The Ghost Bride

by Stacey Keystone

  "I think so," I replied, trying to untie the lace of my bodice. It didn't seem to be going well.

  "Just let me do it," Cloris said. "I had a lot of practice when my daughter was going through her magical vision phase. Isn't it late for you, though? How old are you? Eighteen?"

  "Yes," I said. "Eighteen. A full adult. Get to drive and vote. Not drink, though."

  "Well, here," Cloris said, "you get to drink. Although that's inadvisable. And portal."

  I felt my clothes loosening as I took the bodice off. I could unbutton my shirt by myself. The buttons on the skirt, however… I felt Cloris's hands on my waist, gently loosening all the layers of petticoats I had under the skirt.

  I was finally in my brassiere (thankfully; they had bras, not just corsets here), and white lace pantaloons.

  "I'll prepare the bath for you," Cloris said, going towards the bathroom. I slowly followed her green blob.

  I heard sounds of water pouring, felt the heat of the steam on my skin, and took off all my underwear. I also undid my hair updo, taking the hairpins by feel and letting them fall to the ground (thankfully, I always take out the hairpins by feel, so I had plenty of experience with that).

  "You can come in now," Cloris said, gently pulling my arm. When I went up a small step, she then helped me get into the tub.

  The water was warm and soapy, smelling nicely of lavender.

  "Will you manage to wash?" Cloris asked.

  "Yes," I said, starting to sober up a bit. I still couldn't see the world, but I was feeling more conscious. "Thank you. Could you pass me the soap and shampoo, please? And place them here," I tapped on the table I felt near the tab. Or maybe it was a chair. Who knows.

  I then felt something being placed on that. One was a bar of soap. The other was a bottle (must be the shampoo).

  "I'll come back in half an hour," Cloris said, "and help you get out of the tub and change."

  "Thank you," I said. "That's so nice of you."

  As Cloris escorted a drunk and blind Amy out of the room, politely smiling even as Amy stumbled and hit every corner of the room, Ektolaf Morad looked at the two responsible for her state.

  "I will call Moira first," he said, "and then you two will explain yourself. Meet me in my office in fifteen minutes."

  He turned on his heels and left the room. Martinus, who had a big spot of gravy on his trousers tried to clean it, but it was stuck.

  "The bathroom is right there," Azrikam pointed. "You can try washing it off. You won't be presentable, but you can look better."

  "What will he say?" Martinus asked.

  "He'll be furious we didn't ask him," Azrikam said. "Because he wouldn't have allowed it. We'll just have to listen him yell. But he'll come around, eventually. When he sees this was the best choice for Amy."

  "Was it?" Martinus asked. He was having his doubts. He hadn't expected for Amy's magical vision to be activated in such a… spectacular manner. He thought her magical core would grow a bit, start developing and leave it at that. But it seemed like she just went through two years of magical development in a couple of hours.

  "I think so," Azrikam said. "I scanned her ethereal body. It looks normal now. Like a child's, but normal."

  "I didn't have time for that," Martinus said.

  "I noticed," Azrikam said. "Now wash up, and I'll take you to father's office. You could get lost in this house. Especially if it doesn't like you."

  "Does it?" Martinus asked.

  "As long as Amy likes you, the house will, too. The house approves of Amy. Did you notice how the chairs moved in front of her so she wouldn't hurt herself? She still got hurt, but that she arrived in one piece is a miracle."

  "I was busy keeping her from injuring herself to notice," Martinus replied, trying to scrub the food off his trousers and shirt. It seemed to go wet instead of clean, so he stopped doing that, just washing his hands and face instead.

  When he emerged from the bathroom, he was nowhere near clean, but at least you couldn't eat food off his clothes.

  Azrikam observed it and nodded.

  "Let's go talk to father now."

  The two men squared their shoulders and marched towards their execution.

  "So, what did you two do to my granddaughter?" Ektolaf Morad asked, examining the two men from behind his desk, sitting in the luxurious armchair. "I told Moira Amy wouldn't be coming tonight, and she expressed her concern. She hoped Amy could come tomorrow. So I want to know, gentlemen, will she be alright tomorrow?"

  "We don't know," Martinus said. "But we hope so."

  "You hope so?" Ektolaf asked. "I hope you performed experiments on my granddaughter based on something more than 'hope', young man. Because if you were careless with her life or health, you've got no chance of marrying her, compatibility or no."

  "I had a theory," Martinus said. "Based on observations. I deduced the rest when she told me her story. When she came to me, her face changed, it was a confirmation of my theory. Have you noticed?"

  "Did I notice how my granddaughter now looks like a copy of her great-great-great- for many generations back great-grandmother? Our founder? Do you think I could miss that?" Ektolaf asked.

  "When I saw her, I realized this was almost like a magical adoption," Martinus said. "And it seemed to me that meant we had to act as we act during an adoption. Put her on the family's magical stream, let her absorb it, adapt to it. The house had already accepted her; the risk was tiny."

  "It was still risky," Ektolaf said. "And I'm sure you didn't explain it to her. Although she would have accepted. Amy is a fearless child."

  "That she is," Martinus acknowledged, carefully.

  Ektolaf handed him a pen and a piece of paper.

  "Draw your theory," he said. "What you saw in Amy's aura. Then I will decide if your assumptions were reasonable or not."

  Martinus nodded, and started drawing, writing most of the observations of what he saw.

  "As for you," Ektolaf turned towards Azrikam. "I know you wanted to help your niece, especially after seeing the scans of her aura and what Mahalat did to her. I know you feel guilty about your brother. But you shouldn't have tried to compensate for that by risking Amy's health. She doesn't need her magic; she'd be fine even if it doesn't end up developing it. She'd still be a Morad, and she would never need to work. We can feed her and allow her to afford the life she wants. And if she married him," he pointed towards Martinus, who was paying close attention to the conversation, "she wouldn't need her magic, either. You risked it, and now she's stumbling around the house like a drunk."

  "But father," Azrikam said, "malformations in the ethereal body could end up affecting her physical body, too. And you're right. I felt guilty about what my brother did. To his daughter, no less; even I did not expect him to stoop so low. To go against one's own family — that is something only a deeply sick man would do. But I also wanted to help. To let Amy live the life she wants, how she wants it. And when her fiancé explained his theory to be, I thought it would be good if it were true, and I could solve the problems my brother created. But I wasn't impulsive, and I kept observing at each moment. What is happening with Amy right now is not unnatural or a sign of disease; it's a slightly delayed part of the normal development of a magician. Only she's going through it at an accelerated phase."

  "How accelerated?" Ektolaf asked. "When will she regain non-magical vision?"

  "We don't know," Azrikam said. "Hopefully, by tomorrow."

  Martinus then handed Ektolaf his drawings. Amy's aura before Mahalat 'finished' her. Her aura after that, and what he saw after she became a Morad.

  Ektolaf read carefully but quickly, raising his eyebrows at several points.

  "You seem to know quite a lot, young man," he said. "It's almost like you saw her aural scans. Or did you?"

  "No," Martinus answered. "What do they say?"

  Ektolaf considered it for a moment. The scans of Amy's aura, the ones that kick-started the investigation on what happened to her, Azrikam gave
him as soon as he learned about Amy's identity. He had been horrified at her broken, amorphous, ethereal body, and impressed at how much better it looked when he saw her. Now that he saw Martinus' drawings, he could see every step of the process, and understand more about what happened. He guessed most of it anyway, and Amy told him a lot. If she trusted him, he could too, with at least part of it. So he handed him the folder with the healer's scan.

  Martinus took it, surprised, and opened it, scanning the document in front of him. But as soon as he understood what it was about, he started reading more carefully, slowly going through everything.

  "That sonofabitch!" He then exclaimed. "Amy told me what he did, but I never knew how bad it was. She downplayed it."

  "Yes," Azrikam noted dryly. "When I read the record of her witness statement, I noted how calm she was about the entire thing. She didn't seem to notice any discomfort. But then, she's been living with her problems since birth. She probably stopped noticing them at some point."

  "She's always so cheerful," Martinus said. "And upbeat. Never scared of anything."

  "That's my granddaughter," Ektolaf said, proudly. "Now, I understand what you two did, and why. But I want to make it clear. If you ever, ever, risk Amy's health like that, expect consequences. You," pointing his finger at Martinus, "will never see her again, and I will break the engagement. You," pointing at Azrikam, "I will deal with you as the head of the family."

  They both seemed reasonably intimidated.

  "Alright," he said. "We will discuss your engagement later, young man. But it's late enough. Your parents must be waiting for you," he said.

  It was an invitation to leave.

  Martinus stood up, nodded to both of them, and left the room.

  20

  I started seeing shapes in the bath. I don't know if it was the warm water, or the soap, or what, but, after soaking for a while, I saw physical objects. Vaguely, but I could see the edges of the bathtub, the bottle of shampoo, and the foam that covered the water. The euphoria sensation I felt was also wearing off, making me embarrassed by the spectacle I made of myself.

  I still saw the magical lines; they were just mixed with the physical shapes I saw. It was still incredibly confusing. It was giving me a headache. So instead of trying to understand what I saw, I focused on scratching every bit of dead skin off, and thoroughly washing my hair. By the end, I was red but squeaky clean.

  When Cloris came with the towels to help me change, I could see enough to get out of the tub by myself. She wrapped me in the towel, and I walked to the bedroom myself, without hitting the doorjamb. I also dressed after she gave me a nightgown. She dried my hair with a spell and tucked me with the blankets. I thanked her, and she left the bedroom, switching the lights off.

  I was tired, weary, bleary-eyed, but I spent most of the night tossing and turning in bed. I didn't have the energy to stand up and do something, nor the desire to go to the Academy. I kept seeing colors around me, both with the eyes open and close, and I must tell you, it is very difficult to get asleep while you see everything around you.

  But at some point, I think I turned it off, because I got asleep in the blissful darkness of my mind.

  When I woke up, I was seeing the world normally again, although I still saw weird lines with my peripheral vision. I tried to ignore them, because focusing on that gave me a headache. My stomach growled. I had to dress into something, but the dress I had been wearing yesterday was too disgusting to even think about it.

  But when I switched on the light, I saw a big suitcase standing in the middle of my bedroom. Had it been there the night before? I don't think I saw it, but then, I didn't see much last night.

  I opened it to see my dresses and shoes there. All of them.

  I put on a dress for daily use, one that had only one petticoat. It was comfy, by Marn's dress standards, at least. My hairpins were also in the suitcase, so I could make a decent hair updo.

  The house informed me breakfast was ready and indicated the path I should follow.

  When I came into the dining room, everybody looked at me.

  "I see you have recovered your vision of the physical world," grandpa observed.

  I nodded, the movement provoking a sharp feeling of pain as the objects in my peripheral vision moved sharply. I massaged my temples, sitting next to grandpa, in front of my uncle.

  "Will you go to the Academy today?" grandpa asked.

  "Yes," I said, pouring myself a cup of tea and a generous tablespoon of sugar into it. It usually helped me with my headaches. "We only have theory on Mondays. History of Magic and Magical Structures. I shouldn't miss more classes than I've already missed."

  "Just don't overextend yourself," grandpa said. "You don't have to get the scholarship or anything. We'll pay for your next course. In fact, I think we might move you to face-to-face classes. I don't approve of Distance classes."

  "I want to get a scholarship," I said, not comfortable with my new family shilling big bucks for my education.

  "It wouldn't be right to take the spot from somebody who needs it," grandpa said. "And you don' really need it."

  That was fair.

  But still…

  "Amy," grandpa said, looking at me seriously. "If you want to compete for the scholarship and try getting it, do it. But once you get it, we should still pay for your studies. Because you can't learn properly while studying distance, and you shouldn't take a spot from somebody who needs it more than you do."

  It was fair, but I disagreed.

  "And once your uncle sorts out all the paperwork," grandpa said, and Azrikam perked up, paying attention, "I will give you Mahalat's money. All the money he had on the family account."

  "But didn't the Council take away his money?" I asked. Isn't that what they do with criminals' money?

  "Why would they?" grandpa asked. "It's the family's money, money that Mahalat was entitled to. We paid compensation to the girl he tortured and traumatized, but there is still a lot left over. And he doesn't have a right to it anymore; he's not a Morad. You, however, are his rightful heir."

  "How much money are you talking about?" I asked.

  "I'm not sure," grandpa said. "Since your uncle manages all that. Azzie, how much money is there in Mahalat's accounts?"

  My uncle stared at the emptiness for a bit, drumming his fingers on the table. Then he looked back at us.

  "Around three hundred million ducats," he said. "And change. It will take a while to transfer everything to Amy, because there are so many investments and properties, you understand. But I can put a million into her account right now."

  "A million?" I asked, amazed.

  That amount of money was already beyond my wildest imagination. I always lived hand-to-mouth, saving money on the most necessary items. I never had over three thousand dollars in my account. And, as far as I understood, dollars and ducats could be exchanged more or less one-to-one, adjusting for other things (clothes here were more expensive, but then, the amount of fabric used for dresses was just silly).

  The equivalent of a million dollars in my bank account… I couldn't even imagine what I would do with it.

  "In cash," uncle nodded. "The rest of the money is in bonds, promissory notes, shares, trusts, land, and houses. I'll be managing your estate for you, if you don't mind. I manage all the family's investments. Just tell me whenever you need more cash, and I'll help you decide what you want to sell."

  It all seemed so much, my brain wasn't able to process it. But one thing I noted, because I could understand it.

  "Houses?" I asked. "As in houses, plural?"

  I never owned a house that would be my own.

  "Yes," uncle Azzie said. I called him that, since grandpa did, too. "Although you should live at Morad house, like the rest of us. We all own shares in a trust that owns all the Morad family's properties. We've got personal properties, like the money you're getting, and the family property. You also have the right to a certain share of the income produced by the family's p
roperties, the part that isn't reinvested."

  "Why would I need more money on top of the three hundred million ducats I'm already getting?" I asked.

  Three hundred million was already an unimaginable number.

  "It seems like a lot," uncle Azzie said, "but if you want to do anything serious with it, it's not much."

  "Serious like what?" I asked.

  "Build a hospital, do charity work, finance research, or art, stuff like that," my uncle explained. "The kind of thing families like ours do."

  This was too much for me to handle. Build a hospital? I focused on smaller matters instead.

  "Can I tell my friend Yllana about my new name? And the people at the Academy, too," I asked.

  "Of course," grandpa said. "I already sent an ad to most of the major newspapers. It should appear in the morning news; everybody will know about it soon."

  "All the major newspapers?" I asked.

  "Yes, a full-page ad in all of them," grandpa said. "I should get the Leern Sentinel soon, and I'll show you. It should arrive any minute now."

  There was a plop sound.

  "And it has arrived," grandpa said, standing up and going towards a box. "Now, I wouldn't usually read the newspaper at the dining table, but it's a rather exceptional occasion."

  He opened the box and took a newspaper.

  "They printed it on the first page," he noted. "Look."

  First page? I walked towards grandpa and grabbed the newspaper out of his hands, starting to read.

  "Long-lost daughter of the Morad family rejoins family," the headline said. There was also a big photo of me, with my new face, on the first plane. "Mr. Ektolaf Morad's daughter, Amy Morad, has finally been found."

  "Your daughter?" I asked grandpa.

  "We thought it wouldn't do your reputation any good if we said who your father was," grandpa said. "We know, and that's the important thing."

  "But then uncle Azzie would be my brother," I blurted out.

  "Uncle Azzie?" Azrikam raised his eyebrows.

  "It sounds good," grandpa said, "but you can call him just Azzie now. He's your brother. And call me father. Or Papa."