Happy Holidays

It took exactly three hours of stewing in my own bad thoughts for it to happen; the question I promised myself I’d never ask simply burst from my lips: „Why are all the other students afraid of Aiden?“

“Huh?” Jo looked up from her mirror, crunching on some potato chips. “Where did this come from?”

From a pretty busy corner in my brain where I’m working on different conspiracy theories involving Aiden, some involving the government or the mafia.

Jo and I were currently in her room, each of us trying garner more information about the pocket we would enter tomorrow in search of the mysterious snow bees. While Jo was doing her best to get a picture via her magic, I was sticking to books - though to be honest, I’d read the same sentence for the fourth time now. All I could think about was Aiden’s disturbing nightmare.

“Just curious.”

Jo furrowed her brows (I was a really sucky liar) but simply shrugged, apparently not interested enough to pry. “Wie du meinst. I’m sure it’s just bullshit, but some people were saying that Aiden killed someone in the past. Or even multiple someones. I don’t know, exactly, how or why, but it didn’t help that he never denied anything and looks down on people he doesn’t like - which is basically everyone except for you, cousin dearest. Don’t know if you realize this, but that dude can be kinda scary.”

“Killed someone?” With a shudder I thought of the glassy-eyed people in his dream. Or maybe the gas-mask-creature? It couldn’t be. “Why would he kill someone?”

“Maggie, chill.” She blinked at me, taken aback. My voice might have been a little shrill. “It’s just a rumor some idiots are spreading around. No need to get worked up.” She paused, before leaning closer. “Did something happen?”

“No, it’s just …” I was clenching the book in my lap so hard the pages were crinkling. Trying to calm down, I held my breath for a second, before exhaling loudly. “You know how I sometimes help Aiden sleep better?”

She wrinkled her petite nose, putting some distance between us again. “Uh-hu, no thanks, you can keep the kinky details to yourself.”

“I meant with my magic, you knucklehead.”

“Ah, okay, sure. So, what about it?”

“Well, today, I saw part of his dream. Honestly, it was strange - and scary …”

“Pfft. That’s all? Last night I dreamt a clown was trying to get me to buy a really small car, because it’s cheaper and he can teach me some clown magic with which we can still fit a ton of people in it. But the car was ugly, and then came an insurance guy and told me it would be illegal to modify my ugly car with clown magic, and if I did I would have to pay a hefty fine and wouldn’t be insured anymore. Then the clown was all sulky, and didn’t talk to me anymore, and for whatever reason that was really bad, so I tried to befriend him again, and so forth. You see where I’m going with this?”

“You’re rethinking your Christmas wishes?”

“Ha ha. No, you comedian, I’m just saying that people dream about tons of crazy stuff that doesn’t always have to mean anything. So Aiden had a strange dream, big deal. If I were in your shoes I would simply be glad I didn’t pop into a dirty dream or something. That would get awkward, quickly.”

Even without a dirty dream, it had still been quite awkward. But I didn’t think talking to Jo any more would really help. I also didn’t want to share the details of what I had seen in the dream. That I alone had witnessed it without Aiden’s permission was bad enough, no need to go talking about it to anyone else.

But why did people think he’d killed someone? Maybe, there was some truth to it? I started worrying my bottom lip with my teeth, a nervous tick. I barely knew anything about Aiden’s life, past or present. I knew he was staying in the dorm at school, but had no idea why. I didn’t even know about where he’d come from or his family. Did he even have one? He at least had never mentioned them.

I wondered why this had never bothered me before. Aiden had simply been Aiden, that guy who hung out with me in my tower, who I could help with my magic and who had turned into my best friend.

“Anyway, did you find something useful in that book of yours?” Jo asked me, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Hmm? Ah, nothing really.”

“Figures. Well, trying to catch a glimpse of the pocket isn’t going any better. I guess we’ll have to wait until I’m actually in it for my magic to work.”

The door to Jo’s room opened, and her mother, my aunt Marlene, stuck her head into the room. A halo of dark locks surrounded her heart-shaped face with the deep violet eyes and huge glasses. “Hey, girls. Have you seen my hat? It’s hiding somewhere again.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “I told you to be nicer to it, Mom. We haven’t seen it.”

Her mother blew a curl out of her face. “I was quite nice, but Kaa wanted to curl up and sleep inside it, and that scared it away. Anyway, if it scampers this way, catch it please.”

“Alright, Mom.”

“And Maggie, will you be staying for dinner?”

“Yeah, she is,” Jo answered in my stead.

“Perfect.” My aunt beamed. “At least there will be one child at the table who doesn’t complain about my cooking.”

“Only because she’s too polite,” Jo called after her, but her mother had already closed the door. “Seriously, how can she even call it cooking when the vegetables practically chop themself in that disturbing harakiri-fashion. It really ruins your appetite.”

I was glad for the distraction from my own thoughts. “It’s not so bad. At least you don’t have to clean the dishes.”

“I guess. But still, remember that one time …”

Before Jo could finish her sentence, her door opened again, and Alice stepped into the room. Jo’s little sister looked like a younger version of her, same slender limbs, same porcelain skin and startlingly blue eyes, with only one difference: her mop of unruly Rotfuss-tresses wasn’t black but a rich honey blond, intermingled with amber, caramel and light blond strands. Alice had always reminded me a bit of one of those European dolls, with her cute button nose, rosebud mouth, round cheeks and long, curling lashes - especially when she was dressed in a flowing, white nightgown like right now, even though the pink Hello Kitty leggings peeking out from underneath it kinda destroyed that picture.

“Seriously, doesn’t anyone in this family know how to knock?” Jo groaned, but Alice ignored her. Instead she stepped inside the room so smoothly, she almost seemed to be floating. Her face was blank and her stare focused on something far behind us.

“Oh, not this again,” Jo sighed.

Alice opened her mouth, her high, childlike voice resonating hollowly:

“Beware,

Where the shrill chirp of the green lizard’s love

Broke on the sultry silentness alone,

Now teem with countless rills and shady woods,

A savage conqueror stained in kindred blood,

…”

Instead of continuing she choked a little and started coughing loudly. Blinking her big eyes and rubbing her throat she really looked at us for the first time. “Maggie? What are you doing in my room? Wait - why am I in your room, Jo?”

“You had one of your little episodes again, but managed to swallow your own spit and startle yourself out of it before getting to the most crucial part, like always.”

“Really?” Her eyes started sparkling with eagerness, as she was clearly passing over Jo’s last comment. “I was speaking a prophecy? Did you write it down?”

“It sounded a lot like part of a poem. I think I’ve read it before, though I can’t remember where at the moment,” I told her.

She was almost jumping up and down in glee. “Ha! I knew my secondary magic was not too weak to speak real prophecy. Dad will be so proud when I tell him about this!”

Whirling around, she skipped from the room, leaving the door wide open in her haste.

“Don’t forget to tell him about the part where you messed it up because you’re too stupid to talk and breathe at the same time,” Jo shouted after her. “Seriously, that blockhead.”

“Did any of that ring a bell with you?” I asked Jo. “It probably applies to our excursion tomorrow.”

“If so, we’re screwed. All I remember is blood and a green lizard.” She shrugged. “Anyway, Alice’s prophecies aren’t really all that accurate yet - more like, really far fetched. I bet she read that poem at school or something and a teeny, tiny part might somehow be applicable to our future situation, so she just spews the whole thing - or at least as far as she gets before messing up.”

“Still, maybe we should look into it.” Something was nagging at my subconsciousness, something about that poem and its missing parts.

“Yeah, maybe. Good luck with that.” Jo yawned, looking at her mirror. “I’m gonna stick with this.”

“If the prophecy was supposed to warn us about the dangers in the pocket, we’re in real trouble,” I continued, ignoring her. “Neither you nor I can really fight.”

“Come on, we both know some defense spells,” Jo protested.

Contrary to popular belief, witches couldn’t just magic anything up by learning a few latin words. We were quite limited by our own field of magic. As both Jo and I were in the mental branch of magic, affecting the physical world with it was a lot harder than it would be for a witch like Colin, whose talent’s ran into that direction anyway. In its purest form, magic was just another kind of energy. Without direction it most closely resembled electricity, making the most basic defense spell nothing else but a bolt of pure magic fired at the opponent with the intention to stun or even incapacitate him.

So in theory Jo wasn’t wrong, but against an opponent with any kind of magic resistance or even above average physical endurance we were basically helpless.

“Hey, what about bringing Daniel along? He would sweep the floor with whatever tried to confront us,” Jo suggested.

I had to count to three in my head until I’d controlled the urge to push her from her own bed. “Jo, I can’t believe I actually have to spell this out for you: We are not taking my eight year old baby brother into some strange dimension populated by who-knows-what.”

“Tch, listen to yourself. Baby brother? He’s eight, not two years old. Let him live a little.”

Before I could retort, out third guest for the evening, a big, beautiful husky stepped through the open door, padding toward the bed on his huge paws. His fur was snow white and his eyes the same bright crystalline blue as Jo’s and Alice’s - and their father’s.

“Akela?” Jo asked, forgetting her mirror. “Did Dad send you here?”

The big dog gave one lazy wag of his tail, before settling on the lilac rug next to Jo’s queen sized bed.

Jo sighed. “This is just perfect. Dad probably knows something is up.”

I considered the behemoth of a canine on the floor. “Do you think we might be able to take Akela along tomorrow?”

Without warning Jo pinched my thigh through my sweatpants, staring into my eyes creepily intense. “I think I know where you’re going with this, but listen to me: We. Can. Never. Tell. My dad. About. The poison. You with me?”

“Ouch, Jo, I’m not saying to tell him! Just take the Familiar along.” Jesus Christ.

“Hmm.” She let go of my leg. “Maybe. I mean, he’s quite good with danger. He always helps Dad with his job, after all.”

Inconspicuous I rubbed my poor leg. “Yeah. And I don’t know if Colin is actually coming tomorrow. Being a strong Pyromage, he would have been useful.”

“Ah, who cares about that ninny when we got Aiden on our team?” Jo paused. “What’s with that face?”

How did we end up at this topic again? I wanted to hide under Jo’s cream-colored, thick blanket. “No, it’s just … I’m not sure he’s coming along.”

“What do you mean? Just because you took a peek at his dreamy land?”

“Not because of that,” I lied. “We just haven’t really talked about it - you know, the pocket and stuff. He never said he would come.” But actually yeah, probably because I busted into his nightmare uninvited and he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room afterward.

Jo rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. You’re practically glued together. If he’s letting you wander off alone into a strange pocket on some hare-brained quest for a frozen insect, I’m dyeing my hair bubblegum pink.”

Even though that was certainly an interesting picture, I hoped she was right.

“Girls,” Marlene’s voice rang out. “Dinner’s ready!”

Jo groaned. “Oh, joy.”

Copyright for the poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley