Charms & Clouds

by Emilia Spring

  I turned and shot him a look. “Better than asking the fish.”

  “Amphibian,” Gianna corrected automatically. Theodore looked almost smug.

  “The talking amphibian,” Theodore agreed.

  “Whatever,” I said, unable to deal with them at the moment. “Do you know anything about it?” I looked at Theodore out of the corner of my eyes.

  “Nope,” Theodore said cheerfully. “I felt like sticking my nose into things.”

  “You don't have a nose,” I said.

  If an axolotl could've looked offended, he did. “Run along,” he said, and I could practically feel him trying to shoo us out the door.

  I shook my head, still a little bit baffled by exactly what my life had become. But, I wouldn't trade it for anything. After all, it was a lot more interesting than my old life.

  Chapter Eight

  When we got home, Aunt Mabel was sitting on the porch. Or, well, as sitting on the porch as a ghost could be. She seemed to sink a little bit into the bench, but I didn't say anything. Even though she was a ghost, she probably still had her ego.

  “You're late.” Great-Aunt Mabel narrowed her eyes.

  I sighed. “Technically we don't really have a confirmed schedule.”

  Gianna snorted.

  “You should be home to cook dinner.” Mabel looked pointedly at Gianna.

  “We have pizza in the fridge.” I shrugged.

  The look that Aunt Mabel sent me could've lit my hair on fire. Or the rest of me too, depending on how mad she was.

  “Fine,” I said. “I'll add grocery shopping to the list of things to do tomorrow.” I hadn’t replenished the stash that Sam had given me ages ago. It was on the long, long list of things that never got done. But neither Aunt Mabel nor Sam needed to know that.

  “Excellent,” Great-Aunt Mabel said. “I'll come with you.”

  “Can ghosts grocery shop?” I was doubtful.

  She didn’t dignify that with an answer.

  I turned to look between her and Gianna, considering. I had some questions I wanted to ask her, and Gianna could use some training. Maybe we could test the countdown, see if she saw it on anyone else.

  “Up for a lesson, Gianna?” I turned to look at her. She raised her eyebrows. “I'm curious to see what you can see on Great-Aunt Mabel.”

  Gianna looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded. I could see apprehension in the way she held herself, shoulders slightly back and her lips turned down at the sides. But she was ready to try.

  “See?” Great-Aunt Mabel sounded curious, and I could see her move closer to us as we headed inside the house. Pizza or not, she was a gossip.

  “Clara was murdered,” I said nonchalantly.

  Great-Aunt Mabel's eyebrows shot up. “As in head of the Council Clara?”

  “Yep.” I ran a hand through my hair, rubbed my eyes. I was suddenly tired.

  “Good riddance,” Great-Aunt Mabel muttered.

  Really? I cleared my throat. “More relevantly,” I said, “Gianna could see a timer on her forehead.”

  Great-Aunt Mabel turned to track Gianna as she headed towards the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. “A timer?”

  Gianna nodded, even though I could tell she was uncomfortable being the center of attention. No wonder she kept refusing invitations to dinner. Maybe we would have to do something else, start more non-traditionally.

  “What did it look like?” Mabel asked.

  “It was sort of like gold,” Gianna said slowly. “It was like it was floating in front of her head, but not really.” She frowned, and I could practically see her searching for words that described what she had seen.

  “It was counting down, too,” I added helpfully.

  Great-Aunt Mabel floated to the couch, sinking down on it. It was strange to see her sink down into the couch as if she was settled on it, when the couch didn't move. She just dipped a bit into it. “Can you see anything on mine?”

  Gianna looked at her, and then closed her eyes and opened them again. What was she doing? She shook her head. “You’re gray.”

  Great Aunt Mabel straightened up, indignant. “I'll have you know that I went to the shop every week to have my hair touched up.”

  I bit back a laugh. Gianna looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

  “I meant your body,” Gianna said. “Your aura.”

  Oh goody. Now we were working auras into our magic. Just when I thought my life couldn't get more bizarre. Next I was going to be reading crystal balls.

  “So she was a different type of color?” I asked.

  Gianna nodded. “She was golden, but it was starting to fade.” She looked thoughtful for a second. “Maybe that's why her forehead was gold.”

  “I think you may have seen the countdown to when she died,” I said softly.

  Gianna looked stricken, and I wasn't sure what to say to make her feel better. I honestly wasn't sure if there was anything that could be said to make her feel better. “Is that why you panicked at the police station?” I put the pieces together.

  Gianna nodded. She swallowed thickly. “I was afraid.”

  I let that hang there for a bit, let Gianna decide if she wanted to say more about it. When she was quiet, I propped my hands on my hips. “Let's start with meditation.”

  “Inside or outside?” Gianna turned half towards the door.

  “We can do inside if you’re comfortable with it.” If we were going to test her powers, I didn't want people to be able to see. Not that there was anyone nearby – the people in the cottages kept to themselves – but I was rather protective of her.

  It took me a few seconds to get a guard activated, and Great Aunt Mabel decided to come in the bubble with us. It wasn't my best guard – I could see a couple patches – but it wasn't my worst, either. And Gianna's magic hadn't shown to be nearly as destructive as mine.

  “Breathe in,” I said, starting the ever-familiar pattern. It was getting easier and easier to sink into it, to feel my body relax and the tension leave. I felt that comfortable, floaty feeling and felt my magic flow through me, even though I couldn’t see it. Maybe someday Marguerite would teach me that trick.

  For now, I felt a kind of honey-slow warmth start in my chest and go out towards my limbs, leaving me feeling sated and comfortable. I wondered what that felt like for Gianna. If hers was different, because of the different type of magic.

  I kept my meditation short, keeping my eyes open so that I could focus on Gianna as she meditated. I couldn’t see her magic, but I could see that she was struggling some to maintain focus. Every so often she fidgeted, twitching, her face distressed as one of her muscles cramped.

  “If you're not up for this, we don't have to,” I said.

  There was something fierce in her eyes. “I'm fine.”

  For all that I had thought I'd figured out this whole parenting thing, I realized then that I really didn't have a clue what I was doing. Although if you asked me, no one really knew what they were doing. Everyone just sort of made it up as they went along.

  “Okay,” I said, letting the subject drop. “Let's do some more breathing, then.”

  Gianna nodded and closed her eyes, her hands resting on her knees. To give her credit, I could tell that she was focusing more this time, because while her eyes flickered underneath her eyelids, the rest of her body didn't move except for the rise and fall of her chest. I couldn't see the magic being pulled back underneath her skin, but I could tell that was what it was doing.

  “What would you like to try today?” I asked, my voice soft. She had been maintaining her breathing by herself for several cycles, and seemed to be comfortable in her own skin.

  Slowly Gianna opened her eyes, and then smiled. The smile wasn't directed at me, but whether it was for herself, or for succeeding, I didn’t know. “I'd like to see if I can summon a ghost at will.”

  “Okay,” I said, clapping my hands together. She had summoned Aunt Mabel. Surely this couldn’t be that bad. “Anybody in mind?”r />
  Gianna bit her lip. “I want to call Mom.”

  “Have you talked to her before?” I asked, my voice soft.

  Gianna nodded. “I want her to meet you.”

  I wasn't really sure what to say to that. It felt like somebody had dumped a bucket of ice water on my head, but in a good way. I was honored, I was terrified. I mean, I knew it had only been a month, but that felt like a significant step forward. In a way, she was getting a chance that many families didn't get. For their new parent to meet the old one.

  “All right,” I said. “Do you need the guard open?”

  Gianna shrugged. “I don't know.” I could see her fingers tapping restlessly on her knees.

  I didn't quite expect her to know, but I felt I had to ask anyways. If she had done this before, maybe she knew some of the pitfalls.

  I sat across from her, watching her. It was hard to mentor her magic when I didn't know what I was doing. Although to be fair, given what Marguerite had said, it sounded like anybody would've been shooting in the dark. I just didn't know all of the theory behind the magic. Sam had given me a list of books to check out from the library, and I had checked them out but not read them. I added that next to my list of things to do.

  “How do you summon them?” I asked, my voice quiet.

  Gianna was sitting cross-legged again, her hands clasped loosely in her lap. She was sitting straight as a rod, her eyes closed. “I can feel them.”

  Something eerie crept up my spine. The hairs on the nape of my neck were standing up, and I shivered. I honestly didn't think I was scared, but the whole thing was sort of spooky. Okay, yeah, I was scared. “Go ahead and see if you can get Rosetta to come,” I said, my voice gentle.

  Gianna smiled, but she wasn’t smiling at me. “Mom?” she said softly, her tone suddenly distant. “Mom, it's okay.”

  There was something deeper in her voice, something more ethereal. For the millionth time in the past few minutes, it sent shivers down my spine. But I sat there, patient and ever-present.

  “It's okay,” Gianna said again, and her lips curved up.

  I struggled to sit there and continue to have dignity, instead of running away screaming. It felt like a horror novel, just in real life.

  Then Gianna's eyes opened. She was looking to my right.

  Nerves skittering across my skin, I turned my right, and nearly jumped when I saw somebody sitting there. It was somebody I only recognized from the newspaper articles I'd seen, a tall, brunette woman with light colored eyes. She was dressed in a long skirt, and a flowy blouse.

  “Mom,” Gianna said with a choked-back noise. She stood and went over, giving the ghost a hug. Or as much of a hug as you could give somebody that didn't actually exist.

  Something tugged at my heart when I saw them. It was weird, in a strange way, that Gianna would get to have a relationship with her family after death. But it was a good thing, too.

  “Hi darling,” Rosetta said. Her voice was sort of half there, like a TV that wasn't fully tuned to the channel. “Who's this?” She turned to me.

  “This is Natalie,” Gianna said, gesturing me over.

  I didn't really think there was a protocol on how to meet the ghostly parent of your foster child, so I kind of smiled as I got closer. They really needed to add that to the manual.

  “Clara was killed, Mom,” Gianna said, stumbling only once over the words.

  Rosetta turned to look at her, her eyebrows furrowing.

  I was curious, even though I wasn't going to ask. How much was she aware of in the spirit world? What did she know of the past few weeks?

  “I saw,” Rosetta sighed, then she looked confused. “I think.” She turned to look at me, and something cleared in her eyes. “Please take care of her,” she said with a nod to Gianna.

  Gianna rolled her eyes, but I could see tears gathering at the corner of them. “I'm fine,” she insisted.

  I had to smile, because I could hear the bravado. “I'll do my best,” I promised Rosetta. And I meant it, too. I said it once and I would say it again, Gianna deserved the best chance at life she could get.

  “Why did you take her in?” Rosetta asked, looking at me.

  I stilled for a second, caught off guard. Going straight for the hard question, were we. “I was a social worker before I came here,” I said slowly. “I worked with kids who weren't given a good chance, and who had to deal with stigma.” I thought for a few seconds, my fingers tapping a rhythm on my knee. “I don't believe in punishing the child for perceived sins of the parent,” I said. “I want to do everything I can to keep that from happening in this case. I want to give her the best chance at life I can.”

  Rosetta seemed to study me for a bit, and then nodded, approval brightening her face. “Just be careful.”

  I looked at her, curious. “What do you mean by that?”

  Rosetta's image started to fade, almost like she was getting out of range. I turned to look at Gianna, and noticed how pale she was.

  “Let her go,” I said softly.

  “I don't want to,” Gianna said, her voice breaking.

  “You can't empty your reserves,” I said. There was desperation there, because I didn't know how to force her to break the connection. I didn't even know if it was possible to do that. But I didn't want to see Gianna push herself too far in front of me.

  Then Rosetta's image vanished, and Gianna slumped over. I could see her shoulders shaking, and I really wished I could do something. I reached out and put a hand on her back, to let her know I was there.

  “Well that was anticlimactic,” Great-Aunt Mabel said, appearing out of nowhere.

  Gianna shook her head, and then wiped away the tears too. I didn't mention them, and I was grateful that Mabel didn't either.

  “Your mother was a good woman,” Mabel said.

  Gianna looked at her, caught off guard. “You knew my mother?” Aunt Mabel had died fifteen years ago, before she had been born.

  Mabel nodded. “I was good friends with Emmaline. She used to come to my shop, and we’d get coffee.” Grief crossed over her face. “I was quite sad to hear about what happened with her.”

  “At least we got the one responsible,” I said. I clenched my jaw at that, as I did every time that came up.

  “Is there anything else you think we should try?” I looked at Gianna, taking in how pale she was. I wouldn’t let her, but I wanted to see if she recognized her own limits, or if she was going to try and push herself.

  She took a deep, shaky breath. “I think we should be done for the day,” Gianna admitted.

  I almost sagged in relief but kept my face as neutral as I could. “You want some orange juice?” I asked. I didn't know exactly what doing magic took out of a person, but orange juice was a good way to raise blood sugar. Maybe it would help perk her up a bit, restore some of the color in her cheeks.

  Gianna nodded, leaning back against the couch with her eyes closed. “That would be nice.”

  I stood and went over to the kitchen, pouring us both a glass. I hadn't even been doing that much magic, because my guard had given up halfway through, but I still felt wrung out. Not necessarily physically, but emotionally. Sometimes it took a while to hit me exactly what she was going through.

  I brought back the orange juice, handing her one of the glasses, and then sinking back onto the couch. Great-Aunt Mabel had apparently gone somewhere else in the house, or maybe to do something only ghosts did. Was there a ghost realm?

  “She floated into the attic,” Gianna said. She picked up the glass of orange juice and sipped it, her eyes fluttering closed. I sat there with her in the quiet, not wanting to pressure her to talk about anything she didn't want to talk about. “You were a social worker?” Gianna asked, turning to look at me.

  That wasn't exactly what I expected her to say. “Yes,” I said. “I worked with child protective services.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really?”

  I nodded. “I was there for four years.” I was surprised s
he didn’t know that, but we hadn’t really talked about the details of my life before.

  Gianna looked at me, and then looked away. “Why did you leave?”

  That was a good question. “You know how it's not one thing that breaks your spirit, but a lot of little things?” I asked. “Like it's not the fact that you were shunned, but the little ways in which in which it popped up in your day-to-day life?”

  I probably shouldn't have said that, for I saw Gianna's throat bob as she swallowed and nodded. “It was kind of like that. I could handle some of the cases, but there were more cases every day, and very few of them would have a happy ending.”

  It was probably too much of a serious subject to be talking about with her, but she had asked, and I did want to try and be honest. We were quiet for a second, and Gianna looked thoughtful. “Do you regret it?”

  Well, that could mean a whole lot of things. “Nope,” I said, and it was a pretty blanket answer to pretty much anything she could be asking about.

  “What about taking me in?” Gianna looked at me out of the corner of her eyes.

  “Don't regret it at all,” I said immediately. And even more importantly, it was true. Sure, yeah, life was a little bit different with her around than it had been before. But it was the perfect sort of thing to help me establish a new life. Besides, she needed me.

  “Why don't you do social work stuff here?” Gianna asked, looking at me.

  That was a good question. “There's not a lot of opportunities here,” I said. “Plus – sometimes you see enough of something that you don't want to see any more, you know?”

  Gianna lowered her eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

  I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to leave her behind, but I was pretty sure Marguerite would be more than unhappy if I missed dinner. Maybe she would make it rain in my house. “Do you want to come with me to dinner?”

  Gianna shook her head. “I'll stay here,” she said. “I have some homework to do.”

  I sat there and studied her for a few moments, debating. “What if just a couple people come over?” I asked.

  She looked at me, alarmed. “What?”

  “It would be safe people, like Sam or Avery,” I assured her. “We’d have a nice, casual dinner here.”