"I'm not lazy," I said. "I just have enough things happening in my life that I want no more issues to deal with. I haven't talked with the Kaffales yet, for example. Can you explain to me now why we're here?"
"To test my theory," Martinus said. "And to show you something."
"And what is your theory?" I asked, following towards the door of the house and coming in.
Magicians don't seem to lock doors. But then, only the people they allow can come to their estates at all, so I guess it makes sense?
"I'd like to hear it too," my uncle said, squinting at us. "Why did you come back with your fiancé, Amy, and why did you give him permission to come here? Especially a permanent permission."
"A permanent permission?" I said, giving Martinus a look.
"Yes. Permission not just for this time, but for any time, day or night," my uncle said.
"You didn't say it would be a permanent thing," I hissed at Martinus.
He didn't look ashamed at all.
"I gave you permanent permission to come to my house, also," he said. "Besides, I'm your fiancé, right? Why shouldn't I be able to visit you?"
"Because it would be inappropriate," my uncle said. "And what is this theory you were talking about?"
"Well, Amy has been struggling with Control," Martinus explained, "in both Practical Magic and Magical Energy. If she doesn't fix the issue, she will be kicked out of the Academy before the semester ends. And I have a theory why she's having issues."
"And you need to test this theory in my house?" my uncle asked.
"It's Amy's house, too," Martinus said, "and I think that will help fix the problem. She's been away from the house for too long. She's lost contact with the magic and only knows how to self-generate, without absorbing it from the environment. Children usually start absorbing energy from their house, where the energy is more similar to their own, more easily digestible. That's why Amy needs to do the same exercises in the house. She'll be much better at them here, I think."
"I had the same theory," my uncle said, "but it hasn't even been a day since Amy came into this house. Isn't it a bit too early? I was going to introduce her next week."
"If my theory is right," Martinus said, "we need to do it now, while she's getting familiar with the house. Amy needs to break the pattern; it's best to strike the iron while it is hot."
I listened as they entered a technical discussion on ethereal bodies and magic accumulation and whatnot, periodically pointing at me. They were talking about me, while I understood nothing they said. As the discussion got more heated, and I understood less and less, I finally snapped.
"Stop! Stop talking about me while I'm here! I'm not some piece of iron you can mold to your will! What are you saying, anyway?"
They looked at me with a slightly condescending expression that irked me enough that I punched Martinus on the solar plexus. I couldn't punch my uncle, after all.
"Ouch!" Martinus exclaimed, bent. "What was that?"
"That," I said, shaking my hand, as my knuckles hurt a bit, "is for the look you gave me. I'm not stupid, I just don't know enough yet."
"Why did she become so bloodthirsty?" Martinus asked my uncle, who wisely took a step back from me. "Is it because she joined the family?"
"I doubt it," my uncle said. "The Morad women are not that bloodthirsty. It may be the female hormones combined with the magic, though."
"If both of you don't want to get punched again," I said, crossing my arms on my chest, "don't talk about me in the third person. Not while I'm present. And if you discuss my female hormones, I'll start telling you every gruesome detail of my female cycle. With graphic details."
"That is scarier than getting punched," Martinus told my uncle.
"I agree," my uncle said.
They both shivered theatrically.
"So," I said, ignoring their antiques, "can you explain to me, in human terms, what you were saying?"
They looked at each other, their expressions making me want to punch them again.
"I think it's better if we show you," Martinus said. "And test my theory."
To test Martinus' theory, my uncle took me to a room in the basement, a big, empty, windowless hall with a big stone in the middle. I had the same sensation in the mouth I usually had in the Magic Energy class; the air felt viscous, sticky, and my hands felt like they were covered in honey.
Martinus stayed at the door of the hall, not coming in.
"I'm not a Morad," he explained. "And the energy is really, really, concentrated here."
"But you do fine in the Academy," I pointed out.
"The energy in the Academy is more neutral," Martinus said. "Whereas here, it is a lot more specialized. Attuned to your family's blood and magic. It won't do me any good."
I looked at my uncle, who nodded, confirming what Martinus was saying. He looked perfectly comfortable here, walking around the room with a spring in his feet.
"Since the energy in this room is much closer to yours," Martinus said, from the door, "it will be easier for you to absorb it. It's almost a part of you; it will help you. Go towards the middle, as close to the central stone as you can, and sit there."
I walked towards the center, feeling how it was becoming harder and harder to breathe, until I was panting. I sat there, five feet away from the stone in the center, cross-legged, and tried to do the energy absorption exercise. It was hard, as the shallow, fast breathing meant the energy flowed inside me through my mouth and lungs. But I started feeling the viscous air all around me. It wasn't exactly pleasant; it felt like I was covered in honey and sweating throughout my entire body, my feet uncomfortably wet. I uncrossed my legs and removed my shoes and socks, feeling closer to the floor. The skirt, which covered everything, protected me from the cold, stone floor.
"Try feeling like you're absorbing the energy through your skin, your entire body, not just your mouth," my uncle instructed me, from somewhere behind. I heard everything as if it was coming through a pillow, or like I was in the water. I think Martinus may have said something, but I didn't hear it.
I tried that, and this time, maybe because I finally felt the energy, it worked.
The house was happy. It had waited for me to come, and now that I was here, it was delighted to share, to make me closer to it, to help me heal by generously pouring its energy into me.
It was the difference between struggling to drink the last drops with a straw and having a barrel poured into you. I just had to gulp, absorbing everything, feeling my stomach expanding, growing, with every breath, every second, as I felt the air around me becoming even more viscous, all my body filling with magic, and the energy going towards my stomach, which was expanding, growing, feeling overstretched, painful, uncomfortable. When the pain became too much, and I started to feel like I was about to explode, I opened my eyes, trying to stop the barrel of energy, and crawled away from it, towards the door, gasping for air, as it became thinner and thinner, until I could finally breathe easily, panting, collapsing at Martinus' feet.
"It seems it went a bit too far," Martinus observed, sliding his hands under my knees and neck and lifting me, carrying me away.
"But you were right," my uncle said, going out. "Now was the time to do it. Have you noticed how her face changed?"
I was still hearing everything as if I was swimming in water. With an echo. Is there an echo in water? I don't know.
I was giddy. Everything looked just so weird. I could see how the bright light that was emanating from the room we left, was channeled into a strange web that went through the walls, the ceiling, the floor, to form a net. From my position, I could only see Martinus' chest and head, and he looked funny. Which I told him.
"You look funny," I told him. "You're blurry, and you have this big red ball in the middle of you, and your head is yellow, while your arms are green."
"She's seeing magic now," Martinus said.
"It seems like you were right," another voice said faintly. "She's going through all the ma
gical stages at a very accelerated pace."
I started giggling. Everything was just so funny! And I was getting dizzy because of being carried. I punched Martinus' shoulder.
"Let me go," I said, slurring the words a bit. "I wanna walk."
"But you can't walk," he said, stopping.
"I can," I said, trying to roll out of his arms. "I'll show you."
He sighed.
"Just let me help you then," he said, releasing my legs, letting me slide into a standing position.
We then faced each other. His head was still a big, yellow ball. I wanted to see if it was a ball to the touch, as well. So I put my hands on his chin and started exploring his face. I felt his chin, cheeks, nose, eyes, eyebrows, forehead, hairline, hair, ears, cheeks, lips.
"You're scratchy," I said.
"I know," he said. "I shaved in the morning, but it's almost the evening now."
"I want to taste you," I said, and did that, my lips going towards his.
He tasted sweet and salty, nice and pleasant, fiery, hot, magical. I closed my eyes, giving myself to the taste, the feeling of magic, the sensations. I think I wasn't standing very straight, because I stumbled, leaning on his shoulders.
"While she has the excuse of being drunk," a hateful, annoying voice said, "you, Mr. Novak, have no excuse to be kissing my niece so passionately in front of my eyes. Stop taking advantage of her state."
The lips abandoned me. The shoulders slid away under my hands, and I was firmly grabbed by my elbow, the yellow-green mass with a red core standing beside me.
"I would say she's the one who's taking advantage of me," Martinus' voice said.
"Don't be a smartass," the annoying voice said. I looked around. The light was still too bright behind me, but I could see another yellow-greenish mass in front of the light, this one with a bigger red core.
"Where should we take her?" Martinus asked.
My stomach grumbled.
"I'm hungry," I said. "I want to eat turkey. An entire turkey. With stuffing. Loadsa stuffing. And a pumpkin pie. And an apple pie. And bacon. And waffles. With chocolate. And eggnog."
"Let's go eat, then," Martinus' voice said. "But, sweetie, you can't drink alcohol. Will you be OK with eggnog without the rum?"
I considered it.
"Will it have sugar? And cinnamon?" I asked.
"Of course," he said. "Lots of sugar. Lots of cinnamon."
"Then it's OK," I said. "But I want loadsa loadsa eggnog."
"Let's go then," Martinus' voice said. I tried walking, but then hit a wall.
"There's a wall," I said.
"Yes, there is," Martinus said.
"I think I'll go order the food," my uncle said. "At the rate you're going, the food will be ready by the time you get there. And make sure you don't do anything funny while I'm away, young man."
"I'm not a monster," Martinus said. "I wouldn't take advantage of her. I'm not even sure she's aware of what's happening."
"I'm aware," I protested. "I see everything. Everything in this house."
"How long will this last?" Martinus asked, sighing.
"It took my daughter a year to switch between magical and normal sight, and fourteen months for my son," the voice said. "As for her, she's going at such an accelerated pace, I've got no idea what will happen."
The house helped me walk. It was a lot more helpful than Martinus, telling me where the sharp corners and steps and doorjambs were. Martinus tried, but he was rubbish at giving concrete, actionable instructions. Maybe also because I could barely hear what he said, to be fair to him.
I was able to smell the turkey when we went up a flight of stairs and through a door, me having to hug the doorjamb to avoid stumbling on the threshold.
After that, I just walked towards the food, barely needing any help.
Martinus had to seat me, because I couldn't see the chair. Furniture, with a few notable exceptions, had become invisible to me, as it was mostly dead wood with no magic in it. At least no more magic than the surrounding air.
I started extending my hand towards the food, and my hand ended in some viscous liquid. I licked my finger. It was gravy. I continued licking.
"Now, look at the mess you made," Martinus said, grabbing my hands and drying them with a tissue.
"I wanna eat," I said. "Where is the turkey?"
I couldn't see the food, either. In fact, from what I could see, there was nothing in front of me, except for my uncle's yellow blob, which was sitting on air. I could feel the table under my wrists, I could smell the turkey and the waffles, but I couldn't see them.
"I'll help you," Martinus said.
I heard the noise of a knife clinking on a plate.
"Open your mouth," he said. I obediently opened my mouth, to feel a big forkful of turkey generously soaked in gravy enter my mouth.
This was an arrangement I could live with.
"Give me a waffle," I said, extending my right hand, palms up. When I felt the weight on it, I grabbed it and took a bite of the waffle. I chewed but didn't completely forget my manners. "Thanks," I said, after swallowing.
"You're welcome," Martinus said. "Do you want more turkey?"
Turkey and waffles may sound like a weird combination. But so is turkey and eggnog, and I wanted all of it.
"Yes," I said, opening my mouth, and got another forkful. I then extended my left hand. "Give me the eggnog, please."
"Here you go," my uncle said, as I felt the weight of a full glass in my hand, which I grabbed and took a sip.
That's how I ate the entire meal; the things that I could eat with my hand, like the waffles, I ate with my right hand, while Martinus fed me everything that had to be cut or dipped in gravy.
I'm not sure how much I ate, since I couldn't see it. Martinus did ask me, at several points of the meal, whether I was full enough, to which I cheerfully answered I wasn't, after which he sighed and gave me another forkful of turkey, or bacon, or a spoonful of apple pie.
"Thanks," I said when I finally felt my belly was full. "I'm full."
"Finally," Martinus said. Then he asked my uncle. "Did your children eat this much?"
"No," my uncle said, "but they did eat a lot."
Martinus sighed and started blotting my face with a tissue.
"Your face is full of eggnog," he said, as I stood still, allowing him to take the food off the corners of my mouth, "and gravy. How did you do that?"
I shrugged, and he dried my hands, too.
"What is happening here?" I suddenly heard another voice. The house informed me it was grandpa's voice.
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"Grandpaaa!" I lunged towards him, forgetting there was a table in front of me, and ending with my face in… I think it was supposed to be pumpkin pie? Anyway, when I stood up, my face was covered in pumpkin pie.
Martinus sighed again and started cleaning my face again, while I patiently waited, sitting on the chair.
"Who is this young man?" grandpa asked. "And what have you done to my granddaughter?"
"He's my fiancé!" I exclaimed, extending my arms, and hitting the table with my hands.
"Don't move," Martinus said. I think I might have poured gravy all over him; at least I felt something wet on my lap, right where Martinus' thigh was touching me.
"And what is your fiancé doing here?" grandpa asked, curtly. His head was blueish instead of yellow.
"He's experimenting on me!" I exclaimed, right when Martinus was cleaning my face, getting some pumpkin pie into my mouth. "And grandpa, why is your head blue?"
"Is my head blue?" grandpa asked.
"Yes," I said. I pointed to Martinus and my uncle. "His head and his head are yellow. Your head is blue. Why is that?"
"I'll explain what is happening here," Martinus said. "But first, we have to get Amy cleaned up. And put her to bed, before she does something else. I'll explain what's happening after that."
"Amy does need to get washed up," grandpa said. "Her dress is a real mess. How did she get all
that food on herself? But anyway, young man, fiancé or not, you won't be cleaning my granddaughter. Neither will my son. I will call Cloris to help her."
Martinus finished blotting my face, so I stood up, carefully touching the edges of the table, and went towards grandpa, hugging him. I think he tried to avoid me at first (was I that dirty?) but in the end, accepted the hug and patted my head.
"I went to a big room downstairs," I told grandpa. "And I stayed there until it was hard to breathe. And hear. I crawled out, and then the world became funny. I can hear, touch, and taste, but I only see weird things. Like your blue head. Grandpa, did you know your head is blue?"
"I do, child," grandpa said, stroking my hair. "I do. Now go to your room and wash up. You made my clothes all dirty."
"I'm sorry, grandpa," I said. "I'll go to my room."
I then thought of my employers.
"But the Kaffales!" I exclaimed. "They'll worry if I don't come back. I should call them."
I tried to take my vizor and tap something, but then I felt a hand grabbing mine.
"Don't worry, child," grandpa said. "I'll call Moira and I'll tell them you're staying in your home. Now, go with Cloris."
There was another figure in the room, this one was much greener.
"Cloris," grandpa said. "Please help Amy change. And dress. As for you gentlemen," grandpa said, "you and I will have a serious conversation."
"Don't be too angry," I said. "I kinda like Martinus. He kisses well. And uncle Azzie is smart."
"Let grandpa deal with that, OK, child?" grandpa said. "Now go with Cloris."
"OK," I nodded, going towards Cloris, and hitting a chair with my butt. It was invisible.
Cloris grabbed my arm and expertly escorted me somewhere. The house informed me that this was the room it had prepared for me. It had big windows and a soft, cream rug that covered most of the wooden floor. And a spacious double bed with gray high thread-count cotton bedsheets with silk pillowcases.
"Sounds nice," I said.
"What?" Cloris said.
"Washing," I said. "Shall I take off my clothes?"
"Can you?" Cloris asked.
The Ghost Bride Page 14