“Have you talked to someone?”
“Such as?”
“Well, Father Paul does come to mind. Y’all two are still friendly, right?”
I tried to imagine what Paul would say, knowing what I had done, and shelved the resulting unpleasant mental image. “We are, but I…need time.”
“Of course.” She sipped her tea and looked around at her lemony handiwork. “So, what’s to be done with this place? It’s a nice apartment, you know, you could rent it out.”
“Or I could give it to you. Only if you want it, of course,” I hastened to add, seeing her surprise. “There’s no mortgage on the place, if you were concerned about that. Plumbing’s solid, wiring’s reliable…you could sell it, go on a cruise with the proceeds.”
She pursed her lips as she mulled this over, then looked at me almost guiltily. “You know, dear, there was an awful lot of damage when those things came through.”
“Oh, did your store—”
“No, no, I’m fine. But Stuart’s building was ruined. Half the roof and a supporting wall—the landlord condemned the place. He’s been staying with me ever since we got back.”
I saw the question in her eyes and sighed. “Or you could give it to Stuart.”
“How about I rent it to Stuart?”
“Do what pleases you. I’ll take care of the title.” I finished my tea, then frowned at Mrs. Cooper. “The furnishings here are somewhat on the feminine side.”
“And that is his problem, isn’t it?” She turned to look at the den, then murmured, “If you’d rather that he not use her things, I completely understand, but I’m not asking for a renovation.”
I stood and surveyed the bits of Meggy left behind—cleaned and straightened, a sanitized version of her life—then closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the apartment was stripped to the hardwood floor, save the kitchen table and the tea things, and I struggled to make my throat unclench. “Thoughts?”
I heard her chair scrape across the floor as she pushed back, then felt her hand on my shoulder. “It’s all right, dear,” she said quietly. “We’ll figure it out. You take your time, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now, let’s see what you might want to save from downstairs,” she said, steering me toward the inner staircase. “I really haven’t touched the shop, but the vandals have stayed away, so everything should be in order.”
She opened the door and started down, but I caught her arm before we reached the floor, and she looked back at me inquisitively. “I’m going to miss you, Eunice,” I said.
Her eyebrows rose. “You’re not coming back to Rigby? Is this goodbye? I’m sure Mr. Matherson will be disappointed to hear—”
“No, not goodbye, just…thinking out loud.”
“Ah.” She hesitated, then murmured, “Down the line, you mean.”
“You could come back with me,” I heard myself say in a rush, quite before I knew I was going to say it. “I can’t give you your youth, but I can make it all a little easier…”
But Mrs. Cooper smiled, and I knew what she was going to say before she began to shake her head. “I thank you, dear, I truly do, but Mr. Cooper…he’s still waiting for me. Not today, not tomorrow, but someday, I want to see him again.”
I nodded and released her, but when we reached the floor, she turned and hugged me. “It won’t always feel like this,” she whispered. “It gets a little duller every year, and someday, it’s not going to hurt every time you say her name.”
I didn’t share Mrs. Cooper’s confidence, but I stood there among the dusty bookshelves and hugged her back, hoping she was right.
Not until after the first of the year did Toula return to Faerie.
Twilight had fallen, and Joey, Aiden, and Georgie had yet to return. Joey had promised Aiden a long flight—Georgie liked the exercise, and Aiden loved the wind in his hair—but as the light faded from pink to deep blue, I stood by the barn and scanned the sky, wondering if I should look for them. Val, who had perched on a bale of straw with a set of blades and a whetstone to pass the time, looked up periodically and reminded me that Joey would call if he needed someone to fret over him.
Impatient but sensing that I was driving my captain mad, I leaned against the fence and watched the sheep repopulate their enclosure. I had tweaked the settings several times at Joey’s request, and the newest flock was fearless and insensate to pain. We had settled on a budding rate that seemed to keep their numbers stable, and Georgie remained content with a mutton-based diet, even if she occasionally lamented the fact that she couldn’t char her own food in this realm. Despite her aggravation, I slept more soundly with the knowledge that the dragon, who at four months old was nearly fifty feet long, wasn’t going to incinerate me in bed.
When my pocket began to buzz, I feared Joey had lost his way and hurriedly flipped my phone open. “Where are you?”
“Montana,” said Toula. “You were expecting something more exotic?”
“Toula!” Val looked up from his work, and I pressed the phone more tightly to my ear. “Sorry, I thought you were Joey—”
“Caller ID isn’t the enemy, Gramps.” She paused to take a long breath, and Val joined me at the fence while I waited for her to resume. “All right if I come over?” she finally asked.
“You know you’re welcome.”
The line went dead, and as I glanced at the barn, a gate opened and Toula stepped across, sporting gray sweatpants and a lime-green sweater worn through at the elbows. For once, her hair lay flay against her scalp instead of teased into its usual spikes, and I noticed that she had opted for fuzzy pink slippers over legitimate footwear. “Hey,” she mumbled, lifting a hand in greeting but staying close to the gate. “You came out of hiding.”
“So did you.”
“Yeah, well, I needed time.”
“So did I.”
Toula nodded, then marched across the yard and embraced her brother, who closed his eyes and pressed his chin against her shoulder. “Welcome back,” he murmured. “Can you stay?”
She extricated herself after a moment and shrugged. “For a little while. Greg insisted on counseling, and if I miss too many appointments, he’s going to get on to me.”
“Counseling?” Val asked, holding her at arm’s length.
“Therapist. We’ve got one in the silo for times like this,” she explained. “No one wants a crazy wizard around, right?”
“You’re not crazy—”
“No, but I haven’t been myself recently, and Greg…keeps tabs. Can’t say I blame him.” Toula turned to look at me, even as Val tightened his grip on her. “I know why you did it,” she said. “And I don’t blame you. I’m almost to the point that I don’t blame myself, but we’re still working on that.”
“Toula,” I sighed, “you didn’t do anything—”
“Exactly. I should have thrown Megs in stasis and locked her away somewhere until it was over, but I didn’t do anything. And we see how well that turned out.” She paused, letting Val hold her against him again, then muttered, “Are we cool?”
“We’re cool,” I told her.
“Good.” After giving her brother’s back a firm pat, she pulled loose and shuffled toward the fence to take a seat. “Where’s Aiden?” she asked as she hoisted herself onto the top rung. “The announcement went out this morning—Carver’s been officially tapped as Greg’s successor. I thought he might want to know.”
“They should be back soon,” I replied, watching Val take a spot beside her. “Took Georgie out for a spin.”
“Mm. Ever thought about getting those guys helmets? I mean, that’s a long way to fall if something happens to Georgie.”
“Actually, I’ve considered—” I began, but paused when an odd sensation suddenly came over me, like having an unscratchable itch all over my body. A glowing circle appeared in the grass at my feet, and I frowned at the others. “What’s going on?”
Val had jumped off the fence at the first sign of an abnormality
, but Toula stayed him with her arm. “I think that’s the business end of a summoning spell,” she said after a moment’s contemplation, “but I can’t say. Are you—”
“Fighting the compulsion to step into that thing,” I said, bending for a closer inspection. “Any idea where it might lead?”
“Probably not the Gray Lands, but that’s as close as I can get you.”
“Sounds promising.”
“Coileán,” said Val, but I shook my head to silence his protest.
“If I’m not back by morning, I expect a search party,” I told them, then glared at the ring and crossed into the light.
My skin flared with heat, then cold, and suddenly, I found myself standing in the center of a chalk circle studded with six white pillar candles. A sniff told me I was back in the mortal realm—and, tellingly, that the wizard who had summoned me was practicing his craft with honeysuckle-scented candles of the sort one might find at a better housewares shop. I blinked rapidly, letting my eyes adjust, then saw a familiar figure standing outside the circle, wearing a hooded white robe and several pounds of amulets about his neck.
“Stu,” I sighed, folding my arms, “I hope for your sake that this is a legitimate emergency.”
His eyes were saucers in the candlelight, and I spotted something in his right fist. “What are you holding?” I asked, then felt something brush against my leg and looked down to find one of Stuart’s cats running through the circle—a circle, I realized, seeing more of my surroundings, that he’d drawn on the floor of my former bookstore. The place was no longer recognizably mine, aside from the heavy oak counter. I had removed most of the bookshelves when I cleaned it out, and Stuart had apparently salvaged his tables and wares from the rubble of his old shop. Even his fake ficus had found a home in the far corner of the store.
After a moment, the shock seemed to have worn off enough for Stuart’s hand to unclench its death grip, and a carved metal ball fell to the floor and rolled toward a display of ceremonial drums. “It worked,” he whispered. “I don’t…I…it worked.”
I had seen enough of the ball to realize what Stuart had been playing with. “Preloaded summoner? A single-use spell? Where’d you get it, kid?”
At that, Stuart finally remembered that I was standing several feet away from him, now being avoided by all of his cats. “Rufus Stowe. An old Arcanum artifact, he said to use it in case of emergency, but—”
“But you had to see if it worked.” I spread my arms and let them flop to my sides. “Presto. Happy?”
He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off of me. “So…you’re trapped in there?”
“Should I be?”
“Well…yes. A circle is used to contain spirits until they agree to do the summoner’s bidding…”
I let him ramble on for a minute, then held up my hand. “Stu, buddy, remember what I said about breaking circles?” I pointed to the fat candles in front of me, which completely covered the chalk beneath them. “And remember how you need to power up a circle first? Wards? Is any of this ringing a bell?”
“I did power the circle,” he protested. “Drew it, lit the candles, cast the spell of protection—”
I stepped over the chalk line and smacked his head so hard his necklaces jingled. “For the last time, you are not a wizard. How much clearer can I make this?”
Stuart rubbed his head and pushed his hood off. “I’m trying.”
“It’s not a matter of trying—either you are or you aren’t.” I watched him as he crawled under the table to retrieve his summoner, then turned the lights back on with a flick of will and pointed to the café tables by the ficus when he reemerged. “Let’s get a few things straight, shall we? What did this Rufus tell you, anyway?”
“Not much,” he muttered, joining me at the nearest table. “I don’t see why I can’t be a wizard if I put my mind to it. I’ve got the books, I’m certified…”
His voice trailed off as a pair of glass tumblers and a bottle of scotch appeared on the table between us. “Do the honors,” I offered, pushing the bottle toward him. “It’s going to be a long night.”
Stuart poured modest doubles, and as we drank in silence, I looked around the store, half-expecting to see Meggy grinning at me from behind the counter. But all I saw were shadows and my private ghosts, and even her jasmine smell had been supplanted by patchouli and sticks of incense. I listened for a footfall overhead that would never come, and I drank deeply, letting the burn in my throat soothe the creeping tightness there.
When my glass was empty, I pushed back from the table and stood. “Come on,” I said, and headed for the street. “Let’s take a walk.”
He followed me into the night, still wearing his ridiculous robe, and traipsed after me down to the sea. And there we stood, conversing quietly while the stars wheeled overhead and the waves continued their eternal assault against the shore, with Meggy lingering always just out of my sight.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
* * *
And we’re back for round two…
Writing alone, in the comfort of your living room, is one thing. Putting your stories out into the world is another matter entirely, and it can be terrifying. A very special thank-you is due to all of you who read Stranger Magics and offered such lovely encouragement online and in person. I’m truly grateful for your support—thank you so much for reading (and for leaving reviews)!
For reasons unfathomable, the Novel Chicks continue to put up with me. Thank you, thank you, ladies, for your critique, your expertise, and your friendship.
And yes, once more, here’s to you, Mom and Dad.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
* * *
When not writing fiction, Ash Fitzsimmons is an appellate attorney and an unrepentant car singer.
Find her online:
www.ashfitzsimmons.com
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