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Chapter 1: Cool Auras
I, Kristiana Stilhouse, was as bored as could be. It was the last day of school, for God's sake, why did we have to get a guest speaker today of all days? Apparently, the guy standing in front of us, droning on and on, was a government representative. He was telling us about how happy we should be to be teenagers at last, and how it was time that we become respective citizens of the nation.
Needless to say, at least three people were secretly sleeping in their seats.
I myself almost felt like taking a nap. I was tired. Last night I'd snuck out of my aunt's house to go to the cemetery, which I did every night I couldn't sleep, to visit my parent's graves. For some reason, after sitting on the damp grass and talking to them for a bit, I always felt relaxed and calm, and was able to sleep again.
You see, my parents died when I was nine. My mother was a witch, my father a mage, and I'd gained my magical skills from them. You'd think they'd be able to survive something as simple as a car wreck, what with their magic and all. But, surprise, surprise, even a mage can be killed in a head on collision. Especially since the guy had come out of nowhere, and so my parents hadn't had time to dodge or cast even the simplest spell. I've been living with my aunt Kristine since then, who was currently planning on marrying her long-time boyfriend, Harold, in July.
I know what you're thinking. Kristine and Kristiana. My mother had loved her sister very much, so I'd been named after her. This served to cause some confusion, since we both preferred the nickname Kris. I didn't mind, though, I loved aunt Kris. She was kind, funny, smart, and my best, and only, friend in the world. Other than my kitten Bindi, of course. She's also my familiar. You know, the animal that all witches have, that increases their magical ability and will live as long as the owners do, and that can usually communicate with said witch? Yeah, those.
"So, maybe you can get a job for babysitting, or doing some other chore over the summer..."
The guest speaker brought my attention back to where I was, and I tried to pay attention. We were currently in the small gymnasium, which was for the connecting elementary school. The seventh year teachers were standing near the doorway to the gym, watching us to make sure we didn't misbehave. All of my fellow seventh, soon to be eighth, grade classmates and I were sitting on the bleachers, which only rose three levels along the right wall. We had our backpacks sitting on our laps or in front of us, and most were chatting animatedly in whispers with the people near them. Not me, of course. I have no friends to chat with. No, I sat at the far end of the bleachers, by myself, as I always did. I found it was easier not to have friends.
I know that must seem odd. Not having friends? Come on! Who doesn't want friends?
Not me. I'd learned when my parents died that the more you care about someone, the more it will hurt when they're torn away from you. So, I distanced myself. I only allowed myself to care for my familiar, my aunt, and Harold. But, of course, everyone slips up once in a while. For instance, I made the mistake in sixth grade of making friends with a seventh grader. Her name had been Anna, and she'd been my best friend. Then, when we'd come back to school after summer, I was excited to see her, but found that she'd moved last minute, to go to an all expense paid boarding school.
I'd been heartbroken, and had redoubled my efforts to isolate myself from the others. I didn't want to be hurt again, and as a result spent my seventh grade year alone. It was hard, but I managed. I didn't want to make the same mistake twice.
I jumped when the bell rang, and everyone around me sighed in relief all at once.
"So, that ends our presentation, have a nice summer vacation!"
I turned back to the guest speaker, only then realizing that I'd failed in my attempts to pay attention. Not that I'd given it much effort, though.
I picked up my bag, prepared to sprint out of there if I had to, and froze in horror when I saw that the speaker was standing at the gym's entrance, lining the students up to shake their hands. I groaned aloud. Why? I'd been so close to getting out of there, and now I had to wait in line to leave? What was this, some kind of prolonged torture?
I sighed, and walked to get in line. Since I'd been sitting on the far side of the gymnasium, though, I was last to get in line. Figured. At the rate the line was going, it seemed as though we'd be there for a while. He insisted on speaking to each and every student, asking names, and hobbies, and other things that really weren't important. I could hear some people whispering about how they would miss the buses if they didn't hurry, and I hoped for their sakes that the buses waited. They should know about the guest speaker and his rants, since he came every year. I'd heard of it too, but hadn't believed such infinite boredom was possible. I'd been wrong.
As I waited I found my thoughts returning to aunt Kristine. She would be getting married in a month or so, in the backyard. She'd said that she wanted to 'be one with Mother Nature' during the ceremony. She, too, was a witch, teaching me after my mother passed, and all witches seem to have a love of the elements. So, I think the 'Mother Nature' thing she was pulling was all thanks to her witch nature. After all, the element she specializes in is earth.
All witches specialize in an element, which they can manipulate at will-fire, earth, water, or air. It was usually based on either the witches skill with the element, or just personal preference. I myself liked the water element best, and found it easier to work with. So, while my aunt likes to manipulate the earth, I like to manipulate water. We can work with the others as well, of course, it's just that the one we chose just became our specialty. Had a landscaping problem? Call up your local witch friend who specializes in earth. Need your pond's polluted water cleaned? Simple! Just count on the neighborhood water witch specialist, she'll easily purify it!
Then again, finding witches and mages wasn't as easy as looking in your phone book. There were very few of us, fewer than most would think. Some people have magical abilities, of course, like psychics, but they aren't full-fledged witches. Those were rare. My mother, my aunt, and I, were probably the only female witches left in this state, and my father was probably the only mage. While magic is hereditary, it can sometimes skip a few or several generations before someone is born who can use it. My mother and aunt, twins, had both been born with it, after their mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and her mother before her hadn't. It was pretty much the same with my father. It was also rare for a child to be born of a mage and witch, since there were so few and they usually didn't find one another.
This may have played a part in why I had magic, and it hadn't decided to skip this generation or more. Maybe the mage/witch combination made the odds of the child having power greater.
My thoughts suddenly turned back to my aunt. She had taught me everything she knew after my mother died. I had decided at nine that I was going to become a witch my mother could be proud of, and that my father would be happy to brag about. I had studied nonstop since then, doing double lessons, and practicing in all my spare time. I wondered, then, if when my aunt had a baby of her own, as she was planning to, would it inherit the magic gift? Or would the magic skip a generation again?
Which reminded me, what was I going to do? With Kristine marrying, would I be in the way? Surely they didn't want me, a teenage girl, wandering around their house in their first years of marriage? If I was there, wouldn't it just cause trouble? Yet, I had nowhere else to go. Then, once a baby did come along, surely my being there would cause problems?
"Kris?"
Surely I should find somewhere else to go?
"Kris?"
But where would I go? Where could I go?
"Kristiana!"
My head jerked around when someone yelled my name, to find the guest speaker and the teachers all staring at me. I realized I'd spaced out and hadn't noticed the line moving. Everyone was now gone, and I was the only one left, standing in the middle of the gym. Of course, no one in my class had bothered letting me know. I didn't have any friends who'd bother, remember?
Mrs. Clent, my math teacher, the one who had spoken, was shaking her head, a grin on her face. "I swear, sometimes I think you spend more time in the clouds than you do here on Earth. What were you thinking that made you space out this time?"
The other teachers laughed, knowing of my tendency to slip into a daze at random moments, and I gave her an apologetic smile. "Nothing much, just my aunt."
Mr. Kelps, my science teacher, nodded his head. "She's getting married isn't she?"
"Yeah." I wasn't surprised he knew, Kristine had practically announced it to the world when Harold had proposed. I didn't understand why she'd been so peppy and happy, but she said I'd understand someday. I was doubtful.
"Well, let's try to get you out of here, now. Your aunt will be worried if you get home too late." Mrs. Clent gestured for me to come forward.
I then noticed that the guest speaker was still there, waiting for me to come up and shake his dang hand. Sighing, I walked forward, but paused when I was about five feet from him.
There was something odd about this guy. He exuded a strange aura-detecting and identifying auras was one of the first things my mother'd taught me-making the air around him feel cool, like you were stepping into water at the YMCA pool, not warm, but not cold, either. A perfect degree of coolness. It was odd. I'd detected warm auras around people, hot auras, freezing cold auras, auras that felt like static electricity all along your skin, and some that felt just plain gross, like you were walking through muck. Kristine had once said that coming near me was like swimming in Antarctica naked, my aura was that cold. Never, though, had a felt an aura like this before. The auras of witches and mages tended to be cold, which hinted at magical prowess. The colder the aura, the more powerful they usually were. This guy's aura was cool, which hinted at magic origins, but not enough for him to be a mage. This confused me.
A frown creased his brow as he took in my expression, which I imagined was somewhere between confusion and wariness. I was afraid what I'd discover if I got too close. You could never be too careful when facing the unknown.
Finally, noticing the stares my teachers were giving us, I moved forward, extending my hand to shake his. A smile crossed his face as he took it, and he looked straight into my eyes. His, I noticed, were dark green. So dark a green, there was hardly any color.
"Hello, miss. What's your name?" he asked.
I raised my eyebrows. "Kristiana Stilhouse," I answered slowly.
"Hmm," he said, seeming to concentrate carefully on my face. "What do you enjoy doing in your spare time, Kristiana?"
"Kris," I corrected, "and I enjoy reading, music, and other artistic pursuits."
"Interesting." He seemed to concentrate even harder; on what, though, I wasn't sure. "What did you think of my lecture? Do you plan on doing any of the things I mentioned?"
"Uh," I averted my eyes, "I thought it was interesting." I was lying of course, and I think he could tell, because a grin had pulled at his lips when my eyes had averted his. "But, unfortunately, I will not be able to do any of the things you spoke of because...um...my aunt's wedding! That's right, my aunt's getting married and I'll be too busy." Truthfully, I had no idea what he'd been talking about, but was hoping Kristine's marriage would make a good excuse for whatever it was. I think he'd said something about summer jobs?
"I see." The concentration on his face eased, as a slightly frustrated look took over. "What else do you want to do this summer, then, if you have any free time?"
I bit my lip. "Probably hit the library, I need some new reading material."
He nodded, and released my hand, pulling a cell from his pocket and flipping it open, dialing in a number. "Thank you for your time. Have a good summer."
I nodded, and walked past him, catching the first few words of his conversation. "Hey, it's me. I think I found one."
I didn't hear anymore, however, as I made my way into the halls, and the sounds of last minute locker cleanouts took over. Five or six people lined the walls, stuffing things into their bags and banging things in their lockers. I paid them no mind, however, as I continued to walk toward the building's entrance, backpack hanging on my shoulder.
What had he meant? Found one what? Why had he looked so frustrated during our conversation? I shook my head, I didn't need to be bothered by this. I had other things to worry about. Like a wedding, and the fact that Harold was moving in to be closer to Kristine today.
I stepped out the front doors, and the warm afternoon sun fell onto my pale skin, untanned from staying indoors to read instead of play outside. I knew I should feel warm, but I didn't.
The speaker's cool aura clung to my skin the whole way home.
I cautiously approached the front of our one story house-which was on the edge of town, so our yard was more spacious and wide than anyone else's, thus Kristine's wanting to have the wedding there-eyeing the moving van with a mixture of alarm and cheer.
I mean, I liked the thought of Harold moving in-especially since he knew about our magic so there wouldn't be any awkwardness or secret keeping-but I was also slightly put off by that fact. It had always been just me and Kristine since I'd moved in some four and a half years ago. The thought of someone else, someone whom I didn't know very personally, sitting at the breakfast table every morning, was daunting. Especially since I'd only just began to let myself get close to him, finally accepting the fact that he was going to become a permanent fixture of my life. It was then that the very core of my thoughts walked out the front door onto the porch, which was made of sturdy wood planks that made a sort of deck, and leaned on the railings when he spotted me. A wide grin immediately spread from ear-to-ear.
Harold wasn't an extraordinary member of the male species. He had brown hair cut short, and brown eyes to match. He dressed conservatively, simple T-shirt and blue jeans faded at the knees, the ends frayed. He had a pair of worn out white sneakers on his feet, and his calloused hands hinted at his occupation as a carpenter. His smile flashed white, showing the state of dental hygiene, but his teeth were slightly crooked.
"What's up, kiddo?" Harold asked in a deep, resonant voice, his eyes sparkling. While I myself couldn't fully understand the attraction my aunt felt for this guy, I felt I could partially when his eyes sparkled like that; it made him seem younger than his thirty years, and gave his face a warmth that you couldn't help but smile back at.
"Nothing much, saw-man," I said, the aforementioned smile crossing my face. "I can see you're moving in a few hours early. What, can't stand to be apart from my dear aunt Kristine for another second?"
He laughed, the sound booming out so loud I wouldn't have been surprised if everyone on the street heard it. "Yes, that's exactly it. I just couldn't stand another moment of such endless torture."
I shook my head, giving a martyred sigh. "She has so got you trained."
He rolled his eyes. "She does not."
"Harold, could you come here for a minute?" Kristine's voice called through the open screen door.
"Coming!" Harold instantly straightened, ready and willing to obey her command. I raised my eyebrows at his obvious whipped status, and he grimaced at me before walking inside.
Chuckling to myself, I made to follow suit, but paused for a moment to glance back over my shoulder at the moving van. God only knew how my life would change in the months to come. All I could do was hope it turned out for the best.
I shrugged away the slight panic that rose up in me, which brought on a feeling of nauseousness in my stomach. I don't know why I always feel like vomiting whenever I feel panicky, but it was a fact I'd learned to live with. Just like I'd learned to live with the loneliness I sometimes felt at my self-imposed isolation. So, I handled it as I did that one. I bottled the emotion away. I don't know how deep, how big, or how much this metaphorical bottle in my heart could hold, but it had been doing well so far. It had held four and a half years worth of negative thoughts and feelings, after all. I knew someday, though, this bottle was going to burst, and I'd end up striking out at something, or someone. My worst fear was that I'd be too pent up, and would accidentally hurt someone. I'd never forgive myself if that happened.
I walked into the house, passing through the living room and into the kitchen where Kristine sat at the kitchen table. Harold was there as well, sitting next to her with a resigned look on his face. She smiled up at me, nodding her head in recognition with quick 'hi' before returning to whatever it was she was talking to Harold about. I poured myself a glass of milk and took some cookies from the Chips Ahoy! package in the snack cabinet. As I made my way to leave, I heard a snippet of the conversation they were having. She was talking to him about floral arrangements for the wedding.
God help the man.
Harold noticed I was looking at him with a pitying expression, and understanding that I knew the kind of torture he was going through, gave me a look of desperation. A sly smile crossed my face as the pity became amusement. I was his only lifeline out of this situation, and he knew it. I thought I knew what I would do, but I still made myself think it over.
It took all of a second.
Smile still in place, I turned on my heel and left the room, chuckling at the sound of his groan behind me. I made my way to my room, opening the door to the quiet paradise, and setting the milk and cookies on the dresser.
My room is my favorite place in the whole world. Purple walls, matching lavender bedcovers and pillows, and even purple carpeting covered the room. There was a single floor-to-ceiling window against the far wall, which was also covered in purple drapes. The room wasn't overly large, and to some would even appear small, but for me it was the perfect size. A single white dresser sat against the right wall, opposite the bed on the left wall. I didn't have a TV, but I did have books. They were all on racks in the closet to my right, but the desk, which faced the wall by the window, had all my favorites lined up.
I sat my bag on the floor in front of the bed, slipping off my shoes in the process. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, reveling in the silence. Whoever said silence is golden was right, it truly was. It was one of the few times I could feel calm, and without noises to distract me, I could picture my old life before the death of my parents.
I did that now, closing my eyes. I could see myself, sitting on my father's lap as he gently stroked my hair. He would whisper spells and incantations to me as though they were lullabies, hoping this would make me memorize them easier. It had worked, and that was how I'd always been taught from then on. At some point I'd fall asleep, and he'd gently rock me until I woke up again, even if it took a few hours, or if it was late enough, he'd put me to bed. I had vague memories of waking up as he pulled the covers up to my chest, his lips brushing my forehead as his mustache rubbed against my skin. He'd always whisper something, whether it be an 'I love you', a 'good night', or a murmured protection from nightmares spell varied from night to night, but he never failed to say something. Even if it was just a quick apology for an argument we'd had earlier that day.
It was one of the most beautiful memories I had.
A light ruffling sound under the bed brought my attention back to the present, and I rolled over to look over the edge. Bindi, my aforementioned familiar, was crawling from the shadows, stretching her paws in front of her. She had pure white fur on her back, legs, and head, excluding the grayish blue fur on her ears, face, tail, and paws. She yawned as she arched her back, turning to look up at me on the bed with her powder blue eyes. The eyes weren't that of a one year old kitten, but a nearly fourteen year old cat. Because she's my familiar, she ages as I do, and since by human nature I'd still be considered a kitten, she remained a kitten's form. But her eyes were too smart for the body. She had the eyes of something far more intelligent than just some mere animal, she had the eyes of someone far older and wiser than I.
How was your day? Bindi asked.
I smiled at her. Bindi could let others hear her, but she never did. She kept it between the two of us at all times, and I'd never seen her let anyone else hear her in all the years I'd had her. "It was fine."
Hmmmm...Bindi jumped onto the bed, her sleek fur rubbing against my leg as she looked at me with those intelligent eyes. Why do I smell traces of a magic user on you?
I wasn't surprised she'd noticed. Bindi noticed everything. "There was a speaker at our school today," I answered. "His aura was..." I searched for the right words, "magically oriented. It wasn't strong, really. Nothing to worry about." The feeling that crept along my skin at the memory of his aura bellied my words.
Hmmmm...Bindi said again, are you sure you're alright?
I gave a light laugh. "I'm fine, Bindi. Really."
She seemed to accept this, as she crawled up to curl onto my chest as I lay back on the bed. Her purrs vibrated through her body, giving my chest a tingling feeling. As we slipped into silence once more, she lifted her head to look at me.
What had you been thinking about? she asked.
I lifted my head and frowned at her. "When?"
Just before I woke up and crawled from under the bed.
I sat my head back down, wondering if I should tell her. I knew she didn't like it when I dwelled on the past, but didn't mind if I did it now and again. The worst part wasn't telling her about the things I'd been reminiscing, though, it was the fact that she'd been there for pretty much all of it, so she understood exactly what I was talking about.
Bindi seemed to guess from my silence what I'd been thinking, as she scowled at me and lightly nipped at my arm. I hate it when you get silent on me. Tell me, Kris, what were you remembering this time? Her tone had changed from annoyed to quietly affectionate and comforting as she said the last part.
I met the eyes of that smart cat, the powder blue matching the sky on a sunny day. They were soft, warm, and loving as she stared back, willing to accept anything and everything I told her. In some ways, even though we were the same age, she seemed like a mother. Always listening, remembering things from when I was a baby, watching out for me, and scolding me when I needed it. There was one thing, however, that stood above all else.
She truly, truly loved me. As though I were her own kitten.
I stared at those eyes for another split-second before giving her a small smile, and closed my eyes. "I was remembering Dad's lullabies," I whispered.
Ah. I opened my eyes to see hers, a speck of sadness entering her eyes as she rubbed her head comfortingly against my neck. I see. You can cry if you want, Kris. I won't mind. You should let yourself cry more, anyway. It'll make you feel better.
I put a hand on my forehead, covering my eyes as I breathed deeply through my nose. I hated when she said things like that. Not because it was annoying, but because it was exactly what I needed to hear. She knew I was lonely, and while she disagreed with the reasons behind my antisocial nature, she supported me in any way possible. She knew I hadn't let myself cry at my parents' funeral, and that I never let people see my pain. She knew how much I missed them, and how much I wanted someone, anyone, to hold me and tell me it would be all right, even if it was a lie. She knew, and still she loved me, still she let me cry in front of her without judgment.
I heard a slight choking sound, and distantly realized it was me, but didn't attempt to stop it. I could feel water sliding down my temples, into my hair, as the tears fell from the corner of my eyes. I drew in a shaky breath, letting it out in a whoosh, my body beginning to shake with the force of my tears. Memories flashed in front of my eyes-from as early as when I was three, to as late as the hour prior to the accident.
Bindi sat on my chest the whole time, purring and rubbing me with her face and paws, all the while murmuring, Shhhh. It's alright little one. I'm here, I'm here. It's okay now. I love you. It's okay.
I'm here.
Hello again, my lovlies! Thank you for reading this chapter, please review! Remember, they make me HAPPY! Here's a sneak peek for those wondering about the next chapter...
So I faked, and I sighed, and I felt something inside me dim as I listened to the words of the preacher-unattached and uncaring-smile firmly in place as I only allowed myself a real smile in moments like Harold's thumbs up. In some ways it was like I was boxing myself away, as bits and pieces of me I'd once been and known, emotions I'd once felt, were carefully stored away, to only be used and expressed in the rarest of moments, with the rarest of company. And every day that box got fuller and fuller, as the bottle with my negative emotions filled itself more and more.
