by Mel Todd
I did as she asked while Jo put on some cheese and sour cream. My mouth watered as the spicy chili, cumin, and frying fat smells invaded my nose and mouth.
"STINKY! PAPI! Dinner's ready!!!" Jo shouted and Marisol turned around to glare at her.
"Was that really necessary?" Marisol's tone was chiding but her mouth tilted in amusement.
"Yep. I'm hungry and Cori needs to spill the beans." Jo flashed a grin at her mom, but she frowned and rubbed her head as she headed to her seat.
Stinky stomped in, glaring at his sister. " I missed the raid because of you," he grumbled as he sank down in the chair.
"Oh well. You would have had to bail for dinner anyhow," she replied, but her jabbing wasn't as amused as normal. That was a standard rule at the Guzman house. Everyone in the house came to dinner, no exceptions.
He sighed and waited for Henri to take a seat, not wanting to admit she was right. Their constant squabbling amused me to no end. It also made me wonder what Stevie and I would have been like. I pushed the thought away—it had no purpose but to feed my already precarious emotional balance.
"How are you doing, Cori?" Henri asked watching me as he loaded up his plate.
I shrugged, not sure how to answer that. "I'm okay, I guess."
"Tell them about the money," Jo ordered. She hadn't reached for any food. I cast her a funny glance—my stomach was doing a happy dance from the smells alone, but she looked off.
Before I could ask her a question Marisol spoke. "What's this about money?" She passed me the plate of rellenos as she spoke.
I took two, they were so good, and tried to figure out how to explain everything. It came out halting and awkward. Jo prodded me twice to keep going. She'd taken one relleno and poked at it, though she grabbed some chips and salsa.
I gave her another look—lack of appetite was never her issue. She hadn't seemed drunk, but then what did I know. We'd talked about our twenty-first birthdays, but we had months to go.
Once all the money information had been laid out, Henri and Marisol exchanged those lightening glances, then Marisol focused on me. "What would you like us to do?" There wasn't anything in her voice, just the gentle question, and that made me feel worse. I stared at my plate, the cheese and pepper now sitting like a lump in my stomach.
The elbow in my ribs wasn't unexpected, though it hurt less than I had expected. Jo didn't do subtle. "Jo suggested I ask you if you'd speak to my parents about getting me some money or something," I admitted. I had no issues throwing Jo under the bus, the traitorous wench, but I didn't want to see their faces when I asked.
"Yesssss." The word hissed out and I jerked my head up to see a wide grin on Marisol's face, and a resigned one on Henri's. "I've been waiting eight, almost nine years for you to ask me to do this. I hinted that I would but you never took me up on it. Now I can. I promise, you'll get the extra money you need."
I blinked at her, trying not to let the moisture that pooled in my eyes escape.
"I feel strange," Jo muttered and I spun to watch her head flop backwards, nose towards the ceiling and eyes rolled so only the whites showed.
Chapter 12
The symbols for magic, Chaos, Order, and Spirit, are the same across all cultures and governments. It must be noted however that while the symbols are identical, thanks in part to the formation of OMO, the names of the classes can vary by language, culture, and government. For instance, France refers to Spirit as Esprit with the connotation of mind and intellect, not the same way the English language means spirit. ~ History of Magic
Not again, please by all the Merlins, not again.
I didn't know where that thought had come from as I sprung to my feet and pulled her out of the chair, laying her down. Her skin, normally a dark tan, had flushed red and heat was washing from her. Her eyes showed only the whites as I laid her on the floor, and her body arched back.
"Call the OMO," I said, my voice calm, distant from my thudding heart.
"What? Really?" Her mom's voice broke on the two words even as I caught Henri pulling his phone from his pocket.
"She's emerging. Give her space. Remember it looks scary, but it's just the body adjusting to the sudden influx of power and adapting." I sounded like a damn recording, my voice calm and matter of fact, even as I saw the damn magic stealing my friend. We'd seen videos of emergences in training. Everything from a hedgemage who got a bit flushed as if with a mild sunburn to a merlin who damn near took out his house. Jo was coming in hard and fast. My hand tingled and I looked down.
"Close your eyes." I barked out the order as I squeezed my eyes tightly closed. Different mages emerged different ways, but it always traced back to their primary skill set. The burst of light, bright enough I could see it through my eyelids, didn't click with anything I could think of. A gust of wind would have been Air. A burst of heat, Fire. Sweat drenching us? Water. But light and a strange tingle across my skin? I couldn't think of anything. At least not until I opened my eyes.
"Oh." My voice lost its calm as I glanced around the room. Where it had once been a dining room with a sturdy hardwood table and warm colors, now it was the same shape and size, but the colors had gone to Jo's preferred greens and blues and the table was made of a glossy wood that looked the same, but different. I reached out and realized the wood had petrified.
"I suspect she's a strong Pattern mage, though effects created during initial emergences are rarely repeatable." My voice remained distant and calm, shoving all my terror and the realization my world was crumbling around me behind a very strong wall. I looked at her parents who had recovered their poise, though Henri still spoke to the operator. OMO or Office of Magical Oversight had worldwide jurisdiction for the registration and testing of mages. Which meant they had offices everywhere. While you dialed 911 in an emergency, in every country you dialed 711 for emergences.
"They will be here in a few minutes," Henri whispered, dropping down next to his daughter. "So strong. None of the boys were like this. They were a wave of air or heat washing through us, maybe a moment of disorientation. Nothing this drastic."
I nodded. This was something they hammered into us. Emergence was usually scary to anyone not realizing what was happening. Even when you did understand it, you needed to recognize that a high rank or merlin could get people killed.
"So, she might be a high rank, maybe even archmage." I forced a smile at Marisol, hoping it didn't look as fake as it felt. "It looks like you might get your college wish after all."
Her smile was wan. "I haven't seen a higher-rank emergence, I didn't realize they were so…"—she looked around the room—"dramatic."
That did get a real laugh out of me. "You need to go to the vid channel. There are a few of merlins where they're lucky no one was killed." Sirens sounded, causing me to drop that line of conversation. They would be here soon and get her tested. Next time I saw Jo, she'd be a mage. Have her tattoo.
I am happy for her. I am.
I didn't know if I was lying or not—all I could see was her being pulled away even faster than I already feared. Pounding came from the door and Stinky raced to open it. A moment later, either seconds or eternity, I wasn't sure which, three people came striding in. The lead, an older man with a bit of salt in his dark brown hair graced everyone with a kindly smile, one that screamed practiced. He looked around the living room, and the obvious change in appearance. As he turned his head, I saw his tattoo, bright in the light. He must have paid extra to have metallic ink, or he could change his own. A Fire mage, probably an archmage. Part of me wondered if you had to have special skills to be part of the OMO response teams. Most of me tried not to grab Jo and hold her close to me.
"I'm Warrick Jones. I'm the archmage for this office." He continued his survey of the living room as he spoke. "Interesting, I haven't seen that before. I'll send someone out to reverse it." The two people following him both had symbols too, letting me know they were mages. I had always found it funny that a mage and an archie would have the sa
me tattoo, so you never knew if they could give you a hot flash or melt your bones. But merlins? With their triple tattoo they were always recognizable.
"Leave the table. I rather like it," Marisol interjected, before he could keep talking. "It will give us something to tease her about."
The man smiled again, an easy smile that didn't reach his eyes. We probably bored him to tears, but oh well.
"As you wish. I see you are both mages, as is your son, Sanchez, though only a hedgemage." His eyes flicked to me then past. I didn't have a tattoo. I'd rarely experienced discrimination because of my lack of magic but some people were born assholes. "My people will take her to the local center, we are affiliated with the hospital." He said it as if imparting great information, but everyone knew where the local OMO office was. It was a small building adjacent to the hospital. Not all emergences went smoothly. "We will make sure she is okay, rate her, register, and provide her with her required identification." Warrick waved his hand at his wallet then his head. Must be nice to create IDs on demand. I just hoped they had a good tattoo artist, but since you had to be registered universally to apply mage tat's they were rarely bad.
Marisol took a deep breath and stood, stepping away. "Let her know I'll make dessert for her when she comes back."
I couldn't bear to leave Jo quite yet. Unconscious or close enough, stepping away seemed too much like abandoning her to strangers.
Again, he flashed that smile, oh so friendly, and oh so false. "Of course. It should only be two to three hours. This is a routine process at this point. I'm afraid the ratings are private and can't be viewed."
I really wanted to roll my eyes. Everyone knew that, but they were also recorded and sent to you as soon as you were registered. It was a standard practice, though the methods used to rate mages were still super hush hush and no one had ever been able to explicitly explain how they did it. Whatever, I guess it didn't matter.
He signaled the two others with their gurney to come in and I had to unclench my fingers from Jo's hand and slide backwards. My legs wouldn't have supported me. One of them, a friendly smile white against dark reddish skin, took my place and they lifted Jo onto the gurney.
The attendants he waved in lifted Jo up, placing her on the gurney. Her limp body drove panic reactions in me as I wanted to demand to go with her, to protect her.
Deep breaths. They won't allow it. She'll be okay.
Warrick approached, handing out a piece of dark colored paper to Marisol. "Here is my card. Please let me know if there are any complications at a later point. A representative from OMO will be by tomorrow to reverse anything you don't want to keep this way." He glanced around once more. "She has quite the personality, doesn't she?" It was a meaningless statement and he proved it by walking out before anyone could have responded. I watched them with my eyes, refusing to admit the burning behind them as they disappeared down the hall. I heard the door shut. It sounded like a death knell on my dreams of a possible future.
"My baby is a mage." Marisol sounded relieved and I flinched, but I don't think she saw it as when I looked at her, she was facing Henri. "College, a degree. Maybe if she is high enough a doctorate?"
"Don't go counting the degrees before we get her back. A lot will depend on where and what she rates. While they don't require specific degrees, the government leans awfully hard to make sure you go the way they want you to go."
"True, but it doesn't mean I can't hope. My baby girl a doctor of science." Marisol all but whispered the word and I fought not to smile, but it was dashed as I remembered that no one would ever think that about me.
"I suppose this means we need to get her presents now?" Sanchez didn't say it sourly, but he was gazing in annoyance at his food. Which had also been petrified. I hadn't noticed that before.
"Sanchez Alfonso Guzman. Do not take that tone with us. Or do I need to remind you, your emergence got you the gaming rig you love so much?" Marisol snapped at her son, who just shrugged, but I could see he was kinda happy about Jo. It made parents happy to have their child emerge as a high-ranking mage—so many more doors opened to them. "So, the answer is yes." She paused tapping her finger on the table. "Don't tell anyone yet. Let her get home and see what her ranking is. Then we will decide. I so hope she is higher than a wizard. I want to rub Analise's face it in." She and her sister had a long-standing rivalry, always trying to top each other with the things their children had done. Analise's last child, a son, had emerged as a respectable wizard.
"Now, Mari. No reason to be catty. This is about Jo, not you. Why don't we pull up the listing for what we thought about getting her?"
"Really? You still want to get that for her?" Rather than excitement, I heard worry in Marisol's voice. That surprised me. What in the world could they get Jo that she would have trepidations about?
"You know she'd love to restore it, and she's a good rider. Besides, if she has Air, even as pale, she'll never have to worry about a severe accident. School will teach her to respond in a fraction of a second."
Marisol crossed her arms, staring at her husband for a long moment, then sighed. "Fine, but Sanchez, you are getting her the helmet as your part. The nice one with the highest ratings and built in Bluetooth. If we are getting her a motorcycle to rebuild, she is going to be as safe as possible."
Stinky winced but nodded. "Si, Mami." He disappeared into the kitchen, then came back out with a small plate of things that hadn't made it onto the table and promptly been petrified.
Henri pulled Marisol over to where they had their household computer, a compact thing, used strictly for web surfing and a few simple games. And just like that they had all forgotten about me. I fought down any emotional reaction and made my way quietly to the front door. Grabbing my jacket from the hook and slipping on my shoes, I went out the door shutting it as quietly as possible. The cold air slapped me and helped to stave off any tears. Shoving my hands in my pockets I started home. It was at least a three-mile walk. I'd use the time to think, or maybe try not to think. At least there was still rum and coke at the house. Suddenly getting drunk sounded like the best idea I'd had in a while. Get drunk and not focus on anything. Maybe I was overreacting and everything wouldn't be as bad as I thought. But in my experience, it was best to expect the worst and then be surprised by it not being as bad.
I reached into my pocket to pull out my phone, and to my complete lack of surprise, it had been turned into wood. Petrified wood.
Huh, that's impressive. Normally you can't change non-organics to organics. I'll have to remember to tell her.
With a sigh I put the useless device back in my pocket. And started to regret my decision to walk home. Her transformation splash had not only changed my clothes to bright blue and green, but my jeans were now thin blue slacks. Linen maybe? And my cotton sweater was now silk? That was a lot of effort. I hoped the offering hadn't been too bad. I paused and closed my eyes for a minute trying to remember. She had flushed red, so probably analogous to an all over sunburn. Indicating a medium level offering, depending on how deep the destroyed cells went. They'd slough off first chance. Her nails were always short, side effect of working in a car repair garage. Hair? I frowned trying to remember. Maybe, I seemed to remember a white powder on her arms when I grabbed her hand, but most of the hair on her head had been there. She would be so pissed if she fried her hair, but then transforming required control, not always a large sacrifice. That meant it might be okay.
I kept on my walk, trying not to pay attention to how cold I was. Winters, even the relatively mild winters in Georgia, were enough to make me wish I kept my hair long, but that was a mage status symbol. While some liked to flaunt what they weren't, I wasn't interested. Besides my hair grew so slowly I almost never had to get it trimmed. That odd thought made me frown. It seemed like once upon a time my hair had grown so fast I needed to cut it almost weekly.
The honk of a horn pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts, and I looked up to see a car pulling up to me. I recognized it. Ch
ief Laurel Amosen. It was her personal car and I'd seen it when she came to get coffee or had done a talk or two at college. Those classes I'd always sat far in the back and tried to be invisible. She'd never mentioned she had seen me, so maybe it worked. Or she just didn't notice.
Her window slid down and she peered out at me. "Cori, what are you doing on the road at this time of night? And looking like you're freezing?"
Until she said it, I hadn't realized I was shivering. Oh well, it kept me warm, right? I couldn't even lie to myself, shivering like that was not a good sign. And while it was only thirty-three degrees out, the wind was making it even colder. Just what it needed, hypothermia or frostbite.
"Well?"
Oh, I should probably answer her. "Out enjoying the wonderful night air to escape my adoring fans."
"Really?" She made a show of looking around. "I think you've managed. You get dropped off or something?"
If her tone hadn't been curious and worried, I might have taken offense. As it was, she just sounded worried. I sighed and toned down my attitude. "The Guzman's. Jo emerged. They're a bit distracted right now."
"Ah." Her tone held a wealth of understanding and I sank down a bit further into my coat, wishing it covered more. "I take it your clothes are the result of that."
I nodded. There wasn't much else to say. Weirder things happened when the magic snapped into someone the first time. "Get in." She nodded at the other side of her car. "I'll give you a ride home."
"I'm not a charity case, you don't need to rescue me." My protest was instant, and I didn't know why. I was freezing.
"Yes, I do. You die and I'll have to write up the police report. Trust me, the two minutes out of my way it will take to drive you home is worth it to avoid that paperwork." Her dry humor elicited a bitter smile from me, but I didn't argue again. Climbing into her car, the warmth wrapped around me and I sighed with relief, holding my hands out to the heater. Sometimes I didn't think things all the way through.
