They say when you're ten, you think your parents know everything. At sixteen, you're convinced they know nothing at all. By thirty, if you haven't figured out they really did know what they were doing, then you're still sixteen. After watching my mom work the I.S. like a fish on a line, I was suitably impressed that she knew everything in the freaking world.
Smiling, I tugged the wool blanket tighter around me and scooted my folding chair closer to the small fire Robbie had started in the backyard. My mom was beside me, pointedly between my brother and me as we toasted marshmallows and waited for sunrise. I hadn't been outside very long, and my breath steamed in the steadily brightening day. It was a few hours past my normal bedtime, but that's not why my arms shook and my breath was slow. Damn, I was tired.
I'd fully expected to wake up in the hospital or ambulance, and was surprised when I had come to in the back of my mom's car, still at the crime site. Wrapped in an I.S. blanket, I had stumbled out looking for Pierce to find myself in a media circus. Robbie and I had stood in the shadows and watched in awe as my mother worked a system I hadn't even known existed. Through her deadly serious threats disguised as scatterbrained fussing, she not only managed to get the charges against me for willful destruction of private property dropped, but got them to agree that I didn't have anything to do with their doors being blown out, much less fled their custody with an unknown person. The I.S. personnel were more than happy to give my mom whatever she wanted if she would keep her voice down, seeing as three news crews were within shouting distance.
Apparently the vampire I'd helped bring in had a history of such kidnappings, but because of his clout, he'd been getting away with it for years. I hated to go along with the shush work, but I didn't want a record, either. So as long as my mother, Robbie, myself, and the girl kept quiet—her parents being placated with enough money to put Sarah through the university and therapy of her choice—the vampire would be charged with kidnapping, not the stiffer crime of underage enticement.
It didn't bother me as much as I'd thought it would. He was still going to jail, and if vampire justice was like any other kind, he'd probably wake up one night with a wooden spoon jammed through his heart. Vampires didn't like pedophiles anymore than the next guy.
So Robbie's and my trip to the I.S. had been dulled to an anonymous tip, making the I.S. out to be the heroes. Whatever. Along with, the notoriety went any charges they might file against me. Mom had grounded me, though. God, I was nearly nineteen and grounded. What was up with that?
Of Pierce, there had been no sign. No one remembered seeing him apart from my mom.
A sigh shifted my shoulders, coming out as a thin mist catching the pink light of the nearing sunrise.
"Rachel," my mom said, reaching to tug the blanket closed around my neck, "that's the third sigh in as many minutes. I'm sure he will be back."
I grimaced that she knew where my thoughts were, then searched the sky and the strips of clouds throwing back the sun in bands of pink. I'd known he'd be gone by sunrise, but I wished I'd had the chance to say goodbye. "No," I said, bobbing my marshmallow in and out of the flame. "He won't. But that's okay."
My mom gave me a sideways hug. "He looked like he really cared. Who was he?" she asked, and a hint of alarm slipped through me. "I didn't want to ask in front of the I.S. because he rushed off as if he didn't want to be noticed." She huffed, taking my stick with the now-burning marshmallow. "I don't blame him," she muttered as she blew the little fire out. "They would have probably tried to pin the entire kidnapping on him. I don't like vampires. Always shoving their nastiness under a rug or onto someone else's plate."
Fingers gingerly taking the burnt marshmallow off, she smiled, her eyes brilliant in the clear light. In witch years, she wasn't that much older than me, always dressing down to make herself match the other moms in the neighborhood. But the morning light always showed how young she really was.
"So was he someone from school?" she prodded, a small smile dying to come out.
I gestured for her to eat the sticky black mass if she wanted it, and while she was occupied, I glanced nervously at Robbie. He was ignoring me. "Just a guy I met at the square," I offered.
My mother huffed again. "And that's another thing, missy," she said, but it was Robbie who got the thwack of the back of her hand on his shoulder. "You said you were going to the concert."
Robbie shot me a black look. "Aw, Mom, I had to scalp the tickets to get your solstice gift."
It was a lie, but she accepted it, making happy-mom sounds and giving him a marshmallowy kiss on his cheek. "That's where we met Pierce," I said to give some truth to the story. "If we hadn't helped him, no one would."
"You did the right thing," my mom said firmly. "If I toast you a marshmallow, will you eat it, honey?"
I shook my head, wondering if she knew exactly how we had made his acquaintance. Probably, seeing as by the time I got into the kitchen, all evidence of my spelling had been boxed up and was back in the attic.
Robbie took the stick and put a new marshmallow over the fire. He liked them so light brown it was almost not worth doing. "So, I imagine your little adventure has cured you of wanting to go into the I.S.?" he asked, and my head jerked up.
Shocked he would bring it up in front of mom, I stared at him from across the suddenly still figure of my mom. "No." Silent, my mom eased back into her chair and out of the way of the coming argument.
"Look at you," my brother said after a cautious glance at our mom. "You passed out. You can't do it."
"That's enough, Robbie," Mom said, and I flicked my gaze at her, surprised at her support. But Robbie turned in his seat to face her. "Mom, we have to look at it logically. She can't do it, and you letting her believe she can only makes it worse."
I stared at him, feeling like I'd been kicked. Seeing me floundering, Robbie shifted awkwardly. "Rachel is a damn fine witch," he said, suddenly nervous. "She stirred a level eight hundred earth magic arcane spell. Mom, do you know how hard those are? I couldn't do it! If she goes into the I.S., it's going to be a waste. Besides, they won't take her if she passes out at the end of a run."
It had been an arcane spell? He hadn't told me that. Surprise kept my mouth shut, but it was that damned fatigue that kept me in my seat and not pummeling him into the snow. He told her. He never said he wouldn't, but it was an unwritten rule, and he had just broken it.
"You put a level eight hundred arcane spell in front of her?" my mom said crisply, and I paled, remembering her equipment used without her knowledge.
Robbie looked away, and I was glad I wasn't under her angry expression. "I can get her into a great school," he said to the ground. "The I.S. won't accept her, and to keep encouraging her is cruel."
Cruel? I thought, tears starting to blur my vision. Cruel is throwing my hopes in the dirt. Cruel is giving me a challenge, and when I meet it, telling me I lose because I fell down after it was done.
But he was right. It did matter that I had fainted. Worse yet, the I.S. knew it. They would never let me pass the physical now. I was Weak and frail. A weak prissy face.
I sniffed loudly, and my mom glanced at me before turning back to my brother. "Robbie, can I have a word with you?"
"Mom—"
"Now." Her tone was sharp, booking no complaint. "Get in the house."
"Yes, ma'am." Pissed, he stood, dropped his marshmallow and stick into the fire, and stomped inside. I jumped when the screen door slammed.
Sighing heavily, my mom took the stick out of the fire and rose. I didn't look at her when she handed the marshmallow to me. It was all out now, and I couldn't even pretend I had the ability to do what I wanted, do what made my blood pound and make me feel alive.
"I'll be right back," she said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "I was saving these for the sunrise, but I want you to open them now—before the day begins."
Her thin but strong hands drew from her coat pocket a card and small present, which she set into my lap.
"Happy solstice, sweetheart," she said, and single tear slipped down my cheek as she followed Robbie into the house. I wiped the cold trail away, heartbroken. It just wasn't fair. I had done it. I had summoned a ghost, though not Dad. I had helped save that little girl's life. So why was mine in the crapper?
Setting Robbie's marshmallow to burn, I took off my mittens and ran a cold finger under the seal of the card. Eyes welling, I opened it up to find my I.S. application, signed by my mother. Blinking furiously, I shoved it back in the envelope. I had permission, but it didn't mean anything anymore.
"And what are you?" I said to the box miserably. "A set of cuffs I'll never get to use?" It was about the right size.
I stared at the brightening pink clouds and held my breath. Exhaling, the fog from my lungs seemed to mirror my mood, foggy and dismal. Setting the envelope aside, I opened the box. The tears got worse when I saw what was in it. Cradled in the black tissue paper was Dad's watch.
Miserable, I glanced back at the silent house. She knew what spell I had done. She knew everything, otherwise why give me the watch?
Missing him all the more, I clenched Dad's watch in my hand and stared at the fire, almost rocking in heartache. Maybe things would have been different if he had shown up. I was glad he was at peace and the spell wouldn't work on him, but damn it, my chest seemed to have a gaping hole in it now.
A warm sensation slipped through me, and startled, I sniffed back my tears and sent my eyes to follow a small noise to the side yard. A pair of hands was gripping the top of the wooden fence, and as I wiped my face, a small man in a long coat vaulted over it. Pierce.
"Oh, hi," I said, wiping my face in the hopes he couldn't tell I'd been crying. "I thought you were gone." I dried my hand on my blanket and folded my hands in my lap, hiding my dad's watch and my misery all at the same time.
Pierce looked at the house as he approached, boots leaving masculine prints in the snow. "After seeing your mother at that spawn's house, I had a mind to heed the better part of valor."
A faint smile brought my lips curving upward despite myself. "She scares you?"
"Like a snake to a horse," he said, shuddering dramatically.
He glanced at the house again and sat down in Robbie's spot. I said nothing, noting the distance.
"I couldn't find your home," he said, watching the fire, not me. "The drivers of the public carriages… ah… buses, won't be moved by pity, and it took me a space to figure the Yellow Book."
I sniffed, feeling better with him beside me. "Yellow Pages."
Nodding, he looked at the still burning wad of Robbie's marshmallow. "Yes, Yellow Pages. A man of color took pity on me and drove me to your neighborhood."
I turned to him, aghast, but then remembered he was over a hundred years dead. "It's polite to call them black now. Or African-American," I corrected, and he nodded.
"They are all free men?"
"There was a big fight about it," I said, and he nodded, eyes pinched in deep thought.
I didn't know what to say, and finally Pierce turned to me. "Why are you so melancholy, Miss Rachel? We did it. My soul is avenged and the girl is safe. I'm sure that when the sun rises, I will go to my reward." A nervous look settled in the back of his eyes. "Be it good or bad," he added.
"It will be good," I said hurriedly, my hands gripping the watch as if I could squeeze some happiness out of it. "I'm thrilled for you, and I know you will land on the good side of things. Promise."
"You don't look thrilled," he muttered, and I scraped up a smile.
"I am. Really I am," I said. "It's just that—It's just that I tried to be who I wanted to be, and I—" My throat closed, as if by admitting it aloud, there was no way it could happen. "I can't do it," I whispered. Fighting the tears, I watched the fire, forcing my breathing to stay even and slow.
"Yes, you can…" Pierce protested, and I shook my head to make my hair fly around.
"No, I can't. I passed out. If you hadn't been there, I would have passed out, and he would have gotten away, and it would have been all for nothing."
"Oh, Rachel…" Pierce slid to my mother's chair. His arms went around me and he gave me a sideways hug. Giving up my pretense, I turned into him to make it a real hug, burying my face in his coat. I took a shaky breath, smelling the scent of coal dust and shoe polish. He had a real smell, but then, I'd heard most ghosts did.
"It's not bravery you lack," he said, his words shifting the hair on the top of my head. "That's the most important part. The rest is incidental. Real strength is knowing you can live with your failure. That sometimes you can't get there in time and that your lack might mean someone dies. It was cleverness that captured the vampire, not brute strength. Besides, the strength will come."
It sounded so easy. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe him so bad, it made my chest hurt. "Will it?" I said as I pulled back to see his own eyes damp with tears. "I used to think so, but I'm so damned weak. Look at me," I said derisively. "Wrapped up like a baby, my knees going shaky when I get up to turn the TV channel. I'm stupid to think the I.S. would want me. I should give it up and go out to Portland to be a earth witch, set up a spell shop and…" My eyes started to well again. Damn it! "And sell charms to warlocks," I finished, kicking a snow clod into the fire.
Pierce shook his head. "That's the most dang fool idea I've heard since having ears to hear with again, and I expect I've seen and heard a few fool things since you woke me up. If I might could talk to the dead, I'd ask your father, and I know what he would say."
His language was slipping again; he must be upset. I looked up from where my kicked snow had melted, dampening out the fire to show a patch of wood. "You can't know that," I said sullenly. "You've never even met him."
Still he smiled, his blue eyes catching the brightening light. "I don't need to. I expect a man who raised a young lady with such fire in her would have only one answer. Do what your heart tells you."
A frown pressed my lips together. "I'm too weak," I said, as if that was all there was to it. "Nothing is going to change. Nothing."
I didn't want to talk about it anymore. My hands were cold, and I dropped the watch in my lap to put my mittens back on.
"Hey!" Pierce said, seeing it. "That's mine!"
My mouth dropped open, but in a moment, I looked at him in understanding. "No wonder the charm didn't work. It's your watch?" I hesitated. "Before it was my dad's? Maybe I can try again," I said. But he was shaking his head, clearly wanting to touch it.
"No," he said. "You're his daughter, and your blood that kindled the charm is a closer bond than a bit of metal and fancy. If he had been in a position to come, he would have." An eager light was in his eyes, and licking his lips, he asked, "May I?"
Silently I handed it over.
Pierce's smile was so beautiful that it almost hurt to see it. "It's mine," he said, then quickly amended. "Pardon me. I meant that it once had been. I expect it was sold to pay for the stone they used to keep me from rising up to avenge my wrongful death. See here?" he said, pointing out a dent. "I did this falling into a post to avoid a nasty-tempered nag of a horse."
I leaned to look, finding a small comfort in his history.
"I wonder if my sweetheart's silhouette is still in it," he said, turning it over. My eyebrows rose when he wedged a ragged fingernail into a tiny crack and whispered a word of Latin. The back hinged open, and a folded paper fluttered to the ground.
"That's not it," he said with a sigh, and I picked it up, handing it to him.
"What is it?" I asked, and he shrugged, handing me my dad's watch to unfold the off-white scrap of paper. But then my heart seemed to stop when the scent of my dad's pipe lifted through my memory, rising from the paper itself.
Pierce didn't see my expression, and he squinted at the words. "My little Firefly," he said, and tears sprang into my eyes as I realized who had written them. "I write this on the evening of our day in the leaves as you sleep. You're still a child, but today, I saw the woman-to-be in you—" Pierce's words cut off, and he brought his gaze to my swimming eyes. "This is for you," he said, extending it. His expression looked tragic as he shared my heartache.
"Read it to me," I said, catching a sob. "Please."
Pierce shifted awkwardly, then began again. "Today I saw the woman-to-be in you, and you are beautiful. My heart breaks that circumstance will probably keep me from seeing you reach your full strength, but I'm proud at your courage, and I stand in awe at the heights you will achieve when your strength builds to match your spirit."
I held my breath to keep from crying, but my head started to hurt and a hot tear slipped down.
"Don't be afraid to trust your abilities," he said, voice softening. "You're stronger than you think. Never forget how to live life fully and with courage, and never forget that I love you." Pierce drew the paper from his nose and set it in my lap. "It's signed 'Dad'."
I sniffed, smiling up at Pierce as I wiped my eyes. "Thank you."
"Little Firefly?" he questioned, trying to distract me from my heartache.
"It was the hair, I think," I said, bringing the paper to my nose and breathing deeply the faded scent of pipe smoke. "Thank you, Pierce," I said, giving his hand a soft squeeze. "I never would have found his note if it hadn't been for you."
The young man smiled, running a hand over my hair to push it out of my eyes. "It isn't anything I did a'purpose."
Maybe, I mused, smiling brokenly at him, the spell to bring my dad into existence had worked after all—the only way it could, his love bending the rules of nature and magic to bring me a message from beyond his grave. My dad was proud of me. He was proud of me and knew I could be strong. That was all I had ever wanted, and I took a gulp of air.
I was going to start crying again, and searching for a distraction, I turned to find my mom's gift. "My mom signed my application," I said, fumbling with the envelope beside me with a sudden resolve. "I'm going to do it. Pierce. My dad said to trust in my abilities, and I'm going to do it. I'm going to join the I.S."
But when II turned back to him with my signed application, he was gone.
My breath caught. Wide-eyed, I looked to the east to see the first flash of red-gold through the black branches. From across the city came the tolling of bells, celebrating the new day. The sun was up. He was gone.
"Pierce?" I said softly as the paper in my grip slowly drooped. Not believing it, I stared at where he had been. His footprints were still there, and I could still smell coal dust and shoe polish, but I was alone.
A gust of wind blew on the fire, and a wave of heat shifted my hair from my eyes. It was warm against me, comforting, like the touch of a hand against my cheek in farewell. He was gone, just like that.
I looked at my dad's watch and held it tight. I was going to get better. My stamina was going to improve. My mom believed in me. My dad did, too. Fingers shaking, I folded up the paper and snapped the watch shut around it, holding it tight until the metal warmed.
Taking a deep breath, I sent my gaze deep into the purity of the morning sky. The solstice was over, but everything else? Everything else was just beginning.