by Livia Quinn
“Tempe, you know I love you, and I didn’t see anything wrong with you sticking your head in the sand—don’t get your weather radar up when I say that—because it wasn’t time. There wasn’t anything pushing you until now.”
I sighed. “Yes, but what if my knowing, training, practicing sooner meant River wouldn’t be in trouble now—”
“I don’t believe that, but ask Aurora if you need reassurance.”
“Okay.”
“Tempe.” She paused. “You’re not human. You might as well learn to accept it.”
“I know.” It wasn’t a welcome admission.
Chapter 25
Tempe
Aurora met me at the door to her shop. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I rammed my fingers through my hair, spun around. “Everything—I don’t know.” I walked into her back room and she followed, watching me.
“I feel like—” My hands fisted involuntarily. I stretched them out then gripped the counter. “I can’t describe it. Like I’m going crazy.”
“Sit, Tempe. And breathe.” She moved smoothly to the small kitchenette. I put my head on my folded arms and breathed. It didn’t help. “Why do people always tell you to breathe? I breathe all the time.”
“Okay, valid point.” A cup of steaming herbal tea appeared in front of me as Aurora dragged a stool up to the table. She lifted a strand of my hair and smoothed it behind my ear. When she’d done it the first time, alien as tender demonstrations of affection were from anyone but my brother, I’d jumped like a scared cat.
“Try this—with me. Take a deep slow breath.” She closed her eyes and inhaled for about six seconds, her head tilting back slightly. She opened one eye to check on me. “Drop your shoulders. Breathe from here,” she said patting her diaphragm. I did. I felt her tap my shoulders, and my eyes opened. “Now slowly, deliberately, let the breath ease out of you.”
She made me do it two more times. “Better.” She smiled.
I studied this woman who had been friend, substitute mother, sister; and would be mentor and teacher if I’d give up my obstinate rejection of my heritage. Though people often described her as elegant and mysterious, a force to be reckoned with, like a regal lioness ready to take down a meal for her young; what I admired was her inner strength, the peace she radiated and especially, the complete mastery over her inner reserves of power and emotion.
Her attire was chosen to have a calming effect on those around her. Today it was the watery blue and aqua silks in various overlapping lengths, under delicate strands of shimmering gemstones that fell to her waist and framed her amulet.
Her azure gaze locked on mine. “You feel like your thoughts and feelings are out of control. You’ve been able to manage it, push it down before, but suddenly it’s like debris in a whirlwind. You feel—”
“Like I’m about to come apart. Isn’t that bad?”
She took my hands in hers. They were hot. “It’s normal.”
I cocked an eyebrow at her. “I hope not.”
She laughed. “For someone about to go through her quickening.”
“And that’s not encouraging.”
“How much do you know about the Vyal K’allanti?”
Not much. My parents hadn’t been around to guide River and me. River took on his genie power when he turned fourteen, but I’d determinedly avoided all discussions of mine, as if that would keep it at bay forever. I’d only made things worse.
“Isn’t it the same as the quickening? I know when River’s started. He was in the ninth grade.”
“That’s about right. Most males experience their quickening during puberty. I actually remember when his began. Dylan served as guardian for him until his Vyal K’allanti was complete.”
I nearly spilled my tea, setting it down with a clank. “How could I not have known that?” Aurora’s sleek silver cat curled around my legs, purring as if Aurora had enlisted its help in calming me down. I thought back to that time.
“It was a few months before I turned twenty-one. I’d been working a lot trying to get a career position at the post office—before the new company took over. Phoebe wasn’t around much and social services kept butting in and threatening to take River away from us.”
“There are few young people who could accomplish as much as you have to keep your family together. Tell me what you remember.”
I peered into the cup, thinking back to River’s fourteenth birthday. “Phoebe made River a cake for his birthday. I found out later, she had someone else bake it for her but it was home made and at least she’d remembered. It was more than she’d done for my birthdays.” I winced, looking at Aurora. “Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t jealous, just surprised. River had been, too, the shock on his face made me want to cry.”
“Dylan was there—he must’ve been about twenty-seven then.” He’d looked twenty-seven anyway. “I had wondered because he always seemed to be around… if there was something going on between him and my mother, but later he assured me they were just good friends—he, and Phoebe, and Dutch.”
I closed my eyes revisiting that bittersweet time, realizing now that Dylan had essentially filled in for Dutch. Then it hit me.
“Mother knew.” She must have recognized the signs of River’s emerging power and arranged for Dylan to be there as a guide to protect River, and everyone else, from himself.
“I’m sure she did,” Aurora said.
“But that was so out of character,” I mused.
“Or maybe things weren’t quite as they seemed,” Aurora said, cryptically. “What happened at his party?”
“When Phoebe set the cake down, River’s eyes got huge. It was this gorgeous, red glazed, strawberry thing—he’s crazy about strawberries—four layers with fourteen silver candles on top.”
River’s eyes had reflected the light from the flames, flickering and bouncing, until he looked at me and I realized the glow, like gold and aqua fired coins, was not a reflection.
“He changed in front of my eyes—his shoulders broadened, his features became angular, chiseled.”
Pride, fear, and love warred for first place inside me. The candles flickered furiously and it seemed as if the air was being vacuumed out of the room. Aurora leaned forward. “Then what happened?”
I closed my eyes trying to capture every detail. “River had this look of awe on his face and at first he seemed uncertain. He looked down at his lap, at his hands on the table. He wiggled his fingers like they tingled. Dylan stood up and motioned for River to do the same.”
“Instead of pushing his chair back and standing up, River—his upper body expanded like a balloon filled with helium. He levitated above the chair so I could tell the lower half of his body was indistinct, not like smoke but like a white transparent fog.”
I snorted at the memory. “He looked down at himself and grinned at me, a wide goofy grin, and then he threw back his head and laughed. It was a huge booming laugh, like father’s. It startled us all, but River the most. He fell over the chair, down behind the table.” Dylan was nearly beside himself with laughter. Then my brother, the newborn Djinni floated up above the chair again, this time with a look that wavered between embarrassment and concentration.
Dylan said, “Very good, River. How do you feel?”
River had this mischievous quirk to his smile, something I’d never seen on him. He wanted to stir something up, make some trouble. “I could swat the world like an annoying fly.” He turned to me and thought, “Like I could bring you the moon.” And I’d heard him.
Phoebe remained silent throughout River’s emergence but made eye contact with me. There was such sadness and regret in her eyes that remembering it made the tea in my stomach roil.
Dylan frowned. “Well, maybe one of these days, but right now you have to start small and learn the ropes about granting wishes.”
“How do I do that?” He asked Dylan looking down at himself.
Dylan said, “You don’t have to try—it comes natural. At t
his point if you ask for something that’s not allowed, nothing will happen. There’s a lot that’s off limits to you until you are mature enough to handle it.”
River looked at the candles on the cake for a long time. His genie self had stabilized into just a fluffier version of his human form, but one I could still see through. Just when I began to think he’d fallen into a trance or something, he gazed at me and I heard him across the mindlink, “I wish I could see dad again.”
The laughter stopped. My brother stood stoically, shoulders straight, his gaze locked with my tear filled eyes as a stricken sob escaped my mother. She rose slowly, locking eyes with Dylan.
“That’s a dumb wish, your father’s gone,” our mother said across the link. Pain flickered across River’s face and straight into my heart.
Dylan knew something had transpired between us. He said, “You can’t make wishes for yourself.”
“How about some cake?” River tried to smooth things over by getting up and putting an arm around mother and me, but I couldn’t look at her, didn’t want to even be as close as the distance across River’s now massive body. How could she have been so cruel? That was the last time I communicated with her through the mindlink.
I looked at Aurora across the counter, felt the tears trailing down my cheeks, but it was as if they belonged there, as if by wiping them away I would lose the memories.
“That was the first I’d known about what was happening with River, and in a matter of a few minutes he was a full-blown genie. It happened so fast. We didn’t know what to expect, other than the fact that Dutch was Djinn, and Phoebe was a Tempestaerie. We assumed we’d follow in their paths, but I have very few memories of Dutch or Phoebe using their talents.”
I could see the whole event like it was yesterday. I remembered feeling excited, and a little scared. I hadn’t known what to expect. But River had matured in front of me. His solemn eyes met mine and pride swelled inside me. My little brother had grown-up into the being he was supposed to be.
I looked at Aurora. “I think I resented him a little because he’d moved forward and I…” How could I admit this to Aurora? She would be even more disappointed in me.
“You wanted to keep him human with you.”
I looked away. “That’s horrible. What kind of sister was I to try to hold him back?”
She squeezed my hand. “It was only natural that you resented your mother and father for leaving and didn’t want to follow their path. Once he went through the change you felt like he’d left you as well. Am I right?”
I thought about it. “Yes, and when years passed and it didn’t happen for me, I started to wonder if I was really…if maybe I was adopted, or if maybe it just fell flat with me, you know, like a dud charge on fireworks. Especially since I was the only one in the family with no talent.”
“Power.” Aurora corrected. “Or magic. Powerful magic,” she reiterated knowing how often I’d resisted the word power. You’re not adopted, and you’re not a dud.”
“There were some good times before Dutch died, but I can’t recall them. I have the sense that they were happy before… I guess that’s why it hurt so much when she withdrew from us afterward.” I spread my hands out and raised my teacup. “That’s it. That’s all I know. Not much considering how many supernatural beings I’ve known, but…”
“You’ve blocked it like you blocked the mindlink. It’s all you cared to know,” Aurora said, sitting forward over the counter… “until now. You’ve been closed off for so long that now you must practice being ‘open’. Engage with the past, trust in your heritage to take you where you need to go, and to see the truth.”
Like a giant wave that churns up everything from the deep—the past, my anxieties and frustrations were brought to the surface and about to crash over me. Was I ready?
Aurora nodded. “Controlling your power doesn’t just happen. River probably experienced symptoms other people attributed to hormones, but Phoebe recognized them and knew that his birthday was going to be a trigger for a first event, and it was. That wasn’t the end of it though. Dylan spent a couple of years guiding River along, making sure he grew into his Djinni potential, giving him a controlled environment to grow and explore, even providing him with his first amphora. It was as your father wished.”
My mind raced. This was news to me. Dear old dad had provided a mentor for River. What about me? I slammed down on that thought at once.
Aurora said, “I was chosen as your mentor when you were ready,” she paused. “If you are done with denial and ready to learn how to harness the gift and responsibilities of being a Paramortal, we will begin.” She turned toward the kitchenette placing our cups in the sink. Turning around, she leaned back against the sink and crossed her arms. Apparently, she needed my verbal assent.
“So… you mean now?”
A silent, short nod.
I licked my lips. “All right. How much can you teach me tonight?”
Chapter 26
Tempe
Remember I mentioned humans needing attitude adjustments? Such was Dervil Twilbeck, the trainee I was blessed with Thursday after a late night of instruction by Aurora.
Twilbeck was at least two numbers short of a zip code. How he got through the testing process, I couldn’t guess. We hadn’t even left the mail center before he suggested leaving the heavy tubs of Ad-mail behind.
While I loaded the truck, Dervil pointed to the mail under his legs and on his lap, between his poochy belly and the steering wheel. “Can’t you put this junk somewhere else?”
“Keeping the mail dry is more important than your comfort. And for the record, you are not to so much as toot my horn, unless I tell you to. Keep your hands off the wheel and your feet out of the way of the pedals.” I put my face in his and said, “You keep it up and you’ll wind up like the ash in that jar hanging from my mirror.”
He didn’t look frightened.
I must not have done it right.
Aurora had tried to give me pointers on how to make the power happen, without words like I’d used Monday morning. She said I should try to “relive” the moment when I created the fire in my palm, to feel it “in my soul”. The important thing, she said, was not to let it just happen or even worse take over control, but to reign in the emotions and try to connect with that well inside me from “whence it came”. Okay, so those hadn’t been her words, but you get the picture.
As practice, I’d sent a message to Marty about someone to initiate the new bottle. He didn’t answer.
I requested the first packet of mail from the trainee at 9:45, admonishing him to keep the strap around the bundle so the letters didn’t fall out. “They allot only a small amount of time at each box, so avoiding issues that cut into your routine is crucial.” I quoted the manual’s one-minute-per-box.
“That’s a long time,” Dervil said, looking at me like I was an idiot.
“Just wait until you have a problem delivery, or you lose mail out the window and have to chase it down. That can eat up those precious minutes.”
He waved his hands, “So, if you drop a box of mail, just take it back to the center.”
“Where you’d be met at the back door by an inspector who would make you re-case it and deliver it before going home.”
He rolled his eyes. “You could throw it in a collection box and let it go back through distribution.”
He was going to make me crack my molars. His prime directive seemed to be getting out of responsibility. “Then…” stay calm, Tempe, “it’s a day late to the recipient—and if you get caught, you’re gone.”
He snorted, crossing his arms. “Look, this isn’t breaking down the genetic code or anything. I could do it in my sleep. Why don’t you handle it? If I have any questions, I’ll ask.”
I heard him mimicking me under his breath, “avoid issues that cut into your routine…”
My Tempestaerie thunder rumbled. “Let me ask you something. What made you decide to become a mailman?”
&nb
sp; Bushy eyebrows dove toward squinty dark eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? The money’s great; you’re out here in the sunshine, nobody to bother you.” He waved his hand at me like some blue-blooded matron motioning her limo driver to ‘mosey along’ then leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes!
Biting back a curse, I decided to take the path of least resistance, since I wasn’t getting anywhere. I knew ways to end our relationship, and I’d make it happen.
I ditched him at the diner while I called Montana and Kat to see if they’d heard anything. Kat didn’t answer—daylight—and Montana was on a call. I finished my tuna sandwich, walked back into the diner, and found Dervil and Dick sitting with their heads together. Perfect. Remembering Sheriff Lang’s admonition, I called from the door. “Load up, Twilbeck.”
We turned into Enchanted Glen and Twilbeck said, “Show me where you found the body.” He whispered, “I bet there’s still blood on the floor.”
That did it.
“Do you remember asking me earlier what that little vial contained?” His eyes went to the tiny glass bottle still bouncing from the sudden stop. I pointed to the horsefly on the hump that had been as persistent in his efforts to annoy me as the trainee. As Dervil looked on, I murmured, “Come here, bug.”
It was a simple task to use menori to move the big fly onto my palm where the mere contact with my skin and its slight charge made him stagger, shiver, and then plop over dramatically onto his back. Good job, little guy. This time I didn’t imagine my trainee’s uncomfortable squirm. It gained me a whole thirty minutes of peace.
It wasn’t meant to last.
At one thirty I got a call from the Shone Pet Clinic. A bad feeling coincided with the sky unloading a frog strangler of a downpour.
“Ms. Pomeroy, Dr. Shone was wondering if you could come by and get your dog? He’s wreaking havoc over here.”
My dog. Now have you heard me mention a dog? “Um, could you describe him?”
A whispered exclamation came across the phone. “A standard red and sable Pomeranian?”
