· Kali's POV

"So you going home, Kali?" Rebecca asked with her customary smile. I pulled my head out of my suitcase and gave her the 'what do you think?' look. She just kept smiling as she outlined her own plans to me. Ashley was shaking her head in the background as she threw just the basics in her purse.

Interrupting Rebecca's spirited rant, Ashley said, "Kali'll be in Whisperia and you're going home to Isis so what am I going to do? My parents are off-realm so I'll be stuck in Magix on my own."

"Oh woe is Ash! Whatever will you do with yourself with a whole day free of distractions?" I said laughing, and she mock-glared back. Rebecca tittered from her place by the closet.

Rebecca couldn't help but put in her own two cents, "I would either find some little Alfea pixies to mess with or some Red Fountain boys to flirt with, but you'll probably be boring and spend your whole day in the library."

Ashley chucked a pillow at Rebecca's head while I defended, "Hey! Nothing's wrong with the library. It's the only reason you're passing your classes, Becca." They laughed while I slipped shut the zipper on my bag and grabbed my jacket from my bed.

"Alright well, I'm out of here. I'll see you both tomorrow." They said there farewells while continuing their 'library argument,' a recurring one.

I shrunk my suitcase and slipped it into my pocket. Then, sticking my hands in the leather pockets I slipped out of the school among the crowd. The buses run near constant shuttles on the Day of the Rose so I hopped on and I was soon at the teleport station. The line was long, but the process was quick so I wasn't waiting too long.

"Whisperia." I called out to the teleporter. With a rush of icy coldness and a burst of light I vanished from Magix and appeared back home, in Whisperia. It was chilly out, but, then again, it was always chilly there. I walked out of the teleport station into the cold mist of the Whisperia streets.

The place would never be considered pretty in the conventional manner, but I thought it had its own charm. The cold air blew my hair around my head, but couldn't touch my skin through my leather jacket. The mist obscured my vision, but always reminded me of the black and white film noirs I had watched as a child. The streets were dark, winding, and mysterious so those few tourists foolish enough to travel here always complained of getting lost. I knew my way around though. I stalked down the empty, curving roads confidently. It was no matter at all too slip from the main thoroughfares into the dark alleys, where shadowy forms huddled together whether for defense or warmth it was hard to say. I saw a few young men approach each other their manners were threatening and angry, but I slipped past as if I was invisible. I grew up here, I belong here, and everyone from around here can tell that.

A few more blocks and I was at my street. I walked by a figure I didn't recognize who blinked at me from behind a screen of cigarette smoke. He stared after me a moment before stumbling off. I just kept walking suddenly anxious. How do I put this…? My family's… unique, and not in a cute, quirky kind of way. My mother has very strict opinions on what a witch should and should not do. As well as even stricter opinions on what I, as her daughter, should and should not do. I should focus on my schoolwork and work to become a better, more powerful witch. I should spend my time pranking and fighting my enemies to show them that I'm a better, more powerful witch. I should not be nice to do-gooders. I definitely should not be nice to fairy do-gooders. I absolutely should not become involved with a hero do-gooder.

Now, maybe it's just me, but I don't think she will approve of any of the people I've been spending my time with lately. Befriending fairies and heroes is not on her list of things I should do. It's not even on her list of things I can do, and seriously flirting with a hero is even worse.

I'm sure most people would just advise me not to tell them, but you don't know my family. If I went to, my friend, Nathan's house in the middle of the night, closed the door, locked the door, shut the curtains, and sneezed, my mother would know about it by the time I got back. It's just how she is, and no. I don't know how she does it. My original theory was that they were sending their craven bird to spy on me, but even after I took on craven-blasting as a hobby and the blasted things started refusing to go near me my mother and my aunts still knew what I was up to. It's kind of the worst. You try having your parents know your every move. You either give up and turn utterly obedient, or you get good at hiding things, and even better at lying your way out of trouble. I went with the latter. Not that I would dare openly disobey my mother she's my mom, and not easy to disobey either. It was the quiet things you could fight her about, not so much the bigger ones.

I grabbed the big silver key that was hidden in the houseplant to the left of the door. The carnivorous houseplant next to the door, that is. It took a special spell to get the key out without being bitten. A simple, but effective defense mechanism. I walked in to find the house empty, but I wasn't concerned. I poked a head into the library, but since they weren't there I knew they had to be in the potions lab in the basement. Sure enough, there they were.

My mother, Ilena, was the leader. She was tall with blonde hair even paler than mine that she kept pulled back in a braid and slung over her shoulder. Her eyes were a similar shade of blue to mine, but while mine were bright, hers were as cold as the ice she controlled. My aunts, Donna and Sandra, looked nothing like their sister. Sandra was the shortest with frizzy hair left bunched up in a short ponytail behind her. With black/purple hair and green eyes, people often wondered how the three sisters were even related. The last member of their little trio, my aunt, Donna, was the quietest, but also the one I was closest too. The others had formidable tempers, but Donna at least let me try to justify my opinion before disagreeing. Her hair was a dark brown that she left tucked up into a messy bun. Hazel eyes behind square-rimmed glasses gave her a scholarly appearance, like a librarian or something.

Donna and Sandra smiled pleased to see me, but my mother was cold. She was mad at me, and I was sure that I would hear all about her disapproval before I went back to school. It wouldn't be tonight though, I knew her well enough to know that. She would let my homecoming stay peaceful. At least for now, but she wouldn't want me to go back to school until I knew exactly what she expected me to do.

We talked and laughed at my school stories. As I had expected, mother didn't start a fight, but you could feel the tension as we all tiptoed around the topic. We went out to eat at my favorite restaurant while they talked about what they had been working on. Donna was trying to track down (another) ancient grimoire while Sandra worked on a new potion. My mother didn't volunteer any information, I didn't ask. We just tiptoed. After we got home from dinner I begged off a little time to meet up with Nathan.

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. It was a fairly long walk to his usual hangout, but it was one I'd made a few billion times before. A word on the matter of his 'usual hangout.' See, he's kinda sorta a gang leader. You know, maybe. Although gang's not really the best word for it. Now, first thing to remember, gangs are common around here, but Nathan's group isn't a traditional gang by any means. They were more like a particularly violent group of vigilantes. They all lived or had family that lived in the neighborhood so their main goal was and has always been to look after the people in their 'territory' the only issue being that they will use any means necessary to accomplish that. I had seen them fight or intimidate everything from petty criminals to outside gangs. So… Nathan isn't exactly a good person, per say, but I trust him, he has a heart of gold, and he is my friend. Which is really the final word there.

The whole group hung out at Nathan's house/group headquarters. I knew that most of them would be home with family (like I should be), but Nathan had always been a bit of a loner. No wife. No kids. No girlfriend. Not even a dog. Just the gang and I. Our friendship had always been a bit of an oddity but, he's... Well, he wasn't old enough to be, technically, but he was still the closest thing I'd ever had to a father. When my mother and I fought, I ran to his house and we curled up on the couch and watched a movie while eating popcorn and candy. He was all movie quotes, and reminding me to be myself. Now, my mother didn't approve of him, but she didn't argue much. I suppose she was glad that I had someone to talk too. Really talk too. Not just tiptoe around. Soon I ran up to the door and knocked excitedly until someone opened the door.

Nathan. He was just as I remembered him. He was a tall man, 26-28 years old or so, with broad shoulders. Dirty blonde hair hanging scraggily down from his chin looked more intimidating than kind, but bright eyes held the sort of inherent goodness you couldn't often find on Whisperia. He smiled, white teeth showing for a second before greeting me, "Kali! How've you been? Having fun in Magix?" I answered quickly and he hugged me while ushering me into the building.

A handful of the others were hanging out here too. Diane, 17 years old and an orphan who refused anyone's charity. Tyler, 43 years old and a widow who'd lost his wife to disease and his sons to gang violence. Last, but not least, Matthew, 21 years old who had a falling out with his parents, ran away, and just never went back. They all greeted me kindly. I had always gotten along well with the gang. They were a family of their own kind, rather miraculously less dysfunctional than my own. I grabbed a seat on the couch next to Matthew and glued my eyes on the TV screen. It was yet another of Nathan's film noirs in black and white. One of my favorites, but I had seen it a million times. Still, you couldn't ask for better company, no matter how hodge-podge they were. I curled up and watched the movie, smiling.

I didn't get back to the house until late. We had finished the first movie then thrown in the next, an Earth one this time. Casablanca. I had a good time, and it was helpful that I was too tired to be nervous about heading home once the marathon was finished. I popped my head in the door, but the house was dark and totally silent so I knew that the others must have headed to bed. It worked for me. Besides, I was looking forward to sleeping in my own bed again. My issues could just wait until tomorrow.

Of course, they wouldn't wait very long.

I woke to the smell of toast and burnt bacon, a familiar scent in this house. Right up there with aconite and old books. I got up, stretched, got dress, considered going back to bed, and decided against it. All in all a normal morning. I snagged a few pieces of bacon and sat at the table next to my mother awkwardly. The silence stretching between us my mother drilling her eyes into me. Logic told me to stay calm, stay cool, let it bother her, not me…

I broke down first.

"Did you have something you wanted to say, mother?" I asked, turning towards her, my voice distant and formal.

She tilted her head considering me for a moment, letting me psych myself out then slowly, delicately stated, "I'm just concerned about you is all." Her voice was innocent, but her eyes were vicious. An open threat. Daring me to deny her unspoken accusations.

"Oh?" I questioned, my voice smoother than I had hoped. I raised my eyebrows as if I had no idea what she was implying at all. After all, if she wanted this fight then she'd have to start it. I wasn't going to do it for her.

"Tell me, why aren't witches and fairies friends?" she asked her tone brooking no argument, although I tried anyway.

"Because people are stuck in a prejudiced viewpoint even though witches and fairies are essentially the same the only difference being that one powers their magic with positive energy and one powers their magic with negative energy." I answered solidly as if that was the answer she was looking for, as if that wasn't a subtle insult.

She continued as if she hadn't heard me, her voice sharp, "Because fairies aim to pointlessly try to fix the world's problems choosing to ignore their own issues while witches are intelligent enough to protect their own interests. Because fairies and society in general hate witches intrinsically."

"A problem that witches have rather unintelligently, never tried to correct." I said my voice rising, my pulse speeding up a bit. I was disagreeing with my mother, I am so going to get it for this.

She was no longer being subtle, she wasn't going to dance around this. Her opinion was stone and steel. I couldn't change it, couldn't ignore it. "I do not approve of you being friends with a bunch of fairies and heroes. Their foolish and they will only get in your way." Here her voice was kinder, somehow sweet and cold, "They aren't your friends. Surely your smart enough to realize that, Sweetheart? They only want your protection from the other witches. Just like those girls Ashley and Rebecca they are only using you for power." I shifted unsure. I shouldn't doubt them, I had seen enough movies to know that that wasn't part of friendship, but most everyone I had ever known had been aiming for power one way or another. Why did I think they were any different?

A reply, shaky and hurt, "They aren't all after protection." They weren't. Sam sure as hell wasn't. He didn't care about power, wasn't interested in manipulation, wouldn't bother to avoid a fight when he could just fight it. Sam wasn't using me. He wouldn't, and for that matter Will was too blatant to do so and Eric too nice. Lily too honest, Mira too sweet, and Aria too confident in her own abilities. They wouldn't.

She seemed to read my thoughts as she hissed, "You think that boy is any better? He could and has had any girl he's ever wanted. You're his pretty, new flavor-of-the-week. Nothing more than a pretty face to him." I froze and blinked back sudden hot tears. I couldn't say anything. I didn't know when to start. All I knew was the picture my mother's poisonous words had painted.

One where I didn't matter.

One where I never would

I stood up and wordlessly headed up to my room. My mother's anger had subsided by the time I walked back past, bag in tow. This visit had lasted as long as it needed to, and I, at the moment, didn't want to see my family. I wanted to go back to school and pretend that the poisonous, doubtful thoughts weren't swirling around in my brain.

I headed towards the transporter.

I broke down first.