Siphon Magic

by Alicia Fabel

  After a minute of nothing happening, she cracked open one eye. The mountain lion sat watching her, a statue of black fur with silver-gray around its mouth and down its chest. One ring of silver looped the tip of its black tail, which twitched side to side. Vera tipped her head to make sure her arms and legs were still attached. Everything was there, but no amount of power-stare made anything below her neck move. Swallowing hard, Vera wondered how long she could hide her weakness from the predator. Honestly, Vera couldn’t understand why she wasn’t already a pile of bloody nibbles. She wasn’t complaining about her wholeness, though. She just hoped to stay in one piece until someone came to her rescue.

  The room was small and clean. A rocking chair swayed near the open window, and a bundle of tiny purple flowers sat in a jar atop a plain wooden dresser. It definitely didn’t vibe with the monster from last night. Then again, if centaurs existed, this was probably the lair of a tidy cannibal who was off heating up the stew pot. After everything else, it wouldn’t surprise her. Movement drew Vera’s attention back to the mountain lion. The animal’s fangy mouth stretched wide with a huge yawn, a pink tongue falling forward. Afterward, the lion stood and slowly approached. It lowered its boxy head until its chin rested on the bed near Vera’s face. Vera didn’t blink or even breathe, but the lion had no such reservations. The cat’s breath warmed Vera’s face. The residual moisture cooled as the cat inhaled. Warm then cool then warm again. Just as Vera’s heart slowed and her breaths evened, the danged thing did the unimaginable. It flicked out its sandy tongue and swiped it over Vera’s cheek. Vera sputtered and jerked her head back. The animal followed, intent on giving her a full saliva bath.

  “Stop it!” Vera hissed.

  The mountain licked her nose.

  “Ewww. So gross. Stop.”

  Looking rather pleased with itself, the cat sat back.

  “There is something seriously wrong with you.” Vera scowled.

  A spark of giddiness lit in Vera’s chest when she noticed the fingers on her right hand had closed weakly around the edge of the blanket while the cat had violated her face. Vera tried to move them again, her face scrunched with effort. At first, she thought her efforts had failed. A moment later, though, two fingers twitched. The delayed response was bizarre, but hey, it was something. A glorious smile lit Vera’s face while the cat went back to breathing on her.

  “Thank you for scaring away that monster,” Vera whispered to the strange animal. “I assume that’s what happened since, you know, I’m still here and all. So, thank you.”

  After counting one-hundred-and-two breaths, Vera fell asleep. Both hands were curled into loose fists.

  2

  The sky was shifting from obsidian to blue when Vera woke again. She wiggled her fingers then her toes. Hallelujah, she had control over her body again. An unexpected shock of pain caught her off guard when she tried to move her legs. Vera whimpered. The mountain lion, curled up on the quilt at the foot of the bed, peeked at Vera through sleepy eyes before tucking its nose under a paw, intent on going back to sleep.

  “You suck,” said Vera while panting.

  Vera feigned annoyance at the cat but having it around was oddly comforting. As a bonus, if it kept shadowing her, Vera wouldn’t have to worry about weirdos anymore. That would be excellent since Vera was a weirdo magnet. Centaur-freak was only the most recent in a lineup of wackadoos Luck had thrown at her over the years. Although, with Vera’s current track record, a mountain lion might just become an appetizer for whatever came next. On that note, it was time to get up and going before Vera’s mysterious host checked on her. While Vera appreciated not being abandoned in the woods—maybe she’d send a thank-you note—she was not waiting around to see what kind of person brought a strange, injured girl into their home instead of to a hospital. She’d learned the hard way to trust her instinct when things seemed sketchy. And this was sketch-tastic.

  Easing herself up, Vera pushed the blankets down over her knees. Her right leg was bandaged neatly from calf to thigh. Fan-freaking-tastic. Vera scowled at the cat, which gave up on sleep at that point. It slid from the bed, pressing its front paws forward and stretching out its long torso. Then the cat sat and looked expectantly at Vera.

  “Show off.” Vera rolled her eyes. “How about next time I ride you to the ground, huh?”

  After an embarrassing amount of grunting, Vera was upright and clinging like a barnacle to the bedpost. She eyed the window, wobbling on her one good leg. There was no way she’d manage climbing out. Which left the front door. Hopefully, if anyone was at home, they were still sound asleep. The sun was coming up fast, though, so Vera needed to be quick. Ha.

  “Are you going out the window or coming with me?” Vera asked the cat, but the thing didn’t move. “Well, pick one. But if you come with me, you’ll probably get eaten.”

  A chuckle brought Vera spinning around, almost dropping her to the floor. In the doorway, loomed a hulk of a man.

  “Mountain lions don’t taste so good,” the man said, his voice deep but not quite smooth.

  Vera was relieved the man had manly legs and only two of them, but they were blocking her escape. He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. They were the same black as the coffee she served at the diner every morning to the wretched men who’d lost everything because they couldn’t walk away from the tables. Vera wondered what unpleasantness this man kept tucked in his back pocket. He might look decent enough. Okay, he looked incredible in those faded jeans and that white thermal with the sleeves pushed up his toned arms, but she still had a niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Why hadn’t he called the authorities or an ambulance? She’d been there for at least a full day and was obviously injured. If she had to bet, her leg was broken. Why hadn’t he let someone know he’d found her? Unless he didn’t want anyone to know. It might sound paranoid, but Vera’s luck demanded a bit of paranoia. Otherwise, she’d be dead in a gutter many times over by now. The man’s forced smile wilted while Vera eyed him.

  “My name is Kale.” He stepped forward, holding out a calloused hand.

  Vera jerked back and nearly fell over the mountain lion.

  “Whoa, I won't hurt you,” he said.

  Lie! It rang in her ears, a familiar chime that settled in the base of her skull.

  Sure, you lying sonofa-. Gah, she hated that she was even a little disappointed. Vera had no idea how her built-in lie detector worked, but whenever someone lied, bells went off in her head. It had always been like that for her. As a kid, she’d thought it was like that for everyone. Until she’d called out the boy in first grade for lying about the rock he’d thrown at her friend, Crissy. None of the other kids had gone near her after that. Not even Crissy. Whatever. She’d been transferred to a new home and school soon after anyway. From then on, she kept her bells to herself.

  In the end, the bells became an invaluable tool that saved her from falling prey to the wrong sorts of people. Like the bastard standing in front of her. Vera wondered if she could make it to the window, without tripping end over rear, and throw herself out before the man caught her. Probably not. Instead, she looked for something nearby to chuck at him. Preferably something spikey. All she had was a couple of pillows, though. If she had two functioning legs, she could charge the man and hope to catch him by surprise. Obviously, she did not, thanks to her new furry shadow. And what was her “fearsome bodyguard” doing while Vera stood there helplessly? Absolutely zip.

  “Her name’s Mimi.” Kale tipped his head at the mountain lion. “She, uh, led me to where you fell. And we, uh, brought you here to get you patched up.”

  Of course the mountain lion was his pet. You actually believed you forged some sort of bond with a wild animal? Stupid.

  Vera backed away from the man and his overgrown cat. There was no way she could make it past them both. Her chest rose and fell faster than it should have from those few backward steps. The only option left knocking around in Vera’s head was to keep playing the fool. S
he hated the idea, but she’d done a great job of it so far. If she could play along until they weren’t paying attention, she might have a chance to get away. First, she had to relax so it didn’t look like she was about to bolt. It took everything Vera had to release the quilt, when she noticed Kale frowning down at the abused bedding in her white-knuckled fist. Now, she just had to make conversation.

  “Your mountain lion knocked me out of a tree,” she blurted. Ugh, not really the conversation starter she’d been going for. Vera wanted to poke out the man’s eyeballs when he raised an amused brow at Mimi.

  The animal growled and shook its head.

  “Did your mountain lion just shake its head at you?”

  “She’s not mine,” he answered. “We’re friends.”

  Uh huh. Sure psycho. “And she understands what we’re saying?”

  “Yeah, Mimi’s not exactly, uh, normal,” said the man. “But she's good people.”

  Yep, he’s cuckoo. “Well, Mr. Kale, thanks for helping me and everything—” Holy Crap! He’s the one who took off all my clothes and put me in this nightgown. The blood drained from Vera’s face and she swayed.

  “You okay?” Kale swept in but jumped right back when Vera squeaked and cringed away.

  Nice job being chill, dipstick. Breathe. “Yeah,” she said, plastering on a smile. “Just a little dizzy. It’s going away. I’m fine.”

  The man studied her carefully. In the meantime, Vera tried to figure out how to describe him to the authorities when she got away. He said, “uh” an awful lot, and he spoke with a strange accent that she couldn’t place. He also reminded her of the scotcheroos she and Suzie used to make together. Butterscotch melted with creamy peanut butter, all topped with that dark chocolate hair.

  “You probably need to eat. I’ll go get you something,” Mr. Butterscotch—Scotchie—said, seeming to follow the direction of her thoughts.

  Vera almost laughed at him. As if she would eat anything he brought her. But if it made him go away. . . “I am a little hungry, thanks,” Vera said. To Vera’s horror, her stomach corroborated with a whale call.

  Scotchie turned to leave.

  “Can you take the mountain lion with you?” Vera asked quickly.

  The cat looked sadly up at Vera then dropped its head and followed the man out without having to be told. Dang it. Vera felt a little bad. It actually seemed like she’d hurt the mountain lion’s feelings.

  Kale ran a hand through his hair and stepped outside to do another survey of the tree line for any sign of a wanderer or envoy. It had been a relatively quiet few days while the girl had slept and healed, but the meadow never stayed quiet for long. Every day the unnatural evaded him and the girl stayed in the meadow, it increased the odds of her discovery. Even if he kept her hidden, the magic around them would eventually unleash whatever magical force lay dormant inside her, and he’d have to kill her anyway. He wondered for the thousandth time if he had done the right thing by bringing the girl back here.

  It didn’t help that the girl was hiding something from him. Black marks had swirled up her hands as she’d clung to the bed to keep from falling over. After Kale’s willful ignorance had contributed to the unraveling of the world, he’d been cursed to see deception as markings on the flesh. That way he could never ignore deceit again. Unfortunately, knowing someone intended to deceive him did not mean he knew how they would do it. He had no idea what the girl was planning. Stars blast him. He couldn’t demand answers without revealing his ability, which would mean explaining that the world is much bigger than she realized. Which was something he planned to avoid if he could. He was already going to have to explain the unnatural. That would be bad enough. At least no one would believe her if she started blabbering once she got back home. Humans didn’t believe in magic anymore.

  A nudge on Kale’s lower back made him flinch. “You are a cruel girl, you know that?” he asked Mimi.

  Mimi grinned, displaying an impressive set of fangs. She was one of the few who could sneak up on him. She took pleasure in doing it as often as possible. Kale propped his elbows on the porch railing and hunched over to rest his forehead against the heels of his hands.

  “I have to inform the realms of the unnatural,” Kale told Mimi. “When I do, people are going to come looking for updates and reassurances. The girl has to be gone before then.” Kale pressed his hands against his eyes until he saw stars. “I know you don’t want me to kill her, but it would be a greater mercy than sending her back with the unnatural still out there.”

  Mimi wedged her face between Kale’s forearms, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  “I’ve tried, Mimi. I can’t find him.” Kale’s frustration at his own incompetence seeped into his tone.

  Mimi lowered her head. A tear splattered on the wooden plank below. Just last spring, Mimi had brought him a newborn fawn, which she’d discovered only after killing the doe. She had cried over the orphaned animal for days while Kale figured out how to get the thing to eat and stay alive. Blast her bleeding heart and me for being a sucker for it.

  “Two more days,” Kale said finally. “If we can’t find the unnatural in two more days, the girl has to go, no more arguments. Maybe with the whole world gunning for the unnatural, the girl could run long enough to out-survive it.”

  And maybe the entire broken world will set aside their differences for a little Kumbaya, added Ferrox who was supposed to be sleeping.

  I know the odds, dimwit.

  You know them, but you won’t accept them. You act as if the life of the human matters to you.

  You know it does not, Kale answered. I’m fulfilling my duty, that’s all.

  Yes, yes, your duty to the Axis Mundi. All hail the center of the world. Ferrox snorted in Kale’s head. Has the meadow charged you with the human’s protection?

  Kale was silent.

  Exactly. And it never will. Humans are curs, Ferrox said.

  Do you not care that the girl’s death would destroy Mimi?

  I would not like that, Ferrox said truthfully.

  Then Mimi needs our help a little longer, Kale said. Ferrox reluctantly conceded before withdrawing from his head.

  “If you want to help the girl, go get Addamas,” Kale said to Mimi. “If anyone can find the unnatural, he can.”

  Mimi winced. Kale felt for her, but if she was serious about saving the human, Addamas was their best bet. Kale petted Mimi’s cheek then turned to go inside. Time to stop avoiding the human. She did need food. When Kale looked back through the screen door, Mimi was gone.

  Kale opened the cupboard and looked over the contents. He had no idea what the girl would want to eat, but he couldn’t exactly have her use the magic cupboard to summon whatever she wanted. The farther away from magic hot-spots she stayed, the better off they’d all be. He pulled out a loaf of bread and some cheese, sliced both, and arranged it all on a plate with a plum. Taking a deep breath, he walked down the short hallway and pushed open the door to the guest room.

  “Knock, knock. I’ve got some—”

  The room was empty, or nearly so. The girl hadn’t quite made it all the way out the window yet. Both of her legs dangled over the sill, and she was just ducking out when Kale intruded. Kale recoiled at the sight of the girl’s dark hair turned to waves of crimson by the sun rising behind her. She startled, her indigo eyes widening as she teetered, headed for a nosedive. Kale leaped forward, squashing the unwanted memory of a much different woman. He snatched the girl’s flailing wrist before it followed her out the window. The inky webbing snaking over the girl’s fingertips and around her hands faded away. Well, at least he knew what she’d been hiding from him—plans to climb out the window as soon as he turned his back.

  Kale hooked an arm around the girl’s waist and hauled her back into the room. He completely forgot to be careful of her leg. She screamed. Swearing, he apologized and set her carefully on the bed where she lay gasping. For a moment, he wondered if he should have just let her fall, and then scraped
her up afterward. The drop was only as high as his shoulders. She probably wouldn’t have fared too badly. Maybe even better than with his clumsy assistance. Kale pulled out a pouch of crushed polovraga leaves from the nightstand drawer and pinched out a wad of the black, waxy substance.

  “Here, this will help.” Kale held the mass to the girl’s lips, which she clamped closed. “It’s just to help with the pain.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Kale was almost certain she would refuse, then she parted her lips, allowing him to deposit the leaves on her tongue. Her face screwed up with disgust.

  “Sorry. It’s foul but it works. Chew it up,” Kale instructed. She complied, mother of miracles. Soon her body relaxed, and Kale relaxed marginally too.

  “Thank you,” the girl said through clenched teeth, even though her pain should be gone.

  Kale nodded and asked, “Why were you climbing out the window?”

  “I’ve got to get home. My dad's gonna be going crazy. He’ll have search parties out by now.” The girl’s left eye twitched.

  Kale was going to point out that the window was not the best choice of exits, but obviously, the girl had determined walking out the front door was not an option available to her. She was perceptive. Fiends take me, that’s going to make things even more complicated than they already are.

  “Please let me leave,” she said quietly.

  “I will. Two more days and I’ll take you home.”

  “Why can’t I go now?” Her eyes narrowed. Kale figured he should get used to that look from her.

  “The creature that was chasing you is still out there,” Kale explained.