Charms & Clouds

by Emilia Spring

“Did something happen?” I asked, frowning. She was quiet sometimes, but not this quiet.

  Gianna shrugged. “Just tired.”

  I, of course, knew that was the standard teenage excuse to give when you didn't want to say what was really bothering you. So I let her get away with it. I wasn't going to push her unless it became absolutely necessary. “All right,” I said. “You want to meditate first, or make the list first?”

  She looked thoughtful. “Meditate.”

  “Of course,” I muttered with a bit too much bitterness.

  Gianna’s lips slowly curved into a grin. “Did you do something during practice today?”

  My face gave it away before I could make my expression neutral. “Not really.” I really wasn’t a convincing liar.

  Then it dawned on Gianna and the glee got worse. “We heard the crack,” she said, laughing. “Teachers said a tree had fallen over.”

  I groaned, wanting to bury my head in my hands. I'd forgotten how close the warehouse was to Gianna’s school. That wasn’t one of the advantages of practicing over there.

  “It was just one little bolt of lightning.” I moved over to the couch and sank down on it.

  Gianna gave me the look that let me know that she was entirely unimpressed. “One little bolt of lightning,” she mocked.

  I narrowed my eyes at her, but there was no real heat there. “You're not supposed to mock your elders.”

  Gianna snorted at me.

  I rolled my eyes this time, but she grinned. It made me happy when she smiled, it showed that she was relaxing some. We were still on tentative ground. I took in the living room, the events of the morning, and nodded towards the door. “Let's go outside for this one?”

  Gianna skipped towards the door. “It would be a shame if you lit this house on fire,” she said sweetly.

  I heard an alarmed noise. “Light my house on fire?” Great Aunt Mabel appeared again.

  “Not that far away, were you?” Gianna drawled.

  Mabel looked at me, indignant. “You’d better not light my house on fire.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, wincing when I hit a tangle I had missed that morning. “I’m not going to light your house on fire.”

  Mabel made a noise that made it very clear that she didn’t believe me. Ignoring her, I went and unlocked the door.

  “Are you sure you want to be near Ruth?” Gianna teased.

  I shot her a glare, which, as usual, didn't work. That whole discipline thing that the books talked about was so much easier said than done. Especially when the kid didn't necessarily take you seriously.

  Not that I could blame her. I was like, at least half the age of her grandmother.

  Oh well. We’d get there.

  She did have a point though. Instead of staying at the front of the house, we went behind, picking one of the small concrete benches that looked over the fake garden. What would've been the fake garden, if most of the grass hadn't died off.

  “Here work?” I asked.

  Gianna nodded. I sat on one end, her on the other. It was easier to summon the breezes outside, to spin them around us, until the barrier built itself up.

  “You're getting better at that,” Gianna said, approving.

  “You’d better not burn my house down,” grumbled Mabel, settling on the bench between us.

  Apparently she could get through barriers. Huh.

  “Maybe you can create a guard specifically for ghosts?” I suggested, not really sure.

  Gianna shrugged. It was a good question, though. How did you create a barrier for ghosts? How would Gianna build guards? Ash? Cremains? Wasn’t that creepy.

  I shoved the thoughts away, because I needed to actually focus. And considering that I didn't really want to make it rain, literally, attention was important.

  Taking a deep breath, I started to count, my eyes open and focused on Gianna. She slipped from the bench onto the ground, her back straight against the concrete behind her. There was a faint smile on her face, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. I could watch and see as she breathed in, breathed out, all in sync with the count.

  Even Mabel was quiet, watching Gianna. I kept an eye on her discreetly. Meditation drew magic in – would Mabel be impacted by it? I could see pearly glimmers out of the corner of my eye, although I wasn’t certain if it was from Mabel or Gianna.

  “Oh dear.” Aunt Mabel’s voice was faint, and then she disappeared.

  I sat straighter, alarmed, but kept the count, my voice even. Then Gianna opened her eyes and looked at me. They weren’t her normal blue, they were a faded grey. She looked down at herself, something unhappy to the turn of her lips.

  “I didn’t sign up for this.” It was Mabel’s voice coming from Gianna’s mouth.

  Well that answered that question. “Is she still in there?” I moved so that I could see Gianna more directly. Mabel-Gianna stood, hands on her hips.

  “How do I get out of here?” Mabel muttered to herself. “How did I get in here is the better question.”

  “Get out, old lady.” That was Gianna’s voice, and she sounded irritated. She shook herself, almost like a dog, and then slumped back down again, eyes closing.

  I inched closer. No one had covered dealing with witch children in any of the parenting classes I had attended as a social worker. Then Gianna lifted her head and opened her eyes.

  I was almost weak-kneed when I saw Gianna’s regular expression looking back at me, none of that faint-pearly-ghost thing. “Gianna?”

  “She’s so annoying,” Gianna muttered.

  I bit back a grin, relief making me sink back onto the bench. “You’re back, then?”

  Gianna looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You can’t get rid of me.”

  For all her words were confident, I could hear the faint tremor underneath them, the worry that maybe, just maybe, she would prove to be too much trouble. I smiled at her. “Wouldn’t want to.”

  Her expression wavered, then turned cocky. “Of course not.” She clapped her hands together, seemingly satisfied. “What do we want to try next?”

  “Come back, Mabel,” I said, craning my neck to see if I could see her.

  “I am not your test subject,” Great Aunt Mabel sniffed, appearing between us again.

  “You are now,” Gianna informed her.

  Mabel gave her a look that would have scorched Gianna if, you know, she actually could scorch someone. “Hasn’t she taught you not to talk back to your elders?” She looked at me, obviously blaming any sort of failings on Gianna’s part on me.

  “You’re dead,” Gianna said frankly. “I don’t think you count as an elder any more.”

  I ducked my head to hide a grin. Aunt Mabel looked scandalized.

  “What’re we going to do?” Ignoring Aunt Mabel, Gianna turned back towards me.

  It took me a few seconds to compose my face into something serious, or at least something resembling seriousness. I cleared my throat. “What about seeing if you can call a ghost to you at will?”

  Gianna opened her mouth. I raised an eyebrow. Chagrined and apparently listening for once, she winked at me and closed it.

  “I was thinking we could start with Aunt Mabel, since you’re familiar with her.” I nodded towards the sulking ghost.

  Gianna stood up again, dusting herself off. There was grass on her backside and she made a face. “She’s good at wandering off.”

  “I’m right here.” Aunt Mabel sniffed again. “Ungrateful brats.”

  Gianna bowed, apparently in a sassy mood today. “At your beck and calling, Oh Ghostly One.”

  “Gianna,” I said, although there was no heat behind it because I was grinning.

  “I dislike you both,” Aunt Mabel said with a haughty toss of her head. “I’ll see myself out.” Then she disappeared.

  “Oh look, she’s cooperating.” Gianna winked at me.

  I shook my head, but secretly I was pleased to see the happiness on Gianna’s face. Maybe it was a way of coping, maybe she
still hurt inside – no, not maybe. She definitely still hurt inside. But she wasn’t isolating herself, or hiding. At least not from me.

  “We’ll give her a few minutes,” I decided. It was funny when we did this because I always sounded like I knew what I was doing, which was the furthest thing from the truth.

  “Thank you,” Gianna said after a minute had passed.

  I blinked at her, surprised. She rocked back and forth on her heels.

  “For teaching me,” Gianna clarified. She wasn’t looking at me, not directly, although she snuck a few peeks at me out of the corner of her eyes.

  “I don’t know if I can call it teaching when I don’t know what I’m doing,” I said doubtfully.

  Gianna snickered. “You haven’t lit anything on fire yet,” she pointed out.

  I grinned, gently elbowed her. She elbowed me back, her elbow much bonier than mine. I needed to make sure she was eating enough. Either that or she was in the stage of child or teen-hood or whatever, where she was going to be awkward and bony.

  “Right.” I shifted and turned towards Gianna more fully, one of my legs up on the bench and a hand on my ankle. “Try calling her?”

  I could see Gianna's hands shaking, and I figured it had to be nerves. To be fair, this was the first deliberate magic use that we’d done. Most of last month had been meditation. Which was important, but given that we didn't know much about her type of magic, experimentation was going to be high on the list.

  She took a deep breath, and I could see her body relax. “Great Aunt Mabel,” she said in a singsong sort of voice that sent shivers down my spine.

  We’d have to have a conversation if she kept doing that. That was freaky, like, right out of a horror movie.

  I heard the whistling before I felt it, a dry, old type of wind that came and wrapped around us, even through the barrier. Ghost wind? And then Great Aunt Mabel appeared in front of us, obviously outraged.

  “I was busy spying on the cute detective,” she grumbled.

  I looked at Gianna, and then back to Mabel. “Which one?”

  She looked at me, unimpressed. “That woman of yours’ partner. Henry.” She made the name sound dreamy.

  “Sorry for disturbing your oogling,” I said. “Any idea how far away you were?”

  Mabel shrugged, and she even looked a little bit sheepish. “It's hard to tell distance when you’re dead,” she admitted. “But I do know I was up in the mountains.”

  That was quite a ways away, then. “Yet you got back here that fast?”

  “I didn’t really have a choice,” Mabel said, her eyes narrowing at Gianna. “Summons are difficult to resist, whether I wanted to go or not.”

  “Good job,” I told Gianna.

  Gianna looked smug. “Of course I did well.”

  I resisted rolling my eyes, but I did smile. Her hands were steadier now, the traces of shaking gone. “All right, what next?”

  Chapter Six

  It was the banging on the door that woke me. My eyes flew open and I nearly rolled off the bed. Which would have hurt, because my bed was quite high off the ground. I struggled to get up, but the banging didn't stop.

  “Who is it?” I half shouted. Well, I hope I did. I was far enough asleep that I wasn't sure whether or not I was speaking out loud.

  “Natalie, open the door!” That was Sam's voice.

  I put my socks and shoes on with a sense of urgency, throwing a jacket on top of my pajamas instead of getting fully dressed. If Sam was up this early, it was likely something serious.

  I threw open the door, catching sight of a haggard Sam dressed in regular clothes. Was she on a night out? Or did she like to sleep in regular clothes?

  “What's happening?” I asked, the words slurring. I glanced at the watch on my wrist and winced. It was only 3 o'clock in the morning.

  “Riley tried to arrest Marguerite.” The words came out in a rush.

  I very much appreciated the word tried there, because I couldn't imagine Riley being successful at arresting Marguerite if Marguerite didn't want to be arrested.

  “What happened?” I asked, alarmed.

  I heard another door open inside, and Gianna came to the door, her face a sleepy frown. “What's wrong?” she asked, cranky.

  “I'm not sure,” I said, turning to Sam. “What can we do?”

  “Come with me? The rest are staying to hold the house down.”

  I made a split-second decision. “Gianna, go throw some clothes on. You’re coming with me.”

  Even though she was tired, I could see the storm in her face as she turned back to her bedroom.

  I turned to Sam, grimacing. “Who was killed?” It had to be something drastic to warrant Riley trying to arrest Marguerite and Sam showing up on my doorstop in the middle of the night.

  “Clara,” Sam said with a grimace. There was something stark on her face, something shocked.

  I couldn’t really blame her. The death of the head of the Witch Council was a huge deal. And she had just come by the shop a few days back. Gianna had already dealt with enough suspicion – were people going to blame her for this, too? “I’ll go get dressed.”

  Sam turned and sagged against the wall, her adrenaline apparently fading and exhaustion taking over. “I’ll wait.”

  I scurried back to my room, tossing off my pajamas and throwing on the first set of clothes I could get my hands on.

  I combed a hand through my hair, trying to make it look even vaguely presentable as I pulled it back in a ponytail. I went with jeans and a tank top, throwing a jacket over my shoulder in case I needed it. It really wasn’t cold, but I was of the better safe than sorry variety.

  Gianna was waiting for me by the door once I got down there, something tired in her eyes, but something excited, too.

  I wasn't entirely certain why I was going to bring her. Maybe to see if she could commune with the victim? We'd only done a little bit with Great Aunt Mabel the night before, and I was hesitant to push her any further. I didn't want to exhaust her. She was still so young.

  It was also a safety issue; I was afraid to leave her alone by herself. Unease darted through me. Where was Aunt Mabel, speaking of? I tucked that thought aside for later.

  We got in Sam's car, which was almost older than mine, and headed straight for the magical version of the police station. It was the small, unassuming building that served as the headquarters for the magical side of Pine Lake’s police force. It was where they kept all of the evidence and case files for magical cases, or magical evidence for human cases that couldn’t be around actual humans.

  Marguerite was sitting in the waiting room, leaning against the wall as if she was sleeping, her hands clasped tightly together.

  I stopped and studied her for a few seconds. Gianna walked straight over and sat a couple seats down from her, looking at her out of the corner of her eyes.

  One of Marguerite's eyes opened, looking at me like a crocodile.

  Well wasn't that creepy. “You okay?” I asked.

  “Why are you here?” The crocodile eye turned towards Sam, who was now red-faced.

  “Clementine and Aspen sent me,” she said.

  “And Natalie?” Marguerite turned to look at me.

  “She's the only one who knows laws,” Sam said with a shrug.

  I closed my eyes briefly, resisting the urge to point out that social work and knowing the laws involving potential homicides were very much not the same thing. However, I was fairly certain it wasn't a conversation I was going to win. It wasn’t anything we won in public opinion, either.

  Riley appeared in the doorway, her hair unkempt and her clothes wrinkled. The smudges under her eyes were darker, but there was a thermos of presumably coffee clutched in her left hand. I frowned, wanting to go over there and boss her into taking at least some care of herself. The cases wouldn’t fall apart if she kept herself from dying of exhaustion.

  I didn't like her, that wasn't why I was fussing. I just didn't like seeing people overwork t
hemselves.

  I sighed at myself. Even I knew that was a stupid excuse. I had been pretty much one of the most overworked people I knew, back when I worked as a social worker. Not that it stopped me from fussing over other people. Maybe I would send her some coffee.

  “They're coming with,” Marguerite said with a nod of her head. Both of her eyes were open and focused intently on Riley now.

  Riley opened her mouth to protest, and then glanced at the clock. Then she shrugged. “Okay.”

  I narrowed my eyes, concerned. That was way too easy. But it was almost four o'clock in the morning, and she had to be exhausted.

  We settled into one of the larger interrogation rooms, Marguerite in the suspect-side chair and us standing behind her. Even Gianna was there, standing slightly behind me to the side, watching everything with wary eyes.

  “We need to talk about Clara's death,” Riley said.

  Gianna's eyes widened. “Clara?” Her voice was shaky.

  I took a half-step in her direction, reaching out a hand to touch her, but I pulled it back when I saw the look on her face. She looked fragile, almost breakable. “Do you need to leave?”

  She shook her head, her lips a stubborn line.

  “Would you like to wait outside?” Riley asked, her voice gentle.

  Gianna hesitated, then nodded. There was a knock on the door and one of the female sergeants – Rose – stood there, smiling at Gianna. “Let's get you some soda.”

  That was exactly what she needed at four in the morning, caffeine. But she also didn't really need to be in this room listening to the gruesome details. Gianna turned and looked at me, and I smiled, nodded my approval.

  As the door closed behind them, I itched with the desire to follow and check up on her. It was one thing leaving Gianna at school, and another to let her be in a police station that she was familiar with only because she had been interrogated there.

  “Stay here,” Marguerite said curtly. “It's a learning opportunity.”

  It took me a few seconds to realize that she was talking to me. I wanted to scowl in her direction, but I didn’t. I was smarter than that.

  “Right,” Riley said, shuffling the paper. “Let's go over what we know.”