I debate for only like thirty seconds before setting my cereal bowl on the coffee table and hurrying up to her room. When I walk in, she whirls on me with a gasp, jumping back and nearly reaching for the winter coat on her bed as if to hide herself with it. Her face gets even redder.
“Soph? What’s up? Why are you acting like I barged in on you while you were in the tub?”
She cringes, whispering, “’Cause I’m naked.”
I blink at her pink dress, a white kitten applique on the chest, black leggings, ballet flats. “Umm… say what? You are not.”
“Look closer. This outfit still appears dry, right?”
“Yeah, so? You have magic. Figured you made yourself immune to rain. And you had a coat on plus an umbrella.”
Sophia walks over and sticks one shoulder forward. “Feel.”
I rest a hand on her… and whoa. My eyes are telling me there’s a dress under my hand, but my nerves say skin. “Umm?”
“Yeah. Umm,” says Sophia. “Sec.”
She walks past me, hurrying to the hall closet for a towel, then back to her room. She rushes in, closes the door almost hard enough to slam it, then begins drying herself off. And yeah, since she still appears to be dressed for school, it’s a weird sight.
“Any particular reason you went to school today wearing… nothing?”
Her face reddens. “I did not go to school like this.”
“Experiment go wrong?”
“No!” She stares at me, still blushing, but also frightened. “I went to the bathroom, and like, right when I shut the stall door, a bright flash happened… and all my clothes disappeared. Except for my coat, since it was back in the classroom on a hook.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Usually, pickpockets steal what’s in the pockets, not the pockets themselves.”
“Not funny.” She resumes drying herself. “I got stuck in the bathroom for so long I almost got in trouble.”
“You just stayed in the bathroom?”
She stares at me. “Umm. Yeah. What was I supposed to do, make a dress out of TP? No one would ever believe the truth. They’d think I’d gone crazy and threw my clothes out a window. Or they’d think I got attacked by bullies and grill me about who did it.” She tosses the towel aside, then rummages a long-sleeve pink sweatshirt, underwear, and jeans from her dresser, pulling them all on directly over her false outfit. “I dunno what happened. It sorta felt like two giant hands grabbed me and tried to pull me somewhere. Started to lift off my feet, but I fought it and slipped loose… only the energy grabbing me stole my outfit. Even got my earrings and my anklet!”
“Whoa.”
Once dressed for real, she kinda looks like a video game glitch where two characters in different outfits are standing on top of each other. She snaps her fingers and dispels the fake clothes, then runs into a hug, still shaking. “I stood on the toilet for like ever so no one would see me in there. So embarrassing. I was so mortified I couldn’t even think. Eventually, I figured standing there doing nothing would definitely get me caught. I tried a couple things, but couldn’t magically create anything real. Been practicing illusions, so I made fake clothes.”
“Awesome illusion. I couldn’t tell.”
“Yeah, but still an illusion. School desk seats are really cold. I tried to come up with an excuse to go home early, but they made me stay.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I mean, my excuse about feeling sick was super lame. But I couldn’t exactly tell them about magic stuff, or what really happened. I thought about stopping time so I could go home and change, but it’s too far to walk in the cold with no shoes. And I don’t think I could pause time over such a big area.”
I pat her back. “I can sympathize with how awkward it must’ve been.”
She gasps at me. “You have no—wait… you do. Yeah, but still. All you did was run around outside for a couple minutes. Not the same as having to sit there in school!” She lets go and paces, making random hand gestures.
“I spent an entire night locked in a mausoleum. Was more than ‘a few minutes.’” I shrug one shoulder. “But no one noticed, so I’m over it.”
“I can’t go back. Nope. Can’t.”
“Back? What?”
“To school.” She stops, spinning to stare at me. “Three class periods, lunch, and recess wearing illusions! Well, I had my coat on for recess, but still. I couldn’t let anyone touch me or they’d find out. Everything I bumped into made me squeak because it was so cold. And it’s like everyone knew. They all kept looking at me weird.”
“Probably wondering why you were blushing and acting strange. Trust me. No one knew. I have superhuman eyesight and your illusionary outfit totally fooled me.”
She fidgets, head down.
“Really, no one noticed.”
“I noticed,” yells Sophia, flailing her arms.
“Aww. I know exactly how you feel. Happened to me too, though not for the same reasons. At least you didn’t spend two days having a bunch of people hover over you on a slab studying every inch.”
She shivers.
“Trust me, there are worse things than being stranded outside with nothing on. At least you could make the illusion.”
“I can’t erase memories,” mumbles Sophia.
“You don’t have to. No one realized. I only needed to erase memories because people noticed me and stared. They don’t remember seeing me, and no one saw you. Two different ways to do the same thing. Besides, you didn’t have to ride in a police car naked.”
“You had a blanket.” She smirks.
“Heh. Yeah. Just trying to help you feel better.”
“Thanks, but what if someone bumped me in the hallway and figured it out but didn’t say anything?”
I shake my head. “There is no way anyone would’ve noticed and not said anything.”
“Yeah, they’d have laughed. Everyone would make fun of me for the rest of time.” She folds her arms. “That’s why I can’t go back. And I’d get in so much trouble. The teachers would think I did it on purpose. They’d never believe someone could steal all my clothes in the bathroom right off me. And they wouldn’t believe something magic happened.”
“Did you somehow tick off a faerie who pranked you for revenge?”
“Umm.” She makes a series of deep thought faces. “No. If a faerie was mad at me, they’d have zapped me right in the middle of class when everyone could see me right away.”
“Oof.” I wince… and feel awful for a second. I miss the days when the worst thing a kid had to fear at school was unexpected embarrassment.
“No oof.” She shakes her head. “Because if a faerie stole my clothes right in the middle of class, you would have erased everyone’s memory of it… including mine.”
I chuckle. “True. But… if a faerie didn’t do it as a prank, we have a bigger problem than you being embarrassed. Someone or something tried to abduct you, and missed.”
Sophia gawks at me, the color draining from her face. “Umm.”
“Any idea who’d want to do grab you? Tick off any elder gods lately?”
“No. How should I know?” She crosses her arms, nervously rubbing her hands up and down from shoulder to elbow.
“You’re a wizard, Sophia,” I say, poorly imitating Hagrid.
“Not funny.”
“Seriously, you’re the one with magic. I just bite people and move real fast.”
She runs over and clings to me. “I’m scared. Do you really think someone tried to kidnap me?”
“You said it felt like a force tried to grab you, but slipped off?”
“Kinda. I dunno. What do you think? Look into my head.”
I gaze into her deep blue eyes. Since she’s thinking about the moment in question, it’s easy to find. She’s scurrying down the hall to the bathroom after getting permission to leave class. Goes in, heads to a stall, shuts the door… and a flash goes off. A feeling washes over her as if she’d fallen onto a giant slab of room temperature
Jell-O, which absorbed her… but it’s only two feet thick and she falls out the other side. In two seconds, everything she had on her is gone, and her hair’s suspended in the air behind her, drawn back into nothingness. Definitely looks like a portal tried to swallow her. No tugging or tearing happened. An invisible force didn’t rip her outfit off; all inanimate objects on her person merely stopped existing. She pulls her hair free of the tiny hole in space, realizes her clothes are gone, and bites her arm so she doesn’t scream. As the reality of being stranded in a school bathroom sinks in, she begins to freak out in a major way.
“Hmm. It does kinda feel like a gateway opened right on top of you and basically vacuumed your stuff right off. Question is, did someone or something do it intentionally? Did it happen as a backlash from some magic you messed around with? Or maybe you randomly stumbled across a dimensional doorway.”
She smooths her hands down the front of her sweatshirt, as if to reassure herself it’s solid and real. “Umm, I dunno. Guess if someone tried to kidnap me, they would have tried again by now. Don’t think I did anything unstable enough for it to zap me in the bathroom. Wouldn’t a side effect happen right here, where I did the spells?”
“No idea. You’re the magic person. Do the, umm, crystal ball thing.”
“Scrying?” Sophia blinks. Her demeanor shifts from fearful to curious. “Hmm. Maybe. Never did it before, but I can try.”
I pat her on the head. “Okay. Just don’t blow up the house. Mom and Dad will be upset.”
She grins. “I won’t. Promise.”
4
Red Wine and Other Curatives
My cereal is still where I left it when I go downstairs.
The milk, however, is gone. Ahh, Klepto strikes again. After adding more milk, I flop on the couch again and look at the TV. I’m not ‘watching’ it, merely happening to stare forward in its general direction while my mind wanders in search of what bizarre oddity is affecting my family now. Things have been too sane and normal since the issue with Damarco ended. Here comes the Universe with my monthly ration of insanity.
Daryl and Jordan—Sam’s friends—arrive and go upstairs, both waving and yelling ‘Hi, Sarah’ as they thunder over carpeted steps. I honestly have no damn idea how a pair of boys can make more noise than Dad on the stairs. The time Ashley and I fell down her steps with the steamer trunk had to be quieter than these two. And, ow. Thinking about the giant trunk makes my front teeth hurt.
Hmm. Who or what might be after Sophia? She hasn’t exactly done anything out in the world capable of making enemies. Most likely, it’s Eleanor St. Ives trying to mess with me. No, she doesn’t have magic as far as I know. If any vampires would, bet it’s Academics. But she’s into science. As crazy as it is to think, it’s more likely she’d invent some kind of mad scientist remote teleportation ray gun than conjure a magical portal. And I’m not saying the ray gun thing is possible. I’m a vampire who knows magic is real, not a crazy person.
Sierra soon shows up eager to hop on the PlayStation once her homework’s done. I’m not really watching the TV, so I wave her to proceed. She’s over the creep from Call of Duty screaming at her and hops right into another match. Even though I’m young, it boggles my mind how she still has any interest whatsoever in it. She plays it to death. Guess she really loves the competitiveness. While I’m nowhere near as into video games as she is, I still enjoy them—but for the story. Mindlessly shooting each other over and over again doesn’t do it for me.
Dad finally realizes the Littles are home and emerges from his office. He spends about five minutes attempting to ask Sierra how her day was, but she’s so focused on the game, her answers are monosyllabic. She’s not deliberately ignoring him, more trying not to die. Pretty sure magical forces could yoink all of her clothes at the moment and she wouldn’t even notice. At least, not until the match ended. He pats her on the head, chuckles at me, and heads for the stairs to check on Sophia and Sam.
“Oh, did I hear thunder before?” he asks, pausing at the bottom of the steps.
“Nope. Daryl and Jordan came over. You heard them impersonating a herd of breakdancing elephants.”
“Ahh. All right. Everything good in Sarah world?”
Now there’s a trick question if ever one existed. No way in hell am I going to tell my dad about the dream I had. Also, no reason to worry him about Sophia when I have no proof anyone tried to attack her, even if I suspect it. Sure, it might’ve been a random magical anomaly, but the odds are low. My gut tells me someone actively attacked her. “So far, so good. Soph had a weird day, she might want to talk.”
“Okay.” He heads upstairs.
I get up and go to the kitchen to rinse out the cereal bowl. Really not sure what made me want cereal so bad. Oh, wait… the transient guy’s blood tasted like the Friday mystery food. Probably got me remembering Saturday morning, having cereal while watching cartoons. My brain is weird.
Mom arrives home around 4:30 p.m., way earlier than usual. She’s outwardly in a good mood, so I don’t question it. Nice to see her when she’s not running on eleven so to speak. By quarter to five, she’s changed into sweats and a T-shirt (I get my fondness for them from somewhere, right) and heads to the kitchen. Dad took on the bulk of dinner prep while her big case had been kicking her ass, so Mom’s dealing with it now.
Not wanting to be too much of a parasite, I hop up off the couch and follow, intent on helping her make dinner. Once sure Dad is nowhere in earshot, I tell Mom about the crazy dream while we’re preparing a baking dish of chicken tenders, a pasta side, and some veggies. The ‘singing candlestick’ part gets her laughing so hard she’s in tears. Seriously, it might be time to call in Aurélie to erase the dream from my head. Next time Hunter and I are about to get romantic, I’m going to imagine it singing and die laughing.
There’s not going to be a smooth way to recover, either.
“Think it’s from the crazy blood?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t know. Sometimes, crazy dreams happen for no reason at all. The brain does bizarre things. I had a professor back in college who compared dreaming to a computer disk running a de-fragmentation process. Basically, the brain’s sorting out everything it recorded during the day and the crosstalk in the nerves makes random images and stuff happen.”
“No kidding about random.” I set the chicken in the oven.
Mom pauses stirring the pasta seasoning packet in to glance over at me. “You know, Christmas is coming up. It’ll be here before we know it.”
“Yeah…” I cringe internally, thinking about the nightmare of being a ghost watching my family have a shitty Christmas after my death.
“Hope you’re planning to set Hank on safe mode if he shows up again,” says Mom.
“If?”
She nods, resuming stirring. “Yes. Mom and Dad weren’t sure how to process him being quiet and going red in the face so much during Thanksgiving.”
I snicker.
“They think he got so upset at your brother wearing the dress and Sierra’s attitude, he had a mild stroke.” Mom dumps the last of the premixed seasoning packet in.
“Sierra didn’t have an attitude. Hank was being a jerk.”
“Oh, I know. Your grandparents meant attitude as in Uncle Hank’s opinion of her.”
“Ahh. So they understand he’s unreasonable?”
“Dear,” says Mom. “My parents have known he’s unreasonable longer than you’ve been alive. Be glad you weren’t around to hear his opinions on me being a lawyer.”
“Ack. Let me guess, he thought you should’ve been a waitress?”
“Nope. He doesn’t think women should work at all. Just stay home, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”
I glance down at my toes. Mom’s not wearing socks either. “Well, two out of three.”
“What?” She sets the lid on the pasta.
“We’re barefoot in the kitchen. Just not pregnant.”
Mom throws an oven mitt at me, but laughs. “Bite your ton
gue. Four is enough.”
“Heh.”
She goes from laughing to serious. “Are you and Hunter using protection?”
“Yeah. Infallible protection.” I smirk.
“Oh. Duh. Sorry.”
I hug her. “It’s fine. You’ve got three other chances for grandkids and I’m not upset about it. Besides, there might be a really outside chance.”
“Outside chance?”
“Well, more like an ‘in China’ chance.”
She blinks. “What does China have to do with it?”
“No, I mean, like if a normal outside chance is our backyard, this is so far outside it’s in China.” I lean against the counter. “Aurélie said it’s not unheard of for an Innocent to have certain interior parts remain working, mostly to keep up the lifelike illusion. However, having a baby can’t just happen at random. Needs deliberate intent, some kind of potion, and elaborate rituals.”
“Oh, you’ve gone Amish?”
I blink. “What?”
Mom dies laughing. I follow suit, but mostly because she’s laughing.
Once we recover our breath—metaphorically in my case—Mom sighs. “Yes, so… my parents informed me Uncle Hank may request to remain at the home for Christmas dinner, as he doesn’t think he can ‘take it’ again.”
“Oh, the horror. Not being able to insult everyone around you incessantly.” I roll my eyes.
“Truly.”
I grab a cold iced tea from the fridge. Old habits die hard. And the kitchen is kinda warm. “You know he’s going to change his mind again and be here. Deep down, he hates being alone. I’d almost feel sorry for him being stuck in the old people’s home if he wasn’t such an asshole.”
Mom prods the pasta around the pan. “You know he grew up in a different era.”
“Not an excuse to still be a dick to people. If his generation could handle going from riding horses to driving cars and telephones evolving into the internet, he can understand jeans do not turn a girl into a lesbian any more than a pink dress worn in protest means Sam is gay.”
Mom chuckles. “I agree. But not everyone can evolve their thinking. In some cases, mind control is much more realistic.”
Vampire Innocent (Book 9): An Introduction To Paranormal Diplomacy Page 5