In Her Dreams

My two cents: I have a trilogy stuck in my mind. The following story is the beginning of the first book. I'm writing the three simultaneously, so we'll see how it goes. I'm obsessed with some things spiritual as well as mystic and intend to include some of it in the stories to come. Feel free to give feedback as to how to you like or don't like it.

1

Talda looked down, ‘Who’s wrinkled, and knobby hands are these? They can’t be mine, they’ve got to be someone else’s, I can’t possibly be that old, can I?’ It seemed like just yesterday she was a blushing bride. Turning her hands over, she saw the familiar markings just below her wrists; she remembered how they glowed vivid violet when she was younger, but now were a dull green. Raising a hand to her face she felt the shriveled skin there. Yes, she decided, she was that old. She felt a sharp pain and pressed a hand to her abdomen. Talda could feel the disease running rampant throughout her body.

Her daughter wanted her to stay home; but she knew she had only one chance left. She would have to find the person who fit all the criteria the old teacher gave her. Looking at the women around her, she felt hopeful one of them would be able to carry on where she left off; at least that’s what she hoped. She would then be able to die peacefully knowing she had done everything to help her people. Talda knew in her heart this was her last chance; she knew her time was drawing to a close. She held her stomach as the coughing began. Taking her handkerchief out, she held it to her mouth.  She watched a young woman standing just outside the closed doors.

            Vannie stepped into the car and sighed; it was crammed full of people. She looked around and saw an open seat next to an elderly woman. She made her way towards her and sat down. The old woman coughed; it was a deep-chested, bronchitis-like cough. She felt sorry for the old woman; she had bronchitis before; she knew how painful and annoying a cough like that could be.

“Are you okay?” the young woman said, settling on the seat next to her.

 In answer, Talda waved her handkerchief and nodded.

“I have a bottle of water if you need it? She dug deep in her big bag and pulled it out.

Talda stopped coughing and took the cloth away, tucking it quickly in her pocket, before the woman could see the blood that now stained it. She moved closer to the woman, “Thank you, I always seem to forget to bring some and now with winter upon us, the air is so dry, it always tickles my throat.” She took the offered bottle and tried to open it, but she just didn’t have the strength. The young woman saw her struggling and smiled.

“Here, let me get it for you.” She took the bottle, opened it and handed it back to the old woman. She watched her raise the bottle to her lips with trembling hands.

Talda took a small sip, careful not to take too much, so it wouldn’t upset her ruined stomach and prevent her from carrying out her task. She looked at the younger woman; she was taller than Talda; maybe five feet five or six inches, slim build, olive skin; Talda guessed she was of European descent; definitely human. A very lovely woman; her most alluring feature was her eyes; amber, almost golden and almond-shaped; she thought that someone could very easily get lost in those eyes if they weren’t careful; the dark eyeliner the woman applied seemed to only accentuate the unusual shape. Her eyes were set in a heart-shaped face, with high cheek bones and full pink lips. Such curly hair; it looked as though each curl had a mind of its own, but together the ringlets framed her face perfectly. Yes, Talda thought; a very beautiful woman indeed. And she thought from the woman’s kindness she was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. This pleased her and decided she would find out more about her.

“That is so much better.” Talda said, putting the cap back on the bottle “Thank you so much sweetie; may I ask what is your name?”

“I'm Giovanna, but all my friends call me Vannie” the woman said brightly.

“Giovanna is a lovely name.” Talda hesitated, not sure how to proceed,

 Are you married? Have a boyfriend?”

Vannie shook her head and Talda saw the young girl’s eyes fill with tears; before she could put her head down to hide them. Talda moved closer, “I’m sorry, sometimes I can be so nosy, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Vannie shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes, carefully as to not smear her eye make-up, “No, it’s fine.” Vannie looked over and saw the old hands were gnarled with age and arthritis. Her gaze traveled upward and met the other woman’s eyes. A bright sapphire blue, sunken into her skull and deep, dark circles under them. Her face was thin and gaunt; Vannie thought she looked just like her nonna did before cancer took her. Vannie was deciding how much she wanted to tell this woman; afraid the woman might have a grandson she wanted to fix Vannie up with. She looked into the blue eyes and saw only kindness and concern. She made up her mind and began talking, “I was in a relationship for three years and we were to be married come March, but when I went to surprise him (he was off on a business trip in Arizona and I was going to surprise him on our anniversary), anyway, I went to the address he said he was staying; he said he was staying with some college friends. So I went there knocked on the door and he answered the door wrapped around this bleach blonde with fake boobs hanging out of his shirt; the shirt I gave him for Christmas.” She said indignantly, looking at Talda for her reaction, the old woman nodded, “So to make a long story short, I threw his engagement ring at him (it was a cheap one anyway) and took the next flight home. I haven't seen him since and I say good riddance.”

“I’m so sorry sweetie.” Talda patted the young woman’s hand.

Vannie shook her head again, “Don’t be, I know somewhere out there’s someone for me, my soul mate, my one true love. I just hope I can find him sometime before I die. If only I knew where to look; I would go anywhere to find him.” Vannie bowed her head.

‘A romantic too’ Talda thought; she smiled, she knew this girl might just be the one she was looking for, but would she be able to help; was the question.

The train stopped, “Well, this is my stop. It was very nice talking with you…” Vannie realized the woman didn’t give her name, “I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”

Talda rose and began coughing again. Vannie moved closer to her just as she had hoped. Reaching out she took hold of the girl's forearms, pressing her wrists as hard as she could to Vannie’s. The younger woman felt a sharp pain in both her wrists, but she attributed it to the death grip that the old woman had on her; she was coughing so badly wracking the old woman’s body. Then Talda released the woman and sat back down; winded. Vannie saw the doors closing and knew the train would be leaving soon. She didn’t want to be late to class.

“Are you okay? I really have to go” Vannie said around the people rushing to get out the door; before it closed.

Talda looked at the girl and said between coughs, “Yes, I’m fine. Go sweetie, go and find your true love. I hope all your dreams come true.”

She saw Vannie wave as she went out the door. When Talda could no longer see her and the train pulled out, she slumped against her seat. She looked down at her naked wrists, hoping that Vannie would be alright; would be strong enough. She felt herself begin to shimmer and knew her life was over. She looked around; only a handful of people in the train car with her. The last thing she thought as she felt her molecules begin to break from their structure was she hoped Vannie would be okay.

If any of the humans were watching, she knew they would see her there one minute and gone the next. She smiled and accepted the dissolution.

Vannie had to run to be on time. She hated being late. ‘Why am I doing this again?’ ran through her mind, ‘To better myself’ came the answer. ‘But why? It wasn’t so bad being a receptionist, was it?’ she hated when she argued with herself, but she couldn’t help it. ‘It wasn’t so bad’ came the delayed answer, ‘Except for my overbearing, stuck up, annoying, keep everybody down so she looks smart, power-hungry wench of a boss constantly breathing down my neck. Not to mention I’m sick of being in the little reception room day in and day out, not even being able to have a decent lunch break because nobody wanted to deal with answering the phones.’ She agreed with the reasoning and slowed down as she reached her classroom. She still didn’t understand why the company she worked for couldn’t just use an automated system like everyone else. She figured the company wanted a “human touch”. But she also wondered how long it would last; she lived in fear one day, her supervisor would tell her she was being replaced. Vannie knew the woman would take pleasure in letting her go, so Vannie was trying to find something she really liked to do, she would love to write for a living, but she didn’t know if she was good enough.

That’s why she was doing this. She wanted someone to tell her one way or the other. She figured the professor of this writing class, would tell her. Vannie hated first days of classes; they were always stressful. She looked in and saw the room was filling up fast. She was relieved they hadn’t started yet; she walked in slowly and took a seat in the middle row. She brought her bag to her lap and was about to take her notebook and pen out of her bag.

“Hi my name is Brooke, isn’t this exciting? I’ve always loved reading romance novels; so I thought why not try to write them. What’s your name? Are you a writer?”

Vannie looked over and tried not to cringe. Her mind registered blonde, pretty, fake boobs and vacuous bimbo all at once. ‘I am in the worst kind of hell’ ran through her mind. She had to keep reminding herself although Brooke looked the same; she was not the one Vannie had caught with Gaige. She put her best fake smile on, “Hi, my name is Gio…uh…Vannie.” She didn’t think Brooke could handle her full name.

“Hi Vannie. Are you a writer?” Brooke hit her herself in the head with the heel of her hand, “Oh what am I saying; of course you are a writer, or you wouldn’t be here…”

Vannie just stared at the woman. She thought her head would explode if she had to listen to this for three hours.

She looked around frantically for an open seat. In the back of the room, she spied a girl who looked to be about sixteen waving to her and moving her humongous bag off the seat next to her; pointing to it. Vannie nodded, picked up her bag and made her way to the back, trying not to disturb the professor who just walked into the room.

Vannie decided against saying anything more to Brooke; she probably wouldn’t remember Vannie was sitting next to her anyway.

She made her way to the back, sitting down and looking at the woman next to her. Vannie saw the girl was not a girl at all, but a woman trying her best to keep her youth. She guessed she was a bit older than her; maybe late twenties or even early thirties in an ankle length black dress; an old, worn jean jacket on top. The woman had a lot of foundation on her face; Vannie guessed to conceal a bout of adult acne, her eyes were a combination of thick, black eyeliner and gray/black eye shadow extending from her eyelids to the bottom of her eyebrows; which were painted on with the same thick eye lining pencil outlining her eyes. Taken separately, the look was overpowering, but as a whole, Vannie thought it almost worked.

“Yeah, so I made the mistake of getting here early and sitting next to Brooke”; She pronounced the ‘e’ at the end of Brooke, as if the name was spelled Brookie. “Since I didn’t want to kill her or myself, I decided to move. By the way, my name is Wind.” She held up a hand, before Vannie could comment, “Yeah, I know, my parents were 60’s throwbacks. What’s your name?”

“My name is Giovanna, but please call me Vannie.”

“You’re just a little Italian, aren’t you?

Vannie laughed and put a hand up to brush a curl from her face.

“Cool tatt, what does it mean?” Wind pointed to Vannie’s arm.

“What? Oh no, I don’t have any…” Vannie looked where Wind was pointing; she gasped; what looked like Chinese characters were inked in light green on her right wrist. She quickly pulled up her left sleeve and saw the same; not the exact same characters, but in the same style as the other. She held out both wrists and just stared.

“They’re kanji, right?” Wind said, but Vannie barely heard her, lost in her own thoughts; ‘What the hell?’ she had no idea where they came from. She thought about where she and her friend went drinking last night; Lui didn’t mention a tattoo parlor; but Vannie wouldn’t put it past her to think something like this was funny. She thought back; she didn’t think she blacked out or anything, she remembered the club they started at; the one near her parents’ house; then they had gone…where?... ‘somewhere where a cute guy tried to buy me a drink and then I found out all about his mother and her bunions’ she shivered, thinking there were some things a son should never know about his mother; or share with other people. ‘So where the hell did you come from?’ she was staring at them as if she thought they would answer.

The professor looked at Vannie, “Excuse me, would you like to be alone with your arms?”

Some people snickered. Vannie looked up, “What?”

The professor walked closer, talking directly to Vannie, “I said would you like to be alone with your arms; you are clearly fascinated by your tattoos. Are they new?”

“Uh…yes…I mean no…I mean I’m sorry.” Vannie pulled down her sleeves and put her hands in her lap, under her desk.

 The professor looked back at her and smiled, “Okay then, my name is Suzan Sharp and this is How to Write a Good Romance Novel and Get It Published. I’m a published author, and know some tricks to help you become one also. You may have read some of my work; I write under the pen name of Sabrina Irons.” Most of the class gasped in recognition. Suzan’s smile widened “Okay, let’s see what kind of talent we have here.”

She walked to her desk and picked up the class roster, “I’ll just pick a name at random, when I call your name I want you to narrate the steamiest love scene you can think of. I want it totally off the top of your head” She looked over the roster, “Okay, for the first one, we’ll start from the top and work randomly from there. And our first lucky winner is Abrams, Benjamin Abrams.

A thin, tall, red-haired man stood and faced the professor, “Whenever you are ready Ben.” Suzan said.

The man nodded and began, “Okay, so the setting is a booth in a bar. This hot chick is saying how she wants this dude to f….” He seemed to remember where he was, he decided to reword it, “Uh she wants to have sex with him.”

“Okay, kind of predictable; but go on.” The professor sat on the nearest desk, with her feet on the chair, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands.

The man smiled, “Okay, so they’re sitting in a booth and they’re like making out two forty when she puts a hand on his pants and says they should go outside…”

Vannie only half listened. She looked at the professor who was dressed in faded jeans, a hole in one knee, a sweatshirt, advertising some obscure college Vannie never heard of, with the sleeves pulled up to her elbows. An overpowering wave of heat hit her and Vannie took off her coat.

“So, after they did it a couple of more times, she thanked him and walked home.”

“Okay, thank you Ben, quite interesting. Our next victim…” she closed her eyes, twirled her finger around and then pointed to a name; she looked where her finger pointed, “Santanaz, Giovanna Santanaz.”

Vannie stood, feeling slightly light-headed; thinking it was because she was nervous, she began, “Please call me Vannie.” She wiped her brow, which she found was damp with sweat. She never did anything like this before; she didn’t really feel comfortable talking to people about her writing; she only allowed a chosen few to read her material. She took a deep breath, wishing the butterflies in her stomach would stop, “The setting is the back seat of an SUV after a nice date.” She closed her eyes, took a breath and began,

“He pulled up next to her car and turned off the engine. She got out of her car, opened his rear passenger door and jumped into the back seat.

“Now what are you doing?” Todd asked

“You said before you felt like a high school kid. Do you want to make out with me?” she patted the seat next to hers.

He looked at her doubtfully, “I don’t think I can fit back there.”

“Oh come on, it'll be fun."

He sighed, opened the door and climbed into the back seat. His knees were a bit cramped, but not uncomfortably so.

 “Now isn’t that better?” she asked as she pushed him down. She lay on top of him, her head on his chest. Raising her head, she hovered over him, put her face to his and kissed him. He held her to him and returned her kiss. She broke off the kiss and smiled wickedly.

A stab of fear combined with excitement hit him, “I don’t think I’m going to like what comes next”

“Oh, I think you will.”

She pulled up his shirt; kissed and teased his nipples with her teeth. He groaned and said her name. She kissed his stomach and looked down at him, “You have great abs.” He laughed and sat up to grab her. His kiss was rough; demanding. She pushed him down and again kissed his chest. When he could take it no longer, he grabbed her upper arms and again sat up.

“Is it my turn now?”

 She could see the desire burning in his eyes. She nodded and allowed him to lay her down on his lap. He pulled up her shirt and saw the lacy pink bra

“Very nice” he said in almost a growl.

He kissed her chest and stomach. He saw she was slim and tone; her abs flat. She wriggled when the stubble of his face rubbed against her bare skin, “I’m very ticklish” she tried to get away, but he had a firm hold of her.

“You shouldn’t have told me” he ran his finger down her side and she wiggled on his lap. She sat up and straddled his hips.

It was his turn to smile wickedly, “Now, this is an interesting position.”

He kissed her long and hard, until she thought she would melt off the seat.

“Lisa, I think we have a decision to make.”

“What’s that?” She started rubbing the inside of his thigh, while placing small kisses from his chest to his ear. He lost his train of thought.

“Lisa, oh God Lisa. Lisa, if you keep doing that, I don’t know how long I can be a gentleman.”

She accidentally rubbed a little too high and she felt the hard bulge. He groaned, “I want to know what it feels like to be inside of you.” He kissed under her chin, her neck and then her collarbone.

She nodded, “Do you have protection? Ordinarily I wouldn’t mind, but I am close to my period.”

Todd lifted his head and panicked; he knew he didn’t have any condoms in the truck. He didn’t usually carry them around. He wondered, did he even have any at home? He didn’t think so. That fact sobered him. ‘Why hadn’t he brought any?’ He ran his fingers through his hair, “No, I don’t.”

Lisa sat back on her haunches and looked at him; he looked as disappointed as she felt, “You don’t?”

He shook his head, “No, you’re not on the pill?”

Her face fell, “No, I got off of them when Pino and I got engaged, then we broke up and I didn’t think…” she trailed off; she knew he could figure out the rest.

He sighed, turned to her and kissed her softly, “We’ll have to continue this some other time.” He gave her a half-hearted smile.

“You’ll get some…”

“Oh yeah” he answered quickly, “You’ll go get some…”

“I’m calling my doctor tomorrow.” she moved off him and sat on the seat next to him.

“Well, I guess that’s it. I’ll see you on Monday?”

“I guess so.” 

“Have a good weekend.” He said, unconvincingly.

“You too.” She said as enthusiastically as he.

            They both opened their doors. Todd walked her to her car. Lisa saw the bulge still visible in his pants. He saw where she was looking.

He smiled and shrugged, “Wasted effort.”

She opened her door, got in, closed the door and rolled down the window; he put his head in the window and kissed her.

“Drive safely”

“You too.”

She pulled out and he watched her drive away.

He drove home, after making a stop at the drug store. ‘Fat lot of good it does you now’ he thought.  He entered his house; ripped his clothes off and stepped into the shower. The water was so hot, his skin turned red. He put his head under the stream, his mind wandered; he saw her beautiful smile, the way her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, felt her kiss on his lips, he remembered how she tasted, how it felt when she touched him…. He groaned, turned the water off, thought again and turned the faucet to the coldest setting. As the water cooled his senses, he felt himself calm. He turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and walked to his bedroom.” Vannie sat down.

“Very good Vannie, a very good narrative; a thwarted love scene; I like it.” Suzan nodded and smiled.

Suzan called the next name.

Wind touched her arm; “Way to go.” she gave her the thumbs up. Vannie returned the gesture. As she sat down, she found her stomach ache was becoming worse. What she thought was nerves earlier, hadn’t subsided and now she wasn’t feeling well at all. Her head ached and her stomach was starting to do flips. She hoped she wouldn’t get sick in class. She held up her hand.

Suzan saw her, “Oh sweetie, this isn’t grammar school; you don’t have to ask permission. If you need to go, then go.”

Vannie nodded and walked quickly out the door. She walked to the bathroom and entered the stall. She lifted the lid and knelt in front of the toilet, waiting for her stomach to decide whether or not it wanted to empty. She took a deep breath and decided it wasn’t going to. She lowered the seat; stood and pulled down her jeans. She sat on the toilet; she didn’t know why, she didn’t have to go, but she felt better just sitting there. When an unproductive five minutes went by, she stood and felt the ground shift under her. She steadied herself by placing her hands on either side of the stall wall. When everything returned to normal, she took one hand away and put it to her face; it felt cold and clammy. She stood up and opened the door. Staggering to the sink she ran the cold water; carefully patting her face with it. She walked back to the classroom and sat down.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” Wind whispered.

“I think I’m coming down with something.” She said equally as quiet. Vannie felt a chill and pulled on her coat. She tried to listen to the other stories, but she felt tired and out of it.

Finally, the last person finished telling their storyfinally,rned pting ut your seat h. she ound and then pointed to the name, she l. ….. Suzan stood, moved to the front of the room and leaned against her desk.

“Okay, I think some of you really have the hang of it. For the rest of you, don’t worry, we’ll work on it. In this virtual world we live in, this class will be made available online the day after class. I will be e mailing you a schedule of assignments; which must be either emailed or handed to me by the time the clock strikes twelve a.m. on Friday. Know this, when I tell you a due date, there is no negotiation. Unless you’ve been in the hospital for the last week, unconscious, I don’t take late papers. Before you leave, please make sure I have your correct e mail address. You’ll be hearing from me sometime this week, with your first assignment and details on how to connect to online lectures.”

“So, I guess I’ll be seeing you. I hope you feel better.” Wind said as she picked up her massive bag.

“Thanks, nice meeting you.” Vannie said, walking somewhat unsteadily up to the teacher’s desk. She wrote her e-mail address on the paper and walked back to the desk.

Wind waved from the doorway; Vannie waved back; sitting back down in her seat. She watched the other students walk out. She put her head down on the desktop.

“Are you okay?” she heard Suzan say.

She slowly lifted her head; her headache had gotten unbearable and it was making her nauseous again. She looked up at Suzan, who looked a bit fuzzy and out of focus, “Yes, I’m fine.” She lied, “I just got my period and I have cramps, I’ll be okay.”

“Do you need some pain reliever; I think I have some Ibuprofen?”

The thought of trying to choke down pills when her stomach was so iffy was not appealing, “No thank you; I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure?” Suzan paused; Vannie tried to smile and slowly nodded her head. “You’ll be hearing from me. You made a good start today.”

“Thank you.”

Suzan nodded and walked out the door. Vannie reached in her bag and took out her phone. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to combat the rising nausea. She focused on the numbers, then put it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hi mom, is Dad there?”

“No, he called to say he would be late tonight.”

“Is Matt there?”

“Yes, hold on I’ll go get him.” She heard her mother put the phone down and yell up the stairs to her seventeen-year old brother. She heard him pick up on the upstairs extension.

“Hey Vannie, what’s up?”

“Hey Matt, can you come pick me up, I’m not feeling well.”

“How’d you get there?”

“The train” she swallowed and tasted acid.

“Oh okay, I’ll be there in about an hour.”

Her mother had been listening and now cut in, “Vannie, are you okay?”

“Yeah mom, I think I’m coming down with the flu.”

“You’re not going to barf in my car, are you?” her brother asked worriedly.

“Don’t worry Matthew; I’ll give you a zipper lock bag she can use if she feels sick. Don’t worry sweetie, he’s leaving right now.”

“Keep your phone on you and I’ll call when I’m close so you can come out, okay?” she barely heard her brother above the ringing that had begun in her ears.

“Okay” she ended the call. She didn’t think she could stand, so she hoped there wasn’t a class scheduled for the room. A wave of unbearable heat and nausea washed over her and she threw off her coat and ran to the bathroom. After sitting on the floor, in front of the toilet for what seemed like forever, she heard her phone ring. She stood, fished it out of her pocket and sat on the seat.

“Hello”

“Hey, I’m pulling up right now. Do you need help?”

“Yeah”

“Where are you?”

“Bathroom, first floor near room one twenty-five.”

“Did you…”

“No, but I wish I did.”

“Okay, I’m parking right now; I should be there in a couple of minutes.”t a class in here now. a ight now. she '" "re and e stairs to her seventeen year old brother. she

“Okay, I’ll try to get to the door.”

“Okay, bye.”

She put her phone down, put her elbows on her knees and put her head in her hands. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, but the next thing she knew, Matt was pounding on the door, calling her name. Vannie stood and had to close her eyes; the vertigo was so overpowering. When she opened her eyes, she experienced double vision and shook her head to clear it; which she did slowly to not make the nausea worse. Opening the stall door with shaking hands she walked unsteadily; holding on to the walls until she reached the door. She leaned against it.

“Matt?”

“Vannie, is that you?” she heard his voice through the door.

“Yes. Can you open the door and help me out?” she moved away from the door and wanted to cry when she saw the form of her brother pushing through the doorway.

“Jesus Vannie, you look awful.”

“Thanks” she gave him a halfhearted smile, “it’s better than I feel.”

“Here, let me help you.” He put her arm around his neck and held her by the waist. It was awkward because of their height difference. He started dragging her towards the outside door.

“Wait, I need to get my stuff.” The double vision was back, as well as the vertigo and the nausea.

“Where is it?”

“In room one twenty-five.”

He steered her to a bench in the hallway, “You stay here, and I’ll get it. Be right back.”

She nodded and lay down on the bench. After only a few minutes; she felt him hoist her up.

“Come on, let’s go home.”

They somehow made it to the car; they had to stop every few feet, because Vannie felt like she was going to vomit; but never did. The last few times, Matt ignored her, wanting to get her to the car as soon as possible. He noticed that her skin was burning hot. He leaned her against the car and unlocked the door. He helped her into the back seat and handed her the bag his mother had given him.

“Please Vannie; please don’t barf in my car. If you love me you won’t.”

She wanted to laugh, but just didn’t have the strength. She fell asleep and was jarred awake when the car hit a pothole. She grabbed the bag and put it to her face. She thought for sure she was going to lose it, but her stomach stayed where it was. She breathed in and out with the bag on her face. Taking it away only when she thought she would faint for lack of oxygen.

The car stopped and she heard Matt open and then close his door. She heard him open the door and felt his cool hands on her body. He lifted her from the car and threw her over his shoulder. He opened the front door and put her gently on the couch.

“Mom, we’re here. I think you better come.”

She heard her mother come down the stairs, “How is she feeling?”

“Feel her forehead, she’s burning up.” She heard Matt say.

She felt her mother’s hand on her head, “Oh my gosh; Matt, help me take her up to her room.”

Vannie felt Matt pick her up again. She tasted the acid and fought to keep it down. Matt laid her in her bed when she bolted upright and ran for the bathroom. She slid on her knees to the front of the toilet. She lifted the lid and put her head over the bowl. She spit the acidic saliva into the bowl. She waited, but nothing further came up. She sat up and closed the lid. She put her head down; the cold lid felt good on her hot head.

“Vannie, are you okay?” she heard her mother ask.

She lifted her head and put her hand up to hold her head. She heard her mother gasp.

“What? For heaven’s sakes Vannie, what did you do to yourself?”

She figured her mother saw the tattoos; she didn’t want to get into it now; particularly because she had no idea where they came from; so she stayed quiet.

“Here, let me help you up.” Her mother lifted and Vannie tried to push herself up to help her. Vannie was finally standing, but she was sweating from the effort and shaking violently. She felt her mother’s hands on her waist, propelling her forward.

“Are those tattoos? I bet Lui talked you into getting those. You probably have poisoning from the dirty needles they used.”

They finally made it back to the bed.

“Let’s get you out of those wet things and into your pajamas.” She felt her mother pull her t-shirt off and unhook her bra. She felt the warmth and softness of her pajamas. Her mother laid her down in her bed; took off her jeans and slipped the cotton pajama bottoms on. Vannie had to fight off another wave of nausea.

“There you go. Now just put your arms under the blankets.” She felt her mother’s touch on her arm, “Oh for goodness sakes Vannie, did you have to tatoo both your wrists? You’re starting to look like that man on television; covered from head to toe in those things. No more, do you hear me?” her mother walked away, but soon came back.

“Open your mouth.”

Vannie did and her mother stuck a thermometer in.

“Lui should know better; I have a mind to call her up right now and give her what for. I don’t understand; you’re an intelligent woman. How in the world does she always get you to do these things that you know are wrong?” The thermometer rang and her mother pulled it out of Vannie’s mouth.

“Oh my goodness, one hundred three point two; I think I’m going to call the doctor and see what he says.”

Vannie just wanted to be left alone. Her stomach was still threatening, her head felt like someone was playing a drum on it, she was freezing cold and the room was spinning. She closed her eyes and hoped she would fall asleep. She could hear her mother talking on the phone.

“…So I should make sure she drinks plenty of fluids and if her temperature gets any higher, to bring her to the hospital? Uh huh, I see. Yes, she is nauseous. No, I don’t think she actually vomited. Should I give her any aspirin? Uh huh, I see. How about ibuprofen? Only if she can tolerate it; I see. It just has to run its course; yes, I agree with you there, doctor. So, you don’t think it was from dirty tattoo needles? Okay, thank you very much doctor. Yes, I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how she’s doing. Uh huh; bye doctor.”

Her mother came back in and sat on the bed, “Vannie, the doctor said that you should try to eat. I’m going to make you a piece of toast with just un po’ butter. You try to rest.”

It felt as though her mother jumped off the bed. Vannie thought that she would have to make another mad dash to the bathroom. She held very still and squeezed her eyes shut tight. The nausea went back to being just tolerable. She shivered and huddled deeper into the blankets.

“Here. Vannie, Vannie, here take a bite.” She was too weak to even open her eyes. She opened her mouth and a piece of toasted bread was stuck in her mouth. She bit down, chewed slowly and swallowed; it felt like a lump in her stomach. She refused another bite.

“Here, at least have a sip of this.” A straw was pushed past her lips; she sucked slowly. Ginger ale filled her mouth; cold, tangy and sweet. She swallowed begrudgingly and it joined the lump of toast in her stomach, “You sleep now and I’ll be in a little later to check on you.” She felt a light kiss on her forehead and then the room darkened.

She awoke a short while later; on fire. She kicked off the blankets and contemplated ripping her clothes off. She had a sickening taste in her mouth was making it hard to fight her uprising stomach. She couldn’t stand it any longer and bolted for the bathroom. She stopped in front of the toilet and lifted the lid just as her stomach heaved. Nothing came up, but a burp. Vannie thought death would be better than this. She fell onto the floor and began to cry.

“Vannie, Vannie, are you okay?” she heard Matt ask from a million miles away, “Mom, you better come quick.”

Vannie heard her mother rush up the stairs. Another set of footsteps followed; she guessed her father came home and was now joining the party. She felt her mother’s ice cold hand on her forehead and cringed away from the touch.

“Oh maddona mia, she is even hotter than she was before. Come here Angelo and feel.”

“Where’s the thermometer? Just take her temperature so we can be sure.” Her father was always the practical one.

“I’ll go get it, it’s in her room.” Her mother said.

“No, why don’t we just bring her back there. Matt, please help me move her.” Her father said.

Vannie didn’t think his was such a good idea. Her stomach still hadn’t decided what it wanted to do with the earlier toast and ginger ale still sitting like a rock in her stomach. She felt strong hands on her arms and felt herself being lifted from the floor. They dragged and carried her back to her room. Again the thermometer was thrust into her mouth. After what seemed like hours to Vannie, the thing finally beeped and she opened her mouth. She heard the sharp intake of breath from her family.

“Angelo, what should we do? Should we call the doctor again?”

“No” Vannie felt cold hands behind her neck and knees, “We’re done fooling around, we’re taking her to the hospital. The next thing Vannie knew, her father carried her to the car. The ride to the hospital was an agonizing one. Her mother rode in back with her and kept touching her forehead, waking her over and over again.

“Okay, Matt and I will go in and get someone to help us. You stay here with her.”

She heard car doors open and then felt the car move when they were closed again. Soon, she felt more hands moving her onto a cold cart. She opened her eyes slightly and wished she hadn’t; the movement of the cart combined with the sight of things passing quickly by her did nothing for her stomach. She closed her eyes and willed her stomach not to empty.

            “Vannie, Vannie, can you open your eyes hun?” she heard an unfamiliar voice; she guessed it was a nurse. She opened her eyes slightly and then closed them again.

            “No hun; you have to open your eyes wider and keep them open.”

            She opened them again and saw two nurses looking at her.

            “Good job Vannie. Now we know you don’t feel well, but we just have to get your clothes off and put a gown on you. We’ll try not to move you too fast; we know you’re feeling nauseous.”

 She saw the women carefully remove her pajama bottoms and then her shirt. She felt the cold, flimsy cotton of the gown against her hot skin. She started feeling light-headed and the edges of her vision were beginning to darken. She felt herself drift.

           

Just a Lil Bit of Magic

Thank you to my friend Mohan Kumar Gandas for constructing this picture for me!

“Vannie?”

She wouldn’t look at him. Taking hold of her hand, he waited; she looked up from staring at the candle; their eyes met and she slowly lowered hers back down.

“So, where does that leave us?”

The silence seemed to stretch forever. She pulled her hand away from his; retreating. She licked a finger and brought it to the middle of the candle’s flame; startled when it jumped from the wick to the back of her hand. Resisting the urge to look at him, she stared at the flame moving up her arm.

The yellow and blue fire paused momentarily on her shoulder then leapt onto the top of her head.

Sebastian moved it to the tip of her nose and stifled a laugh as her eyes crossed trying to see it. Letting it fall gently, it paused momentarily at her mouth as if to give her a soft kiss.

Vannie shied away; afraid, but as the small flame brushed her lips, she found it to be cool and sweet.

It fell onto the back of his hand and he moved his knuckles; making the little flame dance.

She watched his face.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

Sebastian’s eyes shot up; meeting hers.

“Your brother; you miss him don’t you?”

He replaced the flame onto the wick.

“There was a time we were inseparable.”

She nodded and grasped his hand; gently urging him on.

“We had our own way of conversing.”

He smiled and Vannie knew he was miles away; lost in a memory.

“Once in our lesson…”

 “No” Sir Rowell pounded his fists, “no, no, no. Now try again Magello.”

The boy felt his elbows jump; he felt the vibrations of the tabletop up his arm, to his hand which rested on the side of his face. Looking across the table at his older brother Dyon; he saw him smile and shrug.

Magello rolled his eyes.

“Mage, come on try.”

Dyon’s voice in his head made him frown. He sent back, “It doesn’t matter how hard I try; I can't do it.”

“But you still should try. Maybe, if you…”

“Stop!”

Both the boys jumped as Rowell appeared in the middle of the table; his arms outstretched pointing one finger in each of the boy’s directions. They sat back in their chairs; duly chastised.

Seeing that he had their attention, he walked through the table and stood at the head.

“I’ve told you before that this” he waved a hand in between the two of them; a look of distaste plain on his face, “communicating; this mind thing. I will not tolerate it.” Rowell looked to Dyon and he nodded. He shifted his gaze to Magello; who folded his arms across his chest and glared back at the teacher.

“Ma-ge-llo?”

He hated the way Rowell said his name; in his stupid sing song way.

Dyon looked at his brother; he would help Magello; like he did before, but Rowell cleared his throat. Dyon saw him imperceptibly shake his head; still staring at Magello.

The younger boy finally relented; unfolding his arms and nodding. He held out his hand; palm up.

“Now concentrate”, he heard Rowell say, “just let your mind do the work.”

He felt like rolling his eyes again, but instead he looked at him, “Could Dyon do it just one more time? I think if I see it once more, I’ll be able to do it.”

Dyon looked at Rowell and the teacher nodded.

The older boy put out his hand.

“Choose well.”

Dyon nodded and stared at his hand.

Rowell looked at Magello; the younger boy was watching his brother intently. The teacher’s countenance softened; the boy would yet be the death of him; but if he could get the boy to see how he could be, Magello would be his crowning glory. He stroked his goatee; thinking.

                Magello saw how effortlessly Dyon called up his magic. He didn’t even break a sweat.  If it was anyone else but him, he would have been jealous, but Dyon was his hero; all he felt for his brother was pride.

                Magello’s eyes followed the trail of white smoke that led from the tattoo on Dyon’s wrist to exactly six inches above his palm; ending in a transparent bubble; visible inside was a sleeping child. The child’s face was contorted in fear; his breathing loud and quick.

                “Now just send a positive thought.”

                Looking back at his brother; Magello saw Dyon’s brow wrinkle in concentration; then his face smoothed; he nodded to Rowell.

                “Do you have it?” Rowell rounded the table and was now behind Dyon; squatting down to be level with the boy.

                Dyon nodded; eyes closed; too in the moment to speak.

                “Good, now just a little bit of magic, push it to him.” Rowell’s voice was barely a whisper.

                Dyon opened his eyes to look at the teacher; nodding, he turned back to the bubble.

                Magello watched as another trail of smoke began to wind its way up from the same tattoo, but before the second bubble could form completely, Dyon blew on it gently. It wavered for a moment, then slowly, it moved towards the first bubble merging with it.

                They all held their breath as the idea hovered over the child. It slowly descended and entered the child’s head; his brow soon smoothed and his breathing slowed and quieted. A small smile began to spread and the bubble disappeared with a soft pop.

                Dyon looked from his hand to Rowell.

 The teacher’s face lit up; a smile lengthening from one ear to the other, “Excellent! Well done my boy!” both he and Magello patted him on the back and Dyon straightened in his chair.

“I did it?” Dyon asked, still in shock.

 “Yes you did.” Magello said, beaming for his brother.

Dyon’s smile matched that of his brother’s, “And if I can do it, you can too.”

Magello felt his stomach drop, hoping that the teacher hadn’t heard. But when he looked in Rowell’s direction, the absence of the smile told him that he had.

“Yes, you can.” Dyon said as Magello began to shake his head, “you have to at least try. It really isn’t that hard.”

Magello looked at his brother incredulously, “You’re better at this than I am.”

“Nonsense; come now.”

Rowell’s voice made Magello cringe. He was about to argue, but knew it would only enrage both him and his teacher and he would still have to do the lesson.

Magello nodded and blew out the air he was holding. He closed his eyes.

“Don’t let your concentration waiver.”

Magello opened his eyes, looked at his teacher and nodded. He took another deep breath and letting it out; closed his eyes and felt for the source.

“Cautiously; only a lil bit of magic.”

He wanted to tell Rowell to shut up, but just shrugged him off.

A thin vibrant green smoke oozed from his wrist tattoo and flowed toward his palm and then up. The balloon that formed was larger and more detailed than Dyon’s. Inside, a small girl was visible; sleeping. The child was thrashing in her bed and tossing her head side to side; her mouth fixed in a silent scream.

“Now ease the idea into life.”

Magello heard Rowell’s voice next to his ear and nodded without opening his eyes.

Beads of sweat began to erupt across Magello’s brow. A small, thin blue line appeared from Magello’s wrist; near the other. It hovered for a second then shot out and pierced the first balloon as if it was an arrow fired from a crossbow. The vision of the child stretched and then disappeared with a loud pop.

Magello didn’t want to open his eyes; he hated the look of disappointment Rowell would give him and even now, he felt Dyon’s hand on his shoulder squeezing in sympathy. He begrudgingly opened them.

He decided to broach the subject before Rowell could. He looked at the man now standing, “Isn’t there any other way to do this?”

Rowell shook his head, “No, this is the only way to influence one’s dreams.”

Magello didn’t want to let it go, “But there’s got to be another way; maybe if I could enter their dream…”

Rowell stomped across the room, stopped before a vast bookshelf, held his hand out and waited; a book flew from the bookshelf into his hand. He walked back and slammed the book onto the tabletop.

“You have read this book from cover to cover; no?”

Even though Magello had recognized it immediately, he turned the book to read the gilded title: Pangaea Conjury by Alhaga Saberhagger. He nodded slowly.

“Anywhere in that book does it describe physically entering another’s dream?”

Magello shook his head, “No, but; it must be just like when Saberhagger talks about when the elder healers...”

The teacher nodded and leaned over, “Yes, but the elder healers are no more; no one on Pangaea has the ability.” Rowell brought his face very close to Magello’s, “now do they?”

“No, but maybe if I study...”

“You?” Rowell sneered interrupting, “you can't even do your lesson.”

Magello jumped to his feet; fists clenched at his sides, “Well maybe Dyon could.”

Rowell took another step closer to the defiant boy, “Dyon is to be king; he has no time to waste on such foolishness.” Rowell raised his voice to drown out Magello’s retort, “IF YOU” Realizing that yelling at the boy wouldn’t help. He lowered his voice, “If you just learned how to do your lesson, none of this would be needed.”

The darkness that spread over Magello’s face scared Dyon. He took hold of his brother’s shoulder and tried to separate him from Rowell, but the younger boy shrugged his hand off and backed out of the room. Dyon heard the door slam; its finality reverberating off the walls.

Magello walked sulkily into the dining room and saw his mother, father and Dyon. Seeing what was going on made him sigh and wished he had stayed in his room.

Dyon was sitting at his place, his eyes closed. Above him, Magello saw the transparent bubble pop; he wanted to turn and walk out; he knew what would be coming next.

“Excellent” said his father; Asmoda, he stood behind Dyon, his hand resting on the boy’s shoulder. He gave the shoulder a squeeze then returned to his place at the head of the table.

“Ah, there you are.”

Magello looked at his mother and smiled when she smiled at him.

Asmoda looked to where his wife was looking and he saw his youngest son take his place at the table; next to his brother, “Hmm.” He looked at Magello and frowned; it seemed this son was always in an unkempt state; his hair was dark and unruly and his face was smudged.

He still doubted that this bit of a boy before him would be the most powerful magician this world had ever seen. Rowell had to be wrong. The boy couldn’t even keep his shirt clean; even now he saw the boy chewing on his sleeve end and it made his ire grow.

“Magello!” he barked and felt his wife’s grip on his arm tighten. Hadn’t Islene just schooled Asmoda that he should try to be more patient with the boy? That maybe the reason he and Magello didn’t get along was because they were too much alike.

Pfft…he wouldn’t believe that for a second.

True, they had the same unruly hair; but he was the boy’s father after all; shouldn’t he look like him? And people had told him that Magello had the same piercing stare, but again, that was just physical characteristics. The boy was nothing like him. Of course the boy did share a lot of Asmoda’s likes, but again that could just be time spent together. And hadn’t Rowell made the comment that Magello’s defiant streak was a lot like his own. Hmmm… he would have to analyze this further before dispelling what Islene had said.

He looked at his son; trying to control his voice. Would it hurt him to comb his hair? “So, Magello; did you complete the dream adjustment lesson also?”

There was a hunching of shoulders and a harrumphing sound coming from the small boy and Asmoda had to control the urge to yell at him to sit up straight and stop mumbling.

“Well?” Asmoda looked at his son, but Magello kept his head down, “Did you learn the lesson or not?”

The boy sat stock still; refusing to meet his father’s eyes. Asmoda couldn’t believe the audacity of this boy. He was about to open his mouth, when Islene spoke.

“Magello, your father asked you a question?”

The anger/threat that filled the swirled blue, black and red eyes met his own, “Yes father?”

Asmoda took a deep breath before asking again; this time with clenched teeth, “Did you complete the dream adjustment lesson that Rowell.”

“Sir Rowell.” His wife corrected.

He resisted the urge to glare at Islene; keeping his gaze fixed on his son he raised a hand, “That Sir Rowell assigned you.”

Magello stared at his father. He knew he was taking his life in his hands not answering quickly, but he didn’t care, but looking at his mother; smiling; it softened him.

He sighed, “No, I could not complete it.”

Asmoda looked at his son, “why not?” he didn’t wait for the answer, “let me see; I may be able to help you.”

Magello wanted to roll his eyes, but knew his father would hit the roof.

The queen cleared her throat and Magello looked at his mother. She nodded, “Go on; show us.”

Taking a deep breath, Magello closed his eyes and tried to shut everything else out, but his brother’s voice broke in.

“Remember, just a lil bit of magic.”

Magello nodded and turned his hand palm up, the markings on his wrist beginning to pulse and rise. A puff of green smoke was expelled from the tattoo and began to snake its way up into the air. As the balloon was forming, he brought his other hand up, turned it palm up and placed it beside the other. The tattoos on the second hand began to emit a dark blue smoke.

“You’re supposed to…”

He heard the voices simultaneously.

The smoke dissipated and Magello opened his eyes. He looked first to Dyon, then to his father.

Asmoda spoke, “You put up your other hand; you’re only to use one.”

Magello did give his father an eye roll and he saw Asmoda’s gaze narrow and his eyes became an angry swirl of black and silver. He sat back in his seat, closed his eyes and tried again.

This time only using one hand he began again.

The bubble formed perfectly and the second stream almost formed completely before merging prematurely with the first and causing them both to pop.

Opening his eyes quickly, he looked at his father now scowling at him.

“Well, that’s not how you do it. Do it again and this time” he stood and walked around the table to where Magello sat, “This time I will instruct you.” he pulled out the boy’s chair and squatted down, “Come now.” He made himself comfortable; one knee propped on the floor, “Call your magic. I will show you how it’s done.”

Before Magello could move, Dyon’s voice was in his mind, “Just do what he tells you to. Please don’t make him mad.”

He sighed and turned to look at Asmoda.

“Now, call up your magic.”

Magello didn’t hold any hope, but did as his father bade. The smoke rose from his wrist and formed the bubble.

“Yes, good; now make the other one, but make the smoke stream the other way.

He looked at his father in disbelief.

“Go on, do it.” Asmoda encouraged.

He did and sent the second smoke trail away from the first, so that a good six inches stood between the two.

“That’s too far apart; bring them closer.”

“How?”

Try blowing on it dear; just a little bit.” His mother offered.

“try imagining the space between them decreasing.” Dyon’s words filled his mind.

“Just move them closer to each other.” His father said.

Magello waited and each of them offered their advice again. He did his best by trying each of the suggestions in turn. He blew on the smaller bubble slowly, taking squares of distance from between the two bubbles out as he did and willed them closer together.

His whole family stood behind him; trying not to breathe too hard, lest they influence what was going on. As the bubbles came closer and closer together, his parents’ and brother’s faces came more and more into his field of vision.

He felt his father’s breath in his ear before he made out the whisper, “Now ever so slowly descend it to the child.”

He heard his mother and brother nod their heads in agreement. Cold sweat ran down his back; he felt it pooling at the base of his spine. He realized that he was shaking; afraid to disappoint those he loved again; wanting for once to see pride in his father’s eyes.

“Go on.”

Asmoda’s voice; slightly louder brought him back to the now.

He took a breath to blow on the second bubble, but his concentration waived for just a second and too much space was displaced at one time. Magello realized what was happening, but could do nothing to stop it. The second bubble suddenly jerked and bounced off the first. He heard gasps and opened his eyes. As if to add to his misery, when the bubbles popped, it sounded like a crack that echoed throughout the huge dining room. He saw his family’s faces withdraw as each straightened and looked at him in pity.

“I told you not to move so quickly.” Asmoda chided, “Let’s try it again and this time…”

He couldn’t stand the way his father looked at him, “No” Magello stood so fast that the chair rocked backwards, “I’m not doing it again.” Magello turned to leave.

Asmoda met him at the door; he grasped the boys shoulder before he could dart out, “I told you to try again.”

“No father; I don’t want to try again. I can't do it; can't you see? Maybe I’m one of the those who can't…”

“Don’t you dare.” He cut him off before he could finish his sentence, his face a dark red; his eyes swirling red and black.

“No one in my family has ever been without.”

He looked at his father, “Yes, well maybe I’m the first.” He swiped a sleeve at his eyes to clear the tears and ran out of the room. He didn’t stop until he reached his room; slamming the door and darting under his bed.

“That lesson was stupid anyway.” He said out loud.

“But you said that about the last three lessons.”

“No, I got the last lesson.”

“That’s only because Dyon helped you. You couldn’t do it on your own.”

He put his forehead on his arm; hating his conscience for being right.

“Maybe you are one of the unlucky ones.”

He tried to sit up and bumped his head on the underside of the bed. He crawled out and sat up; leaning his head against the side of the mattress.

Could he do magic?

The question rolled around and around in his mind. He picked up his head and looked to his left. Seeing the candlestick, he leaned over and grasped it from the nightstand. Holding it between his hands, he willed the candle to life. He looked at the wick until he felt a headache begin from the effort.

He sighed and opened the first drawer of the nightstand, rummaging through it to find a match. He closed that one and opened the second and third; slamming them when they too came up empty.

Standing, he realized that he would have to venture out to find what he was looking for. He stuck the candle in his back pocket as he moved towards the door.

Slowly opening it a crack, he looked out. Seeing no one there, he slipped out and walked as quickly and as silently as he could down the hall and opened the library door. He entered and stopped short, seeing his father’s face glaring down at him.

“It’s just his picture.” He told himself and moved purposely past it to the mantle above the fireplace. He brought down a golden candlestick holder and a box of matches. He looked around and brightened when he saw the perfect place. Placing the candlestick and the matches on the couch, he jumped behind the couch and pushed it away from the wall. When he thought he had enough room, he stood, grabbed his posited items and disappeared again behind the couch.

With his back to the back of the couch, he braced his feet against the wall and pushed to give himself more room. Fitting the candle into the holder, he struck the match and touched it to the wick. It caught easily and he shook the match until it was extinguished.

Concentrating on the flame and calling up his magic, he brought the flame off the wick and made it hover just slightly above it. The flame began falling and when it hit his palm, it went out.

Magello reached for the matchbox, then stopped.

“I can do this.”

Moving the candlestick closer and folding his legs, he gathered his magic and willed the wick to life. Feeling the magic coursing from him to the wick, he jumped back when it sizzled and flamed to life.

“Yes!”

Wondering if this was just a fluke, he decided to test it.

He closed his eyes and brought his hand up; feeling the magic make the first bubble he opened his eyes just a slit to make sure that he had done it right; he closed them again when he saw the boy. The second bubble was a bit harder not being able to see it, but he sensed that it was there. Gathering the good thought, he gently pushed it to the boy, but felt the disappointment when he heard the pop.

“Ugh” he stood and clenched his fists, “there’s got to be an easier way to do this.”

Rowell’s voice came to his head, “the elders are gone.”

He pushed it away and sat down again; determined to find a way. Calling up the magic, he made the bubble and saw the child. Magello was about to form the second bubble, but then hesitated; afraid it would only end like it always had.

There had to be a way to enter the dream. The way he figured it, if he could enter the kid’s mind, then he could stop the dream. But how to enter the mind? He would have to think about it.

“And he just ran out of the dining room?”

Rowell kept in step with his king.

“Yes, how many times do I have to repeat myself. “  Asmoda closed the door and walked to the next room, “I shouldn’t have pressed him so hard.”

                Magello wasn’t in this room either.

                “Have no fear sire; he is a resilient boy.”

                Asmoda closed the door and walked to the next, “Yes, but you should have seen him; trying so hard not to cry in front of me.”  He glared at the teacher, “you know, it’s your fault; you should never have told me what they said. Strongest of all mages indeed; he’s just a little boy.”

                “A little boy that will rise to greatness one day. “ Rowell paused, looking around, “Did you check the library?"

                “No, let’s go there now.”

                The two turned and walked back the direction they came from.

                If he could send a good thought, why couldn’t he send himself? But how would he do that? Magello thought about the source; where all substance came from and from which his people got their magic. He thought about how he and Dyon communicate with each other; like they are in each other’s heads. What if he sent not only his thoughts, but his consciousness out; would it work? He had to try.

                He crossed his legs and got comfortable; calling up his magic and forming the first bubble. He saw someone hiding under a comforter. Next, he concentrated on the way he and Dyon communicated without words. He knew he could see his thoughts; every time he and Dyon communicated Magello swore he could see the thoughts leaving his head. If he sent the kid a telepathic message and followed the trail of thoughts would he end up in the child’s mind? He had to know, closing his eyes he began the thought transfer.

                When he opened his eyes, nothing looked familiar. The room was dark; he waited while his eyes adjusted.

                “W-who are you?”

                Magello turned to see a small girl; the blanket she hid in alternated from up over her head to down to her nose. He took several steps towards the bed.

                “My name is Magello; I’m the king’s son.” At the end of the bed he stopped.

                “What does the King’s son want with me?”

                They both jumped when they heard a sound of scratching at the door.

                “It’s coming!” the girl took hold of her pillow, put her head under it and pulled the cover over her.

                Magello waited, but when nothing more happened, he approached the side of the bed.

               

                Asmoda opened the library door and they entered. The room was dark except for a pinpoint of light visible on the opposite side of the room.

                “Someone must have left a candle on.” Rowell said.

                Asmoda shook his head, “Something about that doesn’t look right.”

                They looked at each other and then began to walk towards the light. As they neared it, Rowell’s steps slowed then stopped.

                “What’s wrong Sir Rowell?”

                “I think I know what that is.”

                Asmoda looked at him and waited.

                “Well?”

                In response Rowell quickened his steps; stopping well before the couch.

                He leaned forward and looked into the bubble, “I don’t believe it.”

                “What? What is it?”

                “Look” Rowell pointed to the scene in the bubble.

                Asmoda peered in, “What the... how the blazes did he get in there?”

                Rowell was smiling now, “How indeed.”

                It took several steps to walk around the bubble. Putting a knee on the couch, Rowell carefully leaned over and looked behind the couch. Asmoda followed suit and they both saw Magello; his right palm up; his head down on his upraised knees.

                “Magello?” Asmoda reached down to touch his son. Rowell stopped him.

                “Don’t touch him; he isn’t in his body.”

                Asmoda looked at the old teacher as if the man had lost his mind, “What do you mean he’s not in his body?”

                Rowell walked back to the bubble; Asmoda followed.

                “His consciousness is in there.” he pointed to the bubble.

                “Did you find him?”

                They both looked at the two coming near them. Islene came first, Dyon followed behind.

                “Yes” both Rowell and Asmoda answered at the same time.

                “Where is he” Dyon asked.

                They all looked at Rowell. He pointed to the bubble. Everyone took a step forward and looked in.

                Islene gasped, “He can't do that?” she looked at the teacher, “can he?”

                Rowell took a seat on the couch, smiling, “Apparently he can; and he is.”

                “But no one could do that; not even the elders.” Dyon sat next to his mother who was   seated next to Sir Rowell.

                Rowell looked at the boy who would be king one day, “Ah, but your brother can.”

                Their attention was drawn to what was happening in the bubble.

                “I think it’s okay, you can come out now.” Magello took hold of the blanket and tried to pull it off her head.

                “No” she pulled against him, covering what he had uncovered, “what if it comes back? It wants to eat me.”

                “No it doesn’t; it’s just a dream; it can’t hurt you.” he tried again, but she held it fast.

                Magello saw the candle in the candleholder on the dresser. Retrieving it, he sat at the side of the bed.

                “What’s your name?”

                The sound was small and muffled by the blanket and the pillow. Magello could barely make it out.

                “Kiera?” it was more a question than an answer

                “Well Kiera, do you want to see a trick?”

                “I hope he doesn’t try lighting the candle; I had to help him with that one.”

                Dyon saw three pairs of eyes look at him. Rowell scowled but didn’t say anything. Again they drew their attention back to the scene.

               

                “What kind of trick?” the blanket was now moving.

                “Well, how about if I light this candle.”

                A head appeared and then two green eyes; the blanket stopped.

                “Well, all you have to do is use matches.”

                “What if I can light it without using matches?” ‘at least I hope I can’ he added silently.

                The blanket fell further to reveal a snub nose and two cupid bow lips.

                “Only a magician can do that.” She looked at him wide eyed, “are you a magician?”

                “Let’s see”

                Magello concentrated on the candle.

                “Nothing’s happening.” Kiera said; now out of the blankets and getting closer to Magello.

                His concentration waivered, “Just wait”

                He gathered his magic once again and stared at the wick.

                “Come on Magello; you can do it.” Dyon said quietly.

                “Shh…let him concentrate.” Rowell answered.

                “Nothing”

                Just as she was about to complete the sentence, the wick sizzled and a bright yellow flame appeared.

                “Hey you did it.” Kiera said, leaning against Magello’s leg.

                “Now watch”

               The girl leaned closer to the flame and it jumped from the wick and hovered before her eyes. She giggled when the flame tickled her face then jumped to Magello’s open palm. She held up her hand and he placed the flame onto it.

                “It doesn’t burn at all.”

                The scratching sound was heard once more and Kiera hid her head under the blanket again. He replaced the flame onto the candle wick and put the candle on the nightstand. Placing a hand on the girl’s head he patted her.

                “There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s not real. Look”

                He rose and approached the door, putting a hand on the doorknob.

                “No” she dove for the blankets again.

                “Kiera, it’s okay. I promise.”

                She uncovered her head and looked at him, “You sure?”

                “I’m positive.”

                He took hold of the door again, “What do you want to be behind here?”

                She shrugged, “I don’t know.”

                “Come on, what would you want to be behind here?”

                She thought about it, “A puppy dog”

                He was about to turn the knob, then stopped, “What color puppy dog?”

                Kiera brightened, “A Fluffy white puppy with a purple collar.”

                Magello concentrated, turned the handle and opened the door.

                Kiera couldn’t see when Magello bent to pick something up.

                “What is it Magello? You’re not getting eaten are you?” she sat up and crawled to the edge of the bed.

                Magello backed away from the door, “Nope, he won't eat you “ he turned and Kiera wiggled and smiled when she saw what he held, “but he might lick you to death.” He put the puppy on the bed and the little girl followed it to the head of the bed, where she lay down and hugged the puppy close.

                “See now” he pulled the covers up over the girl and the dog, “now you don’t have to be scared anymore.”

                “Thank you Magello.” She said yawning, “You’re a good magician.”

                He smiled, “Good night Kiera.”

                He followed his thoughts back to his body. The next thing he knew, he was being lifted from the back of the couch.

                “That’s my son.”

                He was hugged hard by his father and then put down. Magello saw his mother, his brother and his father all beaming down at him.

                Dyon took hold of his shoulder, “You did it Magello.”

                “No”

                They all turned to look at Sir Rowell.

                “What do you mean no?” Asmoda looked at the old teacher threateningly, “you saw it with your own eyes.”

                Rowell approached Magello, “I meant this is not Magello; a magician of his caliber needs a grown up name; from this day forward, you shall be known as Sebastian.”

                The teacher hugged the boy to him and when he let him go Sebastian saw the tears in his old teacher’s eyes.