by A. L. Knorr
When we'd had our fill, we turned back to Tottori and made our way home. The white columns grew thick again as we winged our way over the busy urban center. We flew through the columns of light and in places they were so thick there was nothing but swirling threads of white and gray all around us. Returning to Yuudai’s apartment, we entered through the open window and I hopped to the bathroom where I’d stashed my clothes.
"What did you think?" Yuudai asked as I came walking out of his bathroom, tugging my shirt down and raking my fingers through my hair. He’d changed in the bedroom and was standing at the open window leaning an elbow on the sill. "Pretty cool, right?"
"Amazing," I said. "Are those their spirits?" I joined him at the window and we looked out over the city.
"Their connection to the Æther."
"The white thread is good, and the gray is evil?"
"Yes, in a very simplified way. I prefer to think of the white thread as love, and the gray one as fear." We crossed the park and made our way toward downtown Tottori. The heat of the day had just passed, and the dinner hour was drawing near.
"And the spinning…"
Yuudai let me think it through.
"When they spin clockwise, it’s the love strand that is thick and strong, and dominates the connection. When they spin counterclockwise, the gray thread is thicker and it makes the whole column darker. Am I right?"
"Very clever," he said.
"So, this is Hanta vision," I marveled.
"You would be able to see a possession from how the dark strand changes the column, it looks totally different." The mouth-watering smell of fried vegetables and rice drifted up to us and on the air and made both of us groan. Yuudai looked down at me. "Dinner?
I grinned. "Absolutely."
Epilogue
I descended into the back yard of the house under the cover of darkness and phased back into human. The key was exactly where Daichi had said it would be, under the windowsill of the basement window next to the steps leading up to our back door. I didn't bother to untie the silk robe and put it on. There was no one about at this time of night and I would be inside in a moment.
Bare feet on grass, and pale skin reflecting the moonlight, I unlocked the door with steady fingers. Letting myself into the empty house, I was taken off guard by a stab of loneliness. Daichi and I had been together for so long, and even though all I wanted was to be free of him, it was going to take some time adjusting to life without him.
I walked through to the front door and picked up the pile of mail sitting just under the mail slot. I smiled to see the package pickup notice from the local post office. My backpack, the sword, and my passport had arrived.
I took a hot shower, put on my pajama shorts and tank top, and crawled into bed. I slipped into a deep sleep and didn't wake until late the next morning. It took me several minutes to remember that Daichi would not be here, he'd never be in my life ever again. Birds singing outside my window roused me and as I padded into the empty kitchen, sun slanted into the windows and threw squares of light onto the floor.
I luxuriated in the moment of deciding what to do first for myself. Should I make breakfast at home, or treat myself? One peek in the fridge answered my question, because there was nothing but a couple of rotting limes and a take-out box that smelled like rotting fish. I chucked the bad food into the garbage and went back to my room to dress. Grabbing some cash from under the telephone in the foyer, I pulled on a pair of sneakers and left the house.
As I walked to the post office, I felt the opening of gaping questions in my mind. What did I do now? Did I stay in Saltford and make a life here? Did I want to sell the house and go back to Japan, or perhaps take up the Hanta life and dedicate myself to hunting? Make up for all the lost years when I was no help whatsoever to mankind?
I thought of Yuudai and his invitation to hunt with him. My stomach did a little flip of excitement at the idea of it.
I took the steps into the small post office of our community and went inside. Exchanging the notice for my package, I made my way back home so I could charge my phone. Leaving my phone plugged in and dumping my backpack on my bed, I grabbed the copy of Brave New World left unfinished on my bedside table and left the house again.
On my way to Flagg's Cafe, I had to close my eyes and breathe out the gratitude that was steadily building inside me. The day was warm and full of the sounds of life. I was not beholden or responsible to anyone in this moment, and while I knew that would change, and I welcomed it, the moment I was living in right here, right now was no one's but mine.
I knew then and there that I had to tell Saxony, Georjayna, and Targa the truth about my identity. The girls didn't know what they had meant to me in the few short years that I had known them. They were as much my family as Aimi was, and the thought of continuing on with the lies Daichi had spun around us made my stomach sour.
Flagg's Cafe was bustling with people and smelled of eggs and bacon. I ordered a breakfast sandwich and a coffee and found myself a small table outside under an umbrella.
I felt like the richest woman in the world.
"Thank you so much," I said with so much genuine authenticity that the red-headed boy who delivered my food blinked at me.
"You're welcome," he said. "Nice day for brunch outside. Enjoy."
"I will, thank you again." I ate my salty breakfast slowly, savoring every bite. When the meal was finished, I pulled my frothy coffee close and opened my book. It was pure heaven. I allowed time to slip away without marking it, and returned home when I was ready.
Checking my phone, I saw that it was a Sunday. No wonder the cafe had been so full of leisurely brunchers. I read the texts that I had missed while I'd been so focused on my mission. As I was reading, a text from Georjayna popped up.
Georjayna: I'm back! Just got in last night. I'm dragging my ass today. How are you guys? I have so much to tell you! Like. Seriously.
I chewed my lip and thought that as much as I wanted to see them, to talk to them, and hear about their summer vacations, I needed a few more days to myself. I wanted to think through what was next for me, and if I was really honest, I just wanted to luxuriate in my new-found freedom a little longer.
I texted back: I'll be back on Friday. Are you all around next weekend? Sorry I've been so MIA. It's been... I blinked, searching for the right words. There was no way I could even find an adjective to describe my summer adequately. Uh... where do I start...
Saxony: I'm here! Me too. Nuttiest. Summer. Ever. Targa? You around?
Targa: I'm around. Can't wait to see you guys. I missed your faces. Summer was mind-blowing. Still can't believe everything that's happened. I def have news.
Saxony: Sleep over? Georjie, your place?
Georjayna: Yup, come on over. Saturday afternoon, anytime. Just shoot me a text. I'll get stuff for a wiener roast. Bring your bathing suits.
Me: Werd.
Targa: I'll be there.
I shut off my phone. So there it was. In a matter of a week, we would all be together, and I would spill my entire story to my best friends. They weren't going to know what hit them.
<<<<>>>>
Keep reading for the BONUS short story: GOING HOME
An old bookstore, a mysterious cat, and a small casket. What could possibly go wrong?
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing to spend some of your reading time with my stories, without you, I wouldn’t be able to pursue my dream career. If you enjoyed Born of Æther, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Kindle will prompt you and give you a link at the end of the book. I can’t even tell you how much reviews help indie authors like me.
If Born of Æther is the first novel you’ve read from the Elemental Origins Series (which can be read out of order) and you enjoyed it, then I highly recommend you snag Born of Water to learn what Targa got up to in Poland while Akiko was busy fighting demons in Japan. Born of Fire documents Saxony’s adventure in Italy, and Born of Earth follows Georjie to Ir
eland. Born of Air is currently in development, as is the ensemble novel that will bring all the girls back together again for an epic adventure.
For those who are wondering if the girls stories will continue on after the ensemble book, the answer is yes! The Elemental Origins Series will be concluded with book 6, but an ‘origin’ is just a beginning. Come along with me as the adventures continue to unfold.
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Abby (A.L. Knorr)
PS: TURN THE PAGE FOR THE BONUS SHORT STORY: GOING HOME
Going Home
An Urban Fantasy short story by A.L. Knorr
Chapter 1
The stone building loomed like a prison, but behind the forbidding walls of Catchpole's Bookshop hid a world of enchantment. The grandfather clock with the hourglass balanced on pins just below the face chimed noon as four kids from Stonewall Collegiate entered. A small bell tinkled over the door as Molly, Teddy, Alf, and Dana crossed the threshold. Lunch hour allowed a brief moment in time when the kids were free to roam and do as they wished.
Molly VanWinkle visited Catchpole's almost every day, and definitely on the days he received a new shipment. Edgar Catchpole would let her sit by the fire and stroke Bastet's soft fur for as long as she wanted. He never warned her not to dog-ear the pages of his books, or told her to put the books back where she found them. He knew she'd take care of them as though they were her own.
The smell of dusty volumes, moldy paper, and old leather assaulted the kid’s noses. Molly took a deep breath. The scent was equal to a promise of discovery and new knowledge. Catchpole's Bookshop was her chosen escape. Escape from the memory of her mother's sudden passing a mere seventy days ago, not that she was counting. Escape from her brooding unemployed father and how Gus VanWinkle seemed more distressed by the loss of his job at the machine shop than he was about the death of his wife. Molly felt invisible everywhere but the book store. She needed Catchpole's Bookshop and the transport it promised into worlds of mystery, wonder, and enchantment. Edgar Catchpole had lost his wife Astarte several years back. The ageing proprietor and the girl had shared an unspoken bond: loss.
Catchpole's Bookshop was disorderly, overpopulated, and colourful. The bookshelves had long since been filled up and books began to gather in stacks on the floor, piled behind and under chairs, and crammed into the open drawers of several antique dressers.
Edgar himself sat neck-deep in an oversized leather chair with wooden clawed feet in front of the cheerful fire. The stone fireplace smoked so badly that soot stained the walls and sticky black tongues licked up the mantle and over the rock face reaching up past the second floor balcony. Edgar used to hang a portrait of his wife above the fireplace, but after having to clean it every day, he moved it into his personal apartment in the back of the building.
A sleek black cat with a blaze of gray between her ears sat on the counter near the broken antique till which Astarte had loved and Edgar refused to get rid of. The cat's head turned toward the visitors, reminding Molly of an owl. Bastet’s eyes were the colour of a harvest moon, and just as bright. The glittering vertical slashes of her pupils missed nothing. Bastet hopped down onto the hand-braided carpet and padded toward the fireplace. The fire in front of the feline blazed up as the open door let in cool autumn wind. The cats long shadow stretched and flickered across the floor towards Molly.
"Molly." Edgar Catchpole nodded at his familiar young friend and his specs slid down the sweaty bridge of his nose to balance on the end.
"Hi, Edgar," said Molly, taking off her threadbare wool beret. Her ginger curls bounced as she tucked her hat into her book bag. She approached the cat first to stroke the soft ears. "Hello, Bastet." The cat thrust her head into the girls palm and purred. Molly was one of the least offensive visitors they had, and Bastet knew that better than any. She'd endured yanked tails, poked eyes, and the unfriendly end of an umbrella more than once. The cat liked the girl as much as she could like anyone.
"Hi Mr.Catchpole," said Teddy and Dana together. They weren't on first name terms with the proprietor just yet. Teddy was following Molly, who'd become more and more interesting to him as they'd immersed themselves in their history projects together. He used to think she was a snob but had quickly come to realize that he had been mistaken. Molly was as sweet a girls come.
Alf sneezed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Dusty in here," he sniffed, not bothering to monitor the volume of his voice.
Dana elbowed him.
"Anything specific today?" Edgar rose from his chair and shoved his specs back into place. He never completely rose to upright. One might ascribe his subtle humpback to age, but truth be told, Edgar had been born with a twisted spine and had never really been straight.
"We've been assigned a paper for Simpsons history class," said Dana. "Topic is our choice as long is its pre-fifteenth century. We're looking for ideas. Molly's interested in Egypt. I'd like something Greek I think, and..." she looked at the boys vacant expressions. "They haven't a clue."
"Do you have anything on Vlad the Impaler?" Alf asked.
Dana saw the cat flinch as Alfie's voice penetrated every corner of the room.
Alf's eyes lit with bloodlust at the idea of a gruesome report on the Romanian blood-drinker. He was almost positive he could make the weak-stomached Dana vomit with a cleverly worded paper, not that Alf was all that rich in clever.
"The good ancient history ones would be found on the second level," Edgar pointed to the stairs. The second level wasn't an actual floor but rather a walkway with a railing that ran the circumference of the shop.
"Thank God," mumbled Molly.
Teddy cocked his head at her.
Molly wasn't proud. "Second hand books are upstairs," she explained. Edgar would let her do all of her research in the shop for free, but eventually the guilt would compound and she'd feel like she should buy something to say thank you. By now she was in overdraft.
"Oh," Teddy was reminded that Molly didn't come from money like the rest of them. "Why don't you just use the school library?" He asked as he followed her up the spiral staircase.
She threw a look over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. "They don't have anything good there. Do you even know where the school library is?"
Feet pounding on wood made the Bastet’s ears twitch and she left her spot in front of the fire to scamper after the kids. Bastet always followed people up to the second level. Edgar watched the feline glide up the staircase on liquid paws. He shook his head. He hoped he could ascend stairs so easily when he was the equivalent of... he cocked his head, thinking - he didn't know how old Bastet was. She had been Astarte's cat and Astarte had had Bastet since before she and Edgar had married, over thirty years ago.
The kids laughter rang out over the balcony and filled the old store with the sound of life. Edgar smiled. It was nice to hear happy voices in this place of faded fables, smoke, and dust. Molly didn't often bring her friends into his shop.
"Cool, check this out," Alf said to Teddy and the two boys bent to peer into a glass cabinet at the top of the stairs. The top of the cabinet was full of books, but a single bottom shelf had been relegated to trinket and oddity storage.
"Careful boys," Edgar said. "Those glass cases are fragile."
"We'll be careful," promised Teddy.
Teddy and Alf were nothing but two skinny backsides as Edgar squeezed passed them, their faces pressed up against the glass case full of random collectables; old spectacles, candlestick holders made of bone, an old skull with a drippy lump of beeswax melted over its dome, a vial of mysterious black powder, a giant parasitic isopod suspended in formaldehyde.
"That's hideous," said Alf, but his tone was reverent.
"How do you find a
nything in this mess?" came Molly's voice from an alcove up ahead.
Edgar smiled. She said that every time she visited. He left the boys to their gaping and followed the girls into Astarte's antiquities section.
Chapter 2
"Whoa, how old are these?" asked Dana as she pulled out two ancient looking books with cracked leather bindings. One was black with a silver title embossed into the cover. The lettering was definitely not English. The other volume was tan coloured, no title, and much older looking. She wrinkled her nose. "They smell like moldy hay and..." She sniffed the black one and frowned, looking a little queasy.
"What?" said Molly, looking down from where she was perched on the window seat reaching for something on the top shelf.
"Blood?" Dana ventured.
"Can I see that?" Molly stepped down, and dropped to her knees beside her friend. To Dana's surprise, Molly took the brown one. "Feels like animal skin.” Molly ran her fingertips along the smooth cover. She cracked the book open to the first page.
"There's no title page," Dana said, peering over her friends shoulder.
There wasn't, but there was an illustration of a single eye with an eyebrow and a teardrop swirling down and away from the inner corner. "Is this done by hand?" Molly asked, running a fingertip gently over the illustration. She frowned. Where had she seen such a symbol before? Goosebumps swept over her skin and up the back of her neck.
"I believe so," said Edgar, biting on the end of his spectacles. The girls jumped and looked up at where he’d appeared behind them. "Those books were Astarte's. All the oldest ones are. I don't even know what's all up here."