by Kade Cook
“Excellent choice. I find myself drifting up there more times than not and on occasion greeted by the morning sun after having fallen asleep reading deep into the night,” she explains, making her way up the spiral brass stairwell that leads to Gabrian’s new room.
Cresting the top of the stairs, Gabrian’s sullen face lightens as warm golden rays shimmer down from the opening in the skylight above them. Everywhere she looks, it is light and open—life revolving around her from every direction—except for two support walls that shut out the sun, but still the solidity of them lights up the room just the same with their vast collection of worlds created and contained by the bindings of the covers that hold them securely within the books. It is indeed perfect, and she drops her bags in the center of it all, staking her claim to the room.
“So, I will let you get settled while I see to the others and to the food. Broghen is a master at cooking but he gets carried away sometimes when we have guests.”
Gabrian’s heart strings pull at her again in the all too similar gestures of her host but in appreciation. It makes her mouth curl upward in response to the woman’s aloof gentleness, not like she was expecting from an Elder. She guesses that everyone wears two faces when the world calls for it and her dance into the world of ice might not be as chilling as she once thought it would be.
Ashen moves toward the spiral staircase to begin her descent, pausing just for a moment. “I forgot to tell you there is a small stand-up shower just to the far corner behind the bookshelf. It’s nothing fancy but it works and there should be everything you need in there. If not, just let me know.”
“Oh, great. Thank you,” she eyes Ashen with a gentle gaze and continues with a lump in her throat, “thanks for doing this for me.”
Ashen’s blasé demeanor sweetens and her eyes twinkle to reflect a ray of sun streaming in above her. “Gabrian, we all need a little help understanding things sometimes. And the way I see it, not taking advantage of a chance to help someone is a wasted opportunity to witness one of life’s precious miracles.”
Gabrian bites the top of her bottom lip and nods her head as the words sink in.
“So, stop worrying so much, embrace your differences. It will be fun.” Ashen winks at the girl standing wrapped insecurely within her own arms. “You’ll see,” she chirps, disappearing down into the opening of the floor.
27
A SIMPLE TASK
The succulent smell of flesh being charred upon an open flame wafts in through the opened windows of the loft and hits Gabrian’s nose as soon as she steps out of the small but functional shower enclosure. She lures most of the moisture from her long chocolate-coloured hair with the pink fluffy cotton towel left tucked underneath the wooden hutch just outside the bathroom. Her mouth waters when she picks up the hint of copper in the air, blood, or the remnants of what had seeped through the severed pores in the slabs of meat, still awaiting their fateful demise.
She hurries toward her plaid suitcase, retrieving her worn denim shorts and grey T-shirt, and notices a large black backpack leaning against the side of the chaise. Shane must have dumped it off while she was cleaning up then disappeared back downstairs where the festivities were, but she expected as much when she picked the room. Of course he would remain with her—where else would he stay? In a quick twist, Gabrian pulls her hair back in a straightforward ponytail, dresses, and scoots down the spiral stairs.
All the windows and doors are open and the sounds of laughter mixed with the clanging of dishes being set lingers in through them. Grabbing the reed-woven basket filled with utensils and napkins, she heads for the screen door leading toward the back of the house. Pressing gently against the wooden frame of the door, squeals of spring hinges exerting themselves alerts everyone to her presence and anyone within earshot turns to stare.
Uncomfortable with having all eyes on her, she lifts the basket and clutches it to her chest, marching past the two Schaeduwe bodies attending to the shiny smoking BBQ to her right and straight on toward Ashen who works on arranging placemats and plates atop of the wicker table on the other side of the pool—a perk she had completely missed noticing earlier on her arrival, though she wasn’t sure how. It was large, multi-dimensional, and smelled not of chlorine like the pools she had swam in as a child; the water held the distinct smell of salt like that of the ocean swaying freely in the background.
Her bare legs tingle with the warm caress of the summer sun as she steps out from beneath the house’s shade and into the direct sunlight above. It feels rejuvenating and energizing as it soaks into her skin, warming her to the bone, so the shock of a playful splash nearly trips her up as she passes by. She jolts, knocking into her host, and the jingle of silverware spilling to the cement below causes her face to flush across her cheeks.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” Rachael taunts from the side of the pool. “Go get your swimmers, this water feels amazing.”
Not one for public display of flesh, though she doesn’t condemn those who do, she thinks her jean shorts and tee are quite enough. “Nah, I’m good.” She turns and sets the basket on the table beside Ashen. “I will take your word for it.”
Ashen’s tall, slender frame—tucked neatly beneath a comfortable pair of green cotton shorts and a grey tank draped with a flowy white dress shirt that waves in the breeze—leans over the table, still sorting the dinnerware. She gives Gabrian a wink and wrinkles her nose then straightens up to look over her work. Content with the arrangement, she brushes by Gabrian, patting her gently on the shoulder.
“Don’t sweat it, kiddo, we aren’t all made for the water,” she offers, standing to Gabrian’s right. “Some of us prefer a touch of ice.”
Gabrian shakes her head and grins, dropping down to the spilled utensils to gather the casualties of her clumsiness then glances at Ashen now crouching as well, helping with the operation. “Sorry, I will go wash them.”
Ashen reaches out and scoops the strays out of her hands. “We will clean them later, there is still plenty in the basket for everyone.”
“Is there anything that I can help you with?” Gabrian nods then searches the top of the table, looking for anything that might be missing from the array of colour-filled salads, fruits, condiments, and dinnerware out on display.
Shaking her head ‘no,’ her white braids swing playfully from the fringe of her blue bandana, and she glances at the table. “No, dear. Not a thing. Why don’t you have a seat and relax? I will just run these to the house. I need to get something anyway.” She jumps up from her crouch and jogs past the boys, straight into the back door of the house.
Gabrian stands and presses at the wrinkles in her shorts. Pursing her lips and feeling completely out of place in this leisurely open atmosphere, she shuffles toward a cushioned wicker chair and drops herself within its embrace. Tucking her knees up against her chest, she hugs them in a loose knot of her limbs. Hearing another splash from the pool, her eyes sweep across the patio and rest on the sparkling blue liquid that shifts and bends before her.
She watches Rachael lap around the edges of the pool, smooth and elegant strokes of her arms slicing through the malleable substance as she pushes her sleek body forward with little resistance. Gabrian smiles at her inhibited nature to be free and her will to embrace every change brought forth to her path. Gabrian exhales, listening to the sound of the rushing waves whispering in the background, the chattering of voices debating the doneness of the slabbed protein still smoldering on the grill, and the shrill yet musical calls of the gulls hovering overhead, hoping to find an opportunity to secure an easy meal. She closes her eyes, just for a moment, and lets the sounds swim in harmony around her.
And it did. So much in fact, that she does not hear Ashen return until a large plastic cooler hits the cement with a loud clunk just on the other side of her brown wicker chair.
28
ABOUT THAT BEER
Gabrian’s eyes flip open from the unexpected noise, her momentary drift in serenity torn away, and her
fingers sparking with heat at the abrupt disruption, bringing her back from wherever her mind had lingered.
She looks up, shielding her eyes for a moment to see Ashen gazing down at her with a bit of an impish grin forming on her lips. “I don’t know about you but I could use a drink. Are you thirsty?”
Gabrian smiles and nods slowly. “Yeah, that sounds pretty good actually.”
“Excellent. Help yourself then.” Ashen turns the cooler to face directly in front of Gabrian’s wicker chair and settles herself into the adjacent chair on the other side.
Unclasping her knees, Gabrian lets her legs slide down to the ridged cement floor beneath and leans forward to undo the hinge on the front of the cooler. She lifts the lid and pushes it back to take a look at the bounty inside. The entire cooler is stacked with cans and bottles. Everything from soda and sparkling water right down to a few bottles of good old golden beer tucked neatly away—standing perpendicular to their company. And since it’s five o’clock somewhere, Gabrian decides on a beer.
“Do you mind passing me one of the Sam’s in there?” Ashen leans forward in her chair with her hand out.
“Sure, no problem.” Gabrian reaches into the container for a brown bottle with the appropriate label.
Ashen purses her lips. Her eyes squint and she studies the girl’s expression as she grabs hold of the bottle. Seeing Gabrian’s nose twitch and clouds enter her eyes, Ashen leans back, resting her head against her upturned arm and waits.
“Um, they are really warm.” Gabrian’s taste buds cringe, and she reflexively turns up her nose at the thought of drinking warm beer. It ranks right up there in disgustingness with ingesting dark aura fragments.
“Oh, are they?” Ashen grins. “Hmmm, well, we can’t have that now, can we? Any ideas as to how we should fix that?”
Gabrian’s look of disgust slides from her face as her eyes widen in a jolt of panic. Her hands creep into the warm water surrounding the beverages and scoops out the requested bottle, handing it over to Ashen, but she remains silent, leaning back to stare into the lukewarm bath that clings to their drinks.
“Um, I don’t…” Gabrian searches for some type of understanding in her request and the light behind her eyes switches on. “Ethan and Rachael told you about the beer.”
“Don’t be upset.” Ashen grins, letting out a slight chuckle.
Gabrian bites at her thumbnail, glancing around.
“After speaking with Ethan and Rachael, they told me of how things manifested, and I just thought that bringing in something familiar might help you reach your trigger more easily.”
She nods, hearing the logic in her new mentor’s words, but she is still lost as to where she would even start. “I understand what you are trying to do, but truthfully, I don’t even know how I did it in the first place. All I know is that I was listening to Rachael tell me about her troubles with…well, someone, and when I went to take a drink of my beer, it had gone warm. Not wanting to interrupt Rachael, I began to daydream about how I wished that the beer was cold again.” Gabrian begins to ramble with her story. Her fingertips burn, tingling with every breath she takes. Her nerves slice at her skin, frayed and nearly shot from the long trip along with the lack of sustenance in her system. Now this immediate leap into the unknown seems to have tipped the scale on her ability to stop talking, pushing tirades of incoherent thoughts forward and out through her lips.
Ashen lets her continue on for a few more moments but takes pity on her and ends her anxious ramblings. “It’s all right, Gabrian.” Sitting herself upright, she rests her arms on the top of her knees, getting closer to the girl, then extends out her hand, patting Gabrian on the leg. “We will figure this out, all right?”
Sitting with her hands tightly tucked together, nearly causing them to turn white, she nods and tries to push back the tears scratching at her eyes from the inside, filled with frustration.
“Now…back to our beer problem,” she says, resetting the grin on her face. “Let’s see what we can do.”
She instructs Gabrian to place her hand within the warm water to gauge its temperature then asks her to recall some of the thoughts and images she had played within her mind when she had covered the drink and table in ice. Gabrian closes her eyes and tries to concentrate but it is all she can do to think straight. Becoming flustered, she cannot even feel the temperature of the water anymore and withdraws her hand from the cooler.
“Uh, I can’t feel anything.”
“It’s okay…maybe we are starting too big—too many objects interfering.” Ashen stares at the loaded cooler and pulls her braids back behind her shoulder with her free hand then glances over at the unopened bottle of Sam’s still in her hand. “Here,” she says, handing her the single bottle. “Let’s try this again but with just one.”
Gabrian takes the bottle and nods her head, still not convinced that this is going to make any difference, but complies just the same. She exhales and gives Ashen a quick glance. Her face still is light and hopeful—her eyes twinkling with the reflection of the shimmering water in the pool. Closing her eyes and wrapping her mind around the singular object in her hand, Gabrian begins again—searching for a memory, or anything that reminds her of ice, snow, or anything cold that she can use as a muse. She grips onto the image of snow.
Good, she thinks, happy with the connection.
Ashen’s smile begins to grow, noticing a small fractal of frost surround the space around Gabrian’s fingertips as she sits oblivious to the happenings. But the small victory is quickly lost. The thought of snow triggers the memories of winter—of the recent dark and trying time in her life—and the images of coffins, surrounded by members of both the Realm and humans alike, paying their respects to her parents passing come to mind. The ignition of the painful memories snuffs out any success in her attempt and the heat from her fingers dissolves away any trace of the infant ice fractal as a tear slowly slips down the side of her cheek, her mind no longer engaged.
Ashen is taken by surprise by the tear and reaches forward to touch her. “Gabrian, dear, are you all right?” Unsure of what is taking place before her, she raises her voice. In all her years of watching the gift of Isa manifest within a youngling, she has never seen this kind of reaction.
Gabrian’s weighted lids open slowly, dampened by her sadness.
“Are you all right? What happened?”
Not wanting to have to talk about the intrusion of pain and suffering, and relive the whole thing over again in her head, she explains to Ashen about finding a connector but not being able to hold onto the image. Though she knows she is not telling the entire truth about what happened, she is not exactly lying either. And knowing so, Ashen does not want to push the subject of the tear—it is up to Gabrian to disclose the entirety of the story to her when she is ready, not before.
Frustrated with the memory, and the obvious flunking of Ashen’s first test, Gabrian leans back in her chair and sighs in defeat. “Sorry. I’m fine, just tired I guess.”
If she hadn’t noticed the prominent dark circles under the Borrower’s eyes, she may have contested Gabrian’s defence, but there is no way of missing them. So, as a good host, she stops torturing her guest and relinquishes her need to test the girl. “Well, why didn’t you say so? That changes everything, my dear,” she lies, turning the cooler sideways to have better access to the possessions within. “I was just trying to get a feel for where we are in your understanding of your new gift.” She wrinkles her nose then looks back to the innards of the cooler. “So, anyway, back to the real issue at hand. I guess I better fix it before anyone else comes looking for something cold to drink.”
Gabrian slides herself a bit forward, curious of her host. She can see Ashen’s royal blue eyes fade—bleeding out all colour to be replaced by a shade of blue resembling her own. In the warm summer breeze that lingers heavily around her skin, she can sense a subtle shift in temperature by the edges of her ankles. As Ashen stirs the water gently, a mist forms, rising up
from within the blue coffin of beverages. Gabrian leans forward, watching as the transformation of the clear lukewarm liquid turns into a slushy thick covering of ice crystals in front of her, concealing portions of the lettered labels printed boldly on the face of each bottle and can within.
Satisfied with the condition of the cooler, Ashen reaches in and grabs out a now cold beer. “Now, how about that beer you wanted?”
Gabrian forces a smile but leans back into her chair. “Thanks, but I will drink this warm one as a punishment for failing my first test.” She glances down at the bottle, growls, then pops the top off and draws it to her lips, tipping its warm substance into her mouth. Cringing with the taste of it on her tongue, she raises it to Ashen. “Yum,” Gabrian chokes out.
Rising from her chair, Ashen places the cold beer on the table beside her and chuckles at her stubborn student. “Oh my, now that is just not right. Even I am not that cruel to make you suffer like that.”
Ashen’s eyes once again shift in colour. Stretching her hand out toward the lip of Gabrian’s opened bottle, she touches the side of it. From the tips of her finger, tiny strings of white-coloured fractals spiral down the edge of the lip, caressing the neck and descend to delicately encompass the body of glass with a web of ice. Inside, the liquid absorbs the frosty magical kiss lingering just outside its protective shell and swirls counter clockwise into a perfected temperature. Withdrawing her hand, Ashen steps back and rests into her chair then proceeds to open her own drink.
“Don’t worry about what you did or did not accomplish today. It’s not the end of the world. You will be amazed what you can accomplish with the right encouragement and a good night’s sleep.”
