as she woke up to the sun light shining through the lace farmhouse curtains making little dapples of light across her flowered bed spread.
She let out a large yawn and released her stretch, snuggling back into the warm bed and pulling the comforter tighter around her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been so comfortable in her life.
A deep sense of wellbeing engulfed her. A sense that all was as it should be in the world and she was a perfectly placed cog in a machine that was functioning ridiculously well.
She’d asked Jessica last night after they’d gone to bed if it was the same way for her. She’d explained the sparks and how everything was made of them and how she could see and manipulate them. But Jessica said that no, that wasn’t how she worked her magic at all. She said she just kind of asked things to cooperate with her and they did.
She tried it again before she went to sleep, and without effort her vision slipped into a state where the world was made of sparks. But she saw the faint outline of things, the shape and color of them, and then all the sparks that made them up. She saw the wooden sparks of her dresser, filled with the softer colored sparks of her clothes.
Sidney wasn’t sure what it was or why she could do it, but she found it amazing. As she lay in bed after waking up she let her vision move back and forth between the two states. Even the streams of sunlight were made up of tiny energetic sparks that almost buzzed as they moved through her window to hit the floor before dispersing their warmth though the room.
But her vision wasn’t the only thing that had changed. She could feel the things around her more deeply. Before she, like most people, could sense someone standing close to her, or staring at her, or just feel the presence of a person in a room. But now, she could not only sense Jessica in the room, asleep in the other twin bed just across the floor, she could almost feel the strong life force flowing through her veins, sense the lack of consciousness that signaled sleep, feel the vibrations in the air from the rise and fall of her chest and the inward tug of breath and outward puff as she inhaled and exhaled. If she concentrated she might even be able to feel the breeze from the fan as it blew through the strands of her hair.
It was weird, and Sidney retreated back into her shell, content with her own comfort without sharing Jessica’s.
Sidney wondered how far away she could push her senses. She closed her eyes and pushed them out.
Fran was there, a few doors down. She was sleeping but she didn’t share the comfort that Jessica and Sidney did, snuggled down into warm beds. Instead the she rested her paper thin form on nothing more than a mat on the floor, no blanket to cover her. Jessica could feel the coldness of the floor as it seeped through the mat, the soreness that would develop as Fran stood was already settled into her bones, ready for her to move and test them. Sidney sensed though that the coldness, the soreness, the discomfort was what Fran was seeking, for whatever reason, and that her inner self was pleased. Sidney eagerly dismissed the sensations of Francesca. Different strokes for different folks she guessed, but she wasn’t sure she could understand self-flagellation.
Next was Cord, draped across the downstairs living room couch. The boyfriend he lived with must still not be home. He was breathing deeply and drooling on the pillow someone had carefully needle pointed, and even with half of his large body hanging off the couch, he claimed a level of comfort that even Sidney could not boast in her fluffy bed, covered in a thick blanket. All his muscles were relaxed and happy where they were, his mind whirred around making and energetic feeling around his happily resting body. He must be having some kind of delicious dream for her to be able to feel it.
Sidney left him and checked on each inhabitant of the house, each finding comfort their own way, no two resting the same way. Sidney was about to retreat into herself again, go back to sleep and enjoy a lazy day in bed, if Bree would let her, when she realized she hadn’t sensed Bree in the house.
She sent her senses back out, searching for the essence that was Bree. She wasn’t anywhere in the house so she expanded further. She didn’t have to go too much further, because Bree was awake and standing on the front steps of the porch. Her defenses were up and she felt scared, ready to run back into the house and lock the door. Then Sidney felt another presence near her, a darker one, one that Bree feared, and loathed.
Sidney jumped up out of bed, grabbing a pair of pajama pants as she shook Jessica awake.
“Wha..? No,” Jessica said and rolled over.
“Jessica, wake up. Somebody is down there with Bree, someone that is scaring her. Wake up and go get everyone else, I’m going down to help Bree.”
“Wait, no, just wait on the rest of us,” Jessica said, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
“No, I’ve got to go down there now, I don’t know who it is and they might want to hurt Bree.”
“Fine Superwoman, go,” Jessica jumped out of bed and grabbed a silky housecoat of the hook in her wardrobe, “I’ll get everyone else.”
Sidney jerked the bedroom door open, taking the stairs down two at a time before rushing head long out of the front door, ready to fight for her somewhat prickly old lady of a high priestess.
She came to a sudden stop, however, when she saw that the ‘danger’ that Bree was reacting to was an old man wearing a flannel shirt with his foot propped up against the bottom steps, he had his hands in his pockets, and his eyes downcast as he spoke softly to Bree.
Which he stopped doing as she came to a sudden halt beside Bree.
“What are you doing now child?” Bree asked her, her eyes roaming up and down the rumpled form that was Sidney. She was sure she looked a sight in her wrinkled old concert shirt, a pair of flamingo splattered pajama pants, and hair that had not yet seen a brush, “I’m not sure how you were raised, but that is not how we receive visitors in this house.”
Bree herself looked like she’d just stepped from the pages of Grandmother Weekly. Her white hair neatly stacked on top of her head in a perfectly coifed bun, white lace collared blouse tucked into a paisley skirt, black stockings leading down to black sensible shoes.
“I thought you were in trouble,” Sidney muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, acutely aware of her lack of bra and the chilliness of the morning.
“And why did you think that,” Bree asked.
“I, uh, sensed it. You seemed scared and upset,” Sidney answered, Bree looking none too pleased with that answer.
“And so she should be,” the man added, “This is serious business Bree and we’re going to need you and your people,” he nodded at Sidney, “If Three Rivers is going to survive.”
“What is he talking about,” a voice asked from behind her. Cord stood, shirtless in the cool morning air, you could still make out the wrinkles that had imprinted on his skin from the sofa.
“Nothing, this old fool has come spreading nonsense,” Bree said, “you can all go back to bed and sleep half the day like the bunch of heathens you are.”
Now that Bree was more awake she remembered the old man. He had preached at the mass funeral they’d had the week before, she remembered him reading from the shifter’s holy book. It seemed like he’d been a highly respected member of the shifter community but Bree was here calling him a fool.
“If there’s something happening in Three Rivers then we should at least know about it though,” Nate said from behind Cord, the rest of the household had piled out behind Cord, all in various states of undress. Jessica came through last, her short silk kimono housecoat leaving a long expanse of bare skin to the cool morning air.
Bree gave an audible sigh and threw her hands up, “Might as well tell it again Martin, since they’re here anyway.”
Mr. Turner began with the events that happened at the funeral, for those that hadn’t been there. Sidney and Jessica had, and even though it had been only a week ago, it felt like a lifetime, so much had happened, so much had changed since then. She had all but put Frederick Hawthorne out of her mind, so consumed she had been with her own struggle.
“And Red called for a vote, and one by one we all voted to fight for Three Rivers, the only two votes against was Red and Tinker. And Tinker feels beholden to Red for not killing him when he lost that fight for the Hellhounds. Otherwise he would have voted the other way too.
Anyhow, I thought it was settled. I knew it was going to be a hard fight, I knew that we’d lose people. People I love. But I knew it was the right thing. Bree, no matter what has happened between us,” the old man coughed and looked around the group, “between our groups. This town is home to all of us and no outsiders are going to come in and threaten us.”
Sidney caught the trip of words and looked between the old shifter and Bree, could that possibly be where the animosity stemmed from? Had Bree had a fling with this gentleman that went sour in their youth? Sidney had to push the questions aside as Mr. Turner began speaking again.
“Like I said, we thought it was settled. We went home, told everyone how the vote went, and set to doing what we always do, preparing for a fight.” The man shrugged his shoulders, “That’s just our way of life, the only thing different is who we’re preparing to fight.”
Sidney thought that sounded like an awful way to life, always on edge, always worrying not about if you’d lose someone, but who.
“So the day came and we gathered at the clubhouse, Red seemed ok with the vote, even though he’s been a little…” the man searched for the word he was looking for, “a little more aggressive than normal. But no, he seemed to have taken getting voted down in stride. Until that man showed up with his crew of bodyguards. I’m telling you Bree, something ain’t right about those boys. They don’t smell right and they don’t feel right. No way no how. Anywho, Red goes out to meet them before any of us could get out the door and they start jawing. That Hawthorne feller he talks real greasy, makes you think he’s rubbing your ass with butter, but you’re nuts high in bullshit. So, they’re talking for a minute and before the rest of us know what’s happening Red has agreed for the Dogs to align with this guy, to work for him, to help him try to wipe out the rest of what he calls, supernaturals.”
Sidney felt the unease grow at the man’s words. She knew the witches taught that the Goddess created all things and anything that occurs naturally cannot be therefore, supernatural, but not everyone believed the same way. Shifters for example are taught in the book of theirs that they are somehow the chosen species, that all other non-human groups should be submissive to them. One of the reasons Red had reacted so violently when he’d found out she was a witch.
“And when we began to protest Red shut the door behind him, shutting us out, and left with Hawthorne and we haven’t seen him since. And that was yesterday evening.”
“That’s all well and good, but what exactly do you want us to do, why are you here? Is there some kind of law in your precious book that says you have be good little wolf cubs and follow the Alpha?”
Mr. Turner looked at the ground, nodding his head, not meeting Bree’s eyes.
“Well, I guess it’s time for you to run on home and get ready to wipe out the rest of the town. We do appreciate the warning though,” the sarcasm dripped viciously from Bree’s voice.
“You’ve got to know Bree that I’d never let them come here, never let them do anything to you.”
“Really,” she said coldly, “What a relief, I’ll hold on tightly to that thought as I watch as my neighbors are being slaughtered. Thank you Martin, but I think it’s time for you to leave.”
The man looked as if he were trying to figure out what to say next, trying to find something that would make Bree stop looking at him as if he were lower than the ants on the ground. In the end he just turned around and made his slow retreat to an ancient looking pickup truck.
The cold and ragtag looking group on the porch seemed stunned by what they’d just heard. Some of the ones who hadn’t been at the funeral didn’t fully understand what was going on and explanations about who Frederick Hawthorne was and what it was he wanted had to be made. Some started to panic, after being told of the facility and what they’d found there.
“So, if they have poison that dampens our magic what are we going to do?” someone asked.
“And The Dogs have always protected us, without magic we don’t know how to fight.”
“Calm down, calm down,” Bree said, shushing the nervous chatter, “We don’t know that they have any such formula.”
She was right, all Bree had seen is the medicine that had affected Red, “But if they’ve decided to fight all things that aren’t human, they’ve probably developed something to fight us.” Sidney pointed out.
“That may be true, but we don’t know, and we can only work with facts, not with probablys and maybes,” Bree countered.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do if they somehow dampen our magic, we kick their asses, the old fashioned way,” Cord said, his wide shoulders and bare chest accentuating the claim.
“We are not all seven feet tall Cord and you are the only one with any training or skill in fighting,” Fran motioned to the rest of the group on the porch, a collection of women, middle aged people, and old people. Magic obviously was not a genetic trait that coupled with strong physicality all that often.
“We have to do something, we can’t just sit here and wait to get slaughtered. Even if that guy says he wouldn’t let anything happen to us, we can’t depend on it.” Jessica added, her teeth chattering as she spoke.
Bree nodded, “No, we most certainly will not depend on Martin Turner’s words, I’ve made that mistake before.”
“So, what are we going to do?” Nate asked.
Bree’s face hardened, “The only thing we can do. And that is win,” Her cold old eyes pinned them one by one, landing lastly on Sidney, “By any means necessary.”