A Tale of Two Drakes-Chapter 3 (edited)

From the curb, 613 Ferret Drive looked like the neighborhood's spook house: aged shingles hanging to the roof by a nail, turret seemingly to be supported by toothpick-like columns of a porch, and a mostly golden lawn speckled with live grass. English Ivy engulfed a side wall and half of the front porch. The entrance gate hung by its bottom hinge and squealed in rusted protest when I opened it.
I took in a long, shaking breath, admiring the early afternoon sun. In the bright light, I felt capable of facing the place I'd last seen in starlight, even the moon had hidden behind the shadows when Railey had come to wake me up. The breeze this time was welcoming, a far cry from the chill it once had been. Death's songbird had followed us here, and it hopped from barren branch to barren branch of a dead apple tree above the gate. It sang to me, twitching its tail and craning its neck around to look at me with sparkling eyes. I thought it odd that Death should be so happy.
Railey appeared by my knee in the form of a hackling black hound. She was unlike any dog I'd seen, her eyes were too human, her hair too bristly, her waist too thin, holding herself with contemplation and thought. She was only a hound when she knew there was going to be trouble. I gave her a slanted smile.
“That many evil goodies, huh?”
I wondered what was here. Death's pure insistence on the matter lead me to believe he had some substantial claim in the mess, and I tried to recall Father's stories about a place he had been. The most haunted acre on the planet, he said, and it was because some wizard had feared Death so intensely that he built a wall that Death could not enter in any fashion. The man died, but it was rumored his soul still wandered the premises, casting spells every full moon, attacking whatever had come into his fence. Father had a burn on his arm to prove it, he swore. He had a scar from a burn, but I hadn't believed the story. I'd thought I was falling for a tease.
Railey snarled at my comment, disliking my half-hearted tease, and dissipated on the breeze. I waited by the gate, swallowing my pounding heart and trying to not remember the hazy nightmares I had fought until recently. I spied her black hound form in front of the garden gate, a white lattice arch with a dainty gate and struggling climbing roses, sinking her head into the ground while leaving her tail thrashing in the air as she searched. Her body yanked and yanked, and for a second I worried something was pulling her under. She popped out and fell back on her rump, shook her head, and trotted over, a human femur in her black, grinning hound mouth. Her eyes had a gleam of triumph in them—finally she had the thing she had gone after in her youth.
I put my hand over my eyes, hoping it was not part of a ritual a spirit did to gain power. Dealing with the spirit was usually workable, but it was dealing with the living who saw fit to murder for the spirit. Murder wasn't the only thing they did—steal, kidnap, delay law enforcement, and stop whoever tried to stop them. If it was them—the most well-known group my parents had run into, called the Enders—I was well out of my league. If it was occult, I would do what I could to strip power away and search for who among the living were behind it—preferably before they discovered my handiwork and killed me. I hoped to recruit whatever friends and family I could before they found me out.
How is it I managed to make it on a kidnap list, escape capture, and find myself planning to make it on yet another list in a night and a half-day?
“Tell me that's not what I think it is. Say there's a whole skeleton, a misplaced burial.” I said. I'd even rather it be a murder victim than an occult victim; the murdered ghosts were difficult to shake but generally harmless. The occult, though...I shook my head. Why would Death bring me to a job when I couldn't do it?
Railey proudly let the bone go, watching it clatter to my feet, dirt falling away, revealing careful carvings and even some black paint. My stomach sank and my heart quickened. It was occult, and from the fairly smooth condition of the bone, it had been done within my lifetime. Whoever sacrificed this man for this occult was still alive.
“You can't walk away from that,” said Railey in her usual spunky girl form. She watched me, having already made up her mind on what we should do. We both avoided reading the markings to keep from stirring up the magic.
“Know where the other four are?” I asked, resigned to our duty. I hoped it would be a quick find-seek-destroy job, but the disrepair of the house indicated this was a problem no one had tried to resolve since Railey jumped the fence and started digging with a stake from the fence. She hadn't gotten far before we came under attack. I narrowed my eyes, trying to remember how she made any progress at all—had the ground been soft? Was it soft because the bones had been freshly laid there?
She jutted a finger at me, bringing my back from my thoughts,“Think I know everything? This man called me to find him, the others were sacrifices—they're quiet. An' I can't go to the backyard or the house.”
I knew she couldn't go in the house without awakening whatever was in there, but the back yard made no sense. “Why not the yard?”
“It's locked. Only way is through that gate.”
I'd learned that ghosts can't go everywhere—some places were impossible to reach, just as they had been while living. It annoyed me to have such a large portion of the property unsearchable, but we would have to make do. I considered using a key I had on my necklace, but I didn't see a physical lock on the gate. I doubted my key would work on purely magical locks, and if it was locked it was a safe bet there was either nothing back there—or so much we couldn't handle it. For now, the more bones we could destroy, the more power we would siphon away from the occult and hopefully make it easier to get rid of. It took the spirit a while to send out a distress call, and if we could snatch power away, it might not even be able to call for help at all. That would give us precious time.
“Check over what you can, then. I want as many bones as we can get before it notices.”
“It knows we're here, but it doesn't think you a threat. No magic,” she snickered.
Others had made that mistake before. There had been too many to count, and I was beginning to feel fatigued already by our early-in-life career choice. I didn't know what I would do when Railey finally was gone for good. I didn't know if I would survive the people who would come searching for me after they found out what we had done to their occult.
Railey left and returned quickly with an arm bone from the lawn and a second femur from under the front doorstep. The last one did not like being removed, it thrashed in her hands and snarled. Once it was in front of me, it blew goosebumps on my neck and I felt pinpricks on my arms. Though sacrificial bones gave the occult power and they could cause minor pain and a lot of nervousness, they could do nothing harmful physically. I ignored the pinpricks and they soon subsided. Railey stepped back, once more in her hound form, giving me a glare for almost trapping her in the mud circle last time. It was her signal that these were all she could find. Three of five was not bad, especially when we had both femurs, though I would have preferred having the skull.
I took out my bottle of mud, uncapped it, and squirted a quick circle around the bones, then I sprinkled the bones and stepped back. They sizzled and whistled as a teapot does when boiled, then grew silent. I gave them another shot of mud, and they responded by leaking blood out from the carvings. The first femur ran dry and broke into dust. A man's ghost formed next to me, more of a feeling than a visual or tangible apparition. He was scarcely there, a tired shadow of the wizard he once was.
“Thank you,” whispered in my ears, and a small gust blew him away.
The second bone writhed and fell into a gooey sludge the color of coagulated blood. Something hissed in my ear, “They will come.”
His soul was ripped from beside me. A warm breeze filled the cold spot.
The spirit in the last bone took the offensive and growled at me, trying to whisper even more threats, “Be away, lamb. Before you really get attract attention.”
I looked at Railey to gather her opinion. She yawned, flicking out her pink tongue deliberately. I calmly reached over the circle and let one more drop fall down on the bone. It wriggled and jiggled, oozing out and flattening like melting gelatin, then hissing and simmering on the rocks before becoming still. This spirit snared my arm and dug his nails into my skin, but before it could leave impressions a crow swooped over my shoulder and snatched the soul away.
The bones and mud dried up, and a crow dove over it, sweeping up the ashes on the gust of its wings. The wind picked them up and swirled them through the air until I couldn't see them anymore.
The bird circled me, then landed on the entrance of the porch with a Caw!
I approached the bird, knowing it well from previous encounters.
“Death, what will I find in there?” I motioned to the door.
The bird's gleaming eyes turned to look at me one a a time, and it hopped to land on a knee-height step.
“In here, Fera-lyne?” he said with the pitchy noises more accurate to a cat than a bird, “I have wished to walk for a century.”
A century worth of uncollected souls sat behind those doors? So, places like my father spoke of did exist. I shuddered, then a second, much less pleasant thought came to me, “Zombies?”
“Ca-ha-ha-ha-ha!” he crowed, ruffling his feathers and extending his neck out far. He calmed down, “No. Ah, Fera-liiiine, you amuse me.”
Railey grew impatient, stamping her now-human foot. She frowned at him and tossed her pigtails, clearly wanting to scold him for taking up time. Yet the instant he turned his beak in her direction she hid behind my legs. Black dogs, cats, various black birds, raccoons, mice, rats, and other animals were lining the trees and bushes along the neighbor's yards, all leaning forward and tense, ready to begin the dash across the lawn and into the house.
“I'm glad you find me funny... May you enter this place now?” I asked, hoping he would carry off the souls so I wouldn't have to spend the next several months contending with them.
“Innn-vite me.”
I hated how this felt already, it seemed souls had claimed this house as a safe haven to avoid being taken. I almost felt guilty about letting his army in. Almost, but I knew their place was with Death, not hiding in a house that could well be draining energy off of them. I climbed the creaking porch and heard growls from inside and caught a glimpse of a curtain being thrown back into place. Behind me, I noticed eager rats and owls creeping closer.
“Death, would you please come in?” I opened the door and held it wide for the flood of eyes and fangs that descended on the house. Animals kept appearing from the bushes and clouds, swooping in to join the house of screams and nightmares. Railey disappeared, and I both feared and hoped that Death had finally caught her. I stood holding the door for a few minutes, ignoring the chills that assaulted my legs and neck, ignoring the putrid stench, ignoring the occasional skeleton hand reaching for my ankle. The house grew silent and a breeze gusted through it.
Soon, I held the door not for the animals to enter but to exit. Dogs lead lost children, cats toyed with dust balls, the birds flew away with elderly spirits laughing in the joy of flight, rats slinked off with other ghostly rats.
I stepped to shut the door. The panel in the porch collapsed and I fell hard, knocking my head on something on the way down, the breath rushing from my lungs. I laid still, stunned for a few seconds, pain drumming distantly in my ears.
The crow hopped over to my face, dipped his head down and cocked his black head until he met my eyes squarely.
“Thank you, Fera-lyne. The Master wishes to meet you, inside.”
I blinked at the crow. Death wanted to see me? Granted, I'd always known I'd meet him, but it was peculiar—I felt I had more I needed to do. I frowned. I did have more to do, but I hadn't the magic to do it. Maybe I had done all Death wanted for me to do: let him in the house.
I sat up, feeling strangely light-headed and dizzy.
“That is an odd request.” I said. The exact rules on meeting Death were not known by the living. I'd assumed I would have to be dead to meet him, but I felt alive still. I still had a headache, and my shin stung from a gash from the wood, and it was my understanding pain went away when you died.
“Cah-ha! It is an honor.”
Even if it was a trick by something in the house, I would have to face it sometime. I wished I knew where Railey was. I watched the crow depart, flying low over the lawn then swooping through the treeline, out of sight. I peered into the house, standing up and testing my ankle. It was fine, though a little twisted.
The door opened into a large ball room lit with stargazing windows and the thin drapes. I stepped in and shut the door gently behind me. A ghost appeared several feet before me , a butler with a monocle, jutting nose, and belly that heaved out wide and swung into chicken legs.
“This way, Madame,” he said and walked through the ballroom and under a doorway. I followed reasonably close, feeling vulnerable without Railey nearby.
He took me to a formal dining room, where other ghosts sat around a table headed by Death. Any suspicion of his identity left me once I laid eyes on him—I knew in my very soul he was Death and none other. For now, he had chosen to wear a formal vest, cravat, and sports coat, have his black hair curve under his chin and crop close at the back. His nose hooked like a crow's, and his eyes were shimmering red-yellow. At that moment, I did not feel it was necessary to investigate the other five ghosts. His eyes held me, and I knew our time was limited.
“Welcome, Daughter, it is past time we meet. Butler, the merlot.”
The butler poured me a glass of the dark red wine, and it was then I noticed what should have been pounding in my chest but was not. My heart was still, and I did not breathe.
“I'm dead.” I said, amazed at how I spoke without breath, stunned at the pain still present in my body. It was much more distant now than it had been, I noted, my ankle no longer hurt.
“There is no other way to meet me. Now, you have two more minutes. Drink all the merlot by the time I'm finished speaking.” His voice was plain and pleasant, almost asking me to obey. I felt compelled to do as he said, not because I didn't have much other options, but because there was something about him that said I should follow his advice. It was hard to focus, hard to feel anything but relaxed, hard to resist letting go and drifting into a nothingness akin to dreaming. The heavy glass shoved in my cupped hands brought me back, focusing on the thing in my hands. Drink, he had said.
Merlot had never been my favorite, and the butler had poured the glass to the brim—I was that certain was more than improper for a butler with any formal training to do. I choked back my questions and started drinking. Death talked, his voice precisely timed and enunciated.
“613 is—and always will be—home to this wizards circle. These five men and women must never succumb to the occult who has infected this house. Rid them of him. His casual name is Jacobs Heimer Snitzgoodle, and that will be ample information to banish him. I have sent your friend to gather his ceremonial power bones. Destroy the them, and bury his remains.
“You will need help to fight against his followers. Should you die at their hands, I will not revive you again, but I will pick from your friends to be my next agent. I will guide you to those you need to trust. I have selected them as carefully as I have you.”
No matter how fast I tried to gulp, it seemed to not make a difference in the level of the wine, yet it burned my throat like it was heavily spiced and simultaneously it coated my ragged throat with honey smoothness. I was dizzy, I had a hard time focusing and holding the glass in my shaking hands. I threw my head back and swallowed, then checked the level, gasping for breath though I needed none. The glass was heavier and heavier even though it was nearly empty. My world was the glass now, trying to get the last sip from it even as my body threatened to flow away and the glass pulled on my arms as though it were a stone sinking to the river bed, dragging me with it. I could let go. I wanted to let go. I refused, tossing my whole strength against the glass, raising it up to my chin.
“Feralyne Hope Swift, I and the 613 Wizards Circle awaken your powers with your last sip.”
I was floating over the table now, and the last pool of wine was in the corner of my glass. The others chanted softly, their faces obscure and raised. They held out their hands and light shone between them, wind whipped my hair, and I fought to bring the glass to my lips, tilt my head back and drink the last four drops.





The hot deck had not been a comfortable bed, I thought bitterly as I held my head and sat on the steps of the house. My head ached with each beat of my heart, and my lungs burned, not to mention the splinters digging though my jeans and into my thighs. I believed I would much prefer a hangover about now. I hauled my leg from the rotten porch, wincing at the blood that had dried my jeans to my skin. I winced, hiding my face behind my knee, closing my eyes to the light and sucking in air slowly to temper the threatening migraine. I had a knot on my head where it had collided with a cinder block.
The thing with Death had to have been a dream, some peculiar fancy of my imagination. I'd had similar dreams of suddenly, beautifully earning my magic back again. Granted, none had been so bizarre as this dream, but I thanked the cinder block for adding the weird-factor. At least the house was peaceful now, and I was tempted to stay and check it out—until I realized that the living followers of the spirit would come here sometime. I didn't want to be here when they came.
I scooted to sit on the steps, still trying to lose the dizzy feeling I had before I stood. I checked my ankle. It was tender, slightly swollen, but nothing a bag of ice and a good night's rest wouldn't fix. I could walk on it.
Try as I might to dismiss the dream, it nagged at the back of my mind.
I did something I used to do as a child—a 'prove your magic' routine. I pulled out the flier for the swan fountain kissing day from my pocket, unfolded the creases the best I could, and tossed it to the walk in front of me.
Over time, magic can be trained to behave a certain way with any given command, much the same way a dog can be trained to sit, stand, or lie down with any word so long as it is the same word for the same action. Most spell-casters preferred to use Latin words meaning what they wanted to happen. Other languages were still used for conversation and it was most annoying to have spells shooting of when two people were merely talking. Not many people spoke Latin fluently, so it was considered ideal.
As a child, I hadn't much cared to learn Latin. I thought you didn't train your dog the Latin word for sit, so why should you train your magic that way? It was fortunate my magic did not learn to behave according to spells—it was a kinetic learner. Nevertheless, I had trained it to do one trick.
“Turn into a frog,” I told it, announcing my command to the air about me.
I felt nothing.
The paper sat there, not even twitching in the breeze.
I waited a little longer, but still didn't feel anything around me.
Same as it had been.
I felt foolish now.
I stood, pulling myself up on a banister and climbing down the short three steps to the sidewalk. As I went by the paper, I reached to grab it but the wind snatched it and flicked it to the fence. I left it, walking towards the nearest bus stop on the corner. I waited only a few minutes, combing out my hair with my fingers, pulling it back, twisting it into a bun, and running it through with a discarded pencil on the bench. The bus pulled in and stopped.
“Blakk Kettle Kafe still three stops down?” I asked.
“Yes'm.” the driver said.
I took hold of a vertical bar, bracing myself against the swaying of the bus. My thoughts went back to the paper sitting on the fence and I shook free of my disappointment, not knowing that the next time I visited 613 Ferret Drive, I would find an origami frog waiting at the gate.

Hello hello hello...

made crinkles appear under his eyes.

This chapter felt like it flowed a lot better. I wasn't being zoomed from one spot of information to the next.

I did think that Mordon and Farelyne seem to be moving really quickly here. I mean, I get that Mordon knows about Feralyne from something (seeing as how he was talking about her being someone he'd wanted to meet for a while in the first chapter), but I'm not buying this instant trust and connection Farelyne feels. Is it magical in nature? It's just seriously moving too quickly for me to be believable.

Don't get me wrong. I like Mordon. The beard-stroking-but-not is adorable. But beyond an initial physical attraction, there's no way these two could know anything about each other. Unless, as I say, there is something magical at work. Is there? Right now it just feels like a cop-out, or a quick way to get these two romantic interests together. You're gonna have to convince me that they really are right for one another, or that there is a reason why they feel this instant connection.

She appeared outside the bubble, skull in one hand, arm bone in the other, both resting on her hips.

How is it that the others don't see the bones? I would have thought that even though Railey is invisible to them, the bones would just be levitating in mid-air. Is that not the case? Do they go invisible when she holds on to them? This just threw me for a little bit when I read about the mens' confusion and apparent lack of Railey-sighting.

Mmm, like I said, this chapter seemed to flow a lot better, mainly because it kept focus on one thing and stuck with that one thing. Simpler is often better. Still a lot of information, but it was character-interaction related. Me likies.

As always, questions and comments are welcome! Just leave a note somewhere!

~Gryph

You don't need to start off by saying "Chapter Three. We all already know what chapter it is because of the title. "A Tale of Two Drakes-Chapter 3"

My magic thickened about the circle's circumference in response to my fear becoming dense like fog. My fingertips touched his. He let out a breath but held still and closed his eyes in concentration. Trusting another with your magic brought about a level of intimacy virtually unparallelled in the magical world. Even masters didn't take hold of their apprentice's magic unless it was dire emergency. Time and gradual growth allowed them to be guides instead.

I felt my magic dissipating at his meditative repose, and tension over my shoulders and back eased. My magic was a coil compressed under years of disuse and it was willing to pounce at any provocation. I had not realized how sensitive it had been until I had a taste of control. I breathed in cool air and sighed, knowing my magic no longer riddled my thoughts.

My magic was quieted enough to no longer be dangerous unless I grew anxious and provoked it. I could pull my hands back now, but some part of me didn't want to. I tried to pull back, but my arms wouldn't move.

My magic had now settled all around us, and my reluctance to retreat had become obvious to both of us. His eyes opened and he surveyed me. I had no reason to trust him as much as I did, and neither should he trust me. Every second we stayed in contact was a greater temptation for him to possess my power, but as I looked into his eyes, I became aware of his magic. It popped and sizzled in the background, a gentle glow that would only take a slight gust to breathe it into a flickering blaze. I knew I had looked into his magic too long already—I should be ignoring it altogether, but his magic felt as natural to me as mine had when I was a child. I pulled back with conscious effort, refusing to take a look back at its mesmerizing dance. Mordon let his circle die down.

I closed my eyes and felt for my magic.

It had matured beyond the unwieldy too-much or too little rushes. It was almost not there, as natural as the rest of the world. I pulled it to me, swinging it around us, a cool breeze marking its rotation as it passed by again and again. His magic recognized the motion as the formations of my circle, and rallied in some disapproval. Mordon shushed it to let me concentrate. As a child, I dedicated days to uncover my circle—it was essential for learning advanced spells and techniques, and never once did I come close to it before now. I shouldn't endanger Mordon by casting my first real circle with him in it. I shook myself and let my magic relax into gusts between the rooms.

Someone was rattling the front door insistently, and my magic checked the person.

“It's Barnes,” I said, “you should let him in so he knows I didn't eat you or something.”

The man laughed, a velvety sound rich and soft but powerful, “I will try to convince the store to let him in. It's very peculiar for it to trap a person with me—it's much more known as the store that lets no one in.”

I felt their communication through magic. The store found talking to him difficult, like two people speaking through a translator, and that translator was random items in the store. I couldn't feel the items, not well. The only thing that I felt much connection to was that vase with the woman, and she was a companion I did not wish to keep.

After feeling Barnes hammer hard on the door, and the door stubbornly refuse to relay the message, I shook my head and laid both my palms on the wood.

“Let him in, please.”

The store grumbled at me, giving me the distinct feeling it wanted Mordon and me left in privacy and was not happy to have both of us asking to let an interloper in. It was almost convinced to let the constable in, but I felt a lingering fear. I ran one finger down the grain of the wood and crooned to the store, “I'll stay here after he's gone, I promise.”

The door unbolted and unlocked swiftly and resoundingly, opening itself slowly for Barnes with lots of grinding and creaking.

“Mordon!” yelled Barnes, his voice just barely reaching us although he was doubtless at the top of his lungs.

Mordon, smirked at me, knowing his store was dampening Barnes' voice deliberately. When he smiled, it made krinkles appear under his eyes.

“I know, my store can be an ass.”

I had a hard time pulling away from those eyes. I'd always had that ability to look into a person's soul, but Mordon was so clear to me—I felt I knew him already. He was being open with me, letting me see him for who he was. Usually people reserved most of their souls and showed only what influenced their work. But when Mordon looked at me, I felt like I was looking into a creature's soul. I smiled, struck with the wonder of who and what he could be.

His eyes moved down to my closed hands and he held out one light gold hand to mine. I realized he was curious what I held. I cleared my throat and put the pendant in his hand as I spoke, “The store wanted to show that to me.”

I'd forgotten about it entirely, and it was a wonder that I hadn't lost or put it down during all that happened. Mordon looked at it with a brow furrowed in curiousity.

“Mordon!”

“Backroom, Barnes.” he said calmly, still thinking about the pendant. He recognized it, indeed he was very familiar with the item. I wondered what it was and what it meant that the store gave it to me.

Barnes reached us despite the store tripping him up at every opportunity. His square face was bright red and slathered in sweat. He pointed his baton and me and spat,

“Scutum!”

Before my magic could swell to defend me, I was locked in a giant bubble. I thought of the similarity to what I'd done to the troll, but this bubble simply held me cut off from my magic. I poked it, and it jiggled back into place. At the moment, I was more befuddled by his actions than offended. Mordon raised his eyebrows and made a slight movement towards me before holding still.

“Barnes, explain.”

“She's a changeling.”

“What made you come to this conclusion?”

“There was talk of an attempt on your life and a changeling passed through my wards the same time that she showed up.” He set his mouth in a way that I knew I couldn't argue with him. I appealed to Mordon with raised hands and a face I hoped conveyed that I was not a changeling.

Suddenly, I had a second explanation. I met with my brother last year, and he said there was a changeling on our parents' trails, looking to turn them in for a bounty.

“Do they smell fishy?” I asked.

“Not if they take a parfum potion.” said Barnes, his jaw still set.

Every place I had stayed for the last month had the front door smelling like fish every morning. “It's been following me. Mordon, my parents are expected to visit within the next month.”

“Ahh, of course.” Mordon mused, once more stroking his chin. I resisted asking him if he had recently cut off a beard.

“What is 'of course''?” Barnes huffed, giving in to Mordon's apparent knowledge.

“I know she is no changeling, as no changeling could be in my circle without my knowing it for what it was. And the attempt on my life was carried out shortly after she entered. Fortunately, her parents are demon hunters—we did talk to that couple this morning, don't look surprised—and she has some talent dealing with bogarts. It's trapped in that pretty little ring, a true gem of an artifact. Might I ask you what lucky man gave it to you?” Mordon said.

“My mother.”

“Mordon?” said Barnes, genuinely bewildered by his friend's behavior. He was going to continue his question, then tossed his hands up in the air, “Fine, I will leave you to court and woo!”

I was stunned, not only by Barnes' assumption, but also by Mordon's response.

“If that's all you have to discuss, then indeed I shall.”

A shock of thrill ran through my body at the blunt announcement of Mordon's intentions towards me. I wasn't sure if I should be indignant at the presumption that I was likewise inclined, or giddy at the concept as a whole. Railey's cold snap chased away all feelings but urgency.

“Finally, there you are! And flirting, no less!”

She appeared outside the bubble, skull in one hand, arm bone in the other, both resting on her hips. She waved the arm bone at me, “These things will take more than holy mud. Ask them for help.”

Although she appeared only to me, Barnes shivered and looked around suspiciously and Mordon's face fell. Barnes felt her, Mordon felt the bones.

I cleared my throat.

“Railey's here right now. She needs help.” I said in a rush, sensing her urgency.

“Why?” they both asked.

“She has a couple things we need to destroy right now.”

Barnes set his jaw in frustration. “What things?”

“Cursed bones from a house I'm cleansing, a skull and an arm bone.” I said as concisely as I could.

Railey tapped her feet, and even the others could hear her. “Now.”

“Mordon? Is there anything at all...?” I didn't need to finish before he was gone.

Barnes watched me and looked around, way above Railey's stature. “Where is the ghost?”

“She's in front of me. Railey, can you show yourself please?”

She snorted and tossed her pigtails back. “Why?”

“Oh come on. Don't do that.”

“I am a constable! It is my duty to keep the peace here and I will evict you if you don't show yourself!” Barnes barked.

“Cheater,” she sniffed and let him see her. She hid the bones behind her back.

He blinked, and looked around, then caught sight of her well below where had originally looked. The prickly air he'd had before faded, and he smiled to see a girl grinning up at him, freckles standing out in this light. He knelt to talk to her.

“Wanna meet my friend?” she asked. When he nodded, clearly expecting to be introduced to me, she thrust the skull out at him. He jerked away and shuddered.

“Where did you find that?!”

“Thirty feet under the grass, locked in a wizard's case, sealed by curses, and guarded by fifty men!” she said in her best children's spook tale voice.

He looked up at me. “Is she serious?”

I had no idea. I shrugged.

She cackled and squealed in delight. “It was harder to find lover-girl.”

I rolled my eyes at her, hoping I wouldn't see her for a little while to avoid the inevitable childhood 'kissing in a tree' song. When she had company, she really hammed up looking and acting like a child.

“About those bones,” prompted Mordon, suddenly behind me.

He set something down in front of me. It was the vase with the woman on it. It sounded heavy though it looked empty. “Have Railey put them in here, but don't let her touch it or she will not return.”

“She heard you,” I said.

Railey peered down into it, and pulled away, noticing that it suddenly made her skin shimmer with magic. She glanced at me, skeptical about the vase. I shrugged.

“The Lady of the Vase claims all souls who do not have a physical form.” said Mordon warningly. “She has been rumored to have claimed an entire church trying to attain out of body experiences.”

Railey nodded and cast the bones in the mouth of it, a casual underhanded toss, first the skull, then the arm bone, each made a satisfactory clunk. She darted away. Green smoke rose from the vase. The bones rattled and shook against it, the cacophony growing louder and louder until a woman's scream pierced the air. I clamped my hands about my ears and grimaced. The scream cut short, and the vase was still.

Railey peeked from behind Barnes' legs and gave an impressed frown, her eye brows raised up high in a what-do-you-know-it-worked expression. Fatigue settled into her eyes. She gave Mordon the once-over and me the thumbs-up, then was gone.

Without adrenaline, I sagged on my feet and wished I could disappear like she did. I stared at the shop, not believing I could do magic, not believing I had met Death, and most of all wondering how I could ever set foot back in 613 knowing what awaited me.

“Madame.” Barnes said.

I smiled at him, a sleepy sort of grin, “Yes?”

“An explanation is required.”

“Thank you. What do you two have to do with Leif and Lilly?” I asked, remembering how Mordon had asked for Lilly when he woke up. I couldn't imagine them knowing Lilly without knowing Leif.

The Mordon raised his eyes.

Barnes gave up up talking to me and sat in a chair, running his fingers through his receding hair. He gave Mordon a smirk.

“She doesn't know?” Mordon asked.

“Completely clueless,” said Barnes, smug. He took his cap and laid it over his eyes and stretched out his feet.

With that gryphon gone, Railey dead, and me disappeared, it did not leave much of a circle for Leif and Lilly. They were strong, intelligent, very capable, and got along well with others—ideal candidates for joining a new circle. It was no coincidence that Mordon and Barnes were in close proximity, and it made good sense for Leif and Lilly to join a circle with these two. I realized how unlikely it was that Leif had kept a position open for me, especially since they had a protector with Mordon.

“So, who is the fifth?” I asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

I could not blame them for moving on.

“Ask Leif.” huffed Barnes, apparently not giving up on me as much as he cared to admit, “You might have better fortune getting that out of him than I did.”

Mordon had a look on his face, one that krinkled the skin around the eyes and mouth similar to when he smiled. He seemed to know the answer to the secret—or at least have a good idea—but he wouldn't voice his answer.

He snapped his fingers and the bubble popped from around me.

“Come,” Mordon said, showing me to a wood chair in the center of the main room. I expected the chair to groan under my weight, but it did not.

Mordon came back to me and pulled a chair to sit in front of me, unwrapping a bundle as he spoke, “I will tell you now: Nothing will ever taste the same. You will hate your favorite foods, your preferred activities will change, and you will see the world as you never though possible. As you go through your new life, accept what new things come your way.”

A polished clear crystal ball with pink veins sat in his palm amid its plush brown wrappings.

“What is it?” I asked, resisting my instinct to reach for it.

His smile encouraged my reaction and he held it out to me. “It's the Orb of Tularia, it is a preliminary test of sorts.”

“Ah—” started Barnes, which effectively caused my fingers to retract again, but Mordon raised his eyes at Barnes and set it firmly in my palms.

“How does it work?” I asked, relishing in the warmth it emitted. I shivered as cold left my body, getting goosebumps as I began to feel warmer from the inside out.

“Just hold it. It is different for every person,” he said, his voice already fading on the breath of air caressing my face from the orb. “It shows some people their dreams, some their powers, some their future. Whatever you see, you will never forget, but remember when you are the most in need.”

I smelled honeysuckle, grass, and water swirling from the orb, closed my eyes, and the orb filled them with visions. There was a weeping willow tree, its drape-like branches waving in the breeze, and children played in it, peeking their faces out then ducking back under the tree. Their happy shrieks and giggles lit through the air, and I fell back onto the grassy meadow. My toes dipped into a stream and I watched the clouds above drift across the blue canvas they lived in.

A butterfly flashed into my vision, and I watched it flutter past me and play with the children, then head up towards the castle on the cliffs. I looked at the castle with some disinterest, admiring the skill it had taken to build it onto a ledge to avoid as much foot traffic as possible. The gate to the castle opened, but we were too far away to hear much but a distant groan as the gate rested on its chains. A red dragon came out, his head had black markings above his eyes and racing down the bridge of his nose, joining into a V at the end. He had a black dorsal stripe which went all the way down to the tip of his tail, and yellow stripes zigzagged down his legs. The tender scales down his throat and belly were also yellow. He strode to the end of the gate and belted out a long stream of flames, a signal I took for celebration rather than intimidation.

The children peeked out of the tree. One by one they emerged as tiny dragons. I smiled in joy and spoke praises about how well they were doing. They yanked on each other's tails, bit wings, rolled head-over-tail, and one attempted to flame a stick. He succeeded only in huffing smoke and coughing.

I shook my head at their antics. They bounded over, tripping up their siblings, some flapping and gliding from rocks, each in a race to be the first to reach me though I knew their cries of hunger even from this distance.



That world was gone suddenly, replaced by the antiquities shop, Mordon sitting with his eyes closed in meditation, and Barnes sulking about food.

“I don't care to wait, Mordon, I'm hungry now!” he griped.

My stomach rumbled in agreement.

Mordon opened his eyes, and held out his hand for the orb.

I wanted to see the children again and was slow to handed it over. When the orb sat between our fingers for an instant, the orb flared, filling my vision with fire. I closed my eyes, though my lids did little to dim the blaze. The orb left my fingers and so did the fire. I thought about the fire as Mordon wrapped the orb up again. No one else had noticed the flare. Mordon put in in a cabinet, clicking it locked. I sat reminiscing on the vision I'd had of the valley, comparing the dragon flames to the ones I'd seen just now.

Barnes' voice came to me, and I realized I'd missed out on some conversation.

“It is settled then: Through Door 921 and to the Mermaid's Tale!” cheered Barnes, raising a fist in triumph.

Mordon helped me stand on numb legs, and I snatched his elbow when my knee buckled. He grabbed me and held on until I regained strength. His eyes met mine and I noticed his eyes simmering fire, the same fire as I'd just seen, the same fire as the dragon spewed, the same fire as his magic. I felt jolted and shocked, as though I had just made another one of my obvious observations. I couldn't stop myself from talking.

“ You're a drake.”

His eyes lit up in surprise and I wondered if I'd made a misstep to blurt it out.

I saw the start of a smile on his lips when the floor beneath me bucked. I staggered and fell against a wall, then my legs collapsed straight out from under me. Mordon's grabbed my head and kept me from cracking it against a statue. My sight grew spotty and dark. I was so light-headed.

“Rest, you can see the market later.” said Mordon.

I heard Barnes' voice huff an inquiry, but I couldn't tell what it was.

“....too much activity...magic...backlash....” I heard snippets of what they said, then I heard nothing at all.

Ok wow, I usually write reviews by just copy and pasting the whole thing then editing it as I go along, but this one had me stumped. You are obviously a very good writer and I am so intrigued by this story =] I did notice though that the phrase "My Magic" was used a little too often in the beginning. You can probably do something to change that around.

Keep writing! You have some serious talent my friend!
Blondie Missy Angel