by Maer Wilson
“How many?” prompted Nana.
Brown paused. “As near as we can tell right now, there were twenty-seven vehicles involved.” His horror was palpable as he set the folder on the table.
“Oh, dear god,” breathed Nana.
Green picked up the folder. “Your daughter’s car was in the last wave that hit. We identified most of the vehicles from their license plates, once we had the fire under control. We’re still recovering the victims. It all happened very quickly, according to our witnesses.” She paused and held Nana’s gaze. “We are very, very sorry for your loss. Is there anything we can do for you?”
Nana continued to hold on tight to me. “Is it possible to call a cab for us?”
Green spoke up, “That won’t be necessary, ma’am. We’ll drive you home.”
That night, the house had lost the feeling of home already. I had just crawled into bed when the realization hit me, and it hit me hard: I was never going to see my parents again. I covered my mouth with my hands to hold in the wail that wanted to tear screaming from my throat. My door flew open, and Nana was there.
My body was shaking from the huge sobs that broke as she gathered me in her arms and held me tight. I could feel her sobs as we mourned together. I have no idea how long it lasted, but we finally cried ourselves out.
Nana pulled my blankets and pillows from the bed, and we took them into the family room. She brought in more pillows and blankets, and we made a nest on the large sofa, sipping hot chocolate.
I was curled up and drifting off to sleep, when I felt a familiar touch brush my forehead and hair. Mom had done that when I was a little kid. For a moment or two, I even thought it was my mom. I half opened my eyes to see Nana looking into the distance with an unreadable expression. The thought that she had once stroked my mom’s hair, just as Mom had mine, followed me into a deep sleep.
The rest of that time is blurry to me now. Bits and pieces are clear, but the mind has its own way of coping with trauma. We had a memorial service, cremation for what was recovered of my parents’ bodies. I remember a lot of people were there. My parents’ clients, my teachers and friends from school, even a few of the carnies showed up.
Afterward, Nana had me start packing things up. My parents had left precise instructions, true to their little accountant hearts. Nana put the house on the market to sell, with the money going into a trust for me. I didn’t go back to school. I was kept busy packing up the things I would be taking with me.
Nana and I made a trip to the carnival. She packed up the stuff she wanted and had it shipped. She made arrangements to sell her RV. I wanted to stay there with the carnival. The people were nice and warm and felt like family.
Nana said no, that it was time she stopped hiding out and rejoined the world. She’d already made arrangements for us to move to San Francisco. She owned half of a Bed & Breakfast in one of the Victorians, and we would stay there until she found more permanent housing for us.
Once in San Francisco, it seemed like no time at all before we were out of the B&B and into a spacious condo in a nice and quiet neighborhood. Nana had gotten a part time job at the local library and registered me in sixth grade for the fall.
That summer was a time of change. Nana and I were working out how we fit together. The numbness began to ease somewhat over that summer, but I don’t think I was ever really a child after that. My natural, happy nature was subdued. I often sat and stared at nothing from our living room window.
Nana wanted me to go out and play with the other kids, but I just didn’t feel like it. The thought that I’d have to answer questions as the new kid and tell them my parents died made my throat close up. So, instead, I read a lot, watched movies, and best of all, I discovered gaming. I was able to disappear into each of those worlds for hours on end. Games kept me company a lot during that time. I stared at the TV, playing as time crept by.
Nana and I discussed the visits from my parents after they died and everything that seeing them might mean. Since she and I both had abilities most people didn’t, she made it clear we needed to keep that fact to ourselves for our own protection.
Nana’s ability was empathy. She knew what people were feeling. That was why she had done her tarot and crystal ball act back in the carnival. Mostly she dealt with the living, but now and then one of the dead would find her and she was able to sense them. In the case of my parents, her tie with Mom was so close she was actually able to see and hear her.
Nana told me about an old friend of hers who was a telepath and psychic.
“This was years ago, when I was in my twenties. My friend didn’t make a secret of what he could do and often consulted with police. He didn’t get a lot of attention in the papers or anything like some do, but he was pretty consistent with his results. One day, he disappeared. I have no idea where he went. He was just gone. But I’m telling you, Fi, I knew he was alive. I could feel his emotions - his pain, his fear.” She paused, looking into the distance as she sometimes did. “I still do.”
A chill ran through me as she looked straight into my eyes. “Maybe I’m a foolish old woman, but since I don’t feel old, I’m going to say I’m not. But we are only safe if we keep our abilities to ourselves, Fiona.”
It was a lesson I’d never forget.
To continue reading, you can find buy links for Relics and the other works in the Modern Magics series at Maer’s Website (http://maerwilson.com/modern-magics/).
Praise for Modern Magics
Relics, Modern Magics, Book 1
“‘Relics’ is a powerful read which will challenge long-held perceptions of good vs. evil and Light vs. Dark well after the book is finished.” Diane M. Haynes, author of Rift Healer, YA finalist in the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence.
“In Relics, author Maer Wilson takes everything you think you know about the creatures of the fantasy world and twists it around to create a unique and engaging story.” Constance Philips, author of Resurrecting Harry and Fairyproof.
Portals, Modern Magics, Book 2
“Juggling angels, psychics, and a myriad of other magical folk (and their problems), Thulu and La Fi return in Portals to find a kidnapping victim, and maybe just save the universe as a side job. Maer Wilson does a beautiful job of painting their world, weaving a mystery, and sprinkling on a touch of humor in her sophomore fantasy. Such a fun escape!” --LynDee Walker, bestselling author of the Headlines in High Heels Mysteries.
“What I personally liked best about the story is the very dry humour with which La Fi narrates the story. Too often harrassed by the dead and trying to run a business and save the world she is a fantastic main character, an often reluctant heroine but a spirited and likeable one.” Christoph Fischer, author of The Three Nations Trilogy.
“Ghost Memory”
“A page-turner, this adventure-filled caper, with its surprising supernatural powers and a look at the concept of Going Into The Light, ends with a clever segway to Ms. Wilson’s follow up book, “Unwanted Ghost”. All in all, a really fun Can’t-Put-It-Down read!” S.R. Mallery, author of Unexpected Gifts.
“This classic tale of a ghost with something left undone is full of beauty and pace, humour and poignant moments.” Simon Okill, author of the Luna series and the Phantom Bigfoot series.
Relics, The Book Trailer
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=un2PHs5oGwg)