Feral Magic: An Urban Fantasy Romance-Thriller

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I hibernated for days after. When I woke up, they informed me that Lilly had discovered the name of the head ghost in control of the others. It was a boy by the name of Jacob Heimer-Snitzgoodle, a boy from the lost colony who died and fell victim to the manipulations of an Unwritten spell.

  Before the other souls could rest, we would have to give his remains a proper burial. Apparently, said remains were found in a search of Gregor's home while I was “playing sleeping beauty on the floor in my sun room.” Mordon slept hard, too, but no one gave him crap about it.

  Yawning still, I wandered into the commons area and joined Mordon at the breakfast nook. As he had brought out just one drink of drake's brew, I stole half of his. He didn't object. The Thaumaturgical Tribune lay before him, unopened as his glazed eyes stared unmoving at a picture of the crowd at the ball. Now that I looked at it, it played recordings of each person's introduction. I missed seeing my illusion from an outsider's perspective to look around for the others—I hadn't seen Lilly since she left my room, and I hadn't seen Leif or Barnes at all.

  On cue, Barnes busted down the door, rubbed his hands together with a twitch of his handlebar mustache, and said, “Alright! Lilly has the cleansing powder, Leif has a plot ready, I have posted an announcement, all that's needed now is for everyone to attend!”

  “It's kinda early…isn't it?” my voice was a little hoarse.

  “It's ten,” said Barnes with too much perk in his voice.

  I wondered what I'd been doing for two and a half hours. I looked at Mordon. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

  “Drakes hibernate for a reason.”

  I felt moderately more awake, I supposed.

  Getting to my feet, I followed after Barnes in a haze, not noticing the vendors, the food, the drink, the salespeople who hung back only because they caught Barnes' glare. Over time, I started actually taking notes on where we were going. Barnes led the way to the sacred ground, several decks up and quite the walk to the east. I caught my breath when I saw it, a floating plot of lawn, headstones, and lots of bouquets. Mordon put his hand on my shoulder and I took solace in it.

  Flower stalls lined the grounds, and I was impressed how many people came to pay respects—it was much busier at any given time than a normal cemetery. Lilly and Leif each had a cluster of forget-me-nots, and Barnes went to buy a bunch as well. Mordon guided me to an open vendor, and looked at me expectantly.

  The woman tending the booth lifted aged, hooded eyes up to me as well, but her hands shuffled some bunches so I could better see what she had in stock.

  “Stargazer lily, gladiolus, and—” I hesitated, trying to remember.

  “Yes?” the woman said, having already selected the stems as I spoke them.

  “And a pink rose some cyclamens. Do you have pink ribbon to tie them with?”

  The woman scarcely inclined her head before snipping off a length of pink ribbon and tying a bow with hardly a glance at her fingers. “Thirty.”

  Mordon paid the woman with three coins, took the gladiolus sprig for himself and gave the others to me. I held Mordon's elbow with one hand and the flowers in my other, and he showed me around the crowd to where Leif and the others were. Leif was at the head of a small casket, Lilly stood next to him, and Barnes next to her. Mordon and I stood at Leif's other side. The remainder of the crowd stood facing us, quiet and solemn.

  Leif began to sing, and was accompanied by a violin and a cello off to the side. Both the instruments had the symbol of a certain wizard who sold enchanted instruments.

  A draping graced the top of the coffin, a simple light blue silk with three white doves on it flying up to the sky. They animated, nosed one another mid-flight, and encouraged the smallest to fly up ahead of them.

  They disappeared into fluffy clouds at the top of the draping and a shifting beam of light replaced where they once were. I sensed only illusion magic from it and was not as impressed as others were.

  Next, Leif led a short ceremony in Latin. I did not recognize a word except “mortem” and “vita”, which came to mind as 'death' and 'life', although I would have to check to make sure.

  He signaled to Lilly. She opened a fist-sized bag, took a bit of it, and tossed it around the coffin. He said some more words, she dribbled the rest of it on top of the draping. He said what seemed to be a prayer, and the crowd responded with, “Amen.”

  I wondered if Leif was a New Age Wizard, and thought to myself that I still hadn't asked anyone about it. Later. Later, later, later. I seemed to be saying that a lot.

  A crisp breeze shook me out of my hazy almost-asleep status. I took in a deep breath and looked upward.

  Clouds parted and sunlight poured through the skylight, drenching the coffin. Not seeming to notice the cleansing light, the crowd stepped forward one by one and dropped a flower around the coffin.

  Our circle added the flowers last, but I held on to my rose and cyclamen bundle. Lilly gave me a sad, knowing smile. When Leif laid his forget-me-not on the casket, it began to sink, taking the flowers with it, the soil pulling back like water until the casket was several feet deep.

  Dirt covered the top and continued settling, then the grass flowed over and filled in, not a scar left on the land. One of the funeral employees set a small headstone down at Leif's feet. It read:

  Jacob Heimer-Snitzgoodle

  Beloved Child, May You Finally Rest

  Below the etching was a lamb with a long tail playing on a hill with a single dove just beginning to fly.

  Leif and Mordon began to talk in quiet whispers, but as I read the headstone over and over again, I saw the lamb leap and bound, up the hill, down the hill, back up again, kicking up his heels and wagging his long tail. The dove swooped and soared, diving and spinning, coming to land on his back. They looked off the side of the stone, and then came two adult sheep, peering at him. They called the lamb, and it ran happily over to nuzzle them. As one, they walked off the stone and were gone.

  A breeze swept over my skin, and I closed my eyes, smelling honeysuckle and spices. When I opened my eyes again, the headstone was as it had been before: a lamb with a dove on a hill.

  “Feraline?”

  It was Lilly. The crowd was gone, and the men were involved in their talks. She held out her hand to me, and I took it, letting her show me through the rows and rows of headstones, taking me to the one old weeping willow in the corner.

  She pulled aside a curtain of leaves, where a concrete bench nestled in front of the trunk. A small patio was there, concrete formed to look like rocks coating the ground. I walked the rest of the way alone, and read the seat of the bench.

  Willow Railey Fitzgerald

  Dedicated to Providing Love and Shelter for the Weary

  You Will Always Be With Us

  Mumma, Poppa, Lilly, Leif, & “Griff”

  It had no decorations other than a scallop around the edge of the bench. While it was a lovely display, tears stung my eyes to have been excluded from the stone. I would have been here. Would have, if I could have.

  “Feraline, look up. Read the back,” urged Lilly.

  I raised my head, amazed I'd looked down first rather than at what faced me. Instead of the formal, all-caps lettering, this one was in Railey's hand, as though she'd written it down and they had transposed it directly.

  To my friend:

  You were here first. You were here last. You were here when no one else knew I needed someone to be here with. You were the one I told my secrets to and held them close. You were here to help me clean up when I made messes. You kept your promises, all of them. I promise to you, I will be there for you now when you need someone.

  Railey

  I stared at her promise to me. I remembered the times she had shown up to me as a ghost, the things she had helped me accomplish, and how she had disappeared again. Now I had a circle, friends again, and even a man who loved me. I didn't need her anymore.

  I sat on the bench, laid the flowe
rs down, and let quiet tears trickle down my cheeks. I stayed that way for some time, recalling our times together, realizing that now those times really were gone forever. I had her in my heart, and that would do.

  Honeysuckle brushed my face on the wind, and I opened my eyes to see Railey's parents standing together silently with Lilly. They'd grown older, gotten a bit rounder, earned a few wrinkles and some gray hair. But the biggest difference was in their faces, how they no longer held resentment and anger, but sadness.

  Railey's mother raced over and hugged me fiercely, then backed off and hid behind a yellow handkerchief. Her father was a man of few words, always had been, and little affection. He walked to me and dropped a hand on my shoulder, then put it on the bench behind me. I slipped by him and stood with Lilly and Railey's mother, watching.

  “We've thought of this for some time,” Railey's mother said.

  Her husband finished his quiet words and stepped back.

  A border carved itself around Railey's letter, and above it the concrete started to morph and chip. A couple flourishes showed up first, then the words, one letter at a time.

  Our daughter wrote this and guided her friend through her challenges, and healed what time could not.

  Thank You, Feraline Swift, For Being All Our Daughter Needed.

  We read it slowly and everyone was silent, letting the peace fill in the gaps that years had torn open. There was nothing that needed to be said, yet something required that we stay. A whiff of honeysuckle announced Mordon, Leif, and Barnes coming through the willow tree's curtain. Leif held Railey's mother, Barnes went to Lilly, and Mordon stood next to me.

  I sought out Mordon's hand and leaned in to his chest.

  “I love you,” I whispered. He wrapped his arms around me and gave a quick squeeze. I heard someone shuffle, but didn't pay them any attention until Mordon lifted my chin and nodded back to the bench.

  Railey's father had changed the original inscription. Curious, our entire group moved as one to read what he had done. The stone now had, “And Especially Feraline” on the end of the message.

  Mordon stroked my back and nodded at Railey's father. We started to turn and leave, but a child's laugh brought our eyes back to the bench. In a ray of light, glowing with a light of her own, was the pig-tailed, overall-clad Railey. She was smiling, smelling the roses and cyclamens I'd left there. She giggled again.

  “Hi, Leif. I told you you'd grow up to be tall. And Lilly, you'd better still have that doll I gave you.”

  Lilly nodded.

  “Barnes! Aren't you glad I rewrote your schedule so you'd meet Fera.”

  Barnes' mustache twitched in annoyance, but he nodded.

  “Mor-don,” Railey gave her best diva sigh and fluttered her lashes. “You're a dreamboat. But you'd better take care of her, or else!”

  Mordon grinned as she waved the flowers at him like a pointed finger, then tapped them in her palm, not minding petals falling off. Railey turned to her parents.

  “Mumma and Poppa, I love you so much. And you've done the right thing here with my memorial, I love visiting my tree. Don't be in any rush to come see me.

  “Feraline, it's been loads of fun and I'd do it all again, but I got other places to go now. I'll play with your clutch, I promise!” She giggled at my slack-jaw reaction to the word clutch. Children. Drake children. It was all I needed.

  Railey kept moving, taking the ribbon off the flowers and tying it around her neck. She gathered up the loose stems and gave them one big toss into the air, and when they hit the ground she was gone. The flowers themselves dug through the concrete and rooted, each one growing into a blooming plant.

  The rest of us walked out of the tree sanctuary, and into the bright midday light.

  Thank you for giving Feral Magic a read! I hope you enjoyed it.

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