Solace & Grief by Foz Meadows

outright, however, felt unutterably rude; and yet there was no other way.
    In the end, curiosity conquered caution. Solace resolved to ask Jess.
    It was midmorning, a little more than two weeks since she'd first left the group home, and the day was dull. Unusually, both Evan and Manx were out and about, while Glide and Electra were, more predictably, still asleep upstairs. Jess herself was in the lounge, curled up on one of the hardier beanbags and flipping idly through a gossip magazine so outdated it looked like something a dentist's receptionist had thrown out. Not quite in danger of being spilt, a glass of milk lolled gently in her free hand. Solace wasn't sure where the milk had come from either, as nobody ever seemed to go shopping – another oddity, as there was always just enough food. Tense and slightly nervous, she sat down. Jess raised the milk in salute, a silent good morning, but otherwise didn't look up.
    Solace took a deep breath, paused, and spoke.
    ‘Not to sound overly paranoid, but are we thieves?’
    Jess flicked a page. ‘Nope.’
    ‘Right.’
    Flick .
    ‘So all this stuff is paid for? Somehow? Mysteriously?’
    ‘Nope.’
    Flick .
    ‘It's not.’
    ‘Nope.’
    Flick .
    ‘But not stolen.’
    ‘Nope.’
    Flick .
    ‘So where does everything come from?’
    ‘Everywhere and nowhere,’ Jess said calmly, sipping her drink. For the first time, she looked up. ‘We're just lucky. Electra's Trick is useful.’
    ‘Trick?’
    Sighing, Jess closed the magazine and set it aside.
    ‘Not just a trick – a Trick, with a capital “T”. And that's what we call it.’ When Solace still looked puzzled, Jess waved her arms and tried to explain, slopping milk in the process. ‘She she can gather things,’ she said. ‘Call them, you know. Call what she needs.’ She chewed on her lip. ‘Or maybe it's what she wants, I forget. Anyway, the point is that it works. She can't ever get enough to let us live like kings – not that I think we'd want to, anyway – but enough. Always just enough.’
    ‘Jess, where does it come from?’ The skin at the top of Solace's spine was tingling. Had she not been paying attention already, she would have sat bolt upright.
    ‘Oh! We had a conversation about this once.’ Jess put the milk down and concentrated. ‘Um. I think Electra said it came from – from what was lost? Money and the things that end up lost. Or forgotten.’
    ‘And she finds it?’ Solace persisted.
    Jess waggled a finger, exasperated. ‘No. It was lost, and when she calls, it comes. She… reaches out, somehow. Takes it. If she wants money, and money's been lost, then it comes. Food is different. It doesn't have to be mislaid, just unattended. Anyway, if she calls for edibles –’ she nodded at the milk, and grinned, ‘– then they come, too. Does that make sense?’
    ‘So… stuff just stops being where it was, and starts being here?’
    ‘ Yes !’ Jess sighed again, looking relieved. ‘Or something like that.’
    ‘Oh.’
    Jess frowned. ‘You believe me? Lots of people wouldn't. Lots of people haven't, come to that, although that might be because I'm usually drunk when I have this conversation. But it's morning. We're both sober.’ A slight pause. ‘We are sober, aren't we?’
    ‘No,’ said Solace, her voice sounding oddly distant. ‘I mean – yes. I believe you.’
    ‘Awesome,’ said Jess, grinning beneath a milk moustache.
    Solace realised her heart was pounding. There are other people like me, she thought. Others who are different. I was right. It isn't just me. It just is. And this Trick –
    ‘Want some milk?’ Jess asked slyly, peering over the top of her glass. Solace recovered her thoughts and made a face.
    ‘Will I have to get up?’
    ‘Maybe.’
    ‘In which case, I'm thinking no. Also, I'm allergic.’
    ‘Suit yourself.’
    Somewhere behind them, the main door opened and shut.
    ‘Hey!’ Jess called out. There was the sound of footsteps, and a thump as whoever it