Holidays are Hell(34)

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.