Midlife Elementals, page 36
Raphael moved his arm like a compass needle near a magnet, swaying from left to right until he stopped and pointed in Oliver’s direction with confidence. “There.”
Oliver lowered his hand, and the magic dissipated. He silently moved to a spot behind Raphael.
Princess darted from one hiding place to another to follow Oliver. Then, she snuck around behind him.
Oliver raised his hand. Again, silver glitter fell.
With his eyes still closed, Raphael slowly turned in a circle until he got a bearing on Oliver. His arm rose just as Princess bolted forward and sank her teeth into Oliver’s ankle.
“Bloody hell!” Oliver whipped around in time to see Princess dash away through a gap in the tent flaps. “She bit me!”
Raphael opened his eyes, a look of confusion on his face. “Who bit you?”
“Your bandit familiar, that’s who.” Oliver leaned down and examined the punctures in his trousers.
“Can she do that?”
“Of course she can. They can have physical presence if they choose. Ow,” he added.
“Hey, Oliver,” I said, “if you can sense magic, shouldn’t you have seen that coming?”
Chagrin flitted across his face. “If I hadn’t been concentrating on Raphael, I would have. This is a prime example of why witches shouldn’t multitask if they can possibly avoid it.” He cocked his head. “Let’s try that again. Raphael, see if you can get your little monster to charge me.”
“Hey, now, that’s my Princess you’re talking about,” said Raphael.
Oliver pressed his hands to his forehead, as if saying a prayer for patience. “Can you get your little Princess to charge me?”
“Are you sure you can handle the smackdown?”
Oliver made a get-on-with-it gesture.
Raphael shrugged. “It’s your leg.”
I smiled and leaned in. This show was so good, I needed a bucket of popcorn.
Raphael concentrated, but said nothing aloud.
This surprised me. Although I spoke to Horatio all the time, I hadn’t thought at him very often—not intentionally, at least. It was something I would have to experiment with.
Princess poked her nose through the gap between the tent flaps. She sniffed in the direction of Raphael, then Oliver, as if assessing the distance. She sprang from her hiding place and charged Oliver.
The dirt floor adjacent to Oliver shifted.
Princess skidded to a stop and held one front paw off the ground.
A silver sand-like substance boiled from the shifting earth—then exploded upward. Dust flew into the air.
When it cleared, a shaggy-haired brown bear stood in the circus ring. Its brown eyes, the color of chocolate diamonds, shone in the overhead lights. The bear shook itself, sending dirt flying in all directions. It turned its gaze to Princess and regarded the raccoon with something like long-suffering tolerance.
My jaw dropped. Whatever I had been expecting Oliver’s familiar to be, it wasn’t this.
Raphael ran to interpose himself between the bear and the raccoon. “Don’t you dare hurt my Princess.”
“Calm down. They can’t harm each other.” Oliver approached the bear and laid a hand on its back. “This is Arthur.” He walked in front of the bear and knelt on the floor, putting his head nearly level with the bear’s. His hands cupped the bear’s face. “Arthur, let’s show these witches how it’s done, shall we?”
The bear made a chuffing sound.
Oliver relaxed into a deep kneeling position with his hands behind his back.
The bear reared back and raised one massive paw tipped with five sharp claws.
My hand went to my mouth.
Arthur swung his paw straight at Oliver’s face—and it passed through harmlessly, like a mirage.
I gasped. “I thought he was going to take your face off.”
“We’ll be adding you to the circus before you know it, Oliver,” said Tuesday.
Oliver smiled, seeming simultaneously pleased and perhaps a little embarrassed by the fuss. He got to his feet and made a very neat bow followed by a sweeping gesture to Arthur.
Arthur went on his hind legs and offered a bearish bow, then dropped down to stand on four legs again.
Tuesday, Raphael, and I all clapped.
“As you can see,” said Oliver, “they are perfectly capable of being solid or insubstantial. If one familiar were to take a swipe at another, the intended victim could phase out and be unharmed. Unfortunately,” he added, looking down at his ankle, “we witches cannot do the same.”
I couldn’t resist any longer. I hopped down from the stands and approached the brown bear. “Can I pet him?”
“Of course,” he said.
I sank my fingers into the thick fur at the scruff of the bear’s neck. The fur shed glimmers of silver when I combed my fingers down his back. “He’s majestic.”
“He is King Arthur, indeed,” said Oliver.
“Hello, your majesty,” I said to the bear. “Now we have a Princess—and a king.”
Arthur sank to his hindquarters and leaned his shaggy head against me.
I staggered from the weight. “Wow. He’s heavy enough when he wants to be.”
Horatio padded out with hesitant steps from underneath the stands, followed by Spiral. They looked at each other, then stared at the large brown bear.
Princess peeked out from where she’d hidden behind Raphael.
“It’s all right,” I said to the familiars. “The big bear won’t hurt you. He’s a friend.”
As if to prove the point, Arthur flopped to the ground like a lumpy rug with two-inch claws.
I concentrated on sending out soothing vibes. A calm presence affected animals; why not familiars, too?
Horatio raised his chin and stalked boldly over to Arthur. He curled up against Arthur’s massive shoulder and lashed his tail in a saucy fashion.
Spiral approached the bear next. She settled against the side of Arthur’s fuzzy belly and groomed herself as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
Princess dashed around Raphael and scrambled onto the bear’s back. She stretched out comfortably along his spine. Then she used her front paws to grab handfuls of bear fur as if they were reins.
It made for an unusual tableau—a bear, two cats, and a raccoon, all in one furry pile.
Oliver’s eyebrows rose. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You told Arthur not to present a threat. You told the other familiars not to be afraid, and they listened.”
I shrugged. “They’re animals, aren’t they? I train animals.”
“Not like this, you don’t. No one ever has.” His keen eyes regarded me with a new and assessing expression. “Until now.”
It was then that I noticed how the familiars’ gemlike gazes had fallen on me—as if they were awaiting my next command.
30
After a full day of training with the witches of the Circus Aetherium, Luella, Pepper, and I retreated to Luella’s cozy shotgun house on the beach side of town.
Pepper sprawled on the couch. Her shiny mermaid-patterned tights—a gift from the circus water witches—sparkled in the twinkling lights of the old-fashioned Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. “No one ever told me the circus was so much work,” she said.
Luella entered the living room with a tray of cookies. “Poor Pepper,” she said, in an affectionately teasing tone. “Have a cookie.”
Pepper scooped up four snowflake-shaped cookies from the tray. “You’d need cookies, too, if you spent the day hauling water around while two water witches try to get you to drop it.”
“Mama and I had to practice catching falling objects until I thought I was going to pull some kind of magical muscle. So I see your cookies and raise you one,” said Luella. She chose five cookies and set the tray on the coffee table before taking a seat.
“I was literally putting out fires all day.” I eyed the tray. “How many cookies do I get?”
“Didn’t you do something with the familiars, too? Raphael said Oliver was all shook up,” said Luella.
I smiled to myself at the thought of Oliver being all shook up. Then I told the story in its entirety to Luella and Pepper.
“You deserve all the cookies,” said Pepper. “That’s impressive.”
I took a cookie and nibbled it. The sugary, buttery bite melted in my mouth, leaving behind a sweet vanilla flavor. “Do you feel ready for this? For the performance, I mean—and being responsible for it going off without a hitch.”
Luella smoothed her braid. Her face took on a thoughtful expression. “Between Mama and me, I feel like we can handle whatever comes up. Although I admit: I’m nervous.”
“Pepper?” I asked.
“I say bring it on. We may not have been ready last time, but this time …” She trailed off and posed with her hands in a magician’s conjuring position.
I dusted the crumbs off my fingers, then ignited a little dancing flame like Tuesday had at our meeting. I bounced it from fingertip to fingertip, above nails I had recently painted with black and silver flames. “Tuesday has a water witch standing by as a spotter. I’m just there to watch for unexpected fire magic. I think I can handle that.”
Pepper laced her hands behind her head. “What did she say to do if you saw any?”
“First I warn Tuesday and her spotter. Then I try to absorb it with this artifact.” I lifted the fire opal pendant and let it fall. “Earth magic can have a dampening effect on fire. That’s why it helped when Mrs. Millefleur decided to unload her leftover powers on me. Meanwhile, I have to parade around in metal wings and try to look like I belong onstage.”
“Mama and I are doing something similar,” said Luella. “Except we’re the air magic spotters, and Oliver will be on hand with a soft landing if there’s an air magic failure. Raphael will also be on alert for rogue earth magic.”
In the quiet that followed, Zephyr and Horatio emerged from the hallway, fresh from some unknown adventure.
Luella held out her arms. “Here, girl!”
Zephyr bounded to Luella. Horatio, on the other hand, regally approached the Christmas tree and began investigating the lower branches.
Luella ruffled Zephyr’s silver-white fur. “You should try calling her,” she said.
“Calling her?”
“Like you did at the circus with the other familiars,” said Pepper. She rolled on her side on the couch, to watch.
“Here, Zephyr,” I said. Zephyr trotted over in a friendly fashion and looked up at me with ice-blue eyes. I petted her soft fur, which gave off an ineffable warm breeze at all times. “I don’t know that this proves anything. I mean, any witch could call her, couldn’t they?”
“Think a command,” said Luella. “Raphael does it with Princess all the time.”
Not to be outdone by Raphael, I concentrated on the first command that popped into my mind: Fly to the top of the Christmas tree.
Zephyr cocked her head. Then she took off from a standing start. She ran up the side of the tree, ruffling the needles as she went. When she reached the top, she hovered above the silver star and looked pleased with herself.
Pepper sat straight up on the couch. “Did you tell her to run up the tree?”
I nodded.
“Well, I’ll be,” said Luella. “Down, Zephyr.”
The dog glided to the floor.
Horatio ignored Zephyr and batted at a low-hanging ornament.
“Too bad cats aren’t as cooperative as dogs,” I said.
Pepper snorted. “Rose, Horatio’s your familiar. He’s just like you. Haven’t you noticed that yet?”
“He is not like me. He’s stubborn, touchy, and—oh. I stand corrected.”
“Are we all similar to our familiars?” Luella’s brow furrowed. “What on earth does Raphael have in common with a raccoon named Princess?”
Pepper laughed.
“Think about it,” I said. “Princess is mischievous, but she’s affectionate and protective, too. Remind you of anyone?”
A fond smile lit up Luella’s face, along with a hint of color.
“But what about Oliver?” said Pepper. “His familiar let two cats and a raccoon use him as a fur-covered space heater. What does that mean?”
Luella met my gaze. “I bet it’s because underneath that cool exterior, Oliver’s a big old softy.”
“So that’s why he’s shy of showing off that bear,” said Pepper.
My cheeks heated. “I think it’s because of the risk to operational security—”
“Operational security, my hind leg,” said Luella, sounding very much like her mother. “Of course that’s the ‘reason,’ but it’s also a convenient way of not letting anyone know what a cuddly critter you are when you want to be perceived as too cool for school.” She gave me a pointed look.
I pretended not to notice.
Pepper sat forward on the couch as if something had occurred to her. “Hey, you don’t think Mrs. Millefleur’s sister—what was her name?”
“Lenore,” I said.
“Lenore. You don’t think Lenore might have some artifact that would help my familiar show up, do you?”
“It seems unlikely,” I said. “She’s not a witch, so she couldn’t have a familiar even if she wanted one; therefore, why would she have an artifact related to familiars? And how would we get it?”
Pepper slumped. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
Luella reached over and patted Pepper on the back. “Don’t worry. Your time will come.”
I scooted closer. It wasn’t like Pepper to get so discouraged. “Come on. We’re the Ride-or-Die Witches. We can do anything, including finding MIA familiars.” To my ears, it sounded like I was grasping at straws—but Pepper cast me a look of hope.
“You think?” she said.
“Sure,” I replied, with as much hearty reassurance as I could put on. When Pepper looked away, I locked eyes with Luella, silently urging her to go with it.
“Rose is right,” said Luella. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s us.”
“Pepper,” I said, “remember when my magic first manifested and I couldn’t stop blasting fire?”
“Yeah,” said Pepper, smiling at the memory. “I was sure you were going to toast the interior of my SUV.”
“But I didn’t, right? It worked out.”
She nodded slowly.
“This will too.”
Pepper grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You know, for someone who wears all black and listens to The Cure on repeat, you’re actually pretty positive.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” I said. “You’ll ruin my image.”
31
Saturday turned unseasonably warm, causing me to sweat lightly under my borrowed costume while we prepared for the evening’s show. The more the sun sank toward the horizon, the more the sweat cooled. By the time the moon rose, I shivered, and my stomach trembled. It was hard to tell what was nerves and what was a chill.
I straightened the tights that disappeared into my boots and fluffed the skirt attached to the black leotard. I retrieved the sage leaf I’d brought in my bag, then rolled it up and pinned it discreetly under my neckline for good luck. With my costume ready for the performance, I peeked out from backstage to watch the crowd trickle into the tent.
Several Sparkle Beach witches were already out front, including Mrs. Millefleur, who stood at the entrance in an outfit that combined a scarlet business suit with a jaunty majorette’s hat. She looked like she was on her way to a Downtown Merchants’ Guild costume party. She would collect tickets—and be on the lookout for Lenore.
Queenie took her position at a card table off to the side, under a hastily created banner that read “The Amazing Queenie.” Her fortune-teller’s costume suited her all the way from its feathered turban down to the hem of the patchwork silk robe. A large glass tip jar sat prominently on the table. With her unique ability to read moods, Queenie would keep an eye on the crowd.
I sensed heat behind me, and let the backstage curtain fall shut before I turned.
It was Oliver.
He wore a black ringmaster’s costume trimmed with gold. The costume gave him a melancholy grace, like an old-fashioned daguerreotype come to life. He removed his black top hat. “Well met, fire witch.”
“Good evening.” The night had an air of seriousness that wrapped both of us in its embrace. There was no need to smooth my already snug-fitting costume, but I did so anyway, tugging the sweetheart neckline here and there beneath the fire opal pendant.
“I wanted to wish you good—” he began.
“Don’t say it.” I laid a hand on his arm. “Tuesday told me to use ‘break a leg.’”
Oliver gave a rueful chuckle. “My mistake. Break a leg, Rose.”
I smiled. “Break a leg, earth witch.”
He hesitated—then leaned forward and brushed my cheek with a kiss as soft and warm as falling ash.
I touched my cheek. “What was that for?”
“For—” He paused. “For what I couldn’t say.” He replaced his top hat and walked away.
I hadn’t decided whether he meant luck, or something else, when I caught Pepper looking at me from across the room. She made an exaggerated double thumbs up and launched into some kind of impromptu celebratory dance.
Tuesday’s approach cut off my view of Pepper’s victory shuffle. She inspected my costume, including the French hood and caul covering my hair, and applied a few judicious adjustments. “We’re up first. Are you ready?”
My stomach flip-flopped. “I’m ready,” I said, making an effort to sound convincing. I stepped in front of the mirror positioned near the curtain for one last look at myself. The combination of the black headpiece, leotard, and leggings made me look like a fairy ballerina of the night—if fairy ballerinas of the night favored black suede boots over dainty slippers.
