Pan portaled, step by step. Shadows of trees waited on either side. Bits of brush surprised her. She could only go so far in the dark. The light from her circles served only to blind her, making her jumps shorter still. Flashlights from behind bobbed and threatened her with a headache.
“I’ve got somewhere to be,” Pan called. She didn’t put much volume into her voice, but she said it, just the same. In an even quieter tone, she added, “Just go home. I’ll send you the bill to fix my car.”
Pan thought she’d averted the worst of the damage, but if she found so much as a scratch on little blue, she would get a whole new bumper at the neighbor’s expense.
Pan turned and cast a quick telekinetic circle. The flashlight flew out of one man’s hand and into hers. It made her pursuers pause, and for a moment all the light froze.
Pan debated just scooping them up and dropping them, without a care. Their bodies would hit the dirt, with a satisfying or sickening thud. It depended on one’s point of view, of course. Pan wasn’t sure with which viewpoint she stood.
She gazed over their lights, but she couldn’t see the cliffside cottage from so deep in the forest, not to mention the dark of night.
“I love that house,” she whispered. “If I kill them, I can never be there again.” Pan raised her hand. “Maybe just assault.”
Quiet voices drifted through the woods. The men argued. Fear inhabited one voice; anger another.
Pan lowered her hand. She wouldn’t make it to the big battle that night. She might as well toy with her disgruntled neighbors. Maybe, they would fall in the dark and break their necks. She didn’t care if she emptied the whole neighborhood in just such a manner. Others would move in, who didn’t mind the former reaper.
Pan faced the forest and flashed her light ahead. She portaled the farthest distance she’d taken all night. She portaled again.
The bob of flashlights resumed, as did the footsteps, spurred on by her flight.
Pan portaled a third time and stumbled free of the tree line. She flashed her light around. Behind, trees towered at the edge of a field. Ahead, the field stretched on to another tree line, another section of the same forest. Pan’s light could just make it across and illuminate the shadowy trunks. Inside that set of shadows, Pan saw the outline of a building. If it was what she thought it was, she could have a lot of fun there.
Pan sighted across the field and drew a portal. The circle lit the space, and through a hazy view, she jumped the field. She glanced back. Those flashlights kept on coming, but she had time. The men had to cross, and she didn’t want to lose them before she guided them to the destination.
Pan held the flashlight and paced. “A pool – that would be a good way to shoo them out of the neighborhood. Who constructs a pool at the edge of the sea? I could refuse to clean it, let it go off, and collect bug eggs.” Pan hummed her disagreement with herself. “No, then, I’d have to worry about diseases, and I’m the one least able to handle those at the moment.” Pan tapped a finger against her lips. “What about a naked statue? A big one – of a man.”
That might speed their exit from the neighborhood.
Alternatively, she could expand her wards to the road and claim herself a part of the beach. She could restrict their movements, with her magic. There was no way she would give up that house. They would have to leave.
A shot whizzed past Pan. She inhaled sharply, and her eyes went wide. They had a gun, and in the dark, a lucky shot could end her escape.
Pan ducked behind a tree. She set her light ahead. It pierced the dark, and through the shallow forest, she saw the edge of a stone building. Colorful letters scrawled across the side. Graffiti.
Pan moved her light up. She saw steps and a platform. She was where she wanted to be. She’d made it to an old lookout post. One that had been equipped with guns and turrets, strong enough to reach through the atmosphere to enemy ships. That was before the Scaldin had a strong navy. Many lookout posts remained. This one grew stale.
The guns and weaponry had long since been removed. The teenagers and the delinquent elements of Scaldigir moved in, with their cans of paint. They painted every inch of the old lookout post, with their scrawled curses, spooky renditions of would-be spirits, and, of course, the ever-popular dick and balls.
Pan portaled to the top of the platform and trotted to an open doorway. She ducked inside.
Sounds of trapped wind surrounded Pan. Any breeze that entered the lookout found itself on a winding path, in a space cavernous to Pan but much too tight for something as free as wind. Pan sent the light slow over the walls. Graffiti covered every inch and represented every color. Bubble letters, eyes, ghosts – all of those things and more sprawled. Some possessed neat crisp lines, as crisp as spray paint could make. Others dripped before they dried and invaded the space of unrelated artworks.
When they first moved into the neighborhood, Pan had been curious about the old building. She’d asked Sotir to drive her there. Though she was sick, he agreed. They’d walked the perimeter and through a few rooms, but Sotir drew the line at stairs and points deep inside the lookout. He was worried about a fall for Pan or maybe some hazardous material. Mother Tree knew he wasn’t the most strapping of men, and the best way he could protect his wife was to keep her from the danger in the first place. In the end, he’d pulled a reluctant Pan home.
Pan walked down a hall. She turned a corner and entered a large room. A fallen tree, or perhaps just a great branch, had burst through a window. It rested silent and still, looking blue, like a construct of ice. Pan didn’t study the rest of the room. She covered her flashlight and waited.
She heard the men’s voices, still far and too soft.
Pan breathed deep and inhaled some dust. She coughed but stifled the sound against her elbow.
The men’s words sounded more distant, as if they’d taken a wrong turn.
So, Pan took her hand from her light. She flashed it around the room. In addition to the thin blue branches, colorful words marked the stone as well as some cartoonish renditions of Scaldin monsters. Pan saw a dark hallway that led deeper, and a shorter hall that led to a weird tunnel. Pan knew the tunnel would be littered with debris, but it could be a good hiding place, low to the ground and narrow. She could fit easily, though she might get her feet wet. Pan brought her flashlight back to chest and covered it with her hand again. Light seeped around her fingers, but it was for her eyes only.
Steps drew closer. Voices followed.
“That’s the reaper. There’s no denying it. You know she’s powerful,” one man said to another.
“Lasis, you know what reapers have done to my family. My grandmother died dreaming about reapers – that they came for her. I had to watch that. You have no idea.”
Lasis said, “No, I don’t, but…”
“We can’t let that thing get away.” Footsteps sounded on the stone. “It’s…it’s like leaving a snake egg to hatch.”
More footsteps met stone, and Lasis spoke again, “Wait. We don’t have to go in. We can’t win this. Caio, let’s just light up the forest. Some of the trees reach inside the building, and even if the fire doesn’t touch her, the smoke will be enough.”
Oh no, don’t do that. Come in and play.
“She’s just going to run away,” Caio said.
A third man spoke, “Let’s destroy her house then. That will send a clear message.”
“We can’t do that.” The objection belonged to Lasis. He defended Pan’s home in a shaky tenor. “I love that house. My nan loved that house. One of her friends grew up there.”
“Mother Tree, Lasis. You’re too sentimental.” The words seemed hypocritical in the mouth of Caio.
“Just come inside,” Pan called. Her voice echoed in the empty stone room. “We’ll make a game of this. How about hide and seek?”
Caio answered, “We’re not playing any games with you, reaper. You know what your predecessors did to my great grandmother?”
Footsteps shuffled on stone but did not come closer.
“No, tell me what my predecessors did – to your great grandmother, specifically.” Pan smiled and waited.
“They took her business to ruin. Just set it aflame to serve as a distraction for other arcanes. They left her to die. Her, her daughter, and her unborn child.”
Pan made a face. “Well, this scenario has an odd kind of symmetry wouldn’t you say?”
Footsteps came Pan’s way.
She felt her eyes go wide. It was hide and seek time. A fleeting thought of the gun tempered her glee.
Pan conjured a portal and left it at the entrance to the room. The circle and its runes glowed over some suggestive art. Otherwise, the room remained dark, including the space inside the portal. Pan had a keen memory of the space atop the lookout, and she sent the portal there, to the dark, open pinnacle of the abandoned place.
It was a big climb. One that Sotir didn’t let her make. Pan’s mouth twisted in a smile. She would just keep portaling her neighbors to places like that, till they were so tired they could barely walk.
“The fuck is that?” Lasis asked. “What are those lights?”
“Arcane runes. She set up a circle,” Caio answered. “Don’t step in it.”
Pan pushed the circle into the hall. Three screams echoed.
“Where’s Lasis?” the third man cried.
Pan knew where. She dropped the portal and left Lasis at the top of the lookout.
“Caio, I’m turning around.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Pan thought she would trap the next man in a shield.
Footsteps rang over the stairs, and Pan realized that Lasis headed down. There was a small chance he would come right through her hiding place.
Pan pressed her fingers over the flashlight. She hurried down the short hall and tucked herself beside the tunnel. She couldn’t fit in after all. Stray branches poked from the tight passage, and a chill blew past them. Nature’s debris and wind stuffed up her hiding place.
Lasis’ flashlight bobbed from the deep passage, and he ran through the room, back to the place where his friends waited.
“You’re fine!” Caio shouted.
“Let me go. I’m leaving.” Lasis’ voice shook.
“What did she do? Where did she send you?” Caio asked.
“I was just…just up top but…”
“Well, come on then.”
The third man spoke, “I’m with Lasis. I’d rather leave. Let’s just wreck her car and do something to the house.”
“Maybe,” Lasis agreed.
“I called for backup,” Caio promised. “It’s fine. We’re staying. We can have this place surrounded in a few minutes, and we’ll get rid of the reaper.”
If Caio had backup, Pan might need the same.
She thought of Alban’s officer, her friends, and her magic. Most of all, she thought of the familiar circle.
Pan strained to hold it back. She squeezed her eyes shut, the same as she squeezed her hand over the flashlight. But, the circle conjured. It was becoming reflexive, like her ghost circles.
Its music filled the room, and its light illuminated every detail of the graffitied walls. The runes seemed to fit the setting, looking a little like graffiti themselves. Smoke puffed into the scene and dirtied it. The light went out; the dragon waited in the dark. Its red eyes seemed to smile at Pan, and the dragon slowly closed them.
“What was that?” Lasis asked.
“Some other circle, I guess. I didn’t see the runes, but it was bright,” Caio answered. “We won’t go in, just yet. My guys are almost here. Hey reaper…”
The dragon moved in the dark. Pan loosened her grip on the flashlight’s head. She saw light play over the dragon’s sleek black fur. It lifted its head and froze, staring in the direction of its prey.
“Now, don’t kill them,” Pan whispered. “Do you understand? We’re playing a game.”
“What was that?” Caio called. “I didn’t catch it. I just wanted to ask you about the legends surrounding this place. Heard you were once a ghost seer.” Caio paused, but without an answer from Pan, he continued, “Did you know that this place was built right near a visitor’s crashed spacecraft? The men who ran the lookout used to see the visitor’s ghost, wandering the halls at night. A few of the men died and joined it. You like ghosts, right?”
Pan struggled not to think of ghost circles. Meladee once told her that she had magical constipation. Now, for certain spells, she had magical diarrhea, and it was much worse.
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Pan sweat. The ghost sight circle came into her mind, and then, it ringed her. Its light lit up the blocked tunnel at her side and the short hall she hid within. Pan couldn’t fight it, so she let it happen.
The circle’s light and magic flowed over her, and she felt the change hit her eyes. She blinked fast. Her arms tired and tingled, as she tried to cover the flashlight’s light. She realized she could just switch it off, and with a weak stab of her pinky finger, the light ceased to threaten her hiding place.
Pan relaxed her hands.
“What did she do that time?” the third man asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see anything, but I heard it.” A bell accompanied Caio’s voice. “Reaper, did you ever hear of ghost bells? They call ghosts to visit with the living. It’s an old idea and one that is really special to the northwest. You’re from the southeast coast, right? Yeah, you wouldn’t know.”
He was right. Pan had never heard of ghost bells. Though, she listened to one now.
The bell had a pleasant peal. It echoed in the room, and the dragon shifted again.
“Did you hear that? It sounded like a big, like a big…”
“Lasis, if you want to go, go. The guys will be here any minute.” Caio’s footsteps scraped the stone. “I’m going catch me a reaper.”
The dragon turned red eyes to Pan, begging for leave to do as it pleased.
“I heard ghosts are the only thing that can hurt you. Let me know if you see one.” Caio’s steps grew closer. The bell continued to tinkle.
He was right. Ghosts were the only things that could really touch Pan, but most of the time, she wasn’t a ghost seer.
At least, bells did not summon ghosts. That was a stupid superstition. Pan imagined that dainty bell in Caio’s manly paw. That bell that called to the spirits in a child’s titter.
Though, Pan’s circle might have the desired effect. Ghost focused magic tended to draw a crowd – from the afterlife.
Caio’s light started to round the corner.
“Oh, look,” Pan said. “There’s one now. Top notch ghost.” She pointed at the dragon.
The dragon grinned and faced the men.
The men’s flashlights illuminated the dragon, and it roared. The men screamed. Someone dropped his light. Footsteps retreated.
The dragon followed.
“Don’t kill! Don’t even maim!” Pan called after it. “We’ll just get that statue!” She thought the dragon might have heard her.
She leaned against the wall and exhaled. Pan closed her eyes and clicked the flashlight back on. She could feel its glow and warmth on her eyelids, but she had no desire to open them.
Rooks stood behind Alban’s chair; her hands rested on the back, and she watched the forward view. For once, she could ignore the screens and all the tactical data and just watch.
The Ischyros waited, withdrawn from the battle, where it usually spent most battles. Its position gave Rooks an even better view.
Magic burst across the space before them. Scaldin vessels spewed clouds of fire but kept on fighting, defended by swarms of Iruedian mages and their geometric circles.
Volanter vessels popped with the same clouds of fire. They fought on too. Rotating rings, rayed circles, and stacked configurations of runes met Iruedian resistance.
Riders moved between the two sets of ships. From her distance, Rooks could not tell who cast what. She just watched the spots of darkness flit back and forth, leaving scatters of fire and light in their wakes, some of which were circles seen from the side rather than head on.
The Scaldin that protected the wormhole moved forward. They crept up behind the Volanter’s far flank, just as their counterparts ahead of the Volanter ships did the same. It was a nice pincer movement, but it only caught half the Volanter fleet.
One Volanter ship disgorged a ball of fire. Then, another. Both threatened to explode, but neither made good on that threat.
Inez sighed.
“Everything all right?” Rooks asked.
“They enchanted all their ships.” Inez gestured out the view.
“So did we,” Rooks said. “Scaldin vessels included.”
“Yeah, but that was something we had over them.” Inez interlaced her fingers. “The marriage of technology and magic. If they’re making more magical items, then we’re going to lose that advantage. Pan won’t be able to sneak up on their ships and blow them to pieces as easily.”
“That’s true, but even enchantments can be worn down. They’re getting better, catching up on all that research they missed in their bubble.” Rooks raised her gaze and stared with confidence at the two ships most hassled by the Scaldin pincer.
Inez shook her head and crossed her arms. “If they enchant with the single ringed circles, and I don’t see why they wouldn’t, then they’ll have the advantage – the stronger magical item. Why do they have to get better?”
“All your magic comes from theirs. Understand they’ll be a difficult opponent,” Rooks cautioned.
Inez sighed. “They’re not going to explode. Good thing Pan enchanted the planetary shield with the single ring. We might need it.”
“Speaking of Pan…” Alban checked his watch. “She was supposed to report.” Alban craned his neck and looked to the back of the bridge.
Sotir waited back there, trying to get a feel for the battle. He leaned on his staff and swayed slightly.
“Sotir?” Alban called.
“We’re rather evenly matched. I don’t think we’ll destroy any this time. And, they’ve done a solid job of painting all the windows.” Sotir’s eyes narrowed and seemed to stare beyond Alban and the other bridge crew.
“That’s all very bad, but where’s your wife?”
Rooks stiffened and frowned. It was a fair point. Where was Pan? “How long ago did you send for her?” Rooks asked.
“Almost an hour.” Alban continued to stare at his watch.
Rooks glanced between the two men. Alban’s eyes moved between watch and his small chairside screen.
Sotir’s eyes flicked to a new point in space. Then, they widened. “Oh, Pan!”
Pan finally opened her eyes. She aimed the flashlight into the room and pushed to her feet. She took her first steps back towards the exit, stiff and halting. The flashlight was metal, sturdy, and threw a strong light. It belonged to one of her neighbors, but she decided she would keep it. His money, her light.
Pan’s light moved over the word reaper. The paint had dripped and given the red words a more sinister feel, as they seemed to bleed over the little white ghosts painted below.
Pan wobbled. She’d crouched so long that her legs didn’t want to move. Her heart pounded, less from the chase and more from the added effort to move blood through her expanded vessels.
Pan remembered; Camellia said something about that – how wooziness was a hallmark of the condition. Fine if you got to sit inside and paint all day. Not so fine if you had to run from your neighbors and scold your dragon after it ate them.
A long, shallow breath drew in. It was not Pan’s. A scrape and rustle followed.
Pan turned around. She aimed her flashlight at the tunnel.
From the hole, several blue and white faces peered. They stacked atop each other. Some tilted; some were upright. The center face’s pair of hands mimed the motion of holding the stray branch aside. In reality, the faces just looked through it.
Pan’s heart sped up again, and her breath moved in and out. She felt her chest rise rather than heard it. Silence seemed to dominate.
The faces poked out the hole, as if they danged from very flexible necks.
Curiosity could be dangerous for people, but for ghosts, it was only a plus.
“Top notch ghosts,” Pan whispered.
She backed up.
The ghosts emerged further from the hole. New hands appeared.
Pan stopped.
The ghosts froze. Their heads protruded from the hole, as did several pairs of spectral hands, griping the sides of the stone and the branches. One foot folded out from the center of the tunnel. Pan wasn’t sure who it belonged to.
Pan shuffled back.
The ghosts moved forward again.
She stopped, and they stopped too.
She laughed, half out of amusement, half out of fear.
The ghosts froze in mid-squeeze. Seven of them tried to emerge from the tunnel.
Pan glanced behind her and startled. More ghosts came from the dark hall that led deeper into the lookout post. They froze as well, in exaggerated creeping motions. One balanced on a single foot, with arms raised and fingers curled. A second felt its way along the wall, with two hands. Another crawled, frozen in a distinctly feline manner.
Pan looked back at the tunnel ghosts. They still froze, mid-squeeze. Pan whirled and checked on the hall ghosts again. They hadn’t moved.
As long as Pan didn’t move her feet, they didn’t move theirs.
“I can’t just walk out of here,” she whispered.
If Pan continued to shuffle for the exit, even if she ran, she would not reach the exit before the ghosts caught her.
Pan let the flashlight point up. It threw enough light for her to see what she needed of the ghosts. Her eyes darted between the two groups. She had the funny feeling that they were playing a game, and someone might just be tempted to break the rules.
Magic – or rather more magic – was the way out of this.
Pan shook her wrist and looked for the familiar glint of the bracelet. Nothing jangled. The bracelet wasn’t there.
Pan wondered if she took it off or if it fell during the chase. It didn’t matter. She knew her home. She knew the rooms by heart.
She called the portal spell and thought of her bedroom. The rune circle glowed before her, but it didn’t show her the bedroom. It spun and spun and refused to complete. Pan’s heart pounded. She needed to close her eyes to visualize the bedroom. Otherwise, the image wouldn’t come. It just wouldn’t come.
Pan checked on the ghosts.
The crawler pranced, moving while Pan remained still.
Like a reflex, Pan called the ghost protection circle. The runes ringed her and set off. She stood inside a column of yellow-white light.
Then, all of the ghosts moved. Some jumped. Others skipped. Some ran. It didn’t matter how they reached her. They swarmed her and bumped against Pan’s ghost protection circle. It held them back, even as they caressed and pulled at the light.
Pan fell to her knees and knelt. Her heart pounded, and her vision went a little dark. She needed a minute, just a minute.
A ghost pressed its face to the light, with solid form and eyeless sockets. He wore rags, bloodied rags, actually a bloodied uniform. He crouched and slid his face along the barrier, until he came to Pan’s eye level.
“Did you ring the bells?” He croaked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Ring the bells,” another ghost whispered.
“See us,” a man’s deep voice said from the floor. He laid on the ground and curled his body around the anti-ghost cylinder, a little too perfectly.
Pan said, “It wasn’t me. That man had the bell.”
Of course, the ghosts responded to the bell. It belonged to the stories of the northwest, and the residents of the northwest, including the dead ones, cared about those stories. If they believed the superstition in life, why shouldn’t they follow it in death?
“Just see us,” two more repeated.
Pan could do nothing else. Her eyes flicked from face to face, and then to her ring of protection. It glowed strong.
Pan closed her eyes and tried to imagine her bedroom. A gush seemed to move through her head, and Pan became aware of the pounding of her heart and the tingling in her left leg. It pricked painfully along her foot.
“Don’t close your eyes,” one of the spirits whispered.
“Don’t do that.”
“Look at my face.”
Footsteps ran up the stairs.
“Oh, no,” Pan said. “It should have just killed them. I should have let it kill them.” Pan slowly opened her eyes.
“Who’s that?” one ghost asked. It zipped away, back through the hall.
“Who?” said another.
They all fled. Some down the dark hall. Others into the tunnel, filled with the stray branches. Every ghost left the room, and Pan was alone.
“Pan!” that voice belonged to Aria.
Within her ring of protection, Pan crawled in a tight circle and faced the doorway. Her hands shook, and she let the flashlight sit beside her. She rubbed her prickling foot and waited.
Gavain burst into the room. He held his own flashlight, and he whipped it around. It threw an erratic spotlight on select pieces of graffiti; most of which represented ghosts or penises.
“Oh, you’re…alone.” Gavain’s brow furrowed.
Pan continued to shake.
Aria trotted in, holding her skirt up around her ankles.
“What’s this circle?” Gavain gestured to the light. At the same time, he put an arm out to stop Aria. “Careful in here. There’s some rubble on the ground.” Gavain approached Pan. “Can I touch you?”
Pan nodded. “It’s for ghosts. So, they can’t touch me.” Pan’s gaze darted to the tunnel at her back. Then, she whipped forward and looked to the hall. “We should hurry.”
Gavain hurried forward and pulled Pan up. “Alright. I can see you’re scared. Let’s get you out of here.”
Aria beckoned. She too glanced at the dark hall, though she wouldn’t see them, even if they were there. Aria led the way. She put a careful hand against the wall. Together, the three made their way down the steps and out of the lookout.
Pan, her shoulders still in Gavain’s grip, said, “I need to dispel my dragon. Did you see my dragon?”
The Volanter left through their version of the wormhole. They lined up before it; their vessels looked like wounded animals, strange to see in such an orderly line. One by one, they popped through.
It was a stalemate. Neither side lost a ship, but both sides came away with extensive damage.
“Hopefully, they give you a bit of a break.” Rooks strolled to Alban’s side. “You need time to repair.”
“Yes, indeed.” Alban’s eyes flicked to Sotir; then, back down to his tablet. “I don’t think I’ll get much from him on this matter.”
Rooks turned and openly looked at Sotir. The young man borrowed Alban’s chair. His staff rested on the ground, and he rubbed his face. Relieved but exhausted.
“If you find out someone on your own planet wants to kill your spouse – while a war against a different species is going on overhead…” Rooks gave a small shrug. “Calling it a shock would be a bit of an understatement, especially given he can watch it happen. And, be too far away to do anything.”
“True. But, I need him back.” Alban stared out the window. “It seems they’ve adapted. They’ve learned from you Iruedians.”
“We have more tricks. Don’t worry.” Rooks stared out the view and watched the last of the Volanter flee. The temporary wormhole disappeared.
Aboard a trim shuttle, Aria sat beside Pan. The light was dim but tinged red. Thin aural clouds polluted the shuttle and made Aria feel as if she sat in smoke. She caught herself holding her breath a few times. On the third catch, she forced herself to breath.
The shuttle jostled and swayed. The bag beneath her seat slid and bumped into the back of her ankles. Pan’s bag poked from its hiding place and came to rest against Aria’s foot.
“Bad weather,” Gavain said, as more turbulence shook the ship.
Aria nodded. She held Pan’s hand. Because she was so used to Gavain’s hand, Pan’s hand felt small and cool. Aria tried to interlock their fingers, but Pan’s remained limp. So, Aria grasped Pan’s hand around the palm. Pan seemed not to notice.
Instead, Pan sat and stared straight. She was blue and grey, not really her usual self.
Aria could see blue in her own aura and that fuzz of white. “Sotir’s mom and uncle will keep an eye on your house. She’s just a healer, but her brother is a telekinetic. They’ll keep it all safe.”
“Thanks, Aria.” Pan didn’t glance in Aria’s direction, but her aura warmed with some pink. “Why is it that you’re coming along?” Pan nodded at Gavain. “Him too?”
Gavain sat towards the helm of the shuttle and spoke to the pilots. Judging from his steady purple and yellow aura, he hadn’t heard Pan’s question.
Aria sighed softly. “Because he thinks that the Ischryos is safer than Scaldigir. It hangs outside the battle and can flee, unlike our home planet.”
“Ah,” Pan said. “I see.” Finally, she turned to look at Aria. Pan’s aura had grown so thin; she looked almost like she should. “I like that you’ll be around. These have been a couple – no maybe three or four tough years.”
Aria smiled. “I’m glad I’ll be able to see you too.” Aria didn’t mind the text voice for Pan. She even found its rendition of Pan’s reaction to Silene the aura reader thoroughly entertaining. However, if she had a choice, she would rather hear Pan’s real voice. “I wonder if I’ll ever see that aura reader again.”
“I wonder if she has the same problems that we do. The nerve damage and the aging issues.” Pan looked straight ahead again.
Aria copied her, feeling it helped with the remaining nausea. She set her eyes on the least moveable auras, those against the empty wall. “I think she must. She seemed older than Ranunculus, but that could just be because she was. She did accept a lot of help. I’m not really sure.”
Pan slipped her fingers between Aria’s. At first, Pan missed, and their digits spent a few seconds in an uncomfortable tangle. But, Pan corrected the trajectory and found the comfortable way to intertwine.
“What do you think about Gladiolus?” Aria asked. The idea that Pan might have an interest in him bothered Aria. It bothered Aria enough that she glanced over at Pan’s aura, though it made her vision swim.
Pan’s aura showed a hint of lavender. “Why? Did he say that he pines away for me? That I’m like a prized steed and a brilliant magic user. I had some fun teasing him. Maybe, too much. I think I could have done a lot more if it hadn’t been for Gladiolus.” Pan shook her head. “No time to toy with him now.” Pan’s aura set in a determined grey and some red crept in.
Aria took a deep breath and looked forward again. It was foolish to think that Pan’s attention might turn from Sotir. Still…
“Are you excited to see Sotir?” Aria flicked her gaze to Pan again, though it hurt.
Pan’s aura showed the proper contented pink. “Always.”
Aria settled her gaze forward. “Good.”
Pan gave a soft laugh. Her aura puffed and came into Aria’s view. It showed deep blue ribbons.
“Have you ever heard the superstition that bells call a ghost? Specific bells.”
Aria felt her eyes narrow. “No. Why?”
“My asshole neighbor had a bell, and it really did call ghosts. It wouldn’t have been a problem if I could just keep my spellcraft in.” Pan paused. Waves of red frustration washed into the space ahead of Aria. “I’m looking forward to spending some of this energy on Volanter.”
Aria frowned. “So, once you get enough practice, you have to keep using your magic, or it’s like a flood behind a dam?”
Pan’s aura calmed and sent waves of blue into the red. “Mmhm. Maybe…I should make magical items, during my down time. I don’t have to bang out six to ten hours worth of work. Just a couple.”
“Maybe. You have the skills. And, then, they won’t complain about you being off.”
Pan shook Aria’s hand. “Now’s the time to start that bakery. We can make magic cake.”
Aria laughed.
“I have to unbind you first,” Pan said darkly. “I think I have it. I’m just waiting till we’re through this.” Pan gestured vaguely between them.
Aria perked up. She wanted to be unbound so bad. “If you could do that…that would be wonderful.”
“I promise. You first. Then, Sotir.”
Aria’s excitement rose. Pan would unbind her, and Aria could pursue any of the circles. She’d probably study aura reading again. She didn’t hate it as much as she said, and the colors told her so much. But, Aria would rather be a healer. She felt it suited her, and it suited her needs.
Before all that, she would get the hang of looking at pictures and screens again. She would view Pan’s drawings, pictures from her past, pictures from Gavain’s. She would read.
She would read to her daughter.