked out of existence, leaving only a pool of bright blood and more shadows in their wake, soon immolated in his fury.

    ¡°Abby! Now¡¯s the time for that way out!¡±

    I nodded, willing the path I had imagined to connect with the cave entrance. We ran to it, my father cursing all the way, as the cave started disintegrating with the dreamers gone, avoiding or deflecting the falling rocks the best we could.

    We only stopped in the space between dreams as I needed to catch my breath, along with an explanation of what had happened.

    ¡°How the hell did they escape?¡±

    ¡°They used the blood of a very powerful creature to crack the dream. I was too confident, I should have just obliterated them on the spot instead of playing cat and mouse. Now we missed a golden opportunity to get rid of them.¡±

    ¡°How long before they can go after us again?¡±

    ¡°Depends how fast they recover. Could be a couple of weeks, or never. The backlash from this method is severe. It should have sucked dry every drop of power they had, on top of making them sick. So we gained breathing room at least, hopefully enough to locate them and finish the job.¡±

    Can''t say I didn''t feel a warm little trickle of happiness tickling my heart at the thought of the murder duo''s suffering. I can be petty like that.

    ¡°Ok, I¡¯m good to go now.¡±

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.¡°Abby?¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget to tell your mother how impressive and breathtaking I was when battling evil.¡±

    ¡°¡­Really? It¡¯s no wonder you¡¯re still sleeping in the guestroom if that¡¯s how you¡¯ve been trying to woo her. You might want to try a romantic dinner or a flower bouquet instead of a bloodbath.¡±

    ¡°I shall yield to your wisdom in modern matters of the heart my dear daughter. Please guide me well!¡±

    ¡°Like hell I will. Not going to step there, ever, old man.¡±

    We got to the entrance of the dream while bickering, my father stopping me before we got out.

    ¡°I won¡¯t try to stop you from following, since you would ignore me, and it would just make you more reckless, but please stay behind me. And try not to set me aflame, I¡¯d appreciate it.¡±

    I turned my head, sticking my nose in the air in utter contempt of his words. As if I¡¯d do that. Ok, there had been that accident involving a pixie related break in my focus and the sleeve of his shirt, but that had been at least three days ago. I had progressed since, really!

    The crackling of electricity could be heard in the street behind the house as we came back to the real world, along with some strange ululating yells, albeit nobody was coming out of the neighborhood houses, and no light shone from any windows outside. Not a single pixie was in sight too, which was even weirder.

    I checked the clock as we rushed through the house, confirming Uriel¡¯s words. What had been hours in dreams were barely a few minutes in the real world.

    Outside a full blown battle was raging, between Storm on one side, and more of the shadow things on the other, although those were much bigger than the ones we had fought in the dream.

    He was sending balls of lightning in the pulsing mass, tearing great swaths of the creatures apart as more lightning arcs cloaked his form, preventing the shadows from touching him. More creatures kept swarming from all directions though, keeping the fight as a stalemate for the moment, although it would obviously be his win as soon as they¡¯d be run out of reinforcements.

    They could not leave him there without getting destroyed as soon as he¡¯d get free, and he could not stop destroying them there without giving them free rein to enter the house.

    Time to slip in my favorite role then, the little grain of sand that everyone loves! Or not, depending on which side you¡¯re on.

    As Uriel engaged more incoming shadows, I called my scarlet fire, throwing handful of the stuff towards the shades. There must have been something they really didn¡¯t like in it, since the mere touch of it was enough to wrap a shadow in a writhing red cocoon, incinerating in seconds.

    A wicked smile crossed my lips when I saw that. If they reacted that way to a single fireball, what would they do with a few dozen needles?

    I changed my song on the spot, splitting my fire in as many tiny flames as I could control safely, elongating them to stabilize their flight.

    Seeing my actions, a whole patch of the shadow mass rushed me, trying to kill me before I could launch my needles, only to get stopped by the lightning whip Storm sent between us.

    It only gave them pause for a few seconds, just enough for me to complete my song, then enjoy the tiny red meteors streaking through the night.

    Storm came next to me as we watched them burn, tearing a hole in an escapee, soon followed by Uriel.

    ¡°Do we have marshmallows in the house?¡±

    ¡°You and Kate ate the last ones yesterday. We could go for a barbecue though, there are merguez in the fridge.¡±

    He squeezed an errant flame before it could set fire to a plane tree.

    ¡°They won¡¯t burn long enough for a barbecue, sadly.¡±

    We stayed until the last shade was completely burned, not leaving anything to chance. As the last one disappeared, some changes occurred in the neighborhood, many houses lighting up, as if it had been awakened from a long sleep.

    We filed back into our home when we saw that, not wanting to be singled out as the strange people more than we already were. We still had a rune to find anyway.

    ¡°So daughter mine, do you have something, anything, coming from the murder couple? It can be as innocuous as a candy wrap, or as conspicuous as a three headed totem. The item is just the medium, the rune can be easily hidden from common sight.¡±

    I didn¡¯t have to think long about this, truly I could only see one item fitting the parameters.

    I opened the drawer under the TV, retrieving my notes on the abduction matter. I had taken to file everything that had even a remote possibility of being linked to it, just to be sure we wouldn¡¯t miss a clue.

    Flipping the pages, I took the small engraved card that I had stuck at the end of the notebook. The number on it had only connected to a call center, but I had kept it nonetheless. The cloying smell that had been sticking to the back of my nose seemed more intense in the proximity of the card.

    ¡°Could this be it? It was left in the mail box when Richard Martin came to extend his invitation.¡±

    Uriel took the card from my hand encasing it in one of his fire bubbles. Dark miasma rose from the harmless looking item, forming tentacles to lash at the sphere, without any success.

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing yes. A combination of a sleep rune and a hypnotic smell. Add a dreamwalker to the mix, and you¡¯ve got a cunning trick, even if unreliable once discovered. It¡¯s a good thing Storm was immune to the smell, and you could fight the dream with your own abilities, or it might have worked.

    I¡¯ll talk with the pixies; we¡¯ll add some wards for those types of runes and a couple others. It will not happen again.¡±

    He closed his hand, the card turning to dust in his grip.

    A minute after it did, angry little halos streaked from the portal under the lilac tree, searching for the cause of their unwanted nap.

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you guys placate the pixies, I¡¯ll take care of Mom and Kate.¡±

    ¡°I can take care of Maggs.¡±

    ¡°You speak pixie Father, I don¡¯t.¡±

    A dejected sigh was his only answer, before he trundled to the garden.

 Chapter 23 - Birth of a Techno-mage...not!

    Author''s ramblings:  I''m back home, the internet is working again, I guess that means new chappy :p

    Here it is, enjoy and thanks for your patience ^^

    <hr />

    Technology should be helping in our everyday lives. So how is it that I can never predict what my phone will do when I push a button, and I don¡¯t even know what half the blinking lights on some cars¡¯ dashboard means?

    Margaret Ortiz while thrashing the new wash machine¡¯s notice

    Two weeks later, I was sitting cross legged on the backless bench in front of our refurbished barn, trying my best to school my features in an impassive mask, without much success with the imp''s giggling wafting through the air and my father''s amused smirk reigniting my own laughter.

    Waking up Mom and the imp after the whole dreamwalking adventure had not posed any problems, and they thankfully didn¡¯t remember anything about their own nightmares. From what Uriel said, if it was like that there shouldn¡¯t be any consequences left from the ordeal.

    I still had nightmares at times during which I found myself in the void place, but usually looking at the people of my family¡¯s faces was enough to dispel the feelings of loneliness lingering afterwards. I hoped I would come to terms with the anxiety it brought me, at least enough to not awaken with a start in the middle of the night again, though I think both my father and Storm were keeping an eye on me.

    It really was too much of a coincidence to always find one of the two either drinking tea, watching TV or reading a book downstairs each time I felt fidgety enough to need a breath of fresh air, and I didn''t even believe in coincidences in the first place.

    Those who were the least inconvenienced were Storm, who never even entered the dream state, and the pixies. I think the evil pair only put them to sleep but didn¡¯t do anything else judging by their reactions, or lack thereof, though Mrs. Dross might have been a big help in placating them.

    There was a new addition to the garden wall, on Mrs. Dross side, of a doll sized ladder coming all the way down, and tied to the jasmine climbing on our side of the wall. I think she was on the verge of attaining canonization in pixie¡¯s faith, with the amount of cookies not so mysteriously appearing in our own garden.

    The one who was hit the hardest, and also the one who hid it the best was probably my father. He never talked about what had happened, albeit at times when he thought nobody was looking his smiling mask would slip, his knuckles tightening around whatever poor household item he would be clutching at the moment. The death toll so far was two glasses, a pen, one of my notepads, and some parts of the potato launcher 2.0, although the last item of the list wasn¡¯t mourned.

    Inspector Leroy had paid us a visit after the commotion, since quite a few people had called the police complaining about some infernal racket in the neighborhood. Seems like not everybody had been asleep. We had fed him the good old ¡°we chased away some suspicious men but couldn¡¯t identify them, since they blended into the night.¡±

    Technically, it had not been a lie, although he might not have been of the same opinion had we told him the truth. The shades were suspicious, they blended into the night allright, and we did chase some of them before barbecuing them.

    Adan and Isabel had disappeared without a trace after their escape, despite our private investigator¡¯s best efforts. They were not in their manor house, nor in any of their usual haunts. Emilie Rosalto had tracked their movements up to Marseilles, but lost the trail afterwards. Apparently they were very careful, sending various goons to pay for their needs in cash and moving regularly, so she was reduced to following in their footsteps while asking around the areas in which they were seen.

    The fact they were not back in Spain was a fairly good indication that they had not given up on their objectives, so we had all been redoubling our efforts in training while letting the small P.I. hire more hands to help with the search.

    I had taken a year of unpaid leave from work at the urging of Uriel, both to avoid splitting our resources in too many locations when trying to protect ourselves, and to be able to give my undivided attention to the training, which led us to the current predicament.

    I was biting my lower lip, trying my hardest not to show my amusement as Storm was staring at an old model of cellphone laying in the middle of the garden table as if it was a venomous snake ready to strike, all the while inching his hand slowly towards it.

    Right now Kate was not helping at all as she was filming the whole thing on her own phone with a big smile. Each time I looked at her I had to repress my own mirth.

    The cellphone was of course one of my father¡¯s idea. He had definitely not been happy at all when he noticed that Storm¡¯s lightning had fried all the electronics nearby, including his gadgety watch and both our phones, so he had declared that Storm needed to work on his control until he could call a lightning bolt in a set place without impacting anything else, hence the cellphone.

    The second evening Uriel had returned from one of his shopping sprees with a bagful of phones, either old models or secondhand ones that had the common trait of being dirt cheap, saying it was the best way to teach him. I thought myself that he was just trying to protect his dear toys.

    Now Storm was supposed to call his power without killing the phone, which so far had not been a successful endeavor, as could be seen from the pile of foul smelling burnt corpses of what had been phones at the other side of the table.

    I stomped on my inner imp once more, avoiding Kate¡¯s gaze. This was just too tempting for my mischievous side.

    Should I or should I not? I really, really wanted to¡­Would I get an angry Storm or a surprised one? Surprised was already cute, but angry was even better...

    Seeing my struggles, my father winked at me from behind Storm. Oh boy, authorization given! Go me!

    I focused, carefully calling a tiny flame on a small stick to the left of the table, in a structure of twigs and rocks the pixies we carried had been playing with earlier.

    As the twig broke, the rocks fell on each other with a resounding thwack, breaking Storm¡¯s concentration, resulting in a very satisfying puff of smoke surging out of the phone with a little explosion, over the cursing of a very surprised Thunderbeast.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    Phone 7 vs Storm 0!

    We all burst laughing at the sight of his blank face. A few seconds later he joined us ruefully.

    ¡°I guess I still need some work on that uh? It really wouldn¡¯t do to fry a poor shmuck¡¯s pacemaker if someone surprises me.¡±

    The phone joined his comrade in arms, thrown away by my father.

    ¡°From the look of things, this is going to take a while if you can¡¯t even touch a phone without killing it yet. You are forbidden from coming anywhere near the game console as long as you can¡¯t control yourself.

    On another note, have you two decided on what weaponry you wanted from the lists I gave you?¡±

    Storm pondered for a short while.

    ¡°Dual blades for me, both long and short.  I prefer straight blades for the long ones, although I can work with any type if needed, about the length of my training ones. A pair of curved knives for close quarters, and some throwing pieces would be perfect.¡±

    ¡°Not to rain on your parade, but wouldn¡¯t that be even more conspicuous than just applying for a gun license, even in France?¡±

    Uriel mussed up my hair, laughing.

    ¡°And can you please stop creating knots in my hair? It takes forever to comb afterwards.¡±

    ¡°No can do, it helps me think. As for your question, guns won¡¯t be effective on shades or other lower grade demons, so I¡¯m planning to craft weapons through which you can channel some power. As for making them less noticeable, I don¡¯t want to spoil the surprise.¡±

    ¡°Then I was thinking of something like a walking staff, and a set of throwing knives I could use without the blazing fireball special. Good luck trying to hide that."

    A wicked smile graced his lips.

    ¡°Oh, I know just the thing, and I might have a couple other ideas for you¡­this should be amusing.¡±

    He listed all we had said, adding other things on his paper. He hid the paper with a smirk when I tried to read it.

    ¡°No cheating Abby! You¡¯ll know when I¡¯ll be done and not a second before that.

    I¡¯ve already discussed it with Maggs for her and Kate, so that leaves only me.

    Hmmm, should I tried to recreate my last blade or make a brand new one? So many things to ponder¡­¡±

    Kate pouted, calling forth what I called her bratty face.

    ¡°Why can¡¯t I decide myself like Sis and Storm? I¡¯m not a kid anymore!¡±

    ¡°The fact you insist you¡¯re not a kid proves you still are one in my books. I will make you some defensive items, but I will not put a deadly weapon in a child¡¯s hand.¡±

    ¡°But...¡±

    ¡°This is not open to discussion Kate. Both your mother and I agree on that point.¡±

    She went sulking in the barn, her favorite mouse on her shoulder. That would be a very squeezed pixie soon, poor thing.

    ¡°Weren¡¯t you moaning because you hadn¡¯t located all the materials you wanted earlier? That should give you time to decide while your contacts continue searching.¡±

    ¡°Moaning is such an ugly word; I was merely reflecting on the trials of life¡­¡±

    ¡°Reflecting very loudly in a whiny voice.¡±

    ¡°You do know you can be very un-cute at times?¡±

    ¡°Whine, whine.¡±

    ¡°You should be careful what you say daughter mine. After all, you will be at my mercy for the next few days.¡±

    I looked at him quizzically.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it is the perfect time for a field trip? Not too hot or too cold, the weather should hold for the next week or so, and the mountains are magnificent in early autumn.¡±

    ¡°And this concerns me because¡­?¡±

    ¡°Ah, Maggs didn¡¯t tell you? Both Kate and you will accompany me in the Alps, we should find the rest of the materials there. My contacts didn¡¯t even know what some of these were, so I need to gather them myself.

    It will do you good to stretch your legs, and there will be less people around for some of the things I want you to train.

    As for Kate, for now I want her right where I can see her, or at least reach her quickly.

    Storm will stay here to guard Maggs, since they both need to work at the pub.¡±

    ¡°What about school?¡±

    ¡°Already arranged with the teachers. This is her next science project since she¡¯d been lagging in her biology course. She¡¯ll be taking pictures and collecting samples.¡±

    ¡°You do know she¡¯ll be complaining the whole time?¡±

    ¡°We all do things we don¡¯t want to at times. A few days outside of a city won¡¯t hurt her.¡±

    I sighed.

    Kate wouldn¡¯t be the only unhappy one. Days scrambling around mountains, and sleeping outside in forests full of creepy crawlies just waiting for an opportunity to sneak into bedrolls and clothes. That was some entertainment I really, really could have missed without a second thought.

    Another bang and puff of smoke marked the death of the eighth phone as a grumpy Storm went back to his training. Guess he didn¡¯t like the idea of being left behind. Who needs a mood ring when one can use an old cellphone instead?

    With another sigh I went back to my own training, trying to call my chain in the real world, without much success so far.

    A wiggling golden chain the size of a child¡¯s bracelet sure was a cute thing, as Kate had pointed when she tried to pilfer it, but the combat uses might be a tad limited¡­

    Urgh, spiders, ants, ticks and mosquitoes¡­.

    ¡°Sigh¡­I really hate camping in the woods.¡±

 Chapter 24 - Into the Woods

    Author''s rant: Hey all, sorry for my sporadic poppings, my internet went bonkers on me again. There is something(?) somewhere(??) wrong with the building fiber or whatever, and it might take a while to correct, IF they find what is wrong, and IF a technician actuallly deigns to show his face around. End of rant XD

    Mc Donald''s free Wifi ftw! Here if your chapter, straight from the neighborhood fastfood joint.

    Don''t forget to rate the story if you like it, let me know my efforts to share it with you are not in vain. My dark, shriveled soul needs nourishment ^.^

    <hr />

    Promenons nous dans les bois,                                                              (Let¡¯s stroll into the woods,)

    Pendant que le loup  n¡¯y est pas,                                                            (While the wolf isn¡¯t there,)

    Si le loup y ¨¦tait,                                                                                                 (If the wolf was here,)

    Il nous mangerais !                                                                                                   (He would eat us !)

    Excerpt from a French nursery rhyme

    Two days later I was feeling particularly miserable as I rubbed some more mosquito repellant on my arms and legs, all the smugness I might have felt when my father handed more poor doomed phones to Storm ¡°to practice while we¡¯re away¡± completely gone with the wind. Right now I¡¯d do anything short of murder to be the one wrestling with technology.

    At least technology wasn¡¯t lost in the middle of nowhere in what had to be the nest of the nastiest mosquitoes on earth, bare none.

    I never thought a mosquito could grow that big, or be that persistent. The damn things could have made sparrows of a perfectly acceptable size and weren¡¯t deterred much by either clothes or repellants. If I forgot 1 cm2 of skin, I could be sure that would be the next place where I¡¯d get bitten.

    Kate was struggling too, albeit to a lesser degree. I guess my scent was really enticing to the little blood-suckers, since I could fancy them calling all their family and friends to the feast.

    And Uriel in that? Of course the damn critters wouldn¡¯t dare mar his perfect appearance, flying around him but never actually trying to land on him. He was sauntering through the ancient firs completely unconcerned, as if the mountain was his backyard. I would have to devise a good payback for this.

    We had veered away from the commonly treaded paths almost immediately after entering the forest, following my father across almost invisible trails, climbing over a few small but steep slopes.

    I truly hoped he knew where he was going, and more importantly, the way back, since both the imp and I had been hopelessly lot after the first hour. Speaking of the imp¡­

    ¡°Sis! My legs are killing me, and I¡¯m hungry! Can we stop for a bit?¡±

    ¡°Ask the guide, not me.¡±

    Uriel shook his head, looking at us with false sympathy.

    ¡°Poor little city girls lost in the woods, what would you do without me?¡±

    ¡°Search for the best sales instead of some unknown minerals.¡±

    ¡°Surf the web in Sis¡¯ bedroom!¡±

    ¡°Hopeless, truly hopeless¡­don¡¯t you girls feel any connection to Mother Nature?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I feel plenty of connections all right, in fact I¡¯d like to be a bit less connected to the holy mosquitoes, if you have a trick for that?¡±

    ¡°Nope, no can do. Having power doesn¡¯t mean you should use it anytime something annoys you.¡±

    I know some pixies who would have some nice decorations for their homes when we¡¯d get back. Gaming disks shaped decorations. There was a yard sale soon, I¡¯d surely find some nice boring stuff to put back in the empty boxes.

    Let¡¯s see if he will still be that smug when he¡¯ll try playing with one of his games then.

    We continued walking the whole day, only stopping for the night when the sun started setting. We had found a good place to camp, a break in the trees too small to be called a clearing, but enough for our tent with some spare room for a small campfire. I wasn¡¯t too sure about any fire regulations out there, but it shouldn¡¯t cause any troubles as long as we were careful.

    While Uriel set up the camp itself, Kate and I both left the campsite to search for some usable fallen wood, although I made sure to keep an eye on the imp at all times. I don¡¯t think Mom would be very happy if we lost her in the forest, and her usual pixie guard had opted to leave us for the day to do forest pixie stuff since Uriel was with us.

    Apparently they¡¯d have no problems finding us again thanks to their bond to the family, whatever that meant.

    Kate pulled me away from my thoughts, bounding excitedly towards me.

    ¡°Sis! I found some mushrooms here, do you think we can eat them? Look, they kinda resemble those Mom brought back last year.¡±

    ¡°We can if you want to puke your guts out tonight. Those are mildly poisonous. Look, the underside¡¯s different.¡±

    ¡°Meh. I wanted to eat mushrooms tonight.¡±

    ¡°There will be more when the rain comes, it¡¯s been too dry for the good ones to pop.¡±

    We headed back to the camp slowly, hopefully with enough dry wood to last us the night. A fire might not be a necessity in the Alps as it is in other mountains, but it still is a comfort with the cooler temperatures of autumn nights.

    What I hadn¡¯t anticipating was the neatly butchered rabbit just waiting for the campfire to be lit, courtesy of my father. Now I knew why he hadn¡¯t wanted to pack more than a couple days of food.

    We¡¯d just have to hope not to cross path with a gamekeeper, although the probability of seeing one was quite low out of the common trails.

    Oh, well, we¡¯d improvise if we met one. That illegal rabbit just smelled too good to be wasted, roasting on the fire.

    ¡°Old man, have you found some of what you wanted yet?¡±

    ¡°Not yet, but if my memory serves me right, we should come across a good spot tomorrow afternoon, if nobody took the goodies in the last century or so. Or was it two centuries before¡­? The old forest was much bigger back then, and much more dangerous.¡±

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Did you see bears? And wolves? Wolves are coming back through Italy I heard, but there should have been a lot at that time.¡±

    ¡°Not many, but yes, there were bears. Grey wolves were quite common too, they were hunted to extinction not much later after though. True Wolves had already left at the time, hadn¡¯t they?¡±

    The imp scooted towards me and the fire as a low growl reverberated from the bushes. I picked up a rock the size of my fist, positioning myself between her and the place from where the sound originated.

    Uriel just shook his head with a disgusted sigh. A tiny flame popped on his extended finger.

    ¡°Won¡¯t you drop the dumb beast act and do us the courtesy of coming in the light? I¡¯d hate to have to drag you here by the scruff of your neck.

    No one here is planning to hurt you or yours, you have my word on this.¡±

    ¡°They said there were no more Caretakers in this world, and yet here I meet you Ancient One. The word of your demise and our retreat from the hunting grounds really were too hasty.¡±

    The words spoken in our minds were utterly inhuman, carrying the howl of winter winds, the growling of the predator in front of us and the song of wolves under the moon.

    No one in his right mind would have mistaken that one for a common grey wolf.

    For one, he was bigger, much, much bigger, about the size of a big pony, his shoulder aligned with mine.

    Then there was the fur, not grey or white, but a pure silver enhancing the amber of the wolf¡¯s eyes.

    Last was the poise of this wolf, surveying the woods like a king his domain. The intelligence shining in the amber eyes shone through his attitude and movements, setting him clearly apart from beasts even without the telepathic speech.

    I let my rock fall on the floor at a glance from my father, as the wolf sat on his haunches. He looked coldly at the silver beast.

    ¡°Why are you here? Your kind relinquished all claims on the land when they abandoned this world to the not so tender care of the humans.¡±

    ¡°We thought this world dying or dead, until the roads between the dimensions started reopening to those who can find them. I came to assess the situation Ancient One.¡±

    ¡°Join us by the fire, pup, I think a discussion is in order.¡±

    If a wolf could have huffed I think this one would have done so. Still, he wisely chose to obey my father, sprawling on the other side of the fire. It obviously knew, or knew of, my father by the way he acted, rekindling my curiosity about the man sharing our lives.

    ¡°I am no pup. I am Asha, son of Methus and Asheara, Clan Chief of the Haksa¡¯Ho¡¯Min.¡±

    ¡°Oh? The old mutt finally got his little Watcher to look at him I see. That would explain your coloring. How are your sires faring pup?¡±

    The amber eyes stared thoughtfully in the fire, the flames reflecting in their depths.

    ¡°The Curse hit us when I was barely out of the litter. Mother was the first Watcher to go. Father only waited for me to win the challenge, then he chose to join with the Winter.¡±

    ¡°I will miss them. They were good people.¡±

    Uriel divided the food, giving a big portion to our carnivorous guest. Good bye heavenly rabbit¡­

    ¡°So, what are your plans now that you have seen how things stands?¡±

    ¡°I will try to find some of our foolish little brothers, see if there is still anything of us in them. After that, I don¡¯t know. Today¡¯s surprises need some reflecting. Finding two Caretakers, including you, Ancient One, is a bit too much for hasty decisions.

    Are there others of your kind we might have missed?¡±

    Dammit, does everyone but me have a phoenix-meter integrated in their eyes or something? The only ones who still thought I was human were the criminal duo.

    ¡°None that I know of pup. Abigail here was a last minute surprise.¡±

    I hugged Kate closer to me, restraining the little hands that had been inching towards the luxurious silver fur.

    ¡°We don¡¯t go petting guests without their consent imp¡±

    The wolf cast us an amused glance, having caught the interactions.

    ¡°You can scratch my back if you want child. I will not hurt a cub, even a human one.¡±

    I looked at the pouncing imp with an embarrassed smile, nodding to the beast in thanks.

    ¡°If I decide to lead part of the Clan back to our ancestral hunting grounds, will you let us Ancient One?¡±

    ¡°Your Clan would owe me, both for abandoning us in our hour of need, and for letting you come back. Will you follow my rules?¡±

    ¡°Haksa¡¯Ho¡¯Min acknowledges the blood debt to you and yours. Furthermore, we will follow the rules you set as long as they stay in accordance to our laws.¡±

    ¡°Contact me before leading more True Wolves in this world. Many places are no longer safe for your kind.¡±

    Asha raised his head with a wolfish (!) grin.

    ¡°I will Ancient One. I have your scent; I can find you easily enough now. Tomorrow I will return to the Clan; many will challenge me over this matter. Stupidly might I add since I am currently the only one able to safely open portals.¡±

    ¡°Stupid adversaries are always the best ones.¡±

    ¡°We agree on that point. Give me a hundred stupid enemies any day over a single intelligent one.¡±

    After that the conversation turned to lighter topics, Uriel regaling us of tales of the silver wolf¡¯s parents while Kate somehow settled her back on his flank, laughing at the stories.

    Can anyone have an evening more surreal than a dinner under the stars, while listening to the bantering conversation between a primordial bird of rebirth and fire, and a gigantic intelligent telepathic silver wolf fresh out of another dimension?

    The regular looking teenager petting the silver wolf flank only enhanced the oddities of the rest of the setting.

    As weird as it was, this was my life now, and I was starting to come to terms with it, even enjoying it at times despites my grumblings. It was often scary, sometimes dark, sometimes bright as day, always surprising, and never boring.

    It also let me rediscover a world I thought I¡¯d known and didn¡¯t like very much, letting me glimpse the jewel under the grim rock upper layer.

 Chapter 25 - Yggdrasil

    Mr McDonald''s saves the day again, viva free wifi!

    Sadly I can''t go everyday, or I''d end up too big to fit in my pants.

    Let''s pray for a quick resolution to the internet issue.

    Thanks for the comments and nice ratings, I really appreciate those ^.^

    So without further addo, here is your chapter.

    <hr />

    It is never a good thing to be noticed by the truly powerful beings. Usually much strife ensues, and the usual pain and suffering for the poor unsuspecting shmuck all happy about his shiny powers. Cowardice is a good way to go, at least one can enjoy the cookies while the heroes battle.

    Ran Ezarki the Fire King

    My eyes popped open as I stood in the middle of the silvery green dreampath. For once I didn¡¯t waltz straight into a pocket dimension or someone else dream despite the proximity of both my father and Kate in the tent, maybe my training was finally bearing fruits?

    Yeaaahh, and when we¡¯d get back to civilization I¡¯d go buy an umbrella to protect myself from the flying pigs¡¯ droppings.

    Besides, this path didn¡¯t feel like one of mines, and I couldn¡¯t see either its origin, nor its destination.

    I sighed, picking a direction randomly. No point staying in the same spot forever, I might as well try to find why I was here since so far most dreams luring me in had a very good reason to do so.

    I had only taken a few steps forward when I felt it. Cold sweat poured down my back, as great cracks streaked through the velvety darkness surrounding the dream road. I could hear the little voice of reason in my mind chanting ¡°it is here, here, here, run, run for your life!¡±, however my legs were trembling too much to allow any form of escape.

    If my father¡¯s spirit had felt ancient and unfathomable, this one outright dwarfed him, menacing to snuff me out of existence just by being near.

    As my father taught me, I erected as many barriers around my mind as I could, holding to my sanity via sheer stubbornness as wave upon wave of images, emotions and thoughts far too profound for my humanlike awareness crashed upon my flimsy fortress, shaking my being to the core.

    Then silence.

    One second I had been fighting for my life, the next all was gone, including the path, as I floated in the void between dimensions. I could taste blood in my mouth from the lower lip I had bitten in my struggles, my heart still pounding like a frightened bird in my chest.

    ¡°Sometimes I forget how fragile living beings are. My excuses child, I had not meant for my presence to hurt you so.¡±

    The voice was spoken, yet not spoken, neither male nor female, not human or beast, choral, yet strangely unique and maybe all of the above altogether. I had a suspicion it was just too much for my mind to take in without sending me into the loony bin.

    An unnatural calm descended upon me, giving a chance for my strained brain to process the last few minutes.

    I could probably safely assume that this was the reason I came into this particular dream.

    Let¡¯s see, uber powerful being on a green tinted road calling me while in a field trip in the alpine forests¡­this should be the nature¡¯s god that had left Uriel puzzled if I was not mistaken.

    ¡°Correct, yet incorrect. Watch, child. This is why I allowed your father¡¯s wish.¡±

    More images came unbidden, still branding themselves in my memory, although without as much of the pain and weight as the first time.

    Our world, in a primeval state, a glittering blue and green gem in the darkness.

    A glowing halo surrounding it, nourishing all. Golden streams coming from, and to the world.

    A human medieval city encroaching upon the land. The glowing flows swallowed by the city without a trace.

    Dark gowned people chanting around a bound firebird.

    A dying world, still green and blue, albeit the glowing halo had thinned so much it was barely visible.

    A tree.

    A shockingly huge tree, both the highest limbs and the roots disappearing into the void. The glowing streams flowed around the gigantic trunk towards the limbs where heavy fruits were hanging.

    Fruits? Those were not mere fruits. What I had taken to be fruits were worlds born of the tree, tied to it by the golden tides.

    I searched for a single world amongst the multitude, discarding dozens from my sight until my gaze fell upon a withered branch, holding a single dark fruit when others had as many as three or four.

    I cried, cried shamelessly for this dying world that was once so beautiful, for all that had been lost to pride and greed, like a heartbroken kid.

    ¡°Do not grieve so child. All is not lost yet. Look.¡±

    I locked my blurry gaze on the tree again, wiping my tears angrily with my hand, searching for a hint of green on the desperately grey branch.

    I was almost ready to give up when I finally found it. It was not a leaf, which was why I didn¡¯t see it at first, but in it was the promise of one, when the bud would unfurl. Tiny specks of golden light hovered around it, by no way a stream, but maybe it could become one if properly nurtured.

    ¡°This will be your task. Grow child. Open your wings and fly, for you will bear my will into this world.¡±

    There was one thing I couldn¡¯t understand. Why would a being that powerful need someone insignificant like me when it could probably take care of the problem with a single thought? After all it had created me. Should I call it Mommy? Daddy? Moddy? Nope, not going there.

    I¡¯d like to stay alive and sane, thank you very much.

    A sense of ¡­amusement? washed over me.

    ¡°Free will, and pacts. If I was to act directly, my counterpart would also be free to interfere. Uriel¡¯s desperate wish brought you to life, I merely allowed it, considering the situation.¡±

    So somewhere a counterpart to me might have been born at the same time I was, like an anti-phoenix. Joy. More troubles. I had many questions, and a feeling this being wouldn¡¯t answer a single one of them.

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    ¡°I will answer one. Creation and Destruction. Awaken, now, child.¡±

    More darkness. This was becoming disturbingly familiar.

    I came to in the arms of my worried father, with the warmth of his healing pouring over me, still shaken by the images branded in my mind.

    ¡°Abigail! Wake up daughter! Come on, don¡¯t let us worry for you all the time!¡±

    ¡°Sis! If you don¡¯t wake up I¡¯ll steal your bedroom to stash all my spare parts, and I¡¯ll give all your make up to the pixies!¡±

    I blinked, raising my hand to pat her head. Another thing becoming way too familiar.

    Uriel blew out a relieved sigh, mussing up my hair.

    ¡°Welcome back daughter. You worried me here, something was blocking me from following your mind, and you were thrashing and tossing in your sleep without awakening.¡±

    ¡°Not my fault the Voice of Creation decided I needed an update.¡±

    My father visibly paled at my words, before rebuilding his composure for the imp¡¯s sake.

    ¡°Let¡¯s talk outside with Asha. This should give him more incentive to protect you, the True Wolves being favored children of Creation.¡±

    ¡°I can hear you just fine from here Caretaker if you wish to stay in the human contraption, although I have an itch between my shoulder blades if the young one feels up for more scratching.¡±

    We sprawled around the campfire again, adding a couple more logs in it for good measure. It seemed only a couple hours had passed since we went to sleep.

    I recounted the dream that was not a dream to my father, letting him translate for the silver wolf.

    ¡°There is no lie in your daughter, Caretaker, and yet I find it difficult to admit the Voice of Creation would choose to speak directly to her instead of going through one of the Watchers. I have no recollection of this world bearing tree she¡¯s speaking about either.¡±

    ¡°I think the tree was just an image to illustrate a point, not a real thing. Yggdrasil is a well-known myth to humankind, the Voice might have just fashioned it out of my own psyche.¡±

    ¡°At least now we know who blessed you, daughter mine. Nature¡¯s god indeed, that was the whole freaking Creation! I would really have preferred a minor godling to this.¡±

    ¡°It is also a good thing Caretaker. This world has hope of restoring the balance now.¡±

    ¡°I will destroy the world myself if that Voice tries to take my family away from me wolf, mark my words.¡±

    ¡°No need to be so melodramatic about this Father, although I appreciate the sentiment. So far, all it wants is for me to become strong. I might take you up on the destruction offer if I really do have a counterpart somewhere though.¡±

    The imp¡¯s eyes were very round as she struggled to follow the whole conversation without falling asleep.

    ¡°So Sis will become some kind of super priestess? That would be kind of funny to watch her gesticulate through a sermon. Or maybe she could pop up some big signboards.¡±

    I flicked her forehead. That silly kid!

    ¡°I¡¯m just me, not a priestess, and there will be no sermon. Go back to sleep instead of spouting nonsense.¡±

    She laughed, settling comfortably in the fur of a much less comfortable looking wolf.

    ¡°I¡¯ll sleep here with Asha. You kicked awfully hard in your nightmares Sis.¡±

    The rest of the night was decidedly anticlimactic, but no one would see me complaining about it.

    In the morning a bright eyed and bushy tailed wolf bade us goodbye, literally bouncing away in the forest to find a good place to open his return portal towards his Clan.

    I stared at my father across our breakfast of berries and cereal bars.

    ¡°So old man, what¡¯s the deal with True Wolves, Creation and Destruction, and the myriad of things I should know about?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what I can about True Wolves, but you¡¯ll have to wait for the origins story. I¡¯d rather not tell this twice and Storm and your mother should know about it too.¡±

    ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°Patience is a virtue, daughter.¡±

    He laughed as I glared at him, obviously enjoying the teasing.

    ¡°Let me see¡­True Wolves are an ancient race, much older than the wolves residing in this world. In fact, the lesser wolves are fallen descendants of banished True Wolves that went back to savagery.

    There are few laws in their society, but those laws are absolute. Breaking them means either banishment or death. There are no other options. Most of those laws are there to protect the pups and ensure internal bloodshed stays to a minimum.

    True Wolves never lie, and consider lying a major crime. They don''t give their world lightly, and never renege on a deal. Never lie deliberately to one of them, or the whole bunch will scorn you.¡±

    ¡°Would it even be possible, between the telepathic abilities and the wolf nose and hearing?¡±

    ¡°I probably could, and you might be able to in the future, but I would suggest not to try it. I¡¯d rather not have to cut down the whole Clan.¡±

    ¡°What was that talk about a curse?¡±

    Gloom veiled his features at that question.

    ¡°This is not my story to tell. Ask Asha next time you see him if you want, he might tell you if he likes you enough.

    Anyway, as for why I wanted Asha to hear about your last dream, True Wolves are closely aligned with Creation, having fought many battles across the dimensions against Void creatures.

    They are a race both blessed and cursed, often considered favored children of Creation along with the Unicorns and Leviathans, and any wannabe destruction lackey stumbling upon one of them will try to take him out.

    Hearing about your own blessing means they¡¯ll want to ensure you can grow up properly, so they should have more incentive to help us if we find ourselves in a pinch.¡±

    I stretched, rising to my feet. I couldn¡¯t think of another question about True Wolves right now, and we still needed to put back the place in order before resuming our travel. The faster we got all my father needed, the faster I could dive back in my comfy bed.