I woke up the next morning.
It was as if I closed my eyes and then opened them, with a whole eight hours passing in the blink of an eye.
I sat up.
No queasiness. My stomach had settled.
It was morning. Mid-morning by the looks of the sunlight through the window. The blackout curtain was rolled into a column, letting light in.
A can of ginger ale and an egg-shaped essential oil diffuser rested on the nightstand. The room still smelled like chamomile and eucalyptus. The smell comforted me.
I put my hand on my head.
Last night had been rough.
I didn’t exactly like to show my weakness in front of clients. Major liability.
But I had waited too long to exit Crispin’s consciousness. When that happens, it always disorients me. The mind can only handle one awake consciousness. When there are two…well, let’s just say that his mind wasn’t big enough for the both of us.
If I had done that in front of the wrong person, who knows what they could have done. A more devious person with superior mental skills might have been able to trap me inside their mind.
I swung out of bed. I was still in my clothes from last night. Jeans and a long-sleeve shirt.
Crispin’s dream came back to me in a rushing swell.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so bad. Whoever he was, Crispin was charmed, and that was twice as bad as any danger I was in last night.
My stomach rumbled, and I climbed out of bed, walking into the hallway. A couple of doors down, I spotted Darius’s room. The door was ajar. He was snoring. Dirty clothes covered the floor. He lay on his bed with an open textbook on his chest.
I peeked into Destiny’s room, the room she and I shared. Her bed was made, the floor free of dirty clothes, and her window curtains were pulled open. Outside, snow glinted on the cars parked on the street.
I banged on Darius’s door, and then, like a good cousin, I shouted, “D, time to wake up. You got reporting to do!”
I made my way downstairs into the lobby. All was quiet. The shop’s CLOSED sign hung in the window, and several people passing by in peacoats didn’t even stop to look at the door.
The smell of bacon, eggs, and grits drifted into my nostrils. I heard bacon crackling on a stove.
I ventured toward the back of the shop, to the basement door. When I opened it, the smell overwhelmed me.
I jogged downstairs into the basement where our kitchen was. We put the kitchen and a small living room with a couch and a TV in the basement, so we didn't have to worry about clients knocking in the middle of a meal. Plus, the windows in the brownstone’s basement had bars on them and a little more privacy. The kitchen was a little run-down. The cabinets needed replacing and the vinyl floors were showing their age. But it was our home, and it was cozy.
As I entered the basement, I don't know what was louder—the bacon sizzling or the R&B music playing from Destiny’s Bluetooth speaker on the kitchen table.
Destiny sang along in her pink pajamas, snapping her fingers with one hand and turning the bacon with the other.
I slid a chair out at the table and threw myself into it.
Destiny didn't even turn around.
“You woke up,” she said. “I was about to go get you.”
She loaded a paper plate with a pool of grits, two strips of bacon, and an egg sunny-side-up, and she slid it to me.
“Have sweet dreams?” she asked.
“Best dreams of my life,” I said, sliding over to the fridge.
Dream mages didn't dream. I don't even think we could if we wanted to. After all, that would be like a heart doctor who smoked. Nothing but trouble. The last thing I'd want was another mage jumping into my dreams and wreaking havoc. Sleep was a non-event for me.
I poured apple juice into a plastic cup.
“Thanks for helping me out last night,” I said.
Destiny sat down with her plate. She turned her music down.
“Thanks for not listening to me,” she said. “How many times I gotta warn you about dudes waking up in the middle of our jumps?”
Her voice was hurt. And angry.
Definitely at me. The “righteous Aisha” thing always bothered her. Sometimes I did heroic things, almost always off the cuff. I don’t know why. It’s just how I’m wired. Even if I know it’s dangerous. I don’t have any other choice but to react. Destiny—she tends to run away at the first sign of danger. It’s the shifter animal instinct. Darius calls for help and then decides what he’s going to do, by which time it’s usually too late. Me? I prefer to just throw myself into trouble and see what happens.
We make a good team, even if sometimes it means my cousins want to punch me in the throat for risking my life.
“Please tell me you found something in your little deep dive,” Destiny said.
“I did,” I said.
Destiny paused.
“And?” she asked, annoyed.
“I don't know what it means yet,” I said, thinking of the cadre of voices near the end of Crispin’s dream.
“So you didn’t find anything,” Destiny said.
Darius opened the door and trudged down into the kitchen. He wore a blue bathrobe and a du-rag, and he was half asleep. He had a blue binder tucked under his arm, and he tossed it to me.
“Last thing I did before I went to sleep,” he said, yawning. “I even spell-checked it for you.”
He swung open the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of milk. Then he opened the cabinet and snatched a box of Honey O’s.
I paged through the report. Darius had typed up a neat report of Crispin’s EEGs, like a doctor would, but in plain English.
This is a thirty-something-year-old white male with a history of recurring dreams. The dreams are said to disturb the patient.
Routine 21-channel digital EEG was obtained to see if the dreams are a result of magical interference.
FINDINGS: Higher than normal spike and wave activity detected. Patient was noted by technician to be tossing and turning several times during the observation.
IMPRESSION: Dream observed may have been caused by some kind of magic. Traces of dispersed dream ether were detected in the air during and after the study.
“Not bad, D,” I said. “I don't know if this is exactly how a wizard tech might write this, but I'm impressed.”
Wizard tech. The marriage of magic and technology. Instead of college, Darius was enrolled in technical school, learning the ins and outs of technology and how to influence it with spells.
On the second page of the report was a timeline of when Crispin started dreaming, with a written narrative of what Destiny and I observed. The third and fourth pages had a list of common dream symbols that we've seen in our business and what they often meant. The fifth page had a magical representation of a country road, a spell cast from the leftover dream ether from Crispin’s dream. It looked like a mix between a high exposure photo and a watercolor painting—true to what his dreamscape looked like, you know, just to let him know that we were actually there and paying attention. Darius had also imprinted a representation of the hotel room on the next page.
The wonders of wizard tech.
The final page had a typed thank-you note from me with my (forged) signature. Personal touch.
Looked good. Definitely twelve hundred dollars’ worth.
“He was an easy client,” I said, closing the binder.
“I still think he was pretty weird for a white dude,” Destiny said. “Something about him just seemed off.”
“Who cares as long as folks got money?” Darius asked, shrugging. “Get ten more of those dudes in here and that’ll solve all of our money problems.”
“Just ten?” Destiny asked. She slapped a brochure on the table.
I wanted to groan.
It was a brochure for Lakeway University, the city’s one and only Magical Historically Black University. Destiny had applied and I was pretty sure she was going to be admitted. She’d be the first in our family to go to a university.
All good, but hard to stomach the tuition. The idea of taking out loans didn't exactly excite me.
“Talked to the admissions counselor yesterday,” Destiny said. “They startin’ up a Bachelors in Shifting.”
“Now you can learn how to turn into a zebra and get a grade for it,” Darius said, munching his cereal. “That don't make no sense.”
“You don't make no sense,” Destiny said. “The university wants to do its part to protect the city from Somnients. They said they want to equip the city’s best shifters to fight. Apparently, attacks are up all over the city. It was on the news this morning.”
“Damn Somnients are nothing but trouble,” Darius said. “And it’s all thanks to ya boy, Aisha.”
This was no doubt L’Dante’s doing. And even worse, I didn't even know how to start fighting back.
“Don't start,” I said. “Let's focus on the Somnients for now.”
“Now THAT’S one species that nature could do without,” Darius said.
“Speaking of without,” Destiny said, “I'm without my fifteen dollars, D. I want my fifteen dollars back.”
“And I want some peace and quiet,” Darius said. “It’s barely ten o’clock and you already on me about—”
“Will you two stop fighting?” I asked.
“As sure as there will be grits on the stove in the morning, we’re gonna fight about something,” Darius said.
He finished his cereal and kissed Destiny on the cheek.
“You know I love you, sis,” he said. Starting up the stairs, he grinned and saluted her. “By the way, I'll have your fifteen dollars next week.”
“Darius, quit playin’!” Destiny cried, throwing her spoon at him.
Darius dashed up the stairs.
I scarfed down my grits and ate my bacon.
“Thanks for cooking,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. “I gotta run.”
Destiny handed me a slip of paper with an address on it.
Crispin’s address.
I memorized the address and stuck the paper into my pocket.
I snatched the Lakeway University brochure and cocked an eyebrow.
“Guess I should review this, make sure it's a good fit,” I said.
“It's the only fit,” Destiny said.
“You've got to pay for it,” I said.
“Never asked you pay,” Destiny said. “I can do it on my own. I'll figure it out somehow.”
Her voice was soft. I knew she'd made up her mind and was going whether I liked it or not.
“We’ll talk,” I said.
I waved at her as I grabbed my coat and messenger bag, and jogged out the back door, into the snowy sunshine.