by D. R. Perry
Chapter Four
A week into August, I paced my bedroom. That wasn't as easy as it had been last summer. I had always been gangly, limbs longer than they ought to be, but this year, I’d gotten extra tall on top of it. I bumped into people and things more than at any previous time in my life.
My ceiling was gabled, with slanting at the corners so the roof drained and let go of snow properly in the New England climate. As a little kid, I’d loved this. I’d made tents by tacking old sheets to the edges I could reach. But for pacing as a string-bean teen, it felt like courting a concussion.
I was about to give up when someone knocked on my door. Four quick taps, which meant Dad. Leaning slightly while reaching let me open it from where I stood.
"What's up, Aliyah?" He bent his knees a little as he craned his neck. My father didn’t smirk about his dad joke, just showed a slight smile.
"Stuff. Things." I shrugged, feeling like a giraffe in a railway car. "Whatever."
"Why don't you come on downstairs and visit Bubbe with me?" He leaned on the doorframe, turning that smile up a notch.
I took a step before remembering my grandma had asked me to run some errands for her yesterday. That always meant she wanted me out of her hair at the office. "Um, I thought she had a full house down there?"
"Mom and I talked to her last night, and that's not exactly the case."
"Well, what's the deal, then?"
"She's got a tricky surgery this morning."
"All the more reason to stay out of her way." I shook my head, not sure what my father was getting at. "What's your point?"
"You are. Look at you, worrying."
"I'm sixteen and going to a new school. Without my best friends. Of course, I'm worried."
"Are you sure that's what's got its hooks in you today?"
"Uh." I blinked. "No. Actually, I've got no idea what my problem is right now."
"Your mother's got a theory about a certain dragonet."
Mom's theories were no joke. That had been her college major, after all—theoretical magic.
"Ember? She's just an injured stray I brought to Bubbe. I've been doing that for years, Dad. No big deal."
"That may well be, but this surgery I mentioned is to fix her wing."
"Oh." I sat down on the edge of my bed.
"Your mother thinks coincidence had a hand in your finding her on your sixteenth birthday. We all think Ember's your familiar, Aliyah. It's time to test that, and if it’s true, make things official."
As if to drive home his point, I got a twinge near my left shoulder. That might not sound strange since aches and pains happened all over the bodies of growing people, but it wasn’t a spot on my body hurting. It was like phantom pain, except in a limb anyone who's not a flying shifter doesn't have. It was near my left shoulder, sure—off to the side, exactly where the first knuckle joint on a dragonet's wing would be.
"Ow?"
"I hate to say I told you so." My father shrugged. "But, well..."
"No, you don't, Dad." I smirked to show him there are no hard feelings. I didn't think my father hated anything.
"What else is new?" Dad turned his back, but not before I caught him smiling.
"Point."
I left my room and followed him down the hall toward the stairs that led down from the third floor with its four bedrooms and full bathroom. I didn’t mind that Dad knew more than me. With Mom, it was a different story.
Mom was gentle and kind but always seemed sad somehow. And back then, nobody told me why. The handful of times I asked Dad or Bubbe outright, they said she'd tell me herself when she was ready.
I breathed a sigh of relief as we avoided her, continuing down the back stairs of the building instead of stopping on the second floor, which has our kitchen, dining, and living spaces, and Mom's office space. I heard her in there, talking to the principals at Salem High, Gallows Hill Hall, and Wolf Messing Prep on a clairvoyant device. One of her jobs was previewing the magical curricula for the schools around here.
Salem High wasn't specifically for extrahumans, but they were required by law to provide special courses for any students who weren’t strictly human. Mostly, magical kids going there couldn't afford the prep schools and didn't have the grades for a scholarship. They spent a fifth year there, just for them, learning enough about their powers to do magical majors at college.
Izzy was going to Wolf Messing Prep down the road in Peabody. It was a day school for young psychic folks. They had some of the best courses in the United States for mentalists like clairvoyants and telepaths. Psychics whose powers were physically based, like telekinetics, had to go all the way to Copperfield College Preparatory in Las Vegas if they wanted a specialized education.
Gallows Hill was the local school for shifters. They’d let Cadence in because technically she shapeshifts. She said it had to be better to be the only mermaid at a school full of folks who switched between skin and fur or feathers than kids who just didn’t get it.
Gallows Hill had recently opened their admissions to include any rare type of extrahuman but also Changelings since the Seelie and Unseelie courts had reconciled. That whole business had happened thanks to the students and faculty at Providence Paranormal College. I wasn’t entirely sure what they did or how they did it, but the group of them managed to take down a few seriously powerful bad guys in the process.
You'd think rational adults would consider them to be awesome role-models, but Dad was ambivalent, while Mom seemed uneasy whenever I gushed about how cool they all were. Even the very first mundane human to ever attend college there.
Mom loves that I've got such great friends in Cadence and Izzy, but she always asked why I never seemed drawn to other magi my age. I always told her it was because the ones in town were either younger or older than me. Hiding my anxiety about fitting in wasn’t easy, but that summer, I realized Mom was almost as nervous as me about it. But she worked in the education field. She must have thought starting a magical prep school was the most important thing in the world.
Good thing Bubbe didn't tell her about my brand-new feud with Faith Fairchild. I hoped to smooth things over once school started. “That doesn't seem likely.”
“What's that, Aliyah?" His hand hovered over the latch at the back entrance to Bubbe's office.
"My inside voice being an idiot again, Dad." I rolled my eyes. "Sorry. It wasn't directed at you." I stared at my feet, inexplicably frustrated. Was this what Noah meant when he cursed teenage hormones? Or was Dad right about me experiencing Ember’s feelings?
"I understand that the eye roll is part of the teenage nonverbal landscape. No worries." His smile was like a calm sea. "But you said something doesn't seem likely, which reminds me of that old Magic 8 Ball you and Izzy used to play with. Is there something you want to talk about?"
"No." I shook my head.
"Okay." He opened the door and held it, standing aside for me.
I silenced the growl that was trying to escape my throat. At that point, I was convinced. He was right; this fear and anger had nothing to do with the situation I was in. It came from somewhere else. Someone else. Ember.
We strode down the hall at Bubbe’s. Scuttling around on the floor inside one of the boarding rooms was a pastel-blue dragonet, rounded scales shimmering like cirrus clouds in an otherwise empty sky. His hindquarters were decidedly triangular, unlike Ember's. Also, he wore a gold and silver braided collar that designated him as someone's familiar.
"Whose critter is that, Dad?" I always asked questions in here, but that time I was extra curious. Dragonets were uncommon, so seeing another one was rare, even in a magical town like Salem.
"I'm not entirely sure." He shook his head. "But he's a friendly little guy. His magus must be missing him terribly."
"Hmm." The one thing that could distract me from an animal in trouble was a second one in need of aid. I almost suggested that we head over to Hawthorn Academy to ask around about a lost dragonet, but it was too late for tha
t.
Somewhere behind the door leading into Bubbe's surgery, Ember shrieked.
I pushed past Dad and barged in, slamming the door open so hard it nearly hit me in the face on the backswing. I wasn’t usually that aggressive, and the look on Bubbe's face had me wondering if maybe I went too far.
"Aliyah." Her jaw squared, hinting at the smooth, angular line it must have made when she was a much younger woman. "This isn’t a pleasant event. Are you sure you want to be here for this?"
Ember let out a wail so desperate I could do nothing but rush to where she sat swaddled against the surgical steel table. Her injured wing was exposed, sticking out of an intentional hole in the muslin wrap holding her captive. I saw what was wrong with her. The sprain had healed, but the small lump near the joint turned into a bulging cyst. It had to be lanced, or Ember might never fly again.
I knew better than to try releasing her from the restraints or even touch her since everything had been sterilized, but I knew for sure that she needed me here. The whole situation was confusing for her, and she must have expected more pain. Anyone familiar with dragonets would recognize that pleading expression on her reptilian features. But it was not just how she looked that clued me in.
I could palpably feel just how much my presence in the room, where she could see me, helped Ember.
"I'm staying, Bubbe."
"As you wish, Bissel."
"But Mom!" I blinked a breath before Bubbe interrupted my father. He almost never called her that.
"No buts out of you, Aaron Uriel Morgenstern." Bubbe turned toward the sink, where she finished scrubbing up. "This is still my office and my surgery. Your daughter stays, and if you've got an issue with that, you go."
"No issue, Mom."
"And as for you, Aliyah, sit there, on the stool near the table. Put on a mask. Don't touch the patient until I say so."
"Okay, Bubbe."
I got a mask and followed her instructions. Dad leaned against the wall behind me. As we settled in and watched my grandmother, it became clear that this would be different from the last time I’d sat in on a surgery.
This wasn't my first animal hospital rodeo. When I was seven, Bubbe started taking my desire to be an animal doctor seriously. She’d also let me into the business side of her office for the first time back then, too. Over the last nine years, I'd seen pretty much everything.
Including a handful of patients she wasn't able to save.
Mom didn't much like that. She said it was nothing she'd have wanted to see when she was my age.
"You're not me, Aliyah. Go your own way," was what she told me back then. Mom believed in different strokes for different folks. It was the one filament of coolness twisted around the rest of her too-serious nature.
I let out the breath I'd been holding. Yes, I was aware of not breathing, thanks. And I’d hydrated earlier too because self-care is important. So is taking care of those who can't help themselves, which was the main reason I tried to help keep a dragonet from wigging out.
Looking Ember in the eye wasn't easy from where I sat, so I pulled the lever on the bottom of the stool to lower it. Once I reached eye level, I gazed at her scaly, angular face until she noticed I was there, which was practically immediately. She was a bright little thing.
"Peep." The sound was low and dull instead of that first bright chirp on the day I found her. Or maybe it was the other way around.
"I know, Ember." I gazed at the eye she turned toward me, wondering what was going on on the other side of that coppery iris with its vertical pupil. "We'll do something fun after this, okay? Maybe visit your buddy."
“That’s right. Once you’re better, you two can have a playdate.” Dad grinned.
Bubbe called on her solar magic with a few words in Polish. The energy felt like the afternoon sun in winter. She imbued a scalpel with a crystal blade, one of the few instruments that would work on a very young magical creature like Ember without doing more harm than good. Even magi could never be sure exactly what kinds of magic they had, so using any metal on them was a risk, considering the various supernatural and elemental weaknesses they might suffer.
Metals, especially alloys like steel, were like rubbing peanut oil on every baby in a human maternity ward. You couldn't possibly know which one was allergic to what.
"Ember, I won’t lie." I held out a hand, palm up. "This is going to hurt. But my grandma's the best doctor around."
"Peep." Ember nodded, and I felt her comprehension. Bubbe took hold of the injured wing with her free hand. The little dragonet shivered briefly, and I got the impression that for her, fear was cold.
"I'm making you a fire." I squinted at my outstretched hand, concentrating. "This is just for you. Watch the flames, and before you know it, this whole thing will be over, and you'll get better. Okay?"
She blinked as orange and yellow lit up the hollow of my palm. The center wasn’t blue since I wasn’t that powerful yet, but that didn't bother Ember.
As Bubbe's scalpel met Ember's cyst, they hissed in tandem. Through my flames, I saw a gout of greenish fluid erupt from the incision.
"Easy now, almost through." Bubbe's voice was low but flat as though she didn't like what she saw in the wound.
She set the scalpel aside and picked up a bottle of saline to rinse the incision. Once that was done, she applied an adhesive bandage treated with an herbal ointment mixed specially for dragonet scales. I exhaled. Ember joined in. The flames in my hand guttered.
"There." Bubbe tidied the table, tossing some items in the trash and others in a basin of rubbing alcohol.
"Can I hold her now?"
"Let's get the restraints off her first."
I put my fire out and helped. Green liquid from the cyst stained the fabric. It had an odor like stagnant ponds choked with algae. Bubbe took a few swabs and set aside samples for testing later. Maybe someday we'd get an idea of what had caused the injury.
Ember peeped a few times before settling her head in the hollow between my collarbone and trapezius muscle. I cradled her there, marveling at how even with the bandage, she could fold both wings fully against her back. In the right light, she’d be mistaken for a mundane lizard, but warm-blooded.
In moments she was snoring, tiny tendrils of smoke rising from her nostrils and making a foggy haze around my head.
"I think that about says everything." Dad nodded at Ember. He'd been so quiet I'd almost forgotten he was there.
"Yes." Bubbe sighed. "Yes, it does." She turned her back, busying herself with the simple task of cleaning. I couldn't blame her for playing the stoic now. Bubbe's familiar had passed on just last year, so of course, this was hard on her. Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the trash bag. "Well, go on then, Aaron." And she headed out of the room.
As my father stepped forward, holding the gold and silver braided collar, I watched his hands go through the formal motions as he murmured his binding incantation. Each magus used the language most significant to them. Dad's was Hebrew. A soft glow of solar magic that felt like midday in an apple orchard surrounded his hands.
Comforting sunlit energy enfolded me and the dragonet like a warm hug. A thread of fire magic flowed between us like we were the filament in an incandescent lightbulb.
As he fastened the collar around Ember's neck, I felt closer to the little dragonet than ever. A tear or three rolled down my face, blazing a trail through the ashes smudging it. I hadn't even noticed my fire magic leaving traces, but for once, I had an excellent excuse.
One glance at Dad told me there was something wrong, but not what.
He was crying.
Not a few drops of relief like my own tears. This was grief, like the night I barely remembered when we got the knock on the door. An officer in dress uniform stood in the hall and told us Dad’s father had passed. But this was different somehow. Farther back than that grief.
I had no idea what was so painful about my bonding with a familiar at an appropriate age. His Tallin, Lyssa, grandm
other of my brother's serpentine familiar, was with him that moment, peeking out of his shirt pocket.
"Dad?"
"Peep?" Ember queried in her sleep.
"I'll be okay." Dad sniffled, raising his sleeve to his face. Lyssa hissed, waving a handkerchief at him with her forked tail. "You just reminded me of something. Someone. A long time ago. Thanks." He took the square of fabric and made use of it.
He left a load of information out, but until he was ready to talk about it, there was nothing I could do. That went double for Bubbe, who I heard sniffling on the other side of the door.
Chapter Five
"Aliyah!"
Someone called my name in the dark, the cozy warm dark where my feet weren't remotely cold for once. A repeat performance of my name told me who was hollering it.
"Shut up, Noah. Mmmsleepin’." I tugged at the down-alternative filled comforter, pulling it farther over my head.
"How can you sleep at a time like this?" My jerkface brother yanked my blanket in the opposite direction. The bastard.
"Whahoozit?"
I had no choice but to sit up, blindly flailing around for my now-out-of-reach bedding. I winced as my wrist made contact with my bedpost. Bedpost? Crap. I committed a sin against gravity and overextended. Again.
"Oww!" My hip smacked against hardwood as I fell out of bed. Even barely awake, I was a klutz.
"Peep!" The whoosh of wings past my head made me chuckle. Yeah, Ember totally dive-bombed my big brother.
"You've meddled in the affairs of a dragonet, Noah!" I snorted.
"Dealing with dragons is totally different from dealing with dragonets. Anyway, I’m not crunchy, and ketchup's utterly basic." He ducked and covered. "Even your winged monstrosity knows it."
"Peep?" Ember perched on top of his head, blinking.
"Let him go, girl." I flashed her a grin. "He's done his worst here."
My room was already a disaster area. That was what happened when I procrastinated and left packing for dorm life until the last minute. Ember glided back to her favorite perch on my headboard.
