It feels like it's been years instead of days since I was here, Kayla thought, sprawling out onto the comfortable couch in Elizabet's living room. "Elizabet, I didn't say it before, but . . . thanks for getting me out of there. I thought I was a goner."
"You probably were, despite what the ogress said about the magic being endangered in this area," Elizabet said, wearily pulling off her boots.
"I still can't believe you said we wouldn't do anything about her," Kayla said. "I mean, we should call the cops to go stop her. Or maybe the Feds . . ."
"I'm surprised you don't understand."
" . . . or the National Guard? Maybe we should call in the Marines?" Kayla shivered, thinking about what was brewing in that cauldron. "That's one nasty lady." She glanced at Elizabet. "What do you mean, you're surprised that I don't understand?"
Elizabet leaned back against the couch with a sigh of pure exhaustion. "Well, what do you think would have happened if we'd had to fight our way out of there?" she asked. "Who do you think would have won?"
Good question. That old lady looked pretty mean. Then again, Elizabet's a tough cookie, too. . . . "I don't know," Kayla said.
"That's why," Elizabet said. "Don't ever take on a fight unless you think there's a good chance you can win, child. Not unless the stakes are very high." She yawned. "Well, I'm for some hot chocolate, and then it's probably time for bed. Would you like some?"
Kayla consulted her stomach, which was still a little queasy but seemed to be settling down at last. "Yeah, some hot chocolate would be great."
She followed Elizabet into the kitchen, sitting down at the table as the older woman began hunting for the ingredients. In a way, it feels like none of that really happened, she thought. Maybe it's all been a dream, and it's the same night when Billy got hurt. Elizabet's making me another cup of chocolate, and then . . . Elizabet reached for a small box of Mexican chocolate and broke off several pieces, setting them in the pot to melt.
That yellow and red box . . . Roberta . . .
Kayla felt something tighten inside her, and tears blurred her vision. She rubbed at her eyes, which only made it worse, as she thought about Roberta and Luisa, and Fernando, and Jose . . .
Elizabet turned. "Kayla? What's wrong?"
"It's, it's just . . . that's the same chocolate that Roberta made for me. Roberta, she's dead now. . . . I thought she was such a bitch, but she was nice to me, and they killed her, she's dead now. . . ." It was hitting her all at once, all the shock and anger and terrors of the last few days, falling down on her like a wave. She couldn't keep from sobbing. "And Ramon, they tried to kill him, they shot Fernando right in front of me, I couldn't do anything to help him . . ."
Elizabet knelt next to Kayla, putting her arms around her. Kayla felt her tears soaking into Elizabet's blouse. Elizabet didn't say anything, only held her.
"I'm . . . I'm okay," Kayla said, after a few minutes. "Really, I'm okay."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Kayla thought about everything that had happened and nodded. She told Elizabet what had happened from the moment that Carlos and his friends had broken into Elizabet's house to get her, and what had happened to her with the homeboys. And the strangeness of the Unseelie's world, and how she'd saved the life of their Queen—though, thinking about it, she wasn't certain that anybody except the Queen herself was going to benefit from that. And how the T-Men had come after them at the apartment, and . . .
I should tell her. I should just tell her what happened.
"What is it, child?" Elizabet asked, as though reading her thoughts—which she probably was, Kayla reflected wryly.
"Something happened tonight," Kayla began hesitantly. "Something really awful."
Elizabet listened as Kayla told her what had happened earlier that night at the apartment. She felt her stomach turn over and took several deep breaths as she described what she had done to the young man, the T-Man who had nearly died.
Elizabet was silent for a long time after Kayla finished the story. "I should be saying I told you so," she said, "but you know that already, don't you? The magic within you doesn't have a conscience of its own. You can hurt people or help them. You're the one who has to decide which."
Yes, but . . . "But I couldn't stop it," Kayla said. "I couldn't do anything about it."
"You'll have to learn to control it," Elizabet said. "The magic isn't going to go away. It's a part of you now, a part of what makes you yourself. Right now, your magic is as dangerous as a loaded shotgun in the hands of a three-year-old. But we can change that." She glanced up quickly. "Oh Lord, the chocolate is burning!" Elizabet moved quickly to the stove, turning off the burner as the room filled with the smell of burnt chocolate.
"So much for the hot cocoa," she said, returning to the table.
"What do you mean, we can change that?" Kayla asked, wrinkling her nose at the burnt smell. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes.
Elizabet smiled. "My grandmother, she was the one who taught me. Of course, my talent isn't anything compared to yours, but I should be able to teach you a few things that she taught me. Gram was an amazing lady. I wish you could have met her." She looked up at the clock as Kayla yawned again. "It's definitely past your bedtime, though," she said. "We'll talk more about this in the morning."
Kayla hesitated for a moment at the open door to the spare bedroom. She stood there, toweling her hair dry and wiping the last of the water from her face. Looking into the bedroom, it really did feel as though the last few days hadn't happened at all. There was the bed, still slightly rumpled from when she'd been reading a book the night that Carlos and Ramon had come to the house. In a way, it feels like a dream, she thought. Like I'm waking up from an awful nightmare. But now it's okay, I'm home. She stopped short at that thought.
Home? I guess that's what this is now. It feels like home. And Elizabet? I don't think she'll ever be like my mother. I don't think I'll ever feel she's my parent, but my friend, definitely my teacher. Someone who can help me figure all of this out and make sense from my life.
She put on a pair of pajamas and, on an impulse, moved to the bookshelf that lined one wall of the small bedroom. Just as she'd hoped, there it was: the book about the dragons. Smiling, she took it back to bed with her, opening up to the page where she'd stopped reading before.
She awakened with a start at some noise she couldn't identify. The room was still dark, with only a hint of light filtering in through the closed curtains. She reached out, and her hand brushed against the novel on the pillow next to her, lying where she'd left it before she fell asleep. She heard another sound, a rustling of the bedsheets. Someone was in the room with her—no, someone was sitting on the edge of the bed. . . .
She picked up the book and threw it hard in the direction of the noise.
She could see the person now, a dim outline in the faint light. The book flew through the air and then through the person, bouncing off the far wall.
Oh no . . . it's something magical again, I know it, it's something magical . . . can't I even get a night's sleep without something weird happening around me?
"That ain't very polite, girl," the person said with a laugh, in a woman's low, rich voice, heavy with a Southern accent. "I would think that Elizabet might've taught you better manners. Then again, you ain't been Elizabet's ward for very long now, eh? Just a couple days?" She stood and moved closer. Kayla blinked.
The old woman, her wrinkled black face creased with a broad smile, was only an outline of pale blue light, nothing more than that. I'm going crazy . . . that's it, it's all finally hit me and I'm going crazy . . . now I'm seeing ghosts.
"You're . . . you're . . ." Kayla's voice wasn't working quite right.
"Elizabet's gram, that's right."
"But you're . . . you're dead!"
Gram chuckled. "I think that's obvious, girl. Most normal folks don't go around floatin' through walls, y'know."
"But you're dead!"
"Been that way for a few years, now."
"But . . . you're . . ."
"Yes, I'm dead. Now shut up, girl, and let me talk." Gram seated herself next to Kayla. "That's why I'm here, girl," she said cheerfully in her slow Southern drawl. "Since Elizabet thought it was important that we meet, I figured I'd go ahead and meet you. You ain't never seen no ghosts before?"
"Uh, no!" Kayla blurted.
"Ah, no wonder you're surprised. Some people just can't handle the concept too well. Elizabet now, I tried appearin' to her once, not too long after I left this world. She just couldn't handle it at all. Thought she was losin' her mind. You, on the other hand, look like you're doin' just fine, honey." She stood up, stretching wearily. Her outlines thinned even more as she stretched; Kayla could see the walls through her. "Now, girl, we have to talk with Elizabet. . . ."
Elizabet set down the sociology textbook she'd been reading and reached for the light switch next to the bed. Kayla's voice, muffled through the closed bedroom door, stopped her in mid-motion.
"Elizabet, can we come in?" Kayla asked.
"Of course," Elizabet said, then suddenly realized Kayla had said the word "we" instead of "I." "Kayla, is someone . . . ?"
The door opened and Kayla stepped in, followed by someone that Elizabet had thought she would never see again, at least not in this lifetime. Her grandmother glided into the room, smiling wickedly, with her feet not quite touching the ground. She sat down at the foot of the bed. "Evenin', honeychild," Gram said.
Elizabet just stared at her.
In the long silence Kayla finally piped up. "Uh, Elizabet, she's your grandmother, you know? Your grandmother, the dead one."
"I know who she is," Elizabet said. "What I'm wondering is what is she doing here? And why I'm dreaming about her."
"Ain't no dream, Elizabet," Gram said. "You're in trouble, an' that's why I'm here. You are in one heap of serious trouble. I can't see exactly what, my sight isn't too good looking very far into the future, but something evil has set its sights upon you, and on this girl here, too."
This must be a dream, Elizabet thought. Or maybe I'm insane. That would explain this.
"Shoot, girl, you're not crazy, any more than I am! Lordy, you believe in magic, right? Why so much trouble believing in ghosts?" Gram spoke in an aside to Kayla. "That's why I never showed up before now. I knew she wouldn't believe it."
"All right, then, I'll take this at face value," Elizabet said. "What I don't understand is how you can be here."
"You don't have time to understand," her grandmother replied. "What you have to do is teach this child what she needs to know, and quickly. You don't have much time, granddaughter. Only six months."
As she spoke, Gram's translucent body was becoming even more faint. She faded away to a mere brightness, a hint of light in the air. "Teach her what she needs to know before it's too late."
The words lingered in the empty air where Gram had sat a moment before.
"Kayla, do you know what's going on?" Elizabet asked.
Kayla shook her head. "It's not my fault," she said quickly.
"I know it's not your fault, child," Elizabet said with a sigh. "Six months. I wonder what's going to happen in six months?"
"I wish I knew," Kayla said.
"Well, we'll find out when it gets here. Alternatively, we go ask Beara, since she obviously knows something about it as well. I'd just as soon not do that, though. It might be significantly harder to get out of her home a second time."
"Yeah, that's for sure." I don't want to go back there without the Marines, or maybe the National Guard.
"Now, go to bed, child," Elizabet said. "We'll start your lessons in earnest in the morning."
"Okay," Kayla said. "I'll let you know if any more of your dead relatives show up to visit," she said, grinning.
"You do that," Elizabet said with a smile, and turned off the bedlight.
Back in her bedroom, Kayla picked up the fantasy novel from where she'd thrown it and set it down on the nightstand. "All of this is really just a little too weird for me," she said aloud, thinking about the events of the last week.
"Well, it's only going to get weirder, honeychild," Gram said from behind her.
Kayla turned so quickly she nearly fell. "I thought you were gone," she blurted.
"Naw, I was jus' doin' that for dramatic effect," Gram said, an impish grin across her wrinkled dark face. "I've always wanted to do that to Elizabet. She's always been so unflappable, even as a child; I just couldn't resist it."
"So why are you still here?" Kayla asked.
"Because, honeychild, you an' me have to talk. Let's go for a walk, okay?"
Silently, Kayla followed the ghost of Elizabet's grandmother through the darkened house to the front door. The ghost drifted effortlessly through the door, vanishing from view. Kayla followed, and barely stopped herself in time to avoid bashing her nose against the door. She opened the door very quietly, so Elizabet wouldn't hear, and stepped outside.
Outside the house, the street was very quiet, with the faint echo of the late-night traffic on Laurel Canyon as a distant noise, sounding almost like waves on a shore. Kayla followed Gram around the side of the house, along a winding trail that led to the top of the hill—or, rather, Kayla walked and Gram floated.
"Can you tell me a little bit about this ghost stuff<W1%75><|><D%0>?" Kayla asked, trying to catch her breath as they paused at the top of the hill. She looked out at the lights of the city, spread out like a glittering carpet of jewels around her. From this viewpoint, she could see the lights of Los Angeles to the south and the San Fernando Valley to the north.
"Oh, you'll understand that eventually," Gram said, also admiring the view. "There's not much to it. The basics are simple. There are two kinds of ghosts: people with unfinished business, and ones like myself who are too stubborn and meddlesome to leave. You want to watch out for those folks that don't have all their business taken care of, girl—they can be nasty. But we have more important things to talk about." Gram sat down in midair as though on a chair, folding her legs under her. "I was born in 1860," she said. "In Georgia, on a farm. You know anything about American history, girl?"
"A little." Kayla nodded. "Wasn't that right around the time of the Civil War?"
"You're right. I was born into slavery, just like my folks, my grandma and grandpa, and my great-grandparents had been. When I was a little girl, they outlawed slavery, and suddenly we were free. Even as a child, I understood what that meant.
"But I'll never forget that for the first few years of my life, someone owned me. That's the choice you'll have to make, girl. There are people out there who want to own you. And the question you have to ask yourself is: will you let them? Right now you're surviving more by luck than anything else; luck and my granddaughter Elizabet watching over you. But this choice, this has to be yours. Elizabet can teach you the ways of magic, what you need to know to control your talent and not hurt the people around you. But me, born a slave in Georgia, I can teach you about freedom."
"I don't want anybody to control my life," Kayla began. "But how can I stop them? It's not like—"
Gram cut her off with a sharp gesture. "It's not a question of wanting, it's a question of whether you're willing to fight right down to your last breath to be a free woman. Are you? They may gild the cage for you, make it seem like a lovely place to be, but slavery is slavery. And not just for yourself, but others."
"What do you mean?" Kayla asked.
Gram glanced at her quickly. "You're a part of more than you know, girl. Things, they're gonna be happening around here. You'll need to be ready for 'em."
Kayla didn't know what to say to that. Gram pointed off to her right, away from the glittering carpet of lights of Los Angeles, across the dark hills between L.A. and the San Fernando Valley. "Can you feel it, girl?" she asked.
Kayla shook her head. "I don't understand. Feel what?"
"Look there, in the hills. Can't you feel it?"
Kayla squinted, trying to see what the old woman was talking about.
"No, no! Not with your eyes! With your heart," Gram said in an annoyed voice.
Kayla closed her eyes and reached out her hand, trying to sense what the old woman was talking about. There was nothing there. . . . No, there was something. A faint glimmer of magic, very far away, a dim point that glittered in the night. As she looked more closely at it, she could feel a sense of power, drawing her toward it.
"That's the source," Gram said. "That's the source of magic for all of Los Angeles. There are a lot of folks that need that to survive. Keep that in mind, girl, that folks' lives are depending on that little place."
"What folks? I don't understand."
"You'll see," Gram said, "you'll see." She glanced up at the sky, where the moon was setting behind the distant hills. "My, it's time you were in bed. Go home, girl; go home and learn, and think about what we've talked about."
Without another word, the old woman faded away.
Kayla stood on the hillside, looking down at the lights of the city. I don't know that I'm strong enough, she thought. Gram can talk about freedom till she turns blue . . . well, she is blue, already! But I don't know that I can do it. Carlos terrifies me. I don't know how to stand up to him. And Nataniel and those other nasty elves . . .
No way. How am I supposed to do it? She's nuts; the old lady is just crazy.
But if I don't learn how to stand up to them . . . what then? I'll be hiding from them all my life. I don't want that, either.
She turned away and started back down the hill, lost in her thoughts.
"Concentrate!" Elizabet said from somewhere behind her.
"But you just told me not to concentrate!" Kayla protested from where she was sitting on the living room floor. Her eyes were tightly closed, but she wanted to open them and scream. These "mental exercises" are making me crazy!
"Well, you're not getting it that way," Elizabet said, "so we'll try the other way. Since you're having trouble relaxing enough to use your Sight, we'll try this instead. We have to train to you to where you can rely on your talent, not just have it happen accidentally, uncontrolled. So concentrate on something, anything. Think about it as hard as you can."
Kayla nodded. There is, she decided, a hell of a lot going on in my life that I can think about. Magical powers, healers, killer elves, gateways into other worlds, an ancient ogress who likes to have muggers for dinner . . . literally. Yeah, there is quite a lot going on in my life lately, she concluded.
"Think about something specific," Elizabet said.
"Okay, okay, give me a break!"
"That is the one thing I won't do," Elizabet said, her voice tinged with humor.
I'm getting tired of this bullshit! Kayla thought. There's Elizabet, standing right behind me and smiling. Oh yeah, I'm sure this is a lot of fun for you, too! She's—
Kayla sat up straight, opening her eyes in shock. "I saw you! I really saw you! With my eyes closed!"
"See, you're learning, child. It's not entirely hopeless." Elizabet smiled. "It only looks that way. Now, think of something, really concentrate on it."
Kayla tried to think of something to concentrate on. It was a beautiful day outside, really great, not too smoggy, a perfect day to go to a park. . . .
That would be nice, she thought, smiling. To go to the park next to the house. . . .
She thought about the park down the street from her house, the house where she'd lived with her parents before . . . before the Awful Day. She loved that park. Mom and Dad used to walk with her there in the evening, as the sun was setting through the tall trees. It was different from all the other parks she'd ever seen: a wild, untamed place where the gardeners and keepers seemed more interested in the little community gardening project at the back of the park rather than the park itself. The trees were left alone to grow into unruly shapes tangled with ivy and surrounded by shrubs. The paths through the park were hard to find and harder to follow, but that was something she loved. There was one tree that she loved best, a huge old oak tree with broad spreading branches which filled the sky. Dad said that the tree was at least two hundred years old. Sometimes Kayla had thought she could hear laughter from the tree, the flickering movement of someone climbing in the branches, but Dad always said that it was only the wind, there wasn't anyone there.
She'd run to that tree on the Awful Day, the day she'd come home from school and found the police cars in front of her house. Old Mrs. Liddy had called the cops after hearing gunshots from next door and seeing some cars leave fast. They wouldn't let her into the house, into her own house; she heard some of the cops talking about how they'd found blood, but no bodies.
She remembered running to the park, falling onto the thick moss under the tree and crying. That's where the cops had found her, hours later. She could feel the tears starting down her face, remembering.
"Are you all right, Kayla?" Elizabet asked, concern in her voice.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. "I'm fine."
"Kayla," Elizabet said. "Keep your eyes closed. Can you see me?"
She could. There was a faint brightness against the inside of her eyes, a glow that moved as Elizabet walked around her, matching time with her quiet footsteps. "You're doing it, child," Elizabet murmured. "You're doing it. Now, look at yourself."
She felt herself moving away; no, she was sitting still, but somehow she was moving in that quiet darkness. She turned and looked back at herself. What she saw was fire, blue-white centered around a core of brilliance, with flowing tendrils of light flickering and dancing over the surface. Kayla opened her eyes suddenly, startled, and blinked. "What was that?" she asked.
Elizabet was sitting close to her; she laughed, little lines crinkling at the edges of her eyes. "Yes, that's you. That's why everyone can find you, because you look like a neon sign when you're using your magic. But we're going to see if we can do something about that now. Close your eyes again. Now look at yourself and try to make the glow a little less bright. Dim it down. Not completely, but see if you can slowly fade it."
Kayla concentrated, imagining that brightness fading away to nothingness.
Make it go away . . . dim it down, like turning down a light. . . .
A wave of dizziness hit her like a fist. She opened her eyes and grabbed for anything to hold onto, afraid she was going to faint. Elizabet caught her, keeping her from falling over.
"Not too much," Elizabet repeated, "just a little bit. Carefully. Slowly."
Kayla nodded, taking a few deep breaths. She closed her eyes and tried again. This time she could do it. She could bring that simmering pool of fire down to embers, glowing with restrained power. She concentrated, letting the fire slowly die down, dimming the light to a faint glow. "Did it work?" she asked.
"You did it just right," Elizabet said. "Now, you're going to have to learn to keep it like this all the time. Otherwise, anyone that's looking for you will be able to find you easily, just by tracking your magic. Good work, child."
"Are we done now?" Kayla asked.
"Not by a long shot. Lesson number two. This one will be a little tougher. We'll do this and then take a break. It's almost visiting time at the hospital where your friend Billy is staying. We can go over there and see him. I called the hospital while you were still asleep, and he'll be expecting us."
"Great!" Kayla said, grinning. It'll be terrific to see Billy. I've got so much to tell him. . . .
Except I can't, can I? He won't believe any of this. He'll think I'm crazy. My old friends . . . are they still going to be my friends? I don't know about that. "Where's Liane? Do you know?" she asked.
Elizabet shook her head. "No, she's still missing. Though I'm hoping once you have a little bit of control over what you're doing, you might be able to find her yourself. The police haven't turned up any leads at all." She reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulled out a small Swiss army knife, and sat down on the floor next to Kayla. "Now for the next lesson." She opened out one of the blades and glanced up at Kayla. "What you're going to do now," she said, "is not heal me."
"I don't get it," Kayla said. "What are you . . . ?"
Elizabet brought the razor-sharp knife down on the palm of her hand.
Pain! It echoed through Kayla like a shockwave. She felt the magic inside her answer that pain, welling up through her. Kayla reached out to where the blood was slowly pooling in Elizabet's palm.
"Stop it!" Elizabet said sharply, and Kayla drew back, startled. "You have to learn to control it, not let it control you."
"Elizabet, I—"
"Just sit there, child," Elizabet said. "Just sit there and control it."
That's easy for you to say, Kayla thought resentfully, feeling the magic pulling at her like a riptide, trying to surge through her, reaching out to Elizabet.
Her hands were shaking. She clenched them into fists and closed her eyes. I will control it, she thought desperately. I will!
Slowly, like an ebbing tide, she felt the pressure easing. The electric touch of the magic fell away from her with each breath she took, slowly receding.
She opened her eyes to see Elizabet smiling at her. "Not bad," Elizabet said, "not bad at all."
Kayla smiled in relief. Thank God this craziness is over, she thought. Now I'll just heal Elizabet, and then we'll be done with this.
"Very good," Elizabet continued. "We'll sit like this for the next forty-five minutes or so, until you think you've really got it down."
Kayla stared at her. She's got to be joking!
"No, I'm not," Elizabet said, in a voice that didn't allow any argument.
Kayla sighed. It was going to be a very long forty-five minutes. . . .